#i love her so much i can not STAND the hate people give her

[danisbrainrot]

Teen nat comforting you when you're crying about something hcs?

natalie scatorccio x reader

a/n: we're so back! after the first two episodes of season three dropped I'm inspired by this ask. it's not head canons, sorry, I just liked the idea and wanted to write a little story about it.

sorry this must be at least six months late, but here it is! camp counsellor nat :)

spoilers ahead!! (technically? I think it's just season two spoilers though)

wiping the tears from your eyes, you sniffle into your lap, hunching over to take up as little space as possible. you just wanted to be out of everyone's way, not wanting to ruin the mood with your tears. everyone else was happy and celebrating surviving winter, while you felt stuck. frozen in time, still unable to move on from how much winter took from you girls.

first jackie. then crystal. then javi. . .

now springtime has rolled around, you can't help but feel the same dread you felt throughout winter—yes, it was lovely now and your team has cultivated a livable community. however, you couldn't help but wonder what happens next winter? When akilah's animals freeze to death, gen can't find game. . . when shauna goes crazy again.

you pause, wondering when was the last time shauna was sane. then, guilt creeps in as you realise that you had no right to judge her—not after everything she lost. her best friend. her baby.

"hey, are you okay?" nat asked, crouching down to your level.

you gasp in shock, wiping more tears from your eyes. your cheeks stung with embarrassment at getting caught—nat came out of nowhere, giving you no time to recuperate. "yeah, just. . . needed to let it out."

placing a comforting hand on your back, nat tried to offer you a reassuring smile. "hey, we all understand. it can feel daunting out here. if you ever need someone to talk, I'm here."

"oh I know, your majesty," you tease, eliciting a snort from nat—you could tell she hated the title. you sigh gently, signalling you were okay. nat pats your thigh, standing up when suddenly your hand flings out to grab hers. "do you think we're awful people? for eating javi? and jackie?"

nat pauses, her face dropping significantly. she bites her bottom lip, which you find insanely attractive, before shrugging. "we did what we had to. . . to survive."

"but if that's what it takes to survive, do we deserve to?" you question, clutching nat's hand firmly. the brunette looks down at you, her expression unreadable, before shaking her head.

"all I know is that it should have been me. javi. . . I still don't believe in lottie's bullshit about the forest, but I will never forget his sacrifice."

you nod, realising your questions were hurting natalie more than you'd meant for them to. you drop your hand, resting it in your lap and watch her walk away.

she swivels her head to look at you, words on the tip of her tongue, before she shakes the thought away and walks away.

late that night, you hear a rustle outside your makeshift hut. turning to your roommate, you find gen fast asleep, so you decide to investigate by yourself. you follow a sliver of light, someone's back to you as they watch the small flames dance.

"shouldn't you put that out? it's late," you ask, sitting next to nat on the campfire log. she glances at you, her face enchantingly illuminated by the flames, taking your breath away.

"just thinking," she mumbles.

"about our conversation before?" you ask, eliciting a nod in response. you stare at the fire, wondering if it was the heat from the dying flames that burnt your cheeks or the way nat looked.

"you didn't chase me. why?" she whispers, not daring to look you in the eyes.

"when we ate jackie, it felt different. . . she was already dead and we didn't cook her, the snow did. sure, it was cannibalism but it wasn't murder. . . if I had chased you—"

"you'd have actively tried to hunt me," she replies.

"it seemed wrong, even for us," you answer.

there was a beat of silence while you watch her gaze into the flames. you felt your heart race in your chest, working up the courage to tell her what you want to say, "it goes both ways," you promise. she looks up at you confused, "if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. . . and I'm sure it's not easy as the antler queen, especially with whatever shauna and mari have going on."

nat erupts into laughter, shaking her head. "don't get me started on those two," she replies, before her laugh fades to a small smile. she places her hand on your shoulder, "but I like the idea. we look out for each other."

"You'll be the queen and I'll be your—wait what is it called. . . the people royalty lean on for support. . . oh, concubines?" your face drops when you notice nat's face. her eyebrows are raised and tries to cover her mouth and stifle her laughter.

nat can no longer hold it in and burst into laughter again, "that doesn't mean what you think it does," she teases.

"oh, that's the sex one. isn't it?" you mutter, lowering your head to avoid her gaze. nat tucks her hair behind her ears, making you think about how she managed to rock the grown out look. she suited blonde, brunette and a combination of both.

nat notices you watching her intensely, "what? is there something in my hair?" she asks, raking her hands through it swiftly.

"no, no. just wondering if you miss the blonde?"

"well, it's still there, isn't it?"

you snort, "yeah, but the full blonde?"

nat shrugs, "more important things to worry about," she replies candidly.

you reach out to play with the blonde hair, twirling it around your finger. unknowingly, you'd accidentally brought her face closer to yours. she didn't seem to mind, but once you realise your cheeks burn and you shuffle away from her. "sorry," you mumble.

"come here," she replies, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you close.

your lips connected seamlessly, like your lips were made for each other. she kisses you softly, a reassurance that she was here for you, while her fingers tangle themselves in your—already tangled—hair.

after what felt like only a minute—but could have been longer—nat gently pulls away, a string of saliva all that connected you two. she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, cleaning away the evidence, and offers you a wonky smile. "I suppose every queen needs her concubine after all," she jokes.

"that was amazing," you whisper, still in awe. she laughs again, resting her forehead against yours.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Hitch, 2005

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: It’s…. Not going great right now😂😂 things are actually hilariously bad and they’re going to get so much more worse before they’re better. I apologize to my friends and people who read my work because I haven’t been talking to anyone or putting anything out and like it all around just kinda ✨sucks✨ so I’m sorry, anyway I hope you guys like this one!

Eddie fixes his tie in the mirror, a freaking tie. He isn’t sure why he agreed to this, actually when Buck legitimately got on his knees and begged him to do this double date with him and Tommy he didn’t really have a choice. 

It was Valentine’s Day and Tommy had gotten them a reservation at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, he’d pulled some strings, called in a couple of favors, and got him and Buck a rooftop terrace gardeny type shit exclusive table! 

And then his little sister popped in for a visit. 

No matter how hard she begged to stay home, Tommy roped her into coming anyway because there was no way he was leaving her alone on Valentine’s Day. As much as Buck wanted a romantic dinner, he wanted to include her more. So Tommy called and asked for a table for four instead, and they agreed to it. 

Which is when Buck came to Eddie’s door, crying and pleading for him to come with them and that he’d pay for absolutely everything. 

And how could he pass up a free meal? 

“Make sure you grab the flowers” Buck comes up next to him, messily tying his tie, and Eddie smirks.

“I will” 

“And remember, she’s shy okay? So try not to be so…. I don’t know, really sexy Mexican guy! Try to be like…conventionally attractive but easy-going” 

Eddie yanks the end of Buck’s tie and he makes a weird hacking noise. 

“Would you just relax? I know you’re worried about being weird in front of Tommy. But he loves you, Buck, he already knows you’re weird” 

“Oh haha you’re so funny” He sticks his tongue out “Besides, It’s…it’s not him I’m worried about” 

“So what is it?” Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror and Buck grabs the comb right out of his hands and starts fixing the sides of his hair 

“That’s his sister. And not just any sister, his little sister! Her opinion means a lot to him. Her opinion is the law! What if she doesn’t like me? What if that’s why she didn’t want to come?? What if she already hates me?” 

He stares into the mirror, spiraling and thinking about all the things that could go wrong and Eddie shakes his head, leaning against the vanity and smiling. 

“You know none of that’s gonna happen right?” 

“Even the part where there’s an elephant stampede because I tripped over the gate and he gets trampled to death and she blames me and I go to jail for involuntary manslaughter???” 

Eddie has to take a slow, deep breath. He lets his head tilt back and he quietly counts to five before turning back to him and putting his hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Especially, that part Buck.” 

The doorbell rings a half hour later and Buck lets out a weird gurgling noise and jumps off the couch. 

“I’m not ready!! " he calls out while running back to the bedroom, and Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes off the couch.

“You are ready so get your shit together so we aren’t late!” 

He opens the door, expecting to see Tommy there but he’s a little surprised when he has to look down.

Well, fuck. 

Tommy is coming up the walkway with two stupid-sized bouquets and you’re standing at the door, your hands laced behind your back. But that’s not what gets his attention, no it’s you. 

He can tell those shoes are new from the way they shine, like gorgeous red rubies. They wrap around your ankles and have precious little bows on the backs of them. His eyes trail over your full figure and the way the little black dress hugs your body, he can feel a pull in the pit of his stomach at the way the square neck pushes your breasts together and he likes the way the bow in your hair matches the bow on your shoes. 

“Hi,” He says, and…he knows he’s been caught staring by the way a pretty blush appears on your cheeks you look away from him and he doesn’t even bother hiding the blush on his cheeks.

“Hi,” you mumble and he melts at how soft and sweet your voice is. He’s so busy trying to remember his own name that he doesn’t notice Tommy coming up behind you, or the way his jaw sets just a little. 

“Eddie? You gonna let us in??” 

“Oh uh- shit yeah sorry. I - sorry. Anyway, welcome to my home” He steps aside, ushering you both in and you come in, your shoes thudding softly against the hardwood and sending a thrill through his body.

“You have a nice place,” You say, looking at the photos of friends and family he has lining the cabinet in the entryway he smiles and runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“Thanks… I uh- tried to clean up a bit when I heard you two were coming to pick us up”

“Speaking of,” Tommy looks around “Where’s my Evan?” 

You gag a little and Eddie immediately decides he likes you… even if you know he’d already decided that the second he saw you.

“He’s in the spare - sorry he’s in “his” room. He’s kinda nervous” 

“Why would he be nervous?” Tommy’s tone is immediately worried and Eddie gives a little nod toward you. 

“Oh. I’ll be right back” he hands Eddie one of the bouquets and chuckles 

“From us, to you, our Valentine” He winks and kisses his cheek and Eddie gives him a side hug 

“Thanks, man, happy Valentine’s Day, and thank you for dragging me along” 

“It was our pleasure!” 

Tommy heads back to Buck’s room, leaving you two alone and that’s, fun. You stand in the middle of the room awkwardly for a minute, your hands clasped behind your back. 

“So uh-“ he clears his throat, toying with one of the roses “I didn’t know Tommy had a sister. Where are you from?” 

He gestures for you to follow him to the kitchen and you do, he hesitates for a second, deciding to just be forward, and grabs your hips, helping you get up onto the counter next to the sink. You squeak when he lifts you, his fireman’s strength is no joke and he smirks a little before kneeling to look under the cabinet for a vase. You bite your lip when he unbuttons the cuffs and folds them up, he winks and your cheeks light on fire. You clear your throat and look anywhere but him.

“I was born in Minnesota before I was shipped off to my grandmothers and moved here to California. After she died I was put into foster care where Tommy’s family adopted me. He was already 18 when they got me so we weren’t together for very long, but he was the sweetest big brother ever” 

Eddie listens to your story, staring into the glass while it fills with water. That explained the sun-kissed brown skin, the rich honey color he wanted to drag his tongue over and leave pretty bruises behind. 

“Eddie?? I think that’s enough water” 

He blinks a couple of times and comes back to the water overflowing from the vase and spilling over his hands. 

“Shit” He curses quietly and shuts off the tap, he shakes out his hand and pours out a little bit. You hand him the flower food with a little snicker and he sticks his tongue out before pouring it in and grabbing some shears from the drawer next to him. 

“Just keep a pair of clippers on hand huh?” You look at them and he rolls his eyes, pruning the bottoms 

“You wait until May” He nods his head toward the window and you turn to look out “That garden is gonna be sprouting”

“May huh? I’ll make sure to plan a visit down here” 

You help him arrange the roses in a comfortable silence, he gives your thigh little nudges and you poke him back with the toe of your heels. He’s smiling the entire time and every time he looks up so are you. Even your teeth are pretty to him, which, is weird okay it sounds weird but you have pretty teeth. You have naturally pouty lips and a cute button nose… you’re just too much for him and nothing even happened yet. 

“I wonder what’s taking them so long” You work off a thorn and drop the stem in the vase and he scoffs. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know. I’m gonna have to like, burn those sheets” 

You giggle as he makes a face and gags then grabs a towel to dry his hands with

“What was Buck so nervous about anyway? Tommy said he was pretty outgoing” 

Eddie takes your hands, drying them for you and taking extra care to dry off your rings too 

“He’s actually nervous about meeting you, don’t tell him I told you.” Eddie sets the towel down and places his hands on the counter on either side of your thighs, you lean back a little against the cabinets as you think 

“Why in the world would he be nervous about meeting me?? Im- me!!” You hold your arms out and Eddie smiles, leaning in a little closer and you’ve got nowhere to run. Just the way he likes it. 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know you’re “you” yet. He just wants to impress you… he’s really into Tommy. I’ve never seen him this serious before, not to mention he’s literally never mentioned you before, at least not to me. I for sure would have remembered you” 

You blush a little as you look into those deep brown eyes, you turn your head to look away and pretend to look at the ceiling. 

“You uh- would have remembered me? Why do you say that?” You mumble and look down quickly, playing with the hem of your dress. Eddie hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Oh, I’d remember everything he told me about a gorgeous little thing like you” You feel his hand on your thigh, he just lightly places it there and your heart skips a beat. His eyes trail shamelessly over the glittery body oil you’d accentuated your look with and he wonders slightly if you taste as good as you look. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” 

Is he laying it on thick? Oh yeah definitely. But it’s Valentine’s Day and he’s got a pretty girl on his counter, who’s shy and quiet and it’s making his confidence shoot through the roof. Every giggle, every blush, every word he pulls from you is a win in his book. 

“Hmm no I don’t think you have” you mutter coyly and it takes everything in him not to just kiss you. He can just feel Tommy throwing him into the nearest body of water already. 

“You are positively,” He kisses your hand 

“Wonderfully” He kisses your nose 

“Stunningly” He kisses your forehead 

“Beautiful” 

His eyes flit down to your lips and he’s sure you can hear his heart slamming in his chest. The rhythm matches yours when your eyes find his lips as well. He’s smirking when you look into his eyes again and you lean forward just the littlest bit, giving him all the permission he needs.

Your eyes flutter closed as his lips hover mere inches from yours, you can feel the warmth of his breath splashing over your cheeks and you’re ready, you’re seriously going to kiss this God of a man you’ve only known for about 45 minutes and absolutely nothing in your body is telling you to stop.

Beat that Disney.

“Hey guys we’re ready to-“

“Jeez- Evan what-“ 

Buck stops hard when walking into the kitchen and Tommy smacks into him. He whirls around fast and pushes against his chest. 

“Sorry I realized I wasn’t done” 

He wraps his arms around his neck and you and Eddie can hear the sound of Buck giving him the nastiest kiss. Eddie helps you down from the counter and you slap your hands over your ears. 

“MY BRAINNNN” you scream dramatically and melt into Eddie’s chest and he holds you against him, hoping you can’t feel the way he appreciates your tits pressed into his chest 

“THE HORROR” He wails with you and you both hear Tommy laugh. He comes around the corner with Buck in tow, who’s blushing like a madman while giving Eddie an extremely pointed look.

Because he wants his friend to get it but can he please not get it when he has to meet his boyfriend’s sister for the first time? 

Tommy leads him over to you and Eddie where apparently you’ve found yourself very comfortably sticking to, your arms are around his waist and he’s got his arms on your shoulders now.

“Am I interrupting something?” He blinks plainly, his face a completely blank slate and you pull away from Eddie, swallowing thickly and giving him a little smile

“We were just consoling each other over the loss of our sanity” 

“Uh-huh”

The playful smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and Eddie knows he’s semi fucked. But he looks at you and the way that dress clings to your hips… and he doesn’t care if he’s royally fucked as long as it’s a chance with you. 

“Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet. Y/N, this is my boyfriend, Evan.” 

Buck comes around and holds out his hand and you let go of Eddie, reaching for it.

“It’s just Buck, but it’s really nice to meet you” he shakes your hand vigorously and Tommy wraps his arms around his waist, grabbing his wrist calmly. 

“She wants to keep her arm babe” 

You giggle as he releases your hand, with a light blush on his cheeks “Sorry I- I’m just kinda nervous I guess” 

“You don’t need to be” Your smile seems to calm him down a bit and Tommy feels him finally start to relax “I’ve been really excited about meeting you, my brothers told me so much about you!” 

“Hopefully all good things” Buck’s voice cracks a little and Eddie snorts, earning a glare from him 

“Of course! I think all the jobs you’ve had are really cool” You smile up at him and Eddie knows that’s the exact moment Buck falls in love with you, he smiles back at you, and kind of bends down to your height a little 

“Why thank you, I’ve learned a lot over the years. Shall we?” He holds his arm out and you take it, giggling as he leads you out the kitchen and Tommy looks over at Eddie 

“Did she just steal my date???” 

“I’m pretty sure she just stole your entire evening” 

Much to everyone’s dismay, it turns out that you and Buck get along really freaking well. He decides to sit in the backseat with you and you’re literally whispering in each other’s ear the entire way to the restaurant. You’re both snickering and trying to hold back full laughs, and every time Tommy catches Buck’s eye in the mirror he snorts and you both have to try and keep it in.

He’s immediately regretting introducing you two. 

Eddie watches you in the mirror occasionally and he knows that it’s stupid, and it doesn’t make sense and you literally almost kissed. But he’s jealous of the way you lean into Buck’s side when he tells you something stupid, he’s jealous of the way you fall all over him every time you can’t help but burst laughing and he’s jealous of the completely innocent way that Buck’s hand occasionally brushes your bare thighs. 

Tommy pulls up to the valet and gets out, he opens the door for Buck with a little glare and Buck just snorts, he puts his hand on his hip, pulls him a little closer, and kisses him and Tommy’s grumpy attitude vanishes. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day” He whispers. 

Eddie opens your door for you and you hop out, brushing the front of your dress out a little, you take a step to the side and he puts his arm around your waist and shuts the door.

“You two have a good laugh?” 

“Sure did! We started a secret club, we’re gonna make a handshake for it later” 

“Of course you did” 

Once inside, the four of you are led up to the roof and your mouth drops open as soon as the elevator doors open. This place is set up like it’s straight out of a movie, from the fairy lights strung up around the perimeter to the rose petals creating a walkway to a table set with candles, a bottle of champagne on ice, and probably the fanciest napkins you’ve ever seen in your life.

The live music is a punch to the gut, the violins really bring on the waterworks. This is beautiful, this is trying to deeply impress someone level, and as you look up at Buck, watching him pull Tommy in for a shy kiss with little tears pricking in the corner of his eyes… you turn to Eddie, who’s already whispering to the man who’d brought you upstairs and you know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

Tommy and Buck are in their own world for a minute and Eddie tugs on your elbow to pull you to the side. 

“So there’s a cancellation and a table open downstairs” 

“Oh thank god”

“I know right?! Do you see how romantic this is?!” 

“Yes!!” you gesture wildly “How could he think it was okay to bring us?!” 

“What was he thinking?!” 

“What’s going on you two?” Tommy turns to look at you and Eddie, who is currently slowly backing up toward the elevator and leaving you to break it to him 

“Eddie and I got a table downstairs” You glare back at Eddie and he winks 

“You guys what? No, it’s okay, Buck, and I want you here” 

Eddie now grabs your waist and slowly backs you up with him. You place your hands over his and shake your head 

“I love you so much Tommy and it was so sweet of you guys to invite us along… but this is for you okay? This needs to be about you two. You and Buck are gonna have an amazing time” 

“I-if you’re sure?” He runs a hand uneasily through his hair and behind him, Buck clasps his hands together pleading with the two of you to get lost

“Oh we’re so sure” Eddie laughs and pulls you into the elevator with him “You two have fun!” 

Buck wraps his arms around Tommy’s waist and pulls him into his chest 

“We will!! Hey uh, Eddie? You want me to send you money for an Uber?” 

“Yea, don’t worry Tommy I’ll take care of y/n tonight!” 

“Wait I’m not so su-“

The doors close and you slump against Eddie who slumps against the wall 

“…So that would have been so weird” 

“Kyle” hits the ground floor button and you throw your hands in the air 

“That’s what we’re saying!!!”

It turns out Eddie is wonderful company, he’s got you laughing and you’ve got him snorting into his champagne glass and trying not to laugh like an idiot and disturb everyone around you. 

The table you’d gotten is tucked into a corner next to the window, you can see the busy L. A street as they start to calm down, it’s a cozy little table, and incredibly romantic. Eddie moved your chair right next to his when he pulled it out for you and you blushed at the intimate proximity he’d created. As if going to a romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day could have been any more intimate than it already was. 

“Oh my god” Eddie is trying not to choke on champagne and you’re sinking into your chair with your hands over your face, trying to stifle the giggles. You’d told the most embarrassing Tommy story you knew. The time he’d gotten locked out of the locker room at work and had to run to find the chief in just a towel. His coworkers had sent you a ton of pictures that Eddie now owned as well. 

You’re both wiping tears from your eyes when you finally sit up and clear your throat, Eddie holds his sides, still giggling and you reach for the nearly empty bottle of champagne and refill your glasses. You put his up to his lip and he takes a small sip before taking it from you.

“Good girl” He winks and you feel your cheeks turn pink, you’re hoping he doesn’t notice it, maybe just thinks it’s the champagne. But you can see the twinkle in his eye when he notices you squeeze your thighs together just slightly and he slowly sets your drink down. 

“So, we’ve made fun of Tommy. We’ve made fun of Buck… I don’t know how I got mixed in, but I did. But you know what?” He runs the tip of his finger along the rim of his glass 

“We haven’t really talked much about you” 

“Me? What about me?” You feel a little uneasy and he reaches under the table, placing a hand over yours 

“Oh! I just wanted to get to know you, you know? It’s nice to make new friends. I’ve always made them easily, it’s just keeping them I sometimes have problems with”

“Oh?” You tilt your head and he laces your fingers together and puts his arm over the back of your chair 

“Sometimes I get in my own head you know? I don’t let people in… and that’s kind of left me alone more often than not” 

Your heart breaks for him and you smile softly 

“Whaddaya wanna know?” 

“How about we start easy?” He smiles back “You have any pets?” 

That gets your attention and you perk up, turning toward him 

“I’m so glad you asked that” 

You pull out your phone and excitedly show him pictures of your rabbit, Saturn. He fawns all over her immediately, the sweet little brown bunny seems to be the star of your life and he absolutely eats it up. 

You show him video after video and he makes you send him pictures of her and nearly convinces you to take him to Tommy’s house when he finds out that she’s there right now.

“Bro” you shake your head as he stares into her little black eyes “There’s no way in hell we’re going back to Tommy’s tonight” 

“But- bunny” He holds your phone up with a little pout and you coo at his sweet face and lean over to kiss his nose.

“Aww Pobrecito” You squish his face and he leans into your palms “Tomorrow! I promise”

You’re not sure when the conversation turned kind of naughty, but you can’t help but cackle at all his stupid dirty jokes. Maybe it was when you were telling him about the size of the cucumber you’d grown… or maybe it was when you said you would deep-throat a whole-ass mango if you could because they were your favorite.

Either way, Eddie is whispering dirty things into your ear and whilst they may be funny… they’re beginning to start a fire in your belly. 

“I’m so serious, I found out in the worst way possible that Buck is packin’ okay?” He gags a little and you nod along deliriously, trying not to snort 

“What about you huh?” You say playfully, nudging his shoulder and he stops a little, looking into your hazy eyes, and smirks 

“Wouldn’t you like to know” 

“We’re friends, right? Friends share dick sizes Eddie they just do” 

“You know… you’re not the first person to say that to me” 

You turn and laugh into his shoulder and he laughs with you, holding you closer and running his fingers down your arm 

“Hey! That tick-“

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he places your hand over his cock, you look up at him and he strokes your palm against it. You gasp as it hardens underneath your fingertips and you swallow thickly feeling just how large he is

“Any other questions baby girl?” 

You shake your head fast and he smirks, before leaning down and placing a kiss on your neck.

“Well, I have one or two. Can I ask ‘em?”

You nod and he lets go of your hand, grinning when you leave it on his cock, and slides his hand up your torso and over your chest. 

“Do you like wearing necklaces?” You feel his fingers splay across your throat before wrapping around it squeezing lightly. He likes the little cross-eyed expression on your face when you gasp out for air. 

“Well?” He squeezes a little to get your attention and you come back to him 

“Uh-huh” 

“Oh good, so do I! I have this very nice gold chain my tia gave me when I was maybe 15” 

You’re hardly listening to him, you’re really more focused on the hand around your throat and the way he squeezes lightly, just enough to make you dizzy and send the champagne buzzing happily down between your legs.

“You ready to get out of here?” He asks you quietly and all you can do is stare at him. He chuckles lightly and lets go of you, but keeps the hand on your neck.

“Hey, sugar? You in there?” 

You blush and nod at him, something that was apparently the only freaking thing you could do this entire night and he smiles. 

“Alright cool, I’ll order our Uber” 

A half-hour later, you and Eddie stumble your way out to the Uber, he keeps his arm around your waist tightly and you wrap your arm around his neck. 

He’d done what he’d seemed to be doing all night and did another 180, acting like the last half hour of your conversation hadn’t even happened, now he was back to telling his corny dad jokes. 

He had a stupid amount of fire jokes. 

He opens the door for you and you fall in, taking him with you. You both erupt in giggles and he helps you up and swings your legs into the car. He flops into the car and you pull him in awkwardly climb over him and shut the door. 

“Are you both in?” Your driver, Milo chuckles and you give him a little thumbs up over the back of the seat 

“We’re in!!” 

“Is it too much to ask you to buckle up?” 

You look at Eddie in a heap underneath you and at the seatbelts

“Uhhhh I think we can try. We can try right?” 

“We can try” Eddie agrees and you get off of him and sit awkwardly in your seat. Eddie gets on his hands and knees and reaches for your belt, he pulls it way too far out and tries to click it in. He spends a good 30 seconds just trying to get it in the buckle and by then you’re losing it. 

“Shut up! Shut- up!! Im close” 

“That’s what she said” you cackle and he smacks your thigh. You hear Milo upfront snicker and you squeal. 

“See!! He thinks I’m funny!!!” 

“Oh yeah you’re just a barrel of laughs” Eddie pulls away and his face is so close to yours, that you can feel his breath fan across your face, and smell the peach champagne on his lips. His eyes flit down to yours and you’re right back in the same position from earlier. 

Only no annoying brother is going to interrupt you… 

You scoot forward and he easily clips himself into the middle seat

“We’re ready,” he says distractedly and the car starts moving. He moves your legs into his lap and you slowly wrap your arms around his neck 

“This is cozy,” You say quietly and he runs his hand over your thigh, squeezing lightly 

“Very cozy” 

“Can we…can we do something” You whisper and he smirks, running his hand under your dress and higher up your thighs 

“You into voyeurism sweet girl?… didn’t really peg you as the type” 

You punch him in the chest and he leans his head down and laughs into your shoulder 

“That’s not what I meant!!! I just…I wanted to make out” you mumble as your cheeks turn pink and Eddie pulls away to look at you again

“Sorry, honey I don’t think I quite heard that, you wanna run it by me again?”

Your cheeks burn right through to the freaking bone and you roll your eyes 

“I said… do you want to make out” You say it a little louder and he grins wickedly 

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask”

He closes the distance between you, finally capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's not gentle or sweet like you’d been expecting- no, this kiss is hungry and demanding, full of all the pent-up desire he's been feeling since he first laid eyes on you since Tommy had interrupted what was gonna be your first kiss.

He kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to like you’re the air he needs to breathe. His tongue laps at your mouth, exploring every inch of you, wanting to claim you as his own. He nips at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue before kissing you again.

You try to keep up with him, with his roaming hands and absolutely sinful tongue but it’s almost too much, and soon you’re moaning as he wraps his hand around your neck, pinning you against the door, and takes what he wants from you. 

His fingers slide higher and higher and you just feel them brush teasingly against your panties when the car suddenly comes to a stop. 

“Here we are!” 

To his credit, Milo kept the music sort of loud and the windows down to drown out the noises you were making, that Eddie totally was eating up and egging you on more and more. He pulls away from you, admiring your kiss-swollen lips and the dazed look in your eyes. 

“Let’s get you inside Princess”

“Thank you for tonight… I wouldn’t have minded staying alone, but this was really nice” 

Eddie has his arm over the back of the couch, his hand is laid on your thigh and you smile up at him, leaning back against the couch. He takes a sip of his champagne and sets the glass down on the coffee table. You’d both sobered up a bit after your make-out session and decided to keep the party going back at his place, it was nice to just relax and let go.

Even if it drove Eddie crazy the way you shyly came into his home and said you needed to use the bathroom and managed to hide away from him for a good 15 minutes just to gather yourself. He’d taken the liberty of setting out more drinks and impatiently waited for you to come back to him. 

“I should be thanking you, you’re a lot of fun to be around… how long are you staying in town?” 

“As long as Tommy wants me around, I’m sure he’ll get sick of me at some point” You hand Eddie your glass and he puts it down next to his 

“If he kicks you out you’re welcome here, I’ve got a spare room” His fingers trail over your thigh and you blush, scooting a little closer to him. Strawberry champagne looks good on you, he thinks as he watches your cheeks turn pink.

“Wanna see it? You know, decide if you’d even like to hang out here?” 

“Sure!” 

Eddie gets up from the couch and reaches out for you, he takes your hands and squeezes them before pulling you up into his chest. You stumble a little and giggle and he cups your face. 

“You okay?” 

“Just a little tipsy” You hum, leaning against him and he smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, enjoying the way your pretty eyelashes fluttered closed for a second 

“Yeah… I know what you mean” he leans down and kisses your eyelids, your breath fans across his face lightly and he bites his lip, looking down at yours. 

“Come on…” he squeezes your hand and leads you back to the spare room. He flicks on the lights and you peek around his shoulder, it’s painted a very pale blue and the linens match the curtains. 

“My Tia helped with decorating” he answers your questioning look and you step into the room, doing a little spin and walking over to the large full-length mirror.

“I like it, it’s nice” 

Eddie stands behind you and you look at him in the mirror, you shudder and sigh softly when his warm hands cup your shoulders. His fingers dance over your skin, down your arms, and turn you around to face him. 

“Nice huh? You haven’t even tried the bed, what if you don’t like it?”

“Oh that’s true…”

He walks backward, taking you with him, and sits down on the bed. You stall for a second before climbing into his lap and straddling him. He holds your hips and you place your hands on his chest, slowly pushing him down.

Eddie grins, running his thumbs over your hips and you smirk 

“It kinda looks like you’re the one trying to bed right now” 

“Hmmm… yeah I guess you have a point. We should fix that” 

He rolls over with you and settles between your thighs, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you 

“You know? This isn’t actually that bad, like this bed is super comfy” 

“S’why I picked it” 

You let out a soft moan, feeling his lips connect with your neck. He swirls his tongue, tasting your buttery soft skin, and moans with you. You start to work at the buttons on his shirt and he smirks, sucking on your pulse point while your fingers shake. 

“Aren’t you an eager little thing?” He teases, and you feel his hands on your thighs, pushing your dress up around your hips 

“Uh-huh, you’re sure talkin’ a whole lotta shit for someone who got me into their bed” 

“Why don’t we both be whores?” 

