#i want to try to head out like this at least once a week + cook and prep a real meal at least once a week too

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: a quiet afternoon with dr. abbot.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, jack is divorced, not a widower and mentions of his ex wife, it is mention that reader and her mom talk often. please let me know if i missed anything. minors DNI.

note: more of a filler chapter(i’ll consider this 6.5 instead of 7 LOL)!!! just a little look inside them, and we will definitely be seeing more soon!!! jack and reader will meet each others moms next chapter!! also, thinking about doing more drabbles set in this universe, like the proposal, is there anything specific you guys want to see?? unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 960ish

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Over the past eight weeks, you’ve just about changed Jack Abbot’s entire life.

He goes to a farmers market on Saturday’s, brunch on Sunday’s with your friends, actually eats decent meals and gets a good night's rest at least three nights a week.

Also, he’d never admit it outloud to anyone, but he’s pretty invested in Vanderpump Rules.

Currently, he’s got your feet in his lap while he reads a medical journal, one hand massaging your ankle. Every once in a while, he glances up at you to watch as you knit what he thinks is supposed to be a sweater.

Ever since finding out the gender of the baby almost a month ago, you’d been determined to at least make something for the baby to wear. You got good at knitting surprisingly quickly, and so far have made three hats, two pairs of socks, and started a blanket.

You’ve got your bottom lip tightly tucked into your teeth as you concentrate on the yarn in your hands, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching over and gently thumbing it out from between your teeth.

Finally, he thinks to himself when you’re wide eyes meet his.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He gestures to your swelling bottom lip as you lick it.

“Sorry,” You let out a small giggle, “I didn’t even notice.”

He nods, hand going back to your ankle, “I figured.”

As he starts reading again, you take the time to watch him, head cocking to the side as you smile.

This hasn’t been so bad.

Sure, it’s been an interesting and difficult situation for both of you. But you like to believe that it could be worse.

He could’ve just not cared. Ignored you and went on with his life. Or pressured you into an abortion you didn’t want.

He could’ve done what he could to just take the baby the second she’s here.

But he really surprised you. He’s been so supportive and so good to you. It’s shocking, in all honesty.

You both feel a lot of guilt, though.

You think you’ve stuck him with you. That he’s only here out of obligation.

He thinks he’s ruined your life.

You work through it all, somehow. You talk him off his ledge more than he talks you off of yours, but you can tell when it’s eating at him more than he can with you.

Or so you think.

Jack likes to think he knows you pretty well despite the timeline of things.

He spends as much time as he can with you. Soaking up every moment of something he didn’t even think he ever wanted. Holds your hair back when you get sick. Rubs your back and feet when you ache. Tries some of the most interesting food combinations he’s ever heard of, some of which are better than others.

Fucks you when you’re insatiable and want him more than anything.

He isn’t quite sure it’s love yet, but he knows it’s on its way there.

He’s loved before. Hell he loved someone enough to marry her, but couldn’t love her enough to give her what you’re giving him.

Another source of guilt for him- one that he’s completely bared to you.

You didn’t know what to say, when he told you about what ate at him most. Why he couldn’t figure out what brought on the need, the desire, to do this with you, but he couldn’t even bring himself to try with her.

You just listen, rub his back, and whisper in his ear that some things just happened for a reason.

He appreciates you and the the way you just let him talk. Or just let him sit with you in silence. Whatever he needs, you somehow manage to give him.

One of the more recent favorites of his is when you take a bath. He can sit up against the cabinets under the vanity with a beer in his hand while you sit and talk about your day, things you want to do for the baby, or just read.

Life is more peaceful with you than he thinks it ever has been.

He glances back over at you, and sees the look in your eyes.

A look he knows all too well will result in him doing something he doesn’t exactly want to do.

“Spit it out, honey.”

You smile at the sound of his voice when he calls you honey.

“I was talking to my mom yesterday,” You trail off as he closes the journal he’s been reading and turns his body all toward you.

“Well?”

Jack knew your mom knew the basics, much like his own family did. How you got pregnant. How you met him. His age.

He knew that the last one had her concerned. Extremely.

The two of you talk most days, and she always gets distant when asking about the baby. Something about it makes him slightly uneasy.

“She’s coming to Pittsburgh next week. Wants us all to get together,” You look down, fidgeting with your fingers, “wants to meet you.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making unease crawl up your chest.

It was a bad idea to bring it up.

“How do you feel about that?”

He sounds calm and collected, surprising you yet again.

“I mean, you are the father of her grandchild.”

You finally look back up at him, eyes meeting.

He sighs, shaky, “Is that all I am?”

You tilt your head to the side, “You tell me.”

It’s quiet for another beat before he shakes his head as he brings one of his palms to cradle your jaw.

“It’s only fair if you have to meet my mom, too.”

You laugh, nodding lightly before kissing his palm.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

He lets out a huff as he kisses the side of your head, “It’s a deal, then.”

[milatiny-xx]

promise | k.ys

pairing: kang yeosang x gn!reader summary: your childhood best friend accidentally admits that he's been secretly in love with you for many years and just recently got over it. at least, he thinks so. you want to put that theory to the test. warnings: best friends to loversss, mutual pining, fluff, make out!! make out!!, fade to black!! wc: 2.1k a/n: yeosang's biceps. send post. x

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

You giggle as you throw back another shot of soju, wincing when you put the glass down.

"Ach, this stuff is terrible," you whine. "Next time, I'll buy the booze."

Yeosang laughs, placing the bottle back on the coffee table.

"Be my guest," he replies. "That one was expensive."

You're both sitting on the floor with a box of half-eaten pizza beside you and a mostly empty bottle of soju. Having been best friends since childhood, you and Yeosang try to meet up at least once every two weeks to hang out. You order food, get drinks, and watch a terrible drama neither of you have seen before. You have to give Sangie a lot of credit—despite his crazy busy schedule with ATEEZ, he always shows up to your friend dates and never, ever cancels.

"What are you complaining about? Surely, you can afford it."

"Ah, right. Because I'm a big time idol."

You nod, pursing your lips at him to say duh.

"Yeah, exactly. Even though you don't act like it."

He reaches for the bottle to pour you both another drink.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sitting here with me devouring greasy pizza and throwing back liquor while we watch one of the most horrendous movies I've ever seen in my life. It's just not how I imagine idols acting."

He hums in acknowledgement. His eyes slide from side to side as if he were looking for spies before he leans in toward you. You raise your eyebrows but follow his lead.

"You do know we're still humans, right?" he says, voice low. You scoff, playfully slapping his arm. "Besides, I would never give up this time with you."

Your heart lurches, his sweet words dripping like honey. On the one hand you love when he says things like that to you—it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like you're special to him. On the other hand, it's usually followed with the most intense emotional pain you've ever experienced when you remember that he's saying it to you as a friend.

"Give me that," you gesture to the soju. "And tell me something."

"Tell you what?"

"I don't know. Something personal, something secret, something nobody else knows. Here, I'll go first. Ummmm," you study the ceiling as you think. "Ah, I know! When we were in third grade and that stapler disappeared from Mr. Wan's desk, Ha-joon got in trouble for it. But it was really me, and I let him take the blame because I didn't want them to call my mom."

Yeosang's mouth drops open, amusement flooding across his handsome face. He laughs, covering his mouth with his hand—an adorable habit that you've noticed he has.

"Ha-joon wasn't allowed to go to recess for three months after that. How can you live with yourself?"

You shrug, slightly embarrassed.

"It's not easy. Your turn."

He hums to himself as he thinks. His eyes catch yours for a fleeting second, and you can tell that he's got an idea.

"Well...there's one thing I can think of."

You tilt your head, interest piqued.

"Yeah? What's that?"

Yeosang's eyes sparkle. A sweet grin spreads across his face as he drops his head sheepishly. He chuckles, a deep rumbling noise that raises goosebumps on your arms. You can't help but giggle.

"What?" you ask, playfully smacking his arm. "What are you laughing about?"

He shakes his head, his long bangs falling into his eyes. Your heart flutters as you appreciate how gorgeous he is. A slight pink flush spreads across his sharp cheekbones.

"It's...ahh, no, it's too embarrassing."

"Oh no. No, you can't do that, Sangie. Now you have to tell me."

He hesitates for another moment. You bend forward to lean your head on his shoulder and wrap your hands around his bicep. Ignoring the sensation of your stomach flipping, you peer up at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

"Pleaaaaaase," you whine. "Tell meeee."

He laughs again and drops his head toward you.

"You're gonna think I'm pathetic, but I sort of...well, I used to sort of be in love with you a little."

You cackle, assuming he's playing a joke on you.

"Yeah...right."

"No, I'm serious."

You quirk an eyebrow.

"Mhm, this coming from the same boy who refused to kiss me when I asked him to on the playground. You remember, don't you?"

His eyes go wide, and he points accusingly at you.

"You mean when you assaulted me?"

You gasp, shrieking and grabbing onto his hand.

"I did not! I did not assault you. We were playing tag, and you got me out. And I was sooo mad. I hugged you tight and said I wouldn't let you go until you made up for it by giving me a kiss."

"Yeah...and then you physically grabbed my face and made me do it."

"You still did it!"

"Of course I did it. I wanted to kiss you, I was just embarrassed."

You shake your head, folding your arms over your chest to fake pout. A few moments of comfortable silence pass, during which you decide to poke the bear a little more.

"I don't appreciate you making fun of me, though," you say. "I thought you had something serious to share."

He looks at you, smile dropping.

"Oh, I am serious."

Your grin falters, and you sit up straighter.

"What?"

"I wasn't joking, Y/N. I was being serious. I think I was sort of in love with you. For a long time, actually."

You can't help yourself—a laugh slips from your lips. A second after, you gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. You can feel burning spreading through your face and neck.

"See! I knew you would laugh! This is why I didn't wanna tell you."

"That's because it's ridiculous," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

"Well, don't even worry about it," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm not anymore, so we're all good."

Your heart drops. Why did you say that? Why did you make fun of him? He gave you the absolute perfect opportunity to tell him how you really feel, how you've really felt all these years. And you absolutely threw it away like trash. Then again, he just admitted he's not in love with you anymore...you wonder what happened to change his mind. Maybe it's for the best that you don't say anything.

"Why would you be in love with me, anyway?" you reply. "I'm just a regular person."

"What? What do you mean? Why wouldn't I? It makes perfect sense when you think about it."

"How so?"

"We've been friends for so many years. We understand each other better than anyone. We make each other laugh. Besides that, you're kind and funny and smart. And, of course, you're beautiful."

Your heart is pounding in your chest now. Hearing him call you all of those wonderful things and the way he thinks of you, how much you mean to him—you've been dreaming of hearing that for years. But you want him to mean it. You need him to mean it.

"Oh...I guess it does kind of make sense."

The corner of Yeosang's mouth quirks up but flattens back down a moment later. You both drop your heads and silence settles between you. The tension and awkwardness grow with every passing second. You gulp and sneak a peek at him. He's absentmindedly playing with his fingers. The veins in his hands flex with every movement, and your stomach churns in response.

"A you sure?" you blurt, pasting a mischievous smirk on your face.

"Hm?"

"Are you absolutely, positively sure that you're over me?"

He looks at you, eyes widened. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze searching yours.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

"Hmmm, I'm not convinced. Maybe we should...I don't know...test it?"

Yeosang straightens, tossing his head to shake his hair from his eyes. His stare is glued to you.

"How would we do that?"

"Oh, I have an idea."

Your heart races as you position yourself across from him. You sit on your knees, your gaze flicking between Yeosang's eyes and lips. You start to shift forward, bracing yourself by putting your hands on his thighs. His chest rises and falls rapidly. Gulping, you tilt your head.

You pause right in front of him, your eyes rolling to the side to meet his. Your breath shakes. Under the soft glow of the lamp, you can see that his eyes are dilated. You drop your stare down to his parted lips and lean forward slowly.

Yeosang remains still as a statue when you press your mouth to his. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, the muffled sound of your racing heart echoing in your ears. When you pull back, your gaze returns to his. He holds your stare for a moment and then it all moves so fast.

His eyes drop to your lips, his hand slides across your neck and onto the back of your head, and the next thing you know, he's pulling your mouth to him.

He kisses you. Hard.

Your fingers dig into his strong thighs as you teeter forward. He angles his head to reach you deeper, his lips slipping between yours over and over and over again. Carried away by the moment, you swipe your tongue over his lower lip. He chuckles into your mouth, the sound low and gravelly. Goosebumps raise on your skin. He opens his mouth for you, and his free hand wraps around your arm.

You yelp when he jerks you forward. Your chest hits his with a thud. His hands are quick to curve around the backs of your thighs, maneuvering you onto his lap. Now straddling him, you wrap your greedy little fingers around his biceps.

He tilts his head back, giving you a different angle to taste him. You drop your hips, sitting yourself on top of his body. His fingertips dig into your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your ass.

You slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, frantically tugging it upward. He lifts his arms, and you pull it off. You bite your lip at the sight of him, skin smooth and muscled. Your hands move to his body like a magnet, and you whimper as you run your touch over his chest and stomach.

His lips attach to your jaw, trailing down to your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your head falls back, mouth dropping open shamelessly. One of his hands slides onto your back to support you while he attacks your throat. His tongue licks stripes over your skin. He pulls at the hem of your shirt, shoving it aside to reveal part of your shoulder. A moan escapes your lips as he sucks on the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. You can't help your hips as they shift on him. He grunts, his lips slipping from your neck.

Your eyes flash open, meeting his immediately. His chest heaves as he looks up at you, eyes blown wide.

"I thought I was over this—over you,” Yeosang says, voice rasped. He smirks. "But I'm not."

He surges forward, flipping you so that you're on your back on the floor with him on top of you. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist to draw him closer. He responds by resuming his work on your neck.

You obediently tilt your head to the side to give him unrestricted access to your skin. Your touch snakes onto his back, fingertips tracing the chords of his muscles as his body expertly shifts above you. One of his hands slips onto the outside of your thigh, holding your leg against his hip.

"I'm in love with you, too," you blurt, out of breath. "I think I've always loved you. When I made you kiss me on the playground...since then. Every hour of every day."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating with heat against your neck.

"The kiss was that good, huh?"

You giggle, punching his arm, but inhale sharply when he catches your skin between his teeth. Your palms greedily slide over his skin in response.

"You've gotten a little better since then," you say teasingly. "And bigger."

He laughs again, freeing your neck. He braces himself on one arm as he looks down at you. You squirm underneath him as his glazed-over eyes size you up.

"Is this real?" he mutters.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I've dreamed about this for years, wondering what it would feel like."

"What what would feel like?"

"Loving you fully. Having you love me back. It doesn't feel possible."

Your heart aches, swelling with affection. You reach up to cup his cheek, tucking his hair behind his ear.

"It's real, Sangie. From now on, as long as you love me, I'll love you back. I promise. Do you promise, too?"

You hold your hand out, pinky outstretched. He chuckles but hooks his finger in yours. You curl your digits together, interlocking them firmly.

"Promise."

taglist: //

[xjulixred45x]

For me while reading the au I imagined yuu to be abt 17-19 like most of the boys so I was wondering what you think the boys reactions (or at least the Housewarden + Jamil) would think/react to finding out Yuu is pregnant!

TW: Sensitive topics (implied)

Honestly, at first, most people are a little worried about Yuu, mostly about whether the baby is unwanted or not (or how the baby was conceived...) and they want to be 100% sure that Yuu truly wants to be a mother so young above all else, that it's HER decision and no one else's.

If Yuu comes from a bad background, the dorm leaders will act as support for her and try to be safe spaces in their own way. The same goes for the first-years.

Riddle continues to act protectively toward Yuu, but at the same time he demands academically (without going overboard, obviously; he's much softer with Yuu than with the other Heartsabyul students), precisely because he believes that if Yuu is going to have a baby, he has to give it a good future from a young age. The further along the pregnancy progresses, the more anxious he becomes and the less strict he is. He definitely doesn't take lightly the harassment/bullying Yuu might receive for being a teenage mother; any transgression of that kind gets immediately a "Off with your head!"

When the baby is born, Riddle probably personally talks to the teachers about getting Yuu off homework for a couple of weeks. He has two doctor parents, and he KNOWS the effects of giving birth. He's still tense about baby Sheila (as I decided to name the baby) but isn't opposed to keeping an eye on her so Yuu can study properly. Riddle is definitely the type of person who talks to babies like adults; it's funny (Cater has the Riddle and Sheila "conversations" on video for everyone's enjoyment).

Leona is worried, even if he doesn't show it. Did you see when she meets Yuu in the greenhouse? He probably realized she was pregnant at that moment and left right away. He may be an idiot, but not an jackass. After the events of Book 3, he probably has Ruggie or Jack check in on Yuu from time to time (either by helping her with homework, bringing her snacks, or something like that).

