#i think i was like half asleep when writing this

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

pt5

Last day on earth

hey guys warning might be ooc cause i am writing this half asleep

"SHOOT- I'M LATE AGAIN!"

You had band practice with the others today

Why are you always late?

You promised them, and you accidentally slept through your alarm. Again.

You forgot Lyla was down for today too, she was focused solely on the anomalies today, so she couldn't wake you up.

Shit.

You scrambled around in your room getting ready for the day.

You put on your clothes and quickly do your hair.

You tried looking for your guitar and forgot you left it downstairs.

You ran downstairs and almost tripped.

You stopped when you saw everyone eating breakfast at the table.

Without you.

It made you less mad that they were together without you, you were used to them being together without you.

It made you sad how you never even realized.

"..You guys have been having breakfast together? Without me?"

They all went silent. You could see the guilty looks on their faces. As soon as Dick opened his mouth to talk, you shut them up.

"Why would you even-" You stopped yourself, you had things to do. "You know what? This is a problem for future y/n."

You grabbed your keys and put it in your bag while you ran around trying to finish getting ready.

"Alfred, I'm gonna be gone till later, I promised my friends I'm gonna be at band practice"

You ran into the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth.

"Also if one of them shows up at the door, please let them in! Hobie's my ride today!" You called out from inside the bathroom

"Alright, young miss." you heard Alfred say from the kitchen.

You did your makeup quickly and put on your shoes.

You grabbed your bag that had your guitar picks inside, along with some essentials like money, a hairbrush, makeup, etc.

You just needed your phone, which you had left in the kitchen.

As soon as you run out of the bathroom and into the dining room you get jumpscared.

"Boo." Hobie jumped, scaring you.

You screamed before play hitting him

Okay, screw you too, spidey-senses!

While you explained to Hobie you were almost done getting ready, you could slightly feel the others glaring at you and Hobie.

it wasn't them trying to figure him out,it was them judging him.

Damian couldn't understand, why were you hanging out with someone like him?! He's too punk and crazy looking, it's so dumb you were excited to hang out with him.

He snapped out of it as soon as he saw you and Hobie about to exit the manor.

He was about to demand to know where you were going, but suddenly as soon as you were about to walk out the door, you felt Hobie pull on the back of the collar of your shirt.

"Hm?" you asked Hobie

"Don't you think you're missing something, Tinkerbell?" Hobie asked, pointing to your back.

"what do you mean? I have everything, I think. I have my lipgloss and everything.." you started rambling to yourself for a bit, checking the mental checklist you had for yourself.

After a few moments, you realize you thought you had your guitar with you!

You did not!

You ran to grab it, everyone looking at you both.

You grabbed your guitar and said bye to everyone.

Jason does not like Hobie.

He didn't even get to introduce himself to your family.

He straight up ignored all of them, besides Alfred, to see you!

He didn't like how excited you were to just be around him.

He didn't like how naturally you guys play fought like siblings.

He didn't like how close you guys seemed.

He didn't like how he walked around like he's been here before.

He didn't like how he had a nickname for you.

He needed to know who this guy was.

But how?

He followed you both to your practice. While dressed in a red hood.

Oops.

He watches as you both get into your car and go to a place to practice music.He sees a tiny 12-year-old girl with short black hair playing electric guitar, like you.

He sees a blonde girl with half her hair of hair shaved off getting her guitar ready while talking a curly haired boy with big doe eyes.

He sees the boy next to her getting his keyboard ready while awkwardly flirting with the girl.

He sees a boy with stupidly luscious hair getting the amps up and ready.

He can see them all getting slightly anxious, he assumes it's because of you being late.

He didn't know its because they could all sense someone watching them.

Finally, you and Hobie walk in and immediately feel the presence.

You text Miguel that you feel a tiny bit anxious and send him your location.

Better safe than sorry!

After an hour or two of playing, you all decide to sit down and take a break.

The feeling someone was watching you was still there, it just died down the slightest bit.

After a while, Pavitr finally spoke up.

"Am I the only one feeling that someone watching us?"

Immediately you all said different variants of yes.

It was so strange, why would anyone watch you guys?

You assumed it was maybe a kid on the street who was listening to your music, but that didn't explain your spidey senses going off.

As soon as you were about to talk about it, all your spidey senses went off, and someone popped up in front of you.

Red Hood, or your brother, Jason Todd.

Immediately everyone got up and gave you knowing glances.

Sure, you never told anyone about your family's identities, but technically everybody in the spiderverse and their moms knew.

Something about you being a mix of two multi-verses.

"Woah! No need to get so defensive!" Red Hood said, putting his hands up.

"why are you here?" you asked, glaring at him dead in the eyes. Well, he was wearing a mask so you looked at him where his eyes were supposed to be.

"Can't someone drop by for a visit? You guys were great, by the way," he said. You weren't sure what he wanted.

At this point, you had Peni hidden behind you. Sure, he wouldn't ever do anything to any kid, but it was a force of habit you had to protect her.

You didn't notice Hobie slowly moving beside you to protect you if anything happened.

"Welp, I just came in to check on regular civilians, nothing wrong with that," he smirked. he knew he was getting under your skin.

"well, it's a good thing we don't need help. Goodbye." you shooed him away like he had done multiple times to you.

He scoffed and left.

You all let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

It was getting late anyway. You should all start packing up and go out someplace to eat.

It was your turn to choose which place to go, and you immediately chose Batburger.

As soon as you all ordered and sat down, you all immediately started talking about why Red Hood popped by.

Your friends all knew about the neglect from everyone, no one understood why they were here.

Why now?

The topics changed throughout everything, from school drama to plans for the future, to plans for future hangouts.

Everything was great, you all grabbed your meals and were eating the mountain of food you guys ordered.

"I'm telling you, the food in my universe is so much better!" Miles argued with you.

"it's so not! It's greasy!" You argued back

"like batburger isn't?" Miles smirked, you both played arguing.

You gasped dramatically. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" you play slapped Miles.

"LISTEN DINGBAT I SAID-" Miles rudely pointed his finger in your face.

"GET YOUR FINGER OUT OF MY FACE!" You and Miles started throwing fries at each other's faces, everyone else at the table laughing at how stupid you guys are.

Suddenly, your spidey senses went slightly off. Not enough for you and Miles to notice, but the others stopped laughing.

You didn't understand until you heard a very familiar voice.

"Is there a problem here?" You looked up and saw your other brother, Dick, looking at you guys with his stupid signature smile.

The same smile that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

Immediately you and Miles straightened up. Not in fear, but because you didn't want him to see you enjoying yourself.

"No, Richard."

You see him flinch at the use of his full name and not his nickname. His smile slightly faltered, but not enough for anyone other than you to notice.

"All alright then." he started walking away and you noticed behind him were your other siblings, Tim and Damian.

Shit.

You needed to get out of here.

Gwen immediately noticed you looking slightly panicky and immediately started holding your hand to calm you down.

It worked.

Everyone looked at each other, almost to say "Let's go."

You all left and decided to go to a park to calm down.

You all lay down on the grass in quiet. It was nice.

You don't mind doing anything with them, as long as you are together.

You wish you could stay in this moment forever.

After a while, you and Peni ended up falling asleep.

Noir came and picked up Peni.

Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr had to go home to their respective universes.

Hobie took and carried you home, there's no way he was gonna leave you lying in the middle of Gotham at night.

He made sure to carry everything you had with you into the manor.

Alfred let Hobie in as soon as he saw you being carried by him.

As soon as he got inside, Jason offered to carry you to your room, but Hobie had already started walking toward's it.

"Nah, sorry mate. She's knackered right now and moving her around might make her go mad."

As soon as he got to your room, he dropped you off on your bed took off your shoes and tucked you into bed, kissing you on the forehead, something that he's done to all the spider kids as a form of affection.

As soon as he went downstairs, he started getting questioned by everyone there.

"Who are you?" asked Damian.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather-boy?" Hobie teased.

"Why is she so attached to you?!" Asked Jason.

"I ain't got a scooby doo," Hobie replied.

Soon, the questions turned into everyone yelling at Hobie for no reason.

You woke up from the commotion.

You went downstairs to see Hobie having a serious face.

That was not a good sign.

You kept walking further until you were on the same floor as everyone else.

"What's going on?" you asked rather meekly.

No one heard, so you spoke louder.

"What's going on?"

Still, no one heard, so you had no choice but to yell.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

Everyone stopped to look at you. Everyone but Hobie was surprised to see you speak that loudly. They weren't used to you using that tone.

Everything was silent and tense for a moment.

"Well? is anyone gonna say anything or are you all gonna act stupid?" You were cranky. You needed a nap.

"We don't want you hanging around those guys anymore." your father, Bruce said.

"I don't care. I still am gonna be with them," you said.

"You don't have a choice," Damian added, agreeing with his father.

"Well nothing is stopping me, I'll still see them," you replied, glaring at Bruce.

"You're under my roof. You can make your own decisions when you aren't living here." Bruce said, rather mad you won't be obident.

"Maybe I don't want to live under your roof..." you muttered, thinking no one would hear.

"What was that?" you heard Dick say, clearly expecting you to crumble and apologize.

"Maybe I don't wanna live under your roof!" you turn to look at Hobie. He looks proud.

"Then leave." you hear Tim say.

"All alright." you start walking to your room to pack your essentials.

Everyone suddenly looks shocked. They weren't expecting that. You felt Hobie put a hand on your shoulder and help you pack. You grab your phone and see you never replied to Miguel's texts where he asked if you're okay.

You reply to him and tell him you're alright. You ask him if you can stay at his apartment because of family problems.

He immediately replies and says yes.

You finish packing up and go downstairs.

You didn't say bye to anyone as you left.

You went to a random abandoned building to use your bracelet to make a portal to Miguel's universe.

Hobie tagged along, to keep you safe.

As soon as he saw Miguel take you inside, he waved bye and went to his universe.

As soon as you got inside, you broke down.

Over how tired you are, over how your family treated you, and how you just wanted a hug.

You fell asleep hugging Miguel that night

hi guys this is kinda bad but like idk i might make a fluffy oneshot of the spiderkids js hanging out cause reader deserves a break idk

tags (please let me know if i missed anyone!): @bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n

[promptedwordsmith]

Please mayhaps could you write something cute of Mc/Reader falling asleep while laying on their chest listening to their heartbeat 😭

inspired by this dialogue from Zayne I just got 🙈

Love your writing btw, I binge read all your stuff earlier…😭

Aww thank you!

Caleb

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city in the distance. The stars stretched endlessly above you, faint against the glow of streetlights filtering through the window. The air was cool, a soft breeze shifting the curtains, but the warmth of Caleb beside you made the world feel impossibly small, like the only thing that mattered was the space between you.

You hadn’t meant to stay this late.

It had started with a casual visit—an excuse, really. Just an evening spent together after days of missing each other between missions and responsibilities. You had barely managed to steal moments alone lately, both of you too caught up in the demands of your work, your Evols, your duties. And now, here you were, hours later, lying on his couch, wrapped up in his presence as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Caleb sat against the cushions, his black and orange jacket tossed somewhere over the armrest, leaving him in just a simple t-shirt. He had one arm resting lazily behind his head, the other draped across your back. Your body was half on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he took.

The sound of his heartbeat filled your ears.

Strong. Constant. Safe.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep like this. But after everything—after the exhaustion, the weeks of pushing forward without rest—this felt… inevitable. Like gravity pulling you down.

Caleb hadn’t moved much since you’d settled there, just enough to shift comfortably, to make sure you had the space to breathe. His fingers ghosted over your back, absentminded, soothing. He wasn’t speaking, but he didn’t need to. The warmth of his body, the solid presence of him beneath you—it was enough.

You felt his chest rumble slightly as he let out a breath, a soft chuckle you almost missed.

"Didn’t think you’d get this comfortable with me so soon."

You made a small noise in protest but didn’t lift your head. It was too much effort, and you were too content.

His fingers brushed against the curve of your shoulder, warm and slow. "Not that I mind," he murmured.

You sighed, shifting just slightly, letting your body mold more against his. “M’not comfortable,” you mumbled sleepily, words muffled against his shirt.

"Oh?" Amusement colored his voice.

"M’just… too tired to move."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Right. That’s it."

You didn’t argue. You barely had the energy to think, much less banter with him. The steady thump-thump of his heart was lulling you under, making it hard to focus on anything but the warmth beneath your fingertips.

A few minutes passed in silence, peaceful and undisturbed. Caleb wasn’t one to stay still for long, not with the kind of life he led, but right now, he hadn’t moved an inch. Maybe he didn’t want to wake you. Maybe he just liked this as much as you did.

And then, in a voice quieter than before, he spoke again.

"Feels nice."

You made a questioning sound, but you didn’t open your eyes.

His fingers traced a slow, lazy path down your back. "Having you here like this."

Your heart skipped.

It wasn’t like Caleb to say things outright. Not when it came to feelings, anyway. He showed his affection in actions—through protection, through thoughtfulness, through every quiet way he looked after you. But every now and then, he let things slip.

And for some reason, this moment felt more intimate than any of the ones before.

You swallowed, suddenly more aware of how close you were. His heartbeat, still steady beneath your ear, was the only thing grounding you.

You exhaled. "I like it too."

His hand stilled for half a second, then continued its slow, absentminded movements.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, saying nothing at all.

Time didn’t matter.

The world outside didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart beat for you, with you.

And eventually, before you even realized it, you drifted into sleep, safe in his arms.

Caleb had lost count of how long he’d been lying there, unmoving, just watching you.

You had fallen asleep so easily against him, so naturally, as if you had always belonged there. Your breaths were soft, steady, barely more than a whisper against his skin. And your weight—light but present—felt right.

He exhaled, staring at the ceiling.

He should’ve moved. He should’ve carried you to bed, tucked you in properly, maybe even left the room to give you space.

But he didn’t.

Because some part of him—some deep, selfish part—couldn’t bring himself to let go.

His arms tightened around you, just slightly. He felt the way you shifted in response, curling closer in your sleep, like even unconscious, you knew you were safe with him.

That did something to him.

He had spent so long protecting you, making sure you were okay, keeping his distance where he thought you needed it. But now, here you were—sleeping soundly on his chest, trusting him without hesitation.

And it undid him.

His fingers traced absent patterns against your back, slow, thoughtful. He didn’t know if you’d even remember this in the morning, if you’d be embarrassed, if you’d pull away and act like it hadn’t happened. But he’d remember.

He’d remember the way your breathing synced with his, the way your body had fit against him like it was meant to be there. He’d remember the warmth of you, the way you had melted into him without fear.

And, more than anything, he’d remember the moment he realized—he never wanted this to end.

He exhaled, tilting his head just enough to press the lightest of kisses against your hair. A whisper of a touch, something you wouldn’t feel, something just for him.

"Sleep well," he murmured against your temple. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

And for once, he truly meant it.

Rafayel

Rafayel always ran a little warmer than most, his body heat like an ember refusing to die out. It was comforting in a way that made it difficult to resist curling up beside him, though you rarely admitted that out loud. He’d be insufferable if you did, teasing you with that lazy grin, calling you clingy despite the fact that he was the one who draped himself over you like a heavy blanket more often than not.

Tonight was no different.

It had been a long day—one of those days where exhaustion settled into your bones like a permanent weight. The kind of day where even lifting a hand to wave away Rafayel’s usual antics felt like too much effort. You had barely managed to shuffle into his home, kicking off your shoes in a haphazard heap by the door before collapsing onto his couch without so much as a greeting.

Rafayel, ever the dramatic one, had let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down beside you, slouching against the cushions as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “You look like you’ve fought an entire army and lost.”

You hummed in response, not even bothering to open your eyes.

That wasn’t enough for him, of course. He prodded your arm with a single finger, then two, then your cheek, then your forehead—until you swatted weakly at his hand, cracking one eye open to glare at him.

“If you don’t let me rest, I’ll—”

“What?” He smirked, all sharp teeth and amusement. “Throw me out? I live here.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side to put your back to him, but it was no use. Rafayel was persistent when he wanted to be. His arm slung itself over your waist, not quite pulling you in, but making sure you couldn’t wriggle away either.

“Stay up with me,” he murmured.

“No.”

“Rude.”

You huffed a small laugh, but the exhaustion was winning. You felt the weight of his arm shift slightly, and before you knew it, he was adjusting, coaxing you effortlessly into his embrace as if it was second nature.

You barely resisted.

His chest was warm beneath your cheek, rising and falling in an easy rhythm, his heartbeat a steady thump-thump against your ear. You listened without thinking, without meaning to, letting the sound ground you in a way that nothing else could.

“Comfortable?” Rafayel’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing lilt.

You made a vague sound of agreement, nuzzling just a little closer.

His fingers skimmed lightly over your back, absentmindedly tracing little shapes into your shirt. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Mhm.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree.”

You smiled sleepily.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of the warmth of his body, the scent of sea breeze and something faintly sweet, the quiet lull of his breathing.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You wondered if he even realized how soothing it was. If he knew how easily he could lull you to sleep just by being there.

His hand stilled against your back, and for a moment, you thought maybe he had fallen asleep too. But then, his voice—softer now, barely above a whisper—broke the silence.

“You do this a lot.”

You hummed, half-asleep already. “Do what?”

“Listen to my heartbeat.”

Your eyes cracked open just enough to peek up at him, but his expression was unreadable in the dim light. His gaze was focused on the ceiling, his lips pressed together in quiet contemplation.

You shrugged, your fingers absentmindedly curling into the fabric of his shirt. “It’s… nice.”

Rafayel let out a small breath of amusement, though there was something thoughtful in the way he tightened his grip around you, as if trying to pull you just a little closer. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

You blinked sleepily. “Really?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. “Most people don’t get close enough to notice.”

That made sense, you supposed. Rafayel was not an easy person to get close to. He could charm his way into any room, could captivate entire crowds with his talent and confidence—but when it came to true closeness, true intimacy, he chose his moments carefully. He built walls around himself, kept his distance from the world even as he stood in its spotlight.

But with you…

You weren’t entirely sure when it had changed. When the teasing had shifted into something softer, something real. When he had stopped keeping you at arm’s length.

Maybe it had been gradual, like the way the tide reshapes the shore over time.

Or maybe it had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

His fingers resumed their absentminded tracing against your back. “Does it make you feel safe?”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

Rafayel exhaled, a breath that sounded far too heavy for such a simple conversation. But he didn’t say anything else.

His heartbeat continued its steady rhythm beneath your ear.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You sighed, letting your eyes drift shut again. Sleep pulled at you like a tide, warm and steady.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, tangled up in each other, before Rafayel finally spoke again, voice so quiet you almost thought you imagined it.

“…Good.”

And then, as if nothing had happened, his fingers continued their slow, lazy patterns against your back, lulling you further into sleep.

The last thing you felt before drifting off completely was the faintest press of lips against the top of your head.

Rafayel didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

Sylus

The night was warm, the kind of heat that settled under your skin and refused to let go. The air carried the faint scent of rain from earlier, mixing with the smoky tang of the fire burning low in Sylus’ study. You had been sprawled across the couch for what felt like hours, tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, but no matter what you did, rest wouldn’t come.

You huffed, rolling onto your stomach, cheek pressing into the cushion. Across the room, Sylus sat at his desk, flipping through a dossier with the kind of effortless focus that made you want to be a distraction. He had been watching you from the corner of his eye for a while now, though he hadn’t said anything—probably waiting for you to admit defeat first.

"You’re brooding," he finally murmured, flipping another page.