You toss your head back and laugh and he snickers against your neck and rolls his hips against yours and you both groan. He reaches down and you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling. 

“What’re you doing?” You whisper and he kisses your cheek 

“I don’t want to ruin these pants, getting suits cleaned isn’t that easy”

You snicker and prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him pull away for a minute and shuck off his pants, he leaves them on the chair in the corner for a second and you giggle, watching him take off his shirt too. 

He comes back over, taking your ankle and kissing the inside of it. He trails kisses down your thigh and starts to bend down, settling your thighs over his shoulders. 

“I plan on taking my time with you pretty girl… wanna take you on dates, wanna see these pretty, thick thighs splayed across my front seat”

He buries his face between your legs, nudging his nose against your soaked panties, and inhales slowly, he drags his tongue over the pathetic patch of cotton and sucks on them.

“So fucking good” He grinds his hips into the bed and you arch your back and push his face closer. He looks up at you and hooks his finger in your panties like he’s giving you the option to tell him to stop.

But the blissed-out look on your face and the hazy shade to your eyes just spurs him on. He pulls them away, moaning at the sticky tendrils that come with them and before you can even react to the cool air he’s already on you. 

He eats you like a man starved and you cry out, putting your hand on his head and tugging on his hair. 

“Jesus you taste even better than I ever imagined” 

He moans into your pussy and brings a hand up to hold onto your thigh, keeping it over his shoulder and pressing soft kisses against your skin. He looks up at you, holding your gaze with smoldering eyes and you can practically feel the gush between your legs 

“You wanna ride my face baby? Wanna feel you grind that pretty little cunt on my lips until you cum” 

“O-oh my-“

Before you can even respond you’re shrieking as he rolls you both over. He purposely wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you in place so you can't run, even when you try. He slaps your ass and you jolt, making him moan underneath you. 

“Come on Sugar, use me”

It’s the way his voice breaks when he says that, the little hint of a desperate whine that drives you to move your hips. You grip his hair and let your head fall forward, you gasp out and he hums between your legs. 

“That’s it baby” He coaxes “Grab it like you mean it” 

You pull his hair harder and he groans appreciatively

Eddie leans in and places a soft kiss right on your clit, his tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His hands squeeze your ass, helping to guide your movements as he encourages you and you’re lost on him. You haphazardly reach for the headboard and brace yourself as you grind on his face. He moans beneath you and spreads your cheeks enough to drag his thumb over your puckered hole. 

“Whaaat the fuck are you doing??” You keep rolling your hips and brushing your clit against his nose, you can feel his finger on you but you’re too hot and flustered to pay too much attention to what he’s doing, besides whatever he’s doing feels good anyway 

He makes a muffled answer kind of noise because it's not like he can exactly answer you for real at the moment, but you get the gist of his “just let it happen” When his tongue swirls sinfully through your folds and your back is arching deeper against his mouth. 

“E-Eddie wait I’m gonna cum please let me down please pl-“

Eddie drags your hips away from his mouth just enough to glare at you

“I came here prepared to drown Y/N. I’m a firefighter, you think I can’t handle gushing water?” 

You bark out a laugh and he shoves you back over his mouth and you shriek, your hands reaching out for the headboard and he smacks your ass, squeezing your full cheeks in his hands. He moans underneath you and pushes his fingers inside you at the same time and you finish, your hips grinding down on his mouth while he drinks your juices.

Your head falls back with a soft opened mouth gasp, stars exploding behind your eyes. He works his fingers in and out of your ass while sucking hard on your clit and you reach down with one hand, trying to push him away. 

“S-stop!” You writhe on his mouth and he hooks his arm around your waist, pinning you down to him so you can’t get away from him. He works you through another earth-shattering orgasm and you slump forward against the headboard, crying into it as your thighs shake around his face. 

He pulls his fingers away and pushes you down off his mouth, gasping loudly while reaching for your waist to steady himself. 

“Jesus fucking Christ you taste good” He licks at the wetness on your torso and you whine and try to shuffle back down his body. He snickers and keeps you sat on his chest for a bit, rubbing his face against your breasts and you flick his forehead. 

“Quit being a perv and let me go!” 

He rolls his tongue over your nipple and you shudder when he bites down gently, sucking it between his lips.

“Cállate, corazón” 

Your mouth drops open and he chuckles, pulling away with a wet pop! And bringing you down his torso like you’d asked 

“Did you just tell me to shut up??” You narrow your eyes when he brings you face-to-face with him

“No? I don’t know what you’re talking about” 

He turns you both over and wraps his arms tightly around you then nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your lingering perfume and the distinct scent of sex that clings to your body. 

“I feel like you’re lying” You look at his closed eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. 

“Shhhh, go to sleep” 

He blindly runs his hand down your face and you groan, batting at his hands and snuggling into his chest. 

“Asshole” You mumble and he places a soft kiss on your shoulder

“Mhmmm sure am” 

Eddie rolls over the next morning, reaching for you but he comes up with an empty bed. His eyes pop open and sure enough, you aren’t there, he sits up slowly, wiping at his eyes and sighing as he reaches for his phone. Buck has sent at least 25 texts… because that’s just him and Tommy has left a couple, asking about you how you’re doing, and when he should come get you.

He answers those ones first, telling him that he’ll bring you home later and that he and Buck should enjoy their day together, then he wades through the smut Buck sent him.

Wow! He’s so glad he could know Tommy’s EXACT size. 

A little knock at the door gets his attention and he looks up 

“Come in??” 

You push open the door with your shoulder and he holds back a groan. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, it sticks to your curves and doesn’t quite fit over your hips. It stretches across your breasts and he can see your dark nipples through the white fabric. 

“H-hi” he awkwardly shifts a pillow into his lap, watching you bring a tray into the bedroom. 

“I made you breakfast, it was the least I could do after you let me stay the night…” 

You set the tray down, breakfast for two and he takes it so you can climb into bed with him. 

“Personally I feel like the eating I did last night was payment enough but whatever, not that any thanks were necessary” 

You whack his chest and he snickers and wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you, this was really nice of you” He nuzzles his nose into your neck and you blush, trying to push him away. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Eat your pancakes!” 

He pushes your hands down and holds them in place while he kisses your neck. 

“No really! This was sweet of you princess” He growls and you melt a little, your cheeks flushing. 

“Sooo sweet and domestic of you” He mumbles in your ear, nipping at your lobe “My good girl got her pussy eaten… so she made me breakfast” 

Your jaw drops and your mouth gapes open and shut while you try and process his freaking sentence. 

“I- no that’s- no I”

“That’s a little submissive of you don’t you think? You want me to tell you how proud I am of you?” He trails his fingers over your arm and your eyes nearly pop out of your head 

“You did such a good job baby girl, these look so good. I bet you just put your whole heart into it didn’t you?” 

You blink slowly, processing what just happened and definitely not processing why it stoked a very distinct fire in your belly. He finally pulls away and cuts out a piece from the stack, he falls back into the pillows as he chews and moans. 

“Dude what the fuck” He takes another bite and does a little happy wiggle “These are good” 

“It's a family recipe” You breathe out, coming back down from Neptune and into the adorable two-bedroom home, where you’re currently sharing a bed with a sort of stranger who took his time with you last night. 

“Buck is basically my brother, and Tommy is his boyfriend and they’re probably gonna get married so I really feel like that makes me family” 

“Or you could just marry me” You snort take the other fork and dig in 

“I was gonna say that, but I thought it would freak you out” He cheeses and it makes you roll your eyes 

“Right…right because whatever you just pulled on me wasn’t going to freak me out, but you know asking me to marry you after the first date? That’s crazy” 

“See! Now you’re getting it!” 

He holds a piece of bacon up to your mouth and you narrow your eyes and take a bite, you reach out for your juice and he grabs it for you, tilting it up to your lips.

“I can-“

“I know you can. I want to do it for you” 

There’s no room for argument and you sip it, watching him watch you. His eyes trail over your jaw and down your neck, he tips the cup a little higher making you tilt your head back more to keep from drinking it too fast. He pulls the cup away slowly and looks back at you, those pretty brown eyes sparkling. 

“You know I wasn’t lying… when I said I wanted to take you out, wanted to take my time with you… or when I said you were absolutely welcome here. It wasn’t just the champagne talking”

“I know” You smile a little and look down at your eggs “I just… don’t know if it’s realistic. Last night was…good but I don’t live here Eddie, I literally live hours away” 

“So move here” He says it like it’s the easiest thing, like it’s a complete no-brainer. 

“I’m- are you joking?? Eddie, I can’t just pick up my life and come live here? That’s not… that’s not plausible”

“What’s holding you back? You already told me you didn’t have much there for you, Tommy is here, and Buck is here! And you love him already… and I mean, even if things about work between us? If there even is an us… I want to be your friend Y/N first and foremost. Even if you wanted to stop exploring whatever this?” he gestures between the two of you “Is?? I’d be happy just being your friend, and right now I’ve got the means for you to be here so… why not just take a chance?” 

You flop back in the pillows, considering what he’s said and he flies a little piece of bacon over to you again and you giggle. 

“Besides, my garden remember? I wanted you to see it in May and it’ll be a heck of a lot easier if you’re living here. Maybe we can even plant things together? Make it ours?” 

Ohhhh boy did he know how to bargain. Plants??? A garden?? It’s like he knew your heart already. 

“I can even put a nice chair out there for you, so you can read in the sun” 

He’s got this soft way with words, this really soft, really convincing… really-

“I’m gonna move here aren’t I?” 

“You can decorate this room however you want” 

“Tommy is gonna kill me” 

“You’re definitely going to have to share it with Buck” 

“Yeah I can see that” 

“But you’ll do it? You’ll move in with me?” 

Eddie is so eager to have you and it’s hard not to get excited with him, you sit back up and turn to him, and he mimics your stance, looking into your eyes in that deep way he always seems to look at you with 

“You promise that… that if things don’t work out between us… you won’t kick me out?” 

“I promise Y/N on my word, I do. I want to be your friend too honey… our relationship doesn’t have to just be whatever this is you know?” 

“Okay…okay. It would take some time to get everything together… I’d have to sell my apartment and get everything in order to be shipped here. Can I bring Saturn?? I should have asked that first, cause this ain’t goin’ nowhere if that little bunny isn’t with me”

“I’m not a monster” Eddie slaps his hand on his chest offendedly and you giggle “Of course that precious baby can come too. Hey! Why don’t we go on a date today hm? I’ll buy that little bunny whatever she needs to be comfortable here and we can get lunch” 

“I-I can’t ask you to do that” you stutter and he moves closer while pushing the tray away from you two. 

“You’re not asking, and neither am I ” 

He places his hand on your neck, gently pushing you backward onto the bed and you gulp, looking up at him. He squeezes lightly and nuzzles his face against yours then places a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“You’re going to make me very very happy  Princess. I just know it” 

You let out a shaky breath and he settles between your legs again just like last night 

“Whaddaya say princess… you want an encore?” 

You’re about to answer when your phone rings, Eddie reaches over you and grabs it, handing it to you, and then kisses his way down your body.

“Hi T-Tommy!” You take in a sharp breath as Eddie kisses the front of your panties and hooks his fingers in them 

“I have something to tell you” 

[luna-eclipse2000]

Your first Valentine’s Day with AOT boys + Hanji

Ft. Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, Connie, Levi, Hanji

Notes: Connie’s is suggestive so MDNI, no pronouns used for reader

Eren

- He’s never been a fan of Valentine’s Day

- He just never saw the point

- But that’s not to say he hated the idea of buying a future partner some flowers and chocolates

- In fact, he would find himself day dreaming about seeing his partner smiling as they gaze upon the gifts he bought them

- And since he and Jean both got into relationships before Valentine’s Day, he knew he had to go above in beyond

- Not just because you deserve it, but because he wanted to stick it to that horse-faced bastard

You’re out with your friends for brunch, a Valentines tradition you’ve had for years because none of you had boyfriends before. All of you are taken now but that doesn’t stop you three from meeting up. Just as your food comes, your phone rings with Eren’s tone. “Sorry, give me a second.” You apologize before pulling out your phone to read the text.

Bird boy: Come to my place when you’re done with your friends. I got something to show you ;)

You know your friends will tease and press you to get more information just to see you get flustered, so you put your phone away and pretend it was nothing. But of course you’re now eager to get over to Eren’s place to see what he has in store.

Most people who send winking emoji’s mean it only to imply something sexual, but he does it to hint at something exciting. A surprise. Not to say he doesn’t mean it in the traditional sense, too. You’re also expecting him to do something big because of his rivalry with Jean.

However you’re not prepared for what you see when you walk into his apartment. There’s petals scattering the floor, unlit candles hang from the ceiling, pink and red ribbon hang along the top of the walls, an overly large teddy bear sits against the wall where the balcony is, and Eren stands in the centre of it all wearing a red velvet suit with black lining. “Eren Jaeger, what did you do?” You question with a smile, hands placed on your hips.

“Giving you the best damn Valentine’s Day you’ve ever had.” He answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He then walks up to you with a heart shaped box in his hand. “Chocolate?”

“I’ll never say no to Lindor.” You answer and take out one of the wrapped chocolates. “Do you like it?” Eren asks. “You certainly exceeded every expectation.” You tell him. “I was going to light the candles but Armin told me the flames would burn the fishing wire and start a fire.” Eren admits. “And while that is the perfect way to describe my love for you, I don’t think the building manager would get it. Or care.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment before looking at him again. “You can be so cheesy, you know that?”

“As long as you’re happy, I don’t care how cheesy I get.” He says before pressing his lips to yours. “Now go pose with the bear. I need to brag to Jean.”

Armin

- This boy does his homework when it comes to holidays

- He finds out what you like and what you don’t so everything will be perfect

- He writes a step-by-step plan for before, during, and after your first Valentine’s with him

- But when you meet him at the restaurant

- He forgets the entire plan

- Not a shred of it remains in his head

- And he becomes the shy, flustered, awkward Armin we all know and adore

You fiddle with your clothes as you walk up to the restaurant Armin suggested for Valentine’s. He had to take his grandfather to an appointment so he profusely apologized for not being able to pick you up himself, but promised thar he’d make up for it. This restaurant is usually pretty booked up in advance, especially for holidays, however he said he knew the owner so he and his friends get tables pretty much whenever they want.

“Hi there.” The hostess greets as you walk up to the stand. “Name for the reservation?”

“Uh, it should be under Armin Arlert.” You tell her. “I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“No, it doesn’t look like anyone’s been seated at your table.” She says after tapping on the tablet in front of her. “I can take you back now if you’d like, or you can wait for him up here.”

“I’ll wait for him, thank you.” You say and then stand off to the side. You look around at the restaurant since this is your first time stepping foot inside. It’s certainly very fancy and the food must cost a fortune. “They probably offer rich shit like calamari and the Grey Stuff from Beauty and the Beast.” You think to yourself.

The tables all have ivory tablecloths with gold details around the edges. You can even see a wine room closer to where the kitchen is. Each table has a rose in a vase in the centre of the table. Your gaze then falls onto all the couples in the dining room. Everyone is dressed to the nines, wearing obviously designer clothing and expensive jewelry. This causes you to feel a bit insecure and wonder if you should’ve dressed up a bit more.

Your clothing isn’t designer, but it still cost a pretty penny. You’re sure that if you bought your clothes with any of these people’s cards, they wouldn’t even notice the charge.

The bell rings behind you, signalling that someone has come in. You turn around and see Armin walk in carrying a bouquet of red, pink and white roses, and a red gift bag clutched in his right hand. “Armin.” You address your new boyfriend.

