#hoping this offers some good vibes for tonight

[lalunanymph]

MOONLIT DREAM

SUMMARY a budding jade aficionado receives a personal lesson from her lover

WARNINGS established relationship, outdoor sex, boat!sex, blasphemy, sensory deprivation (use of blindfolds), sensory play (with a brush), dirty talk, petnames (little love, little one), soft!zayne, orgasm control, edging, begging, fingering, dirty talk, marking, pulling out (zayne cums in his own hand cause he's a mf gentleman like that), astra hate, allusions to theories of zayne's myth, mdni, 18+

DAWN SAYS FIRST ONE IS HEREEE istg this event has me by the THROAT I know it isn't very canon-compliant but I wanted to do something based on the vibes I got from the cards so I hope you all enjoy this! I will eventually cross-post this to a03 so if you want to follow me there, it's under the same username! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── SYLUS ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL

The art of jade carving was slowly dying out.

Touted as a precious stone the color of rich grass, its value was placed not in its glossy, green finish, but on the weight of meaning it carried.

To gift someone a jade pendant meant you wished luck, prosperity and success on them. Mothers would often lend their sons their necklaces hidden in the lapels of their hanfu as they took their official tests, while a groom’s parents would adorn their new daughter-in-law with jade jewelry to bestow upon the newlywed couple blessings of marital bliss and harmony. 

On nights like these, you liked to wander these grand, opulent hallways, lost in thought as the glimmering green gems twinkled from ceilings, pillars and statues.

The moon was bright tonight as you caught sight of Zayne, a royal court physician your family had connections to. 

(And who was also, your secret-not-so-secret lover). 

He was struggling under the weight of his documents, and you rushed forward to greet him, calling out his name. 

“Y/N—there you are,” he gave you a small smile, warmth twinkling behind his green eyes. The sheen of them reminded you of how jade shone. “What’re you doing up so late? The moon is bright tonight.”

You flushed, gathering yourself before you divulge your deepest thoughts to him. “I was up till yesterday night trying to read up on jade carving. Did you know the practice is diminishing?”

Zayne, though not much of a man of the arts, could concede on your astute observation. “I see,” he teased, “And you thought that by devouring clips of them, you might have a chance to save this dying art?” 

Used to his teasing, you huffed and wagged your finger. “At least I am dedicated to a cause that matters. Tell me, Mr. Zayne, don’t you have a passion you want to protect, too?”

At your question, his eyes softened.

“Perhaps.” He glanced at the number of documents in his hand. “I have some summons to work on. Maybe you might like to keep me company and tell me all about your discoveries of jade carving while I work?”

The offer sounded too good to resist. You followed him down the hallway and into the vacant space—an unoccupied room linking right to the court library. It was connected by a veranda, where the man-made lake ran around it, a shallow body of water meant for aesthetic purposes commissioned by the emperor himself. A pile of scrolls laid on the shiny, mahogany desk, and you realized too late that you were in his private office.

“Zayne—”

While the idea of spending more time with him was intriguing, you couldn't risk a court scandal by being seen with a man at such late hours. He didn’t stop you when you stood, though the look in his eyes held you back from leaving too soon.

“It is fine, Y/N. I have checked for guards and there are none at this hour. Besides, aren’t we both past the boundaries of such careless affection?”

He grabbed your hand, and you let him tug you closer. Sitting in his embrace, you relished in the secrecy of your meetings under the moon, this hidden fondness belonging only to you two. 

“I wish to hold you forever like this.” Zayne was not someone who waxed lyrical about his feelings, but tonight felt different.

Far more intimate.

His touch echoed with shades of absolute need when he tilted your face up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered.

Intrigued, you let him take your hand, stepping out of the balcony and onto the connected veranda. You hadn’t immediately noticed a line of candles sat by the edge of the water, too caught up in his embrace. Zayne led you right to the makeshift dock where an ornate boat rocked in the man-made lake, stepping on its deck first before holding out a hand to you. 

Taking his familiar, calloused palm in yours, you lost your footing for a split second, tumbling right into his arms. 

“Oh—”

“I got you,” he murmured, righting you on your slippered-feet.

Zayne made sure you were alright and tightened his hand on yours, taking you into the anterior single cabin, where a smaller version of his desk stood, the light of the moon illuminating his warm cheeks.

“I thought we could spend some time here—away from any prying eyes.”

A smile spread across your face, delighting at this romantic and secluded initiative.

“I see. So, you have me trapped right in your hands while I ramble on about jade carving?”

You should have known your lover always had a special trick up his sleeve. He wasn’t called the brightest official without his uncanny knack for deciphering what it is people around him truly wanted.

“No.” 

He gestured for you to sit on the plush cushions, and removed a box from the side of the hull, opening it. Bringing out paint brushes, scrolls, newly minted jade pendants and glass bowls which he filled with water. Zayne let you touch them, enamored by your bright gaze and excitement.

"You... remembered?"

He smiled. "Of course, I did."

Touching your cheek, he said, "When your lover develops a fixation on something, you do your best to try and satisfy her."

Pleased and slightly flattered, you turned your attention to the rows of jade waiting for you.

“Are we sending our wishes to be carved on these pendants?” 

Fondly, he nodded.

“Yes. I thought this would be a great step in our courtship—to have our wishes bestowed on these jade jewels for us to wear. A memento of our love.”

You flashed him a smile so bright, it could rival the moon up above.

Sitting down next to him, Zayne watched as you dipped your brush in ink, slowly filling up the scroll with your earthly desires which the jade carver would put onto these pendants. 

I wish for Zayne to always be healthy and happy, you fluidly etched onto the paper. I wish for him to find success in court. To grow in his filial piety and strength. May he always be kind, courteous and brave.

Glancing at him, you were surprised to find him dozing off, elbow perched on the mahogany desk, head laid resting against a closed palm. The lights from the palace veranda and the moon in the sky played with the shadows on his face, making him look younger than his years of twenty-seven. The innocent curve of his brow, the slight parting of his thin lips, stirred a desire within you. 

A need to push him and see how much he could take before he broke.

Grinning to yourself, you picked up the prep calligraphy brush, still dripping with cool water, and gently ran the bristles over his lower lip. Zayne grunted in his doze, but didn’t stir, exhausted from his duties to pay your foolery any mind. You smirked, wondering if he would feel it when you dragged the brush down his jaw.

Still—nothing. 

Besides a furrow in his brow, Zayne remained locked in his slumber. A part of you wondered if the sensation felt akin to cool wind brushing his skin, and you decided to up the ante. 

Taking the brush down to his neck, this time you managed to garner a sweet, sweet visceral reaction from him. 

Zayne’s nose twitched, a sound of consternation and… desire?... leaving his lips. 

He sighed. You paused.

Tucking your lower lip in between your teeth, you took the brush now to the hollow dip of his collarbones. Another sigh, another baited breath.

But, he didn’t open his eyes.

Growing bolder, you glided the brush down the groove of his toned chest, mesmerized by the silvery trail of water left behind—a delicate mark of your teasing on his pale skin.

A part of you wanted to see what his entire body would look like ‘painted’ with these slick marks; your curiosity mingled with a stirring desire to have him completely under your spell. 

As you dragged the damp brush down to his chest, intent on finishing up your canvas for the night, you felt the gentle grasp of his hand around your wrist, stopping your descent from going any lower.

“I see I woke up at the wrong time,” he teased.

Whatever remained of his nightly exhaustion dissipated, his breathtaking green eyes gauging your reaction with the ghost of a smirk tugging the corners of his mouth. 

Zayne’s skin and lips were tingling from the effects of your little ‘painting session’.

As much as the hunger inside of him was roaring to overcome you, he wanted to see what you would do next; how else you would surprise him. 

Deciding to tease him even more, you dropped the calligraphy brush, hearing it roll onto the barge’s floor somewhere under the desk. You slid your fingers across his hand, feeling his touch gliding on your open palm.

“Carving jade requires a clear mind,” you murmured, your fingertips breaching the hem of his ornate cuffs, touching the warm skin of his wrist underneath the clothes. “This is a test.”

Zayne was not expecting you to tighten your grip on his wrist, or for you to boldly drag him on top of you. 

His gasp brushed the tender shell of your ear, the heat of his body on top of yours made you shiver.

“How bold you are, little one,” your lover murmured, settling on his elbow to gaze down at you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “You are quite commendable indeed—getting a court official into such a… compromising position.”

The moon glowed, the broadness of his shoulders eclipsing its luminescent rays from fully spilling onto both your tangled bodies.

“I merely wanted to share my passions with a certain court official, but it appears he found the entire ordeal boring,” you quipped back, throwing in an eye roll for added effect. 

His thin lips twitched in amusement, the hand on your cheek moving down to briefly cup your jaw. “Alright, then. Why don’t we make your little session a bit more interesting for me?” 

Before you could ask, he took the discarded brush you had dropped, dipping it in a pot of water. Dabbing off the excess, he touched the firm tip to your cheek, his jade green eyes darkening with an unnamed emotion.

“You speak while I simply… listen... and return your little painting favor. Whoever can retain their composure without breaking first will win a month’s worth of rabbit candy.”

Not one to refute his games or back down from a dare, you raised a brow. “Are you questioning my resolve, Mr. Zayne?” 

He forced back a huff of laughter, trying to retain his equanimity. 

(Which was steadily chipping away the more you provoked him). 

Zayne hummed. “I do not question it. I want to test it.”

As he spoke, he glided the cool paintbrush from your cheek to jaw. “And to make this more fun for me since I have not heard of the intricacies of jade carving, I want to test your knowledge further with this—”

From his lapels, he removed a silk ribbon, one which you recognized to wrap up mooncake boxes. 

Flushing warmly from the implications of what he wanted to do next, you attempted to keep your voice steady, but failed.

“Playing dirty, Mr. Zayne? I never mistook you for such a bad sport.”

A glimmer of mischief ignited in his eyes, and he placed the paintbrush down next to your neck, coaxing you to raise your head so he could wrap the soft strip around your eyes.

“You are always testing my resolve. You should know I always repay the favor.” 

Despite the intensity of his request, a playful intimacy remained between the two of you. Whatever happened, you always trusted Zayne to put your wellbeing and dignity above everything else.

“Alright.” 

You raised your head, letting him tie the makeshift blindfold around your eyes. 

Hidden in darkness, you could only rely on your senses of touch and hearing to guide you on what was happening. You heard the rustle of the paintbrush picked up again by your ear, felt the damp tip on your jaw. Zayne glided the brush down the side of your neck, secretly enjoying your quiet gasp of surprise.

“Now, little one,” he hummed. “Tell me all about the intricacies of jade carving since you know them so very well.”

Your heart was pounding, but you managed to keep your calm when you recited the first fact to pop into your mind. 

“U-um… j-jades were known as the ‘essence of heaven and earth’.” Your gasp melted into a stifled moan at the sensation of his warm lips chasing after the cool trickles of water left behind.

“I see. Enlightening. Do tell me more.”

His husky voice brushed the shell of your ear, and your stomach tightened in knots. 

Unfair. Zayne was unfairly using your weakness against you.

He knew you were always sensitive to his kisses; his touch. 

A bead of clear water trickles down your neck, and you struggle to think of the next fact as his lips follow the winding trail the liquid carved along your skin, each kiss soft and deliberate.

“Jade has a sharp resonance and that is why it was often used as chimes—mhm.”

He nuzzled his nose into your pulse point, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine from your skin. 

“I am listening,” he reassured, and you could imagine the smirk playing on his lips. “And I am interested. What else is there for me to learn about jade, little one?”

As you fought hard to recall another fact, your hands instinctively tightened, crumpling the soft material of his hanfu in your grasp. 

“With n-new drilling tools, jade can now be made in larger scales of production—”

The sensation of bristles on your skin interrupted your train of thought. Nothing could have prepared you for the sting of his teeth biting down on your neck. Zayne’s heated breath caressed your sensitive throat, leaving goosebumps on your skin in their wake. 

“I think I have quite the knowledgeable grasp on this matter, little one.”

In a swift yet gentle motion, the blindfold melted off your eyes, and you caught Zayne gazing down at you affectionately. 

The damp brush and these damn games were discarded to the side in favor of him dragging you onto his lap, letting you sit astride him. 

Warmth suffused across your cheeks, and your entire body was tingling from the sensation of the rough bristles mingling with the contrasting tenderness of his lips on your skin. You felt the tension tightening in your belly, tensing the muscles on your thighs wrapped on either side of his waist.

Zayne took this opportunity to roam his hands across your back, down your sides—feeling the smoothness of your robe underneath his touch; the way you shivered as if caught in a chill.

“Are you afraid?” 

His gentle whisper was followed by a sweet kiss on your temple.

Yearning sparked from the tips of your fingers down to your toes.

You shook your head.

“No, Zayne.” 

Smiling to himself, Zayne cradled your head in his hands, nudging you further up the plush pillows he prepared for tonight. The sight of you, all sprawled out with the warm palace lights and the shining moon illuminating your flushed cheeks, looking far too ravishing for your own good filled his mind with a light-headed daze.

He couldn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

A low grumble resonated from his chest, and he pressed his lips to your ear, delighting in your little shiver in response.

“You have to forgive me, little one. I cannot control myself when I am with you.”

His traced circles onto your cheek with his thumb, absorbing your hitched breath, the way your body shifted under his broader, muscular one. 

As he spoke, he planted a tender kiss on your cheek. 

“It is not my fault that someone gets distracted easily when carving intricate patterns… and appreciating the moon.” 

He pressed another soft kiss to your temple, worshiping you with his entire soul. 

Never mind that the bright lunar rays were burning into his skin. Or, he felt the unseeing eye studying his every move. 

All that mattered to him in this instant was you—your sounds, your sighs, the look of desire and love in your eyes. 

It was everything and more that Zayne could wish on his fallen luck. He wanted nothing more than to claim you under his god’s eye, defying logic and order to demonstrate his undying love for you. 

“Are you feeling what I am feeling as well, my little love?”

He looked to you for confirmation.

Consent.

You nodded wordlessly, threading your fingers through his hair.

“Yes, Zayne. I feel it.”

That was all the permission he needed. Zayne leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss, his desire for you pouring into every movement. Every breath. 

He needed to make you his completely; needed to love you with his entire being. 

His lips touched your ear again, his scratchy whisper igniting your desires. His nimble fingers, deft from years of practiced writing and studies, twined with yours, holding you impossibly close.

Another tender kiss right on your cheek. “Then we will just have to blame the craftsman… and the moon.”

Careful yet firm hands shed your robes from your body, the rocking boat adding momentum to your every movement. Zayne took his time to undress you, marveling as inches of flawless, moon-soaked skin appeared before his eyes. Taking his time to run his fingers over your body, he breathed you in, his eyes fluttering to half-mast as he savored this moment of peace. 

When your body was fully bared to him, he sucked in a deep breath.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled.

Zayne’s hands roamed your body with a newfound possessiveness, his expression a mix of tender yearning.

The sight itself was too much for you to bear; the shame, lust, and need coalescing together to bring you to your knees. 

You tugged him closer, unable to stand another minute apart from him. 

He fell right into your embrace, your eager hands undoing the loop of his hanfu, baring his full chest, dragging it down his shoulders. 

The act of undressing one another, meant for the marital doings of a husband and wife, felt natural when it came to Zayne.

Such love shared between the two of you sprung forth like a fountain, effortless in cascading your bodies in ebbs and flows. Zayne kissed you like you would disappear if he opened his eyes, his lips soft and tender against yours.

It made your heart full to bursting, overwhelmed by the love of it all.

Taking the lead, Zayne helped to reposition you on his lap, this new angle allowing you to control what came next.

The moon was his unwilling accomplice, painting you in the most alluring light. Its rays shone brightly, illuminating the brightness of your hair, your skin.

You gleamed like treasured jade right in his arms, and Zayne would never let you go again. Not in this life, or the next.

You were his to treasure, to hold. To cherish and love—his obedience to Astra be damned.

He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his arms; feeling you lift your hips and gingerly take him. The tightness of you, enveloping him slowly, drove him mad with need.

But, Zayne reined his lust in, focused on your pleasure. He would never do anything to hurt you; all he desired for was to see you happy. 

You are doing so well, he praised, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Good girl. That’s it—go on and make yourself feel good.

Emboldened by his praise, you braced your hands on his chest, wincing at the stretch. 

It wasn’t the first time you had taken him, your months of courtship blooming into a rapid need of each other.

But, it was the first time you were doing it so publicly, boldly declaring your claim on one another.

If anyone walked by, word would soon reach the wrong people of this escapade. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You wanted Zayne, needed him like you needed air.

He was as enamored as you were, watching you take him. 

You were a vision above him, a moonlit dream he could only wish to hold onto for the rest of his life.

“You truly are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” he breathed, placing his palm on your cheek. The melted look of devotion in his eyes was second to how secure and safe he made you feel.

With Zayne, nothing was closed off or too much—everything was in order, right and sweet as it was meant to be.

Your head lolled back, the pleasure taking center stage to this act of consummation burning your veins.

“Zayne… you feel so good…”

The sound of his lover’s praise drove him into a frenzy, and he let his immaculate self-restraint slip; giving into the vulnerability. 

Zayne’s beautiful emerald eyes glimmered, taking in the heavenly sight of your smooth skin, your hard nipples carving a silhouette of erotic desire in the barely-lit night. 

He leaned up to gently run his tongue over them, trailing goosebumps across your chest. You moaned, lost in the haze of the pleasure, putty to his whims.

“I cannot believe you all mine…” His voice broke, trailing off into awe. 

Dedicated to showing you his entire devotion, Zayne let his innermost thoughts flow freely. 

“The way the moon shines upon you… the luster of your hair in the night… gods above, you feel like a fever dream, my love.”

A soft whimper left your kiss-swollen lips. Zayne ran his thumb over your lower lip. 

“Do you feel it?” His breath is heavy and desire-filled.

He could not wait to see you coming undone for him.

“How much do I belong to you?” Infused with yearning, his words made you tremble. “I am all yours tonight. I want to give you everything you desire.”

Zayne…

He grunted, the sound of his name on your lips a glimpse of heaven opening up.

Sweat beaded on his brow, a droplet trailing from between your breasts to roll down towards where you were connected.

Zayne halted its path with his tongue, lapping at it gently. He ran his tongue over the curve of your jaw, across your pulse point—stopping to nip and suck the tender flesh until he was sure the marks of his affection would bloom upon your skin.

The idea of anyone taking one look at you and immediately deducing you belonged to him drove him wild with desire.

He wanted to mark you, inside and out.

You belonged to him and no one else.

Not to the world, not to your people or your books.

But, to him.

And he belonged to you. 

The moon rays seemed to blister his skin, an angry curse waiting to consume him whole. But, Zayne didn’t care for the warning, making a mockery of his god by claiming his beloved right under His light.

He brought you in for a tender kiss, just as your walls shuddered around him. 

The romantic atmosphere, the way his tender gaze bore into your soul… was all too much for you to hold back.

But, before you could come undone, Zayne stilled your hips, a pinch on his brow.

He captured your lips in a heated kiss, one which silenced your moans and protests, giving you what you longed for.

Zayne picked up his pace, surprising you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“That look on your face,” he murmured huskily. “I love it. I love when you rely on me to come undone, my love.”

Your toes curled, his heated words making a shiver of need run down your spine.

“Zayne…”

Yes, my love. He moved his hand between your thighs, teasing you with delicate circles on your flushed nub.

What is it you desire?

“You.” 

He smirked, hearing the desire and need in your tone.

“You have me.”

The ball of heat tightening in your belly demanded to be released.

No… I need you in a different way.

In what way? He raised a brow, looking irresistibly smug. 

Your lover intended for you to say it out loud. To tell him explicitly what it is you needed.

Wetting your lips, you shifted your hips, feeling the head of his length graze your sweet spot.

You winced, and murmured, I need you to make me come undone. 

But, Zayne was adamant on drawing out your needs.

“Just a little longer,” he promised. “I swear it will feel better once it is drawn out.”

You trusted him, letting him take his time.

“You’re pleasing me so well tonight, my love,” he praised in a soft voice, the look of devotion in his eyes never wavering. “I think I can give you what you are yearning for…”

However, his promises came with a caveat: 

“Only if you beg for it nicely.”

A jolt of arousal sparked through your bloodstream, tightening your walls around him.

Zayne grunted, his composure hanging by a loose thread.

The circles on your clit grew sloppier, a sign of his unraveling.

You couldn’t hold back the need any longer, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Please…” your thin whisper illuminated the dark interior of the barge. 

Please, Zayne. I need this… I need you…

Not one to push his beloved too hard, Zayne relented instantly; his chest swelling with pride at your obedient response.

Surging forward, he wrapped a hand around your waist, bringing you down onto the plush pillows as he took over.

Undulating his hips, he felt you falling apart underneath him—your toes curling, fingers lacing through his hair, tugging hard. 

Already coming undone? I can feel your control slipping, my love…

Yes, yes. You chanted, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Languidly nuzzling your neck, Zayne’s command was a heated whisper into your ear.

I know you need this—I can feel how much you need it. Let go, my love. 

It was the permission you needed. In an instant, you spilled over, following his command, always his obedient, sweet lover. 

He worked you through your contractions, feeling your entire body tensing under his touch. His cock splitting your walls over and over again drove you to the peak of your second release, and Zayne took pride in how you dug your heels into his lower back, crying out his name.

The official didn’t care who would be hearing; if the universe would conspire later to end him for his disobedience.

He couldn't think about anything else, not when you slumped into his arms, his voice a low hum; mumbling reassurances into the hollow of your throat. 

Careful to pull out and release into his own palm, Zayne didn’t care for your muffled outcry. He wouldn’t dare besmirch your body with his seed inside or out—prioritizing your dignity above all else.

The dark-haired man was careful to wipe his release on a spare silk handkerchief he brought onto the barge, taking another one to wipe the mess you made between your thighs.

Sated and glowing from your release, you let him work on you, quietly enjoying the devotion in his eyes and touch. 

Zayne’s smile was soft and hazy as he pulled you on top of him, letting your head rest on his chest. 

Longer, sturdier and calloused fingers traced patterns on your back, watching how the moon shone through the slanted windows, drawing shadows over the expanse of your skin.

His arms wrapped tightly around, pulling you deeper into his embrace, unwilling to let go. 

Outside the boat, a storm began to brew, dark clouds closing in and concealing the moon from sight. 

The balminess of the night gave way to a blessed, cooling drizzle, enveloping the boat much like his arms, keeping you safe and grounded. 

With the light of the moon extinguished, the glow of your smile became the brightest thing in the night as you leaned in, cradling his face, 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. 

His love for you shone brighter than any celestial being could, limitless and profound, as he lost himself in the warmth of your touch.

“I am perfect.”

Not one to give him a moment of peace, you cheekily quipped:

"So, does this mean you are giving me a month's supply of rabbit candy?"

Zayne's eyes twinkled, and he chuckled, shaking his head at your question.

"If I recall," he turned you over, pinning you back onto the pillows, desire alighting his usually stoic and steady gaze.

"It was not I whose composure wavered, my little one."

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost on other websites and claim as your own. do not feed my content to AI.

[forzalando]

casual

playlist shuffle request for @driverlando !! love you so so much, sasha, i hope you like it💛💛 pairing: lando norris x f!reader word count: 1k song: casual by chappell roan (modified ofc) warnings: 18+ mdni, spicy and implied smut, angst (sorry!)

You giggled like teenagers, buzzed off of champagne and the energy of the evening – some McLaren sponsor event that he’d mentioned weeks ago, waving his hand like it was no big deal. You said it sounded fun, and he asked you to go with him – with him. A public appearance. Cameras. Hundreds of people.

You were giddy.

Almost as giddy as you were now, running to the car because Lando couldn’t keep his hands off of you the entire night, couldn’t stop whispering in your ear how he wanted to taste you, and you simply refused to have a public scandal on your hands.

The thrum of your racing heart and the pretty smile on Lando’s face should have been enough to keep the thought from your mind but it tore through anyway. The car door thrown open, the feeling of bouncing against the seat, the uneasiness bouncing around in your mind. Lando’s hands creeping up your legs, the dreaded question creeping up the back of your throat.

What are we?

With his head between your thighs and his fingers gripping their flesh, you should have been satiated, should have been unable to focus on anything but pleasure. But it plays on a loop in your mind –

What are we? What are we? What are we?

The dreaded word tossed around all night, girlfriend. Girlfriend? Is this your girlfriend? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend? He never denied it – never said you were nothing, just laughed softly and avoided the subject entirely. Keeping you on that precipice, giving you just enough to stay until now, it’s not enough anymore. You have to say something –

“Lando, stop – ” you breathed, his curls brushing your inner thighs as he immediately raised his head to meet your eyes.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

The concern in his eyes made your stomach clench – it almost made you blurt out some bullshit excuse and completely abandon everything you were going to say, let him pleasure you and take what little of himself he gave you with no complaints. But you needed more.

“Yes, I mean, no, not with this, I just…why did you bring me here tonight? With you? What does it mean to you?”

He laughed, not in a mean way but in disbelief, like he couldn’t believe what you were asking and the position you were asking it in. “I’m kneeling in the back of this car begging to give you head and you – ”

The look in your eyes made him pause, made him pull the skirt of your dress down and climb up into the seat next to you.

“Ok, we’re doing this now.” The vibe shifts completely – one of playfulness and sexual tension to an entirely different kind. He twiddles his thumbs, looks anywhere but your eyes, and your heart plummets. “I just wanted to bring you, I’m not sure why. We have so much fun together, these events are mind-numbingly boring, seemed like a good idea. Plus, I mean we’re dating, right? Not seriously or exclusively, it’s just – ”

He pauses, and you offer the word you know he’s going to say with every bit of sadness and disappointment you can muster. If he notices, he doesn’t show it. If he cares, he doesn’t show that either. “Casual?”

“Exactly,” he exclaims. He smiles brightly, like he didn’t just crush your heart in his beautiful, sinful hands.

It was your own fault, really. The first night he brought you home, whispered in between heated kisses – “baby, don’t get attached”. You’d laughed, countered with “I should be saying that to you, Norris”, wiping the shit-eating grin from his face.

But he was right, the words left your mind as quickly as he’d said them when his lips were back on yours that fateful night. No attachment, no attachment. Baby, no attachment. But how were you meant to heed that warning when he was perfect, kind, fun, and knew your body like his own?

He interrupted your thoughts with a hand on your thigh, even the way he touched you innocently - there was nothing casual about it or the way he made you feel.

Then, his voice – “I thought we were on the same page about that?”

“Yeah,” you choked out. “We totally are, I was just worried – worried that being seen in public meant something different, you know? Everyone kept asking if I was your girlfriend and I just thought I should…clarify.”

You saw his shoulders relax, the air from a heavy sigh of relief ghosting over your face.

“We should get back,” you whispered. “I’m sure people are looking for you.”

The walk back into the venue was such a stark contrast to when you ventured out – the same pretty smile on his face and his fingers laced through yours, but the heaviness in your chest wasn’t there before.

Casual. Casual. Casual.

It rang through your head the rest of the night, a smile painted on your face and Lando gripping your waist, kissing your cheek adoringly.

Maybe you could get through the casual – maybe in a year you’d have a shared apartment and you’d laugh as you tell him how in this moment you’d loved him, you had loved him enough to hold out for something that wasn't promised.

You smiled and kissed him when his driver dropped you at your place. No, he couldn’t come up because you had work in the morning and with him there you’d never get to sleep.

Call me tomorrow, he yelled after you.

And despite your better judgment, you did.

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a fic with Jacaerys x sister! Reader where they are at a gala/feast and ppl keep flirting with reader so Jave gets jealous and stuff. So when they go to their room at the end of the feast Jace makes her ride his face and makes sure she’s loud enough for everyone to hear that she’s his.

warnings: typical canon incest, jace x sister!reader (father is not specified), no dance of the dragons au, 18+ minors DNI, jace hates aemond in every universe, everyone lives au!!!, jace eating u out like a man starved, nyra and daemon giving kris jenner vibes???, cursing, the targtowers and targaryens are besties (kind of)

For your younger brother Lucerys’s name day of ten and five, your family decided it would be best to throw a feast for him.

He was becoming older and would soon inherit Driftmark, he needed a celebration to show that he is becoming a man and no longer a mere child.

Since your mother became Queen and your older half-brother became her heir, many people were interested in the lives of the royal family, so Luke’s name day was flooded with people from all over Westeros.

You were all dolled up in a fancy gown, you hair was braided so elegantly and intricately, and you moved with such grace that most eyes were on you throughout the night.

Luke joked to Jace that you may be able to find a lord husband tonight, but at his suggestion, Jace tensed up and his face hardened.

You sat with your family at the elevated table, you mother was in the middle, Daemon next to her, his daughters on his side of the table, you sat between Jace and your mother, and then sat Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon.

You watched in awe at the celebration, only imagining how grand a wedding could be.

People danced, wore lavish clothing, gorged themselves in the food, and occasionally approached the table to offer up gifts to your brother for his name day.

It was about halfway through the night when highborn men started to approach you, which was uncommon up until recent.

Every since you had turned ten and eight, and became more developed in certain places, you were consistently approached for your hand.

Lord Oscar Tully was the first to approach your table, you smiled gently at him, knowing his new situation.

“Hello, Princess. You look lovely tonight.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, a dark color dusting your cheeks, he was quite the charmer, and not bad looking either, “Thank you, Lord Tully. I heard about your grandsire, I offer my deepest condolences.”

He nods solemnly, “Thank you, Princess. I may have lost my grandsire, but I have gained a deep power and a great kingdom… one I hope you will consider in your future.”

You smiled gently, “I heard the Riverlands are beautiful, I would most definitely love to see them someday. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I just wanted to come and offer you some company, if you’ll have me?”

You looked to your mother who smiled at you, knowingly. You looked back to the young lord and nodded, “I’d love to.”

You came around the table, taking his arm in yours as he led you to the floor to dance.

Jace’s gaze hardened and he downed his cup of wine, slamming it down on the table harsher than intended. Luke and Joffrey giggled at him, Viserys and Aegon following their older brothers’ actions.

Luke leaned over to his brother, “Careful, your face might get stuck like that.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

“I’m just saying…”

“He’s not good enough for her—”

“You say that about every man and I could hardly agree with you, most of the Riverlands looks to House Tully for direction and leadership; she would be in a great position there as their lady.”

“Do you want me to leave the table and kill myself?”

“All I am saying is that maybe you should focus on yourself instead of our sister… you need to wed as well, create heirs for the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace rolled his eyes, “You sound like Mother.”

Rhaenyra whipped her head to her sons, “I think he is right, Jace.”

“Of course you do.”

“You are too invested in something that does not concern you Jacaerys. Perhaps you need to start looking for your own Lady Wife.”

“I do not wish to wed.”

“I hate to tell you, but your wishes do not matter to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace sighed, moving his gaze back to you and Lord Tully. You smiled as the two of you danced. Jace’s jealously only grew as he watched.

Oscar Tully was not good enough for you, no one is good enough for you… except Jace himself.

As the song ended, a new one started. Luke left the table with Rhaena, Joffrey and the twins were led to their chambers to be put to bed, your mother was in an intent conversation with Corlys and Rhaenys, and you had just been approached by Gwyane Hightower.

From the look on Gwyane’s face, Jace knew Gwyane was being smug with you, he scoffed, thinking that you would never be charmed by him, but when he saw you smiling, standing too close for comfort to him, he almost puked his supper all over the floor.

You danced and flirted with Gwyane Hightower for a bit of the night, making Jace more and more jealous.

As you finished with Gwyane, you returned to your seat, a big smile on your face.

“Enjoy your dance?” Jace asked, venom lacing his tongue.

“I did, as a matter of fact, Gwyane is… such a lovely knight. He’s a knight… did you know?”