You groaned. "I don’t brood."

His lips curled slightly, but he didn’t look up. "You do when you don’t get your way."

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

He turned a page with an infuriating level of ease. Smug bastard.

"You heard me," he mused. "Something’s bothering you. You don’t want to admit it, but you also want me to figure it out for you. You’re restless, and I don’t like it."

You scoffed, pushing yourself up. "You don’t like it? Oh no, whatever shall I do?"

Sylus sighed, finally looking up at you, his crimson gaze dark and knowing. "Come here."

You sat up fully, arms crossing over your chest. "No."

His expression didn’t change, but you saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "No?"

You smirked, lifting your chin. "You want me? You come get me."

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if weighing his options. Then, without warning, he moved.

You barely had time to react before a shadow loomed over you, arms slipping around you with the kind of effortless strength that made resistance seem laughable.

"Sylus!" you yelped, squirming as he lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.

"Problem, kitten?" he murmured, the warmth of his breath brushing against your temple as he adjusted you against his chest.

You kicked your feet, half-heartedly shoving at his shoulder, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he sank back into his chair, pulling you down with him, settling you against him.

Your back rested against his chest, his arms lazily draped around your waist, as if holding you there was the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re ridiculous," you grumbled.

"And yet," he mused, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head, "you always end up right where I want you."

You huffed, about to argue, but then—you heard it.

The steady, unshaken rhythm of his heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Slow. Certain. Unyielding.

For a moment, you forgot why you had been restless in the first place. The world outside faded, the tension in your limbs melting into the warmth of his body. His heartbeat filled the silence, a constant, grounding sound that made everything else feel so small.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—his warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, the way his fingers had started tracing small, absentminded circles against your ribs.

"You’re listening," he murmured, voice quieter now.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

His heartbeat was so steady, so sure. A deep, resounding thing that made you realize just how erratic your own had been all night. But now… now you were matching him, falling into the rhythm of him.

A breath.

A beat.

A moment.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve, gripping just a little tighter.

"...You’re annoying," you mumbled.

Sylus huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers slipping up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just enough for your eyes to meet his. "And you’re a brat," he murmured.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Because his gaze wasn’t teasing anymore. It was soft. Intense in a way that made your stomach twist and your pulse stutter, despite the slow, grounding rhythm of his own beneath you.

"...Don’t do that again," he said after a moment.

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Do what?"

"Try to deal with things on your own when you don’t have to." His voice was low, serious. Final.

You swallowed hard.

Sylus was not a man who needed anyone. He was self-sufficient, independent, a lone wolf who had built an empire from the shadows. But with you, he let himself be different.

And this? This was him asking you to do the same.

You let out a slow breath, turning your face back into his chest. His heartbeat was still there, still steady, still constant.

Your fingers loosened against his sleeve, your grip no longer desperate, but something else. Something trusting.

"...Okay," you whispered.

Sylus let out a quiet hum, satisfied with your answer. His arm tightened just slightly around you, and for the first time that night, you weren’t restless anymore.

You listened.

To the crackling fire. To the distant city.

To him.

To his heartbeat.

And slowly, carefully—you matched it.

Xavier

The steady rhythm of Xavier’s heartbeat was the only sound you could focus on. A soft, constant thump-thump, thump-thump beneath your ear, grounding and unwavering. It was late—too late—but exhaustion had long since settled into your bones, making your eyelids heavy.

You hadn’t meant to end up like this, curled against him with your cheek resting over his chest, legs tangled loosely. It had started as a simple evening together, the two of you stretched out on the couch, basking in the rare quiet. The mission earlier had been grueling—physically and mentally draining—and you had been too sore to move much, content just to exist in Xavier’s presence.

He had been the one to pull you close, an arm draped lazily around your waist as if it was second nature. And now, as you lay against him, your body melting into the warmth of his own, you realized how easy this felt.

His fingers traced light, absent-minded patterns against your back, the touch featherlight, almost reverent. You could feel his breath ruffle your hair every now and then, slow and even. The city lights outside cast a faint glow across the room, flickering against the walls, but neither of you made a move to turn on the lamp.

"You're quiet," Xavier murmured. His voice was deep, a little rough, the kind of tone that made something inside you settle. "Tired?"

You hummed in response, nuzzling just slightly into his chest. "Mm. Comfy."

A soft chuckle rumbled beneath you, and you could feel his amusement more than you could hear it. "So, you're just using me as a pillow, then?"

You smirked but didn’t open your eyes. "You make a good one."

Xavier huffed, but his hand on your back didn't stop its slow, lazy movements. "Lucky me."

There was no teasing in his voice, though—just something warm, something fond.

It wasn’t often that you got to be like this with him. Unrushed. No missions, no battle wounds, no chaos pulling you in opposite directions. Just you and him, together.

And God, it felt good.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek, a quiet, comforting rhythm that made the exhaustion settle even deeper in your body.

Xavier didn’t push you to stay awake, didn’t urge you into conversation. He just let you rest.

And maybe that was what made it so easy to finally let yourself relax.

At some point, you started drifting.

It was slow, like sinking into warm water, the world softening around the edges. You could still hear him breathing, still feel the rise and fall of his chest, but everything was beginning to feel lighter.

And then—

A soft voice, close. "You gonna fall asleep on me?"

You made a vague noise of acknowledgment but didn’t move.

Another chuckle. "That’s a yes."

You felt him shift slightly, adjusting his hold on you, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, as if anchoring you to him.

"You’re warm," you muttered, your voice sluggish with exhaustion.

Xavier huffed out a breath. "You're barely awake and that's what you choose to say?"

You smiled against his shirt. "Mhm."

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, softer—quieter—"Good."

You might have imagined it, but his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. A touch so light it almost wasn’t there at all.

You sighed, content, before finally letting yourself fall.

When you woke up, you weren’t sure how long you had been asleep.

The first thing you noticed was that you were still on Xavier’s chest, still curled up against him like you had never moved. The second thing you noticed was that he hadn't moved either.

His arms were still wrapped around you, one hand resting at your lower back, the other still tangled lightly in your hair. His breathing was deep and even, but you weren’t sure if he was actually asleep or just resting.

You shifted slightly, tilting your head to glance up at him, and—

He was awake.

His blue eyes, always sharp and focused, were soft as they met yours. There was no teasing smirk, no witty remark. Just quiet warmth, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

"Morning," he murmured.

You blinked, still groggy. "Is it?"

A small, amused huff. "No. But you’ve been out for a while."

You exhaled, stretching slightly but making no effort to move away. "Why didn’t you wake me?"

Xavier’s fingers ghosted against your back again, tracing idle shapes. "Because you looked peaceful."

You stared at him for a moment, then rested your head back against his chest. "...Still comfy."

This time, he laughed—a soft, real laugh, not one of his usual teasing chuckles.

"You just gonna stay here forever, then?"

You hummed. "Might."

His heartbeat was still steady beneath your ear, his warmth still pulling you under. And God, if it was up to you, you wouldn’t move at all.

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you woke up next, the lights outside had shifted. The city was still glowing, but the colors were different—softer, cooler, as if the night had settled deeper.

You yawned, stretching slightly before blinking up at Xavier again. He was asleep now, his face more relaxed than you had ever seen it.

And something about that made you pause.

Xavier never truly let his guard down. Even when he was exhausted, even when he was resting, there was always something about him that remained sharp. Always aware, always prepared for whatever came next.

But right now?

Right now, he was peaceful. His lips were slightly parted, his expression free of tension, his breathing slow and even.

And you realized, with a quiet pang in your chest, that he had fallen asleep because he trusted you.

Carefully, hesitantly, you lifted a hand to brush a strand of silver hair from his forehead. Your fingers barely grazed his skin, but he didn’t stir.

You swallowed, something unspoken tightening in your throat.

You were safe with him.

And maybe—just maybe—he was safe with you, too.

You smiled, small but genuine, before settling back against him.

"Sleep well, Xavier," you whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear you.

Then, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat, you let yourself drift off once more.

Zayne

The world outside had slipped into an almost unnatural silence, the kind that only seemed to happen in the late hours of the night when everything around you had finally fallen still. The air was crisp and cool, but inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You had spent the evening together—dinner, quiet conversation, and some small talk that had faded into comfortable silence. Zayne’s usual stoic nature had softened somewhat, allowing you a glimpse of the ease he usually kept hidden behind the layers of his professionalism.

The clock on the wall ticked slowly as you settled beside him on the couch. Zayne sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his back straight despite the fact that he had obviously spent long hours at work. His three-piece suit was loosened now—the jacket discarded, the top button of his shirt undone, and his glasses resting casually on the coffee table in front of him.

You noticed the tension in his shoulders, how he unconsciously worked his jaw, as if the stress of the day was still weighing heavily on him. Even after everything he had done, the hours he had put in, he still couldn’t seem to let go.

Without a word, you shifted closer, your body naturally gravitating toward his warmth. Zayne didn’t seem to notice at first, absorbed in his own thoughts, but when you rested your head gently against his chest, you felt him pause.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet in the room was broken only by the soft hum of the city in the distance and the low sound of Zayne’s breathing.

Then, you heard it.

Thud-thud.

His heartbeat.

Slow, steady, and constant.

It was like a pulse that reverberated through his body, steadying your own. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it, how much you needed to hear it, until now. There was something about the sound of his heartbeat—something reassuring. Something grounding.

Zayne shifted, his hand slowly moving to your back, his touch light and hesitant at first, as though unsure whether he should be the one to initiate any sort of contact. But when he felt you settle against him, the tension in his fingers eased.

“You’re tired,” he whispered softly, his voice low and warm.

You hummed in response, not sure if you wanted to admit how exhausted you truly were.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Zayne’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing gently against your back, tracing light patterns across your shirt. There was no hurry in his movements—no urgency, just a simple, soft touch that seemed to say more than words ever could. The rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear grew louder, the thudding echoing in your mind as you closed your eyes, allowing it to lull you further into the moment.

His fingers brushed the nape of your neck, the motion tender, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the warmth of his touch in places you didn’t know you’d been longing for. The affection in his actions, the unspoken connection between you, was enough to make you feel more at ease than you ever had before.

Zayne was never one to show too much emotion, at least not outwardly. His professional demeanor kept him composed, distant even when he cared deeply. But in moments like this, where the world outside faded into a blur, it was as though his true self could breathe, and you could feel the softness beneath the armor he wore so often.

Thud-thud.

It was so constant, so unchanging. A reminder that no matter what the day had thrown at either of you, here, in this moment, things were calm. You were safe.

You pressed your ear a little closer to his chest, your cheek resting on the fabric of his shirt. The steady beat of his heart was becoming something you could depend on, something more constant than the passage of time.

“I’ve got you,” he said after a long pause, and even though it was a simple statement, it was one that carried the weight of his every unspoken promise.

You felt his hand move up, brushing softly through your hair, the action slow and deliberate. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t forceful. It was just him, being present. Being there.

“I know,” you whispered back.

The room was so still, so quiet. Zayne didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. His presence, his heartbeat, was enough to keep you tethered to the moment, to him.

You allowed yourself to settle even further, your exhaustion beginning to take hold in a deeper way now. But there was something else there too—a feeling of peace, of contentment that you hadn’t realized you were craving. His touch was the anchor that kept you from drifting into sleep completely.

When you let your eyes fall shut, the warmth of his body against yours seemed to blanket you in comfort. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the subtle movement of his body, and the weight of his hand against your back. Everything about him—the rhythm of his heart, the quiet of his breathing, the soothing motions of his hand—wrapped you in something that felt like home.

“Stay with me for a little longer,” Zayne murmured, his voice a soft plea in the dim light of the room.

You didn’t answer immediately, simply nuzzling closer, breathing in the familiar scent of him—clean, calm, and grounded.

There was no rush. No need to go anywhere.

It was just you and him.

The thud of his heartbeat was all you needed. It was enough to lull you deeper into sleep, into dreams where his presence remained close.

Thud-thud.

The rhythm of his heart.

And in that moment, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[trashytracktales]

okay I know how everything is always about reader but I need you to write something about giving lando the pleasure he deserves.. like a nasty bj. I’ve seen so many edits of him with the song “dangerous woman” and it screeeeaaams smut. hope you’re seeing this vision and I love your work, i’d be so happy if you could bring it to life bc you’re my fav blog on here <3

Wanna bet? | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── A bit shorter than usual, but I haven’t posted anything in almost 2 weeks, and this request was the perfect excuse. Thank you so much for your support!! Hope you like it 🤍🎀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧₊⁺ summary ──── After a particular tiring day at work, Lando comes back home to his girlfriend, happy to fall asleep next to her. Unfortunately, he has a habit of not thinking before he speaks so, next thing she knows, she’s determined to prove him wrong. As many times as possible.

✧₊⁺ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

✧₊⁺ rating ──── explicit

✧₊⁺ category ──── F/M

✧₊⁺ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, descriptive language, oral sex ─ (m)receiving, somnophilia (consensual, implied), teasing and a bit of edging, swearing, mild dominance.

✧₊⁺ word count ──── 2.9k

✧₊⁺ date ──── Feb. 10, 2025

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THEY DIDN’T TEXT much throughout the day, because she knows how busy he’s been at work lately. Instead, she follows the same routine she recently fell into: she wakes up next to him, they have a quick breakfast together, then watches the door Lando rushes out every morning for a good half hour, contemplating. After that, she occupies the rest of the day with her own work, or curled up with a book on the couch, waiting for the same damn door to open.

The moment she hears the familiar jingle of keys, she looks up with the same excitement as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before…

Lando steps inside, looking exhausted. His curls are a mess from the cap he’s been wearing all day, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and there are faint shadows beneath his eyes, evidence of a long day at the MTC.

He barely manages a tired smile when he sees her, “Hey, pretty,” says Lando, dropping his bag by the door before trudging towards her.

She gets up, arms already outstretched in anticipation. He’s almost melting into her embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her scent in. For some reason, his deep sigh gives away more than words ever could, and she catches it instantly.

“Rough day?” the girl asks, rubbing soothing circles into his back. His muscles are tensed, yet soft under her palm.

Lando groans in response, tightening his hold on her. “You have no idea,” he exhales, relieved that he’s finally home.

“Oh, baby. I think I do,” she teases, pulling back to look at him, “You smell like grease and exhaustion.”

He chuckles, eyes twinkling despite his fatigue. “That bad?”

She scrunches her nose dramatically, “Mhm. Go shower, stinky. I’ll wait for you in bed.”

Lando doesn’t argue. He presses a quick kiss to her temple before shuffling toward the bathroom, stripping his hoodie off along the way. She watches him disappear behind the door, then heads to the bedroom, where she starts fluffing his pillows and making sure his side of the bed is just the way he likes it: neat sheets, a warm blanket, and her, not-so-patiently waiting for him on her side.

By the time Lando steps out of the shower, towel slung low around his hips, he looks slightly more alive. His damp curls cling to his forehead, and he’s rubbing a hand through them as he walks toward the bed.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” he asks with a wide smile on his face, noticing her efforts to make his night a bit easier.

Lando grabs the towel from around his waist, using it to dry his curls, completely unbothered by his own nakedness. She follows his big frame as he crosses the room, mesmerized, while the muscles in his back shift with each movement; in moments like this, she percieves Lando as a man that’s so effortlessly graceful. There’s something almost god-like about him, she thinks, like a sculpture carved by the hands of an artist obsessed with perfection: the sharp lines of his shoulders, the defined curve of his spine and, most distracting of all, the firm shape of his ass.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as he reaches for a fresh pair of boxers, blissfully unaware of the effect he has on her, pulling them up over his hips in one smooth motion.

Then, he simply slips beneath the blanket with a sigh. “Got the weekend for ourselves, but at what cost?” he chuckles, “I’m so tired, I swear I could sleep through an earthquake,” Lando yawns, stretching out before shooting her a lazy grin. “You could even blow me in the morning, I won’t be moved, baby! Dead asleep for the next couple of days.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

Wanna bet?

“Oh, nice,” she ends up saying, trying her best not to sound offended.

“Just saying,” he smiles mischievously, already halfway to dreamland.

The girl shakes her head, humming at his words, but doesn’t contradict him. Instead, she shifts closer once he flips on his stomach, and starts running her nails lightly up and down his back, the way she knows he loves. At that, Lando’s body relaxes almost immediately, a soft sigh of contentment slipping past his lips.

Patiently, she starts drawing lazy patterns over his skin, listening intently as his breathing slows. And suddenly, seeing him falling asleep while she gently scratches his back, she realizes that all the waiting during the day is worth it, as long as Lando will always return to their bed at the end of it.

With a small smile on her face, she watches as his long fingers loosen their grip around the pillow, and the crease between his eyebrows fades.

And, despite his earlier comment, she makes a tiny mental note to prove him wrong in the morning.

THE FIRST THING she notices when she wakes up is how hot she is.

Lando’s entire weight presses against her body, his arm draped over her waist, and his face buried in the crook of her neck. He always sleeps like this, clinging to her even in unconsciousness, as if he can’t stand the thought of being deprived of her touch for one second. His breath is steady against the skin of her neck, while his curls are tickling her shoulder.

She sighs softly, shifting just enough to glance at the clock on the nightstand — it’s almost noon, and as much as she wants to stay like this and let Lando sleep in, cocooned in his arms, her bladder has other plans. So, carefully, she attempts to get out of his embrace, prying his arm from around her waist inch by inch.

Lando grumbles in protest, fingers flexing against her hip, but he doesn’t wake up that easily.

When she finally manages to slip out of bed, she tiptoes toward the bathroom, casting one last glance at him over her shoulder: still dead asleep, sprawled out now, his curls a mess against the pillow. That’s when she remembers his words from the night before, and her lips curl into a knowing smirk.

After she returns, she finds Lando on his back, the sheets tangled between his legs, one arm resting above his head to block the only ray of light that, ironically, landed on his face. She crosses the bedroom to pull the curtains all the way, and the room immediately floods in a semi-dark filter.

Then silently, she slides back into bed, her hands ghosting over his skin as she untangles the sheets. He looks painfully beautiful in the morning, the warmth radiating from his body seeping into her fingertips. She takes her time, letting her touch linger as she traces absentminded patterns over his stomach.

Lando shifts slightly, but his breathing remains even, somehow encouraging her hand to move lower.

The fabric of his boxers is soft beneath her fingers, but what catches her attention is the heat beneath it, and the hardening shape of his cock as she palms him gently. At that, a slow exhale leaves Lando’s lips, his hips tilting just slightly, but he gets sucked back into his sleep like it never happened.

She continues her cautious movements, fingertips pressing more firmly, drawing lazy strokes through the fabric. His body is responding instinctively, his cock hardening beneath her touch with each passing second. The faintest hitch in his breath makes something curl low in her stomach, and her pulse quickens as she slips her hand beneath the waistband, feeling the smooth, hot skin against her palm.

Lando stirs, a muted noise escaping through his lips, but his body is still heavy next to her.

She bites her lip to stop a whimper coming out, watching him closely as she runs her thumb along the tip, feeling the slick warmth there. A shiver rolls through him, Lando’s hips shifting again, just a little bit, as if seeking more of her touch.

Without even realizing, her mouth goes dry, her own breath unsteady now. Her cheeks burn as she looks at him, laid out beneath her. He’s thick and heavy in her hand, the heat of him searing against her palm. She strokes him slowly, teasingly, scanning the way his body reacts even without full consciousness.

