#i know a lot about measure for measure already i just have never read it in full. twelfth night was like that as a reading experience too

[britneyshakespeare]

i finished the merry wives of windsor today btw. 4 shakespeare plays left to go

[saerins]

PREV: #005 THE ICE SURRENDERS 𖧧 #006: COMFORT IN FAMILIARITY 𖧧 NEXT: #007 TWO STUBBORN ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — there’s a lot going on in life. there’s a lot expected of you. both of you. sometimes love is all it takes. and sometimes, love is not enough.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. smut/fluff/angst. tw: making out, dry humping, oral (male receiving), profanity, they tiptoe around their awkwardness, lots of being needy, clingy, sae’s a little shameless & so are you. word count: 7.5k

༝༚༝༚ it’s finally here !! the next chapter haha to whoever’s still reading & waiting for this , thank you for still being here :’) i appreciate you more than you’ll ever know <3 also yay !! finally you’ll find out whether sae & bianca fucked :p (psa about taglist at the end of the chapter !!)

there’s something very foreign about waking up in peace. very foreign, but very welcome. 

sunlight filters nicely through the half-closed blinds of the guest room. the paint on the walls don’t chip, don’t leave anything for you to stare at, can’t wonder whether the paint job would come undone first before you.

the bed is soft. doesn’t have those annoying noises the springs make when you get up and stretch. the room is cold from the air conditioning, but the slight warmth of the sun that bounces on your skin is a nice contrast.

you feel light.

the events of last night leave much to your imagination. you have no idea if last night was too much, if asking for a kiss was too much.

but sae kissed you himself—it shouldn’t be, right?

you find you never quite know with him. you really should get out there and deal with it.

it’s 7am but something tells you sae should already be up. he’s a soccer player with a tendency to make the best of his days, there’s no way he’s not up and ready yet.

true to your guess, by the time you awkwardly peek into the living room, there’s a note waiting for you on the coffee table.

got a photoshoot till night, help yourself to anything in the house.

his penmanship leaves much to be desired, unlike the other parts of him. an indication of how little he actually writes.

sae could’ve just texted you this, but you guess even he’s feeling at a loss after last night.

which both of you think must be stupid; it’s just a kiss.

work is already settled for you. sumi offered to help you speak to mr tatsuji. the interview with sae early on really does work miracles. it’s so easy to curry favours now.

a three-day break from work because sumi thought you might need more time off so she conveniently told your boss that you’re nursing a fever.

where do you find friends like her at work nowadays?

you plop yourself down on sae’s leather couch, rife with the kind of comfort that’s alien to you. you definitely owe sumi one. sae, too. 

you’ll figure out ways to repay sumi soon. there has to be someone else on the team that you can convince for an interview under her name. you’re already calculating possibilities between oliver aiku and shuto sendou.

but as for sae, you find yourself drawing a blank.

what can you do for someone who already has everything? what kind of benefits can you extend?

you’re feeling even worse as the clock continues to tick, realising that you’d probably never be able to measure up to someone like him.

your feet carry you to the balcony before you know it, the chilly morning air hitting your face like the wake up call you need.

sae’s not really like anyone else you’ve known before. he’s a normal, sane-enough human—nearly the polar opposite of how eita is, though, so maybe that’s why your head’s devoid of ideas.

you groan, elbows perched on the wooden railing lining the edges of the balcony, palms pressed against your cheekbones as you desperately try to manifest an idea in your head.

he can lend you his shirt. he can extend a space in his house. he can give you that kiss he remembers you wanted.

but you can’t think of one measly idea of what to do for him in return.

you can think of one idea of how to get there, to get your answer, but you can’t shake the notion that it’s kind of stupid and kind of shameless. 

you juggle the degree to which each attribute bothers you and ultimately decide to just go ahead with it anyway.

“what is it, idiot?”

eita’s as friendly as always, on the other side of the line, voice a low rasp, obviously stirred from a deep sleep.

“can i ask you for your opinions?”

a sigh from the other line, as if he expects something completely stupid.

“yeah, sure.”

“and promise not to lecture me!”

eita pauses. you hear rustling on his end, probably getting up because he’s gotten curious and invested in the conversation now.

“depends, what the fuck did you do?”

he acts as if you’re the only one out of the two of you that does stupid, stupid things.

“nothing stupid, thank you very much.” (yet. possibly.) “but… do you have any idea what sae likes?”

it’s a long shot. a really long one. eita would probably have a better chance at guessing an AV star’s favourite dish. wouldn’t hurt to try, though.

eita makes a loud, confused noise. warranted.

you think.

“uh… i don’t know, bianca?”

a pause.

“i’m joking.”

it still hit your sore spot. the nagging reminder that there’s more to sae and bianca than meets the eye that just gets sprung back into the forefront of your temporal lobe.

“well, i’m serious!” you choose to ignore it.

another sigh from eita. you can practically envision him on his bed, duvet carelessly discarded to the side, scratching the back of his head.

“look, all i know is that he hates french fries and loves his routines, and oh, the only girl he’s ever admitted liking is momoko sakura.”

eita says it all in one breath and waits for your response like you’re supposed to appreciate it. the last one nearly made you vomit before you realise it’s a fucking tv show.

if you’re going to get help, you’re not going to get it from him.

“oh, he’s more of an ass guy than a boob guy, if you need to know.”

“what? eita!”

“i’m serious.”

you don’t really know whether you can trust him. even if you do, what the heck are you supposed to do with that information? jiggle your ass randomly in front of itoshi sae?

“thanks, eita.” you’re evidently bummed out. that doesn’t cancel out your actual gratitude that eita didn’t just hang up on you. you consider it a big enough surprise that he even tried.

“wait, why do you ask?”

his voice comes out all rushed, like he’s just now waking up and realising it’s not like you to ask him something like this out of the blue.

it’s probably not the greatest idea to tell him where you are and why you’re there, but you don’t actually like lying to your friends so you cough up the information without much persuasion.

“so what, are you guys a thing now?”

it’s fair of him to ask. you conveniently left out the kiss though, so maybe eita’s jumping the gun here.

“no, we’re just… getting to know each other.”

“uh huh.”

it sounds almost accusatory.

suddenly you don’t know what to say to the one you’re always talking around.

“well, if you need me, call me,” he says, more laconic than you’re used to. still, all things considered, you guess you can’t really blame him.

the discontent in his voice is apparent, the lack of intonation eating you up with guilt.

you retreat back into the living room, into the warm embrace of the single-seater, hoping that the softness of it would swallow the tornado in you up whole.

the rest of the morning is spent on your phone and laptop, between brainstorming ideas on what you can do for sae and replying to any of your colleagues who have no respect for the aspect of a time off.

after eventually deciding that nothing you think of can actually be good enough, you settle for just asking him straight.

yes, you’ll ask him later when he’s back and just be straight up with him about it. that way, you won’t waste your efforts on something vapid and sae would actually like it.

come afternoon, you dare yourself to fish out another shirt from his closet because you opened his fridge only to find absolutely nothing inside but a few bottles of salted kombucha. (which is absolutely not a qualifying substitute for lunch.)

it also won’t do for you to be wearing sae’s national jersey out to the supermarket and bringing more attention to yourself than necessary, so you tiptoe into his room even though he’s not there, in pursuit of a completely plain (or at least a more vague) t-shirt.

freely traversing his apartment like this makes you feel more than what you are, but you shake that thought away.

and there you were thinking eita was the one jumping the gun.

by the time the sun gives way to the moon and sae trudges his way back home—with a small spring in his steps that he can’t ignore—he walks into the apartment, reminding himself to say he’s home in the process.

it’s his first time coming back home to an apartment that’s not empty. it’s not something he thought he’d want to get used to. but knowing who’s on the other side of the door, he thinks it might be nice.

“hey, you’re back!”

there’s the usual uplifting lilt in your voice that he can’t ignore, can’t forget.

the sound of bounding footsteps that he can usually hear from the other apartments are infuriating but the ones that come from you makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker.

“hey,” he greets, the dull of his voice nearly being betrayed by the light in his eyes.

three seconds and you’re right in front of him, peering at him with inquisitive eyes. you do that cute head-tilt thing you always do when you have questions.

“what’s that?”

you point your finger in the direction of his neck, and he cranes his head toward the mirror hung on the corridor to see what you mean.

a big red lipstick stain on the side of his neck. or mauve, as the makeup artist calls it.

sae sighs to himself. so that’s what his assistant meant when she tried to call him back saying they’re not done with him yet.

“are you too eager to go home or something?”

that’s what she asked when he ignored them and left the set the moment everything was over.

“oh, uh, photoshoot.”

it’s always simple, his answers. what’s not simple are bianca’s natural reactions. he can just envision her face if she was in your position instead; the slight twitch in the corner of her lips, the pout that comes after to mask her disdain, the questioning to come.

that’s why it’s a built-in reaction for sae to elaborate.

“it was—”

“i see.”

you both speak at the same time. sae doesn’t know what to think.

the slight confusion on your face is represented by the raise of your brows, before it quickly gets replaced by a giggle, and then your fingers find the box of tissues and hand one to him.

“wanna wipe it off?” you ask. a simple question that makes him question a lot, actually.

only because he’s been conditioned to think all girls are a carbon copy of bianca behaviour-wise and you just happen to prove otherwise.

“oh! or did you want to wash up first?”

how long has he been standing there idly again?

sae just blinks as he stands in his doorway, stupid and dazed. he gets his bearings a few seconds later when you do that cute head-tilt thing in the other direction. he can’t stand seeing anymore of it or he’ll get an untimely reminder of how you tasted last night.

“yeah, i’ll go wash up, we can eat after.”

he still takes a piece of tissue without using it. he assumes you haven’t eaten dinner and only remembers he probably should ask first but he’s already closing his bedroom door behind him, his person of interest on the other side.

this idle state of confusion, of questioning his every move and every word; it’s not an experience he’s ever had before and he thinks it isn’t very pleasant.

on the field he never has doubts. always plan after plan, carefully crafted by the milliseconds. when something doesn’t work, he tries another. dribbles it past the troublesome one, pass it to one of his forwards. the one that can score.

it’s easy on the field.

easier than it is in front of you.

it still proves the same when he gets out of the showers, mind refreshed and vitality rejuvenated, only to come face to face with home-cooked dinner.

foreign, all alien, very welcome.

you’re rambling on about the three dishes you made and how you’re not sure if he’d like it. sae’s all in his head trying to think of excuses so that you can keep staying here.

for someone who’s spent most of his adulthood keeping people at arms’ length, your presence in his life now is half-exciting, half-concerning.

if he’s heard correctly from his assistant who nags him constantly about a possible budding love life at the height of his career, it’s how people get screwed over. how their plays get fucked up.

if she’s any reliable.

sae used to think he wouldn’t let anything come in the way of him and his career, because his career’s the only relationship he ever thought of having. until now. until you’re sitting on the side of the dining table that used to always be empty because he refuses to let anyone in.

until your smile paints the dull bland walls with colour for once and your food tastes unsettlingly like home. the kind of home he hasn’t visited in a while. the kind where it’s out of sight, out of mind that people don’t realise what they miss.

“how is it?”

you’re grimacing, like you’re expecting something bad. as if sae’s some sort of food critic. as if sae’s ever been anything but subjectively nicer to you.

“it’s not bad.”

really, he has nothing to compare it to. the last time he ever had home-cooked food was probably before he even started playing soccer. everything’s a blur when he tries to recall it, just the vague imagery of him and rin side by side with their legs dangling in the air of the high stools while their mother plates all the food he didn’t bother to memorise when he was, what, six?

he wonders if his brother remembers anything.

it’s enough strain on his mind that he’s finding this type of humdrum fascinating, when it’s with you. it doesn’t help that your hips brush when both of you wash the dishes together.

sae doesn’t really know what he’s doing and he only now realises that you went out earlier and got the groceries. he hasn’t thanked you yet, has he? should he?

everyday courtesy is lost on him.

it’s only after the dishes are washed and the countertops are wiped down that sae thinks maybe he should just express his gratitude.

“tha—”

“thank you, by the way.”

the both of you really need to stop saying shit at the same time.

you got it out first. sae’s such a loser. sae lets you continue.

“i know i’m imposing on you a lot, but…” your words get lost on you, and sae can sense the lack of explanation on your circumstances is a choice.

he wants to know you. there’s a stinging irritation in the back of his head knowing that otoya knows you better than he does.

it’s selfish. he knows. but sae’s always been selfish. in a sense.

“you can stay here as long as you need.”

it’s just sae’s pathetic attempt to ride on what you’re saying, to hopefully keep you here a little longer because somehow the walls don’t seem to suffocate when he comes back to you. the air seems clearer and the house becomes more like home, if he dares to say he knows anything of what that’s like.

he tries to gauge your reaction, trying not to crane his neck too far to the side to make it so obvious that he’s staring.

you’re comfortably perched on the couch, right next to him. there’s an annoyingly small gap in between you. he nearly misses the contact. your feet are on the cushion, hugged close to your chest, your eyes gazing at the little space of nothing between the air in front of you and his coffee table.

normally, he’d think that if someone extends an offer that they know you’d like, it’ll be taken without question. so he wonders why you still need to think.

his first guess is that you have a penchant need to not owe anyone anything.

his mind strays to how good you look in his other shirt. whenever you happened to take it. he’ll probably give you his entire closet if you ask for it.

half exciting, half concerning.

“thank you.” but you hesitate. you’re not looking at him yet. sae takes full advantage of that to look at you. at every smidge of movement in the muscles of your face. how your brows furrow half-heartedly, how your lips are pressed into a firm line.

he really wants to see your lips. want to taste them again. even if it means he has to go to bed and groan into the pillow instead of your mouth.

you give him what he wants when you start to speak again.

“is there anything i can do to repay you?”

there’s really no need.

sae shakes his head. “it’s fine, you don’t need to do anything.”

there’s a crease between your brow bones that beg to differ.

“no, really, i mean it. is there anything you need? anything you want me to do?”

there’s a really long, awkward pause as sae struggles to process your simple question. his adam’s apple bobs up and down. the walls and his glass windows start their suffocation game once more.

sae’s not sure you want him to tell you what he wants. he’s a visual thinker; and his mind isn’t anywhere but in the gutter.

between having a long day doing a photoshoot that doesn’t even interest him and having a female model as his partner when he keeps comparing her to you, sae can’t really keep it together after more than twenty years of keeping to himself.

he already has one of the couch pillows on his lap, just in case.

it’s already coming in handy thanks to what he’s thinking about.

sae shakes his head. “really, it’s fine.”

he’s half praying that you’ll just let it go so he can go back into the confines of his own room, feeling guilty that he’ll have to help himself to the thought of you but soothing his frustrations anyway.

the other half of him is praying for just you.

and that’s the part that’s alarming to him.

he nearly loses it when you shift, your elbow resting against the back of the couch, body turned to face him as if he hasn’t had a good enough look in his imagination that you have to bring it in real life.

yeah, he’s blaming you. because his brain’s short-circuiting and his synapses are failing him and he can’t seem to get his fucking eyes off of your lips.

he feels nearly shameless for staring at you point blank.

sae doesn’t know what expression you’re wearing now. he’s not sure he wants to know. are you offended or do you feel the same way you felt last night?

feelings can change like the season. or so he’s heard.

your voice is murmured; his thoughts are in the foreground. you say something along the lines of “what do you want, sae?” and he doesn’t have any of the carefully constructed self-control he’s had over the past few years.

so easily undone just by your mere presence.

“you.”

sae says that without thinking. it’s a chore, thinking. he keeps bouncing between shoulds and should-nots and it’s really fucking irritating.

“kiss me,” he tells you, more outright.

if you can tell him such a thing, you won’t punish him for saying the same, right?

here’s the spoiler: you don’t.

another spoiler: you feel like you’ve been waiting for him to tell you that all night.

barely a second into his request and you’re already fulfilling it. sae’s hand curves behind your neck, his calloused palm delicately placed on your skin. the other hand that’s free decides to pull you in, make it so you’re straddling him.

fuck, when did he get rid of the pillow?

your groan is enough indication that you feel him under you. the way he’s so stiff right now is nearly painful, only because the need it feels him with surpasses any sort of need he’s ever had.

both of you are half kisses and half pants. sae has no choice but to tip his head backwards as you roll your hips against his.

“shit,” he hisses, the hand on your neck crawling upwards to grab a fistful of your hair and tug it downwards. it doesn’t affect your hips in the least. why would it?

his other hand grips onto your waist, like he has to do that to make sure you stay there, make sure you keep moving against him. his eyes practically roll into his head, the sounds he’s so shamelessly making betraying any sort of stoic that he used to have in front of you.

a soft chuckle escapes you, and he pries his eyes open just to stare. the tilt of your face, the way your eyelashes brush against each other, that bite of your bottom lip—you’re a delicacy wrapped in his dreams.

“you’ve been thinking of this, huh?”

there’s a blush on his cheeks that he doesn’t let you see, releasing your hair and immediately letting his lips land on your neck. 

it feels nice to make you sound as undone, as needy as he is.

your chest pressed against him doesn’t do much to ease the tightening in his sweatpants. you still haven’t stopped rolling your hips.

right now it looks as if you’re the one with the better stamina.

his teeth latches onto your neck, head bowed, leaving a mark while you have to tell him to ease up a little on it. he’s learning.

he tries again.

better this time, from your lack of feedback.

“i hate what you do to me.” he sounds so stupid, so lost. it’s the vulnerability that’s annoying.

you try to catch your breath as he leans back against the backrest, both of you a bundle of nerves all out in the open. his hair’s mussed, but so is yours. sae’s still hard as fuck, a wet spot already formed on his regrettably light grey sweatpants.

maybe it’s your instinct that tells you to ask him your next question.

“have you ever done this before?”

you fail to clarify what this is, but if sae’s adept enough, you mean making out, and whatever else could happen after. humping. blowjobs. sex.

they’re all the same to sae either way.

“no, never.”

he’s still breathless.

you were halfway to catching your breath, but his admittal takes another pocket of air out of your lungs.

to sae, the silence that follows is painfully awkward. he’s good at guessing what players think on the field, but he’s an absolute goon at trying to guess what the girl he’s interested in is thinking when he just basically admitted he’s a virgin in all romantic aspects.

the only person that came close was bianca. and even then all they did was kiss.

this is the first time he’s ever wanted more.

“i don’t,” he pauses, his eyes momentarily fluttering shut as he thinks of ways to express this animal need to have you. “i don’t want you to repay me with anything.”

you settle your forehead on his, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. your breathing’s even. it helps him even his out too.

“but if you ask me what i want.” sae takes his time to shift his gaze towards you. your lips, your eyes. you’re so pretty it should be an insult to everyone else. “i want you to be my first.”

it sounds so fucking corny that a small part of him is shrivelling inside. it can’t believe he said something like that. he would’ve cringed if he heard it in movie theatres.

see how pathetic you make him feel?

“your first… what?”

he wants to chuckle. he knows you know. you’re probably being a little shit by asking him to admit it. but even so, he’ll give in to you.

because it feels right.

“everything.”

it could be that you don’t know what to say. it could be that you’re too eager. sae wouldn’t know.

but the way you kiss him next, the way you guide his hands under your shirt (it may as well be yours now), it knocks all wind out of his lungs, all the sense out of his brain.

for the first time, sae finds his hands on your bare chest. it makes a noise come out of him, one that’s equally greedy and needy. he gives it a squeeze, make sure you pay him one back.

your lips are on his lips but by now you’re barely kissing, more open panting and desperate hands pawing at each other.

he takes your nipple between his fingers, giving it a light pinch. your back arches, a sinful sight in front of him, one that he’ll probably have to use for a while if you’re not around.

how can one person have this much control over his desires? that’s a foul.

your hips resume their rolling just for a little bit only for them to stop when you pull back. your hand is on his chest, lips shiny from being subject to his mouth. sae already wants to touch you some more, both his hands relegated to his sides.

“i wanna suck you off.”

you say that so casually that sae’s doing the blushing for you.

if it’s even possible, he gets even harder, and you take the twitching you see as a yes.

you get on your knees in front of him, sat in the spot between his legs, knees folded against the cold floor. sae grabs your wrist before you can pull his pants down, committing himself entirely to the moment.

