#i'm sure you fine people have noticed that by now

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED??!!

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Cass is not having a good time. From the Arkham breakout last week all the way to losing a bet with his siblings on who is going to attend the gala with Bruce. And now this annoying lady kept asking her about her preference in men or something. And Bruce can't help her since he is being occupied by those rich assholes about investment or stuff.

Vicky: So, Miss Wayne. Is it true that you have a secret boyfriend?

Cass: No.

Vicky: Then how about that pict-

Cass: I'm already married.

Vicky blue screened as Cass finished her sentence. Cass takes the chance and slips away from her before she starts barraging her with questions. Revealing that she is married may not be the smartest thing she has done but she is very annoyed at people who keep asking her about her secret significant other. If they want to ask, at least use the proper term.

Just as Cass reaches the hallway, she is scooped up by two strong arms and is carried away to the Batcave. Cass looks to her side to see Dick and Jason both holding one of her arms each and looking very pissed. Well, Dick looks very pissed. Jason looks like he is having fun. Cass doesn't struggle and just lets her brothers carry her to the Batcave to have the talk.

They put Cass on the couch and proceed to guard the exit of the cave on the off chance that she decides to escape. Not that she would because she and her husband have been thinking of breaking the news to their respective family for awhile now.

She waited for a few hours while playing on her phone. Her main phone. Not the one she used to contact her husband since this family has a lot of competent hackers. She knows that being married is like a big deal. But she doesn't expect it to be such a big deal.

When she says everyone is here, she means everyone. From all his close family all the way to Selina (Bruce's fiancee), Roy (Jason's boyfriend), Kori (Dick's wife), Kon (Tim's boyfriend), Jon (Damian's bff) and even Harley and Ivy is here. She is also pretty sure that Clark is listening from somewhere but it's not like she is trying to keep it a secret anymore, so the more people there are the less she needs to explain.

Harper: So what are we here again? I would rather be home to polish my new gun than in this cave.

Dick: Since everyone is here, I would like to apologize for calling all of you in such short notice.

A murmur ranging from 'it's fine' all the way to 'I want to sleep' sounded in the room.

Dick: Anyway, let's get to the main topic shall we. For starters, I would like to say that none of us wishes to control who you dated nor who you choose to be your partner.

Some more murmurs sounded in the room.

Dick: HOWEVER! We would really appreciate it if you wish to marry someone, at least notify one of us since being married is a big deal.

More murmurs sounded as all of them have a rough idea on what the topic going to be.

Dick: So, the person in question, would you like to explain yourself?

A spotlight lights up on top of Cass, directing all the people's attention to her. She doesn't even know there is a spotlight installed in the cave.Cass stands up and looks at the crowd. She replies, "No."

Everyone is stunned by her reply. They expect many types of replies but no is certainly not one of them.

Tim: Fuck you mean no?

Alfred: I would prefer this conversation to remain civil and proper please master Timothy. I would also like to express my extreme displeasure at the fact that I am not notified by your marriage Mistress Cassandra.

Cass goes still at Alfred's sentence. Okay, shit is really serious. As much as she loves messing with them, she would rather not have her food burnt on the inside. (No one knows how Alfred manages to do that.)

Cass: Ehem, I'm just messing with you. It is a long story but to make it short, my husband and I met when we were in Hong Kong. We met after he got roped in one of the gangs that I was busting. After we met and a little misunderstanding, he helped me to dismantle the underground drug labs across Hong Kong.

Tim: So he is also a vigilante?

Cass: Ex-vigilante. He has a daughter now so he is taking care of her.

Dick: You get pregnant?!! How? When?

Cass: I did not get pregnant. But she is technically my daughter.

Jason: Like how Lian is with me?

Cass: No. Biological daughter.

Kon: Umm, guys. I think Bruce needs to rest a little. His heart has been beating a little too fast for even him.

Dick and and Tim are closest to Bruce realizing that Bruce's face has been impossibly pale for quite a while now. They take him to an empty couch and let him lay there and rest for a while. Everyone's reactions range from amused to straight up concerned that Bruce's career as Batman might get cut short today.

It takes a while but as soon as Bruce is fine, they continue another round of questions and answers.

Bruce: How long have you been married?

Cass: Next week is our 3rd anniversary.

Duke: Wait. Didn't you plan to go to Hong Kong for some time next week? You even ask me to cover your patrol because you say you need to go somewhere.

Cass: I don't lie. I missed last year's anniversary since there was an Arkham breakout at the time.

Duke: Dude, still not cool. You are going on a date with your husband while I need to spend hours running on top of buildings around Gotham. So not fair.

Jason: Was the present you asked me to send last year also was for your husband?

Cass: Yes.

Jason: I've been your middle man all this time and I don't even know.

Barbara: I found it! This is the registration for marriage between Cassie Cain and Daniel Fenton. You used a fake name?

Cass: Yes. You will know otherwise.

Bruce: Why do you hide it?

Cass: I'm not sure all of you are gonna like him and vice versa.

Dick: Is he a bad person? I will kill him if he treats you badly.

Cass: No. He doesn't trust all of you at first.

Steph: And why is that?

Cass: He thinks the Justice League is working with the government. So by extension, all of you are associates of government to him.

Steph: Why is he running away from the government? Is he a criminal?

Barbara: No. He doesn't have any criminal records in his name. Except for the fact that he is practically nonexistent before he is 18, there is nothing wrong with him.

Tim: Is it a forged identity then?

Cass: No. The government wiped away his records.

Dick: What? Why?

Cass: I don't know.

Damian: I expect you to at least do a background check on someone before marrying them, Cain.

Dick: Did you get married with someone you barely know? Do you understand how dangerous that is? What if he just dipped you after you got married?

Cass: *Rolls her eyes* He isn't a bad person. I make sure of that at least. I know he is some sort of meta tho-

A green portal suddenly appears out of thin air making everyone be on guard except Cass. She expects Danny to come out of the portal to greet her but what comes out baffled her.

A young girl that looks a little like Cass riding on a big wolf comes out of the portal swiftly towards Cass. Everyone is just about to shoot their weapons when the girl's word shock them.

???:Mama!

Everyone: Mama?!!

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 1, a familiar stranger

Masterlist Word count: 1.2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. No graphic content yet.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Did Rafayel find someone to rent my apartment yet,' Zayne questions as he puts two mugs of tea on your coffee table. You shrug in response. 

'Haven't heard anything yet, but knowing him, it'll probably be soon.' Zayne smiles at your sulking expression. He reaches out to ruffle a hand through your hair. You quickly smack his hand away and stare at him with pretend anger. 

'How have you been holding up without me?' That question is loaded, and he knows it. For the past four years, he has been your neighbor. But he has always been much more than that. 

When he noticed you were living on your own, he would sometimes bring over leftovers. Some days you would come home to a note taped on your door with a request to be quiet because he had a long shift and another even longer shift coming up. You started doing the same, but with notices if you had someone over or were doing something that could cause noise. Eventually, you two got to talking and formed a familial relationship. It always felt like you had a big brother looking out for you. 

Ever since he moved to the next city over to work in another hospital, you have missed him tons. Sometimes it hurts when you realize you can't just walk two steps from your front door and be talking to him. Meeting up is even more strenuous than it was before, and you miss him like crazy. It's not just the proximity though, no, it's also that you don't know everything going on in his life anymore. He's doing amazing things, meeting amazing people, helping to make the world a better place, and you barely know the names of his closest colleagues. 

'I'm fine,' but your voice betrays you, trembling throughout your words. Zayne's eyes look worried, and his hand moves to touch your shoulder to comfort you. 'I'm fine, really. Just getting used to being alone in the city again.' 

'You're not alone anymore. You've got Tara, and you get along alright with that new colleague of yours, right? Jeremiah?' 

'I know, it's just...' He reaches out to pull you into his chest. 

'I understand. I miss you too.' 

'I just hope the next person is nice too,' you mumble against his shirt while he gently rubs your back. All this feels so normal, so nice. You're not sure if you'll ever fully get over not living next to Zayne anymore. It was perfect, and now it's gone. You can't blame him though. This was a very important step for his career and you're glad he did it, it just makes you feel like you're stuck in the same place all over again.  

Everything just feels so stagnant, so normal. Like nothing ever changes. You can only tell that time has passed by your growing fingernails and the dust building up on your windowsill... You should really clean. It's been too long. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'This is nice,' Luke awes as he walks into Sylus’ new apartment. The place is completely empty and there's a bit of an echo, but he's right. The place is nice. That doesn't mean Sylus has to be happy about it. In fact, he's not even close to being done groaning and whining about being doxed for the third time. 

Sylus grumbles: 'My last place was nice.' Kieran nudges him over the threshold of the apartment. 

'Stop whining you big baby. Shit happens.' Sylus turns to him with a death glare. Kieran rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in defeat. 'Sorry man. There really isn't much else to say about it.' 

Sylus knows damn well that he's right, he's just not ready to admit it. That last place was a little bit special to him. It was the first place he moved into on his own after a long relationship. He knew his job would always be an obstacle in any relationship, but he thought she had gotten over it. She clearly hadn't.  

When his popularity skyrocketed, she left him. Told him she couldn't keep sharing him, no matter how many times he told her there was no one to share him with. She was part of the reason he started doing solo stuff. He even offered her to stop doing it. It wasn't even a big deal to him. That didn't matter to her. 

Luke and Kieran tried to get him back to who he was, yet even they couldn't ignore the fact that he became a little different. He distanced himself, became harsher, became colder. He wasn't particularly rude or anything, just a bit off-putting if you don't know him. 

'Anyway, I'm going to let your neighbor know we're moving you in this week,' Kieran states and quickly leaves the apartment. Luke gives Sylus a look. 

'What,' Sylus snaps at him. 

'Shouldn't you join him?' Sylus raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger and a lot more intimidating. 

'I just got doxed. Why would I go around introducing myself to everyone?' 

Luke just shrugs. Sylus antics don't do much to him anymore after knowing him so long. 'Fair enough.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The doorbell buzzes. It's ever so slightly longer than the average person would press a doorbell, and so ever so slightly more annoying. Mayorly more annoying because you were just dozing off cuddled up to Zayne on the couch. It has been a long time since that happened. 

You groan and shift, but Zayne tightens his grip. 'Don't go.' His voice is gravelly, tired, a little strained. For a little while you're considering it, but then the bell buzzes a second time. Longer this time. 

'It's just for a second,' you whisper back. He nods and his grip loosens. You get off his chest and quickly shuffle to the front door. When you open it, you have to take a few seconds to digest the picture in front of you. 'Kieran? Why are you here? Does Tara need something?' 

It seems his head short-circuits just like yours has as he takes a few seconds to answer. 'Eh, no. I didn't know you live here. I'm just... I'm helping a friend move in. I'm doing a round to warn people about the noise.' 

'Oh, good to know. Thank you. Who's your friend?' 

'His name is Sylus but he's a pretty private person, so I can't promise you he'll stop by to introduce himself.' 

'Fair enough,' you respond while you think back to how Zayne used to be. It was a similar situation. Took more than half a year before you two would even greet each other when passing in the hallway. 'Well, give Tara my best. I'll probably see you soon.' 

'I will. See ya.' 

'Who was that,' Zayne asks from the couch. 

'Friend of the new neighbor. He's moving in this week.' You grab your phone from the coffee table to check if Rafayel send anything about a new tenant, instead you see a notification from Red Crow's socials. A new post. 

"No smutty chapter this Friday. I have a busy week.   Maybe if you beg, I'll record myself getting off." 

Previous - Next

[drcomttheo]

Draco Malfoy x YN

summary: You are the first person who's been in his room.

warnings: Fluff, soft smut

words: 642

a/n: Excerpt from my fic "Inordinate Love" or find it on my ML that's pinned.

Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML

Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

"You have a very lovely room, Malfoy."

I can't help but smile as I am walking around his room.

He has many pictures from his childhood. "You were also a very cute kid." I observe as I am picking up a small picture with a young Malfoy in it.