He turns to face you with a confident smile on his face but then he goes slightly slack jawed, a deep red blush spreading across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. “I- Um- You- Uh, wow.” He clears his throat and looks away.

“Hey, are you ok?” You ask, reaching out and touching his cheek. “Yeah, you just… You look stunning.” He says, still not looking at you.

“Aw, thank you.” You say sweetly. “I was starting to think I stood out like a sore thumb.”

His head whips forward with what seems to be a mixture of confusion and fear in his eyes. “No! Not at all! You’re easily the best-looking here.” He then remembers the gifts in his hands. “Oh! These are for you.”

You chuckle at his awkwardness and take the items from him. “You’re so cute. You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I make things weird?” He asks nervously. “No, absolutely not.” You assure him. A look of relief washes over his still-red features. “I’m just saying it’s sweet that you wanted to spend your money on me.”

“Of course. It’s my job to spoil you.” He says, tucking his hands into his pockets. You’re extremely grateful that he even got you flowers let alone something that won’t die in a few weeks, but you start feeling guilty about not getting him anything. You didn’t think you were at the gift-giving stage yet.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get anything for you.” You apologize. “I don’t need anything, sweetie.” Armin tells you. “All I want is for you to have fun.”

You smile at him, feeling better but you’re still not 100% satisfied. So you take a step forward and press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Does that suffice?”

He doesn’t answer because he’s focusing all his energy on not passing out right then and there. When he finally does speak, it’s more of an incoherent babble than a proper sentence. You let out another laugh at his shyness.

“Oh, I see your date is here.” The hostess says as she walks back to her stand. “If you two want to follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

You gently put the flowers into the bag and take his hand in yours as you follow her to the back of the restaurant. Armin is about 99% sure he just died and went to heaven.

Jean

- We all know that Jean is a hopeless romantic

- So you can bet that he’s been planning Valentine’s Day for a while

- Even before he got into a relationship, he would dream about what he’d do, where he’d take his partner, and what gifts he’d buy

- 100% gets his mother flowers and something else she likes

- Remember that trend about getting a bouquet of 100 roses?

- Yeah, he sees that as a challenge

- So you best believe this man has bought you a bouquet of 200 roses (or your favourite flower)

- You can barely grip the base it’s so big

- (Get your minds out of the gutter, ya nasty)

It’s been a long day at work and you just can’t wait to get home and see Jean. You just got promoted so it’s been pretty hectic trying to get used to the new change, and it doesn’t help that your new boss hasn’t warmed up to you yet.

You trudge up the pathway to your house and quickly open up the door. “Jean! I’m home!” You call out, tiredness dripping from your voice. You didn’t realize when you walked up to your house that all the lights were out. You were far too busy thanking the universe that the day was done. But now as you kick off your shoes, you realize that you can barely see anything. “Jean?”

You look towards the living room and see some candles sitting on the adjacent dining room table. You arch your brow in curiosity as you walk towards the candles. “Jean?” You call out again. The table has a red runner going down the middle with the fine china plates from your wedding sitting at each end.

You two only bring those plates out for special occasions because they’ve been passed down as wedding gifts in his family since his Great Grandmother’s wedding. Soft music starts to play, the kind that’s in those romantic movies when the male leads sees the female lead in a pretty dress for the first time. You see Jean walk out from the kitchen holding the largest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen. He literally needs two hands to hold it.

“Hello, my love.” He says, needing to peer around the flowers to see you properly. It also doesn’t help that the bouquet is wrapped in red paper with white lace as an accent.

You laugh at the comically large flowers. “Jean, what on earth is going on?”

“Oh, I saw a trend of people getting 100 roses for Valentine’s Day and knew that you deserved better than that.” Jean answers and then hands you the bouquet. “I can’t even seen you!” You say through your laughter. “But it’s very sweet of you. Thank you, Jean.”

“You’re very welcome.” Jean says. You take a moment to smell the flowers before lying them down in the centre of the table. “Now sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“What is all this?” You ask, gesturing to the table. “Did you do something and need to apologize before I find out?”

“What? Of course not! Well, not this time at least.” He says. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks. You needed something to make you smile and I figured that Valentine’s was the perfect time. Besides, this is our first Valentine’s Day as a married couple, of course I had to go all out.”

Your smile drops. “Ah, shit. Is that today?” He nods his head. “Ok, give me one second!” You turn and run towards the stairs.

“Hey, where’re you going?” He calls after you. “I’ll be right back! Give me thirty seconds!” You say while running up the stairs as fast as you can without tripping. You rush into the guest bedroom and open up the second drawer of the bedside table. You then move some old cards out of the way and grab the leather box you hid in here last month.

“That was longer than thirty seconds.” Jean jokes as you walk back into the dining room. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Time-Keeper.” You respond before holding out the box. “Here. I didn’t totally forget.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, love.” Jean says softly as he takes the box from you. “You give me gifts every time you see something you think I’d like. Of course I had to get you something.” You say.

He opens up the box and gasps softly as he sees an antique watch. You two passed by a little shop while walking to your friend’s house and he couldn’t help but gawk at it. So you went back the next day and immediately bought it for him, not even looking at the price tag. He looks up at you with adoration in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.” You respond. He places the watch down on the table before pulling you into him, placing a kiss on your lips. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer as the kiss deepens. He moves his hands to your waist and squeezes softly, showing you how much he’s enjoying this moment.

But the next second, the timer goes off on the oven, forcing you two to separate. “Guess we’ll have to finish that later.” Jean says with a smirk on his face.

Marco

- We all know this guy is a sweetheart

- He doesn’t plan anything extravagant, but it’s still amazing

- Adorable would probably be the best word to describe what he does

- He doesn’t do anything cheesy so don’t expect a stuffed animal holding a heart that says “I love you bear-y much”

- Unless you specifically say you want one

- But if you like plushies, you’re definitely getting one

- His gifts are simple: A small bouquet of flowers, maybe some chocolates or candy if you like them, and something else if he feels you’ll really like it

You sit in your dorm room, anxiously waiting for Marco to pop by after work for a movie night. You bought one of those projectors that connects to your computer so you don’t have to crowd around the small screen. Not that you’re not planning on squishing as close to this angel of a human as much as you physically can.

You already have the snacks set up: some cookies, gummy worms, those heart shaped candies and a bucket of popcorn with pink, brown and red chocolates. The second you hear his signature knock, you’re bolting to the door and throwing it open.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.” He greets you as he holds a single rose in front of him. “Aw, thank you.” You say as you take the flower. “Come on in, everything’s set up. We just need to pick a movie.”

You lead him inside your room and take a seat on your bed. You made sure that your roommate wouldn’t be home for a while so you’re using their bunk as the screen for your movie. You’ve trapped one end of a white sheet underneath their bed so you have a flat surface to project the film onto.

“I also have this for you.” Marco says as he holds out a gift bag. It’s a simple Valentine’s-themed bag with a bunch of red and pink hearts on it. “You’re too sweet.” You coo as you take the bag from him. You remove the tissue paper and light up as you see a little dinosaur plush sitting on top of a brown book. You take that out first, placing it on your lap, before grabbing the book.

“What’s this?” You ask curiously, rubbing your hand over the faux-leather surface. “Open it!” He urges. You can see the excitement in his face so you open the book up and gasp as you see what’s inside.

It’s a photo album of moments you two have shared before you were together, and moments from dates. As you flip a few pages, you see candid shots of yourself that you don’t remember him taking. “When did you take these?”

“Whenever I had a chance.” He answers honestly. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so great that I needed to take a picture of you.”

“Of course I don’t mind. This is the sweetest gift anyone has ever got me.” You say. He smiles wide and leans down to capture your lips with his. “Now what movie do you want to watch?” He asks.

“Titanic.” You answer simply. “Ah, a classic. Excellent choice.” He says as he sits beside you.

Connie

- The only vibes during this day are comedic

- If you’re expecting this man to be super sappy and give you heart eyes, you’re dead wrong

- He gives you valentines

- Like the kind with cheesy puns that kids give their friends in elementary school

- But also expect his own homemade valentines

- And those make you just about piss yourself with laughter

You get home from work and prepare to get ready for your date with Connie tonight. But before you can take off your shoes, you see a small piece of paper with a picture of Spongebob on it and a heart-shaped lollipop taped to it. You bend down and grab the paper and read what it says.

Be my Valentine!

You laugh, wondering why it was on the ground. Then you see another a few inches away. This one has a piece of bread on it with another lollipop taped to the side. It says: Be the peanut butter to my jelly.

You laugh again and then realize that there’s a trail of little Valentines leading down the hall to the bedroom. Of course you follow without question. One says: You make my tail wag, while another says: You make my heart go doki-doki. Then you pick up one that nearly makes you fall to your knees from laughing so hard.

It’s a photo of Connie from when he ate a ghost pepper. It was a dare from Jean that he wouldn’t eat one whole. So he immediately ate the pepper and instantly regretted it. He’s chugging milk, it dribbles down his chin, and his eyes are red. Tears stream down his cheeks and under his nose is wet from it running. Printed beside the photo in Comic Sans are the words: You’re hotter than the pepper was (Trust me. It was spicy)

You find quite a few more Connie-made cards until you reach your bedroom door. It’s closed over until there’s just a crack so you push it open and just about piss your pants laughing at what you see.

On your bed is Connie, surrounded by rose petals and those stupid candy hearts with corny sayings. But that’s obviously not enough to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

He clutches a rose in his mouth like a dancer and wears a pair of candy underwear. Yes, the kind thats a bra and pantie set. He’s lying on his side, propped up by his elbow and his other arm resting on his side. “Hola, mi amore.” He greets, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You laugh even harder, needing to lean on the doorway to keep yourself up. He can’t even roll his Rs because of the flower in his mouth.

“When I gave you a key, I wasn’t expecting this.” You say once you catch your breath. “But goddamn. I haven’t laughed this much in years.”

“Glad to be of service.” Connie says as he removes the rose from his mouth. “Now paint me like one of your french girls.”

And you start laughing again.

Levi

- Hates Valentine’s Day

- He finds the red, pink and white decorations an eyesore

- He just doesn’t get the point of having a holiday dedicated to showing someone you love them

- If you love them, show them every day. Why do you need a holiday to do that?

- Knows that it’s just a marketing ploy made by companies to sell more products

- But when you two pass by a store with a Valentine’s display, he sees your eyes light up and knows he has to do something

You know that Levi’s waiting for you in your apartment, you told him to let himself in using the spare key. “Levi! I’m home!” You call out as you kick your shoes off. You can see his sitting neatly beside the front door, but you don’t bother to put yours beside his. “In here.” His voice answers from the kitchen.

You walk in and see some of your favourite flowers sitting in a vase with a red ribbon wrapped around the glass. You then see Levi putting some cookies on a plate. “Levi, what are you doing?” You ask, walking closer to him. “You hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t buy any of that cheap shit from the store.” Levi agrees before turning to face you with the plate of cookies. You’re even more surprised to see that they’re sugar cookies. They don’t look perfect, but that doesn’t matter. “You better like these damn cookies. Had to watch five videos before someone explained how to cream butter in ways I understood. Seriously, would a fucking baker need to look these things up? People need to simplify shit more often.”

You can tell he’s rambling because he’s a bit flustered, although neither of you will say it. The tips of his ears are scarlet so that’s also a dead giveaway. “You didn’t have to do this.” You say, the gratitude evident in your tone. “Of course I did.” He argues, crossing his arms across his chest. “You seem to love this day and you do so much for me. It was obvious I had to do something.”

“You’ll never admit it, but you’re sweet.” You say before placing a kiss to his cheek. He grumbles, but you know it’s not because he’s pissed. He just can’t express positive emotions well. “Just know we’re not going out to a restaurant for dinner.” He tells you. “Those places hike up their prices because they know desperate couples will try anything to save their failing relationship.”

“You’re such a romantic, you know?” You say sarcastically. “So I’ve been told.” He responds. “Now go sit down. I made your favourite.”

Hanji

- We all know that modern Hanji is a science teacher

- So when your first Valentine’s together falls on a school day, you’re fairly disappointed knowing they do a lot of hands-on work that takes forever to clean up properly

- They feel horrible and send you a bunch of flowers to your workplace to make up for it

- But of course they have a plan for the actual day

- They’re nothing if not determined and stubborn

- If it’s a good Valentine’s you want, then a great Valentine’s you’ll get

You’re sitting at your desk, scowling at your coworkers as they talk about what their husbands and wives are doing for Valentine’s Day once they get off of work. You know Hanji doesn’t have a choice but to stay late after school finishes because they insist on not having their students sit at desks for an hour, reading over pointless worksheets none of them will remember the second the bell rings.

The janitor refuses to touch their classroom because it’s always a surprise as to what lesson Hanji Zoë jazzes up that day. You hear your phone bing from your bag so you pull it out to see a message from them.

Han Solo: Meet me in my classroom once you’re done work. I have something to show you!

You don’t know if you should be excited or terrified. But nevertheless, you’re intrigued and the day seems to go by slower from there. Once the clock strikes five, you pack up faster than you ever have before and practically run to your car. You know the code to get into the school since you’ve had to come drag them away from their desk more than once.

“Hanji?” You say as you enter the classroom. “Hello, my favourite person on the planet!” Hanji responds enthusiastically. “Come in, come in!”

“Why did you want me to meet you here?” You ask as you walk up to them. “And why is it so dark in here?”

“My last class helped me make something for you.” Hanji says, taking your hand in theirs after fumbling around for it. “Look at the desks.”

You face forward and then a second later, the desks light up. On each one sits a light board in the shape of a different letter to spell out “Happy Valentine’s”.

“Hanji… How did you do this?” You ask in amazement. “Well I figured they were learning how electricity works, so they could help make me this.” Hanji says. “They were more than happy once they got all their teasing out of the way.”

“But… Why’d you have to stay late if they weren’t using any chemicals?” You ask in confusion. “I love my students, babe. But they can be dumb as a stump sometimes.” Hanji explains. “Some of the currents were too strong while others were too weak. So I had to do some tinkering.”

“Thank you.” You say as you turn to them. Their face glows in the light from the desks so you can clearly see their adoring face. “You’re more than welcome.” They respond before kissing you.

[goldfades]

jealous!reader with devin booker. because of an ex or maybe someone trying to hit on him (make it as angsty as you can)

AAAAA yes, i loved writing this sm. angst may be my fav genre

You weren’t mad.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the tight knot in your stomach, the way your arms were crossed just a little too tightly over your chest, the way your jaw had been clenched for the last twenty minutes? Yeah, that told a different story.

The night was supposed to be fine. You and Devin had already been on shaky ground before even stepping foot into the event—one of those stupid, lingering arguments that started small but had grown into something bigger, heavier. Something neither of you wanted to talk about, but also something you couldn't quite let go of.

It had started earlier in the afternoon. Something small, a conversation that should’ve lasted five minutes but spiraled into something else entirely.

“I just don’t get why you still talk to her.”

Devin had sighed, already exhausted before the argument even started. “It’s not like that.”

You had given him a sharp look, arms crossing over your chest. “Then what is it like, Devin? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like your ex still thinks she has a place in your life.”

“She’s not in my life,” he had said, voice tight, like he was trying to keep his patience in check. “We broke up. We don’t talk like that. Why are you making this a thing?”

That had been the match to the fire.

Because it was always the same when you fought—he was calm, collected, logical. And you? You felt everything all at once, sharp and overwhelming, and it burned at you until you had to say something. And the worst part? He never saw it the way you did. He never understood why it sat so heavy in your chest.

And now, here you were.

Standing at his side at some exclusive event, dressed to perfection, forced to smile and act like you weren’t barely speaking to him when, in reality, you felt like you were drowning.

And then—because of course the universe hated you—she showed up.

The ex.

