#i am contemplating using it as a side table for the other side of the bed

[witchezandwonderz]

The Crown’s Rebellion

Pairing: Jacaerys x Reader

Summary: Prince Jacaerys is forced into a marriage he does not want, bound by his family's schemes. But as they come to know each other, they forge a bond that defies expectations.

Word Count: 1908

A/N: In this story, Jacaerys is 18+, I am unsure of his age on the show as of last but I do not feel comfortable writing for a character under 18. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed:)

“You have done what, exactly?” Jacaerys breathed, one hand gripping the stone table in front of him and the other rubbing his temple in attempt to prevent the headache that he knew would arrive momentarily. His mother, Rhaenyra scrunched her mouth up and sighed, showing signs of both empathy and sympathy towards her son before stating “it must be done, Jace”. Her words seemed to hold the tone that she was trying to convince herself, rather than him.

Jacaerys did not want to marry, nor had he met a suitable, loving lady in which he wanted to dedicate his life towards. His mother did not offer much detail about the future Queen, however, the information that she did divulge to him was anything but telling. He were to marry ‘a fine lady, from house Massey of Stonedance’ which were his mothers exact words. Jacaerys knew that an arranged marriage would always come at the most random of times, but did not realise quite how little he would have to say in the matter.

“I must be honest with you my son, although the Masseys have in fact pledged their loyalty to me” Rhaenyra paused for a brief moment in order to sip her wine and then continued her words “I am unsure of the truthfulness behind it” Jacaerys blinked at his mother response, unsure of what to say or think. He knew what he wanted to say, but considered the fact that the woman in front of him was not only his mother but the Queen, and that meant that he had to keep his words respectful. Jacaerys used both hands to push strands from his dark hair from his eyes before responding, “mother, are you insinuating that I am to marry, simply to acquire information about your allies?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he spoke. Rhaenyra tilted her head to the side, contemplating the question before briefly nodding “I am afraid that this is exactly what I mean”. This led Jacaerys to feel a multitude of emotions, the main one being betrayal; his mother has always acted with pure love and kindness towards him, and he never would have thought that she would promise him to a complete stranger as though it he had meant nothing. But, he thought, she had changed significantly in recent years.

Unbeknownst to the pair, the house of Massey had the exact same plan. On one icy, somewhat drab morning, Y/N was approached by her father and had a very similar conversation to the one in which Jacaerys had with his mother. Y/N knew the way in which her family were viewed- loyal in the moment and then as soon as there is a change of power, more often than not, so does the Massey’s loyalty. Y/N did not act like this however, she was genuine and kind. She secretly always thought that the only reason her family were branded with such views is due to her father and her father only.

Y/N and Jacaerys did differ, despite the way that they were told being very similar, Y/N felt happy. She had been longing to leave Stonedance and explore what is beyond- she had always been constrained to the walls of her chambers. Despite this, a sadness lingered within her as she remembered that leaving this place, meant having to marry. Y/N had loved before, but the seeming love did not mean much to her father and when he discovered that she had a secret relationship with a ‘commoner’, he sent her love away.

Perhaps it was not love, she thought. I should have been the one to decide that.

The night prior to the wedding, and in turn their first meeting, felt like it lasted a lifetime to Jacaerys for he wanted to meet his wife, and the lack of information given about her sparked the curiosity within him. He sat at dinner playing with his food like a child, as he could not bring himself to eat. Not one person on the table had spoken in, well, the entirety of the dinner. Normally, Jacaerys would not be able to speak before being interrupted by his mother’s husband, and uncle Daemon with one of his peculiar remarks. Unfortunately, Daemon has been gone for a while, with no one sure as to whether he was even part of this ‘family’ anymore.

All individuals who attended left gradually, leaving just Jacaerys and his mother alone. He watched as she swirled her wine around in her cup, a blank expression upon her face. He sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and asked “can you at least tell me her name”, coming across more like a statement or demand. Rhaenyra replied in a quiet voice, “Y/N”.

They both sat in silence for a moment longer while Jacaerys nodded his head, Rhaenyra proceeded to briefly explain that he had met Y/N before, when they were much younger at an apparently very awkward dinner. Jacaerys tried his best to recall meeting her, but he could not.

The task of having to get married, and only meeting your betrothed the moment that you must marry them proved to be quite difficult for the pair. Both for different reasons, of course. Jacaerys was petrified due to a multitude of reasons but Y/N was scared because not only did she have to impress him, but she had to also ensure that all of those who attended the ceremony took a liking to her, as they all had loyalties to him, but had no idea of who she was.

The moment he lay his eyes on her, he thought she may have been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The moment she laid her eyes on him, she thought he may have been the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Hours later, the two had still not spoken as they were preoccupied in conversation with various other people. In addition, neither had yet found the courage to engage with the other. One of them would have to make the first approach, and neither party wanted to, as they were too nervous to do so. Eventually, Y/N found the courage to approach her new husband, shyly walked up to him and touched his shoulder gently, causing him to turn around. She thought he had kind eyes, but the expression upon his face contradicted them as he looked most displeased, which consequently displeased Y/N. Both looked at each other for a moment, before Jacaerys said “hello”. Y/N laughed, as she thought it was a pathetically funny attempt of an interaction. Jacaerys seemed to not find this amusing, but secretly did.

“Hello” Y/N smiled before continuing, “I thought that if I did not talk with you now, we may grow old never interacting” she jested. Jacaerys’ lips curved into a small smile, “I in fact should have approached you first, my apologies”. Both of them awkwardly nodded towards each other before Y/N boldly asked “when did you become aware of our marriage?”. Jacaerys told Y/N the story of being told, emphasising much about the recentness of it while not discussing other aspects of the conversation. Y/N mimicked this, also telling him about her conversation with her father. Y/N surprised Jacaerys with her genuineness as she admitted to him that she could not wait to leave her home land. He found himself becoming more fond of her as she spoke, he watched her face closely, analysing her features. The two spent a while getting to know one another, as best as they could while being surrounded by many others.

The time to resign arrived, and although they had been conversing the entire journey towards their chambers, they felt slightly uncomfortable with each other when arriving, as they had not yet been alone and shared the same feeling of nervousness.

Nothing happened between them that night, despite Jacaerys placing his hand on Y/N’s for a short while, the pair still did not know each other well to begin getting too close. It is fair to say that neither of the two accumulate many social skills, and in turn, romantic skills are also lacked.

The first week of their marriage was filled with many enjoyable conversations, they were getting along very well and both felt as though they could begin to become more vulnerable. On one evening, the two were sat within their chambers, sitting close to one another as Jacaerys focused upon Y/N face as she explained her distaste towards her father which included the reasonings as to why. She felt quite emotional, as she had never until that moment divulged such information to anyone other than her own thoughts. Jacaerys did not like to see her become upset, and so he leant forward and gently held her face with one hand, lightly brushing his thumb over her cheek. When she had finished speaking, he took the opportunity to plant his lips upon hers and they shared a sweet kiss. Y/N repositioned herself, closing the gap between them, nuzzling herself in him while letting out a happy hum.

Jacaerys kissed Y/N upon her head and said “I was terrified to meet you”. In response, Y/N lifted her head and moved upwards so that she was looking at him before agreeing “me too”. He laughed, causing her to also laugh as she continued, “I remember briefly meeting you as a child, but not much. I was worried that you would be different to how you are” she admitted. It felt strange to Jacaerys that a week prior, he had been dreading the marriage, whereas now he was becoming not only extremely fond of his wife, but eager to know what the future held for them both. The soothing sound of Y/N's voice interrupted his thought process, "I must admit something to you, but you must swear on the gods that you will not repeat it" she spoke, her voice becoming slightly sterner towards the end of the sentence. Jacaerys nodded, "yes, I swear". Y/N proceeded to explain that her father had instructed her to acquire information, which in turn, led to Jacaerys to divulge what he had also kept from her. Y/N was not surprised nor was she angry that her husbands mother did not trust her, as she knew the personality of her father better than anyone. The two mused at how similar they were.

Despite being content about his new marriage, the way in which his mother conducted this entire ordeal left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to get revenge, nothing awful, of course. He just wanted to get under her skin, slightly.

That night, they gathered with their close family and friends and ensured that they kissed and hugged as obnoxiously and exaggerated as they possibly could. Jacaerys knew it was highly inappropriate to act in such a manner, but he did not care. Not only did he want to ruffle his mothers feathers, he also very much enjoyed having his wife by his side, so close to him.

Rhaenyra looked on, disgusted but thankful and grateful that her beloved son had taking a liking to Y/N, but cursed as she realised it meant that no new information would be sought.

Jacaerys, once again, grabbed Y/N and crashed his lips onto hers, which left her with butterflies swirling around in her stomach. He pulled away and grabbed her face with both hands, gently pecking her forehead and smirked as he said,

"I will absolutely get used to this, my love".

[all-thestories-aretrue]

We are in the home stretch of operation get my shit together!!!!

Today's goal: the kitchen (my beloathed)

Clean oven

Clean fridge

Dishes

Wipe down counters

Clean sink

Flip sofa

Ikea trip??? For hangers and pillow and maybe more storage baskets

If time: clean shower, sweep, mop

Then tomorrow is easy stuff:

Food shop

Reorganize bookcase

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

🧨 reblog or die (this is a threat) 🧨

[yourplaceinaugust]

my roommate officially moved out yesterday (she hasn't lived here for a few months but her stuff was still here) and so i was finally able to buy a proper kitchen table and my parents helped me set it up today and im so excited ive literally just been sitting at the table for hours

[thedensworld]

Revelation | C.Sc

Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, office romance

Summary: What started as an office romance escalated quickly when there are news about Choi Seungcheol, your boyfriend, is suddenly the heirs of the company where you both work.

You grumbled as you opened your eyes, feeling the chill on the other side of the bed where Seungcheol had been sleeping. Unconsciously, your lips formed a pout, not quite pleased with Seungcheol's disciplined approach to work, which often meant leaving you alone in the mornings. But you knew he was just steps away, getting ready in the bathroom. Despite the fever weighing you down, you summoned the willpower to rise and prepare for the day. However, your feverish body rebelled, refusing to cooperate as you attempted to prop yourself up. It was the same cold that had brought Seungcheol to your side last night, yet now it seemed to mock your efforts to start the day.

"Getting better, love?" Seungcheol's voice drifted from the bathroom as he emerged, shirtless, a towel loosely draped around his lower body. You managed a nod in response, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt for his concern.

As he drew closer, his hand instinctively reached out to touch your forehead. His expression soured at the lingering heat. "You're still burning," he remarked with a furrowed brow.

"Let's call you in sick for today."

You shifted your body fully to watch him, a smile spreading across your face as you admired his effortless grace in dressing. "Maybe it's because my boyfriend is so hot that I'm burning," you mumbled playfully, the words audible to Seungcheol as he adjusted his pants.

Seungcheol chuckled, turning to you with a raised eyebrow. "Really? Am I that hot?" he asked, a hint of playful vanity in his tone as he pulled back the duvet covering your body, his ego clearly enjoying the compliment.

"Really hot, to the point where I can't help but work to protect you from other women," you teased, preparing to rise from the bed. But Seungcheol was quicker, gently pushing you back under the covers with a soft yet firm touch, his concern evident in the way he hovered over you.

"I'll order you some food for breakfast. Let's have you rest for today, love," Seungcheol suggested, his voice soft with concern as he hovered near the bed.

You raised your brow, a flicker of worry crossing your features. "Didn't you say you had to pay for rent? Don't use that money for me," you reminded him, your concern for his finances clear in your tone.

Seungcheol met your gaze with a warm smile, brushing off your concern. "Yes, but it's okay," he reassured you, his eyes reflecting his affection for you.

Shaking your head slightly, you insisted, "You know I can pay for myself, right?"

Seungcheol nodded in understanding, his expression gentle. "You've told me that thousands of times already," he reminded you with a soft chuckle.

"Baby, if you need anything, you have me, alright?" you affirmed, reaching out to him with reassurance. He responded by pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his actions speaking volumes as he nodded in agreement.

Seungcheol headed off to work after ensuring you had a healthy breakfast on the way. He reassured you that he'd already taken care of the payment, urging you to simply enjoy the meal and remember to take your medicine afterward. As you sat at the dining table, a pang of guilt settled in your stomach. You couldn't shake the knowledge that Seungcheol was facing financial challenges of his own, yet he never hesitated to take care of you. The thought weighed heavily on your mind as you contemplated his selflessness, a mix of gratitude and concern swirling within you.

Reflecting on the journey you and Seungcheol had taken together, you couldn't help but marvel at his unwavering determination and work ethic. You both started as interns at the company, navigating the challenges of entry-level positions while trying to make ends meet. But while you struggled to find your footing, Seungcheol dove headfirst into every task, his relentless drive and dedication setting him apart.

You watched with admiration as he worked tirelessly, often taking on extra shifts and projects to support himself financially. Despite the long hours and occasional setbacks, his perseverance never wavered. And it was this unwavering commitment to his goals that slowly but surely began to capture your heart.

As you got to know him better, you realized that behind his stoic exterior was a heart of gold. Beneath the surface of his determined facade, Seungcheol was kind, compassionate, and fiercely loyal to those he cared about. It was these qualities, coupled with his unyielding work ethic, that drew you to him like a magnet.

And now, as you sat at the dining table, contemplating the sacrifices he made for you without a second thought, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love and admiration for the man who had stolen your heart. Despite the challenges you both faced, Seungcheol's unwavering support and dedication had never faltered, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

"I must have gone to war in my previous life, right?" you mused aloud, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you opened the meal and began to savor it.

***

As you stepped into the elevator, the buzz of morning gossip greeted you, swirling around the confined space like a whirlwind of speculation and excitement. Your colleagues chattered animatedly, their voices rising and falling as they eagerly exchanged the latest news. You stood at the back, content to listen rather than participate, silently absorbing the juicy tidbits being shared.

One particular piece of gossip caught your attention, causing you to perk up with interest. The grandson of the President Company was set to become their director. The news rippled through the elevator, eliciting a mixture of surprise and curiosity from your coworkers.

You had never been particularly interested in the inner workings of the company's hierarchy or its familial ties, but you couldn't deny the significance of this development. The President Company, a prominent entity within the Choi Corps conglomerate, held considerable influence over the various companies under its umbrella, including the advertising agency where you worked.

The mention of Mrs. Park potentially being replaced by this new director sent a ripple of anticipation through the elevator. Mrs. Park, the current director of Choi Ads, was notorious for her strict demeanor and cutthroat management style. The prospect of her departure was met with a mix of relief and excitement, evident in the hushed whispers and knowing glances exchanged between your coworkers.

Should everyone throw a party then?

"You can't believe what happened yesterday!" Soonyoung exclaimed as he approached your table, his excitement palpable.

"I heard it in the elevator," you replied calmly, shooting him a look that silently urged him to lower his voice.

Soonyoung cleared his throat and glanced around before continuing, his voice now subdued. "Everyone was taken aback but relieved at the same time that Mrs. Park and Mr. Yang won't be here anymore."

Your brow furrowed at the unexpected news. Mrs. Park and Mr. Yang, both gone? It seemed the changes within the company ran deeper than you initially realized.

"Mr. Yang too?" you asked, seeking confirmation from Soonyoung, who nodded in response.