It seems like it was one of those photos that rich people get taken for their yearly family portrait. "Thank you." He says back with a soft chuckle and head shake.

I place the picture back in its spot, slowly making my way around his room until I find something familiar to me. "Why do you have a Venomous Tentacula in your room?" I question as I make sure just to pick up the pot holding the small version of a really big plant.

A Tentacula was spiky and red in color, and aside from the fact that I am deathly allergic to it, it is a toothsome plant with mobile vines that try to grab its prey.

It has many different purposes, as it also has many different properties.

"I think it's pretty, and I believe people tend to see all the bad in things and never really see the beauty in it." He smiled at his own comment as he was slowly walking towards me.

Now that I looked around, I noticed he had many plants around his room; they were not big or overwhelming. Just the right amount to suggest maybe he should have been a Hufflepuff.

I giggle to myself, hoping he can't read my mind because if he did, he would kill me for that comment.

I set the plant back down gently where I got it. "I am allergic to those, you know. In fifth-year herbology, when we were doing a research project on deadly plants, I just barely nicked my finger on a stinging nettle.

Professor Sprout found out very fast that maybe she shouldn't be teaching with them, as I had to be rushed to the hospital wing. I was out for days. Lucky to be alive, actually." I smile slightly.

"I am lucky you are alive too." He smiled at me sweetly, making his way over to me, putting both of his hands on my waist, and I met his brooding gray eyes.

"Are you done snooping now?" He asks in a joking manner. "Maybe, maybe not." I say, breaking out of his grip, walking away while running my fingers along his dresser to his desk.

He looked at me with an impatient look. "Okay. Fine! I am done snooping." I fired back at him, crossing my arms and kicking one foot out.

"You better be lucky. I like you, any other girl/boy." He paused. "Well, first, any other girl/boy would not have made it to my bedroom, and if they did, they wouldn't be here long enough to explore."

What was he saying? Was he saying I was special? Was he saying I was the first girl/boy in here?

I decided I would mess with him a little bit because I can tell how much it actually makes him happy. "Are you saying I am special, Malfoy?" I ask, lightly spinning in a half circle.

"That is exactly what I'm saying, Y/N." I was taken aback, mostly because I was expecting a sarcastic response. He was walking towards me again but with more lust in his eyes, and before I knew it, he had picked me up and placed me on the desk, pushing me against the wall and kissing me.

He delicately took hold of my face, his hands tenderly resting against my cheeks. Our lips met in a passionate yet tender embrace.

I held him close, my arms wrapped securely around his neck. His hands gently caressed the small of my back.

The kiss was intensifying, and our desire for one another was becoming more powerful.

One hand of Dracos traveled down my body as the other clenched over my breasts tightly.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 123 (Struggling Through 💕Love Day💕)

Conrad left Rafa at the abandoned shipwreck and made his way to the docks before he called Heather. "Thank the Watcher, you're okay!" she cried when the picture connected. "The precinct said the wifi in Sulani's terrible and to wait until morning, but I couldn't sleep last night."

"I slept a lot longer than I planned," he lamented.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

He smiled. "I ran into some trouble but I'm fine. I'll tell you all about it when I get home but everything's okay. Well, not everything...I found George and his wife in their villa."

"Why did they go silent?"

"The exact reason you'd think. (Especially if you're @changingplumbob and @matchalovertrait!) Now I've got another murder to solve."

Heather sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's fine. I'm just at the docks waiting for the jetty to take me to the airport. I sent some evidence home with the bodies and I'll have to meet them on the other side."

"What happens to everything in town that George had his hands in now that he's gone?"

Conrad shrugged. "I guess we're about to find out."

"I'm glad you're okay. You're really all I want for Love Day, you know. Oh! Ash made tissue paper flowers for someone at school. He says he's not sure who he'll give them to, but I think he might have made them for Scotti Holiday. Maybe his teacher."

Conrad laughed. "Is it terrible to say I hope he gives them to his teacher?"

"Mmhmm. I like Summer and Travis, but she's..." Scotti Holiday was a nine-year-old mean girl, but Heather didn't want to speak ill of a kid and changed the subject. "The kids both made cards for you."

"I'm trying to get home before Love Day's over. I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

Heather hung up and found Lavender in the living room playing with Gord and a purple toy. "Drago rawrrrrr!" she cried, letting the winged creature dance on the end of Gord's nose.

The beautiful Bernese barked and played along, happily wagging his tail. Heather smiled. "Are you ready to head to daycare, Lavender?"

"I like home!" she cried, but she never protested too long and rarely threw a tantrum.

Heather helped her toddler into her outerwear as she locked up the house, and three-year-old Lavender glanced at her dog. "Watch house, Go-dee! See lay-doe."

The romantic spirit of Love Day filled the air at the clinic, as unflirty Heather witnessed her vet techs, Kaori and Rico, struggle to hide their new affections. Even while he mopped up after sick pets.

The radio was playing nothing but love songs, and Heather retreated to the bathroom for a moment of peace. Conrad was fine, she reminded herself. He might even make it home before the end of Love Day. But now that George Brindleton was dead, the town he held together might be about to split apart at the seams. She was worried for it.

The restroom's garish wallpaper didn't calm her nerves, and as she grabbed a glass of water she dreamed of the swatches her architect in Evergreen Harbour had sent over through the winter. Spring was coming soon, and then she'd have a clinic remodel to worry about, too.

While Heather stressed her way through Love Day, Ash left school on Deadgrass Isle. He was full of chocolates handed out by his teacher and feeling energetic, jumping down the steps two at a time. He'd held on to his tissue paper flowers all day, unsure who to give them to until the end of school bell.

Heading toward the docks, he noticed an old man sitting alone on a bench overlooking the wild waves of the sea. Ash had seen him before, but he wasn't supposed to talk to strangers.

They made eye contact, and the old man looked surprised when Ash threw up his hand in a wave. He seemed like a nice enough man to talk to, and Deadgrass Isle was crowded with people at this time of day.

His friends, Arron Kalani and Scotti Holiday, headed toward the ferry to the mainland. "Ash, are you coming?"

"I'll take the next boat, I'm okay!" he said. "That old man looks lonely over there."

Scotti looked behind him in confusion. "What old man? You're kinda strange sometimes, Ash Landgraab."

Undeterred, Ash walked the path to say hello, dragging a heavy backpack full of books for extra credit behind him. Maybe the old man was the right person to give his paper flowers.

"Hello, sir. Are you alone out here?" Ash set down his bag, which immediately started to pick up big crystals of snow from the isle's notoriously heavy snowfall.

Ben looked at the child, startled and uncomfortable. He'd never been good around children, and his years as a ghost on an island populated with a school hadn't changed anything.

"Y-you can see me?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF: Main image created with Canva's free Vintage Blank Notes Instagram Story template. Something a little bit different to mark the holiday but also their distance apart. It also pays tribute to Ash's paper flowers which I wasn't sure how to recreate in game (they're from a pop up which dictated this scene and the next episode!)

When Valentine's Day rolls around, or before then, I'll make it up to Conther for having to deal with murder investigations for my plot instead of having a nice lil' Love Day together. Maybe we'll even get another event I can play with!

[sunnypopoki]

━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.5

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘒𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺. 𝘒𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘏𝘢! 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨?

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟ��.

Р.4 / Р.6

A bell chimed the moment you walked through the doors of the restaurant. Warmth rolled down your back and you shivered, rubbing the cold out of your arms. Kieran followed suit behind you and whispered into your ear.

"Do you want my jacket from the back of the car?"

"I'm okay," you smiled up at him, "Inside is warmer than I expected it to be. I'll be fine."

The inside was just as grand as the outside. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and soft music played over the speakers that were built into the building. You glanced around at the customers, chattering softly in low voices, reminding you of the mumbles your mother always made with her friends every time you got home from school.

A waitress walked up to you and smiled. Her lips were painted red, her skin smooth, and her brown hair pulled into a tight bun. She looked far more elegant than whatever you were wearing. You crossed your arms and smiled back.

"Welcome to Papillon. Seats for two? Romantic seating?"

"Oh no, uh, we are meeting someone here. His last name is Evergrown?"

The waitress perked when his name was mentioned. Her nails clacked against the clipboard she was holding. Something was unsettling about the gleam in her eye, almost greedy, as if she was viewing you and Kieran like bags of cash. "Oh yes, you must be Mr. Evergrown's guests. Follow me and I will take you to him now."

You blinked rapidly. He had to be a regular if she acted like that at the mention of his name. Glancing at Kieran from the corner of your eye, he slid his hand behind you to the small of your back, walking with you. He didn't seem that curious. He kept glancing at the people in the restaurant and the doors.

His head was obviously stuck somewhere else.

The hostess led you to a more private part of the restaurant where there were less people and fewer windows. The warm lighting cast shadows against the walls, showing off the numerous expensive paintings. The whole place gave off the vibe that they were trying to be cozy, but only ended up being more uncomfortable. One of those paintings had to cost more than your entire house.

Turning your head, you whispered to Kieran. "I thought this restaurant wasn't this fancy... Do you think we have enough money?"

His green eyes melted into liquid emerald. His cheeks dimpled ever so slightly when he grinned. "Yes, Котик. We have enough."

"Are you sure? What if we don't and—"

He drummed his fingers against your back, making you jump slightly. He chuckled, mumbling. "I assure you, we do. Pinky promise."

You bit your lip. Before you had a chance to make sure for a third time, a familiar face caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You almost stopped dead in your tracks.

You barely recognized Danny. The slicked-back kid you knew in high school was gone and replaced with a charming, handsome man with a dazzling smile. His brown hair was neatly cut, his face clean-shaven, and his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. He wore a suit. A fancy suit that reminded you of your father; maybe because of the blue tie. His shoes peeked out from under the table and you noticed how glossy they were. He stood up when he noticed the two of you, jutting out his hand with a grin. He was a couple of inches shorter than Kieran.

The hostess stood by with a plastic smile. You didn't like how she was treating him like her boss. You didn't think he owned the building, after all.

"(Y/N), it's so nice to see you again," he took your hand and placed a chaste kiss on it, glancing at Kieran when he leaned back up, "and you too, Kieran. I see you're still following her like a dog."

"Well, she is my wife so it's expected."

So much for being on good behavior. You didn't miss the small snark to Kieran's tone or the way his hand curled around your waist and pulled you ever so slightly closer to him. He smiled back at Danny cheerfully. Oh, how could you forget? He was joking with Danny again. The two of them were like that in high school (only Kieran was a lot more rude back then).

Danny's eyes widened in shock at the new information. "You two got married?"

"Did you think I would follow her around like this if I wasn't?"

He looked confused. Glancing between the two of you, his lips quirked up into a smile, albeit a little forced, and he motioned towards the table for you two to sit. "Oh my, well, apologies. You always followed her around like this in school when you were dating so I thought it was the same. Congratulations on your marriage."

This wasn't Danny. Well, it was him, but it wasn't the young man you thought you knew. Time changed everyone but you never expected him to change this much. This version of him was far too charismatic, charming, and snooty. His gaze felt daring and judging towards everyone in his line of sight—and in that moment, it was Kieran and you.

You said nothing and sat down.

"Thank you. We've only been married six months so it hasn't been long."

Danny took the menus from the hostess before speaking. He watched her scurry away. With a clear throat, he asked, "And you're happy?"

Your eye twitched. Who was he to ask that? Maybe the years whittled down his polite nature because you were too shocked to respond right away. Irritation flooded your senses and Danny glanced up. The words finally found your lips.

"Of course we are. I didn't know that you lost your manners over the years," you deadpanned. It sounded a little harsh, but you didn't care all that much. "Unless it's now polite to ask that to newlyweds?"

Danny blinked and he chuckled embarrassingly. "Oh, I—I'm sorry. I wanted to ask since we've been friends for so long... I meant no offense. I just want the two of you to be happy together."

