#it was so much easier to see him for what he was when watching from the outside instead of through the lens of his own narration

[vervainandspritz]

LOVE YOU WITH MY EYES CLOSED

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part one Part two Part three

Summary: At a young age Y/N was given away for marriage, years later the dust began to settle and her life caught a rhythm she stopped fighting. Is Tommy, the man she once knew too well, ready to play along and let her go once again?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: depression, heartache, mental and physical abuse

A/N: Slow introduction, next chapter will pick up on pace. Enjoy

Coming back to Birmingham ignited more mixed feelings than Y/N expected it ever would. Pushing through the difficult changes back in the day caused her to stomach so much pain and.. distress at the inability to make her own choices. She thought there was nothing in her to cause fear anymore.

A weird kind of fear it was, this time. Looking out the window as the train plummeted through the fields, shaking and groaning under the weight of people all heading to the city she couldn't shake off. Four years passed so quickly, in a pace she didn't understand when she looked back at the first months of constant struggle she endured. Leaving everything behind. Becoming nothing more than a tool to life of.. prosperity for her family.

She fought it for so long, back then. Much to her father's misunderstanding, her unbreakable spirit made everything so much more difficult.

Yet eventually everything must come to an end though, in a reality where her value was tightly connected with how pretty she was, and how aesthetically pleasing she looked, hanging on the arm of a man she barely knew.

It was much easier to ignore from the distance, but the closer she got to Birmingham, more wounds began reopening, hurting and itching despite her neutral expression and unmoving figure.

One of his hands rested on her thigh, the other one holding a newspaper. The lack of communication was nothing short of normal between them. After all, when nobody was around, they didn't have to pretend as much. Nickolas Winterbourne, a man coming from a life where nothing ever ran out, where pantries were never empty and clothes never dirty. He existed in a controlled environment snuggly clothed in money at every corner, shielding him from any difficulties life planned to throw his way - unaffected by the simple disdain of modern times they happened to live in.

For what it was worth, Y/N considered herself lucky. He was… polite, usually gentle which was way more than she could have ever asked for from people in his social class. His hands were smooth, untainted by physical labour that he never had to do. His disposition contradicted his father's, a man purely self-absorbed and cruel with one purpose – wealth.

Y/N was grateful for the person he was deep down, even though he was forcing her into situations they could avoid, yet rarely violating her physically or mentally.

Nickolas was… indifferent. His demeanour calm, collected and bordering on bored most of the time. His eyes looked at her with a never ending patience and neutrality she grew to appreciate, after watching the way many of his brothers treated their own wives. She was lucky.

The mindset she worked so hard to build, throwing away the values she dreamed of as a little girl, the warm dreams of having a loving marriage with several kids, conversations that would seem to go on forever sprinkled with tender kisses on the forehead and warm touches that would warm her up on cold nights. She exchanged those hopes for expensive dresses and a mansion much too big for any amount of wood to warm. There were continual expensive dinners and meaningless conversations with people she wouldn't care to see ever again with fake seemingly polite smiles. These people never stopped beckoning for their service, acting like the simple action of pouring themselves tea was too much to burden their minds with.

So she was grateful, playing along with the quick pace of life they had. Dressing up quickly, perfecting the empty smile she got used to wearing on a daily basis.

“Be grateful, because you could have had it much worse” she mentally repeated to herself.

A soft squeeze of his hand tore her out of her thoughts, his brown eyes watching her patiently. He witnessed the difficulties she struggled with back then. So her silence rang louder than ever.

”We will spend two days in Birmingham and be back on our way. Tomorrow is the day of the gala, and the day after you will spend on your own matters.” He spoke quietly, reading the troubling emotions in her eyes. He always saw through the mask of neutrality he taught her how to wear like her second skin: a mutual understanding.

Her eyes slowly followed along the lines of his face, finally settling on holding eye contact. Slowly nodding, she covered his hand with her own before forcing out a small smile.

”Thank you” She responded, straightening her back before the train started slowing down before coming to a full stop.

Patting her thigh for the last time, he pulled away.

”Come on. It's time to go”

~~

After getting out of the train, Y/N watched how after stepping out her boots immediately covered in mud.

Some things never changed, she thought with a smile as the scent of smoke filled her nostrils.

”Christ” Nickolas muttered, his face twisting in disgust. Birmingham was nothing like the London they were used to, first expression of the city obnoxiously underwhelming for Winterbourne.

Standing by the road sign they waited for a moment before the designated car pulled up, halting by their feet as the driver opened the door, offering to help in packing the luggage.

Y/N seemed distraught, looking around as she immediately recognized the streets despite small differences and the fact she didn't leave even remotely close back then. A city centre it was, fair distance from Small Heath. A place she used to call home.

”Come on, get in the car” Nickolas whispered, noticing her distracted gaze, grabbing her arm lightly and nudging her towards the vehicle, bringing her out of memories thick like smoke. Looking at him she nodded, obediently getting inside before the car took them to the hotel.

One she had never been in before. This whole situation felt suffocating in ways so weird, she was barely able to look him in the eyes. Even as they moved to the building, getting all the formalities done she couldn't help but let her mind wander towards the ghosts of her past.

Loud, obnoxious laugh filled her head bringing a little smile on her red lips. One that definitely belonged to John, his eyes glimmering with mischief like most of the time. Through the eyes of imagination she saw Ada's long, dark hair she constantly complained about, sighing dramatically in a way that never ceased to make Y/N roll her eyes. Suffering from success, she used to call it, teasing her friend with whom she grew up so close.

A sound came to her ears as lift brought them to the right level, she moved seemingly on an autopilot when her husband fumbled with keys, looking for the right one.

As the door swung open she let out a silent sigh as she remembered. The memory she worked on suppressing so long caught up randomly, big, blue eyes surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes. Colour so dynamic, swiftly changing with the feeling simmering beneath his tough exterior, yet always so bright and clear when he looked at her. She felt like she saw him for the first time, despite it being nothing but her exterior shell shattering at the unwanted memories flooding back in.

Suddenly, she felt out of breath and barely an hour after checking into the hotel, she was in bed facing away from Nickolas. The wall she put up between them nearing the height of one he tried to shatter after getting to know the girl. She seemed so small as she lay on her side, every inch of her body hidden under covers. Hair scattered on the pillow, keeping his gaze away from her features.

They just got here, and he was already losing, Nickolas thought, before remembering the small detail that could shatter his reality if ease if looked into.

”Goodnight” He whispered, pressing a kiss onto her shoulder before turning away and giving her space as the lights went out.

It was only so long he could bend reality to his will, he thought, before closing his eyes and allowing Morpheus' embrace to swallow him up.

In contrast to him, Y/N didn't fall asleep once. The unknown anticipation swirled around in her stomach, pushing her even further away from the man sleeping by her side. Something was coming, and she knew it.

~~

”Do you really trust what you're saying?” Her voice came to his ears, quieter, less confident than usually she'd speak to him.

Leaning forward on his arms, he let his head drop in defeat for a moment before lifting him up. Strong, unyielding gaze meeting her worried, slightly anxious eyes.

Her position in the family and in company made her learn how to deal with emotions on her own for years.. which was never an issue. Woman could only be so vulnerable after raising that many kids and protecting them from the disgusting reality with her fragile hands and soul on her shoulder. But she managed.

So the rare vulnerability she displayed that evening, looking in her nephew's eyes was nothing short of special. The string of responsibility connecting them in ways none of his siblings would understand.

Staring blankly for a moment, he ended up nodding.

”I know, Polly.” He spoke up, his voice heavy with exhaustion and the fear he tried to bury somewhere between his ribs, to never be seen again. But it was there, alive as ever, making his heart thump in an unnatural rhythm. Reminding him of one of survival. Desperate attempts to stick to life even when the dirty earth in the tunnels tried to swallow him alive.

”You need to trust me when I say things will go back to normal. I waited for long enough.” His voice came out sharper than he'd like it to. Blue eyes soothing the damage his voice has done and Polly understood.

Being a witness to the struggles he faced on daily, responsibilities piling on him like layers of clothing, giving no space to grieve the loss of someone who was never supposed to be gone.

…and so he didn't. Instead building an empire on his bitterness and pain, trusting that… whatever was up there would provide if it was meant to be.

That day for once in his life Thomas wanted to pray.

~~

“You need to pick up your pace, Y/N. We can't afford to be late to such an event.” Nickolas snapped, his usually calm and collected demeanour dishevelled with stress as he watched time ticking away on his watch.

She didn't sleep, almost at all. Putting on the mask was more difficult than usual, having to layer the makeup on her tired face, exhausted eyes. The years of struggles managed to catch up in the nine hours she spent on trying to fall asleep. Dreamless nights and loveless days connected with the anticipation in her stomach making it impossible to close her eyes.

”What will they think of us if we show up late, Y/N?” He shot once again watching her movements with his chin higher than he usually carried.

In moments of distress Y/N saw his father in him, usually perfectly hidden away lack of spine showing through the wounds of what the perfect life did to him. Minor inconvenience making him furious.

”Put on your jacket and smoke a cigarette, Nickolas. By the time you're done I will be waiting.” She responded in a neutral way, already taught to not feed into his bitterness in such situations. Not because he was right, but rather to avoid making him cranky as he would surely ruin her already difficult evening.

Watching her with contempt for a moment, he let out a heavy breath before stepping away.

”Five minutes or you will walk there. I'm not going to be late because of your irresponsibility.” His voice faded with the distance growing between them.

Y/N sighed looking at her reflection.

A man that was never supposed to be a husband.

All eyes were on them as soon as they arrived. Y/N smiled, nodding along to the people she saw for the first time as they spoke to Nickolas. She was to not speak unless spoken to, Mr. Winterbourne taught her four years ago. Smile, look pretty and watch your husband. Be attentive and elegant at all times.

Entering the event took them about fifteen minutes with all the pleasantries Nick kept giving away to his associates. Deep down she hated it. The constant need to pretend, not a single movement one of her own.

”Mr. Winterbourne!” A voice came from behind their back as they walked into the main room. An older man with jet-black hair approached quickly, his arm wrapped around the waist of his wife. Glancing at her, they exchanged a joyful look before standing right by Y/N. “Long time no see” His voice was low, but not threatening. Something about the tall and broad man was inviting, friendly.

”Indeed, it's been a long while.” Nick responded, straightening his back before greeting the older woman, getting a hold of her hand gently and kissing the temple. ”How is life treating you, Sir?” His tone mannered and calm, just like always whenever he was in a public eye. After getting a response, he began talking about the details of the gala before the woman suddenly interrupted him.

”...and who is this beautiful woman?” She spoke completely relaxed to which Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. If she interrupted her husband or any man he was currently talking to in such a manner, she'd get severely punished if not slapped at the spot. Nicholas raised his eyebrow but quickly put on a collected exterior again.

”This is my wife, Y/N” He introduced her, slightly embarrassed that he forgot to do so in the first place. What would they think of him? The older man reflected, kissing her temple with a smile and his wife took her hand in her own.

”Oh, I see” She said, looking at the ring on her finger. ”Absolutely beautiful, how about we get something to drink while men talk about the important matters?” She suggested light-heartedly, winking at her husband who chuckled, shaking his head before giving a simple nod.

”Great idea. I will find you in just a few moments, Precious.”

The way their interactions took place made Y/N truly shocked, she's never seen such behaviour among people in their class before. Were people of Birmingham different than them?

Waiting for his approval obediently Y/N only moved when he gave her a stern nod, clearly not pleased with his own performance, yet he would never admit it.

His behaviour was different this time, she could clearly see it. He was more emotional in the wrong way, every little detail making him visibly angry.

”I’m Meredith” The seemingly fourty year old woman stated, glancing at Y/N sideways. ”You seem to love these kind of events, don't you?” She joked, seeing the way Y/N’s smile dropped as soon as they turned away from their husbands. Internally she panicked hearing the elegant woman's remark, her eyes widening with fear. ”Oh, no worries. We're on the same page… besides. They serve really good drinks, so soon enough it will be bearable.” The tone of her voice was light and amusing as she gave Y/N a little shove. Her demeanor was relaxed and open, matching her husband's which was… refreshing.

”Better get to it then” She mustered a smile in response.

To be fair, time did start passing faster as they settled by the table, slowly sipping on tasteful drinks and talking in a way that allowed Y/N feel much less comfortable than she was at first. A breath of fresh air.

”We’re local. My husband, Christopher, is the owner of several businesses passed down through the family. That's how he knows Winterbournes.” She explained eventually before leaning in closer. ”He doesn't get along well with your father in law. Tradition and peace are the only things keeping them tied together.”

Y/N listened carefully, appreciating that after a couple drinks Meredith's tongue got a bit loose. Usually she'd never hear a single detail about her husband's business or family. She wasn't family by blood, so her access to information was very restricted.

Getting lost in her thoughts again she zoned out for a second before Nickolas’ voice came to her ear from close proximity.

”This is my wife, Y/N Winterbourne.” He introduced her and it took a second to stand up, smooth out her dress before her eyes met the guests.

…and just for a second, her heart stopped, mouth slightly parting as she met the blue gaze she dreamed of for so many years.

”May we dance, Mrs. Winterbourne?” Thomas Shelby asked, standing side to side with her husband. Slightly shorter yet visibly towering over him.

For once she forgot her manners, not able to tear her eyes away from him as she gave a quick nod and without another word, he grabbed her hand pulling her towards the dance floor among other couples. Completely stiff and frozen, her vocal chords were not cooperating as she was on the verge of a panic attack.

His hands grabbed her own, setting them on his shoulders as he pulled her closer.

”Breathe” He said quietly in a husky tone as his scent almost made her faint.

[squiddyfics]

bad day

daeho x f!reader

description: you take (really good) care of your boyfriend after he's had a hard day at work. (au; no mention of the games)

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw, piv (no mention of protection), oral (m!receiving), daeho discovers he’s a sub

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You hum softly to yourself as you cook dinner for two. Your boyfriend will be home any minute, and you want it to be ready for him when he arrives.

Typically, you and Daeho alternate who cooks dinner each night. Considering you were lucky enough to have the day off, and he was called in for a grueling twelve-hour shift, you figure it's only fair for you to take on the duty of cooking today.

You're just turning off the stove when you hear him walk through the door. He usually announces his presence with an, "I'm home!" Today, though, he's silent.

Moments later, you feel a pair of strong arms slide around your waist. Daeho drops his chin onto your shoulder.

"Hi, my love," you greet him. You turn around in his arms so you're facing him. "How was work?"

He kisses you, then pulls back and sighs. "I don't want to complain to you, but... it wasn't great."

"You can always complain to me; I don't mind." You cup his cheek in your hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Honestly, no. I'd rather just forget that it even happened, if that's alright with you. Dinner smells amazing, by the way."

"Thank you. Go sit down and I'll get it ready for us, okay?"

You plate the food and bring it over to the table. You enjoy the meal, but Daeho, who typically eats enough to feed an army, hardly touches his dinner. He apologizes, stating that he doesn't have much of an appetite, and most of his serving goes uneaten.

Once you both finish, you clean up the dishes and pack the leftovers away in the fridge. Meanwhile, Daeho remains seated, rubbing his forehead. Just by looking at him, you can tell how physically and emotionally exhausted he is. When you're done tidying up, you return to him, planting a kiss on his head.

You tilt his face up so he's looking at you and say, "I'm sorry you're having a rough day."

"It's okay," he says, reaching out to grab your waist. "You make it a lot easier."

"Would a shower help you feel better?"

He gives you a cheeky grin. "Only if you come with me."

"Okay," you say. "Let's go, then."

Daeho raises his eyebrows, apparently shocked at your willingness to take him up on his request. He's not going to question it, though; he's silent as he follows you to the bathroom.