The one who wasn’t in his life but, apparently, was still comfortable enough to be here, in his space, in your space, looking at him like she hadn’t lost him years ago.

She was beautiful. Stunning, even. And worse? She knew it. She had that effortless, casual confidence of someone who wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all you. And that made you sick.

It wasn’t even what she said—it was the way she looked at him. The way she leaned in just enough when she laughed, the way she barely acknowledged you standing right there, like you were an afterthought.

And the worst part? Devin wasn’t shutting it down.

He wasn’t flirting, but he also wasn’t walking away.

And that was enough to send your stomach twisting, your throat tightening, the words already bubbling up before you could stop them.

You weren’t mad.

But you were about to be.

The air between you and Devin was thick—tense—so much so that you could barely hear the hum of conversations around you, barely register the music drifting through the venue. All you could focus on was her and the way Devin wasn’t doing a damn thing to put distance between them.

Your nails dug into your palm as you watched the exchange unfold. She was laughing, tilting her head just slightly, that kind of effortless, I know I still get under your skin type of posture that made you feel feral.

And Devin?

He wasn’t laughing. But he also wasn’t shutting it down.

Not immediately. Not the way you would have wanted him to.

His body language wasn’t exactly inviting, but it wasn’t closed off either. His hands were in his pockets, expression unreadable, giving those short, polite responses that weren’t necessarily warm but weren’t cold enough.

And that’s what killed you.

Because you knew Devin.

You knew what it looked like when he wasn’t interested in a conversation. You’d seen him completely ignore people at events like this, brush them off, make it clear he had no time for them.

But right now? He wasn’t doing that.

He was letting her talk.

Letting her linger in your space, steal your moment.

Your chest felt tight, like your heart was pushing up against your ribcage, trying to claw its way out. The irritation burned under your skin, hotter and heavier with every passing second.

And then—then—she reached out.

Fingertips, barely there, just a light touch on his arm as she said something low enough that you couldn’t hear.

And that was it.

The thin thread of restraint holding you together snapped.

Your hand shot out before you could stop yourself, curling around Devin’s wrist, firm, a clear, unspoken message.

His head turned instantly, eyes locking onto yours—dark, sharp, aware. He knew. He knew. And yet, for some reason, he still looked surprised.

You forced a smile—tight, too sweet, dripping with something almost dangerous. “Babe,” you said, voice light but laced with an undeniable edge, “I didn’t realize we were catching up with old friends tonight.”

Devin exhaled slowly through his nose, something flickering behind his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

You tilted your head, squeezing his wrist just a little before dropping it. “Really?” You flicked a glance at her, your expression unreadable, before turning back to him. “Because it looks a lot like that.”

She let out a soft little laugh, the kind that made your blood simmer just under your skin. “Relax,” she said, tone airy, like this was all a joke. “We were just talking—nothing serious.”

Your eyes snapped back to her, and you felt something sharp twist in your gut. You weren’t proud of the way you reacted next, but at this point, you weren’t thinking straight.

“Oh, I’m relaxed,” you shot back, still smiling, still maintaining that same deadly sweetness. “But maybe next time, you can just talk from a little farther away.”

There it was. The shift.

The briefest flicker of surprise crossed her features before she masked it with a knowing smirk, like she loved that she was getting to you, like she thrived off it.

But Devin?

Devin sighed, raking a hand down his face, and that? That pissed you off more than anything.

Because now he was acting like you were the problem.

Like you were making something out of nothing.

Like you were overreacting.

The heat in your chest turned ice-cold. You took a small step back, your arms crossing over your chest. “You know what?” Your voice dropped, quieter now, more dangerous. “I think I’m done with this conversation.”

Devin’s brows pulled together, his body shifting slightly toward you, like he could feel the way you were closing yourself off. “Wait—”

But you were already turning on your heel, already stepping away, already heading toward the exit.

And if he didn’t follow?

Then that would tell you everything you needed to know.

Devin caught up to you just as you stepped onto the curb, your phone in hand, thumb moving over the screen with quick, furious taps.

“Are you serious right now?” His voice was rough, low, still measured—but barely. Like he was fighting to keep it together.

You didn’t look at him. “Dead serious.”

His jaw clenched as he caught sight of your screen. Uber arriving in 4 minutes.

“Come on, man,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face like he couldn’t believe he was actually dealing with this. “You’re being ridiculous.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Your head snapped up, eyes burning, voice razor-sharp. “I’m being ridiculous?”

He exhaled, hard. “Yeah. You are.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Devin.” You let out a hollow laugh, shoving your phone into your bag with a sharpness that made your hands shake. “Did I ruin your little moment back there? Did I embarrass you?”

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing in warning. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I wanted that to happen.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, shaking your head. “You let it happen.”

“I—” He cut himself off, looking away for half a second, hands planted on his hips, trying to breathe. “It wasn’t like that.”

“But you didn’t stop it either,” you shot back, voice sharp, pointed, digging into him like glass. “You let her stand there, you let her touch you, you let her look at you like—”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, taking a step closer, his voice dipping dangerously low. “You’re really doing this right now?”

“Yes, Devin! I am!” Your voice cracked at the end, emotion spilling out, raw and unfiltered. You didn’t care who was watching anymore. Didn’t care that people were turning heads as they stepped out of luxury cars, eyes flickering toward the two of you with thinly veiled curiosity. Let them watch.

“You don’t get it,” you muttered, shaking your head, your chest rising and falling fast, your emotions right there, just under the surface, threatening to rip you open. “You never get it.”

His brows pulled together, his voice quieter now. “Then help me understand.”

But that’s what made you angrier. Because he wasn’t raising his voice, he wasn’t matching your fire, he was standing there, calm, acting like this was something logical, something fixable, when it felt so much bigger than that.

You ran a hand through your hair, gripping the strands at the roots. “You don’t see the way she looks at you, Devin. The way other people do. The way—”

His jaw flexed, his nostrils flaring slightly. “I don’t give a fuck how she looks at me.”

“But you don’t care how I feel about it either,” you said, voice breaking.

And that? That landed.

His entire body tensed, his expression shifting just slightly—something cracking, something faltering.

But before he could say anything, before you could even process the weight of your own words, your Uber pulled up.

You turned immediately, reaching for the door handle, but before you could even blink, Devin’s hand wrapped around your wrist, firm, pulling you back.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered.

You yanked your arm, but his grip was solid. “Devin, let go.”

“Not a fucking chance,” he bit out, already reaching past you to yank the door shut before you could open it.

“Are you serious?” You turned on him, furious, shoving at his chest with both hands, but he barely moved.

“You’re not getting in that car,” he said, his voice low, his grip still tight on your wrist, not painful, but enough to make it clear.

You struggled against him, your heart hammering, every part of you buzzing with adrenaline. “Let. Me. Go.”

His eyes burned into yours, dark and unrelenting. “No.”

You shoved at him again, but this time, he moved.

Not away. Forward.

And before you could stop him, before you could even think, he was wrapping an arm around your waist, lifting you like you weighed nothing, turning toward the valet stand like he was on a fucking mission.

“Devin, what the fuck! Put me down!” You thrashed against him, pushing at his shoulders, his chest, but it was useless. He was stronger, determined, stubborn as hell.

“You wanna scream at me?” he gritted out, barely breaking stride. “Fine. You can do it in my car.”

The valet had his car waiting already, probably watching the scene with wide eyes, but Devin didn’t give a single shit. He reached for the handle, yanked the door open, and practically threw you into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut before you could even think about escaping.

You were fuming, your entire body vibrating with frustration as you ripped at the door handle—locked.

The driver’s side opened, and Devin slid in, his jaw tight, his hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

Silence hung thick between you, the kind that burned, that pressed against your chest like a vice.

Your breath was ragged, your entire body coiled tight.

You turned to him, eyes blazing. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head once before glancing over at you. His eyes were still burning, still heated, but there was something else there, something desperate.

“I wasn’t about to let you leave like that,” he said, voice rough, quiet, like the fight had drained him, like the weight of everything was settling on his shoulders.

Your throat felt tight, too many emotions swirling all at once, too much heat, too much everything.

So you said the only thing you could.

“Then fucking fix it.”

Devin let out a sharp exhale, his hands gripping the steering wheel like he was using it to anchor himself. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked straight ahead, chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths—like he was trying to keep himself in check.

But you could feel it.

The tension. The heat radiating off him. The way his whole body was taut, wound up like a rubber band stretched too thin, about to snap.

You weren’t much better.

Your pulse was pounding, the remnants of the screaming match still hot in your veins, your hands clenched into fists in your lap. Your throat was raw, your face still flushed, your mind still replaying every little moment from the last hour—the argument earlier, the look on his ex’s face, the way Devin hadn’t immediately shut it down.

The way he’d practically thrown you in his car to stop you from leaving.

You were both breathing hard, like neither of you had fully come down from it yet.

The car was silent.

Thick, suffocating silence.

You weren’t sure who was going to break it first, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.

Devin finally inhaled, slow and deep, before gripping the gear shift and pulling out of the valet lane. His driving was steady—controlled—but you could tell he was barely holding it together. His jaw was clenched so hard you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

Minutes passed.

The tension didn’t ease.

Not when he turned onto the highway. Not when the city lights blurred past the window in streaks of white and gold. Not when he let out another slow breath, his fingers drumming against the wheel like he was working through the thousands of things he wanted to say.

Then, finally—

“I wasn’t entertaining her.”

His voice was low, heavy, like he was forcing himself to say it.

You didn’t turn your head, your arms still crossed over your chest, your nails digging into your skin. “You didn’t stop her either.”

Devin’s hands tightened around the wheel. “I was about to.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you stared out the window. “Right. Sure. About to.”

His grip on the wheel twitched. “Don’t do that.”

You turned sharply toward him, eyes blazing. “Do what?”

“Act like I wanted any of that shit.”

“You didn’t stop it, Devin.” Your voice cracked on his name, and that—that was what really betrayed you. The heat of your anger was laced with something else now.

Hurt.

And he heard it.

He felt it.

His jaw ticked, his eyes flickering to you for the briefest second before returning to the road. “I was being polite.”

You let out another bitter scoff, your whole body twisting toward him now. “Polite?” You stared at him, incredulous. “Polite is saying ‘hi’ and moving the fuck on. Polite is not standing there, letting her laugh at every stupid thing you say, letting her touch you like—”

“She wasn’t touching me,” he snapped, his voice suddenly sharper.

Your heart dropped.

Your head tilted, your nails digging into your palms. “Are you—are you actually trying to tell me she wasn’t touching you?”

His throat bobbed. His fingers flexed against the wheel.

You knew Devin inside and out. You knew what every little movement meant, the way his body betrayed what his mouth wouldn’t say.

He knew he’d messed up.

Knew he’d let it go on too long.

And the fact that he wasn’t admitting it? That burned.

“Wow,” you muttered, voice hollow, shaking your head as you turned back toward the window. “Okay.”

Devin let out a breath through his nose, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. “I didn’t—fuck.” His voice cracked, frustration bleeding into it. “I wasn’t thinking, alright? I should’ve shut it down faster. I should’ve told her to fuck off the second she opened her mouth.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to stay angry, but your heart was hammering in your chest.

“But you didn’t,” you murmured.

Devin exhaled sharply, one hand coming off the wheel to rake through his hair.

“I didn’t,” he admitted, voice rough, like it physically pained him to say it. “I fucked up. I know I did.”

Silence.

You stared at your lap, your mind racing.

Devin glanced at you, his voice softer now, like he was trying to break through the wall you were putting up. “I wasn’t thinking. I swear to you, baby—I didn’t give a fuck about her. I don’t. I don’t.”

Your throat felt tight, your arms still crossed over your chest like they could somehow hold you together. “She still thinks she has a place in your life.”

“She doesn’t.” His voice was firm now, like he needed you to hear it. “And I’ll make sure she knows that.”

You closed your eyes for a second, inhaling deeply, trying to process everything. The fight. The way your emotions were still buzzing under your skin. The way Devin sounded so—so gutted now, so frustrated with himself, with you, with all of it.

The car slowed as he pulled onto the street leading to his house.

When he finally parked in the driveway, he turned the engine off but didn’t move. Didn’t look at you. Just gripped the wheel, his breathing deep, controlled.

Then, finally—

“I don’t ever want you to feel like that again.”

Your stomach twisted, your chest aching in a way that made it hard to breathe.

Devin turned, his dark eyes burning into yours, intense, raw. “You have to know that you’re it for me.”

You didn’t say anything, your throat too tight.

He reached for you then—soft, his fingers brushing against your hand, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

His voice was lower now, quieter. “Come inside?”

You hesitated for a second, your emotions still raw, but deep down, you wanted to. Because despite the fight, despite the way your heart still ached, he was Devin.

And Devin had never made you feel like you weren’t his.

So you swallowed hard, exhaled, and finally—finally—nodded.

His shoulders sagged slightly, relief flickering across his face, and he squeezed your hand, holding onto you like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

And you?

You weren’t ready to let go either.

Devin didn’t waste a second. The moment you nodded, his hand slid into yours, warm and solid, his grip tight—like he was afraid you’d change your mind, like if he let go for even a second, you’d slip through his fingers.

He practically rushed around the car, opening the passenger door for you before you could do it yourself. The moment your feet hit the pavement, he was there, standing close, his presence heavy, his body heat radiating into yours.

Neither of you spoke as you walked inside.

The tension wasn’t gone. The fight still hung between you, thick and unrelenting, buzzing under your skin like a live wire.

But Devin wasn’t letting you go.

Not tonight. Not ever.

The front door shut behind you with a quiet click, and before you could take another step, his hand was on your wrist again—firm but not forceful, pulling you to a stop.

“Hey.”

His voice was soft now. Rough around the edges, strained, but softer.

You didn’t turn around immediately. You weren’t sure if you could without completely unraveling.

“Baby.” His fingers curled tighter around your wrist, like he was trying to pull you back, trying to pull you into him.

You swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before finally—finally—turning to face him.

And the second you did, Devin exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath this whole time.

He stepped closer, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek, his touch hesitant—like he was waiting for you to push him away.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You were so mad at him. You were still hurt. But Devin was Devin, and his touch had always had this way of grounding you, pulling you back to him, making it impossible to stay away.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I hate fighting with you.”

Your chest tightened. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”

His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles against your cheek, his lips parting like he had a million things to say but didn’t know where to start.

“I fucked up,” he finally murmured. “I know I did. And I swear to you, baby, I’ll never let that shit happen again.”

Your throat felt tight, emotions bubbling up again, but you forced yourself to speak. “It’s not even about her, Devin. It’s—” You swallowed hard, voice quieter now. “It’s about how I felt.”

His jaw ticked. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “You don’t get what it’s like to stand there and watch someone act like you belong to them. You don’t get what it’s like to feel small in the middle of a room full of people because your boyfriend—the man who swears he loves you—isn’t stopping it.”

Devin flinched. Actually flinched.

Like your words physically hit him.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes for a second before exhaling sharply. “That’s not—fuck.” His grip on your waist tightened. “That’s not what I want you to feel. Ever.”

Silence.

His eyes searched yours, desperate, pleading, like he was trying to fix this just by looking at you.

And maybe—maybe—he was.

Because as much as you hated to admit it, the way he was looking at you was fixing something.

It wasn’t everything. But it was something.

You inhaled slowly, hands resting against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the soft fabric of his hoodie. “Then prove it.”

Devin nodded once, sharp, like he understood, like he’d already made the decision. “I will.”

You studied him for a second, your anger still there, still simmering beneath the surface, but your trust? That hadn’t broken.

Not yet.

Not with him.

He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, his voice a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You let him wait, let him feel the weight of the moment, let him sit in the tension he had created.

Then, finally—finally—you nodded.

And the second you did, Devin didn’t hesitate.