Before Jace could respond, you were hugged lightly from behind by Helaena. She kissed you gently on the cheek, “Quite the collection of suitors you have assembled tonight.”

You giggled lightly, “I know! Quite fun, to be honest.”

Jace grunted from beside you, making you and Helaena both turn to him, “Are you alright?”

“Just fine,” he held his lips in a thin tight line.

You went back to your conversation with Helaena about her uncle, Gwayne and Lord Tully, when you were finally met by another suitor.

“Sister. Niece. Nephew,” Aemond stood in front of you, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Uncle,” you looked at him with raised brows.

“I was just wondering if you would join me for a dance. I’ve seen all of these useless men that call themselves suitors and figured you needed a more distinguished partner, such as a prince.”

You blinked slowly at him, Helaena nudged you with a smile. You quickly glanced at Jace and thought he looked like he was about to roll over and die.

You stood and came around the table to meet him, you took his offered hand, “Let’s see how well you dance, Uncle.”

Helaena watched the two of you walk away, “A great pair, the two of them, they’ll be fantastic together,” she took a grape off your plate, popping it in her mouth and walking off.

This was Jace’s last straw, seeing you dance with Aemond might have been the most painful thing he’s ever done in his entire life. After watching for just a couple moments, he could not stand it any longer.

His mother rolled her eyes, watching him seethe, “Jace.”

“What?”

“Go get her.”

“What?”

“Go. I can see it in your eyes.”

Jace stood, rushing down to you and grabbing your arm, stealing you away from Aemond.

You followed him, shocked at the sudden behavior. He yanked you to his chambers, leaving the doors open.

Once in his room, you pulled away from him, “Jacaerys! What is the meaning of this?”

“You! You are the meaning of this!” His yelling made you take a step back, he stalked up, putting his hand on either side of your face, holding on tightly, “You think you can tease me like that? Taking any man who offered his hand?”

“Jace-”

“You know they are no good for you. They may be nobles, but are they heir to the Iron Throne? You are simply doing this to upset me.”

Your voice became small, “I did not mean to upset you.”

You could feel wetness pooling in your small clothes beneath your gown. He shoved his face into yours, harshly smashing his lips on yours.

You stumbled back at the forced, you pushed him back to take a breath and think about what you are doing. After a couple deep breaths, you rushed at him, nearly mounting him.

He groped and grasped at every part of you, you doing the same to him. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking lightly at it.

You threw your head back as his teeth grazed the sensitive area of your neck. The two of your shuffled your way to his bed.

“Jace… the doors, someone might see or hear.”

“I hope they do.”

“But—”

He pushed you on his bed, “I want them to hear how good your brother can make you feel, how they will never be me, how they will never taste you.”

He spread your legs, pulling off your underclothes. He grabbed your thighs, flipping you to straddle his face.

You fell forward, steadying yourself up with your hands. You pushed yourself up back in a sitting position.

Jace yanked at your legs, pulling you further down onto his face. You felt his nose buried into your cunt, rubbing against your sensitive bud.

You were about to voice your concerns about suffocating him, but you suddenly gasped out as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe down your maidenhood.

He thrusted his tongue in and out of you roughly, you screamed out for everyone in the hall to hear, “Gods! Jace!”

Visceral animalistic sounds came from the back of your throat, sounds you had never heard before.

In the hall, the attention of the crowds was taken by your yells, guards grabbed at their swords, you mother rose suddenly at your scream, Daemon was on his feet and ready for an oncoming attack.

One of Jace’s personal guards came rushing into the room to promise that no one was in danger and that the two of you were… together in his chambers.

Your mother and Daemon’s faces instantly reddened. They shared a look of embarrassment and pride. On one hand, as your parents, they wanted to kill you both, but as the Queen and King Consort, they knew the realm would be in their children’s hands at their demise.

Tears rolled down your face as Jace fucked you with his tongue. You had never felt such pleasures in your entire life. It made you understand why lowborn men seek out such endeavors at the disloyalty of their wives.

Jace couldn’t get enough of you. You tasted sweeter than anything that’s ever touched his tongue. His tongue moved faster as you panted, moaned, and groaned above him.

As his pace quickened, you felt a tight coiling in your lower stomach.

“Jace… fuck!”

At your vulgarity, he quickened his pace. You came fast and harder than you ever thought you could. Jace took all of your juices into his mouth, not leaving a drop of your sweet release.

You collapsed next to him, panting outrageously. He lay next to you, breathless, laughing to himself. You grabbed a pillow, hitting him the face with it. He took it from you, tossing it on the ground.

He came to hover over you, trapping you beneath his figure. You leaned down and kissed your lips gently, you could still taste your arousal on his lips.

You stared at him with a smile, “I suppose you think making the entire Keep believe we were under attack is funny?”

“It was not I that made them think we were under attack. If I am not mistaken, it was you screaming your head off.”

“You were the one who yanked me away from the celebration.”

“Yes, but you were the one who made me.”

You scoffed, sitting up against the headboard, “Made you?”

“Yes, dancing with that Tully, the fucking Hightower knight, and worse of all, Aemond.”

“Mmm, sounds like you are jealous?” You taunted him sarcastically.

“They are not deserving of you.”

“And you are?”

“I am the heir to the Iron Throne and your blood. I am the most deserving.”

“So are you suggesting I should become Queen one day?”

“Hmm, I do not remember offering my hand to you to wed…”

You hit him in the stomach with the back of your hand, “You just had the entire Seven Kingdoms hear my screams while you were buried up my dress. I would slaughter you and become the heir myself if you did not ask for my hand after that.”

He took your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm, “I shall talk to Mother in the morn.”

You stared at your intertwined hands, “We should return…”

“You think we are able to return after the little show we put on?”

“I suppose you are right,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He got up, leaving you on his bed. He walked to his chamber doors, locking them.

He returned to you, laying on his back, “Perhaps we should just rest now, we shall deal with our consequences tomorrow.”

You lay with him, resting your head on his chest, he brought his hand to rub your arm, coaxing you to sleep.

He pressed a couple kiss to your hairline, “You will be my wife soon enough, dōna tala.”

[bratbby333]

I got some thoughts 👀 can I request a little something? like reader finds herself in a situation where a guy is disrespectful to her and Geto steps in to defend her... she would be so relieved like 'thank you so much tall and beautiful stranger' 😍🥰 and he's probably like 'don't worry about it, it's whatever' but in the end he offers to walk her home and he fucks her against the wall things happen 😳😳

`⭐︎ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ YOUR GUARDIAN STRANGER ! — feat. suguru geto

word count. 3.6k content warnings. characters are 21+, fem!reader x suguru, mentions of blood, allusions to violence, reader gets hit on and grabbed in the club, alcohol consumption, p in v, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, thigh-riding, sugu fucks hard, one night stand, the pull-out method, non-curse!au author notes. thank you for ur ingenious request my sweet nonnie...i hope you enjoy xx not beta read !!

nsfw 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 mdni

A skin-tight dress. Four inch heels. Dark lip liner with a clear gloss on top. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5, and you are out the door and heading to the club.

Everything is great; good vibes, strong drinks, pounding 808s reverberating off the walls. The liquor warms your stomach as your hips sway to the music, your over-worked body relaxing with every bump of the heavy bass. You take in the scene around you; drunk couples making out in the corner, a few underage kids getting thrown out, a group of friends arguing over god knows what– it’s all very entertaining. You laugh to yourself, your eyes scanning the room once more before your vision settles on the one thing you were trying to avoid. Shit. Your heart drops. Really? Did he not catch the hint the last two times? You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes as you prepare yourself for the inevitable. Not this again.

Because, of course, all good things must come to an end. 

You're used to being hit on. But tonight, there is one guy in particular, unrelenting in his attempts to get close to you. He's shorter than average, the two of you being the same height when you're in heels. He reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and BO. His fringe clings to his forehead as he approaches you for the third time this evening, a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. He seems to have mistaken your accidental eye contact as an invitation to test his luck once more. With tense shoulders and an apprehensive tone, you offer him polite conversation. Not that you want to, but god forbid you reject him in just the right way to make him snap. You don't want to end up being a headline. Your eyes dart elsewhere, knowing damn well that if you look at him for too long you might gag. He is truly disgusting, rambling on and on about his podcast and his most recent bouts of buying and trading crypto. 

It's a tough situation to navigate. You're out alone. Granted, you are at a club that you're comfortable in; you're familiar with the layout, you're friends with a few of the waitresses and bartenders. The DJ knows you by name. But, you're still riding solo in a loud, rambunctious environment. Even though there is a level of comfort here, it's still a club filled with drunkards at the end of the day. 

With a fake smile and a couple nods of your head, you try to ignore the part of the conversation where he referred to himself as an “alpha male” as you accept the drink he presents to you, kindly excusing yourself before disappearing into the crowd once more.

A shudder runs down your spine, your body quite literally trying to shake away that awful conversation. God, he’s the worst. On your way to the dance floor, you pour the contents of the cup into the soil of a potted plant. He doesn't think you're stupid, does he? There is no way in hell you're drinking that shit.

You're dancing alone, enjoying the house mix that's bumping through the giant speakers, the colorful spotlights that bounce around your face as you feel yourself begin to relax once more. Finally, some much needed alone time. All you want is to let loose after an arduous week of working. Can't a girl have some peace?

"C'mon...just give me a chance." You don't even have to turn around to see who it is, you can smell him. Your nose scrunches up before you turn to face him, another fake smile pulling at your cheeks as you speak to him for the fourth time tonight. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not looking for anythin'...I'm just tryna have fun," you say politely, before beginning to walk away. If you just keep moving through the crowd, he won't be able to find you again. But this guy is annoyingly determined and obnoxiously entitled, because after one step away from him, his hand grabs at your wrist, "We can have fun! C'mon...seriously?! I bought you a drink and this is how you treat me?"

As soon as the contact is made, your blood boils. Rage runs through your body as you spin around to chew him out for A, assuming some smelly asshole like him has a chance with you; B, for even thinking he could touch you, and C, the absolute nerve of this man to actually follow through with it. 

But when you turn, you realize you can't see him anymore. Your eye line is obstructed by a broad, muscular back. Utterly confused, you step to the side in order to fully see what the hell is going on. The sweaty hand that was once wrapped around your forearm is now gripped by a large fist. Your eyes trail up to your savior, a damningly handsome man with jet-black hair. 

"Do we have a problem?" a stern voice addresses the musty, shorter guy. 

"Yeah, this chick's been flirting with me all night...I'm tryna get what I'm owed," he spits back, attempting to pull his wrist away, "Dude, let go...stop bein' a cockblock." The mystery man's face twists at the other's bold choice in words. You're shocked that he doesn't feel intimidated at all. 

"What you're owed?" A deep chuckle emerges from the unknown’s chest as he stares down at him. "I dunno...it seems like she wants nothing to do with you," he muses, tightening his grip around the other’s arm. 

He turns to address you, and you finally get to take a good look at him. His side-profile is god-like, but looking at him straight on is a whole different realm of attractiveness. The man's fucking gorgeous. You're too busy ogling him that you miss his question all together. 

"S-sorry...what did you say?" You shake your head a bit, adrenaline pumping through your ears from this entire ordeal, the expensive scent of his cologne mixing with the pounding bass of the club; it's all making your head spin. 

He laughs and leans down to your level, his head hovering just next to your ear. "You want me to get rid of him for ya?" he repeats, his breath brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He pulls back, looking down at you with his grip still tight around the other guy's arm. The pathetic man is squirming as the two of you share quite the intimate eye contact. You nod, your mouth dropping open as he drags him out of the club immediately. 

You let out a deep sigh before making your way to the bathroom. You lather up your hands with soap and do your best to scrub away the feeling of that man's skin on yours. Leaning up against the sink, you take a few deep breaths before fixing your hair and reapplying your lipgloss. That man is vile, but you're not going to let that gross interaction ruin your night. 

You make your way to the bar, keeping your head on a swivel in hopes to see your handsome rescuer once more, wanting to thank him for handling that for you. You pout a bit as you fail to see him on your trek, sighing as you place your order with the bartender. 

You take a few sips before turning to walk back toward the dance floor, when you literally run straight into someone. "Fuck! I am so sorry, I-" but then you smell it, the same entrancing cologne as before. You look up and are met with a devious grin on the most angelic face you've ever seen. You smile, pushing your hair from your eyes, "I was looking for you." You sound relieved as the two of you stare at one another. 

"Were you now?" he asks coyly, shifting his weight as he smirks down at you. You nod shyly, "Mhm...I-I wanted to thank you for earlier," you take another sip of your cocktail, hoping it will calm your nerves a bit, "I appreciate you stepping in, that guy couldn't catcha fuckin' hint," you laugh, looking away. 

"Don't mention it. It's the least I could do," he responds. "I'm Suguru, by the way."

Turning to face him once more, you tell him your name with a kind smile. As the two of you make small talk, you notice his chest is heaving a bit, and with a quirk of your brow, you run your eyes down his body, realizing that his knuckles are bruised and slightly bloody.

"Oh...oh my god. Are you alright?" you ask, grabbing his hand. You bring his fist up to inspect it, the dim lights of the club not offering you much assistance. "Oh, yeah," he laughs, rotating his wrist so you can examine it further, "the blood's not mine," he grins. A laugh escapes you as you gaze up at him, still holding his hand in yours. 

"Damn...you really did a number on him, huh?" Suguru laughs at this.

"Absolutely, he deserved it. Dude was a prick. I'm really sorry that happened to you," he sympathizes, watching as you grab napkins and a shot of vodka from the bar to wipe off the dried blood from his knuckles. 

"It's alright, I'm used to it by now, but having someone step in and save me was definitely a first." He releases a jagged exhale as you pour the liquor over the small abrasions on his hand, "Sorry...gotta disinfect you. That dude was gross...I had to go scrub my arm off after he touched me," you giggle. He watches intently as you finish cleaning him up, his heart skipping a beat as you smile up at him triumphantly. You are quite the woman, cunning and confident. He likes that. 

"There ya go," you chirp, before tossing the reddened napkins into the garbage can located nearby. His eyes run across your face and up and down your body, taking in every part of you. Poor thing. Though you seem so unbothered by that whole situation, there is a telling look behind your eyes, and Suguru notes that you are still a little shaken up. He would be crazy to let you wander back out there alone. 

"Do you want to come hang with my friends? I promise they won't pester you like that dude did," he offers. He nods toward the booths that line the wall. "That's them over there; Shoko and Satoru." You follow his eye line, seeing a brunette woman accompanied by a blue-eyed man. They seem to be about your age, and you love meeting new people. You smile and agree, thanking him once more as the two of you make your way over to the table. 

The rest of your night is spent laughing and dancing with the three of them. You learn that they all work for the high school across town, and that Shoko can really handle her liquor; Satoru cannot. You and Suguru are in your own world, chatting about everything and nothing, taking breaks to dance together when a good song comes on. His hands rest on your waist as you move your hips against him, your bodies fitting like you are made for one another. Suguru, being the gentleman he is, never pushes any further than that, allowing you to initiate the contact. 

It's 2 AM when the four of you stumble out of the club, the tall blond leaning on his smaller friend's shoulders as she guides him toward the taxi. It's quite the amusing sight. 

You stop short of the curb, wishing Satoru and Shoko a good night, before turning to Suguru. "Thank you again…for everything," you say, your voice raspier than usual from all the shouting you did inside the loud club. 

"Of course. I'm just glad we got to spend some more time together," he says with a smile, ushering you toward the taxi. He's confused when you shake your head. 

"I live like three blocks from here, I'm just gonna walk," you state. "It was really nice meeting you, you were great company," you smirk, heading down the road, your heels clacking against the pavement with every step. 

A few unintelligible words are exchanged between Suguru and the taxi driver, followed by a car door slamming shut, before the sound of someone jogging catches up to you. 

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you walk home alone," he retorts, pushing you toward the inside of the sidewalk as he walks closest to the cars that pass by. 

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you," you tease, pushing your shoulder into his. He chuckles, "Can you blame me? I see a beautiful woman in distress, I have to jump in." You blush at his compliment.

"My knight in...," you pause as you run your eyes down his body, "...jeans and a black tee," you giggle. After sharing a few laughs, silence settles between the two of you as the cool air swirls around you. The occasional car passes by, but other than that, it's a quiet evening. 

You glance at Suguru through your peripherals, enjoying the way his layered hair bounces with every step he takes. His cologne, though more subtle now, still wafts toward your nose. He really is beautiful. You wonder if it'd be too bold to see if he wants to continue your evening. 

You walk toward the door to your apartment, turning to face him. It's now or never. 

"You comin'?" You ask with a raise of your brow. He chuckles as he climbs the stairs, joining you by your side, "Thought you'd never ask."

You have never been into one night stands, but something about Suguru is irresistible. Whether it's because he saved you from that creep or because he is super fucking sexy, you know you need him. Now. The two of you barely made it through the doorway as you’re pushing him up against the wall of your foyer, your lips immediately finding his.

He's taken aback by your boldness, taking a second to register his surroundings before quickly flipping the two of you around, his hands cupping either side of your face as his knee wedges between your legs. His muscular thigh is pressed directly onto your core, the pressure sending waves through your body.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bed, huh?” he husks into your ear, placing a wet kiss on the sensitive skin below, nipping and sucking at it. Soft moans echo through the hallway as Suguru finds your lips once more, your tongues battling one another. You thrust your hips, rubbing your warmth against his leg. “Eager, are we?” he teases, lifting his leg more. 

“Mmm…mhm,” you gasp as the contact intensifies. You’re already addicted to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You grind your hips harder, pressing your drenched cunt firmly against his clothed thigh, certain that he can feel your pussy throbbing against him, the tightness in your stomach intensifying. Your cheeks fluster at how quickly he’s getting you to your breaking point without even having to do anything.

He breaks the kiss, watching intently as your hips gyrate against him. “Shit…are you gonna cum?” The tone of his voice is taunting, yet laced with desire. The sight of you using him to get off has him rock hard. You blush immediately, tilting your head away from him. You nod shyly, though your hips continue their pattern. “So fuckin’ hot,” his hand wraps around your throat, your head tilting to rest against the wall. “Uh uh, don’t get shy now…look at me.” Through low lids, you meet his gaze. His lower lip is between his teeth as he glances between your face and your cunt rubbing against his thigh. With a desperate whimper, you pick up the pace. “C’mon…that’s it–cum for me,” he growls, entranced by the fluid motion of your body. You come undone just a few minutes later with a whine and a few moans of his name. Your cum soaks through your panties and a guttural moan breaks through his chest as he watches you finish. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ me already, huh?” You blush profusely, your eyes screwed tight as embarrassment courses through you.

You yelp as he flips you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, your legs parallel with your shoulders. “All that cum ‘n I wasn’t even inside you yet…” He unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing erection, “...can’t wait to see how much you cream on my cock.” You whimper at the filthy words that shamelessly fall from Suguru’s lips as he pulls your dress up and drags your panties down your legs. You aren’t much help, small pants leaving your chest as your body recovers from your unexpectedly intense orgasm.  His lips part as he teases his thick tip along your slit, lubing himself with your cum. “You ready, doll?” His head shallowly dips in and out of your needy cunt, already loving the way you stretch for him. You hum, nodding profusely as you look over your shoulder. “Mm. Mhm…p-please fuck me,” you beg. Your words feel foreign to you as you say them, unsure of where all this submissiveness was coming from. But Suguru’s effortlessly domineering aura makes you want to bend to his every whim, to please him in any way that you can. 

Inch by inch, he’s delving into you. The warmth of your dribbling cunt sucking him, the squelching sounds ricocheting through his head, the sinful moans that break through your throat–it drives him wild. He growls as your back arches, pushing him even deeper. Your ass flush against his lower abdomen, your eyes blowing wide at the damning stretch of his full length nestled deep inside you.

He stays still for a moment, allowing you time to accommodate as your gushy walls flutter around him. The pace starts slow, but Suguru’s patience wears thin, and after a few strokes he’s ramming into you, one hand wrapped around the front of your throat, the other pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he bounces you on his cock. The scratches that should be left on the tanned flesh of his toned back are being dragged down your beige walls, your breasts rubbing against the cold plaster with every rough thrust of his hips, the sensation stimulating your budding nipples. 

Every bump of his hips pushes his head into your sweet spot, his length caressing every part of you with ease. “Takin’ me so well,” he grunts as he rams into your furthest wall. You can’t suppress the cock-drunk whines that spill from you, your eyes welling with tears while delirious pleasure claws its way through your body, your tummy tightening as you clench around him. Your shoulders tense as your perch on your tiptoes, opening yourself up to take more of him–if that is even possible–praying he finds refuge within your womb. “Shit–” he hisses, his words nearly incoherent as the sound of skin against skin echoes through the hallway, “fuckin’ milkin’ me, doll.”

He releases your throat, the same hand trailing down your spine before his arm snakes around you, his nimble fingers strumming delicious circles against your throbbing clit. You cry out, eyes screwing shut as your legs shake. “Fuck…oh fuuuck–ahh! Gonna…’m gonna…” Your voice trails off, any semblance of a coherent thought cast to the wayside as a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. Suguru leans down, kissing behind your ear before biting at your lobe. “I know,” he muses, his fingers work even faster against you, “Squeezin’ me s’tight…”, his hips shifting to push himself even deeper, “...C’mon. Make a mess ‘f me.” You reach your breaking point once more, lips parting as squirt spills out around his cock and dribbles down your thighs. 

His release follows suit with a few raspy swears and sultry mumbles of your name. He pulls out, working his fist around his cock, his hot seed shooting onto your ass and lower back. Suguru places soft pecks along your neck and shoulders, working to regain his breath. He catches you as he untangles his body from yours, chuckling at the evident exhaustion of your body while your knees buckle, unable to support your own body weight as you lean against the wall. 

After tucking himself away and a speedy rebuckle of his belt, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your bed, setting you down on your plush duvet. 

“Bathroom?” he asks. Your brows furrow before you comprehend his question, still dazed from the spell he cast on you. With a weak flick of your wrist, you gesture toward the closed door to your left. You watch with tired eyes as he returns with a damp rag, his soft touches along your weary body juxtaposing the meanness of his strokes as he mindfully cleans you up. With a quick kiss on your cheek and a soft mumble of “you were wonderful” into your ear, he smiles down at you before beginning to exit the bedroom. It’s crazy–insane, even–how much you want him around. You must be out of your mind…this near stranger—the fact that you even let him in your house is wild, let alone asking him to stay the night? But you want him to, so bad. There’s just something about him.

You sit upright, ignoring the ache in your lower back and the morality of your choices, your question flying from your lips before your brain can stop it. “Wait…can you stay?” Your words are soft as they drift through the air. He stops just short of the door, before turning and offering you a knowing smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”

author notes. certified sugu glazer…what can i say. i just cannot get enough of him ugh.

i’m still workin thru all my requests, i appreciate yalls patience w me 🤍

my reqs are closed atm, but thirsts + chats are welcome! come say hello ☺️

tag list: @admirxation @sadmonke @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @call-memissbrightside (lmk if u want to be removed from tags🤍)

©bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[lacollectionneuse1967]

remembering you - bonus chapter

Theseus Scamander x Reader

summary: theseus comes to your rescue after you've had too much to drink, but will he be able to resist your drunken advances?

fem!reader. theseus x reader.

category: smut

warnings: 18+ smut scene. drunkenness. dirty talk. unprotected penetration. light mdom/fsub.

author's note: wasn't going to continue with this fic, but i made this "bonus chapter." it's more of a smutty resolution than a full-fledged chapter, no plot all vibes--hope you all enjoy!

part one / part two / bonus chapter

The realization of love feels fatal, plummets and plants itself at the bottom of your stomach like some small death. Your heart pounds dreadfully, like you’re in danger. The soar and the swoop.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

Theseus. Loves. Me. 

It shatters your mind. You shuffle around in the shards to formulate sentences to offer up to Mr. Bragg’s probing, you tell yourself to blink. To focus. 

Mr. Bragg had shuffled you into his quiet office with a shaking anticipation, but asked you only silly, useless questions once alone. He was less talkative than you’d expected. Less forward.

It’s dim in his office. Impractically so. Only an oil lamp squats in the far corner, blooming dead orange light into the cigar-perfumed room. 

The bronze hinges on his display cabinet and the dull gold knobs and hardware on all his other furniture glint, dark rays of light. Yes, the dark winks at you in this way. He’s seated far across the room. You can’t see him well, he’s half-swallowed in a cushy upholstered chair opposite yours. 

“Might we turn on another lamp, sir?” You can’t see and you want to look around. You try not to shuffle in your seat. 

“No, no, I can see you just fine.”

You burn with something, you don’t know what. 

It’s not the general air of discomfort that’s bothering you, it’s the void, that gap of misunderstanding that you now feel between you and this man. Who is this man, really? 

You’d always dismissed Mr. Bragg as a bumbling, meat-fisted man. Sweat on his brow, voice booming through the Atrium most days, spittle flying. Heavy-handed and obvious in his jokemaking and friend-making and all other matters.

You don’t know why the wet shine of his teeth in the dark now reminds you of a wolf. Could he really be what they think he is? You search for any sign of Grindelwald, of extremism or betrayal on his face, but you see only darkness and the barest outlines of his features–eyes, mouth, nose–buried in that. 

“Whisky?” He smiles. You can’t see the whites of his eyes. 

“What about it?” 

“Ha!” It’s a dead noise in his throat. A huff. “Funny. Go on, girl. You’re allowed.”

He pours two inches of whisky into a thick French glass and has to stand to hand it to you.

You drink and try not to make a face. Crude drink, whisky. He stares unblinkingly at your throat as you swallow it, assessingly. When he stands and pours you another, you don’t protest. You gulp it down and speak quickly. 

“Mr. Bragg, can I ask, how long have you been this department’s head?”

“Are you enjoying your whisky?”

“Well, yes–Mr. Bragg I was just wondering how you’re-”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re enjoying it very much. You know Mr. Martin–Paul Martin from the Courts–he could down one of my bottles in, say, half an hour?” 

You breathe out a laugh and hope you don’t sound exasperated. This is going to be hard. He’s making it hard for you, and you don’t know why. 

“Well, I don’t believe that, Mr. Bragg.”

Paul Martin. A Ministry judge. Your mouth works faster than your mind. The whisky sears something like acid in your stomach. 

“Mr. Martin joined us around the same time you did, isn’t that right?”

A good quarter of Ministry workers had inexplicably quit sometime before last New Year. The new hires seemed to come out of thin air. You never thought of it as sinister before tonight.

The corner of Mr. Bragg’s mouth twitched. That was the wrong thing to say. You should’ve kept your cards close. The man across from you doesn’t move at all, but in your mind the alarm bells are screeching. You can’t tell if it’s just dark in the room or if the edges of your vision are smudging. Soft black curtains. 

“And what is it exactly that you wanted to speak with me about, Miss Y/L/N?” 

—----------------

“So, how did you do it?”

Theseus jerks irritably at the sound of Yuta’s voice to see who it is and then, once confirmed, goes back to ignoring him.

He’s still staring at the blank column of space between the pillars where you’d disappeared with the detestable Mr. Bragg, mouthing “sorry!” with this look of sweet apology on your face. Sweet. Everything you did was sweet to him. 

“Is it a secret? Bastard really won’t tell us.” George Ambani Kotak slings an arm around Yuta’s shoulders and delivers his line with a mischievous lilt. There’s a bit of stray confetti on his shoulder that strangely suits him–unkempt hair, ill-fitting suit and all. 

George and Yuta are the youngest Aurors in the department. Always poking fun at Theseus because they know that he was once the youngest Auror, and they know he usually likes their spirit of boyish rebellion. Keyword: Usually.

“What are you two going on about?” Theseus humors them with his attention, turning away from the space you left at last. He doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel good. It’s not about your unsaid response, he could give a damn if you loved him back. He loves you so absolutely he doesn’t want anything in return. No, it’s something else and he needs to be with you again to make it feel better. 

“You think we’re pesky, don’t you?” Yuta whines in mock accusation. The young Hufflepuff has a teasing manner about him that’s almost effeminate. 

“That’s because Theseus only likes hanging out with old men. Going down to the pub and talking about footy and the weather.”

“Piss off, George,” Theseus bites. He can’t quite suppress his smile. They make him feel young and old at the same time. 

The Armistice ceremony is over and discordant, broken streams of people are trickling out of the Atrium now, emerging from beneath pillars and around corners, sweaty and celebratory with relief, as if at the end of a concert or performance. Mourning and remembering were a sort of duty to be carried out, too. Theseus can understand that. 

When he thinks about your reticent angling away from him in the alcove, then your quiet omission, “I just wish that you would’ve remembered me,” he wants to shoot himself. Dramatics, yes, but the thought of letting you down felt worse than anything, was a shotgun blow to the chest in of itself. 

“Y/N fucking Y/L/N,” George groans. “How did you do it, man? I mean, actually, what did you do?!” 

“You sly fox,” Yuta mutters in agreement. 

Theseus frowns at Yuta then, taken aback, understanding the exchange at last.

“Do you fancy Y/N or something?” He still feels at a loss. They must have seen him talking to you earlier.

George looks at Theseus like he’s stupid. Then again, George looks at everyone like they’re stupid. Not a Ravenclaw thing, Theseus doesn’t like stereotypes, just a George thing. 

“Everyone likes Y/N, are you kidding me? But the girl is impenetrable.” 

“Office siren,” Yuta chirps in. 

“According to Ana, half the sports and games department has been trying to get at her all month. We came to the conclusion that she’s probably secretly engaged. Or maybe it’s an Unspeakable thing, who knows? Oh, Merlin, Rawlings is going to be fuming when he finds out about this, he’s been trying to chat her up at lunch for weeks–”

“So what’s your deal anyway? You and her?” Yuta interrupts, physically putting up a hand to silence George. George blinks at the appendage in offense. 

Theseus is stunned anew. Flustered, even.

“She… She’s just my friend,” he says firmly. Defensively, maybe. “I care about her a lot.”

There’s a beat before the two boys react. Theseus wants to give you the space to respond to his confession, to define this, before involving anyone else. He hopes Yuta and George can sense that. Or at least sense his protectiveness and uncertainty. 

“But why you?!” Yuta grimaces at last.

George bellows at that, heartily. “Oh, Yuta, young Romeo, you had your chance back when-”

Theseus drones out the two’s bickering, but the sound of it makes him inexplicably happy. The unease in his ribcage dissipates and lifts, though not completely. Theseus feels proud to love you. Grateful that, by some miracle, you let him.

He doesn’t care about any meeting you might have. He’s coming to see you, now. 

The conviction thumps in his chest like a second heart. 

He turns to leave without a farewell. 

—-------------

‘This is good,’ you’d told yourself courageously after the first swooning burn of drunkenness sailed through your body, hard and fast and seeping. ‘I feel more confident to ask him what I need to. I’m not unsettled anymore.’ 

But there was no coherent justification anymore. You were piteously, dangerously drunk.

All you could do was sway upright in the chair and try to aim your gaze towards that warm spot in the dark you were sure concealed his figure. 

Oh, god, he was talking about something. You hadn’t noticed, hoped he wasn’t asking you anything.

“-girl like you, no?”

The clipped end of his sentence did nothing for you. You feel sick, want to keel over and hold your head between your knees until the room stops moving. Your skin is buzzing. Living takes on a liquid quality, you feel like you are slipping warmly and smoothly from one moment to the next.

“What? Sorry.” 

The dark shape of Mr. Bragg moves then, solidifies as he comes to sit next to you.

“Oh, ho!” He tuts. “Can’t handle your drink, Y/L/N?”

You squint up at him.

In truth, no. This is more than you can handle, and you didn’t really drink to begin with aside from the rare glass of wine paired with dinner. 