You turn on the water, and while it's heating up, you guide Daeho to sit down on the edge of the tub. You stand across from him and slowly begin to strip off your clothes.

He tries to reach up to pull at your waistband, but you push his hand down. "Not so fast. Just watch me, baby."

He raises his eyebrows, and his eyes remain fixed on your body as you take off the rest of your clothing at an excruciatingly slow pace. When you unfasten your bra and let it fall to the floor, he sucks in a sharp breath.

"Fuck, you're beautiful."

You kiss him chastely before stepping into the shower. "What are you waiting for? Come and join me."

You pull the shower curtain closed and begin to lather up. On the other side of the curtain, you hear the sounds of Daeho undressing. Moments later, he's stepping in with you.

You rake your eyes over his body, smiling in self-satisfaction when you see that his cock is hard already. You decide to ignore it for the time being, though, instead reaching up to wash his hair. His eyes roll back when you massage his scalp; you can tell he needed the attention.

You pour body wash into your hands and begin to work your way down Daeho's body, starting with his neck and shoulders. You massage him as you go, pressing the pads of your fingers into his biceps and causing him to sigh deeply.

When you reach his chest, Daeho grabs your arms and wraps them around his torso, pulling you in close as he kisses you. He rolls his hips against you and grabs your breasts, kneading them in his large hands.

As much as you enjoy what he's doing to you, you push his hands down once more and break away from the kiss. "Don't try to make this about me, babe. You've been working so hard; I want to take care of you tonight."

"My god," he says. "You really are perfect."

"Says you."

Your hands, still slick with soap, finally travel down to Daeho's erection. Your lips find his again as you stroke him with both hands. Your thumb circles the head of his cock while your other hand moves up and down his length. He moans against your lips.

"Does that feel good?" you ask softly.

"So good," he says, practically whining. "You're so fucking good."

He reaches down and runs two fingers across your slit, which is now dripping wet. He rubs circles on your clit. You throw your head back in response to his touch, and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck.

"Ah—Daeho, stop," you say reluctantly. You remove your hands from his shaft. "Let's go dry off."

"No, don't stop. I'm sorry, I won't do that anymore. Please keep touching me."

"Don't worry," you say, enjoying the desperation in his voice. "I'm not done with you yet."

You turn off the water. After you both get out and dry off, you head to the bedroom, where you instruct him to lay down on his stomach. You proceed to massage his back and legs, working out the tension in his muscles and feeling him relax underneath you. You apply lots of pressure, just the way he likes it.

"You're amazing at this," he mumbles.

You continue for a while longer until he pulls you off of him. You land on your back on the bed, and he climbs on top of you. "As much as I was enjoying that, I really want to make love to you."

"Hm, I don't think so," you say with a smirk. "Get on your back."

"What? Why?" He looks shocked, but does what you say regardless.

"I'm going to make love to you."

You straddle Daeho, grinding against him as you kiss him. He places his hands on your hips, but you grab his wrists and pin them down on either side of his head. To your surprise, this earns a loud moan from him.

"You like that, huh?" you ask.

"I—I think so," he stammers, flustered.

"You just lay back and let me be in charge, baby."

Keeping your hands on Daeho's wrists, you let the tip of his cock enter you; it always takes you a while to get accustomed to his size. You moan at the sensation of him inside you.

You move up and down on top of him, allowing him to get deeper each time. Daeho bites his lip, watching you ride him.

"Please let me put my hands on your ass," he begs.

"I told you, you're not lifting a finger tonight," you say, trying to maintain an air of power in your breathy voice.

"I won't try anything," he says. "I just really want to touch you, please."

"Fine." You guide his hands onto you, and he grabs your ass. He's even gentler than usual; he seems to accept that you're in control this time, and he's acting accordingly.

You feel the pleasure building, and rub your clit to bring yourself closer to orgasm. Daeho tries to replace your hand with his own, but you move it back roughly, determined not to let him do any of the work. He's moaning more than he ever has before, and the sounds that fall from his lips are driving you wild.

It isn't long before your own moans become louder, and soon, a tremor courses through your whole body as you reach your high on his cock.

Your body stills, becoming too sensitive to ride him any longer. You lean down to kiss him, then drop your head into the crook of his neck. After regaining your senses, you begin kissing his neck, feeling his breath quicken.

You slide off of him and travel downward, leaving kisses down his torso until you reach his erection. You run your tongue up his shaft before putting the tip of his cock in your mouth.

"Oh my god," Daeho moans, and you look up to see him running a hand over his flushed face and through his hair.

You begin to bob your head up and down rhythmically, using both hands to stroke him at the same time. He's a gasping, panting mess underneath you, mumbling incoherently about how good you make him feel.

He places his hands onto your head and begins to guide your movements. You immediately take your mouth off of him, though you continue to pump him with your hands.

"Hands off," you order. He complies instantly, letting his hands fall onto the bed. "Good boy."

His breath hitches in his throat at your words, and you feel his cock twitch in your hands, a drop of precum leaking out. You lick it, looking up to see him gripping the sheets. Though Daeho has always been crazy about you, you've never seen him respond quite this strongly to you before, and you're enjoying every second of it.

You put his cock back in your mouth and continue at a steady pace, spurred on by his desperate moans. "Oh, fuck. Keep going, baby. Please don't stop, please."

You lift your mouth off of him again, quickly replacing it with your hand at the same speed so he won't lose the sensation. You can tell how close he's getting, and you want to watch his face when he climaxes.

"Be a good boy and cum for me."

"Oh my god, I'm—ah—" Daeho cuts himself off with a moan as the first spurt of cum shoots from his dick, landing on your lips.

You quickly wrap your lips around the head of his cock, and he rides out the rest of his orgasm in your mouth, his body practically convulsing with pleasure.

Once you've completely drained him, you sit up, using your finger to wipe his cum from your lips. He watches you intently as you suck your finger clean, pulling you into his chest.

"How are you real?" he asks breathlessly.

"I'm just trying to treat you right," you say with a giggle. "You deserved a night all about you. Plus, I think I learned something new about you."

"I think I learned something new about myself."

"Who knew you liked being called a good boy?" you tease, ruffling his hair.

Daeho blushes, covering his face with his hands. "Stop it."

"You're cute," you say. "Anyway, I know you had a shitty day, so I hope this helped."

"Definitely," he replies. "I should have bad days more often."

[sunarots]

taste ━━━ suna rintarou & miya osamu

28. who looks bad now? ♡

"It doesn't look broken. I'd go to the dentist after the game's finished, though. Make sure your teeth are still intact." The doctor hands over the ice pack to Suna before removing his gloves. "Any reason for the attack?"

You sigh, leaning back against the chair. "Yeah, me."

The doctor raises an eyebrow, eyeing the damage done to Suna before looking back at you. "I've not seen that before."

Suna starts laughing, raising a hand. "No, no. She didn't hit me. Her boyfriend hit me. I kissed her."

The doctor nods slowly, clearly still confused. "Was it... Did you..."

"It wasn't assault, we were both drunk. I kissed him back. He's my ex-boyfriend," you explain, watching as the doctor slowly pieces everything together. "God, this is complicated. I wish I was five again. Life was easy."

"It was much easier," the doctor agrees. "I'll leave you both alone for a few minutes and come back to check on the swelling."

You thank the doctor on his way past, waiting for him to leave before turning back to Suna. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"At least I never punched anyone. Or called you a slut in front of thousands of people." Suna shrugs his shoulders and smiles at you. "Just saying, I don't look so bad now, do I?"

"No, you just decided to stop calling." You flash him a smile before pulling your phone from your pocket to try and find the scores somewhere. "Is it still sore?"

"Yeah, it's fucking throbbing. Now I know how Atsumu feels." Suna sighs and leans back against the bed. "I think he's in the wrong sport."

You crack a smile, glancing up from your phone. "I'll suggest that to him. Well, that's if he ever talks to me again." You turn your attention back onto your phone, noticing that your team is trending. "Oh my god, are we winning?"

You jump from your seat and rush to Suna's side, clicking on the hashtag. You move your phone so he can see it, instantly regretting the decision. "Oh my god."

Suna takes your phone, clicking on the video of Osamu hitting him. "Are you fucking kidding me? That's great, that's just perfect. Now everyone's gonna know me as the guy who got punched."

"Yeah, and I'm forever known as the slut. This is great. There goes my career." You take the phone back and shut it off, stuffing it in your pocket.

"At least we go down together, right?" Suna smiles at you as you retreat back to your chair. "Look, when we go out there, I'll do my best to block. Hopefully not with my face, but I'll try."

"Is this you admitting that you don't usually try?"

"This is me admitting that I want to win our first match with only two sets." Suna shrugs his shoulders.

You sit back on the chair and sigh, looking around the room. "I was going to tell him after this. Like, when we're done so it wouldn't... So what happened wouldn't happen."

"Eh, it probably would've still happened," Suna points out with a smile. When you don't smile back at him, he rolls his eyes. "Don't beat yourself up. I'm more at fault. I didn't really ask first, did I?" Again, no response. He lets out a sigh, glancing at the clock before looking back at you. "If I asked, what would you have said?"

You turn to face him, furrowing your eyebrows to think. You go to speak, cut off by the doctor re-entering the room.

"Okay, how are we doing here? Has the pain gone down?" He approaches Suna and asks a few more questions before confirming he can return to the court.

You're out of your chair faster than he is, but he's at the door before you. You both call a thanks to the doctor before running down the corridor. You practically throw the door open, racing around the few people standing around the barriers to make it to your team.

You spot Sakusa preparing to serve, trying to get the ball from Bokuto. When Bokuto turns around and sees you, he immediately drops the ball. His hair perks up as waves at you, excitedly grabbing the ball and passing it to Sakusa.

You skid to a stop behind Iwa, grabbing onto his shoulder so you don't slip on your bag. "How are we doing?"

"We're down by six," he answers, lips pressed into a firm line. "Three service aces, two received and lost, another service ace. We needed both managers to sign off on Osamu going on the court."

"I sign off on it, we put Suna in first, then Osamu." You grab the sign with Suga's number, about to hand it over to Suna.

"Doesn't matter. I didn't sign off on it." Kuroo leans forward, watching the game intensely.

You feel your jaw dropping at his statement. "What? Why not? Kuroo, we're losing."

"And? He punched a teammate, he needed to be punished. Go tell the refs Suna's fit to be put in the game." He gestures for you to approach the man, not sparing you a glance.

You shrug him off, waving Suna to follow you. "We want to put him back in. The doctor signed him off and he's not in pain. If he looks like he's struggling, we'll take him out again. Is that okay?"

The ref nods and gestures for you to wait at the side of the court for the match to end. As your team scores a point, you turn back to Suna. You hold out the sign for him to take, hesitating to let go when his fingers brush yours.

"Wish me luck." He goes to raise it, stopping when you say his name. "What?"

"Yes." You take a step back as the ref blows the whistle. "I would have said yes."

# fun fact !

kuroo knew you’d put osamu back in the game because you’d feel bad, so he said no to be the bad guy

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when your ex starts dating your least favourite person on campus, your ex-best friend from high school, you can’t help but feel a little betrayed. you quickly realise a way to get back at him: his best friend.

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[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess - Part 3

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You and Chishiya spend another day together, separated from others, when you decide to need a nice little shower. Chishiya explores his feelings towards you a bit more.

Warnings: 18+ smut. Minors get tf out 👉🏻🚪

A/N: Just something a little angsty and smutty. I don't know how much time has passed since the Beach so i'm just making it up.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2

♤♡♧◇

The King of Diamonds - Beauty Contest

Chishiya sat at a table, his body locked on the chair so he wouldn't be able to stand up and leave. There were a few other players as well seated similarly to Chishiya.

When he had heard the rules and learned one crucial thing, he was extremely relieved that you hadn't participated the game with him.

There could be only one winner. Only one of the players would leave this room alive. Either Chishiya or one of the others. He wouldn't want to even imagine the situation in his mind where you would have claimed one of the other chairs around the table.

There was a one woman sitting at the table on her own seat. Chishiya imagined you at that same spot, and he felt sick in his stomach. If he had to watch you die from your entire body being melted by acid, he was sure it would take a long time to recover from the sight. Maybe he would even lose on purpose – he already had little will to live either way.

The sight of a body melting by acid was a horrific sight in general but it was easier when he had no emotional connection to any of the players here.

Thinking about it now, you had added one more reason to live for him. He wanted to live for you.

♤♡♧◇

"What was the game like?" you asked as Chishiya returned to you. He only looked at you without saying anything. You weren't sure if you only imagined it, but he looked a little... sad? It was only a slight difference on his face now, so you probably just imagined it.

You were about to say something when he didn't respond until, out of nowhere, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. You were taken aback, not being prepared to any extra physical affection from Chishiya, so you didn't manage to hug him back right away.

"Hey, what happened?" you asked, brows furrowed. He had never initiated a hug to you and now he was hugging you so tightly as if he was never going to see you again after this moment. "Chishiya, what-"

"Nothing," he answered quickly as he pulled back and cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was an easy game."

"Um, are you sure that-"

"What have you been up to?" he interrupted you. He was acting oddly, that was for sure.

"Oh, well, nothing much. Walked around and searched for food mostly," you explained. "I started to regret not participating the game as well though."

"No, it's okay," he rushed to say. "It's better that i went there alone."

"If you say so." You kept examining his face with narrowed eyes for a moment, thinking if you should question his behavior further but decided to just drop it. "Anyway, while you were gone i made us food." You had now an excited and proud smile on your face.

Chishiya looked at the meal you had prepared for the two of you.

"What is that?"

"It's rabbit."

"You caught a rabbit all by yourself and cooked it?" Chishiya asked, first not believing what he was seeing.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" you asked, eyebrows lifted and arms crossed, sounding almost offended. "I'm able to take care of myself, thank you very much."

"And i don't doubt you at all," Chishiya promised, a hint of smile on his face. One thing he liked about you was how you managed to surprise him over and over again.

"You better not," you threatened and handed him his plate. "Now eat before it gets cold."

Chishiya took a bite, and it tasted better than he expected.

"Hm. You'll have to cook for me more often," he smiled.

"I'm not going to become a housewife to you," you stated seriously.

"I would never dare to suggest that to someone with knives in her boots," he said, throwing his hands in the air as a sign of surrender.

"Good, you're learning."

♤♡♧◇

"You know," you said couple of hours later, approaching Chishiya. "When i was hunting for the rabbit, i found a lake not far from here."

"Mhm?"

"Do you think we could go to wash ourselves there?" you asked. "Well, me atleast, you don't have to if you don't want, obviously. The water looked clean and clear enough."

"Really?"

"I haven't showered properly since the Beach, i'm starting to feel really disgusting," you said, scrunching your nose. "Is it alright to go swimming, you know, with my leg and all?"

Truth to be told, Chishiya craved for a good shower too to freshen himself up but there was none available besides a lake. The wound in your leg and shoulder hadn't entirely healed yet, it had been a little over a week, closer to two probably, since you left the Beach. Both of you had lost the track of time, not counting the days anymore. Chishiya wasn't entirely sure how long you should wait until going swimming. He was afraid of your wounds getting infected in the water, but they looked healthy at the moment.

You could see the unsure expression on Chishiya's face.

"Pleaseee," you pleaded. "I really, really need a shower."

"Alright, let's go to check it out."

The lake was in quite a remote area, half surrounded by a high cliff which was covered by a deep forest – atleast what you could see from down here. The water looked clear enough.

"Alright, don't be too long," Chishiya told you.

"I'll be fast i promise," you said and rolled your eyes.

"Meet me here when you're done."

There was a large rock dividing the lake in two, allowing you and Chishiya clean yourself in peace without having to see each other. Even though Chishiya had seen you naked before many times, you still preferred to wash yourself without anyone else seeing you, having your own privacy.