Kieran shifted through the menu and said nothing, however, you noticed him glancing up at Danny with an unreadable expression every now and again. Well, great, now you felt like the bad guy. Your lips zipped shut. You blamed it on the restaurant, it was leaving you on edge. The fancy decor reminded you of your childhood home and the table you were sitting at was uncomfortable.

You opened your mouth to find something to say in response to that. "Oh, I see—uhm..."

"Thank you for the concern, but I don't believe our marriage is any of your business," Kieran butted in. "Friends or not, some things aren't meant to be asked in a public setting, much less over a meetup like this. We haven't seen you in a while and we have no obligations to share our marriage details with you."

Danny's cheeks reddened. You could only silently agree with Kieran, watching as your old friend sunk back in his seat and bounced his leg up and down. "Ah. You're correct, I apologize. It seems I stepped over a line."

Kieran was always better at words compared to you. Even if you were going to study psychology in school, you weren't the greatest at controlling your own life, much less your words. You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat and said nothing when a waitress came over to take your orders.

"Red wine and baked spaghetti for me," Danny said.

"I'd like water, no food, and my wife wants..."

"Uh, I'll just take a black coffee."

You didn't think you could stomach anything else other than that. Your nerves were rattling your bones like drums. Plus if Keiran wasn't getting food, you didn't want food. You didn't want to think about how much a full meal would cost anyway. The waitress said nothing after she wrote down her orders and walked away. When her heels were out of hearing range, Danny cleared his throat.

"So, how has life been treating you two?"

You straightened up. "It's been well. I'm going to school and Kieran is working full time. There isn't much excitement going on in our lives as of right now."

Danny looked at Kieran. "Full time? You? You always hated working when we were in high school, always running off to skip class or break some type of rule. What are you doing now? How do you do it when you've always been so wild?"

Kieran shuffled to get comfortable, laughing softly at the jabs towards his younger self. "Ah, well, you could say I am no longer a fifteen-year-old boy, that's how. But to answer your question, I'm an editor and freelance writer."

You nudged Kieran's side softly. Just because Danny missed the way he was mocking him, didn't mean you did. The mocking went right over Danny's head and he beamed, turning to look at you now.

"Oh, that's amazing! What about you, (Y/N)?"

"I'm going into schooling for psychology," you scratched at your neck sheepishly. "Not as creative as what Kieran is doing, but I try. I've always enjoyed the thought of helping people."

Danny's eyes sparkled and he leaned forward at the table. His hazel eyes softened and a glimmer of the old Danny shone through for a second. "Yeah, you've always been like that. Empathy has always been one of your strong suits. I remember thinking you had too much of it at times, especially when you started placing yourself in the shoes of people who didn't deserve it."

You tilted your head. He was rubbing you the wrong way. "People who didn't deserve it?”

"Yeah, like scumbags."

"Everyone deserves to be understood, Danny. We are all human. I would be a shitty therapist if I played Judge every session and decided which people deserved help or not."

Maybe you were just being sensitive? Or taking things too personally without reason? Ever since you saw Danny, your irritation kept bubbling up and up. It wasn't like he was doing anything specific to irk you, but he just was, and you couldn't place it. Maybe it was the way he was smiling, the way he kept looking at you, or how he barely glanced at Kieran at all.

Danny raised an eyebrow. He didn't pick up on your uncomfortable tone, so he carried on. "So if you met a serial killer, you think they'd deserve someone stepping in their shoes to understand them?"

"Of course! Yes."

"Even after they killed three people?"

"What type of question is that? Yes—"

Your jaw clamped shut when the waitress came back with the food and drinks. Your coffee was placed in front of you and Danny thanked her before taking his spaghetti. You didn't even notice when Kieran took a sip of your coffee, grimaced, and then gulped his water.

Danny had to be doing this on purpose to annoy you! What type of medical professional studying the human brain, to help people, would turn away someone acting on homicidal thoughts? Of course, you'd turn them over to the police, but if they required therapy and you were assigned, you wouldn't turn them away.

They did monstrous acts, but those monstrous acts were most likely developed through mental or sometimes physical trauma. It was up to psychologists and therapists to figure those things out! The more a professional learns, the more they can prevent things like that from happening in the future. Damn, all of this was making you think of the conversation you had with Kieran earlier in the car.

You watched as Danny took a bite of his food and hummed in delight. Your jaw clenched and unclenched.

"Danny, how have you been?" Kieran asked for you, deciding to move the conversation on for you. "You look happy and put together. Did you take up your family's line of being a surgeon?"

"Oh no, no! I could never. I started working for a bigger business and it pays well. I actually had the idea to reach out because something happened."

Kieran learned further and placed his elbows on the table. "Hm?"

"Yeah. (Y/N), your father called me recently. It made me think about high school and then out of the blue, I saw your social media. I knew I had to reach out and say hello."

The saliva in your mouth dried up within seconds. The world shifted and specks of color swirled in your peripherals, the edge of your toes running numb while itchiness spread across your body in rolling waves. Your nails bit into your palms. Maybe you heard him wrong. No way he just said your father, because no way would your father reach out to Danny. He knew very well you and Danny used to be friends, so he wouldn't have any reason to do so.

Kieran's hand slid over and squeezed your thigh. Unlike you, his face was unreadable, while the reflection inside your coffee mug stared back in apprehension.

"I—what? My father?"

Danny nodded. "Yes! It was a surprising call if I have to be honest. I didn't know how he got my number, he must have found it online somewhere. I doubt any of my coworkers gave it to him."

You were stunned. "...Well, uhm, I apologize that you had to deal with him."

"Ah no, it actually wasn't that bad. He was polite and started asking about what I was doing, and how my life was, and then started talking about you when the call ended. When I first got the call, I was expecting him to ask about my parents. I know that he enjoyed them when we were younger, but it turned out he didn't want to talk about them at all."

You were going to vomit. The world spun around and around, and suddenly, you were even more grateful that you didn't order any food. Kieran tenderly massaged your thigh. He didn't mind your shaking hands or the ways your nails raked over his skin, scraping at the scabs on his hands already. His soothing touch felt worlds apart from your experience.

You didn't get it. Why was your father calling Danny? Why did he mention you? Why was he even interested in Danny? Your family cut contact with you after your marriage and when you were friends with Danny in high school, they never talked to him then, so there was no reason to talk to him now. There was no reason for your father to be interested in your life when he made it pretty clear that he didn't want to be a part of it.

Fuck, you didn't want him to.

"And what was he saying?" Kieran asked the questions you couldn't.

Danny took a sip of his wine and glanced between Kieran and you. He said nothing on the matter, saying, "Something about the (L/N) business and (Y/N) as the successor. At one point he did start asking about your life. Though he never informed me that you were married, he said something about an arranged marriage, so I assumed you and Kieran broke up. That's why I was shocked to see Kieran here."

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You preoccupied yourself with a greedy gulp of coffee, watching Danny waving his fork around.

"He didn't mention anything more about the arranged marriage when I asked. Instead, he kept blabbering about one of your cousins. Dominic? Or something? A fancy name, someone I've never met."

Dominic.

Suddenly, you didn't want to be here. You wanted to be home, in your bed, on your phone scrolling through social media to distract you from whatever was going on here. Kieran twisted his fingers into yours and pulled your hand away from your thigh; you were scratching at your leg without even realizing it, causing the skin to go red underneath.

"He said Dominic? Are you sure you heard him correctly?" you asked.

Danny tilted his head. "Yes, he said it plain as day."

What could you say in response to all that? Dominic, your older cousin's nickname, was someone who always helped your father around the house. When you were little, your main memory was your father shouting from his office and the following comes from Dominic calming him down. You viewed your father as the mad villain; Dominic was the sidekick, the butler, the one who pulled the strings. If they were talking about successors and mentioned your name, that meant they wanted you back in the family.

You? In the family again? The (L/N) family again?

You could recall how grand the house you grew up in was, and just how many patterns you could count on the ceiling every night. Muffled arguments, shady deals, and the constant flow of guests in and out of the house who leered at you like vultures. Your father never had normal "friends" and he made it quite clear that he did business with anyone who could meet his pay and requirements. Sometimes he threatened to sell you to them when you misbehaved. Even now, you couldn't tell if it was a real threat or not.

If he wanted you as his successor to his business, he'd do anything to get it. He wasn't the type of man who listened to the word "no". Denying him was something he always took extremely personally. Your mother knew that very well.

She didn't want children, but it wasn't like he listened. It made sense why she hated your guts. Each time she looked at you, she saw a little girl whom she was forced to birth to because her husband wasn't considerate enough of her feelings and autonomy. You supposed you couldn't blame her, but it didn't make it hurt less.

But if all of this was true, why hasn't he called you yet?

Sure, you blocked him a while ago, but that never stopped him in the past. He'd change his phone number, get other people to call, or find some other way around being ignored. He always found a way.

Danny sipped on his wine and watched you with a perplexed expression. He knew about your relationship with your family, but he didn't know they disowned you the day you got married to Kieran. He had no idea that mentioning them caused extreme anxiety, enough anxiety to make your skin itch all over your vision blur. Fight or flight was telling you to run for the hills.

Kieran leaned close to you and whispered, covering his mouth with his hand so Danny couldn't make out what he was saying. "Do you want to go home, Котик?"

Yes, you did. But leaving so abruptly in the middle of a meal with an old friend was rude and it wasn't like Danny purposely wanted to freak you out. You sucked in a sharp breath and tried to regain your senses. Kieran took your response as a no and frowned, but said nothing and leaned back. When you wanted to go home, you'd tell him, he trusted you.

"I see... thank you for telling me, Danny."

Danny grinned ear to ear. Whether or not he was disturbed by your obvious discomfort, he said nothing and took a bite of his food before swallowing. "Talking to your father gave me an idea, (Y/N). Of course, you don't have to agree with me or anything, but I wanted to share what I thought with you."

You didn't have to be a genius to understand what you were feeling was dissociation. The more correct term, if you had to pull it from your medical textbooks, would be derealization. It felt as if your brain was outside your body and you were watching him blabber to someone who wasn't you. Like a fucked up fever dream.

You knew you weren't outside your body from a second point of view, but it felt like it. You rapidly blinked and took deep breaths to ground yourself. It wasn't helping that much.

"I've been looking for someone to fill in a missing spot on my team. Where I work is a very important place, so it is not something I can just let random people apply for. But you're not a random nobody! I trust you more than anyone I've interviewed, and we have been searching for more empathetic and ambitious workers."

Wait, wait, wait.

One moment he was talking about how your father tried to get information out of him, but now he was saying something about a job opportunity. You refrained from rubbing your temples. Danny didn't notice your mood and kept chattering, his smile switching to that familiar 'business' smile that your father always had. He wasn't giving you any time to think.

"I wanted to—"

"Daniel," Kieran hummed, his voice heavier than normal. It sounded foreign to your ears. "Be considerate and stop talking so fast."

Danny flinched when he heard his real name. In a mere second, droplets of sweat built on his brow and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Kieran stared at him with an unreadable expression. He couldn't tell if it was threatening or not, friendly or not. His bones lurched back in his seat when Kieran shifted.

When they were younger, Danny always felt inferior compared to Kieran. Grades and smarts didn't mean everything and when he lost you to him, that was the biggest blow he ever felt. Because yes, it was true that Danny had a crush on you back then, you were just too oblivious and dumb to see it. One of the many reasons he felt inferior was because Kieran never hesitated to throw a punch when need be—and that was terrifying.

He had a feeling that if he said the wrong thing at this table, he might become black and blue just like those kids used to be back in high school. His teeth gnawed on his bottom lip and he took a sip of his wine.

"Ah. Sorry."

Kieran just raised an eyebrow and nodded in return. He was scarier now than he was back then, especially with the width of his shoulders and the framing of his arms. He looked like he could crack his head open against the table.

You ran your hands over your hair and pushed it all back from your face, not paying attention enough to hear or see what was going on between them. Gather your thoughts, take a breath, and pull yourself together.