"Everyone is finally getting into their proper positions! Mrs. Kim definitely deserves the general manager position. And you, Ms. Assistant Manager, should be a team manager," Soonyoung continued, his enthusiasm undiminished as he recounted the events of the previous day.

Despite Soonyoung's animated explanation, your mind struggled to process the flurry of changes that had occurred in just one day. Replacements, promotions, announcements—what had you missed during your brief absence?

"I'm glad that I treated Seungcheol with all my heart, or should I start calling him Mr. Choi?" Soonyoung mused aloud.

You threw a glance to him, "what do you mean? Seungcheol? Mr. Choi? I'm not following, Soonyoung," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

Soonyoung's eyes widened in disbelief. "Girl! Assistant Manager Choi is the President's grandson. He was here to announce it. The formal announcement will be held next week, and I'm in charge of the event."

Your jaw dropped in shock, and you instinctively reached out to grasp Soonyoung's arm for support. "What?!" you exclaimed, barely able to contain your surprise. "You're kidding, right?" Your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat.

Soonyoung rolled his eyes, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Oh, babe, I wish. But I'm happy for him. I thought he was just some hardworking dude at work. Turns out he's the heir to this company," he explained, his tone a mix of astonishment and admiration.

As Soonyoung's words sank in, your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. How could you have been dating Seungcheol for four years without knowing such a significant detail about his family background? The realization left you feeling stunned and incredulous, as if a veil had been lifted to reveal an entirely different side to the man you thought you knew so well.

Images of Seungcheol flashed through your mind—his warm smile, his unwavering support, his tireless dedication to his work. You had always admired his resilience and determination, but now, knowing that he was the grandson of the company president, it added a new layer of complexity to your relationship.

Questions flooded your mind, each one more pressing than the last. Why hadn't Seungcheol ever mentioned his family's connection to the company before? Did he deliberately keep it a secret, or was it simply an oversight on his part? And most importantly, what did this newfound revelation mean for your future together?

As you grappled with the shock of this unexpected discovery, a sense of uncertainty crept in, mingling with the lingering warmth of affection you felt for Seungcheol. Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you, one thing was certain—you needed to have a conversation with him, to clear the air and uncover the truth behind his hidden identity as the grandson of the company president.

As you made your way through the office, your mind still reeling from the bombshell revelation about Seungcheol's true identity, you were taken aback when you almost collided with a familiar figure—Seungcheol himself. The shock of seeing him, coupled with the knowledge of his impending promotion to director, left you momentarily speechless.

The surprise etched on your face didn't go unnoticed by Seungcheol, who seemed poised to offer an explanation. But before he could utter a word, he was intercepted by a member of the company's secretarial staff, beckoning him away with an urgent summons.

For a moment, you stood frozen in place, torn between the impulse to confront Seungcheol and demand answers, and the realization that now was not the time nor the place for such a conversation. With a heavy heart, you watched silently as he walked away, the weight of the unspoken truth hanging heavily in the air between you.

As he disappeared from view, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you—confusion, disbelief, and a gnawing sense of betrayal mingling with the remnants of affection and longing. You couldn't shake the feeling that everything had changed in an instant, and yet, in many ways, nothing had changed at all. With a sigh, you pocketed your phone, the call to Seungcheol forgotten for now as you grappled with the complexities of your newfound reality.

***

As interns at the company, you and Seungcheol had embarked on your professional journey together. You were the only one accepted after a rigorous testing and trial period, while Seungcheol's presence in the internship program had come as a surprise to you. However, at the time, you were too focused on the competitive nature of the training system, which dictated that only one intern would be chosen every six months. It hadn't occurred to you to question Seungcheol's sudden appearance.

Seungcheol's reputation as a hardworking man preceded him, and it was evident in the way he threw himself into every task with determination and grit. While you didn't doubt your own work ethic, you couldn't help but acknowledge that you often relied on your natural talent to excel. Gifted in design, management, administration—there seemed to be no limit to your abilities, while Seungcheol had to work tirelessly to match your level of competence.

Despite your differences, the company saw fit to keep both of you on board. You found yourself assigned to the design team, while Seungcheol carved out a niche for himself in PR. Despite being the youngest members of your respective teams, you and Seungcheol soon found yourselves spending nearly every night in the office together, preparing for presentations, brainstorming ideas, and tackling whatever tasks the higher-ups threw your way.

In that year of late nights and shared struggles, you and Seungcheol had seen each other at your worst—unbathed, hair unkempt, with ketchup stains from French fries or coffee splattered across your shirts. But through it all, you found solace in the fact that you only had each other in this relentless corporate world.

A significant project had brought you together once more—a short film project to advertise a makeup product. As the clock struck 10 p.m. and the office remained deserted save for the two of you, Seungcheol was deeply engrossed in mind mapping ideas for the presentation in two days, while you found yourself daydreaming about your warm bed.

Seungcheol's voice cut through the quiet of the office as he watched you begin to tidy up your table. "You're going home?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.

You nodded, exhaustion creeping into your voice. "I need my seven hours of sleep to come up with a better idea," you explained, already feeling the pull of fatigue tugging at your eyelids.

But Seungcheol wasn't ready to give up just yet. "You haven't contributed anything, Y/n. Let's work a little longer until we find the perfect premise," he pleaded, his determination evident in the furrow of his brow.

A pang of guilt gnawed at you as you drew closer to him, trying to catch a glimpse of the ideas he had jotted down on his iPad. With a scoff, you remarked, "Is that all you can come up with?"

Seungcheol's glare pierced through you, his frustration palpable. "So you have a better idea? Go ahead, miss," he retorted, handing you the iPad with a challenge in his eyes.

You settled yourself into Seungcheol's armchair, dangerously close to him, as you pulled the iPad towards you, eager to share your ideas. As you wrote down keywords like "Lips Product," "Lips stain", "Backstreet," "Office romance," and "steamy," you glanced up at Seungcheol, seeking his reaction.

"What do you think about office romance?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

Seungcheol slowly shrugged, his gaze meeting yours. "Never experienced it before," he admitted, his tone neutral.

You sighed softly, mumbling to yourself, "Me either."

"Many people find office romance exciting and adrenaline-fueled. But why?" you continued, your words growing more animated as you delved into your idea. "Because they're often secret relationships, hidden behind work contracts and professional facades."

Seungcheol listened intently as you explained, his expression thoughtful. "And what's the closest thing a couple can do in the office?" you posed the question, your eyes alight with excitement. "Kiss. Yes. A kiss leaves a stain—a lingering mark of passion and desire."

As you continued to speak, Seungcheol found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on your words. His gaze lingered on your lips, drawn irresistibly to their sensual movements as they formed each syllable. The proximity between you felt electrifying, your perfume mingling with the scent of his cologne, creating a heady atmosphere of intimacy.

Despite his best efforts to focus on the conversation, Seungcheol's heart raced faster than usual, his senses overwhelmed by the closeness between you. He tried to shake off the sensation, willing himself to concentrate on your words, but the allure of your presence proved too strong to resist.

Suddenly, you stopped speaking, and Seungcheol realized with a start that your faces were only inches apart. Your whispered question sent a shiver down his spine, and he met your gaze with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

"Seungcheol..." you breathed, the sound barely audible in the quiet of the office.

His brows raised in response, but his eyes remained locked on yours, unable to tear himself away from the magnetic pull of your gaze. "Hm?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you still want me to be here?" you asked softly, your words hanging in the air between you.

Seungcheol bit his lip nervously, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again. "Do you want to be with me here?" he countered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I guess," you replied, your own voice barely audible as you closed the gap between you and Seungcheol, surrendering to the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you.

***

Seungcheol cautiously slipped into your studio apartment, his heart racing as he finally had the chance to face you after the whirlwind of work and avoidance. He knew he had to explain everything, but deadlines and commitments seemed to conspire against him. Now, on the eve of the announcement event, he couldn't delay any longer.

You weren't home when he arrived, so he took the opportunity to prepare a simple dinner, hoping to ease the tension that hung heavy in the air. As you walked in, the aroma of food greeted you, mingling with the unexpected presence of Seungcheol.

"Go change, I'll wait for you here," he uttered awkwardly, his hands fidgeting as he busied himself setting the table.

Minutes crawled by like reluctant snails as Seungcheol anxiously waited for your return. When you finally emerged, he straightened up, trying to compose himself as he watched you take your seat and begin to eat.

"Thanks for the meal," you said, your tone tinged with a hint of detachment that didn't escape his notice.

Seungcheol felt a pang of guilt gnaw at him as he realized the extent of the hurt he had caused you. He longed to reach out, to bridge the growing chasm between you, but the weight of his own mistakes anchored him to his seat. All he could do was watch, silently hoping for a chance at redemption.

"I can't do this," you uttered, setting down your utensils with a heavy clink, your hands reaching up to rub at your face in frustration.

Seungcheol's heart plummeted at your words, a cold dread creeping over him. Was this it? Were you about to end things between you? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"Can you— please don't show your face when I'm around," you pleaded, your head bowed, unable to meet his gaze.

Seungcheol felt like he'd been punched in the gut, the weight of your request crushing him with guilt and regret. He had hoped for a chance to explain, to make things right between you, but now it seemed like an impossible feat.

He sighed heavily, the weight of his mistakes bearing down on him like a leaden cloak. He knew he had let you down, had failed to prioritize your feelings over his own ambitions. The truth he had meant to share with you, about the sudden change in his circumstances and the responsibilities thrust upon him, now seemed like a feeble excuse in the face of your pain.

As he looked at you, your expression filled with hurt and disappointment, Seungcheol realized the depth of his folly. He had let his own ambitions blind him to the needs of the person he cared about most, and now he was paying the price. All he could do was nod silently, a silent acknowledgment of the chasm that now separated them, knowing that he had brought this upon himself.

"Are you—" Seungcheol began, his voice tentative, his heart pounding in his chest as he braced himself for your response. Was this the moment when everything would unravel between you?

Before he could finish his question, you let out a piercing scream, the suddenness of it jolting him to his core. Confusion etched across his features as he watched you dramatically cover your ears and sink to the floor.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice as he reached out to you, but you shook your head vehemently, your actions and words shrouded in incomprehensibility.

"No, don't talk to me!" you exclaimed, your voice muffled as you buried your face in your arms, your distress palpable.

Seungcheol knelt down in front of you, his brow furrowed with worry as he tried to make sense of your outburst. You muttered something indistinctly, your words lost in the folds of your arms. He leaned in closer, urging you to speak louder, desperate to understand.

"Don't talk to me, it's so embarrassing! I'm embarrassed!" you finally managed to articulate, your cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment.

Seungcheol's shock morphed into a mixture of surprise and amusement as he processed your words. He couldn't believe you were feeling embarrassed when, in reality, he was the one who should be hanging his head in shame.

"I feel so stupid right now. How could you—" you started, your voice trailing off as you hid your face once again, leaving Seungcheol hanging on your unfinished sentence.

A soft chuckle escaped Seungcheol's lips as he watched your adorable display of shyness. He couldn't help but find your reaction endearing, a welcome relief from the tension that had gripped the room moments ago.

"Hey, it's okay. What do you want to say, love?" he reassured you, pulling you gently into his embrace, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of your pout.

You met his gaze with a mixture of bashfulness and sincerity, your words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm feeling stupid right now because I've been treating you like shit when you technically own the company where I work!"

Seungcheol's laughter bubbled up from deep within him, the absurdity of the situation washing away the remnants of tension between you. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes twinkling with fondness as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"You have nothing to feel stupid about, darling," he whispered, his voice warm with reassurance.

"And no, you're not. You never treat me like shit," he insisted, his smile softening the edges of his words.

But you shook your head, your embarrassment still lingering like a stubborn shadow. "You don't understand! I've been insisting on paying the bills every time we go on dates. I even casually offered to pay your rent. Oh my god!"

Seungcheol's laughter grew louder at the revelation, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "That's what you were worried about?" he exclaimed incredulously.

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of your embarrassment pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. "This whole week, I've been thinking about how many times I've hurt you by paying for your groceries and dinner. Your masculinity isn't hurt, right?"

Seungcheol's hands were gentle as they cupped your cheeks, his touch a comforting reassurance amidst your swirling emotions. "Thanks for everything, my love. Now your boyfriend will be the owner of the company you're working for. Let him treat you like a princess," he said tenderly, his voice laced with sincerity and affection.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love enveloping you like a protective cocoon. "I love the sound of it," you whispered, your heart swelling with gratitude for his understanding and support.

Seungcheol held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Let's finish your dinner, and I'll get you your favorite dessert from that expensive bakery you showed me last time," he suggested, his eyes sparkling with excitement at the thought of spoiling you.

You smiled up at him, feeling a rush of love and contentment wash over you. With Seungcheol by your side, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have each other to lean on. And in that moment, surrounded by his love, everything felt right in the world.

[astonmartingf]

FALLING FOR YOU ; MV1

max verstappen x reader

. . . in his own little way, max finds the solutions to his problems not without a little help from his friends and ends up giving you the confession of a lifetime

amgf yeah... there's this, just fluff. i won't be as active this week because of exams and research but this is prime time of my impulsive ideas so either i can milk this opportunity to write every single day, or avoid this app for the remainder of the week. enjoy 👍

Max strives for stability. 

He enjoys the same routine that consists of jogging at eight am, early morning workout by nine am, brunch, a few rounds of sim racing, stopping by for a few phone calls and online meetings. If he isn’t expected to fly anywhere else he’d have his usual afternoon snack, play with his cats, more sim racing from six to eight pm, dinner with his team, reviewing data and notes, an hour for his own leisure— mostly sim racing, before heading to bed at one am.

Whatever happens in between is usually one of Lando’s plans in an attempt to spice things up in his life. Whether it’s going to the movies, buying ice cream at the convenience store down the street, or playing padel. Max is very much thankful for his friends.

Max also strives for the best.

He takes pride in his skills in racing and acknowledges his talent, and flaws. Honing them like a sharp knife through whetstones, he polishes himself and cuts through the defenses of the grid. He is a World Champion for a reason, and with a great car and team behind him, he knows they’ll get far. Max is very much thankful for the trust his team set upon him.

Max hates uncertainty. 

Well- hate is too strong of a word and dislike would be too weak for his opinions. 

Max despises uncertainty.

Especially when there’s you- the current root of all his “problems”. Despite his tendency to be blunt and straightforward statements, uncertainty always left a distasteful feeling in his mouth. 

Realizing that his wavering feelings for you have now shattered the routine he built to perfection. Long gone are sleeping on time and hello to staying up with you crowding his thoughts. Head full of the lingering scent of your perfume and the same voice playing in his head.

Max hated it. He despised how you orbit around his mind, bouncing through the walls of the gray matter inside his skull. He often catches himself smiling at the thought of you- before a bitter scowl fills his face and an incredulous and slightly constipated look pasted on his face.

But that was the least of his worries, such feelings could be fixed (a term he used to convince himself these are temporary). It’s not that Max doesn’t believe in relationships or think it’s nothing but a distraction, deep inside he’s aware that he craves affection. It’s the vague emotions clouding his heart making him think twice.

Then again, Max is thankful for his friends. 

“What did you say?” Lando squinted his eyes in the hopes to hear his words clearly. With a blank look- almost as if he put on a mask void of emotions Max spoke once more.