You stripped from your clothes completely and dived into the water. It was cold, but not too cold that you couldn't swim in it for a while. It felt rather refreshing.

The last time you showered really was at the Beach, and you missed the feel of the water on your skin so much. You knew that the first thing you'd do when you'd finally get back home was to take a long, relaxing bath.

You leaned back against the rock when you had scrubbed on yourself enough, the rock's harsh surface scratching your skin.

After a few more minutes, you decided to go back to dry yourself. You didn't pay attention what was on the ground as you walked forward, and you soon stepped on something hard and sharp, throbbing pain radiating on the bottom of your foot.

"Fucking hell," you let out a loud scream and held your injured foot in your hand, standing now only on one foot. There was no blood, but whatever it had been you stepped on would surely leave a nasty bruise on your foot anyway.

"Y/N?" Chishiya said, his sudden voice startling you so badly you ended up losing balance, falling under the water.

You had exactly tried to avoid your hair from getting wet, but it was now completely soaked. You felt a hand on your arm pulling you up and reached the surface again.

Chishiya stood in front of you, wide eyes filled with concern. Chishiya glanced at your naked figure but he quickly turned his look away and cleared his throat. You could see his cheeks turn slightly pink - only a little, but the blush was still there. You didn't understand how the sight of your bare body still managed to fluster Chishiya, and neither did he.

"Is everything okay? I heard you screaming," he asked, locking his eyes with you. He was still naked as well, the water hiding his lower body. You wouldn't deny that seeing his bare chest alone always made your stomach feel funny.

"Oh, um. I just hurt my foot a little. Stepped on something," you said quietly. You saw him getting worried, so you quickly continued. "It doesn't bleed or leave any open wound, so don't worry about it."

I worry about you every day, Chishiya thought in his mind, but didn't say it outloud.

"Are you sure? You didn't twist an ankle or anything?"

"Everything's fine, i promise," you assured him, giving a smile which was supposed to make him believe your words, but you knew your face betrayed you. Your foot hurt so damn much right now it would be too tender to step on.

"Are you ready to get out of the water?" Chishiya asked carefully.

You nodded, but right then you heard rapid shooting somewhere. The exact same sound you had heard already before.

The King of Spades was in the forest next to you, up the high cliff – you didn't see him, but it must be him for sure. Right? Who else could it be? You winced and instantly leaned your back against the rock, the forest staying on the opposite side. Without further thinking, Chishiya stepped next to you and wrapped his arms around your body, keeping you against him. He pulled you down under the water until the water almost hit your jaw.

"The forest is up on the cliff, if we just stay behind this rock for a while, he won't see us," Chishiya whispered, as your body was shaking. You weren't sure if it was because of fear, the temperature of the water as the day was slowly turning into the evening or both.

"Are you sure?" you whispered.

"Yes. I promise."

Something exploded, far away from you, and it was followed by more shooting. Chishiya put his hand on your hair, pressing your head against the crook of his neck. He was right there protecting you. You were safe with him, of course you were. He would never let anything bad happen to you.

You didn't remember the moment when you had started trusting your entire life in Chishiya's hands. But here you were, clinging on him feeling like if you let go of him, the King would spot you right away and blow your head in pieces.

You had closed your eyes and hadn't realised when it had become completely quiet again. After the silence had lasted for atleast five minutes, Chishiya let go of you, but kept his hand on your shoulder.

"Is it really safe to go back?" you whispered, afraid if you were going to speak too loudly the King was going to come back.

"We can't stay in the water forever," Chishiya reminded you, and of course you knew that. Your fingertips already started to look like white raisins too.

"Right," you mumbled.

"Hey," Chishiya said and lifted your head by his finger under your chin. "You'll be safe with me til the end."

"I know," you nodded.

You were already on your way, leaving the water first, when you heard people talking somewhere in the direction where you had just come from, coming closer to the lake.

"Shit, shit, shit," you whispered and rushed back to the water where you had previously been, crashing on Chishiya who was coming right behind you.

"What's wrong?" Chishiya asked, furrowing his brows when you returned in such a hurry, pulling him to the place you had stood just a second ago.

"There's people over there, i'm not going to go there showing off my bare body," you gritted between your teeth, arms hiding your breasts.

"People? How many?"

"I don't know, i heard a few different voices. I didn't directly see them but they were close."

Now Chishiya heard them too. Surely they weren't going to stay long. The voices belonged to men too, so even a stronger reason for you to keep hiding behind the rock. You had been sure that it would be safe to stay here for a moment since it seemed to be quite a remote area. You hadn't met anyone else after the Hearts game, so why did it have to be now?

On the outside, Chishiya seemed and looked like his usual calm and collected self, but on the inside? His heart was beating fast and he had to try to control his breathing harder than normally. He was suddenly terrified of the King appearing so close to you in such a vulnerable moment.

When he had held you in his arms a moment ago, the feel of your bare skin against his had been driving him crazy. It was nothing new, but still it flustered him every time.

Nobody could deny that you were gorgeous, absolutely stunning. Chishiya hoped that you knew it too already, because he didn't dare to say it outloud. You were beautiful, no matter how much dirt or sweat you were in. He wanted to hold you again and now keep you in his arms much longer. He only was afraid to admit it to you – and more to himself.

"Y/N," he said your name outloud, quietly. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say to you as you only waited in the water for a while doing nothing. You had been quiet for a moment, and he just needed to hear your voice to make sure you were still with him, even though he could see you next to him, your shoulders only an inch apart from each other.

"Yes?" you asked, looking at him in the eyes. He didn't answer for a few seconds, only stared at you in awe, although you couldn't tell what he was actually feeling inside. He had always been one of the hardest people to read.

"Can you show me your foot?" he figured out to ask. Your eyes widened.

"What?"

"The one you hurt," he specified. "I need to know that you weren't lying to me and only belittled your injury."

"I do not belittle anything," you scoffed, but you knew that you tended to do that sometimes quite easily.

"Yes, you do," he said.

After a while of thinking, you leaned your back fully on the rock, lifting your foot above the water, careful not to expose anything else than your leg.

He took your foot in his hands, which tickled a little bit. You were a really ticklish person.

"Okay, it's going to leave a bruise, but it'll heal," he concluded.

"I told you, doctor know-it-all," you teased and gently pushed his shoulder with your foot, making him almost fall back a little but he kept his balance better than you would have. He rolled his eyes but you could see a slight smile on his face.

"I'm just making sure you're not secretly bleeding out," he stated.

"If i was, you'd have to carry me to the shore so i wouldn't hurt my foot even worse," you teased.

"I'd do anything i'd need to keep you safe," he said and suddenly he was surprisingly close to you, like the water was making his body automatically float towards you. "And to be fair, i've already done it before so i could do it again."

"Mhm, if you say so," you kept teasing him and bit your lip. Truthfully, you didn't doubt even a second anymore he couldn't do anything that was needed in certain situations. You liked teasing him though and make him defend himself.

Neither of you knew how you had ended up so close to each other, mere inches between your faces. You drowned in each others eyes, his eyes glancing at your lips. You knew that if he was going to kiss you, you weren't going to stop him.

"What? Do i have something on my face?" you asked playfully and lifted your left eyebrow.

"Actually, you have something on your hair." Chishiya picked up a piece of seaweed off your head and threw it to the water. You hadn't even realised your hair had grabbed something from the water as you had fallen underwater.

"Was that all?"

Chishiya brushed your hair, and you weren't sure if he was genuinely searching for more seaweed or if he just didn't want to stop touching your head and face.

Your mind was screaming at him to kiss you already but your mouth wouldn't let out a sound.

"That was all," he concluded. His hand brushed your cheek as he was withdrawing his hand off your face, but you quickly grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand on your cheek when his fingers were still slightly hovering over your skin.

Chishiya looked surprised, but didn't force his hand away from you. Your eyes lingered on his lips for longer than you intended and you had to start rapidly blinking to get them to look somewhere else - anywhere else.

Without a second thought, Chishiya cupped your face with both of his hands now and pressed his lips on yours. You instantly put your arms around his neck, in such a haze that you didn't even realise how your breasts were pressing tightly against his chest. Chishiya let out a gasp for this feel on his skin, giving you a chance to sneak your tongue inside his mouth. The kiss was rushed and hungry, like both of your lips had been waiting for this moment for weeks, now finally being able to let go and feel free, even though it hadn't been more than two days since your last time like this.

Chishiya moved his hands on your back, bringing the other lower right above your waistline, bringing you even closer against him so that your bodies were fully pressed on each other. You had stopped thinking and just wanted to feel every inch of him, everything you were able to.

Chishiya was savoring you like it was your last day on this planet. As if you'd be instantly gone when you'd get out of this lake.

Eventually you had to stop when you ran out of breath. You pulled your face back, but only so far that the tip of your noses were slightly touching each other.

The voices in the background had quieted completely that you were sure you had been left alone by whoever had been near the lake, but you didn't want to let go of him. He didn't loosen his grip on your waist either, since you didn't back off.

"I suppose it's safe to go back now," Chishiya whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You could feel that he had become hard against your thigh, and you were so aroused right now that you didn't want to do anything than to get him inside you. You put your hand on his cheek, caressing his skin with your thumb.

"I think we should continue this somewhere... dryer?" Chishiya asked slowly, but a slight challenge in his eyes.

"I've never done it in a lake, though," you whispered, slightly grinding your hips against him, making him grunt under his breath. You were making this extremely hard for him to resist.

"Tempting," he admitted, slightly amused. "But I'm still worried about your leg so i won't keep you here any longer," he stated. "Come on."

"You should stop being worried about me for a moment, you know."

Never, Chishiya thought.

♤♡♧◇

When you had arrived back inside your tent, Chishiya didn't manage to say a word before you cupped his face, pulling him into a passionate and needy kiss. He didn't hesitate a moment longer, pushing you gently to lay on your back, crawling on top of you. He moved his lips on your neck, making marks on your skin.

"Shiya, i need you," you mumbled, your hand on the back of his neck. "Stop wasting my time and put yourself inside me already."

Chishiya smirked. "As you wish."

He positioned himself against you and without another warning, slowly pushed himself inside you, making you to let out a loud gasp. He was still for a moment, letting you adjust, until you gave him the sign to move.

Your nails were digging deeper on his shoulder blades, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. He let out muffled grunts and moans against your neck between the kisses he was peppering on your skin.

"Fuck, oh my god, keep going," you whispered, both of you were just a moaning mess.

Chishiya was gentler now than before – not fucking you roughly, but making gentle love to you. Right now, it was exactly the perfect pace you wanted. Needed. You were in complete ecstacy, like you were every time he touched you.

You felt like he handled you even a little too gently, as if he was afraid he'd break you if he went too fast or put too much pressure or weight on you. It was different than before, more... loving?

"I'm close, i'm so close," you whimpered and bit your lip as you felt climax reaching you soon.

"Me too, love," Chishiya mumbled, cupping your cheek and kissing your lips, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. Neither of you had noticed the nickname leaving Chishiya's lips, not even Chishiya himself.

You came almost at the same time, holding each other like both of you were scared the other would float away if you didn't hold them hard enough.

"God, i'm tired to even move anymore," you mumbled and closed your eyes just for a second as Chishiya rolled to lay down next to you.

"And you wanted to do that in a lake," he smirked.

"That's why i have you to correct my ideas," you chuckled.

He pulled you into his warm embrace without another word.

"Chishiya," you whispered.

"Hm?"

"Are you sure everything's alright?" you asked, turning your head to look into his eyes, trying to find any signs of him lying to you.

"Of course," he answered, furrowing his brows. "Why do you ask that?"

"I don't know. You've just seemed a little... i don't know, different after the Diamonds game."

"I'm fine," he promised.

"Hm, alright."

It didn't take too long for you to fall asleep, your head on Chishiya's chest, hand against his ribs.

Chishiya looked at your sleeping figure against him, and he couldn't shake one specific thought out of his mind.

If you had participated in the Diamonds game earlier, he wouldn't have you sleeping with him here right at that moment. He wouldn't feel your warm body against him. Chishiya put his hand against your head, brushing your hair a little to feel that you really were there.

Alive and well.

Chishiya didn't like that feeling inside of him. He had never felt like this about anyone before he got to know you. Afraid to lose someone and to care so much.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist or taken out of the list 🫶🏻 Leave a comment and like if you enjoyed this piece ❤️

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@audiiix

@valexqpt

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@queenofviolenceandnerds

[be-xkyy]

Hello! Since I read your Yandere stories, my head began to ask these questions, how many children do our yanderes want to have for us? Would they get a little jealous when our babies are feeding from us?

Hii Dear Anon!

First of all I'm glad you liked my content, thank you! And secondly, your question is very good Anon, although this will be a bit short, I hope you like it! 🖤

How many children would the yanderes have with reader? Would they be jealous of their children?

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Yandere Farmer Link

This man definitely wants lots of kids, five or six at the very least and about nine or ten at the most, I think he'd mostly prefer to have boys (since he thinks they're easier to handle) but he wouldn't mind having one or two girls, he has a big farm so he doesn't worry about space and he makes enough money from the cattle and crops to support them all.

As for being jealous of his children when they're breastfed or jealous in general, I don't think so. I honestly don't think he's the "Stay away son, she's mine" type but he also wouldn't let you have much time with the kids especially if they're boys since if you spoil them too much he thinks you'll make them "weak" and "mama's boys" which he doesn't want, so when they learn to walk he'll take them with him to do the farm chores.

"The kids are coming to work with me today. What if they're three and four? That's the perfect age to start getting to know everything, don't question me."

Yandere Cowboy Link

He would want at least 3 children, two boys and a girl, although he might want more, depending on his mood.

And regarding getting jealous when watching his child eat or in general, I think he would get a little jealous, although he would try to be playful and downplay it, saying things like "He's a little chubby, don't you think you feed him too much?" Or "Look, it's 1 PM, isn't it time for a nap? Come on, son, it's time to sleep." Of course you don't let him take the baby away, it's not his bedtime yet.

"Baby doll, when I was a child I was fed and put to sleep at any hour even if I didn't want to, and look at me, everything turned out fine!"

Yandere Dilf Link

This poor man wants to have two girls, two little princesses that look like you, he already has one son so you'd rather have girls but he doesn't care if one is a boy or if they both end up being boys (although not having a daughter that looks like you would break his heart) he's one of the few yanderes that promises to have only two children and keeps it. He doesn't force you to have more even if the ones you give birth to aren't the gender he wanted.

Well now I don't think he would get jealous of his children while breastfeeding, rather I think he would touch the baby's head while breastfeeding even leaving kisses on its chubby cheek, although seeing you breastfeeding might excite him a little (he has a thing for tits and milk, okay?) but he wouldn't try anything at that moment on the contrary he would try to hide it.

"You're so pretty little girl... look at that little nose and those round cheeks... you're so precious sweetheart... just like your mommy"

Yandere Sugar Daddy Link

Another one who wants to have two kids, only he wants to have a pair a boy and a girl, no more kids, just two. Not one more, not one less. I think he would have favoritism with his girl and the boy would be more attached to you as a result.

He would get jealous, he doesn't even want to hide it, although he would be more mean if the one you were breastfeeding was the boy, he would stare from the leather chair right in front of you, watch you rub the baby's head while he eats and make comments like "You don't rub my head when I suck on your boobs, don't rub his head either" or "You know there are high end milks on the market made from breast milk, why don't we try giving him that instead of your milk?" if you scold him or look at him the wrong way he would throw up his hands in surrender and say in an offended voice.

"Hey! Don't look at me like that! You should be grateful that I care, that brat will make your tits sag!"