Even if your family was planning to drag you into the business, it wasn't like they could do anything. You were married to Kieran and you were a grown-ass adult. You had people to back you up if something wrong happened. Plus, it wasn't like your family was in the restaurant with you. You'd know if they were!

Danny cleared his throat and dragged you from your thoughts. "(Y/N)?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I was just a little shocked," which was a plain lie but you said it with your chest, so that was all that mattered. "Uhm—go ahead. What were you saying about work? You mentioned a team of some sort?"

He was glad to move on as well. A grin fixed its way up on his face and you shivered slightly.

"What I was saying was that your father gave me an idea for work. I need someone to fill in a spot and when he mentioned you, I realized I trust you a whole lot more than any person I have interviewed. You'd be paid, of course, and the business I work for might even be willing to help with school payments if your work is impressive enough."

This definitely felt like a fever dream. The depth of the table felt so far away and the coloring of the lighting felt dim and soulless. The conversation being held was being jumped through hoops and hoops of new information without any lead-up or warning.

You rubbed your brow. Wasn't he just using you? At this point, you were aware that this was just a business proposition, not a meeting with an old friend. If you had to sum up this whole meeting, you've talked more about his work than anything else. Your anxiety fizzled into anger and your teeth clenched together.

"Did my father put you up to this?"

You had to ask it. You didn't put it below or above your father to ask Danny to do something for him, and if you had to be honest, you didn't trust Danny enough to turn down your father. Not when he wasn't his old self anymore. If this was the old Danny, you would have trusted him. Not this one.

Danny's mouth formed an 'o' shape and he shook his head. "No, no! This was totally my idea. Back when we were in school together, I knew how bad your family treated you. I wouldn't listen to anything he said anyway. He sparked an idea, it wasn't his own though."

Kieran was saying nothing. He was staring at you from the corner of his eye. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn't voicing it. You were glad that he wasn't arguing or saying anything. You were already dissociating enough as it was, so you were grateful for his quietness and soothing thumb that kept rubbing fingers on your hand. It was his way of trying to ground you.

"So you're saying my father didn't give you this idea or plan this in your head? Or tried to persuade you of anything?"

"No! I promise!"

You weren't sure you believed him. There was this sneaking suspicion that he worked for your father. Maybe he didn't, but you were paranoid now. Especially since Danny mentioned Dominic and the next possible successor of the (Y/N) business, which so happened to be you.

"Okay, okay..."

Kieran cleared his throat. "And what business do you work for? You haven't told us yet, and believe it or not, I find that rather important when being offered a job deal."

He blinked and his eyes lit up with stars. He sat up in his seat and took his elbows off the table, his legs bouncing up and down under the table. It was as if his personality changed. One moment he was anxious, the next moment he was levitating off his seat in pure pride.

"Leovana. I work with Leovana Co."

LINKS :

- Wattpad

- Discord

- Quotev

- Buy Me A Coffee

[ Read P.6 Here ]

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 13

Din Djarin x f!reader | 4k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: it's finally the night of the Gala, and it's finally time to perform with Din.

a/n: First, if you didn't see the AMAZING art @kenobiwanx made of ballet!Din, please go look now!!!

Second, a week or so ago @iknowisoundcrazy asked me about a scene I was proud of writing, or something like that, and my answer was really this chapter. I just couldn't say that yet. I hope y'all enjoy it. I can't believe we only have one more chapter! I'm super behind on replying to your amazing comments because I just moved over the weekend, but I will catch up, I promise. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, dancing, flirting, touching, pet names (sweetheart), hand-holding, intense feelings, kissing, I think we've already covered all of the dance moves in this chapter but I added some links used previously just in case

Chapter 13

At call time, you were feeling much more relaxed and ready for the performance. You successfully avoided the tornado that was Greef Karga backstage (where Alexa and Vince were corralling him) and found one of your usual spots in the dressing room near Adrian. He was already dressed for Jee’s piece in a full-coverage bodysuit with a skin color background and abstract shapes printed on it in blue. You knew his fellow dancers were in similar outfits with different colors, and that the shapes were somehow incorporated into the choreography. Jee was good at things like that.

You quickly put on your bodysuit and your sweats over top. It was a little chilly backstage and you had plenty of time before the show would start. 

Adrian leaned against the counter to your right and crossed his arms. “Where’s your other half?”

You pointed upwards – there were a couple of dressing rooms that were more private, and you were pretty sure that’s where Din had been getting ready. “He’ll be down in a bit. You ready?”

He nodded, smiling. “This is a fun one. Jee’s choreography is always weird, but cool.”

You laughed as you finished your stage makeup. “True,” you agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, Din popped his head into the room. He had on a loose t-shirt and sweats, but you figured he had his shorts on underneath. You noticed a few people waved at him and he nodded in response. He caught your eye in the mirror and motioned for you to join him in the hall. 

You looked at Adrian. “See you in a bit.”

He smiled and shoved your shoulder lightly. “Get out of here.”

You laughed and joined Din in the doorway. He smiled and led you to the right and around the corner, and you realized where you were going. There was a tiny dressing room with no mirror that no one ever used, except for taking naps – it had a somewhat comfortable loveseat.

As you entered, you realized no one was in there but Din’s bag was on the couch. “Is this where you’ve been getting ready?” The room was so small that the two of you basically filled it.

He nodded, a bit sheepish. “I just drop by the other room to use the mirror.”

You smiled. “If I’d known I’d have come and claimed the couch,” you teased.

He ducked his head and smiled. “You’re always welcome.”

You moved over to the couch and sat down. “So, what’s up?”

Din leaned against the folding table that ran the length of the wall by the door. “Could you help me with the body paint? I think some of it wore off in the back.”

“Sure,” you said, moving to get up, but he waved you back down.

“Not yet. We’ve got a few minutes and it’s too cold to be basically naked in here already.” 

You laughed. “True. But we want it to dry, right?”

He sighed. “Alright. Ok, come here.” His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and he tugged it gingerly over his head. You realized he was avoiding the paint. It was dry, though, and looked fine.

“Where’s the problem? The front looks fine.” Your eyes traveled over the swirls on his torso and you smiled, lightly. When you met his eyes he was smirking again.

“Should I take off my pants, too?” His eyes were almost sparkling as he teased you.

You gasped, just for show. “Din! What are you insinuating, hmm?” You stepped up next to him and took a closer look at the paint, looking for any spots that had rubbed off.

As soon as you were close enough, he grabbed your hips and pulled you forward between his open knees on the table. You flailed a bit as you looked for somewhere to rest your hands, eventually settling on his forearms. You didn’t want to mess up the paint, which was mostly on his torso and biceps. 

Once you were steady, he leaned forward, far enough that his lips were almost touching your ear. “I saw you check me out, you know. Last week.” His voice was deep, and you shivered again. He pulled back and grinned.

“Din Djarin, you tease.” 

He squeezed your hips and shook his head. “It’s not a tease, sweetheart. I checked you out, too.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “Not for the first time.”

You smiled. “Adrian said we were both watching each other in class, all the time.”

Din laughed. “I don’t know how you didn’t see me. It felt like I never looked at anything else.”

You felt your face heat. “Ok. Enough of that. We have a performance,” you poked him in the side and laughed when he tried to dodge, “get your head in the game.” He smiled and squeezed your hips again. “Now let me see your back.”

You moved back as he stood so he could turn in front of you. For a moment you simply looked – your eyes danced over his broad shoulders and then down his spine. You wanted to reach out and touch, to trace the lines of his muscles and curve of his waist with your fingertips. He was so strong. 

You shook your head. The paint. You frowned as you looked for any breaks in the paint. “Din, it looks fine. I don’t see any spots where you need a touch up.”

When he turned back to face you, his expression was suspiciously blank. “Oh? Well, maybe I was wrong, then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Din Djarin, did you have ulterior motives when you brought me in here?”

He smirked again and shook his head. “No, you know we’re saving those for later. I just…” he sighed. “I’d rather wait with you than alone.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but smiled. “You could have just said that.”

He shrugged. “There could have been some spots to touch up. You never know.”

You laughed and tugged him over to the couch. He sat sideways so as not to actually rub off any of his paint, and you sank into the corner. “How much time do you think we have?”

“Probably about ten minutes.” The first movement was after Vince’s piece, which opened the show. You needed to be backstage when it started. Then the second movement was between Talia’s and Jee’s, and the third finished the show. 

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to get comfortable touching your pas de deux partner before a performance, but you knew this felt different, for both of you. “Want to go warm up?” He nodded. “Alright. Meet me backstage? I have to go do my pre-show thing with Adrian.”

Din raised an eyebrow, and you realized he’d never seen your “thing”, as you called it. “Or you can come and watch, if you want. We just have a silly handshake and then we hug.”

It turned out that he did want to watch, and he followed you back to your dressing room after stripping off his sweatpants. You allowed yourself to ogle his legs briefly before leading him out of the room. “Do you have any show rituals?”

Din shrugged. “Not really. I usually do the same stretches and warm up.” He thought about it for a moment. “Grogu says I have a lucky shirt. It’s in my bag.”

You laughed. You realized, as you grabbed Adrian and started your ritual handshake, that you felt more at ease, more comfortable than you usually did before a performance.

It must be because of Din, you figured. It was hard to be nervous when you knew he’d be there with you for every step. Adrian hugged you, and you squeezed him until he made an “oof” sound.

“Ok, ok, let me go. Don’t squeeze me to death.” You laughed at his grumbling as Adrian pulled back to check his costume in the mirror. “Go do your thing, I’ll see you backstage later.”

You pulled off your sweats and left them at your spot. You grabbed your pointe shoes and turned to face Din, who was looking at you. Well, he was looking at your legs. You grinned. 

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm. As you passed him, you murmured, “who’s checking who out now, hmm?” 

Din followed you out, and once in the hall, he said, smirking, “I already confessed.”

You made your way backstage together and found a spot where you could warm up in the large area behind the wings. You put on your shoes and began to help each other stretch.

Kuiil found you there a few minutes later, and he smiled down at you both. “Are you ready?”

You both nodded, but Din said, “we are.” His voice was firm and warm and it made you smile.

Kuiil nodded. “Yes, you are. Excellent. I will be in the audience. I wish to see it as I meant others to see it. I will see you soon.” He reached down and rested a hand on each of your shoulders. “Remember. Be in the moment, and be there for each other.”

WIth that, he turned and made his way down the hall and, you presumed, out to the audience. You felt warmed from his clear pride and belief in the two of you together. 

As you finished stretching, you heard the audience settle down, and you figured the house lights had just gone down. Your guess was confirmed when you heard Karga’s voice welcoming everyone to the gala.

“Good evening,” he began, and you could picture the wide smile on his face. “Thank you for celebrating our 5th anniversary with us. We are so pleased to have you here.” The crowd applauded, and Karga chuckled. “Yes, thank you. We have a wonderful program planned for you tonight, with pieces that feature the best of what our amazing dancers can do. All of our choreographers – Vince, Talia, Jee, and our visiting choreographer in residence, Kuiil – have prepared new, never before seen pieces for you just for this gala.” The audience applauded again. “We are so grateful for your patronage, and we hope you enjoyed this season. Please, sit back and enjoy the visual feast we have prepared – and don’t forget about the free refreshments during intermission!" That got a light chuckle from the audience. “Thank you.”

The crowd applauded once more, and you assumed Karga was walking off stage. You heard the curtains open and nudged Din. You tilted your head towards the wings, silently asking if he wanted to go watch the quartet. He shook his head and motioned for you to stand with him. He leaned in and murmured, “I’d rather warm up a bit more with you.”

You’d seen the quartet in dress rehearsal, and it really was beautiful. It was funny to think that it had been your original role in this program. You nodded and joined him in some light jumps and lunges, and then spent a few minutes warming up your ankles.

You heard the quartet’s music begin to build towards its crescendo. Before you could turn to head backstage, Din grabbed your arm and reeled you in. He placed his hands at your waist and you let yours rest lightly on his forearms again. He leaned in and rested his forehead lightly against yours. 