“take your shirt off first.”

yeah, that request—demand?—shouldn’t roll so easily off his tongue. yet here he is, letting it. the wet patch on his pants is shameful enough. what else does he have to lose?

he finds it near endearing that you don’t hesitate to pull his shirt off over your shoulder. sae’s eyes drag shamelessly over your breasts as he takes in the view. he nearly fails to stop himself from telling you to suck his dick already because it’s getting harder to ignore the wanton need it has for you.

nothing else has to be said.

you divest him of his sweatpants, his cock hitting his shirt as it springs free, near the spot around his bellybutton, the wet patch spreading on his old jersey. you’re looking at his cock, then looking at him, then back at his length—it makes him nervous.

the moment you wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft, he sucks in a sharp breath, head tilted towards the ceiling. it’s different than when he touches himself.

your fingers are smaller, more delicate than his. it feels good. feels even better when you give his tip a little kitten lick, and he’s almost sure you’re just experimenting now, just checking how he’s reacting to every single gesture.

sae’s doing everything in his goddamn power to keep it all together.

he can’t even look at you. that’s a sure fire way to end everything the moment he does.

a strained groan leaves the back of his throat as you pump his cock painfully slow. he doesn’t know if this is the norm. if it is, he hates it.

then comes what he’s been imagining: your tongue flat on his length, licking a stripe up his cock, your hand around it pumping a little bit quicker, still as gentle.

“shit, that feels good,” he finds himself admitting without much thought.

is he supposed to have any thoughts when you’re blowing him so impossibly good like this?

you don’t say much, and you can’t, not when your mouth slowly wraps around his cock and his tip starts hitting the back of your throat. your rhythm is steady at first, like it’s a tease, like it’s just a hell of an opening act.

sae’s hips start to buck upwards into your mouth, and you take it expertly. he dares himself to look at you when you start moaning around his cock, the sight of you so saccharine, so indulgent.

and then yep, there it is, the way his self control gets shredded into pieces, in the form of thick white ropes of cum in your mouth as he groans in resignation.

his eyes are still on you, this time he doesn’t want to look away anymore. he watches you as you swallow his cum, licking his tip just to watch him shudder in pleasure as he gets subjected to the slight over sensitivity.

your breasts still look beautiful. he still wants to play with them.

sae finds that maybe his courage got lost with his cum. it takes everything in him to pull you up onto the couch, this time back in your original position next to him. he kisses you, a blatant disregard for tasting himself on your tongue.

it catches you by surprise, he can tell. if the little squeal in your throat is any indication.

“i’m starting to feel like we’re in one of those landlord-tenant situations.” you’re probably joking. just like you always like to when there’s an awkward silence.

sae doesn’t really feel awkward though. so maybe this is something else.

“well, i mean, if that’s what you’re into.”

you playfully shove him away, rolling your eyes as you tug his shirt back on over yourself. a smirk finds its way onto your face.

“you’re still horny?” a rhetorical question. it’s only asked because sae’s still hard.

his walls are wider than it’s ever felt. than it’s ever been. than it’s ever allowed to be.

sae pulls his pants back on, eyes on you as you take mini steps towards his side of the apartment.

“what do you expect when that’s the best i’ve felt in my life?”

you stifle a laugh when even with his pants on, his tent is still so obvious.

you must be feeling a little bold, because you open up his bedroom door by yourself, giving him a look that he can only equate to come hither.

oddly, he doesn’t feel any sense of shame when his feet carry him to you. when his hands tug you into his room, when your feet tumble against one another’s and you end up on top of him on the bed.

he feels no shame letting you blow him again. he feels no shame letting you swallow all of him for the second time tonight.

there’s only a split second of bashfulness when he asks you to sleep with him. in the literal sense.

but you don’t see anything wrong with it. you don’t say anything. you don’t agree, you don’t reject. you only give a weak laugh as you lay beside him, his hair messed up to fuck and laying there questioning where all his stamina went.

you fall asleep within seconds, just laying there on your side of the bed.

sae takes one more chance at being shameless, wrapping his arm around your torso, letting himself fall asleep.

sae’s a winner.

he has a track record of all wins in all matches. he’s excellent at what he does. the calm and composed one. the one who has his shit together.

but right now he feels like a total loser.

sae brisks out of his bedroom, wondering if you treated him like a one night stand. even if he didn’t stick it inside you. even if he barely got a chance to help you.

jumping the gun, maybe, but he’s already thinking of ways to convince you that it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.

his brisk walk turns slow when he realises you’re just washing up in the guest toilet, an embarrassment hanging over his head at his slight overreaction.

when you waltz out of the bathroom, sae’s quick to act normal. can’t let you see any of his shortcomings just yet.

you spend yet another day at his apartment. this time, sae’s right there with you. doesn’t have to conform to any schedules, doesn’t have to wish the girl he’s spending time with is you.

because it is you.

turns out you also want to get to know him.

you open the windows and try meditating with him. the morning yoga comes right after.

“you really do this every morning?” you ask him while your body tries to adjust to the downward dog.

sae tries not to laugh.

“mhm.”

he runs slower than his usual speed later in the park. doesn’t want you to quit on him before you’ve even begun. you can only make it half his usual route and he acts like it’s normal, tells you you’re already very good.

sae squeezes in questions whenever he can.

slowly, at first. stuff pertaining to you and otoya’s friendship. stuff like university and middle school and how you slapped otoya he nearly quit being your friend.

you’re an open book when it comes to friendship.

you admit what you had with otoya was just physical, admit that you’ve never tried anything more, that it was a stupid phase and he’s really just a friend.

sometimes sae can’t help but wonder whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

he starts to ask about stuff you like when you’re preparing lunch together. he learns a little more about you the same time he’s learning how to chop vegetables right.

it’s harder than he thought.

both of it.

you used to like baking. you made some money with it. you love the smell of home cooked food and you’ve always wanted to try that bar you’ve heard about that serves killer sushi and is housed at the top of a skyscraper.

by the time sunset hits and the river that’s sold as part of his apartment’s view starts shimmering with the orange hue, he touches on the topic of your family.

that one, you’re not so keen about.

sae can tell from the drop of your smile and the light fading from your eyes. he tries to ignore it but he’s curious. aren’t they fundamentally who made you what you are?

he can’t help himself.

between the silences, all either of you can think about is what is this thing, between the two of you? but neither of you have the balls to ask.

the day is almost perfect.

sae doesn’t feel like he is who he always thought he was. he doesn’t feel like the revered soccer player that nearly everyone knows. he doesn’t feel like he has any larger-than-life obligations.

if this is what a normal day feels like between normal people, then he thinks maybe this is what he wants. the feel of you by his side, doing things together or even just existing.

there’s a calm you bring that he can’t find in anyone or anything else.

it’s different than the kind of serenity playing soccer gives him, but it makes him addicted all the same. his mind chants the same mantra the whole time—he wants you. just you. only you.

dinner’s ready and sae’s hungry. your stomach’s growling too, just as it was about half an hour ago. he’s placing the dishes on the dining table while you excuse yourself to check on your messages.

something about how your colleagues have no sense of personal space. something like that.

he expects to see you bounding out of the corridor as usual, a little hop in your footsteps. a hum to a tune he thinks you make up.

instead, what he gets is the heavy trudging of the heels of your feet, the same kind he gives oliver when he’s weary and groggy and just wants to go home instead of getting another drink.

sae’s a quick learner. he really is. he learned how to talk to you, learn more about you. he can learn how to tiptoe around subjects you don’t feel up for talking about.

but there’s this mulishly desperate part of him that aches to know more about you. especially when your expression shows a side of you he’s never seen.

he feels on edge. he feels out of the know. he feels like he has to know.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

your bag is looped around your shoulder, the frustration on your face eking into every part of your body. your movements are erratic, your arms swing by your side. it takes you too long to find your shoes in the genkan.

“nothing, i have to go.”

your voice quivers like you’re trying not to break. sae’s heart doesn’t know how to feel about that. his hand reaches out before he can consider alternatives. it wrestles to take hold of your wrist but you pull it away before he can get a firm grip.

“y/n, tell me.” he’s nearly pleading with you this time, his feet heavy in the entryway.

all he knows is that he doesn’t want you to go. doesn’t want you to feel however you’re feeling alone.

but he doesn’t know a thing about you when it comes to whatever this is. and where the walls expanded, they crash down all over him the same. you’re shutting him out, a punishment that he was pardoned off all along until this moment.

when you don’t say a word, just stand with your back facing him as you struggle to put your shoes on right, sae tries again.

his head doesn’t know when to tell him that enough’s enough. doesn’t know the little nooks and crannies of you that prefer to be left alone sometimes.

“oh my god, what do you want?”

this time, you turn around and face him, and he’s not quite sure how to process the fact that there are already tear streaks on the side of your face.

“tell me what’s going on, let me help you.” sae’s not sure either how he managed to say that without choking on his words. he’s a mix of fear and concern. like if he says a single thing wrong and you’ll slip away forever.

his words make your heart ache. they do. because you want to believe that. you want to believe he means it. but the excessively distrustful part of you, the one that remembers baring your heart out to your partner only to have it flipped around on you is the one that’s ruled your mind since the relationship ended.

protect yourself. even in the wrong ways. just leave them before they get to leave you. disappoint them before they get a chance to do that to you.

a scoff leaves your throat, more harsh than you intended it to be.

“help me? itoshi, you barely know me.”

your heart drops. you’re sure sae’s drops further. the words come out of you uncontrollably.

you’re sorry. very sorry.

“what can you help me with, huh?” the slight upturn on your lips is all sneer and vile and nothing nice.

sae only hears you out.

you wish he somehow hears the words you’re thinking instead of what you’re saying.

you’re sorry.

“listen, you’ve been very nice to me, thanks. i’m pretty sure there are lots of other girls out there more deserving than me, so really, i’m grateful that you wasted a couple of days on me.”

sae’s expression doesn’t change. a subtle mix of confusion and heartache and you want to kill yourself for being so stupid.

“but we’re nothing to each other, okay? we’re barely even friends! you don’t need to concern yourself about me.”

it’s like you can feel the effort that’s waiting to pour out of him. the kind that would threaten you to take a step back and pour your heart out instead of letting your sharp tongue loose.

you can’t risk that. you don’t think you can.

“the jig’s up. i tried making friends with you so i could get more scoop, okay? it’s easier for you to approve it if you like me. that’s all there is to it. so please, i’m begging you,” you pause, the words catching in your throat because you could never mean them. “please just leave me alone.”

that seems to do it.

the effort that was waiting to pour out feels like it stopped. sae doesn’t have any other words to say. he doesn’t waste his energy on stopping you as you leave the apartment, letting the heavy mahogany close behind you naturally.

you don’t look back.

sae doesn’t look away.

it’s foolish of you to think that an escape with sae could help. it puts things off. it doesn’t help. nothing does. you should’ve known better by now.

you rush out of his building, a haze of gormless mixed with desultory. you don’t notice anything or anyone else. not even the figure that stares at you in shock as you exit the lift.

these two days were the best days of your life.

now it’s time to wake up.

she’s both the reason and the bane of your existence. 

your mother desperately points towards you when you make your way towards your front door. she has absolutely no qualms about giving you up just so she can see another day.

there’s multiple men by your front door. big, burly men. a lean, muscular one stands in the middle, his hand holding a fistful of your mother’s hair.

it’s the first time you’ve seen them. you’ve lost track of how many loan sharks your mother knows.

it takes nearly half an hour and half a million yen to shut them up and get them on their way. not without the leader among them giving you a kiss on the cheek and a warning that you won’t get to save your mother so easily the next time.

pervertic. that’s what you think his thoughts are.

usually you’re magnanimous. you’d let your mother get a word or five in before you give up on listening. tonight, you’re not so.

she’s just ruined your perfectly constructed dream day with someone who seems so foolishly earnest you nearly feel bad for him having to associate with someone like you.

someone with problems like this.

you walk the same path. you lock your own door and slump onto your own bed. you can hear the annoying springs and the chip of the paint surrounds you. right now you’re coming undone faster than the paint.

it isn’t raining but you wish it is. maybe it’ll be easier to drown out the noise of you crying. right now you’ll have to settle for burying your head in your pillow, the only comfort of your earlier time spent with sae arrested in the confines of his shirt you wore home.

a call comes in and you forget to check who it is. you pick it up without much thought.

if it’s sae you’ll just hang up. he shouldn’t have to associate with someone like you. someone who’ll only bring him problems.

but it’s not sae.

“oi, idiot.”

you’d recognise the voice of your best friend anywhere, through any medium.

you don’t say anything. you can’t, really. not when both your nostrils are blocked and if you open your mouth you’d just make an insufferably pained noise.

eita doesn’t say anything for a while either. he only hears the slightly muffled sound of your sniffing. it takes him only a second to extend himself.

“spare key still under the vase?”

you let out a noise of acknowledgement. he’s your best friend. he knows how to tell apart your responses by noise. he should understand.

he does.

you hear the familiar sound of his kawasaki revving to life.

“wait for me, okay?”

you do. only because you can’t sleep and eita likes to speed. he’s good at riding his bike so you’re never worried. he makes it there faster than you think he ever did.

there’s no shrill nagging when he unlocks the door. your mother must either be asleep or she’s already off trying to make your life more of a living hell. either way, it’s good she’s not here.

fuck her.

when he comes through your door, his own set of keys for your room nestled safely in his keychain, he doesn’t say a word. he only takes his place behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, resting his chin on your head as you involuntarily sob into his arms.

he doesn’t say a thing. doesn’t need to.

his arms are a comfort in itself.

it’s familiar. never foreign. never scary.

re: taglists — since it’s been a while, i’ll discontinue the old taglist & start a new one :) it’s cool if you don’t want to be tagged anymore ! if you still do, just let me know !! but please make sure you are 18+ and have your age somewhere obvious & visible on your blog <3

[danikamariewrites]

You know the whole 7 minutes in heaven thing that’s in a lot of older movies? I have been wanting to read about Az and Reader in that scenario at a little party with the inner circle. Could you write a little something with that?

7 More Minutes

Azriel x reader

Notes: I would not be able to look this man in the eyes if we were shoved into a closet together. It would be far too awkward

Warnings: not entirely proof read

Out of everyone gathered tonight Amren was the last person you thought would suggest playing such juvenile games. Her words. Exactly.

She’s just such a different person when Varian is around. And when he brings her favorite bottle of wine.

The game of the night was 7 minutes in heaven. Of course, all mated couples went in together. Even Elain went in with Lucien, coming out very flustered but happy. Besides Rhys and Feyre, only you and Azriel were left to couple up. Cassian was insistent that you two go next.

“No Cass, we don’t need to.” Your voice small as you shoot Azriel a reassuring look. You didn’t want to force the poor male to do anything. You also don’t think you could handle being that close to Azriel. Between your huge crush on him and your awkwardness you would probably die a minute in.

“But I insist.” Cassian said, only slightly tipsy. “Come, come, come,” he grabs your hand, pulling you off the floor towards the coat closet. “Cass, don’t.” Azriel said sternly. Cassian completely ignored his brother, pulling him along as well.

You couldn’t help but let Az’s stern tone get to you. It left a stinging sensation in your chest, reinforcing your thoughts that Azriel didn’t return your feelings.

Looking back at the group you found Nesta’s steel gaze, begging her for help with your eyes. All she did was shake her head no with a smirk on her face. Cauldron, she was in on this. Looking around you saw similar smirks on Feyre, Rhys, Amren, and even Lucien’s face.

You didn’t eve have time to react. Cassian was already shoving you in the small space before you could say anything. “Have fun kids!” He shouted before slamming the door. Locking it from the outside for good measure. Did coat closets even have locks?

Azriel turned the fae light on, his wings looked cramped in the small space. You grimaced for him. “Are you ok?” Az asked softly. “Yeah, it’s just Cass being Cass.” You laugh lightly. Looking up at him you saw his lips pulled in a tight smile.

“We don’t have to do anything. I know you didn’t want to be in here with me, I get it.” His voice sounded strained while trying to make light of the situation. “Of course I want to be with you.” Realizing what you just said your face immediately reddened.

Azriel looked down at you, shock setting in on his own face.

Fuck it, you thought to yourself, might as well get it out now.

Taking a deep breath, you center yourself. If your friends were looking at you like that Az has to feel the same way, right?

“Azriel I really like you. Not as just my friend. And I really do want to kiss you.” You reached for his hands, giving the scared flesh a loving squeeze.

Azriel was at a loss for words. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest, attempting to break free to smother you in all his love. You had rendered him completely speechless.

But words wouldn’t do anything. Wouldn’t convey the want and love he felt for you. That he was too scared to admit to for a long time now.

He slips his hands from yours. Your face falling at the action. Azriel’s heart broke at the look you tried to recover from. Never again would he make you look that sad. Not for a second. He held your face in his hands, tilting your face to look at him.

Azriel’s lips parted slightly, trying to say how he felt but the words caught in his throat. Shaking his head slightly he moved in, pressing his lips to yours.

You were shocked at first. Not knowing how to react. As your lips moved against his your eyes fluttered shut. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. You got lost in each other. The feel of his hands caressing you softly, his plump lips moving against yours. It was truly heaven.

It felt like hours had passed. Azriel was so intoxicating you didn’t even realize your back was pressed against the wall. His hands now resting on your hips, holding you flush to him. It felt right, fitting together like the last two pieces of a puzzle.

Without warning, Cassian whipped the door open, letting out a loud whoop. “Finally! Guys they’re kissing!” Azriel pulled away from you. You let out a small sound of protest, pulling him closer, wanting him back. Az pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. A promise that he’d come back after dealing with Cassian.

Sending his brother a death glare, Azriel’s shadows shot out, slamming the door. They enveloped you in darkness and melted away moments later to reveal your room. Smiling up at Azriel you pull his face down to yours again. He rested his forehead against yours, whispering, “Where were we?”

[iznyangwoni]

EASY TO LOVE | chapter nineteen !

You’ve been working all day on the outfits for the festival and honestly it’s been great at taking your mind off of Jungwon. This last week all you did was ignore him, thinking of how you should talk to him, what to say, how to say it. But all your overthinking did was just making you distance yourself from him, as if fighting wasnt enough.

You sigh, finally finishing one of the hundreds sketches you need to do before sunday. Its already getting late, but you need a few more people to come in for you to take measurements, so its gonna take a while before you can go home, not that you really mind, you like doing this after all.

You hear a knock on the door, so you tell them to come in, not really looking towards that direction since you’re busy choosing a color for the skirts. The door closes and you raise your head only when a grocery bag stops your vision. Your heart drops when you see Jungwon, you cant really read his expression, he looks both annoyed and relieved.

You take off your headphones and glasses, your ears getting red. “Sunghoon told me you haven’t eaten all day.” You gulp, not really knowing what to say, your eyes fall on the bag, then on Jungwon again. “You spoke… with Sunghoon?” “You’ve been avoiding me for a week, i did what i had to do.”

You bite your inner lip, you cant really imagine the two of them having a normal conversation, but you’re glad they’re growing. Jungwon sits in front of you, his eyes never leaving you, you’re trying to be tough, but its hard when your mind is going a thousand per miles and your heart is about to explode.

“I’ve been busy with the festival.” “Don’t bullshit me.” His cold voice makes your back shiver, and then you see it, that angry look he’s had since the fight, you run a hand through your hair, and then start tidying up the desk, you know he’s not going until you eat, so might as well get this over soon.

“I don’t like your attitude.” You say, and he laughs sarcastically, taking the ramen off of the bag, he already put the hot water in it before coming, the thought of him doing all of this for you makes you sigh. “Just eat and dont complain.” You roll your eyes and finally sit down again to eat, you only left your sketchbook on the table, just in case you get any ideas.

“You’ve been hanging a lot with Minji..” “Mh.” Jungwon didn’t think twice before digging into his ramen, meanwhile you’re still playing with your chopsticks. “Riki and Jake say that she’s been weird lately. So they dont hang much with us anymore.” “Ah.” This whole thing is awkward, the way you’re talking, the way he either looks into your soul or doesn’t look at you at all.