[likea-silhouette]

Tied Together - ex bf!Harry Styles blurb

cw: mention of past relationship

word count: 2k

summary: Ever since you broke things off with Harry, you felt a massive feeling of guilt and hatred towards yourself for allowing such a trivial thing to come between the both of you. Now, all you had were your daydreams of him. What happens, in the present day, when you attend one of Harry's concerts and mix your daydreams with the reality of him being in front of you again. Inspired by the song Someone Else & Jesus by Ricky Manning

Sometimes I have this fantasy.

That one day I’ll get a knock on my door and it’s you with your arms outstretched and the widest, most infectious grin on your face.

I’d run into your arms with an exasperated cry of your name as I bury myself in your scent that envelopes your clothed chest and makes my stomach flutter. I feel as if I’m home.

It’s almost like I can smell you now, but that would be impossible amongst the thousands of sweaty, screaming bodies that are currently admiring you on a stage for the world to see and adore. 

As I briefly come back to reality, I smile to myself, watching you from the side of the stage as you do what you were clearly born to do with your life for the millions who know you’re a dime a dozen.

However, in my head, it’s just you, me, and the love that we once tended to religiously. In my mind, you’d whisper to me in that all too familiar accent, “Sorry, that I'm dropping in without warning, I've just missed you so much,” and I’d smile as if I knew this was always how it was meant to be with us. We were always meant to be so deeply tied together, yet in the real world, we couldn’t have been further apart. I shake my head and allow my ears to take in the screams and loud music that my brain had somehow filtered out in order to bring me to this space inside of my head where I went way more often than I’d like to admit. I wonder if he ever thinks of me as I think of him in a daydream that reflects our past. How he used to play me all of his new songs or tell me about his coffee order from the local coffee shop that day. The smallest things are the ones that bear the greatest weight on my heart because I crave them so so deeply, yet they are so fucking far away. That’s why I have this space inside my head that preserves a version of me and Harry that I would crawl on my hands and knees to obtain again in the real world. However, in my fantasy, I wouldn’t have to crawl to revive our relationship. Instead, we’d both have a proper laugh as we saw how inevitable it is that we would be back together again on my doorstep, because why wouldn’t it be? We are irrevocably chemical after all. Tied by a string that can’t be cut or stomped on. But instead, I left. I told Harry I couldn’t do this anymore - the touring, the months and months apart from one another. It was eating me up from the inside out and I thought that this was what he and I needed. If I just completely cut down our love that had grown into the prettiest maple tree, then eventually I would be okay. That I would heal and so would he. Except it never happened. Sure, things got easier, but I never stopped loving him no matter how many bodies I tried to use to replace him with. Now, Harry and I were strangers and he had been intertwined with other partners, and I was happy for him for that. Truthfully, I was. Harry was completely broken when I broke off our relationship. My best friend and Harry’s sister Gemma kept me in tune with how he was doing, but only because every time I talked to her, which was often, I would insist on asking if he was okay. Years later, I still did this very thing. That right there should’ve told me that what I did was the biggest regret I would make in my entire life. Now look at him - he’s touring the world again and making music that matures with every piece he creates. He’s dressing in a way that shows off how inevitably comfortable he is with himself and I couldn’t have wished more for him…except that he does this with me still by his side. I’m selfish, I know. But it’s foolish, isn’t it? I’m going to my 9-5 job and eating take-out in front of my TV on Friday nights while he’s doing all of this with his life. I am the one who lost out on so fucking much and, the fact that I did this on my own accord is the hardest pill I will ever have to swallow for the rest of my life. Especially when Harry was innocent in the matter, having done absolutely nothing wrong as a partner.

Regardless, I couldn’t be more proud of H for finding himself and those who love him - even if it means others inhabiting his heart like I wanted to again. He deserved love more than anyone because he gives it with everything he has and finding that genuine of a human is rare, yet what did I do with it? I broke it. All because I was young and I thought that long-distance relationships could never work. All because my anxieties ate away at me as I thought of the worst-case scenarios for what or who he was doing while out on tour in my absence. I placed my own insecurities on him and that isn’t fair to either of us. Now, I’m hurting in the process and I hurt him too. How stupid could I have been?

Suddenly, Harry’s voice rang through the entire arena as he addressed the crowd in between songs. Just the tone of his voice sent chills down my arms and spine and brought me, once again, out of my daydream. I watched as he interacted with those in the crowd - they didn’t know how lucky they had it. Being able to hold his attention and be graced with the things running through his mind that eventually left his mouth was such a privilege. I can’t believe I let that very thing slide through my fingers all because of my own stupidity. Harry never wanted me to break up with him. He pleaded with me on the street saying, “We can work this out. I’ll quit. I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t lose you”, but I couldn’t let him give up his dream and love in life just because it was something I, at the time, couldn’t get accustomed to. This is why I kept telling him as a way to pacify his tears, “This is for the best for both of us” - except I failed to mention that I’m no psychic, merely an insecure girl who allowed her thoughts to weigh more heavily in her chest than the love she had with him. I wish I could talk to that girl again. Warn her that he was it for her. That he was and would be everything she would ever need. Tell her that their love was strong enough to get through anything and that her mind was the one creating wars, not Harry.

Suddenly, I felt Gemma’s elbow poking into my rib just before she whispered in my ear, “He just looked at you.” Quickly, maybe a little too quickly, my eyes moved in Harry’s direction, only to find him just beginning to sing the next song with his eyes very much closed and his hands shaking as they gripped the microphone stand. “I promise you, babe. He looked right at you. Nearly looked like he pissed himself.” There I was again - missing those vital moments in life because I couldn’t get out of the make-believe inside my head.

But-god damn-in my head, it was everything I wanted and more. How could I resist? In my head, Harry watches me do the most mindless of tasks with a smile on his face and when I’d catch him, as I did every time, I’d give his knee a playful tap. He’d respond by wrapping his arms around me and whispering sweet nothings and thanks that said how happy he was that we figured it out and finally found each other once again and that this time it would be different because we were older and wiser. That’s how love is supposed to go, isn’t it? If you truly love someone, then you always find them again. Yet, why did it feel impossible to find Harry again?

I’d like to give up this hide-and-seek chase with love and instead have a kid running around our shared flat who looks like Harry and has his deep emerald eyes that remind me of him every time I look at the being we created together. But instead, I left all because I allowed my brain to tell me what was fact and fiction. Suddenly, the whiff of Harry’s scent filled my nostrils yet again, except this time it was extremely strong. It almost felt real.

I rapidly blinked my eyes and allowed the reality in front of me to come into crystal clear view. What I saw, made my mouth hang agape. Not even three feet away from me - there he was in the flesh, not just in my memories. Harry was shaking hands with a few crew members in all black as he expressed his gratitude while wiping a white towel through his sweat-dampened hair. He had clearly just finished his show and was readying himself back into his regular, non-stage life. And then his eyes met mine. “Told you he saw you”, Gemma muffled from the corner of her mouth at me as she watched the interaction of past lovers now meeting in the present. I couldn’t help the smile that graced my lips the closer he got because this was real. He was so fucking real. It wasn’t one of my far-fetched daydreaming spells, it was Harry, standing directly in front of me with a heaving chest as he tried to regain his composure after putting on a show.

Soon, he was standing directly in front of me with a matching mouth that also hung slightly open. “Hi,” I said after several seconds of the both of us staring at each other with goddamn identical stars in our eyes and wide-spread smiles. At first, Harry didn’t say anything. His eyes simply searched along my face. Taking it in - deciphering if this was reality or one of his own daydreams that he always thought to be fictitious and ridiculous to even be picturing. Yet, here you were. Here you both were. Suddenly, Harry’s arms wrapped around you and you didn’t care about the fact that the sweat from his clothes was quickly morphing into the sweat on both of your clothes. You didn’t care that it had been years and years of pain and missing him because right now, you had him where you had been craving him the most - in your arms. Everything felt worth it just for this moment, whether it lasted for just tonight or for the rest of eternity.

Harry squeezed me even tighter in his arms until eventually releasing but still maintaining a gentle touch as he let our fingertips just briefly kiss one another.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much. You have no idea.”

I shook my head because, actually- “I think I do. I’ve missed you too Harry.”

From that moment I felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time when it came to Harry and I. It was positive and even excitement.

It was hope.

[bitchinbarzal]

Dad | C Keller

-

“Go, Daddy, go!”

Marlee’s excited giggles filled the living room as she bounced on the couch, her tiny Coyotes jersey nearly swallowing her small frame. Her eyes were glued to the TV, her little fists clenched in excitement. It was one of her favorite things—watching her dad play hockey.

You smiled from your spot beside her, sipping your tea, enjoying the moment. These nights had become a routine: just you and Marlee, watching Clayton’s games when he was on the road. It never got easier, not having him home, but seeing how much your daughter adored him made the distance a little more bearable.

“He’s so fast!” Marlee declared, bouncing up and down.

“He sure is, baby.”

But the moment of joy shattered in an instant.

It happened so fast. One second, Clayton was racing down the ice. The next, he was colliding with the boards at an awkward angle, the sickening thud of impact making your stomach drop. He crumpled to the ice, unmoving.

The broadcast cut to a close-up of him, and your heart clenched at the sight of his face twisted in pain.

“Daddy?” Marlee’s voice was small now, unsure.

You barely processed the way your hands trembled as you grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. The commentators were talking—Clayton had gone into the boards hard, wasn’t getting up yet. Trainers rushed onto the ice.

Marlee turned to you, big eyes welling with tears. “Why isn’t Daddy getting up?”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay calm. “They’re just making sure he’s okay, sweetie.”

Marlee wasn’t convinced. She looked back at the screen, her little face crumpling as Clayton still hadn’t moved much.

Her tiny fingers gripped your arm. “Mommy, he’s hurt!” Her voice cracked, and suddenly she was sobbing. “I want Daddy!”

Your heart shattered at the sound.

You pulled her into your lap, wrapping your arms around her tightly. “Shhh, baby. I know. I know you want Daddy.” You pressed kisses into her hair, smoothing her back as her little body shook with sobs. “He’s so strong, Marlee. He’s got lots of people taking care of him.”

“But what if—what if he—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence, her breath hitching.

It broke you to see her like this, terrified, her whole world crumbling because her daddy was hurt. You felt it too—the fear, the helplessness—but you had to be strong for her.

You kissed the top of her head again. “Daddy is the toughest person I know, Marlee. Remember when he got a boo-boo on his arm last year? He was okay, wasn’t he?”

Marlee sniffled, nodding hesitantly.

“This time, it just might take a little longer. But he’s going to be okay.” You hoped your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

Marlee curled into you, hiccuping between sobs as the game went to commercial. “I just want Daddy,” she mumbled into your shirt.

“I know, baby.” You rubbed slow circles on her back. “Me too.”

It felt like forever before Clayton finally texted you.

I’m okay. Sore, but okay. Will call you soon.

The relief hit so hard you nearly burst into tears.

“Daddy’s okay, baby,” you whispered to Marlee, who had finally dozed off in your arms from crying so hard. She stirred at the sound of your voice, rubbing her tired eyes.

Her little head shot up. “Really?”

You smiled and kissed her forehead. “Really. He said he’s sore but okay.”

Marlee exhaled shakily, but the tension in her tiny body eased just a little. “Can I talk to him?”

“Of course, baby. Just wait a little longer, okay?”

And when Clayton finally FaceTimed, Marlee nearly dove out of your arms trying to grab the phone.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Clayton’s voice was soft, and despite the exhaustion in his eyes, he managed a smile. He was already in sweats, sitting on a couch in the locker room with an ice pack strapped to his shoulder.

Marlee frowned, her lip wobbling again. “You got hurt.”

“I did, but I’m okay,” Clayton reassured her. “Just a little sore.”

“But you didn’t get up!” She sniffled. “I was scared, Daddy.”

Clayton’s face softened. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” His voice was thick with guilt. “But you don’t have to be scared, okay? The doctors are taking really good care of me.”

Marlee’s fingers curled around the phone. “Are you coming home now?”

“Not just yet, sweetheart. But I promise I will soon, and I’ll give you the biggest hugs.”

Marlee pouted. “I want a hug now.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from crying again.

Clayton’s voice was gentle. “I know, baby. I do too.”

There was a pause, and then Marlee held up her stuffed animal—her favorite little coyote plush that Clayton had gotten her at a game months ago. “I cuddled Howler all night ’cause I missed you.”

Clayton chuckled softly. “That’s a good idea. You keep cuddling Howler, and before you know it, I’ll be home.”

“Okay…” Marlee’s sniffles were slowing now, but she still looked worried. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You promise you’re really okay?”

Clayton nodded. “I promise. And you know what?”

“What?”

“You made me feel even better just by talking to me,” he said, smiling. “You always do.”

A small smile finally broke across Marlee’s face. “Really?”

“Really.”

She snuggled closer into your arms, finally relaxing. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you more, baby girl.”

Later that night, once Marlee had finally fallen asleep with her coyote plush tucked against her chest, Clayton called again.

“Hey, babe,” you whispered, stepping out onto the balcony so you wouldn’t wake your daughter. The desert air was cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth of your home.

“Hey.” Clayton sighed. “God, that was awful. I hate that she was so scared.”

“She just loves you so much.” You leaned against the railing. “She wouldn’t stop crying, Clayton. It killed me.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I wish I could’ve been there.”

“You did everything you could.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’ll be home soon.”

“I know.”

And for now, that was enough.

Because even hurt, even miles away, Clay was still the best dad in the world.

[nevieeland]

title: normal girl

pairing: ex boyfriend!k.namjoon x reader

synopsis: if someone were to ask you why you'd broken up with kim namjoon, you'd tell them it's simply because you weren't compatible. which was partially true. you wouldn't tell them it was because of a debilitating self loathing, or a lack of communication, or the fact that he was so embarrassed of you he didn't even tell his parents of your existence. but it was an amicable breakup, all in the past. or it would be, if he didn't have a habit of popping up everywhere.

rating/warnings: pg ; angst. party, drinking, mentions of weed. reader and namjoon make out. miscommunication if you squint. not proofread.

last updated: 11.02.25

word count: 6.8k.

the first time you see him after the breakup is at a party.

you don't know why you're surprised to see him there. all of your friends are his friends, and vice versa. you ran in the same, tight fucking circle.

so why does your stomach practically lurch out your throat when he laughs with one of your mutual friends like it was the easiest thing in the world. why does his presence here bother you so much?

you don't know.

you don't know why you're standing there, watching him from across the room like some fucking stranger. the same guy you used to tell everything to, the one who used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt. he’s talking to someone else now. laughing like he’s got it all figured out. and here you are, just staring, trying to remember when it stopped hurting.

you told yourself you were over it, but you’re not. you can feel it creeping up, the ache, the fucking tightness in your chest. you thought seeing him would make it easier. it’s not.

so why the hell is he standing there, looking so... fine?

jimin’s hand is warm on your shoulder, grounding in a way that makes you blink, makes you realize you’ve been standing there, stuck, for way too long.

"are you gonna spend the whole night staring at your ex, or are you actually gonna have fun?" he leans in, his voice pitched low so only you can hear. "because if you’re just gonna be weird about it, i’ll take your drink and your dignity right now."

you scoff, finally tearing your eyes away from namjoon—who hasn’t even noticed you, by the way, which somehow makes it worse. "i’m not staring," you mutter, even though you definitely were.

jimin gives you a look, one that says don’t lie to me, dumbass, before tipping back the rest of his drink and setting the empty cup on the nearest table. "sure. and I’m not the hottest person in this room."

you roll your eyes. "you’re unbearable."