“It’s…” your retort trails off, you can’t remember why you’d opened your mouth in the first place.

You feel yourself careen towards his thigh, his lap, he is seated on the arm of your big chair now. You slump against him pitifully. You are hardly there. You don’t know if it’s natural, the sharp decline from bubbly and light and talkative to this–sleep. Losing control of your limbs.

Oh, god. Fuck. 

Some fucking investigation. You don’t know what would be worse, if he were really betraying the Ministry, an enemy agent, or if he just wanted to take advantage of you. 

“M’sorry,” you slur against him and strain to raise yourself back up, unsuccessfully. Everything tastes bad. Even the air that rushes out of your nostrils when you exhale is pricked with the astringent sweet-rot of alcohol. Bitter and syrupy. 

You want to jolt up at the feel of his hand on your back, petting you almost, but you can only manage a low judder. You don’t know how long it’s been or what time it is, but you’re going to pass out, you realize, and Mr. Bragg is touching you. 

“Don’t,” you hiss, with sudden clarity. “Don’t touch me-”

The bang bang of his office door being knocked on isn’t even enough to raise you. You’re slumped over the side of the chair. Mr. Bragg, however, stands, alertly. 

“Not now!” He shouts. 

Every second that passes you feel yourself slip away. Light and sound comes and goes. You’re going to be sick.

The doorknob clatters against its own deadbolt. 

“I said not now–”

The door clicks and crashes open, magicked unlocked no doubt.

You can only make out Mr. Bragg’s outline. He’s standing, his body conveniently angled in a feeble attempt to block you from the intruder’s view. You don’t need to see to know who it is. 

You’re too fucked to smile. 

Theseus just stares. Seethes. Burns, not like paper being eaten up, but without end.

“I cans–you have to-” Your nonsensical, drunken slur is enough to break his stillness.

“What’s going on here?!” 

Something bridles and puffs up in Mr. Bragg, he clenches his fists and goes red in the face. 

“You have no right to-”

Theseus pushes him to the floor with a single hard shove. Mr. Bragg topples over like a beetle. 

He doesn’t care about him. He’s an Auror, he’ll deal with Bragg later.

You feel his hands on you, your body sings with affection. He’s trying to help you up by the arm but you’re trying to fall into him. 

“Sweetheart, try and stand up,” he says, voice hushed and insistent. He seems like a real Auror now, authoritative and caring. “I think he put something in your cup.”

Your head lolls but you try to obey and make yourself helpful. Fuck, it’s hard. You thought it would help, standing up, but you feel more and more inebriated by the second. 

“No,” you shake your head and stumble out of the black office into humiliatingly bright light. The word comes out as a desperate moan, a heave. You feel sick again. You have to concentrate on not slurring your words. “It’s just. I-I don’t really drink, Theseus. Likeatall...”

You stare at your stumbling feet, so strange looking. How strange it is to be drunk and seeing the drab, red Ministry carpets. To be like this and at work. 

Theseus is looking around, concerned at the spectacle of the two of you, at how bad it looked, maybe, you don’t know. You just want him to stop looking around and look at you instead. You need his attention, in a babylike and indulgent way. Look at me, look at me.

“Let’s go, darling,” he mutters. “I’ll take you home.” 

You gather up words and intent, trying your hardest to formulate a response; it’s then that you black out completely. 

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

Mercy, Theseus finds himself thinking, cursing, again. He doesn’t know how many times he’s thought this plea since you came into his life again. God, you made him think it the first night he met you, asking for a kiss, your eyes dark and bright at once, a star-shattered night.

 He knows he can’t hold anything you do against you now, though. You’re truly, shockingly, appallingly and hilariously drunk. Your eyes have that sheen, so he knows you won’t remember any of it, that you’re blacked out.

“Please,” he begs you. His arms burn, though he’d never let on. A block back you’d rolled your ankle, hard on the cobblestone, so he is carrying you now, which wouldn’t be difficult if you weren’t thrashing about so much. “Y/N, please tell me where you live.”

“Why?” You cry, frowning at him. Petulant. Bratty. But sweet, sweet like everything you did. He wants to give you what you want, like always. It’s half for show, but he puts on his policeman voice to deny you. 

“You’re in no state to be outside your house. I need to get you safe and home to your sister,” he explains dutifully.

The two of you had gotten enough disapproving stares from passing Muggles. 

The mention of your sister does seem to jog some essential parts of your brain into sluggish action. You furrow your brow, thinking over something. 

Cute.

“No, noooooo,” you whine. “My sister–oh, my landlady! They can’t see me like this, Theseus. I’ll be put out. Isn’t there some spell or-”

He shakes his head silently before realizing that you’re too drunk to notice, he has to speak aloud to get your attention.

“No, no,” he insists. “It’s too tricky a thing to remove alcohol from the bloodstream with a spell. Too dangerous. If I had a potion, maybe a bezoar elixir, I could do it, but this… It’s best to go to sleep.” 

“Nooooooo,” you cry again, throwing your head back. 

An old woman on the other side of the road frowns at you, openly.

“Fine! Fine,” he hisses, adjusting your flailing form in his aching arms. “I’ll take you to my flat.” 

You hiccup and then start babbling indistinctly again. His face burns at the feel of you in his arms, your cheek against his chest. 

This was not how he thought he’d find you today. Usually so put together all the time. So withheld and resilient.

Sedated complacency and confused, excitable thrashing seem to be your only two modes now, so this needy, talky drunkenness is something he welcomes–a middleground. Besides, half of what you mumble is nonsense. 

It is worse when he can make out the nonsense. It is worse when he kicks open the door to his apartment and deposits you onto his couch. 

Theseus drops down on the opposite end of the large couch, exhausted, legs spread, head thrown to the side. Carrying you all this way winded him. Nearly dislocated a shoulder.

It shocks him nearly upright when he sees you trying to crawl towards him.

“Y/N,” he grumbles. He pinches his eyes shut quickly to rid you from his vision, but it’s burned in his memory. You crawling towards him on all fours. Fucking hell.

“Go to sleep,” his eyes are still shut when he says it.

“Theseus,” you don’t sound drunk. Your lips are spit-slick. You sound sultry. Demanding. “I want.. I want-”

“See? You can’t even talk properly, love. Go to bed.” He conceals the panic well enough. He doesn’t want to deny you. If you wanna fall all over him, he wants to let you. But he knows this isn’t right, isn’t respectable. 

You stop descending on him like a beautiful punishment and sit back with your legs crossed, just a cushion away from him. You don’t look or sound as drunk as you did before but he knows you are, you’d never act like this if there wasn’t alcohol in your bloodstream. 

You tilt your head at him and, for him, it’s torturous. 

“Okay. Come to bed with me then?” You sing-song. There’s a ditzy, woozy quality to your voice that wasn’t there before. Hadn’t ever been there. If you didn’t still smell like whisky he wouldn’t be able to resist your advances at all.

“No, no, no,” Theseus stands suddenly, speaking more to himself than you. He paces back and forth across his living room, troubled. This was insane. He shouldn’t have brought you here. He couldn’t say no to you. He knew it wasn’t within his power to.

Clothes falling off your shoulders. Looking at him all dizzy and blissed out. Pupils blown, lips wet.

You hiccup. He wants to tease you for it, but the next words out of your mouth make him choke.

“I-I wish you wore glasses,” you laugh dreamily. “I wanna make you keep them on so I can see them go all crooked when I fuck you.”

His whole body reacts. Throbs. He hisses painfully through his teeth. Tries to shut his eyes again but it’s futile. He could hate you for what you’re doing to him, actually detest you.

“Y/N, please stop talking.”

“Mmm, I thought that-”

“Stop. Talking.”

You giggle again and roll over on the couch, delighted, throwing your arms up above you.

Then, mercy, mercy, you’re trying (clumsily, unsuccessfully, what should be unsexily but it’s not to him, it’s absolutely not) to take off your clothes, pull off your top and tug off your tights. You whine in frustration when you can’t manage it.

You fall back in defeat. He can see you’re past the point of proactivity now. So long as he stays across the room he isn’t in danger. You couldn’t stumble over to him if you tried.

“Help me.” You order with a pout.

“No,” he smiles now, corner of his mouth curling, feeling confident and safe. Settles into the wooden chair at his small, square dining table and looks at you, amused. He’s still hard. “You really should listen to me, Y/N.” He says, a bit hotly. 

There’s fondness, but also a sort of angry, disciplinarian edge to his tone.

“I know! I already knowwww,” you retort, grouchily despite the fact that you’re agreeing with him. Oh, the drunken mind…

He should leave. He should carry you to his bedroom and then lock you in there until you sober up or pass out. He flexes his hand at the thought. No, he doesn’t trust himself to touch you now. He hates this, not being able to touch you. He loves you and he hates it. 

He’s saying the words, spitefully, before he can stop himself. 

“Did you know that your voice gets all high pitched right before you come? It’s cute, actually.”

His voice is a flat line, hard and unforgiving. He’s snappy and harsh and, when you moan softly at his words, he gets up and leaves you alone in his apartment. 

“I need to go on a walk. Go to sleep. Don’t move.”

The front door slams shut before you can even attempt to crawl your way over to him.

—-----------------------

You’re awake for several minutes before you can bring yourself to crack open your eyelids. It’s all pounding blackness in your head–a nightclub full of dementors. You’d laugh at the thought if everything didn’t hurt. 

Your mouth tastes awful. You don’t know where you are. 

“Theseus?” you mutter, rolling over in the very large, very foreign bed, opening your eyes at last.

There’s a small, purple bottle that’s labeled J. Pippin’s Hangover Remedy on the bedside table but even that makes your stomach turn. The thought of drinking any flavored liquid sends a shudder down your spine. 

You sit up and force yourself to take a pitiful swig anyway and chase it with the glass of water set there for you. The more you take in the scenery–the neat, cozy room, the water and potion, the newly bought women’s clothes laid out for you at the end of the bed–the more humiliation colors your cheeks.

“Oh, no,” you whine aloud, burying your face in your hands. The last thing you remember is the Armistice ceremony and then Theseus helping you tumble out of Mr. Bragg’s dark office in a whisky-flavored haze. This had to be Theseus’s bedroom.

Which meant….

You’re only wearing your tights and a camisole. Braving the hallway in your half-undressed state, you slip into the bathroom. There’s a toothbrush there too, which you snatch up greedily, eager to rid your mouth of this foul, boozy taste. After a quick, sobering shower and five too-long minutes of scrutinizing your flushed face in the mirror you walk cautiously out into the living room. You put on one of his shirts and boxer shorts rather than the clothes he’d bought and laid out for you. Your hair is damp and dripping, but smells clean and like his soap, like him. 

Through the windows, it's a cool and silver morning, the earliest light of day has that nascent, colorless quality. The dark hardwood floors of his apartment are quiet underfoot, and all things are still. Today feels new and clean and you’re hopeful he’ll forgive you.

What did you do last night? What did you say to him? You were so embarrassed, you just hoped that he’d still want you. That he wouldn't take back what he said about loving you. 

Theseus looks so funny with his arm jutting out from under him, his bare legs hanging crooked over the edge of the couch. You stifle a laugh despite yourself. 

It’s then, smiling at his sleeping form fondly, that you know. You’ve always felt it before, but now you know it. The certainty resting in your heart strengthens and glows.

You stand before him and tug his extended hand. He opens his eyes in innocent confusion. 

“What��Y/N-”

“Come to bed with me.”

He stares up at you uncomprehendingly, gaze bleary but fond. He’s so handsome it hurts. 

“Come on,” you laugh. “It’s still early. We can still sleep well.”

His oversized form on the small couch sits up. You want to run your hands through his hair, press your hands against the hard expanse of his chest and push him back down again. 

“Are you sure?” He asks calmly. 

“Come,” you repeat. This time when you pull him by the hand he lets you lead him. 

You fall into his bed together and he brings you into him, so impossibly naturally, like muscle memory. You feel your face blush but pay it no attention, you feel so warm and safe in the cradle of his body at last.

You have to tell him. Have to tell him how you feel.

You turn to face Theseus, still cradled in his arms, but the sight of him stoppers your throat.

“I–” You make a noise like choking. There’s a bright red mark down the side of his neck. “Theseus, your neck! What happened?”

He smiles softly at your face, contented and amused.

“I’m sorry to break this to you Y/N, but you might have raked your teeth down the side of my neck last night while I was trying to carry you to my bed.” 

You are undisguisably mortified. You gawk at him.

“It’s okay, Y/N!” He laughs reassuringly. “It’s fine, really. Despite you torturing me all night trying to get me to sleep with you, I stood my ground. Nothing happened.”

“Torturing you?!” Your eyes are blown wide and you can’t seem to close your mouth, except to wince. “Oh, Theseus, my behavior–I’m so humiliated, you have to forgive me–” 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he says, all levity in his voice gone, only sincerity. He clasps your hands between your body and his, and you lean into the feeling.

When you still can’t look at him, red-faced and flustered, he leans forward so suddenly you nearly start back.

Theseus licks the column of your neck in a long line, punctuating it with a nip of his teeth that makes you gasp. 

“There,” he leans back and smirks at his handiwork. “Got you back. You can stop being sorry for antagonizing me now.”

Your heart is pounding, blood roaring in your ears. 

“Besides,” he adds, once it’s clear you’re done being mortified. “I admit that I even find your cruelty endearing. I’ve always hated meanness, but it doesn’t matter with you at all. That’s how I know I’ve been corrupted.”

You let yourself laugh at that. It’s so nice, being in bed with him. Wearing his clothes. Despite the context of how you got there, you feel at peace. 

“So,” he starts. “What do you remember?”

You shake your head and purse your lips.

“Mr. Bragg’s office. I tried to question him, it was a mission of mine. He’s not what he seems, Theseus. Mr. Bragg, Mr. Martin, I don’t know who else–they’re real threats to the Ministry.”

Theseus nods solemnly, taking it in.

“Okay, what else?”

You try to remember but the night comes back in fleeting scenes and flickering sensations. 

“You kept calling me sweet.” You whisper.

“That’s all then?” He doesn’t contest it.

“But I’m not sweet,” you insist, weakly. “Everyone says I’m not. I wish I was, but I’m not a sweet girl.”

“No,” Theseus grabs your hand again and rubs circles into it with his thumb. “You’re not sweet. You’re kind. It’s a stronger quality, Y/N. One with more conviction and spirit. Trust me.” 

You make a face at him, one meant to inspire pity.

“I’m not sweet?”

Theseus exhales through his nose in a huff, baffled, disarmed. Of course you would focus on that part of what he said. He flicks the tip of your nose with his finger and it makes you scrunch up your face. He’s staring at you so lovingly that it makes your teeth ache.

“You taste sweet enough to me.”

And then his mouth is on yours, hot and warm and wanting. Hungrier than you thought he was. You could never gauge how much he wanted you, how badly. It took you off-guard then, the first time you met him in his office, and it shocks you now. 

You’re racing to kiss him back with equal fervor. Your skin alights with pleasure every place that his skin meets yours, you come to life under those hands of his. 

Will it cease, this awestruck response he elicits? You want to one day get used to Theseus, to the wonder of him in front of you, so you can think straight around him. So you can enjoy him in a measured and rational way without praying on him like a star, without the winded pleasure of disbelief.

You whine when he pulls away from your mouth, but it’s quickly silenced by the feeling of his hands sliding under your shirt and over your breasts, squeezing and massaging them. Your nipples are so sensitive that his fingertips feel almost unbearably good. Painfully good.

“You have no idea the hell you put me through last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you moan.

“I’m not.” 

He takes your mouth with his again. The way he kisses you now feels like fucking in of itself, his tongue pressing in and in to your mouth, it feels like him showing what he wants to do to you. 

One of his hands drops from your chest and slips under the waistline of the pair of boxers you're wearing. His shirt, his boxers.

“Gonna make me fuck you while you wear my clothes, princess?”

You don’t know how he possesses the superpower of making you blush like a schoolgirl while his hands are quite literally down your pants. The display of shyness seems futile. 

He was so gentlemanly at work and in life. You didn’t know such words were capable of leaving his lips, but god they sounded good to you.

“Off,” you manage. “Take them off.” 

Theseus obliges you, hands big and warm as they gently lift the hem of your shirt over your head. He helps you shimmy out of the boxer shorts too. His hands move over all that bare skin with reverence, stroking and petting and grasping. 

“You’re beautiful-”

“I love you,” the words rush out at once, urgent. You need him to know, they need to be said. 

He looks stunned, leans back with a jerk and stares into your eyes with scrutiny and wonder. You don’t break his gaze. 

“Do you really?” He says, breathlessly.

“Yes,” and your eyes are welling with tears, you don’t know why. “I love you, Theseus.”

“God,” he groans, pressing you to him in an embrace so engulfing it makes you gasp. His hand snakes around the back of your head, his other arm wraps around your torso–a man, overcome. “I love you so much, Y/N.” 

It’s different when he starts to touch you again. Slower. Devout. He stares dead into your eyes with a concentration unmatched when he slips his fingers into you at last, his own eyes heavy-lidded with sleep and lust. It takes everything in you not to look away, the look in his eyes is so burning with desire it alone could be your ruin, make you come undone.

You feel yourself pulse around him, aching and squeezing around his hand. He curls his index slightly upwards so perfectly that every fuck of his fingers, every pump has you moaning raggedly. Your whole body saying yes, yes, yes to the tempo he’s set.

But you don’t want to come like this.

You start shaking your head before you can get any words out.

He’s watching you so intently he doesn’t need any words to read you.

“What is it?” There’s no teasing to his tone anymore, no condescension. He’s all caring dedication. When he slides his fingers out they’re soaked. “You want my cock?”

You nod, feeling strangely drunk again. 

He rolls his still-clothed hips against your bare, slick core experimentally and you moan loudly, inappropriately and unabashedly loudly. 

It makes him smile.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. So good. What do you want, baby? How do you want me?”

You can’t even think around him, you don’t know what possesses you to say what you do.

“From the back. I want you to take me from behind.”

Theseus’s eyes flash with something dark. His lips part and for a moment you think he’s going to deny you. He did like looking at your face, watching your reactions…

But then he’s getting up onto his knees and flipping you onto your stomach, roughly. The mattress heaves beneath the two of you.

You start to get up on all fours when his hand pushes you down hard, by the small of your back. Your body presses flat into the mattress with a gasp.

“Theseus-”

He straddles your thighs with his so you can’t even spread your legs when he presses his dick into your tight hole.

You whine and moan at the sensation of being stretched open by him. You can’t move at all trapped under his weight, you can’t even lift your hips–you can just bury your head and take it. He rocks his hips experimentally and, when you moan wantonly again, he leans down, bending his body over yours to nip the back of your ear with his teeth before pounding into you.

You know he just told you he loved you but, god, he was drilling you like he hated you, hand on the back of your neck, his pace relentless, pulling out completely before slamming back into you bruisingly. Your walls try to clamp down to slow his speed but it only makes it feel better, him splitting you open from behind.

You hear him groan at the feel of your walls constricting and fluttering around him. You orgasm suddenly and with a muffled whine, wishing you could roll your hips back into the feeling, but you’re still pinned beneath him, quivering and overstimulated. 

Dazed, you distantly remember last time you slept with him and cry brokenly. You don’t want that, him pulling out to come in his hand. 

“Theseus, I-” you know you’re incoherent, blabbering. Face half-shoved into his pillow. “Please come inside me. I-I want to feel it when-”

“Fuck,” he hisses. The sound of your voice has him coming hard, you feel it shoot warm into your pussy. His pace slows, rocking his half-hard cock a few more times into you before pulls out with a shaky breath at last. 

“Y/N,” Theseus turns you back over. His hands are searching, gentle. When he sees your expression, blissful and fucked-out, he smiles, stroking your face.

“God,” he groans, low, collapsing back down beside you. “I could stay in this bed with you forever.”

You hold onto his hand and bring it up to your mouth to kiss it, body still thrumming with pleasure.

After a while, he speaks again.

“Is.. Was that okay?” He asks, and it silences you, learns into something heavier like pain. “I just want to make sure that you’re not… inebriated anymore, not confused…”

“I was never confused,” you murmur, shaking your head softly. “I meant everything I said yesterday night, though I can’t remember what.” 

You realize with a start that you have to be honest now, or you’ll cry.

“It’s bad,” you continue. “I can’t ever pretend to feel something I don’t.”

“You pretended not to know me,” Theseus whispers the words into the pillow beside your head, like he’s setting them down next to you. His voice is too gentle and fond to be an accusation, but you still feel caught, like you’re in trouble.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me anyway. And… I was scared.”

“Of what, darling?”

Darling. This man would be the death of you. You’d give him anything he asked for. 

"Um," you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to ground yourself with the sharp reprimand of pain. Darling, he called you darling. "I guess, um, I was happy with how you see me now. That when I asked you to kiss me, you did this time. I didn't want to confuse you, I didn't want to do anything that might make it stop. You wanting me, I mean."

You don't feel terribly eloquent or coherent, but he's nodding encouragingly, understandingly.

He nudges your nose with his to get you to meet his eyes, and it makes you smile like you're just remembering how to. He reintroduces joy into your life like an old friend. Like a family member, it comes so naturally to him.

"I don't wanna scare you away either, Y/N. I told you I love you because I couldn't help it, the same way I touched you in my office because I couldn't help it. But I wanna make you mine in every way that I can."

You raise a brow, prompting him to clarify.

"Like what, you wanna...?" You can't finish the sentence, you need to hear him say it.

“I want to marry you, naturally.” Saying the words knocks something loose in him. The strength of his desire is deafening, like downed wine burning low in his stomach, roaring in his ears.

You laugh and he doesn’t understand or care why, he just knows the sound is angelic and smiles with stupid joy in response.

"Oh, you," you sigh. "Theseus, you could have anyone. Anyone." 

You don't mean to sound so bittersweet, so distant and reminiscing. He is handsome and strong and good, without even trying, he just is. He is charismatic and confident. The whole room falls into his orbit, is pulled into his gravity when he enters. 

It's not that you have nothing in common, but everything you love about him is everything that keeps him apart from you.

He shakes his head, dazed with happiness.

"There's only ever been you. It's always been you."

"I love you too," your eyes prick with tears. "I love you, Theseus. I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was, that I hid from you, that I didn't say it earlier. But I've loved you since I was a girl, even if I can't believe that you love me, I can still-"

"Y/N," he interrupts you, hushed and urgent. "I feel like it was very hard for you to love me. You seemed so conflicted and confused and pained, especially at the beginning. But, for me, loving you has been like breathing. This,” he raises your clasped hands between you. “This is easy. It’s who I am.”

When you close your eyes and drift off into a light, midday sleep, there are no clouds in the horizon of your mind, no dreams of war, only a small but glowing peace. 

--

taglist: @hotwheelsenthusiasthic @milasmithsblog @msauthor @asyouwish-fromcabin3 @karashawsblog

[daisynik7]

Warm on a Cold Night

Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

cw: fluff, canon universe, alcohol consumption, Ino and reader are both in their early 20s, suggestive (blink and it’s gone), mentions of minor injuries, love confessions

Summary: You and Ino learn all the different ways to keep each other warm on a cold night in Tokyo. 

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song Warm on a Cold Night by Honne. I’ve always loved this song and it gives me major winter vibes. Thought it’d be cute to imagine it with our boyfriend Ino. Enjoy! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Tagging @kodzukein @crlyhairedwxtch @chicken-fifi @thisisnotashley @saerotonins @batafuraikisu @kentoslvt @rxmbzzz @yoshikasworld, thank you for the interest in this ♥️ also tagging my fellow ino lover @antique-remains, I hope you like this :)

On the first of December, Takuma Ino walks into his favorite Korean barbeque restaurant down the street from his humble studio apartment. His stomach grumbles with hunger; he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, right before he met with Nanami in Ginza to exorcise curses in an abandoned department store. As soon as he made it back home, he collapsed on the couch and fell asleep without meaning to. Now, he hustles, feet shuffling on the pavement, beanie pulled over his ears, though the crisp air still bites his skin. He knows it’s going to be packed on a Friday night such as this. He isn’t sure how long he can last, given how starving he is. He slips inside anyways, the familiar bell ringing above him announcing his presence, ready to try his luck. As predicted, the tables are all occupied. Fortunately, there’s only one other person waiting. 

You sit on the chair next to the hostess stand, scrolling through your phone. There’s a ding and rush of breeze as the door swings open. Glancing up on instinct, your eyes meet his and you give him a cordial smile. He nods, acknowledging you. Yuki, the hostess, greets him happily, recognizing him. “Ino!”

“Hey Yuki!” he grins. “Table for one, please.”

She does a brief scan of the restaurant. “Fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Cool.” He takes the empty seat beside you, shaking his knees, rubbing his hands together, breathing into his palms. “Chilly out there,” he says to no one in particular. 

Yuki doesn’t seem to hear him, walking away to tend to customers. Feeling obligated to answer out of politeness, you agree. “Yeah, freezing.”

“It smells so good in here, I can’t wait to eat. I’m absolutely starving.” He rubs his belly, slouching in his seat. “This type of weather always makes me crave Korean barbeque. I guess everyone has the same idea.”

He’s a chatty fellow, though you don’t mind it. He seems friendly enough, so you entertain him. “This weather is a good excuse to grill meat over a fire. And maybe warm up with a few shots of soju.”

“Now that sounds like a great idea. I could definitely use a drink.” He couldn’t finish an entire bottle himself, just a taste wouldn’t be so bad, right? If only he had someone to share it with.

Another breeze sweeps through as a couple exits the restaurant, hand-in-hand, snuggled in their long coats and scarves. Yuki approaches you with a menu in her hands. “Your table is ready!”

You stand up, ready to follow her. “Enjoy your meal!” Ino calls out.

Something clicks in your brain; you’re not exactly sure why you decide to do this. Maybe deep down, you pity the guy who has to wait another fifteen minutes to eat. Or maybe you want some company on a cold night like tonight. Whatever the reason is, you end up blurting out, “Want to join me?” 

Pleasantly surprised and too famished to deny the offer, he hops out of his chair. “Are you sure?”

You shrug, grinning at him. “Yeah. It’s always more fun with friends, right?”

He can’t argue with that. There’s a strange glow that begins to surround his chest at those words. This might be the fastest friend he’s ever made, and his stomach is more than grateful. They walk together to the table, sitting across from one another, avoiding each other’s gaze while Yuki fires up the grill. Before she leaves, you place an order for appetizers and a bottle of strawberry soju to share. 

Quick to fill the silence, Ino asks, “Do you come here often?”

You shake your head, looking at the plate and utensils in front of you. “I moved in nearby and found this place online. Decided to give it a shot tonight.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat! This is the best Korean barbeque in the neighborhood. I take my mentor out here from time-to-time and even he likes it. And he’s a hard one to please.” He shrugs his beanie off, revealing messy brown hair that you happen to find adorable. Your gaze lingers for a second longer than you intend because when he catches you, he runs his fingers through his brunette locks to fix it. “I wear this all day long, so my hair is probably a mess right now. Sorry.”

You smile at him. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I like your hair. It’s cute.”

He blushes, rubbing the nape of his neck, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” He clears his throat nervously, flushed despite not having a single drop of alcohol in him yet. 

The liquor and appetizers come out shortly. Ino gives you the honors to break the seal, handing you his glass to pour his serving. You cheers with a clink, sinking the first shot easily. It’s smooth going down your throat and you start to ease up in his presence. While you wait for the meat to arrive, you both indulge in corn cheese and the standard fair of banchan, continuing your small talk. He’s cryptic with what he does for a living, unsure how to explain Jujutsu Sorcery to a stranger. You’re honest about your office job, claiming it isn’t the most glamorous. It’s enough for you to be content in life. 

When the meat is served, Ino volunteers to grill it, which you happily let him. He cooks each piece to your liking, plopping it on your plate as he finishes. In between, you continue to take shots until you’re near the last drops of soju. Conversation flows easier with alcohol and yummy food mixed in. Whatever awkward tension there was in the beginning has since faded. It also helps that Ino is naturally a cheerful person who’s easy to talk to. You find yourself enjoying his company more and more as the night progresses. The bitter cold outside is completely forgotten as your cheeks swelter from the sweet soju and smoke surrounding you. The charming smile of the man across the table also contributes to the ember kindling inside you. You wonder if he’s enjoying this as much as you are. You hope that he is. 

Ino’s thankful for the puffs of smoke that obscure him. If not for that, it would be completely obvious how fond of you he is. He hasn’t stopped grinning since you first clinked glasses an hour ago. There’s a tiny part of him that wishes this night wouldn’t end. 

It's only when Yuki approaches you, informing that it’s last call for the kitchen, that you realize you’re the only remaining customers in the restaurant. You’re both stuffed, barely picking at the last bits of banchan, chatting about nightlife in the area. Ino mentions a karaoke bar down the block that he likes going to with his friends. “You should join us sometime,” he suggests, nonchalant. 

Your heart pounds at the invitation; you convince yourself it’s merely a friendly gesture, nothing more. “I’d really like that.”

He hands you his phone, his fingers grazing yours as you accept it. “Let’s exchange numbers. I’ll text you the next time we go out.” A jolt of excitement rushes through his veins at the contact. He yearns for more of it, though he knows it wouldn’t be appropriate to continue touching her, so he twiddles his thumbs beneath the table as he watches you type in your contact information. The next opportunity is immediately after, when the bill comes and both of you reach for it at the same time, Ino’s hand on top of yours, squeezing you gently, trying to pry the check from under you. This time, his entire body is buzzing with electricity, blazing every inch of his skin with a pleasant heat he’s unfamiliar with. 

You smile at him, letting him hold you, relishing his touch. “How about I get this one and you get the next one?”

“I can’t let you pay on the first date. It’s against my morals,” he insists, shaking his head.

You smirk, raising a brow at him. “Oh, so this is a date now?” 

He chuckles, thumb brushing your skin delicately. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, I’d like to do it again with you.” 

You bite your lip, holding back a giggle. “Promise you’ll call me and I’ll let you pay for the next one. Deal?”

It takes him a minute to contemplate, then he eventually agrees. “Deal.” 

You bid Yuki and the rest of the staff farewell on your way out. Ino slips the beanie back onto his head then helps you into your coat. As soon as the door opens, your face tingles from the frigid air and you immediately want to retreat back inside with Ino, but you know you can’t. He walks beside you down the street, fingers less than inches apart from yours. His hands are already freezing; he wants to hold you to feel that warmth again, but he knows he shouldn’t. 

When it’s time for him to go his separate route and you to go yours, you face him, the chill coming out as wisps from your mouth. “Thank you for a fun night.” 

“Thank you too. I’ll call you.” Would it be so bad to lean closer? To feel your lips on his? 

You drift towards him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. It radiates throughout his entire body and suddenly, he’s almost feverish in this icy weather. He’s flustered, repeating, “I’ll call you, okay?” 

Reluctantly, you turn to walk in the opposite direction while Ino stands there watching you, touching his cheek with a goofy grin on his face. 