Leona isn't one to pry into Yuu's personal life, and if she continues with the pregnancy, it's because she wants the baby. He respects that, so, surprisingly, he can get quite defensive of Yuu (in the "only I can make fun of them (affectionately)" kind of way), even when Sheila is born—or rather, ESPECIALLY when Sheila is born. He'll definitely criticize Yuu more for being impulsive now that she's a mother. Shouldn't he be thinking more about her daughter? Gosh…

Azul would feel a little bad about trying to take a dorm away from a pregnant teenager, yes, but at least he's not heartless enough to not give her another option. He doesn't ask questions about the baby, but he makes certain assumptions based on what Yuu tells him and builds a mental picture from there (both good and bad). It takes him a ridiculous amount of time to convince Yuu to eat at Monstre Louge (for free) as her pregnancy progresses.

When Sheila is born healthy and Yuu recovers well, Azul is quite relieved (he was definitely very stressed seeing the mortality rate of teenage pregnancies in humans), and on more than one occasion he offers to let Yuu study in the VIP lounge while Floyd and Jade take care of Shayla (or "mini Shrimpy"), of course, constantly checking that everything is okay, he wouldn't trust a baby to the twins for too long either...

Kalim doesn't really treat Yuu any differently if she were an adult or if she were his age. He continues to bring the baby a ton of gifts, gives advice that helped his mother when she was pregnant, and continues to offer help at Ramshackle if she needs it. The only difference is that he also offers to form a study group so that Yuu doesn't miss any classes once she starts missing due to her advanced pregnancy.

Jamil, on the other hand, is a bit more cautious. He's more aware that in this scenario, Yuu might not have wanted the baby at such a young age, so he's quite surprised to see her excitement about becoming a mother; it's almost contagious. Along with Riddle, he's the one who offers to prepare bentos or nutritious meals for the pregnancy, and he also tries to prevent Kalim from overdoing it with gifts or things that might harm Yuu/the baby.

Vil is mostly shocked when he realizes Yuu is pregnant, but he doesn't comment on it; he's unusually reserved around her, actually. The truth is that Vil, on the one hand, doesn't understand why Yuu would want to be a mother so young, while on the other hand, he admires that she still wants to continue her studies, being perseverant and enjoying the things that make her happy. He respects her greatly.

When Sheila is eventually born, it's a MUST that the members of Pomefiore take care of her. She ends up with several new onesies, a tiara, three plushies, among many other things, just for being adorable. Meanwhile, Yuu gets a skincare routine for the first time in weeks, much to Vil's delight.

Idia doesn't interact differently with Yuu if she's an adult or a teenager. He still believes she's going to ruin their baby somehow because "that's just how he is," but he's willing to help her with things like ultrasound equipment, medicine, using Ortho to check on the baby, etc. He was definitely super scared when he heard the screams on ramshackle. He genuinely thought Yuu was going to die and almost fainted from relief when they told him she and Sheila were okay.

Would Malleus even notice the difference between a teenage Yuu and an adult Yuu? Regardless, Malleus is protective of his pregnant daughter of men, no matter how old she is. He'll view any sudden or unwanted approach as a potential threat. Want to take Yuu by surprise? BOOM! Electrocuted. Want to touch Yuu's pregnant belly without asking? Electrocuted! Want to wake Yuu up after a sleepless night of kicking? Guess what happens :)

Malleus is extremely careful with Sheila once she's born. He holds her with both hands and looks her in the eyes VERY DIRECTLY while talking about the same topics he used to talk about while she was still in the womb, as if resuming a conversation.

In general, they're a little more cautious about the subject, but just as encouraging and supportive.

___________

(ESPAÑOL)

TW: temas sensibles (implícito)

Sinceramente, al principio la mayoría se preocupa un poco por Yuu, mas que nada por si el bebe es deseado o no (o como fue que el bebe fue concebido…) y querrían asegurarse al cien por ciento de que Yuu realmente quiera ser madre tan joven por encima de todo, que sea decisión de ELLA y de nadie más.

Si Yuu viene de un mal entorno, los líderes de dormitorio actuaran como soporte para ella y trataran de ser espacios seguros a sus maneras. Lo mismo con los de primer año.

Riddle sigue actuando de forma protectora con Yuu, pero al mismo tiempo le exige en el ámbito académico (sin sobrepasarse obviamente, es mucho más blando con Yuu que con los otros estudiantes de Heartsabyul), justamente porque cree que, si Yuu va a tener un bebe, tiene que darle un buen futuro desde joven. Mientras más avanza el embarazo, mas ansioso se vuelve y menos estricto es. Definitivamente no se toma a la ligera el acoso/Bullying que Yuu podría llegar a recibir por ser madre adolecente, cualquier transgresión de ese estilo es fuera con sus cabezas en el acto.

Cuando el bebe nace, Riddle probablemente habla personalmente con los profesores para que Yuu sea exenta de tarea durante un par de semanas, el tiene dos padres médicos, SABE los efectos de dar a luz. Sigue siendo tenso con la beba Sheila (como decidí ponerle a la beba) pero no se opone a vigilarla para que Yuu pueda estudiar adecuadamente. Riddle definitivamente es el tipo de persona que le habla a los bebes como adultos, es gracioso (Cater tiene las “conversaciones” de Riddle y Sheila en video para el disfrute de todos).

Leona esta preocupado, aun si no lo demuestra ¿viste cuando conoce a Yuu en el invernadero? Probablemente se dio cuenta en ese momento que estaba embarazada y directamente se fue, será un idiota, pero no un imbécil. Después de los eventos del libro 3, probablemente hace que Ruggie o Jack chequen a Yuu de vez en cuando (ya sea ayudándole con la tarea, trayéndole snacks, cosas por el estilo).

Leona no es de indagar en la vida personal de Yuu, y si ella continua con el embarazo es porque ella quiere al bebe, el respeta eso, por lo mismo, sorprendentemente, puede ponerse bastante a la defensiva de Yuu (del tipo “solo yo puedo burlarme de ellos (afectuosamente)”), incluso cuando Sheila nace, o mejor dicho, ESPECIALMENTE cuando Sheila nace. Definitivamente criticara más a Yuu por ser impulsiva ahora que es madre ¿no debería pensar más en su hija? Cielos…

Azul se sentiría un poco mal de intentar quitarle el dormitorio a una adolecente embaraza, sí, pero al menos no es lo suficientemente desalmado como para no darle otra opción de domicilio. El no hace preguntas con respecto al bebe, pero hace ciertas conjeturas basadas en lo que Yuu le llega a contar y se arma una imagen mental a partir de ahí (tanto para bien como para mal). Le toma una estúpida cantidad de tiempo convencer a Yuu de comer en el Monstre Louge (gratis) cuando su embarazo avanza.

Cuando Sheila nace sana y Yuu se recupera bien, Azul está bastante aliviado (definitivamente estuvo muy estresado al ver la tasa de mortalidad de embarazos adolescentes en humanos), y en más de una ocasión ofrece que Yuu estudie en la sala VIP mientras que Floyd y Jade cuidan de Shayla (o “mini Shrimpy”) claro, checando que todo este bien constantemente, el tampoco confiaría un bebe demasiado tiempo a los gemelos…

Kalim realmente no trata de forma diferente a Yuu si es que fuera una adulta o si fuera de su edad, le sigue trayendo un monton de regalos al bebe, da consejos que le ayudaron a su mama cuando estuvo embarazada, le sigue ofreciendo ayuda en Ramshackle si es que la necesita, la única diferencia es que tambien ofrece hacer un grupo de estudio para que Yuu no se pierda de ninguna clase una vez que ella empieza a faltar debido al embarazo avanzado.

Jamil, por otro lado, es un poco más cuidadoso, es más consciente de que en este escenario Yuu podría no haber querido al bebe siendo tan joven, por lo que se sorprende bastante al ver la emoción que tiene al ser madre, es casi contagioso. Junto a Riddle, es quien ofrece preparar bentos o comidas nutritivas para el embarazo, también trata de evitar que Kalim se exceda con los regalos o las cosas que puedan dañar a Yuu/El bebe.

Vil esta principalmente shockeado cuando se da cuenta de que Yuu está embarazada, pero no comenta al respecto, esta inusualmente reservado cuando está cerca de ella en realidad. La verdad es que Vil por una parte no entiende porque Yuu querría ser madre tan joven, mientras que por otro lado admira que aun así quiera continuar con los estudios, siendo perseverante y disfrutando las cosas que la hacen feliz, la respeta mucho.

Cuando eventualmente Sheila nace, es una NECESIDAD que los miembros de Pomefiore la cuiden, termina con varios onesies nuevos, una tiara, tres peluches, entre muchas cosas más, solo por ser adorable. Mientras tanto Yuu se hace una rutina de cuidado de la piel por primera vez en semanas, para la alegría de Vil.

Idia no interactúa de forma diferente con Yuu si es adulta o adolecente, sigue creyendo que va a arruinar a su bebe de alguna forma porque “él es así”, pero está dispuesto a ayudarla con cosas como equipo para el ultrasonido, medicinas, usar a Ortho para checar al bebe, etc. Definitivamente estaba super asustado cuando escucho los gritos en ramshackle, pensó genuinamente que Yuu iba a morir y casi se desmaya del alivio cuando le dijeron que ella y Sheila estaban bien.

¿Malleus siquiera notaria la diferencia si es una Yuu adolecente o una Yuu adulta? Indiferentemente de eso, Malleus es protector con su hija de hombre embarazada, no importa la edad que tenga, tomara cualquier acercamiento repentino o indeseado como una posible amenaza ¿quieres tomar por sorpresa a Yuu? BOOM electrocutado ¿quieres tocar la panza de embarazada de Yuu sin pedir permiso? ¡electrocutado! ¿quieres despertar a Yuu despues de una noche de insomnio por culpa de las pataditas? Adivina que pasa 

Malleus es super cuidadoso con Sheila una vez que nace, la sostiene con ambas manos y le mira a los ojos MUY FIJAMENTE mientras le habla de los temas que solia hablar cuando estaba en la panza, como si estuviera retomando una conversación.

En general, son un poco mas cuidadosos con el tema, pero igual de alentadores y solidarios.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[iwantmyprizepet]

𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 ℐ𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒴𝑜𝓊 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 6/?

Summary: It’s really not a date. Seriously. It’s not a date!

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I hope you all enjoy our not date and that you’re all having a lovely week. - Mich :)

AO3 Previous Part

My Royal Tag List: @ahintofchaos @morgananyx @coffeemelko @xblinkx2

//////////

By seven thirty on Friday night I had dug out an exorbitant amount of clothes. My bed looked like a dryer exploded on it. 

Currently, I had on jeans and sweater. It struck me staring in the mirror this was the exact outfit I wore when she found me on the side of the road coming home from the brewery. 

The reason for that being I quite literally wore the same shit all the time. My wardrobe might as well have been that of a cartoon characters. 

Ripping off the sweater, I decided I needed to at least change that.

I grabbed a dark evergreen sweater from the pile. It was waffle weave with a little bit of a roll neck. 

With ten minutes to go as I looked in the full length, I decided this had to do. 

I gathered all of my clothes and shoved them into my closet, quickly closing the accordion doors behind the mess. 

I turned surveying the area quickly. 

My house was never really dirty, but I was overanalyzing everything. Even if she just saw it from the door, even if she just stepped in for a second I wanted my home to look nice.

I blew out the candle I had lit then spritzed my favorite perfume on.

Using the bathroom once more, I applied another layer of deodorant and swished some mouthwash through my already brushed teeth. 

I looked okay, I felt confident and I was ready for that to slip away the moment I saw her. 

Everything paled in comparison to her. 

I was weighing the idea of pregaming a shot back to ease my nerves when the doorbell rang. 

With a deep breath and a final look in the mirror, I opened the door. 

Agatha stood behind the glass screen door relaxed and waiting with a smile. Her wavy hair held an extra bit of untamed to it. Messy, but an intentional messy.

 I couldn’t help but think about messing it up more. 

She wore a dark striped blazer, brown turtleneck underneath. Her hands tucked under the jacket and into the pockets of her jeans. Heels added the extra elegance she always had. A different gold necklace lay against the top of her chest, a thicker chain. 

As I took her in slowly I realized she could see me too. That’s usually how glass works, but it seemed to have slipped my mind as I stared at her. 

I pushed the door open a crack, smiling. “Come in for a second. Sorry you’re fully on time and I annoyingly need another minute.” I paused rethinking. “Or you could just wait in the car. Whichever you prefer, either way.”

She tucked her wavy hair behind her left ear exposing a gold earring. Grinning, she took the door handle and opened it stepping in. 

Yep, Agatha Harkness is in my house. Cool.

“This is cozy.” She said in general sense looking around. 

I felt like my life was suddenly under a microscope. 

“Oh, uhm thanks.” I muttered out. 

She turned to me with a glinting smirk and shot me a wink. 

Fuck.

“I’ll be right back.” I backed away holding up a finger.

She nodded and set back to observing my home.

In a brisk way, I walked into the bathroom shutting the door behind me a little too hard. 

Placing my hands on the sink, I let out a deep breath closing my eyes. I technically was ready, I just needed a minute to collect myself.

Everything is fine. Just two friends getting drinks.

Breathe.

I dragged across my reflection fixing myself one last time. With a final deep breath, I walked out. 

Agatha was stood at the window, hands behind her back looking out. I admired her for a second, taking in the unbelievable sight of her being in my house.

 I hoped the smell of her perfume would be gone when I got back. I did not need to find the effects that would leave behind. 

Thoughts about the dream I had of her started to pierce through. “Ready.” I rushed out trying to shake that from my head. 

She turned, ever smiling and met me at the door. 

I grabbed my wallet and keys from the bowl I kept by the door. I fastened my keys to my belt loop and tucked them and my wallet into my pocket. 

I looked up to her eyeing me softly in the low light. It felt like way too much in my space.

“After you, ma’am.” I said brightly holding the door for her feigning a calmness.

She eyed me with an unreadable look before brushing past me.

When I say brush past, I mean she quite literally brushed against me. It seemed very unnecessary, but maybe I was taking up more space than I thought.

I locked the door behind myself, shut it tight and followed her down the stairs. 

She took each step with stunning elegance. If I tried to attempt these stairs in heels it would most definitely end in a hospital visit. 

I nearly froze at the Rolls Royce sitting out front, but managed to keep myself moving. 

Agatha walked to the back door and held it open for me. Wordlessly, I obeyed and slid in with a nod. The door shut behind me and Agatha walked around back. 

A man sat in the drivers seat ahead. 

“Hello.” I greeted awkwardly. 

“Evening.” He said with a nod in the rearview. 

The door on the side of me opened, Agatha slipping in next to me. 

I felt jarringly out of place and way in over my head. 

The only time I’d ever even been next to a Rolls Royce was at car shows with my dad. Sitting in the back of one with someone who owned one or at least rented one, never really something I expected.

“All set?” The driver asked staring at her in the mirror. 

“All set.” She replied easily tucking her left leg over the other. 

With that, he shifted the car into drive and slowly pulled off. 

“Thought it would be best to call my chauffeur for the night. Won’t have to worry about driving back.” She said quietly leaning over to me. 

I nodded with a smile nervous hands fidgeting my jeans. 

Of course she had a fucking driver. 

Her eyes shifted down, a cool smirk present. It took me a few seconds to realize she was eyeing my hand. I halted the nervous movement and looked out the window on my side. 

“It’s just a short ways from here.” She broke the quiet after a moment. 

I turned back and realized my hand was fidgeting again. I stuffed my hand in my pocket and nodded to her waiting gaze. 

I couldn’t think of anything to say verbally. My head was in overdrive shifting my mouth into mute mode.

The silence felt uncomfortable, all that could be heard was a low tune on the radio and the turning wheels. 

Agatha seemed easy going about it. As if it wasn’t even a bit awkward for her at all. She was looking out her own window. Passing lights displaying on her face like personal spotlights. I couldn’t pull my eyes off of her now that I fully looked.

I wan’t sure how much time had passed but it wasn’t long.

“Here we are.” The driver spoke dragging my gaze from her. 

To my surprise we were outside of a bar Chloe, Brooks and I had been to several times. It was in fact an extremely casual place. The familiar sight eased me slightly, shoulders relaxing a bit.

Agatha’s door shut jostling me and I fumbled with my buckle to follow. 

She must have hurdled the car with how fast she got to my own door, opening it for me. I stepped out and mumbled a thank you as she closed it behind me. 

She caught up to me at the entrance, ghosting her hand on my lower back.

The light touch had me incessantly reminding myself this was not date.

“Find us some seats.” Her hand pressed a hint harder into my back, her lips barely an inch from my ear. “I’ll grab drinks.”

I nodded with a painted smile and watched her glide over to the bar. 

This place had a lodge vibe mixed with a sports bar. A good blend of new and old. Wood walls and floors, tv’s playing sports and a stage in the corner littered with scuff marks showing its age. It had that old wood smell to it.

I decided on a low booth in the far corner that wasn’t super populated.

They always had bands on the weekend here, Fridays being acoustic groups. Currently a big acoustic ensemble was on stage doing a cover of Wagon Wheel. 

As a harmonica solo rang out, Agatha appeared approaching with drinks. My stuttering heart ticked away at the sight of it.

She sat across from me on the small booth. Her captivating hands placed a clear cocktail with a lime in front of herself and what appeared to be an old fashioned in front of me.