"and you’re deflecting." he tilts his head, studying you like he’s deciding whether to push further. he must see something in your face, because his tone softens. "you good?"

the question makes your throat tighten. you swallow around it, force a shrug. "yeah. just… wasn’t expecting him to be here."

jimin hums like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he loops an arm through yours and tugs you toward the crowd. "come on. if you keep standing here looking tragic, he’s gonna think you’re still in love with him."

you make a noise of protest, but jimin’s already dragging you away. you let him. anything is better than standing still.

jimin tugs you deeper into the party, past clusters of people you barely register, past the pulsing bass of the music that thrums in your chest. you try to focus on the warmth of his hand around your wrist, on the familiar comfort of his presence, but it’s hard when you can still feel namjoon in the room. like gravity, like muscle memory—like the aftertaste of something you don’t want to admit you still crave.

"drink," jimin announces, shoving a red cup into your hands. "dance. flirt. do literally anything other than mope in the corner like a sad victorian widow."

you glare at him over the rim of your cup. "that’s dramatic."

"and you’re predictable." he nudges you with his hip, grinning. "what happened to i’m totally over it, jimin, it’s fine, i’m fine?"

you sigh, tipping your head back as you take a sip—cheap vodka, too much mixer. "i am fine."

"uh-huh. that’s why you looked like you were about to throw up when you saw him."

you don’t have an answer for that, so you take another sip instead.

jimin huffs, his expression softening. "look, i get it. it’s weird. but it’s been, what? two months? you don’t have to let him ruin your night."

two months and thirteen days. but who’s counting?

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. "he’s not ruining my night."

"great," jimin chirps, too fast, too pleased. his hands find your shoulders again, squeezing before he turns you toward the crowd of dancing bodies. "then let’s go. if i don’t see you at least attempt to have a good time, i’m calling a priest to exorcise the ghost of your failed relationship."

you let him pull you along because you know he’s right. because standing still feels worse than moving. because you can pretend for a little while that the memory of namjoon’s laugh isn’t still echoing in the back of your head.

and because, if nothing else, jimin will make sure you don’t drown in it.

the bass thrums in your chest as jimin pulls you toward the dance floor, the heat of too many bodies pressing in around you.

someone’s perfume lingers in the air, something sweet and floral, but all you can focus on is the way jimin spins you around, his hands landing on your waist like he’s daring you to let loose.

"you remember how to do this, right?" he teases, close enough that you can hear him over the music.

you roll your eyes but sway your hips anyway, letting the beat carry you just enough to keep him satisfied. jimin grins, triumphant, and starts moving with you, rolling his body like he was born to do this. which, honestly, he probably was.

"see?" he says, his voice light, easy. "way more fun than standing in a corner looking like you just got dumped."

you give him a halfhearted shove. "i did just get dumped. two months isn’t that long."

"feels long enough to me," jimin shrugs, his hands still on your hips, keeping you anchored. "besides, it’s not like he died. he’s just some guy you used to date. and if he can act like everything’s cool, so can you."

you want to argue. want to tell him that it’s not the same, that namjoon has always been better at pretending things don’t affect him the way they affect you. but you don’t, because that’s exactly the kind of thing jimin would pounce on.

instead, you let yourself focus on the music, on the way your body moves without thinking, on the way Jimin keeps you moving forward instead of looking back. for a few minutes, it almost works.

and then—

then you feel it.

a prickle at the back of your neck, the weight of someone’s eyes settling over you. it makes your movements stutter, just slightly, but jimin notices immediately. his hands tighten, grounding, but it’s too late. you already know.

you don’t have to look to know who it is.

but you do anyway.

and there he is.

namjoon, standing just a few feet away, watching you with something unreadable in his expression. his drink is half-forgotten in his hand, his jaw tight. and the moment your eyes meet, something shifts in the air between you—something heavy, something unsaid.

jimin follows your gaze and sighs, muttering something under his breath before stepping closer, like he’s preparing for impact.

"okay," he murmurs, his fingers curling around your wrist, "i know I said you should act like everything’s cool, but if you want to bail, just say the word."

you swallow hard, pulse thrumming in your ears.

you should look away.

you should turn around and let jimin drag you into the crowd and pretend this never happened.

but you don’t.

because Namjoon is still looking at you.

and for the first time since the breakup, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s not as okay as he’s pretending to be.

jimin must sense it, the shift in your energy and the way your breath catches just slightly, because his grip on your wrist tightens.

"hey," he murmurs, barely audible over the music, "don’t do that."

"do what?" you say, but it’s weak, barely a protest.

jimin sighs, tilting his head toward namjoon. "that thing where you look at him like he still belongs to you."

you flinch. "i’m not—"

"you are," jimin cuts in, no softness left in his voice now. "and i get it. i do. but if you let yourself go down that road, you’re gonna end up right back where you started. and i’m not picking up the pieces again."

that stings more than it should. You don’t want to be a burden. don’t want to be someone people have to fix. but it’s hard when namjoon is still looking at you like that—like you’re something familiar in a room full of strangers.

your fingers tighten around your cup. "i don’t know what to do."

jimin exhales sharply, his lips pressing together before he shifts, stepping fully in front of you, blocking your view. "then do nothing," he says. "don’t go to him. don’t let him come to you. just… let it be, for once."

you chew on the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to nod. jimin’s right. you know he’s right.

but then you hear it.

your name.

low and careful, spoken in a voice you know better than your own.

you don’t even get the chance to think before jimin reacts. his eyes flick past your shoulder, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

"not tonight, namjoon."

jimin says it like a warning, like he already knows how this ends.

but namjoon—stubborn, stupid namjoon—only sighs. "i just want to talk."

you hate how much your body betrays you. the way your shoulders tense, the way your breath shudders just slightly. the way you feel yourself swaying toward him before jimin gently pulls you back.

"you don’t have to do this," jimin murmurs, low enough that only you can hear.

and maybe you don’t.

maybe you should walk away.

maybe you shouldn’t look up, shouldn’t meet namjoon’s eyes, shouldn’t let yourself get caught in whatever storm is brewing in them.

but you do. you never were very good at letting go.

jimin’s grip is still firm around your wrist, an anchor you could hold onto if you wanted. if you were smart.

but when you finally meet namjoon’s gaze, something in your chest folds in on itself.

he looks… tired. not just in the way he always does, like he’s been thinking too much again, but in a way that makes your throat tighten. his shoulders are tense, his jaw is tight, and despite how carefully he said your name, his eyes are anything but steady.

you shouldn’t care.

you shouldn’t feel anything.

but you do.

jimin must see the way your resolve wavers, because he sighs sharply and lets go of your wrist. "fine," he mutters. "but if you start spiraling, i’m dragging you out of here myself."

you swallow, nodding once before turning back to namjoon. he watches the exchange, his fingers curling around his drink like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t—not yet.

instead, he jerks his chin toward the back hallway, quieter, less crowded.

"can we talk?"

you hesitate. you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t.

but then you nod.

namjoon exhales like he’s been holding his breath, and that alone makes you feel like you’ve already made a mistake.

jimin doesn’t say anything as you step away, but you can feel his eyes on you, like he’s mentally tallying up every bad decision you’re about to make.

namjoon walks ahead, leading you toward the hallway, and you follow.

because of course you do.

because you never learned how to walk away from him first.

the music fades the farther you go, replaced by the distant hum of conversation. the air back here is cooler, less suffocating, but it does nothing to settle the uneasy weight in your stomach.

namjoon stops near a closed door—bathroom, maybe, or just some random room in whoever’s house this is. he turns to face you, fingers dragging through his hair like he’s trying to gather his thoughts.

you cross your arms over your chest before he can say anything. "if you’re gonna ask me if i’m okay, don’t."

namjoon huffs a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "i wasn’t."

you shift your weight from one foot to the other. "then what?"

his jaw flexes, and for a second, he looks like he regrets pulling you aside at all. but then he meets your gaze again, and something in his expression turns serious.

"why did you do it?"

your breath catches.

"do what?" you ask, even though you already know.

namjoon’s eyes don’t waver. "why did you break up with me?"

the words settle between you like a stone, heavier than they should be.

you could lie.

you could tell him what you told yourself—that it just wasn’t working, that you needed space, that it was for the best.

but the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s begging for something real, you’re not sure you have it in you to lie to him again.

you inhale sharply, feeling the weight of the question press into your ribs. namjoon is staring at you like he expects an answer that will fix everything—something clean, something that will finally make sense of it all. But there is no clean answer. there never was.

"i ask myself that all the time," you say slowly, carefully, "and every time the answer is the same. we weren’t compatible."

namjoon’s lips part slightly, but you don’t let him interrupt.

"and that’s true," you add. "we weren’t."

it’s the easy answer, the one that doesn’t dig too deep, the one that keeps things polite and distant. the one you’ve told yourself over and over again so it doesn’t hurt as much.

namjoon exhales through his nose. "that’s it?"

you let out a humorless laugh. "what else do you want me to say?"

his fingers tighten around his drink, his knuckles going pale. "i don’t know," he admits. "something real. the truth, maybe."

the words hit harder than they should. you shift your weight, suddenly feeling too exposed. "it is the truth."

namjoon scoffs, shaking his head. "no, it’s the version you tell everyone else. but not me. never me."

your stomach twists, but you force yourself to hold your ground. "you don’t get to be upset about that," you say, sharper than you mean to.

his jaw tightens. "why not?"

"because you never told your version either," you snap. "because I spent a year feeling like i was screaming into a void while you just—" you pause, forcing down the lump in your throat. "you never even told your parents about me, namjoon."

silence.

his expression doesn’t change, but the way his grip tightens around his drink tells you enough.

you laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "what? you didn’t think i knew?"

he doesn’t say anything.

"you think i didn’t notice? the way you changed the subject every time i asked about them? the way you made sure I was never around when they called?" you swallow, throat burning. "i spent so much time making excuses for you, telling myself i was being paranoid, that maybe you were just private, maybe it wasn’t that deep. but it was, wasn’t it?"

namjoon shifts, exhaling slowly, like he’s trying to choose his next words carefully. but you don’t want careful. not anymore.

"did i embarrass you?" you ask, voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

his head jerks up. "what?"

you force yourself to hold his gaze. "was I embarrassing? is that why you never told them?"

namjoon looks pained now, like the question physically hurts him. "no," he says quickly. "god, no, it wasn’t—" he exhales roughly, rubbing a hand over his face. "it wasn’t like that."

"then what was it like?" you push. "because that’s what it felt like, namjoon. like i was something you wanted to keep hidden."

his shoulders rise and fall, and for the first time, he looks almost… small. like he’s carrying something heavy, something he never figured out how to say.

"i was scared," he says finally.

you blink. "scared of what?"

namjoon lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "i was scared of fucking it up. scared of them not approving. scared of what would happen if i let them into that part of my life and they decided you weren’t—" he cuts himself off, jaw going tight.

you stare at him, pulse pounding in your ears. "weren’t what?"

namjoon hesitates, looking at you like he knows whatever he says next is going to break something.

"enough," he says quietly. "weren’t enough for them."

something sharp twists in your chest, and suddenly, you feel sick.

"right," you say, stepping back. "so you just made that decision for them, then. for me."

"that’s not what i—"

"do you even hear yourself?" you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. "you didn’t want them to decide i wasn’t enough, so you just... never gave them the chance to know me at all?"

namjoon presses his lips together, but he doesn’t deny it.

and that—that hurts worse than anything else.

you nod, even though it’s not really for him. it’s for you, to ground yourself, to remember.

this is why you left. this is why none of this matters anymore.

it’s in the past. or at least, it should be.

your heart stumbles.

"you’re ridiculous," you murmur.

"am i?" he meets your gaze, something raw in his expression. "because i know you, and i know how hard you are on yourself. i know that you think you ruined this, that you walked away because you thought i deserved better, but—" he exhales, shaking his head. "it wasn’t just you. you weren’t the only one who didn’t know how to talk about things."

your breath feels shallow, like there’s not enough air in this hallway.

this isn’t how you thought this conversation would go.

you thought he’d be angry. thought he’d want some kind of closure. thought he’d say something to make it all easier to leave behind.

but instead, he looks at you like he’s still holding on.

and you don’t know what to do with that.

the walls feel like they’re closing in. the air is too thick, too heavy, pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe. you don’t want to hear this. you don’t want to know this.

namjoon is still looking at you, still waiting, like he expects you to say something, to offer him some kind of reaction—but you can’t. you won’t.

so you don’t.

you inhale sharply, then push past him before he can stop you. your shoulder brushes his arm, the touch fleeting and electric, but you don’t let yourself look back. you just move.

the bass of the music hits first, a welcome distraction as you step back into the crowded party. the sound drowns out the lingering weight of namjoon’s words, the heat of his gaze still burning into your skin. you weave through the bodies, through the noise, searching for the only person who can pull you out of your own head.

jimin.

you find him by the drinks table, chatting with someone you don’t recognize, his mouth twisted into a lazy smirk. but the second his eyes land on you, the expression drops.

he takes one look at your face and sighs.

"that bad?" he asks.

you grab a bottle of vodka off the table, unscrewing the cap with shaking fingers. "i need to get drunk tonight."

jimin blinks. then his lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile but almost—something that says i told you so but also i’ve got you.

"okay," he says, plucking the bottle from your hands before you can take a straight swig. "but let’s do it the fun way, yeah?"

he pours a generous amount into a cup, mixing it with something vaguely fruit-flavored before handing it back to you. his eyes flicker over your shoulder, like he’s checking to see if namjoon followed, but he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t need to.

instead, he clinks his own drink against yours and grins. "let’s make some bad decisions."

and for the first time all night, you let yourself breathe.

the world is spinning.

or maybe it’s just you.

you don’t know, and you don’t care, because everything feels light—your limbs, your head, your fucking heart.

the music is loud, pulsing through your veins, and you’re pressed between jimin and yoonah, both of them laughing as you sway, barely keeping balance. jimin’s boyfriend—taehyung, you think?—is off to the side, watching with amusement, while jungkook keeps up with the reckless pace of your movements, grinning like this is the funniest thing he’s seen all night.

"you’re gone," yoonah giggles, gripping your waist to steady you.

you throw your head back, laughing at nothing. "i needed this," you slur, arms flinging around jimin’s shoulders. "you’re the best for making me do this."

jimin huffs a laugh, his hands tightening on your hips as he keeps you upright. "i always know what’s best for you, babe."

"you do," you say, nodding so hard the room tilts. "you’re so smart. sooo wise. like a little… glittery buddha."

yoonah practically shrieks with laughter at that, doubling over.

"glittery buddha?" jungkook echoes, barely holding it together. "oh my god, i’m using that forever."

jimin rolls his eyes but smiles, shifting to keep you from stumbling as you sway too far to one side. "alright, okay, i think you’ve hit your very drunk quota for the night."

you pout, leaning against him heavily. "but i like being drunk."

"i know you do," he coos, smoothing a hand over your hair like you’re a particularly chaotic pet. "but i like you alive, so maybe let’s get some water, yeah?"

you open your mouth to protest, but the dizziness catches up with you, making your head spin. you press a hand to your forehead, giggling again. "whoa."

jungkook reaches out, steadying your arm. "okay, yeah, we need to sit her down before she actually eats shit on the floor."

taehyung, who’s been mostly observing, finally steps in, shaking his head with a fond smile. "come on, let’s get her outside for some air."

jimin nods, already shifting to loop an arm around your waist. "good call."

yoonah pats your cheek gently. "you good, babe?"

you grin, leaning into her touch. "never better."

and it’s true.

because in this moment, with the alcohol buzzing in your veins and your friends keeping you steady, you’re not thinking about namjoon.

not even a little bit.

the cool night air hits your skin like a blessing, crisp and fresh after the suffocating heat of the party. you breathe in deep, letting it settle in your lungs, hoping it might clear some of the haze from your head. it doesn’t. you’re still warm, still loose-limbed and giggly, still swaying slightly where you stand.

taehyung watches you with amusement, fishing something out of his pocket. “cigarette?” he offers, holding one out between two fingers.

you blink at it, then at him. “are you trying to corrupt me?”

he smirks. “wouldn’t dream of it. but you look like you need something to do with your hands.”

you hum, considering. then, just to be a little shit, you ask, “you got any weed?”

taehyung barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he tucks the cigarette between his lips and lights it. “i’m not trying to be responsible for your overdose tonight, babe.”

you gasp dramatically. “you can’t overdose on weed.”