The cold isn’t so bad the rest of his way home.

~~~

A week later, Ino invites you out to karaoke with him and his friends. As expected, they are as friendly and easy-going as he is, so they welcome you with open arms. His buddy Takashi currently sings a power ballad, belting it out with his whole heart into it and sweat beading on his forehead while the rest of the group cheers for him. Ino sits beside you, leaning in close to make sure you hear him through the noise, breath hot on your ear. “Are you having fun?” 

You face him, noses nearly touching. “I’m having lots of fun.”

“Good,” he smiles. “I’m really happy you’re here.” He lingers on your lips. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night, when you kissed him on the cheek. He swears he can still feel the heat from it. What would it be like if you kissed the other parts of him? How cozy would he be from your gentle kisses? Before he gets caught up in the moment and makes a dumb decision, he pulls back, distracting himself by flipping through the song catalogue. From his peripheral, he notices you studying him intently. You don’t say anything, eventually going back to watching the performances. 

At the end of your session, you bid farewell to his friends. Ino offers to walk with you halfway towards your homes, pausing at the same spot you did a week ago. “Well,” you start, “Thank you for another great night.”

“Thank you too.”

There’s a tense silence, neither uncomfortable nor awkward. It’s just there, palpable and heavy in the air between you. As if you’re both waiting for either of you to say the one thing you’re both thinking. 

He catches on quick. “Want to come over?”

You agree immediately, beaming as you follow him to his apartment complex. He unlocks the door, beckoning you inside. “Sorry it’s so cold in here. The insulation in this apartment is the worst.” He stands above a space heater, clicking it on to the highest setting, carrying it towards the couch. “It’ll warm up soon, give it a minute.”

You sit, scanning the room, noticing the few trinkets he has scattered as decor. Gaming consoles neatly tucked inside the TV stand. Framed pictures displayed on a bookshelf of him and his friends you just met, some with who you assume is his family. There are a couple of posters hanging on his walls, one of a cult classic movie you’ve heard about but never watched, another of unique artwork that catches your attention with vibrant colors. His bed is several feet behind you, the sheets twisted, mostly barren. You shiver in your seat, fully understanding what he meant when he said that the insulation is the worst here. 

He returns with a fleece blanket in his hands, taking his place beside you. “Sorry. It’s like a refrigerator in here,” he jokes, laying it over the both of you. The space heater must finally be kicking in because now, you’re almost too hot, sharing this intimate space with Ino right next to you, his knee brushing yours, shoulders touching. He reaches for the remote, turning the TV on. “So, what are you in the mood for?” He begins listing genres of movies. “Action, horror, comedy…?”

You don’t let him finish, snuggling closer to him, peering into his eyes. “How about romance?”

He laughs, licking his lips, gazing at yours. “That’s exactly what I was thinking too.”

You meet him for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. His hands are gentle, caressing your back while his tongue explores your mouth. Soon, you shrug the covers off, sweltering beneath him as he surrounds you, trailing your neck, moving to your ear, whispering, “I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“Me too,” you breathe out, ready to strip out of your clothes.

“Not yet,” he purrs, nipping at your ear lobe. “I want to take my time with you.”

And so he does, making love to you slowly, cherishing every inch of you. You’re supple beneath him, yielding to every kiss, every lick, every gentle touch he graces you with. You moan into his mouth as his fingers move swiftly between your legs, pleasuring you until you’re stirring with ecstasy. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, calling you endearing pet names that make you putty in his grip. Sweetheart, beautiful, my good girl. It rolls off his tongue naturally, as if the two of you were meant to be like this from the very start. You’ve never been treasured like this by anyone else.

When he’s inside you, his cheeks are flushed, expression hazy, nose nuzzled to yours. You watch him carefully, marveling at his toned physique, running your fingers through his soft hair, tugging lightly at the strands. He smiles at you, blushing. “I’m so into you, it’s crazy.”

You trace his lips with your thumb. “I’m so into you too, Ino.”

He smooches the pad of your finger. “Takuma. Please call me Takuma.”

Giggling, you tease, “How about Taku?”

“You can call me whatever you want, as long as I’m yours,” he answers, stilling his movements.

You kiss him passionately, squeezing him in a tight embrace. “You’re all mine, Taku. And I’m all yours.”

It sounds crazy to be so smitten with someone you barely met after only a week. It is crazy. But something about him excites you, ignites a spark in you. It’s enough that you want to give whatever this is a fighting chance. 

~~~

Ino hobbles out of the train station, limping slightly on one foot, a prominent gash across his cheek that has since clotted from the cold, January air. His beanie is scorched at the top, his sweater ripped at the sleeves, and aside from the obvious cut on his face, it’s dusty with soot and debris, all from the aftermath of today’s battle. He’s a mess right now; it’s been a rough night, exorcising a grade 2 curse in Harajuku. Nanami offered to accompany him back to Jujutsu High to get patched up by Ieiri, but Ino insisted he’s fine, not wanting to appear weak in front of his mentor. 

Halfway on his route home, he stops, contemplating for a good minute before turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction, towards your house. Rather than being alone and cold in his dinky, lonely apartment, he’d much rather be with you. His warm, wonderful girlfriend.

It’s been more than a month now since you started dating, and so far, it’s been going great. Ino can’t remember connecting to someone this well before. Maybe he never has until you. So, when he climbs two flights of stairs up to your apartment, wincing step-by-step because of his sore ankle, he reminds himself that all of this is worth it just to see your bright, shining face tonight.

He knocks quietly on your front door, leaning against it, sighing with exhaustion. It doesn’t take you long to answer, greeting him with your sunny demeanor. As soon as you notice the cut on his cheek and his tattered clothes, your expression turns wary. You pull him inside gently, asking, “What happened?”

He tries to chuckle, which results in him coughing instead, each breath sharp in his chest. “Overtime,” he rasps, flashing you a weak grin. He doesn’t realize how freezing he is until now, enveloped by the residual heat inside your apartment and the presence of you. 

Despite his poor attempt at a joke, you still return his smile, indulging him, not pestering him with any more questions. Ino revealed the truth about his profession two weeks ago, and while you’re still not entirely certain of every aspect of Jujutsu Sorcery, you’re aware enough to recognize the type of danger he faces in order to protect society. The least you could do is keep him warm on a cold winter night. 

You grab the nearest blanket, covering him in it. His beanie is ruined, a giant hole at the top, exposing his brown hair. You remove it, inspecting his face carefully, taking note of the dirt on his skin and the wound on his cheek. He stares at you with tired eyes, this close to falling asleep. You plant a smooch on his forehead, whispering, “Don’t worry, Taku. I’ll take care of you.”

He sinks into the cushions, letting himself relax amidst the soft fabric. Not only is it toasty, it also smells exactly like you, putting him at ease. He’s never been taken care of like this since he was a little kid. He doesn’t remember how nice it is to have someone to lean on.

You remove his sneakers, the soles almost rubbed completely raw from overuse, tossing them with the rest of your shoes by the front door. In the your bedroom, you search your drawers for the first aid kit and cleaning wipes. In the kitchen, you start a kettle of water for tea, something comforting to soothe him. When you return to him, his eyes are half-lidded, head lolling on one shoulder, on the verge of sleep. You giggle, sitting beside him, patting his knee. “Poor baby.”

He nods lazily, turning to face you. “Yes, I am. You know what will make it all better?”

You pull a wipe from the container, carefully cleaning his face. “What?”

“A kiss,” he smirks, pouting his lips.

So cheeky, even when he’s spent, you can’t help but laugh. You use a second wipe to completely remove the grime on his skin, particularly around the cut. “I’ll kiss your boo-boo once it’s all bandaged up. Deal?"

He exhales deeply, satisfied. “Deal.”

This time, you use an alcohol wipe to disinfect the cut first, blowing on it to reduce the sting. Ino sucks in a breath, handling it as best as he can. With a cotton swab and gloves on, you apply the ointment meticulously, making sure not to miss any spots. Then, with gauze and heavy-duty bandages, you finish treating him, happy with your work. 

He watches your every move intently, touched by the amount of care you put into this. His heart races; he’s never been this precious to someone else. He swallows hard, holding your hand in his. “I love you,” he confesses, waiting for your reaction. 

You blink at him twice, in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly. “Yes. I am seriously in love with you.”

“You love me?” you stutter, chest pounding. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “I love you.”

Your throat is tight, struggling to get the words out, the ones that have been lingering on your mind for the past couple of weeks now. “I love you too, Taku.” It’s easy, natural. 

He closes the gap, kissing you, lips soft against yours. And it doesn’t matter that his head is throbbing, that his muscles are aching, or that the tea pot on the stove is whistling it’s high-pitched tune. All that matters in this moment is that the two of you love each other and that you’ll be basking in one another for the rest of your lives. 

[hongism]

THIS WORLD. - k. hongjoong (m)

➼ genre; smut (some minor angst and fluff) ➼ pairing; hongjoong x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw!hongjoong, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 4.5k

What he’s given you is essentially one chance and night. Nothing more and nothing less.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

────────────

➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, oral: f, creampie, light choking/asphyxiation, dirty talk, breast/nipple play

────────────

Cool night air brushes across your cheeks as you set foot on the roof, eyes already scanning your surroundings in the hopes of finding what you’re looking for here. Of course, it doesn’t take much — Hongjoong is a hard man to miss unless the government officials are looking for him, in which case he has an uncanny ability to make himself totally invisible in a crowd.

There are no crowds up here though; just you, him, and the night to keep you company.

You see him clearly across the stretch of roof that’s accentuated by gaudy neon signs and other electrical components that keep the bar below powered.

“Closed up shop for the night,” you offer as a means of greeting the man. He’s donned his usual dramatic regalia tonight as well, complete with the patterned bandana pulled up over his nose and the ridiculous cowboy hat he fetched out of a dumpster several months back. It matches the vibe of the bar, he had told you and Mingi. While you weren’t on board, Mingi was more than a little eager to pull together a similar outfit for himself. “Everyone else went home.”

K-Hot Chilli Peppers. When you saw the job listing online, you had laughed at the name before realizing that it’s only half as ridiculous as many of the other bars in Night City, and you weren’t about to be picky given that you were desperate to find a place that lets you actually use your tender’s license on the daily. Upon being hired, you were promptly told to not ask questions when two rugged outlaws came through the doors and went up to the roof without pause. Answers came on their own, naturally and over time as you peeled back the seemingly endless layers to the two vigilantes who had set up shop in your new place of employment.

Whatever the circumstances and however the stars aligned that night you saw the job listing, it all boiled down to this: standing across from Hongjoong on the rooftop under the stars with this magnetic sort of pull towards the man. A pull you shouldn’t even think to entertain mostly because you’d like to keep your job and also a little bit because you’d like to keep your life.

Hongjoong got a message today. You know that much because you saw the small moped buzz by in front of the bar after all the customers left, and though you don’t know who that delivery driver is, you know he always brings something more than crappy takeout. The most convincing piece of evidence came in how Mingi promptly stormed out of the bar without so much as a goodbye twenty minutes later, and now here you stand up on the roof with the last man standing not long after. You aren’t here to ask questions as that wouldn’t be in your right (fairly so).

“I’m gonna close up and lock everything, if you’re done?” you continue pressing when Hongjoong fails to say anything back to you. He turns, gaze sharp as it finds you across the rooftop. The next moment, he pulls his bandana down to rest around his neck and exposes his handsome face to you.

“We’re not gonna be around much longer.”

You pull your lips together and do your best not to frown. “They won’t know you were ever here.”

“They’re gonna come looking here. And they’re gonna rip the place apart trying to find us.” Hongjoong takes slow steps in your direction as he speaks, tone low and quiet as though trying to either threaten or warn you. You don’t think he has a need for either. “When they come knocking, it’s not gonna matter what you do know or what you don’t know. Just being affiliated by name is enough of a crime.”

“Business is too good to be knocked down by a little police search.”

Hongjoong sinks his teeth into his lower lip. The light from the neon signs bounces off his face and casts crude little shadows across the roof. He looks far too worried for your liking, almost like there’s a semblance of care in the man, which was not part of the plan. You think you’re the one to blame for that, considering how you can’t simply leave well enough alone and have to express some modicum of care for those around you, including the vigilante outlaws that frequent your workplace and stay after hours. And well, all these months that have passed in this comfortable routine have made the heart grow fonder in many ways.

You’re quite fond of him, you think, and maybe those feelings are reciprocated to some extent.

The sky is clear tonight, free of clouds but the lights and pollution from the city obstruct the stars somewhat even now. Curfew is about to begin, but there’s no chance of you making it home before the drones start patrolling the streets. You could have left thirty minutes ago — should have most likely, but that chance is well and gone now.

“We leave tomorrow. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

When is merely code for if, and you’re not dumb enough to think otherwise. If he survives whatever obscene plan he’s ready to deploy, you’re positive that Hongjoong won’t come back or set food near the bar again, even as a hideout. Men like him don’t stick to one place for long, especially not when their heads are full of grandiose plans of anarchy and destruction. You don’t blame him for it, but it does make your heart ache a little more than it should.

Your shoes skid across the stone of the roof as you cross the distance between you and him. It breaks the silence you’ve presented as an answer to him, and Hongjoong’s eyes grow wider as you turn the space into an afterthought. Shaky hands find their way around Hongjoong’s shoulders then come to clasp behind his neck.

“Tell me you’ll survive,” you plead to the night air between your lips.

“Of course I will,” he answers without hesitation, whether a lie or a truth he is willing to truly stand by and believe. You don’t ask that he tell you he’ll return here; some dreams are a bit too far-fetched.

When your hands begin to fall away from him, Hongjoong dips his chin and slots his lips over your parted ones. You scramble to regain your hold on him, fingers stretching up to tangle in the dark blue strands of hair on the back of his head just below where his hat sits. The pressure against your mouth is faint to begin with, something small and searching as he tests the waters and waits for your response. As though pulling him closer and nearly kissing him moments ago wasn’t enough of a confirmation for whatever this is.

“This is all I can give you,” he exhales into your mouth, and you press another heated kiss against his lips. I don’t need more than this. This is enough. This is all I could ask for from someone like you. It would be nice if you could ask for more but this is all the greed you can bear. His hands wander from your hips up to the hem of your shirt that sits against the loops of your jeans. The first contact of his fingertips on bare skin hits you like a bucket of ice water and sends goosebumps all across your body.

“Hongjoong,” you say against his mouth as he palms his way down to your thighs. He does well to quiet whatever thoughts are rushing through your head right now with his lips, breaking from yours to mouth along the line of your jaw. The force of his body moving against yours is enough to push you back, and you fall into step with him in an almost haphazard sort of way. Your back hits the wall soon after, right beside the door you just came out of minutes prior, and now Hongjoong has you pressed against the concrete with a knee slipping between your thighs. “Hongjoong.”

“You can’t stay here.” The blunt tips of his painted nails dig into the flesh above your jeans. A gasp tumbles from your lips as he licks over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and it makes your knees buckle in turn. “I can have two of my men transport you to a different area of the city in the morning. Earlier the better. We won’t be enacting any plans under the sun’s gone down.” You busy yourself with the buttons keeping his shirt around his body.

“No.”

He pauses where he is, halfway to removing your shirt from your torso, and looks you in the eye. You abandon his shirt in favor of clasping both hands around his cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere because you’re going to come back to me and get me yourself.” Rather than denying your wistfulness, Hongjoong offers a half-smile and a breathy laugh, one you share in yourself before pulling his face back up to your own. You taste his lips again, but this time you pay more attention to it, the hint of spice on his tongue as he pushes past the seam of your mouth and explores you further. Your hands are busy with his shirt once more under the urging of your eagerness to have him. He responds in kind by hiking your shirt up over your chest and dragging the blunts of his nails down over the exposed skin on his path to your pants.

“Let me go down on you?” Your chest tightens at the proposition and at the way his voice sounds inexplicably strained from the mere thought of tasting you.

“Take this stupid shirt off first, for fuck’s sa—” Frustration wins the battle against his clothing, and Hongjoong leans away from you with a clear, resounding laugh that makes your stomach turn to mush. You ought to kick yourself in the side of the head for not acting on the blatant chemistry dancing between the two of you before now. Still, if this truly is a one-and-done thing, you’re going to do the absolute most to make it worth it. And maybe a bit unforgettable for both of you. Hooking your fingers under the handkerchief still tied about his neck, you pull Hongjoong close once again. He rushes to brace his hands on either side of you, his shirt still dangling from where it remains tucked into his ridiculous faux leather pants. His mouth goes straight for your neck, pulling the skin between his teeth and sucking so harshly at it that you feel tingles rush up to your skull. Your whine is music in the distant noise of the city, softly exhaled against the side of his head and disturbing the hair behind his ear. His hat is beginning to get in your way now too, especially as he kisses a path down to where he left your shirt. You catch the brim just before he goes lower, stripping it off his head with the hand you have draped around his shoulders. When he looks up at you from between your breasts, you smile, close-lipped but with an arched brow meant to tease further.

“The amount of filthy, heinous jokes on my mind right now,” he groans, head dipping forward to rest against your chest.

“If you make any sort of cowboy joke I’ll make sure you finish in your hand and nowhere else.” The threat is halfhearted of course, but it makes Hongjoong laugh in that obscenely pretty way again and you revel in the sound as he frees your breasts just enough to have access to them. Your nipples are already hardened peaks thanks to the simple touches from earlier, but the cool air stiffens them even further before Hongjoong has the chance to pull one into his mouth. Your back curls up off the wall, Hongjoong pinches your right nipple, and at the same moment, he pushes you back to the wall with enough force to punch a moan out of you.

“F-Fuck, Hongjoong.” You’re suddenly rather grateful to have something to hold onto because otherwise you would be digging your nails into your palms and making yourself bleed. As it is, you might run the risk of ruining Hongjoong’s treasured hat with how tight you’re gripping it at present. Your other hand sits on his bicep, atop the black-lettered inking that dances across his arm and reminds you that this man in your arms is one of a kind. You wonder, far and away in the back of your brain, how many have had the pleasure of being in your current position. He disperses those runaway thoughts mere seconds later; his hand sneaks down from its perch cupping your breast and locks onto the button keeping your pants together. The resulting lewd and wet pop! that comes from him pulling his lips away from your nipple makes your neck heat up.

“Bet I could make you cream your panties without even getting in your pants,” he quips as the button comes loose. Deftly, he works the zipper down in the same smooth movement.

“Who are you trying to impress, cowboy? You’ve already got me for the night.”

The muscles in his neck strain as he laughs and tilts his chin to the side, and your breath hitches watching him sink to his knees between your legs. Hongjoong folds his fingers around your wrist — the hand that currently holds his hat by the brim — and slowly, he guides you to place it back where it belongs atop his head.

“There. Now you can call me that again.” You can’t hide the unsteadiness of your breaths from him like this, even though he’s currently occupying his focus with stripping you of both jeans and underwear in one go. You brace a hand over your heart just to make sure it's still part of you despite racing like you’ve just run a marathon. Hongjoong’s lips skate against the inside of your knee when he lifts your ankle and carefully pulls the boot from your foot. Fabric follows suit quickly, then he commits to the same routine for your other leg — complete with the ghosting kisses and soft drags of his nails over the bare skin of your thighs. The growing pit of arousal in your stomach is so heavy that you think it might simply drip out of you the moment he touches your folds.

“Hongjoong,” you whisper. His kisses climb to the inside of your thighs, close enough to exhale heated breath across your pussy, but he doesn’t push further than that. Content to sit between your legs in the lewdest of positions and stare up at you through fluttering lashes.

“That’s not what you called me.” Hongjoong grins, cheek brushing against your thigh so close to your sex that your muscles twitch. “Maybe I’ll consider it—” he enunciates the word particularly harshly “—and do whatever you’d like?”

“You’re so — ugh, I want you to eat me out,” you mumble into the cradle of your hands, hardly able to look down at the man and be expected to speak like a normal functioning human being in this sort of predicament. He’s silent in return. “Cowboy.”

The veil of seriousness drops at that, and you’re the first to laugh at the sheer absurdity of calling him such a thing right now. Hongjoong can’t seem to keep himself together either, huffed laughter spilling out of him in turn.

“I wasn’t serious about you calling me that, y/n, I was just teasing. But I guess you want it pretty damn bad, huh?”

“Shut up!” Your tone contorts into a cracked gasp as Hongjoong wraps a hand back and around your thigh and spreads your legs over his face. Your hand flies to cover your mouth — something done out of pure instinct — and the man beneath you is quick to tut his disapproval.

“Let me hear you, pretty. I don’t want you covering anything up.”

“I-It’s the middle of the night,” you argue through your fingers.

“And? Wake the whole damn city if you have to, I want you to cry on my cock.”

You let your hand fall away and come to rest atop Hongjoong’s head (his hat, rather). Your view of what he’s doing is entirely obscured except for the slightest glint of his eyes when he tilts his chin against your cunt. You can’t seem to tear your gaze off of him regardless, lips parted and quivering as he presses his tongue between your folds and takes his first taste of you. The tension in your gut is wound into a knot so tight that your eyes burn and sting at the corners. Hongjoong takes you into his palm, onto his tongue, and into his deft fingers, and unravels you gloriously.

Two fingers dip lower and press against your entrance. He teases you with the pad of his middle finger only, toying with your hole and pushing into you ever so slightly before retracting to circle your clit with his tongue. He can’t run his mouth as he very much loves to in this position, but you’re finding that he makes use of his mouth in other more devilish ways, another talent he keeps tucked under his belt that you’re reaping the benefits from.

You can’t think of the last time you got laid, and trying to think of the last good fuck you had would be an even taller order. To imagine when a man last ate you out with actual passion and not simply as a means to an end might be impossible, or perhaps Hongjoong is simply keen on blowing every last sexual experience you’ve had out of the water in one go. When his fingers finally, at long last, stretch you open, you cry out with a moan so loud that it would be a miracle if no one heard it.

“Gonna make you taste yourself on my lips, pretty. Make your little cunt cream all over my cock until I fill you up with cum.” You jerk Hongjoong’s head almost violently, a sharp response to the way his fingers curl against your walls, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest from the task at hand. He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks until your knees give out under you. It sends his fingers deeper into your cunt in the same motion, nearly making you come undone.

“T-Too much, too much, Hongjoong, it’s — fuck, fuck, ah!” You fold in on yourself, free hand moving to press against your stomach as the pressure in you reaches an unbearable degree. Hongjoong works his fingers in and out of you at a steadily increasing pace and almost seems to be making a game of the way he curls them each time he flicks his tongue against your clit just for another moan to climb out of your throat. Each sound is more broken than the last, sweat beads on your forehead, and you think there’s a euphoric end in sight just for him to pull away without warning. Your walls clench tight around nothing as his fingers are now gone from you and sucked between his own lips. Dazed and frustrated, you pass an incredulous stare his way just for him to grin back at you, tongue teasing the vee between his fingers.

“Hm? Did you want something?”

“I—” Hongjoong eases your body back against the stone wall and hoists one of your legs around his hips. Your cunt is still tense and pulsing to the rhythm he spent all that time building. “If you don’t get inside me right the fuck now, Kim Hongjoong, so help me—”

He makes good on his promise to have you taste yourself on his lips. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth as well, eager to tangle with yours and push your arousal onto your own taste buds. You delight in the fervor with which he kisses you, and in the sound of his belt jingling because it means more pleasure is on the horizon. You feel a hand against your hip, and that’s the only real warning you get before he’s pushing the length of his dick into your pussy and burying himself to the hilt in you. You scramble to grab hold of him somehow. It’s a slight miracle that you don’t bite both his and your own tongues in the process because you cry out into his mouth. Your moan remains unbroken even when he pulls your mouths apart and rushes to cradle the back of your head before you whack it harshly against the concrete behind you. There’s not a second to catch your breath in Hongjoong’s mind; his other hand is busy at work, and he presses the pad of his thumb into your clit. He rubs once, twice, three times before you unravel on his cock.

“You’re so tight, fuck, if you could feel yourself, your cunt is so tight.” There are stars behind your eyelids, clearer than the ones in the sky, and Hongjoong begins to rock his hips up into yours as the weight of your orgasm barrels down on you. “You feel so good on me, pretty. Fuckin’ made for my cock, yeah?”

“Yeah, y-yes, yes, yes.” Your voice cracks at the tail end of your agreement. It turns into something more akin to a sob than a moan. Hongjoong’s pace is relentless in every regard. The lack of pause doesn’t let your body come totally undone or relax, still wound tight around your previous orgasm to the point where it feels like it won’t end.

“Keep taking it, lovely, I won’t be able to pull out with you squeezing around me like this.”

Whining, you drop your head to the side, chin coming all the way down to your shoulder. Hongjoong snakes his hand around to your neck and braces his index finger and thumb on either side of your jaw. Your head lolls in tune with the way he moves you and without resistance — every ounce of strength in your muscles has melted into goo in his hands. When he presses you back to the wall, your breath hitches. The sensation of his fingers at your neck has you feeling floaty and a bit detached from your body in the most pleasant way imaginable. His thrusts jerk your body enough to offer more pressure against your neck every so often but it’s not as persistent as you wish for it to be.

When you reach between your bodies and clasp your fingers around his wrist, Hongjoong seems to think that you want him to pull away because his grip loosens instantly.

“More,” you grit out, yanking his hand harder into the column of your neck. The steady rhythm he’s found falters momentarily for him to resituate his grip, but once he’s settled back into it, each thrust comes with a delightful headiness as your breath becomes shorter.

“’m close,” he announces. He shifts a hair to look down between your bodies and watches his length disappear into you a few more times before pulling his focus back up to your face with a groan. “Gonna cum in you, pretty, you’re still so tight.”

“Wanna cum with you, t-touch me again,” you pant, licking your lips between each phrase, “please.”

Despite his own shaky hands, Hongjoong reaches down to where his cock pumps in and out of you. He finds your clit with ease and rolls two fingers over it in a similar rhythm to his thrusts, pace only growing as he races towards his finish with you in tow. His motions fail as he orgasms, but the sudden feeling of his cock twitching inside your walls and pumping you full of hot cum pushes you over the edge with him. You almost don’t even feel it with all the sensations hitting you at once, and Hongjoong’s body falls against yours so harshly that your moan is positively unholy.

His hands keep roaming — tracing every inch of skin he can reach like he wants to commit it all to memory, and you simply let him do as he pleases because it feels good and it feels damn good to be wanted by this man. He pulls you towards a different section of the rooftop with your pants and underwear in hand. When he tugs you down to the messy pile of blankets that he and Mingi leave up here for particularly cold nights, you don’t even complain either. He lays himself down atop you, easing between your legs and caging you in with elbows pressed to concrete on either side of your head.

Hongjoong kisses you softly, and you smile against his lips. He finally settles down beside you after a few more exchanged kisses. His hat gets put aside with the other stray pieces of clothing — including his shirt that he’s finally decided to rid himself of far after the fact. The aftermath is peaceful, if a bit hazy as your brain still feels a jumbled mess of putty, and the stars above are bright.

“I’ll have someone pick you up in the morning to take you over to my men. The bar won’t be safe for a few weeks minimum. They can give you some cash to help cut your losses in the meantime too.”

“Okay,” you answer quietly. Beside you, his hand searches the blankets for your own. You let his fingers tangle with yours and squeeze until it hurts.

“Just don’t let Wooyoung try to convince you to buy into any scheme he might come up with.”

“Who?”

“Trust me, he’ll let you know who he is.” Hongjoong laughs at his own comment but falls into silence when he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Come back for me please.”

Hongjoong is quiet beside you for several lingering seconds, then he leans across the empty space and kisses your temple.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

────────────

please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[stellayuta]

Love on The Grid - Formula 1 AU! Yuta Okkotsu - Pt 1.

synopsis: One-night stands were nothing but a necessary painkiller for your inability to cross paths with true love. Your most recent find at a Vegas Club was no different. He was boring, obedient, SLOW! You leave him high and hanging hoping you'd never see him again until you find yourself gawking at a supersized billboard of him on a Vegas highway with the title 'LEGEND RETURNS TO VEGAS'.

genre: smut

content: 18+ only. Formula one driver! Yuta x f! reader, nasty intercourse and everything it includes, swearing, unprotected sex, use of alcohol. and a lot, lot, lot of s*xy stuff(like it's everything, a long list, so not gonna write it), reader is downright filthy ngl

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Ah this is my dream come true and this is totally to feed into my fantasies Dx

WARNING: always use protection!

"A bit to the right." you gasp, biting your lips but unable to hold on for long enough to make way for an uncontrollable moan.

"Ah, fuck! How are you so good at this! I thought you were a virgin?" You gasp, coming on his face with a squeal and taking some minutes to put your dazzled mind back into order. You sit up and clear your throat while the man appears from under the blanket and your thighs, face slick and shining with fluid. You gulp at the sight.

"What made you think I was a virgin?" He asks, smiling at you kindly, as if he didn't just devour your pussy.

"I don't know... really." You say, running a hand through your tousled hair, picturing how you two first met. It was a rave night at one of Las Vegas' upscale clubs. You and two of your friends happened to be bar hopping and ended up there at the recommendation of a previous bar's bartender. This club happened to be hosting a major celebration for an event that took place in Vegas that night and it was filled with howling men and skimpily dressed women, dancing to the heavy bass and vibing through the strobe-rainbow lasers. This was exactly your type of place.

"Tonight's your night Y/N." One of your friends cheered while the other made a tiger claw impression at you. "Go get em' tiger!"

You let your girls handle the drink orders and in a half-high state, wandered through the crowd, trying to look for men to chat up. That's where you saw this man, tucked away into a comfortable corner, with what looked like a nice orangey cocktail in hand. He was surrounded by a few men chatting with some very eager women, but he didn't partake in the conversation. That man was going to be your lay today, you had decided.

You cut through the dazed crowd and approach their group with your martini in hand.

"Hi there, got room for one more?" you say charmingly, the other men smiling encouragingly at you and the women smiling apprehensively. The men are clearly better looking, taller, with posher clothing than the wallflower hiding behind them, but the women can have these men.

"Oh, hey you!" you call out to the man, and he looks at his peers before making eye contact with you.

"Yeah, you." you pout at him. "Come out, I need a partner, I love this music." you reach for his hand, and he takes it hesitantly. You see the girls relax a bit as you seem to have chosen the worst pick of the group instead of the shiny men but you're happy to excuse yourself from their company and take your new arm candy to the dance floor.

"You frequent this place?" you ask the man, in order to break some ice. You have no interest in knowing his name.

"Well, I'm just visiting." He replies shortly, training his gaze to be glued to the dance floor. So, it'll be a challenge.

"Want some of this?" you ask, offering your drink.

"Nah, I'm on a cut, sorry." he replies. You give him a sharp smile trying to mask your immense irritation.

"Why the fuck are you in a club then?" you ask, discarding your martini on one of the drink tables and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, staring into his eyes. You catch a glimpse of his drink it may as well be orange juice for all you know now.

"Well, I -"

"Actually, never mind, don't answer that. Do you have a girlfriend?" you get to the point now. Because if he does, you're going to back off.

"Um, sorry, I don't." He says, confused. He stands absolutely still as everyone around him including you continue to groove to the music.

"Well, if you don't like drinking or dancing..." you smirk at him. "Want to do something more fun?"

You were almost certain this lad would say no but to your immense positive astonishment he agrees, cupping your waist and dragging you out of the club. The rest was history.

*****

"Anyway," you say, eyeing the rising sun out of the window blinds of this random hotel room of a random hotel he picked out. It had been a long night and the two of you had been going at it like rabbits. You started near the doorway with him pounding into you from behind. After you came once, you made him pull out and got down on your knees, sucking him off like a thirsty wreck. Then you had a round in the bathtub of the suite with you on top of him. He wasn't limp yet, so you got on top of him on the toilet again and bounced your way till his climax.

He still wasn't done because you ended up on the bed and he decided it would be a good idea to eat you out. You're just glad none of you were drunk out of your minds and everything happened consensually. He had an amazing dick, perfect girth and just long enough with a wicked curve, it's a pity you'd have to let it go today. Yet, you can't help but eye it hopelessly as it hung limp in front of you, almost begging you to caress it again.

"Aww you little-" You coo at his dick, reaching out in front of you to take it in your hands. You feel its weight and its fleshy texture and relish it. "I just can't leave it alone." you tell his soft length as he smiles at you.

That was one good thing about this guy. He didn't say awkward things. He was to the point, very kind in his after care, naughty but not excessively and oh my god are his groans out of this world. He is a looker too. I couldn't tell in the horrendous lighting of the club but now with steady lighting and even in the majestic rays of the rising sun, this man looks hot as hell.