His lips crashed into yours, desperate, needy, like he needed to feel you, needed to show you everything he hadn’t been able to say. His hands gripped your waist tight, pulling you flush against him, like he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch of space between you.

And you let him.

Because damn it, you needed it too.

The fight wasn’t over.

The anger wasn’t gone.

But right now? Right now, you just needed to feel him.

And the way Devin kissed you?

The way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered?

That was all you needed to know.

[bengiyo]

Theory of Love Romcom Rewatch Episode 2: Love Actually (2003)

Once again I am watching Theory of Love because @lurkingshan gets specific pleasure out of making me change my mind about this show. This week we’re continuing with Love Actually (2003), a film I watched for the first time this past Saturday. Shan already wrote about how much she hated Third making us watch this film, and @solitaryandwandering posted similarly (though their post isn’t showing up in the tag for some reason). Let’s get into this.

Love Actually (2003)

This movie sucks! This might be one of the worst Christmas movies I’ve ever seen. As Megan already wrote, this movie is ridiculously misogynistic, racist, homophobic, and fatphobic. Ostensibly, this film is about the fact that Love is All Around, which it tries to remind us of constantly via a horrible cover that plays over most of the film, by starting with the feeling of seeing people reunite at airports. It then takes us on a journey with about nine or ten different relationships. There is a version of this that could have been interesting, but this film is so obsessed with its masculine hetero fantasies that it never gets there.

The film tries to weave these dubious plots together through a web of connections between characters, starting at a wedding. We have a man at his best friend’s wedding resenting that he never got with the man’s wife, which eventually leads to the iconic cards scene. We have a secretary that the film literally calls the devil trying to seduce her married manager to cheat on Emma Thompson!!! We have a budding romance between two sex scene stand-ins. There’s a dubious romance between the prime minister and one of his staff. There’s a woman who can’t consummate things with her crush because of her sick brother. There’s a guy who realizes the best thing he can do as an undesirable Englishman is to just go to the Midwest in America to score multiple girls. We have a wife realizing that her husband was going to cheat on her. There’s a…language barrier romance (?) between an English writer and a Portuguese woman. There’s a sort of bromance between an aging rock star and his manager. Finally, there’s the relationship between a recent widower and his stepson. 

That’s too much! There’s just way too many plotlines in this movie, and they collectively reveal this entire film as a weird masculine fantasy. I was put off constantly by the fatphobia of this story, and I cannot believe that this film went out of its way to edit a black man out of his own wedding! In the wake of the Bill Clinton indecency scandal, this film decided to do that as well, but it’s okay because…he’s defending his aide from a gross American president (played by BILLY BOB THORTON)? 

There are really only a few watchable plotlines in this film. I enjoyed the runner with the sex scene stand ins. I enjoyed the growing father-son relationship in the wake of a tragedy. I thought the plot with Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman, and Emma’s character realizing her marriage was a failure, was excellent. The rockstar realizing his closest relationship with his manager was almost a good moment ruined by a huge No Homo aura. 

Genuinely, this film was way too long and far too offensive for me to ever want to watch it again. I will never watch it again, and I have words for Third!

Theory of Love Episode 2

On to Theory of Love, we spend this week sitting in Third’s crush on Khai and why he even likes him. Two spends the episode giving Third horrible advice about how to get closer to Khai, culminating in Third lying to his friends about his housing status to move in with Khai. 

I had a lot of fun with this episode, because we slowed down to understand Third’s crush and why he doesn’t think he can succeed, after establishing the friend group in the last episode. We see that Khai sincerely believes that Third is his best friend, and is more than happy to spend time with him. They work well together on their projects, and Khai pays attention to Third’s preferences and moods. Khai is also openly affectionate with Third. When they thought Third was homeless, Khai sucked up his own doubts and offered Third a place to stay. 

This section is always hard for me, because I get it! I was deeply closeted in my youth, and it’s hard not to fall for some of your friends when you spend so much time with them. It’s especially difficult because Third is actually trying to tell Khai the truth about his feelings. Unfortunately, Khai has a hard line in his head about his relationships and has no way to reconcile what Third is trying to say to him because it would forever alter their dynamic. I’ve been in Third’s shoes trying to gauge what a friend is saying and reading into it, and I have guessed wrong (to devastating results). It really hurts to love a friend who can't reciprocate, and I always find myself incredibly sympathetic to Third (at least at this stage).

So, when Third was looking for a way to confess his feelings to Khai, I actually liked Bone’s recommendation that he turn to movies for inspiration. Bone also doesn’t suggest Love Actually (2003) right away, but it doesn’t surprise me that Third goes for that terrible choice. Third doesn’t actually believe he will succeed with Khai, so it is no wonder that he chose a scene grounded in failure. Third probably projected onto Mark’s feelings that the person he wanted would always be unavailable, and so went for the same approach. 

I wondered about the films Third has access to, and so I reached out to @happypotato48 about what queer films Third could have seen at that time (considering the language barrier). He considered Dear Dakanda (2003), One Day (2011), and 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) (which at least got us a great Thai version of the singing in the stands scene), before Third went with Awful Actually. We confirmed that Third could have watched in Thai Brokeback Mountain (2005), Love, Simon (2018), Call Me By Your Name (2017), The Wedding Banquet (1993), In & Out (1997), Beautiful Thing (1996), The Way He Looks (2014), Weekend (2011), and Mysterious Skin (2004). From Thailand he had Love of Siam (2007), Bangkok Love Story (2008), The Blue Hour (2015) (that Gun starred in with Oab!) and How to Win at Checkers Every Time (2015) 

With that as his selection, I almost understand Third reaching for het romcoms for guidance here. I always end up feeling so much for Third because I understand why he holds back. He genuinely tried with Khai at least twice this episode and had his intentions misread. On this, my third watch, I still feel for Third, but definitely frowned at his decision to move in with Khai. It wasn’t Two’s first recommendation either, but I understand why 20 year olds would think that proximity would be enough for things to happen. 

I remain disaffected by Bone’s thing for the teacher, so will not be commenting on it. Anyway, I guess we’re watching Friend With Benefits (2011) this week…Oh, Third…

[loudn0isesart]

Finally got the chance to doodle on a laptop for the first time all summer lol. So take some late night doodles!!!

(Ocs by me and @tis0bug)

[littencloud9]

//

[coles-scythe]

Not asleep yet, I was playing DQXI earlier to work on getting all the extra outfits and now my brain is filled with thoughts of Erik. Also how dirty they did him (and everyone but the Luminary) in Act 3.

EDIT: I realized I went on a very long rant in the tags. Spoilers for the game and it's post-game content in the tags.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in it, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[mrsbarnesblog]

i am not the only one who saw that, right?

masterlist

summary: your friends find out that you secretly dating their enemy, but their opinion might completely change when they see Rafe from another point of view

words count: 2.2k

warnings: secret relationship, pogue!reader, attempted assault, mention of blood, soft and protective Rafe

a/n: inbox is open for requests💘

“You cannot be dating Rafe fucking Cameron, Y/N!” John B exclaimed, burying his hands in his hair and walking all around the place. 

“No, seriously, this is not a good idea.” Sarah looked at you, giving out a nervous laugh. 

You were currently surrounded by your friends, who were all practically yelling at you after they accidentally saw a message from Rafe on your phone. You were one of the pogues; you never hanged out around the kooks, but somehow, when you were visiting Sarah a few months ago, you got into a random conversation with Rafe, and since that moment, the connection between you two has only gotten stronger. 

It was an instant click and as much as you both tried to deny the spark, it was there. As you started going out, secretly from everyone, of course, you decided to keep it private until the right time. 

“Alright, guys, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew that this would be your reaction. It just happened, okay?” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache from the tense situation. All of your friends were standing on the opposite side of you and it felt like they were just attacking you. 

“What were you thinking? You know that he hates people like us, like you. We are pogues, Y/N. How the hell did that even happen?” Kiara was standing with her hands on her hips, as her piercing eyes were studying you. You felt awful looking at Pope, who was the one who always supported you, but he just shook his head and stepped away. 

“I don’t know. It just happened. We talked once when Sarah left, then I accidentally met him a few times in town, and then he texted me. He’s not bad when you know him closer.” You sighed. “Look, I know Rafe was a lot of trouble for us. He did bad things; I know that. But he’s not like that; he’s sweet and caring, and he has never shown any sign of being disrespectful towards me. I just can’t deny my feelings for him.”

“Honey, Rafe is not a good person. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone; he’s evil, selfish and manipulative.” Sarah stepped closer to you, touching your hand. “He’ll play with you, hurt your feelings and just throw you away.”

“And he probably just wants to get into your pants.” JJ grumbled, also taking a defensive position. 

“I haven't even slept with him yet, JJ!” You desperately snapped at him. It felt ridiculous, like all of them turned against you at the same time. Sure, Rafe wasn’t the sweetest person to them before, but they didn’t even give you a chance to say something in your defense. “And you’re wrong too, Sarah. All of Rafe’s actions were just to get people’s attention and appreciation. All it took for me to get on his soft side was to just listen to him and give him some affection. Other people didn’t care enough, including you and your father. He needs someone who he can trust and open up to because he’s hurt.” 

“No, Y/N. If you think that he loves you, then he just got into your head. My brother doesn’t love anyone. It will end badly; I just know that.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, and a lump in your throat made it difficult to say anything back, so you just stupidly stayed there. You had no strength to fight with all five of them at the same time. You turned around, silently getting back in the car, even though your head was filled with doubt and dark thoughts because of their words. 

For the next few days, it was tough for all of you. You and the rest of the group were still close, and even though they were completely against your relationship, you still met and hung out. The pit in your heart was still there, no matter how hard you tried to act nonchalant and not let their words get into your head. 

Rafe noticed the change in your behavior—that you were upset with something—but he didn’t put any pressure on you and allowed you to decide for yourself when you wanted to open up. 

Pogues decided to go to some party on the cut near the beach and as much as you tried to refuse, Sarah and Kiara managed to drag you there. You all rarely went to such places, preferring to hang out in your little circle, but apparently everyone wanted to clear their heads and saw it as the best opportunity. 

It was pretty fun with a bunch of people you did not know, some music, and drinks, and you mostly hung out with your friends. Though quickly it got overwhelming and made you want to go home or at least go outside of the house to get some fresh air. As you left your friends and wanted out from the backyard to a part of the beach, you didn’t notice the guy who had been eyeing you the whole evening. 

He came out of nowhere from your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You yelled at the sudden and unwanted touch, and your heart seemed to drop into your stomach when you realised that it wasn’t just a joke from JJ, who liked to scare you. You started wiggling in his hands to get free, but he was fighting you back, dragging you up when you fell to your knees on the ground. 

It was such a mess trying to scratch and punch him that you almost did not notice his hand coming into contact with your face several times. You screamed again, this time loud enough, until you saw JJ running towards you. The guy behind you pushed you away as soon as he saw someone, and you fell to the ground with a loud huff. 

“That fucking bastard!” JJ was right near you, helping you to get up as tears streamed down your face. He tried to comfort you, checking your body for any injuries, but you pushed his hands away, wrapping your own around yourself in a defensive way.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” You heard Kiara, along with your other friends, calling your name. “What the hell happened?”

“H-he attacked me.” You sniffed, trying to catch your breath and, with shaking hands, reaching to the pocket of your jeans shorts to get out your phone. All of them looked at each other, questioning your actions, until you pressed someone’s contact button and put the phone to your ear. “Can y-you pick me up, p-please?” You sniffed again, now trembling from the adrenaline. 

“Baby? Are you crying? Where are you?” You heard your boyfriend’s concerned voice through the phone, feeling how JJ tensed beside you. 

“I’m on the cut. Near the beach. There’s a party and... Please, Rafe.” 

“I’m coming, angel. Just wait for me, ‘kay?” You heard the sound of the car engine at the other end of the line. Rafe didn’t ask any more questions, and as soon as you mumbled quiet 'mhm’ he ended the call. 

You all heard him before you saw him. The sound of the tires drifting through the sandy street was loud, drawing attention to the expensive car that was unusual to see at this part of the island. 

Rafe didn’t bother to properly park, turn off the engine or even close the door when he saw you sitting on some old chaise lounge, with his sister and Kie trying to talk to you and your other friends arguing nearby. 

The girls stepped away from you as soon as they saw Rafe running towards you with a furious expression on his face and ready to deal with anyone who made you cry. It looked like he didn’t even care about the pogues, with whom he always had to get into arguments; he was fully focused on your shivering form.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He squatted down in front of you, and you started sobbing again. Your hands immediately found their place around his neck, and, before he could even properly look at your face, you pulled him closer to get some sense of comfort from his warmth and smell. Rafe hugged you back, soothingly rubbing your back. His eyes shot towards your friends, who were watching in awe at the interaction. “Which one of you did that?”

“It’s not us, you idiot. Some guy jumped her when she walked outside.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes at her brother. “JJ heard screaming, and when we walked outside, he ran away.” Rafe pulled away, finally taking in your appearance.

Your knees were covered in dried blood mixed with the sand. He gently took your hands to see the palms scratched from you trying to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Rafe’s eyes were burning with fury, showing his side that he rarely revealed in front of you. His hand reached to move your hair from your face, noticing a red, now already turning purplish, bruise covering the side of your cheek.

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” He softly brushed his fingertips along your cheek and you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. Your bottom lip started quivering and you bit inside your cheek to calm yourself down. “Sh-h im here, okay? You’re safe. Did you see him? What did he look like? Just tell me and I’ll deal with it.” He almost begged, but you only shook your head. JJ suddenly stepped closer, slightly hesitating to actually normally communicate with his longtime enemy,  but he thought that it was the least that he could do for you.

As much as he hated The Kooks King, JJ knew that Rafe was the best option to find the guy who hurt you. 

“Tall, with dark and curly hair. Never seen him before, probably someone new on the island, but I’ll recognize him.” They looked at each other for a moment, and Rafe just simply nodded, turning his attention back to you. 

“I’ll find him, ‘kay? I promise I will.” He gently took both of your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. “We should go now. I need to take care of your knees and that bruise, baby. You don’t mind going to Tanneyhill, yeah?”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You whispered, slightly bending forward to ask for a kiss. Rafe smiled at you, his thumbs gently swiped the leftovers of the tears under your eyes, and then he kissed you on your forehead, nose, and gently pecked your lips. 

Your heart flattered at his soft touches and for a second, it felt like you two were in your own little bubble. Rafe's eyes shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and the way he looked at you, soft and caring, made you want to kiss him again and again. You suddenly snapped out of the trance, looking back at your friends, who all had different levels of shock and uncertainty written on their faces. 

“C’mon, pretty girl.” Rafe stood up, lifting you in bridal style without an effort, carefully not to hurt your bleeding knees. He almost walked away, but then sighed, turning back to look at his sister. “You coming home with us or somethin’?”

“Um, no, I’ll be with John B. It seems like I would be third wheeling with you anyway.” She shrugged, not being able to keep a smile when you two met with your eyes. 

Rafe then looked at JJ, thinking his words over. “I appreciate it, Maybank.” 

They exchanged a tight nod, both slightly shocked that for the first time ever, they communicated without biting each other's heads off. You leaned closer to Rafe, comfortably nestling in his protective hands, and looked at your friends, who were still too shocked to say anything. 

“I’ll see you guys later, okay? 

Everyone agreed, saying goodbye to you and asking you to text them when you get there safely. They saw how Rafe made sure to slowly put you into the passenger seat, then circled the car and drove away. An awkward silence fell around them, everyone at a loss for words. 

“Okay, so I am not the only one who saw that, right?” Pope spoke first, looking around the place as if he were trying to find something. “Rafe freaking Cameron just was acting cute and didn’t threaten to do something to us?” His own body physically shrugged at the word ‘cute’.