“Do I like YN?” 

The rest tilted their head to the side, in confusion. “D-did you perhaps ask us. . . if- if you like someone?” George, asked once more to make sure of his words, sighing in disbelief.

“It’s not just someone, it’s YN.” Max pushed the question once more and glanced at everyone on the table.

The silence was deafening. Max’ statement was too loud and too quiet at the same time, no one spoke and they left each other contemplating on the next words he will say.

“I need help. How do I know I like YN?” Collective gasps were heard throughout and one by one they slowly left the group of friends on the table leaving Max with Lando and George.

“How about we sleep over your question and. . .think— think about it you know?” Lando, the first to talk regarding the revelation that their stoic friend has now developed feelings for someone.

“Sleep? I hardly get any sleep these nights. I want to confirm my feelings now so I can finally sleep peacefully.” 

That’s when the pair noticed the bags under his eyes, mostly due to the lack of sleep like he said. Lando took a glance at George and started to talk telepathically at each other.

George sighs before pushing Max from his seat, “You see Max these feelings can’t be confirmed in a night, these requ-”

“It’s been weeks, George, I can’t lose sleep over such a trivial matter.” Max retorted with a firm stance using his lack of sleep as a front to confirm his feelings.

“Okay, first of all feelings are not a trivial matter. They are valid, and whatever is going on in your head about YN shouldn’t be taken lightly. Not because we’re curious but because we care about your emotional well being.” Lando spoke in a serious voice which only added on to Max’ confusion.

Feelings are not a big deal, at least not for him.

“And we're curious as to why you like YN.” George chimed as he followed the pair outside the room.

“Yes we’re curious but now how about I give you some romance books that you can study and read. Only you can confirm your feelings Max, let’s stop by my room and I’ll give you books you can read and next week- next week we’ll talk about this matter again.”

Lando now sounds like a mom scolding his child for misbehaving, dragging the latter to his room and sending him off with a tower of romance books.

Max is smart, he can understand such concepts by himself.

Feeling accomplished, Lando glanced at George smirking at him before walking away with Max to his apartment.

Max on the other hand went inside his room and began to bury himself in the books he brought along. “If I’m not sleeping at least I get my feelings in line.”

One chapter. And another turns to five and in the blink of an eye a week has passed. Max returned to his routine but instead of sleeping at one he pushed it to an even later hour to make time for reading which helped him sleep.

The first nights were hard, after finishing a chapter of the book he finds himself falling asleep and now you appear to become more vivid in his mind. Invading his dreams as romantic scenarios play on repeat while Max mindlessly sleeps which results in him waking up flustered and warm.

Passing by you on the paddock became frequent; it's as if the universe has its way to bring you together. Now everywhere Max looked there was you, in the corner of his sight you occupied a chunk of his thoughts and as much as he hated to admit he found himself anticipating your presence.

By the end of the week you managed to invade his thoughts and heart which only strengthened his theory and confirmed his feelings for you. With no time to waste, Max went to look for you. The second practice was over, he’s telling you what you’re doing to him.

With new found information from the team about your whereabouts, Max made his way to the hospitality locating where you’re assigned he opens the door abruptly to see you preparing food. You stand straight feeling the intimidating aura around him, you watch him exhale a sigh of relief before talking a large step in your direction. On instinct you back away giving him space, every step Max takes is a step backward from you.

Unknowingly your feet hit the corner of the marble countertop and like a cliché scene Max remembers from the books he’s been reading you stumble backwards.

Max is a racer for a reason, and with swift reflexes he managed to catch your fall and brought you up to your feet. “You should watch where you’re going. I don’t want you falling just like how I fell for you.”

Silence. Complete, utter silence from the both of you paired with the low buzz of the booming air conditioner right near you. You blink your eyes incredulously, “What?”

“I mean. . . I do want you to fall for me, it would be sad to find out that my feelings are one-sided. But I mean my words YN.”

You adjust your posture and back away. “What are the words Max? About me falling to the ground or you. . . you f- falling for me?” Your voice thins out at the end unsure of what you just heard.

“Both. I don’t want you to fall, it’s dangerous just like how you did to me. You enamored me with those charms, I just want to know how you did it.” Max spoke with the most bored and plain looking face he could muster up. His palms were sweating inside his pockets in extreme nervousness.

“Is this- is this your confession perhaps?” You try to piece things together, like the subtle clues Lando and George have been leaving out of nowhere.

“Yes. This is my confession.” Max blurts out as sweat drips from the side of his forehead. And just as he was losing hope from this failed confession your bubbly laugh bursts the silence in the air.

“You know, you need to work on your confession more. That was unlike any other, but I understand what you mean. Do you want me to fall for you, Maxie?” 

Max stares at you and you don't miss the soft gaze he set upon you. You note the light blush spread around the apples of his cheeks as his eyes light up the moment you called his name. The once awkward silent air was now filled with a warm feeling that spread all over your body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin.

“I do. I fell for you, I like you, and I want to mean something to you.”

His way with words caught you off guard, Max Verstappen, who would’ve thought. You smile at him, this time it’s you walking towards his direction.

Max stiffened at the proximity between the two of you, his feet stuck to the floor preventing him from backing away. Your face gets closer to his and all the thoughts clouding his mind have been wiped away.

You face him and whisper something in his ear before walking away towards the kitchen at the back, legs shaking and breaths heavy. 

Taking a moment to himself Max meditates in an attempt to calm his bouncing heart, legs shaking as if they ran a hundred miles, and his mind whirring into different ideas and possibilities.

Max never falls- literally and figuratively.

Yet you managed to be the root of all his problems. The person who made him fall, there was no doubt that Max fell and will still be falling for you.

[sanatomis]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ── 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄!

a child is bound to feel neglected when they discover no one bothered to show up for their science fair, especially when all their peers have someone to dote on them. it seems fushiguro megumi is no exception.

content. female!reader with she/her pronouns, feminine nicknames (princess), established relationship with satoru, slight angst with a happy ending.

notes. nobody was there when i presented my end of the year research-project as a 14 year old, so megumi (age 7), baby, i'm gonna make sure there's someone there for you.

࣪taglist. | series masterlist.

Megumi never really cared about science fairs. To him, they’re just a regular afternoon at school that he’ll have to sit through until he’s finally allowed to go home. He may think of them as unnecessary—as he does not believe in a good reason for parents to come to the school and marvel at their child’s (very much mediocre) creation—but he has never had a strong opinion towards them. They were just. . .there. 

He didn’t pay them much mind, and that exact indifference turned out to be the motive behind the very serious crime of putting a flyer in the bin. 

“Look what I found!” 

There’s a sense of annoyance that bubbles up in his stomach when Satoru puts the invitation to the science fair in front of him. Megumi’s brows furrow, and he purses his lips—leave it to him to find something he doesn’t want to have found. 

“Hm?” You hum, and lean over to look. One of Satoru’s fingers taps impatiently on the flyer, as if it’s saying ‘look, I caught him hiding something!’. Megumi briefly contemplates biting the digit clean off. “Science fair. . .Is this yours, Megumi?”

While reading, you put the bowl of rice back down onto the dinner table, and Tsumiki gingerly grabs it upon return. You mouth the words as you do so, and the boy nearly gags when he watches Satoru’s lovesick gaze at your little quip. It’s so disgustingly sappy, he nearly forgets you asked him a question. Nearly, as it had induced just enough anxiety into him to make him remember. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and pokes a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. 

You stop reading at his confirmation. There’s a sad look in your eye, it forms quickly and is instantly directed at him. Megumi doesn’t like it. Especially since he’s most likely the cause of it. “Why didn’t you tell us?” You ask, and he finds himself at a loss of words. 

Why didn’t he tell you? In all honesty, it just didn’t occur to him to do so. He has never cared about science fairs, nor has he had people who attended them for him. Most times, they are for parents only—so try as she might, Tsumiki was never allowed inside. Megumi eventually stopped bringing them up. He felt a little sorry for all the failed attempts his sister (very lovingly) made. But now. . .well, yes, why didn’t he tell you? 

He doesn’t know the answer to that. 

“Didn’t think of it,” he says eventually, because he knows you’ve been trying to get him to talk more; verbalising his feelings, is what you called it. 

You frown at his answer, and it makes him wonder if he said the wrong thing. A quick glance between you and the man at your side is shared. Megumi thinks that can’t be good. 

“It says it’s for tomorrow evening,” you tell Satoru, and push the flyer over back to his side of the table. “Are you free, then?”

Satoru pauses. He’s not free, Megumi knows he isn’t. Not because Satoru told him so, but because he listened to the phone call he had a few hours ago. It’s bad manners, he knows—he can hear you in his head, and he shouldn’t have done it. But, Satoru talks so loudly, he should simply quiet down if he doesn’t want others to hear. 

“I sure am,” he says then, and Megumi tries to hide the surprise on his face. He’s lying. Liar. Liar. Liar. It’s all that goes through the boy’s head, but he doesn’t say it out loud. 

He does wonder why Satoru lied, but he quickly gets his answer when he sees the happy smile that breaks out on your lips. “That’s great!” You say, and place one of your hands on his. Seemingly delighted, you look at Megumi. “We’ll be there.” 

“It’s nothing special,” Megumi says. His voice is clear this time, as opposed to his previous mumbling. Once again, he hears you in his head. You’re allowed to make noise. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Nonsense,” Satoru chimes. 

You continue his sentence. “We’ll be there.” 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

. . .So, where are you? 

Megumi isn’t too proud to admit that he’s currently desperately looking for the blabbermouth you call your boyfriend. It’s not because he’d rather have him here than you, but his white hair makes for a stark contrast among the crowd. It’s so very easy to find, and yet it’s nowhere to be found. He’s not here, and that, by extension, means you probably aren’t here, either. The realisation hits him harder than he thought it would have. 

For some reason, there’s a deep sadness. He thinks it’s a little silly. Nobody has ever shown up before, and he was fine with that. Being alone isn’t new to him. None of the situation he’s currently in is surprising, and yet Megumi has to fight off the tears welling up in his eyes. Why is he feeling this way? This hasn’t happened before. 

Megumi doesn’t care about science fairs. But, if that were true, then why do all the children and their parents suddenly make the room feel smaller? He swallows. All his classmates are darting around the room, chattering and motioning towards their projects while their parents gawk in feigned awe. As they always did. Except now, he feels something akin to resentment boil from within. His hand balls up into a fist. 

There isn’t a good enough reason for him to feel so disappointed. The position he finds himself in isn’t unfamiliar, and he knows Satoru was initially called-in for a mission somewhere in Ginza. Something came up, that’s all there is to it. Megumi knew better than to get his hopes up, or so he thought. How pitiful.After all this time, he still hasn’t learned.

And suddenly, he’s four years old again, and crawling into the crumpled bed sheets of his father’s ever-so-empty bed. He’s holding onto the fabric as if it’ll slip through his fingers, and stifling his quiet sobs with the pillow that doesn’t carry the same comforting scent any longer. It hasn’t for months now. Megumi keeps hoping that one day, it will. Tsumiki peeks into the room, and he pretends not to notice. He’s four years old, and has no parents, and absolutely no idea why his father left without him. 

Why was he forgotten? 

There is a lump forming in his throat. Its imminent appearance lulled him out of the faded memory, and into the present—the present, where he is, once again, forgotten about. Perhaps that is simply the tale of Megumi Fushiguro. 

“Mom, look! I added the glitter to it just as you said,” a girl speaks from the booth next to him. “What do you think? It’s pretty, right? Do you think it’s pretty?”

Her mother laughs, and pets her head once the girl starts tugging on her arm. “Mhm, it’s beautiful, darling. I’m very proud of you.”

Megumi doesn’t necessarily want to cry. Though, when his eyes water momentarily, there’s very little he can do about it; he feels even more powerless when his bottom lip starts trembling. He once read that blinking rapidly will make one’s tears disappear like snow before the sun, except that article mustn’t have taken the feeling of heartbreak into consideration. It doesn’t matter how much Megumi blinks, the first tear falls down his cheek a few seconds later. 

“Huh? What’s this? You really need to work on your handwriting, Megumi, your name is barely rea. . .” 

A part of him is convinced that the universe has it out for him. There is no other reason for the constant waves of misfortune that strike him. Sniffling, he looks up at the man in front of him—and the worst thought he has ever had surfaces. He is so very happy to see Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing the water staining the boy’s cheeks, but even then Megumi can’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed. Not at this moment. With teary eyes, he blinks up at the tall man that snatched him up from the street like he was some discarded piece of free furniture.

“Where’s. . .” he croaks out, but gets interrupted rather quickly. 

“She’s talking to your teacher,” Satoru says softly. It’s a new tone of voice, one Megumi vaguely remembers as the one he normally reserved for you. This is making him uncomfortable—even a blind person would see that, but Satoru still tries. “Hey, it’s alright, buddy. She’s here.” 

The pat on his head nearly feels awkward. . .No, it does feel awkward. Satoru is petting him as if he were gently pressing a buzzer. It’s not even remotely close to the soft caresses you use when soothing him back to sleep, but it still brings him some strange sense of comfort. Megumi doesn’t swat his hand away. 

“There, there,” Satoru mumbles, and crouches down to his height. It’s a little silly to see such a man all folded up, his legs too long to look normal. “There was an accident a little further down the road. It took us a little longer to get here.”

Megumi lets out a shaky sigh. The petting stops shortly after. It’s quiet for a little while after—even if the room is filled with adults and children alike. Satoru looks at him, and he briefly wonders how you’re able to withstand looking into his eyes for as long as you do sometimes; Megumi thinks the blues will blind him soon. He gulps. For as annoying he might be when speaking, it turns out that Satoru Gojo is much more unnerving when he’s silent—silent, and looking right at you. 

Adorned with white lashes, Satoru’s baby blues pick Megumi apart at the seam. The boy has the brief idea to ask what he is thinking, but then decides against it. 

“Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice startles him. He hadn’t expected him to speak any time soon. 

“Megumi,” he calls out. “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? Megumi doesn’t know for sure. There are a lot of emotions he went through these past twenty minutes, and he isn’t entirely convinced that his brain was able to process them all. But for now—for now, he at least feels okay. 

Megumi nods. It’s all he does, not confident in his ability to verbalise his thoughts at the moment. He sniffs again. He’s okay, things are okay. 

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mumbles, and his eyes dart towards the right side of the room; towards the door. He clears his throat, and one of his fingers carefully makes its way towards Megumi’s cheek. “That’s good. She’s here now, see?”

Megumi visibly perks up, and, while still a little shaken, starts searching for you. As soon as he lifts his head up, there’s a soft brush against his skin. He wavers for a moment, confusion on his face once he realises Satoru brushed some stray tears away. The two look at each other once again. Why did he. . .

“Oh, there you are, lovie,” you say, relief apparent in your voice. It never takes you long to embrace Megumi—you once said he’d be stuck in your arms forever if you had your way. The boy moulds into you, and his anxiety dissipates as soon as your perfume hits his nose; the scent comforting him. “I’m so sorry, there was an accident, and all roads were blocked, and. . .God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long.” 

You cup his cheeks in his hands, and Megumi suddenly feels under scrutiny. It’s as if you’re searching for any inkling that your late arrival had caused him unease. It clicks, then, why Satoru did what he did. He’s a buffoon most of the time, but it seems there are some working cells left in his brain—when it concerns you, of course. Megumi is very thankful for him now. Though, he will deny ever feeling so. 