Still, maybe this is the right time to tell him the truth, to finally express how you feel and actually tell him what happened, but you’re still scared. Jungwon basically doesn’t hang out with his best friends only because of her, how delusional do you have to be to think he would believe you? “Jungwon… I’m scared.”

Finally his eyes meet yours again, your hand is slightly shaking, and you cant really stop it now. You bite your inner lip once again, meanwhile he completely stops eating just to hear you out. “Of what?” “Of you not believing me. Or of you choosing Minji instead of me.” “Y/n you can’t make me choose.”

That’s exactly what you were afraid of. Of course he doesnt want to choose, he’s known you only for a few months, meanwhile him and Minji have been friends since ever, he’s never going to pick you. “You’ll have to once you know what happened.” “Then tell me.” You take a deep breath, you really cant find the words to tell him, he’s looking at you patiently, but you dont know how long he can wait.

Just thinking back about it makes you feel ill and dirty, you want things with jungwon to work out, you want to be able to date him and call him your boyfriend but god is it hard to just say it. You look at him, your throat already hurting meanwhile he seems to be getting disappointed. “That video minji mentioned to you…” your mouth feels dry, meanwhile your eyes are the complete opposite.

You shake your head, you dont want to say it, you dont want him to think of you as low as you think of yourself for what happened. Jungwon hand reaches out to yours, wanting to soothe you. “Jiyoon was in Minji’s friend group last year, and we… we weren’t really friends.” You decide to start like this, its really now or never.

“And i was kind of dating this guy, Ricky.” “Kind of?” You give him a bad look, its not really the time to joke now, but you’re glad he’s making it less awkward.

“Well, turns out, Ricky was cheating on me with her, and they wanted me out of the picture.” You take another deep breath, you did have a little crush on Ricky last year, but it was nothing like what you feel for Jungwon, but thinking about what happened still hurts you like crazy. “So they.. they decided to take a video, something that could ruin the reputation of my family if it got out…i didnt know the phone was there when it was recording.”

Jungwon is listening carefully, caressing your fingers with his thumb, going through your jewelry so gently. “What was in the video?” You look at him again, you really dont want to say it, but you have to. “It was me, at Ricky’s house. And we were alone, and.. things escalated and we were-” “Y/n.”

The way he calls you makes you scared, is he mad at you? Does he think you’re disgusting? You dont even want to look at him in the eyes out of fear.

“Y/n, look at me.” Your bottom lip is trembling as he interlocks his fingers with yours. “Why didnt you tell me earlier?” “I was scared..” Your voice is breaking as you speak, Jungwon gets up and hugs you, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, you didnt expect him to act like this. But your friends were right at the end. Jungwon kisses your forehead before speaking, cupping your face.

“You’re safe with me.” You nod again, your eyes are watery, but you’re happy he doesnt hate you. You feel like you finally got a rock off of your back and you can finally breathe. You look at the table, the ramen is cold by now, but thats the last of your problems. “I cant believe she would threaten you with something like that i’m so sorry Y/n I-“ “Wonie you couldn’t know.” “Let me take you out to make up for it.” You giggle at that, and nod happily.

“yes, yes lets do that.”

prev | masterlist | next

author’s note we really are reaching the end 🥲 but dont worry i wont vanish, i already posted the masterlist for my next smau! it would be great if you can check it out hihi ily

TAGLIST @unhakki @firstclassjaylee @en-verse @mxxninthesky @onlyhyunjin @heeseungmyman @jiamini @yoonzns @wonswondrland @50-husbands @leaderwonim @aloloveswonie @f3rraribabez @jwonistic @ribbioniki @kyanmeai @ilovejungwonandhaechan @nat123c @yjwsgf @gyuvision @realrintaro @glxzillx @qettalos @rairaiblog @sakanelli-afc @onlyjungchan @haohaoshoe @vixensss @terryfiedgyu

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

hey guess what. it's finally time for my Stardew Valley Loredump. i’m about to ramble about my farmer and yo-yo/yoba and shane in a probably long-ass, disjointed post because i have a problem ok. not expecting anyone to read it all of course—just want to finally write these brainstorming shenanigans down. the loredump will be below the cut below the image 👇 (WARNING: IT'S LONG):

SAMUEL IZAWA:

*samuel is 28 years old, pan, japanese okinawan (no im not self projecting hahaha), and goes by he/they. main thing is that they’re from “our world” where stardew valley is a video game, but he died and ended up in the stardew universe. because i think isekai tropes are fun and silly. as the player, samuel can do things others in the stardew world can’t do, such as: 

summon the in-game HUD that’s only visible to him, so he can see health/energy levels and inventory and all that.

speaking of inventory, it’s essentially a pocket dimension samuel can shove stuff in. the inventory doesn’t really care about size/weight/etc as long as it’s something the system considers an “item.” so like samuel can put a whole ass four poster bed in there but he can’t do that to a person or a whole house. samuel just needs to touch the item to make it disappear into his inventory. he can then summon it back out when he needs it. the game’s inventory limit system remains the same. samuel gets 12 slots on their own, but if they have a bag on them it increases to 36.

can access the player menu you can normally access in game. so like profile, skills, collections, relationships, etc are all there. no options or quit tab though. having the relationship tab is a nightmare for samuel, who has major insecurities about what people think of him. that tab is a quantifiable measure on how much people like him. it a real brain demon for him to know it exists and is right there for him to access anytime. 

can see the “stats” of food and healing items. hp/energy recovery amounts, buffs, etc. 

*funny thing is that samuel has never played SDV himself and only has knowledge based on what he’s heard and seen online secondhand. ironically he was planning on playing the game for the first time before the whole dying thing ruined it. they can’t even remember how they died, but it doesn’t bother them as much as they think it should. they didn’t leave much behind in that life.

*anyway, i’m talking a lot of game terms here, but don’t get it twisted. while samuel has all these game systems going on, the SDV world is very much a real one that doesn’t normally work by that logic. by that i mean time flows normally like in our world and there isn’t just 4 months in a year. things exist outside the valley. there’s a whole planet of places and people. 

*luckily samuel has help in navigating this new world in the form of yo-yo the junimo, who is the first living thing samuel sees when he first wakes up in that joja cubicle. yo-yo helps explain a lot of things and guide samuel around in its own abrasive way. he’s also there to be like, “hey i gave you a second chance at life so you kinda owe me actually. sign this contract.” and samuel, who is a pushover and also confused, is just like, “ok.” (yo-yo sounds like danny devito btw. because i think it’s funny.) 

*i call the contract a “magical girl contract” because that’s essentially what it is. samuel gets access to extra powers/abilities on top the stuff he can already do as a player. in return he fights monsters n shit for yo-yo and generally does things for them that they can’t do easily on their own. the extra benefits include: 

higher pain tolerance. which isn’t always a good thing. especially when you tend to not be great with self-preservation like samuel is. 

can heal most injuries by just eating/drinking stuff to regain hp.

yo-yo can teleport the both of them around as needed, but it’s tiring and it drains a lot of magic. distance matters too.

yo-yo can spawn items but it drains magic as well. the more valuable/rare the item, the more draining it is. spawning items is already a magic-intensive thing in the first place. also yo-yo isn’t creating the item out of nothing. they’re actually randomly taking it from wherever it already exists in the world. for example, say yo-yo “spawns” a jar of pickles. somebody in the world is going to open their fridge and discover their jar of pickles is missing or maybe a grocery store will have a sudden empty spot on its shelf. yo-yo doesn’t have control of where the items are taken from (or so they claim).

samuel and yo-yo’s magic pools became connected so they can both do more than they could do on their own before. this is one of the reasons why yo-yo wanted a contract with samuel, who has a larger magic pool than normal due to being from another world. but it’s possible for one side to use up all the magic for the both of them. 

*samuel’s personality can be summed up as Awkward People-Pleasing Tired Sad Garbage Dork. either he’s dressed like a grandparent in sweaters and turtlenecks or he’s wearing a button up shirt with the collar undone and jeans. they usually have their neck covered in public to hide the mark of yoba embedded there. he has a “resting bitch face” as some may call, but that’s just because his brain is busy over-analyzing 193828 different things. he loves being outside in the grass and dirt, looking at bugs n shit. he’s also a nerd who likes to play video games and ramble about the lore in them (he likes RPGs the most, but if the game’s got a good story and cool world, he’s into it). they like to do things with their hands like model building/painting. in their new stardew life, they get into woodcarving after willy teaches them the basics (he carves shane a little chicken). 

*samuel does NOT know how to say “no.” absolute pushover. their self-worth is based on how much they’re liked by others, which isn’t healthy obviously. he has a fear that the only way he can be liked is by being useful. he’s scared that he is inherently a bad and selfish person, because he can’t say for sure if he’s helping others purely out of kindness or because it just makes him feel better about existing. deep down there’s anger/frustration that’s accumulated over the years, anger towards himself and also others because he’s always doing things for other people—going above and beyond—but it never feels like enough. at the same time though, they hate it when these thoughts come up because they believe that you shouldn’t go into helping somebody expecting that you’ll get something out of it. he hates how much of a hypocrite he is. he hates how he bases so much of his self-worth on the opinions of others, but feels helpless to it. they usually just push these emotions down because samuel feels guilty about them. how can they be a good person if they’re thinking like this? how can they deserve to exist with this mindset? however they get a chance to let out the anger/bitterness/frustration through fighting monsters. kind of disassociating in a way. this also isn’t a good thing because his demeanor is much colder and scarier during combat. having someone who’s felt powerless for so long suddenly gain power is a dangerous thing.

*this mindset when monster fighting shatters when samuel meets krobus and realizes that monsters aren’t just the simple enemy NPCs their brain had been automatically categorizing them as. guilt galore. he gets real depressed about that for a while but yo-yo, krobus, and shane are there to help him. 

*SPEAKING OF SHANE… it’s crush at first sight for samuel because hot damn is shane their type. i mean just look at him. mamma mia. haha anyyyway, they first meet at the stardrop saloon. samuel’s waiting at the bar for his to-go order near where shane is drinking. shane’s looking sad, so samuel gives in and decides they’ll start a convo to maybe distract him from whatever’s bothering him. samuel employs the “crack a dumb joke to hide the fact that i’m nervous because i’m talking to a hot person and then use that opening to introduce myself” strat. shane, being an asshole, is like, “oh so you’re the new farmer. here’s a tip: don’t bother me.” samuel takes 999 damage and their brain immediately goes “THIS IS MY FAULT I FUCKED UP like who wants to be talked to by a stranger when they’re sad goddammit why am i so bad at this?!!” it’s overall not a great first impression. after that, samuel tries to avoid shane out of embarrassment, but circumstances keep making them run into each other. for instance, samuel works a lot with marnie with her being a mentor figure to him in animal husbandry, so he and shane have a lot of opportunity to interact through that (plus marnie is secretly trying to get them closer to each other). through these meetings and shenanigans, samuel and shane get to know each other better until one day they’re friends. then good friends. then best friends. then kiss friends. then marry friends. :)

YOBA (A.K.A. YO-YO): 

*yo-yo is ????? years old and goes by any pronouns but most of the time it's it/they.

*yo-yo is actually THE yoba, but they’re not the completely benevolent creator-of-all-things humans have made them out to be. maybe they were in the past, but now they’re selfish and rude and swear a lot. but they do still care, even if they don’t admit it (tsundere-ass). yoba is currently stuck in the form of a little junimo and is substantially weakened because it gave too much of itself away to the world in the past and got burned for it. because the world kept taking and taking. and now there’s war and pollution and shit and yoba/yo-yo is maybe just a teensy tiny bit angry and bitter now. but it’s ok because now they got this human from another reality to help them reclaim the pieces of itself. and maybe along the way relearn how to love the world again.  

*oh also yoba didn’t create the whole planet like the creation story claims. they’re technically an alien that came across a young planet full of life and decided to stay and help it develop. 

*main reason yo-yo made a contract with samuel is because it needs help finding/reclaiming the pieces of itself. pieces can usually be found in strong monsters empowered by the piece. this isn’t always the case though. sometimes it’s in an ancient artifact. sometimes it’s in a specific place like a temple. sometimes it’s in a person. 

*samuel doesn’t have to deal with having an existential crisis about yo-yo, since he’s from our world where yoba doesn’t even exist as a god. yo-yo claims to be the one responsible for bringing samuel over into the stardew universe, but there are holes in their story. where did yoba even find the power to do such a thing when they’re in such a weakened state? mysterious. 

*the first time yoba reveals itself to shane is kind of chaotic. it’s in the middle of the night when yo-yo suddenly appears in shane’s room, grabs his face with its little stick arms and yells, “WAKE UP!!! YOUR BOYFRIEND IS IN MORTAL PERIL!!!” shane is like, “WHAT THE F–”     it was an act of desperation on yo-yo’s part, because samuel was in trouble and shane was the only one it could think of going to for help. essentially samuel meets something Bad in the deep mines, something that takes him out of commission and puts him in a trance state while draining his lifeforce. y’know, the classic kind of trance state where you need to figure out how to get the person back–how to snap them out of it. yo-yo tried and failed, so that’s where shane comes in. it’s the classic “love-interest-breaks-main-character-out-of-mind-control-with-sheer-power-of-love” trope. except shane does punch samuel during it. lovingly. in the face. hey it works ok.     after the chaos is over and everyone’s safe and gathered together, samuel and yo-yo explain everything to shane (well more like samuel explains everything while yo-yo wishes outloud that they had their memory erasing powers back). shane, who is canonically an atheist, learns that this talking pottymouthed jerkass apple is actually THE yoba and is just like, “yeah. this might as well happen.” and then he remains atheist because what else are you going to do when you learn that god is a talking pottymouthed jerkass apple who calls you a bitch and is also responsible for your partner having to go do dangerous shit. he and yo-yo have a rocky relationship at first to say the least. but once they both realize how much the other cares about samuel, things get a little better. 

*yeah, yoba may be a bitch and they may be angry and they may be bitter, but they really do care, even if they try to convince themselves otherwise. even though so much got taken from it, it still cares about humans and dwarves and shadow people and everything else on the planet. and when it eventually comes down to it, yoba will step up to protect what it loves, even if it means losing everything again. 

SHANE FINCH: 

*this post was technically supposed to just be about my farmer and yo-yo’s lore and stuff, but i gotta give some personal headcanons i have about shane… like for instance his last name is “finch.” because i thought the bird theme was cute. he’s 29 years old, bi, and half asian, half white (in our world that asian half is korean). i’m not being specific because i don’t know if korea even exists in the stardew world, since all we know in the game is that there’s a “ferngill republic” and a “gotoro empire.” i was thinking of just headcanoning that stardew’s planet is essentially the same as earth. so like most of the same countries/nations exist except the history diverged a bit along the way, leading to the ferngill republic and gotoro empire. OK SORRY for the tangent—back on topic.

*so shane is a trans man who started transitioning back in high school. he had two best friends who were very supportive and really helped him on his journey to figure himself out. those two friends were like family to him. it was good that he had this support because his parents were always pretty shitty and shane transitioning just made them act even shittier. the only good family member of shane’s is marnie, who was supportive, but she lived far away, was busy, AND wasn’t on good terms with her sister (shane’s mom), so shane didn’t get to see her much. 

*the moment shane became a legal adult, he got away from his parents, finding a place with his two best friends and moving in together. oh and his friends’ names were rosa and heath. should’ve probably mentioned that earlier oops.     shane, rosa, and heath go to the same college together, suffer student loans, graduate, etc. haven’t thought of what shane would get a degree in yet—most likely something “generic” because he’s unsure of what he wants to do himself (i feel u bby). 

*ok so rosa and heath were dating since high school, but they were so comfortable with shane and vice versa that things never got that awkward living together. however when rosa and heath got married (“yoba, FINALLY,” shane would say), shane felt like it was time to find his own place, much to the devastation of his bffs. the apartment ended up close to where rosa and heath lived of course—the couple made sure of it (“stop backseating my apartment hunting!” “MAKE US”). 

*rosa and heath get pregnant and have a healthy baby girl that they name jasmine. i headcanon jas as black (from heath’s side) and portuguese (rosa’s side). everyone is thrilled about the baby. shane was immediately offered godfather role and he happily accepted. jas was the cutest baby ever and he adored her. he babysat jas all the time. 

*jas was 4 years old when rosa and heath tragically passed away in a car accident. they were coming home from a business dinner when they lost control of their car on some black ice and slid into oncoming traffic. shane was babysitting jas when he got the call. in the span of one cold winter night, shane and jas’s world shattered. 

*rosa and heath didn’t have any reliable relatives either. those relatives only came to take the money and belongings. shane was the only one jas had, so he adopted her. he tried his best to pick up the pieces. he really did. he lasted for a year trying to raise a kid on his own with the salary of a dead-end job, but he knew the situation wasn’t good with the money and how much his mental health was spiraling. he knew he and jas were in dire need of more support (“jas deserves better than this”). so he turned to the one person he had left to rely on: his aunty marnie. and that’s how shane and jas ended up in pelican town.