“yeah, but you can pass out on the grass and wake up with ants in your hair.” he exhales a slow stream of smoke, tilting his head toward you. “and i really don’t feel like carrying your ass back inside when that happens.”

you laugh, leaning back against the railing of the patio. “fair point.”

for a moment, it’s quiet. just the distant bass of the party, the hum of cars on a nearby street, the flickering glow of the cigarette between taehyung’s fingers.

you close your eyes, letting the dizziness settle into something softer, more manageable. the night air is nice. It makes everything feel farther away—the party, the noise, the weight of namjoon’s voice still lingering in your head.

“you okay?” taehyung asks suddenly, voice lower now, gentler.

your lashes flutter open. he’s watching you, smoke curling around his face, his expression unreadable.

you shrug. “i’m drunk.”

“no shit,” he says, amused. then, after a beat: “but I mean… are you okay?”

something tightens in your chest, and you look away, down at the wood grain beneath your fingers.

“i’m not not okay,” you murmur, noncommittal.

taehyung hums like he expected that answer. he takes another drag, then flicks the ash off the edge of the railing. “breakups fucking suck,” he says, like it’s just a fact of life.

you let out a breathy laugh. “yeah. they do.”

another pause. more silence. more space to breathe.

then Taehyung nudges your arm with his elbow. “want a hit?”

you glance at the cigarette, then at him, and for the first time tonight, you don’t feel like running.

so you take it.

you bring the cigarette to your lips, inhaling just enough to feel the burn at the back of your throat. it’s been a while since you last smoked, and it’s probably not the best idea when you’re already drunk, but at this point, what’s one more bad decision?

taehyung watches you with a lazy sort of amusement, like he’s waiting for you to cough. you don’t, but the way your nose scrunches at the taste makes him smirk anyway.

you exhale slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night air. “how do you and yoonah do it?” you ask suddenly.

he raises an eyebrow. “do what?”

“be so… normal.” you gesture vaguely, handing the cigarette back. “especially considering, y’know. everything.”

taehyung hums, taking a slow drag before tilting his head at you. “you mean the part where i’m dating her brother?”

you nod. “yeah. like… wasn’t that weird at first?”

he exhales, flicking the ash off to the side. “not really.”

you blink. “seriously?”

taehyung shrugs, passing the cigarette between his fingers. “i think she always knew.”

you frown. “knew what?”

“that i liked him,” he says simply. “probably before i even knew it myself.”

you stare at him for a long moment, trying to imagine what it must feel like to have everything fall into place like that—to have someone just know, to have things unfold without the weight of self-doubt and miscommunication crushing it before it even has a chance.

you press your lips together, glancing down at your hands. “do you think i’ll ever get over it?”

taehyung doesn’t ask what you mean. he doesn’t have to.

he leans against the railing beside you, looking out over the backyard, the glow of his cigarette the only bright spot in the dark.

“time will tell,” he says finally.

you sigh, tilting your head back to stare at the sky. the stars are faint, barely visible against the city lights, but they’re there.

you rub your hands over your face, exhaling hard. the alcohol has loosened your tongue, made your thoughts spill out faster than you can filter them. but maybe that’s okay. maybe, for once, you just need to say it.

“i hate him,” you murmur, staring down at the ground. “but i still love him.”

taehyung doesn’t react, just smokes his cigarette like he’s heard this kind of thing a thousand times before.

“i want to punch him in the face,” you continue, voice thick. “and then i want to kiss him. and then i want to hit him with my car.”

that makes Taehyung snort, but you’re not done.

“and then i’d stay with him at the hospital,” you add, chest aching. “i’d be the one sitting in that awful plastic chair all night, making sure he’s okay.”

you swallow, throat burning. “i just want to be his again.” the words feel raw, fragile, like they might break if you say them too loud. “but i can’t.”

taehyung takes another drag, eyes steady on the horizon. “no,” he agrees. “you can’t.”

it’s not cruel. it’s not dismissive. it’s just the truth, and you hate how much you need to hear it.

your arms wrap around yourself, like that’ll somehow hold you together. “i don’t know how to stop loving him.”

taehyung hums, flicking his cigarette away before turning to you fully. “maybe you don’t have to.”

you furrow your brows, confused, but he just shrugs. “maybe love isn’t something you stop doing. maybe it just… changes. maybe one day, you wake up, and it doesn’t hurt so much.”

you scoff, bitter. “you sound like a fortune cookie.”

taehyung grins, bumping his shoulder against yours. “i have my moments.”

you shake your head, but your lips twitch despite yourself. the ache in your chest is still there, still deep and gnawing, but at least now you’re not alone with it.

the night air is cool against your skin. the party hums in the background, voices and music blending into something distant, something that doesn’t belong to you right now.

you let out a slow breath, watching it disappear into the night.

maybe taehyung is right. maybe one day, you’ll wake up and the weight of namjoon won’t feel so heavy.

but tonight isn’t that night.

teh night air has cooled further, the party still pulsing behind you, but out here—alone on the patio—it’s quiet. the alcohol has loosened its grip on you, dulled the edges of your thoughts without making them disappear entirely. you’re sober enough to think clearly but tipsy enough not to care too much.

taehyung had gone back inside a while ago, leaving you with nothing but the distant hum of laughter, the glow of porch lights, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke clinging to your fingers.

and then you feel it. that subtle shift in the air. a presence behind you. familiar, even without turning.

you don’t have to look to know who it is.

namjoon.

for the first time in months, his presence doesn’t make your stomach churn. it doesn’t feel like a gut punch, doesn’t send you spiraling into a mess of emotions you don’t know how to handle.

you feel… still. at peace, almost.

neither of you speaks at first. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t try to force the moment into something heavier than it already is. he just stands there, quiet.

eventually, you break the silence.

"you always do this," you murmur, not turning around.

"do what?" his voice is careful, measured.

"pop up when i least expect it." you tilt your head, staring at the night sky. "like some tragic ghost of relationships past."

namjoon huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. "not a ghost," he says. "i’m still here."

you let out a slow breath. "yeah. you are."

another pause. another silence. but it doesn’t feel suffocating this time.

"you seemed like you were having fun tonight," namjoon says eventually.

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. "i was."

he shifts behind you, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. like he was bracing himself for something else.

"i’m glad," he says after a beat, and you think he means it.

you glance down at your hands, at the faint smudges of ash still on your fingertips. "i was thinking about you earlier," you admit, voice softer now. "about how much I hate you."

namjoon hums, not sounding surprised. "and?"

"and how much i still love you." you exhale, shaking your head. "how i want to punch you and kiss you and run you over with my car."

you hear him huff out a laugh, short and breathless. "that bad, huh?"

you shrug. "you’ve always had that effect on me."

another pause. another breath of silence. then, "do you think we’ll ever be okay?" namjoon asks, voice quiet, almost tentative.

you turn slightly, not enough to meet his eyes, but enough to glance at him from the corner of your vision.

and for the first time, you don’t feel the need to run.

"maybe," you say honestly. "but not yet."

namjoon takes that in, his lips pressing together. then he nods, like he understands. like, for once, you’re finally on the same page.

the silence stretches between you, neither heavy nor light, just there. a shared moment in the quiet of the night, both of you lingering in something neither of you knows how to name.

then, after a beat, you ask, "are you still studying philosophy?"

namjoon exhales, a small, familiar huff of amusement. "yeah."

you nod, staring at the railing in front of you. "that makes sense." another pause. another breath. then it’s his turn.

"are you still…" he trails off, the rest of the sentence left hanging between you. you don’t need him to finish. you already know what he’s asking.

you hum, eyes flicking up to the stars. "yeah. still doing nothing with my life."

namjoon shifts beside you. "that’s not what i meant."

"it’s fine," you say, waving a hand dismissively. "i know what i am."

"do you?" his voice is quiet, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something frustrated, like he’s tired of you talking about yourself like this. you don’t want to go there. not now.

so you take another breath, pushing past it, keeping your voice light. "we were never gonna work anyway."

namjoon exhales, but it’s not quite agreement.

"we’re too different," you continue. "you with your philosophy books and your big ideas, and me with…" you gesture vaguely at yourself. "this. we were always fighting an uphill battle."

namjoon shakes his head. "that’s not true."

"it is," you say simply. "you can’t flog a dead horse, namjoon."

his jaw tightens. "i don’t think we were dead."

you shrug, smiling faintly. "then we were dying."

namjoon doesn’t answer right away. he just watches you, eyes flickering with something unreadable. then, after a long moment, he sighs, shaking his head.

"maybe," he says. "but that doesn’t mean we didn’t matter."

you swallow, the words sitting heavy on your tongue before you let them slip free. "i miss you," you say, barely above a whisper.

namjoon inhales sharply, like the words winded him. he doesn’t hesitate. "i miss you too."

you press your lips together, staring at the railing, at the wood grain beneath your fingers. "i wish things were different."

namjoon shifts, and you feel the weight of his gaze settle on you. "me too."

that’s all it takes for you to turn, finally, fully, to face him. and when you do, when you finally meet his eyes, you realize just how close he is—close enough that you can see the crease between his brows, the flicker of something raw and aching in his expression.

and then he steps closer.

the space between you shrinks, the air between you charged, crackling like something fragile and electric.

namjoon’s voice drops to a whisper. "do you want to know what i would have done differently?"

you don’t answer. you just watch him, heart hammering in your chest.

his hands find your waist, slow and deliberate, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like he’s anchoring himself there.

"i would have told them about you," he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. "i would have been better at talking to you. i would have told you how much you meant to me, over and over, so you never had to wonder."

your breath hitches.

namjoon tilts his head, eyes flickering between yours. "i wouldn’t have let you walk away so easily."

you don’t know who moves first. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s him.

but suddenly, you’re leaning in, and he’s pulling you closer, and before you can second-guess it, before you can think at all, your lips meet.

it’s soft at first—tentative, almost careful, like you’re both testing the waters, seeing if this still fits, if this still works.

but then namjoon exhales against your lips, and his grip on your waist tightens, and the kiss deepens, and suddenly it’s not careful at all.

it’s desperate. It’s aching. It’s everything unsaid spilling into the space between you, mouths moving like they never forgot how to fit together.

namjoon kisses you like he’s been waiting for this—like he never really let go in the first place. jis hands tighten at your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you steady. and maybe you would.

maybe if he weren’t holding you like this, you’d come to your senses, step back, remind yourself why this can’t happen.

but you don’t.

you let yourself fall into it, into him. into the way his lips slot against yours, warm and familiar, the way his breath hitches when you tilt your head just right. his hands slide up, trailing along your sides, and your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tight like you need something to ground you.

like you need him to ground you.

a shuddered breath leaves his lips as you press closer, chest against chest, the space between you vanishing entirely. his hands slide up your back, one settling at the nape of your neck, tilting your head just enough for him to kiss you deeper.

it’s dizzying.

it’s dangerous.

it’s everything.

when you finally break apart, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other, his hands still gripping you like he’s afraid to let go.

your heart is pounding. you don’t know if it’s from the kiss or from the weight of what it means. you close your eyes. "namjoon…"

"i know," he whispers, his thumb brushing over your hip.

you swallow, fingers still curled in his shirt. "we shouldn’t have done that."

he exhales, a soft, almost defeated sound. "i know."

but neither of you moves. neither of you steps back.

because even though you both know, it doesn’t change the way your body still leans into him, how his hands still linger at your waist, like he’s memorizing the way you feel.

it doesn’t change the fact that you still love him.

the silence between you stretches, thick with everything that neither of you are saying. his hands are still on your waist, your fingers still curled into his shirt, but the moment is starting to settle now, starting to shift into something more fragile.

you let out a slow breath and step back just slightly, just enough to put a silver of space between you. "i should go inside."

namjoon’s fingers twitch against your skin before he lets them fall away, hands curling into loose fists at his sides. he watches you carefully, searching for something in your expression.

"do you have someone to take you home?" he asks, voice low.

you nod, swallowing. "yeah. jimin’s got me."

namjoon hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line before he asks again, softer this time. "are you sure?" you know what he’s really asking.

he’s asking if you’ll let him be that person tonight. if you’ll change your mind, if you’ll let this moment spiral into something neither of you will be able to walk away from in the morning.

and for a brief, reckless second, you consider it.

but you don’t.

instead, you give him a small, sad smile and nod again. "i’m sure."

his shoulders deflate just slightly, like he was holding onto some last shred of hope, and now it’s slipping through his fingers. but he doesn’t argue. he just nods, looking down, jaw tight.

your heart clenches.

maybe you shouldn’t, but you do anyway—you reach out, sliding a hand up to his cheek, guiding his face back up so he’s looking at you again. his eyes flicker with something heavy, something pleading, and you think about how easy it would be to let yourself fall back into this.

so, just this once, you let yourself have it.

you lean in and press a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, like a goodbye that neither of you is ready to say out loud. namjoon doesn’t move at first, like he’s afraid this is a trick, like he doesn’t trust himself not to pull you back in.

but then he exhales into the kiss, and his hands ghost over your sides, barely touching, like he’s memorizing the shape of you one last time.

when you finally pull away, you let your hand trail down to his, giving it a small squeeze. then, before you can second-guess it, before he can try to stop you, you say, "find a girl your mother would be proud of."

namjoon’s lips part slightly, like he wants to argue, but you just smile at him, soft and bittersweet.

and then you let go.

you step back, turning toward the door, walking away before the moment can swallow you whole.

[maladaptivewritings]

Personal Jesus pt.2

Summary:Simon has a tattoo artist he favors, and in his boredom while home becomes a superhero for a single person

tw: general Simon Riley behavior, general C.O.D topics, stalking for the cause? Simon mentions death

Y/N : They/them, Female anatomy implications, tattoo artist, oblivious loser , slightly more emotionally intelligent but also depressed

Loathing the light that escaped the grasp of the curtains, you crawled out of bed. You coax yourself awake, every step throughout the darkened halls of your home helping that slow process. Until something stops you, a card under your front door. You considered all the odds, what could go wrong?

That envelope, plain as day, sat on your kitchen counter. The manila paper enticing you as the hours turned. No return address, ofcourse, and nothing to clue you in on what laid hidden. The one day you had free, wasting it on some sociology experiment- wondering if somehow you were beings studied.

Anthrax? Glitter bomb? Maybe just a note? The options raced around your mind as you avoided this mental puzzle for the next few hours. Your shirt hang lazily off your shoulder as you dared to stare at the crisp envelope. No stains, nothing to hint at its origins. You thought at one point that even in it's worse case, you had saved a decent bit to purge on a ambulance ride.

The heat of your coffee mug uncomfortably warmed your hand as you finally sat deciding on what to do. If you had to die, today would be perfect. The world was still, and it was nearly noon by now, 'make the choice' screaming in your mind as anxiety coursed through your veins.

So you opened it.

You would have never would have guessed that all that money added up perfectly to pay rent.

$1,200 plus some, was sitting there. No rhyme or reason to this, as you weighed your options. 'Sure report this to the cops, why wouldn't you.' You wanted to do the right thing, but for what reason. You could use that money you already saved to do something nice for once. Besides someone gave this to you... right?