“I took a guess.” She said looking up at me through her lashes, smirking of course. “You can tell me the truth if I was wrong.” It almost annoyed me that she clocked my drink of choice. 

I shook my head with a laugh and held up my glass. With a chuckle she held hers up and clanked it to mine.

“Knew it.” She said low, almost to herself before taking a sip.

“What may I ask are you drinking? Know it all.” I teased back finally.

She laughed, her heeled foot knocked into my leg for just a second. 

Obviously an accident, of course.

“Currently a mule of sorts, though I do enjoy a good glass of wine. I’m not too picky.” Her long fingers stirred the mixer stick as she spoke. 

I flickered my eyes to her hand for just a second then nodded.

We continued the conversation with ease, sharing how the rest of our week went. 

My nearly finished drink seemed to be doing the trick in releasing the tension I had been holding.

She finished hers first and I jumped to get up knocking back the rest of mine. “I’ll get the next round.” I stated scooting out of the booth. She beat me to a stand and pushed my shoulder down.

“Darling, don’t even try.” She warned with narrowed eyes. 

I sat staring dumbly at her as she grabbed our empty glasses and disappeared into the bar traffic. 

My heart was racing, tingling pulses rushing out with every beat. 

It is not a date, I reminded myself as my stomach swirled.

After shaking my gaze away from where she stood, I focused in on the people around. A nice, distracting room observation.

The interest in my surroundings came crashing down as an eery smile lurked up to me. 

“Hey, there.” Slurred the voice of the man that just approached.

His hair was in a bun, obnoxiously long mustache and a smell like he questioned if soap was a necessity. 

The good thing about going out with Brooks, ninety percent of the time guys usually didn’t approach.

“Sup?” I asked plainly, eyes pinning behind him in search of Agatha.

“Just noticed you were alone. Good lookin’ girl alone needing some company.” He drawled out taking a swig off a Natural Light. 

“I’m perfectly alright, bud.” I responded eyes still searching for her, refusing to land fully on him.

Finally, she appeared out of the crowd. I shot her a pleading stare hoping to convey my discomfort.

Her face instantly fell into disgust.

Another wave of warm tingles shot outward from my chest. The man had said something else, but I was too focused on her to hear it.

When Agatha reached our table she placed our drinks down with a loud force. His glazed eyes shot to her, mouth raising into a toothy grin.

“Well, hello.” He greeted before turning back directing another question to me. “Friend of yours, sweetheart?” 

I was just getting ready to say something when Agatha stepped to him. “I think it’s time you leave.” It came out of her throat searing, the look she had on him boiling it over.

“Take it easy babe. Just tryin to mingle.” His response was joking but he was backing away.

I felt my own anger bubble at his words towards her.

“Out of my sight, now.” She stepped forward a touch more, a threat.

It was a final statement, spoken in a way that had you questioning your safety if you ignored it. He faltered only for a couple of seconds before turning with a scoff.

She watched after him glaring for a second. Her right hand twitching and twisting on the table.

When she turned back to me, her face calmed into a soft welcoming thing. 

I wanted to kiss her hard. 

Ignoring it I reminded myself, just friends getting drinks for the millionth time.

“God.” I dragged it out leaning back into the booth. “You could not have returned at a better time.” My fists were clenched in my lap fighting off my feelings for her. She smiled and pushed my glass to me before sitting. 

My brain felt like it was physically pushing off how hot it was the way she reacted. The bold stance she took, batting him off of me. The dream I had of her was like PBS compared to the images bouncing in my head now. 

Grabbing my drink I swallowed a large gulp down with the thoughts.

“Quite a fool thinking he deserves an ounce of your time.” She said like she was still juggling the thought of fighting him.

A quiet easily settled over us in the loud bar as I tried to settle my smile at her words.

The band switched into a cover of Mr. Brightside. I battled myself before I spoke the words that fell out of my mouth. “You can see the band better over here.” It was bold to say when I had barely spared a glance to them anytime she was across from me.

Her gaze shot up to me, a bated moment between us after my statement. 

Blue eyes stood trained to me as she moved out of her side of the booth and in a fluid motion flipped to mine. 

I held my breath for too long, a deep sigh released as my lungs begged for air. 

I took another sip of my drink and moved just a couple of inches closer to her. I hid it well behind a cough.

At least that’s what my buzzed brain told me. 

The warmth coming off of her was like a pull.

Something about the notes in the song aided in my chest aching for her. 

I turned my head to hers just as she did the same. With a snap I looked back to my drink and took another sip.

The crowd started to sing along, like it was impossible to not join in.

The room was increasingly growing louder by the second, but it felt quiet next to her. I swear I could hear her breathing over the noise. 

I could see her looking at me from the corner of my eye. Almost like she was waiting for me to look back again. I couldn’t bring myself to turn my head.

I swear the space between us had shrunk since I last observed it. A mere inch was between the side of our legs. I sighed and leant back into the booth, pushing my leg against hers casually with the move. 

I instantly second guessed it and moved it back to where it was, playing it off like an accident. The song was building to its end. The room now shouting along, but I swear I heard her breathe out a laugh. 

Her leg then pushed into mine catching my breath again. The leg that wasn’t touching her started to bounce, as if trying to shake the feelings for her out. 

The song ended, the room erupting with cheers and applause. 

“I’m so glad I’ve met you.” She said it softly but it felt blaring. 

I nearly jumped at it, the difference it held from the silence between us jarring. 

Finally, I turned my head to her. An instant regret shot through me from how close she was. I lost any verbal response I had to reply. 

My jaw was clenched, eyebrows pinched together trying to fight off how much I wanted to kiss her. It was just a millisecond that my eyes fell to her lips, but it was enough to be obvious.

I looked away, embarrassed and cheeks getting warm. 

“I’ll just assume you’re glad you’ve met me too.” She said it so close in a puffed up way. 

In a way like despite my lack of answer she knew the truth anyhow. Knew the reason I had to look away. 

I huffed out a laugh. “Of course I am.” 

“Good.” Voice still too close.

It was almost irritating how smug she sounded. As if she was enjoying how nervous she was making me. In fact it wasn’t almost irritating, it was really fucking irritating. I turned to her quick and any annoyance left the moment I met her eyes.

They weren’t teasing like expected. They were soft and inviting and so blue, dragging a smile out of me. Her own smile grew with mine. 

With a head shake, lips still upturned she looked away taking a sip of her drink. Her tongue slipped out to catch a drip of her drink. I had to look away again.

A charged silence hung between us now as we both sipped our drinks too quick.

“One more round?” She asked pulling my eyes back to her.

There wasn’t a universe in which I would say no. I nodded. “Just a beer though, I’m still not feeling a hundred percent.”

Her face dropped after finishing her last sip. I wanted to taste the sharp ginger on her lips. “We don’t have to if you’re tired.” Her concern dispersing another warm waving pulse.

I shook my head answering quick. “One more.”

She leaned in a hair closer grabbing my eyes. “You’d tell me the truth if you wanted to leave, right?”

There wasn’t a single bit of her that didn’t know the answer was yes to her question. She just wanted me to say it. I could see it in the way she looked at me. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” I said calmly and smooth, heart thumping.

It set a gleam in her eye. “Good.”

The word brought me back to the dream again. Just one more word after and I’d be a mess. The way she said good sounded like it was only right for girl to follow. 

Standing fluidly she made her way back into the crowd.

She came back with two beers and sat right next to me again. Leg pressed into mine facing towards me. 

I mumbled out a thank you and took a sip.

My phone loudly rang in my pocket. I jumped to pull it out and silence it, having sworn I already had. I turned off the ringer and placed it on the table. 

Mom.

“You can answer.” Agatha said nodding to my phone.

“It’s fine. She’s probably just reminding me we have to pick up our Christmas trees this weekend.” I looked over to her. “It can wait.”

The rest of the time drinking our beers passed easily. 

Well, conversation was easy. Avoiding the pull I had towards her wasn’t. 

She didn’t make it simple, touching my arm occasionally or leaning in while she laughed.

“Let’s get you home sleepy eyes.” Agatha said a moment after my last sip.

The fatigue had started to settle in, eyelids feeling heavier. I’d hoped it wasn’t obvious, but apparently it was to her.

I nodded with a laugh moving out of the booth behind her as she stood.

I followed her closely through the crowd, bumping into her when a loud group passed in front of us. She took a quick glance at me before reaching back and grabbing my wrist. 

We weaved through the crowd to the exit. Her hand gently tightened with a dizzying thumb brush. I worried she’d be able to feel my pulse through the touch. 

The Rolls was sitting in wait as we exited. She only dropped my wrist when she opened the door of the car for me.

The distance in the backseat felt glaring now, having been so close in the bar. 

She stared out her window, legs crossed as sirens blared behind us. The driver pulled to the side as the emergency vehicle shot past us, another following behind.

I leaned over, stilling her as I pointed up and out of the window. “That’s mars. I just remembered it’s visible tonight.”

I signed up for a weekly email a while back for updates on moon phases and astrological events. It peaked my interest more than I expected resulting in me buying a cheap telescope. I’d never been more glad I had signed up, giving me the excuse to be close to her again. 

Another siren sounded halting our progress again. 

“Which one?” She asked just above a whisper. 

I unbuckled and moved closer to her. Too close. Pressed right against her. 

The cruiser zoomed by, lights flaring. “That red one right there.” I replied just as quiet.

Her hair smelled floral. She let out a small sigh and sunk back into my chest, right above my pounding heart.

Just two friends, sitting together in a backseat.

I winced at the shaky breath that slipped out. No chance she didn’t notice it, it was too close. I could swear I heard her take in a similar shuddering breath.

The car started moving again at this point. 

“Regular astrologer aren’t you?” Her usual vibrato still held, but it didn’t have it’s usual command.

I tried so hard to convince myself it wasn’t real. Every second with her against my chest had hope racing. 

It wasn’t just me.

“Maybe.” I whispered fighting the urge to press it to her ear.

It was her phones turn to interrupt. The bright screen blaring in the dark as it buzzed against the leather. 

Adam fucking Pontes.

Agatha let out a groan dropping her head back onto my shoulder. Her neck was right there, begging for attention in the moonlight.

She held her head back up and grabbed her phone. “I’m going to kill him.” She seethed with an unmistakable anger. 

I almost felt sorry for him as she went to answer. “If you call me this late ever again, I will fire you and personally see you are never hired by another living soul.” She hung up the phone and tossed it without bothering to wait for a response. 

I couldn’t help the laughter that erupted. Leaning forward I buried it in the back of her shoulder. I held a worry for a split second before she joined me. 

I raised my head as the laughter died down. The air around us felt like a thick fog.

The familiar street lights near home started to pass. I felt like shouting at the driver to slow down. 

Too quickly he pulled up and parked outside of the cafe. 

With effort I moved away from her placing my hand on the door handle.

“I’ll walk you up.” She said quietly watching me.

I nodded opening the door and stepping out. She followed out behind me shutting it. 

The water was sloshing in the light wind across the street. 

I walked up slowly, her footsteps following. After reaching the door I stopped, turning to her and pressing my back against it. 

“Thank you for tonight.” I said feeling a little sheepish in the glow of the porch light. God did she look beautiful. “No, thank you.” She said stepping closer. “I forgot to ask you, how do you like this one?” My face twisted into confusion at her question.

She stepped even closer. “The necklace.” I actually stopped breathing, my eyes shooting down to the thicker piece of jewlery. 

Memories danced from last week. Her abrupt departure when I touched the other. 

I looked up to her, back to the necklace then to her again. 

Daringly, I reached out hooking the chain with my pointer. I ran my finger back and forth, knuckle dragging against her chest. 

My gaze was laser focused on the jewelry, but I swore I saw her bite her bottom lip for just a second.

“I like them both.” I stated looking back up to her and pulling my hand back. “I do have a bit of an aversion to the other though.”

If it effected her in any way, she hid it very well. With a nod she stepped back pointedly, tucking her arms behind her back. 

“Go on and get some rest.”

I let out a laugh and opened the screen door. Unhooking the keys from my belt loop I unlocked the wood door. 

I paused a moment before looking back up to her. “Goodnight, Agatha.” Pursed lips, arms still hidden behind her back. “Goodnight, darling.”

I slipped inside shutting the door behind me quick before she saw me melt. 

A deep breath pushed out as my back leaned into the door. 

I pulled my phone out and called Chloe as soon as I heard her footsteps retreat. She answered almost instantaneously.

“Well, hello.” She dragged out far too chipper.

“Hey.” I replied still against the door. 

“So, how’d it go? Not the best it could considering you’re calling me instead of her name right now.”

I heard a familiar laugh in the background, Brooks.

“Jesus fucking christ, Chlo. You know what? I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wait wait wait. I’m sorry.” They both laughed and I joined. 

Pushing myself from the door I dropped my keys and wallet on the table.

“She picked me up in a Rolls fucking Royce, driver and all.”

“Oh shit, where did you go?” 

“We went to Benji’s actually.” I said kicking my shoes off. 

“That must have been a sight pulling up in a Rolls there.” She laughed. 

“I am so fucked, Chloe.” I dropped down onto the couch. 

“Well, come on give me a little bit of the details.”

I sighed staring at the ceiling. I proceeded to give her every detail I could remember. 

When I finally finished I had to hold my phone up to make sure she was still on the line.

“I’m actually speechless.” I could practically see her throwing her arms up in the air. “and you think she doesn’t like you?” She sounded exasperated.

“Well, I don’t know Chloe. She maybe just needs a friend, she seems lonely. She said it was a night out as friends.” 

She made an annoyed clicking sound with her tongue. “Impossible fucking lesbians.” “Okay, relax I don’t even know if she’s a lesbian. She might be straight or bi or pan or whatever.”

“Well, she’s certainly you sexual.” 

“That’s the corniest shit you’ve ever said.” I shook my head.

“It’s just the truth.” A silence hung between lines. “Has she texted you, or you her?”

It dawned on me then. We still didn’t have each others numbers. 

I busted out into laughter at how ridiculous it was.

“What’s so funny?” Chloe had a hint of amusement just hearing me.

“We don’t even have each others numbers.” 

She burst out into a mad cackle.

“Ya’ll have got to be joking.” She laughed again like a maniac. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I actually can’t anymore. Night idiot.”

I snorted a laugh. “Night evil woman.”

One last laugh erupted before she hung up. 

I sat there for a moment picturing her and Brooks cackling together over it. It really was unbelievable, stupid and unbelievable.

After a shower I climbed into bed. Exhaustion seeped in as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

Tingling memories of her touch, her pressed against my chest ghosted me to sleep.

——————————————————————————

The morning was a near endless onslaught of miserable teasing from Chloe. 

She finally took pity on me around noon. I pretended I didn’t notice Janice scolding her in the back warning her to stop.

The gorgeous woman who consumed my every thought came in right before closing. 

My smile faded as I took in the sight of her. She seemed tired, a bit distressed.

“Everything okay?” I asked walking over to her. “Just a stressful day.” She replied massaging her left temple, closing her eyes.

She almost looked shorter with the way her shoulders hunched under the weight of her day. 

I found myself thinking, how long ago had she been hugged? Actually hugged. Not a passing hello, a real hug from someone who cared. 

Maybe just today for all I knew. It’s not as if I knew all too much about her life. 

Maybe though, maybe she hadn’t been hugged in a while. Someone who spends holidays alone I figure may not find physical affection too often. 

I moved forward before I could second guess it. Friends hugged. Chloe and I hugged all the time.

Her eyes opened slowly. The hand that rubbed at her temple dropping as I wrapped my arms around her. 

She went rigidly still. I froze around her thinking I had fucked up. Maybe she hated physical touch and here I was forcing it on her. 

My fears dropped as soon as her arms clung around my waist. 

We held tighter at the same time, sinking into the other. Her head pushed into my shoulder, a long sigh hot on my neck. The shiver it sent down my spine was unstoppable. 

Her weight sagged into me and I held it up solid. 

“I’ll be gone for a few days. Something came up last minute for work.” The sentence came out of her attached to another sigh. 

“Where are you headed?” I asked quietly hoping it wasn’t too much. 

“Chicago.”

“Okay.” I nodded. 

My hands tensed to trail circles on her back, but I held back. That felt like too much. 

“My plane takes off in two hours.” Another sigh. “I have to go. I just wanted to stop in for a minute.”

“Okay.” I said again but held tighter.

Her phone started to ring in her pocket. 

A groan released from her. I did an excellent job at suppressing a reaction to it. 

Her left arm stayed around my waist as the right fished for her phone. Her left cheek rest against my left shoulder as she held the phone up to her right ear.

“Yes. I am on my way. Goodbye.” Every word came out in a drained distaste.

The fourth sigh that followed was the longest of the bunch. 

The words I’ll miss you lingered on the tip of my tongue. My lips pressed into a tight line holding it back. 

The hand that had held her phone up slipped back around my waist. She pulled me in so tight my heels almost rose off the floor. It sucked the knowledge on how to breathe right from my head. 

I wanted to claw her as close as possible, but my hands lay still around her.

Her grip loosened as she pulled back, hands lingering on my sides. 

Just a simple move and my fingers could be in her hair. Massage the tensions of the day right from her head. 