“I don’t know, dude. We all just probably drank something and it’s messing with our heads.” 

[thecoochiefairy]

soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?” 

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?” 

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain. 

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest. 

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.” 

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!” 

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

 A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips. 

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good. 

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease. 

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty. 

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.” 

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment. 

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you. 

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?” 

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you. 

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?” 

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that. 

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin. 

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point. 

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“ 

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg. 

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.” 

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist. 

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair. 

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.” 

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so. 

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured. 

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest. 

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently. 

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell. 

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need. 

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself  close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper. 

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there. 

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?” 

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you. 

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly. 

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant. 

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless. 

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.” 

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain. 

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.” 

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second. 

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw. 

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again. 

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning,  licking—you’re feeling faint. 

He was making a mess of your pussy. 

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above. 

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”  

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.” 

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big. 

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck. 

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.” 

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant. 

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself. 

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?” 

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open. 

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.” 

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect. 

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.” 

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.” 

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined. 

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…” 

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum. 

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied. 

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor. 

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’” 

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…” 

“Damn, no late night nookie?” 

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

[tsukumomei]

—PUPPY LOVE || AO3

ft. Sae Itoshi

summary: rin swears the new girl makes “nii chan’s face light up”. sae smiles more, and spends time with her like it’s no big deal. their parents don’t notice, but rin can tell she makes sae happier, even if it’s a little annoying. wc. 2.2k

a/n: just a cute fic I thought of cause of that one additional time of the itoshi brothers “nii chan’s frame of mind”

right where we left off

Rin didn’t like her at first, not that he did now.

She showed up at the park one day, just standing there with her ball and staring like she wanted to join their game. She didn’t even ask, just yelled, “Pass it to me!” like she owned the place. Her voice cut through the sound of their cleats against the grass. Rin froze mid-step. No one talked to his big brother like that.

To Rin’s surprise, his brother’s gaze fell on her, and Rin could almost see the gears turning in his head.

Nii chan didn’t yell at her. He didn’t tell her to leave. He tilted his head slightly and nudged the ball her way with his foot. Rin frowned.

That was it. The first domino fell.

She wasn’t even good. She ran weird, her kicks were all over the place, and she tripped more than she scored. Rin thought nii chan would get annoyed, but he didn’t. He actually helped her. He showed her how to dribble and even taught her how to do some of the moves Rin was still practicing. It wasn’t fair!

Then there was the rainy day. Rin was sure they’d stay inside—no one played soccer in the mud, not even nii chan. But when Y/N showed up wearing her rain boots and grinning, nii chan grabbed a ball and followed her outside. Rin had no choice but to tag along. They ended up having the messiest, weirdest game of soccer ever, with Y/N sliding in the mud and nii chan actually laughing when she fell.

But what really annoyed Rin was how nii chan acted around her. His face was different. When Y/N was around, he looked... relaxed. And sometimes, he even smiled. Not his usual smirk when he wins, but a real smile.

It wasn’t like nii chan to be this way. Rin knew his brother better than anyone. Nii chan is the coolest, and he always looks ahead. 

But with Y/N, it was like he slowed down just enough to let her catch up.

One time, Rin saw them sitting under the big tree at the park. Y/N was talking a lot, waving her hands around and laughing, and he just sat there, listening. He didn’t even tell her to stop talking, which was weird because Sae hated when people talked too much.

Even at home, she was there sometimes. She’d come for dinner, and always ended up next to Sae. She’d laugh at nii chan’s jokes and he’d give her the last piece of karaage like it was nothing. 

Their parents didn’t notice, of course. Mom just said it was nice Sae had a “little fan,”and Dad said it was good for Sae to teach someone else; it would “build character.” Rin wanted to tell them they were wrong, but he didn’t know how to explain it. If only they saw what he did.

It wasn’t just about soccer. Y/N wasn’t like the other kids. She wasn’t scared of nii chan, and she didn’t try to impress him like everyone else. She just... acted like he was normal. And somehow, that made nii chan act normal, too.

Rin didn’t understand it fully, but he could tell Y/N was different. She was the only one who could make nii chan stay longer at the park, the only one who could get him to drop his guard. And as much as Rin hated to admit it, there was something kind of cool about that.

By the end of the summer, Rin still didn’t like how much time they spent with each other. 

But even if it was annoying, it wasn’t so bad to see nii chan smile.

—

Rin is eight now, and Sae is ten, and it was Valentine’s Day—the most annoying day of the year, at least to Rin.

When Sae opened his locker, chocolates and notes spilled out onto the floor. Rin, walking past with his own bag of books, stopped and stared. Even Sae’s friends, who were standing nearby, froze in surprise.

“Whoa! Sae, look at all this!” one of his friends said, picking up a pink heart-shaped box. “You’re like an idol or something.”

Rin looked around the hallway, noticing a group of girls peeking around the corner, giggling as they watched Sae. Rin rolled his eyes.

Sae didn’t seem impressed. He sighed, crouched down, and began scooping up the fallen chocolates. “You guys can take them if you want,” he said calmly. “I don’t really care.”

His friends’ jaws dropped. “Are you serious?” one of them asked, already reaching for a fancy-looking box. Sae shrugged.

“Yeah. Take them. I don’t eat sweets much anyway.”

Rin couldn’t believe it. “Nii-chan, you’re just giving them away?”

Sae gave Rin one of his usual unreadable looks. “What am I supposed to do with them? Keep them all? It’s just chocolate, Rin.”

Rin huffed, muttering under his breath. He might’ve been little, but he knew enough to tell that those chocolates weren’t just “chocolates.” The girls liked nii chan. They liked him liked him.

Later, when they got home, Rin peeked into Sae’s bag to see if he’d kept any of the chocolates. Sure enough, there was one. A small, simple box with a handwritten note tied to it.

“Why’d you keep that one?” Rin asked, pointing at it.

Sae looked up from his homework and shrugged. “She gave it to me in person,” he said. “It’d be rude to give it away.”

Rin squinted at him. Something about the way Sae said it made Rin feel like there was more to the story.

—

The next day, Rin noticed Y/N sitting on the stairs near the school courtyard, looking sad. She had her hands covering her knees, and her head was bowed. Rin frowned. Usually, she was cheerful and full of energy, but today, she just sat there, not even looking up when people passed by.

Sae noticed too. Rin could tell because instead of heading to class like he normally did, Sae turned and walked straight over to her. Rin followed, curious but pretending he didn’t care.

“What happened?” Sae asked, his voice calm but steady.

Y/N glanced up, her eyes a little watery, and gave a sheepish smile. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Sae crouched slightly, his gaze dropping to where she was holding her knee. “Doesn’t look fine,” he said.

Rin leaned closer and noticed the scrape on her knee, smeared with a little blood. Her other leg looked bruised, too. 

Y/N sighed, looking embarrassed. “I tripped on the stairs earlier. It was so dumb. I wasn’t even running or anything. I just... fell.”

“Can you walk?” Sae asked.

Y/N shifted and winced as she tried to stand. “Not really,” she admitted, sitting back down. “My legs hurt.”

Without a word, Sae turned around and crouched in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, confused.

“Get on,” Sae said simply.

“What?”

“I’ll carry you to the nurse’s office,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Hurry up before we’re late.”

Y/N hesitated, looking unsure. “You don’t have to—”

“Just get on,” Sae said again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Blushing slightly, Y/N carefully climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Rin’s eyes went wide.

“Nii-chan, are you serious?!” Rin asked, sounding both shocked and annoyed.

“Do you see anyone else helping her?” Sae shot back, standing up effortlessly with Y/N on his back.

Rin scowled but didn’t say anything. He followed them as Sae started walking toward the nurse’s office, Y/N leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Thanks, Sae,” Y/N said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Sae replied, his voice steady.

Rin trailed behind, muttering under his breath. “She’s so dramatic. It’s just a scrape. I fell yesterday, and no one carried me anywhere.”

But as he watched Sae carry Y/N, his brother calm as ever while Y/N’s face slowly brightened, Rin couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Why does Nii-chan always go out of his way for her?” Rin thought, kicking a pebble on the ground.

By the time they got to the nurse’s office, Y/N was smiling again. Rin sighed, knowing that no matter how much it annoyed him, Sae was going to keep looking out for her.

Sae, as usual, looked calm, but Rin caught the faintest smile on his brother’s face.

Later, as they were heading home, Rin couldn’t help but ask, “Nii-chan, do you like her?”

Sae glanced at him, his face unreadable as always. “What do you mean?”

“You kept her chocolate,” Rin pointed out. “And you carried her to the nurse’s office. You don’t do that for anyone else.”

Sae didn’t answer right away. After a moment, he just said, “She’s different.”

—

Rin was still in elementary school, but Sae and Y/N were now in middle school. Even though they didn’t go to school together anymore, things hadn’t changed too much. Sae still came home every day, and most of the time, he’d be in a good mood. Rin liked it when Nii-chan was like that because it meant he’d play with him, and Sae would even show him new tricks.

But one day, everything felt... different.

Sae came home later than usual, and when Rin saw him walk through the door, he noticed right away that something was wrong. Sae didn’t say much during dinner, and when Rin asked if they could play soccer, Sae just shook his head.

“Maybe later,” he muttered.

Rin frowned. Nii-chan never said no to soccer.

Later that evening, Rin found Sae sitting on the steps outside their house, staring at the ground. Rin hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting down beside him.

He let out a small sigh, his gaze still fixed on the ground. Finally, he said, “Y/N’s moving abroad.”

Rin blinked, confused. “What? Why?”

“Her dad’s job,” Sae replied. His voice was flat, but Rin could tell he was upset.

Rin tilted his head, trying to process it. “So... she’s leaving? For how long?”

Sae shrugged. “Probably a few years.”

“A few years?!” Rin’s eyes widened. “That’s forever!”

Sae didn’t respond.

Rin thought for a moment, then asked, “Did she tell you today?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d miss her,” Sae admitted quietly.

Rin stared at him, stunned. It wasn’t like Nii-chan to say stuff like that. He was usually so calm and serious, never letting his emotions show.

“She said she’d miss me too,” Sae added after a moment.

Rin watched his brother’s face closely. Sae didn’t look like he was about to cry or anything, but there was something about the way he sat that made Rin feel uncomfortable.

“What are you gonna do?” Rin asked.

Sae glanced at him. “What can I do? She’s leaving, Rin. I can’t stop her.”

Rin thought about that for a moment. He didn’t like Y/N as much as Sae did—she was always stealing Sae’s attention, after all—but even Rin couldn’t imagine her not being around anymore.

The next day, Rin decided to follow Sae to the park after school, where he knew Sae and Y/N usually met up. He stayed hidden behind a tree, watching as they sat on their usual bench.

Y/N was holding a small notebook, and she handed it to Sae with a shy smile. “I made this for you,” she said.

Sae opened the notebook, flipping through the pages. It was filled with little doodles, notes, and memories of their time together—funny moments, inside jokes, and even some pictures she’d drawn of their soccer games.

“It’s so you don’t forget me,” Y/N said softly.

“I won’t forget you,” Sae replied, his voice steady but quiet.

They talked for a while, and even though Rin couldn’t hear everything, he could tell it was important. When Y/N finally got up to leave, Sae stood too. They said goodbye, and Y/N walked away, turning back once to wave.

That night, Sae was still quiet, but he seemed a little better. Rin sat next to him again, this time holding their soccer ball.

“She gave you something, huh?” Rin asked, glancing at the notebook on the table.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna write back to her?”

“Maybe,” Sae said.

Rin stared at him for a moment before nudging him with the ball. “Wanna play?”

Sae looked at him, and for the first time that day, he gave a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Even though Rin still didn’t fully understand everything, he decided not to ask any more questions. If playing soccer could make Nii-chan feel a little better, then that was enough for him.

[honeyedfate]

i'll be here when you're back | 이희승

pairing. lee heeseung x gf!reader

ever since his room was revealed to the world on mbc world, heeseung has not known peace—whether it be from engenes or his very own girlfriend

genre. fluff (they're making out? it's cute)

a/n. it's been months but heeseung's room still gives me the giggles. the title doesn't have anything to do with the fic except that it's the song i was listening to while writing it lol it fits the vibes? (don't ask me what the lyrics are) enjoy x

"what's so funny?" you look up to heeseung turning in his gaming chair, glancing over his shoulder at you with a curious smile, his headphones resting around his neck.

you wave him off, still giggling. "you wouldn't like it."

he cocks his head, standing up. "what do you mean? i always find the stuff you show me funny. we share the same brain cell."

"this is different," you say, scooching over so heeseung can join you on the floor with his back against his bedframe. "no, wait—"

heeseung has your phone in his hands before you can stop him. he swiftly leans back, holding out his arm to keep you away while typing in your password. the phone unlocks to a paused tiktok video of what he immediately recognises as his room.

"why are you watching this?" he glances at you with a sideways grin as you make to grab for your phone again only for him to lean back more and hold his phone above his head. "babe, you're in my room, you don't need to—wait, were you reading the comments again?"

"don't close the app," you plead at his narrowed eyes, practically lying on top of him now that he's fully horizontal. "i don't want to lose my spot in the comments."

heeseung scoffs and shuts off your phone. "it's not that funny, you know."

"oh, but it is."

he lets out a mock gasp. "people making fun of your boyfriend's interior design choices is funny to you? wow, my girlfriend hates me. i knew it."

you snort in his face. "hee, what choices? i saw the video. that singular shoe is not an artistic choice. we both know you've been looking for the other one since march."

he looks to his left, staring at the shoe that's still very much sitting on top of the box it came with. "i wonder if it's having fun and eating well wherever it is in the world," he mumbles wistfully.

you poke his cheek. "can i have my phone back?"

"so you can laugh at me with people on the internet? absolutely not. i'd rather you just make fun of me the old fashioned way—throw tomatoes in my face, pin a note on my back, shove me into a corner and point a finger at me. at least that'll make me feel like i have some dignity left."

you break into laughter. "i would love to, honestly, but the only thing you guys have in the kitchen is ramen. i don't want to break your pretty face with hard noodles, plus it'll probably echo so loud in here, the neighbours will think there's a shooting."

"oh, so you're a comedian now," heeseung says in a mockingly sweet tone before his hands attack your sides without warning. you're squirming as uncontrollable giggles take over, leaving you gasping helplessly while begging for him to stop.

finally, he pulls back when you manage to grab his wrists, holding them in place as you catch your breath. his grin softens. "truce?" he asks, voice low and teasing.

you nod, deflating on his chest while he tightens his arm around your waist to keep you close. "you're the worst," you say into the fabric of his sweater.

heeseung chuckles. "says the one giggling for ten minutes straight over comments teasing her boyfriend."

"i wasn't laughing that hard."

"right," he says with a drawling lilt in his voice. "when i heard you through my headphones, i thought, 'which dude is making you laugh like that under my roof?' only to find out it's engenes. it's an even crueler fate, if you ask me."

you shrug one shoulder, looking away nonchalantly when his gaze drops to your lips. "you'd agree if you read them. someone said, 'this gotta be solitary confinement.' you have to admit, that's funny! i have the right to laugh at their brilliance."

he stares at you blankly. "how is this solitary confinement when you're on top of me?"

"i'm not always here," you reply, raising an eyebrow. "someone else said you're evacuation ready. all you have to do is pick up those keyboards over there and walk out."

the slightest twitch in the corner of his lips spurs you on to keep going. "there was another comment saying you put the room in bedroom."

"okay, get off," heeseung says flatly while making no move to push you off. "that one's not even funny."