The memory of his taste lingers on her tongue before she’s even taken him in — warm, heady, Lando. The anticipation is making her head spin as she pumps him once, twice, three times, feeling the way he throbs while wrapped around her hand.

With one goal in mind, she leans in, letting her lips brush against his hip, just barely, teasing herself as much as him. And then, with intent, she replaces her hand with her mouth — inviting and wet and ready to take him in without hesitation. Her lips are parting around his length, and the first thing that strikes her is the way he pulses against her tongue, the skin velvet-smooth over the rigid firmness beneath. The faint taste of salt lingers, a mix of him and the remnants of her teasing, making her stomach tighten with want.

She moves meticulously at first, savoring the weight of him, and the stretch of her lips as she takes him deeper. Then, without meaning to, a soft moan escapes her, vibrating around him; the sound surprises her, but not as much as the way Lando reacts at the sensation, a deep, unconscious whine slipping from his parted lips. It makes her smirk against his skin, but she doesn’t rush the process. This is about proving a point, about making him regret the words he so carelessly tossed at her the night before.

Her tongue moves with purpose now, swirling over the sensitive skin as she works him up with rhythmic strokes of her hand. She can’t take him all the way in her mouth, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try to ruin him in every other way.

When he throbs against her tongue again, that’s her sign to start sucking, her lips sealing around his cock as her tongue swirls over the sensitive ridge beneath his tip. The slick sounds that follow, a mix of her spit and his pre-cum, are animated by her breath that’s both shallow and eager.

She pulls him out with a wet pop, licking around the head, teasing the slit before dragging her tongue from base to tip, savoring every inch of him. Then she takes him in again, deeper this time, her pace steady, determined to draw out every last reaction from him.

And luckily, a soft sound escapes Lando’s lips — a barely-there whimper, the kind that makes her thighs press together instinctively. He stirs, his hand moving as if to find her, but when his fingers meet the empty pillow on her side instead of her warm body, he shifts, confused. His lashes flutter, brows furrowing just as he blinks himself into consciousness.

Then it hits him.

The wet heat of her mouth.

The torturous rhythm of her tongue.

The way her fingers work in tandem, stroking him with just enough pressure to have his breath catching in his throat.

She should stop now that she managed to wake him up. Nothing would be more satisfying then hearing him begging for release, first thing in the morning. But then, Lando inhales sharply, and exhales deeply with a throaty sound, as his head falls back against his pillow. Seeing what she does to him is better then hear him beg at the moment, so she continues with her movements, as dedicated as ever.

���Fuck,” Lando’s voice is hoarse, sleep-rough and so wrecked already.

She peeks up at him, making sure he’s watching when she takes him deeper, then she makes sure to keep eye contact as she presses her tongue insistently against the sensitive slit at his tip.

Lando’s reaction is instant: a sharp moan, hips twitching involuntarily while his hand finds her hair. His fingers tighten, not pushing, just holding, desperately needing to anchor himself to reality since she’s pulling him under so effortlessly.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes, eyes dark and hooded as he looks down at her.

She smirks with his cock in her mouth, the curve of her lips sinful as she bats her lashes, feigning innocence. Lando lets out a strangled laugh, but it quickly dissolves into another moan when she presses her tongue more firmly against his swollen tip, sucking just a little harder.

He is panting now, his grip in her hair tightening just as his hips lift slightly, torn between wanting to let her have her way and the desperate urge to fuck her mouth.

“You’re—fuck, you’re divine,” he praises, “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

She hums as his thighs twitch beneath her, his chest rising and falling in shaky breaths. She can feel how close he is, his muscles tensing, his grip on her hair turning almost desperate. But just when he’s teetering on the edge, she pulls away with yet another obscene little pop.

Lando whines, his head snapping to glare at her, but she only grins, sliding up to lie beside him. Her hand never stops, though, her fingers still wrapped around his cock, stroking at an infuriatingly agonizing pace.

“Still think you’d sleep through it?” she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Lando groans, hips shifting restlessly beneath her touch. “You’re evil.”

She chuckles, pressing a kiss to his jaw as her hand picks up speed. “And?”

“I love it.”

A couple more strokes, a slight twist of her wrist, and Lando comes with a shuddering moan, his release spilling hot all over his lower stomach. His entire body tenses beneath her before melting back into the mattress, so sweetly spent. He’s beautiful like this — flushed and panting, his curls falling against his forehead.

Lando lets out another shaky breath, chest still heaving, before cracking an exhausted, blissed-out smile. “I never questioned your ability to blow me, you know. I talk trash when I’m tied, but this is the first time I’m glad I did.”

She smiles, leaning in to kiss him, the gesture so natural. By the time she pulls away, he looks utterly wrecked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says against his lips, smug and entirely pleased with herself.

Lando huffs out a breathless laugh, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She tries to move, but before she can so much as shift, Lando’s arms tighten around her. With effortless strength, he pulls her back into his embrace, rolling her until she’s straddling his waist.

“Not so fast,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep, lips brushing against her jaw.

The sudden change in positions makes her gasp, her thighs pressing instinctively around him. His hands settle at her waist, warm and firm, holding her like she belongs nowhere else but on top of him. She can feel him beneath her, so warm and solid, the remnants of his pleasure sticky against the soft fabric of her panties.

The realization makes heat raising up her neck and cheeks.

Lando notices, and his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet hers, dark amusement glinting in his tired yet satisfied eyes. “Yeah?” he hums, tilting his head back against the pillow. He guides her hips just slightly, his grip lazy but intentional, watching the way she shivers at the sensation. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer, but the way she bites her lower lip gives it away.

One of his hands slides beneath her shirt, fingers tracing the soft skin of her thigh before hooking around the edge of her panties. He tugs them aside so easily, and the moment the cool air meets her sensitive skin, she lets out a sharp breath.

“Well,” Lando’s voice is barely louder than a sleepy mumble now, raspy and dripping with satisfaction. “Let’s see what can I do for you, baby.”

His fingers tease over her clit, featherlight at first, enough to make her body jolt at the sensitivity. Then, with slow precision, he brings his hand to his stomach and gathers the remnants of his release on his fingertips, using it to spread it over her as he traces slow, torturous circles against her entrance. The sensation makes her body melt, a soft whimper slipping past her lips as her hips rock instinctively into his touch.

Lando groans at the reaction, his own breath stuttering slightly. “So eager, aren’t you?” he asks, letting his fingers slip further, dipping between her folds, feeling just how ready she already is to take whatever he has to offer.

The girl gasps, nails digging into his shoulders as her body clenches around nothing when he pulls his finger out, craving much more. Lando grins lazily beneath her, rubbing agonizing circles over her most sensitive spot before pressing two fingers inside this time, the stretch both delicious and teasing.

She shudders, her thighs twitching as she tries to close them, but he doesn’t let her. Lando’s free hand grips her hip, keeping her open just enough for him to keep teasing.

“Bet I can make you come just from this, hm? What do you say?”

He’s not even trying, and she knows he can do it. He’s done it before, and they both remember exactly how wrecked she was when he did. So, she doesn’t hate the thought and, as she tilts her head slightly, her lips are curling into a smug little smirk.

“Bet?” she asks, knowing she’ll win, no matter the outcome.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[rejiun]

Love and cramps

pairing. Ni-ki x f!readerㅤ

summary. Reader gets there period and niki cares for them

wc. 1k+

genre. fluff , period cramps, kind boyfriend

warnings. Mentions of dying and pain. Very lovey dovey, Kisses, teeth rotting writing lol (Let me know if i missed anything)

The moment you woke up, you knew something was wrong. A dull ache settled in your lower stomach, slowly growing into an unbearable wave of pain. You groaned, curling up into a ball, hoping that somehow, if you stayed still enough, it would magically disappear.

It didn’t.

With a sigh, you peeled your eyes open and reached for your phone on the nightstand. The brightness nearly blinded you, but through squinted eyes, you checked the date.

Oh. That explained everything.

You let out another groan, this time dramatically, before burying your face into the pillow.

That’s when Ni-ki stirred beside you.

Still half-asleep, he reached out instinctively, his hand finding your waist as he pulled you closer. “Mmm… why are you making weird noises?” he mumbled groggily, his voice laced with sleep.

You peeked up at him, your face still half-buried in the pillow. “I’m dying.”

Ni-ki cracked one eye open, his brows furrowing slightly. “Huh?”

You huffed. “Period cramps.”

At that, he blinked fully awake. He propped himself up on one elbow, his messy bed hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you. “That bad?”

You nodded miserably, curling up tighter. “It feels like my uterus is trying to self-destruct.”

Ni-ki let out a small chuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Wait here. I got you.”

You watched as he slipped out of bed, still in his sweats and oversized hoodie, his movements slightly sluggish from just waking up. He stretched briefly before disappearing out the door.

Despite your discomfort, you felt a tiny warmth bloom in your chest. He always did this—taking care of you without hesitation, even when he was still half-asleep.

A few minutes later, he returned, carrying a heating pad, a cup of tea, and a small plate of snacks.

"Here," he said, placing the heating pad gently on your stomach. "This should help."

You sighed in relief as the warmth started to soothe the pain. “You’re an angel.”

Ni-ki grinned. “I know.”

Rolling your eyes at his cockiness, you took the cup of tea from him and took a small sip. The warmth helped, but the cramps were still nagging. You shifted uncomfortably, letting out a small whimper.

Immediately, Ni-ki set the snack plate down and climbed back into bed beside you. “C’mere,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms.

You melted against him, resting your head on his chest as his arms wrapped securely around you. His warmth, combined with the steady rise and fall of his breathing, was the most comforting thing in the world.

"Better?" he asked softly, rubbing small circles on your back.

"A little," you admitted, closing your eyes. "But if you could magically make the cramps go away, that’d be great.”

Ni-ki let out a thoughtful hum. “I could try performing some sort of exorcism, but I don’t think your uterus would appreciate that.”

Despite the pain, you let out a small giggle. “Probably not.”

"Then I guess you're stuck with me and my superior cuddling skills," he said smugly.

You snorted. "Superior? Debatable."

"Excuse me?" Ni-ki pulled back slightly, looking at you in mock offense. "Did you just insult my cuddling abilities?"

You smirked, even as another cramp hit you. "I mean… I’ve had better."

His jaw dropped. "You’re lucky you're already suffering, or I’d start a tickle attack right now."

You gasped, clutching his hoodie dramatically. "You wouldn’t dare."

Ni-ki smirked, wiggling his fingers as if he were about to go in for the kill. You immediately clung to him, shaking your head frantically.

"No! Mercy! I take it back, you’re the best cuddler ever!"

He chuckled in satisfaction before pulling you even closer. "That’s more like it."

The two of you stayed like that for a while—wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the heating pad doing its job, and Ni-ki absentmindedly tracing patterns on your back.

Then, after a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, “So… do I get the same treatment when I’m sick?”

You lifted your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to baby you?”

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be as cute about it as you are.”

"You think I’m cute?" he teased, his smirk widening.

You groaned, shoving your face back into his chest. "Shut up."

Ni-ki laughed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. "Love you too, baby."

And somehow, despite the cramps, the warmth of his arms made everything a little more bearable.

[kunareads]

bed chem interlude

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

in which you write the song

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series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 0.8k

some surprise context before the last chapter (friday). i love them so bad!!!!!

content: FLUFF and some implied smut (nothing explicit)

18+ please i block children <3

+++

your body still hums from last night. a dull ache between your thighs, the lingering warmth of satoru's hands. reminders of the way he touched you like you were his, how he made you tremble.

you shift under the weight of it, stretched across the bed in your soft pajamas. your notebook rests in your lap, a pen twisting between your fingers, and it feels like the page is filling itself.

i was in a sheer dress the day that we met

your lips part, smiling faintly as you remember the way he looked at you that night, the undeniable electricity of it. the way you both wanted to take it further but let the anticipation marinate for an entire week instead.

it's almost embarrassing how easily the words come. but then you think about him—the smirk, the way he said your name—and you know you're not changing a thing.

+++

it's not even 1am before satoru's making up an excuse to leave the premiere. something about an early call time, a meeting, jet lag—whatever gets him out the door fastest.

the second he's free, he's already texting you.

satoru [12:48AM]: meet me in the hallway?

and before you know it, he's pulling you into the dimly lit corridor, grinning like he's just pulled off a heist.

"god, i missed you," he murmurs against your jaw, leading you toward the elevator. his hand settles low on your back, fingers pressing into silk, teasing.

your eyes flick up to him, unimpressed. "it's been, what, four days?"

"seventy-eight hours." his lips curve. "not that i'm counting."

the second the hotel room door clicks shut, he's on you. fabric slides away like an afterthought, and then you're breathless against the door.

he takes his time with you, slow, indulgent, like he wants to memorize every reaction, every sound. you don't say it, but he feels it—the way your body melts into his, the way you let him hold you like this once you're done.

how you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense

you hum softly against his shoulder, half-awake, half-lost in thought.

+++

your phone buzzes next to your pillow, and you know it's satoru before you even check. you fumble to answer, voice thick with sleep when you mumble, "hello?"

there's a pause, and then—"shit, did i wake you?"

you smile. he sounds awake. you exhale a sigh, curling deeper into your blankets. "what time is it?"

"a little late for me," he says, "a lot late for you,"

you roll onto your back, blinking at the ceiling. "then why are you calling?"

"’cause i'm not in your timezone," he says, a little too smooth, a little too fond, "but i wanna be."

you roll your eyes with a force only he can bring out of you. "you wanna be in my timezone?" you repeat. "that's the line you're going with?"

"mm, i think you liked it."

said you're not in my timezone, but you wanna be

there's a silence as you make that mental note—not awkward, just easy. the kind of quiet that settles warm in your chest, like an arm slung around your waist.

"go back to sleep," he murmurs eventually.

you hum, eyelids heavy. "stay on the phone."

and he does, until you fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

+++

it's late. the kind of late where the whole world is asleep except for the two of you. the tv hums low in the background, playing some show neither of you is really watching.

satoru shifts, pressing in closer, breath warm against your shoulder. his fingers trace small, tentative circles against your hip. you can feel the cheesy pickup line about to leave his lips. but he surprises you.

"can i be your boyfriend?"

he's watching you, half-lidded, loose, but not joking.

you study him, waiting to see if he'll crack a smile, try to make you laugh. but he doesn't. he just looks at you softly, a little hopeful.

how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means, and i'm obsessed

it's an easy answer. obvious, even. "yeah. okay."

he exhales, like he was holding his breath, and tugs you closer, nuzzling into you. you let him, let yourself sink into his warmth.

"yeah?" his voice is softer now, like he can't quite believe it.

"yeah," you murmur, playing absentmindedly with his hair.

he stays quiet for a moment, then breathes out something small, something you almost don't catch—"thank you," like you handed him something fragile.

it tugs at your chest, makes you tilt your chin and press a kiss to the top of his head. "you're cute."

he only hums, his hold on you tightening, his breath evening out, like he could fall asleep just like this.

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter VII

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.669 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

I'm sorry for introducing a side character so extensively, but I promise y'all, I swear to God it will all make sense in the future. I've been having a blast reading your comments and seeing what you think of the story. Thank you so so so much, from the bottom of my heart. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading!

Morning has a way of making everything seem lighter in retrospect.

Sleep was always a safe place for you. When you were in pain, when you were ruined, when you wished for death, you fell asleep. And when you woke up, with the sun hitting your face as reality sunk in, you weren’t so hopeless anymore.

But you startle awake that morning, nearly falling off the bed with JJ still half on top of you, having barely even slept, and you feel no metaphorical light strike you.

No clarity.

No introspection.

You feel worse.

All night long, you fell asleep and startled awake — You dreamt of stumbling up to the front door of the Cameron house to realize you were wearing nothing but the blue skirt, and woke up. You dreamt of running down the beach with JJ chasing you, persecuting you, and woke up. You dreamt of standing frozen in the kitchen at the Wreck while Kie tore your clothes off of you as everyone laughed and woke up.

It was 3:54 when you took a sleeping pill.

It was 4:09 when you woke up again.

Since then you'd drifted back and forth between a dreamless sleep riddled by the feeling of suddenly falling, and waking up, groggy and unable to move on the stifling heat of your bedroom.

You don’t feel much better when you finally open your eyes at 6:40. The sun seems to be in the room with you, scalding you, as it bleeds in through the window screen that shakes even as no wind comes through it. JJ’s skin is glued to yours, his hair sticking to your chest, his hands still gripping you as you try to move away.

He mumbles slightly, eyes peeking open in the overwhelming brightness. – Mornin’. – His fingers drift up your spine, around your waist, up to your chest. A kiss landing on the crook of your neck as he sits up next to you. – I don’t think I’ve ever slept this good in my life.

You try not to scoff at the irony as you rub the sleep you didn’t even have off your eyes. – Yeah. – He smiles against your skin, soft, warm, overbearing. – God, why is it so hot in here?

– Dunno, something to do with your presence, maybe.

A laugh falls from your lips, sharper than it should be. – Cute, JJ. Thanks a lot.

You’d be glad for the breath he lets out against your shoulder, but it doesn’t do much to help the heat, especially when he’s holding you so close, so tight, it's like being glued to a sentient heater.

The imprint of his hands seeps through the sweat on your skin. — Rough, calloused. Like sandpaper on silk, your skin seems to fray at his touch.

The wooden floorboards are hot beneath your feet as you try to stand, but JJ pulls you back, tugging at your arm until you're an inch short of falling over. – Where you going, baby? Let's sleep a little more.

– I wanna get ready.

– For what? It’s not like you’re working today. – The words linger around you, not cruel, but still sharp. – C’mon, baby. Relax.

– I’m starving. D’you want anything?

– You?

– Bye, JJ.

His laughter bounces off the walls as you walk down the hall, picking up the string of clothes he’s left behind.

You look over your shoulder on instinct. John’s door is still wide open, empty of him. If Sarah’s sleeping patterns are to be taken into account, and he truly did sleep there, neither of them are gonna wake up before midday.

So why do you feel like you’re being watched?

Worse than watched, judged.

The walls hover close, ceiling lower than you remember. The air is heavy around you, an overwhelming silence swallowing you whole even as you hear the creaks and cracks of the Chateau make themselves heard. You hesitate before stepping into the living room, eyes immediately falling over the armchair on the corner, where your dad used to sit.

Deep burgundy suede, copper buttons on the arms, probably the most expensive thing in this house. His bag still sits next to it, a worn honey-leather crossbody purse he’s had for longer than you've been alive. A gift from John's mother. You have to lift it everytime you clean the place, and it gets heavier every time, as if the piece of both of them that still lingers inside is growing.

Your breathing hitches.

You don’t know when your heartbeat picked up, why it did. But you avert your eyes like the sight had burned you, and rush to the kitchen quicker than dignity should allow.

You reach for the fridge door, thankful for the cold air that blows against you as you throw on JJ’s shirt to cover yourself. But that quick gladness doesn’t last: The fridge is almost empty, a half-done jar of peanut butter and some wonder bread you definitely didn’t buy the only things that don’t look spoiled, or just straight up empty. Your groceries never lasted long, no matter how much you try to stretch them.

The job interview still doesn’t seem appealing as Rafe’s weird words echo in your mind, but you don’t have the luxury to throw yourself on a job search you know won’t be fruitful, not now when half your bills are still to be paid.

You reach in, taking the bread, and open the little drawer, hoping for some cheese, tomatoes, anything. But your hope for semi-fresh produce vanishes as you feel JJ against you, his arms suddenly snaking around your waist. The bread falls from your hands. – Ooh, jumpy! – He giggles, leaning over you, his chin resting at the crook of your neck.

– Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?!

– You can’t bend over with an ass like yours and expect me not to do that. – His hands trail up your sides, under the shirt, his shirt, humming as he presses his hips against yours. – You look so hot like that, wearing my shirt.

A disgruntled chuckle falls from your lips as you look behind you, over your shoulder and his. – And you’d look really hot if you were wearing one.

– No need to lie to yourself, I know you like to see me naked. – He pulls you back, closing the fridge door with a kick as he leans down to kiss you. His hands find yours, pulling them to his chest. He trails them down his abs, until the strings of his shorts brush against your fingers. – D’you wanna take it off of me, baby?

– JJ, what are you doing?

– You. – He laughs, hands drifting down to your thighs. He takes a handful of flesh wherever he can squeeze, hissing under his breath as he presses on closer. – C’mon, beautiful. Aren’t you gonna give me a good morning?

– I’d have a better morning if you guys ever left anything for me to eat in this house.

– What? You hungry? I’ve got something you can put in your mouth.

– I think I’ll pass. – You turn around, but JJ grabs your waist before you can even step to the door. He’s close, much closer than what he should be, breath clinging heavy to your skin, blue eyes raking over your chest as he pushes you against the counter. – JJ, stop it.

– I don’t want to. – He growls, stepping closer, pulling at you, until his hips are against yours, thrusting so lightly you think he must not realize it. – You’re walking around like that, with nothing but my shirt— He groans, movements growing faster, more intentional. – driving me insane. And I can’t even do anything about it?

You push at his chest, trying to wriggle out from under him, but JJ’s grip is unwavering. – I’m not playing around, JJ, I’m not—

– Just a little, baby, please. Just— He’s pulling down his shorts, breath stuttering, head falling back as soon as skin touches skin. – Fuck. Fuck, that feels so good.

– JJ—

– Please, baby. Please. I promise I’ll make it quick. – You feel him pushing into you, hands holding your hips in a vice grip as he sinks in, head falling to the crook of your neck. – You feel so fucking good around me. Fuck—

You’re frozen in place, watching him use you, have at you like a toy, as if your words didn’t mean anything. He’s fucking himself into you, babbling, stuttering, rolling his eyes, almost as if he’s possessed. – How’d you do this to me? – The words fall from his lips as if he’s speaking to himself, his eyes closed, mouth pressed against your skin. – I can’t—fuck, I can’t stop.

His pace has grown faster, sloppier, dick sliding in and out so fast you can barely brace against him, nails digging into his shoulders, still unmoving.

You hear something in the distance, the familiar rumble of an engine, a sound you’d heard a thousand times before.

John.

You wake up from your daze in a heartbeat, already pushing JJ away. – The car. John’s coming JJ, get off of me!

He doesn’t listen, your protests falling on deaf ears as he moans into your shoulder, still moving like a bitch in heat. – Jus— Just a little more, please. Please it feels so– Fuck! Fuck, right there! – His hips move wildly, and even as you shove him with all your strength, it's to no avail. You can hear the car getting closer, wheels moving on the soft lakebank mud, but JJ doesn’t stop. He gets louder. More restless, begging and pleading, his pace stuttering as his stomach contracts. – Don’t stop, fuck don’t stop I’m almost there! I— Fuck, fuck! Right there, baby! FUCK–

You shut him up just as he cums, shuddering and shaking over you as you push your hands onto his mouth, dick still twitching as you finally manage to get him away. You hear his back knocking against the opposite counter just as the car door slams closed, and you’re running to the bathroom, JJ pulling up his shorts behind you, still frozen in place.

You’ve never locked a door so fast, shame burning beneath your skin as you hear your brother’s steps on the porch, the squeak of the front door banging closed against the frame as he shuts it behind him.

JJ greets him with a stutter. – Hi—hey bro, what are you doing here this early? I thought you were gonna stay at Sarah’s.

– Rafe Cameron.

– What?

– Sarah and I were sleeping and then this psycho walks into the room. – You don’t know if JJ’s too stunned to respond, or if he’s not actually listening, but even you do a double take. – We weren’t even doing anything. And he just bursts through the door like the kool-aid man and starts laughing.

– Laughing?

– Yeah! Laughing! Fucking cackling. He laughed so hard, her dad came to check what was going on. – You hear impact. John probably threw something, you can hear the frustration in his sigh. – I had to sneak out the window so he wouldn’t catch me there. And you know what’s worse?

– There's worse?

– Yeah! Rafe told me to check on my sister. – Your breath is caught. – He actually fucking talked about her! Said her name! Like they’re friends or whatever. Can you fucking believe that?!

You dig your nails into your hands.

Please don’t say anything stupid. Please don’t say anything stupid. – Rafe’s a fucking junkie, bro. He was probably out of his mind. – Thank you. – But he acts really weird about her, if you ask me.

Your nails dig deeper.

Nobody asked you anything, JJ. – What do you mean?

You're not listening anymore.

There's no way in hell you're about to let JJ fucking Maybank buy you three more months of confinement. Your brother and you have it bad enough as it is without him throwing wood into that fire.

You throw the shirt off of you, burying it deep into the laundry basket, and wrap yourself with your towel.

– I don’t know man, but don’t you think it's kinda weird that he would—

– John? You home? – The conversation dies right then as you step in, and your brother jumps to his feet, looking over to the hall at you, like you're a specter. – That’s early.

He barely looks at you at first, still caught up in his own frustration. You tighten the towel around your body, tucking in the corner like it's the most natural thing in the world. Your hands shake slightly as they drop back to your side. – I thought you slept at Sarah's.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. – Yeah. I did. – Something burns in his eyes. – And then your buddy Rafe laughed me off the building.

– Rafe? – You hum. – What'd you mean ‘laughed you off the building'?

John scoffs. – He was high as shit. Talking in circles. Then— He pauses, his jaw flexing. – Then he brought you up.

Your stomach clenches, but you don’t let it show. You barely blink. – Me?

John's looking at you now. Really looking. – Yeah. Said your name. Told me to check on you.

The air shifts. JJ’s foot scuffs against the floor, he's looking at you too, something else in his gaze you can't quite catch from the corner of your eyes.

You feign confusion. – That's weird.

John doesn’t respond right away. He’s watching you too closely, like he’s trying to catch something in the way your face moves, in the way your fingers curl around the edge of your towel.

– When the fuck did Rafe start talking about you?

He says it slow, almost careful. But you know that tone. It’s the one he gets when he already suspects the answer.

You force a shrug, swallowing against the tightness in your throat. – I don’t know, John. Doesn’t he hate you? Was probably trynna get into your head or something.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just keeps looking at you like he’s waiting for something to crack.

He thinks you're made of glass, he always did. But he doesn't treat you like you’re fragile, he treats you like you’re all shards and sharp edges. Like he’ll cut himself on you if he gets too close.

– Why are you getting ready so early? – That tone again. Casual enough, just shy of friendly. But his eyes are like knives, and you just happen to be the one he's holding at knifepoint. – You were fired.

You can feel your expression darken. JJ's already looking at you as your eyes drift between him and your brother. – Kie told you, huh?

– Yeah, she did. – He sways on his feet as he stands. Drunk off his own self-righteousness. – And she's right to. We all know damn right you wouldn't tell me. Because it's not like I'm your brother! It's not like I worry about you!

– It happened YESTERDAY. I just got fired, and you just walked in! Was I supposed to bring it up now? Over what? The breakfast we don't have?! The pile of bills that we still have to pay?!

He's looking at you, his heart probably racing just as much as yours. – Do you think this shit is easy?! – You continue. – It's hard enough to lose the job I've had for three fucking years, John! But telling you?! Having to disappoint you like this when we don't even know if we're gonna eat tomorrow?

He’s silent now.

You are too. —All the things you have to say flutter away as your mind sends you spinning— He whispers your name under his breath, reaching. Grasping. But you don’t want him to. You recoil before he can get to you, like a scared cat curling up in the corner.

And his hand drops.

As if the rejection had sent a shock through him, one as painful as what you’re feeling now. – Don't do this to me right now. – He’s pleading, but it doesn't sound like it. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, all you see is ache. It pains you to see him like this. But it doesn’t last long. Just as soon as that worry washed over him, anger swallowed it whole. – You always do this shit. You always do that. You fuck up and you shut down and you blame it on me!

– I'm not!

– Yes you are! You are! And you always do! It's not my fault you lost your job!

– I’m not saying it is, John! I’m just trying to—

– To what?! Huh? What is it?!

You let go of your breath, of your hope for this conversation, of any possibility of mending whatever it is that's wrong with you and John right now. The heels of your palms burn against the hollow of your eyes as you press your hands into them. – Forget it. – Your stomach turns, your throat is burning, you want it to end. – Forget it, John.

Your feet move before your mind does, you barely see the house moving around you as you scurry away. The door of your room falls shut behind you, but your thoughts remain in that kitchen, like your conscience couldn't bear to leave this the way it was.

Deal with it. You tell yourself. If they don't want to listen you shouldn’t even talk. But there is so much to say.

It wasn't you who got fired, you think as you take your clothes from the dresser and rush into the bathroom, it was Kie who did it to you.

The cold water jars you, like a glacier on your burning skin, but you continue the argument in your head as you scrub your skin raw trying to get JJ's hands off of you, thinking of everything you should have said.

The towel is still damp from your last shower as you pat yourself dry, but you can't get over the way your brother still looked at you like a criminal, as if the one time you got yourself into trouble was enough to outweigh every other stupid mistake he made.

The mirror seems like an alternative reality. You look into it and you see someone who’s alive. Bags under the eyes, reddened lips, messy hair. — If you look deep enough you can see breath in those lungs, shoulders that move up and down steadily, a chest that heaves. — But you feel like death, warmed over. An animal carcass that someone threw in the microwave, just to bring the color back to the corpse.

You reach under the sink for your makeup bag, and rifle through the little items you’ve managed to swipe from drugstores along the years.

Your mother would’ve been very disappointed in you. She was all about beauty, it's the only thing you remember about the woman: her, bent over the sink, touching up a cherry-red lipstick with the precision of a pre-raphaelite painter.

She never liked to kiss you. Took too much work to get her lips like that. Too bad for you, she wouldn’t be caught dead without it.

You wonder if she was wearing it right now. If she woke up, if she still refuses to kiss, even though that’s the basis on which her entire life was built upon.

Maybe she’s dead.

Maybe that's why you never heard from her.

If they did bury her, you at least hope they got her makeup right.

You fish a tube from the deepest corner of your bag, your only one. It's not as pretty as hers was, but you put it on just like she did, thinking of her, laying on a coroner’s table, being painted up like a doll.

Concealer. Foundation. You look like a doll. Painted plastic, a fake glimmer in your eye.

The blush comes later, closer to your undereyes, just where she put it. Then the lashes. She'd bat them to anyone who'd have her. A born flirt, your father would say.

The only thing he would say about her.

A stone weighs down on your chest.

Resentment.

Solid, calcified, heavy. If you move too fast you might feel it rattling inside your ribcage. But you look prettier than you did in a while.

You almost feel like her.

You take one last look in the mirror before stepping out, and she's looking back at you, raised brow, unimpressed, the way she always looked at you—it’s the version of you that can handle this, the one who won’t crumble at the first sign of trouble. It’s armor. A little cracked, maybe, but it’ll hold.

She would hold. You never could.

The house is quiet now, holding its breath with you when you step outside. John’s still in the kitchen, seething, you don’t hear him, but you feel him there, the weight of his anger pressing against the walls.

JJ is still there. He’s outside, sitting on the steps. He’s not looking at you, not at first. Just staring out at the river, his jaw clenched tight.

He only turns when you step out.

His eyes drop, flicking over you like he’s trying to figure out what’s different. Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t.

– That was cruel. – He says, and his voice is rougher than before, like he’s been thinking too hard, breathing too shallow. – What you said to him. You shouldn't— He feels guilty.

You nod, barely.

He looks away again, back to the water. – Figures.

It’s not fair. You know that. You also know that staying here, standing in front of him, means letting him say whatever it is he’s trying not to say. And you don’t have the stomach for it.

So you step off the porch. The weight in your chest shifts, sharp and insistent.

JJ doesn’t stop you.

But he does call after you, just before you reach the end.

– Don’t do that. – he says, lower, slower. Suddenly, it's like he’s talking to a child. – We were getting along so well. Don't ignore me now.

You pause.

He lets out a breath, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. – I'm late, – His eyes widen. – For an interview, JJ. I have to be there at 10. Someone’s gotta pay the bills.

– Don't.

– Why? Is he gonna do it? – JJ sucks his teeth, looking down, it's all the answer you need. – Don't you wanna eat something other than bread and beer? Actual food? I know I do.

– Baby,

– Don't call me that. – You nod to the door behind you. – We were already poor enough when I was working. I don’t wanna think of how it could be otherwise.

JJ is quiet. You can almost hear him thinking. – Do you want me to drive you?

There’s nothing you want less. – I’m fine. I’ll see you later.

– Wait, wait. Wait a minute. – He looks over his shoulder, and pulls at your hand, standing closer. – Give me a kiss.

– JJ, stop it.

– He won't see. – His hand lands on the small of your back, heat bleeding through your shirt as he pulls you in, tighter and tighter until you can’t avoid his lips.

His mouth is warm, familiar. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess the way he fits against you, like he already knows exactly how you’ll respond.

But you don’t.

You stay still, lips barely parting under his. The pressure of his hand at your back keeps you anchored, locked in place, and when he deepens the kiss—his lips moving slow, deliberate—you don’t fight it. You just let it happen, waiting for it to be over.

JJ doesn’t notice.

You feel it when he exhales through his nose, when his fingers press just a little harder into your spine, like he’s chasing something he isn’t getting. But he doesn’t pull back, not until he’s ready, until he's had his fill, and when he finally does, he sighs against your lips, almost satisfied, but not quite.

He lingers, his nose still brushing yours, but then he shifts back slightly, studying your face.

– That’s all I get? – His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s trying to decide whether to be hurt. – Don’t leave me wanting like that, baby.

– I gotta go.

He says nothing. Just glances over his shoulder and swallows. His hand stays on you for another second, two. And he moves as if he’ll pull away, but he doesn’t.

– JJ.

Your voice is steady, but the weight in your chest hasn’t budged. If anything, it’s worse now, heavier.

JJ watches you, expression unreadable, before tipping his head back with a soft chuckle.

– Damn. – He drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. – You make a guy work for it, huh?

You don’t respond. Take a step back, hands still on his shoulders.

– Come back soon, okay? – He whispers, you nod, and he goes on. – I'll see you later, right?

It isn’t a question. It’s a statement, like he already knows the answer.

And maybe he does.

You don’t give him a reply. You just keep walking, the weight in your chest sinking deeper, spreading through your ribs.

You never thought you’d be afraid of the Cameron house.

Rafe wasn’t really wrong when he joked about your house being haunted, but there’s something about his that is actually frightening. Maybe it’s the sheer size of it, the too-perfect symmetry of the windows staring down at you from over the white balconies like a set of watchful eyes. Or maybe it’s the fact that you know what happens inside. Either way, you stand there for a moment, frozen on the pavement, your phone open to Rafe’s messages, and curse the day your broke-ass parents decided to have a kid.

You spent the last of your money printing out a copy of your resume—hastily written on Google Docs during the bus ride. You’d embellished as much as your conscience allowed, but you had no illusions; landing a job at the Camerons’ was out of the question unless you managed to impress the head chef: Kareem Nawaz.

You were surprised to realize you sort of knew him. Kareem had run a bar at Figure Eight just around the time you were hired at the Wreck. Everybody on the island seemed to turn to it in awe, the single taste of something even tangentially cosmopolitan to ever grace the Outer Banks—fancy drinks, fancy music, fancy food. But the bar didn’t last long. As you’d heard from Anthony, Kareem and the other owner had come to blows over finances. Eventually, the lawsuit got so expensive they had to shut the place down.

You think of driving past the still-empty structure as you step around the perfect lawn, heading toward the staff entrance in the back. You knock once, then a second time, a little softer.

Your clothes are less than perfect. You think of what Rafe said, a shiver running up your spine. Your mother would’ve told you to wear that skirt. Maybe you should have.

Maybe that was the only thing that could work you this miracle.

You barely have time to steady yourself before the door swings open.

– Oh, uhm, hey. I’m here for the private chef position. – The man standing in the doorway eyes you down—not obviously, but just long enough that you notice. A brief flicker of appraisal, the kind that would go unnoticed if you weren’t already on edge. He leans against the frame, the sleeves of his coat pushed up just enough to show off the dark ink decorating his forearms. – I talked to someone on the phone.

– Yeah, I know. That was me. I'm Kareem. Kareem Nawaz, the head chef.

He extends a hand. Big, manicured, intricately tattooed, and you meet him halfway, a firm handshake in which his hand lingers for a minute.

– I'm…

– I remember your name. – He cuts in, but his tone is warm, friendly. You don’t even mind. He steps aside, holding the door open wider, inviting you in. – I looked you up. Routledge, right? You worked at the Wreck?

– Yes, sir. I was a roast chef for three years.

You extend the resume to him, watching his gaze shift between the paper and you. He doesn’t rush.

You don’t know what to make of him. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard and a man bun. The millennial chef stereotype. And yet, something about him doesn’t quite fit the label. He’s too put-together, too composed.

Kareem is not the struggling type. You can tell he has money, significant money, in the way he talks and moves so comfortably, as if he's so deeply aware that the world is his that he doesn't even think about it.

You wait for resentment to bloom in your chest, a distaste, a mistrust, but nothing comes. You look at him, and it’s like you've known each other for years. He smiles—broad, easy, sweet—and yet you still can’t tell what’s going on behind his eyes.

– So I hear. – You freeze. – I gave your last boss a call. Regretted it, too. He did everything he could to convince me not to hire you.

Your hands twitch at your sides, but you force yourself to stay still, to keep your gaze fixed.

– Mr. Carrera never had a high opinion of me.

– And yet he kept you on for three years. Why do you think that is?

– Cheap labor? A fondness for torturing people? – Kareem laughs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the marble counter, watching you with something like amusement. – He’s a famous sadist.

– Oh, I know that. – His smile falters, just for a second, twisting at the edges. It’s quick—blink and you’d miss it—but it’s enough. The first hint of something other than friendliness. – Mr. Cameron is fond of him, don’t ask me why. The bastard makes a point to come into my kitchen and tell me how to do my job every time he’s here.

You put on your sympathetic voice. – How rude.

He chuckles, flashing straight white teeth.

– You don’t need to kiss ass, Ms. Routledge. If Michael Carrera doesn’t like you, then I’m sure we can be great friends.

You tilt your head, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling like a little girl.

– I do enjoy friendship…

– …But what you need is a job?

– I'm not rejecting the offer, but… yeah.

He smiles and glances down at your resume again.

– Here’s the deal. Three years at a professional kitchen, in the single kinda decent restaurant in this place—that’s a lot. You've worked at diners, mom&pop businesses, bakeries… You got a lot of color in your resume. That's great. But you’re what, nineteen?

– Something like that.

– You never even went to culinary school.

– No, sir.

– That’s kind of a problem.

You take a slow breath. His expression is neutral, but his eyes linger—just a beat longer than they should.

– Well, I know. I know without an education, I’m not anyone's ideal choice. But maybe, in the absence of a diploma to tell you that I’m able, you might accept another sort of proof?