Her big blue eyes held something I couldn’t place. They looked down as she pulled away and out of my hold. 

“I’ll see you next week, darling.”

I’ll miss you.

“Be safe.”

Her usual smirk fixed onto her face as she pressed into the door. 

“I’ll bring you a souvenir.” With that and her usual wink she was gone. 

I desperately wanted to ask her for her number. Run out the door and just shout my own at her. 

Something nagged me to leave it up to her. 

She was clearly an important woman, her number surely wasn’t something she handed out easily. If she wanted mine she would have asked by now. 

Not to mention she already had the upper hand in a way. She was only a simple google search away from the cafe’s number. 

My feet felt cemented where I stood. 

What just happened felt more like a dream than reality. I was tempted to pull up the security camera footage from behind the counter to make sure I didn’t hallucinate it all.

[torakowalski]

I've started writing so so many fics in the last few weeks, but instead of finishing any of them, I instead wrote and finished a whole different thing this evening.

And Kneel and Say an Ave There for Me

(Eoin/Paddy, post-jump, everybody lives)

Paddy thinks he might be hallucinating when he mounts the top of another fucking sand dune and sees real people, people he knows, on the other side.

“Reg!” he shouts.

Reg, down on his knees beside a dark shape in the sand, looks up sharply and waves Paddy forward. “Hurry,” he calls, so Paddy hurries.

The dark shape is Eoin.

Paddy realises it half way down the dune, but he still doesn't want to believe it until Eoin is fully in focus and he has no choice.

He's on his back in the sand, his head pillowed on Dave's lap, eyes closed. There's blood all over his face, his right arm is at a bad angle and his left leg - uniform trousers and the flesh underneath - is ripped open from thigh to shin.

“Is he -?” Paddy asks, stopping at Eoin's feet.

“We're trying to make him comfortable,” Reg says. “There were some other lads with us, but we sent them on. We thought we'd wait until… We thought we'd wait.”

Paddy nods. Okay. Okay. Eoin is dying then. But Paddy's here. At least he won't die alone.

Paddy gets down on his knees next to Eoin's shoulder, takes hold of him carefully and moves him from Dave so his head rests on Paddy's lap now.

Eoin mumbles something, too quiet to catch.

“You're all right, lad,” Paddy tells him. “Paddy's here, now.”

“We found him in the night,” Dave says. “He said it wasn't too bad but… Well.”

Paddy smiles even though his joy is bleeding out into the sand. “Of course he said that.”

He licks his thumb, uses it to try to wipe some of the dried blood from Eoin's cheek.

“Here.” Reg passes him a canteen of water, and a moment later, a cleanish looking handkerchief.

Paddy should save the water. He knows that and Reg knows that. He wets the handkerchief and starts to wash Eoin's face for him in earnest.

“Can't have you meeting Saint Peter not looking your best,” he tells Eoin.

The cuts he finds under the blood are thin, but vicious. They look like they're from desert brambles, but there aren't any nearby.

“Did you move him?” Paddy asks.

Reg shakes his head. “He moved himself. He was crawling, when we found him. Determined bastard.”

“Stubborn,” Paddy says. His eyes fall on something small and brown poking out of Eoin's clenched fist. Eoin's too weak to hold on whatever it is, so it doesn't take much to tug it free and reveal his rosary beads.

Paddy touches them, the first time he ever has. He doesn't immediately burst into flames.

“Do either of you know how these work?” he asks.

“I do,” says Dave. “Some of it, anyway.”

Paddy thinks of his mother, thinks of her God. He thinks they'd both forgive him just this once. “Tell me what to say.”

“Paddy,” Dave says. “Eoin would never expect you to -”

Paddy picks up the beads. They're warm like everything in this desert is warm, but he'd like to pretend they're warm from Eoin's skin.

“Tell me what to say,” he repeats.

Keep reading here on AO3.

[bangtanbeom]

’*•.¸undeniably yours¸.•*’ 3

୨♡୧ part one / part two / part three / bonus ୨♡୧ pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader genre: fluff (this part leans more to angst) , strangers to friends to ? , college AU, slow burn (trying to), summary: you and beomgyu are partnered for a group project, the connection starts off as simple friendship. but as you share quiet moments, unspoken glances, and moments of vulnerability, the lines between friendship and something more begin to blur. w/c: ~4.2k warnings: not entirely proofread, couple of curse words, bit angsty a/n: i still can't thank everyone enough! your comments, reblogs and likes make me sososo happy. i check and reread every comment at least 10 times a day <3 i was so deep in my own imagination while writing this, that i made it more angsty than i wanted to, i'm sorry. i really wanted to make an all fluff story for once, but i guess i like pain, agony and drama, i did enjoy writing it but sorrysorry oops LOVE LANGUAGE IS FINALLY OUT AAAA i pulled an allnighter for this while writing and waiting, im going to bed now bye <3 taglist: for the cuties who wanted to be tagged <3 @thearcherbeomgyu | @georgeweasleys-gf | @urfavmaknae | @eumpappasmom | @jisungooner |

the sunlight poured through the cafe's large windows, painting stripes of gold over wooden tables. outside the cherry blossoms filled the street, their petals swirling like confetti against the blue sky. a girl sat across from him, her fingers curled around the edges of his notebook like she owned it. her smile as bright as the sun combined with her effortless beauty.

and beomgyu—

he was smiling—not his usual lopsided grin, but something softer, intentional, his fingers tapping the table to a rhythm only they seemed to know.

your stomach twisted.

soobin nudged you. "they've been working on that song for weeks. it's good."

"cool," you said, too quickly. the words tasted sour.

you turned to the counter, where the barista—who knew your order by heart—was already sliding a steaming mug your way.

"banana latte, extra cinnamon," she said with a wink. "he paid ahead. said you'd need it after your exam."

the mug burned your palms. he'd remembered. of course he had. beomgyu always remembered—the way you took your drink, your fear of the dark, the fact that you hated studying for exams alone.

you took a sip. it was perfect.

and it made you furious.

because right then, he was leaning toward the girl, his brow furrowed in that way it only did when he was truly listening, and—

she reached out.

just a brush of her fingers against his wrist, a fleeting thing. but beomgyu didn't pull away.

your throat tightened. the sweet latte tasted bitter on your tongue.

you set the mug down too hard, the sound drowned out by the cafe's chatter.

soobin raised an eyebrow. "you okay?"

"perfect," you lied. "but i have to go."

the door jingled again as you left, the warmth of the latte still lingering on your palms.

your feet carried you blindly through the streets, past laughing couples and slow-walking tourists. the world snapped into clarity—the too-loud scrape of a chair against the pavement, the shriek of a child's laughter, the sound of a text notification that wasn't his.

you pulled out your phone. unlocked it. closed it.

unlocked it again.

you found it. the girl's instagram was right there. you told yourself you wouldn't.

but you did.

her latest post was a blurry shot of sheet music spread across a cafe table—our table—with beomgyu's hands just visible in the corner.

your thumb hovered over the photo. if you clicked it, you'd see his comment. if you didn't, you'd imagine it.

so you imagined it.

the replay in your head was worse than the actual moment.

the way she touched his notebook, the cherry blossoms swirling outside, through the window behind them—looking like a scene from a romantic drama.

the notebook—the same notebook with your stupid doodles in the margins, the one he'd shoved at you last week with a grin,

"write something here. make it deep."

his smile. not the teasing one, not the one he used as armor—the real one. the one you thought—

no. it doesn't mean anything.

so what if he was sitting next to her? so what if she touched his wrists?

it didn't have to mean anything.

you'd seen him like that a hundred times—laughing with soobin, nodding along to some professor's rambling, humming under his breath while he scribbled lyrics.

this wasn't different. was it?

you kicked a pebble. it skittered across the sidewalk and smacked into a trash can with a hollow clink.

your stomach twisted, over and over again.

why did it bother you so much?

you were just friends.

the friend who stole his hoodies and laughed at his stupid jokes. the one who noticed the way his voice softened when he was tired, or the way his fingers tapped restless rhythms against his thigh when he was thinking.

just—

your steps faltered.

oh.

oh no.

this wasn't just annoyance. this wasn't just friendship.

this was—

no. no. no.

you couldn't. you wouldn't.

because if you admitted it, even to yourself, everything would change, and you couldn't lose him. you couldn't.

unbelievable.

you were overreacting.

maybe you were just tired. maybe you were reading into things. maybe the way your chest ached when he smiled at her was just—

indigestion.

this wasn't jealousy. it couldn't be.

except your chest tightened when he smiled at her.

your phone buzzed, a notification lit up your screen.

beomgyu: you left?

the three dots appeared. disappeared. so did your breath.

then—

nothing.

you stared blankly at your textbook, the words swimming before your eyes. your phone buzzed for the third time in twenty minutes, the screen lighting up with another message from beomgyu. you didn't need to look to know what it said—another attempt at his usual banter, another question—another attempt to close the distance that was created by you.

your fingers hovered over the keyboard. last week, you would have responded with a sarcastic joke or ridiculous meme. now, your thumbs moved mechanically.

you: sorry, busy studying. talk later.

you hit send before you could second-guess yourself, immediately feeling the emptiness of the words. the message stared back at you, its distant tone—a stark contrast to the colorful, emoji-filled exchanges that used to fill your chat history.

beomgyu sat in his apartment room floor, guitar resting on his lap. his phone screen lit up as your message appeared, his chest tightening at your short response.

soobin watched from his bed seeing the way his roommate's shoulder slumped slightly.

"still nothing?" soobin asked gently, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in sympathy.

beomgyu shook his head, thumbs brushing over his phone screen.

"she's just... different now." he forced a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "maybe i finally annoyed her into hating me."

beomgyu tried to rationalize it.

maybe you were stressed about midterms. maybe you were mad at him for something he didn't remember doing. maybe you were just tired.

but then—

you stopped sitting next to him in lectures.

you stopped laughing at his jokes.

you stopped looking at him.

and that—that stung.

one afternoon, he cornered you after class, blocking your exit with his body, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. "did i do something?"

you blinked. "what?"

"you've been avoiding me."

your throat tightened. "i haven't."

"bullshit." he rolled his eyes, his tone light-hearted, but lingered with a slight tone of frustration—desperation, maybe.

you forced a weak laugh.

his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn't know if he was allowed anymore.

beomgyu exhaled, his cheerful facade slightly disappearing, he was running a hand through his hair. "just—tell me what i did."

you didn't do anything. it's me.

you opened your mouth. closed it.

beomgyu's jaw tightened, not able to hide his expression anymore. "if you don't want to be friends anymore, just say it."

your chest ached.

"that's not—" you cut yourself off, shaking your head. "i don't—"

i don't want to just be friends.

the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken.

beomgyu waited, hurt, concern, written over his face.

but you couldn't do it.

you gently pushed his body to the side. "i'm just really busy. i have to go."

campus was nearly empty. you didn't expect him to find you.

but of course he did.

because this was beomgyu. and beomgyu always found you.

when he found you sitting on a bench, your back against the sun-warmed brick wall. he approached with caution, holding two iced coffees like a white flag—almost looking like a peace offering.

"thought you could use this," he said, offering you the drink, the condensation dripped onto his fingers as he waited for you to take it.

you accepted the cup automatically, the cold shocked against your palm mirroring the discomfort twisting in your stomach. "thanks," you murmured, setting it beside you on the bench without taking a sip.

beomgyu's smile faltered. he took a long sip from his own cup just to have something to do with his hands.

"so... that midterm was brutal, huh? i swear, the professor takes pleasure in our suffering."

"yeah," you nodded without looking up from your notebook. "brutal."

silence stretched between you, thick and unfamiliar. beomgyu shifted his weight from foot to foot, the usual easy rhythm of your conversation nowhere to be found.

he tried again, forcing lightness into his voice, "you know, if you keep giving one-word answers, i'm going to start charging you per syllable."

the joke landed with a thud. you offered a weak smile. "sorry. just tired."

he studied your face—the way you avoided his gaze. the tense set of your shoulders. this wasn't tired. this was something else entirely. the realization settled heavy in his chest—you were pulling away, and he didn't understand why.

spring showers—the rain pattered against the music building's windows as you hurried down the hallway, desperate to make your next class on time. the sound of familiar laughter made you freeze mid-step.

through the practice room's small window, you saw beomgyu sitting at the piano, the same girl from the cafe perched beside him. her fingers danced over the keys as he leaned in to point at something in the sheet music, his face alight with that particular enthusiasm he only got when talking about music.

their heads bent close together, her dark hair brushing against his shoulder as she laughed at something he said. you watched, rooted to the spot, as beomgyu reached out to adjust her hand positions on the keys, his touch lingering onto hers just a second too long—in your opinion.

the scene burned itself into your retinas. you turned away sharply, your chest aching with something too close to jealousy for comfort. this was ridiculous. you had no claim on him. no right to feel this way.

yet the image followed you all the way to class—his easy smile, their comfortable closeness. the way he looked at her with none of the awkwardness that had crept into his interactions with you recently.

but this was what you wanted—the moment you decided to create that same distance between the two of you.

it wasn't supposed to be like this. you weren't supposed to care this much, but here you were—again—lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers, replaying every stupid interaction, every laugh, every moment that had somehow led you here—to this.

you groaned, pressing the heels of your hand into your eyes until stars burst behind your lids.

idiot.

you had one job—keep things simple. keep things easy. and what did you do?

you went and fell for him.

the same person who still laughed with milk dripping down his chin, who stole your fries just to get a reaction, who looked at you like you were the only person in the room even when the room was full.

the same boy who was probably sitting in a cafe—strumming his guitar—with her, smiling like she'd hung the stars.

you squeezed your eyes shit.

stop.

but you couldn't

because the truth was, you hated this. the way your stomach twisted when you thought about him, the way your chest ached when he texted someone else. hated that you'd become that person—the one who reads too much into every glance, every touch, every stupid banana milk he handed you like it meant something.

and you messed up.

because right now, every time he looked at you, you froze, every time he joked, you forced a laugh. every time he tried to close the distance, you moved away.

and he noticed. of course he did.

and instead of fixing it, instead of just telling him—you ran.

"hey, by the way, i think i might be in love with you, and now i can't even look at you without wanting to scream. cool, right?"

no.

that wasn't happening.

because the second you said it out loud, everything would change. you couldn't—wouldn't—risk losing him. not when he meant this much.

so you did the only thing you could.

you pulled away, trying to get rid of those feelings.

and now, here you were—lying in bed, hating yourself for being weak, for being scared, for being the one who ruined the best thing you'd ever had.

all because you were stupid enough to fall for him.

your phone buzzed. again.

you didn't need to look to know who it was.

beomgyu—always beomgyu.

you sat back against the couch, the faint scent of him still clinging to the fabric of the hoodie he'd left behind.

the knock on your apartment door was sharp—impatient. you barely had time to set down your mug before your sister let herself in, her coat slightly damp from the drizzle outside.

"you're ignoring mom's calls," she announced, toeing off her shoes. "and don't say you're 'busy'."

you groaned, flopping back onto the couch.

she flopped beside you, stealing your half-eaten bag of chips. "is this about that guy? beomgyu?" the way she said his name—like it was a secret she'd caught you writing in a diary—made your throat tighten.

"no," you said too quickly. "we're just friends."

she raised a brow. "the kind of friend you ignore calls for?" she smirked. "or the kind you like?"

you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, averting your gaze. "god, you're so delusional. he's just—" you waved a hand, scrambling for the right word.

annoying. loud. not at all the kind of person who makes your chest ache when he laughs.

"—he's a friend. barely. more like a nuisance."

"a nuisance who brought you banana milk every morning?"

"a nuisance who's super clingy," you snapped, harsher than intended. the words tumbled out, desperate—like if you said them loud enough, you'd believe them. "he's everywhere, all the time, with his stupid jokes and his stupid grin—"

"wow." your sister blinked. "you hate him that much?"

"yes."

no.

"he's insufferable." you continued, your voice cracking. "i could never—never—fall for someone like him." a mocking laugh escaped from your lips. yet the lie burned your tongue.

a moment of silence. then—

a floorboard creaked.

your blood turned to ice. your sister's eyes flicked to the door—then back to you, wide with realization.

she forgot to close it.

your stomach dropped. slowly, you turned. the door was slightly ajar. not enough to notice at first, but enough to see the shadow retreating. enough to hear the muffled thud of someone stumbling back.

no.

you lunged forward, yanking the door open—

rain. empty hallway.

and a single, half—crushed banana milk carton abandoned on your welcome mat.

the silence was unbearable.

beomgyu had stopped texting you. no more random updates, memes. no more banana milk left on your doorstep. completely nothing.

you'd catch yourself staring at your phone, thumb hovering over his contact, only to pull away.

you didn't know what to say.