You tossed the envelope in the trash, taking the cash and shoving it in your underwear drawer. You weren’t certain how it made its way to your door but any crime drama told you not to spend it all at once

--------------------------

Simon had three months saved up for you, envelopes just like the others stacked perfectly at his desk. He tipped well enough, but that was your money, and you should spend it as you please. His eyes darted across the computer screen. He had noted your schedule to the minute. It wasn't easy, but he was bored. What else would he do? Today was already hectic since he didn't account for you taking a day off.

He started changing his routine, just for you. His jog before dawn somehow became easier when he decided to follow the same path you take home from work. He had seen the worst in people, but you, You were good. Something like that was rare in his world, so he needed to protect it, of course. So he ran, the hour or so across the dim town. Just to drop off a gift only he would know of.

The black door he stopped in front of, the glass shimmered as dawn started peeking over the horizon. He put the envelope in the mail slot, the metal keeping his secret as he checked his watch. The old thing is trying to keep up with the time zone changes as it ticks five minutes behind.

6:25 A.M

Nope, he can't risk it. He returned to his run, making note of the small bistro's and shops lining the street. Not even they were open as he lost himself to the beat in his steps. His eyes were searching for cameras as he turned off the main streets. The alleys remind him of his early years, hiding after school and running without care for at least a moment before seeing his father. Running came naturally to him, and this was an easy jog for him. Around 5 miles as he returned back to his own flat. The vacant halls of the apartment complex were much like the streets. Eerily quiet, the building's bricks creaking in the spring breeze.

His apartment was dark, blinds drawn, and dimly lit by the oven light. He put a kettle on as he returned to his new favorite interest, scrolling throughout your social media pages. Finding your personal page simply, he made notes already on the poster's lining your booth at the parlor. A list of tv shows and bands to look into while bored might as well, yknow. His tables filled with moments to share with you. By that, gifts, cash, and such that were nondescript enough where he wouldn't worry. At least if his little lamb caught on, he could care less about seeming crazy with his exel sheets and all.

---------------------------------

The two of you, on two separate parts of the city. Sat down to watch the same episode of {show}. Both happy with their simple joy that this morning brought.

[erikftglitter]

Ch 11 | The Piteous Life of Dr. Stevens' New Wife

Killmonger AU

Created By: Erikftglitter

While Erik did have a time with his newly appointed girlfriend, the doctor was also quite relieved to be back at work. Being a surgeon was one of the only things that grounded Erik. Not to mention that that he is now solely responsible for Kari’s lifestyle. He’s not so sure if she’s realized that yet. The screen in front of him interrupted his thoughts.

The urine sample from Dr. Stevens’ patient pleased Erik. The poor man had a horrible urinary tract infection, which sent his kidneys into a frenzy. He could treat this and send the man to urology. This was not his area of expertise, though he was pretty sure that he could guess the diagnosis.

“Thank you Doctor.” The man’s wife offered Erik a grateful smile. She was definitely more than halfway through her pregnancy, her skin maintaining a radiant glow. The more that she talked, the more that Erik began to feel uneasy.

“We’re just happy that we’re finally getting some assistance with this. He’s been in so much pain and between the emergency room visits, and the baby-“

Erik tuned her out. He knew how to appear to be present even if he wasn’t. It had been a few weeks since he and Kari began having sex and he couldn’t ignore the fact that something didn’t add up.

Assuming Kari’s uterus is just as functional as this woman’s, she should be pregnant with his child right now.

Relax.

He wanted to. He was rarely agitated at work. He worked very hard to create his calm facade and needed to maintain it. He had no choice but to let his thoughts flow for the next few hours.

//

“Kari.” Erik called out very carefully when finally he stepped into the condo. Kari was standing in kitchen looking over a pot.

“I’m making pot roast.” She beamed. Erik would’ve been entertained if it wasn’t for the thoughts that accompanied his mind. He could hardly ignore it and he wanted to ask her when he could monitor her body language. Kari was not a good liar.

“Mhmm. When was your last period?” Erik asked, completely unfazed by Kari’s statement. He watched as Kari looked down at the pot and remained silent for a few moments.

“Last month.” She answered with a sigh. She thought that she had won when Erik didn’t mention it. She thought that he left it up to her to handle when he didn’t explicitly mention it.

“Right. Is that normal for you?” Erik asked as he walked closer. Kari’s calm demeanor could mean a couple of things to him.

“Well I’m on birth control so yeah.” Kari explained, her body started to warm up by both the burner and the gaze of the doctor. Erik could read her subtle body language very easily.

“Mhmm. And you were on birth control when I nutted in that pussy the first time?” Erik asked. His body now completely behind Kari’s, his words echoing right into her ear.

“N-no. I um got on afterwards because we didn’t t-talk about what to do about it.” Kari could barely get her words out without feeling intimidated. She felt stupid. It was her decision too. Most of her money covered the maintenance of her home and her car expenses. She wasn’t ready to bring a child into the world. Sure Erik was loaded, but she wanted to be able to contribute. Erik hadn’t even mentioned kids.

Erik’s not sure how he feels. Part of him is relieved that he didn’t create a child out of wedlock, but part of him longed for seeing Kari pregnant. How beautiful she’d be. It would be easier for Erik to deny her the ability to work ever again. Erik loved that. However, there was something confusing about this story.

“If you got on birth control afterwards, how are you not carrying my baby now Kari?” Kari almost hated when he called her that. She was almost in trouble each time that he used her name and it made her anxious.

“I took a contraceptive pill the next day.” Kari revealed gently. She felt guilty but she knew that it necessary. They were not established enough to be having a child.

“I would’ve gone to get it for you Kari. Why didn’t you ask?” Once logic touched Erik he knew that she had done the right thing. He would get her pregnant, no doubt about it, but he’d do it right.

Kari’s eyes began to fill with tears. She was very used to figuring out everything on her own. It was hard for her to understand that Erik was here for her. Erik paid for everything. The only reason why Kari still works is because she loves her job.

Erik reached over Kari and turned the burner off. He softly pushed her to the direction of the couch. He sat down first and Kari knew what to do next. This was their dynamic. Erik would lead and Kari would follow. Just as he liked it.

“What do you think this is Kitten?” Erik trailed his hands up Kari’s thighs. “You and me?” He added, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. He wasn’t always gentle but Kari required delicacy. This was definitely one of those times.

“You’re my man?” Kari practically whispered from her place in his lap.

“Right.” Erik encouraged. “And remind me, what is Kari’s job?” Erik inquired. The two had a clear understanding of what Kari was to do.

“To come to you about everything.” Kari replied. It was much easier said than done if Kari was being honest.

“Then why do you shut me out kitten?” Erik’s tone was much softer than Kari expected. The contraceptive pill was the cherry on top of Kari’s avoidant behavior. He knew that he looked like the big bad scary dom for making Kari move in so suddenly, but times like these reminded him that he was doing the right thing.

A woman like Kari wasn’t supposed to be left to figure it out alone. She worked with condescending women that longed for Kari’s freedom and she was consistently being taken advantage of. All of the administration roles were slowly being forwarded to Kari and she found herself caring more than anyone else.

While Erik was in no position to tell Kari to quit, especially when he knows that she loves her students, he really hated seeing the girl frowned up by her computer most nights. The only way he could pry her away from the technological abuse was by leaving small kisses on her neck and making her lose focus.

“That hurts me kitten.” Erik admitted after the two sat in silence. Was his feelings actually hurt? Not in the technical sense. He didn’t enjoy being left out of Kari’s world when she was all that was on his mind. He felt responsible for upholding her happiness and doing everything in his power to see the teacher smile.

“I’m working on it.” Kari whispered from his chest. He pulled this out of her. Kari wouldn’t have known that the man from the grocery store would have her like this. She’s angelic in his eyes. She could do no wrong and the intensity in which Erik spoke and behaved backed those feelings up.

“That’s all I want kitten. Don’t I deserve it?” Erik shamelessly asked. He was only half serious but he couldn’t resist the urge to immortalize the tension.

“Yes. You deserve it all.” Kari purred into his ear. The pot roast would have to wait because the way that Erik felt underneath Kari solidified that dinner was the least important part of the evening.

Erik pulled Kari’s tank top off and watched how the exposure caused her nipples to protrude. He took one of Kari’s breast in his mouth and rubbed the other, constantly encouraged from the pants leaving Kari’s mouth.

“Mhmm baby.” Kari moaned as Erik’s teeth grazed her skin.

“Baby? That’s new.” He teased. If Kari could formulate anything coherent, it was usually endless variations of “daddy.”

Kari was going to apologize but Erik was already at her mouth waiting on hers to open. The force between the kisses was creating a pool of wetness for Kari. She began to grind her hips in hopes of relieving herself from the frustration that was pooling in.

“Show me how badly you need it kitten.” He spoke in between kisses. Erik’s punishments were subtle sometimes, but he was always consistent. He would not reward Kari until she was losing her mind.

“You handle everything else without me. Show me how you gone get that nut without me. Baby.” He teased. Kari’s eyes were closed in frustration but she knew she didn’t have long.

“That’s not true.” Kari complained. She hated when he got like this, just playful and condescending. She would be embarrassed if it didn’t happen so often. She might actually break this time if he doesn’t continue touching her though.

“Don’t make me say it again Kari.” Erik warned. Kari quickly pulled her pajama shorts down, conveniently not wearing panties, which made Erik suck in a breath. This fucking girl.

Kari resumed her position on top of the doctor and slowly rolled her hips over his thigh. Realization began to enter Erik’s conscious and his hands quickly moved to her waist to encourage her pace. Kari was riding his thigh, leaving a trail of slick evidence behind every stride. She panted softly when his grip got tighter.

“So fucking nasty.” He complimented. The vulgar comments were Kari’s favorite. Something about hearing Erik speak that way while pleasuring her was enough to fuel her solo time when Erik was in surgery all day long.

“You better not cum Kari.” Erik advised once Kari’s pace became more unpredictable.

“P-please.” Kari begged, unable to ignore how good it felt to relieve herself on the older man like her life depended on it.

“Na.” Erik chuckled. He rocked Kari on his thigh when he felt her began to slow down, most likely trying to stop her high and halt herself from disobeying.

“I didn’t tell you to stop either.” Erik gritted, turned on by the glossiness in Kari’s eyes, a silent plea for mercy.

“Cum baby.” And Kari did just that. Erik’s thigh was coated in Kari’s slick desperation and this was the start of it.

“Thank you daddy.” Kari breathlessly professed. Faint memories of the orgasms she had before she met Erik entered Kari’s mind. Not one has come close to the intoxicating experience that Erik was able to create, even if he barely touched her.

//

I feel like everyone needs to see Erik being nice (somewhat) before the ball 🤭 He just wants Kari to be a stress free little housewife + thank you guys so much for your kind words & encouragement!! I’m back on demon modeeee ah (meg voice)

Sexies that wanted to be tagged:

@theesmartblonde @ms-mosely-ifunastyyy

@ziayamikaelson @yourstruly711

@ladymac82 , @harleycativy

@brigolightly @idyllicbarb @bendoverboo18

if I forgot you pls let me know it’s not on purpose!!

[multiheadcanons]

WHAT IF I INTRODUCE YOU TO THE BLU TEAM

scout: meet the original jeremy willis. always known as a quiet, but emotional kid by his family and friends, and he carried that awkwardness well into his teen years before he started to try to break out of that. but it never came out… right. always too aggressive, too guarded, too insincere. so the operation actually did make him feel better. he doesn’t feel a need to be that guy anymore. that guy’s on the other team, so if you want the jeremy who’s gonna swing first and ask questions later he’s over there. he would still consider himself a quiet, guarded guy, but the team will tell you it doesn’t take much to open him up, and when he’s open he will never close himself off to you again. so he’s just a guy who likes to talk, who seems to talk a lot about nothing, but somehow always manages to get to a point. he lets the red jeremy handle the family. it makes him feel a little better to know that his family thinks he’s doing okay. the red jeremy will keep him in the loop though on what’s going on. it doesn’t feel right to just leave him out of it entirely.

soldier: meet the original jane doe. a quietly disturbed man, is how he would’ve been described by people from his past. he would probably still be described that way by his team. awkward, and forceful, jane doe has never been a man of anything past military refinement. his father said he needed structure and committed to that. he was in and out of military schools until he was grown, and made it to basic training. but there was something about him that his battalion just didn’t trust. it broke him, in a sense. he didn’t give people reasons to not trust him. he didn’t think he did, anyway. he just had this air about him. intense, and draining. the operation certainly changed him. but it was less the actual operation and more what came after. he never really felt “whole”; but now he certainly doesn’t. it’s the seeing of clones that is wrecking him. it’s the killing of them that is breaking him. he’s starting to understand why his battalion could never trust him. only dangerously paranoid a third of the time, though. generally okay to be around, if not dry in conversation.

pyro? meet pyro! a curious creature of a faux-mechanical kind. carefree, inquisitive and certainly human, medic does not know which pyro is which. he flipped a coin and took the opposite. it’s kind of sad, considering he watched one of them grow in a test tube and was in the other’s grey matter, but when he’s requested to cut through the mask and conceal the other the moment the body begins to form, he will respect it. so don’t judge. pyro is an enigma to most on the team, save the medic, the engineer, and the spy; and pyro is a wonderful friend to have. steadfast, good natured (for the most part), and dumbly loyal, pyro is always down for a good time. pyro’s equally down for a bad time! pyro doesn’t run from fights. in fact, they thoroughly enjoy running into a difficult tussle. they find joy in coming out on the other side alive. and if you think they look bad, you should see the ashes. fire is warm. fire is comforting. fire will only grow if you feed it. and pyro is much like their elemental affinity. it takes a lot to turn pyro against you. but why would you do that?

demo: meet tavish. tavish doesn’t think very often about where his family could be. tavish doesn’t know if he’d even have anything to say to them. very work oriented. never out of his room very often except to grab a drink. tavish desperately misses the flair his counterpart has. he simply does not have that same charisma. but he has drive, he is determined, he is prompt and punctual and truly an asset to the team. serious guy unless he’s drunk. he can loosen up when he’s drunk. it’s a big reason as to why he drinks. makes him easier to be around. he’s not a terrible guy sober, he’s just not right sober. quiet, contemplative, hyperfocused. an intense man with an intense gaze. he’s more social when he’s tipsy. though his humor is dry, and dark at times.

heavy: meet mikhail. what a man. seemingly kind, it’s easy to look past the fresh blood on his hands as he asks you about your morning plans, and preps your plate in the mess hall. a man who knows how to make himself seem smaller than he is. allegedly easygoing, heavy doesn’t have a problem as long as everything is going exactly how he expects it to. and any issue or snag is met with calm, quiet confidence. problem solver. problem annihilator, may be a more fitting term. also: problem starter. does things to others just to see the domino effect. never allows a problem to fester, unless it’s interesting enough. always has the slightest of smiles on his face. always so relaxed. makes his counterpart look neurotic in comparison. manipulative in that sense. less of a glue to the team and more of a bored puppeteer. only interacts to glean information or get something. otherwise he’s not interested. perceptive and conniving. normally a step ahead of others, unless consumed by the blood of battle. there comes a point his brain does shut off and he basks in violence; those are the optimal times to catch him off his guard. but it is never seen away from the battlefield. so there’s never an opportunity to truly get ahead of him. first one up for the day in the base.

engineer: meet the original dell conagher. eternally optimistically exhausted. it’s hard to catch dell on a high energy day, when he’s willing to chat. most, if not all of his energy is spent on the field. the most low energy mad scientist you’d meet. less of an evil laugh and more of an evil snort. this doesn’t derive dell of his humor. always in need of a laugh; his humor is odd, and niche. childish, almost. dell allows his counterpart to overtake his personal life so he can focus on his work. and it’s because of that dell is rarely seen outside of his workshop, which he moved off of the main base to work comfortably and have truly private meetings with pauling when needed. the only people on the team he really interacts with is the doctor and pyro. he is left empty by the end of battle. but he is always ready for the next one. his hermitic nature is somewhat disappointing, because when you get to know him he’s actually quite good natured. he steals blueprints from the red dell. you gotta work smarter, not harder when you’re in a position like his.