*shane’s joja jacket was actually originally rosa’s. rosa worked as an accountant for joja and would get free promotional items all the time from the company. the jacket was one of the only things she actually ended up using because “it’s pretty comfy for being joja bs.” she would wear it all the time, much to her more fashion-conscious husband’s chagrin (yet he would patch up any holes she’d get in it anyway). after rosa died, shane kept her jacket. there were a lot of memories in it. 

~~~

ok that’s it for now. if anyone actually read all that, thank you for even wasting your time to process my ramblings. i’m sorry it’s so fucking long like jfc.

*who is mr. qi?

[chronicallycouchbound]

Intelligence Doesn't Equal Morality

Intellect is rooted in ableist systems and stupidity and intelligence are pointless social constructs that don't relate to morals or character.

I try to be a pretty good person, I fight for human rights, I regularly engage in mutual aid, and I care for my community. I try to do the right thing and support causes I care about and make positive changes in the world.

But I also am not very smart. I have several neurodevelopmental disorders, as well as cognitive disabilities. I can’t do simple, basic math, it’s hard for me to remember facts or algorithms, I rely entirely on spellcheck and speech-to-text to write, I failed many classes in high school and I barely passed with a low GPA, I had low pSAT scores and I never took the SATs. I moved around a lot all through school starting in third grade, and I missed a lot of basic fundamentals in learning (like how to do division and multiplication) so when I went to a different school they had already passed it and expected me to know. After my TBI, I could barely read AFTER I was cleared from my “concussion” symptoms because letters and words would flip around and I’d get headaches. Which still happens sometimes.

A lot of people see me as smart because I've learned a lot of academic language and can formulate thoughts into cohesive posts. But I lack a lot of necessary skills and rely on my caretakers to assist me. Things like budgeting and planning are extremely difficult for me. If I need to do simple addition or subtraction, even with a calculator, I quickly get confused and struggle. I forget basic information about myself all the time, let alone other subjects. I'm talking, has to check my ID for my birthday type confused. Doesn't know my name or address or what year it is confused. It happens daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Being able to type out posts like this often takes weeks and many adaptive tools to get there. Focusing is extremely difficult on many fronts, severe chronic pain, ADHD, dissociation, fatigue, migraines, and TBI, are just some of the contributing factors. I struggle daily with many things because of my lack of intellect.

I’m also privileged in the fact that I had some access to education as a homeless youth, that I had some supports in place to help me (towards the end of school), that I was somewhat able-bodied at the time and could walk or bike to and from school when the school system didn’t provide transportation. I was fortunate to have a chance to succeed, and I’m proud that I graduated high school because it was a difficult task for me, and others often aren’t offered that chance or get accommodations. I almost didn’t and I dropped out many times before graduation. I passed on sheer luck and what little privileges I had. 

That all being said, me being stupid (reclaiming it here) doesn't make me a bad person. I don't hurt people because I can't do math. I may mess up things or get confused but it doesn't make me want to harm others.

We often (wrongfully) equate morals with intellect. Being ‘stupid’, ‘dumb’, or an ‘idiot’ doesn’t automatically make someone a bad person. Plenty of evil, awful, and abusive people are extremely intelligent. 

I see this most notably with people advocating for IQ tests to be able to vote. Often from left-leaning people, in hopes it'll make the right (that they view as unintelligent), unable to vote. The reality is, it just hurts some of our most vulnerable members of the community while not actively doing anything to restrict some of the most dangerous members of our community-- those who know what they're doing to harm others and deliberately doing so. My voice matters, and I speak up against injustice and participate in dismantling oppressive systems. Taking away my right to vote won't make the right stop oppressing minorities (which also puts a lot of faith into the two-party voting system, which is a post for another day).

Additionally, legislative measures that discriminate against intellectually disabled people such as IQ tests for voting are also rooted in racism and classism. 

Yes, education can be a vital tool when it comes to addressing discrimination and creating safer communities. But the kind of education that is measured with an IQ test (or any test) isn't the same. Building compassion and caring for others can (and should) happen at any IQ level. We can all practice this, we can all participate.

It harms our communities and stagnates our progress when we equate intelligence with high morals.

[signanothername]

Reading your head canon, I am surprised that each Murder agreed to work with Nightmare instead of a duel to death and be passively aggressive instead of fully aggressive and non-compliant, and use any knowledge of Nightmare and Killer to hit them where it hurts. Since Nightmare cannot destroy AUs like Error, Murder's only fear would be his own death, not due to the pain, but because of his own self-penance to haunt Dusttale alone and stop the human. Like when he is "recruited" by Nightmare or as you mention in your head canon, brought back by Killer, I would still think Murder would make sure the fights either end with his win or his death. After all, Murder values his autonomy and freedom. Because even if Murder is an adaptive, intelligent tactician, he is still a mortal compared to Nightmare, he would realize he has reached a dead end, so death is the only option, compared to working with two people that remind of the human that he hates. Well, the only reason I see Murder pretending to be compliant is to probably plan a betrayal and join Dream, as Dream is the only weapon against Nightmare, maybe even try to train him, because he doesn't care about Dream, but Nightmare is as bad or worse than the human, so by Murder's logic, he should be put down. Otherwise he has no ability to travel home or power to harm Nightmare, so as mentioned above death is the only other option. Over all, it could be argued that every Murder!Sans has a lot of reasons to defy or fight Nightmare, even if it causes his death. Plus I still think Murder vs Killer wouldn't be so one sided for Killer, since Murder, as Sans spent more time improving his skills during the resets compared to the loads Killer, as Sans spent fighting Chara over and over. So beside loading, I still think Murder might have an edge in battle experience and intelligence.

The ask Anon is referring to for context <33

Oh Murder was not compliant, not at all Anon, in fact, that’s exactly why I think Murder gets replaced the most, it’s because of how non-compliant he is, I don’t think Murder would ever agree to join the gang, I never said he would

You’ll notice I only talked about his passive aggressiveness with Killer specifically in the Murder Time Trio ask, and in fact, do talk about how Murder would pry into Killer’s private matters all just to piss him off, I never went on about Murder’s relationship with Nightmare in depth

And I didn’t go in depth cause the previous ask was for the Murder Time Trio as a whole, and their relationship with each other, so I couldn’t just talk about Murder in depth or in much detail as I wanted cause otherwise I would’ve absolutely diverted from the main point of that ask

But now that I have this beautiful ask I can actually go in depth as much as I want >:)

And you’re absolutely right that Nightmare can’t destroy AUs, the most Nightmare could do is lay waste to the Au, but Dusttale is already a wasteland so nothing much Nightmare could do there, that’s exactly why I say that Murder would try his luck and run back to his Au (and continue on doing it over and over), and it’s exactly why I say that Nightmare struggles with controlling Murder the most, cause Nightmare has no true power over him mentally, Murder doesn’t care about dying by Nightmare’s hand and he knows he could try his luck as much as Nightmare’s patience allows

Murder would definitely perfer death over being under Nightmare, cause if he can’t be useful enough to save his Au from the human what’s the point?

In fact allow me to be bold and say that I wholeheartedly believe Murder is also the hardest to “recruit” by Nightmare, cause I genuinely believe that in some timelines, the Murder that was supposed to be recruited by Nightmare just offed himself before Nightmare could get ahold of him, cause again, better death than be taken away from his Au, something that Nightmare has grown wise to and usually tries to knock Murder out before he tries such extreme measures, then later Nightmare controls Murder in certain ways once he’s got Murder under him

But here’s the thing, when we talk about Murder and Nightmare’s relationship, only looking at one side of the coin (in this context Murder) is missing the point in my humble opinion, cause yes, Murder does prefer death, and yes Murder would be aggressive and noncompliant, but how does Nightmare deal with that? Cause in every relationship there are multiple sides to look at, not just one

Cause while Murder prefers death, wouldn’t it make sense to also believe that Murder would want to preserve his life to be able to get back to his Au and stop the human? I mean Murder cares this much about his Au doesn’t he?

And that’s exactly why I previously mentioned Nightmare’s emotional/mental manipulation tactics, Nightmare knows Murder would try to preserve his life IF he has hope he can get back to his Au, so Nightmare LETS Murder get back to his Au from time to time, all to give Murder the false hope that he can get away, that false hope contributes to Murder thinking that death isn’t the only way out, further lengthening Murder’s stay under Nightmare, all while Nightmare uses the “you can go back to your Aus” card as some sort of reward for “good work”, to condition Murder to (very reluctantly) work for Nightmare to get this “reward”, all while “bad behavior” aka Murder trying to run back to his Au on his own (which literally doesn’t work cause Murder doesn’t have the ability to hop between Aus) means Nightmare punishes Murder by forbidding him from going to his Au, which usually ends with Murder clawing at Nightmare, which only further worsens his punishment

So as time goes on you can imagine Nightmare understanding Murder enough to be able to get to a point in which he can condition Murder enough so he becomes a bit less hostile just to get his chances to get back to his Au, only to be dragged back by Killer when Nightmare deems Murder has had enough “home time”

And here’s an interesting question, why won’t Nightmare go himself to get Murder back from his Au? It’ll be a lot easier and less time and source consuming wouldn’t it?

And to me? No it’s not cause he’s an all mighty King and he just sits on his ass doing nothing and lets his underlings do the dirty work for him (cause while i believe Nightmare deems some things as “beneath him” I despise the idea that Nightmare is an absolute lazy bitch that doesn’t do anything but monologue, which is why I interpret Nightmare my own way) in fact, I like to think Nightmare is so fucking obsessed with being in control, that in fact he’s sure to keep everything under his watchful eye, he knows every little thing about his prey (in this instance it’s the Murder Time Trio) he knows what they do, how, and when, he knows every little weakness and every little strength they hold, he understands them to the littlest detail in order to keep control over them

And in my interpretation of Nightmare, sending Killer instead of going himself is just another manipulation tactic, Nightmare knows Murder would be a bit confident in his ability to fight (and even win) against Killer, something that he won’t believe if it was Nightmare himself that came to get him, it further engraves that false hope that Murder can get away one day, if (or “when” in Murder’s view) he wins against Killer

Which brings me to the question, is Killer vs Murder one sided for Killer? No I don’t believe it is, in fact I agree that Murder has spent his time refining his skills and experience, however, let’s not forget Killer also is just as intelligent as Murder is, I for one think Killer and Murder are almost on bar with each other in terms of who wins or loses

I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m not biased towards Killer, cause I definitely am, it’s very obvious that he’s my favorite, so please don’t take my interpretation as an objective correct analysis of their fight, i’ll be simply talking from my humble (very biased) opinion

However if we think logically, Killer has a few things Murder doesn’t, and these would be 1-inability to recognize his body’s limit, 2-his soul’s stages, and 3-a much higher LV than Murder’s

Murder is at LV 19 mostly, Killer, while Rahafwabas has stated they’ll leave it up to interpretation, has been shown in a comic to have a glitched LV of 99999, which in my opinion makes sense considering the Determination Killer’s soul holds, and it automatically means that Killer’s stronger than Murder (if we wanted to get technical at least)

But I don’t like technicalities in analysis of fights so that brings me to the points I’m actually interested in

Something to keep in mind, is that Killer is also just as intelligent as Murder is, Killer’s mind moves just as quick as his body moves, he improvises mid battle and is generally very unpredictable, and to top it all off, Killer fights dirty, he uses any means necessary, and he doesn’t rely on raw power, but on his mind to win

Killer is also extremely observant and has a tendency to study people under a microscope, all while pretending he’s the stupidest most idiotic bitch you ever met, so Killer probably has Murder’s weaknesses memorized and probably already studied Murder enough to know how to deal with him during a battle

Not to mention, if we talk about how much experience each of them holds, then it’s really up for interpretation, cause listen, in my interpretation, I believe Murder has amazing experience, but you’re also talking about Killer, who worked under Nightmare before any of the others, meaning Killer not only has just as much experience, but Killer’s experience is vast and varied, as he fights a variety of people from completely different Aus, with different levels of powers/ intelligence, all while Murder only fights the same people under the same circumstances over and over (then again, this is really up for interpretation, your interpretation of whether Killer worked under Nightmare first or not could be different, i’m only talking from my own point of view, it’s not a hard fast truth or a correct objective interpretation, so please feel free to disagree <333)

Killer (at stage 2) doesn’t recognize his body’s limits, he in fact, thrives on pain, Killer could literally reach the point where his body would collapse at any second and yet still fight like it’s nothing, he’ll go beyond that point, Murder won’t, once Murder’s body reaches its limit it’ll immediately mean he lost, cause Killer won’t stop until A-his mission is complete and he dragged Murder back, or B-he’s dead, there’s no in between for stage 2 Killer

Which brings me to the point you mentioned which is the loading, whether Killer can save and load is really up for interpretation, cause as far as I know, there’s no canonical info on whether he can save and load, but I for one, believe he can, and how long can Murder hold his own against Killer before Murder reaches his limit? When Killer holds the same power the human (who Murder keeps losing to) holds?

Another thing to keep in mind is Killer’s stages, they provide a great advantage in terms of fighting, cause while I believe Murder can absolutely hold his own against stage 2 Killer, I don’t believe he’ll have much advantage against stage 3 Killer, and he sure as hell will not ba able to keep up against a stage 4 Killer, now whether Murder would trigger Killer enough to reach stage 3 and 4 is really up to you and what you like to think, I for one think if Murder knew about Killer’s stages, he’d be smart enough not to trigger Killer to reach those stages cause he would know he won’t win if Killer did reach them, however if Murder doesn’t know about his stages, then the possibility of Murder triggering Killer into stage 3 or 4 on accident is possible, which will not end on a good note for Murder

All that aside, do I believe that Killer always wins against Murder? No not at all, I actually like to believe that sometimes Killer wins, other times Murder wins, and other times? Killer had taken his sweet time trying to get Murder who was holding his own pretty well, that Nightmare shows up himself to take care of it (usually Nightmare would be very pissed at both of them, resulting in Killer and Murder paying grave consequences)

As for Murder working with Dream, I honestly can’t see Murder having the patience to actually work with him, cause each second he spends with Dream is another second away from his Au, and I believe Murder is smart enough to know Nightmare isn’t very easy to take down, other than the raw power and intelligence Nightmare holds, if Dream was truly able to take him down Murder would think Dream would’ve already done it, Murder is intelligent enough to recognize working with Dream would be a waste of time and effort that could’ve been used on much more important matters (such as getting back to his Au)

The only reason I’d see Murder making contact with Dream at all is to only request that Dream open a portal to his Au, only to realize whoops!! Dream can’t open a portal to a place filled with negativity, which only would frustrate the shit outta Murder

Murder’s circumstance really makes me sad ngl, the guy just wants to be back home dammit 😔

[punksocks]

Please pick the picture that resonates with you, that gives you sort of that subconscious pull. The picture with the most weight behind it.

This didn’t quite turn out how I expected but I do like the results ! Everything may not resonate perfectly because they’re general readings, but please comment which pile resonates with you the most, and your thoughts after your reading <3

Why do people stare at you?

*****

-Pile 1: People stare at you because you have this air of authority. You may have been through a lot of heavy life experiences, a lot of tragedy and betrayal from those you’re closest to. (I had a hard time writing out the words for this one- some of your may still really struggle with the weight of what you’ve endured.) But you’ve made a lot of progress in overcoming this. You’ll get your just deserts and you’ll never have to look back at this betrayal again. You know how to build a way out for yourself and that empresses a lot people and gives you a naturally regal air (I misspelled this in my notes too lol, confirmation). You still manage to be kind and generous despite your wounds from what you’ve endured. If you have the mean, financial or otherwise, you use them to be a good person. You’re at the end of a cycle of suffering and people find your strength poetic. You’ve gotten through so much so successfully, it leaves people enamored and they want to honor how you’ve done it (ok I was going to write hear over honor but it felt too important to correct, this confirms how you’re coming out of this on top). You work so hard, endlessly, people are in awe of your stamina and want to know what you’re doing next. You’re a very passionate person, people love your ambitions and how you always have energy to create and expand and work (Do you have fire signs in your big 6? Especially Aries?). You’re the life of the party ! You may be a heartbreaker as well. People want to work with you to see what you know (Possible Capricorn energy, especially Ascendant). People don’t think they’ll measure up to your -steep- standards, but they love to shoot their shot anyway (my notes say to be your lover, but I can’t type that outright lol). You have boss babe energy and people want a shot at proving themselves to you (proving that they can keep up with you, even when they /know/ they can’t). They get scared at the possibility of fumbling you (bruh the way I sucked my teeth on accident, this doesn’t impress you lol). They think their worlds will fall apart if they have you and screw it up (Scorpio/Pluto placement vibes?) People see you as rich, wealthy, abundant (financially, rich in resources, energy even, any of that). They see you as very ambitious and they wonder if they can keep up without falling behind or getting jealous. People dispare over the thought of keeping up with you because they know they can’t match you (*despair, but this may indicate experiencing ghosting for some of you. Also emphasis on Aries energy again). You do all of this while prioritizing your self care and happiness. Good for you Pile 1! Don’t slow down or neglect yourself on behalf of anyone. Someone that knows how to match you will come into your life if they haven’t already. Ancestors/ guides/ however you prefer to refer to them as say they’re proud of you but you’ve got to release all of those people that want you to slow down for them— they’re dead weight (damn, stone cold, as you should be).

Songs:

******

-Pile 2: people stare at you because you’re super major! My brain went to a valley girl accent so people may regularly under estimate you pile 2 (major Elle Woods from Legally Blonde vibes). They may assume you’re a bit vapid or superficial but you contain multitudes and you have some seriously strong boundaries. The Emperor came out from 2 different decks! You’re often the smartest person in the room, and you really don’t care about your haters, you couldn’t care less about them because you know they’re below you. (Impressive, a lot of people have to work on healthily embracing their ego, you’re balanced in this and that’s commendable.) People stare at your naturally regal presence ‘I look expensive’ I’d what I just heard. You are really luxurious (in small and big ways - luxury can also mean never treating yourself less than you deserve.) People may try to steal attention from you but you know they’re grasping at straws. You don’t let them phase you. Like grounded Libra energy. You may be a bit older, some of you have Libra conjunct outer planets. Like Pluto, so there’s a lot of depth to your grace and charm. At the beginning (of the reading) the original Venus song, from the 60s, played. You may also be drawn to a vintage/classic style and this adds to your charm. The fact that you know when to pause and rest helps make you so unstoppable. You’re a very balanced person, strong Libra energy. You channel being balanced into making things happen (‘making money moves’). I thought of my Grandma (my favorite Libra tbh) very demure, classical lady, but she could move mountains when she set her mind to it. You have a razor sharp intuition too, you always know ‘when to hold ‘em and when to fold em’ (do some of you like country music? Lol) You know how to get your wishes fulfilled. You may be older (gen X) or you just have really mature vibes for your age. You’ve probably transformed a lot to get to this point in your life as well. I’m happy for you and your guides are proud of how far you’ve come (and how far you’ll go)

Cosmia by Joanna Newsom

******

-Pile 3: Hello my pile 3’s, your guides had a lot they wanted to say to you and I had to switch pens bc my first one ran out. I get the feeling that you rushed into a new opportunity lately. A situation that you thought you wished for but it broke your heart. Could be a relationship or a job, something that you hoped would solve your woes but brought you more head and heart ache than you expected. This was a challenging period but people are staring because they can see hope and optimism coming back to you. ‘The sun will shine on another day’ I heard. (Either you’re realizing this or your guides need you to know this truth.) The Sun, The Star, and the Ace of Swords all came out so you’re really being called to stay optimistic because things will get better is what I’m getting. You’re gaining more abundance after a hard period and you’ve been weighed down by a lot of burdens (too many !). But this cycle is ending and is calling on you to listen to the knowledge you already know. You’re growing into your emotional understanding and overall this pushed growth is for the best. You’re learning you’re your own expert guide. You know what you want and need the best out of everyone. People can tell you’re changing and you’re not who you used to be.

[ragingbookdragon]

All Work And No Play Makes Dull Boys

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Suggestive Themes

Author's Note: Guess who's back with an actual fic? Fantastic render by @ave661 Go check her out! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

If there’s one thing Simon “Ghost” Riley knows about Spades, it’s that she, in all her infinite glory, never spares any expense when it comes to how she looks, and what her gear is. And the same has begun to occur for the 141 as well. It started small, bits and pieces rearranged, a few new knives and sidearms to try out, then it went to bigger things, new rifles and shotguns, and then it hit the gear. At random moments, Spades had pulled each man of the 141 into her room and stripped them down to their tighty-whities before she measured each inch of them—Soap and Gaz had gone willingly, it took Price a few days to convince, and Ghost? Ghost didn’t step foot in her room or anywhere near her when he learned what she was doing—no need though, she already had what she needed from him.