“You’re going to blow them away,” he murmured, and you felt that familiar feeling that he inspired start to well up in you. “Ready?”

You nodded. “You too, Din. Show them who you are.”

He pulled back and smiled at you. As you turned, you slid your hand down his arm and tangled your hands together. You walked backstage hand-in-hand.

The quartet was just finishing up when you found a place to stand together, out of the way of their exit. You caught Phil’s eye where he stood with his headset on by the tiny backstage lamp, and he nodded at you. You tugged on Din’s hand. “Here we go.”

He nodded at you and released your hand. You would go out first on your own, and then Din, and then you would be on stage together. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Just before you stepped forward, you heard Din murmur, “beautiful.”

You stepped into the wings with a smile playing around your mouth. And then the music started, and all you thought about was the dance.

…

You’d never felt like this before. You’d never danced like this before. 

From the moment you stepped onto the stage, you could feel it – you were going to nail it. And you did.

You whirled through your solo, and leapt off the stage just in time for Din to enter after you. You watched him and you could see it – he felt it, too. You grinned, and then forced it off your face. He was a stranger, and you were meeting for the first time.

You spun back onto the stage at your cue and you felt his eyes trace across your shoulders like a caress. The two of you danced past each other, circled each other, glanced off of each other, just barely not touching. The connection between you pulled taut and you swore you could see where he was on stage even when you weren’t looking at him.

It would have stolen your breath away, if you had let it – you’d never felt so in sync with another dancer before. 

The first movement ended with the two of you touching, briefly, and then dancing away from each other. As you were about to exit into the wings, you looked back, and caught him already looking at you. You both froze, and then darted off stage.

The audience burst into applause. You grinned at the dancers waiting backstage for Talia’s ballet, and they met you with silent cheers and pats on the shoulder as you passed. 

You headed straight for the door to the backstage area, looking for Din.

He must have had the same idea, because as you turned into the hall that ran behind the stage, you found him almost jogging towards you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him.

“You and me,” he said, breathlessly, and you nodded.

…

You had to wait through two longer pieces for the second movement, which would be between Talia and Vince’s collaboration piece and Jee’s. Wary of getting too cold, you returned to Din’s small dressing room, grabbing your sweats on the way. You didn’t want to break the bubble you could feel forming around the two of you.

Din pulled you into the room behind him and then into a loose hug. “I want to hold you tighter,” he murmured, “but this paint.” 

You laughed. “It’s probably for the best.” He hummed. “Ok. We can rest for a minute, and then we need to get ready for the second. And go stay warm.” He nodded. 

“You were beautiful.” His voice sounded deeper than normal and you shivered in his arms. 

“So were you, Din.”

…

There was a barre set up backstage for warming up, and the two of you stayed there as you waited. You watched as the dancers heading backstage moved around you for Talia’s piece and then Talia and Vince’s collaboration, but you and Din stayed in your own little world. That wasn’t unusual, for a piece like yours. You practiced a couple of lifts just to have something to do.

You were ready.

With only a few minutes to go, Din leaned into you again. “Ready?” 

You nodded. He grabbed your hand, this time, and led you backstage.

The piece Talia and Vince had collaborated on was almost over – it had three couples, a mix of principals and soloists, and you let yourself watch them for a few moments. When it was almost time, Din tugged you in again, foreheads together. 

“Let’s blow them away,” you said, stealing his words from earlier. He smiled.

For the second movement, you started on stage, so you stepped away from Din to go take your place when the lights went down. Alone on stage, in the dark, you took a deep breath. As the music started, you stretched into position, and sank into your character. 

You felt Din’s presence when he leapt on stage, and from there, the chase was on. 

In the second movement, you circled each other, sometimes coming closer, sometimes moving farther away. Glancing touches brought you together and then hesitation drove you apart. You wanted to know each other, to understand each other, but you had to find a way to communicate. To make yourselves understood.

You began to mirror each other’s movements, to adopt each other’s styles. You found common ground between you to build on and with the first lift so firmly grounded, it felt like you flew into the air. Din held you aloft and then flipped you downwards, catching you in another hold. You spun away and felt him follow you, and the connection between you strengthened.

Just like the first movement, you could barely think, could only feel – and it felt amazing. You knew, distantly, that you and Din were performing at a level neither of you had managed alone. You had created something new, something that could only exist because you made it together.

The second ended with you and Din briefly together, and then your character shied away – you ran from him, twirling off stage without looking back. He reached for you just before the lights went down.

The audience erupted. You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Adrian was backstage, ready for Jee’s piece, and he looked like he wanted to run over and hug you. But just then Din came through the wings behind you and you felt his arms circle your waist. 

He didn’t pull you too close (the paint) but he leaned forward to breathe into your ear, “so fucking beautiful.”

You shivered, and Adrian winked at you. You laughed and tugged Din behind you into the hall.

You didn’t have as long of a break this time, only the length of Jee’s piece, which was only about 25 minutes. You knew you didn’t really have time to go far.

As you entered the hall, Din grabbed your hand, and made a sharp right. Just around the corner out of sight he backed you against the wall. 

He leaned on the wall with his forearm by your head. For a moment neither of you said anything – you were both breathing hard, chests almost touching every time you took a breath. His eyes caught yours and you couldn’t look away.

“I’ve never…” he trailed off, and you nodded. You understood. 

“Me neither,” you breathed, and his eyes darted down to look at your lips. The feeling that had built inside of you during the performance turned into fire.

“Din–” you started, but he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He pulled away almost as quickly.

“I know,” he said, “I know.” He leaned back, and looked at you again. “I never dreamed it could be like this. I think I was meant to dance with you.”

You were glad you were already leaning against the wall, because your knees threatened to give out at his words. “Me too,” you said. His hand came up to cup your cheek lightly, careful of your makeup. 

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get ready for the third.”

You nodded and let him lead you back down the hall.

…

You thought you’d be nervous, as you stood in the wings before the third movement. You’d gone backstage a little bit earlier than before to watch Adrian, but it wasn’t distracting you. 

But that might have had something to do with Din’s presence at your back and his hand tangled with yours.

You breathed together as you watched and sank back into your characters. In the third, you were almost always touching – almost always chasing or being chased, grabbing or holding on. The movements revolved around your need to be together and create something new together.

As Jee’s piece came to a close, you felt Din step closer. He kept hold of your hand but wrapped his other arm around your shoulders from the back. “One more,” he murmured in your ear. “Let’s show them who we are.” You smiled and nodded. He squeezed your hand.

In the third, you started off stage. In the wings you both took a deep breath, and then the music started. You darted on quickly with Din at your heels, and from there you were off.

He chased you across the stage, and you let him catch you on the other side. You twirled around each other, leaping together, pulling each other along. He supported you through turns and lifts and jumps and you let yourself sink into the music. You internally marveled at how you seemed to be two dancers with one brain – you would reach for him, and he would be there, every time.

When you reached the pique turn, a smile played around your mouth. Din tugged you backwards by your ankle, capturing you and lifting you into a spin. Your body moved through the familiar steps, and when it came time to launch yourself through the air so he could catch you, you fought a grin off your face.

He lifted you over his shoulder, and let yourself appreciate, just for a moment, the strength of the muscles in his back.

Din tilted you back up and let you slide down against his chest. You sank into it with ease, and the two of you let the moment linger. You met his gaze and saw the smile dancing behind his eyes.

From there the choreography built to a crescendo that had you breathing hard, coordinating your movements perfectly to stay in contact – your hand on his leg, his arm around his waist, your arm around his neck, his shoulders supporting you. It pushed you upward and forward until, suddenly, you stopped, facing each other. You breathed as the last note held, staring into each other’s eyes, and then slowly folded into an embrace that took you both to your knees. 

The lights went out, and for a moment you couldn’t make sense of the sound that washed over you. You looked up at Din, and then out to the audience. It seemed like everyone in the theater had taken to their feet, cheering and applauding.

The rest of the company was backstage cheering, too.

Din leaned backwards and stood, offering his hand to pull you up, too. You took it, and he tugged you forward so that you had to lean into him just a bit. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then the lights came up.

You both turned to the audience, bodies moving into the familiar stance, ready to take your bows. But you were both taken aback when somehow the applause got louder.

You glanced at Din, but he swept you forward, and before you could stop him, presented you to the audience. 

You smiled, and when it was his turn, did the same for him.

As soon as you were done, the rest of the company poured out of the wings to join you on stage, and the standing ovation seemed to go on forever. Adrian popped out of the crowd at your side and wrapped you both up in a hug, which startled Din and made you laugh. “That was fucking amazing!” he shouted in your ear, and you laughed. Din started to smile, too, and you squeezed his hand, still tangled with yours between you.

You looked at him as the company moved to take a final bow together, and for a moment, you couldn’t hear the noise around you at all.

You could only see Din, smiling at you, so widely his eyes crinkled. 

Beautiful.

...

prev | next

a/n: they did it!! I'm so proud of them!!! next week... what happens after the gala? 😏 we finally earn those smut tags, lol. I don't really have any notes this week, but let me know if you have any questions! 🧡 and don't forget to check out the art!!

[aishangotome]

[Azel] The Mean Unicorn's Greedy Desire (Bday Story) - Part 1

It had been a while since I started staying in Tanzanite as a traveling merchant---

The day of the Nativity Festival arrived, celebrating the day the living god, worshipped as the incarnation of the moon, descended to this world.

(Amazing... Everywhere is bustling with festivities.)

The shop on the right is selling palm-sized statues of the living god, and the shop on the left is selling commemorative coins that were apparently made to celebrate this year's Nativity Festival...

If I look ahead, I see a multitude of people praying around the statue of the living god, and if I look behind, I see dancers performing a dance dedicated to the god.

The market, filled with a mix of locals and tourists, was so crowded that it was difficult to even walk, so as soon as I finished the job the owner asked me to do, I rushed into a nearby alley.

(I didn't think the crowds would be this bad, but surely there's no one in the back alley––)

Azel: ...Huh?

Emma: Eh...?

Standing right in front of me was the god himself.

(Am I having a daydream?)

I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but the scene didn't change.

Emma: Why is Prince Azel in a place like this–– Nggh!?

Azel: Don't make a fuss, don't shout, be quiet! Do you want to be sued for damages? Fine with that, huh?

(That's so unreasonable!)

Azel quickly closed the distance between us, covered my mouth with his hand, and dragged me into the shadows.

(Is he perhaps hiding?)

When I signaled with my eyes that "I'll be quiet," he finally let go of my hand.

Azel: Of all people, why did you have to find me? This is the worst.

Emma: Were you doing something bad?

Azel: If I were, you wouldn't see tomorrow.

Emma: ...I'm glad that's not the case.

Emma: But, why is the guest of honor himself in the shade on a day like this?

Azel: Did it look like I was having fun?

Emma: ...No.

Azel: That's how it is.

(No, what does that mean?)

Azel let out a huge sigh by my ear.

It tickled, and my shoulders jumped, but Azel didn't seem to notice.

Azel: Do you know what day it is today?

Emma: It's Prince Azel's birthday, right? Happy Birthday.

Azel: Thank you. I'll be collecting presents later, so please be prepared.

(Shoot, I wasn't thinking!)

Azel: I prefer presents with actual items rather than just feelings.

Emma: ...So that's how it is.

Azel: But what all the citizens want to give me are "feelings."

Azel: No, even feelings are questionable... Anyway, people don't really care much about "whether I'll be happy or not."

(Is that... so?)

Azel: What do you think would happen if I went out on the main street now?

Emma: It might cause a commotion. Everywhere is already buzzing about Prince Azel.

Azel: In other words, that's how it'll be.

(I see, I understand now. He's hiding here because he doesn't want to cause a stir.)

As soon as one question was resolved, another one immediately popped up.

Emma: Wouldn't it have been better to stay in the usual temple...?

Azel: That's why I'm here, isn't it?

Perhaps out of spite or something, he pinched my cheek.