“Alright, princess, let him breathe,” Satoru says, the usual light lilt to his voice has made a return. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you fuss over him. “Don’t you want to show us your project, Megumi?”

The mention of his project catches your attention. “Oh! Yes, will you show us, Gumi?” 

One might think you’re speaking about some grand architecture design rather than a small, barely functioning science project. That is, if they took the look in your eyes as anything to go by. The boy glances between you and Satoru. Megumi then decides that, yes, he would like to show it to you—he always has wanted to show them. 

You weren’t his parents, but you were at his side. And when Megumi looks at the near-giddy excitement showing up on Satoru’s face, and the unconditional support on yours. . .he thinks that may just be enough. 

He nods, and finds his words again. 

“I—I will, yes. Follow me, please.”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

taglist [based off the last fic in the series, let me know if it’s no longer wanted]: @torusdoll @sad-darksoul

[lilacxoz]

Boyfriend’s Daddy - Toji

F!reader

Cheating!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, choking, oral(Toji receiving), slapping, dacryphilia, sadism, use of “daddy”, cheating Toji, you cheat on Megumi basically.

I am not responsible for people under 18 who read this. minors or ageless bloggers please dni!

You loved Megumi, you really did. But you always knew something was different, that you needed something more. You had always thought it was just the sex, he was never good at making things exciting due to his shyness. You understood that, but plain vanilla sex gets boring.

Then it was the poor aftercare, always falling asleep with his head in your neck. Never asking if you were okay and always waking up the next morning as if nothing happened the night before.

Next was his lack of emotion. You found it hard to read him despite being his girlfriend of two years. He’d always hide his emotions and you hated that, especially during really deep conversations. And it wasn’t that his lack of emotion meant lack of commitment, but sometimes that’s what it felt like.

You don’t know when you fell out of love with him, but you knew you hated yourself for it.

But now you were here, sitting next to Megumi while his mother and father sat on the other side of the dinner table. Megumi had his hand on your thigh like always, but it didn’t have that warm comfort anymore; It just made you uncomfortable.

“What are your plans tonight?” His mother asks, her voice sweet like honey while his father just held that scowl. There was something about his father that you liked, you just couldn’t quite place it though.

“Nothing really,” you reply with a soft smile, “probably sleep.” She gave a sullen smile, as if she knew how the love in your relationship has diminished.

“Your anniversary is coming up, anything planned? You both could use the beach house?” Megumi just huffed, shrugging his shoulders. “You know, we’re not getting any younger, a grandchild-“

“Stop! We’re not ready and never will be for that.” Your heart cracked a little at his words because you did want a child with Megumi, but it seemed he already made his mind up. You felt the shift in the air, taking Megumi’s hand off your thigh.

He was about to say something of your action, but his phone rang. He excused himself as you collected the plates to wash. “I can get those,” his mother protested.

“Let me,” you challenged, “please.” She didn’t protest, giving you a smile before she and her Husband settled on the couch. Their distant chatter and the sound of the sink is the only thing that helped muffle your thoughts. You felt a hand on your lower back as you felt Megumi’s breath fan your neck.

“Gojo…I won’t be home until tomorrow night. Love you,” he informed, kissing your temple. He took your face in his hand, planting his soft lips to yours. But those butterflies weren’t as strong as they used to be. “Talk when I get home?” You nodded, it seemed that’s all you did with him.

He then walked out, explaining his dismissal to his parents before leaving. You assumed it’s because Gojo came to pick him up like he always did. It was five minutes and you were halfway through the dishes before Toji came into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a small bottle of sake. You expected him to leave after that, but he leaned against the counter next to you. You watched him open the bottle and take a sip, as if contemplating what to say.

“I uh, ‘m sorry about my boy. Something’s up, clear as day.”

“You don’t have to apologize on the behalf of his relationship downfall,” you say almost barely a whisper. Toji’s lips purse shut, he wasn’t apologizing for his son. He was apologizing for you. He watched as a tear fell down your cheek, trying to hide it as you faced away from him.

“I don’t appreciate pretty girls crying over my stinkgumi son.” You let out a soft laugh, hands washing a dirty porcelain china plate. He offered you some of his drink, cleaning your hands off before accepting the bottle. You took a big chug, impressing Toji by a change in your “good girl” persona. “Didn’t know a good girl like you could drink like a man.”

You softly chuckled, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “Seems like to me your more of a girl yourself with how mysterious you act,” you tease. He let out a soft chuckle, your heart catching in your throat at the sound. It was a beautiful laugh, one that made your stomach go crazy.

“You’re a strange one,” he thinks aloud, making you shrug as you go back to the dishes.

“Guess I’m strange and pretty,” you say, repeating his words. He tried to hide the smirk on his face, liking the way you think and act. He started to see what his son saw in you, and he liked you a lot better than he did before.

He left you alone after that, meeting his wife on the couch. Ten minutes go by before you realized Megumi took the car. You stood outside, staring at the empty parking spot in shock. Then you felt a presence behind you, Toji tossing his keys up and catching them. “I’ll drive ya,” he said, walking over to his sleek black Nissan Skyline. You gulped, following him to his car.

You sat in the passenger as he turned the car on, roaring the engine to life. It smelt like him inside, along with being surprisingly clean. A bass heavy Petey Pablo song started playing, a very sexual song that made your face heat up.

“Didn’t know a late forty year old man listened to this kind of music,” you teased. He chuckled, his thumbs tapping on the steering wheel.

“I’m thirty-seven, and I grew up on this shit,” he said through a chuckle before a smirk. Your placed your hands under your thighs, listening to the erotic lyrics. You only felt nervous because this was a song you had sex too, and it may not have been good sex but it still roused some of the familiar emotions. You felt a second heartbeat between your legs and your breaths grow shallow. You hated it, hated how Toji was only heightening your arousal. He wore a plain black tee and grey sweats, exposing his defined and veiny arms.

It was a very painful ten minutes to your home, and a little awkward. There was tension, and it was painfully obvious what kind. “Look kid, I know exactly what your thinkin’, and it’s wrong,” Toji calls you out, making your face burn and body to curl in on itself. You nodded as you bit your bottom lip. You then stepped out of the car, not bothering to say goodbye with how embarrassed you were. Of course it was wrong to get turned on from your boyfriend’s father; but it had been almost a year since you were fucked and missed the rough sex. Now? All Megumi wants is soft sex.

You closed the front door behind you, leaning against it as you let out a pent up breath. You were aroused more than you ever were with Megumi, and you felt embarrassed. You spent a good two minutes self loathing, thighs pressed as you tried to get Toji out of your mind.

You heard a knock on the door behind you, a little surprised because it was close to midnight. When you opened, you were met with a six foot three figure looking down on you. The next moments happened in a flash, his hands on your waist as he pushes you into the house, his lips on yours in a flash. His lips were rough, and you loved it.

He shut the door behind him with his foot, slamming you against the wall next to the front door in the foyer. You let out a yelp, his lips devouring yours as his hands moved to your ass. “This dress has been driving me fucking nuts, and since Stinkgumi didn’t fuck you in it yet then I will.” You moaned at his words, his lips moving down to devour your neck and jaw next. You let your hands move on their own, on his chest and palming him through his pants. You knew he was tall and muscular, but you didn’t think that would make his dick that big. Not even fitting in your small hand.

You felt his hips move with your hand, his own hand rubbing your pussy from behind. You moaned as he slipped your g-string to the side, one you wore for Megumi. You gasped as he slipped a thick finger inside your pussy, teeth biting your lip. “Fuck Toji!” You moaned, his finger curling inside you. You felt like your skin was on fire, your pussy clenching against his finger. He added another finger, your body hitching against his body.

You slid your hand inside his sweatpants, fisting his thick and twitching cock. He grunted at the action, hips bucking up into your hand. “This is so wrong,” he whispered in your ear, “but I bet you like that; fucking your boyfriend’s daddy.” When you didn’t reply, he brought a free hand up to your face, slapping it hard. His wife didn’t like his sadist pleasures, but the sultry smile on your face said you loved it. He slapped you again, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as they thrusted into you.

He then slipped his fingers out, forcing them into your mouth. Your tongue lapped at his fingers, eyes never breaking from his green ones. A smirk adorned his scarred lips, watching you take his fingers. “Why don’t you suck my dick just as good?” He asked, taking his fingers out your mouth and slapping your face again. The side of your cheek was red and stinging, but you loved it.

You lowered yourself to your knees, eyes never breaking from his as you let him take your dress off as you lowered. You were now in nothing but your red g-string, hands slipping off his sweats to reveal his thick and long cock. You licked a line down his slit dripping with precum, relishing in his defined chest and black line of hair from his stomach down to his pubic bone. He looked like a sculpture from the gods, knowing this as a shit eating grin forms on his face. “Suck,” he commands.

You take him in your mouth, his cock filling your mouth completely. He had a hand reach down to the back of your head, fisting your hair as he helps you suck him off right. He knew he was big, his wife refusing to even try to suck him off because of it. Five years it’s been since he last got sucked off, and he didn’t realize how much he missed the sight. As if he could cum on the spot.

You sucked and licked his cock, getting it glistening with your spit. He loved it, along with the mascara that was forming around your eyes from tears. The sight was one his son clearly didn’t take advantage of if you were so unsatisfied. Toji’s head fell back as he bucked his hips up into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

With each thrust of his hips made you gag on his cock, tears falling down the apples of your cheeks. But you loved how he used your mouth how he liked, your pussy missing his fingers with how much you wanted him to use your pussy like that instead.

He let out a deep groan before pulling you up by your hair, pushing your lips to his. His tongue dived into your mouth, exploring every part of you. He pulled away, leaving you breathless as you stared at him with glassy eyes.

“Go get a condom,” he says, but you just smile.

“I haven’t had sex in two months, you think we have condoms?” His eyes subtly widened at your words, there was no way it was that long for you.

“So you want me to fuck you raw? You dirty girl,” he purred. You just smiled with lidded eyes and a sultry smile, leading him to the couch just in the other room. He pushed you over the armrest, your ass on full display for him. He took his shirt off as his hand caressed the plush skin before him.

He loved the nice piece of ass you offered, not even caring it was already claimed by his son. If Toji wants something, his son isn’t going to stop him from getting it. His old girlfriends’ used to be scared of Toji, but you were the first one to poke the bear without fear. He liked that about you. He liked it a lot.

“I want you to tell me exactly what you want,” he affirmed, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling you up so he could see your face-his other hand aligning his tip to your wet pussy.

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan out, hands holding your tits as you try to meet your hips with his. He just darkly chuckles, bringing his mouth to your ear.

“And my name is? I won’t give you what you want until you use the proper name for me.” He wanted to hear you call him daddy, wanted to see the redness form on your face as your needy cunt begged him to slam his dick inside.

“D-daddy- please give it to me rough daddy,” you cry out, gasping when he slammed his hips against yours. His cock plunged so deep that your legs almost gave out, your thighs shaking as your moans grew to quiet whimpers. It hurt, yet all you wanted was more. He began slow, watching your face contort from feeling full with pain, to feeling full with pleasure. He was eliciting noises from you that you didn’t know you could make, and it was pretty obvious. Toji just couldn’t believe his son didn’t know how pretty his girlfriend sang when she got what she wanted. No- what she needed.

His thrusts grew more pronounced and fast, your tits and ass bouncing with each thrust. You wanted more, wanted him to treat you like the cheating whore you were. And he was willing to treat just as such. His hand wrapped around your neck as he helped position one knee on the armrest to get a deeper angle. And with each moan, his hand squeezed your throat tight. He loved the sound of you choking, along with the flutter of your pussy when you did.

You were too much for him, giving him everything he ever wanted with sex. You were such a bratty girl with witty remarks, a girl who wasn’t afraid to back down. The girl of his dreams.

He pulled out of you, flipping you around so you sat on the armrest, legs wrapped around his waist as his hands gripped your ass. “You want to finish? Tell me what do I get from this exchange?”

You just moaned out as you offered your pussy to him. Yet, that wasn’t enough. Toji wasn’t one to want women, even shocking himself that he was married with a lovely step-daughter who he treated like his own. But he wanted your everything.

“Just your pussy isn’t enough,” he grunted, hair in his emerald eyes as he stared you down.

“Everything!” You blurted, completely drunk on lust and him. “You can have my everything. How you want it daddy.” Your answer pleased him, thrusting his cock back into you with inhumane force. The house filled with your moans and his grunts, the both of you nearing the end.

You came first, his mouth swallowing every cry as you came around him. He followed soon after, grunting and groaning as he came inside you. But the one noise he made shocked you, and it was a whimper. It was a noise you knew he didn’t make often from the subtle pink adorning his cheeks.

When he pulled out you pushed him onto the couch, straddling his hips. “I wanna hear you make that noise again daddy,” you pouted, teasing his tip with your finger.

“You’re gonna keep me up all night, aren’t ya?”

[norizzsainz]

🌶️ NFY : MCDONALD'S FOR P

[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ] [ wc ] 0.9k words

[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.

[ loki's lines ] this was so much better in my head, contemplating if it should've just stayed there

previous | masterlist | next

━━━━━━━ DECEMBER 03, 2023

max would've burst into laughter on any other day when he saw the way you had arrived at his doorstep.

you wore a hoodie; the strings tightly tied until only your eyes could be seen.

he offered a small smile as your eyes met; brows raised when you lifted a bag to his face.

“mcdonald's for p,” you mumbled. “got you and kelly some food, too.”

max tried not to let his smile fall as he heard your voice, the hoarse tone letting him know you had a really bad cry session — or even multiple of them.

“come on in,” he stated, nodding you inside as he stepped aside after taking the bags from you. “thanks for the food. p will love you forever.”

you only let out a tired chuckle at his words, not adding anything more. max frowned at your lack of response, realizing something was really wrong with you.

you loved p more than anything, and the fact you didn’t say much about max’s words were enough of an indicator as to how bad the situation was.

“aw, babes.” kelly walked towards you with a frown. “what are you trying to do? suffocate yourself?”

“honestly, right now, i'd love that,” you commented with a sigh, wincing as kelly untied the hoodie. “thanks, kels.”

the frown on kelly's face didn't fade; her brows furrowed as she sat you down on the sofa. she observed you well, her gaze softening as she met your bloodshot eyes.

“this isn't like you, y/n. what's wrong?”

max's heart shattered as he watched the way your face scrunched, trying to hold back the inevitable tears that made their way down your face.

you covered your face with your hands, crying harder when kelly pulled you into her embrace, trying to offer any sort of comfort.

“y/n ...” max stood next to you, patting your hair gently as his girlfriend rubbed your back. “tell us what's wrong so we can help.”

“h-he said we had t-to break up.” max frowned, exchanging glances with kelly as you hiccupped over your words.

“carlos? was it his idea to break up?” kelly inquired, confused.

you pulled away from the hug, meeting her gaze. “not carlos.” you shook your head, wiping away your tears with your sleeve.

max tilted his head. “who was it, then?” he asked, waiting for your response.

“his dad. he said we had to break up.”

the couple’s eyes widened, never having guessed your ex-boyfriend’s father would’ve intervened in the relationship and forced you to break up with him.