You slump down to take his warm cock into your mouth gratefully and start sucking on it, feeling the length gradually increase and harden inside your mouth.

"Mmm.." you hum and grab a hold of his ball sack and fondle them, not wanting them to feel left out from the action.

You pay special attention to the underside of his cock as he grabs a hold of your hair with his shivering hands and makes you sink down on his length till it hits the back of your throat.

yummy.

You let his cock feel the merciless squeeze of your throat cavity as you go cross eyed from the sensation of being used like this. You moan and hum some more to add to his pleasure and grab a hold of his thighs with force. You look up at him with teary eyes to give him the green signal to let go and with a gasp, he looks up.

You are able to appreciate how thick and veiny his neck is as his seed paints your inner throat white, shooting warm liquid down your throat. He keeps thrusting and doesn't stop until his balls are dried out. You keep his limpening dick in your mouth for a while longer, collecting some of the cum in your mouth, intending to play with it for a bit when he pulls out.

"God. Just wow." He says after leaving your mouth as he watches you blow bubbles with his cum and let it drip down your lips only to scoop it with your fingers and force it back into your mouth.

"Shit. You'll make me hard again."

You blow a big bubble from his cum and wait for it to pop before speaking.

"Why, you're turned on again?" you ask, with half lidded eyes.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asks hopefully. Does he want this to be something? does he want more of you?

Well, he ain't getting any.

"Mouth's full." You reply teasingly, dodging his question and grinning with your teeth covered in his cum.

Your conversation is suddenly interrupted though by a long beeping noise coming out of your digital watch and you check the time.

6:15AM.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

The man sees your mouth form a big O as you stare bleary eyed at your watch, the cumming almost dripping out of your mouth. At this point he felt it was ridiculous you hadn't swallowed yet, nasty.

But swallow you did, and very quickly. You moved with such pace that it was a blur in front of him... and he had seen many fast things in his life.

"I-I'm sorry." you say, pulling your pants on and buttoning up your shirt. You opt to leave your bra and panties; he can have them for all his good work.

"I gotta go!" you say.

"Hey wait! At least tell me your name... or your number, anything!" He pleads. You make the mistake of turning back to look at him. Blushed, with sleepy eyes and puffy lips, locks of dark hair falling beautifully on his delicate face. He looked so vulnerable and needy that you almost feel bad, but your boundaries were clear from the start.

This vegas trip was your medicine to heal from a broken heart. You weren't going to leech on to someone emotionally again. Never!

"Looks like our time here ends..." you say, trying to sound as sorry as possible.

"I don't know if I'll ever meet you again baby boy, but hey! you made me cum. That's brownie points!" you smile at him encouragingly before fleeing from the hotel room with your phone, wallet, and no underwear.

You take quick steps in your kitten heals and head for the receptionist's desk, hoping and praying that here is no white goo on your teeth. First, you locate where this damn hotel is and next, you ask for a pharmacy which luckily, they happen to have.

You book your cab as your Plan B and water bottle gets billed. You check your clock again. 6:23AM.

Ahhhh!!!

You urge the cab drive to max out on his speed and he tries his level best to achieve super-car levels of pace while you down your plan-b. You make it to the hotel you and your friends were staying in just in time and only get 30 seconds to yourself to wash your wrecked face before you have to hop on to your work meeting on your laptop.

"Hey guys, how's it going? Everyone ready for today's standup?"

As a Principle Software Developer at a Megacorp, it's hard to take days off for Las Vegas on demand, at a short notice. Work from home was the only negotiation.

You grind for the rest of the morning and a large part of the afternoon as your friends and their boyfriends wake up from their sleep at their own pace, ask you about where you've been and grab some lunch for all of you. They have a lot of questions to ask but you're willing to answer absolutely none.

Once you're finally done with the day's work, the sun is beginning to set, and you take a minute to meditate and finally retire to the shower. This is the first time since yesterday morning that you truly have a chance to clean yourself thoroughly and to think clearly.

What were you thinking?

The reality of the situation drones in on you as the unforgiving cold droplets assault your skin. You still feel his dick on your tongue, his cum clumped in your throat, his veiny neck, his firm arms on your hips, his legs intertwined with yours.

God, what did you do?

This is... this is all Megumi's fault. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be this broken today.

You let a few tears slip out in the gracious masking of the shower.

When you finally emerge fresh, your friends are waiting for you.

"We're going out!" your friend, Momo, exclaims.

"What? Where?" you ask. There were no plans for today.

"Well Noritoshi here wants to see one his fancy car races. Apparently, they do that in Vegas. There's a track and everything." your friend explains as her boyfriend, Noritoshi nods in excitement.

"It's Formula One, Momo! I have been dying to see one race live, at the circuit." He mumbles, more to himself than to us. "Initially, I only booked the tickets for Momo and me but I was able to get three free ones!"

"You guys can come along if you want to." Momo tells me and my other friend, Miwa and her boyfriend, Kokichi.

We all look at each other and before I can protest, they say yes on my behalf too.

Motorsports huh. I've heard of it yes. Though I appreciate a good quality car, I have never been a fan of racing as a sport. Isn't it a rich people exclusive anyway? I mentally scoff at the thought of my cheering on from the stands at a circuit and definitely catch Miwa narrowing her eyes at my expression.

"Dress up well. The crowds are all bigshots." Kokichi tells Miwa. "Not that you don't always look good, babe."

"Oh stop you!" Miwa blushes, putting her cheek on Kokichi's shoulder.

Ugh couples.

All of us get dressed to the best of our abilities with Noritoshi absolutely decking himself out in his formula one merch. He is wearing a teal accented and black leather bomber jacket with the words "Mercedes" stamped on it. He also carries a cute little plushie of what I assume is a current driver. The plushie looks soft and limp just like...

I widen my eyes in lieu of publicly slapping myself. Fucking. Get over it. Y/N!

Kokichi eyes the plushie with disgust.

"Bruh come on. Him, really?"

Noritoshi isn't having it though. "He's one of the greats. If you don't believe it, you're in denial. Thank you very much."

"He's not as great as my man Geto Suguru. The beast in his Red Bull!"

"Suguru, that ass? He's a cheat and you know it-" Noritoshi wants to continue but Momo stops him.

"We're getting late! Let's get going." The five of us leave the hobby and hop into our convertible (Kokichi won't let us rent anything else).

Kokichi drives, with Miwa in the shotgun handling the music. Momo, the shortest sits in the middle with Noritoshi to the right, making sure the tickets and everything else is in place. I am in the left, zoning out, happy to look at the twinkling lights of evening Vegas. This city is like an anti-depressant. Fast acting and temporary.

"Hey, Y/N." Momo suddenly pulls on my arm.

"Mhm?" I ask, keeping my eyes shut.

"How was it last night? With that guy you went off with?" She asks, curious.

"Don't wanna talk about it." I admit. Because I will then never stop thinking about his stupid dick.

"You will have to tell me some day!" She yells in a hushed voice.

"Not that I'll ever see him again, Momo." I remind her.

"You didn't even get his number?" She prods.

"Nah."

"Okay what's his name?"

"...."

"You can't be seriously, Y/N!"

I raise my hand to shut her up for a bit. I don't want to have this conversation after a long night of fucking and a long day of work.

Miwa must be forgetting why I came on the trip because she starts vibing to some slow, romantic song, holding Kokichi's hand as I try to play deaf. I place my head on my folded hands atop the window, gazing out at the passing light poles on the highway, in front of a pinky-purple sky. The sunset today is ethereal.

I almost begin to hear Megumi's voice in my head when Noritoshi suddenly laughs out, holding his plushie in the sky.

"Kokichi, would you look at that!" He says sarcastically pointing in a direction which makes us all turn our heads.

I follow his line of sight and spot a huge billboard approach us. It is so massive that I can clearly see what's on it from like half a mile away. It is made to stand out with blue and teal led lights framing it.

What catches my eye isn't the billboard decoration though. It's what's on it.

I nearly let out a choking sound but catch myself just in time.

On the billboard, larger than life is the human version of Noritoshi's plushie, clad in black and teal with a shining helmet in hand and standing proudly in front of his wicked Mercedes accompanied by the tagline which Noritoshi chants now.

"The Legend of Vegas returns to conquer for the Third Time! KING Yuta Okkotsu!"

Continued here in Part 2

Your likes, comments and reblogs really encourage me to write more! So do interact with this post and let me know your thoughts 🧡

[sc0tters]

His Caretaker | Jamie Drysdale

summary: after Jamie has too much to drink you get called to help get your boyfriend home.

request: yes/no

warnings: mentions of being drunk, tooth rottingly sweet couple.

word count: 1.54

authors note: Jamie gives me such soft vibes and this is fully what this piece is based off on. The baseball fan in me loves that picture of him (not even an angles fan but I’m willing to look past that). Fluff is not my forte so I’m gonna hope that this isn’t shit and sorry that you’ve had to wait so long for your request to be filled!

Somehow you should have known you wouldn’t be getting your own way tonight.

A relaxing evening was what you had planned for yourself after you turned Jamie’s offer of joining him and the boys at the bar. Sure you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend but going out was the last thing you felt like doing after the hectic day of college classes that you had been through all you wanted was a nice bubble bath.

Sure Jamie was a little upset that you didn’t want to come but when you told him to have a good night for the two of you, he seemed to take that a little bit more literally than you intended.

A groan fell from your lips when your phone began to ring “yes?” You tried to act like Jamie hadn’t just interrupted the movie you were watching.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought you heard your boyfriend in the background of the call “y/n you gotta come get Jamie,” Trevor explained as he was somewhat panicked “I wanna say hi!” Jamie whined as his eyes lit up at the mention of you.

You were quick to get up as you grabbed your shoes “I’ll be there in like fifteen?” Anaheim wasn’t usually known for its traffic but you knew that it would be longer for a weekend on what was bar central street “I want her now,” it was the complaint in Jamie’s voice that made you know he was doing his puppy dog face that he would do whenever he would want to get his way in something that you two were planning “and tell Jamie to stop pouting because I’m coming,” you pointed out as you shut the front door to the apartment.

It wasn’t hard to find the boys, Trevor had sent you a message saying that they were going to sit out front as some of the other boys were now also waiting for their girlfriends “y/n!” Jamie cheered as he saw you get out of your car.

A smile formed on your lips as you couldn’t help but laugh “hi baby,” he almost knocked you off of your feet as he wrapped his arms around you “missed you,” he confessed now making all of the boys laugh.

You kissed his cheek as he nuzzled his head in crook of your neck “you can let go of me,” despite the fact that the hug felt really nice you sort of needed to look at his friends to talk to them “never,” Jamie shook his head not liking your idea.

Somehow you managed to position yourself to actually see them whilst not letting go of Jamie “I’m going to get this man child home,” you announced drawing a scoff from your boyfriends lips.

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you “I’m not a man child!” He complained as he let his lips form a pout again “you’re my man child,” you spoke in a duh tone as you pecked his lips. It was that gesture that almost made him melt as his irritated look turned soft and smiley “let’s go,” he nodded as he sent a wave to his friends. The boys all couldn’t help but shake their heads as they waved back knowing that the Canadian was not going to remember this tomorrow.

It seemed that the second Jamie’s head hit the headrest of his seat he was out. In all honesty you couldn’t help but look over to him occasionally to smile at yourself, you found yourself the cutest boyfriend you could have asked for “baby?” Jamie mumbled as he looked at you when the car stopped at a red light.

His eyes fluttered open as he had woken himself up “hi love,” you felt giddy as he reached out to grab your right hand. Usually whoever was driving only got one hand for the steering wheel as the other was usually being held by the passenger, Jamie’s real favourite place to put his hand though was actually on your knee when he drove you two through the streets of California.

The soft sounds of the engine rumbling seemed to help Jamie fall back asleep but not before he could remind you “I love you,” it was like each time he said it you fell more and more in love with him.

Even though he was asleep you still responded “I love you too,” as you kissed his hand before you continued the rest of the drive back to your apartment.

The only real thing that you had felt on the way up to your apartment was the warmth of Jamie’s hand, he had this smug looking smile on his face too “what’s got you all happy?” You asked as the elevator doors opened up to your floor.

Jamie threw his arm around you “you love me,” he slurred as he tapped his finger on your nose.

It drew a laugh from your lips “yeah I do,” you nodded in amusement as he repeated that you loved him all the way until the two of you reached your door.

Thankfully you hadn’t locked it so it meant that you two could just walk right back in “I’m gonna need you to strip baby,” you cooed as you realised that the front of his white shirt had beer spilt on it.

The comment only made Jamie smirk “didn’t know you were so horny,” he teased as he placed his hands on your hips.

You shook your head “don’t want you sleeping in this,” you explained causing him to look down at his outfit, those denim shorts really weren’t ideal to sleep in.

All the boy could do was mutter an “oh” as he began to walk to your room. As drunk as he was he still seemed to have that clear thinking part of him.

He pulled the shirt over his head letting you get a moment to look at his naked chest “you like what you see?” Jamie asked as he began to unzip his pants. You smiled as you nodded “got me a cute boyfriend,” you announced as you placed a peck on his lips.

With his clothes now on the floor you picked them up “let’s go brush your teeth,” on the way to the bathroom you had the chance to drop his clothes into the hamper.

It seemed like Jamie remembered the few times that he had taken care of you in the bathroom as he walked over to the sink “sit on that,” you shook your head as the height difference between you two was not going to make brushing his teeth easy if he was stood up.

Jamie sat on the lid of the toilet as you had him open his mouth “you’re so bossy,” he mumbled as you placed his toothbrush in his mouth.

You sent him a thoughtful look as you contemplated entertaining his conversation “I’m just helping you.” You pointed out as you continued to brush his teeth “it’s hot,” you were surprised that you heard what he said between the toothpaste and the toothbrush in his mouth.

A smile formed on your lips “thank you,” you bit your lip as you tried to not let your cheeks turn pink.

His hands trailed up your legs before they wrapped around behind you to squeeze your ass “keep your hands to yourself mister,” you warned causing him to giggle as he raised his hands in surrender.

These cute moments in your bathroom weren’t usually a thing as you both had very different morning schedules and not to mention that Jamie didn’t live with you, he just had a lot of his clothes there “go spit and rinse,” you reminded him as you took the toothbrush out of his mouth.

He followed your request as he dried his face before he looked up to you with an over exaggerated grin “nice and shiny,” he spoke as you nodded before you motioned to him to go back to your bedroom.

Your walk back to your bed was short as you watched Jamie plop onto the mattress “oh my god you’re taking up the whole bed!” You complained with a laugh as you watched him sprawl out on his back “there’s space for you,” Jamie nodded to himself as he smiled.

You played your hands on your hips “where?” You waited for him to answer but instead you were met with his hands on your hips as he pulled you onto him “J!” You squealed as he wrapped his arms around you practically trapping your body on top of his.

The boy let out a giggle as he kissed your forehead “isn’t this nice,” he confessed causing you to look up at him “I have to go brush my teeth,” you reminded him as he groaned “nope,” Jamie shook his head sending you a grin in the process.

You furrowed your eyebrows “what do you mean no?” In all honesty you thought he was kidding “I love you and your smelly breath,” the hockey player confessed as it was now your turn to laugh.

You used to say that you were lucky he loved you.

But that made you think it was possibly the other way around tonight.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

We've Got Tonight (Paul McCartney x Starr!Female!Reader)

Find Part Two Here

A/N: WOW, is all I can say. The alarming support from those of you reading my work is driving me to write more than EVER right now! I cannot say thank you enough, y'all. Your notes and comments inspire me, so please keep it up if you wanna read more from me!

I'm about to bless y'all with some McBeardy angst, so I hope you all enjoy!!

Also, this fic was inspired by Bob Seger's We've Got Tonight, so I highly recommend listening to the song before and/or after reading this one to get into the vibe of it.

Summary: Paul is in his lonesome after a break up. So are you. You decide to keep each other company.

WARNINGS: ANGST, but it gets sweet in the end. Mentions of cheating, low self esteem. Suggestive actions, mentions/insinuation of sex, but no smut (that'll be saved for a bonus part 2 if anyone's interested in that.)

There is mention of the Beatles' extended family, so if I have any incorrect info in here, I apologize in advance; I didn't want this to become too much of a history lesson.

Also, like my other fics, this one is a NOVEL, so please read when you have a good half hour+ of free time :)

I don't wanna rate this a T, but there is no smut in this, so please just be aware that there is sex mentioned/insinuated, so PLEASE just read at your own discretion. But most of all, enjoy!

Paul was sitting on the sofa in the den, alone with the lights out. He was staring out the window at the night in silence as he sucked down another cigarette and sipped at another glass of scotch.

It was late enough that the world around him was dead sleep, yet he was wide awake, and alone with his thoughts.

He broke it off with Linda. She was a sweet girl, and no one was really quite sure why things ended between them, but they all knew it was a mutual agreement.

Paul really hadn't been taking it well, though. He hadn't been sleeping right for almost a month, and he stared drinking a little more. He didn't want anyone really knowing, which is why he did it in his lonesome.

He wasn't necessarily by himself, because the rest of the Beatles were upstairs in their collective rooms asleep; but what made him feel alone was that alongside the bandmates in their rooms were their families and wives. And Paul just didn't have that.

Usually he would have been rather vocal over something that bothered him so much, but the band felt like recently they'd been clashing, so he wasn't wanting to bother them with something like that.

While Paul finished the final puff of his cigarette and put out the butt in the ashtray on the coffee table, his head snapped to the entrance of the den, where he caught sight of a silhouette in the threshold.

You stopped in your tracks when Paul made eye contact with you. You supposed he'd heard your footsteps.

From what you could tell from the light of the moon shining in through the window, Paul seemed worn out. He rubbed the side of his face with his free hand before wordlessly nodding to you in acknowledgement.

"... I'm sorry to intrude. I didn't know anyone was still awake. I was just needing a drink," you explained quietly. You'd met Paul a few times here and there-- you had to, with Ringo-- or Rich-- your brother, being one of his bandmates and all.

Paul was always kind when you interacted with each other, but you could definitely tell something was a little off about his behaviour this time around.

Rich did mention Paul's break-up to you briefly, but you were going through your own separation, so you were in your own head with your own problems. That's why Rich offered to bring you along with him, Maureen, Zak, and Jason on this trip with the rest of the guys and their families, so you could get away from thinking about your ex.

Unfortunately, the unfamiliar space put you in the same position as Paul; wide awake, in the middle of the night, with a racing mind.

"'S alright," he sighed before drinking the rest of the scotch in his glass and raising to his feet. You watched him move around the room to the alcohol cabinet right outside the kitchen.

He refilled his glass right to the top before wordlessly grabbing a second glass out, tossing in a few ice cubes, and filling it three quarters of the way before sliding it over to you.

Your eyes widened a little, considering you'd actually come down for some water, but maybe this was a sign you were going to want something stronger.

"... Should've asked you if you even like this stuff," Paul stated apologetically when he realized how gentlemanly he was not being. You smiled sadly at him, but picked up the glass anyways.

He matched his glass to the same level as yours before you both gently tapped them together. The sound of the glass chimed for a moment before you and Paul raised the drinks to your lips.

The scotch was harsh, and you surely made an unflattering face as you took a sip, but Paul didn't say anything to you, as he was too busy staring at the ice swirling around in his own glass.

"... What're you doing up so late, if you don't mind me asking?" You asked after a moment of silence, and Paul's big brown eyes met yours for another quiet second as he thought about what to respond with.

He pushed his tongue into his cheek before shrugging and mumbling into his glass, "thinking."

After taking another sip of his drink and staring off into space for a moment or two, he bit his lip, gesturing over to you with his glass.

"And you?" You shook your head, realizing it was your turn to scrounge up an excuse for being wide awake at such an absurd time.

"Can't sleep," you lied.

Paul frowned, motioning you to the sofa he was just sitting on to invite you to sit for a while. After a moment of pondering whether you should really go back to your room, you made up your mind and headed to the sofa, Paul following suit.

There was just something about the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, and behind them was this sadness you just couldn't ignore.

Before he took a seat, you were able to get another good look at him. He was in black jeans, and a green sweater; his day-clothes completely contrasting your pyjama set. He'd grown his hair out since you saw him last, and now he was sporting a full beard.

You always thought he was a good looking guy, but now, without being blinded by any bias, there was really no denying how handsome Paul had become since you seen him last.

In fact, it felt like every time you ended up seeing him next, he always seemed to look better and better, and you weren't quite sure how that was possible.

Paul took the seat right next to you, and he set his drink down on the coffee table, clasping his hands together, elbows on the thighs, and hanging his head.

"To be honest with you... I went through a separation about a month ago. And I don't seem to be handling it well." He finally sighed, turning his head so he was looking at you again. He unclasped his hands and ran his fingers through his beard a few times.

"I'm a romantic, y'know, and I'm not a fan of being so lonely." You nodded your head a little at his words. What was tough was that you didn't have anything encouraging to say to him because you were in the same boat.

Paul swallowed when you remained silent, and then he cleared his throat. He scratched the back of his head nervously as he leaned back into the sofa.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late, and you're probably just wanting to head to bed." He gave a little head nod of understanding as he rubbed his eye with his finger. "You're not here to talk to me about my problems."

It was your turn to set your drink down on the table, turning your attention to him again.

"Well... will that help make you feel better, perhaps?" you watched Paul's eyes meet yours again, and he pressed his lips together tightly in thought.

"... I don't know if there is really much to say," he said after a moment, reaching for his glass again.

"Thank you, though. Was very kind of you to offer somethin' like that."

After he took another sip of his drink, he gestured to you again with his glass.

"... Ringo sort of mentioned you were going through a separation too... You doin' okay?" Paul tried his best to be as inclusive as possible, but it was all rough stuff to talk about, so he treaded carefully.

"I mean..." you trailed off for a moment before responding with a simple, "I'm angry, above all else."

You were honestly taken aback by Paul's question. Rich wasn't necessarily the greatest person to receive comforting advice from, especially when it came to this separation, since he thought so highly of your ex, but you perhaps weren't telling him the whole truth.

But you were definitely surprised he even mentioned your pain to anyone else, let alone his bandmates.

"Kept a lot of heavy things to myself for a long time, it just became exhausting." Now it was your turn to reach for your scotch, still cringing at its strength as you took a generous mouthful.

Paul waited a beat before asking, "would talking about it with me maybe make you feel better?"

"... you really care to know that stuff?" You asked gently for clarification. As mentioned, you and Paul weren't close, you could probably count on one hand the amount of times you met him prior to this moment...

And this was heavy stuff you were seemingly about to share, and you really wanted to make sure he was okay with that.

Paul nodded his head without hesitation, and offered, "'s the least I can do for you for keeping me company so late."

You sighed a deep breath, and took a few more sips from your glass before putting it back down, curling your legs up to your chest, and began.

You told Paul about your ex. You told him about how you were with him for five years, and watched him slowly fall out of love with you, sleep around, and how you struggled with self-image and self-worth for a long time.

You also mentioned how you were the one to leave, but he had no idea you had any strength to do so, so he tried for a long while to guilt you into going back to him.

The difficult things to talk about made you a little more emotional, so you breathed your way through it slowly as to not cry. The drink Paul poured for you was helping you relax at least.

Paul was more than patient with you, and you were grateful for that. At one point during the lengthy conversation, he lit another cigarette, and began offering you drags throughout your story to calm your nerves.

You took those offers graciously, and thankfully.

"... I don't know. I just lay awake every night, wondering if there was something I could have done different so he didn't do what he did."

You were staring out the window with Paul now, taking in just how many stars you could actually see from the den. He took his final puffs of his smoke, the thin silver waves swirling in the air above the both of your heads.

"Sounds like he didn't cherish you enough when you were around," Paul debated gently, shaking his head and putting out his cigarette end in the ashtray next to the others. He picked up his scotch again before mumbling against the rim,

"He's not worth it."

You pulled yourself from the trance of the tiny lights outside to wipe remnants of silent, salty tears off your cheeks, and you used that moment to glance over at Paul, whose nose was still deep in the glass. When he pulled the drink away from his mouth and swallowed, you parted your lips to speak.

"... was Linda worth it?" You didn't mean it in a rude way, but you hadn't met her personally, and you wanted to pry Paul just a tiny bit.

He smiled, but it was bitter. You figured you struck a nerve, and before you could apologize for what you said, he answered simply, with tears glossing his own eyes,

"Yes. She was."

You tilted your head a little and frowned, trying to understand what drove them apart.

"It was just never the right timing. She was ready for things I wasn't in the beginning, and then down the road, when I was seemingly ready for those things, she wasn't. And I didn't want her wasting her time on a life she didn't wanna live, y'know?"

"So she's the one that got away," you mused gently.

"Indeed, she was." Paul nodded a little before finishing the rest of his scotch in his glass, leaning back again, and cradling his head in his hand as he looked at you for another quiet moment, resting his glass in-hand on his thigh.

"... I'm not a bad person, am I?" Those watery eyes never disappeared, and you had to break his sad gaze, opting to reach out and rub his shoulder comfortingly.

"Hey, no. Wasting your time, or her time, like the way my ex did to me, would have made you a bad person, Paul. Saying good bye was the right thing to do."

"Well, I wish that made me feel better," he mumbled, dropping his own gaze to the space between the both of you. He pushed a stray tear away before he thought you could see it, and then scratched at his beard again. You guessed that must have been a habit of his out of stress.

"Something about her made me feel like she was the one. Like we were meant to share the same story; but we always seemed to be on a different chapter,"

He sniffled, but only once. "That being said, was I perhaps too lovestruck in the end to want to believe that her future was meant to be shared with someone else?"

His voice carried so much sorrow, and you knew he needed some kind of advice. It took you a moment or so to find the right words to say to him.

"... Knowing my ex wasn't right for me and the reality of me leaving doesn't make me feel any better. At all." You offered to Paul, before adding,

"... But why should the expectations of those we chose to take out of our life dictate the way we behave today?"

The words that came out of your mouth were surprisingly wise, and you watched Paul's eyebrows knit together as he absorbed what you said.

He focused his sight to you again, a more determined look on his face. Paul knew you were absolutely right. He was a charmer; romancing people was his thing.

There was no denying Linda was special, but when he realized he really had no commitment in romancing her anymore, he finally understood that it was his own thoughts holding him back.

Even if it took him a little longer than expected, he knew you were right. He would recover from this.

"... I think you just opened my eyes and made me realize something... Thank you, y/n, really." He reached up with his free hand after a second, fingers grazing your own hand still on his arm in comfort, showing you his gratitude for your words of advice.

You smiled a little, glad you were able to help him somewhat through his times of trouble as you pulled your hand away.

Paul stood up again, retrieving his empty glass from the coffee table before facing you fully, a more genuine smile beginning to pull on the corners of his mouth, but it was still rather sad.

"I'm grabbing a refill, you too?"

Your sight drifted to your near-empty glass on the table.

Why let tonight go to waste? End so soon?

"Please," you asked, grabbing the glass yourself, but Paul began to tut at you as he grabbed the glass from your fingers.

"Please, I'll get it for you," he insisted, and you watched his slender figure move around the couch to head for the alcohol cabinet another time. He filled them only halfway this time, and on the way back he made a brief stop at the record player near the entrance of the den.

Soft classical music rang out quietly from the player once Paul dropped the needle down onto the vinyl, and he returned to his spot next to you with your two drinks. You thanked him quietly as he passed the glass over to you, and he leaned in a little, raising his drink between the two of you.

"Hello to... new beginnings," he began slowly.

"And Goodbye to false finales," you finished, your glasses tapping together again before you took yet another sip of the drink.

Paul matched your movements, his eyes watching you, even when you turned away to gaze longingly out the window for a moment, basking in the feeling of the gentle music flirting with your ears.

Sure, you and Paul could have went on for the rest of the night discussing your heartbreak, but you decided to drive the conversation elsewhere.

You sighted back to him after a while, his sight unwavering from you. Your eyes locked for just a beat before you decided aloud with a gentle nod,

"... you know, that beard really suits you."

Paul's eyebrows shot up, and his face darkened a little as he bit his lips between his teeth almost nervously.

"... Think so?"

You'd never seen him lack so much confidence when given a compliment before, but instead of pitying him, you almost admired his innocence.

It sounded like he needed to hear a compliment like that.

"Yes," you laughed airily, raising your glass up for another drink. Paul couldn't bite back his smile anymore, so he copied you to mask his lips. You then gestured to your head with the point of your finger as you swallowed the alcohol back easier and easier each time.

"Your hair, too. I think it's a nice length."

Your kind words made Paul feel warm and fuzzy inside, and he placed his scotch back down on the table.

"Well, thanks, Love." He rubbed the back of his neck, and laughed weakly. "I call it my 'Don't View The Mirror For Three Weeks' look."

Paul paused in his moments of self-deprecation to realize he should have maybe complimented you back. He took a second to take another good look at you as he decided what to say, exactly.

"... Y'know, the last time I saw you was a few years ago, now."

You thought for a moment on that. It had been a while since you'd seen him last. You nodded your head as you recalled the day.

"You're right, it has been some time. Christmas, 1966." John and Cynthia had hosted this massive holiday dinner, and everyone's extended family was there.

You were single at the time, and spent dinner conversing with Paul's sister, Ruth, who was at least fifteen years younger than you. There was no introduction made by Paul, she just walked up, introduced herself to you, and made a friend by herself.

She went on and on about school, and music, and how the potatoes were her favourite part of dinner; and you paid attention to everything she had to say, responding with your own opinions and jokes to keep her feeling included amongst the adults at the table.

And Paul, who was seated next to Ruth, couldn't help but overhear your conversations throughout the evening, and he found it rather charming that you treated Ruth with such respect despite her young age.

And after dinner, you and Ruth danced together almost the whole night. She eventually went over to do a little dancing with Paul, and you watched as she bounced around excitedly with her brother, who, for just a moment, locked eyes with you across the sea of dancing guests.

You remember giving him a shy wave with a smile, and he sent a wink back your way before returning his attention to Ruth, spinning her around as she squealed happily.

"... I'm rather fond of that evening," Paul stated simply, the reality of your melancholy evening strongly contrasting with the memories of the wonderful night.

Now you and Paul weren't so young, and this time he was noticing the little lines under your eyes, indicating the dragging march of time slowly catching up to you both.

"And, even after all the years that have passed... you still look as lovely tonight as you did then."

You blushed at Paul's compliment, biting back a stupid grin as you repeated the words in your head.

"And I admire your ever-present kindness," he added on, and you knew he really just meant he showed appreciation for lending him an ear in his time of need.

"More people need to be like you."

"I don't know what to say," you said honestly, settling for a gentle "thank you," in the end. Paul just nodded, unsure if there was anything to say back.

"You know..." you paused for a second, watching as Paul went for another sip from his glass. "It was quite a shame we never got a dance in that night together, just you and me."

Paul was mid sip when you said that, so you continued on.

"The music was great, everyone was in high spirits, and I was maybe too shy to approach you myself and ask you to dance with me. So I guess that's on me." You scratched your elbow as you announced your rather dumb confession to him.

Paul, who was nearly done with his drink now, waited a moment or two in thought, before rising to his feet, and wandering back over to the record player, scotch still in hand.

You tried to watch his movements over your shoulder, but it was really dark. All you knew was that he was changing the music.

The classical tune cut, and the player began to drawl a much slower, more recent song; one you hadn't yet heard.

Paul turned on his heel as he reapproached the sofa, taking the final sip of scotch he had left in his glass before placing it back down on the table, and reaching his hand out for you to take.

"Well, let's not let this dance wait any longer, then, yeah?"

You froze for just a moment, Paul's outstretched hand hung in the air for a few seconds, and your sight moved up to his face, where you noticed his confidence falter just a little.