***

It’s a late evening in October when she comes to his door. She doesn’t bother knocking, never does, and unlocks it with a key she had made (he has no idea when and how she did it), stepping into his room. He looks up from the mission brief he’s been reading while laying on his bed, an unimpressed, almost annoyed look in his eyes as he glares at her.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Simon,” she says with a sickly-sweet tone. “Someone might accuse you of actually liking me.”

“Out.” Is all he says.

She tuts and beckons him with a finger. “Come.”

They stare at each other for a solid minute before he exhales through his nose, annoyed and exasperated, and rolls off the bed; he stretches and rolls his shoulders before following her down the hall into her room.

“I’m not getting measured,” he says as he closes the door behind them.

“As if I don’t already have your measurements, Simon Riley,” she retorts and now he’s a bit unnerved because he’s never given her time to measure him, so how did she already have them? She doesn’t answer his silent question, merely walks to her room divider, and rolls out a fancy looking set of black gear. “I give to you, ‘The Gilded Reaper.’” She announces with a note of pride in her tone and a helluva lot of it in her expression.

He takes one look at it. “I am not wearing that.”

“YOU HAVEN’T EVEN TRIED IT ON!” Spades yells and thrusts her hand to it. “I spent a lot of time and money on this, and you are going to try it on for me whether you like it or not.”

“Am I?” he dares and it’s obvious he’s going to go for the door as she points at him.

“If you make me chase you down and drag you back here, I’m going to make you regret it entirely, do you understand me, Simon Riley?”

He’s almost tempted to do it just to see her follow suit with her threat; he glares her down before he lets out a long breath. “Fine.”

Spades smiles and chirps, “Thank you.” Simon dips behind the divider, tugging the mannequin with him and she rolls her eyes. “It’s as if you think I haven’t seen anything you have before.”

“It’s called ‘common decency,’” he retorts. “Maybe you should look it up.” She throws one of her shoes over the divider at the tuft of blond hair she can see. “That hurt.”

“I meant it. Now hurry up, I want to see it.”

It’s another few moments before he steps outside the divider, and she stares wide-eyed as he does.

“Well?” he asks, and he really means, “This is so fucking stupid.”

Spades takes her time walking in circles around him, pulling at belts, at the straps, checking if everything is fitting well enough before she stops in front of him, staring up into his golden mask.

“I like it,” she notes, and her voice lowers an octave, a tell-tale sign that she’s being honest; she only ever does it with him. “I think it’s you.”

“It’s ostentatious,” he deadpans.

“Careful, that’s a big word for a caveman’s brain.”

He rolls his eyes, not taking the bait of the insult. “I can’t wear this out on missions. It’s practically a neon sign that says, ‘Hey, shoot me!’”

Spades reaches up and strokes the gold mask. “Who said it was missions?”

Simon freezes up, body still as he gazes at her, and Spades looks awfully innocent as she dips her fingers below his golden mask, feeling his masked face beneath. It’s not often that Spades can render Simon completely silent, the two practically have a raging desire to be each other’s constant pissing match that there’s always something to say, and yet, he’s still quiet as she pulls her hands away and twirls around him to his back. Her hands slide up his sides beneath the cape, feeling firm muscle beneath.

“I made this just for us, Simon,” she coos, hands slipping down to his belt where she tugs it. “I was thinking we could take a trip to the mountains where I have that cabin and we could…play.”

“You mean hunt each other,” he breathes, and it’s low and heavy, she knows exactly what he really wants to say.

“All work and no play makes such dull boys,” Spades muses. “We’ve spent so much time working, Simon, we’re awfully dull, don’t you think?”

He lets out a low noise from his throat, a warning that should send bells off in her head, but all it does is urge her on, a grin worming its way onto her lips.

“Please, Simon,” she begs and lifts a leg on the outside of his hip, her thigh just beside his hand. “It would be so much fun.”

His head tips to the side, hand grasping her knee in an iron-clad grip and he spins them; Spades is back up against the wall in a flash and she gives him a flash of white teeth in a smile as he takes her jaw in a firm hand, tilting it up to get a good look at her. “We haven’t played hunt in a while. What makes you think you’ll win this time?” he challenges.

It’s true, Simon often wins their games of hunt, but it’s only because Spades gets tired of waiting and lets herself be hunted down. “Call it a feeling,” she replies, tugging at his center belt. “Should I give you the coordinates for our game, Ghost?”

He leans forward, close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating off of him and he remarks, “I’ll get ‘em on my own.”

As he pulls away, she watches as he turns and stalks for the door, only stopping when her voice reaches him in a provoking, “May the best hunter win.”

[windser]

conflicted contrast (3/?)

pairing: mc x sylus (soulmate!au) wc: 1.6k+ rating: t

a/n: i have so many drafted ideas for this and few other sylus dynamics. but here is a direct continuation from this work! i doubt future additions will remain linear, ill probably just bounce around scenes but i love them a lot already!! honestly, feel free to send questions or specific requests about this dynamic to help me explore more

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

'sorry, I'm not into subs.'

it's probably not your shining moment, especially not with your supervisor less than half a foot away. there is a cough from your right, definitely from the officer trying to reign in his reaction.

yet, the leader of onichynus—your soulmate—finds humor in it all. his laugh, strong but low, isn't as shocking as deep-bellied amusement, but it may as well have been, given the guard's surprised reaction. apparently, outside of his request to see you, this man had given them nothing.

this man who—

"sylus."

you look up, your eyes having subtly mapped out his body in curiosity about where such a phrase could be etched. it obviously wasn't as prominent as yours.

he waits until your eyes meet. "my name," he says, as if reading your thoughts. a hint of a smile curls his lips. "as for my mark, perhaps that's a show for private times. but I assure you, i have been waiting for those words for a long, long time."

and you understand because even when you had given up, you too had played the waiting game, always wanting to at least know what the words 'you're beautiful' sounded like on fated lips.

but now...

well, there wasn't much left to this story. your soulmate was a criminal captured by the UNICORNS organization, and that was the end of it.

this moment was likely the most private and last opportunity the two of you would have together. and it wouldn't even be just the two of you, as the other two parties in the room were likely desperate to use this chance to get what they wanted from him.

you were just a proxy.

akey to his lips.

"sylus, are you indeed the leader of the illegal organization onichynus?"

despite the words leaving jenna's mouth, sylus's gaze never leaves yours.

"is that what you really want to know?"

the sigh that escapes your lips is heavy, carrying the weight of how difficult he plans to make this for everyone involved. shifting your weight to one foot, you meet him with an equally measured look.

"do you need my permission to speak to others?"

his answering grin tells you everything you need to know and opens the abyss to more inquiries you didn't realize you had an itch to know.

feeling prompted, you ask the same question.

"yes."

now it's confirmed what everyone already suspected, but sylus doesn't offer more than that, leaving jenna to ask more about the operations. unsurprisingly, he only acknowledges the questions when you mimic them.

"we deal with the movements of the N109 zone that you all are too pure to taint yourselves with."

it's likely not exactly what jenna had in mind, but it was something. so she asks another inquiry about specific attributes of such dynamics, to which sylus waits patiently for you to repeat. this goes on for the next few questions until you're both irritated by the redundancy and vagueness of it all.

nothing he has said has exposed itself as more than what the UNICORNS already had on file. at most, all they got out of this operation was a face.

Sure, they had the leader, but what was a figurehead when the heart of the organization was still running rampant within its own borders? at least it could be said that what he build was competent in his absence. though more could be said about the lack of rescue attempts.

"why are you modifying protocores?"

this was the first question of your own, and because his gaze had never left yours, sylus acknowledges it with a raised brow.

"because it makes them better." your frown deepens, and in noticing sylus yields more information. "If protocores were to be left in their current state, it would be similar to extracting a gem and leaving it unrefined. to truly want to extract its beauty, it must be cultivated." it's common sense really, goes unsaid but his tone holds the intent.

jenna doesn't propose the next question, so you take the opportunity to poke more.

"and what do you do with these advanced protocores?" it's not meant to be a compliment, but acknowledging that they were better than anything the UNICORNS had in inventory was a simple fact.

sylus doesn't answer immediately. he seems to be rolling his response around his tongue before deciding on the preferred taste.

"the wanderers are an issue to both sides, along with the other unsavory characters that associate themselves with the entire mess. we utilize our resources as we see fit."

with that, he confirms what had been speculated—that onichynus wasn't the only force making waves in the N109 zone and, by the sound of his distaste, they were not pleased with the fact.

"and what is the end goal of said resources?" jenna enunciates her question by stepping further into the room. it's an obvious authority play, something even sylus acknowledges with a barely-there smirk.

whatever is written on your face is easily read by him, so he humors her by responding directly for the first time, "whatever we want."

and that was the last of any relevant information either of you were able to get out of the man. he would always give you some sort of response, or at least his lips always moved with sound.

but questions like "how many members are in onichynus?" were met with answers like "i enjoy chocolate mousse cake but hate when they add cherries on top. what's your favorite dessert?" to the point where jenna decided to call it for the night, to sylus's humored dismay.

"we were just getting to know each other."

which was hilarious because, aside from knowing his apparently favorite confectionary sweet and his preferred exercise routine to blow off steam, he was every bit of the mystery of the man you'd walked in on.

it was a shame, really, because at the end of it all, you were finding your soulmate to be interesting, to say the least. a shame that intrigue came from the fact that he was a notorious criminal with more affiliations than UNICORNS could ever hope to pin on him.

you suppose you could at least admit to yourself that he was attractive. the pale, ashy hair complemented his eyes well. he was certainly built like a leader who liked to get things done on his own terms rather than delegate.

the biggest folly, really, that he just wasn't your type.

which is odd, because why would the stars align your lives with incompatible dynamics? If you needed a man to look at you for permission every time he spoke, you'd just get a dog.

perhaps it was best he was locked up, otherwise, you'd be the one forced to collar him.

"if I am to accept this will be my 'last meal,' could i at least get one request of my own?"

jenna pauses in her monologue of reading of rights, a long, drawn-out literature of things that are hearsay and probably won't even apply to a highly classified criminal such as him.

it's fair for her to be affronted by the inquiry, because not only has he not yet been offered his 'last meal,' it's the fact that it's you he's looking at.

he seems to wait for everyone to reach that pinnacle before he continues, "nothing untoward, i promise, as I am very much secured." as if the steel walls weren't enough, he makes a flimsy attempt to shake the handcuffs at his wrist.

reminded, your eyes flicker to the affronted restraints before raising to meet his. "what?"

his grin should have been the first warning.

"if you could at least humor the facade of privacy by coming closer."

it should be a threat. and definitely should not be considered.

but outside of the truth of him being a criminal, he is also, unfortunately, your soulmate. and while your spirits are not bound through mortality, you doubt he would do anything regardless.

it's Jenna who gives you the longest look before leaving the rest to you.

and from there, all that is left is a metaphoric cat and it's curiosity.

it doesn't take many steps for you to close the distance. as you approach, the man spreads his legs wider as if in accommodation, but you stop before accepting the obvious offer. it earns you the first proper smile rather than his muted smirk.

he leans forward instead, to close the distance himself, arms still held at a certain angle due to them being locked in a loop around the chair. from this position, the best he could do was tilt his chin up from a bowed head.

"are you disappointed?"

he's talking about himself. his attachment to you. the twine that intermingles your souls. and it's the first genuine set of words that you hear from his mouth besides his name.

"aside from the obvious, i'm not sure. if you'd chosen a different profession, perhaps you could have had the opportunity to prove me wrong."

which, down the road, or perhaps in a few moments, you would learn was both the wrong and right thing to say.

for in the next breath, his chest evened out, and behind his back, his pointer finger twitched once, and you all heard the clink of the cuff unlocking.

"well, with an opportunity like that, how can I resist, sweetie?"

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hii, just call me Skull anon. I've been very curious about how different yanderes would do so I'm asking for a request.

How would Xiao, Albedo, and Wriothesley deal with a Drug addict reader who was already in an unstable state, struggling to survive with rent and had bad trauma? The trauma could be anything you'd like.

Of course, you can deny this request if it makes you uncomfortable. No pressure or anything.

so i was a little hesitant to do this because I wasn't sure how well I could properly portray this, but going sort of off my own experience with certain things and trying to remain calm i wrote this. i can't really explain what compelled me to, but i do hope you enjoy this and please, read the warnings for this one :] <3

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, implied being held against will, manipulation tactics, mentions of substance abuse and recovery from it, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Xiao would be concerned internally but look indifferent externally. He’s conflicted, because he knows you’re struggling and that humans are a lot weaker, that you need help, but he doesn’t know how to help, he’s never had to be in this position before. He consults many people, fellow adepti, Zhongli, even the Traveler, none of whom he gives the full picture to but instead dances around the main ideas and works off vague descriptions.

Xiao’s first step in helping you was moving you in to the Wangshu Inn with him, where he could watch over you better. He has a reserved room there, though he never really uses it. Sleep is beyond his needs so he rarely rests, but you need rest so he allows you to have the room. This comes with him barging in on you whenever he sees fit though, day to night at any moment he could pop in without you even knowing. He had a strange way of doing that, a lot. He isn’t sure how to help with trauma or substance abuse, those aren’t the evils he usually fights, but he knows people he can ask about that. Xiao didn’t like admitting that he didn’t know what to do, but grumbling and giving Baizhu some vague descriptions of the situation helped him get a better idea of what to do. Xiao decides to take the soft approach of slowly weening you off the awful stuff, not wanting you to be left with more problems from quitting cold turkey. It’s a long road and Xiao was sorta kinda prepared to help you through it. He likes having you this close though, this dependent on him and his help.

Yandere!Albedo struggles with his feelings. His lack of humanity means he really only experiences feelings that are typically in abundance, meaning he doesn’t feel unless the feeling is so strong it cannot be ignored. His research is all he really knows so he takes the opportunity to offer ‘assistance.’ In exchange for staying with him and allowing him to study your responses and reactions, he would help you with your addiction.

It seemed like a good deal at first, Albedo would provide adequate housing, a quaint apartment in the heart of Mondstat, in exchange for being allowed to study you as he helped you over your drug problem. It would kill two birds with one stone no? What he didn’t tell you though was that he planned to have you quit cold turkey, wanting to watch how your body would respond to the sudden withdrawals. Of course, if anything started to border on the edge of life-threatening, he’d take preventative measures to ensure you lived, but otherwise, you were not permitted to leave or take any addictive substances. Albedo oversees all your care, meaning that for the entire recovery process, you are confined to a bedroom with him hovering over you, notepad and pencil in hand and large, unblinking eyes boring holes into you. It was unsettling, and even when you were on the upswing, finally getting to where the grass was greener, he still refused to allow you out or allow others in, saying that it could compromise the research. In reality, he just didn’t want anyone else near you, he had loved having you all to himself and didn’t want to share you ever again.

Yandere!Wriothesley is surprisingly educated on what to do. Not only had a few people in similar conditions come through the prison, but it was his job to make sure that he knew everything about everyone who passed into this place. With the help of some staff at the Fortress of Meropide, he moves you into a room in the staff wing, assigning you a set of personalized staff to help with your addictions. There were only two conditions, he would check in on you every day to ensure you were sticking to your recovery and that when you were finally okay, you would work as his assistant to pay off your debt. 

Wriothesley wasn’t worried about the money that was put towards your recovery, it was nothing to someone with the title of Duke. He was more concerned with you being alive than momentary pleasures like wealth, but he used the excuse of you needing to pay him back to keep you around longer. He checks in with you every day, typically around dinner time, he’ll take a break to eat with you and talk about your day, building a relationship and establishing a connection, but sometimes he takes short breaks to check in on you. Wriothesley also speaks with the assigned group of nurses and staff that were there specifically for you every day, getting word from them on your progress and how things are looking. He enjoys seeing you slowly getting better day by day, his hope for the future strong as he dreams of the day you become officially his. He had no intention of ever letting you leave the Fortress of Meropide, at least not without him, arm wrapped protectively around you as he escorts you around, as a partner should.

[shadowkoo]

The Ex Text

→ Summary: The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

↠ jungkook x f.reader | 3.2k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, pwp, ex with benefits, minor fluff & angst

→ Warnings: swearing, explicit sex, protected sex, scratching, breast play, spit/saliva play, infidelity (in the case that reader just started dating someone new), soft kissing, soft choking, rough kissing, ball squeezing, fingering, handjob, blowjob, cunnilingus, sloppy oral sex (female & male receiving), squirting, praising, teasing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, doggy, deep dicking, posessive!jungkook has a hard time dealing with his feelings

→ Author note: This is an update of a fic I posted in January that desperately needed some editing (anyone else ever read their old fics and cringe??), I hope you enjoy the newest version bc i personally believe it’s so much better! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

The pillow vibrates beneath your head as the notifications on your phone add up. Knowing it’s nowhere near time for you to get up, you roll over, choosing to ignore whatever, or rather, whoever is trying to reach you. Your plan works for another several minutes as you attempt to drift back to sleep, but your phone soon buzzes again, signaling another notification.

You groan and clumsily reach to turn the ringer off, but instead, your curiosity wins. After a couple of slow blinks, your eyes adjust to the blinding light and are able to focus on the screen; a couple of likes on your latest tweet, a new follower request for your insta, and three new texts from ‘The Ex’…

You groan again and check the time. 2 AM.

“Mmm, right on schedule, ‘Kook,” you drone sleepily to yourself, “Glad to see nothing’s changed.”

Invested now, and unfortunately awake, you unlock your phone to read the full texts.

2:03 AM

‘hey, u awake?’

2:07 AM

‘come over pls’

‘I’ll leave the door open’

Leaving the messages on read, you think about the two ways this could go.

One, you ignore him, just as you have been for the last month, and pretend like he means nothing to you.

Or two, you text him back, agree to come over, and wind up in a self-hate spiral the following days for allowing him to weasel back into your life.

A third groan leaves your body, realizing your heart is clouding your mind, having already made the decision. You type out your message and hover your thumb over the send button, before pressing firmly, unable to take it back.

2:11 AM

‘i hate you…i’ll be there in 5’

His response pops up just seconds later.

‘i’ll be waiting’

This routine is nothing new to you, as much as you hate to say it.

It’s not the first time since your break up that he’s asked you over. And it’s not the first time you’ve rushed to see him, to relive the good times spent between his sheets.

As promised, Jungkook left the door unlocked for you. His tall pup, Bam, meets you with a happy face and a wagging tail the second you crack the door open.

“Hi Bamy-Boo, I’ve missed you so much. How’s my good boy doing?” you ask after stepping into the quiet apartment, bending at the knees to give him a quick kiss on the head and some chin scratches.

“He’d be doing a lot better if you joined him in bed.”

Turning your head, your eyes land on Jungkook. He’s leaning against the wall outside his bedroom, with one of his hands combing through his tousled hair. And he’s wearing the beige-colored sweat set he knows drives you wild.

Damn him.

Your eyes wander to the waistband of his pants, where the faintest patch of skin shows through with his raised arm, before moving upward towards his face.

He’s grinning now.

“We need to stop doing this,” you sigh, not even attempting to deny that you were ogling him. He’s hot, you both know it. No point in sugar-coating or avoiding it. “You can’t keep texting me this time of night and expect me to come over.”

“You can leave any time you want, you know that,” he says taking a step closer to you, “Just like you know you don’t have to text me back. But you do.” He extends a hand, which you accept, and you stand up, letting him pull you up against his chest. “Because you want to come over. Because you know you want this.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste another second before placing his lips on yours. He’s warm and comforting, smelling of sage and citrus, just like always.

He pulls you away from the front door, which he locks, and leads you towards his room. Even in the dark, you remember the path to his bed, your body has it practically memorized.

“Come here,” he whispers softly while his fingers dance along the edge of your wrinkled pajama shirt, before lifting it over your shoulders.

You didn’t even bother changing out of your stained and slept-in pjs. Jungkook has seen you in far worse conditions. Plus you figured they wouldn’t remain on for very long, and much to your pleasure - you’re right.

Jungkook admires your breasts with his hands once your shirt is on the ground. “You’re gorgeous like this,” he whispers, cupping them and letting his thumbs rub across your nipples. Between his touch and the cool air, they harden almost immediately.