“what? why the fuck would he do that?”

max sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa you sat on, fisting his hands by his side as he looked at you. 

the man’s frown never faded, staring at you. “why did he tell you to break up with carlos?” he asked, teeth gritted to control his anger.

“he said i was messing up carlos’ focus,” you mumbled, looking at your feet. “told me to break up with him if i genuinely care about his career.”

“so, you broke up with him?!” max raised his voice, flabbergasted by your words. “what the fuck, y/n? why would you do something like that?”

“because i love him, max.” the couple’s hearts shattered as they heard the crack in your voice. “i broke up because i love him.”

“you can’t be serious, y/n.”

“i hate this more than anything, but i’ll have to deal with it. i know how hard carlos has worked to come this far, and i can’t just sit still, knowing i’m the reason he’s fucking up his dream.”

max frowned, shaking his head. “just because he fucks up his races doesn’t mean you are the reason for it, y/n,” he stated, trying to make you understand.

“i am, max. i know that very well.”

“come on, you know–”

“five times, max,” you countered, looking at him. “five times, carlos purposefully did not qualify for the races because he wanted to be there for me,” you confessed.

you watched the way kelly’s face dropped, while max’s expressions remained stoic.

he had noticed too. he knew.

you saw him take a deep breath, biting his lip as he contemplated what to say.

“so, do you think his performance will become better now that you’ve broken up?” max inquired, raising his brows. “because if he doesn't, then this would all be in vain, no?”

“this is what his dad asked for, and i–”

max shrugged. “you are just fulfilling his wishes, obviously. this ‘fucking up his focus’ was just a sad excuse,” he said.

“his dad never liked you, babes,” kelly spoke, patting your back gently. “don't you think this entire thing was just some excuse to get you guys to break up?”

you buried your face in your hands, trying to control your breathing as you sat back on the sofa. everything was overwhelming you right now, and it was sending your brain into overdrive.

these were the moments when carlos would be there for you; listening to your thoughts and sorting them out for you.

but, he wasn't going to be there for you anymore. you had to deal with this on your own.

“whether it's an excuse or not,” you stated, looking at your friends through your teary eyes. “we've broken up now.”

“and that's–”

“and that's that.” you were stern with your words. “i'm tired of all this. i just want some peace and quiet, okay? just wanna forget about this all and go back to living life as i normally do.”

kelly nodded supportively. “if that's what you want, that's what we'll do,” she said, pulling you into her embrace.

“we got your back, y/n,” max added, wrapping his arms around you two. “forever and always.”

you smiled into the hug, utterly failing to keep the tears from falling down.

“thank you for being there for me, guys. i love you both so fucking much.”

[brooooswriting]

Connected

Carol Danvers x reader (romantic), Monica Rambeau x reader (platonic), Kamala Khan x reader (platonic)

Kamala was secretly snooping through Carol's ship while the rest were downstairs when suddenly somebody appeared in front of her. She couldn't stop the squeak that left her as she nearly crashed into you. “Wh-Who the hell are you?” she asked once she stepped back.

“Who the hell are you?” you asked back, questioning the audacity of the girl in your girlfriend's ship. You hadn't heard from her in days, which scared you, so you decided to come back and check if she was alright.

“I-I am Ms. Marvel,” she stuttered out, her answer confusing you significantly, but before you could say anything, Carol and a woman came running up.

“Kamala, are you alright?” the captain called out, her first already glowing as she shoved the younger girl behind herself. “Omg, y/n,” she swooned as soon as she saw you. “What are you doing here?” she added as she let go of Kamala, signaling to them that you weren't a threat.

“What I am doing here?” you asked sarcastically, picking up a dishcloth on the table beside you. “You haven't reached out in days, not answering my calls, not texting back. Nothing. Jeez. I thought you died,” you growled at her, hitting her with the cloth you picked up before.

“Alright, alright, can you calm for a second? I want you to meet somebody. This is Kamala Khan, and this is Monica Rambeau, also known as Luitenant Trouble.” She pointed to each of them so you could reach out and shake their hands. You couldn't help but smile when she said Luitenant trouble; she had always told you about the girl and how much she missed her. “And now, how about we go down? So we have a bit of privacy.” Without saying anything, you started to walk toward the stairs. Carol following you like a lost puppy.

You crossed your arms once you stood across from the blonde, an annoyed look on your face. She stood still for a moment, contemplating what to do next. “Don't ever. And I mean ever. Ghost me like that again, or I am going to kick your ass into the next universe,” you threatened, your tone serious.

“I'm sorry, it's just… a lot has happened, and I was so stressed that I didn't even have time to check my phone, love.” She took a step closer to you before continuing. “Now come here; I missed you.” Carol quickly grabbed your waist and pulled you into a kiss. Without a second thought, your body reacted and kissed her back, your arms wrapping around her neck. You didn't even notice that tears started to stream down your face, the fear of something happening to her finally disappearing.

Once your girlfriend noticed your tears, she pulled away one of her hands, finding your face to wipe away your tears. “It's okay, I'm alright. I'm sorry, baby. I didn't wanna scare you like that. I promise I'll never do it again.” Her muscular arms wrapped around your waist again, her skin touching yours as she scooted them under your hoodie. Her hands rested on your back as you buried your face in her neck, your sobs slowly dying down as she used her powers to heat up her hands. Something she knew calmed you down and helped with your constant back pains. You finally felt content until suddenly the body pressed against your felt… well… different.

Before you could pull back, the other person pulled away. “Iuh, please tell me you didn't do anything sexual,” you recognized Monica's voice and couldn't hide your small smile when you saw that she had her eyes closed.

“You can open your eyes; we were just hugging”

Before anyone could say something else, you heard the captain scream out of annoyance. “Monica, powers. Now,” and a second later, Carol stood in front of you again.

“I-what?” your head tilted to the side, and your brows were furrowed as you tried to piece together what just happened.

“I'll explain in a moment. It's a long story. But first, I want another hug and kiss, this time without switching. I promise.” You fell into her arms again, pressing several small kisses against her lips.

After that, you went back upstairs and joined the other two. Each of them sat on a beanbag while you and Carol sat next to each other on the bed, the blonde's arm wrapped around you while her hand rested on your waist. They, mainly Monica, actually explained what the deal was, and you were more than confused.

Turns out, Carol was not the only one who played with her powers when she was nervous or bored. One moment, you stood in the bathroom with your girlfriend behind you, a hand on your waist as both of you brushed your teeth. And the next a confused teenager had her hand on your waist and stood behind you. You, as well as the teenager, let out a yelp and jumped away from each other before groaning. Kamala immediately started to apologize as she avoided your eyes.

You quickly spit out the toothpaste so you could calm down the girl. “Kamala, Kam- it's alright. It's not your fault, hon. We all have to get used to it.” Your hands landed on her shoulders to stop her pacing. “Now, come on, let's go to the others.” You walked out with the girl behind you. Carol was sitting on the bed with an annoyed look. The moment you stepped out, hell broke loose, the three girls arguing and discussing without listening to each other. You rolled your eyes before whistling loudly, making them stop.

“OK, we will need some rules. While I find all of you lovely, I’d appreciate it if you all weren't constantly in my girlfriend's place. So, first rule: no playing around with your powers out of boredom, Carol, no heating up your hands while hugging or anything.” You threw the blonde a glance before continuing. “Second, if you use your powers, just call out quickly so nobody gets hurt, alright? Last rule, before you guys fight any fight, you'll train how to deal with this.” You saw in their eyes that they wanted to start again, so you spoke up again. “Now, go brush your teeth, and then go to bed. Everybody.” All three of them nodded, Monica and Kamala, making their way to brush their teeth.

“She’d be a great mum,” Kamala whispered to Monica, making you laugh.

While the rest got ready for bed, you and Carol got into bed. Your head rested on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you, kissing your head softly. “Tomorrow, you have to tell me how your see-again with Monica was.”

This would be a wild week in which Kamala couldn't keep eye contact with you for even a second.

[strayrockette]

The Dragon & The Griffon

Where The Path Leads-A Taste

Masterlist Next Chapter

a/n: I didn't think I would be coming back with a story and to be completely honest, I fully believed my creative drive had been zapped. However, @mysticalpandora gave me a challenge and it somehow led me here???? I'm gonna roll with it. My list of unfinished drafts is growing, but I am determined to finish at least 1 WIP.

If anyone is interested in where this ride goes, DM me and ask to be tagged. Like & Reblog if you enjoyed the read! And comment your thoughts if you have any. I enjoy reading them!!

Her purple eyes glitter with quiet contemplation. She is calm, composed, absolutely beautiful, he thinks to himself. His calculative and appraising eyes take stock of this daring girl no woman that stands before him, and deep within him is a hunger for a hunt.

The Na-Baron had yet to come across someone who could stand so still within his presence.

This excites him. This may be a season of true satiation. A thrill of a hunt that lasted far beyond his arena kills. Far beyond the meager missions, his uncle sends him on to create distance from his people’s adoration and praise. A reminder that he is yet to be The Baron.

His uncle was not immune to his potential. He held a guarded edge around him when he was near. If it was true fear, or anticipation for his succession was unclear. One could say both.

“If you should use my gifts to aid in your fight, I will have my answer.” She stares directly into his eyes. Her jaw is relaxed and she pulls her lips into a teasing smile, “Worry not, Na-Baron, I can take no for an answer.”

He bares his black teeth in a mock smile, his answer comes in a raspy deep lull, “The answer has already been decided for us, little dragon”

He looks at the two deep ebony daggers that sit neatly in the box she had placed on the high table in the corner of the room, its sharpened blades glowing in the dim light of his changing rooms near the arena. The excited screams of his people chanting his name break the silence.

The tip of the dagger's, curve near its end. All along the blade is an engraving of silhouettes, tiny dragons flapping their wings. He realizes the engravings are shining silver.

He knows no one in the boxed seatings would be able to tell what the engravings were but he almost purrs outwardly in delight. A silent claim from his little dragon. He wonders if she realizes just what game she’s playing.

“Yes, however..” She pauses, her eyes drop to her clasped hands, her fingertips tapping against each other, a sign of nervousness, he notes. As if hearing his observation she stops and rearranges her hands so they are clasped behind her. “While this arrangement was decided before we were born, I want it to be known that I am not unwilling to be your wife or have you as my husband”

She pauses once more. He can practically hear her thinking with the way her eyes furrow and her lips pursed in consideration of the words she says. Because words have meaning and none of it should be spent on idle chit-chat or false pretenses.

A rare oddity that most others fail to recognize. He wonders if her words are hiding who she is. If beneath her elegant and calm demeanor lies something weaker. Something inside him wants to see her unravel.

“If we are to go into this arrangement, I would like for us to go into it as equal partners. Your fight becomes my fight, and mine becomes yours.” She moves to the side to dip her fingers into the bowl of black oil. The servant who holds it cowers away, as if afraid to be associated with her candor.

She’s gathered too much, it drips onto the floor as she nears him slowly. Her eyes are entranced with his, determination clear within her purple irises. One step. There is no hesitation as she smears her hand over her mouth and down her neck. Two steps. The oil leaves a trace of four fingerprints along the path. Three steps. She reaches out to his chest. Her fingers hovered over his skin. He can feel the heat radiating from a single hand. His blue eyes hunger for more but he remains still. His mocking smile turns into amusement. My little dragon is brave, he thinks with pride.

She pouts as a thought crosses her mind, “No one would see it.” She doesn’t realize she has said this aloud. He watches with rapid anticipation, his body grows taut as he wills himself not to move. He waits and waits and watches as she comes to a decision, her cheeks red and eyes mischievous. She gathers courage and motivation with quick movements, and her hands are suddenly on him. Trailing the top of his chest, then to his neck, finally, they nestle comfortably on either side of his face. She tugs gently, urging him to bend to her level and he allows it, purely for the entertainment.

His face is level with hers, his eyes are on her face, studying the curve of her nose, the red in her cheeks, the plumpness of her lips, and the giddy look in her violet eyes. He wants her to make eye contact. He wants her to see the monster inside him and fear for her life. He wants to see her calm demeanor slip. For her teasing tone to melt into cries of terror. It's all he knows. And he admires hates how she has yet to cower before him. But she is too busy studying the right of his cheek where her lips will claim him for all to see. She leans and presses a kiss to his aching skin.

He tightens his mouth and remains still, it would do no good to ravage her before their nuptials.

She pulls away and continues her statement, “Even if it has been decided, the fact remains that I choose you to be faithful to, to be by my side. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. In life and in death, my soul will always seek you amongst the billions of stars and galaxies that separate us.”

He wants to snarl and bite. A part of him cannot comprehend what she is saying and he is angry. He glares, his large hands coming up to wrap around her wrists and he pulls them away from him. His skin is left wanting and his heart is enraged. It’s beating so fast and erratically and his thoughts cannot settle between slitting her throat and slamming her into a wall to be consumed by him.

“What silly nonsense you speak, little dragon. Whether I pick up the blades or not and use them in the arena, is no answer. Whether by choice or by force, you have been sold to my family for me to use as I please. You are my pet. My little dragon. Nothing more, nothing less.” As he speaks his voice gravels with rage. He knows nothing else other than the white hot boiling blood beneath his skin. Whether in pleasure or pain, there is no difference. “You are naive”

He finishes his growl with a sneer. She stumbles and her maids rush to catch her from behind. I pushed him too far, she concludes. She holds in a sigh and holds her head higher. Her chin juts out and her eyes gleam. A thought crosses her mind and a fire burns within, “If I’m so naive, then my dearest husband-to-be, it is YOUR duty to protect me.”

She cares not for his comment about being sold to House Harkonnen. In the grand plan of all things, it is the least of her worries.

He’s turned away from her and the servants, who hid quietly in the corner, rush to put his armor on. He merely grunts and clicks his tongue, “Be gone little dragon, before you find a knife in your throat”

She wants to scoff but thinks better of it. She’s gotten away with too much in the short time she burst into his changing room to accost him with her offer. She steels herself and with a quick glance at his muscled back. She wonders if she’d ever be able to get through that thick bald skull of his.

She turns and leaves, and her two maids follow dutifully. Her lips glitter with the black oil. Her four fingerprints running down to her chest is a statement in itself. The matching handprint and kiss on his skin are enough to get her message to all with eyes.

She’s sunk her claws into him and no one would tear her from him. She’s seen too much. Knows too much. Suffered too much to give up now.

No Bene gesserite, no Emperor, no Baron, and no Atreides would rip them apart. She would die faithfully, clinging onto hope, clinging onto a path with the most resistance to prove a point.

A dragon does not kneel…

it conquers.

Edited: 8/18/24

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Warm and Cozy

Nanami Kento x F!Reader

Summary: Nanami Kento did not show up at Shoko's Infirmary after a mission for his usual checkup so she sent you to his place to check up on him.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ I am not responsible for any underaged baby reading this. Wrap that willy before doing the silly.

Word Count: Your girl got horny.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Since when did you start doing house calls?"

"Since you stopped taking Shoko Senpai's calls and returned home instead."

Kento Nanami is still dressed in his blue shirt and tan blazer, holding the door with his hand and looking at you with zero emotions.

You can see the wretched dotted tie lying at the small dinner table behind him along with his glasses, not knowing why their site bothers you so much.