Azel: The main event of the Nativity Festival is the divine ritual.

Azel: If I skip this, the whole nation will start making a fuss, wondering if something has happened to the god, and politics, economy, everything will collapse.

Emma: That's a bit of an exaggeration...

Azel: You think so?

Azel: But it's no exaggeration to say that for the people of Tanzanite, god is the pillar of their spirit.

Azel: If that pillar cracks even a little, people will lose their minds.

Azel: For example, you like books, right? You might not be able to read them at all from tomorrow...

Azel: If that were to happen, could you remain calm?

Emma: I might not be able to.

Azel: That's how big of a deal it is for someone to lose their spiritual support.

Azel: ...Though it's a huge pain.

(Somehow... I think I understand.)

(Azel has to go to the castle no matter what, for the sake of the people.)

(Because that's his duty as a god.)

Emma: Is there no secret passage to get to the castle?

Azel: No. The more entrances the castle has, the more invasion routes there will be.

Azel: Tanzanite Castle is built in such a way that there is no other way to get there than through the main street.

(So, a commotion is unavoidable...)

Emma: Then, I'll be cheering you on from the shadows.

(There's nothing I can do anyway...)

Just as his hand left my cheek and I was about to turn around, he placed his hands on both my shoulders.

Azel: That's not right, is it?

Emma: Wh-What do you mean?

He squeezed my shoulders tightly, putting pressure on me both physically and mentally.

Azel: You think you can just go somewhere without giving me a present?

Azel: By the way, I don't want anything you just randomly bought at the market.

Emma: But, you want a physical item, right?

Azel: A thoughtless item is the same as bulky trash.

Azel: Let me see, what I want from you...

Azel, who had been lost in thought, suddenly changed his expression to a god-like benevolent smile.

I couldn't help but tense up.

Azel: I've never had a birthday cake before, so I'd like that.

Emma: ...Eh, never, ever?

Azel: Never. Because I'm a god.

(Oh right... The way gods celebrate is different from ordinary people.)

(But, why... does his smile seem sad?)

Emma: If I can use the castle kitchen, I can make one...

Azel: I'll arrange it. But for that, you have to go to the castle with me.

Emma: Together...?

Azel: Yes, together.

(If we go to the castle together, won't we get caught up in the commotion...?)

Azel: You want to celebrate me, don't you? You do, right?

The god enveloped me in a benevolent smile, as if bathed in a halo of light.

Azel: Very well. I will offer you my divine lending service at a special price.

Azel: Just for today, I am yours... In other words, we are bound by fate. Please take care of me.

(This wicked god––!)

.

.

.

Part 2

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

[the-morningstar-family]

Will you guys attend an antenatal course? Or pre-childbirth class or whatever it is called? You know, where you prepare for childbirth and infant care and whatnot before the babies arrive. (is there even one in Hell?)

Lucifer: "Hm, maybe we should think about -"

Alastor: "No"

Lucifer: "What? Why the hell not? We could use a bit advice with triplets."

Alastor: "I'm sure we can ask Doctor Chaim anything relevant. Besides, I am reading enough on the matter"

The demon makes these movements he picked up recently. A bit of uncomfortable squirming and picking at his clothes.

Lucifer: "Reading and talking about it is something entirely different from practicing it. Where's the harm?"

Alastor: "It's simply ridiculous! There's no need."

Lucifer: "There is! What's really wrong?"

Alastor: "I just told you!"

Again the tugging, and a stiffness in posture. And Lucifer knows, that no matter Al's claims to the contrary, he isn't having a great time.

Lucifer: "You are uncomfortable with this, right?"

Alastor: "Fine"

He says it so tersely, that it feels like the king put too much strain on a rubber band and now it snapped into his face. Similarly, the radio demon turns around with force to glare at him.

Alastor: "I am not entirely happy about the changes to my body. So I don't need people starring at me too!"

Lucifer: "Al, the class will be full of pregnant people, there's no reason for them to stare... Well, besides them being scared but I don't think you mind that"

The demon's shoulders move slightly, stance even harsher. His harms don't swing around in showmanship, but are almost pinned to his side.

Alastor: "Can we just not go?"

The king makes him sit beside him with a gentle push against his shoulders.

Lucifer: "Hun, this isn't exactly going to become less irritating... We gotta find ways to deal with this and not just not going places. Or do you want to just shut yourself in our room?"

Alastor: "It is only a few months -"

Lucifer: "Alastor."

The deer sighs in defeat, head dipped at an angle. Unfortunately Lucifer is right. But it seems hopeless either way.

Alastor: "What is there? It isn't going to stop"

Lucifer: "Uh... Well, once your tailor got more clothes your taste you might feel better. I mean, for now you only have a mildly bigger shirt."

Al sighs, leaning his head against Lucifer's shoulder. That's honestly a bigger thing for him. Call him vain, but he does care how he presents himself. He absolutely didn't like the feminine clothes presented to him in that store. Maybe it is particularly irritating because it is too early to look like pregnancy, but late enough to be noticeable.

Alastor: "When are these classes anyway?"

Lucifer: "Uh, I think some start around 29 weeks or something. It'll be a while"

Alastor, huffing: "If I don't like it I will simply leave."

Lucifer, laughing: "Okay, yeah, I guess that's a compromise"

The king puts a hand in the growing belly and pulls his partner closer.

Lucifer: "Just for the record. You still look very pretty to me"

Alastor: "Obviously. I'm gorgeous"

There was, of course, no blush on Alastor's cheeks. Neither did it cause his chest to feel lighter, and his shoulders to droop. Obviously not.

[aureyaa]

Underneath the Surface

pairing: Jeno x GN!Reader

description: You go to your room whenever Jaemin, your older brother, invites his friends over because it's just too chaotic. But then, things take a different turn when Jeno, your brother's best friend, comes into your room to check on you. He has always been this easygoing, funny guy who gets along with everyone, but today, his attention feels different. As Jeno comforts and befriends you, you start to notice that maybe your relationship means a bit more than being just friends with your brother.

warnings: Fluff, mentions of feeling overwhelmed, slightly emotional tone

wc: 1.7k

The afternoon had settled into a cozy kind of chaos. Jaemin, your ever-energetic older brother, had invited his friends over for a casual hangout, and of course, the house was now filled with laughter, music, and the sounds of people catching up. You could hear your brother's voice downstairs, probably joking around with his friends and causing his usual ruckus. But you were just not in the mood for noise today. It had been one of those weeks, and you sat in your room scrolling down on your phone quietly, trying to tune out everything happening around you.

Despite the warmth within the house, you couldn't help but desperately wish for space. It wasn't because you didn't love your brother or his friends; sometimes, it all just became a bit too loud. Jaemin had always been outgoing, dragging his friends deep into whatever whim he had gotten himself into, and you often found yourself getting swept up in it all or quietly watching from the sidelines.

You exhaled slowly as your eyes scanned down to the time on your phone; it was already late afternoon, and you'd spent some time here. You could still try to push all of that aside, but steps made their way towards the door. A highly familiar voice spoke up.

"Hey, still in hiding, are ya?"

Of course, even without lifting your head, you would've known-it was no other than Jeno, Jaemin's best friend. It was something that had never gotten used to: the way he always knew where to find you when you needed space. Jeno had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, not just Jaemin's friend but one who always tried to speak with you even when his attention often pulled elsewhere. There was something in the way Jeno carried himself, calm and easy, which always made one feel that they didn't have to be anybody but oneself.

You didn't have the time to react before Jeno knocked lightly and then opened the door, stepping into your room. There was his usual laid-back grin, but something in his eyes told of a more reflective look, as if to say he knew you were a little off today.

Hey," he said, wandering over to your desk. "Your brother sent me up to make sure you're not holed up in here being all mysterious."

You looked up at him and shrugged, your lips twitching upward despite yourself. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your tone light. "Just… needed a break from all the noise.

Jeno leaned against your desk, looking around your room for a second before meeting your eyes again. "Yeah, I get that," he said with a sympathetic smile. "I know it can get a bit too much down there." He tilted his head, studying you with a quiet gaze. "You've been up here for a while now, though. Everything okay?

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain it all. It wasn't that anything in particular was wrong, but there was this underlying feeling you couldn't shake. It had been building in your stomach for a while now, and you didn't really know what to do about it. You didn't want to unload on Jeno, but the way he was looking at you made it feel like he was genuinely interested in listening to what you had to say.

Yeah," you said, trying to sound more convinced than you actually were. "Just… stuff. You know, life."

Jeno's gaze gentled as he stepped closer, pulling a chair out of your desk and sitting down across from you. "I get it. Life has been weird sometimes." His tone was even, and somehow, that made things just a tiny bit easier. "But you're not going to have to deal with it alone, got it?

You looked up, surprised at the sincerity laced in his voice. This wasn't usually Jeno-being serious was never him, he's usually the one with the jokes, trying to make someone laugh. But there was something about him today that set him off. He wasn't pushing for an answer. He wasn't trying to make light of the things. He was just… there.

"I'm not just your brother's best friend," Jeno said, his voice soft but sincere. "I'm your friend, too, okay? If you need to talk about anything, then I'm here, and you don't have to face everything on your own."

There was something in the way he said this and something so sincere in his words that caused your chest to tighten. For a moment, you didn't quite know what to say. You had always seen Jeno as this cool, calm guy who blended into any situation with ease, someone who never seemed to have a care in the world. But now, the reality of him being so open, so vulnerable with you, made everything feel different. You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, but you pushed it away, not ready to examine it just yet.

You finally spoke, trying to shake off the wave of emotion that came unexpectedly. "Thanks, Jeno; I appreciate it," you said softly, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight in the room felt weirdly comforting, the silence between you two not awkward but rather an understanding of some sort. You opened your mouth to say something else when Jaemin's voice boomed from downstairs.

"Jeno! You up there or what? Come on, let's go already!

Jeno looked towards the door, an arch rising onto his face once more. "Guess that's my cue," he said with a chuckle, and then rose from his seat. He headed for the door but then turned back to you once more. "But seriously, if you need anything, I'm right here, okay? Don't hesitate."

You nodded, weirdly out in some indefinable way. "Won't. Thanks, Jeno."

With one last smile, Jeno slipped out of your room, leaving the door creaked open behind him. You sat there for a while, processing it all. You had always thought of him as a family friend, one who would always be around. Today, you realized how much more he meant to you, not only as Jaemin's best friend but also as someone you could approach.

You sat there a moment longer, letting the weight of the conversation settle. Maybe you didn't have all the answers yet. Maybe life wasn't as simple as it seemed. But one thing was for sure: Jeno wasn't going anywhere, and neither was your brother. You weren't alone in this.

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[arttsuka]

idk if ur still having this issue but the tag problem might be due to one of your settings!

if you go into your blog settings, under visibility there should be the 'Exclude [blog] from tumblr search and reccomendations' button. turn that off, and it should fix it! i had the same issue.

i hope this helps!

Nah don't worry, problem solved (I think it was a glitch or something, I wasn't the only one affected either).

Thanks for the advice though (you're the second person to mention this 'solution' to me, I'll keep it in mind for any future problems I might have)

[cosmicdreamgrl]

it's the way i've only been making content for almost 3 months and i'm already immensely exhausted by it

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Nothing I wouldn't do

pairing: handyman!chan x waitress!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, suggestive

synopsis: you and chan have been together for 3 years. he has never done anything to make you doubt his love for you, but recently you noticed him sneaking out at night...

wc: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, brief descriptions of lovemaking, crying

a/n: i'm tired and preparing a really long fic so i needed a little break, hope you enjoy🫶🏻

~masterlist

Another long shift finally finished, a dull ache appeared in your feet, coursing through your legs and climbing up to your lower back.

There was a headache behind your eyelids, a constant slow pounding that almost made your vision blurry.

You felt overwhelmed, discouraged and hungry.

Today was a particularly difficult day at the restaurant you work at, exhausting you to your limits and pushing you further.