You lean into his body and your lips collide, meanwhile, his arms move around your body, crushing you against his chest.

He moans into your mouth, loving the way your fingers run through his messy hair. He doesn’t hide the fact that his cock twitches against his sweatpants when you tug lightly on his locks.

Jungkook could come in his pants just from simply kissing you and having you play with his hair, but he needs more. So much more.

He reaches for your pants, ready to remove them next. He’s desperate to undress you, to have your naked body pressed up against his. You’ve been ignoring his texts for too long lately. Even though he would never admit it, he’s missed you. A lot.

You help him take off the rest of your clothing until you’re bare before him, and Jungkook looks at you like he’s always looked at you. Like you’re the only person in the universe, you captivate his entire attention.

Nothing else matters when he’s with you.

He tears only his sweatshirt off before sitting down on the bed. Stretching back, he pats his lap with that same old smirk you’ve grown to love and hate simultaneously and motions for you to climb on top of him.

You do as he requests, resting each leg on either side of his hips so you’re straddling his waist.

“Come here,” he says quietly, pulling you closer to him, so he can leave wet kisses trailing down your neck from your earlobe to the dip above your collarbone.

His hands travel down your side as his lips move closer and closer to your breasts, his hot breath tickles your skin as he hovers over your sensitive nubs. He flicks each with his tongue, before closing his lips over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

The sensation pulls an explicit moan from deep within your core. Jungkook’s ears perk up, loving the sounds coming from you, wanting to hear you make sounds like that all night.

Your thighs tense around him as he does it again to the other side, and you massage the growing tent in his sweats to tease him just the right amount.

Jungkook digs his fingers into your hips, pushing your bare center up against his hardness as you continue your circling torture. It’s his turn to lose himself. Fuck, he can feel your heat through the thin fabric, your readiness soaking into his sweatpants. His hands curve around the swell of your ass as your tongues twist together in harmony.

Grabbing his face, you kiss him deeply while slowly moving off the top of him, your hand replacing where your opening was previously. You moan into his mouth this time, feeling how hard he is for you as you rub him through his pants.

Your hand dips underneath the waistband and wraps around his velvety length. His length throbs in your hand while your thumb glides over his needy head. You’re stroking him slowly enough to drive him into a maddening frenzy.

“Fuck baby, I need more,” he rasps.

You give him exactly what he begs for.

He cries out when your hand dips lower to squeeze his balls without warning. You smirk, watching the emotions overtake his face as the pain mixes deliciously with pleasure while you hold him tightly in your hands. You wait a few seconds before releasing them and then work to take off his pants.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, catching his breath from your dangerous game. “What was that for?”

You take a mouthful of him to avoid answering. He doesn’t press the issue further as you gag over his thick cock.

Jungkook grabs a fistful of your hair as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. He helplessly watches as your reddened lips glide over him, your saliva dripping everywhere in the process.

“Mmm, just like that,” he hums, caressing your cheek as you bob your head up and down.

Pulling yourself from him to catch your breath, your mouth then leaves wandering kisses that lead you to his balls next. Sucking each into your hollowed cheeks, you take your sweet time and watch intently as Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow together.

“Shit baby, I’m about to lose it,” he breathes deeply, before moving your bodies so you’re below him.

You smirk, your legs open and ready with your fingers teasing your wet and inviting opening. “Then lose it.”

He groans. Leaning across your body, Jungkook opens the drawer on his nightstand and rummages through until his fingers land on the very familiar foil packet. He smirks for a moment at the thought floating around in his head, and then lets the male urge win and rips it open with his teeth.

“You did not just do that,” you laugh, “That’s so cheesy. What are you, a horny teenager?”

He grins wolfishly as he rolls the condom on, “Might as well be.”

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room, engulfing Jungkook, and making him ravenous for you. He’s starved and only your heat will tame his hunger.

Unable to wait any longer, his thick length dips inside you just enough to wet his tip. He pulls back out of you, sliding your wetness through your folds, preparing you for what is to come. Then, without a moment’s notice, he takes you hard and fast, thrusting into you with all his power.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red trails from where they slide down his back and grip his ass.

The veins in Jungkook’s neck pop out as he slams into you again and again.

“Holy fuck, ‘Kook! Oh my god,” you cry out, holding onto him.

He looks so fucking hot with his hair stuck to his damp forehead. Your eyes follow the bead of sweat dripping down his temple.

Jungkook’s soft moans tickle your ear, while one of his hands creeps up to wrap around your neck. The pressure is gentle but firm, his fingers are placed exactly where they need to be to make you feel lightheaded and slightly delirious - everything you want and more.

“Do you still love me?” he pants as he thrusts into you harshly.

You blink, hesitating to answer that question.

“Fine, then answer me this, do you still love my cock?”

“Jungkook…” you sigh, tilting your head to the side. “Please don’t go there.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear you. “Tell me you’ve never had better,” he demands after flipping you over. Pulling your ass up towards him, he realigns his length with your center and thrusts back into you. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other gets lost in your hair.

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me and my cock,” he growls into your ear as he slips out of you, only to ram back into you with all his strength.

Each thrust pushes you further into the bed and brings you closer to the edge. You’re biting the sheets to stop yourself from screaming out from the sinful pleasure.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” You moan uncontrollably while Jungkook continues his sweet torture. Lust, and possibly another L emotion, dripping off the words spilling from your mouth.

You couldn’t lie if you tried at this point. You’ve really missed this and him. And holy fuck, his cock too. “Oh my god, oh god!” you cry out. Waves of euphoria wash over your quivering body as you unfold around him.

The coil snaps deep inside you, your walls pulsating around him, sending shockwaves through his body as he finishes.

Jungkook moans your name one last time before feeling himself swell, and he fills the condom with his load. His thrusts slow down but don’t stop just yet.

It’s almost too much to handle, yet it’s still not enough. Jungkook knows this and reaches down to rub his thumb along your swollen clit, causing you to see starts as your next release comes, it sprays out of you involuntarily.

You freeze, not sure if you should embrace it or be embarrassed.

He grins, “That was fucking hot. I’ve never made anyone squirt before.” You feel a sense of pride hearing that. Good. You don’t want him to have it like this with anyone else. Woah, where did that thought come from?

Without missing a beat, Jungkook lifts your legs over his shoulders as he bends down so he’s face level with your heat. He admires your slit that’s still slick from his undoing. You moan uncontrollably the second he licks through your damp folds, lost on cloud nine while he buries his face in between your legs, hands on either side of them, holding you in place.

You’re writhing beneath him from the glorious torture of his tongue teasing your entrance, his nose purposefully rubs against your sensitive nub and two of his long fingers slide into you, curling at the right pace.

His rhythmic licks turn you into a quivering mess. Your insides twist and clench around his fingers as you come again, unashamed and all over his face this time.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he pants, moving back up toward the top of the bed and collapsing next to you, totally spent.

You kiss him messily, tasting yourself on his lips, and cuddle into his side as you both drift off into the night, sweaty and exhausted, just how it should be.

It’s early. You’re not sure how long you’ve both been in and out of sleep, but you know it’s almost time for you to leave. This is the longest you’ve spent in his bed since your break up. All the other late-night extravaganzas we’re just a couple of hours, if that.

You’re laying on his chest, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat and your synced breathing, working up the energy to sit up. His fingers draw small circles on your back as you two rest. It’s surprisingly…peaceful. These are the moments you miss the most when you’re apart.

“I have a thing with the guys around tomorrow, well technically today. Want to come?” Jungkook asks out of the blue, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Can’t,” you decline, worried about where this conversation is about to go.

“And why is that, exactly?” he asks, even though he very well knows. You know he knows. He knows that you know that he knows. Which is frustrating, to say the least.

The previous peace you felt is short-lived. You sit up and lean on your elbow to look at him. “You know I’m going out with Taehyung now. You liked my Instagram pic of us together from earlier this week.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that if you’re here with me, that must mean he’s either very boring or is terrible in bed. Or maybe both?” He leaves the question open-ended for you to answer.

You roll your eyes and start to get up, not in the mood to discuss this with him tonight, or ever really.

You don’t need to explain to him that Taehyung deserves so much more than someone who’s willing to cheat on him, and with an ex-boyfriend at that. You two haven’t exactly made things official but it’s still unbelievably inconsiderate of you to waste his time while you pine after Jungkook, a guy who dumped you four months ago but still refuses to give you up.

“No, don’t go,” he groans. “What I’m trying to say is-” he pauses, fighting whatever is going on in his brain. “I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” he says bluntly.

“Why?” You press, begging for any sort of answer.

“‘Cause…,” he says, holding back.

“Because why Jungkook, I need you to say more than that. I need you to be more, we can’t keep going on like this.”

“Because I love you, dammit!” He runs a hand through his hair and huffs. “Can’t you tell? Isn’t it obvious? I’m still hung up on you and don’t like seeing you moving on when I’m, I’m…stuck,” he breathes.

He loves you.

A moment passes.

He. Loves. You.

“Please say something. Anything.” He’s nervously searching your face for any sort of answer.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you’re still hung up on me,” he whines, pulling you back onto his chest.

Your voice softens, “You know that I am.”

He kisses you gently, making your heart flutter with the possibility.

“Then what’s stopping us?” He asks once your lips part from one another.

It’s your turn to huff, you have so much to say yet it’s all lost on you at this exact moment. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

“You’re the one who ended things.”

The streetlight shines in through his window, its light illuminating your body, highlighting your beautiful features that he just can’t get enough of. Why did he end things again?

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot. What’s new?” he jokes, crawling over top of you, completely mesmerized by how gorgeous you are beneath him. He kisses you sweetly, his lips massaging yours as his heart pounds loudly in his chest. You didn’t say no. To Jungkook, that means there’s still a chance, and he’ll gladly take it.

One of his hands holds the back of your neck, tilting your head just the right amount for him to deepen the kiss. He moans into your mouth, his tongue playing with yours while his other hand finds its way between your legs.

A soft gasp escapes your lips when his fingers dip inside you. They twist and curl with perfect accuracy, bringing you closer and closer to bliss.

He has you practically begging for more, you’re already a panting mess. You reach for him, craving more, needing him closer but he refuses.

“Nope,” he grins playfully, pushing your chest gently so you lay back onto the bed, “I want to watch you come undone this time. I want to see you lose it when you come for me.”

Your back arches off the bed as you dance along the edge, squeezing your eyes shut you let his words do their magic.

“Be a good girl and come all over these fingers.” Your hips move helplessly, matching his speed as you chase the high.

“You’re luminous, absolutely divine, and all mine. Nobody can worship you as I do. Nobody else can make you feel this good.”

“No one compares to you,” you moan sensually as pleasure overtakes your body yet again, turning you into the mess he wants to see.

Your lips touch again after what feels like an eternity. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, leaving another lazy kiss on your cheek, before moving to clean up the aftermath of your pleasures.

“Me too,” you say sleepily, pulling him back into your arms after he disposed of the condom. You feel yourself drifting off, about to fall into a soft slumber with your bodies entwined.

Jungkook grins, knowing he’s one step closer to convincing you to try again. He kisses you softly, lovingly, one more time before you both drift off into the early morning light.

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[1d1195]

Dolcezza VI

Read Dolcezza here.

Warnings: fluff, angst--lots of it. I know we're all waiting on the big reveal or whatever based on my cliff hanger but you're going to have to wait a little bit 😊

~8.4k words

The sun coming through the blinds outlined her like the angel she really was, and Harry was sure there were cartoon hearts floating around his head as he gazed at her.

“Do you want me to get Harry?” Niall asked.

“No!” She nearly shouted. Niall blinked in surprise. She cleared her throat and her face warmed as Harry’s best friend looked at her like she was nuts. She honestly felt a little crazy and she prayed to God the man up front didn’t hear her and give away that she was slowly losing her mind. “No, no... it’s... he’s not doing anything wrong,” if she lied to herself enough, maybe the problem would go away.

“He’s allowed to be in the same place as you?” Niall’s eyebrows rose half-way up his forehead. Obviously, he hated this.

If Niall hated this... she hated to think what Harry would do.

She shrugged one shoulder as casually as she could manage, then nodded. “It’s only fifty feet,” she murmured.

“You know the dimensions of this place?” Surprise and distaste were evident in his tone.

She swallowed the figurative rock that had wedged itself in her throat. She tried to take a deep breath as quietly and shallowly as possible. She could still feel his gaze on her back. He had to know she was terrified, and she didn’t want to give him any more excitement into knowing she was scared. “You learn to measure 50 feet by sight,” she mumbled.

“Tesorino, please let me tell Harry,” Niall begged.

She shook her head rapidly, feeling the intensity of his stare never faltering. “Niall, please. He’ll worry and it’s—”

“I’m worried,” he admitted, speaking lowly so only she could hear.

There was thick exasperation in her sigh. “Please don’t. It’s fine. He’s just...there.”

Niall answered her sigh with his own angry, frustrated one. “Tesorino, Harry would lose his mind. Worse, he would be devastated if you didn’t tell him. He’s already probably going to hate me for waiting this long to tell him and it’s only been three minutes. Please let me tell him.” She didn’t say anything. But Niall could see the exhaustion on her face. This couldn’t be easy for her. None of it. On top of a long day with her crazy family and car trouble. Niall thought she was brave just for being upright. “Tesorino,” he repeated leaning close. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on for hours but couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. Niall was doing his best not to stare back in the offending direction.

She had to say yes. Niall needed her to say yes. He didn’t know what would happen if she said no. He couldn’t imagine looking his best friend in the eye and keeping that from him. Not when he knew how much he adored this sweet girl. Niall was equally terrified. Over the months she lived above his workplace and stole his best friend’s heart, she turned out to be one of the funniest and best people he knew. He loved her in a way Harry didn’t. Because he adored her like a sister he never had and like the best-friend-in-law he already assumed she’d be, he couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt. He was ready to throw himself over the bar and stand in front of her if needed.

He held his breath for the ten seconds she paused. Waiting wordlessly, panicked that he would have to ruin his relationship with her if she said no. There was no way he wasn’t telling Harry.

Fortunately, she nodded. The slightest headshake. He knew it probably took a lot out of her to say she needed help. It wasn’t lost on him, and he hoped he could convince Harry to see it that way. He released a breath for about as long as he held it. “Thank you, Tesorino,” Niall sighed with relief. “Harry!” He shouted, starting back for the kitchen.

She grabbed his hand right as it lifted off the bar before he made his way to Harry. He turned his attention back to her. Her hand squeezing his gently. “Please don’t leave me alone,” she whispered, her voice small.

Niall’s heart broke right in half. “Fuck,” What an idiot. “Of course not, Tesorino,” he promised and covered her hand with his other and squeezed it back with a gentle smile. It was meant to be encouraging but he was afraid it was filled with pity.

“I was looking for you. S’matter?” Harry asked, stepping up to the kitchen window. His hand zoomed in on Niall’s touching hers. Her gaze dropped to the bar already feeling like she was in trouble. “Oh...hey, Principessa. Y’okay?” Niall turned, still holding her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze as he faced Harry. Never once letting go. Patrons at the bar beside her were staring every so often at the weird chain she and Niall made as he spoke to Harry—it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds. But the only thing she could really sense was the gaze at her back. It killed her to stay facing forward. It felt like the hardest thing in the world.

Niall spoke quietly. The din of the restaurant covering the noise of his words. Words that she didn’t want to hear and words that made her feel sick. She felt hot and scared.

Not to mention, completely defeated.

She couldn’t look up to see the disappointment on Harry’s face.

Suddenly there was a hand on her back, and she was startled so badly she let a tiny yelp out of her throat before Harry’s cologne invaded her nose. Before she could jolt her head back Harry’s lips were right near her ear. If anyone heard her, they paid no mind. She could almost feel his lips touching her earlobe as he spoke. The hand on her back pressed gently and soothingly against her spine. “S’time t’go Principessa,” he murmured lowly.

It was one of the only times in her life that she could remember letting someone else take charge and worry about her. It scared her almost as much as feeling the gaze of her stalker on the back of her head.

*

The poor thing must have whispered sorry about ten thousand times. It broke Harry’s heart. Especially after the nice day he had with her. He thought he had broken down a ton of walls and was excited to kiss her until she was breathless when he brought her back to her place.

Now they were in the kitchen strategizing, or at least, Niall and Harry were. The three settled by the lockers for the staff, sitting on the little bench. Harry was pacing nervously while Niall tapped on the bench with his fingertips while thinking. The rest of the staff ignored them. They were getting close to closing the kitchen down anyway, so Niall wasn’t needed as much, and Harry wasn’t even supposed to be there.

She was sitting mutely beside Niall, feeling like an idiot for believing this wouldn’t catch up to her. It had been a blissful, almost year. She was hopeful he was just gone, found someone new to bother. Or something else... anything but this. Harry was pacing listening to Niall trying to get an idea of what was happening up at the front of the restaurant by asking one of the waiters to keep an eye on that table and let them know when the guy there left. Harry had his hands pressed to his lips, steepled in front of him.

“Principessa,” Harry said putting a hand on her shoulder making her jump again. “What do y’think?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m... I’m so sorry. I wasn’t focused, can you—”

Niall smiled at her sympathetically. “S’okay, Tesorino,” he promised reaching over and squeezing her knee soothingly. “Harry—but also very much me, too—would feel more comfortable if you stayed at our place.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Trying to sound braver than she felt. Which was albeit very little. “It’s probably not that big of a deal... I can stay in my apartment. I wouldn’t want to put either of you out or—”

Harry sighed and tilted his head back. It was obvious he was frustrated. Maybe even... angry... at her. “S’not a problem, Principessa,” his voice was clipped. Irritated.

She felt like everything that she talked about with Harry today was ruined. She looked at her hands in her lap. Fiddling with the thumb ring she bought she spun it around and around below her knuckle. “We’d feel safer with you at our place,” Niall was a little calmer than Harry. She envied that. Wished she could be calmer. Harry looked like he was going to rip the hair out of his head. He ran a hand over his face. The waiter came by to report that the man was gone, and all three sighed with relief.

“Can I get some stuff?” She asked quietly.

Niall tutted sadly. It really felt like she was in trouble at school. Harry looked so worried but immensely... mad. An emotion she hadn’t seen on his sweet features once in the nine months she had known him. “Course, Tesorino,” Niall nodded easily. “Harry will take you up to get whatever you need.”

*

Harry was silent the entire drive. Further making it feel like everything that was and could have been between them was ruined. He didn’t even hold her hand. It was completely unfair because she had spent many car rides without his hand in hers and it wasn’t a big deal. Now, after one day, it felt cold and horrible. It felt wrong and made her want to hold his hand so very badly in an attempt to fix it.

The time she spent packing was tense and silent too. Harry didn’t rush her, but he may as well have had a timer. It felt like everything she did was wrong and awful. She also packed way too much stuff which added to her stress. It looked like she was going on vacation for a whole week and that had to be overwhelming for Harry. For all she knew, he wanted to make out with her and maybe start dating. Not have her move in immediately.

Due to her frustrated daydreaming, she didn’t realize they were parked in a driveway. Niall had gotten a ride home from Antonio just a little before them, so he was able to do a scan ahead of time and sent a reassuring text that it was all safe to enter. She opened her door and Harry leaned across her immediately and pulled it shut. She turned to him, her expression a bit bewildered.

He got out of the car wordlessly and came to her side where he opened the door for her. He smiled weakly. The first sign of her Harry in an hour. “S’my job t’open doors for you, Principessa,” he murmured.

Her heart fluttered. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she answered because she didn’t know what else to say to that. She stepped out of the car and Harry released a light chuckle. She could tell Harry was trying to be casual as he looked around. Luckily, the neighborhood was small. It would be obvious if there were an unknown car parked nearby. Or a stranger lurking in the shadows. Someone would have called the police for such a suspicion before Niall even noticed.

He grabbed her duffle bag from the back, and she pulled her backpack from the passenger floor and slid it on before they walked toward the house. Niall’s car was parked beside Harry’s. The house was adorable. Not too big. Just one story with a nice yard. Niall mentioned it was two bedrooms, two bathrooms. Of course, there was a big kitchen because it’s where Niall and Harry shined, and it was important they had one.

Even if they rarely used it since all their time was spent at the restaurant.

She jumped when the light turned on for the front steps. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

Harry smiled sadly. The poor thing. Harry let her inside first, peeking one last time over his shoulder grateful there was nothing out of place as he closed the door. The three seemed to sigh with relief as Niall closed the front door and locked it.