"Again, I know it's late, and I know your plans for the night surely didn't include me..."

"But, still, here we are." Your words came out almost effortlessly. You finished your scotch as well, and when you finally put your hand in Paul's, he squeezed your fingers gently, that warm upturn finally returning to his lips.

He guided you slowly over to the windows so you weren't in so much darkness, the moonlight still shining just enough for you both to see one another; and when Paul decided he could see your face much better, he let his other hand drop to your waist, watching as your own hand rested on his forearm.

You both shifted from side to side to the beat of the music, and you stared absentmindedly at the small space between you both.

"... You okay?" He asked you quietly after a minute, and you looked up at him, cheeks reddening as you realized you could feel his breath fanning your face.

"I've realized just how long it's been since I last danced with someone like this," you mentioned sheepishly, and a little smirk pulled at the corner of Paul's mouth.

"You don't have two left feet, y'know," his tone was almost teasing, and you smiled back, glad he wasn't feeling so much sadness anymore.

Paul then added with a little shrug, "'Sides, I wanted to dance with you that night, too. But I'm very glad I have the honours now."

Paul began turning with you in slow circles together as you continued to sway, and you took a moment to decide your next words carefully.

"... I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it's different when you're dancing with someone who actually wants to dance with you. It's just... it's really nice. So thank you, Paul."

Paul let go of your waist for a moment, and raised your clasped hands above your heads so you could twirl under his arm.  When you did just that, and faced him again, he pulled you just a little closer than you were before, your torsos flush as his hand snaked slowly to the small of your back.

"Thank you," he mumbled back, quietly. You weren't entirely sure what he was thanking you for this time, but you never asked.

Instead, you shut your eyes and opted to rest your head in the crook of his neck as the hand you had on Paul's bicep slid upward so your arm circled around his shoulders, in a half embrace.

And then you felt Paul tilt his own head down as if to envelope you more. You'd be lying if you said your heart didn't skip a beat when he did that.

Paul then began to hum the lyrics of the song, quietly, as if you were the only person in the world who was meant to hear it. Both yours and his eyes were closed now as you two basked in such a beautiful moment.

Two lonely people, finding comfort, and peace in each other.

Paul raised your clasped hands closer to him so he could rest them against his chest. You could actually feel his heartbeat pounding against the side of your hand, which made you a little nervous, but not in a bad way.

Paul stopped moving you around in circles, but the swaying never ceased. He lifted his cheek off your crown after a while, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and raise your gaze back to his face.

Paul smiled so sweetly at you, and you watched his eyes shift ever so slightly from left to right as he looked back into yours. His eyebrows then worried for just a moment before he opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, but no words came out.

Your shifting finally slowed to a standstill, and you opened your mouth this time to speak, yet you found yourself in Paul's very position.

There was nothing to say.

You watched as his gaze softened on you, and you weren't sure if it was the drinks, or the lack of sleep, but it was like you could almost feel the gravity around you manipulating you to move just a little closer to him.

And he must have felt it as well. Paul's head began to drop slowly, and it wasn't long before you met him in the middle, your lips coming together in a very soft, and very unplanned kiss. The both of you kept still, almost as if the smallest move would have frightened the other away.

You were both holding your breath as well, and Paul pulled away from the kiss first, arm still wrapped around your back, hand still clasped in yours.

He was staring at you in awe, as were you, eyes wide, and lips still slightly parted as you both processed what exactly just happened.

Paul still couldn't muster any words, nor could you, for that matter; but he could definitely read your gaze. Your eyes were almost begging him to do that again.

And that's exactly what happened; your lips came crashing into each other again after only another second.

You weren't stupid, and neither was he. You both already knew this night was going to become something else entirely. You were craving the touch of someone, and you didn't even have to tell him.

You could just tell with the way he was moving his mouth against yours, and the way his body was flush with you, that he was wanting it just as bad.

Paul's hand finally let go of yours so he could lace his fingers into the hair at the back of your head, and your own hand slid around to his back. He tried pulling you even closer, but it just wasn't possible.

You sighed quietly as you kissed him again, and again, and Paul's hand unweaved itself from your hair as he cupped your face before breaking the kiss off again, another troubled look on his face.

"Ringo'll kill me if he knew I was--"

"Paul, please. I need this," you didn't let him finish his sentence. You didn't really care what your brother thought of anything, and you assumed, deep down, Paul really didn't care either, because he dove back in for more kisses as soon as he could.

His hands cupped your jawline as you gripped his sweater in your fists at his chest. You parted your mouth slightly and just melted into Paul's arms when he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip.

You moaned lowly against him, ears ringing, and all Paul could think to do was blindly shuffle you backwards towards the sofa, but instead, you felt the coffee table hit the back your legs, and you nearly stumbled back. The glasses, once filled with scotch but now only ice, shuffled against the table's surface at the force of you bumping into it.

Paul ended your kiss once more, one of his hands leaving the side of your face to circle around your hips quickly so you didn't fall back. He smiled at you when he knew you weren't going anywhere, offering you a teasing, "maybe you do have two left feet, Darling."

That wonderful pet name made your flesh rise with goosebumps, but all you could mumble to him was, "Just shut up and kiss me, Paul."

Without hesitation, he did just that, which felt like an eternity to the both of you since the last one.

He, still blindly, yet carefully, directed you around the table and to the sofa. Paul, with his hands holding your hips, was the first to sink down, but encouraged you to straddle him as soon as he was fully seated with an encouraging tap to the back of your thighs.

It was your turn to pull away now, your dominant hand resting flat against the centre of Paul's chest as you gave him a good once-over, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Paul was leaned back, lips parted and shining, assumably from the spit you'd been exchanging, and his eyes almost twinkling at you in adoration.

Your heart was full of something you hadn't felt in a very long time, and it was all because of this sensual interaction.

You reached out with your other hand and ran your thumb over his bottom lip, his shallow breath fluttering gently against the skin on your fingers. You tilted his head up and kissed him again, and your fingernails just couldn't resist playing with his beard any longer.

Paul's grip on your hips tightened when you started doing that, and when you decided to take your other hand off his chest and start playing with his hair, he let out a very low groan against your lips, and to both of your surprise, his hips bucked up involuntarily against you.

He gasped at his own actions, and you pulled away to view the look of apologetic shock written on his face. His cheeks and neck were flushed, and his eyebrows were bent in worry, again.

"I-I promise I didn't mean to..." Paul's voice carried a hint of... shame, almost. You watched as he nervously toyed his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried searching his brain for something to say, but the effects of his drink and your sweet attention had him grasping for any type of clear thought.

But all of his attempts went completely out the window when you lowered your hips down and rocked them back against his, his head falling back against the sofa as his eyes rolled, a guttural moan rumbling from deep within his chest.

It was absolutely apparent that Paul's jeans were lacking the room they'd possessed a few minutes prior, and when you repeated the circular motion with your hips again, feeling him hard against your core, you were rewarded with another low growl from him.

"W-wait," Paul uttered weakly after a second, arms and fingers tightening at your hips to keep you from moving around and teasing him again, as much as he didn't want you to stop.

"I want this so much. I want you so much," he began, taking a beat to rake his eyes down your body as his tongue swiped against his own bottom lip. His gaze flitted back to your eyes, and he swallowed nervously.

"I don't want you to do this if you aren't, y'know..." you waited for him to finish his thought, and his round pink cheeks seemed to flush just a little more.

"If you're not okay with it."

You took a second to think on his argument. You and he were relatively fresh out of troubled relationships, and you both seemed to be hurting from the aftermath of said relationships...

But you were so lonely, too. And, to each other, you were simply beautiful, and respectful people, offering your... company... in a time of isolation for you both.

And it wasn't like there was any label for what you two were, either. All you and Paul needed was to feel wanted-- to feel loved.

And only if you could experience such a feeling for one more night in your life, Paul was offering now. And you were going to take it.

"I want this moment to last, Paul. If you're okay with making me feel wanted again, I am more than comfortable doing the same for you."

You could see him visibly relax when you said that, relief washing over his features as he reached a hand up to caress the back of your neck and bring you into a single, sweet kiss. You still couldn't get over how gentle and polite he was still being about all of this.

"We should really... go to my room," Paul suggested quietly after pulling a fraction of an inch away from the contact. You nodded your head, sighing "okay" as Paul closed the gap between you both just once more, only for a peck.

He let go of your hips and he reached for your hands instead, fingers intertwining slowly, and affectionately. You slid out of his lap, and Paul rose to his feet, guiding you without a hurry towards of the threshold of the den, where you stood to greet him unexpectedly just an hour or so before this moment.

The 45 on the record player had since finished playing the song, needle spinning needlessly in silence. Paul briefly resituated the player before continuing your journey one step at a time towards his bedroom, the heart in your chest beating erratically.

You climbed the stairs together, one dragging step at a time, and Paul led you around the corner of the hallway, pausing at the first room on the right. He glanced over at you, hand on the doorknob as he gave you another look. One that was asking a final, "are you sure?"

You placed your free hand over Paul's without a sound, and together you opened the door. He pulled you in for one more intimate embrace, lips on yours again before he pulled you into the dark room, gently kicking the door closed behind him.

And that night, you stayed with Paul. Hand-in-hand, bodies entwined, souls healing, loneliness fading away, and hopes of feeling whole again finally returning.

Being awake in the middle of the night had never been so gratifying.

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

A/A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! like I said, I can always whip up a part 2 regarding what happened behind those closed doors, so lmk if you're interested in that at all! Thanks for the support again and stay tuned for more works!

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen

@strawb3rri-le

(If you wanna be added/ removed from any of my lists, please message me and let me know!!)

[scuttle-buttle]

Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

✈️

The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good. 

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry. 

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.” 

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.” 

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away. 

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties. 

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right. 

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe. 

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious. 

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble. 

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead. 

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned. 

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.” 

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. “She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover. 

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down. 

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh. 

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up. 

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body. 

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him. 

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad.  “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….” 

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming. 

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers. 

He grins. “Yes ma’am.” 

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length. 

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high. 

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.” 

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you. 

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths. 

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.  

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs. 

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty. 

Finally. 

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”  

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

[esmedelacroix]

Coffee Shop Love Pt.1

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

author's note: Hi lovies, this is the very first part of my first series. I hope you enjoy it! I suggest you listen to "Bittersweet Faith" by Bitter:Sweet on loop while reading this. It does a nice job setting the vibe I'm going for. Enjoy...

word count: 1.1k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

Yet another slow night at the Mug & Muffin Coffee House, to no one's surprise, not a single soul drinks coffee at night. You always keep the shop open in case someone wants to swing by and get some baked goods for the night. The rest usually goes to the homeless shelter five blocks away. You sit by the counter chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue droops your head down, and Peter Pan sprinkles fairy dust on your eyelids dragging them down.

The lethargic vibe of the shop with slow jazz playing in the background is suddenly disrupted by the frantic ring of the doorbells. Your head shoots up immediately with the sudden burst of noise. The cool winter air bites at your skin until the door is closed and you are back in the embrace of the blasting heater. Your eyes readjust to the warm lights bringing you back into your shop surrounded by the endless coffee beans, leafy green plants, books, and the myriad of photos framed in rusting gold Victorian frames. The shop is completely empty, snapping yourself back into reality, you direct your focus to the customer who had just walked in.

Your lips parted slightly as a little gasp left your mouth. He was a middle-aged man, with golden skin the color of black coffee with a bit of creamer, his mahogany hair was slicked back in a perfect disaster, with wisps of stray gelled hair strands framing his face perfectly. He had the sharpest and highest cheekbones, a cleanly shaved face, and pearly white teeth. He stood at almost seven feet and struggled with getting the mistletoe above the door out of his hair.

Holy smokes he's hot. Where did this man come from? you asked yourself.

He huffed as he finally freed himself from the clutches of the mistletoe. "What a low doorframe," he mumbled to himself in annoyance.

"Or maybe you're just wicked tall," you answered offering him a bright smile.

He quirked a brow at your playful comment. His face gave no gateway to his thoughts.

"Welcome to Mug & Muffin, what can I make you tonight?" you asked looking up at him to meet his gaze.

"I'll have a hot black coffee please," he replied as he took his wallet out.

Your facial naturally contorted at this odd request. You checked your watch to make sure you weren't going crazy. Yep, 9 pm, why is this psycho getting coffee? You looked back up at his unbothered face.

That perfectly chiseled unbothered face. Fuck you for being so perfect mystery man. You thought to yourself as you started to type the order into the machine.

"Would you like any cream or sugar with that sir?" she inquired as their eyes met briefly.

"Nope just black coffee," he responded in a passive-aggressive tone.

"Okay, and can I get a name with this order?" you chirped, to which he replied, "Miguel O'Hara,"

You hummed as you printed his receipt out and handed it to him after he had paid. He chose to get a seat facing the counter. Lucky me, you thought to yourself. You were quite content that you had some eye candy to feast on tonight.

You quickly made his black coffee while sneaking little peeks at him. A pair of reading glasses adorned the bridge of his nose as he taped away at his laptop. You brought his piping hot black coffee to him, and he thanked you with a little head nod, eyes still glued to his computer screen before he looked up at you.

"Would you like coffee cake or some kind of muffin with your coffee? I have a bunch of extras, it'd be on the house," you suggested.

"No thank you, I don't like sweets," he answered. You exaggeratedly gasped at his sudden revelation.

"You don't like sweets," you demanded as you placed your hands on your hips, trying your hardest to give him an angry face. He found your efforts to look angry cute rather than intimidating. He stifled laughter as he answered, "No, I do not," cooly.

"Are you even real?" you grumbled to yourself as you shook your head and ticked your tongue. You sashayed back behind the counter to pack up the sweets to drop off at the Nueva Hope Homeless Shelter. You watched Miguel sip his coffee from the corner of your eye, surprisingly he didn't burn his tongue. His head shot up and surprise marked his eyes as he looked down at his drink and then back at you, before letting out a satisfied hum of approval. He quickly finished his mug while doing his work.

Truthfully the shop closed 15 minutes ago but Miguel sat there too lost in his emails, documents, and reports to realize that you had shut the light off at the counter and put up every chair but the one he was sitting in. He only came back to earth after you had 'accidentally' dropped your keys on the ground next to him. As cliche as the night already was, you both went to pick them up, both your hands grazing each other. He quickly retreated his hand and looked around realizing that it was beyond time for him to go.

He packed his work bag as you loaded the back of your car with boxes upon boxes of extra baked goods. Closing the trunk of the car, you peeped back into the shop to see Miguel placing money in the tip jar. You chuckled to yourself as he stepped out walking up to you. "That was the best coffee I have ever tasted," he started. You crossed your arms and smiled warmly looking up at him.

"I never got your name though," he trailed off.

"And you'll never get it," you teased

"Everyone in the area calls me Baby though," you explained.

"Yeah I'm not calling you that," Miguel said flatly. You laughed at his response as you locked up.

"You have a good night Miguel!" you called out as you opened your car door.

He gave you a lazy wave and you drove away. Night fell on Nueva York along with the snow. When you finished your delivery, you entered your apartment right above the shop with the tip jar in hand. You had emptied it before but Miguel had put something in it. When you opened it your eyes widened at the several twenty dollar bills. There was a small sticky note folded in the jar. You pick it up and unfold it. The sticky note read, "You are way too energetic at nine o'clock at night, but that was the best coffee I've ever had, will be coming again,"

Next... Pt.2

a/n: should i make a tag list?

[skateordiebitch]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT

stoner!dominic x innocent!reader

likeeeee maybe they meet at a party which reader was forced to go to by a friend. reader like, doesn’t drink, never let a joint touch her lips. she somehow gets rlly attached to dom, then he offers her a blunt but reader’s like “oh, i don’t smoke” and he’s FLABBERGASTED

maybe he tries to get her to smoke, idk, just thinking “i don’t care that you’re a stoner” red wine supernova vibes. ty lovely 💋💋

RED WINE SUPERNOVA || D.F x reader

‘baby, why don't you come over?

red wine supernova, falling into me

i don't care that you're a stoner

red wine supernova, fall right into me’

summary: you aren't a party person, yet you end up at a party. you don't drink or smoke; but lucky for you, dominic desires a little more than just weed.

word count: 2.6k

note: this is so cute like omg 😭 inspired by 'red wine supernova' by miss chappell roan, obviously. this request captures the chemistry perfectly!!! i hope you guys love it as much as i loved writing it. as always feel free to send in requests! <3

You weren’t really sure how you ended up at this party. 

Your best friend had convinced you with the usual promise of "just an hour" and "you need to get out more," and you hadn’t had a good excuse to say no. 

Now, though, you were wedged between strangers in the dimly lit house, clutching a cup of water and feeling out of place. The air was thick with the smell of weed and the thumping of a bass that seemed to pulse under your skin. 

You scanned the room, already trying to find your friend to suggest heading home.

But, that’s when you noticed him: a guy leaning against the doorway, laughing with some friends. He had an easy confidence, a wild mess of curls, and a smile that could light up the darkest room. 

Every now and then, he’d stop to take a drag from his blunt, blowing the smoke to the side, always careful not to send it your way. It was a small gesture, but somehow, it made you feel like he was paying attention to you in a way no one else had tonight.

As if sensing you were looking at him, he turned, catching your gaze and holding it for a beat longer than comfortable. Before you knew it, he was weaving through the crowd toward you, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Not having fun, huh?" he asked, leaning close so you could hear him over the music. His voice was warm, edged with amusement.

You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness tighten your shoulders. "I guess I’m just... not really a party person."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning playful. “A rebel, then. ‘Not a party person’ at a party—how daring.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide a smile. “Oh, yeah. Breaking all kinds of rules over here.”

“So, tell me,” he said, leaning back and giving you a mischievous grin, “what do you do for fun if you’re not out at parties like this?”

You laughed, “I don’t know. I’m probably not as exciting as you. I’m usually reading, or maybe watching movies, writing. Not much.”

“Reading?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re one of those girls, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you shot back, laughing.

He shrugged, a teasing smile on his lips. “Just that you’re probably smarter than anyone else here. Maybe smarter than me.”

“Only maybe?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He smirked, taking another slow drag from the blunt. "Oh, it was. Besides," he said, his gaze turning more intense, “I like a girl with brains. Keeps things interesting… Keeps me on my toes.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly under his stare. He had this way of looking at you that felt like he saw right through all the walls you’d built, straight to the person beneath them. 

It was both exhilarating and a little intimidating.

You didn’t know what it was—maybe the playful glint in his eyes, maybe his easy confidence—but you took his hand, and before you knew it, you were laughing and talking like you’d known him for years. 

His name was Dominic, and he was as charming as he was magnetic. Every time he laughed, it was this free, infectious sound that seemed to light him up, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

At some point, he leaned back, pulling a blunt out of his jacket pocket. He raised an eyebrow, giving you a look that was both mischievous and expectant. "Care to join?"

You shook your head, smiling slightly. “Oh, no. I don’t smoke.”

He stared at you, clearly shocked. “Wait, really?” He laughed, almost incredulous. “You’re telling me you’re this cool and you’ve never even—”

“Nope,” You crossed your arms, trying not to smile at his reaction. "Never even held a joint. I like breathing air.”

Dominic looked at you like you’d just told him you were from another planet. “You’re serious?”

You laughed, a little bashfully. “I guess I just… never got into it. It’s not really my thing. It kinda scares me.”

He shook his head, chuckling, and took a slow drag from the joint, blowing the smoke to the side as he watched you with that same look of fascination. 

“Wild. Here I was thinking everyone’s at least tried it once.” He paused, then tilted his head with a smirk. “You mind if I...?”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “I don’t care that you’re a stoner, Dominic.”

That earned you a laugh, and he took another drag, his eyes flickering to yours with a hint of a challenge. “You sure I can’t change your mind?”

“I think I’ll survive without it,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Though I appreciate the, uh, enthusiasm.”

“You know,” he continued, still watching you, “I think you’re the first girl I’ve met here who isn’t already, like, wasted out of her mind or trying to do shots off the kitchen counter.”

You laughed. “Yeah, not exactly my style. No offense to your friends or anything.”

“None taken. Trust me, I’d rather be here talking to you than watching another failed attempt at a keg stand.” He grinned, but there was a softness in his expression that told you he meant it.

A comfortable silence fell between you for a moment before he spoke up again. “So, not a drinker, not a smoker… how’d you even end up here?”

“Blame my friend. She insisted I needed a night out.” You rolled your eyes, but your tone was light. “Dragged me here, practically kicking and screaming.”

Dominic chuckled. “Well, then I owe her a thank you.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing against yours as he looked at you with that same captivating intensity. “Because if she hadn’t dragged you here, I wouldn’t have met the most intriguing girl at this party.”

Your stomach did a little flip, and you tried to play it cool, giving him a raised eyebrow. “Oh, really? That’s quite a line.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m serious! You’re different from everyone else here. Most people are just here for a good time, but… you seem like you’re here because you’re looking for something else.”

You tilted your head, feeling strangely vulnerable under his gaze. “And what do you think I’m looking for?”

“Maybe someone to make you realize parties aren’t all that bad?” He winked, the suggestion playful but somehow carrying a weight that made your heart race.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I think that might be a tall order.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He took another drag from his blunt, still watching you. Then, he held it out toward you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on. One hit won’t kill you.”

You scrunched up your nose, giving him a mock glare. “Are you trying to corrupt me, Dominic?”

He laughed, leaning closer, his face inches from yours. “Maybe just a little. You’re already here, right? Why not go all in?”

“You’re very convincing…” You bit your lip, feigning consideration. “But no.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but also slightly impressed. “You’re really not going to budge, huh?”

You shrugged, smiling up at him. “Guess I’m a little stubborn.”

“I like stubborn,” he said, his voice dropping a little, softer, as his eyes flickered to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. “Besides, it’s kind of refreshing. You know how many people just go along with whatever I say?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re used to getting your way?”

“Usually, yeah.” He grinned, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how charmingly cocky he was. “But I think I like it better when I don’t.”

For a moment, the air felt electric, like something unsaid was hovering between you two. The noises of the party seemed to fade into the background, and you became hyper-aware of how close he was, of the slight pull you felt toward him.

He leaned a little closer, his gaze turning soft but intent. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Why is someone like you, talking to someone like me?” 

You blinked, a little taken aback by the question. “Geez. Someone like you? You make it sound like you’re some lost cause.”

He gave a half-smile, a touch of vulnerability flashing across his face. “I don’t know… Just feel like maybe you’re a little out of my league.”

“Really?” You laugh, “Me, out of your league? Have you seen yourself?”

“Let’s just say I’m not exactly the guy who gets lucky. Especially with the girl who doesn’t do this,” he said, holding up the joint with a grin.

“So, you don’t like girls who smoke?” You asked.

“Well, I like all women,” He emphasizes, “but, a lot of the time I feel like girls only talk to me because I have weed.”

“I highly doubt that’s the case.”

“They’re always like ‘Oh, Dominic, can I have a hit of that?’” He mocks in a high pitched voice, “Dominic, you’re sooo cute… Can we like, smoke?” He mocked again.

You couldn’t contain your laughter, “Wow, what a great impression,” you say sarcastically, “Let’s just say… if I was looking for someone exactly like me, I’d be bored out of my mind.” 

He grinned, visibly flustered for the first time since you’d met him. 

Then, looking down at you, he tapped the blunt against the side of the ashtray, leaning closer than necessary. “Well, then I guess I’m just a lucky guy, tonight.”

“I guess you are.”

He held your gaze a second longer, the warmth of it spreading in a way you weren’t expecting. 

And as the night went on, Dominic kept finding ways to keep you close—whether it was brushing your arm as he reached for something, leaning in just a little too close to make a point, or flashing you that dangerous smile that seemed to cut through all your defenses.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, your head felt lighter than you could remember, and you realized that, somehow, without even trying, Dominic had made you forget about how much you didn’t want to be there. 

He poured himself a shot of tequila, keeping his eyes on you the entire time, “To meeting you,” He said, tipping his head back as you watch his face turn sour. “God, that’s disgusting.”

You nodded your head, eyes bright with a smile, “Exactly why I hate it.”

“So, you’re seriously telling me no one’s ever tempted you to even take a sip of this life?” he asked, still sounding incredulous, leaning back on his elbows as he looked at you. 

You shrugged, smiling slightly. “Maybe they did, but no one’s convinced me as much as you did tonight.” You glanced at him, feeling a shyness you hadn’t felt all night. “Honestly? You’re the first person that’s made me think maybe I should stop being so boring.”

Dominic’s smile softened, and he looked at you for a moment, something warm and almost tender in his eyes. “You aren’t boring, but I guess I’ll take that as a win.”

“Only if you promise not to get too full of yourself,” you teased.

“Can’t make any promises.” He chuckled, leaning closer until his face was just inches from yours. “But maybe you could stick around and keep me humble?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the proximity, his gaze suddenly intense and unwavering. 

“Do you like me or something?” You giggled, “Does Dominic have a little crush?”

Dominic laughed, and the sound was rich, deep, filling the space between you. "A little? Oh no, I don’t do anything halfway," he teased, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m starting to think you might be trouble for me.”

You bit back a smile, looking down to hide how fast your heart was racing. “Trouble?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you’re the troublemaker here.”

“Well, what can I say— Guilty as charged,” he murmured, and without warning, he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that seemed completely at odds with his usual bravado. His fingers lingered, tracing softly along your cheek as he studied you.

For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade, replaced only by the pounding of your heart and the feeling of his hand resting on your face. 

"I don’t know what it is about you,” he whispered, his voice lower, softer. “But the second I saw you… I just knew I had to know you.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t know if it was the way his words were so honest, or the feeling of his hand on your skin, or just the fact that he was looking at you like he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I think you’ve had too much tequila,” you whispered back, barely able to keep the smile off your face.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I know what I’m saying.” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath on your skin, his voice barely above a murmur. “You’re the most interesting person in this whole place. And I think you know it, too.”

You looked up at him, a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered, “Well, then, maybe you’ll have to work a little harder to keep me around.”

Dominic grinned, that signature smile making your stomach do flips. “I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice like a dare. He held out his hand, palm up, his eyes daring you to take it. “Come on. Let me show you something.”

You hesitated only a moment before slipping your hand into his. His fingers closed around yours, warm and reassuring, and he led you through the crowd, past groups of laughing friends and scattered red Solo cups, until you reached a quieter corner of the house where the music was only a faint hum.

He stopped and turned to you, his gaze so intense it made your cheeks flush. “You know, I don’t really do this whole… romantic thing,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck almost shyly. “Usually I just… I don’t know. But tonight… you have me acting out of character.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head at him. “Are you saying I make you nervous?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Or maybe you just make me want to try harder.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you took a step closer. “Then show me what you’ve got,” you murmured, challenging him with a small smile.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Dominic closed the distance between you, his hands resting lightly on your waist as he dipped his head down, brushing his lips softly against yours. 

It was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring the moment just as much as you were. 

But then his grip on your waist tightened, and the kiss deepened, becoming something electric, something that made you forget anyone else was even there.

When you finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’m pretty glad we met,” he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laughed, feeling lighter and happier than you had in a long time. “Guess that makes two of us, then.”

“Guess it does.” He leaned back, his fingers lacing with yours again as he held your hand. “So, what do you say? Stick around tonight… and maybe tomorrow?”

The party noise picked up again, but it was all a distant hum. Right now, all you could think about was him, and the way his hand fit perfectly around yours.

You looked up at him, your smile soft.

“I think I’d like that.”

[forest-hashira]

Noble Blood - Chapter Eleven

ok so life things happened again so i wasn't able to finish this chapter quite as soon as i would have liked, but. considering how long it is i am hoping you'll all have a little bit of mercy on me. i don't know how it got this long, it wasn't supposed to be this long, but i knew i couldn't split it yet again, so. y'know. also i had this song on repeat the whole time i was writing this chapter, if you want the vibes. i don't have much else to say tbh but i hope you enjoy!

fic masterlist | read on ao3 | wc: ~13k | cw: gender neutral reader, yet another festival sorry, reader has A Lot of anxiety this chapter, reader is nude around an adult they are not related to. nothing at all sexual happens but i wanted to give a heads up about it just in case.

Just as your mother had said, the rest of the week really did fly by. Because it was still winter break for school, Satoru and Suguru had nowhere else to be, so the three of you spent every waking moment together – and even some of the sleeping ones. You still slept in Suguru’s bed, wearing Satoru’s clothes every night, while the boys continued to share Satoru’s bed. You’d expected a fight to break out because of it at some point, but it never had. Which was a good thing, of course, but was still surprising.

The only downside to the week going by so fast was that, before you knew it, you had reached the day of the festival, which you had been dreading ever since Gojo-sama had informed you of it. 

That morning, you were woken by a servant entering the room and calling your name, which, of course, woke all three of you. Still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stepped out from behind the privacy screen that separated Suguru’s bed from the rest of the room. “Is something wrong?” you asked around a yawn.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she assured. “But we need to start getting you ready for tonight’s celebration.”

“Can’t that wait until after breakfast?” Satoru groused, scowling at the servant; even after all these years, he still wasn’t a morning person.

“I’m afraid not, Gojo-dono,” the servant replied with an apologetic smile. “Gojo-sama’s orders.”

Satoru’s scowl only deepened, but you cut in before he could argue.

“It’s fine, ‘Toru,” you told him, hoping you sounded as reassuring as you were trying to be. “I’ll catch up with you guys at lunch, okay? Just go back to sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment, still glowering at the servant, but he finally relented when Suguru bumped him lightly with his shoulder. 

“Fine,” the white haired boy grumbled, though his expression softened slightly as he turned his attention to you. “You can throw a tantrum if they start to bother you,” he said, expression completely serious. “Always works for me.”

Suguru rolled his eyes at the other boy’s words, but offered you a small smile. “We’ll catch up with you later,” he promised. 

Oddly reassured by Satoru’s advice and soothed by Suguru’s promise, you nodded, murmuring one last small goodbye before following the servant out of the room, Takara cradled to your chest as always. 

You were led to a part of the house you’d never been to before – the very center of the house, if you had to guess – and were a bit confused when you were ushered into a bathroom, where there was already a tub of steaming water. 

“But I just took a bath last night,” you said, more than a little confused as you turned to face the servant you had been following. 

“Gojo-sama’s instructions were clear,” she said simply, though she did look a bit apologetic. “He said you were to be bathed and thoroughly scrubbed clean before we dressed you for the event.”

You blinked dumbly for a moment at her words before something clicked in your mind. “You mean… I don’t just get to bathe myself? And I don’t get to dress myself after?”

“That’s correct,” she confirmed, without any sort of change in her expression. “It’s how Gojo-dono has always been prepared for events,” she added, as if that made the concept of being scrubbed and dressed by complete strangers any less horrifying. “It’s just how things are done.”

Though the idea made you more than a little uncomfortable, you weren’t confident enough to try and argue, too overwhelmed already by everything that was happening, and you hadn’t even gotten started.

Thankfully, the servant turned her back and allowed you a small amount of privacy as you undressed and climbed into the tub, after setting Takara on top of your clothes; she was still so small, and you didn’t want her to get cold while you were unable to hold her.

Once you were fully seated in the tub, the servant turned and began gathering the soaps and things she would need to bathe you, allowing you to soak in the hot water for a few moments. When she turned to you, though, she gestured for you to tip your head backwards. “Need to wet your hair so I can wash it,” she explained. Hesitantly, you nodded, then did as she asked. The hot water felt good against your scalp, but the woman’s fingers were anything but gentle as they worked the soap into your hair, her nails raking against your scalp somewhat unpleasantly.