He raises his brows, his mouth parting just slightly.

– Another sort..?

– Yeah.

Something in the air shifts.

His posture changes— he straightens, brushing a hand over the tattoos on his forearm, like he’s suddenly aware of them. His eyes hold yours for a moment, long enough that you feel it in your stomach, that same feeling you get when you’ve stepped a little too close to the edge of a ledge.

His voice is low when he speaks, taking a step closer. – Alright, I'll bite. – He says, voice even, unreadable. – What kind of proof?

– Well, you tell me. I can do it all.

– All?

The way he says it feels careful. You can tell he’s watching you, weighing the moment, as if waiting for you to clarify. But you don’t—not right away. That’s the gift your mother left you: suggestion. You let the silence stretch for just long enough to see the way his fingers tighten slightly over his forearm, a flicker of something in his eyes before he blinks it away.

You shrug. – Yeah. – You hum. – It really depends on what you need help with. I've been a roast chef, I can help with lunch. Or maybe the desert is the problem, that's where the bakery gig comes in handy. Pick a dish. If I wanna work here with you, I gotta learn how to follow your lead, right?

He hums, smile growing. You feel yourself mirror it without even realizing. – You wanna cook for me?

– Well, yeah. – He exhales a soft chuckle, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he tilts his head. – I'm a proactive kind of girl. That's my greatest trait.

– I bet it is. – Kareem lets out a breath through his nose, his lips pressing together in something like amusement, though there’s a slowness to it. – You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?

– I try.

You’re aware of his gaze still on you as he finally shifts, setting your resume down on the counter and turning toward the stainless steel fridge.

– Alright, chef. Lunch for today is beef tenderloin with a red wine reduction sauce. Truffle mash potatoes, cornbread with honey butter, some roasted vegetables with herbs and panna cotta for dessert.

– Did you get started with cornbread?

He looks at his watch with a smile. – Not yet.

– Well, in that case. I can do the cornbread and, at the same time, something simple but tasty for us to lunch on. And later, if you’re convinced, I will do the rest.

A hearty laugh escapes him, you feel it buzz against your skin. – You weren’t playing about the proactive thing, were you?

– No sir. I'm a woman of my word.

– Hardly a woman. – He teases.

– I will ignore that comment. And what are you anyways? 27? Not exactly my idea of an old man.

– I am thirty one years old!

– In what? Dog years?

– Really funny. – His tone drips with sarcasm, but he can’t shake off the smile as you gather the ingredients for the cornbread.

– That's another thing you might look forward to. If you decide to hire me, of course.

– Hate to say it, but your fate's really hanging on how good that us-lunch is gonna be. – He pauses, smiling again. – Actually, I don’t hate to say it at all. What are you making?

– That's a surprise. Shouldn't you be getting started on that panna cotta?

– Bossy. – He bumps your shoulder, still grinning. It's starting to unnerve you.

You nod, stepping forward to scan the kitchen, already mapping out what you need.

But before you can open the fridge, Kareem moves in front. He reaches for the sink, fills a glass with water, and sets it down beside you.

– You’re shaking, y'know?

You freeze for half a second.

– I’m not.

– Sure you aren’t.

His tone is casual, almost teasing, but there’s something in the way he leans just slightly into your space as he says it. Close enough that, when you glance up, he’s already looking at you.

It’s brief. A flicker of a moment. But there’s something in the way his gaze lingers, the way his fingers drum once against the counter before he pulls away, giving you back your space.

– Clock’s ticking, chef.

You take a deep breath, fingers brushing against the countertop as you gather the ingredients for the cornbread. There’s a slight tremor in your hands, but you ignore it. You can’t afford to let nerves get the best of you—not now. The kitchen is big, the appliances gleaming, and Kareem’s presence fills the space in a way you’re not entirely sure how to handle.

But you can cook. You know that much.

It’s easy enough to find your way around the ingredients. Head chefs are all about the methodical nature of storing, and you can see his pattern as you go from the fridge, to the pantry, and back to the counter

You begin with the dry ingredients—cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder. There’s something almost meditative about it, the repetition of pouring and measuring, the steady rhythm that lulls you into focus. You’re already thinking ahead, the steps laid out in your mind as you mix. You add the salt, the baking powder, the sugar. The cornbread is a good start. It’s simple, but comforting—a dish that feels like a hug with every bite.

That tells you enough about him. Obviously, Kareem’s the one picking out the meals. A man like Ward Cameron is exactly the person to just hand off that responsibility entirely while he focuses on the “important things”. Beef tenderloin is posh enough to fit the Cameron’s style, especially with a wine reduction. But cornbread? That’s a chef’s nostalgia speaking.

And you’ll be damned if you can’t milk that for all it's got.

There’s a hum in the air, the soft buzz of your thoughts, as you pour the buttermilk into the bowl, watching the swirl of white in the yellow mix. Your mind drifts back to Kareem, trying to figure out his preferences.

He’s not a city boy, despite the desperate attempt to seem like one. Whenever he laughs or gets too distracted you can hear the subtle drawl on a country accent in his voice. His build hardly hints at someone unfamiliar with manual labour. You’re not a betting woman, but if you were, you’d bet he was raised on a farm. — So fancy food isn’t the right choice. He’s earnest, wholesome, and though he hides it well enough under the truffle oil and the herbs and the wine thing that are clearly not what he would prefer, his menu tells you he enjoys simplicity, but that he often has to dress it up.

What he wants is a homey fare.

Something that’s comforting, without being heavy, Something hearty. Tasty. The sort of thing that makes you drool as it cooks and fills every expectation when it's in your mouth: Chicken, mash, a salad that isn’t quite a salad just to put some color on the plate. Something a mother would make. A good mother— That’s easy enough.

You add the egg, the melted butter, and fold everything together with quick, practiced movements. No hesitation. It's easier now that you know what you’re gonna do next. You pour the batter into a cast-iron skillet, sizzling as it hits the hot surface enough to make you pause, your heart catching in your chest. The cornbread will bake up crisp on the outside and soft on the inside, just like it should. That’s the easy part. The hard part’s still to come.

As the cornbread begins to bake, you move onto your chicken. You need to get the oil hot—just the right temperature so that the chicken fries up golden brown, the skin crispy and seasoned perfectly. You take a moment to mix in the seasonings: paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne. Press it into the flour mixture, making sure it coats evenly. You feel the nervousness creep in again as you set the pieces into the hot oil. It crackles, the sound sharp and satisfying.

You glance over your shoulder, but Kareem is still a little too far away to read his expression.

Focus.

The chicken fries, sizzling as it turns a golden brown. You turn the pieces carefully, making sure they cook evenly, the skin getting crisp and crackly. There’s a slight smell of garlic and paprika in the air—rich and savory—and for a moment, the tension that’s been building in your chest starts to lift, if only a little. You move in a kind of rhythm now, your hands steady, your mind occupied with each step.

You turn to the potatoes. You throw them into a pot, fill it with water, and set it to boil. You don’t need to watch it. It’ll take care of itself for now, just like the cornbread. You wash spinach, the leaves fresh and bright, and start on the sauté. A quick toss in hot olive oil with garlic—simple, but good. The spinach wilts quickly, its deep green turning darker as it cooks. You squeeze a little lemon juice over it, just enough to add a pop of brightness.

You’re acutely aware of Kareem’s presence behind you. You can feel his eyes on you, even when you don’t turn to look. His movements are almost too quiet, too calculated as he focuses on the panna cotta, but then, you hear a soft chuckle. You glance over and catch him looking at you—just a split second before he turns back to his work. He’s not hiding it. He’s watching you.

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard. Every so often, you catch him peeking over the top of the counter, eyes twinkling with something that could be amusement—or maybe just curiosity. He watches you handle the chicken, his gaze never straying too far, like he’s waiting for you to slip up. His voice breaks the silence between you when he speaks, low and teasing.

– You sure you know what you’re doing?

You keep your hands steady as you flip a piece of chicken, not looking up. – What, you think I can’t handle some fried chicken?

– No, no. I’m just curious, – he says, his voice carrying a hint of a grin. You feel it in the air as he stays close enough to catch the scent of garlic and paprika. – The real question is: are you really going to make this whole meal from scratch?

You roll your eyes, though the corners of your mouth twitch. – Didn’t I tell you I was a proactive type of person?

His laugh is soft, almost like he’s enjoying the game of it all. – I’m starting to think I might have underestimated you, chef.

You focus on the chicken, trying to ignore the way his presence feels just a little too heavy in the kitchen. When you set the pieces on the paper towels, you catch his eyes again, this time his grin widening as he leans against the counter. He seems unbothered by the quiet, the way you’re keeping your space while working. The kitchen is like a stage, and right now, you’re not sure whether you’re the performer or the director.

As the chicken finishes up, you check the potatoes. They’re soft and ready to mash, so you turn off the heat and start mashing them, adding butter, cream, and salt to get them to the right consistency. The spinach is done now, wilted and coated with a light sheen of oil and lemon juice. You set the chicken, the spinach, and the potatoes together, and glance over at Kareem again. He’s watching you now, his eyes following every move you make. There’s something amused in the way his lips curl as he turns back to the panna cotta.

– Well, – you say, trying to sound casual, like your whole life doesn’t depend on this. – lunch is almost ready.

He takes a step forward, his gaze moving over your work. – Smells damn good, – he says with a nod, his approval heavy in the air. You feel the cold whiff of realization Pandora must have felt after the box was finally open —Surrounded by the darkness you harvested, the only thing left for you is hope, the cruelest of all feelings.

You finally pull the cornbread from the oven, the golden crust hot and ready. You cut a piece, drizzling honey butter over the top. You glance at Kareem, who’s standing just a little too close, his grin still there, like he’s enjoying the whole scene.

– You didn’t think I’d pull it off, did you? – you ask, keeping your voice light, but you know he’s been watching, testing you.

– I might’ve had my doubts, – he admits, glancing at the food, – but I’m starting to think you might just be what this kitchen needs.

You set the plate in front of him, your heart racing a little. You’ve survived. For now.

You watch as Kareem picks up his fork, inspecting the plate like he’s about to face some kind of culinary battle. The corners of his mouth twitch in a playful smirk as he takes a bite of the chicken, his eyes immediately lighting up. He chews slowly, savoring each mouthful, before his gaze shifts to the potatoes. He dips his fork in, taking a scoop with as much care as a connoisseur tasting fine wine.

– Damn, – he says, half to himself, almost in disbelief. – You really did know what you were doing, huh?

You feel a smile tug at your lips, but you don’t let it show too much. – Told you.

His eyes lock with yours as he takes another bite, clearly relishing the moment. – I thought I was just gonna get something...good, but this? – He shakes his head, clearly impressed. – This is something else.

Your chest coils at the praise, heavy, even through the gladness. Yturn to grab the panna cotta, trying to keep your composure. – It’s just food.

– Oh, don’t play humble now, – he teases, voice laced with admiration. – This is art.

You’re not sure if it’s the joke or the way his tone softens just a little, but there’s a small flush creeping up your neck. You focus on serving the dessert, trying to keep your cool. When you turn back, he’s already looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what makes you tick.

– You know, if this was a competition, – he says with a grin, – I’d say you’ve got a pretty solid shot at winning.

You set the panna cotta down, feeling your hands fail you. – You're saying this isn’t a competition?

He takes another bite, face lighting up once again. – Well, I don’t really feel like doing any more interviews.

You wait for the punchline, but instead he just takes another bite, his eyes never leaving yours, a hint of something more behind the humor. The kitchen feels different now, charged, like the food isn’t the only thing that’s being tested.

You chuckle, trying to play it cool, even as you feel yourself trembling. – I do have a shot, then?

Kareem shrugs, but there’s a gleam in his eye as he leans back against the counter, holding the plate as if it was made of solid gold. – I think, you have a job.

You blink, heart skipping a beat. His words hang in the air, playful yet serious, like they’ve both been wrapped in a layer of something unspoken. For a second, all you can do is stand there, staring at him, trying to process whether he’s joking or actually offering something more.

And then the rush of emotions hits you like a wave.

Before you can stop yourself, you practically leap towards him, your arms wrapping around him in a spontaneous hug. It’s a mix of excitement, relief, and something else that you can’t quite put a name to.

– Oh my god, thank you! Thank you so much! – you practically squeal, hugging him tighter than you probably should.

Kareem lets out a startled laugh, but there’s no resistance in his body as he gently pats your back. – You’re welcome, you’re welcome.

You pull back, your face flushing in embarrassment. – Uh, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know what came over me. That was… uh, I mean… you know, too much.

Kareem grins, a mischievous spark in his eyes. – Don’t apologize. You’ve got energy. I like it.

You wince, still a little flustered but feeling slightly better at his easy-going response. – Well, I’m glad you’re not my old boss. He would’ve fired me on the spot.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your awkwardness. – You can hug me whenever you want if you keep cooking like this. That’s a trade-off I’m willing to make.

You stare at him, your heart still racing a little from the interaction, but there's something else beneath it, something lighter.

– Alright, well, next time I’ll just hand you a plate of burnt toast and see if you still want to hug me then.

Kareem laughs loudly, shaking his head. – I’m not that picky.

Your chest tightens, but it’s not out of nervousness. It’s excitement, maybe even anticipation. You force yourself to focus, taking a deep breath. – Well, I do have a few more tricks up my sleeve. So, if you’re lucky…

– Oh, I’m lucky alright, – he says, his tone low and serious. His gaze flicks to your lips for just a moment, then back up to your eyes, his smile still lingering. – I think I’ve hit the jackpot.

Your breath catches, and for a second its like the whole kitchen quiets, the buzz of the conversation fading as your mind tries to catch up with what just happened. But just as quickly, Kareem’s grin widens, and he’s back to normal, as if nothing happened.

You're not sure it did, now.

– Seriously, though. You’re definitely the kind of person I want in this kitchen. You’ve got a future in this.

The weight of his words is still heavy, but you let out a laugh, easing the tension a little. – Guess we’ll see, won’t we?

– Oh, we will. – Kareem raises his eyebrows, clearly amused. – Well sit down and eat already, did you put poison on the food or something?

– Who knows, maybe mr. Carrera sent me down here to kill you.

Kareem raises an eyebrow. – Sounds like something he would do.

You laugh, shaking your head. – No poison, I promise. But hey, if it were, I’d say I’d be going down with you. Can’t let you go alone.

He chuckles, taking another bite of his food. – And who's gonna finish the pana cotta when I'm dead?

– Well, when you're out of the way I'm probably be busy basking in all that glory. – You take a sip of the water he poured you, but when you look up, Kareem takes a deep breath, his face suddenly worried. – Oh God. Did I overdo it with the joke, that was a little...

– No, no. That’s not what that is. It's just this thing you should know. – Your face falls. – It’s not that horrible…

– So it is.

– I can’t hire you without telling you. I mean, you're already hired. But I should tell you. – He plays around with the food for a moment. – The job is good. The pay is good, better than what you’re gonna get slaving away at some place like the Wreck.

– So, what's the catch?

He looks over his shoulder, and after assessing if you truly were alone or not, he finally says – The employers. – It seems to weigh on him. The way he says it is almost grievous. – There's not a month that goes by without someone being fired for something stupid.

– Jesus Christ.

– Yeah. I mean, Ward is a hard-ass. He complains a lot, he talks big game, but he's fair most of the time. Sarah and Louisa, his daughters, they're fine too, sometimes they whine, but they're mostly okay. It's his wife and his son you gotta worry about.

You mull on that for a moment, staring at your plate. – Why is that?

Kareem huffs. – Rafe and Rose, they'll find issues with the slightest things if they're pissed, sometimes, even when they're not. I've heard them screaming at staff for no reason, making people cry. Just— He looks deeper at you, almost pensive. – just don't get in their way.

– Is that what happened to the last person in the job? They got "in the way"?

The question slips out before you can stop it, and as soon as the words leave your mouth, you notice a subtle shift in Kareem’s demeanor. His wavers just slightly, pausing mid-bite. For a split second, his eyes flicker over to the door again.

Before you can backpedal, Kareem clears his throat and leans back slightly in his chair, a more measured tone entering his voice. – The last guy, I don’t even know. Randomly fired, like out of nowhere. He’d been working here for a while, but one day, bam. Gone.

He glances over his shoulder, looking like he's weighing whether to continue. There's a brief hesitation, and you notice his jaw tighten just slightly. – Don’t really know the full story, but I heard it was… – He stops himself just as he’s about to finish the sentence.

You feel the sudden weight of the moment, but just as you’re about to press him further, the door swings open, and you both look up in surprise.

Rafe walks in, his presence filling the room immediately. There’s something unmistakable about the way he carries himself—like he’s constantly aware of the effect he has on people. His eyes scan the room quickly, lingering just a little too long on Kareem, before drifting over to you.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic

[skzdust]

I Want You To Want For Me

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

To the person who inspired this: basically it wasn't even my decision to write this, since you brought it up in the first place. <3

Had a ton of fun writing this one though, hope you all enjoy!

Title from "PUPPET" by Tyler, The Creator.

Summary: You and Minho have been waiting for a day you can be his all day, and it's finally here.

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Includes: free use, oral sex m receiving, face fucking, fingering, light somno, praise, degradation, scratching/marks

Word count: 1.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz,

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

You woke up to a hand between your thighs.

You moaned softly, arching back into your boyfriend and resting your head on his shoulder. “Morning, Minho.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” He murmured, and you took a breath as he focused his attentions on your clit. “You remember what today is?”

“Yeah.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Good girl.” His finger moved faster. “Want you to come for the first time today like this.”

“That’s not going to take long.” You were still half-asleep, but Minho felt so good, and as his other hand moved down to circle your entrance, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Minho, Minho, Min—oh!” You came, shuddering through your orgasm. Minho let up once your legs started twitching.

“Okay, I’ll let you get ready for the day.” He placed a kiss to your temple, and you could feel the smile on his lips. “Wear something cute for me.”

“Yeah, I will.” You got out of bed, grateful your legs weren’t shaking just yet.

You went through the steps of your morning routine and chose an outfit you knew Minho would like, with a low-cut top and a short skirt. You stepped out of the bathroom, and Minho hummed appreciatively from where he still lay in bed. “You look amazing, baby.”

You did a little twirl for him, your skirt floating up to reveal just a tease of the lace underneath. “Thank you. Thought you might like it.”

“I do.”

“So, what did you want to do today?”

“Oh, just relax. Didn’t have anything in mind.”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Nothing in mind, huh?”

“Nothing in particular.” Minho’s grin was sly. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was thinking playing some video games would be nice, and I want to order food, not feeling like cooking, but that’s about it.” You shrugged.

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “I can work with that.”

You laughed, walking out of the room. “I’m going to have some cereal, and then I’ll probably boot up the PC.”

—

You’d been sitting at your computer for a while now. You noticed when Minho walked in, but you just hummed in his direction, too absorbed in your game to acknowledge him beyond that. At least, until he leaned over your keyboard and pressed the escape key.

“Minho!” You protested, looking at him. “I was—”

“You were what?” Minho smiled innocently, his eyes wide. “As I understand it, you’re mine for today, which means I call the shots, got it? And I want you to suck me off.”

“Can I at least finish—”

“Are you going to listen, or am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?” Minho’s expression shifted.

A wave of heat ran through you. “No, I can listen.”

“Good. Stand up.”

You got up, and he took your place in your chair. You knew what was expected of you at this point as you fell to your knees in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl.” He mumbled, pushing his sweatpants down.