"maybe not." you glance at all the free space next to you. "but you could get a rug, babe."

he groans, tipping his head back and exposing the smooth stretch of his throat to you. of course, you lean up and press a brief kiss on his adam's apple. he looks down at you, smiling almost shyly before he shakes his head. "you're cute. but we're not having that conversation again."

pouting, you gesture around you. "you always say you don't spend enough time in your room to bother putting anything in it, but admit it—you were happy when we got that bin from daiso."

heeseung snorts and bobs your nose. "yes, i'm the happiest man alive. every day i wake up and i thank god that i have a girlfriend and a rubbish bin."

"see!" you ignore the amused look on his face and lay your head on his chest. the tension in your shoulders melts the moment you hear the familiar beat of his heart against your ear. "think about how much happier you would be when your room no longer looks like belift uses it for enhypen's dance practices."

he chuckles softly while running his fingers through your hair. "i've seen that one. someone commented that my room could fit the backup dancers, too."

you laugh. "it could."

comfortable silence wraps around you like a warm blanket, neither feeling the need to speak. you eventually lift your head to glance at him, lips curving into a smile when you see that his eyes are closed. you lean down and place a delicate kiss on his lips, light and fleeting, but enough to leave him grinning.

you repeat your action, your lips brushing his in the faintest touch only to feel him kiss you back, so gently it seems like a secret. you pull back when you heeseung's tongue traces your lower lip. his eyes flutter open, a silent question mark reflected in his dark eyes when you don't kiss him again. you tilt your head, mischief glinting in your gaze.

"hee?" you say quietly and he blinks up at you with large, doe-like eyes.

"hm?" he looks ridiculously soft and vulnerable lying underneath you like that. it almost has you changing your mind, but you love a good set-up.

"did you know engenes call you bitchless?"

you let out a surprised laugh when he flips you over. in the blink of an eye, he has you pinned beneath him and his lips are on you, peppering your face with tiny pecks, leaving behind a trail of laughter from you.

you try to push him away by the chest, but heeseung is relentless, placing kiss after kiss on your cheeks, the corner of your lips, your forehead, your jaw. you can feel him smile against your skin and you can't help but giggle deliriously. "what are you doing?"

"proving them wrong," he says while nibbling on the sensitive spot behind your ear, working his way down to the curve where your neck and collarbone meet. "obviously."

"obviously," you mumble back, selfishly enjoying the feeling of his lips on you. heeseung slowly lifts you up, somehow moving you onto the bed and laying your head on his pillow. his warm hand slips under your shirt, happy to roam your skin aimlessly while he kisses you dumb. there's nothing but heeseung on your mind, just him and the muffled groans leaving his lips when you pull on his hair while his knee rests between your legs.

then, the door falls open with a bang and you nearly push him off the bed.

"oh my god, sorry!"

heeseung flails, comically wide-eyed, and whips around to yell at whoever's at the door. you look past him to see riki standing with his back to the room, spewing incoherent apologies while his neck flushes bright red.

you pat your boyfriend's shoulder to catch his attention, silently shooting him a look when he frowns at you, lips pulled in a pout. smiling, you peck them one last time before pushing him aside to lie beside you. "riki, you can turn around."

the younger boy does, looking incredibly sheepish. "sorry for barging in. i didn't know y/n was here."

"it's fine," you say reassuringly. "don't worry about it."

"knock next time," heeseung grumbles before he pulls you up to sit beside him with a sigh. "what's up?"

riki rubs the back of his neck. "i'm going to the department store to get some stuff for my room, just wanted to see if you wanted to come along." in a quieter tone he adds, "the others are busy."

"so was i," heeseung mumbles and you smack him upside the head. gently, of course.

"he's going," you say to riki. "can i come with?"

"yeah, of course!" his face brightens up instantly. "i'll order the taxi, meet me downstairs in five!"

"wait, ni-ki—" heeseung hastily jumps up, but the boy has already left and closed the door behind him, leaving him to stare at it like he's just been bereft of every shred of joy and peace he's ever known. he turns to you with an exasperated look on his face. "seriously? to get things for his room? you planned this."

you shake your head, rising to your knees to be more at his eye level while doing a horrible job at suppressing your giggles. "i wish i did, but the joke wrote itself. now go put on some pants. he said downstairs in five."

[nezuscribe]

an idea I have in mind because I think too much about arranged Gojo.

at some point, when they're already happy and in love, they meet her sisters again. Maybe they are hosting some party or his mother invited them to the seaside house like in the past. Reader is in much a better place now personally. What’s more, she’s in a better position in the hierarchy than she was before. She's a sweetheart and a kind person. So she doesn’t care about any of that, she just wants to live her quiet, happy life with Gojo. Gojo, however, is a different story... he's heard and saw enough of how her sisters treated her and he's a petty man. A very petty man. For the duration of the visit, Gojo makes it his sole mission to flaunt their happiness. He insists on buying her the finest dresses and jewelry, making sure she’s never seen wearing the same outfit twice. Every day, he presents her with another gift, just to remind everyone of how she's adorned now. He sticks to her side at all times, while the other women are left alone when their boring husbands goes hunting or something like that. And he doesn't stop to show, verbally and physically, how he loves and admires her. Maybe, just to make his point even clearer, he asks for their rooms to be on the same floor. So they'll get a 24/7 show of the great treatment she gets.

so when i was writting the arrangment i wanted to add some scenes with readers family but it didn't work out so i think this is a great opportunity to expand on that

and totally. the thing abt reader that i hope people take away is that she's had to be stronghearted to survive in the conditions she's been brought up in, but because of that she just wants to live peacefully and quietly. she's elated that she gets a caring husband on top of it, but she just goes to the beat of her own drum and if people can't then she doesn't really care

but when this little get-together is planned at the gojo summer home, something customary and necessary, both reader and gojo dread it. reader because she doesn't like her sisters and father's wife and gojo because he hates your sisters and your father's wife

so gojo shows you off whenever he can. the two of you haven't had sex yet and he's fine with that, he's trying to find the best moment anyway, but he's so touchy it's insane. his arm is either around your waist, in yours, or sometimes around your neck if he wants to show you something from where he's standing

you're wearing the highest fashion, the best jewelry, and expensive oils. your sisters gawk and groan, but what else can they do? their husbands are old and ugly and don't give a rats ass about them, and you couldn't be more content

and this one time when all the younger people are around the lake gojo brings you onto his lap to open up the seat for one of your other friends, letting you curl up into his strong chest as he wraps a blanket over you. and your sisters watch in pure jealousy as you giggle at some of the things he tells you, watch as he blushes unabashedly when you kiss his forehead

arranged!gojo just loves you too much and there's nothing wrong with that

[borathae]

The Consequences of Fucking Up

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff

Wordcount: 15.9k

Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.

a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

Three months prior

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.” He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”

“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”

His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him. 

“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.” 

Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you. 

“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles. 

This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed. 

But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him. 

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape. 

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will. 

You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you. 

One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good. 

He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.

The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way. 

You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.

You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found. 

“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.

The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands. 

“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!

“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!” 

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.

“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?” 

It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.

You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent.  You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.

It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.

You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.

A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat. 

The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.

The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.

You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.

The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.

Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to  conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.

Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.

“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”

“I see.”

“You?” 

“Buying smokes.”

He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.

“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.

He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.

You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.

“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”

You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m not hungry.”

He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke. 

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily. 

You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore. 

You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.

“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence. 

He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.

“They’re inside”, he says.

“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”

“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”

“Are you serious?” 

He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.

“Very serious”, he rasps.

“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.

“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.

You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.

“My farce?”

This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”

You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.

“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”

“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.

Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.

“Sir?” 

He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him. 

“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”

“She’ll get home safely.”

“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”

The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”

Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

He pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside. 

The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him. 

Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.

But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.

Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.

You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you. 

Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten. 

Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”

You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry. 

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.” 

“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”

He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”

“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.” 

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.” 

“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.” 

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off. 

You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work. 

You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.

The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.

You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.

Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.

“Flames are hot”, he says.

“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.

“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.

“What do you got?” you ask him.

“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”

Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.

“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”

“Already?”

He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.

That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.

The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.

“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.

“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”

“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”

He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.

“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”

He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.

“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”

“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”

A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.

“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.

“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?

It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.

You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.

“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”

You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”

You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.

“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.

They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.

“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.

You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.

You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.

Thump.

You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly. 

Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.

He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt. 

“I don’t…”

“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.

You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing. 

Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.

“Should we get dinner?”

His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you see what they were doing to me?”

“No.”

You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.

“Stop the car.”

Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.

“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.

“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

Yoongi gulps. 

“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”

He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum. 

“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”

“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”

“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”

You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip. 

“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.

You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp. 

“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”

“No, you-”

“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”

You turn your back to him and leave. 

He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!” 

He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.

You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.

You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.

The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.

You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.

You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.

A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.

“It has always been mine as well.”

Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.

With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.

You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.

“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.

The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.

“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.

It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.

It has always been his problem as well.

Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.

V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”

“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.

“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”

You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.

“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.

“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”

You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.

You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”

“Of course, Miss.”

The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?

You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.

His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.

So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.

“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.

His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.

“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.

“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.

Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.

You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”

Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.

“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.

“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.  

“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.

“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.

One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.

“Apologies again.”

“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”

He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.

“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.

He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.

“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”

“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.

“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.

“We already have everything.”

“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.

“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.

“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”

“Sit. Down.”

The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.

“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.

“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”

“Shut up, Kim.”

Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.

Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”

“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.

“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”

Bang!

You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.

Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.

“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”

“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.

“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.

“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.

Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.

“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.

“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.

“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.

“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes. 

“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.

Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments. 

He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut. 

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”

“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”

He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.

“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”

“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m-”

‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”

You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave. 

You nod your head.

Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.

“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.

“What?” 

“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”

“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams

“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”

“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”

“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”

“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”

“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?” 

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking. 

“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir”, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”

Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name. 

You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.

Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come. 

“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.

You can hear them talk as you leave.

“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer. 

“Are you crying, Miss??”

“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain? 

“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Of course, Miss.”

And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.

But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.

“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”

“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”

“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.

“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”

“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”

“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”

“O…kay? I uhm…”

“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.

V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”

“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”

“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.

He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.

“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”

“V, what the fuck?”

“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V. 

You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.

You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.

You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone. 

Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”

“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”

“Two.”

“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.

You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.

“You’re drunk.” 

He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.

“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.

“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”

“You’ve always been important.”

“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”

“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.

“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”

“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”

“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”

You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”

You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same. 

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.

“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”

You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.

“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”

You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. 

He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser. 

“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly. 

He cradles your face, wiping your tears. 

“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”

“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt. 

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt. 

He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss. 

You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle. 

You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat. 

It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.

“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk. 

“I do.”

His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.

You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.

“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it. 

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved. 

You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.

He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.

You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.

“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.” 

He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.

“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.

He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop. 

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.

“Yoon-”

“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”

His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him. 

You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.

Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you. 

“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see. 

You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed. 

“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection. 

You nod your head. 

“Say it.”

“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob. 

“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better. 

You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back. 

Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.

He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.

“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.

You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.

“Ye-yes.”

“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”

The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily. 

“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!” 

You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.

There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms. 

Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?

“I love you”,  he sobs, hugging you close. 

“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it. 

You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy. 

You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.

You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t. 

“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”

“You were pathetic doing that.”

He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek. 

“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face. 

“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.

“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful. 

You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in. 

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi. 

He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling. 

“You?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly. 

“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”

He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.

“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”

Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin. 

Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly. 

At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug. 

He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms. 

“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”

He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you. 

“Can you promise me?”

“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you. 

The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.

“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests. 

“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”

He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other. 

“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.

“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”

“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”

“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.

You close your eyes, melting into his chest. 

“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah”, you snicker.

He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do. 

“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him. 

“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection. 

He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.

[ghostfacd]

IN A WORLD FULL OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. despite being in a world filled of childish boys, your boyfriend was definitely a gentleman, always putting you before him

AUTHORS NOTE. the third installment because we love tom blyth and yn avocot. I recommend reading part 1 and 2 for more context!

tomblyth “babe, do you think we’re together in every universe?” is that even a question?

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser stoppp i didn’t know youd actually take the question seriously

user1 get you a man like tom blyth bc oh my god

user2 idk what yn did to manifest him but i need her ways

user3 ugh idk what he’s doing with her lol he could do so much better

➥ user4 well someone had to say it..

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

You didn’t understand how some people on the internet can be so . . . mean. Although there have been countless of fans cheering you and Tom on, it didn’t make it any less hurtful that there were still a ton who weren’t scared to be open about how much your boyfriend could do better.

It’s ironic; you think. They’re claiming they’re looking out for Tom, yet totally disregarding him and his girlfriend as human beings? Those weren’t real fans.

The reason for them hating you so much? Just for simply being with Tom. Everybody wanted him, that was your crime.

Everytime you got lost in your thoughts about this topic, Tom knew. Boyfriend instincts, he called them, but really, he was just a caring and observant person.

You tried not to break down over it, you really did, but a girl could only go on for so long before it all bursts out. Luckily, Tom pulls you right in, telling you to let it all out.

Although the world was filled with childish and hurtful beings, Tom Blyth was still who he was, a gentleman, attending to your every needs.

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

tomblyth really dgaf if you like my girlfriend or not cause i do and that’s all that matters

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user5 im cryinf the polaroid he has of her

user6 YES REAL MEN STAND UP FOR THEIR GFS

user7 ALL THE PICS HE HAS OF HER 🥹🥹

tomblythswife oh to be yn avocot and be loved by tom blyth

rachelzegler tell ‘em 🙊

user8 she doesn’t even comment on the posts he makes abt her, so self centered lol

➥ ynuser I’m right next to him rn?? cant say the same thing about you “lol”

➥ user9 OH SHE ATE YOU UP @/user8

tomblyth_daily here are some clips of tom talking about his relationship in his new interview! GET YOU A MAN THATS LIKE TOM BLYTH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

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user10 the way he’s so passionate when talking about her and being a good boyfriend, God I hate being single

user11 “they’re not even that cute” STFU AND GO WATCH THIS INTERVIEW CAUSE ??

user12 tom blyth said put aside your nonchalant attitudes, im looking at YOU MEN 🫵🫵

ilovetomblyth he’s so boyfriend it actually hurts

user13 yn must’ve saved a continent in her past life to be dating tom blyth omg

ynuser girls, before you have a meltdown over a boy: think of what balleona laurent would do. kiss and manipulate coriolanus!

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tomblyth you kiss and manipulate me too

➥ ynuser you’re gonna get me CANCELLED

user14 literal unbothered icon i love her

user15 if i were her id post a tiktok with that audio “he chose me he don’t want you”

iloveyn SHES SO FUNNY

lionsgate us when behind the scenes photo of balleona 😻

➥ user16 lmao stop who’s the admin of lionsgate

user17 balleona is such a bad person but oh is she hot

tomblyth she was like a shot of espresso

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser i love u more than words can describe blyth

user18 ok who’s cutting onions

user19 GIRLS, GUYS, THEY THEMS, STOP SETTLING FOR BARE MINIMUM WHEN TOM BLYTH LITERALLY CALLED HIS GF A SHOT OF ESPRESSO, GIVES HER FLOWERS EVERYDAY, AND TALKS ABT HER ALL THE TIME IN HIS INTERVIEWS

➥ user20 YELL IT HARDER SISTER 👐👐👐

user21 this is so dark academica im inlove with u guys

user22 parentssss

rachelzegler my favorites

ynuser SNOW LANDS ON TOP LOSERS

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tomblyth yn, i love you but

➥ user23 LMFAOO when he doesn’t finish his sentence

user24 the second pic thank u yn

joshandresrivera on top of u maybe

➥ user25 IM DYING OML

user26 thank you to lionsgate for casting the most hottest villain couple ever