Eventually she rinsed the soap from your hair, then rubbed something that looked a lot like lotion into the strands. Whatever it was smelled strongly of herbs, but you found you didn’t mind it very much. When she told you to stand so she could give you a good scrub, you wanted to refuse, to say you were capable of bathing yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue with her stern expression. So you stood, keeping your eyes squeezed shut as she scrubbed virtually every inch of your body, her movements thorough and efficient, if a bit rougher than you would’ve liked; not having to look at her as she washed you lessened the humiliation you felt, even if only a little.

Once you were deemed satisfactorily clean, the servant sat you back down in the tub and rinsed out whatever it she had put in your hair. Then she ushered you out of the tub, handing you a large, thick towel.

“Dry yourself quickly,” she said, “Then come through that door over there. That’s where we’ll be dressing you and getting you otherwise ready for the event.” As she spoke, she pointed to a door on the other side of the room you hadn’t noticed before – though, granted, you hadn’t been paying much attention. 

You nodded to confirm you understood, then waited until she had left the room to begin drying yourself with the towel. The material was soft, much softer than any other towels your family had ever owned, and that, if nothing else, was a relief. Once you were dried off, you secured the towel around yourself, then turned to Takara, who was sitting up and watching you curiously, head cocked ever so slightly to the right.

“Well,” you told her quietly, attempting a small smile. “Guess we should let them finish getting us ready, hm?” You carefully scooped up the hatchling and the pile of clothes she sat on, not sure if you were meant to leave them behind or not. Crossing the room, you pushed open the door that had been pointed out to you, and your eyes widened at the scene before you.

There were at least three servants in the room, and what seemed to you to be dozens and dozens and dozens of kimonos and coordinating accessories laid out across the multiple vanity tables in the room. Most of them looked like silk, shiny and in a spectrum of more metallic shades. It occurred to you after a moment that they were trying to match your outfit to the color of your dragon as best they could.

Everyone stopped what they were doing when you stepped through the door, turning to look at you with neutral expressions. Until they spotted Takara, at least. When they caught sight of the hatchling, their eyes all flew wide, as if they hadn’t believed she existed until right that moment. Snapping out of whatever trance your dragon seemed to have put them all under, one of the servants, a girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six years older than you, turned to you with a gentle smile.

“Do you have any preference about what colors your accessories are?” she asked kindly. “If we can start narrowing things down now, we can make this as quick for you as possible.”

The question caught you a bit off guard; you hadn’t expected to have any sort of say in the whole process, so you weren’t entirely sure how to even answer the question. “I, uh…” you hesitated, glancing around at everything laid out on the tables to see what your options were. Both fortunately and unfortunately, it seemed there were accessories in every color you could imagine and then some. “I think… could we do green?”

“Of course, there’s plenty of green to work with over there. Is there a specific shade…” the girl trailed off when she saw Takara stirring in your arms, and she gasped softly when the hatchling opened her eyes.

You offered a slightly bashful smile at her reaction, and asked, somewhat redundantly, “Can we try to match her eyes?”

You’d barely gotten a nod in response before the woman who had bathed you came over to you, taking the clothes from your arms and carrying them off to some unknown part of the room, presumably to be taken away and washed. Wordlessly, she ushered you into the center of the room, only stopping once you stood in front of a mirror.

“You’ll have to put her down while we get you dressed,” she told you, with a slight nod towards Takara.

Her words make your heart stop for a moment. She was right, of course, and you knew it, but you desperately did not want to be separated from your only friend in the room, especially since it seemed that getting dressed would not be a quick, simple process. 

“…Where am I supposed to put her?” you asked eventually, still not confident enough to try and defy her, doubly so considering she was just carrying out Gojo-sama’s orders. 

“Over there.” She gestured to the closest vanity table, which had a small section at the end cleared off except for a rather fancy looking cushion. So, after another moment of hesitation, you carried your dragon over to the cushion, carefully setting her down and promising her you weren’t going anywhere.

Once you were back in front of the mirror, the woman circled you slowly, looking you up and down as if trying to imagine exactly how things would fit on you before even attempting to get you into any of the possible outfits – outfits you knew would be far too complicated for you to ever get into or out of on your own. She said nothing when she turned away from you, instead carefully examining all the options laid out. They all looked almost exactly the same to you, but the servant woman clearly had a much more discerning eye than you, and skipped over most of the fabrics without even really considering them.

When she paused in front of one of the outfits, you craned your neck, trying to see which one had caught her attention, but your view was blocked by her torso. She glanced between the clothes and Takara a few times, then picked up the outfit and, still blocking it from your view, walked over to Takara.

“Please don’t touch her!” you blurted, once the woman was standing between you and your dragon. It was the closest thing to an argument you’d made all morning, and you just hoped you wouldn’t be punished for it.

“I won’t,” the woman responded, her voice gentler than you would’ve thought she was capable of. “I just want to make sure the color matches her scales.” As she considered the match, she continued to speak to you. “There are some undergarments on the chair beside the mirror. Do you see them?”

Glancing a little to the left of where you stood, you spotted the chair and the clothes she was talking about. “Yes ma’am.”

“I need you to take your towel off and put them on. You can step behind the mirrors if you would like a bit more privacy.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, the idea of being allowed a small amount of privacy so at the very least nobody else would see you naked giving you such a feeling of relief you worried for a moment that you might start crying. You hurriedly picked up the clothes, stepping into the small space behind the mirrors, which were in the corner of the room, and dropped your towel. The undergarments were nothing special, but wearing actual clothes again made you feel a little less out of your depth during this whole situation.

The servant woman was waiting for you when you stepped out from behind the mirror. “Just place your towel on the chair, if you will,” she instructed. She had the outfit draped over her arm, and though you couldn’t see all of it, you could see that it was the exact same shade of copper as Takara, which you were a little surprised by. You didn’t have long to linger on that realization, though, because as soon as you set your towel down on the chair, you were being guided to your previous spot in front of the mirrors by another servant.

Having multiple people invading your personal space in order to dress you quickly became overwhelming and, not having many other options, you closed your eyes, hoping maybe if you couldn’t see all the people working together to fasten your clothes around you, maybe you wouldn’t feel so overstimulated. Unfortunately, that didn’t help the way you hoped, the feeling of so many hands touching you at the same time too much for you to filter out in an effective way.

The hands touching you retreated after what felt like hours – though you knew logically it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes – but before you felt brave enough to open  your eyes now that you weren’t being crowded by strangers, a set of hands began to rake some sort of product through your hair, presumably to keep it out of your face. The rough touch was the final straw, everything now too much for you to bear even a second longer.

“Stop it!” you shrieked, shaking your head and pushing away the hands that tried to grab at you. “I said stop it! Right this second! Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice was shrill, significantly higher pitched than usual, and frantic to the point that you barely recognized it as your own voice. You felt yourself beginning to shake on top of it, but before you broke down in front of the servants, Satoru’s words from earlier echoed in your head.

You can throw a tantrum if they start to bother you. Always works for me.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really thrown any sort of fit, but if there was ever a time to really let yourself do such a thing, this was it. 

So you went for it. Leaned into the more theatrical parts of your current mood, keeping your voice loud and upset and contorting your expression into something demanding and angry, rather than distraught as you finally opened your eyes. “All of you get out of here! I don’t want to look at you right now. I want to see my friend.”

“Now listen here, Gojo-sama told us—”

“I don’t care what he said! If you don’t all leave and send Satoru in to see me, I’ll start breaking things.” You weren’t entirely certain where the words came from, but you couldn’t let your surprise show to the servants, or they would almost certainly call your bluff.

The servants all exchanged looks, most of their expressions rather unsure, until eventually the oldest servant gestured for everyone to leave the room. “I’ll make sure Gojo-dono is here as soon as possible to speak with you,” she told you, arching a brow at you the tiniest bit before she followed the others out of the room.

Once they were all gone, you practically deflated, all the fight leaving your body. What you really wanted to do was curl up in a corner and disappear, but you resisted the urge, instead walking over to the cushion Takara still sat on. Gently, you scooped her into your arms again, the simple feeling of her rib cage expanding and contracting with every breath she took serving to calm you a good deal. You weren’t entirely sure how long you stood there holding her when a rushed knock sounded at the door, and you turned in time to see Satoru stepping inside, barely remembering to shut the door behind himself in his hurry to get to you.

“You threatened to break things?” he asked, his eyes wide and a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I told you throwing a tantrum would work!”

Though you wanted to join in his enthusiasm, now that Satoru was here in front of you, it was taking every ounce of your self control not to burst into tears. He noticed the way your bottom lip began to tremble, and his expression quickly dropped from excited to concerned. He held his hands up somewhat helplessly between you, apparently unsure what to do to provide you comfort.

“Oh god, uh, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I was trying to be supportive, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Didn’t upset me,” you cut him off, blinking rapidly to try and stave off your tears as you returned Takara to her cushion. “Could I hug you?” you asked, turning back to him. “Or are our clothes too expensive for that?”

Your weak attempt at a joke seemed to go over his head as he pulled you close, expression serious. “Who gives a shit about our clothes?” he asked, arms wrapped tightly around you. Once you’d wrapped your arms around him in return, he began to rock you side to side ever so slightly, thought you weren’t sure he was even doing it on purpose; it was something you’d frequently seen him doing over the years, almost any time he had to stand still for more than a few seconds, though he’d stopped doing it as much as you all got older. The familiarity of the move made you oddly nostalgic, and you lost the battle against your tears.

“Are you okay?” Satoru eventually asked, after your tears had quieted down to sniffles. He didn’t move to release you from the hug, though, which you greatly appreciated. 

“I’ve been better,” you admitted. Separating from him slightly, you wiped the last few straggling tears from your cheeks and looked up at him – when had he gotten tall enough for you to have to look up? you wondered, though you kept the thought to yourself. “How do you do this all the time? Don’t you just want to explode from all the attention?”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, though his gaze was a bit unfocused as he considered your words. “I don’t think I notice all of this as much as you do,” he admitted eventually. “I’ve been putting up with all of this my whole life, so I’m just… used to it, I guess.” A soft sigh escaped him, and he gave a slight shrug. “I know that’s not really helpful, but it’s true. But you wanna know what else is true?”

“What?”

Satoru’s expression brightened a bit as he spoke. “Suguru and I are gonna be right by your side the whole celebration. We’re not gonna let anyone get too close, and if you want, we’ll sic Kenji and Niji on people so they leave us alone.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, sniffling and wiping your eyes once again. Though the promise to cause chaos on your behalf probably should have concerned you, it didn’t; you couldn’t feel anything but relief knowing that your friends would be there to stick up for you. “Thanks, ‘Toru.”

Dropping your hands from your face, it finally occurred to you that Satoru had come to see you all by himself. “Where is Kenji, anyways?” you asked curiously.

“He and Niji are being groomed for the event.”

“Groomed?”

“Yes.”

“How do you even groom a dragon?” You felt your brows furrow as you tried to imagine it; it’s not like dragons had fur that could be brushed, so you were having a bit of trouble imagining what else might be involved.

“I heard someone say something about giving them a bath,” Satoru said. “And then they’ll probably get their fluff trimmed up a bit and have their scales polished.”

“I’m sure Kenji’s thrilled about that,” you laughed, the mental image of the boisterous dragon being wrangled into a bathtub being exceptionally amusing to you.

This time Satoru laughed with you. “I’m sure I’ll have to spend days making it up to him with treats.” 

His words had you laughing again, though you were quickly cut off by the sound of your stomach growling, and embarrassment washed over you. “Sorry,” you apologized.

Satoru just frowned. “Did they not give you anything to eat?”

You shook your head. “No, they didn’t. I’m really hungry right now, though.”

He nodded slightly, then turned and walked over to the door. He poked his head out, having a brief conversation with someone that you could neither hear nor see, then closed the door and returned to your side. 

“Someone’s going to bring you something to eat,” he said simply.

“You didn’t have to do that, Satoru.”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you for a moment. “I’m not gonna let you starve all day just because my dad didn’t think about the fact that you need to eat.”

You found his words oddly endearing, with how much they showed he clearly cared about you, and you thanked him quietly. Not much else was said for a few moments, and then there was a soft knock on the door. The boy was quick to answer it, accepting a tray from whoever had knocked before turning away.

When you saw what was on the tray, your mouth started watering. There was a whole breakfast spread available to you – rice, miso soup, eggs, fruit – fresh tea, and even a few little chocolates on the side. Your stomach growled again, but this time you felt much less embarrassed about it. You waited until Satoru had set down the tray before launching yourself at the food, picking up the bowl of soup and bringing it to your lips, not even bothering with the spoon as you gulped down the broth. You only stopped when you heard your friend laugh softly.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a shake of his head. “Not trying to make fun of you or anything, I’ve just never seen you go at a meal like that before.”

“I haven’t eaten all day,” you reminded him, swallowing your mouthful and wiping away a stray drop of broth from your chin before it could touch your clothes. It wasn’t that late in the day, all things considered, but that didn’t change how hungry you really were. Knowing that eating too fast would only make you sick, you slowed down as you ate the rest of your food, occasionally offering small bites to Takara, who accepted exactly one bite of egg before refusing everything else.

As you ate, you and Satoru talked a bit more, not really discussing much of anything at all, but the conversation being a welcome distraction to what had overwhelmed you in the first place. Once you finally finished, you realized you felt much better about everything – or at the very least, you weren’t dreading what was to come as much. With a soft sigh, you glanced back over at the door; all the servants had left you alone, just as you’d asked – or demanded, rather – but you couldn’t imagine they’d gone very far from the room. “I should really let them finish getting me ready,” you said, if somewhat reluctantly. “I don’t want your father getting mad because I’m not cooperating.”

“Fuck my dad,” Satoru said. “Who cares what he thinks?”

You felt as if your eyes were going to pop out of your skull from the shock of hearing your friend say those words. “Satoru!” you exclaimed, looking around to make sure nobody else had heard him.

“What? It’s true!” he insisted, trying incredibly hard to hide his grin. “You’re the most important person in the settlement now – maybe even the whole world. Why do you care what my dad thinks anymore?”

Heat quickly spread across your face at his words. Your real answer of because he’s a grown up seemed a little silly when you thought about it the way Satoru had phrased it, so you just shrugged. Then, remembering his mother’s words from earlier that week, you replied, “Everyone is important, Satoru. Remember? And nobody is more important than anyone else.”

Now it was Satoru’s turn to get a little embarrassed, his face going red almost to the tips of his ears. You couldn’t help but notice how it made his eyes look even more blue than usual, though that thought had your own face burning even more. “Why do you always have to be right about stuff?” he groaned, burying his bright red face in his hands. He’d always been one for dramatics.

“‘Cause I know a lot of smart people.”

He peeked through his fingers at you. “Am I one of those smart people?”

“Hmm… Well, sometimes. Maybe,” you hummed, then giggled as he scowled at your teasing.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. As usual, he wasn’t very good at hiding his true feelings, and you could see that he was barely suppressing a smile as he looked over at you. “I’ll see you again in a bit, okay?” He took your hand as he spoke, though whether the move was intentional or not, you weren’t entirely sure.

“‘Kay,” you agreed softly. “Bye, Satoru.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then turned and made his way out of the room, back to wherever he’d been before you’d demanded to see him. Shortly afterwards, the servants came filing back into the room, though they looked more wary of you than they had before they’d left.

“Feeling any better?” the head servant woman asked, arching a brow at you.

“Yes,” you said, then added sheepishly, “and I apologize for my outburst earlier. I shouldn’t have screamed at all of you.”

The servants blinked at your words, exchanging looks of surprise; apparently they weren’t used to getting apologies for such behavior.

“All is forgiven,” the head servant assured you, her expression seeming to soften a bit as she looked down at you. “It’s a lot to process if you’re not used to it. We are nearly finished, though. I only need to take care of your hair while the other girls get your accessories sorted, and then we’ll be done.”

Her explanation helped you feel a bit more at ease, and you nodded, easily allowing yourself to be led back in front of the mirror. As the head servant woman went back to taking care of your hair – running her fingers through it and using some sort of product to keep it back and out of your face – the two other servants went through the green accessories that had been brought into the room, comparing them to Takara’s eyes, trying to find the ones that matched the best. Most of the items didn’t make the cut, but eventually they turned to you with a few things: a small sash belt – more for decorative purposes than to actually hold your outfit in place – and two bracelets that looked like they were strung with real emeralds, though you didn’t dare to ask; you didn’t want to know how much money was sitting around your wrists.

While one of the women fastened the belt around your waist, the other clasped the bracelets around your wrists, making sure they were tight enough not to slip off, but not so tight that they were uncomfortable. The head servant woman tilted your head up gently, making sure you were looking straight forward before she fasted a hairpiece in place. It looked like a cross between a crown and a headband, thin strands of gold, silver, and bronze woven together in a circlet, the metal so finely polished it glinted even when it wasn’t in direct light. It sat atop your head in such a way that it kept your hair from falling into your eyes, and though they weren’t visible, you watched as several pins were put in your hair to keep the headpiece in place.

You stepped a bit closer to the mirrors, examining your reflection with wide eyes. You’d been utterly transformed with just a bit of work from the servant woman, without any of them even putting any sort of makeup or anything on your face. For the first time in your life, you looked… regal; you looked like you belonged with people like Satoru’s family. The kimono you wore looked like liquid copper pouring over you, the fabric weightless on you and lending an almost inhuman fluidity to every one of your movements; it was far and away the most luxurious thing you’d ever had the privilege of wearing, and though part of your mind was fretting over not messing the outfit up, you were mostly just in awe of how you looked.

The servants allowed you a few moments to look over yourself in the mirror, then called you back so they could help you into your shoes; a pair of waraji sandals, though these ones were made with a sturdy wooden sole and brown leather straps, rather than the ones made of rope fiber that you saw many other people in the settlement wearing from day to day. Despite being made from wood, you found the shoes surprisingly comfortable. You weren’t sure how long the celebration event was going to last, but at the very least you wouldn’t be stuck in uncomfortable shoes the whole time. 

After a moment of consideration, the head servant woman turned to one of the vanities and picked up a few small tins of what you could only assume was makeup, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed; you’d hope you’d be able to avoid that. When she explained to you that all she was putting on you was a bit of tint to your brows and lashes, and a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, you relaxed again; at least you wouldn’t have to wear anything on your lips.

“All finished,” she said after a few moments, offering you what you were surprised to see was a small smile. “Now that you’re ready, I’ll take you to meet with the others. You may bring the cushion for your dragon, if you wish.”

You nodded at her words, scooping Takara up into your arms and, after a brief moment of hesitation, you grabbed the pillow, as well, tucking it under your arm as you hurried out of the room.

Though your nerves had settled a good deal after getting to see Satoru, they began to eat at you again, your anxiety gnawing at your stomach, squeezing your throat and quickening your pulse. The nearer you drew to the front doors of the house, the worse you felt, every step somehow making the hallway smaller and smaller around you. Each breath you took felt more difficult, not quite able to pull enough air into your lungs anymore. Faintly, you heard someone call your name, and though the voice was familiar, you couldn’t quite pinpoint who it was until they stood in front of you.

“Are you alright?” Suguru asked, his voice gentle and his face concerned. You blinked a few times as you looked up at him, though he said nothing else as he waited patiently for a response from you. 

“I…” you began lamely, then let out a sharp breath before trying again. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, I guess…” The unintentional confession slipped a bit too easily from your lips for your liking, but there was no taking the words back once they were out.

Suguru’s expression only softened at your words, and he offered you a small smile. “That’s understandable,” he assured you. “There’s a lot happening today. I think I’d be a little concerned if you weren’t overwhelmed. But it’s alright, we’re here with you.” He turned and looked over his shoulder then, and you followed his gaze to where Satoru stood with his parents, Kenji pacing beside him while Niji sat obediently beside where Suguru had been standing just a moment before. 

The sight of your best friend eased your fears even more, and it felt a bit easier to breathe when he smiled at you. You noticed then that his starlight hair had been slicked back from his face, but you already knew that he would be running his fingers through it to get it back to its usual fluffy state.

“Come on,” Suguru urged, pulling you from your thoughts. “The celebration is starting soon, we can’t have the guest of honor arrive late.” The faint hint of teasing that ran through his words got a smile out of you, and you followed him over to the rest of the group. For a brief moment, you worried that you would be expected to lead the way to the city center, but much to your relief, Gojo-sama informed you that you’d be taking up the rear, with Kenji and Niji on either side of you. Though you would have preferred to walk between your friends, rather than behind them, you said nothing, not wanting to risk invoking Gojo-sama’s anger right before you were presented to everyone in the settlement.

Before you could all turn to leave, though, Gojo-hime’s soft voice called out from down the hall. She walked quickly until she reached the group, smiling as she knelt down in front of you. “I’m glad I caught you before you left,” she said, taking you in for a moment. “You look lovely in these colors,” she added, fingers trailing down one of your sleeves lightly before meeting your eyes again. “I just wanted to come and say I know you’re going to be wonderful tonight. Being the center of attention can be scary, but you can do it.”

Her words had tears burning your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to try and keep them from falling. “Thank you, Gojo-hime,” you whispered, clearing your throat softly and looking away afterwards.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She pushed herself up from the floor then, standing slowly as she turned to your friends. “Satoru,” she murmured fondly, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can you promise you’ll behave this time?”

“I’ll try,” Satoru promised, his voice a little quieter than usual, and you weren’t surprised when you glanced at his face again and saw him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

That drew a soft laugh from the woman, and she brushed her knuckles lightly across his cheek. “I appreciate that,” she murmured, then turned her attention to your other friend. “Will you help keep him in line, Suguru?”

It was the raven haired boy’s turn to blush then, and he nodded. “Of course, Gojo-hime.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, seeming genuinely a bit relieved by the words. “All three of you try to have some fun together, alright? I’ll see you all later.” With that, she nodded to her husband and bid the rest of you farewell before making her way back down the hall. She hadn’t said why she wouldn’t be joining you for the celebration, but the way she pressed her fingers to her temples as she walked told you more than enough.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Gojo-sama turned and resumed his path to the front doors, pushing them open with a flourish and making his way down the walkway that led out of the estate and eventually right into the city, leaving you and the boys to scramble to catch up with him. Soon enough, though, you all fell into step behind him, four sets of wooden shoes clicking against the stones of the path nearly in sync; you were the shortest of the group, so you couldn’t quite match the rhythm of their steps without falling behind.

Your procession was slow, and while you were sure it was because Gojo-sama didn’t want to arrive at the celebration with even a single hair out of place, the longer it took to arrive and get the evening over with, the more anxious you became. In an effort to keep your mind occupied with something – anything – else, you focused on your friends, taking in their appearances for the first time since you’d reunited with them.

Satoru was wearing a white kimono, secured around the waist with a blue belt. It was simple, but paired with his hair and his eyes, it was striking. When he turned his head to steal a quick glimpse at you, he looked almost ethereal, despite the boyishness that still softened his features. Your eyes flitted away almost as soon as they met his, but you still noticed the way the corner of his lips turned up slightly as he turned away once again.

Apparently curious by what had caught Satoru’s attention – or possibly concerned about your current emotional state, or some combination of the two, you weren’t entirely sure which – Suguru glanced over his shoulder at you, as well. His features were still a bit soft with youth, but they’d always seemed more sophisticated to you, almost regal; he may not have been born with any noble blood in his family, but you wouldn’t know that just from looking at him. Dodging his gaze, too, you dropped your eyes, focusing instead on his outfit. The kimono he wore was black, though you noticed the tiniest hint of purple woven into the fabric when it caught the light just right; it seemed to form some sort of pattern, but you couldn’t quite make it out. The belt secured around his waist was yellow, and while out of context it was not a color you would have liked, knowing that it matched the shade of Niji’s eyes made it a bit more appealing.

Just then it occurred to you that all of you were dressed to match your dragons. You craned your neck to try and better see the colors Gojo-sama was wearing, but a large robe hid his outfit from your view. Maybe it’s just the three of us, you thought, once you’d given up on trying to see what Satoru’s father was wearing. Since Satoru and Suguru are the only ones with solid color dragons, and I’m the only one with a metallic dragon. Maybe we’re supposed to stand out more from everyone else. 

You continued to walk in silence behind everyone else for a few moments, when you suddenly realized something else: even if Gojo-sama was dressed to match his dragon, you wouldn’t have been able to tell; as far as you could remember, you’d never seen his dragon with him. The urge to tap Satoru on the shoulder and ask where his father’s dragon was was nearly overwhelming, but it lost to your common sense and your desire to avoid enraging the older man, especially before you were to be paraded around in front of everyone in the settlement. The curiosity still gnawed at you, though, and you resolved to ask your best friend about it later, when Gojo-sama was no longer in earshot.

Despite the slow pace, it wasn’t long until the sounds of music and people talking and laughing began to filter up from the city square. The sound was not unpleasant, but it made your situation really set in: you were about to be present to everyone who lived in the settlement. They were all going to stare at you, a lot of them were going to want to talk to you, and some of them might even try to touch Takara. Those thoughts spun around in your head, chasing each other in circles like Kenji and Niji often chased each other, and with every passing second you felt more and more consumed by the anxiety those thoughts filled you with. You were so caught up in those thoughts, in fact, that you didn’t even realize your friends had stopped walking until you ran into them.

Takara let out a squawk as she was briefly squished into your chest, the noise somewhere between offended and startled. You managed to hold her steady in your arms, though the pillow you’d been carrying slipped from beneath your arm. Suguru was quick to reach out and catch it before it could hit the ground, and for that you were thankful.

“Woah, hey, are you alright?” Satoru asked, placing a hand on your arm. His brows were furrowed with worry, and a frown tugged the corners of his lips down a bit. It wasn’t an expression you particularly liked on him, especially when you were the reason for it, but there was something reassuring about it in that moment; knowing he cared about you enough to feel such concern.

“I-I… uh…” you stammered, staring blankly up at him. The inside of your head was still so loud, so busy, that it drowned out your ability to do anything else. “I’m…”

You heard Suguru call your name, and you turned your head enough to look up at him, rather than Satoru. His expression was equally pinched, and you found that you didn’t like that, either; you hated knowing you were the cause of such worry for them, your two best friends in the world. “It’s okay,” he promised. “You’ll be okay. Can you take a deep breath?”

You tried to do as he asked, breathing in slowly, the air entering your lungs in a stutter, catching in your throat for reasons you didn’t understand. You were quick to exhale, much quicker than you had inhaled, and for some reason the act felt out of your control.

“Good, that was good,” Suguru encouraged, a small smile on his lip now, rather than a frown. “Can you try again? I’ll do it with you.” He waited until you nodded, then took a slow, deep breath in, held it for a few seconds, then slowly breathed out again. Matching him was still a bit tricky, but you managed well enough that you once again felt in control of your body.

“Feel better?” Satoru asked, once you seemed less tense and were breathing more steadily. He squeezed your arm lightly in reassurance, and you turned your attention back to him.

“A little,” you agreed. There were still nerves and a sense of unease lingering in the back of your mind, but they weren’t going anywhere any time soon, so you knew you’d just have to push through them for the evening. 

Satoru’s expression softened at your words, but before he could say anything further, his father turned around to see what had stopped the three of you in your tracks.

“Stop standing around,” Gojo-sama hissed, frowning deeply as he looked the three of you over. “We’re nearly there, now is not the time to drag your feet or start causing problems.”

“Apologies, Gojo-sama,” Suguru replied, bowing to the man as he spoke. “I just wanted to make sure they were feeling alright before we were in front of everyone.”

“Nonsense, they’re fine,” the man replied quickly, not even glancing at you; if he had, he would have seen that you were decidedly not fine, but you doubted he cared about that at all. “Now hurry up, I won’t have you embarrassing me or our family.”

“You shouldn’t speak so unkindly to them,” Satoru was quick to snap back, leveling his father with a harsh look.

Clearly taken aback by his son’s attitude, Gojo-sama simply stared at him for a moment. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said, you shouldn’t speak so unkindly to them,” Satoru repeated, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment before. “You’re being quite rude.”

“You would do well to remember your place, Satoru,” Gojo-sama warned, something almost cruel glinting in his cold blue eyes.

“And you would do well to remember yours. There’s a metallic dragon rider in your presence. Soon enough you won’t be the top authority in the settlement anymore.”

A chill ran down your spine at your friend’s words, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Suguru. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to speak, to intervene before the confrontation devolved into something even less pleasant. “Satoru, Gojo-sama,” you said, silently thanking whatever deity might be listening that your voice didn’t shake. “We have a celebration to get to. I don’t want to disappoint the people, and I would hate for all the hard work to make the celebration happen on such short notice go to waste. We should go.” 

Though your words rang with conviction, you couldn’t have believed them any less. You didn’t care if you left everyone in the settlement hanging, and you didn’t really care if Gojo-sama spent more money than you could ever dream of having on a celebration that didn’t accomplish what it was meant to. All you cared about was being with your friends, and with finally being able to go home with your parents when this was all over. It didn’t matter to you that those were selfish concerns and desires, and it didn’t matter that being selfish like that was childish; you were still a child, after all. Regardless of your actual feelings, though, you hoped that your words would be enough to convince at least Gojo-sama to be practical and follow the plan for the evening, rather than lay into his only son to put him in his place.

The Gojo clan patriarch narrowed his eyes at his son for a long moment, as if silently debating the merit of beating the attitude out of his child right then and there, before he straightened up once again. “You’re right,” he agreed, sparing you only a fleeting glance before turning his back to the three of you once again. “We have an event to attend and appearances to uphold. Everyone back in line.”

You heard Satoru muttering under his breath as he followed his father’s orders, getting back into his place in the procession, his back to you and Suguru to his right. The raven haired boy offered you one last comforting smile and passed Takara’s cushion back to you, then returned to his place, as well. Kenji and Niji, who had remained uncharacteristically motionless on either side of you this whole time, chuffed quietly at each other, then bumped your sides lightly with their heads. With that, all of you were off once again, the city square growing closer with every step.

In an effort to keep your mind occupied and prevent another spiral like before, you looked down at your hatchling, now settled on her cushion, rather than cradled against your chest. Nobody had said anything to you about the way you’d been carrying her, but it had seemed obvious to you that it would look better – and certainly more dramatic – if you arrived with Takara in full view of the people in the settlement, rather than having her lost in the folds of your kimono. 

For once, your dragon was fully awake and alert, sitting oh so perfectly in the middle of the cushion and looking around at everything around her, though she still ignored Kenji and Niji; you were starting to think she was doing it on purpose. After a moment, she tilted her head back to look up at you, her emerald eyes wide and twinkling in the dimming light. Whether she knew how important she was, or how big of a deal was about to be made of her existence was unclear to you, but you could tell she did know that whatever was happening was important, not something to be slept through. She chirped at you quietly, as if to tell you everything would be okay, and stared for a few moments longer before turning her gaze forward again.

You followed her lead, though when you lifted your head to look in front of you, you were more than a little shocked to realize you were right outside the city square. The music had stopped, and everyone had gone silent, watching your procession and parting to make way for Gojo-sama. Your nerves began to creep in again, tightening your throat and chest and amplifying every little noise around you. You forced yourself to keep your eyes straight ahead, rather than darting around at the crowd in some futile attempt to spot a familiar, comforting face, and you found that that helped curb your anxiety. 

At first, the only sounds that filled the air were your procession’s wooden shoes on the stone of the square and the soft tinkling sounds of the glass windchimes as a breeze passed through. You weren’t sure if you were thankful for the silence or unsettled by it, but once people noticed Takara, you wanted the silence back.

It wasn’t hard to figure out when your hatchling was spotted by people; whispers swept through the crowd like a river, everyone’s voices hushed, and yet still it nearly made your ears ring to hear so many people talking all at once, especially since it was you they were speaking about. You couldn’t make out any particular words, but you knew what they were all wondering: why here, why now, why you, of all people? Things had been peaceful for your entire life, and as far as anyone else was aware, there were no looming threats on the horizon, no reason for there to be a metallic dragon showing up so suddenly, much less bonding with a commoner like you when there were plenty of other children about your age from more important and respected families than yours.