You were on him before he had to tell you anything, wrapping your mouth around the tip and pushing yourself down onto him.

“Fuck.” He moaned, putting a hand on the back of your head to steady himself. “Fuck, babe, you feel so fucking good. Keep going.”

You kept going, pulling back occasionally to press kisses and lick along his length. “Tastes so good, sir.”

“You like my cock that much, prove it.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Prove it? Am I not doing that enough right now?”

“I want you to choke on it, I want you to gag. Get all of me in your mouth, can you do that?”

“Yes.” You took a deep breath, then you began to take him into your mouth, gagging a bit when he hit the back of your throat. You steeled yourself to get the final bit of Minho’s cock into your mouth, and you knew from his deep, loud groan that you’d succeeded.

“Fuck. You feel so fucking good.” He said, shallowly beginning to thrust in and out. You coughed around him, feeling so full but not full enough, not where you needed it. You were so aroused, you could feel yourself growing wet. You knew Minho probably wouldn’t pay any more attention to your pleasure until he came, not because he didn’t care, but because he wanted to teach you a lesson.

You tried your best to keep yourself steady, pulling back to gasp in a breath every so often before going right back to his cock.

“Good.” He all but growled. “Good sluts know to just shut up and take it.”

You moaned loudly at that. You liked being Minho’s good slut, you wanted nothing more.

You closed your eyes as he began to use you in earnest, fucking your face at a shameless pace. You choked around him, doing your best to keep your bearings in the dizziness the whole thing was bringing upon you.

Eventually, though, his hand tightened in your hair, and he let out a long moan as he came in your mouth. “Don’t— don’t swallow.” He panted.

You didn’t, sitting there with his cum on your tongue, looking up at him patiently.

“Such a good girl.” He let go of your head. “You can swallow now.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath once you could open your mouth again. “Jesus, Minho, that was… that was good.”

He laughed. “Good, I’m glad you had fun. You can get back to your game now.”

“But—”

“You should get back to your game.” He said firmly, getting his pants zipped and standing.

“Yes, sir.” You sighed.

“Don’t worry, you know I’m not done with you for today.”

You smiled as you got back in your chair.

—

“You want to get food?” Minho walked into the room, holding his phone. “I was thinking that one Chinese place you like.”

You looked up. “That sounds great!”

He sat down beside you. He kept the delivery app up in one hand, but the other came to rest on your thigh. You smiled at it, and then smiled wider as it began to make its way further and further up.

He selected a few things and handed you the phone. “Here, pick whatever you want.”

You scrolled through the menu, and hissed in a breath when he began to rub two fingers right where your thigh met your torso. Your eyes almost fluttered at the sensation. “Minho…”

“What?” He said innocently. “Finish your order.”

You selected a couple dishes and submitted the order. Minho had started to creep closer and closer to your entrance, and it was as you were handing his phone back to him that he pushed one fingertip inside. You squeaked, nearly dropping it.

“Careful, babe.” He laughed softly, taking it and setting it to the side. “We’re going to see how many times you can come before the food gets here.”

You whined. “Yes, Minho.”

He pushed two fingers inside you, and your head dropped back with a loud moan.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” He whispered. “How do I get you to make that sound again… I mean, I have some ideas. Wanna test them?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, your head still leaning back on the couch cushions.

He curled his fingers up, and you whimpered.

“Close, but not quite.” Minho murmured. “We should keep going.” He pulled his fingers all the way out, and then pushed them back in, three this time. He began fucking you, setting a punishing pace that had you clenching down around his fingers.

“Minho…”

“That feel good?” He said. “Doesn’t it feel nice to be so full?”

You nodded, humming your agreement, although it came out much closer to a whimper than a hum.

“That’s a good little slut.”

You whined. It was always hot when Minho got sick of the praise and decided to start being mean.

“You like that?”

“Be meaner to me, please.”

He snickered. “I can do that. You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Needy little thing. You just want to come, isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes, wanna come.”

“Luckily for you, I’d like to see that.” His voice was like a fine whiskey, smooth, but made you burn to the very core. “You’re just a toy, just for me, so you’re going to do exactly what I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You shifted as he found a new angle, pushing even deeper inside of you. “Yes, God, Minho, harder.”

“Such a whore.” He pulled his fingers out so he could drag you down on the couch, prompting a whine from you as his fingers coated with your own wetness met your thigh. He started fucking you again with them, the new angle allowing him a ferocity that had been contained before. Strands of his hair fell down around his face as he fucked you, his eyes raking up and down your body. Their weight made it feel like there were almost scratch marks in their wake, and you wished he’d do that to you next: scrape and mark up your body until every inch of you belonged to him.

“There something you want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Just was thinking it’d be nice to have some marks.”

“Oh, is this not enough for you?” He punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that had you seeing stars. “You want me to mark you up, too?”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“Greedy slut.” He sighed. “You always want more, don’t you?” With the hand not currently wrecking your hole, he scraped lightly down your side.

“Harder, please?”

“Jesus.” You could hear the eye roll, but he obliged, digging scratches into you.

Your mouth fell open from the sensations. “Fuck, Minho!”

“Too hard?” He smirked.

“No, it was just— God, I’m going to come.”

“Tell me when you’re close.”

“I’m close, don’t stop, Minho, please don’t— fuck!”

Minho’s nails dug into your side as you came, the pain making it even more delicious as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

You opened your eyes, and Minho was smiling at you. “Good?”

“Yeah, fuck, that was so good.” You threw an arm over your eyes. “Fuck.”

“Well, our food isn’t here yet, so we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” Minho’s eyes were big with false sympathy.

“Oh, no, I think we are.” You nodded. “How horrible.”

“Horrible indeed.” He agreed before starting to moving his fingers again.

[biibini]

hello!! i reaally really love your writing i reread ur mizu fics all the time i swear i have them memorized HAHA i love the way u characterize her she is so dear to me

ive never requested anything before but i was wondering if you could write something about the pet names that mizu and reader would use ?!?! i think they are so sweet ...

my little pet ₊˚ෆ

pet names modern!mizu would give you

tags: sweet mizu, nsfw later on, modern!mizu headcannons, mdni, 18+, pet names, praising, degrading tones, smut, reader is gorjus!!

a/n: and what if i called her my shayla? who gonna stop me??? ok but fr ty everyone for sending reqs and ur love ♡ i appreciate each response, rt, and comment sm mwah mwah mwah

honey

“Hi honey, how was your day?”

the typical form of endearment Mizu uses to call your name

if she’s feeling playful, she’ll say “honey, i’m homeeee” in a sing-songy voice

when she calls you this and sees your face, she smiles everytime

(she can’t help it i fear)

my pretty girl

“God, my pretty girl looks so cute.”

emphasis on the “my”

nothing in her eyes is as gorgeous as you

(she is very gorjus to me 🤓☝️)

typically used to compliment you, especially during dates

when you finish doing your makeup, she can’t stop staring at you, mumbling how well done your work is

the words can be paired with your hand intertwined with hers, the pet name gently whispered into your ear

the name can also be heard when you’re feeling hesitant about yourself, as she tries to relieve you of your doubts

sweetie

“Sweetie, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

typically used when talking to you in disagreements

also used when in concern for some cases

or sarcastically, if she were to push your buttons

not commonly thrown out there (buttttt i’m a big fan of it bc she can get sassy w it)

dear

“Good night dear…”

a favorite of hers

simple but sweet

usually said before placing a good night kiss atop of your lips, her hands wrapped around your body, loving every bit of you until you fall asleep

if not at night, the term is used to call you over or to get your attention

either way, she uses it very lovingly

girl

“Girl if you don’t—”

unfortunately, akemi & ringo’s lingo rubs off on you two a bit… and they can get kinda… rambunctious and witty when it comes to comebacks

usually, this pet name (if u can even call it that) is used in a teasing setting

or if you accidentally give her the wrong directions

or push her buttons in a grumpy mood

or if you bother her to the point of her snapping, ending with her tickling you until you admit defeat

i fear the silent but sassy side comes out at times when she uses this name

dearest

“Dearest, can you please fetch me a cup of freshly brewed tea?”

both of you use this jokingly

and of course, in a british accent

usually used when asking a favor or in a silly mood

the one answering must respond back in their best british accent

and mizu is lowk good with it

too good at it…

baby

“You like it like that, baby?”

when she feels more romantic and intimate, ohhhh this one WILL be used

especially in that low, deep voice when she’s really into it

a banger when y’all ban-

(oops my hand slipped)

or when she got that morning, groggy voice when she’s half away and cuddly

either way, great usage

hon

“Fuck, hon—”

a variation of “honey” that is typically used during the uh… later parts of the night

(nudge nudge wink wink)

most commonly used when she’s overwhelmed with the pleasure, slipping and forgetting her words

or when your grasp on her shoulder frantically tightens, pulling her body closer to yours while you reach your limit

or when she looks down at the sopping wet mess you two made on your lower half

sometimes, the term becomes an incentive, paired along with a rough smack or hickey on your neck

princess

“Aw princess, you want it deeper, don’t you.”

oh this one… this one is a mean one…

at times, she can be quite dominant and persistent

it may not seem like she’s degrading you, but the fakeness of her sweet tone proves otherwise

paired with her long, deep strokes, you would think you were going to ascend from the pleasure

but all you can do is nod, having little control of your moans as she rams deep inside your wet cavern

she cracks a smile at your failed attempts at answering back to her, hearing the shakiness of your voice mix with the wet noises erupting from her work

[hoiststowline]

could you do a mindless touches for hound and ratchet and another bot of your choice (if you're interested)? I love what you wrote for that prompt!

[a/n: yeah!! these are sm fun to write! here’s part one !]

mindless touches & other sentiments [hound, ratchet, & spinister]

hound is a firm believer in showing affection in physical touch, whether in the form of high fives, pats on the back, or holding you close. of course, certain things are saved for behind closed doors, more intimate and mushy than necessary for the public eye. he’s not exactly the guy for pda, but in certain instances, he can’t help himself, especially when you look at him like that. he’s sneaky, but also guilty of pinching the fabric of your shirt to get your attention, patiently waiting for you to look his way so he can steal a kiss. or two. 

anyone who has taken the moment to speak to hound knows he’s kindhearted and compassionate, unyielding in most respects. this translates through most of his conversations and mannerisms, knowing that there’s probably very few things you could do that would ever make him change the way he feels about you. he adores his s/o, and getting to snuggle with you after painfully long hours is probably his number one cure for a bad day. as it is yours, hound can tell straight away when the hours haven’t been kind to you. “come here,” he’ll say, understanding without much context that you just want to be held.

his versions of lots of things fill your heart with so much love. quite obviously, there is much that he wants to do for you, but can’t, so he finds loopholes just so he can see you smile. he loves to see you smile, that familiar twinge of red atop your cheeks in the form of a blush. a lot of the time, one thing you’ve found that he does without thinking is slowly nudging you into the crook of his arm. especially if he’s at his desk or you’re within reach, almost effortlessly he’ll bring an arm around your form and gently guide you there, as he continues to work on whatever occupies his attention, though not for much longer. 

personally I feel like ratchet is the king of mindless touches. he will gently nudge or poke you while typing, grazing your thigh or knee with his pinky just because. half the time he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, and somehow his hand always ends up in your lap. he will scoff and completely disagree if you try to point it out, trying to tug himself free at your observation but you beg for him to keep his hand there. while it’s totally his call whether or not he does, he’ll roll his eyes and let you win, trying to ignore your soft touches across the back of his servo. 

he also appreciates acts of encouragement. if you initially offer him a high five, he wouldn't have been looking for it and is confused by your offer. now, when there are small or large successes, courtesy of the doctbot, he presents his hand to you in search of the sentiment. he isn't even looking your way half the time, its a knee-jerk reaction and won't pull back until you tap your palm against his. it's a more public display of his attentiveness and endearment towards you, even if he knows it's a reflex to appear standoffish. there's grander actions and meanings behind the way he acts, you'll decipher them and won't pressure him, something that he admires about his s/o.

lets you crash whenever or wherever you end up. no arguments or questions asked, ratchet understands the importance of rest and would never expect you to stay awake well into the morning while he works. most often, you curl up against his side, entranced by the hum of his spark and cherishing his company. this is more-so in the privacy of closed doors, certainly, though if anyone were to see such a display, it wouldn't bother him. "they fell asleep," he'd minutely shrug, then return to his work as if nothing ever happened.

spinister loves to run his digit up and down the length of your spine, a comforting action that not only calms you, but him as well. it's a gesture that occurs the most frequently, whether that be if you were settled on his lap or sprawled out across his desk or berth. it quite often puts you right to sleep, nodding off and eerily impressed at how soft and featherlight his touch is against your shoulders and lower back. he continues the same motion well after you've fallen asleep, afraid you'll wake up from much needed rest if he ceases. he doesn't mind, it started off as a automatic undertaking whenever you sought his company.

'holds' your hand, though it's more of a grey area in the definition. you lose your non-dominant hand for large sweeps of time, as he holds it captive in his large servo. his plating is often cool to the touch, so it's not an overbearing gesture, but if he isn't doing that, he's allowed you to haul yourself free only to inspect each of your fingers. running his thumb over your knuckles and retracting his face-shield to pepper kisses across your palm. it's habitually unspoken and wordless action with spinister, even if he's sometimes nervous of hurting you or doing something that would take that smile away.

hugs are his favorite. you hardly have to ask, appear anywhere within a mile radius of him with outstretched arms and it's like he senses it, booking it to wherever you are. loves nuzzling his cheek against yours, holding you close to his face with two hands. pda is no obstacle, he doesn't care at all, but if you're a more privatized person regarding it, no questions asked. spinister respects all your wishes and only wants you to be as happy as he is, if not more, mesmerized by your laughter and smiley appearance. he is the happiest mech alive when you are in his arms, and hopes the emotion translates well enough through his actions when he can't quite find the right words to articulate his adoration for his s/o.

[semisasseater]

I COULD EAT THAT GIRL FOR LUNCH

Yeah, she dances on my tongue .

SUMMARY ‘ eating you out like there’s no tomorrow ♡

𓊆 世美 𓊇 x f!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 1,161 smut overstimulation squirting mild dominance slight degradation praise kink posses — 类型 smut pwp (porn without plot)

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🖤⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : i’m gonna try to pressure myself to write more so maybe 3 fics will come out today..? also i wrote this half asleep so it’s ass💔

se-mi had been watching you all night.

Her gaze never wavered, never strayed from the way you moved—how your body swayed without a care, the soft glow of dim lights casting golden shadows across your skin. You were addictive. A temptation she couldn’t resist, a craving that settled deep in her bones and refused to be ignored.

She knew what she wanted.

And se-mi always got what she wanted.

When you finally noticed her staring, she didn’t look away. If anything, her smirk deepened as she raised a brow, wordlessly daring you to come to her. And you did, of course you did. You always did.

Now, back at her apartment, the air was thick with heat, with anticipation, with something that felt like hunger but ran so much deeper. She had barely let you step inside before she was on you, lips crashing against yours, hands gripping your hips like she’d die if you slipped through her fingers.

“Missed you” she murmured against your mouth, her voice rough, needy. “Need to taste you”

Her hands were already working at your clothes, tugging your top over your head, unbuttoning your baggy jeans with practiced ease. She was impatient, barely keeping it together as she guided you toward her bed, but there was a tenderness in the way she cupped your face, in the way her thumbs brushed along your cheeks before she pushed you down onto the mattress.

“You think about me when you touch yourself?” she asked, voice dripping with smug amusement as she kneeled between your legs.

Your breath hitched. “Se-mi—”

Her lips curled. “That’s not a no.”

She wasted no time. Hooking her fingers into your waistband, she dragged your panties down your thighs, tossing them aside before spreading you open with both hands. The sight alone made her mouth water, her tongue piercing catching the light as she licked her lips.

“Fuck” she exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. “So pretty.”

And then she was on you.

Her mouth latched onto your clit like she’d been starved for days, tongue pressing flat before flicking, teasing, devouring. The cold metal of her piercing sent jolts of pleasure up your spine, the sensation unlike anything else, making your thighs twitch as you tried—and failed—to keep still.

Your hands flew to her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as your back arched off the bed. “Oh my—s-semi fuck—”

She hummed, the vibration sending another shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, pinning you in place as she worked you over, her tongue dipping lower before dragging back up, slow and torturous.

You were shaking. Your body was betraying you, giving in too easily, too quickly, but se-mi wasn’t having it.

“Not yet” she murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, her lips slick and glistening. “You’re not coming yet”

She dove back in before you could even process her words. Her tongue was relentless, licking into you like she could consume you whole, like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. She moaned into your pussy, the sound vibrating against you, making you sob as your thighs trembled around her head.

It was too much. The heat, the wetness, the way she sucked your clit into her mouth just to let it go with an obscene pop before starting all over again. Your body was strung so tight it hurt, pleasure coiling in your stomach like a rubber band about to snap.

“P-please I—”

“Shh,” she cooed, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh, her fingers tightening their grip on your trembling legs. “I got you baby just take it.”

And you did. You let her ruin you, let her pull you apart with her mouth alone, let her fuck you with her tongue until your vision blurred and your breath came in broken gasps.

The second her piercing dragged over your clit again, your body locked up. Your hands clutched the sheets, a strangled cry leaving your lips as you shattered, pleasure crashing into you like a tidal wave.

Then it happened.

A gush of liquid erupted from you, soaking se-mi’s face, her chest, the sheets beneath you. You barely had time to process it before she moaned, deep and satisfied, licking up every drop like she was dying of thirst.

“Fuck look at you” se-mi groaned, her voice thick with satisfaction as she dragged her tongue over her lips, tasting every drop you’d given her. Her face was glistening, soaked in you, and yet she still looked ravenous—like she could do this all night and never get tired.

Your body was trembling, thighs twitching as aftershocks rippled through you. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, your mind floating somewhere between bliss and disbelief. You had never, ever come like that before—had never been reduced to this shaking, incoherent mess of a person.

But se-mi wasn’t done.

“Baby

You whimpered, legs weak, too spent to respond.

Se-mi smirked. “Did I fuck you dumb already?” She kissed her way back up your body, slow and deliberate, her tongue trailing over your stomach before she reached your lips. She tasted like you, her mouth warm and intoxicating as she pressed against you, deepening the kiss until you were melting into her.

“You taste so fucking good” she murmured against your lips. “Could eat you for every meal and still never get enough.”

Your breath stuttered, a soft whimper escaping as her fingers traced delicate patterns along your oversensitive skin. She was teasing you now, savoring you, watching every little reaction like she was committing it to memory.

“Se-mi” you finally managed, your voice weak, wrecked.

She grinned. “Yeah baby?”

You swallowed hard, trying to collect yourself, but she didn’t make it easy. Not with the way her fingers dipped lower, just barely brushing against your still-throbbing clit. Your body jerked in response, and she let out a breathy chuckle, clearly enjoying how easy it was to break you.

“Too much?” she asked, tilting her head as if she actually cared about the answer.

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve begged for a break, for a moment to breathe. But instead, your lips parted, and the word that slipped out was the exact opposite of what your exhausted body needed.

“No..”

Se-mi’s eyes darkened, her smirk widening into something wicked.

“That’s my girl”

And just like that, she was back between your legs, pinning you down as she kissed the inside of your thigh, her tongue flicking out to taste the evidence of your last orgasm.

“Hope you don’t have plans tomorrow” she murmured against your skin, her breath hot, her grip firm.