"sorry i lied about hating you?" "sorry i ran?"

pathetic. you tried texting him—once, twice, a hesitant "hey", then a more desperate "can we talk?"

no response.

worse—the new semester has started, this time he wasn't in any of your shared classes. he wasn't at the cafe. he wasn't anywhere. it was like he'd vanished, and the realization made your stomach twist.

you might have ruined everything already.

the thought clawed at you—what if he was done? what if he'd finally realized you weren't worth the trouble?

you considered going to his apartment, but the fear stopped you. you weren't sure if he even wanted to see you. maybe he would shut the door in your face, his eyes cold in a way you'd never seen before.

you were sitting on a bench outside the library, staring blankly at your untouched coffee, when someone cleared their throat.

you looked up to see soobin standing there, his usual easygoing expression gone—replaced with a sharp expression.

"wow," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "you look about as happy as beomgyu these days."

your fingers tightened around the coffee cup. "what do you—"

"save it," he cut in, plopping down beside you with enough force to make the bench creak. "i'm not here to play therapist. but someone needs to knock some sense into one of you, and since he's currently wallowing in our living room like some tragic romance protagonist, that leaves you."

your breath caught.

soobin raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. "do you have any idea how annoying it is to live with him right now? the sulking, sighing? the way he keeps opening his damn phone, staring at it for five minutes, then throwing it across the couch?" he shot you a look. "and don't even get me started on the guitar playing at 3 a.m."

the words settled heavily in your chest.

"i don't know what happened between you," soobin continued, his voice losing some of its edge, "but it's been over a week. a whole week of this... whatever this is." he turned to face you fully. "so here's my question—are you going to fix it, or do i need to start hiding his guitar?"

you swallowed hard. "is he... does he hate me?"

soobin barked out a laugh. "if he hated you, do you think he'd still be keeping banana milk in our fridge? if he hated you, would i be finding him walking around in your unwashed hoodies, that still has your scent?" he leaned in.

"use your head."

the lump in your throat grew heavier. you stared at the dark liquid in your cup, watching the light reflect off its surface.

soobin dragged both hands down his face with an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension left them. when he spoke again, his voice had lost its sharp edge, replaced by weary sincerity.

"look," he said, rubbing his temple, "i'm not trying to be an ass about this. but you two..." he made a vague gesture between you and the general direction of his apartment. "this whole thing is ridiculous. just go talk to him, okay?"

he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, thumbing through it before turning the screen toward you. a recent photo of beomgyu filled the display—slumped over his guitar in their living room, hair messier than usual, crumpled sheets of paper scattered on the floor.

"see this?" soobin tapped the screen. "this is what avoiding each other looks like. and frankly? i'm tired of this."

he pocketed his phone and gave you one last, long look. "so do us all a favor and end this weird standoff before i lose any more sleep and break his guitar."

as he walked away, you noticed his steps were slower now, less agitated than when he'd arrived. the fight had gone out of him, leaving only exhausted concern in its wake.

you stared down at your coffee, the cream forming pale islands in the dark liquid. the bench creaked slightly in the breeze, the empty space beside you suddenly feeling vast and hallow. somewhere across the campus, a guitar chord rang out, or maybe you just imagined it. either way, your fingers curled tighter around the cooling cup.

you missed him.

your phone screen glared back at you—another unanswered text, another call that went straight to voicemail.

you tried catching him between classes, lingering by his usual haunts—the library, the cafe, even the music practice rooms. but he was always either just leaving or already gone, slipping through campus like a ghost.

so you did the only thing left.

you went to his apartment.

the walk there felt endless, your pulse hammering with every step. what if he refused to see you? what if he looked at you with that same cold distance that had settled between you?

this was your fault, so you had to fix it.

your fingers tugged nervously at the sleeve of your sweater, the fabric stretching under your grip.

you raised your hand to knock—hesitated—then forced yourself to do it before you lost your nerve.

the door swung open.

soobin stood there, eyebrows lifting in surprise before he nodded. his expression shifting into a knowing look. he didn't say a word, just stepped aside, grabbing his jacket from the hook in one smooth motion.

"beomgyu is in his room," he said simply, shrugging into his coat. "i'll be gone for a while."

you opened your mouth—to thank him, to ask him to stay, you weren't sure—but he was already brushing past you, tossing a quiet, "don't overthink it," over his shoulder before the door clicked shut behind him.

silence.

the apartment smelled faintly of banana milk and guitar polish mixed with his cologne. a half-empty carton sat on the counter, next to a crumpled bag of the chips you always teased him for eating too much of.

your chest ached.

you took a shaky breath and walked down the short hallway, stopping in front of his door. music played softly from the other side—a familiar melody, one you'd heard him hum absentmindedly before.

you knocked. the music stopped.

a beat of silence.

"yeah. come in."

his voice was quiet. rough.

you turned the knob and stepped inside.

the door creaked as you pushed it open.

beomgyu sat on the edge of his bed, guitar resting across his lap, fingers still hovering over the strings. his head snapped—then froze when he saw you.

for a second, neither of you moved.

his expression flickered—surprise, then something guarded, before settling into careful neutrality. his fingers tightened slightly around the neck of the guitar.

"oh..." he said, voice flat. "it's you."

he said it like he'd been expecting soobin. like he hadn't been expecting you at all.

the words didn't sound angry. they sounded hollow.

you swallowed. "yeah."

silence.

his gaze dropped to his guitar, fingers plucking at a string absently. "didn't think you'd actually show up." he paused, his voice quieter than before. "you never did before."

the words hit like a brick.

his room was dim, the only light coming from the desk lamp. there were crumpled sheets of paper scattered on the floor—lyrics? maybe. a half-empty water bottle. a hoodie tossed carelessly over his chair—your hoodie, the one you'd left at his place weeks ago.

the silence stretched, thick and suffocating. the air between you was thick with unsaid words, the kind that clogged your throat and made your chest ache. you could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the distant sound of traffic outside—mundane noises that felt too loud in the silence.

you opened your mouth—

"don't," he cut in, still not making eye-contact. his voice was rough. "don't say you're sorry if you don't mean it."

you swallowed hard. "i need to say this—"

"and i need you to leave," beomgyu cut in, finally lifting his gaze. his voice was sharp, but wavered at the end, cracking like he wasn't sure he even meant it.

something in you snapped.

"no," you said, louder than you meant to. "no, you don't get to do that. don't shut me out, i... i'm trying—trying to fix this, us—just, listen!"

his fingers stilled on the guitar strings.

you barreled on before you could lose your nerve. "i missed you. every damn day. and it killed me because—because i realized something, and it scared the hell out of me, and i didn't know how to say it—"

his head jerked up at that, eyes widening slightly before his expression shuttered again.

"winter break—i realized things. about us. about me." your voice cracked. the confession spilled out like a secret too long kept. "every time you texted me, my heart would race. and it terrified me. what if i ruined everything? what if you didn't feel the same? what if—"

beomgyu's guitar pick clattered to the floor.

you sucked in a sharp breath.

"and when i saw you with her—"

your voice broke, the words tumbling out now, messy and raw.

"and i—god, i felt like i'd been punched in the gut. how she touched your wrist, how you smiled at her. and i—i couldn't even look at you without—" your hands were shaking.

"what if i was too late?" you whispered.

"and then," you let out a shaky laugh, pressing your nails into the palms of your hands. "—and then i told to my sister i hated you. said you were nothing. and you heard it, and i—" you dragged a ragged breath. "fuck, i didn't mean it. i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry, i was just—god, i was so scared of losing you that... that i—"

beomgyu moved so suddenly you flinched.

the guitar hit the floor with a discordant twang as he stood, his hands hovering in the air between you, trembling. like he didn't know what to do with them. his eyes were wide, his breathing uneven.

"her?" he repeated, voice rough. "the—the girl from the music department?"

you nodded, unable to speak.

beomgyu let out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. "god—she's—" he exhaled sharply. "she knew. she knew how i felt about you, and she still let me ramble about you for hours like some—some idiot—"

your pulse stuttered.

his hands finally settled on your shoulder, his grip almost too tight. "she was helping me write a song," he said, voice cracking. "about you."

the world tilted. your stomach fluttered, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest.

beomgyu's thumbs brushed your hands, hesitant. "i kept the banana milk carton from our first meeting," he admitted quietly. "it's in my desk drawer. soobin thinks i'm insane."

a choked laugh escaped you.

his fingers tightened slightly. "say it again," he murmured. "please."

you swallowed. "i like you."

his breath hitched.

"yeah," he breathed, like he was savoring the word. "yeah, me too."

and then—slowly, carefully—he kissed you.

his lips were tentative at first, like he was waiting for permission, and when you didn't pull away, he leaned in fully, one hand lifting to cup your cheek. you could feel the tremble in his fingers, the way his breath shuddered against your skin.

you kissed him back, his other hand resting around your waist, pulling you closer. your hands finding the fabric of his hoodie, clutching it like you were afraid he might disappear.

and just like that—everything fell into place.

© bangtanbeom 2025

[fruchtfliege]

WIP Wednesday 🫡

Tagged by @hemlocksandfoxgloves @thiamsalpha @axxxx13 and @diaphanous-anchor ☺️☺️ thank youuuu

“You’re going down!” Liam screams, trying to push Mason with his shoulder while still keeping his eyes firmly on the screen.

“Aw, do you really think you’ve got a chance?” Mason pushes him back even harder. 

“You’re going down, your family is going down, your whole town is going down!” Liam laughs maniacally, feeling the euphoria of his soon-to-be victory. He’s been eating shit all night, Mason beating him no matter what character or battle arena he picked for the fight and he’s done losing! He even harassed Mason to stay past his week curfew and it’s for the sole purpose of at least beating his ass once! And it’s finally within his reach!

Just as he's about to give the final hit, finally ending the reign of tyranny that Mason has been holding over his head for months, just as his thumb is about to press the metaphorical trigger and murder Mason’s streak in cold blood, his ears pick up a familiar sound in the distance. Turning his head, Liam focuses on it for a moment and, yeah, it’s definitely Theo's car. Liam checks his phone but there’s nothing. No notification, no missed calls. Weird. Theo usually asks him before dropping by. 

“Ah-ha! You thought you could kill me!? Me!? I'm the grandmaster of video games, Liam! Not even your heightened senses can help you now!”  

From the corner of his eye, Liam spots his character – Link – being absolutely obliterated by Peach’s final smash. Nothing he could’ve done about it, he doesn't even have the controller in his hands anymore. 

Mason's chuckle stops as soon as Liam is on his feet, opening his window. He does a double take, surprised to see that his best friend has already moved on from the legendary beating. 

“What are you doing?” Liam whisper-screams out the window. 

“Who is doing what?” Mason gets on his feet too but Liam is completely blocking the view with the top half of his body outside and his ass sticking out in his bedroom. Mason groans and still tries to make himself a small place above him to check what’s going on. 

“Wait, why are you leaving?” Liam tries again. “I can obviously see you, asshole, come back here!”

Mason understands the second he sees Theo hesitating by the side of Liam’s house, not saying anything, that he should probably leave. It’s late and Theo is glancing their way like he wants to stay but there's something bugging him. Mason can take a hint!

“Hey, so I’m gonna go,” Mason says quickly, trying to put Theo out of his misery. “I’ll see you at-”

“What? No! I still didn’t beat you, you can’t leave,” Liam cuts him off almost rudely but it only makes Mason laugh.

“That’s never gonna happen,” Mason says under his breath before he gives an innocent look at Liam like he hasn’t said anything at all. He quickly changes the subject before Liam starts talking nonsense and says that he’ll win the next game or something. “No, I get it, you two need some time alone. I don't mind.” 

Still mostly outside of the window, Liam hits the back of his head as tries to get back in with lightning speed and his high-pitched “what!?” dies into a moan of pain.

NPT: @thiamsxbitch @ksbbb @honestlydarkprincess @aristarr @akirasstories @attempted--eloquence @awinnn23 @ashyjingles @genetic-hellhound @opheliathiams @johnsotherbastard @valkyrievoid-15 @slimeyslimeyballsack @morganasmissus @haven-of-dusk @lovelylittlegrim @okay-but-could-we-not @el-viruss ❤️☺️

[lostlikesaebyeok]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂𝒆-𝒃𝒚𝒆𝒐𝒌 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

'in another universe' headcanons

♡ multiverse softness, alternate lives, same love ♡

(sfw | fem!reader | wlw headcanons | healing au)

♡ in another universe...

☆ sae-byeok never entered the squid games. her life wasn’t perfect, but she made it through with quiet strength, kept her head down, and found her own way out of the dark.

☆ she met you during her first year of college. you held the door open for her, smiled, and offered her the extra seat beside you in lecture without thinking twice.

☆ she rolled her eyes and acted indifferent at first, but she kept sitting next to you anyway.

☆ she didn’t talk much, but the little glances she gave you when you made her laugh? lethal.

☆ it started with shared snacks in class, then late-night study sessions, then walks to the convenience store where she’d let you pick out whatever ice cream you wanted.

☆ you confessed first, blurted it out during an exhausted 2am phone call. she went quiet for a long second before whispering, “i like you too.”

☆ now you’re girlfriends. and despite her quiet, closed-off nature, she adores you more than anything.

♡ college life with her is like:

☆ her walking you to class with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets but bumping her arm into yours every few steps just to be close.

☆ she wears your hoodie “by accident” at least twice a week. she denies it every time.

☆ you always pack her a little extra snack in her lunch bag. she pretends to complain, but she eats every bite.

☆ she secretly draws little doodles in the margins of her notebooks, some of them are of you. you caught her once and she turned red.

☆ she always claims she doesn't like pda, but if someone flirts with you, her arm is around your waist real fast.

☆ she saves a seat for you in the library and pretends to be annoyed when you’re late, but her whole face lights up when you arrive.

☆ she’s not a big fan of parties, but she’ll go with you. stands by your side, leans into you during loud music, kisses your cheek when no one’s looking.

☆ during finals, she’ll sit across from you, headphones in, occasionally passing you little notes that say things like “don’t die pls” or “ur hot and smart.”

♡ working at a small job looks like:

☆ she works part-time at a cozy bookstore café. she likes the quiet and the smell of paper.

☆ wears a name tag that says “sae” because people kept mispronouncing her full name, and she didn’t feel like correcting them.

☆ she’s so calm and competent that her coworkers always ask her to help when things get chaotic. and she does it all with that deadpan expression, like it’s nothing.

☆ customers try to flirt with her constantly, and she just goes, “i have a girlfriend.” and that’s that.

☆ she sneaks you free coffee when you visit. “customer loyalty reward,” she mumbles, while avoiding eye contact.

☆ at the end of every shift, she calls cheol without fail.

☆ she asks about school, reminds him to eat, and always ends the call with “i’ll see you soon, okay?” even when she’s tired.

♡ with cheol:

☆ she spends every weekend helping him with homework, either over video calls or in person if she has time off.

☆ she’s teaching him how to ride a bike. he fell once and she almost panicked, but tried to play it cool.

☆ she makes him bento lunches when she knows he has tests. even writes silly little notes she pretends are from you, just to make him laugh.

☆ cheol adores you. calls you “unni” and always wants to sit between you both when you all hang out.

☆ sometimes the three of you go to the park, she pushes him on the swings while you lie on the grass and smile at how soft she looks.

☆ she tells you, quietly, “he’s my whole world.”

☆ you squeeze her hand and reply, “you’re mine.”

♡ soft girlfriend sae-byeok:

☆ she always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, instinctively shielding you from the street.

☆ texts you “did you eat?” at random times. always wants to make sure you’re okay.

☆ kisses your forehead when she’s feeling vulnerable. rests her cheek on your shoulder when she’s overwhelmed.

☆ brings you coffee before class and acts like she didn’t. “it was on the way,” she says, even though it wasn’t.

☆ sometimes she gets quiet out of nowhere, and you know it’s one of those days where the world feels too loud.

☆ you pull her into your lap, kiss the side of her head, and remind her she’s safe.

☆ she falls asleep with her arms around your waist, fingers curled into your shirt, breathing slow and steady like you’re the one place in the world where she can finally relax.

thank u for reading, angel ♡

૮₍ ´• ˕ •` ₎ა likes = multiverse kisses

lace divider creds: @uzmacchiato

[darksigns-exe]

deux amoureux tout étourdis par la longue nuit - noah x maya (ofc)

warnings: Noah uses she/they pronouns, fingering, anal (nb receiving), use of a strap on toy, girls (gn) in love

word count: 3.5k

masterlist | sequel to a prayer to venus | taglist sign-up

They’ve been walking around the city all day. 

Noah swears that she’s never walked more in her life. But it’s all worth it. Paris is beautiful, but with how warm it is, she doesn’t want to take another step. 

The little sundress they’ve gone for today makes them feel even more feminine. Noah doesn’t usually go for dresses, but it just felt right today. They’ve been exploring more clothing and this particular dress feels very safe. She likes how it makes her feel, how it lets her show off her tattoos. 

Maya squeezes their hand, making Noah look over to her. 

“You wanna head back to the apartment?” she asks, “We should still have stuff in the fridge to make dinner.” 

Noah lets out a relieved sigh, “I need to get out of these shoes. They’re comfortable, but you’ve made me walk enough for one day.”

“Oh because I’m the only one who wanted to see all of these things.” Maya protests. 

Noah likes their bickering. They’re glad that they still have this after all these years. It’s been a little over four years, and she couldn’t be happier. Maya’s been with her through some of the hardest times of her life. She could have just as easily turned her back once things got difficult, but no, Maya had stayed with them through it all. 