“Welcome home, Tesorino,” Niall winked. He yawned, stretched, and smiled sweetly. “Make yourself at home, but m’very tired.”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded quickly. “I’m sorry—”

“Shh,” he hushed, shaking his head easily, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sleep well, love. S’all good,” he promised and shuffled down the hall.

She felt wildly uncomfortable. Poor Harry. This was not what he signed up for. “C’mon,” he hummed and started after Niall toward what she assumed was the hallway with the bedrooms and bathrooms.

Harry opened one door and flicked on the light. “S’my bathroom. Niall’s is connected t’his room, so if y’have t’use it, y’gotta go through his room. But be careful, he has laundry mountains,” he warned. She wanted to inspect it more. What kind of shower curtain did he choose? Did he pick out the hand towels himself? Was it annoying that when they had friends over, they had to use his bathroom?

She smiled. “I don’t see myself going through his room.”

“Jus’ letting you know,” he shrugged.

She frowned. The vibe was so incredibly tense. He was visibly mad. “This is my room,” he flicked on the light as he entered the door across the hall from the bathroom. It was pretty minimalist. A dresser, a bed, a nightstand, a desk. On top of his desk was a collection of books lined up and bookended by a pair of brackets shaped like a bicycle going through the books. His laptop and a picture of what she assumed was his mom and sister were next to the books, too. There was a closet along the front wall, and she felt the need to look in and see all of Harry’s clothes. Most of the time she saw him in his ever-present black kitchen ensemble. Today’s adventure was one of the only times she saw him in dark jeans and a long-sleeve Henley. She imagined there was more where that came from but still wanted to know. Or maybe he just used it as storage and dress shirts. But it was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to know because of the stress of the last hour.

The room was painted with a light color. It was almost white, but she swore there was a hint of yellow-almost-peach color hiding in there and she only knew that because she was staring at it trying to figure out what color it was. “Mum insisted on the color,” he rolled his eyes. “Said m’choice of dark blue was depressing.”

She smiled again thinking about how nice it was that he listened to his mom. His bedspread was dark navy, pulled to the top of the mattress with four fluffy pillows. It matched the area rug he had under the desk. All his furniture was dark brown in color. “Blue would have been too dark,” she agreed. He smirked and rolled his eyes. It eased the anxiety in her heart a little.

“Are y’tired?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“Tired, Principessa?” He repeated and she wondered if he thought she was stupid now. It felt like she was stupid.

“Uh...yeah.”

Wordlessly, he opened two drawers grabbing a couple of things out of his dresser. Then he stole a pillow off the bed. “M’gonna let y’sleep, then,” he said. “Wake me up if y’need anything. M’usually up by eight at latest on the weekend. But wake me up if y’get up earlier,” he promised heading for the living room.

She shook her head as if all at once, her brain returned to her head after the last hour. “Where are you going?” She asked stepping into the hall watching his retreating figure. He looked so boyish, carrying a pillow at his side, dragging it like a little kid. It was adorable.

He turned around to her looking at her with confusion. “T’sleep, kitten,” he smirked with an eyeroll.

Her heart stopped and she felt flustered all over again. “On the couch?!” Her voice cracked.

“Uh... yeah?”

“Harry,” she shook her head. “I can’t... I can’t kick you out of your bed,” she said hurriedly. “I won’t sleep.”

He smiled softly and shrugged. “S’okay, Principessa. Want you t’be comfortable.”

“I will be so uncomfortable if you sleep out there while I’m in your bed,” he looked pretty resolute in his decision, and she thought she might lose this one. It made her feel horrible. And she wasn’t sure she was very-well brave enough to go follow him into the main room and cram herself against him on the sofa if he did make his way out there. “Harry,” she whined and twisted her fingers together anxiously. “Please, don’t,” she begged.

“Well s’no chance m’letting y’sleep on the couch, kitten. So... s’very limited in our options here.”

“You can sleep with me,” she said quickly. Then her face turned the same shade as a firetruck. Harry smirked and she put a hand over her eyes. Harry stepped back toward her.

“I can, hmm?” He asked with a lilt in his voice that sounded like her Harry. The one that teased her, soothed her, and made her feel like nothing bad could ever happen to her simply because he liked her so much.

She pulled her hand away from her blushing face. Harry was standing with just inches of space between them. Her head tilted back so she could look at him. His green eyes hooded by his eyelids, and she realized he looked damn near exhausted. As much as she wanted to make out with him, it seemed unfair. The car, her family, the driving, the stalker. It was all a lot for anyone to deal with and definitely not what Harry signed up for today.

Of course, he made it seem like it didn’t bother him, but even she was tired. She couldn’t imagine how he felt. “Er...” she swallowed. “I meant... your bed is big,” she murmured. “And when I’m tired, I sleep like a zombie,” she admitted. “I mean, I won’t move or roll around and get in your space.”

“Hmm...” she could feel the breath of his exhale across her cheeks. “What if I want you in my space?” He wondered. Her voice felt like it was dead. Gone completely. No longer there.

“You don’t hate me?” She managed to whisper. “Or think I’m annoying? Or want me out of your hair? I know this is more than what you ever wanted to deal with today. On a day off to boot.”

She watched him wince very minutely. A twinge of his lips, a wrinkle on his forehead, and a quick jolt of his head twisting to the left. “M’not answering any of those silly questions, Principessa,” he responded instead.

“But you’ve been so mad the entire drive here. You... you didn’t hold my hand,” she whispered like a dumb elementary school student whose crush pushed another girl on the swing set.

His gaze softened. The pinch in his brow disappeared and his eyes went back from laser focused to the gentleness he always seemed to have when he looked at her. He brought his hand to her face and brushed his thumb on her cheek. “M’not mad at you. Of course, m’not. Y’did nothing wrong. You are...” he shook his head. “M’terrified of something hurting you. Someone hurting you. M’mad at him. I could never be mad at you, m’Principessa,” he whispered. “Been dreaming ‘bout you in m’bed. I’d probably sleep like a rock jus’ thinking ‘bout you in here while out on the couch,” he admitted making her heart stop. Harry knew all the right things to say. “After the last couple hours...” he stared at her steadily. “If I sleep in the same bed as you, kitten,” he shook his head and clucked his tongue. “I wouldn’t be able t’let y’go,” he promised.

Part of her thought she should be embarrassed by his statement, but she had been dreaming about way worse than Harry sharing a bed with her since she met him. Each time they touched she thought her heart would explode. When she watched him chop vegetables, or any time she caught a glimpse of his fingers doing anything, she imagined inappropriate touches that would make him think she was insane. “I’m okay with that,” she whispered breathlessly.

“M'gonna kiss you now,” he told her leaning closer to her. “M’not going t’stop for a while,” he promised.

“Are your rooms soundproof?” It wasn’t even a whisper anymore—it was quieter than that. The air that escaped her lips came out nervously. She was lucky he could understand her. It was a stupid thing to ask but her brain was malfunctioning once more, and it was the only thing she could think about; Niall just two rooms over and across the hall.

There was an ache in his jeans at her question, and he let out a low moan from his throat. His lips were so close to hers. “We’ll have t’find out,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. Not a kiss, just touching as he said the words. It still set her on fire. Harry dropped the pillow and his clothes and wrapped his arms around her waist firmly, before sinking his mouth on hers in a kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. She ached everywhere, immediately and let out a groan as he lifted her just so her toes brushed the floor and could easily push her back into his room. He kicked the door shut and she truly prayed the walls were thick and wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of Niall tomorrow morning.

*

She woke up after feeling like she had slept for a whole week. Her lips felt swollen, and light was filtering in from the window. It landed on the expanse of Harry’s muscular back unmarred by tattoos which she now knew covered almost every inch of his torso and most of his left arm, but not the right. As much as she wanted to take Harry’s boxers off last night, she could see the same amount of fatigue in his eyes as she felt in her own body. So, true to his word, they kissed and kissed and kissed and didn’t stop for a while—until her breath was so shallow Harry started to worry about her all over again.

Harry pulled almost all her clothes off, running his hands up and down her body in a way she had never experienced. It was as if he was searching for something but was still so gentle. Like whatever he was searching for was in an area filled with bubbles and he wasn’t allowed to pop any of them. It made her feel beautiful and whole. For however long they kissed, (she hadn’t a clue because she didn’t time it) she forgot about everything except Harry.

The tiredness took over eventually and Harry clutched her body to his. His body was warm and protective around hers, spooned behind her. “Is it everything you dreamed?” She whispered, her arms stacked and nearly crossed around the cage he had her in his embrace.

“S’better, Principessa,” he mumbled and kissed the back of her head. Her skin was so soft and warm. It really was better than he could have dreamed. But he promptly fell asleep.

Obviously, they had turned and moved a bit in their sleep. She leaned over and pressed kisses at evenly spaced intervals down his spine. She caught sight of his alarm clock reading 7:18. She didn’t want to wake him up—at least not till eight because he deserved all the sleep he could get after yesterday. But she couldn’t keep her lips off him. The room was chilly and lifting herself from under the covers to lean over and kiss his skin let the heat out from their little cocoon. It killed her to think he would have to go to work in the evening. Maybe earlier. He probably had prep stuff to do.

Her mind spiraled a bit, wondering if she would go with them. Maybe she should go back home? She kind of missed the smell of garlic and olive oil and didn’t realize it was such a comfort to help her fall asleep. Or would she stay here? She could get a new comfort in Harry’s lips.

Harry’s breathing was steady, no indication that her lips had woken him. But she heard her phone vibrate from somewhere in the pile of her stuff. She slipped out of bed feeling guilty and wrong about leaving him. She grabbed her phone and managed to find a shirt and pair of pants from her duffle bag and picked up her phone so when it started to vibrate again, signaling the person at the other end was not giving up, it wouldn’t bother Harry. Near silently, she stepped out of the room closing the door quietly.

Luckily, Niall and Harry’s floors didn’t creak when she padded back toward the main room. “Hello?” She asked her phone softly.

“Where are you?” Eleanor asked alertly. “I’ve never seen that address before and I’m terrified. Are you alright?”

Shit. She should have warned her.“I’m fine,” she assured her immediately. “Really, everything’s fine,” she promised her through her whispers.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because Harry and Niall are sleeping,” she sighed and put a hand to cover her eyes.

The silence was deafening. “Are you...?” Eleanor gasped. “Halelujah!” She sang. She smiled and felt herself blush even though she had no reason to. It’s not like Eleanor or anyone for that matter could see her. “So that’s Harry’s address?”

“Yes, Mom,” she rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to worry—” She stopped and cleared her throat because she didn’t want to worry Eleanor and certainly didn’t want to lie to her. But technically, there was a need to worry. “You don’t have to worry right now,” at least that was the truth. Technically. Hopefully, she could figure something out before it became a serious problem. “Why are you awake?” She asked.

“I had to pee and needed water and I checked my phone for the time, and it said you were at a new, unfamiliar location,” Eleanor sighed with relief. “How did you end up there?”

She sighed. “It’s... a long story,” one that she didn’t have details for yet because she didn’t know all of them. Ones that she didn’t want to worry Eleanor with when she was supposed to be asleep. “I’ll... call you later. Go back to sleep. I’m okay,” she promised.

Eleanor released a yawn, and she could hear the ruffle of sheets. “She’s okay,” she whispered.

“Wonderful,” she heard Louis grumble.

“Jesus Eleanor, let the poor man sleep,” she rolled her eyes.

“Enjoy La Casa di Harry,” Eleanor sang once more, then hung up almost instantly.

*

Harry was just starting to wake up. Bits of a dream he didn’t remember still on the edge of his mind. But he smelled bacon, home fries, and toast. He moaned quietly as he stretched and turned to see the sweet girl, the star of all his daydreams, standing in the doorway with a plate of food steaming in the early sunlight. His chest felt a warmth he couldn’t describe. “Hey Principessa.”

The groggy, warm, and creaky voice he had when he woke up was her new favorite thing. She felt a pulse of adoration for him flow through her like she had been electrocuted. She was lucky she held onto the plate. “I made you an omelet,” she answered softly. She hated being loud in the mornings. Mornings were meant to be quiet and gentle.

“You didn’t have t’do that,” he sat up against the headboard. She walked over to him, dodging Harry’s discarded jeans and T-shirt, and stepped around her own jeans and sweater.

“I did, though,” she nodded knowingly.

“Did y’sleep okay?” He asked as she settled the plate in his lap. It looked delicious and Harry’s stomach growled without him fully realizing how hungry he was.

“Very,” she smiled. “I... I just want to bring Niall his breakfast, then I’ll be back,” she said standing beside him as he looked at her. The sun coming through the blinds outlined her like the angel she really was, and Harry was sure there were cartoon hearts floating around his head as he gazed at her.

“Hurry,” he said cutely biting into the toast. She giggled and scurried to the kitchen and then back down the hall. Harry sipped from the water bottle he left on his nightstand and nearly choked as he realized his mistake. “Wait!” He called.

“Oh... oh I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, you make breakfast, too?” Niall asked sleepily. Harry sighed, tilting his head back against the board behind him and rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to compete for you soon, Tesorino, if Harry doesn’t make a move,” there was a pause and Niall shuffled by Harry’s door. Naked as the day he was born.

She stood in the doorway looking a little surprised and pink cheeked as ever. Harry smirked. “Should have warned you.”

“Any time you want to make me breakfast in bed, Tesorino, my door is always opened.” Niall smiled and pecked her blushing cheek as he headed back to his room holding the plate and ketchup bottle in his hand.

She looked at Harry who casually nibbled on his yummy food. “Did y’make yourself some or are we sharing?” He asked.

She shook her head to rid herself of the image of Niall naked across his bed. “Uh... hold on,” she said. “I’ll go get my plate,” she answered.

“Must have got her second guessing,” Niall shouted.

“Niall, shut it,” Harry growled.

*

After they ate the yummy food, she put their plates in the sink and promised she would wash everything in a bit. She closed the door as she returned, hurried to snuggle under the blankets, and curled up to Harry’s warm body. This had to be what heaven was like. Harry holding her in the sun-rising morning on a Saturday. After a few little turns and movements, she wound up lying with her ear pressed to his heart. His fingers skimmed up and down the length of her arm and it was hard to believe that after all the time he spent thinking about her in this capacity, she was here. Even if there were a million problems and he was still exhausted just by thinking about last night... she was here.

There wasn’t a thing he had done in his life that felt as nice as holding her.

The rise and fall of her body against his made him happy. She was okay. Physically. He certainly wasn’t going to let anyone get to her. After a bit of contemplation, he noticed she had fallen back asleep. He brushed his lips on her forehead and combed her hair softly along her hairline with the pads of his fingertips.

It was easy to pretend nothing was wrong because it felt so perfect. He tried not to think about all the problems that were outside their little cocoon. He wanted to take the night off but honestly, not working might make his mind a little too wandering to all the bad that could happen.

Plus, if she came along to the restaurant or her place, she would only be a short walk away. Not a ten-minute drive across town that would make his anxiety skyrocket. She startled awake, just about as quickly as she fell asleep. It couldn’t have been more than seven minutes. She twitched and frowned, nuzzling her nose against his chest. “Y’okay, Principessa?” His voice was low and gravelly. He kissed her forehead, but it felt like he was kissing on the part of her heart that was infatuated and in love with him.

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Think I fell asleep again for a minute,” she murmured.

“S’okay. Y’can sleep,” he offered. “M’not going anywhere for a while.”

“No?” She asked, was that hope in her voice? God, he was going to say something stupid like he loved her.

“Niall’s going t’do prep. I’ll go in right before the waiters and waitresses do for the evening,” he explained. “So, we’ve got some time t’relax,” he promised. The smile on her face couldn’t stop and Harry thought he might explode from how sweet she looked. “What?” He asked.

“I’m glad... we get to spend the day together,” she admitted, her cheeks turning his favorite shade of pink. It was adorable to see her tuck her face into Harry’s chest. He thought his heart might explode if he fell any harder for her.

“All y’had t’do was ask, Principessa,” he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Her skin was so soft and he had blindly felt every inch of her in their late night make out session. He kissed her repeatedly until his lips were sore and the tug on his own lips from hers got weaker. “’D’ve been at y’door any time,” he promised.

“I really thought you were mad at me last night,” she whispered sadly.

“You?” He shook his head. “Can’t imagine a way, la mia dolcezza.”

Her heart ached so badly for him.

*

They shared at least a thousand more kisses. Her breathing was erratic when Niall knocked on the door and Harry managed to calmly answer him. His body was hovering above hers, his hips locked between her thighs. “M’heading out,” he called.

“Bye Niall,” Harry said without an ounce of suggestion that they were doing anything other than playing a board game. She was astounded he could keep his composure like that. Maybe she wasn’t so good at kissing him like she had hoped (but Harry assured her it had nothing to do with that, but he just wanted Niall to go away faster).

“Bye Tesorino,” he called with a smile in his voice. Her voice felt shaky when she answered (even though Harry assured her many times over that Niall had no idea she was breathless from kissing).

Harry’s body was lean but sinewy. His boxer briefs pulled tight around what had to be... she couldn’t think about his penis too long or she would be done for. But she could feel his hard length grinding against her core as he kissed her and kissed her for way longer than she thought she’d be able to emotionally handle after a day spent with her family and finding out her stalker was back.

Eventually her stomach signaled to the pair of them that it was time to eat again. Harry headed to the kitchen to get something ready for her. “S’no garlic bread and eggplant,” he shrugged with a wry smile handing her a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and celery sticks.

She never wanted to leave.

“M’gonna, shower, kitten,” he kissed her forehead. “Shout if y’need something, yeah?”

“Or if I want to join?” She asked, batting her eyelashes up at him innocently.

He groaned. “Don’t tempt me, Principessa,” he kissed her quickly on the lips. Fortunately, Eleanor texted her to keep her occupied the length of his shower.

Do you live there now?

She put the phone to her ear and Eleanor answered on the second ring. “I don’t live here.”

“You haven’t left yet. Which is awfully suspicious.”

She smirked and rolled her eyes. “He spent the day with my family yesterday,” she said softly. “Emma called me a bossy bitch and he told her that it wasn’t very nice,” she swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat—the same one she had yesterday when she overheard the conversation. “And he met Ethan—”

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered back.

“—El, he’s...” she sighed shaking her head. “He’s wonderful.”

“I know. We’ve been waiting for you to notice!”

She rolled her eyes but chatted with El for the length of his shower. The sound of the water running eventually stopped and she promised Eleanor to call her again with a better update.

Harry returned to his room with a towel wrapped on his hips and even though she had spent all night and morning pressed to his mostly naked body, save the boxers, this was somehow more naked. Her heart was flying, and she tried not to stare. “Could I also shower?”

He chuckled. “Course, kitten. Let me get you a towel.”

She wished she was cheekier to ask him for his. But instead, she took the time to let the hot water run over her body and further forget about the crazy day she had yesterday. The difference between the state of her brother’s bathroom versus Harry’s was immense. She wanted to send a picture to him and Ethan explaining what their bathroom was supposed to look like, but she didn’t want him to know she was in Harry’s bathroom.

Once showered and dressed, Harry was waiting in the living room. He smiled at the sight of her, dressed in leggings and a dress that fell just above her knees. She looked beautiful, simply put. Even with wet hair he swore she could be a model. (But she strongly denied such a statement when he voiced it to her). She settled herself next to him. Snuggling into his embrace. The afternoon was quiet. He kissed the top of her head every so often while running his hand up and down her arm. She suggested reading for a while and Harry thought it was adorable and sweet. Her face was concentrated while her eyes scanned the pages. A pucker between her eyebrows. Harry thought she was adorable. It was hard to concentrate on his own book when she was in his house, on his couch, sitting so close to him.

About an hour before Harry mentioned they needed to leave for him to head to work, she noticed a shift in him. It was like the night before. When he didn’t hold her hand in the car and when he seemed so...cold. It was almost subtle, the way his body language and demeanor changed. Although they spent the better part of the day in silence (between reading and kissing) the silence within the last hour before they left was tense and cold.

Harry held the door open to his car again. She thanked him graciously. “Oh... I forgot my stuff,” she realized. The distraction of his change in attitude had thrown her off again. It was hard to think straight. She meant to take it with her when they left but, in the moment, Harry had asked if she was ready to go and his voice was so flat, so devoid of inflection, she wondered if he had been replaced with someone else that looked like him.

He cleared his throat putting the car in reverse despite the predicament. “M’bringing y’back here,” he shrugged.

She frowned. “Oh.”

Tense silence ensued. Biting the inside of her lip, she wanted to be braver and reach out and grab his hand. Just like the night before and try to squeeze his fingers between hers. It felt unfair they had to leave their bubble of peace and quiet. Heading to the restaurant—especially knowing he might show up—was obviously ruining whatever was happening here between her and Harry.

He parked outside the restaurant, the sidewalk filling with people for the Saturday dinner rush. Harry scanned as quickly as he could and took a deep breath. “Do y’see him?”

She swallowed and shook her head. She knew she would know if he was there. It happened every time he was around. It was like his gaze was magnetic toward her and there was nothing like the sense of someone staring at her. “Are y’okay?” He asked. “I can take y’back t’my place.”

The thought of being alone in Harry and Niall’s house while Harry was working seemed agonizing. He wouldn’t be home until midnight—maybe later. She bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. “I’m fine,” she promised.