Because se-mi wasn’t stopping until she had wrung every last drop out of you.

@semisasseater

[woozinhos]

can u write nonidol yunho x reader finding out they’re expecting their first child together pls

Notes: made this one small and cute hehe please request more Ateez hehe I’m in my Ateez era fr

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You had been feeling off for a few weeks now, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You had a few symptoms, like nausea and fatigue, but you didn't think much of it. One day, as you were getting ready for work, you realized that you were late for your period. You had been keeping track for years, and this was the first time that you'd missed it. You took a test, and when the positive result appeared, you were stunned. You couldn't believe that you were pregnant.

You stared at the test for a few moments, trying to process the news. You were pregnant with Yunho's child. You knew that he had always wanted kids, and you were excited to tell him. You thought about how you would surprise him. You decided to make him breakfast in bed and slip the test in with the food. You woke up early the next morning and made your way to the kitchen. You knew that Yunho would be up soon, so you hurried to prepare breakfast.

As you cooked, you carefully tucked the test into a napkin. You placed the food on a tray and brought it to the bedroom. You set the tray down on the bedside table and crawled back into bed next to Yunho. He was still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You couldn't contain your excitement. You leaned over and gently shook him awake. "Hey, baby," you whispered. "Wake up. I have a surprise for you." He groaned and opened his eyes, still half-asleep. "What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Early," you replied, trying to keep your voice light and cheerful. "I made you breakfast in bed." He smiled, his eyes still bleary. "You didn't have to do that," he said, sitting up in bed. "But it smells amazing." He leaned over and kissed you on the cheek before noticing the tray on the bedside table.

"What's this?" he asked, reaching for the napkin. You held your breath as he unfolded it, revealing the pregnancy test inside. He stared at the test for a moment, his eyes wide with shock. "Is this...real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a huge smile spreading across your face. "It's real," you said. "We're going to have a baby." You were starting to worry. He wasn't saying anything, and he was just staring at the test. "Baby?" you asked, gently touching his arm. "Are you okay?" You could see the tears welling up in his eyes, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. He was crying because he was happy, not because he was upset.

"We're going to be parents," he said, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it." He reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm so happy," he whispered into your ear. "You've made me the happiest man in the world."

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his body trembling with emotion. You knew that this was a big moment for both of you, and that everything was going to change. He stroked your hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he kissed you deeply. The kiss was filled with passion and excitement, and you could feel his love for you in every movement. When the kiss ended, he pulled back slightly, still holding you close. "We're going to have a family," he said again, as if he was still in disbelief. "A real family."

[benz12313]

Boyfriend!Ridoc - SFW Version

Description: I muse about what Ridoc would be like as a boyfriend. I tried to keep it gender neutral, but please let me know if I accidentally missed any female pronouns. I'm so used to writing fem at this point I sometimes miss it if I'm trying not to write that way.

Warnings: slight mentions of death? (more like fear of death? idk man), vague Onyx Storm spoiler (mentioned a scene, but with no detail at all), use of pet name "baby", swearing

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely fucking adores you. I mean think about it, he’s slept with about half of Basgiath at this point (maybe not literally, but still). The man has to be absolutely down bad for you to give that up. Not to mention he clearly has some issues with attachments, and when he does form them they’re strong. He was mad the longest with Violet in Iron Flame, and I mean, we all know that scene between them in Onyx Storm when he finds out about Xaden. So it’s safe to say that if he’s decided to date you, he absolutely adores you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely needs to be touching you at all times. He’s a touchy guy, so with you, the person he loves most? From having an arm around you in class to holding hands in the halls. When you’re on the flight field? Just touching down? You barely get off your dragon and he’s wrapping you up in a spinning hug, not giving a damn about your dragon’s annoyance of having him too close. Outside of class when the two of you are studying or just hanging out with the rest of the group? You’re in his lap, his head resting on your shoulder, with him giving you a whispered running commentary of little jokes and narration as the group socializes. And when its just the two of you? Cuddles. Constant cuddles. Dude just needs to feel you close, feel your warmth, assuring himself that the two of you are indeed alive and well. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who teases you about schoolwork, but absolutely helps you learn everything you need to. Not malicious about it, or even remotely degrading, just pure teasing. Like “Aw, Y/N, c’mon that problem isn’t that hard. Here you just gotta…” or “Really? I finished that essay yesterday. I bet you’ve just been staring at my handsome face too long, huh? Let me help you…”. Like dude isn’t a huge fan of schoolwork, there’s a lot more important things to be learning and doing, but he’s smart, and even if he doesn’t agree, I guess that history quiz is important to learn. And he’ll be damned if his partner isn’t keeping up. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who shares rooms with you every night. This plays into the touching thing, he literally cannot sleep without you beside him. Not to mention, I feel in my bones that this man would have literal sweat-inducing, crying out into the dark, nightmares if he didn’t have his arms around you. Especially if you guys got together after Violet was attacked in her room. Ain’t no way he’d ever let anything happen to you on his watch. I think he’d last a week, max after the two of you get together before he starts crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night, sheepish grin, and whining about how it’s just warmer with you beside him. The moment he has you in his arms his heart rate slows and every muscle relaxes, and he’s asleep in seconds. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes making sure you’re taking care of yourself as his personal job. He’s a fucking tyrant about it. He hasn’t seen you drink water in the last hour? He’s shoving a water bottle in your hands and giving you a light glare and telling you to "drink". Wanna try only eating fruit or a salad at meals? It’s… “Ugh-ugh Baby, you better put protein on that plate or I’ll do it for you.” as he’s following behind you in the food line. Looking even mildly under the weather? He’s already preparing supplies and urging you to take things easier. Not taking care of your skincare or other personal hygiene? He literally sits you down and does it for you. It’s all because he wants to make sure you’re in the best condition you can be. People die for less in this college, and if he has any power over it, you’re gonna be well and prepared for anything this world has to throw your way. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who you cannot train with, at all. Not because he’d ever hurt you, but because he’s afraid to hurt you. He’d take it so fucking easy on you, that training with him wouldn’t be useful in any capacity. Even weights or running, he’s encouraging you to take it easy, so the dude has to stay on the other side of the room, thoroughly distracted with his own training so the both of you can get something done. He knows what you need, but the man cannot deliver it himself. He has faith in his friends to be able to push you, so he leaves it to them. However, during challenges? Ridoc is front and center, cheering you on without being distracting, and rarely getting scared for you. You kick ass, that’s why he’s made you his. He wraps you in a big hug after, promising massages and snuggles later. His baby just kicked ass after all, they deserve to relax now. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who ALWAYS makes sure you’re watching him when he’s on the mat. You’re his good luck charm after all ;). He’s shooting you looks like ‘Really? They tried that?’ Or ‘YAWN, I could beat this guy in my sleep”,  and you know what each and every one of them means because, well, he talks a lot, so at this point you’ve absolutely memorized what every face means. He also likes to know he has your full attention because you have his attention all the time, so it’s only fair.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes you on secret dates and outings all the time. He loves you, he wants to spoil you, and frankly, he never knows when its all gonna end. From sneaking out to go to the tavern alone to simple study dates in an empty classroom where he’s set up some candles for mood lighting, he is always coming up with new ways to spend quality time with you. It’s one of his favorite hobbies, to see how your face lights up every time. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who your dragon has a unique relationship with. They like him, though it certainly didn’t start that way. The man is loud, irritating, and much too unserious for their liking. But over time, with forced proximity, your dragon has grown a fondness for him. “Like a tumor” they’d say, but then let him cuddle you and lean against their side on the flight field after flying practice when the two of you are bored and don’t want to go back inside yet. They don’t let anyone else within ten feet of them, one extra human is bad enough. I also think that the two of your dragons would have to have a good relationship with each other. Not necessarily as mates, but definitely a strong bond of friendship. He always wants eyes on you and within a close distance, which means if your dragons hated each other, it would just make things difficult for the two of you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who just overall has the best intentions when it comes to you. He trusts you wholly, and expects you to trust him too. It’s impossible not to; he’d absolutely never truly judge you, and has your back in every instance. Trust just comes easily with him. Even if his past conquests come knocking he either ignores them completely (“Do I know you?”) or LOUDLY tells them off if they are feeling bold. No one comes before you in his mind, so there’s no way he’d ever jeopardize what he has with you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who is just a little sweetheart, who wants his partner to be safe and by his side for as long as time will allow. He’ll do anything to continue having silly dates and fall asleep with you every night. Anything.  

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @the-lake-is-calling

[come-as-you-are-111]

“Left On Read”

Warnings: nothin just angst

You don’t know when it started. The silence. The slow fade of what used to be effortless. One minute, Matt was your best friend—the person who knew you better than anyone. Late-night drives, deep talks, and inside jokes that no one else would ever understand. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

At first, you tried not to overthink it. You told yourself he was busy. That life got in the way sometimes, but he’d come back when he could. It wasn’t until the ignored texts started piling up, until the invites were met with, Sorry, can’t tonight, that you felt the first real crack in your chest.

Then came the moment that shattered everything.

It was late—past midnight, when the weight of missing him became unbearable. You sat in bed, staring at your phone, scrolling through months of old messages. Conversations that used to be filled with excitement, warmth, and care. Messages that now felt like echoes of something long dead.

You tried to ignore the lump in your throat as you typed.

Matt, if you don’t want me in your life anymore, just say it.

I don’t know what I did, but if I hurt you, I’m sorry.

Please just tell me what’s going on.

Your thumb hovered over the send button. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe you were making a big deal out of nothing. But deep down, you already knew the truth.

You sent it. The message turned blue. The seconds ticked by.

And then—

Read 1:14 AM.

Nothing.

Your stomach twisted painfully. Maybe he fell asleep before he could answer. Maybe he needed time to think. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

You turned off your phone, rolled onto your side, and let the weight of it settle over you like a heavy, suffocating fog.

The next morning, you woke up with dry eyes and a hollow chest. You checked your phone once, heart racing despite everything. But the screen was empty. No message. No explanation. No closure.

He wasn’t going to answer.

—

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. The pain didn’t leave, but it changed. It became quieter, duller, slipping into the background of your life. You stopped checking your phone so much. Stopped replaying old conversations in your head, wondering what you could have done differently.

But the reminders were everywhere. Songs that used to be your songs. Places that used to be your spots. People still asking, Hey, what happened between you and Matt?

You never had an answer.

And then, one evening, it happened.

You were halfway up the steps to your front door when something caught your eye. A single envelope, tucked into your mailbox, your name written in familiar, messy handwriting.

Your stomach dropped.

No return address. No indication of who it was from. But you didn’t need one. You knew.

Your hands trembled as you ripped it open.

I know you hate me. You have every right to.

I never meant to leave you like that. I thought I was doing the right thing.

I didn’t want to hurt you, so I left before I could. But I see now that I just hurt you worse.

I miss you. More than I can explain. But I know it’s too late.

Your breath hitched. The words blurred as your eyes stung.

I hope you’re happy. Even if it’s without me.

That was it.

No explanation. No apology that actually mattered. Just a half-hearted attempt at closure that came far too late.

You stood there on your porch for a long time, gripping the letter like it might disappear.

And then, finally, you pulled out your phone. The last message you had ever sent him still sat there, unread since that night. A message that never got a response, because he had decided you didn’t deserve one.

Your fingers hovered over the screen.

You could text him now. You could say something. Anything.

But instead, you folded the letter, walked inside, and tossed it into a drawer without another glance.

This time, you were the one leaving him on read.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters!! How we likey? Just felt like writing some angst today so hope yall liked it!

Love ya, Twilight

Sturniolo taglist:

@sturns-mermaid

[ki-kink]

I'm on a trip to Japan and i found a traditional tattoo parlor that's apparently offering free tattoos to new clients. Should I get one? Never had a tattoo before but these look good

"Yo, bro, you even know tattoos ain't exactly the hottest thing in Japan? Like, good luck gettin’ into a bathhouse if they see that ink… But hey, whatever, dude! Your call!"

The tattoo guy? Straight-up wizard. Dude slaps a massive koi fish on your chest—BOOM, suddenly you look like you’ve been benching 400 since birth. You ask twice if he really doesn’t want any cash. Dude barely speaks English, just waves you off. But he hands you a piece of paper. Japanese writing all over it. No clue what it says.

So, you whip out the iPhone, scan it—BAM! It’s a voucher for a bathhouse. No way. Right when you got this sick koi across your pecs? But hold up, the app says tattoos are totally fine there. And even better? It’s right around the corner. Bro, this is the ultimate W. Free tat AND a free spa trip? Let’s freaking go.

The bathhouse… feels kinda familiar. Weird. The people? Mad respectful. They’re nodding at you like you’re the damn owner. You walk past a mirror—

HOLY. FREAKING. SHIT.

That’s YOU?!?

The koi on your chest? It spread, bro. Like, all over. And your muscles? Bro, you’re BUILT. Like, NFL combine first-round pick built. Jawline? Cut like a damn Michelangelo sculpture. You’re staring at yourself, and—whoa, okay, better stop before things get… awkward.

Alright, focus. Steam room. Time to chill.

Usually, nobody talks in here. But these two dudes? Whispering about some shady-ass business. Probably thinking the big foreign dude with the insane ink doesn’t understand Japanese. Ha! Rookie mistake. Their tattoos? Kinda similar to yours—just, you know, not as badass. One of them keeps glancing over. You play it cool, lean back like you’re half-asleep. But nah, bro—you’re dialed in.

And then… oh, shit. It’s happening AGAIN. Your ink? It’s MOVING. Your muscles? Twitching like you’re mid-rep in a monster workout. But it’s not just your body. Your mind? It’s piecing shit together. And then—BOOM. It all makes sense.

This bathhouse? Bro… this is YOUR place. Perfect for moving some money around. But the real cash? That’s in, let’s say, import/export.

And now the two guys finally realize. In the thick steam, their eyes go wide. They drop to the floor, full-on groveling.

You’re no monster. But you already know exactly how they’re gonna make things right. And how they’re gonna help you… relax.

[kizuovarius]

Obey Me! But you're breaking up with them

My friend wanted to know what I thought, so I decided to write this. :]

Lucifer- It hurts his ego, but it hurts his heart worse, especially if you've been together long/ it's his fault. To make things worse, he drowns himself in work and doesn't smile as often. It only gets worse when you're in the human realm.

Mammon- At first he acts like it doesn't bother him, maybe he even seems glad, but when you fully move on, he'll beg you to come back and be a crying mess. If anyone else is the reason you left, he'll go as far as to fight them head on. If it was his fault, he drowns himself in more debt until he realizes material value doesn't compare to love, and that he misses your touch.

Levi- He instantly starts self deprecating and saying he knew this would happen, that he's just a horrible Otaku unworthy of love. He won't come out of his room anymore, and will not trust anyone else easily again. There will be at very least a solid month or two after that he doesn't come out of his room, even for the bathroom. He has a stock of food, and uses it.

Satan- This depends. If it was an argument that led to the breakup, he thinks back and dwells on it. If it was violence that pushed you away (especially out of fear), he will probably break down alone in his room, making sure no one sees. The anger turns to sadness and sorrow, even going as far as to turn to Edgar Allen Poe and questioning his existence. Not even pranking Lucifer could make him happy. He misses you endlessly, and writes love letters.

Asmo- Contrary to some belief, Asmo is still attached to all his old lovers unless they have wronged him. But, this is different, this is **you**. So, he starts to get a little cranky, and restless at night. Not sleeping because he can't cuddle you leads to a break out on his skin, which leads to him being even more upset. He buys bottles of your perfume/cologne/shampoo to get your scent again.

Beel- Beel doesn't know why you've broken up with him, and tries to get you food to say sorry. If you refuse, it will be the first time in a very long time that he couldn't finish the food for you. Probably the only time he won't be able to fix his feelings by a distraction. Every time he goes to places you visit, he misses you and thinks to call, before second guessing and talking to Belphie instead.

Belphie- When you tell him he's half asleep, but then looks shocked and sits up pretty quick. He'll ask why and then try to come up with a solution, only to eventually be left. This gets worse when he remembers you're Lilith's descendent, and he knows Lilith left him, too. Talking to Beel is out of the question, he doesn't want to bring his brother down with him no matter how much Beel worries. In doing so, he chooses to sleep it all off. In his dreams, you're still with him.

That's all I got, lmao. Have a good one!

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

The End, Part 1

chapter warnings: alludes to sex? i wasn't really in the mood to write actual smut rip, and alcohol use!!

wow... we're finally here... i wasn't sure how many parts i was going to make the ending as i wrote it as one big chapter then split it into three parts but the last part is soo much longer than the others, so i've combined the first and half of the second part here, so there could possibly be one or two more parts, we'll see :)

also i really want to post the next part this week too (possibly valentines day?) if [untitled next fic] is ready by then as it is kinda a sequel to this :) but i can't talk about that yet. happy monday!! <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Good morning, birthday girl.” Noah beamed, a card in one hand and a rather large gift bag in the other. “Can I come in?” 

“Can you let me wake up first?” You smiled, still half asleep as you held your hotel door open, squinting at the light coming in from the hallway, “Come in, I’ll quickly pee then I’ll be right back.” You groan, still blinking the sleep away from your eyes. 

You let Noah in, and he sat down on your bed, getting comfortable as you went to the bathroom. After peeing, washing your hands and attempting to fix your hair, you walk back out and sit yourself down opposite Noah, crossing your legs as you smile up at him. 

“I know it’s an unwritten rule that you open your card before your gifts, but in this case I think it’s best you have your gifts first. I can't wait to see you open them!” He grinned, pulling the rather large bag up onto the bed, handing it to you. 

You wondered when he had gotten the time to not only shop for your birthday gifts but to wrap them too? You reached to pull the first one out of the bag, he watched your face as you opened it, and smiled at your reaction. 

“That’s sick!” You grinned, it was a Sleep Token hoodie, one that you had your eye on from their latest merch drop, but by the time you went to obtain it, it had sold out. “How did you know I wanted this one? I never even said anything about it!” You shook your head in disbelief. 

“It looked like something you'd wear...” He smirked, “C’mon! Open the next one!”

"Okay, okay!"

You smiled as you reached for the second gift, it was a lot heavier than the last, and your face screwed up in confusion as you pulled away the paper, almost having a heart attack as you held the box in your hands.

“This isn’t what I think it is...” You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears as you inspected the box, “Noah, you didn’t.” 

“I did.” He smiled proudly, “You've been complaining that your old laptop was broken and when you’re at home you won’t have Rick’s to borrow so…”

“You got me a macbook? Isn't this the newest one too, I-” Your bottom lip quivered, “Noah, I can’t have this.”

“Well I bought it for you, so yes you can.” He laughed, “C’mon you’ve still got another gift!” 

“Noah, please, I'm still trying to process this one!” You laughed, before Noah pulled you in for a hug, “Thank you so much, I don’t deserve that-“

“Yes you do! You’ve worked your ass off for us on this tour, and that piece of shit you call your laptop deserves an upgrade don’t you think?” 

“Thank you.” You repeat, “Really Noah. Nobody’s ever gotten me something like this before.” 

“Well you’re gonna love your next gift then.” He grinned, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was. 

As you opened your next gift, your heart sank to your stomach as you see it’s a velvet box. However, when you realise it’s a little too big to be a ring, you were left even more puzzled.