Nanami's free hand goes to his face to rub the incoming tiredness in his eyes. "Y/L/N, I'm fine. You should go back-"

"I've been threatened by senpai to heal you back to proper health or she'll fire me. So, if you don't mind, Nanami, I'd like to keep the job I finally love. Also, you are reeking of curses right now," you wring your nose in the end.

His brown eyes look at the resolution in your figure at his door before looking at the night sky behind you. He notices a moment in the corridor outside, his brows furrowing in some calculated thought.

The hand holding the door turns enough for Nanami to look at the time. And while he is contemplating something in his head, you cannot resist observing the six-foot-tall man; looking so different from what he was when you first met him.

He definitely worked out, your inner voice purrs inside your head, making you clench your office bag to resist any more stray thoughts.

"You are not going back alone at this time anyway," he murmured under his breath and stepped to the side.

"Oh!" you scoff, "I am pretty sure I can navigate my way around Tokyo at night just fine, sir. Or did you forget the time I-"

Nanami's senses are focused on the figure clad in a black hoodie coming from the other end of the corridor. The figure reached for something in the pocket of his hoodie and Nanami is quick to grab you by your arm- in the gentlest of way possible- and pull your surprised frame inside his humble abode.

You walk into the apartment and let your lungs inconspicuously breathe in the scent of Kento Nanami's safe space. And just as you expect, it smells of vanilla and beeswax.

Maybe it's the soap he uses?

The apartment is spotless. Everything has its place. Maybe the only thing out of place is you.

The entrance has you open to a cozy beige-clad living room. Walking a little further, you are standing in his open kitchen next to the kitchen island and looking at the table next to you where his tie and glasses lie.

Right opposite the kitchen is a space separated by a wooden structure made of hollow rectangular blocks housing plants, books on anatomy and humans, and a single empty space right in the middle.

The bed beyond that is covered in a grey duvet, astonishingly wrinkle-free.

Too clean, your nose wrinkles, it should have some-

Now what would make a bed that neat wrinkled and dirty, your inner voice whispers in your ear, spiking up your heartbeat.

"Would you like some tea?"

You jump at Nanami's voice, turning around towards the kitchen.

The man is already rolling his sleeves up and putting a kettle on.

"Yes, please," you plead softly, walking towards the kitchen island, and picking up his tie on the way.

"Did you meet the new kid yet?" you ask him as your hands and eyes get busy with the tie, wrapping it around your neck to try your hand at the few knots you learned in school.

Nanami opens up a drawer to take out two mugs- one purple and one grey- before turning towards the island.

There is this tiny second of a moment when he pauses to look at your fingers busy with the fabric that is practically a part of him. But he is quick to regain his usually stoic momentum even though his eyes keep going back to how carefully your fingers are running over his tie.

"Gojo's kid?"

You break into a chuckle, your eyes closing in the tiny flash of elation, never seeing how Nanami's eyes follow the moment of your head as it dips back and then tilts sideways.

"Well, you're not wrong in a way. His name is Yuuji. Yuuji Itadori. He's a really cute kid." You have finally made a passable knot and are trying to pass the other end through. "I was assigned to check him up yesterday and that boy made me laugh the entire time."

Nanami is just standing there with his arms folded when a whistle starts to form at the mouth of the kettle.

"And he is so pure, Nanami! He let me explain to him the culture samples in Senpai's lab and he looked at every single one of them with the same excitement as he did the first one."

The whistle goes harder on that kettle.

A fresh pack of Hojicha tea is opened. Nanami's rugged hands are careful with the bits they pick up to sprinkle in the earthen pot waiting for the brew time before the boiling water goes in.

"Oh, I love him! He's so precious." you declare in excitement.

You do not notice when Nanami comes to stand in front of you. You notice his hands first; when they come to take over the tie from your hands.

"I haven't washed it yet. It might still have some curse blood on it," Nanami slowly announces before delicately pulling the tie up your head.

"Oh...right. My bad."

Moving the tie away from your head, his hand unconsciously comes back to undo the mess he made in your hair, making you pause a breath.

Stop, you tell your insides, trying to shake away the gentle gestures as something more.

.

Your tools are neatly arranged on the dinner table. Nanami sits on a chair.

"See? Nothing to worry about," he declares in his usual nonchalant way as you are done examining his head and arms.

"Not so fast, love. I still have to scrutinise the rest of you," you warn him sweetly while you rub your palms together and walk behind the chair.

Nanami's head tilts a little in your direction.

"Okay....love."

Your hands freeze behind him. The word vibrates inside you with his voice.

Oh fu---haaa----Focus!

"I need to run the energy down your spine." You try your best to sound composed.

He undoes the first two buttons on his shirt and lifts away the collar, exposing his neck and shoulders to you.

"Tell me if it gets uncomfortable at any point," you announce softly before gently putting your hands on the back of his neck to observe for any anomalies.

What you don't get to see is the rugged hands of the Grade 1 sorcerer curling up into a fist at the first touch of your fingers on his exposed skin, or the goosebumps on his arms and back as your fingers do a little stroke at the nape to guide the energy down his spine.

"Oh, this is not good," you state, stepping away from him to look for something inside your bag.

"What?" Nanami almost blurts out, not really sure what the question was for- the 'not good' part or your hands- that seemed to bring him some much-needed relief- not touching him anymore.

Taking out a small maroon spherical crystal from your bag, you look Nanami straight in the eyes. "Take off your clothes. We're getting in the shower."

.

The shower head is fixed back into place by your fingers. "There," you exhale and come down from the stool to give one final look of satisfaction at your work.

Nanami is standing at his bathroom door, leaning on the doorframe, observing you. You are out of your overcoat, exposing your usual colourful self in a sweater, a skirt and skinny tights. This is the first time he has seen you wear a sweater in blue. It suits you, he thinks to himself, though it irks him to imagine if it ran up your waist like it is doing now- when you are adjusting the angle of the shower- when you travelled all the way from Jujutsu High to his place and if anyone else dared to see you like this.

"I've fixed the disinfectant in your shower head. Now just stand under the running water for about a minute or so and I'll take out the curse sample."

Nanami looks at the shower head and then at you. "How lethal is the infection?"

"Oh," you shake your head, "not lethal if we do this right now. Lethal if you let it sit overnight. I am going to take the sample back to Shoko Senpai for culture study and antidotes. It'll wash away in no time, don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried for me," he mumbles.

"Hm?" you furrow your brows in confusion, which melts away at the speed of light when the man unbuttons his shirt, taking it off and neatly stacking it in the laundry basket next to the sink.

It takes you some time to let the beauty of Kento Nanami's body seep into your mind. It also takes one long inhale to realise that Blazer had been hiding a sculpted Renaissance art underneath it.

But your brain goes to hell when he takes off his trousers and stands there in his black boxers, revealing some incredibly toned legs.

Oh, mother of curses!

Embarrassed for looking at him with budding sinful thoughts, you turn around in the shower temple to smack your head into the towel rack.

Cursing under your breath, you walk out of the tiny space with your gaze on the ground. "The infection is on your left shoulder blade...o-on the back."

"How bad is it?" Nanami tries to take a look at it in the wall-length mirror on the sink.

"I've handled worse. It's okay, you can trust me, Nanami." you shrug at his reflection in the mirror with a smile.

"I do, Y/L/N-" Nanami takes off his watch and places it beside the sink, leaving that sentence hanging, leaving you blinking at your own reflection for a moment.

Nanami steps into the shower temple, turning on the shower and letting his left arm and shoulder soak in the cold wetness of the water.

Soon enough the infection starts to wriggle and make screeching sounds as the energy in the water starts killing it.

Grabbing the container from your sample kit you step into the space. "I'm taking a sample now."

A few mud-coloured droplets that are still screeching are caught in the container while the rest of them are washed away in the water and down the drain, leaving Nanami's body healed to its original perfection.

"Feel better?"

Nanami does feel better. He can feel all the tiredness leaving his body with the water. He turns around to tell you the same.

You are looking at the container and about to walk out of the shower temple. "Let's get you back to the lab to Senp-"

Your words get stuck in your throat when your foot slips on the wet tile and your hands are grabbing at the air to break your fall.

The air does not break your fall. But Nanami does. His one hand is quick to cushion your head from hitting the wall while his other hand grabs your waist and pulls you to himself. Fearing not to make you fall for a second time, he backs into the wall behind him for support, bringing you both under the shower.

The container falls on the tiled floor as your hands grab onto his shoulders for support and your heart tries to get accustomed to the fear of the fall.

Neither of you move for a moment. Neither of you wants to in fear of doing something the other might now like in such close proximity to each other.

Close proximity? You both are grabbing onto each other as if your lives depend on it.

"Y/N? You okay?" Nanami finally whispers when he does not feel you move for a long while.

"Yes," you breathe, moving your face away from his shoulders- which are welcoming and hot- and facing him. "Sorry. I slipped."

Before Nanami can point out the futility of an apology that is not your fault, you smile and move your hands through his hair. "Aw shucks! I ruined your hair. It's wet now."

That does it for Kento Nanami. That one brush of your fingers in his hair reverberates through his whole body.

"Stop, Y/N," he refrains from growling.

Your hand immediately retreats from his head, pausing in the air and wondering with lost eyes if you did something wrong.

Ah, shit. He doesn't like his hair messed with.

"Stop giving me wrong ideas," he whispers, turning off the shower with his free hand.

"Wrong...what?" your voice barely rises above a whisper.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" You try to wriggle out of his hold, a little hurt at the assumptions you are making in your head. "I'm sorry for messing your hair."

"My hair isn't the only thing you are messing with."

You scoff, feeling offended. "I'll fix it, okay! Your hair and whatever else I messed with."

Nanami runs his hands through his hair and you have to gulp back some things that rather not come to your lips.

"Are you sure, Y/N?" Nanami looks you in your eyes with a stare you have not seen him with. And you don't want to curl up or back down, so you match his gaze with yours.

"One hundred per cent."

"So, would you be okay if I kissed you?"

The question catches you off guard. But not in the way it is supposed to. "Why would I not be okay?" you scoff. Only after you have given the answer does your brain realise what the question was.

Nanami does not waste time. His lips are on yours within seconds. His arm wraps itself around your waist to bring you closer to him.

Your hands do not know what to do at that sudden kiss. It is when Nanami draws himself away to look at you do they find themselves caressing the dip of his jaw and welcoming him back for another kiss.

Your tongue licks his lips, inviting him. Nanami lets his tongue dance with yours, bringing out a guttering moan from your throat; a moan that heats up something inside the sorcerer forcing him to lift you up by your thighs, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you out of the bathroom to his bedroom.

He is careful when putting you down on his bed.

Oh! The grey duvet.

But that duvet is the least of your concerns right now when the six-foot-tall man stands at the edge of his bed wiping the water off his face, breathing a little heavily and looking at you with...what was that emotion in his eyes?

"Tell me to stop if you don't want to..." he whispers.

"Don't," your voice cracks. You can visibly see him pause his breath for a second. "Don't stop."

The dim lighting in his bedroom is perfect for watching him as his shoulders relax.

He gets on the bed, one leg at a time, dipping the sheets around you with his weight, crawling to catch your lips with his.

Your hands are nervously working on your sweater's buttons under him. He moves away to help you with it, forcing out a tiny wince from you; getting a low chuckle out of him.

Your skirt's zipper is stuck, not budging when it should be sliding down like a seal on an iceberg. Nanami is being as gentle as possible with it but it's all going in vain.

That's when you feel him dig his fingers in over the edges of the fabric near the zipper, your skin heating up where his fingers are in contact with you.

"Y/N-" he looks up at you with embers of unflinching will in his brown eyes, "let me buy you another skirt tomorrow."

The sound of the rip registers after the fabric comes apart in your brain because your eyes are too busy studying how his shoulders tense up just to get you out of your clothes.

The tights are next. But they are taken off with the most delicate touch by the sorcerer. So is the underwear.

He starts by planting kisses on your thighs, moving slowly to the inside while making your nerves light up at every touch. And if that is not enough, his hands tease and massage them to relax you every time you tense up.

He inhales the smell of your core as if he is breathing in the fresh waterfalls in the forest, and then sits back up. Lifting you up by your waist, he rolls to the other side of the bed with him at the bottom and you at the top. He adjusts your thighs on either side of his waist before dragging you further up his torso.

You watch in confusion as he takes the support of the head of his bed and slides further down.

"Sit on me," he announces.

"....what?"

"Sit on my face," he does not stutter.

But you do. "N-Nanami."

He simply lifts your thighs up and brings your core closer to his face.

Do I weigh anything to you?

His hands push your thighs apart, letting him get better access to you. You are not putting your weight down and taking the support of the headboard instead, worried about suffocating him.

But the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you jump up.

Nanami is quick to anchor your thighs with his hands, forcing you to put all your weight on him. He starts what seems like an incantation being written with his tongue inside you.

Sucking and licking, flicking and teasing, he is your very own roller coaster of pleasure tonight, making you writhe with pleasure under his touch.

And lo...you can feel the wetness gather around your walls.

"Nanami-" you are trying your best to breathe right- "I'm gonna-Nanami. Wait. I'm gonna pee. Ah!"

This man keeps touching all the right nerves again. And again. And again.

You are being driven to the edge. "Nanami stop!"

And he stops for a minuscule second, giving you a window to lift yourself up and flop on your back next to him, trying to bring your lungs back to normal.

"Did it hurt?"

Nanami's hand comes to move the stray strands of your hair away from your face glowing with sweat under the dim bedroom light.

He is looking over you, half up on his arm while his other hand is caressing your face. "Y/N, did it hurt?"

You shake your head. "No. No, I just felt I was about to pee and I didn't want...to do it...over you."

You can see his lips glisten with your juices. He closes his eyes and licks his lips before rolling to the other side, sitting up at the edge and eventually getting up.

The light coming from the bathroom perfectly draws out the cuts of the tensed muscles all over his body while his back is still towards you.

Wait...is it over?

You can see him curl his hands into fists before releasing them and finally walking the length of his bed to come to your side.

You rise up on your elbows.

It's over, isn't it? Your inner voice is smacking you left and right, blaming you for stopping the pleasure harp of a lifetime just as it was about to reach its crescendo.

He goes for the chest next to his bed, opens the top drawer and takes out a small packet that glistens under the scarce light.

"Next time-" he removes his shorts, freeing his already hard length, and gets up on the edge of the bed in front of you- "when you are on top of me-" he tears the packet with his teeth and takes out a condom, pumping his length with his free hand- "I have already played out the probabilities of me suffocating in between your thighs-" he puts the condom on his length and then rests his arms on your raised knees, finally looking into your eyes with a passion you have not seen in him before.

"Next time-" he bends a bit forward to lean in for a kiss and undo the hook of your bra- "waterboard me."

Your bra is on the floor. His hands cup your breasts perfectly, massaging them as his kisses grow intense with every passing second. Then he moves onto your neck, biting it in places before licking the heat away.

Parting from you, he takes one pillow and places it under your head, another between you and the headboard and the last one under your lower back.

Letting his cock gather the juices on your edges, he looks at you while taking his time to enter you.

Both of you feel your breaths cemented in your throats letting you get accustomed to each other. He leans closer to you, planting a kiss on one of your cheeks while caressing the other with his hand. "You okay?"

You nod, feeling your walls adapt to his length.