This vacation feels like a reward for all the things they’d had to deal with in recent years. They both deserve this. 

The little apartment they’re renting for the two weeks that they’re here is almost at the top of a typical Parisian building. They have a cute little balcony, and they sit on in the mornings, and a fantastic view to go with it. The only thing Noah is not excited about is lugging their bags back down the stairs when they leave. An elevator really wouldn’t have hurt. 

Noah lets herself sink onto the sofa, sighing at the relief of being off their feet. Maya sinks down next to them. She drapes her legs over Noah’s as she reclines. Noah’s hands immediately come to rest on her bare thighs. Her skin is so soft and warm, and Noah can’t ever get enough of this. Their fingers slowly trail higher up on her thigh, dipping under the hem of Maya’s dress. 

When they look up at her, they find Maya already fixing them with an almost heated look. 

Noah lets their hand wander further upwards. Maya lets out a little gasp when the tips of Noah’s fingers brush against the fabric of her panties. 

Maya beckons her closer. 

Noah follows so easily, leaning across Maya’s body. They find her lips in a gentle kiss. Maya smiles against their lips, as her hand finds their cheek. Noah feels her thumb caress the skin of her cheek. 

They’ve never felt this loved. 

Maya always treats them so gently, and they try their very best to give at least a little bit of that back. They don’t know how well they’re doing, but from the way Maya looks at them when they’re together like this, they think they’re doing quite okay. 

Noah lets themself sink against her. 

They feel Maya’s thigh pressing up between theirs just enough. 

By now, they’re at a stage where they feel pretty comfortable with intimacy again. There had been a rather stubborn block in the road a while back where Noah had felt as if they’d never get to this point again. They had craved Maya’s touch just as much as the idea of being touched had made them want to crawl out of their own skin. 

To be back in a state where they can actually enjoy this kind of intimacy again feels good on a multitude of levels. 

They press down against Maya's thigh, trying to get a little bit of relief, but it’s just not enough. 

Their little whine makes Maya pull them away from her lips. 

“What do you need, baby?” She asks then.

Her hands roam across their thighs, slowly pushing up the hem of their little dress. Noah’s eyes flick between hers and her hands. 

She suddenly needs it so badly. 

It’s still a little difficult to ask for this sometimes. They’ve been doing this for a while, but on occasion Noah will feel so very shy when she’s asking for this. 

“Please.”

Maya's fingers play with the elastic hem of their panties, carefully avoiding where Noah actually wants her touch. 

“You gotta tell me what you want, Noah. I can’t read your mind, love.”

“Can you — can we use the strap on?” She chokes out the words. 

“Want to be full, hm?” Maya brushes the backs of her fingers across their still covered cock, “Stay here. I’ll get everything.” 

Maya kisses her again before she slips out from under her. 

Noah waits patiently for her to return. 

When Maya returns, they immediately spot the toy attached to her waist. It makes them feel all kinds of fuzzy on the inside. 

Noah quickly finds themself on their back, with Maya kneeling between their thighs. They can’t stop looking at where her hand is wrapped around their cock. The fingers of the other hand are buried in their hole, slowly working them open. 

“You’re doing so good for me baby. You’re almost there.” 

She whines in response, unable to find the right words. 

It already feels so good. 

Every time they do this, Noah finds herself surprised by how good it feels. She loves having Maya's attention on her like this. 

Her fingers curl inside of Noah, pulling another whine from them. She’s long lost count of how many fingers Maya has inside of her, all she knows is that she feels so very good. 

Noah lets her hands wander across her chest and tummy. Even through the fabric of her dress, she still feels so sensitive. Her fingers brush over a pert nipple, pulling another whine from her. 

“Pull down the top of your dress for me, will you?” 

The shirred top is easy enough to pull down. Noah still doesn’t have a lot to show off, not that she minds. 

With how much their body has changed, their perception of themself has changed too. She’s never felt more comfortable with herself than she does now and three years after she’d come to the conclusion that boy wasn’t for her, she now feels rather comfortable referring to herself as girl. Looking back, Noah thinks that it should have been obvious to her from the start, but hindsight is always funny like that. 

“You have the cutest little tits.” Maya notes, “Show me how you play with them?”

Noah does as she asks. She starts slow, just running her fingers across herself. She tries to palm herself as best as she can, but there’s just not a lot of chest for her to play with. Noah thumbs across their nipples, making themself whine. But while their tits may not be very big, they’re so very sensitive. 

Maya leans down to capture one of their nipples between her lips. She laps at them a few times before she gives a harsh suck. Noah’s back arches in response. 

“Is that good sweetheart?” She asks, looking up at Noah across her chest. 

“So good. Can you — do that again?” They ask in return. 

Noah knows that Maya will give her whatever she asks for. It’s always been like that. 

They sigh when the tip of her tongue drags across a pebbled nipple. It’s pure torture — in the best way possible. Maya knows exactly which buttons to press, how to make them sigh and moan for her. She’s long perfected this game, and Noah wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Their hips buck upwards to meet Maya’s touch, desperate to feel more of it. 

“You’ve been such a good girl up until now. Don’t get bratty on me now.”

“Just feels so good. Please, Maya.”

“Do you think you’re ready for this cock?” She asks tauntingly. 

She babbles out a string of yes yes yes, much to Maya's amusement. 

She keeps her hand in a tight grip around Noah’s cock when she removes her fingers. 

Noah can’t stop herself from whining at the sudden emptiness. They don’t have to wait for long, though. Just a few moments later, she feels the head of the toy pressing against her entrance. 

She looks up at Maya, finding nothing but soft, gentle care on her face. 

Maya takes their hand into hers. 

“Treat me so well.” Noah says softly, “You’re always so good to me.”

Maya squeezes their joined hands, “Of course. Only the best for my love.”

Noah’s eyes flutter shut as the toy sinks into her. She wraps her legs around Maya’s waist as leans over her. They both sigh when the toy settles inside of her, and Maya briefly drops her forehead to Noah’s shoulder. They stay close like this for a long moment. 

A part of Noah wishes that they’d gotten properly undressed because now all she wants is to feel more of Maya’s skin beneath her fingers. 

She tries to work her fingers under the garment, but she can’t quite get it right. 

“What do you need, love?” Maya asks when Noah lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“I want to feel you — touch you. Please.”

“You’re touching me. Aren’t you?”

Noah lets their head drop back. As much as she loves when Maya treats her like this, makes her say exactly what she wants, she still struggles with it sometimes. “Please.”

Maya stills for a moment, and when Noah dares to open their eyes, they find her pulling her dress over her head. 

“That better?”

Seeing her like this always takes Noah’s breath away. Their hands roam up her body, fingers dragging over the soft buds that hide behind the lace of her bralette. 

“So much better.”

Maya gives her that pretty smile of hers in response, “Good. Are you good to go on?”

Noah nods and this time they keep their eyes fixed on her. 

The first thrust Maya makes is so slow. She eases the toy out of Noah until just the head is lodged inside of her. When it sinks back into her this time, Noah can’t stop themself from crying out in pleasure. 

Maya leans over her, kissing her so gently. Her movements slow a little as she rocks the toy into her. Noah tangles their hands together. 

“My beautiful girl.” Maya kisses her again. 

Maya’s free hand comes to rest against their thigh. The pressure of her fingers feels divine. The slow push and pull of the toy makes their head swim and when Maya pushes their thigh upwards, Noah is sure that they’re about to lose it. 

They feel their cock twitch against their tummy. 

It’s still a touchy subject. 

On some days, they have no issue with it at all and on others it’s the most abhorrent thing in the world. With how fuzzy and need driven their mind is already, they can’t bring themself to worry. 

Noah lets out a whimper when their fingers drift across the underside of their cock. She’s so sensitive already. 

Her breath hitches when she wraps her hands around herself. Her head tips back against the armrest of the sofa. Maya’s name falls from her lips like a prayer. It all feels too good. Noah feels themself barrelling towards their climax already. It’s way too soon for that though, she wants to feel more – has to feel more of this. 

Their hand slows to a lazy draw. 

Noah drags their eyes back up to Maya’s face. 

She looks so worn down already. Noah knows that she’ll need more than this – the strap-on is mostly for them – but seeing her so affected makes them feel all fuzzy inside. 

“Make me feel so good.” Noah sighs, squeezing her hand. 

“Yea? Does that feel good?” Maya returns. 

Her voice already sounds so laboured. 

“So good.”

“I wish I could feel you.” She sighs, “You already feel so good around my fingers.”

It makes them shudder. 

Maya looks at them with so much warmth, so much adoration. 

“Please don’t stop.” Noah sighs. 

Maya’s fingers curl inside of them, pressing up against the spot that makes her vision blur. Noah has to bite down hard on her lip to stop her climax from taking over her body. 

“You can let go, love. You’ll get more. Come on, let me see you. Let me see you fall apart.” Maya's other hand squeezes their waist, dragging their attention towards her, “You look so beautiful when you come for me. Let me see it baby, please.”

Noah has always been bad at saying no to her. In their pleasure driven mind they barely notice their own hand still working their length. She lets herself fall, fully trusting Maya with their body and their pleasure. 

Their climax slowly crawls up their spine, taking over every inch of their being. As the warmth spreads through her body she feels herself go limp. 

Maya works them through their high so slowly and carefully. Her fingers feel divine inside of them. 

Maya slows her touch until her fingers still entirely. 

Noah remains still for a long moment, soaking up the sensations for as long as they can. 

“You did so good, baby.” She says softly, “So good.”

They draw in a deep breath. 

Their entire body still feels as if it’s filled with static. 

“Do you think you’re up for more?”

Noah lets out a protesting huff, “Of course.”

In return, Maya gives them an amused look, “Needy.” 

Maya reaches for the bottle of lube again. Noah tries to watch what she does, but their eyes quickly flutter shut when they feel her fingers against their entrance once again. The sensation only stays for a few moments before she feels the blunt push of the strap-on toy instead. 

They’ve done this often enough, but Noah still isn’t entirely used to the sensation. Maya is always gentle with this part. She always takes her time with it, slowly working the toy into them. 

As the toy fills them, Maya leans over their body, pushing their thighs up against their chest as she does. Without needing to be told, Noah wraps their legs around her middle, pulling her in even closer. 

Maya meets them in a gentle kiss, an unspoken I love you. 

Noah threads their fingers through her hair, keeping her close for a moment longer. 

The rhythm Maya sets is slow and indulgent, as if she wants to take all the time in the world. 

Noah can hardly take her eyes off her, Maya always looks so beautiful when they’re together like this. She’s always beautiful, but there’s something special about the way she looks when her skin shines with that thin sheen of sweat. Noah’s hand drifts towards her cheek, steering her back to their lips for another kiss. 

Maya smiles against their lips and Noah can’t help but mirror that smile. 

They have never felt as loved as they do when they’re with her. 

They’ve been with other people, slept with people before Maya but it has never felt like this. It’s never felt so warm and comforting. She feels a little more complete when they’re together. When Maya kisses them like this their chest feels a lighter. 

They can’t decide if Maya is the missing piece of their puzzle or if she’s the key to unlock it. Either way, Maya makes things better — easier. 

“You know you’re really cute when you get lost in your thoughts like this.” 

Noah focuses on her face. The soft pink that colours her cheeks, the freckles that have started to surface with how much they’ve been outside in the sun. 

“Noah.” Her fingers brush against their cheek, “Stay with me okay?”

“We should get married.” The words just come out before Noah can stop them.  

Maya breaks out in the prettiest smile then, the laugh that falls from her lips is so far from mocking. 

“You are — impossible. I go through all of this, convince you to fly to Paris with me and book us an outrageously expensive dinner and you ask me to marry you when we’re having sex?” She shakes her head, “Absolutely impossible.”

It takes Noah a good moment to catch up with what Maya is insinuating. 

And when the realisation finally hits them they almost can’t believe it. The whole trip – and the attention Maya has showered them with – suddenly makes a little more sense. 

“You were –?” Noah trails off. 

“How about we talk about this afterwards?” Maya asks, pushing her hand up across their side and chest, “We have something else to finish first.” 

Noah gives her a nod, still a little dazed by all of this. Maya steals another kiss from them, before she returns to the same, slow rhythm she had set before. Their hand finds its way back to their length, trying to emulate the movements of Maya inside of them. 

Maya quickly brings her back to the point they’d been at before this momentary interruption. Noah writhes under her attention, the soft brush of Maya’s fingers against the barely there swell of their chest makes them sigh in pleasure. 

“My beautiful girl.” Maya sighs. 

Her thumb drags across Noah’s nipple, making their back arch off the sofa. They’re so close to the edge now, the heat of their climax is boiling just below their skin. Noah wraps her hand around Mayas, squeezing it tightly. 

All it takes for them to fall over the edge entirely is Maya pressing a kiss to the back of their hand. Noah lets her head stretch back against the armrest of the sofa. She gives herself entirely to the pleasure, allowing it to course through their body with every drag of the toy inside of them. Maya doesn’t let up on them and instead, she pushes them further, dragging their climax out more and more. 

Eventually, Maya slows her movements until she comes to a complete standstill. She pauses for a long moment, before she leans forward draping herself across Noah’s body. She winces when the toy shifts inside of her, but the comfortable weight of Maya against their chest quickly takes their mind off the uncomfortable feeling again. 

They rest like this for a long while. Noah can’t get enough of this. The quiet moments that follow their encounters always warms their chest. This time the anticipation of the conversation they still need to have overweighs any kind of calm. 

Noah remains stretched out on the sofa while Maya is off in the bathroom cleaning off the toy. It takes a moment longer than Noah had anticipated to return. They can tell that she’s trying her best to hide something behind her back and they struggle to contain the bubbling excitement in their tummy. 

Maya sits at the other end of the sofa, facing Noah and the open window. 

“So – you kinda spoiled my surprise, you know?” Maya starts quietly. 

Noah feels their cheeks heat, “I’m sorry.” 

Maya takes their hand into hers, “I’m by no means upset. Actually, I think it’s cute that we both want this. Makes me feel a little less anxious about it.” 

They look up from their joined hands and focus on Maya instead. 

“I had this whole plan but it feels a little silly now.” The chuckle that falls from her sounds a little cynical, “And now I don’t know how to go about it anymore.” 

“Doesn’t have to be a big thing does it? We both want this.” Noah takes her hand into theirs, “As far as I’m concerned this is good.”

“Let me at least put the damn ring on your finger.” 

Noah’s eyes go a little wide at that and Maya just can’t hide her smile, “Did you think that I was going to propose to you without a ring?”

“I didn’t even think about it.”

Maya adjusts their hands. Noah notices the trembling in her fingers. Even if they know that they both want this — each other — this is still a big step. 

The ring she produces from the small velvet box is gorgeous. A thin band with a small turquoise stone. Noah’s heart makes a little thump when Maya slides the ring onto their finger. 

This was entirely inevitable. They were always going to end up here — together. 

Noah rushes forward to press a kiss to Maya's lips. 

“I love you so much.” They whisper against Maya’s lips, “I wish I had one for you.”

“Usually only the one who is proposed to gets a ring.”

“Technically I asked you first.” Noah quickly replies, “We’ll get you a ring. I promise.”

“You are aware that the ring isn’t the important thing here right?” 

“I know.” Noah says, interlacing their fingers once again, “I just want you to have one too. You deserve it. I don’t know where I’d be without you, I don’t even know if I’d be me without you. I know I don’t have to prove how I feel to you, but I want you to have a reminder.”

Maya steals another kiss from them, “You would have found your way without me. But I’m glad that we have each other. This all is much better when you have someone to share it with. And I wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

“Thankfully you won’t have to. Can’t get rid of me now.”

“As if I would ever want to get rid of you, angel.”

taglist: @th4t-em0-k1d @malice-ov-mercy @fadingangelwisp @baddestomens @chey-h @theanarchymuse95 @sitkowski @deathblacksmoke @concretejunglefm @xmads-omensx @saythatuwill @lacy1986 @somebodyels3 @ladyveronikawrites @ferduttini @circle-with-me @collapsedglasshouses @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @renegadebirch @ami--gami

[depresseddepot]

weird thing about me is that I am so serious about new year's resolutions that the last week of december feels like I'm in one of those "preparing for war" montages (but in a good way)

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Fuck it, we're joyblogging now, went to the beach for a few hours and swam for the first time in literal years, walked along the shore a bunch, and now I'm gonna make Japanese curry for dinner with some vegetables I pre-chopped + some chicken, and might watch some eva while I have my curry

[kurooh]

☆ US AFTER POUNDTOWN ! — JJK

⊹₊˚. what aftercare looks like with gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, intimacy, cleanup, fluff, no graphic smut, pillowtalk, showering, brief discussions of pregnancy and kids. i needed to write this okay

GOJO SATORU.

silky pink ribbons slide off of satoru’s wrists, curling into themselves once they hit the bedsheets. he can’t help but watch you, more wide-eyed and teary than he should be, as you take each wrist between your fingers and rub gently. his skin is flushed where he’d been securely tied to the headboard, and it doesn’t hurt in the least, especially when compared to fights he’s been at the center of.

you hum, thumb kindly sweeping over his pulse point. “you okay, ‘toru? i know that went on a little longer than usual.”

you watch as he blinks, diamond eyes glassy with traces of euphoria. he’s still coming down, he realizes, when your words bounce around his brain after you speak them, echoing endlessly in the space.