“What?” You gasped as you opened it, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

It was your dream necklace, one that no matter how many paychecks you got from your old job at the bookstore, you weren’t able to afford. You’d wanted it ever since you saw it on display at a store not long after your 16th birthday, telling Bryan how when you finally get your dream job, this would be the first thing you would go out and buy. You were surprised it was still being sold 11 years later. 

“How did you know?” 

“Bryan might have mentioned something to me about it...” he confessed, “And whilst you were at Vinny’s family party for the weekend we tracked down the store and I bought it. The guy who works there said we were lucky we came when we did because he was ready to get rid of it, apparently it had been there for 15 years.”

“Stop.” You said, unable to hold back the tears anymore, “You don’t know what this means to me, Noah… Nobody’s ever put this much thought into a gift before… Even if Bryan did help you out.”

“I’m glad I can raise your standards,” he smiled, “Oh, and we’ve got plans tonight so if you were doing anything else, you better cancel now."

"We do? I didn't have anything planned..."

"Yep," he smiled, "It’s a pretty long drive there too so I’ve rented a car, we should probably leave in the next couple hours to get there on time.” 

“Where are we going?” You asked, taking the necklace out of the box and handing it to him, and he helped clasp it around your neck. 

“It’s a surprise!” 

“But then what do I wear? Are we talking about a walk on the beach? Dinner?... Skydiving?”

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to give anything away. 

“There’ll be people dressed up… There’ll also be people in more casual wear… If that helps?”

“...Dinner or event?”

“Event.” He nodded. 

"Cool. And do we have time for me to thank you for these gifts?" You said, a smirk tugging on your lips as you reached out, your hand brushing his upper thigh.

"Oh, I'm sure we have plenty of time for that."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You’re really committing to this? You won’t tell me where we’re going?”

“And ruin the surprise?” Noah raised an eyebrow, “Why would I want to do that?” 

“You’re kidnapping me on my birthday!” 

He gave you a look to say ‘really?’, before parking the car. As you looked around, you realised you were at a familiar music venue, one the guys played at around the start of the tour, and there were fans lining the streets, most appeared to be wearing sleep token merch?

“Noah?” You felt your heart racing in your chest, “No… You couldn’t have…”

“Couldn’t have what?” He asked, taking the keys from the ignition, a smug look on his face. 

“You’re fucking lying…”

“Hey, I haven’t even said anything,” he laughed, watching as you looked towards the entrance, “Oh, we aren’t going in there.”

“What?” Your heart sunk in your chest, “Can you please just tell me what the hell is going on!” 

“In time”. He smiled, getting out of the car, and you quickly followed behind him.

He led you towards the back of the venue, you both knew your way around which was helpful as you walked down the halls. Everyone you passed who seemed to be the band’s crew seemed to know Noah, which was no surprise. He was Noah fucking Sebastian. 

All of a sudden you spotted none other than iv, dressed in his stage attire, as you passed by the dressing room. This had to be a dream, right?

“What is happening?” You asked again, but Noah still just stood and shrugged. 

“Just thought we’d come back here, I think I forgot a pen in the greenroom.”

“But we passed the greenroom?!”

You continued to follow him as he talked to a member of staff at the venue, who then took you up some stairs, to a balcony with quite possibly the best view of the stage. There were already fans beginning to flood the venue, some rushing to the barricade and some more unbothered, standing further back. 

You forgot the staff member was still present until you heard Noah thank him, before asking for a couple bottles of water.

“This show was fully sold out within hours, no more tickets were even released. How the fuck have you done this?”

“I had people who owed me favours…” He shrugged, pulling his hood up as fans began to look point up at you two. 

“What are you, the mafia?” You laughed, standing further back so you weren’t in the light, “And out of anything you could’ve asked them for… It was for this?… For me?” 

“Y/n,” he shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips, although there was no humour in his tone, “I would do anything for you, you know that.” 

“Noah…” You pouted, weeks- months of built up guilt finally bringing tears to your eyes, “You shouldn’t have…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. 

“Two bottled waters?” The guy returned, and you thanked him as he handed them over to you. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The crowd began to quieten, the support acts had long cleared the stage and the preshow music had stopped. You felt each hair on your body stand on end as the stage began lighting up blue, and the intro to the night does not belong to god began playing. 

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but as Vessel rose up on the stage and began to sing you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You had never cried so much on your birthday before.

His voice was even more powerful and unreal in person. You smacked your hand over your mouth as tears began to fall, the atmosphere was like nothing else, and for the last few months you had been used to this, but this was something else entirely. 

Noah noticed your reaction, a small smile on his lips as he put an arm around you, holding you close to him as you both enjoyed the show. 

You could barely see the stage through your tears, and you barely had a voice to sing along with, but that didn’t stop you. 

Like lovers entwined

I know for the last time

You will not be mine

So give me the night, the night, the night…

You were too lost in the moment, the time was passing too quickly this evening and you didn’t want to let it slip. This was quite possibly the best night of your life, seeing one of your favourite bands with your favourite person. You felt content for the first time in your life.

However, at the intro to ascensionism, you knew you were going to make some bad decisions tonight. And as the song was almost at an end, it all hit you at once. You had a strange feeling in your chest, one you couldn't begin to explain, like everything would soon be fleeting, even though you knew it wouldn't.

I know what you want from me, you want the same as me 

You turn to Noah, feeling too many emotions to even process right now. 

“Thank you.” You told Noah, “Thank you so much, for everything. For having me on this tour, for putting up with all my shit.” You looked up at him through your teary eyes, and he smiled back down at you. His thumb wiped your tears from beneath your eyes before cupping your cheek. “Thank you.” 

My redemption eternal ascension setting me free 

“This is my thank you to you,” he said, “All the guys know you badly wanted to be here tonight… I mean not everyone can say their favourite band’s playing a show on their birthday. And you’ve been working so hard, I need you to see how much we- how much I appreciate you.”

So i’ll take what i want then leave 

“I love you.” You cried, your eyes meeting as you confessed to him, “I love you, Noah. Fuck, I’ve loved you for so, so long.” 

You felt his hand tilt your chin, your lips crashing into each other as the songs tempo picked back up again, sending chills through your body as you kissed Noah back harder, with more passion than ever. 

You make me wish I could disappear 

You kissed him like it was the last time, your hands finding his face as you poured every ounce of love, fear, and longing into the moment. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips as you pulled away. “I've been thinking and... I’ll do it.” 

“Do what?” He chuckled, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“What if I ditch Black Veil and move to LA with you…” You grinned, “I’ve been thinking about it ever since your friend James from Thousand Below reached out to me a couple weeks ago, he asked if I was booked and I said yes but I… I don’t want to do it Noah, I don’t want to go back home and wonder when am I ever going to see you again-”

“Hey,” he gently placed his hand back on your face, cupping your cheek, “Let’s worry about this later, but for now… Let’s enjoy the rest of the night, yeah?” 

You make me wish I could disappear 

Maybe everything with Vinny was just temporary, it was just fun, just a fling. You’ve known Noah for years, you’ve loved him for years. 

But if you really did love him, why was Vinny even in the picture?

Before you could think any further, Noah’s hand slid down and held you at your waist, before leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“I’ve booked us a hotel for the night, I packed a bag for you while you got ready. Just us, no interruptions for the night. I want to show you how much you really mean to me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the promise of the night ahead sparking something deep within you. But even as you leaned into him, letting his love and warmth envelop you, the weight of your choices lingered at the edges of your mind.

You needed to step up and fix your mess.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You giggled as you both rushed in and shut the hotel door, shedding your clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor. You backed up onto the bed, pulling Noah down with you before your lips met. His hands explored your body, before they came to rest on either side of your head, holding himself up over you. You couldn’t help but look at his biceps, you couldn’t believe how fit he had gotten over the last few years, it made you weak in the knees. 

“My eyes are up here, doll.” He smirked, pulling back as he noticed you had become distracted. 

“I know,” you smiled softly, “Have I ever told you how fucking hot you are.” 

“Hm, maybe a couple times,” he teased, “I’ve caught you staring at me from across the room a few times, don’t think it goes unnoticed, baby.” 

The pet name only made the ache between your thighs worse, and he could tell he was having this effect on you, and he was loving it. 

“Everything okay?” He smirked, and you nodded your head.

You both stayed like this for a moment, neither of you saying anything, neither of you doing anything. 

“You didn’t say it back earlier…” You swallowed hard, bracing yourself for if this conversation took a turn for the worse. 

“It’s not obvious enough?”

“I-”

“I love you.” He said, a soft smile on his face as his hair fell over his eyes, his chain dangling from his neck, “I never I was capable of it, I thought anybody would ever mean so much to me but… I love you, y/n.” 

“Then show me.” You smirked.

… 

Hours passed, and when the two of you finally reached exhaustion, Noah threw the used condoms in the bin and collapsed beside you on the bed, pulling you closer to him to rest your head on his bare chest. 

You pulled the sheets over the two of you, feeling a little self conscious now that you had come down from the high of your 5th orgasm. You both felt so at peace, like you could spend the rest of your lives together like this. 

His fingers combed through your hair as you traced the outlines of his tattoos, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath you. 

“So, you really want to move in with me?” Noah said, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. 

“Well, I was thinking of getting my own place but if you’re offering…” 

“Maybe we could find a place together? All my friends have moved out, I don’t see the need for me to have that whole place to myself. We’ve spent the last three months together pretty much every day, I think we could make it work.”

“Really?” You asked in surprise, “I’d love that, Noah.”

“Me too,” he smiled, his fingers gently tracing shapes on your shoulder, “And you want to turn down Black Veil for Thousand Below? You said that was your dream, I don’t want to get in the way if that’s what you’ve been wanting? Please don’t feel like you have to do that for me.”

“I know, but you know how they say to never meet your idols… I’m just worried that if I start working for them they might turn out to be assholes or something.” 

“Like us?” Noah raised an eyebrow. 

“No!” You chuckled, “I mean… I love those guys, I’m such a big fan but maybe I just want it to stay like that, y’know? And I like the thought of touring with a smaller band.”

“I understand, I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I won’t.” You said with a smile.

“I think maybe you should wait another week, then decide on what you really want to do. ”

“Okay, but I’m sure it’s what I want,” you sighed and as you looked up you saw Noah yawn. “Are you tired?”

“What do you think? I know my stamina’s definitely improved over the years but three rounds seems to be my limit,” he confessed, “I might take a shower and then go to sleep… Wanna join?”

“You bet.” You grinned. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The car ride back to the city you were staying in was comfortably quiet. The world outside blurred into streaks of orange and pink as the sun began to set in the horizon. You sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window whilst Noah’s playlist played, but mentally you weren't here, you were still caught in the events of last night. You hadn’t stopped replaying the moment you told him you loved him, over and over in your head, and the moment when he said it back.

But now, in the quiet hum of the car, you weren’t sure what you felt, or what he was thinking. It was almost as if you felt shy around him again, something you had not felt since you first met him.

You good?" Noah asked, his fingers tapping absently against the steering wheel in rhythm with the music. His other hand found your knee briefly, a simple touch that sent warmth through you before he returned it to the wheel.

You smiled, nodding.

"Yeah. More than good. Thank you for everything last night... It really meant everything to me, Noah."

"You don't need to thank me. You deserved it. And you deserve this too."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, he parked the car?

You didn’t recognise where you were, but followed him down the street and into a venue.

“Noah…” You turned to him, your heart racing. “What’s going on? There’s not another concert, is there?”

“You’ll see.” He smirked.

This was definitely the smallest venue you’ve been in for a very long time, and you couldn’t help but wonder what on earth was going on, where was he taking you?. 

When you reached the end of the hallway, Noah opened the door, stepping aside to let you go in first. The entire room was pitch black, so you slowly took a step forward, and then...

“SURPRISE!” 

Everybody shouted, and the lights were soon switched on, lighting the room with different colours that shone off the balloons and streamers that decorated the walls. The guys and crew from both bands were here, even Shae and the others’ girlfriends were here. There was a table off to the side loaded with snacks and a beautiful cake in the centre.

For a moment, you were completely frozen. Tears pricked your eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness and gratitude.

“Oh my god…” You whispered, turning to Noah, who stood behind you with a proud grin on his face.

“Happy birthday.” He said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

Angela was the first to pull you into a bone-crushing hug, followed closely by Bryan and Folio, who handed you a glass of champagne.

“You’re one lucky girl,” Angela said, nodding toward Vinny, who was chatting with Ricky. You noticed he was the DJ, and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. Typical. “He’s been planning this for the last week.”

You glanced over at him, feeling your heart swell, but that guilty feeling was still weighing on you.

“He has?” You smiled to yourself, “Any excuse for him to get up there and DJ.” 

“Well, that’s Vin.” She chuckled, “So how was last night? Noah told me he took you to see Sleep Token, I don’t think he’s told the others he was with you.”

“He didn’t?” You furrowed your eyebrows, but before you could say anything else, another pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Happy you day!” Vinny smiled, and Angela took this as her cue to leave, smirking as she did so, “So what did you get up to yesterday?”

“Oh, well one of my friends from home got tickets to see Sleep Token and decided to surprise me with them for my birthday,” you smiled, cursing yourself for lying, “It was pretty sick.” 

“Cool! I hope you had a great time," he smiled, "I got you a gift, it’s still at the hotel- Actually I got you two, one to open in front of the others and one for later.”

“Oh…” You couldn’t help your cheeks heat up as he said that, but he reassured you it wasn’t anything "like that." 

“I better get back over there,” he motioned to his laptop which Justin was currently in control of, “Cute necklace by the way.” 

Your fingers ghost over your necklace, the necklace Noah gave you. You shook it off, you were going to have a good night tonight and nothing was going to ruin it! You would leave all your problems for tomorrow.

“Y/n! We’ve got gifts for you over here!” Bryan smiled, waving you over to a table that was full of gift bags and presents. 

“Guys,” you pouted, “You didn’t have to do all this!” 

“We know,” Matt chuckled, his hand on Alyson’s waist, “But we wanted to.”

Shae hands you her gift first, explaining how it was a joint present from her, Justin and Ryan. 

“Awh this is so cute!” You grin as you unwrap it, revealing a self care hamper. It was full of your favourite snacks, candles, skincare items and a little note that reminded you to take time for yourself. “Thank you guys so much!” 

You get up to hug each one of them, and before you could even pull away from Ryan, Folio’s handing you his gift bag. 

“This one’s kind of from all of us,” he motioned to the Bad Omens guys, “I hope it’s okay, I didn't have much time to think of something…” 

You took the gift from the bag, it was a Bad Omens shirt, and all the guys had all signed the back with littles notes, but at the top- in Folio’s massive handwriting- wrote “VIP FOREVER!”

“This is more than okay!” Your eyes softened as you pulled Folio into a hug, “This is incredible, thank you so much guys. This is now officially my most prized possession.” You said with a chuckle as you folded it and placed it back into the bag.

“That’s not all from us!” Matt announced, pointing to a wrapped present on the table, “That one’s from us too.” 

You reached over, taking it from the table and beginning to unwrap it…. It was a scrapbook?

“Look inside.” Nicholas smiled, and so you did. 

The pages were full of candid photos from the last three months, with dates, funny captions and inside jokes written inside. You could feel the tears beginning to prick your eyes again, yet you tried your best to hold yourself together. You just couldn’t believe how thoughtful everybody was, you hadn’t just made friends on this tour, you had found your family. 

“This is so sweet,” your lip quivers as you put it back down on the table and wrap your arms around Matt. “Thank you.” You whisper, and he chuckles as he pats your back. 

“Here’s mine,” Ricky smiles as he hands you his gift, wrapped in a deep purple paper, “I would’ve gotten something more meaningful but like Folio it was pretty short notice, I didn’t know the others got you gifts until this morning and-”

“It’s okay! I didn’t even expect anything!” You smiled, taking the gift from him. 

You gasped as you unwrapped it, it was a framed sheet of paper with handwritten lyrics from your favourite Motionless song, and one of his picks.

“Oh, Ricky!” You looked up at him with teary eyes, “Now this takes the top place of my prized possessions.” You chuckle as Rick pulls you in for a hug. 

“There’s still mine, Chris’ and Vin’s to go!” Angela announces, handing you her gift, “C’mon, I can’t wait to see your reaction to this!”

"You didn't?" Ryan groaned, giving you the impression he knew what it was going to be.

As you opened it, you gave her a look to say ‘what is this?’

“It’s a tour survival kit!” She grinned, “Read the little notes, I spent ages on them!”

You can’t help but laugh as you read out the notes stuck to each item in the basket…

Headache relief pills (for when Vin’s around), your favourite snacks (WARNING: don’t share with the guys), mints (to give to the guys in the mornings, coffee breath ew!), a mini first aid kit (for when you trip over a cable, or Rick falls off the stage again), a stress ball (to squeeze or just through at Vinny, works either way!), room spray (two words, Folio's socks), polaroid camera film (use this for actual memories girl, not blackmail material!!), there was also a sticker that read “I <3 hot drummers” and another one that said “I <3 Noah Sebastian”, and a photo of the two of you from the night you stayed at her apartment, with a friendship bracelet. 

“This is actually amazing, what the hell?! I love it so much!” You didn’t know how to express how this made you feel, it was both so funny and so thoughtful.

“Good luck trying to top this.” She smirked at the others as you wrapped your arms around her.

“I will.” Vinny stated proudly, walking back from his DJ setup, “Mine's the one in the red paper!"

You nodded, placing Angela's gift back on the table and reaching for Vinny's.

As you unwrapped the paper, it revealed a box. And inside the box was...

"Vin, it's a couple rocks?" You laughed, looking up at him.

"No, it's a couple pet rocks!" He grinned, noticing they were upside down and flipping them over, "Look, it's us as rocks!"

You couldn't help but laugh at what appeared to be your hair sharpie-d onto your rock, and his onto his.

"Pet rocks?" You laughed, watching Vin shrug.

"Rick wrote out lyrics from a song two hours ago and you're criticising my rocks?" He sighed dramatically, "A lot of effort went into these by the way! Nobody seemed to have any sharpies and I couldn't find the right colours in any stores-"

"No, I love them, Vin," you smiled, "Thanks for the rocks. I'll take good care of them."

"You better!"

The rest of the night was going very well, you were up dancing with some of the guys and their girlfriends, Vin was doing great as the DJ, and you and Noah even shared a kiss (behind everyone's backs).

But now, you were happily sat down with Angela, sharing a plate of food when Shae left Justin and began to approach you.

“Y/n… Uh, I think there’s something you need to see.” Shae said, her tone calm, yet rather serious. 

“What’s up?” You asked, your eyes widening, "What have they done?"

“The guys? They haven't done anything but... Have you been on twitter this afternoon? Or any of your socials?” 

“No… Why?”

“Oh my God,” she frowned, “I don’t want to scare you-”

“What is it?!” You raised your voice slightly.

“Is everything okay?” Angela asks, watching as Shae slowly shakes her head.

“Have you seen it?” Shae asks, and Angela screws her face up.

“Seen what?” 

“Fuck,” she groans, before taking a deep breath, pulling her phone out of her and handing it over to you, “Read this.” 

You and Angela both begin to read the tweet, and your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach, the world around you stops, you sit there frozen in fear.

← Post •••

@/MotionlessInWhiteTea:

Why I think Y/n Y/l/n shouldn’t be working in the scene, a thread

Disclaimer: The majority of this is simply rumours, but there is also photo evidence. Personally I think she has been acting very unprofessionally during this tour and I haven’t seen anyone talk about it. So here’s what I have to say.

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@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah @kait16xo @discocowgirly @rainy-darling

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!