Nanami drives out before slowly driving himself back in, giving you time to adjust to the pace. Once he knows you are comfortable, he lifts up your legs in the air and brings them to rest on his shoulders.

This time when he drives himself into you, you can feel your core light up with a different brand of intensity, leaving you to gasp for air and letting a moan slip from your throat.

Nanami smirks to himself and plants a kiss on your ankle. He has found your spot. He increases the pace a bit, loving every second of your view; as your breasts bounce to his rhythm, as you try to hold onto his duvet and his pillow, as your eyes close and your head dips back when you feel the pleasure spots light up and your moans get louder. He is loving every moment of you because you are his pleasure.

"K-Kento!"

His name from your mouth feels like a prayer, making his core shudder.

"Yes, love," he sputters between his strokes.

"I'm-ah-"

You don't get to finish your sentence.

He can feel your walls tighten around his cock, undoing his restraints and making him grunt.

He fastens his pace, the squelching and clapping of your bodies growing wilder. Taking both your legs in the hold of one arm, he lets his other hand go down to your core. His fingers find your clit and rub it to let you have your release as he starts feeling his length swell up.

Soon enough, the damn you feel rising up breaks, leaving you with shuddering legs.

Nanami elongates your orgasm as he feels his length at the edge of the eruption. Soon enough, he finds his high with one guttering growl leaving his lungs.

Sweaty and breathless, the both of you.

Nanami is spent; lying on top of you.

You run your hands through his hair as he rests his head on the nape of your neck to catch his breath.

Getting up on his arms, he looks at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

You can't help but smile as the edge of your eyes water up. Cupping his face in your hands, you bring him closer for a kiss.

Nanami carefully gets his length out of you before going straight for the bathroom. You hear the tap run for a few seconds before he comes out with a wet towel to clean you up.

The condom is disposed and you are directed into the bathroom to take a shower. Nanami joins you a few minutes later, planting soft kisses on your back.

Layered up in his oversized black t-shirt and grey shorts, you come out to find the grey sheets gone and a purple duvet waiting to greet you.

Just as you are looking at the new sheets, a needle of anxiety pricks you in your chest.

Do I stay? Do I dress up and walk out? Is...this...was this a one-night...

The thought makes your heart sink.

"Get in," Nanami orders you as he comes out of the door in a white t-shirt and grey shorts, raising the duvet from the edge for you.

The sinking heart rises up a little from the depths of darkness.

You get under the sheets and watch as he moves- first to the edge of the bed to keep something in the empty partition cubicle, and then- to the other side, switches off the lights and gets under the sheets.

You slide down the sheets while your heart rises a bit further.

You feel his arm looking for you under the sheets, finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

He extends his arm to let you rest your head on it.

The light from the city outside is enough for him to watch your face glow and your eyes search for something in his. He moves your hair away from your face and caresses your cheeks.

"Nanami?" you whisper, still not taking your eyes off him.

"Hm?"

"Do you...like me?"

Silence.

The calm of the apartment is broken by Nanami's chuckle.

"Oh. Y/N-" the depth of his voice reverberates through his home as he exhales your name still titillates your core- "what will I do with you?!"

The maroon crystal rests on the once-empty space in the partition in Nanami Kento's home.

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 4.2)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: banter, bad pick-up lines

words: 3.6k

Summary: After Penny allowed you to open the bar for the few navy pilots, you hang with your group at the pool table since you weren't actually working and you challenge Hangman to a game of pool...

a/n: I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it. It's probably one of my favorites. All the pick-up lines used in this chapter are courtesy of the instagram page of jimmyandnath. Check them out, they're really funny.

Link to my masterlist

“Who’s ready for the first round?”, you called out and everybody basically ran towards the counter. By now, you were used to those kinds of rushes, they didn’t scare you anymore. You collected their credit cards and opened the tabs before you placed a few bottles of beer on the counter and opened them in a row. Then you filled the glasses with the beer from the tap and handed out a few tumblers with Whiskey, Bourbon or Jack Daniels. Everybody spread out across the bar, someone put some money in the jukebox and filled the room with music. Counting yourself, there were 13 people in the bar but they managed to make it sound like thrice the amount.

Since you weren’t actually working tonight, you grabbed a beer and walked over to the pool table where your typical group of people had settled for now. It was nice to get the chance to sit down with them for a change. Normally you were working and didn’t have time for a real chat, only some small talk or, in Hangman’s case, a little back and forth of jokes and banter.

“Hey Y/N, up for a round of pool? We’re playing two against two”, Fanboy asked you. You found Hangman and Coyote on the other side of the table, revealing who your opponents were going to be. You always wanted to play against Hangman and this was your chance. “Sure”, you simply said and hopped off the bar stool at the wall. Bob handed you his cue as he walked past you and took your seat.

“I always see you play every time you’re in here. Let’s see how good you really are”, you challenged Hangman when you stepped up to the table. “Oh, I am good, I’m very good”, Hangman assured you.

You put the end of the cue down on the floor and it slipped from your hand. “Whoops”, you said in surprise and picked it back up. When you stood straight again, you caught Hangman and Coyote exchanging a look like it would be the easiest thing in the world to beat you at this game.

“How we’re gonna do this, Fanboy?”, you asked and tried again to lean on your cue. “Uhm, okay, we’re playing team against team, meaning every time it’s our turn we take turns playing the ball”, he explained to you and didn’t look so excited about forming a team with you anymore.

“And do we play with the fully colored ones or do we play all and just see who’s quicker?”, you asked and had trouble holding down your giggle. Even to your own ears you sounded stupid. “That is determined by the break”, he answered. “Who’s taking a break?”, you asked bluntly. “I mean when we shoot the first shot, we’ll see which we sink first and we play the rest of that color”, he explained and almost looked pained.

“Okay, then let’s go”, you said enthusiastically. Hangman had a wide smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to start playing and wipe the floor with you.

“Wanna make it interesting? How about a little bet?”, Payback stepped forward. You looked at Hangman and he looked at you, challenging you with his eyes. “I don’t think we need to put a bet on it”, Fanboy chimed in, sounding nervous. “Alright. What do you suggest?”, you asked but looked at Hangman.

“When I win, you have to serve me every drink with a bow and a ‘here’s your drink, my master’ for a week”, Hangman suggested, his look dead on you. The fact that he used when and not if didn’t go unnoticed by you. You let your tongue run along the inside of your bottom lip as you contemplated.

“Okay. And if I win you have to work a shift at the Hard Deck, call me boss all night and literally do anything I tell you to. You’ll be pretty much my bitch”, you countered his bet.

You saw how his jaw stiffened, his teeth grinding and you had to bite down on the inside corners of your mouth to keep them from curling upwards.

He extended his hand and you took it. “The bet is on”, he almost grunted. His grip tightened around your hand. “Nervous?”, he asked, not letting go just yet. “Only about the many glasses you’re gonna drop during your shift”, you threw back at him with an equally low voice.

Coyote and Fanboy stood off to the side, exchanging looks and already regretting being your team mates.

“Alright, let’s do this”, you said, walked back to where you were first sitting, pushed your cue into Bob’s hands and took a sip of your beer. You used the hairband you had on your wrist to tie your hair back up into a ponytail. Meanwhile, Coyote set up the balls in the triangle on the other side of the table and after doing so, placed the plastic triangle on the little table behind him.

You took your cue back from Bob’s hands and walked back to the table. “Who’s starting us off?”, you asked in the round, looking at Fanboy, Coyote and then Hangman, who was smiling, confident of victory. “Ladies first”, he said and placed the cue ball on the marked spot on the table.

“I can take the first shot”, Fanboy came a step closer, whispering, looking as concerned as can be. “I got this, don’t worry”, you whispered back and winked at him.

“Gentlemen”, you announced with a loud voice, focusing everybody’s attention on you and you took the two steps to stand directly in front of the cue ball. “We’re playing 8-ball on a 9-foot-regulation table. I will start us off with the break”, you said, bent forward, aligned your cue with the cue ball and took the first shot.

You watched as the balls spread out on the table, a solid and a striped one disappeared in the pockets. “Table is open”, you announced and walked around the table to where the cue ball had landed and aimed your next shot. “Solids, number 2, right side pocket”, you announced your shot and after a second of aiming, you sank your next ball.

“Fanboy, you’re up”, you told him and looked up from the table. You found everybody looking at you with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Your face lit up with a confident smile.

“Wait, what?”, Fanboy called out and said what everybody was thinking. “What the hell just happened?”, Payback asked. “I played a lot of pool in my twenties”, you simply said and shrugged your shoulders.

“Why did you act like you haven’t seen a pool table from up close before?”, Coyote asked. “And miss out on the stupid looks on your faces? No way!”, you told him and shot a big smile at Hangman, who was suspiciously silent.

“Come on, Fanboy”, you called him again, nodding at the table to take his shot. He walked to where the cue ball had landed and started to aim at the number 5. “Take the 7, over the head rail”, you advised him and motioned the way the cue ball had to travel with your finger in the air. He breathed out loudly, indicating that that wasn’t an easy shot for him. “You got this”, you patted his back.

Fanboy took a beat to think about the shot. “Number 7, left side pocket”, he announced, aligned his cue and took the shot over the head rail like you had told him. The ball came a bit slow but he managed to sink it. “Yes!”, he called out and you high-fived.

It was your turn again. You grabbed the chalk and gently wiped it over the tip of your cue, holding the eye contact with Hangman, a sugary sweet smile on your face. You blew the dust off the cue tip, still looking at him. Only after that, you took a look at the table and decided on your next shot.

“Number 1, bottom right corner, over the long rail”, you announced the shot and executed it perfectly which earned you a few Ohs and Ahs from your little audience.

Fanboy was up again and despite his best efforts, he didn’t manage to sink the ball and now it was, finally, Hangman’s turn. “Okay, let’s get this over with”, he said, rolled his shoulders back and bent his neck to either side as he stepped towards the table.

“12, upper left”, he said and quickly sank the ball. You took a sip from your beer, not getting nervous. His cockiness will ultimately be his downfall, you could only hope that the time has come tonight. You did everything in your power to make that happen.

Hangman went on to immediately align his cue with the cue ball again. “Hey, it’s Coyote’s turn”, Rooster called out Hangman’s little cheat. Jake presented Rooster with a death-glare before he rose up again and took a step back. You and Fanboy exchanged a little smirk as Hangman seemed a bit nervous.

Coyote, sadly, couldn’t handle the pressure and missed his shot. “Come on, man”, Hangman called out in frustration. “Oh, is it me again?”, you asked with playful innocence and walked towards the table. You heard Rooster chuckling behind you.

The cue ball had landed on the opposite side of the table and you had to walk around to where Hangman was standing. “Excuse me”, you said and looked up at him from under your lashes. If you weren’t mistaking, you heard him growling at you before he reluctantly took a step to the side.

You scanned the table. For the solids, the numbers 4, 5 and 6 were left before you had to sink the 8-ball and would, ultimately, win the game and the bet with Hangman. But with how your balls were set on the table at the moment, every shot was tricky.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you went through the possible shots in your head, visualizing them. “Okay, number 6, left side pocket”, you announced and bent forward to place the cue on the edge of the table. “How?”, Phoenix asked confused as the cue ball was nowhere near placed for that shot to be possible in her eyes. You extended your arm and let the cue shoot forward, hitting the cue ball, which bounced off the opposite long rail from where you were standing, hitting the short rail and coming straight for the number 6, not only sinking the ball but also stopping in a perfect place for Fanboy’s next shot.

“Like this”, you said to her and stood up straight again. You turned to look at Hangman and said, “Geometry, baby!”, and shot him a sly grin. When playing pool, your cockiness could match his and you weren’t the slightest way sorry about that because you knew you were good at it. Hella good!

Fanboy sank the number 5 with ease and now only the number 4 was left. But it was an impossible shot and everybody saw it. And if you weren’t sure already, you only needed to take a look at Hangman’s face which lit up like a child’s face on Christmas morning.

“Okay, we all see it, I’m gonna say it. There’s no way I’ll sink that ball, but here goes”, you said. Since you knew it was about to be Hangman’s turn, you at least tried to place the cue ball as shitty as possible. He still had a lot of balls on the table though, so it wasn’t impossible to hit something.

“Oh, is it my turn again?”, he asked cheerful and came up to the table after taking a sip of his drink. “13, upper left”, he announced and sank it. “10, right side pocket”; Coyote stepped up and sank his ball too. Now they had finally found their flow and sank ball after ball. Your hopes of beating Hangman at something died little by little with every ball he and Coyote sank.

Hangman was about to sink his last ball before the 8-ball. “It was nice wiping the floor with you two”, he said with a slimy voice and bent forward to take his second to last shot.

He indeed sank the last ball but he also sank the cue ball and therefore immediately forfeited his turn to you.

Everybody gasped including you. The expression on Hangman’s face was a picture for the gods. “Oh my!”, you called out and hopped off your chair with big eyes. Fanboy still had to sink the number 4. It was a hard shot but not impossible. Like a real fighter pilot, he withstood the pressure and sank the ball.

Now, only the 8-ball was left on the table. They only thing you had to do was sink it and you could call sweet victory our own. You emptied your bottle of beer and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You stepped forward towards the table and stood next to Fanboy. Everybody’s eyes were glued to the table while you studied the placement of the ball and whispered to your team partner about the ways to sink it, all while swiping the chalk over the tip of your queue.

“Okay, how about you shoot the cue ball here, not too hard, have it hit the second diamond. Then it should go into the bottom right”, Fanboy suggested as he walked halfway around the table and placed his finger on the spot where he suggested for you to aim.

“Stop helping her”, Hangman called out, looking increasingly more nervous. “They’re on the same team, Bagman”, Phoenix said before she took a sip of her beer.

“Everybody shut up”, you said in a loud voice and bent over to take your shot. You aligned your cue and took a deep breath, focusing on the spot where Fanboy still had his finger placed.

You took another deep breath and when you exhaled, you pushed your cue forward and took your shot. It got really silent as everybody watched the white ball hit the spot at Fanboy’s finger than rolling back into your direction, hitting the 8-ball just enough to have it roll towards bottom right pocket. It moved slowly but consistently and your grip on your cue got tighter as you watched it for every long second until it finally fell into the pocket.

Hangman looked at the pocket in disbelief with big eyes and let his head hang in defeat.

“AHHHH!”, you screamed out in surprise that it actually worked just like the people around you. You threw the cue onto the table and ran towards Fanboy, who was coming at you equally excited and threw yourself into his arms. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we won”, you told him with big eyes as you pulled back at an arms-length. “It was all you, Y/N. That was amazing”, Fanboy congratulated you.

You felt hands on your shoulders that were squeezing and shaking you. When you looked over your shoulder you found Rooster looking like a kid on Christmas morning. He was just so happy that Hangman just got it handed to him. “That was awesome”, he congratulated you. “Thanks”, you said with a bright smile that you just couldn’t wipe off your face.

Your eyes fell on Hangman who was coming towards you. He extended his hand. “Congrats! I didn’t think you’re gonna make that shot”, he said as he shook your hand. “Are you gonna be a sore loser?”, you asked. “I don’t know, I haven’t lost until now so we’ll see”, he said and the cocky tone in his voice was back. That didn’t last long. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Well, then I’ll make sure you don’t forget this moment so you get a LOT of practice”, you said and it sounded like a promise.