“i’m okay, sweetheart,” satoru replies, feeling something in his chest begin to melt when you settle beside him on the bed. the air still smells faintly of sex, though the scent rides away on the breeze filtering in through an open window. it is almost completely dark in the bedroom, to make the strain on his eyes a little easier after a long day—he closes them, automatically wrapping a strong arm around you.

“there’s a new restaurant a few blocks down,” you begin, fingers reverently stroking over the curve of his side, “many of the reviews mention the dessert and sweet treats. it’s supposed to be good.”

fully nude, satoru curls against you, taking note of how easily you fit in beside him. like you were always meant to be here, something whispers in the back of his head. “heh, sounds like you’ve already vetted ‘em. i’ll take a day off next week and we can go.”

“you’re always so busy,” you tease, pulling him closer as though he might just slip away when you fall asleep. as you breathe, satoru feels the swell and sink of your back beneath his palm, and he considers maybe not going to work tomorrow. as if he could take days off on a whim—he might be the strongest in the jujutsu world, but he can’t even make his own choices. then, more quietly, you murmur, “i hope you aren’t overworking yourself too much, satoru.”

when he replies “‘m not,” reflexively, your body momentarily goes rigid, as if he wasn’t meant to hear you. before you can look up and refute him, satoru tugs you closer, making sure to sit his chin atop your shoulder. “really, angel, i’m okay. i can totally handle it.”

he totally can’t, even if he won’t admit it to himself. but satoru doesn’t want you to worry, get caught up with his issues during your day to day—this is simply what comes with the weight of ‘the strongest’ as his title. you huff like you don’t entirely believe him, although you don’t pull away.

“if i don’t pry any further, do you promise to sleep more than three hours tonight? and in this bed, not at work.”

you’re not even asking that much of him. if satoru can wipe out hundreds of curses in less than five minutes, he can definitely try to sleep until sunrise. at home. when there’s work to do. right?

he bites his lip, protesting weakly, “i don’t need to sleep, though, baby. i’ve also gotta get in early to deal with the first years.”

the coolness of sheets in an empty bed flashes through your head, and you decide to push, though there’s a tinge of selfishness behind it all. “please? you still need to rest and let your technique cool down.”

it’s not that difficult to convince satoru to stay after all, especially when he’s feeding off your body heat and you his. the bed does feel more comfortable than his office chair, and just as he comes to this realization, a headache has the nerve to come on, only persuading him further. slowly, like he’s submerging himself in a pool, his body begins to succumb to the comfort of the queen bed, the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your body wash.

“fineeee. but only because you asked so nicely, angel.”

GETO SUGURU.

“i’ll get the water started for you, honey.”

so he does, turning on the faucet and letting the water heat up as it rushes through the pipes, then out of the shower head in a warm spray. from your seat on the toilet, you can’t help but feel a lovesick, fuzzy warmth building in your chest.

muscle ripples in suguru’s back as he carefully takes down his hair, undoing the band to allow the dark tresses to fall past his shoulders. his hair is impeccably taken care of—he lavishes it in only the best shampoos and conditioners every few days, his side of the shower almost overtaking your own. it’s made up of hair products and a few scented bars of soap, the way a shower should look. (not barren and home to a single bottle of two in one, two dove bars, and a dull razor, like satoru’s.)

when the glass door slides shut and suguru steps into the spray, you hear him exhale with relief. the toilet flushes and you stand, joining him in the shower.

“i’ll wash your hair,” you say, as if it’s second nature. though it seems simple on the surface, he’s allowing you to touch one of the most intimate parts of him—his scalp has only known his own hands, and yours, on the occasion that you help him wash it. “shampoo, please.”

suguru laughs, angling the shower head down so you don’t get too wet. shampoo is squirted into your extended, expectant palm and the ritual begins.

“are we taking more showers after sex specifically so i can wash your hair, suguru?”

there has been an increase in the amount of showers after sex. he’ll make a mess of you on the couch, drink some water afterward, and carry you to the bathroom like a princess to her chariot. you can’t quite place your finger on when, but you’d started washing his hair at some point during your baths.

“the curses really have been . . taking a toll on my arms,” he says cheekily, settling on that excuse just to hear you laugh, “perhaps i’ve been having difficulty reaching back and dealing with my hair.”

suguru’s got quite the mane, which anyone could surmise just from looking at him. but as wet hair slides through your fingers, you can see why he likes your help so much. you’re gentle with him, making sure to never yank on anything as you make your way through his hair. even the light sensation of your nails raking along his scalp relaxes him deeply, and all the tension in his shoulders bleeds out and washes down the drain, along with the suds.

“yeah, okay. if i mess up one of my arms, you’re outta luck.”

“we could take epsom baths together, so then you’d have no excuse.”

it’s endearing, the way he’s able to come up with a solution so quickly. you laugh again, light and airy in the thick steam, and suguru decides he never wants to leave this place.

“wash my back while the shampoo sits, sugu?” you ask, switching places with him to get your back thoroughly doused with water. white suds slip down his temples and he pushes back his hair from where it’s piled on top of his head, looking like a child’s sloppy sand castle on the beach.

“want me to pick the body wash this time?”

“that’s a trick question,” you say, eyes sparkling when you look at him, “you’re just going to choose peppermint vanilla like always.”

suguru already has the bottle in his grasp and is squeezing the wash out into his palm, but he still manages to look affronted. “no, i wouldn’t.”

you turn around, stepping out of the spray to playfully wiggle your ass at him. “i can barely smell it anymore, that’s how much you’ve worn it out.”

“it’s your smell,” he shrugs, shoulders rolling with the motion, “it’s your signature soap scent. you can always cover it up with perfume tomorrow anyway, it’s not that strong.”

“is that why you’re always sniffing me at night?”

you can hear him breathing you in when you’re cuddling at night? embarrassing! still, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “it’s comforting, so sue me.”

you sigh in relief when his hands coast over your skin, palms firmly pressing the soap into your back to both wash you and make the scent stick. a comfortable quiet settles between you, and he continues to lave your back with the wash, fingertips tracing the dents and lines of muscle.

it’s domestic, and entirely him.

he pauses, sputtering and gracelessly coughing on the water. “i’m sorry.”

you turn, helping him rinse the bubbles away from his face. “what’s wrong, sugu?”

“not to ruin the moment, but, well, i got soap in both my eyes.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“i can’t believe you made me breakfast, ken.”

kento returns to the bedroom with one of those lap trays made for eating at the couch, carrying a plate of fluffy waffles garnished with a colorful array of sweet berries. there’s even a full cup of syrup on the side to pour to your heart’s content.

he’s pulled on his boxers, the ones that are tight around his ass, and an apron with kiss the cook in calligraphic script embroidered across the front of it. a smile plays on his lips, the kind he wears when he’s biting back an ear-to-ear grin, and he takes a seat beside you. your excitement is something he thinks he’ll never get tired of. with a creak, the bed dips under the newly added weight, and you carefully slot the tray over your lap.

“how’d you know i was craving something sweet?”

“sweetheart, i know you,” kento shakes his head, laughing around the words. “go ahead and try them, i added something new.”

red blooms around the bite marks littered across his collarbone and around his chest, only becoming visible with his occasional shifts beside you. kento watches you eat with a distinct softness in his eyes, his heart swelling in his chest as your face lights up with every bite.

light and sweet as can be, the waffles burst with flavor, although a small tweak has been made to the recipe. maybe kento’s added finely chopped coconut or a few extra spoonfuls of sugar?

“you’re staring,” you point out, cheeks growing warm. his gaze is obviously lovesick, and strong enough to make you feel the littlest bit shy—a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, and he looks away with a short chuckle. “we can share, ken.”

“that’s okay, honey. i had some while i was making them earlier. so, how do they taste? have you figured out the extra ingredient yet?”

“i’ve got no idea,” you reply after a large bite, setting the fork back on the tray before gently nudging it away. kento’s forearms flex as he lifts it, placing it on the bedside table for later.

he unties the apron and scoops you into his arms, pulling your giggling form close to his chest. “i decided to add more buttermilk.”

a warm kiss is pressed to the space beneath your ear. through your back, you can feel his heartbeat syncing up with your own—relaxed and content in the presence of one another.

“thank you for this morning,” kento whispers, adding, “was i too rough with you, angel?”

“perfect, ken. you almost put me back to sleep, though.”

you share a laugh with him, curling up in his warmth. kento’s fingers trace mindless, ticklish doodles into your side as he begins to slip further into a state of drowsiness. “i don’t like to make excuses, but i find it difficult to hold myself back with you.”

the admission isn’t inherently sexual, not in the way it’s said so delicately. kento is right, he does have difficulty holding back, but only because he’s so known. you’re essentially on the same wavelength, finishing his sentences for him before even he’s able to conjure up the word he’s looking for; you understand him wholly, in the kind of way that transcends the surface and physicality of it all. unspoken feelings make no difference—kento’s open like a book for only your eyes to pore over.

even now, in this embrace, it’s nearly impossible to tell where one body begins and the other ends.

“all mine?”

“all yours, ken. pinkie promise.”

“pinkie promise?” he sighs without exasperation, letting you loop your pinkie with his own. if this wasn’t something he was doing with you, kento would be the first to ask something like isn’t this a bit childish? but this isn’t like making an agreement with gojo; this is a promise he wholeheartedly intends to fulfill. after all, what would he be if he wasn’t yours?

“pinkie promise.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“on your stomach.”

you turn back to throw him an incredulous look, eyebrows drawing together in surprise. “more? toji, i thought you—”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes and motioning toward the couch cushions. “yes, ya heard me. on your stomach, doll. don’t make me ask again.”

“don’t make me ask again,” you mimic him, flopping forward onto your belly as requested. it’s odd that toji’s even vying for more when he’s the one who tapped out first, panting so hard he could barely form a sentence of explanation beyond a few muttered words.

instead of positioning himself at your ass, toji remains sitting beside you, though he turns to press his hands into your upper back. faint as can be, the scent of lavender curls in the air as the worship begins—toji’s suddenly a professional at effleurage, palms circling upward near your shoulder blades.

slow and firm, his hands seem to iron out any aches that may have taken root there. lotion spans almost the entirety of your upper back, serving as both moisturizer and lubrication for the easy glide of skin against skin.

“really, toji?” you ask, lips curling up in amusement, “you wanted to give me a back massage?”

you completely expect him to retort something sassy and annoying, maybe even call you a damn brat or start torture tickling you. instead, toji’s voice rumbles low and meaningful from his chest. “had ya laid out on your back for a while, and on the couch, no less. jus’ wanted to make sure you’d be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

toji’s answer does something that it never has before. it shuts you up, and at the same time, makes heat rush to your cheeks. embarrassment and a particular fondness, of all things, stir in your chest at his thoughtfulness. you haven’t messed around on the couch in many months, and yet he still remembers the small, almost unnoticeable hunch of your back after getting up last time.

he laughs at you, feeling proud to have finally ‘won’ all the bantering.

“didn’t expect that, huh?” toji pauses, fingertips lightly dragging down the planes of your back. before he even speaks, you can already hear the smirk in his voice. “anyway, i wish ya could see how pretty you look right now.”

“you can’t even see my face, toji.”

a huff escapes him, and he makes sure to dig his fingers in, just so he can hear you squeal in both laughter and pain. “just can’t take a compliment, huh? you’re such a brat, swear to god.”

“your brat,” you remind him cheerfully, feeling his hands slide to the middle of your back. “as much as i’m enjoying this, i wouldn’t mind taking care of you, baby.”

he snorts. you’re calling him baby like he isn’t 6’3 and nearly 200 pounds of muscle—but there’s something endearing about the idea of being taken care of too. toji actually . . . wouldn’t mind it.

“oh yeah? and what do ya plan to do to me?”

you hum thoughtfully, turning your head around to fix him with a playful look. “i’d turn on one of the movies i’ve been telling you we need to watch and then scratch your back so you wouldn’t get up in the middle of it.”

“this better not be about—”

before he can begin trashing on your favorite movie, the one he hasn’t watched yet, you bulldoze right over him. “as the movie starts, i’d be whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“wouldn’t that just make me bend ya over? kinda defeats the purpose of aftercare, doll.”

“the key word is sweet, toji,” even with your clarification, he still looks a little lost, making the same confused face he does when shiu cracks a sly joke at his expense in front of you. “sit down and i’ll show you what i’m talking about.”

the comforting pressure on your back lets up, and for a split second, you almost wish you hadn’t suggested to demonstrate. toji sits down, remote looking dwarfed in his closed palm, and smirks expectantly, like there’s something funny to say. “i was just thinking. what if all the aftercare turns me into a spoiled brat?”

you scoff as he turns on the tv, settling on your knees behind him. “we can’t both be spoiled brats, toji.”

KAMO CHOSO.

“did i hurt you?” is the first thing to come out out of choso’s mouth when you finally return to yourself, a few crystalline tears starting to dry on your cheeks. you hadn’t quite noticed them during the pandemonium, too wrapped up in the overwhelming sensations of sex to focus on something so unimportant. but now, there’s a warm stinging that you trace to your neck—where he’d been biting and sucking the most in the moments before orgasm.

“‘s okay, cho. i’m okay, just tired now,” you laugh breathlessly, watching the worry drain out of his face, “i’ve gotta get up and wipe off, or i’ll end up getting pregnant.”

choso’s eyes are shining. “our kids would be so pretty, all ‘cause of you.”

you sit up on your elbows, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. this is the same look you give him every time he mentions it, and not wanting to nag you too much, he remembers himself. “okay, i know. have to wait more than five years first, i got it,” with the mildest degree of resignation making its way through his huffed words, choso slips off of the bed and pads toward the bathroom.

shortly after, he returns with a damp washcloth and settles on his knees between your thighs. even in the low light, his movements are perpetually delicate and skillful, a direct result of his understanding of your body, built through touch. with the way he’s comfortably wiping cum off your inner thighs, it’s hard to believe that choso had once been so awkward he’d stalked off mid-sex to let out a few tears of embarrassment.

“it’s not too hot, is it?” he checks in, more worried than he should be. it isn’t difficult to imagine him as a father, gasping as your child toddles around recklessly, jumping off of the couch and into his awaiting arms. he’s the type to always come to the rescue, no matter what.

“no, it’s just right,” you murmur, feeling the sweep of the lukewarm washcloth at the top of your thigh. “no need to be so concerned, choso. i trust you, baby.”

pink blooms in the apples of his cheeks at your words, just as it always does whenever you pay him an innocent compliment. he takes comfort in your relaxed sigh, folding the washcloth into itself and setting it on the bedside table before sliding himself up to lay his head on your chest. “you need to stop indulging me so much,” he groans when your fingers slip into his hair, combing gently though the dark strands, “keep up the ‘put a baby in me’ and i might actually do it.”

choso feels his entire face burn once he repeats a line that’s supposed to be yours, a shudder rippling through his body when a memory from earlier flashes behind his eyes.

“i know, cho,” you hum, nails lightly raking against his scalp in your odyssey through his hair. it’s painfully intimate, and impossibly soothing for him—he could say just about anything to you, even confess something deep and dark without the usual constraints of your daily routine. this is just you and him, simple and naked.

then you giggle, “but i also know how crazy it makes you.”

it does make him more wild than it should, the idea of getting you pregnant and then the concept of raising the baby itself. choso pauses meaningfully before he answers you, letting his eyes close. “maybe something’s fundamentally wrong with me.”

a gooey hybrid of affection and sadness races through your veins upon hearing his words. it’s hard to say something—even anything at all—when you know just a little about his struggle being half-human, half-curse. choso is constantly feeling guilty about taking the easier path in life as a human, wondering if someone like him could possibly deserve something greater than himself to love and care for.

it’s quiet now, save for the steady hum of the fan and sweep of your fingers through his hair, loose and languid. “sorry,” choso exhales softly, tilting his face to the side, “i didn’t mean to become so negative.”

“there isn’t a thing wrong with you, choso. i know you’re wanting a family of your own, and i don’t disagree with that in the slightest. i see a future with you, but there’s no shame in taking it slow, is there? we aren’t even engaged yet, baby.”

“engaged?” he echoes quizzically, voice low.

“it’s when two people agree to get married in the future after a proposal with a ring,” it’s hard not to smile at the thought of the two people being you and him, even though choso’s baring his soul to you right now, raw and all himself. he hugs you tighter, arms straining as if he’s trying to prevent you from slipping away. “don’t worry, cho. we both still have a lot to learn.”

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane characters finding you asleep at their workplace

The devil works hard, but I work a little harder, so I’m back to writing Arcane headcanons a month before season two comes out.

Jayce:  

- Strong sense of guilt,  

- The first thing that comes to his mind is that you must have waited for him for a long time to fall asleep 

- He will make it up to you by trying to cook something for you, stopping to buy your favorite sweets before heading home, and giving you a shoulder massage the moment you sit down somewhere after you wake up.  