“Principessa,” his voice was gentle.

“You didn’t hold my hand,” she whispered. “Again.”

Harry sighed, ran a hand over his face and then tapped his hands on the steering wheel. “M’sorry. But...m’scared,” he admitted. “M’going t’do anything t’protect you, my love,” he promised. It felt like her heart skipped a beat at the new pet name. “But, m’really scared,” he admitted. “If something happens t’you...” he shook his head. “I feel like...like I just got you,” of course he did. He did just get her. It was barely twenty-four hours ago that he had kissed her for the first time. “There’s so much I want t’know ‘bout you. So much I want t’spend time learning and m’jus,’” he shook his head. “S’not fair.”

It wasn’t fair. Harry didn’t deserve this. He deserved easy. Deserved a girl that didn’t have a crazy loud family or a stalker. Harry deserved a pretty girl that... wasn’t her. “Nothing is going to happen to me,” she whispered. It was nice that her voice sounded more courageous than she felt.

“Principessa,” he looked at her pointedly. He reached out, cupped her face softly and skimmed his thumb along her cheek. “You are deflecting,” he said knowingly, a sad smirk on the corner of his mouth. “Trying t’get me not t’worry ‘bout you.”

It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She did it implicitly without even her brain acknowledging it. She looked at her lap even though Harry still held the side of her face to keep her from moving. “You...you don’t need to.”

“M’always going t’worry ‘bout you, Principessa,” it sounded like a promise.

No one ever worried about her. Except maybe Eleanor—but mostly about the stalker and not much else. Not in a bad way, Eleanor just knew she was okay aside from that . But Mom and Dad depended on her for everything. Growing up she did way more than was expected of her. Carrying a weight on her shoulders that she didn’t know she could hold. James and Emma did the same thing. They didn’t even mean to, it just happened. She didn’t need to be worried about by other people. She was the worrier. Like it was her job. We don’t need to worry about her. She’s lovely. Every parent-teacher conference. Every guidance counselor. Every supervisor or boss. No one ever worried about her.

But here was Harry.

The emotion in her throat felt like it was tying her vocal cords together. She nodded silently. “Okay,” she whispered.

“What do y’want t’do?” He asked softly. He could see something wracking her brain. Something making her spin out internally. He wanted to read her mind more than he wanted anything in the world. Wanted to know what she was trying to keep from him.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. That was probably as close as he could possibly get to reading her mind.

“Okay,” he grabbed her hand with the one not holding her face. His gaze dropped to her eyes, and he applied gentle pressure to the side of her face. A reminder he wanted her to maintain the eye contact she was obviously nervous to hold. “Then m’going t’make a few decisions for you. If y’don’t like it, y’don’t have t’do it, alright?” She nodded. She wasn’t sure anyone in her life had ever given her direction before. It felt weird just imagining. Always the decision maker, always a leader, never a follower. “I’d like y’to hang in the kitchen. Y’can work or whatever. M’sure there’s stuff t’do. When we’re done, I want you t’come home with me again,” he scanned her face for anything that might upset her. “S’that sound alright?”

She nodded silently. It did sound nice. “Can...can I check a couple things I didn’t get yesterday?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “M’not...” he sighed. “M’not ordering you that y’have t’do this. M’jus’ trying t’make this easier on me and you,” his voice was gentle, of course it was. She nodded.

“I know, I appreciate it,” sincerity thick in her voice.

“One last thing,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

She pulled back, away from his mouth so she could look up at him expectantly and he smiled, the first real smile since his demeanor changed with the thought of heading back to work, her apartment, and essentially, the scene of the crime. “If y’want t’hold m’hand, you jus’ have t’reach out and grab it, Principessa. M’all yours,” he promised and kissed her forehead again before dropping her hand and her face to exit the car.

*

When there was a lull, she told Harry she was going to head upstairs and check on a few things. He responded with a half-smile. It was so sexy it made a shock short through her. Her hands smelled like garlic from peeling cloves of it and her eyes kept watering from chopping shallots, so she knew her mascara was smudged. But Harry was looking at her as if she was made out of Christmas lights, sunsets, flowers, and anything else that was beautiful.

“Principessa,” he said quickly stepping away from the flutter of activity of the main part of the kitchen. “You’re sure he’s not here?” He asked again.

She nodded. “I’m sure,” she promised. “I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t go up there alone if he was.”

“Okay,” he pecked her cheek. “Jus’ call if there’s a problem, yeah?”

She smiled assuredly. “Of course.”

She headed to the front of the restaurant, sidestepping the waiting customers and realized her car still wasn’t there. In her hot kisses and time spent with Harry, she forgot completely that her car was still at the shop. Nonetheless, she went to her mailbox—blended in with the other businesses nearby and unlocked it with a small key. The complaints of the wait were minimal—even in the February degree temperatures. “There’s a really hot chef here,” a girl about her age muttered to her friend.

She smirked excited to tell Harry about the compliment. Fortunately, the alleyway still wasn’t creepy. Neither was the stairwell to her apartment. Both miracles because she was a little worried that might happen and another reason why she wanted to get the mail before heading down the small space. Everything in her apartment was in the very same place.

She sighed and sat on her couch with the pile of mail. Since most of her important mail was online, she didn’t really go to the mailbox all that often. She grabbed a notepad of paper she had been using interchangeably for a grocery list and to do list. She pulled the top layer off which read eggs, milk, bread, standard things she always needed. The grocery list went on her coffee table, and she started scribbling a second list. Chores she needed to get done around here, in theory tomorrow. She was pretty sure she could convince Harry to take her home earlier while he did prep work.

The car needed to be dealt with Monday—especially if she was to drive herself to work in the office on Thursday. She added a couple details about work and then sifted through the envelopes. Not much mail was delivered to the apartment. There was the standard issued fliers for the grocery store, which she set aside to clip coupons. Mostly junk mail and letters asking for donations. Her W-2 arrived—finally. It turned out that HR didn’t finalize her new address when she moved above Dolcezza. Which was a good thing in some ways, but she wanted to get her taxes done sooner rather than later—which was then added to her do list now that she had the paperwork to do it. While she went through the remaining envelopes, scanning expiration dates for coupons she might not have gotten to in time, she decided to answer her text messages she had missed.

Thanks for the help, little love. Her mom had texted. It was nice to meet Harry.

Her cheeks heated up as she slid her finger in the envelopes making piles of trash and things to add to different files. Coupons for her favorite retailers also made a significant little pile.

Always, Momma.

Thanks for the cupcakes. Emma had messaged her at about noon. Probably in the middle of the bake sale, but at the time she was making out with Harry and completely forgot to respond. She tried to remember if Emma had ever texted her thanks, ever.

No problem, Em! I'd do anything for you. She hoped she already knew that but after overhearing her talk to Harry, she wasn't so sure, and wanted to be clearer.

There were two messages from Eleanor that she would get to later, still. She didn’t need to open the thread to know she was asking for details about Harry that she wasn’t sure she was ready to answer yet. The final missed messages came from the three-person chat that included James and Ethan. It was a picture of a freshly cleaned bathroom. A candle lit and new fluffy hand towels.

Would you sleepover with me now? Ethan asked.

She rolled her eyes and snorted. James sent a vomiting emoji.

No, but I wouldn’t hate having to pee there.

Ethan answered immediately. Even after her long delay. Hot, with a heart-eye emoji.

You need help.

Quit hitting on my sister!

She honestly couldn’t wait to show Harry the messages. It was funny.

For a moment she forgot about the weekend. The craziness of it all. She was simply going through her mail, smelling the garlic and olive oil rising from the restaurant. Harry was down there waiting anxiously for her to get back, she was sure.

So, in the forgetfulness of the crazy weekend, it was a bit jarring to look at the last piece of mail she had pulled from the envelope and see herself in a picture of the little alleyway from about a week prior. Her work bag on her shoulder and a coffee cup in hand. She had stooped to pick up a package outside the entry way of the door up to her place. There was a small note behind the picture. A scrap piece of paper, really.

It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t because the writing was illegible, but because her hand was shaking while she held it, her eyes blurring with tears.

I knew I’d find you again. I missed you.

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.do

[stinkysam]

Vinsmoke Sanji - Princes.

Warning : spoilers for opla fans only

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “sanji having a crush on a pretty male reader who is like a runaway prince and is now a tailor?” - anon

Reader : male (you/yours)

Today had been a long day at the Baratie, lots of people came and even fought a bit. But closing time finally came and Sanji went to look for you, a tailor who came here to eat and take measurements for the restaurant's new clothes. You stayed here for a few days, every time eating at the restaurant and even chatting a bit with Sanji, who was forbidden from cooking that week and served your table.

You two quickly hit it off and spent your evenings at the bar to talk and sometimes a bit more.

He found you at your usual spot and sat next to you, ordering a few drink as well as the one you seemed to like the most since you’ve arrived here.

As the night went on, the people at the bar began to leave as well, and now it was just the two of you and the barman, cleaning around.

Sanji was sitting next to you, your head resting on his shoulder as he held your hand, playing with your fingers, making your nails run across his palm. He was thinking of you. And his feelings.

He felt two things. One being deep affection for you and despite a short moment of shock he now had accepted his crush toward you. But he was now unsure of your feelings for him. Having trouble reading you at times. You could be really affectionate and close, like now, but grow distant and cold really quickly. Where you afraid he would discover something ?

The second feeling he had is that he knew you somehow. But he couldn’t remember where he had already seen your face. Which annoyed him because he never forget a pretty face.

“I have something to tell you.” You say suddenly, eyes looking at him.

He hummed gently, letting you know he was listening despite still being focused on your hands and his thoughts.

“I wasn't… always a tailor.” You begin. “I mean, you know I wasn't, I wasn't born one, obviously.” You start to ramble and stop yourself. “But uh, I wasn't meant to be one.”

“Really ? What were you meant to be then ?” He says, thinking about random careers you could be working in.

You stay silent for a moment, thinking. Was this a good idea ? You exhale, gathering some courage.

“I… was meant to be a prince.” You say, looking at the floor. Waiting.

Sanji stares at you, shocked. That's far from anything he has expected and yet, it rings many bells. One of them being that yeah ! He knew you ! He’s seen missing posters of you. They even hung one in the restaurant !

“You're…” He says, still unsure of what to say or how to react. He wanted to say being a prince suited you, but preferred against it, thinking it wasn't maybe the right compliment at the moment. “I'd ask why you ran away but it's obviously because you weren't happy, right ?” He says, squeezing your hand lightly, bringing them to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

You nodded, huddling closer to him.

“Can you not tell people ?”

“Of course.” He moved his head to the side, kissing your forehead. “To be honest…” He hesitated. “I have a similar… story.”

“You ran away from your family ?”

“Yeah. I escaped after losing my mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

You squeezed his hand in return, interlocking your fingers together and he smiled.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” He says quietly.

[asksythe]

Dead languages and maybe Wei Ying is long-lost royalty

Today I had a discussion with @pakhnokh​ regarding why Wei Wuxian didn’t know the deeper layer of meaning behind the Lan forehead band. It was a long discussion on Twitter, so I figured I should just make a post here and leave this information out for anyone who might find it useful. 

To start off: The reason why Wei Ying didn't know the deeper layer of meaning of the Lan forehead band was in the book. But it was written in a very opaque way, in one single throw-away line. In the book, when Wei Ying had to copy the Lan rules, he specifically complained that the rules were written in seal script. 

The Useless Ye Olde’ Script

Seal script is a script that predated traditional Mandarin. It was infamous for being needlessly complex and having dozens, if not hundreds different dialects and writing methods. Some forms of seal script were entirely different languages altogether. When Qin Shi Huang united ancient China, he burned a lot of books and forced people to adopt a standard way to write, thus cementing traditional Mandarin as a singular language that is still used today, 2000 years after. A way to visualize how complex seal script was, is that there were 22 different ways to write the word 'sword'.

That is how mind-bogglingly complex it was. And worse, it was the source of much conflict in ancient times. To explain it simply, it was supposed to be one language. But if people could not even agree on how to write the same word, then how could they agree on more important things and cease warring against each other? 

Language standardization was one of Qin Shi Huang’s greatest achievements, if not the greatest, as it laid the foundation for more peace and eventual unification in later dynasties. 

This topic was made into an Academy Award-nominated movie, Hero by Zhang Yimou in 2002. 

(the word ‘sword’ that Qin Shi Huang decided on, thus wiping out the other 20+ ways to write the same word) 

Dating Mo Dao Zu Shi in real history (or, Wei Ying might actually be long-lost royalty) 

In a very interesting turn of events, MXTX has confirmed in her latest interview in Subaru magazine, that the events of MDZS happened during Wei Jin, Southern and Northern Dynasties (commonly referred to as the Six Dynasties era by English-speaking historians, even though these two don’t perfectly line up).

Yes, the same Wei 魏 in Wei Ying 魏婴, Wei Wuxian 魏无羡.

So the events in MDZS took place in the era immediately after the fall of the Qin dynasty (caused by Qin Shi Huang’s death and his sons not being able to measure up). Therefore, Wei Ying’s generation is in a time after the language has standardized into a single form. 

The Lan rules, at least the first set and the meaning of the forehead band, were written about 500 years before Wei Ying’s generation, at the founding of House Lan. So that would put it squarely in the pre-Qin, pre-lingual-standardization era. 

So by Wei Ying’s time, the Lan rules were essentially written in a dead, kinda useless, and very very hard-to-read-because-it-has-some-hundred-different-dialect language. 

That’s on top of the fact that it was probably written in the highest level of 书面语 shumianyu (written language) possible. I.e. extremely condensed and truncated (with zero punctuation). 

So the Lan rules are more or less a very thick law book of a different nation written in the strictest, most condensed dead language that is in no way, shape, or form still in practical use for Wei Ying (and most other people not Lan). Do you feel like reading it? I don’t. 

And that is why Wei Ying never figured out the original meaning of the forehead band despite having copied the rules hundreds of times (first day in class, he was already punished and sentenced to copying the rules 100 times by Lan Qiren). 

Because he was just copying the words without really reading them. This was mentioned when Wei Ying asked Lan Wangji the meaning of the Lan forehead band, and Lan Wangji replied with, you have copied the rules so many times and you still don’t know?  

But isn’t Wei Ying really well-read and smart, and what about the Wen book?

1/ Wei Ying is smart and well-read. There was one throw-away line in the book that mentioned his having read all the books available to him in Lotus Pier, and that he had read all kinds of trivia (including the Thousand Sores and Hundred Holes curse that got put on Jin Zixun). But it was also stated that he favored practical things or things that interested him. Lan rules in dead, extremely hard to read language are… well… yeah…

There was never any mention in canon where he remembered specific Lan rules unless it was literally beaten into him by teenage Lan Wangji.

2/ In the novel, the Lan rules are singled out as the only materials written in seal script. The Wen books were standard issued to everyone who took part in the Wen education camp. So the chance that it was written in seal script is low to none.  

Wei Ying is not the only person who doesn’t know the meaning of the Lan forehead band

Jiang Cheng didn't know either. Jin Ling didn't know either. During the Wen archery competition, when Wei Ying pulled off Lan Wangji's forehead band, he did ask Jiang Cheng what the hell was that, when Lan Wangji and other Lan members reacted like he did something shameful. Jiang Cheng replied with, how the hell would I know? Their house has so many rules. Just stop poking them. 

Jin Ling didn't know until the other Lan teenagers told him. The only characters who know this in canon are all members of Lan house. The impression that Wei Ying is the only one who doesn't know is 100 percent fanon. Keep in mind both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling are clan heirs, so their education and knowledge of other houses absolutely are not low. 

In fact, the novel specifically shows that.....the rest of the cultivation world is not that clear on the actual specifics of Lan rules either. This is shown when Jin Zixun pressured Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji into drinking wine, a clear violation of Lan rules, and the rest of the cultivators in the banquet cheered him on.

 These cultivators were also heads of Houses or very high-ranking members. Many of them would have studied in Cloud Recess. So again, people who have high education… still know shit all about the actual specifics of Lan rules beyond a vague, general monk-like impression.

About the only other person aside from Wei Ying (and Lan members) who knew the specific rule that Lans do not drink in that banquet was Jin Guangyao, a character whose trademark is high intelligence and extreme social savvy (plus having roomed with Lan Xichen and taken care of him for unknown amount of time right before the Sunshot campaign)

Are there secret parts of the Lan rules?  

No. The Lan rules are public. The book is very clear on this. All Lan rules are carved into a massive stone placed at the foot of the mountain where Cloud Recess is, where anyone passing through or coming into House Lan can see it. 

This rule stone was first mentioned when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian met for the first time. Wei Ying complained that he didn’t know the rules and why are there so many things forbidden in the Lan rules? Lan Wangji replied with, rules are written on the stone. Go read it yourself. 

The second time it was mentioned in the book, was Lan Qiren’s first class. The first thing he did was complained that even with the stone and rules being in open space, nobody bothered to read. So he will read the rules now. 

The book mentioned at least two different sets of Lan rules that both need to be obeyed: 礼则篇 Lize Pian (Book of Rites) 上义篇 Shang Yi Pian (Book of Justice). Whether the rules are separated further into more sets or not is unknown. 

Why are some Lan rules better known than others? 

Because Lan rules are based on 克己復禮 Keji Fuli, a real-life Confucius asceticism that calls for the restraint/purge of one’s ego and to return to the core rites. This is also newly confirmed in MXTX’s new interview, though it has been more or less heavily suggested in the book itself, with House Lan being known as the House of Gentlemen. 

Gentlemen here is not the Western ideal of Gentlemen, but rather a Confucius ideal and set of values. Confucius is the person who created this ideal in the first place. 

So it’s not that some rules are better known, but rather the entire image of Lan House is a huge pointer as to how they live their life: with great restraint. 

[bonny-kookoo]

so how did someone older jk and oc celebrate new years? A midnight kiss?? :)))

Warning for suggestive stuff? It's not quite new years celebration but I honestly started to drift off way too much for a drabble haha

"Oh no!" You gasp out, earning Jungkook's immediate attention as he looks towards where you're standing in his kitchen.

"What's wrong?" He asks, while you hide your face behind your hands. "Darling?" He questions, as he gets up to walk towards you, a letter opened on the counter.

"Oh god I'm so sorry-" you tell him, visibly shaken. "I'm really sorry, I don't know why I- I think I thought I was home and opened it-" you rambles, hands shaking. "I didn't even read it, I swear, it was just-"

"Darling, hey, look at me." He tells you, turning you away from the scene of the crime to instead fully face him, hands on your shoulders. "You're fine." He states, makes sure to emphasize, as you go through the same steps you both go through every time things like these happen.

Breathe. This is Jungkook. Nothing is going to happen.

"There we go." He chuckles, squeezing your shoulders for a split second before he lets go. "What is it about?" He wonders easily, taking the letter to read it.

"I.. I don't know." You mumble, still ashamed. "I just.. read the first line and realized that it's not addressed to me- I really don't know why I even opened it-" You again state in defense, but his hand reaches out to pull you closer holding you gently by your waist.

"Its about that new year's celebration. I told them I wouldn't go this year.." he simply sighs, before he throws the letter and envelope away. "And it's understandable. You've been spending quite a lot of time here recently- I'll take it as a compliment that you feel like this is home." He jokes easily, hands on your hips as he grins at you.

"Why- if there's an event you're invited to you should go though?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"I want to spend it with you." He answers. "Except if you'd like to go with me to that event?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"I.. uhm.. would that even be.. appropriate?" You ask quietly. "Given.. you know. The age difference and all.." you worry, but he shakes his head.

"Its not an issue to me at all, if that's what worries you." He shrugs. "We're both adults. And trust me- our age difference wouldn't be the biggest. One of the investors has a wife almost twenty-five years younger!" He laughs. "Or does it bother you?"

"No, not.. anymore." You admit. "It used to. It felt.. a little intimidating. Sometimes it still does but not as much." You explain.

"I'm glad then." He hums towards you. "So?" He questions. "If you'd like to go, we can. I usually don't like events like these, but if you're there I'd go in a heartbeat." He flirts without realizing it.

"I don't even have.. proper attire. I bet those things are super fancy.." you worry, but he just grins.

"I mean, we still got time. I could call up someone, his wife owns a clothing label, we could go and get something fit for you." He shrugs easily.

"Jungkook, no way!" You gasp. "That.. already sounds way too expensive." You worry.

"Not really. I can just tell her to not mention any cost and you'd never know." He impishly grins, as your back rests against the kitchen counter. "Though.. I'd honestly rather take your.. measurements myself." He purrs, leaning in for a teasing peck.

"I'm just.. that's not.." you stammer, easily overpowered by his recently growing confidence in his pursuit of you. Its clear that he's starting to become comfortable with you to the point of feeling confident in his actions, even in how he reassures you whenever you tend to fall back into old fears.

"Oh but it is. I know exactly what she'd need for a pretty dress." He hums. "And while I already think I know your body like my own.."

"I think I need to make sure I got the measurements correct."