Everyone is important in their own way, Gojo-hime’s words rang in your head. Everyone is equally important. None of us can do what we do without each other.

The reminder washed over you, clearing your mind of anxieties almost entirely; it didn’t matter if anyone else didn’t think you were important enough to be a metallic dragon’s rider, because they weren’t any more important than you were. And even if there was anyone that was more important than you, that didn’t matter, either. Takara was your dragon, and you were her rider, and there was nothing that could be done to change that, regardless of what anyone in any position of authority might have wanted.

Though it felt like an eternity had passed since you first stepped into the square, you eventually ascended the steps of the platform in the middle of the square. Satoru and Suguru stepped off to the side, Gojo-sama standing directly behind them. Knowing what was expected of you but nowhere near happy about it, you stepped forward until you stood in front of them, then turned to face the crowd. This time, you weren’t able to keep yourself from searching the crowd for someone – anyone – you recognized, whose face would hopefully bring you some level of comfort. Just before Gojo-sama began to speak, you spotted your parents, nearly as close to the platform as they could get. They both smiled at you, relief at being able to see you again written plainly across their faces. That same relief nearly overwhelmed you, and you had to blink rapidly to avoid bursting into tears right then and there; it would displease Satoru’s father, and you didn’t want the small amount of makeup the servants had put on you to run down your face.

“Friends and neighbors!” Gojo-sama called out. Despite the fact that your back was to him, you knew he was wearing a fake, if somewhat smug, smile as he spoke. “I apologize for not telling any of you what this celebration is for before this, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise! As you can all see, our settlement has once again been blessed with the presence of a metallic dragon. A metallic dragon has not been seen anywhere in the world since the last one was born here and bonded with one of my ancestors, over three hundred years ago.”

You felt the way his eyes landed on you before speaking again. “The dragon may not have bonded with someone born into the Gojo clan this time, but I assure you that my family will be taking a special interest in the care, training, and education of both the dragon and her rider. Whatever the reason for this dragon’s arrival, we will be well prepared.” Another hushed murmur rippled through the crowd, but Gojo-sama was quick to keep it from growing into complete unrest. “For now, though, let us celebrate! We are blessed to be in the presence of such a creature.”

The murmur quickly roared into a cheer, and the music was quick to begin playing again, loud and cheerful, a perfect fit for a celebration such as this one. Unsure of what you were or were not allowed to do, now that the announcement about Takara had been made, you glanced over your shoulder at Satoru, trying to catch his eye. When that failed, you turned the other direction in an attempt to catch Suguru’s eye, instead.

He didn’t look your way at first, but when he did, he offered you a small smile and a nod; even without words, his assurance did wonders for the anxieties that still plagued your mind. As best as you could, you glanced behind Suguru to Gojo-sama, then back to Suguru. You wanted to know if you were allowed to move, to leave the platform and enjoy the festivities that were happening, but you didn’t dare to turn around and ask.

Apparently catching your silent question, Suguru nodded again, then turned to Satoru and bumped him a bit. You turned back to face forward, then, not wanting it to be obvious that you were the one with the question to begin with. As you heard the boys shuffling a bit behind your back, you looked down at Takara; she still seemed more alert than usual, but far less interested in her surroundings than when you’d first stepped into the city square.

“Father,” came Satoru’s voice. “We’re going to find our friends and grab something to eat. We’ll be back.” The fact that he didn’t phrase it like a question, and didn’t ask if you could go with him and Suguru both thrilled and terrified you, especially since he had already butted heads so intensely on the way to the festival.

“The two of you may go,” Gojo-sama replied easily, “but be quick about it. They must stay here, however.”

Instantly, tears filled your eyes, and your shoulders sagged, the sadness from not being allowed to even try to find your friends much heavier than you could have anticipated. All of this had been planned and was happening in honor of you and your dragon, and you weren’t even allowed to participate. It was a crushing feeling to experience.

“Why?” Satoru snapped, the edge from before sharpening his voice once again. “This festival is for them, is it not?”

“They are the reason for the celebration, yes. That means they need to be visible to people, to remind them and inspire them. So your friend must remain here.” Somehow the Gojo patriarch maintained his cool, but you knew he couldn’t possibly be so relaxed about the attitude his son was giving him.

“Wouldn’t they be more visible and inspiring if they were allowed to walk around, to talk to people? Don’t you think people would be better reminded of the reason for all this if they got to see Takara a little closer?” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard your friend this worked up, but it made your stomach flip to know he was so willing to defend you against anything he perceived as unfair.

There was a long, tense silence, and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing, the urge not to draw any further attention to yourself winning out against everything else, if only for a few moments.

“…Very well,” Gojo-sama eventually conceded, though he still sounded a bit irked. “Don’t be gone too long, though. The dancing will begin as soon as the sun goes down.”

“Thank you, Gojo-sama,” you heard Suguru say, then felt a hand at your back, gently guiding you back towards the steps of the platform. “Come on,” he encouraged quietly. “I doubt he’ll change his mind, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You didn’t argue, not wanting to risk being called back to stand in front of everyone like a statue simply because Gojo-sama changed his mind. Chancing a glance over at Satoru as you all hurried down the steps and into the crowd, you saw his face was flushed with anger, his brows pinched together hard in the middle of his forehead; he was even more upset than you realized.

“‘Toru?” you called softly, trying to get his attention and hopefully pull him out of his negative thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nobody should get to take youth away from young people,” he replied. His tone had softened a bit, now that he was talking to you and not his father, but he didn’t seem any less upset. “Nobody, no matter what power they hold, should be allowed to do that. We’re still just kids, why the fuck can’t we act like it?”

Though you had heard your friend swear before, it still caught you off guard a bit when he did; you weren’t sure if it was because he swore rather infrequently, or because you were all still “too young” to be using language like that – according to the adults in your lines, anyways – or if it was something else entirely, but you supposed it didn’t really matter all that much, since your reaction was still the same every time. 

“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

A long sigh escaped him then, both frustrated and weary. “My father,” he said after a moment, running his fingers through his hair to get it back to its fluff, perfectly messy state; the slicked back style had lasted longer than you expected, but you were glad he was undoing it now. “Expecting you to just… stand there like a decoration, or something, and not letting you even say hi to your friends or even get a snack, or anything like that. Not wanting to let you still be a kid, even though we’re not even teenagers yet. It’s stupid, and it’s not fair. I can’t let him do that, especially not to you, or us.”

A brief pause, then Suguru spoke. “You really shouldn’t use language like that, Satoru. It’s not polite.”

Satoru scowled at his friend, but he pointedly did not acknowledge his words. “What do you guys want to eat, anyway? I’m starving, and we need to eat something before we have to dance.”

“Dance?” you asked, pausing long enough to lift Takara from the pillow and drape her across the back of your neck so you wouldn’t have to worry about dropping her. The words really hit you just a few seconds later, and you remembered that Gojo-sama had said something about dancing, too, before you’d all hurried off. “What dance? What are you talking about?”

“It’s a traditional dance,” Satoru explained, looking around at the various food stalls as he walked, trying to find something he wanted. “When the sun goes down, they’ll light a bonfire, and a few of us will do a very fancy looking, very annoying dance until we’re almost sweating through our clothes, and then we’ll all go home because we’ll be too tired to participate in the festivities anymore.”

“…will I have to dance?” you asked after a moment, glancing over at Suguru somewhat nervously. Nobody had even mentioned a dance to you, much less bothered to teach it to you, but you couldn’t imagine that you would be allowed to abstain from the activity. 

Satoru paused then, turning back to face you, confusion plastered on his features. “Nobody said anything to you?”

You shook your head, swallowing thickly. Before you could get too caught up in your thoughts again, though, Suguru carefully took your free hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “You probably will have to dance, but Satoru and I will guide you through it.”

“It’s not hard,” Satoru added, and you could tell he was trying to hide his annoyance, but he wasn’t all that good at it.

“But you just said—”

“I said it looks fancy,” he interjected, his expression truly softening now. “But it’s not hard, I promise. If it was hard, I would tell you. Have I ever lied to you before?”

“No,” you conceded, then let out a shaking breath. He really hadn’t ever lied to you, and you couldn’t imagine that he would start now, not when it would lead to public humiliation for you. 

“Exactly. Now, come on. We really do need to eat something before we have to dance until our legs fall off.”

Ignoring all the festival attendees was easier than you expected, as you allowed yourself to be led to various food stalls. Kenji and Niji walked far enough away from the three of you to create a bit of a bubble, and nobody was able to get close enough to make you uncomfortable, which was a big relief. Though you’d originally said you didn’t have much of an appetite because of nerves, both boys insisted you needed to eat so you didn’t collapse during the dance. You decided to humor them, and once you started eating you realized you were famished, and you distantly realized it was probably because the only thing you’d had to eat that day was the snack Satoru had managed to get for you when he came to see you after you’d thrown a fit.

Before you knew it, you’d devoured a taiyaki with red bean filling, four takoyaki so hot you’d burned the roof of your mouth, and an onigiri with curry in the middle. After that, Suguru convinced you to take a break and get something to drink. “We really don’t want you getting sick,” he’d explained when you tried to argue. 

Just as you finished the tea that Satoru had gotten you, you noticed the lanterns being lit around the edges of the square, and your heart sank; it was almost time for you to perform a dance with your boys – a dance that you had never learned, at that – in front of the entire settlement, and you hadn’t so much as glimpsed any of your other friends.

“We should go,” Suguru said softly, taking your hand once again and leading you back towards the platform. Satoru quickly reached your other side, taking your other hand – you’d misplaced Takara’s cushion at some point, and though you were sure Gojo-sama would be less than pleased about that, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at that moment. You allowed your friends to lead you back to the platform without any sort of fuss, not having the energy to fight anything, even if you had wanted to fight them in the first place. When the three of you reached the platform steps, Satoru and Suguru released your hands, both of them turning to face you.

“Are you ready?” Suguru asked gently, tilting his head slightly. You knew he meant well and was just trying to check in on you, but the wording of his question felt a little silly; no, you weren't ready, and you never would be, but what choice did you have? You said none of that, though, giving a slight nod instead. 

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” you sighed, offering him your best smile in return, though you doubted it was very convincing. 

“You’re gonna want to put Takara down for this,” Satoru said, and you felt a small, sharp jolt of panic, that you realized afterwards wasn’t entirely your own; maybe your bond with Takara was going to take longer to get used to than you thought.

“Why?” you asked, a frown tugging at the corners of  your lips.

“There’s a lot of twirling and spinning. I don’t want her to fall, or to claw up your neck trying to hold on,” he explained, his expression nearly as soft as his snowy hair, and you felt your worry melt away nearly as quickly as it had hit you.

“Oh, okay. Uh…” you looked around for a moment, trying to figure out where to set your hatchling down; you were regretting misplacing the cushion now. “Where should I put her?”

“I’ll hold her for you, baby,” your mother said, and you turned to face her with wide eyes.

“Mom,” you sighed, breaking out into a grin before you could help it. You nearly threw yourself at her, and a small, shaky breath escaped you as she held you close. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “I’ll take good care of her, I promise. And when this is all over, your father and I are going to take you home, okay?”

You nodded again, almost feeling as if you were going to cry again. You managed not to, though, and carefully lifted Takara from her place under the neck of your kimono. She chittered softly at you, but she quieted down quickly once she was in your mother’s arms.

Once you were sure Takara was taken care of, you turned back to your friends. “How does the dance go?” you asked, hoping your nerves didn’t bleed into your words too badly. You trusted Satoru when he told you the dance wasn’t hard, but you were still worried about making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

“It’s hard to explain,” Satoru replied, his head cocked slightly to the side; he looked like he was trying to think of a way to explain the dance to you, though unfortunately he seemed to be coming up dry.

“Satoru and I will go first,” Suguru said, stepping in while his friend seemed to struggle. “Just watch us for a bit, and one of us will bring you in when it’s a good time, okay?” His usual gentle smile softened his face as he spoke, and, just as it always did, it put you at ease.

“Okay,” you agreed, managing to offer a small smile back. 

Both boys nodded at you, then commanded their dragons to stay back as the two of them stepped into the space that had been cleared in front of the platform where fuel for a bonfire had been built up. Your friends stood next to each other on the side closest to you, and you watched as a few other people stepped out of the crowd to stand around the bonfire. You thought you recognized most of them as members of other well to do families from the settlement, though you didn’t know their names. They seemed to be about your age for the most part, a few of them maybe a year or two older, but it quickly became apparent that no adults would be involved in this dance. 

A hush settled over the crowd as Gojo-sama approached the pile of wood, a lit torch in his hand. He looked slowly around the square for a moment, expression unreadable, then said in a booming voice, “Now it is time for the new generation to honor those that have come before, and perform the traditional dance to welcome a metallic dragon.” He tossed the torch into the woodpile, the dry branches roaring to life almost instantly. The roar of the fire and the cheering of the crowd drowned out any other words the man might have spoken, so he simply gestured for the musicians to begin playing again before he stepped back onto the platform.

As the music began – a very different song than before, this one sounding old and promising and full of magic – Satoru and Suguru turned away from the fire to face each other, each of them offering the other a slight bow before they really began to dance. Their movements were elegant, nimble, and seemingly effortless, not a single breath out of place as they moved, spinning and winding and stepping away from each other before coming right back. You noticed quickly that it was really only a few movements repeated in about three different patterns, and for that you were thankful; at least once you got used to the movements things would go smoothly. Distantly, you realized that all the other dancers around the bonfire must have been dancing the same way, but you didn’t care about them, not when you couldn’t take your eyes off of your friends and the way they moved together as if they were born to do this dance together. Watching them dance was like watching Kenji and Niji fight; fluid, coordinated movements without needing to communicate, black and white in a natural push and pull that was nearly impossible to look away from.

It was unclear to you exactly how much time had passed since the dance had begun, your focus more on watching the boys and trying to get a sense of the dance you would soon be pulled into, but soon enough they split apart; Suguru turned to dance with one of the girls from the other families, and Satoru turned to you and held out his hand. Heart hammering in your chest, you were quick to take it, not wanting to cause a disruption in the flow of the dance. You stared up at Satoru with wide eyes then, the crackling of the fire louder now that you were up close with it.

Your best friend looked down at you with a smile, releasing your hand and taking a half step back. “You’ve got this,” he assured you, then offered you the same small bow he’d offered Suguru before. You managed to return it, then jumped into the dance itself. You’d never been the most graceful person, but you felt especially clumsy trying to do the dance with no practice. Though you knew it wouldn’t do your balance any favors, you kept looking down at your feet, trying to make sure you had all the steps right. A set of waraji sandals entered your view – wooden-soled just like yours, but with white leather straps rather than brown – and a familiar voice called your name.

“Don’t look down,” Satoru encouraged, and when you lifted your head, you saw he was still smiling at you. “Look at me. It’s just us right now, yeah? It’s just you and me. You can do this.” He spoke with such conviction that you couldn’t help but believe him, and you nodded, smiling back at him.

“I can do this,” you agreed. The steps came easier to you after that, and you kept your eyes locked on your best friend as you danced, spinning and winding around him just as Suguru had, though your moves were a bit less polished.

Just when you felt you were really getting into the rhythm of the music and finding your stride, Satoru spoke again. “We’re about to be finished,” he explained in a low voice, only for you to hear. “You’ll be dancing with Suguru next. When it’s time to switch, I’ll tell you to turn around, and he’ll be waiting for you.”

All you could give in response was a nod, feeling a bit more out of breath than your friend, who still hadn’t even broken a sweat, as far as you could tell. It was only a few moments later that you heard a slight shift in the music, and Satoru told you to turn around before doing so himself. You did as you were told, turning around to become Suguru’s partner.

The dark haired boy smiled at you when you were facing each other again, and you blinked in surprise when you saw his hair. It was pulled back from his face in a bun, like he usually wore it now that it was getting longer, but all the dancing and spinning had caused a small, slightly shorter section in the front to fall down in front of his eyes.

“Your hair looks nice like that,” you panted, not even thinking about the words before you said them aloud. Once you realized what you’d said, you felt your cheeks burn a bit more than they already were.

Suguru seemed a bit surprised by your words, but not upset, if his smile was anything to go by. “You think so?” he asked, as the two of you exchanged bows. “Maybe I’ll wear it like this on purpose now. It never wants to stay put, anyways.”

A small laugh tumbled from your lips at his words, but it was all you could manage before beginning to dance again. Now that you were more familiar with the steps and how they flowed together, you were able to loosen up a bit, and worry less about whether you were going to accidentally step on Suguru’s feet – something you did, in fact, wind up doing, but he waved off.

“I still have my toes,” he teased softly, and you chanced a quick look down to make sure he wasn’t lying about not being hurt. Sure enough, his feet were fine, his own sandals still held securely in place by their black leather straps. Once that little hiccup was out of the way, though, you felt much better. 

By the time you were passed back to Satoru, you were much more comfortable, smiling more easily despite how breathless you felt. You danced until you felt certain your legs were going to collapse beneath you, and until you began to feel a bit dizzy from how much spinning around you were doing. Just before you were going to have to step out of the dance, though, the music crescendoed before ending with a flourish, and you nearly wept with relief. The gathered crowd broke out into cheers and applause again, and at the same moment, your best friends both threw themselves at you to wrap you up in a hug. You laughed and hugged them back as best you could for a few long moments, only pulling away when you heard your mother call your name.

“It’s time to go home,” she told you gently. “It’s getting very late, and you need to rest.”

You nodded at her words, knowing she was right and longing for your own bed back at home, but you were reluctant to part from the boys; you’d spent every waking moment and then some with them for over a week, and you didn’t know how you were going to be able to sleep without them in the same room with you.

Sensing your hesitation, Satoru squeezed you tighter. “Go home,” he murmured. “We’ll see you soon. You’ll be attending lessons and training with us now, remember?”

“Get some sleep,” Suguru agreed, also holding you a bit closer. “I’m sure Satoru will drag me into town tomorrow to cause problems.”

“I’ll wait until after breakfast,” Satoru promised, and you all laughed softly. 

“Bye,” you whispered, finally releasing them from your hold. They whispered it back, waving as you walked back to your parents. You gladly accepted Takara back from your mother, smiling as she bumped her head against your cheek before draping herself around your neck once again. 

Your parents kept you close as they picked out a path through the crowd, somehow managing to get you out of the square without anyone trying to stop you to talk or to ask to see your dragon. Having Spark around to growl at people is nice, sometimes, you thought to yourself. Once you were away from the brightly lit city square and the heat brought by the bonfire and the crowd, you found yourself yawning and shivering as you walked, the faint breeze quickly chilling the sweat on your skin.

“Your bed is ready for you when we get home,” your father promised, and you nodded, thanking him softly and leaning against him slightly as you walked. It wasn’t too far to your house, thankfully, and your parents quickly ushered you inside. You stumbled a bit on your way to your bedroom, and you didn’t even dream of protesting as your mother followed you, being quick but careful as she helped you out of your kimono, folding the material and placing it on your dresser, then setting each of the accessories you wore on top of it: first the belt, then the bracelets, then the headpiece. She helped you out of your sandals, then placed them by the door. You weren’t sure why she was being so careful with everything, but you were too tired to ask. 

Giving you a moment to pull on something else to sleep in, your mother stepped into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a damp cloth. She knelt in front of you, her touch gentle as she wiped the remains of your makeup from your face, though you were fairly certain you had already sweat most of it off. Eventually she deemed you clean enough, and you yawned, rubbing your eyes; you couldn’t remember the last time you were so tired.

At some point while helping you undress, your mother had placed Takara on your pillow, and she had fallen asleep waiting for you. Gently, you lifted her from her spot, holding her in one arm as you crawled beneath your blankets for the night. You looked up at your parents as they walked to your bedside, and you smiled as they took turns leaning down to kiss you on the forehead and tell you goodnight. You mumbled back an almost unintelligible “goodnight,” sleep quickly overtaking you now that you were in comfortable clothes and in your own bed for the first time in so long. Tomorrow was the first day of your new life, but for now, you were glad to be home.

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @redlikerozez @oceaneyesinla @pixelcafe-network

@dr-runs-with-scissors @entirelysein-e @witchbybirth @sugurei @peachdues 

@whatthefucksatan @gods-landing @lu-dao-writes @roselleviennesstuff

join my taglist!

[nieceeee]

"DATE NIGHT"

P/S: "So how was the date" babydaddy!eren x reader once she makes it home from her night out.

W/C: 1388

A/N: Okay this is so fluffy and emotional, Rennie is such a freaking sweetheart and reader is a roller-coaster of emotions, y'all asked or part two so here we go! if I do a part 3 it may be from Eren's point of view and what happens when he makes it home to his girlfriend after staying all night at his baby mama's house...

today will definitely be a double drop day for all the love because we love sweet Rennie but daddy Rennie is a whole different vibe!

also I usually write from first person POV so if you see and I or ME that's what that is, let me know if y'all care about that and if y'all want to read in that POV.

Previous Fic: Let Me Help

Part One: Its Better This Way

All throughout the night, you try your best to focus on the man sitting in front of you but you mind refuses to think about anything other than the father of your child. You hope that the nice man who invited you to dinner wouldn't notice the way your eyes shifted. The way you lose interest in the fact that his eyes weren’t that emerald green you loved so much. “So yes, what about you?” his voice cut in. Your eyes widened slightly as you registered the question. “Oh, I’m just testing the waters on life.” you responded smoothly. He smiled and continued talking, unaware of your lack of interest. 

“Thank you again for tonight. It was very nice.” you muster the strength to say to your date as he walks you to your car. “You’re welcome. Hopefully, we can get together again some time.” He questions hopefully. Not likely you think to yourself but you smile anyway. “One day.” You shrug slightly. He opens the driver side door for you and allows you to step inside. “Goodnight.” you say unable to bring yourself to give him a gentle peck on the cheek of appreciation or even a simple hug. Thankfully he doesn't press the matter, simply providing you a small nod  of gratitude as he steps out of your way. You  pull out of the parking lot and turn onto the road.

 “Hey Siri, call Rennie.” you say as you pull up to a red light. He picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?” His sleepy voice vibrates through the speaker of the phone sending an unnecessary chill down your spine. You clear your throat slightly, hoping to relieve the tension. “I’m headed home. You still there?” you ask. You try your best to mask the hopefulness in your voice as you ask the question. “Yeah, I’m here. Just got little man down and I guess I dozed off with him.” He answered quietly. A small smile tugged at your lips as the image popped into your head. “Okay be there soon.” A little cry sounded in the background. “I think he heard your voice.” Eren said, chuckling softly. You hear him shuffling to standing and the gentle hitch in his breath as he leans down to pick up your child. “It’s okay little man. Daddy’s got you. Mommy will be home soon.” He whispered to him. “I’ll be there in 10.” you say before disconnecting the call. You rush as fast as you can back to your apartment. 

Turning into the driveway, you cut the engine and locked your doors. Your mother’s car wasn’t here anymore. You quickly make your way to the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside. Quietly shutting it behind you and making sure it was locked, you clack your way up the steps to your bedroom. The nursery door is open when you get up there. You peek in to see Eren slowly rocking your son, smiling down at him. Your heart lurches slightly in your chest at the sight. You take a slow step back to collect yourself but he looks up and sees you, those eyes you had been dreaming about on your date meeting yours, before you could turn around and go to your room. “Hey.” He smiles. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your quality time.” you say. “All good. I was just laying him back down. You need to go get changed and everything? I don't mind waiting on you to finish up.” He offers. He leans over and places your child gently back into his crib. “Yeah, I won't be long.” you say. He follows you into your room, closing the door gently behind him. 

“So how was the date?’ He asks leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. Two pulses shoot down through your core but you shift your eyes away slowly. You plop down on the bed in a huff. “That good, huh?” He teases, walking over to kneel in front of you. The image of him on his knees before you bringing up long lost memories as you swallow hard. You take a slow breath to focus on the current moment. “You don’t have to do that.” you say softly. “Yeah, I know.” He responds. His warm hands wrap around your ankle as he carefully slips your heels off, placing them down by the foot of the bed. Then he gently holds your foot in his hand, massaging the swollen parts. You sigh quietly at the relief of his fingers working into the aches of your arches. He carefully rubbed the knots from both feet before releasing you. “Thank you.” you whisper. A gentle smile tugs at his lips. “Go, take a bath, get changed. I’ll be here when you get out.” He says standing back up and going back to the nursery.

You grab some clothes and make your way into the bathroom, trying not to think too much about what just happened, the warmth of his hands still lingering against your skin as you turn the water on and step inside. After you have cleaned yourself up and done your nighttime routine, you walk back towards your bedroom. He is sitting on the bed, your child in his arms waiting patiently. “He must be hungry.” you say walking to the bed. Eren stands as you toss the covers aside and scoot onto the mattress. You prop yourself up against the pillows and Eren hands you your nursing pillow. You press it into place and Eren reaches down and lays your child on top. He turns away towards the wall to allow you to unsnap your bra and let c/n latch. 

“All good.” You clear your throat, alerting him to turn back and face you. “So, the date?” He asks again, taking that same spot in front of you on the bed. “I don't know. I mean he seemed nice but…” you pause, not able to tell him that the real reason you couldn't enjoy your date was that he was on your mind the entire time. “I just don't think I’m ready. Not now anyway.” you say shifting your gaze down to the bundle you held in your arm. “Understandable.” he reaches over and gives your knee a gentle squeeze. “It will happen in time. Don’t rush yourself. But also, give yourself grace. It’s okay to get back out there.” He encourages you. Your chest tightens with emotions but you mask it with a soft smile. You both sit in each other's company, the soft fan and the suckling of a child the only noises being made.

After c/n is done feeding, you burp and change him and Eren lays him back down in the crib. He places a gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering something slightly to him.  You stand at the doorway, waiting to walk him out.  You both walk to the living room in silence but he pauses at the door. “Babydoll...” he calls softly. “Yeah?" Eren turns to you, a longing glossy look in his eyes. Your heartbeat speeds up and a lump forms in your throat. “Do you think?” he pauses, trying to figure out if he should ask but he chooses to push through the anxiousness. “Do you think one day this would have worked?” He asks. You are at a loss for words. You hadn’t really discussed how things ended with you since that day you left him standing in the mall with her. “E, I-..” You didn't know how to respond. He drops his head slowly and a sharp pain hits your chest. “I get it.” He responds, voice barely above a whisper. You open your mouth to speak again but he simply pulls you into a hug. You rest your head against his chest, finding solace in his warmth and steadiness in the rhythm of his heartbeat. After what felt like seconds, he reluctantly pulls back and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Ren…” you start. “Goodnight my sweet babydoll.” He whispers before turning and walking out the door. You lock the door behind him before leaning back against it. You don't realize the tears are falling until you feel your butt hitting the floor and drops sliding from your face down to your arms.

[stardustprompts]

how to sell a haunted house - grady hendrix sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ; death , alcohol , language , mental health

‘you need to sit down.’

‘what did you do?’

‘jesus, i’m sorry I’m not doing it the right way. i’m sure you’d be perfect at this.’

‘I find knowing these details makes it easier.’

‘you should have a drink, too.’

‘i’m not going to die. not for a long time.’

‘just because we shared a bathroom for fifteen years doesn’t mean you know a thing about me.’

‘my yoga instructor knows more about me than you do.’

‘I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d show up and start telling everyone what to do.’

‘look, I know you need to be in charge, but I’ve taken care of this.’

‘stop telling me how to deal with things. things are dealt with. I dealt with them.’

‘you can’t argue with someone when they’re upset.’

‘I don’t know what got into me, but I overreacted and I’m not proud of if it, and it wasn’t fair to you.’

‘you always needed everyone looking at you.’

‘I didn’t do it for attention. I did it because I was upset.’

‘I don’t like coming in here anyways. it’s got bad vibes.’

‘you can’t put a price tag on love.’

‘being here is really bad for my mental health.’

‘I know you don’t like me because i’m not successful enough for you.’

‘i’m actually happy with my life.’

‘if we aren’t related, if we met today, we wouldn’t chose to be friends.’

‘I don’t think we should be in here at all. I think my plan was better.’

‘don’t you feel the vibes?’

‘this is happening too fast. we need to slow down.’

‘your house is haunted.’

‘every single time I give you the benefit of the doubt, or I try to help, it comes back and bites me in the ass. every! single! time!’

‘our house is not haunted.’

‘i’m telling you there’s weird vibe. I can feel it in my gut.’

‘methinks thou doth protesteth too much.’

‘ghosts don’t exist.’

‘there are true things and there are false things, and there are no in-betweens.’

‘there are facts, like houses and car accidents and cremation, and there’s bullshit like ghosts and vibes and exorcisms. and if you start getting the true things mixed up with the false things, you’re fucked!’

‘reality is not a consensus!’

‘when you don’t like the way a conversation is going you deflect with personal attacks.’

‘you’re like some kind of emotionally abusive octopus entangling everyone in your word tentacles.’

‘even I know that you don’t go back in a haunted house after dark.’

‘the only things here are memories, and those can’t hurt us.’

‘you’re very threatened by new ideas.’

‘I offered to stay tonight because I thought it would be good for you. i’m hoping it gives you some closure.’

‘why are you so mad at me? is it because you feel guilty?’

‘i’m sorry you remember it that way because that must feel terrible, but that’s not what happened.’

‘stop telling me what I remember!’

‘no one ever says no to you, (name) because we’re all scared you’re going to lose your temper.’

‘oh, fuck you. nice try, (name), but fuck you.’

‘no matter what you did, I still don’t want anything bad to happen to you.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star. all because you can’t face the fact that your life is sad and empty.’

‘it’s a little late for you to start being my brother now.’

‘you blew my mind. it felt like we were the only two people left in the world.’

‘no matter what, I don’t want to ditch you here with a bunch of ghosts.’

‘right now what you need, for once in your life, is to listen to me.’

‘the way you’re laughing is actually really, really scary.’

‘none of this is real.’

‘stop being scary.’

‘I don’t think I’m well. I think something is really wrong inside me.’

‘don’t you fucking laugh at me. for the first time ever, my life finally makes sense.’

‘I don’t think I know what’s real anymore.’

‘my explanation is logically consistent. yours is all magical energy.’

‘it was absolutely terrifying.’

‘how much trouble are you in?’

‘look at me. you’re not crazy. this really happened.’

‘don’t make this funny.’

everything you’ve seen tonight, i’ve seen it too.’

‘i’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.’

‘it was easier to pretend nothing happened.’

‘my entire life I’ve always known something was wrong with me. i’ve spend my entire life scared that if didn’t do everything exactly right, reality would unravel around me and I’d lose myself again.’

‘I forgive you.’

‘I hope you feel better. i’m fine.’

‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘get out of here.’

‘all the things I did, I want to forget.’

‘i’m not doing it! i’m not doing it again!’

‘you need to get out of here right now.’

‘it won’t hurt me, but it’ll hurt you. you have to go right now!’

‘don’t let him do this again. don’t let him take over.’

‘I need a beer.’

‘an apology would go a long way.’

‘can you keep it down? I had to lie about what happened to a lot of people.’

‘are you seriously upset with me because I saved your life?’

‘you need to accept reality.’

‘you’ve become such a grouch.’

‘I wish you’d let someone take care of you.’

‘do you agree that there are forces greater than this world and we are helpless in the face of them?’

‘we don’t have time to fuck around.’

‘i’d like to say this the weirdest shit that’s ever happened to me but I have a bad feeling it’s about to get a lot worse.’

‘I told you this was a bad idea.’

‘I think we’re fucked.’

‘this is wrong. what you’re doing is wrong.’

‘let’s talk about something that’s actually interesting.’

‘it just hurts a little. and by ‘a little’ I mean ‘a lot’ and also ‘all the time.’’