- The man of the Hamlet-like dilemma: he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.  

- If he has something urgent to do, he’ll try to cover your shoulders with something, even just his jacket, to keep you warm while he finishes only the essentials.  

- Once he’s free, he will very gently try to lift you from the chair, apologizing when you wake up and mumble something incoherent.  

Viktor:  

- In the early years of university, it sometimes happened that he found you in his room asleep, slumped over on a chair or bed with your shoes still on.  

- But as the years went by and the lab became his main space, that sight became a constant, repeating at least twice a week.  

- He tries to make as little noise as possible, whether with his aides, the door, or the stack of books and notebooks he needs to organize.  

- Before getting to work, he leaves the room again to bring you your favorite hot drink with a plastic lid pressed on top, so it doesn’t cool down.  

- Then, in complete silence, he works, deciding what to leave for tomorrow and what to do now, so he can finish as soon as possible without delaying too much.  

Ekko:  

- It’s hard to define what exactly a workplace is for Ekko,  

- But he often finds you at the Firelights' tree, in that room that’s supposed to be his, having likely sneaked in through the window to surprise him.  

- There are days when he comes back fairly early but stays to tell stories to the kids, and others when things go wrong, and he returns when it’s already dark, and almost everyone is asleep

- Finding you like this always makes him feel the absence of something more stable

- But he shakes his head and quickly pushes aside doubts about his ideals, stepping out of the room again and making more noise as he enters again, so you wake up, and he can pretend to be surprised in front of your open eyes.  

- By now, you know he steps out and comes back in, but it makes you smile every single time.

Vander:  

- You always sit at a table in the back of the Last Drop to wait for him, trying not to bother him, doodling, doing calculations, or planning something for the next day just to keep yourself entertained.  

- But by now, the sound of drunkards and the clinking of coins and glasses have become background noise that helps lull you into a catatonic state.  

- Vander usually notices after about an hour that you've fallen asleep; he always keeps an eye on you, but sometimes the customers cause problems.  

- He doesn’t like leaving you there, so far away, so he usually waits for a quieter moment to come over, pick you up, and bring you behind the counter, laying you down with your arms and head resting on the wooden bar.  

- He knows it’s not a big improvement, but his priority is to keep you safe.  

- When he finishes working, he closes the bar without doing the closing duties, sets his alarm for earlier than usual, and carries you to your room in his arms, covering your forehead with kisses.  

Silco:  

- The problem with Silco finding you asleep in his office is that he rarely arrives alone.  

- There’s always either Sevika or at least two other henchmen following him.  

- He sighs and sends them away, not without Sevika giving him a provocative look that means everything and nothing.  

- He hates those situations because part of him feels a strange warmth at the thought of you sneaking into his office for whatever reason, but on the other hand, he knows it negatively affects his image to be seen as a leader who tolerates certain insubordinations.  

- Because sneaking into the kingpin’s office is something that would get almost anyone else outside decapitated. But not you.  

- He huffs, pacing the room to deal with both emotions, and when he finally calms down, he approaches you, shaking you slightly to wake you up.  

- It’s certainly not the gentlest gesture on his part, but most of the time, it ends with you either going back to sleep in his bed while he works, or sitting on his lap while he flips through papers without paying them much attention.  

Jinx:  

- She can’t contain her excitement at all. When she notices your figure in her workshop, she always lets out a little happy sound that wakes you up.  

- From there, she immediately starts apologizing at least a thousand times, feeling guilty for waking you up but still too happy that you came to visit her.  

- She helps you up, talking nonstop about her day and anything that comes to mind as she leads you outside.  

- It’s not because she doesn’t want you around, but because she assumes you must be hungry as soon as you wake up, so before you're fully awake, you’ll find yourself at the Last Drop with enough food in front of you to feed her father’s entire gang of henchmen.  

- And she will absolutely feed you herself when she sees you haven’t taken a bite in too long, while stealing food here and there and continuing to talk.  

Vi:  

- For her, too, a "workplace" is a somewhat vague concept,  

- But in return, she has her secret spot, where she hides at night and tries to survive when she’s not out on the streets looking for trouble.  

- Every time she finds you there, she feels an indescribable pang in her heart.  

- She always feels like she’s neglecting the person she loves and failing to make you understand how much she cares about you.  

- She always hesitates before waking you up; sometimes she’ll even go change into clean clothes and wash the grime off her hands and face first.  

- Then she’ll wake you by sitting next to you, giving you a kiss, calling you by a silly nickname only the two of you know, and rubbing her forehead against yours before asking, with a rhetorical smile,  

- "Did you miss me?"

Caitlyn:  

- Sometimes you find yourself in the inner waiting room of the precinct, with her colleagues pointing out your body slumped in the chair and raising their eyebrows, teasing her. Other times, you simply sneak into her room, which isn’t much different from the police station anyway.  

- Every time, she sighs and gently wakes you, her pale eyes a little sad.  

- “Why didn’t you call me?” It doesn’t matter to her that you didn’t want to disturb her, because to her, you’re never a disturbance. It’s not a problem to have you around, even in public. She just feels bad that you waited instead of telling her, so she could have come much sooner.  

- She takes you away from the station without any issues, letting you continue resting against her shoulder as a Kiramman private vehicle takes you both to her home.  

- If you’re already in her room, she usually changes and lies down next to you, taking the chance to nap together, wrapped in each other's arms.  

Mel:  

- Falling asleep inside the Senate? Impossible.  

- But the keys to her office and her room are always in your pocket, and you usually bring her something to eat when you visit, though by the time you fall asleep, both the coffee and the treats are cold.  

- She’s not used to displays of affection, so she stays still for a few seconds before smiling and shaking her head.  

- She doesn’t wake you immediately, not because she doesn’t want to, but because if the sound of the door didn’t wake you, you probably need the rest. So she lets you sleep for at least 30 minutes before coming over, brushing your hair behind your ears to wake you, laughing when you lift your head with your eyes still closed.  

Sevika:  

- The first thing anyone would think is that falling asleep at the Last Drop is extremely dangerous. However, Silco’s henchmen aren’t too different from bipedal dogs by now; they know who you are, recognize your face and scent, and if they notice you’ve fallen asleep somewhere, at least three of them sit at your table to ensure your safety.  

- Sevika is always tasked with the worst imaginable jobs—tedious, long, and often dangerous—so when she finally returns, it’s usually either time to open the bar to the public or time to close it.  

- Even when she sees you, she can’t come to you right away, so she makes a face at whoever is watching over you, as if urging them to protect you better while she heads into the office.  

- Like Silco, part of her feels subconsciously softened by the idea that someone would feel the physical need to be with her so much that they’d wait, sitting until they fell asleep.  

- But on the other hand, she’s terrified that someone might see you and come after you to settle personal scores in a cowardly way.  

- When she finally comes down, she pulls you into her arms without saying a word, holding you under her large cape as she carries you away.  

[keypostos]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 1 ▷ || play next song?

summary : After another horny stream, you drop the bomb: fuck-a-fan fridays—seven weeks, seven fans, seven filthy videos. masks on, faces hidden, just you and one lucky subscriber tangled up on camera each week. All they have to do? strip down, get hard, and show you why it should be them. Auditions start now.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men

A/N : and so it starts!!! is everyone ready to see the submissions from your favorite horndogs? :) (also i hope you can tell whose who hehehe) i'm trying to keep the writing inclusive for every sort of female presenting person so let me know how i've done!

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lace, lube, and direct deposits that made your head spin. What had started as a desperate half-joke had morphed into a full-blown empire - your empire. The girl who once contemplated selling her underwear for gas money was now clearing rent, tuition, groceries, and still had enough left over to drop serious coin on clothes and silk bed sheets.

You’d gone to the next level. Your friends were of course benefitting from your suspiciously newfound wealth, you casually said you had found a better part-time job, never letting them know the truth when you decided to take them shopping. Not yet at least.

Private requests were your bread and butter. You weren’t just good anymore - you were a professional tease, a digital siren with a library of toys, outfits, and vocal tones that could bring grown men to their knees. They paid for everything; soft whispers, rough talk, slow stroking, filthy roleplays. Some just oddly wanted to hear your moans on loop. Others wanted personalized videos where you called them by username and told them exactly what you’d do if they ever had the balls to show up in person.

You were making big bank. Like “accidental tax bracket change” big. Like “should probably consult a financial advisor” big.

And the men?

Oh, the men were obsessed.

Especially the regulars. Their usernames lit up your screen night after night, tipping with reckless abandon, flooding the chat with unfiltered thirst. You didn’t know who they were in real life, yet, but their personalities bled through the screen in such vivid, chaotic little ways.

EmoWithaBoner was yearning. Desperate in a way that made your chest clench and your thighs twitch. His messages were usually soft, almost sweet - You deserve everything, You looked so beautiful tonight - until something cracked open inside him mid-message and he’d type something crazy like: I would lick your cunt until you beg me to stop. Now that had gotten a small “Oh.” out of you. He wanted to worship you and ruin you all at once.

SixEyesOnly was a fucking menace. Flirty, cocky, constantly sending emojis that were way too smug for someone probably watching with only one hand available. His tips were ridiculous, like, spend $300 just to watch you eat grapes in a bad wig slowly sort of ridiculous, and his messages read like he was trying to fluster you on purpose. You assumed it was some sort of control thing with him, throwing money at people and getting them to do it. No complaints from you.

TempleOfSin was smooth, a little poetic, a little filthy. He asked for long, descriptive videos where you described what you were wearing, how you’d touch him, how you'd taste. He liked to also order roleplay videos where you pretended to worship him like he was some sort of God. Sometimes he called you his loyal little follower. You didn’t ask questions.

daddyissuez was feral. No other word for it. His requests were blunt, primal, always toeing the line of what the platform allowed and your own, now lacking, self-control. He liked spit, degradation, and power games. His tipping was sporadic and a lot less compared to the others, though, it was enough to keep him in your attention.

OfficeAfterHours was different. Polite. Polished. His messages came like little business memos laced with innuendo. “You looked stunning tonight. That color suits you,” followed by a $200 tip telling you to buy more in the same color. Never crude, always composed. It made him stand out more, somehow. Like a man who didn’t need to beg. A man who expected what he wanted, and always got it.

And then there was KingOfRot.

Unpredictable. Crude. Arrogant. He dropped tips like they were nothing. $500 just because you looked at the camera in a way he said was like a ‘deer in the headlights’. Odd, but $500 was a good amount to keep your mouth shut. He called you “pet,” “whore,” “delicious little thing.” You should’ve blocked him. Instead, you kept reading his messages twice over with your jaw unhinged and in wonderment whether or not he actually said that. His energy was intense and you hated how hot that was.

Which brings us to tonight.

You were perched in your new silk sheets, ring light warm against your skin, wearing your most transparent slip where your nipples were clearly on display and a smug little smirk behind that now iconic mask of yours. You’d hyped this stream for days - teased it on your feed, hinted at it in DMs. The chat was already on fire and you hadn’t even said a word yet. Tonight was a big one.

EmoWithaBoner: god ur so fucking hot tonight SixEyesOnly: i logged in 15 minutes early and i still feel late :(( OfficeAfterHours: You’ve outdone yourself this evening. KingOfRot: Come on, get to the fucking point, girl.

You grinned, slow and lethal, dragging your fingers along your inner thigh and ignoring KingOfRot.

“Well,” you purred, “I figured since you’ve all been very generous lately… it’s time I give something back.”

SixEyesOnly: oh fuck You licked your lips, loving the short little power trip it gave you. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, voice sweet and dangerous. “Maybe it’s time to start a little… tradition.”

You paused for dramatic effect.

“Fuck-a-Fan Fridays.” You bit your lip. Boom. Chat detonation. SixEyesOnly had sent you $200 just for the phrase.

EmoWithaBoner: you’re joking SixEyesOnly: oh shit baby TempleOfSin: Perfect. KingOfRot: You say when and where, pet. daddyissuez: i’ll be first. fuck the line OfficeAfterHours: I trust you've thought this through..

You leaned in close. OfficeAfterHours was cute in the way he was concerned for you. “I mean, why stop at one, right?” You giggled, cheeks burning behind your mask as you kicked your feet a little bit out of the view of your webcam. “I was gonna keep it casual, but um… yeah. What if I made it a thing? Like, a series?”

Another pause. You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried heat.

“One fan. Every Friday. For seven weeks.”

You crossed your bare legs over one another, your slip rising on your thighs as you did so. “Seven Fridays. Seven people. Seven chances to fuck the brains out of a very nervous, very willing woman who cannot believe she’s actually saying this live right now.”

You sat up again, brushing the slip back into place like your nipples weren’t clearly on display.

“I mean..obviously, we’ll keep it anonymous. Like, we’re not stupid here. Masks. No faces. Just hands. Bodies. And my camera.” The chat was still in full meltdown, comments stacking so fast the shitty platform could barely keep up. Your heart was pounding, your skin warm and tingling from the high of it all—of watching them fall apart just from your voice, your words, the soft shift of silk and skin. You hadn’t even done anything explicit yet, and they were on their knees.

God, it was addictive.

You stretched your arms overhead with a soft sigh, the movement pulling your slip just high enough to tease your hips. A final little gift before the curtain dropped.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said with a giggle, feigning innocence even as your gaze sparkled with something much dirtier. “You guys are gonna give me a heart attack.” SixEyesOnly: no no no don’t leave yettt!! :(( KingOfRot: You owe me for the buildup, woman. You tilted your head, lips curving into a sweet little smile as you leaned forward, giving them just one more generous view of your tits before the curtains closed.

“But before I go…” you said, voice slipping into something quieter, softer, like a secret you didn’t mean to share. “If you’re serious about Fuck-a-Fan Fridays… I want you to show me.”

The pause that followed had its own kind of weight. You watched the chat stall for half a second. The anticipation was thick enough to choke on.

“Send me a message,” you murmured, “with a picture. No face. Just your body, and cock, obviously.”

You let your fingers trail down your own torso, to your hips, your thighs, hinting at what you wanted to see. “Let me see what I’d be touching.. What I’ll be fucked braindead by.” EmoWithaBoner: fuck i’ll take a hundred SixEyesOnly: don’t lose your mind too much baby KingOfRot: It’ll be mine you dream about when you touch yourself. OfficeAfterHours: Submission will follow shortly. No face. Clean framing. High quality.

You had to laugh—giddy and a little breathless. You honestly didn’t think they’d go this feral.

“Think of it as an audition,” you said, tucking your knees to your chest, playing sweet again. “Show me what you’re offering. How you’d fit against me. In me.”

You smoothed your hand up your own thigh, lazily now, teasing.

“And just so you know,” you added with a little grin, “I’m only really looking at the ones who’ve tipped enough to keep my attention. You know who you are.”

Oh, they most definitely did.

The seven of them were already scrambling—photos incoming, tips rolling, blood leaving their brains. You didn’t need names. Their usernames were burned into your memory. Their obsessions with you were paying your bills.

“Goodnight, boys,” you whispered. “Impress me.” The second you ended the stream, you collapsed backward into your pillows with a dazed little laugh, limbs spread like you’d just run a marathon and won a gold medal in filth. The glow from your laptop cast a soft haze across your legs, the screen already lighting up with the chaos you’d left behind—tips still pouring in, messages stacking, your inbox begging for attention.

And the photos?

Oh, they were already flooding in, from people you didn’t want, but it was there regardless - upping your activity.

You rolled onto your stomach, chin resting in your palm as you clicked open the first one with a half-curious, half-unhinged smile.

No face, just like you asked. Neck down. The guy was standing in front of a mirror, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other lifting his hoodie to show off his chest. His abs were flexed. His cock hard enough to cast a shadow.

You blinked. Let out a slow breath.

“…Damn.”

Another one came in. Different guy, different vibe—tattoos on his hips, hand slick and stroking himself in a dimly lit bathroom, captioned: Fridays look good on me. Want to see how I look underneath you?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laughing as you pulled your legs up behind you. “This is real. I’m really doing this.”

And you were. One fan. Every Friday. Seven weeks. Seven videos. Each one getting posted to your feed, available for your hundreds of subscribers to watch, rewatch, tip on, comment under, and probably break their dicks to.

It wasn’t just a hookup. It was content. Premium content.

Still riding the rush, you opened your messaging panel and started typing.

New Mass Message Sent to All Subscribers:

Hey babes— If you missed the stream tonight (rip to you), here’s your official invite.

Fuck-a-Fan Fridays is happening. Starting next week, I’ll be choosing seven of you to spend one very intimate night with me. Every Friday for the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting a new video. One fan. One full-length scene. Just me… and whoever impresses me the most.

How to audition:- Send me a photo. - Neck down only. No faces. Masks will be worn on camera, so full anonymity will be protected. But I need to see everything. Cock out. Hard. Your body. Your vibe. The way you'd look on camera—underneath me, on top of me, behind me, inside me.

Show off a little. Or a lot.

Make me want it. Let the auditions begin.

xoxo,

—Your girl

taglist : @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @syubseokie

[phagodyke]

friends are making plans to go stay with each other but it's the weekend I'm going to see my favourite band. the universe fucking hates me