Another reason your anxiety spiked up was because you got yelled at by your manager for something that wasn't entirely your fault and you had to bite your tongue and swallow your tears like you always do.

As you stepped out into the street, the dark night enveloping you, your tired legs started taking you on the familiar path to your home.

You were barely awake as you walked, the people passing you by looked blurry and unrecognizable, you couldn't even make out their faces.

You closed your eyes for a second, but that was one second too long as you tripped on the cracked sidewalk and fell down, scraping your hands and knees in the process.

"Miss, are you alright?" someone crouched down to help you.

"Yes, yes I'm fine." you said to the stranger, your tears blurring your vision of their face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you." you tried to be polite, hoping they would back off because now you wanted to get home even faster.

You continued walking, now in more pain as the wind picked up, grazing your bleeding skin.

Tears streamed down your cheeks quietly as the sky became darker.

You picked up your pace, realizing it will soon start raining.

Arriving to your building just in time, you ran inside and up the stairs to the 6th and last floor where you and your boyfriend lived.

He was working even later than you today, so he couldn't pick you up as his work lead him across town for the time being.

Rain started pouring outside just as you managed to close the door to your apartment, smacking it into place multiple times until it finally clicked.

You quickly ran to grab some buckets as the roof was flimsy, whenever it rained, your apartment would be drenched in water too unless you strategically placed the buckets so they could collect the raindrops.

After doing that, you finally caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and cringed.

You were still in your waitress unifrom, your hair now a mess, mascara streaks on your cheeks from crying, your hands and legs covered in bloody scratches.

You decided to quickly clean up so you can make dinner for Chan and yourself, preferably before he arrives home.

Swallowing more tears that threatened to come out, you made your way to the bathroom to clean up.

Luckily, you had hot water finally, the last three months you had to somehow survive without it once your water heater broke.

Sometimes you took double shifts at the restaurant, or just begged your boss to let you work without a day off.

Chan hated when you did that, hated seeing you so tired that you barely stood on your feet, your eyes sad and distant when you'd come home.

He begged you not to do it, promising he'd find a way to make more money, promising that he'll take care of you, telling you how you deserve better which you'd quickly shut down, not wanting him to feel guilty because it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either, that's just how the cards were dealt and the two of you were trying your best to make something out of nothing.

Chan arrived just in time as you were finishing up with dinner, a smile gracing his tired face as soon as he saw you standing before the stove, dressed in his shirt.

You looked at him over your shoulder and though he could see the tiredness on your features, to him you looked more and more beautiful every single day.

"Hey, baby." you greeted him just as he wrapped his arms around you, your tired muscles instantly melting into his warmth and comfort.

You could fall asleep standing if you weren't so hungry.

"Love." he hummed against you, leaning over your shoulder to kiss the corner of your lips. "Smells nice." Chan nuzzled into your hair, taking a whiff of your shampoo.

"What, the food or me?" you chuckled, teasing him.

"Both." he giggled, gently moving you left and right as he tightened his hold on you.

"Go wash up then, it's almost done." you said, his hands coming up to touch yours.

That's when he noticed the scratches, panic overtaking him instantly as he gently grabbed your wrists.

"What happened?" he asked, a shaky breath escaping his lips.

"I fell. It's nothing." you quickly shook your head but he spun you around before you could even protest.

"Babe, your legs." Chan gasped.

"It's fine, really. It doesn't hurt too much." you averted your eyes.

His fingers came up to touch your chin as he made you look at him.

"I'll pick you up next time, I promise. Even if I have to speed across the city."

"Don't even think about that." you shivered, negative thoughts appearing in your mind instantly.

If you lost him, you wouldn't have anything.

"Okay, okay, I'll go wash up." he kissed you gently before skipping to the bathroom.

You served dinner on the small table, your plates clinking together as you tried to make it look somewhat presentable.

These little things always made a difference.

The fresh flowers on your windowsill, the pretty tablecloth you managed to find for a cheap price, a warm home cooked meal, your lover sitting across from you with a smile on his face.

The space was so cramped that your knees were pressed up together but in the case of the two of you, close could never be close enough.

You know Chan would gladly crawl right into your heart if you could keep him there, safe and sound.

He helped you wash the dishes, both of you talking about your day like you always do.

"That place is a shithole, y/n. You deserve so much better. Your manager is a fucking knucklehead. Do you want me to rough him up a little?" Chan asked, setting the clean plate aside.

You chuckled, smacking his bicep playfully as you peered up at him.

"Yes, get me fired. Save me from that hellhole." you joked with a dramatic hand to your forehead.

"You know you could always look at other places."

"Isn't it just the same thing? I don't have many qualifications anyways."

"I know but maybe a different restaurant has a better manager if nothing else." Chan offers, as you lean on the sink, wiping your hands.

"Or they could be even worse." you said as he stood before you, his arms landing on your waist.

Chan leaned in to kiss you, slowly and lovingly, your stomach doing all sorts of flips like you haven't been together for years, like you haven't done this before.

"How about we stop talking about work and start talking about more fun topics?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers grazing his muscles, on display for you as he wore his tanktop.

"You're not in pain?" he motioned to your thighs and arms, still stinging albeit dulled now.

"I trust you to be gentle." you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him again, your hands holding his cheeks.

The two of you fell into a lovers embrace, tongues entwined, fingertips gently exploring, your cores connected in a heated movement that ended in pure bliss.

"I love you." you whispered as Chan scooped you up in his protective arms.

"I love you, darling." he kissed your temple as you drifted off to sleep.

-

You noticed it for the first time that same night.

You were so exhausted, jolted out of your deep sleep that you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Chan's figure walking towards the door and disappearing.

Your eyes fell to the clock next to your bed, reading 2am.

You wanted to wake up, ask him where he's going but you couldn't fight the sleep that was overtaking you.

The next morning, you forgot about it as you saw Chan making breakfast for the two of you, the day starting as normal as ever, a familiar routine taking place.

Your knees pressed together as you ate, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling up the space, the birds singing in front of the window as you chatted.

The next twenty minutes consisted of the two of you knocking against each other and the furniture as you tried to get ready for work.

The smiles on your faces never faltered as every second spent together was precious, even the mundane things like brushing your teeth together became romantic in your eyes.

Chan refused to stop kissing you in front of the door until you smacked his chest enough times to make him realize that you'll be late for work if he doesn't drive you right now.

It was a nice and fresh day outside and briefly you remembered the vision you had last night of Chan leaving but you chalked it up to a dream.

-

The dream however, kept repeating sporadically throughout the week.

You'd be half awake, watching your boyfriend's back as he'd gather his jacket and toolbox, only to leave quietly into the night.

Doubts started to fill your mind.

You knew you could just ask him where he was going, but the fact that he didn't share it beforehand, when the two of you usually shared your deepest and darkest secrets, created a painful feeling in your gut and chest.

It was more than suspicious, him sneaking out at night and the fear of losing him clouded your mind.

So one night as he left, waking you up accidentally in the process, you couldn't fall back asleep.

Tears filled up your eyes as you clutched onto his pillow that smelled just like him, comforting and yours.

What was he doing? You didn't want your mind to go to horrible places, like Chan meeting up with someone else because if that turned out to be true, your heart would shatter into pieces.

Pieces you'd never be able to pick up, never be able to love again.

So, you waited for him to come back home, making yourself some coffee so you don't fall asleep.

Chan came back home around 6am, just 30 minutes before you usually wake up.

"Oh, y/n. You're awake." he swallowed, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yes, I've been awake for hours." you looked at him as he stood still by the door, nervously looking left and right.

"I- I just..."

"Where were you? Or better yet, where do you sneak off to every other night?" you tapped your fingers against the cup, your heart beating fast as you tried to sound and look calm, but your eyes were already filling up with tears.

"Y-you know?" Chan gulped, standing like a statue.

You scoffed, a tear sliding down your cheek.

You wiped it away angrily as you stood up and his eyes widened.

"I thought we didn't have any secrets between us. But you're obviously going behind my back. Just please, explain."

"Please don't be mad at me!" Chan quickly made his way to you but you took a step back from him, your backside colliding into the sink.

Hurt flashed across his eyes before realization hit him.

How this must look to you.

"Oh, you think..." he shook his head. "It's nothing like that. Actually, you weren't supposed to find out like this. I just wanted to make some extra money so I started repairing stuff as a 24/7 service. You know, for stores that work around the clock, anything that is opened during the night shift like casinos and clubs. If something happens in people's houses during the night. I figured since I have trouble sleeping, I'd do something productive."

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh of disbelief, tears still staining your cheeks.

"You bastard!" you smacked his chest, but there was a smile on your face which let Chan know you weren't that mad at him.

"Why didn't you just tell me that? Do you know how much you scared me?" you smacked his chest once again for good measure before he grabbed your hands gently, bringing them up to your lips and kissing your knuckles.

"I'm sorry, I will never keep something from you again. It's just that it was supposed to be a surprise."

"What surprise?" your brows furrowed as Chan sighed, turning around to rummage through his jacket that he'd left on the chair immediately.

You peered at his hands, your eyes widening and a gasp escaping your lips as he produced a little velvet box out of his pocket.

"Is that-" you stuttered, fresh tears pricking your eyes.

"Mhm." he nodded. "But I wanted us to have this romantic dinner and-"

"This is romantic enough." you stopped him, your voice eager.

Chan chuckled and then smirked.

"Are you sure you want me to propose all greasy in the middle of the kitchen at 6am?"

"I'm sure." you giggled, your body heating up with excitement.

"I was gonna prepare a speech." he muttered before getting down on one knee.

"Y/n, even though I don't have much, what I do have I want to share with you. And that is all my love and my complete and utter devotion that I want to share with you for the rest of my life. So will you marry me?" Chan looked up at you hopefully as he opened up the little box, revealing a beautiful ring inside it.

"Yes!" you cried, quickly wrapping your arms around him as you stumbled forwards into his embrace, making him giggle happily.

You held each other tightly for some time, just reveling in the moment of your hearts beating against one another in unison.

As you pulled away, Chan slid the ring on your finger as your heart skipped a beat.

"Never scare me like that again." you said, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, my love. I promise I won't."

Your lips crashed together in a sweet and passionate kiss, your whole body tingling with so many feelings and one thought in your head.

Whatever life throws at you, as long as you come home to each other at the end of the day, everything will be just fine.

-

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

[postracehair]

paying attention

max verstappen x reader | 1.7k

a minor accident on a night out forces you to call the one guy you're not sure about. will a hospital waiting room clear things up between you?

cw: enemiesish-to-lovers, some blood (from charles), drunkenness (from charles), a hospital

a/n: first time here. let's see how this goes. __

The club is loud, crowded, and sweaty. You are tired, sober, and searching the sea of people for a certain silhouette. 

"He's not here." Oscar grins at you and takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows wiggling. "Max," he says. 

You frown. 

"I'm not --"

"Sure, you're not," he says. 

You're not entirely certain how you got here -- a club in the middle of Monaco with some of the most famous and wealthy guys in the world. An invite from a friend of a friend one time became two times became you rubbing elbows with the likes of Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc and...

Max Verstappen. Who is not here. Which is good, because --

"Why do you hate him, by the way?" Oscar asks. You huff. 

This would be much more bearable if you had a drink in your hand. "I don't." 

Oscar smirks at you. "It's that time he spilled a gin and tonic on you, I bet. You were so mad, I thought he was going to --"

The Australian keeps talking but you stop listening. Your heart beats in time with the thumping music. 

It's not that you hate Max. That would be exaggerating. You just don't know what to make of him. The times he's been out when you're there he's...fine. He makes sure everyone gets on the list, he buys people drinks, and he dances. But you've never really talked to him and maybe you're a little intimidated. Or maybe Oscar is right -- he did spill a drink on you. He probably apologized, but you were too pissed and embarrassed to remember. 

It sounds silly when you think about it now. 

"--just last week, he was saying that he thinks you --"

"Oh, shit!"

"No, Charles, don't!"