“Let’s raise our drinks to Y/N, the defeater of Bagman”, Phoenix called out and everybody raised their bottles and glasses to toast to you. Even Jake managed to grab his beer and give you a little toast while you smiled in the round and bathed in your victory.

A little later, everybody was sitting in little groups at the tables, the jukebox was playing in the background. You were sitting together with Fanboy, Payback, Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Hangman and Coyote after handing out more drinks and somehow you had arrived on the topic of stupid pick-up lines.

“Are you my pinky toe? ‘Cause I bang you on the table seven times a day”, Fanboy said and some of the guys nodded, other’s laughed, you and Phoenix rolled your eyes.

“Is that a phone in your back pocket? ‘Cause that ass is calling me”, Coyote said. “I like that. That would work on me ‘cause my ass is great”, you said and clinked the neck of your bottle against Coyote’s. You must really be a bit drunk to just say stuff like that to everybody.

“Okay, I got one. Are you a shark? ‘Cause I’ve got some swimmers for you to swallow”, it was Paybacks turn to be gross. “Come on”, you called out, pulled a face but laughed anyway.

“My dick is so polite, it stands up so you can sit down”, Bob suddenly spoke up. The table got quiet and everybody looked at him with big eyes, seriously surprised that those words had just come out of his mouth. “Ma man”, Coyote leaned forward and patted Bob’s shoulder. The whole table erupted in laughter “Dude, you’re making me blush”, you said and in return made him blush. “That’s a good one, I gotta write that down”, Fanboy said and jokingly pulled over a napkin like he was actually taking notes. “Yeah? Let me know how that works out for ya”, Rooster commented with a chuckle and took a swig of his drink.

“Are you a washing machine? Because I have a load for you”, Hangman said and everybody groaned. “Hangman, don’t make me ring that bell. You know the rules”, you warned him and pointed at the sign hanging in the middle of the bar circle. “What did I do?”, he asked surprised. “You’re bordering on disrespecting women”, you told him. “Your whole existence is a disrespect to women”, Phoenix chimed in. “I just said what everybody else said. Why is it gross when I say it?”, he asked honestly offended. “Because everything sounds gross when you say it”, Phoenix lectured him. “Whatever”, he said and threw some empty peanut shells at her which made her laugh.

“Why is it always about banging and swallowing your stuff? What happened to ‘Hello, my name is…Can I buy you a drink?’ or ‘You look beautiful, I would like to get to know you’”, you asked into the round, honestly irritated. Phoenix nodded agreeingly while she took a sip from her drink. “Those phrases have been worn out, they don’t work anymore”, Payback waved it off. “Works when you haven’t heard it that much”, you mumbled at the rim of your beer bottle before you took a sip. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hangman looking over at you.

“You have to be clever, creative or those chicks won’t give you any attention”, Fanboy chimed in and pulled everybody’s attention on him. “And you wanna tell me that a cheesy pick-up line talking about your jizz will earn you more numbers than an honest ‘Hello, how are you’?”, Phoenix asked and shook her head. “Works on the right girls. I like ‘em freaky”, Fanboy answered her and wiggled his eyebrows.

“No wonder, you never get laid”, Rooster commented and made everybody laugh.

“You guys need a new round?”, you asked to change the topic. “I think we’re good for the night”, Rooster said and finished his beer. “We’ve got an early call tomorrow”, he added and got up from his chair.

“Hey, everybody! Pack it up”, Phoenix shouted and earned a few groans. It was already past 10 PM.

Not only did everybody collect their things, ready to go, but to your surprise, they all brought their bottles and glasses to the bar, placing them on the counter.

“Wow, thanks guys. Why don’t you do this every time?”, you jokingly asked as you closed the tabs and started handing back all the credit cards.

“Do you know how you get home? You shouldn’t drive”, Rooster asked as you handed him his card. “A bunch of you shouldn’t drive home anymore”, you countered. “We all Uber home and get our cars tomorrow”, he replied. “Oh okay, sounds reasonable”, you nodded and collected the glasses off the bar. “You should come with us, we get an Uber pool anyways”, Phoenix leaned on the counter, resting her head in her hands.

“I still have to clean up, you don’t have to wait for me”, you shook your head and smiled at her begging face. “Just come in earlier tomorrow”, Fanboy suggested. “It hurts my heart leaving you here”, Phoenix added and it made you chuckle.

“Alright, just let me put all the glasses in the baskets and wipe down the counter real quick”, you yielded your protest. “Yay”, Phoenix said and came around the bar. “I’m helping you. Come on, guys”, she waved over her colleagues.

“I’ll get us the Uber”, Payback said and got out his phone. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Coyote and Hangman leaving through the front door.

With the help of the others, it only took you a few minutes to clean up most of the bar before the Uber arrived. The six of you got in the van and got dropped off one by one at your houses and apartments. You were the last one in the car and it was 11 PM when you finally walked through your front door.

Next chapter: Part 5.1

[d1s1ntegrated]

shiggy with a s/o who’s equally as much of a loser as him :3 like they probably met in a discord vc (he’s the mod) or a league of legends match and he probably hates them at first and then gets a lil crush on them when they helped him mid-game or smth!!

thank u <3

hi love! i am working on a full-length fic where this is literally the entire plot omgomgomg, i'll post a little snippet here!

its still a wip so it wont be perfect but its first person perspective in this part, and i'm thinking of going back and forth between povs to show shig and readers sides equally.

also, reader is fem/afab, same age as shig, and alt. she has a quirk, too (not a healing one either).

this one does include quirks also! but it doesn't get into them for a bit, just a few convos.

some tags for the work entirely: slow burn, enemies to lovers, dabi x reader, shiggy x reader, reader is Not mentally stable, but no one else is either, the server is all the LOV and some others, incel behavior, boys being gross

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

i slide my headset off as we log off for the night and head to my bed, yawning as i climb in. i turn my lamp off and from my bedside table, i hear the infamous chime of discord as my screen lights the room. i groan and roll over, checking the message.

𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔱2𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔱

↪thx 4 playing tn, u weren't half bad

↪btw sorry for threatening to ban u for posting memes in general

i read the messages slowly and type out my response.

𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖘𝖙

↪gg dude, and np.

↪promise i wont spam ur precious server w memes again

↪gn bro

i turn my phone back off and close my eyes, only to hear my phone go off again. i sigh, contemplating on ignoring it, but i lazily grab it anyways.

𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔱2𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔱

↪would u ever wanna vid call :)

↪u can say no. its ok

i frown at the message for a minute. this is the same guy who, about an hour ago, was screaming at me for not being fast enough in game, calling me a fucking pleb.

but other than that...he was funny. and nice to talk to.

𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖘𝖙

↪for sure, we can tmr.

i type out a half-assed response but feel a ping of excitement inside of me. i fall asleep with my phone on my chest, waiting for a reply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i wake up around 1pm, the daylight searing through my curtains. i feverishly reach for my phone, only to find it flung off the bed. i drape myself off the side to reach it, eager to read any messages.

i flit through the random notifications, only to find disappointment. i open up discord, wondering if maybe i just fell asleep with my phone on, but there's no response from him. i see him active and type out a message, ultimately deleting it. if he wants to respond, he will.

i haul myself out of bed and head to the shower, leaving my phone behind, slightly jaded knowing i was left on read. i let the warm water wash over me, soaking up the few minutes of peace before i exit and get dressed. i continue ignoring my phone until i hear a ping. i rush over to it, feeling slightly embarrassed that i'm this concerned already. i open discord again, expecting a message from him, but it's not there. instead, a string of messages from someone else sits unopened. my brows furrow and i open the dm confused.

𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚

↪yo

↪u played ovw w us last night right

↪u should play again tn w me, pretty.

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

again this is just a snippet >_< but i hope it tickles some anticipation ahhhhhhhhh. ik there isnt a lot sorry ;-;

[meowzfordayz]

to be in love

Author’s Note: not much to note… 😅

to be in love

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: could you write a comfort fic about Giyu?? (only if you have time ofc)

~faqs~

“What’s on your mind?”

You eye Giyuu for a long second, not quite focused on how blue and earnest his stare is, softness flickering from your face to your hands to your face again. He’s used to waiting. Used to long stretches of doubt and hesitation; of watching the gears turn in your head as you calculate the pros and cons of showing yourself to him — the reassurance you seek tempered by a deep, creeping fear of But what if I don’t deserve it?

“Nothing?”

He raises an eyebrow as you wince at your questioning inflection, your lie clear as day, his fingertips calloused and cool as they reach for your wrists.

“I don’t know,” you amend your response, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter to you,” he asks lightly, “Or to me?”

You shrug, “I mean, I guess it matters to me,” your wrists twisting in his grasp, thumbs stroking his pinkies, “But it doesn’t have to matter to you.”

With a low chuckle, Giyuu lifts a stern finger to your chin, coaxing your heated cheeks to meet his searching gaze. He adores these moments, seated across from you at the dining table, sometimes curled up together on the couch, occasionally lying side by side in bed, his eyelids growing heavy as your tentative voice murmurs in a familiar tone Giyuu? As much vulnerability as you’re willing to give him is how much patience he has. He’s greedy, after all, for your trust in him — for the intimacy of overcoming that ringing weight of Am I enough?

“Talk to me. Please.”

“You’ve been in love before.”

He’s quiet, your statement quivering in his chest, frowning when he realizes just how bright your eyes have become, tears threatening to burst through your delicately kept tension.

“I have,” he says, heart clenching as you struggle to look away, “But they weren’t you.”

“Giyuu,” you deadpan, cracking a wry smile even as tears finally begin to fall, “That has got to be the most cliche answer in the book.”

“Oh?” he smiles back, smearing your tears with tender fondness before they drip off your jaw, “There’s a book?”

“I know it shouldn’t bother me because we both lived plenty of lives before we met. I know that. I know that what’s past has passed, and that I should be grateful for that past. I should be grateful for the lives that led us to each other. But I… can you really, truly be in love with me? With your whole heart?”

Silence seeps between your damp skin and Giyuu’s touch, your words processed and contemplated, inspected and prodded. You hold your breath, a bird perched to take flight, his faint smile and adoring eyes never leaving your own watery stare.

“I am really, truly in love with you. With my whole heart.”

“How can you be su-”

“Yes. I have loved before you. I have loved hard. I have loved with what I believed was my entire being. And yes, I have been heartbroken. I have yearned for what was no longer mine. I have wished to reverse time, to try again, to prove I am better than, more than, whatever separated me from my lover.” His smile broadens, undeniable warmth caressing your tears as he continues, “But my heart is complete. There are not bits and pieces of it lost to regret. There is not a single speck of my soul lingering, stalling, hoping to be with anyone else. I am in love with you, and I intend to spend the rest of my life this way.”

“This way?” you whisper.

“Just like this,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead, “Here. In love, with you.”

“But what if-”

“There is no what if,” he interrupts gently, “Not for me. There’s your amazing laughter and your gorgeous smile. And your eyes, so beautiful, so full of love. There’s how cherished I feel by you, and how much I feel I can cherish you. There’re so many things about you, about who I am with you, about us… I can’t guarantee much, but I do know there’s only one of you. And I know how lucky I am to be loved by you; how lucky I am to love you. I find, as we spend more and more of our days together, that I care less and less for what if. You, you’re it.”

Giyuu can tell, the moment your tears begin to glisten with affection and hope. The moment the hardness in your gaze begins to dissolve, the insecurity and coldness in your demeanor melting to a radiant glimmer. He understands how difficult it is, accepting love that you feel is beyond your right — accepting love that you still struggle to believe in. And he knows it’s possible. Knows it’s possible to be loved so completely, so effortlessly, with all the effort in the world, that there isn’t room for fear, for loss, for doubt. That is how you love him.

“I love you,” you grin, licking at the corners of your mouth, saltiness coating your tongue, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” he declares, a brilliant, endeared sound, enamored with the clarity of the emotion in your eyes, “I love you.”

You kiss him slowly, hands cupping his face, another shared laugh closer to forever.

[councilofcastamere]

DANGEROUSLY YOURS | AEMOND T. X READER

"An eternity without me. You will look into the faces of passers-by that will, for an instant, bring me back to you. You will find moonlit nights strangely empty, because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always your heart will be aching for me, and your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that you did, a brave thing."

Cesar Romero as Victor Morell - Dangerously Yours (1937)

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

You were foolish. Foolishly in love.

The moonlit lit up, and the hour of the owl drew closer and closer. And yet, no sign of your little brother Lucerys. With each breath you drew, your heart stilled more and more.

You just knew it was him. You knew Aemond would. You had always known he'd wait for the right day to strike. The tears streaming down your eyes could've drowned you for all you care, but you wished for everything you had to bring Lucerys back.

And the one thing worse than that was the trust you put in him. You blinded yourself by love and drowned yourself in trust, all for him. All for the one-eyed prince you grew to both love and loathe.

You loathed yourself. You felt as if the world could have swallowed you up and no one would blink an eye. You had hoped for one day where you could look back at it and laugh, but at what point in your life could you ever let this go? A tragedy at your hands. You had not even attempted to stop him from departing to the stormlands.

Before you could bite back another sob, one feet stepped forward, and so did the other. Repeating the process before you could even register you were in front of the prince's chambers.

You didn't know what you would do first. Would you strike him, or would you cry into his shoulders? You wished for the former one, prayed to the Seven that you would be strong enough to shun him as he shunned your concerns.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the door opened just enough for his face to peek out. His hair was hastily brushed, as if he wanted you to see him in a different light. As if you ever could.

"Let me in." you simply uttered, not sure if you were speaking about his chambers. "Let me enter."

His eye scanned over you, over your purple nightdress and your hair undone. Even in the nocturnal hours, you looked as majestic as ever.

Your brown curls, so reminiscent of your father.

But he couldn't care less about your father, no.

Not your brothers. Not your mother. No. You.

And right now, he wasn't sure if he could face your tragedy-stricken self. He felt validated in the slaughter he committed, but your words could've alone made him repent for forgiveness.

He contemplated a few seconds, before ultimately opening the door wide. The room was neat, with the exception of his books sprawled out on his bed and table. You had never seen it before.

"Where is Lucerys?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking as your hands clenched at the side of your dress. "He hasn't come home. Mother won't tell me anything. She's still in Dragonstone, and I am here. I have been here for years, waiting to marry you."

His gaze was prideful, yet you weren't able to see his heart ache at your own grief. Whatever you felt, he felt. His feelings were dangerously yours, and yours were his.

"Stormlands." he answered, turning away as to not feel too much. "At least, if the sea hasn't swept him somewhere else."

Your head whipped up, and you swear you could feel your neck cracking if the rage hadn't consumed you.

"We both know he isn't in the ocean." you spat, the tears streaming down again. "What have you done, Aem-"

Aemond couldn't have it. He knew your last word.

'Aemond' instead of 'Aemy. He hated that you felt the need to use his full name. You had never used his full name, and you were not about to start now of all times.

His rugged yet soft lips were felt on yours, interrupting your words. The feelings in you dissipated, and you wanted to feel angry again.

How you wished to feel anger, sadness, anything.

But how could you when love overpowered it all for him. Only for him, by him. You loathed yourself for it.

"Get yourself dressed." he murmured against your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. his nails gently scraped against your delicate skin.

"We'll be wedded by the end of this night. You and I. No one else."