"Fuck --"

You and Oscar whirl around to see Charles pressing a rapidly reddening napkin to his palm.  

"Fuck's sake," you mutter. "What happened?"

The glass crunching under your shoes as you head over answers your question. 

"Whoops," Charles says, shrugging. His eyes are glassy and cheeks pink and you know before you lift the napkin that he needs stitches. 

"We're going to the hospital," you say. You think through the logistics -- can you get him there without calling an ambulance? You're not certain where the nearest emergency room is, nor if you can avoid the paparazzi. 

"Call Max," he protests, seeing your mind spinning even through his drunken haze, but you ignore him. 

"Now, Charles." You tug on his sleeve. "Keep this arm up."

It's clear that you're the most sober one here, so you tell the group you're taking him. Hardly anyone notices. Maybe they're all drunk or they just trust you with the Prince of Monaco. Who is being very annoying as you pull him out of the club and into the warm night.

"Call Max," he says again. 

"I heard you, Charles," you say. "We don't need to call him, I'll just call a car--"

"Nooo," he whines. "Just call Max. He'll take us." He shoves his phone at you and holds his injured hand high in the air like you told him to. 

Max will... probably answer. It's summer break and Charles seems to think he's at home. On his sim, or streaming, or whatever really rich guys do at home on a Friday night in Monaco. 

Before you can overthink it, you press the name on Charles's phone and hold it to your ear.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, man," Max says. 

"Um, hey." There's a pause, and then Max says your name. 

"Why do you have Charles's phone?"

You look over at your friend who is examining his poorly bandaged hand. "Du, du, du, du, Max Verstappen," he hums. 

"Can you come get us? Charles cut himself on a glass and needs to get stitches."

"He -- what?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late --"

"Where are you?" It sounds like he's moving around, keys jangling, a door closing.

"I can call a car, but he told me to call you --"

"Where are you?"

You tell him the club name and he hums. "Be there in 10. Don't leave."

"We're not going anywhere," you huff, but he's already hung up.

"Told you," Charles says, knocking his shoulder with yours. You roll your eyes and push his elbow back in the air. 

Max pulls up in a sleek four-door car in way less than 10 minutes. Charles happily gets in the back before you can say otherwise and you only hesitate for a second before sliding into the passenger seat. 

"Don't bleed on the leather, man," Max says, stepping on the gas as soon as your door is closed. The car hums under you and the streets of Monaco start to fly by. "And put your seatbelt on." 

"It's not that bad," Charles whines. "She's worrying too much."

You huff. Max slows to a stop at a red light.

"Hey," he says. It takes a second to register that he's speaking to you. You finally look at him and find his brow furrowed, jaw tight, almost as if he's actually worried. Maybe he is, even if it's just a cut. Or maybe he really is afraid Charles will get blood on the seat.

"Hi," you say. He looks amused for a second then flicks his hand at your waist. 

"Seatbelt applies to you, too."

"Oh," you breathe. "Sorry." Your brain does something funny -- for a second, you imagine Max reaching over you to grab the belt and pull it across your torso, clicking it tight at your hip. 

You blink the image away, cheeks hot, and buckle it yourself. 

"Thank you," Max says before he steps on the gas again. 

Charles rambles in the backseat about something and Max humors him while you swallow down whatever the hell the sudden tightness in your chest is. What an inconvenient time to realize you might have a crush.

There's little to no traffic and you make it to the hospital quickly. Max drops you both at the doors and Charles is stumbling his way through them before you can say thank you. You swallow the unfamiliar taste of disappointment at no longer being in Max's company and get Charles situated.

The waiting room is nice, obviously, but empty. You can hear the hum of the overhead lights beneath the faint classical music playing from somewhere and smell whatever bleach they use to keep this place clean. 

"Hospitals are so depressing." 

You straighten in your chair and turn to see Max. You let yourself look. Green hoodie, sweatpants that look soft and expensive, and sneakers.

"I thought you'd go home," you say. He shrugs and flops into the chair next to yours, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"You'll both need a ride when he's done." 

God, he looks tired. "Sorry."

Max leans forward, elbows on his knees, and turns his face to you. "For what?"

"Calling, I guess." His hair is a mess and you tuck your hands under your thighs so you don't reach for it. God, what is happening to you? "I bet you were busy."

He laughs and it's so unexpected that you laugh, too. "I don't think I'd call cleaning litter boxes busy."

"Well, still," you press. "Thank you."

Max's jaw works like he's chewing on something, eyes on your face. You try very hard not to squirm in your seat. "I think you don't like me very much," he finally says. 

"I -- what --," you sputter. He leans back in his chair with a smirk. "Why?" you manage to say.

"We don't speak," he says. "You avoid me when we're out, you didn't even call me from your phone--"

"I don't have your phone number," you mutter. 

"And it's fine if you don't," he continues. "I just want to know if I'm right."

He looks unbothered, eyes bright and jaw relaxed but his knee is bouncing. You realize that he's been paying as much attention to you as you have to him. You've been watching each other.

"No," you say, softly. "You're wrong."

His knee stills. "So why the distance?"

You sigh. God, this is not how you expected the night to go. You think back to what Oscar said in the club, to Charles demanding you call Max. Maybe this is something everyone else has seen but you. I thought you didn't like me, you don't say. I thought you didn't even care.

Something about the quiet, empty waiting room and the fluorescents and Max's tone when he told you to put on your seatbelt make you want to be honest.

"I think you're intimidating," you confess. A glance at his face reveals that you've managed to surprise him. His eyes are wide and is he...blushing? "And one time you spilled a drink on me."

That gets him to laugh. 

"Oh, god," he huffs. "That was not very well done of me." He looks at his hands, then back at you. "I owe you one."

"A drink? You didn't spill my drink," you remind him. "You spilled yours on me."

"Ehh," he says, waving his hand in the air. "Details."

Is Max Verstappen asking to buy you a drink? Your stomach erupts in butterflies. Who knew you'd be so affected by this man?

Before you can reply, Charles shoves the ward doors open and calls your name.

"Stop flirting," he says, holding up his bandaged hand with a grin. "Time to go home."

Max glances at you and rolls his eyes but his cheeks are still pink. He stands with a huff, digging his keys out of his pocket. 

Charles, still drunk, clearly, rambles about the stitches and how nice the doctors were as you walk to the car. Max sticks to your side.

"Hey," he says. "Give me your phone."

"Why?" you ask, even as you hand it over to him. His thumbs tap on the screen. 

"Now you can tell me when you're free for that drink." 

He passes it back to you and you see that he's added his number. 

"Are you guys even listening to me?" Charles whines.

"Okay, Max," you say softly. 

He grins at you. 

"Oh my goooood," Charles says. "Come on."

"We hear you, mate," Max says. "Let's go home."

[tsukimefuku]

3rd of july ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ nanami kento

piece written in collaboration with my beloved friend and one of my favorite people, @rahuratna, for nanami's (a.k.a. internet's collective husbando) birthday. 💜🧡 content warning: fluff/comedy/sugestiveness word count: 1k

Nanami wasn't one to make big celebrations on his birthday. Up until he met you, he'd usually go about his work day quietly, saving up a few extra hours to simply go bowling or visit his favorite restaurants for dinner.

After you both started dating, not much had changed. You'd simply tag along for whatever he had planned, and would usually surprise him with something by the time you both got home - a box of dark chocolate, a new set of lingerie, a nice warm scented bath, a new CD album he had been looking for.

This time, however, you decided to push your luck on teasing the poor man.

On his birthday, of all days.

"Kento, how do you feel about surprise parties?" you ask, hiding the smile pulled on your cheeks behind your tea cup.

On the couch by your side, you could feel Nanami holding the urge to flinch the moment you were finished speaking.

"They are not my favorite," he answers in earnest.

"Seriously?" you inquire with a faux disheartened look.

"Yes," Nanami replies, with a tinge of concern to his voice.

"That is... unfortunate, then," you ensue, putting your tea on the coffee table and pulling your robe tighter around your body.

His Adam's apple bobs as he silently gulps.

"Why?"

"Well, my plan was to surprise you when you got home, but I figured you wouldn't want to get instantly jumped. So I told them to wait in the room," you finally say, with a grave finality, pointing to the closed bedroom door.

Truth is, he has no clue what you are really up to.

"Darling…" Nanami sighs, ever so patiently, "I thought it would just be the both of us unwinding, like the past years."

"I… I'm sorry, I really wanted to surprise you with something different this time."

You do sound regretful, and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek in response. Even now, he doesn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed at you, even if the prospect of Gojo lurking around his bedroom is enough to send disgusted shivers down his spine.

"It's… fine. Let's get this over with at once, and then have the house to ourselves."

"Are you sure? I could always go in there and tell them to-"

"No," he counters firmly. "You've arranged something a little different this year, and I'm going to appreciate it."

"Come on, then."

As perceptive as he is, Nanami doesn't notice the mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Naturally, since you have successfully planted a seed in his mind, a terrifying image of his pristine suits being tried on by students and his custom made bowling ball being transformed into a disco light by the white-haired menace he calls a colleague.

When you reach the door and step aside for him, he visibly braces himself, fingers almost straightening a phantom tie at his throat.

"Sweetheart, I need to go and fetch a scarf. It's a little chilly in here."

Bless his heart. He's actually playing along.

You raise your voice.

"Oh, I left the blue one on the top shelf. Your closet."

"Right."

Nanami heads in with the air of a man charging from the trenches to face a volley of cannon fire. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes taking in the room.

It is empty of people, for starters.

The comforter on the bed has been pulled back, the white sheets scattered with rose petals. Candles have been placed strategically on the bedside table and vanity, emitting the subtle scent of the ocean. On a corner of the bed, a few ribbon-wrapped gifts await; a small stack of books and a box of his favourite dark chocolate with orange.

You saunter in behind him and he turns to you with a look that is both a solemn reprimand and a loving promise of a punishment you may appreciate later.

"Hmm. It's awfully crowded in here, my dear."

"Well, the rose petals were quite chatty, Kento. They've taken up all the space on our bed."

"They have indeed, you little-"

You laugh as you slip out of his reach, standing coyly in the doorway.

"Have a look at your gifts first."

He narrows his eyes, but approaches the bed, fingers unraveling the ribbon that holds the books together.

"What do we have here? 'The Master and Margarita.' Ah, wonderful. 'Bowling your way home: A salaryman's escape from bondage.'"

He pauses and raises an eyebrow and you gesture airily for him to keep going.

"Fine. What's this one? The-"

His voice cuts off abruptly.

"Kento? Are you all right?"

Very slowly, he turns to you.

"You got me the Kama Sutra?"

"I figured it would make a nice addition to your collection. I may even borrow it, from time to time."

You approach him now, casually opening the book to where you've placed a strategic leather marker within the section on sex positions.

"Since it's your birthday, maybe you'd like to start with the Virsha here?"

He considers the page seriously, before taking the book from you and flipping through it.

"I'm not sure, darling. You've put in enough effort setting all of this up."

Handing it back to you, he watches the flush that spreads upwards, across your neck as you are presented with the Indrani pose he has chosen instead.

"How about you let me do the work from here on out?"

"Well... "

"No, I insist."

His voice has that special intonation now, the husky rumble of desire, the inflection of hushed intimacy, the promise of that playful nature that only reveals itself when you're entangled in the sheets together.

You lay the book down, open to the very instructive illustration.

"In that case, let me present you with my last gift."

"There's another?"

Wordlessly, the robe you've been so studiously arranging around yourself slides to the floor. His kindling gaze takes in the sheer, violet lace, the tiny flowers embroidered strategically over the parts of you that he will discover at leisure.

***

Later, when the gossamer material lies discarded on the floor, when his exhausted limbs entwine with your own, when his golden hair runs like silk between your fingers, you speak into the hush of the bedroom.

"Happy birthday, my love."

His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed against your stomach.

"That was quite the surprise party."

"Maybe we should have one every year."

He snorts indignantly, but his lips curve in a smile against your skin all the same.