medic: meet fritz. a man wracked with guilt and in horrifying need of a therapist; fritz is just a man with a dream. and if that dream happens to include the death of his creator and the subsequent creation of a lovely leather jacket from the skin of the carcass, can you truly blame him? you’ve seen that guy, right? a liar, a hater, a manipulator, and a brute if/when the opportunity presents itself, fritz is working on himself the only way he knows how— through manipulating others and seeing how he’s supposed to feel when he gets caught. asking what he’s supposed to feel. it makes him hard to be around because he is a chronic vibe killer. though he is charming, in his odd little way. master of a hypothetical. puts a lot of thought into any and every decision he makes. god tier idle chatter. his awkwardness is a charm he quickly learned to harness. it’s very easy to tell a guy who seems he can barely handle the needles he uses about your deepest secrets. if he had the true amount of time his creator did, he too could be a god. but he’s having to learn on the fly. his attempts to be easygoing feel forced to all who experience it, it’s almost cute. it falls just short and lands in uncanny. softer stare than his counterpart. funnier than his counterpart, without meaning to be! fritz does everything he can to be as different as possible from the man who created him, and in his effort to make a 180 degree turn he just did a 360. shines in battle. falters in social settings.

sniper: meet mick. mick is the notably “chiller” of the two snipers; and frankly it helps keep the balance not just of his own team, but both teams in general. certified problem avoider, and to him that is a problem solved! easygoing, if only marginally off-kilter; mick can find a laugh in most anything thrown at him, and can find his way through various sticky situations that he finds himself in, through no fault of his own. that is a mostly true statement, mick doesn’t invite hardship into his life where he feels it’s not needed, but mick is a bullshit attractor. even on the field he will be minding his business and he pulls away from the scope to look around and somehow he is standing directly in the middle of the frontlines. he could be tucked into the smallest corner of the smallest room he could find with the barrel of the rifle stuck through a hole just big enough and he’s pulling the trigger and praying and somehow half his team ends up exactly where he’s at. he doesn’t know how he keeps doing that to himself. mick and his counterpart switch off who talks to the parents; and they haven’t figured out if they can tell a difference. mick thinks they should just tell them anyway, if they liked the first one he’s sure they’d love to have two of him. he’s even an adult! mick is friendly in a way that nobody else on his team is. mick will not only spare you a few words, but you can feel like you’re genuinely getting to know mick and realize the next day you actually don’t know anything about him at all. good with words in that way.

spy: meet the spy. he’s constantly changing his name since he doesn’t like any of them, so it’s best to refer to him as spy. he responds to it. spy is an enigma nobody cares enough to uncover, and he likes it that way. smooth, charming, empathetic, even kind in a sense, spy is the glue holding the blu team together. nobody notices that spy is actually the guy keeping food in the fridge. nobody registers it’s only spy who tells the team to congregate in the mess hall. the blu spy, unlike his red counterpart, makes regular rounds in the base, and can be easily located and found during off times. one of the only members of the team who has seen the inside of everyone’s room consensually. spy is an idle chatterer, and a chronic homemaker. and he has no home to make, so the base will have to do. the team, though they don’t know it’s him, are grateful for whoever is the one putting the care into making sure they can come to a clean, comfortably warm/cold environment. another eternally exhausted man. he’s doing his best on a day to day to fulfill the job he’s paid for while keeping the rest of the team alive and employed. but he’ll spare you a smile if you keep his nerves calm. it’s easy to get on his good side, and easier to get on his bad side. itchy trigger finger, he loves his revolver. loves word play, and loves starting shit on the enemy team. and he won’t let himself get caught by that red doctor again. now, he just starts worse shit in the red team.

[lifeisbutadream444]

Playing Games - Part 2

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Summary: After finally committing to a monogamous relationship, distance, fame, and the ever-watchful public eye put cracks in the foundation of what was once unshakable trust.

Warnings: toxic af, smut, angst

Aaron is in New York. You are in L.A. And for the first time since taking the leap into a monogamous relationship, you’re waking up alone.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That this is normal. That this is what happens when you date someone just as deep in the industry as you are. There will be press tours, there will be events, there will be distance. You both knew that. You both prepared for it.

But that doesn’t make it any easier.

Especially when your phone screen is flooded with images of him with her.

The first time you see it, you’re on set, tucked into your trailer between scenes. It’s innocent enough at first—a random post on Twitter with a grainy shot from a gala, Aaron seated next to her. You scroll down, trying not to care, but then the clearer pictures appear.

She’s whispering in his ear. He’s laughing. Their heads are close together, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Then, worse—posed photos. Beautiful, perfectly lit shots of them standing together, her hand resting lightly on his chest, his arm grazing her back. And then the Instagram post:

A night well spent with the one and only @AaronPierreOfficial. More to come.

More to come!?

Your stomach twists as you stare at the post, your thumb hovering over the screen. Your first instinct is to check his account—to see if he’s posted her too, to see if there’s anything, any indication that this is just PR, just networking, just a fucking coincidence.

Instead, you see something worse.

They’re following each other now.

You lock your phone and throw it across the trailer like if it burned you.

——————

For the next few days, you do everything in your power to ignore it. You tell yourself not to be that girl, the insecure one who starts a fight over social media when you know—deep down—you have nothing to worry about. Aaron has been nothing but perfect during his time in New York. Loyal. Devoted. He calls you when he can, always with a tired but eager voice, always telling you how much he misses you. He’s never out longer than he needs to be, only focused on work.

But he doesn’t mention her.

And then, a few nights later, it happens again.

Another event. Another flood of pictures. Another Instagram post—this time a carousel of professionally shot photos of them at a fashion show, laughing, posing, her head tilted toward him in a way that makes your blood boil.

This time, you don’t ignore it.

You see the post as you’re lying in bed, your script abandoned on your nightstand. The moment your eyes land on the images, your entire body stiffens.

Your phone is in your hands before you can talk yourself out of it, fingers already dialing before your pride can stop you.

Aaron picks up on the third ring, his voice warm but tired. “Hey, sweetheart.”

There’s a pause. A deep inhale.

Then—flatly, coldly—“So you and that bitch are a thing now? Thanks for letting me know.”

Aaron sighs. Actually sighs. Like this conversation was inconvenient.

“Oh, come on, babe, not you too.”

The sheer casualness of his voice makes your irritation flare. “Not me too? Are you fucking serious? I’ve been sitting here trying to be the perfect, understanding girlfriend while the internet is convinced you’re already replacing me!”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” Your voice wavers, and you hate it. “Do you have any idea what that’s like, Aaron? Watching someone else with their hands all over you while I have to sit here in silence, pretending it doesn’t bother me?”

Aaron exhales sharply. “You’re acting like I have control over this.”

“You do! You don’t have to pose with her, you don’t have to entertain whatever the fuck she’s trying to do. And you sure as hell don’t have to follow her on Instagram to give her even more validation. Why are you trying to stay in touch with her?”

There’s a pause. Then, voice lower—“I followed her back because I didn’t want to make things awkward at the event. That’s all.”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, well, as long as she’s comfortable, who gives a fuck about me, right?”

Aaron groans. “Come on, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, Aaron? Have feelings? Be pissed that my boyfriend is being treated like some eligible bachelor while I have to sit here and keep my mouth shut?”

Aaron exhales sharply, the frustration clear in his voice. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

You let out a bitter laugh, gripping your phone tighter. “Oh, you can’t believe it? Try sitting on my end, watching the whole world act like you’re single while I have to pretend none of it matters.”

“Pretending I’m single? You know that’s not true.”

“Then why does it look like it?” The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me? Seeing you all over the internet with her—”

“Oh my God, we were just talking.” His voice rises, defensive, impatient. “Do you seriously think I’m fucking other women when I spend every minute of my free time with you?”

You hesitate, your chest tightening. “No.” Your voice is quieter now, but the anger hasn’t left. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, Aaron. That doesn’t mean it’s not messing with my head.”

He lets out a humorless chuckle, and something about it makes your stomach drop. “You know, for someone who’s always saying she trusts me, you’re really fucking bad at showing it.”

Your pulse spikes, and before you can think, you snap, “And for someone who claims to love me, you’re really bad at acting like it.”

Silence. Thick, heavy, suffocating.

You can hear his breathing through the phone, hear the way he’s trying to rein himself in. But you don’t take it back.

Finally, his voice comes, low and tight. “I don’t have time for this.”

Your heart clenches, but you force yourself to match his tone. “Yeah, but you probably have time to fuck other bitches.”

And then, just like that before you can finish your sentence, he hangs up.

You stare at your phone, your pulse ringing in your ears, your chest aching in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

For the first time since choosing him, you wonder if you made a mistake as you cry yourself to sleep.

———

You should stop looking. You know you should.

But the moment you wake up, the ache in your chest still fresh, you reach for your phone out of habit. And there it is. Everywhere.

A new interview with her.

The headline alone makes your stomach twist:

“Pop Star Dodges Question About Rumored Romance with Aaron Pierre – ‘We’ll See’”

Your heart pounds as you press play, the video loading instantly. She’s sitting on a talk show couch, all smiles, dressed in something sleek and effortless. The host leans in, grinning.

“So, I have to ask—you and Aaron Pierre. The internet is obsessed. Is there anything going on there?”

She laughs, tilting her head. “Aaron is such a gentleman.”

Your stomach churns.

The host pushes. “So, is he your man or what?”

She smirks. “I mean… we’ll see.”

Your blood runs cold.

We’ll see?!

Not a denial. Not a correction. Not even a casual “Oh, we’re just friends.” Just enough mystery to keep the speculation going, to keep the headlines spinning.

You lock your phone, your hands shaking.

But it’s not over. Because not even an hour later, another clip starts circulating.

This time, it’s Aaron.

A red carpet interview, all flashing lights and polished charm. The reporter brings her up, because of course they do.

“So, you and Sophia Saturn, is there any possibility for a romance”

Aaron huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “Ah, man.”

Your chest tightens as the reporter pushes, eyes gleaming. “Come on, give us something. The people want to know.”

Aaron shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we’re not together,”

Your shoulders sag slightly. Okay. That’s… good. That’s—

Then he shrugs, smiling a little. “But she’s cool, man. I’ve got a lot of respect for her.”

That’s it. That’s all he says.

Not a strong denial. Not a “No, I have a girlfriend.” Just vague enough to let the rumors keep going.

The interviewer grins. “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

Aaron laughs. And you feel like you might actually throw up.

———

You don’t hear from him that night.

Or the next day.

You don’t text. You don’t call. You refuse to be the one to reach out first.

But the silence kills you.

You cry yourself to sleep again, torn between heartbreak and fury. Between wanting to believe in him and wondering if you’ve been an idiot this entire time. You feel like one.

———

The following night, you wake up to the sound of knocking.

At first, you think you’re dreaming, the dull thud thud thud blending with the haze of your half-conscious mind. But then it comes again, louder, more insistent.

Your heart lurches.

You stumble out of bed, barely processing, your body moving on instinct. You open the door—

And there he is.

Standing on your doorstep, hoodie pulled over his head, bags under his eyes, looking tired as fuck.

Your breath catches. “What are you—”

Then, voice low, hoarse, like he hasn’t slept, he murmurs, “I came back early.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Congratulations.”

Aaron sighs, running a hand down his face. “I needed to see you.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “Funny. You didn’t seem to need me when you were laughing about your maybe relationship with another woman on a red carpet.”

His brows furrow, jaw flexing. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, really?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Because it looked like that.”

Aaron steps forward, voice more urgent now. “Baby—”

“Don’t call me that,” you bite out, your voice breaking slightly. “You don’t get to come here in the middle of the night and act like a few apologies will fix this.”

Aaron exhales harshly, raking a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tension in his shoulders. “I fucked up, alright? I know that. But you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

Your head jerks back, something inside you snapping. “Out of proportion?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, rage searing through your veins. “You let the entire world think you were single, Aaron. You let her feed into it. You sat there laughing, smiling, making me look like a fucking idiot while you act thirsty as fuck over this bitch. And I’m blowing it out of proportion?”

Aaron clenches his jaw, shifting on his feet, but he doesn’t argue.

You take another step back, shaking your head. “You don’t even know how to be in a real relationship.”

His eyes darken, something unreadable flickering across his face. “That’s not fair.”

“Am I wrong?” Your voice wavers, but your anger doesn’t falter. “You’ve spent years doing whatever you wanted, being with whoever you wanted, never once worrying about how it affected someone else. That’s who you are, Aaron. You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

His entire body tenses, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “That’s not true.”

You scoff. “No? Then tell me—when did you think about me these past few days? Was it when you let some other woman act like she had a claim on you? Was it when you barely denied it? Or was it when you ignored me for two fucking days because you were too pissed to face what you did?”

Aaron’s nostrils flare, his frustration boiling over. “I didn’t ignore you because I didn’t care—I ignored you because I do! I knew if I called, we’d fight, and I’d say some stupid shit, and I—” He cuts himself off, exhaling harshly. “I knew I fucked up, okay? But I didn’t know how to fix it. And I needed time to think.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh bubbling up. “Right. Because you needed time. And meanwhile, I got to sit here, spiraling, watching everyone talk about how you have a new girl, feeling fucking delusional for thinking I ever had you in the first place.”

Aaron flinches. His lips press into a thin line, his gaze flicking to the floor.

You step forward now, your fury rising like a tidal wave. “You don’t know how to consider someone else’s feelings before your own. I should’ve known better. I should’ve fucking known that I was just another woman you’d make feel special until it got inconvenient.”

His head snaps up, his eyes burning into yours. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Your voice cracks. “Because right now, it just feels like I’m another woman who thought she could change you.”

Aaron’s face hardens, his jaw ticking, but he doesn’t speak.

Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not when he still can’t say what you need to hear.

You inhale shakily, taking another step back. “Just leave me alone, Aaron. You apparently don't have a problem with that.”

You reach for the door, pulling it open, your voice barely above a whisper. “Go home, please”

But he doesn’t move.

He stands there, staring at you, chest rising and falling unevenly, his jaw tight. His entire body radiates tension—like he’s forcing himself to stay still when every part of him is screaming to do the opposite.

“No,” he says, voice rough, unwavering.

You blink, anger flaring. “Aaron—”

“I’m not leaving.” His tone is low but firm, his blue-grey eyes dark with determination. “I’m not letting you push me away like this. Not after everything.”

Frustration bubbles in your chest, but there’s something else too—something warmer, deeper, something that makes your stomach clench. Because this is who he is. Stubborn, relentless, unwilling to let things break without fighting first. And even now, when you’re furious with him, when your heart is still aching, you can’t pretend that doesn’t mean something.

“Aaron,” you start again, voice shaking, “I told you, I don’t even want to see you right now.”

His gaze softens slightly, but the determination never wavers. “Then don’t look at me. Just listen.”

You exhale sharply, gripping the edge of the door, fingers digging into the wood. “I’ve been listening to you for days, Aaron. Listening to you not deny her hard enough, listening to you brush everything off like it’s not a big deal, listening to nothing from you when I needed to hear from you the most.”

His expression tightens, like every word is a punch to the gut. “I know I handled it wrong. I know I should’ve done more, said more, made it clearer—”

“Then why didn’t you?” The words burst out of you, raw and desperate. “Why didn’t you just say what you needed to say when it mattered?”

Aaron steps closer, closing the space between you, his presence overwhelming. “Because I’ve never done this before,” he admits, his voice quieter now, rough with something vulnerable. “I’ve never had to think about how my actions affect someone else. Never had to protect something real like this.” He exhales, eyes searching yours. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Your breath hitches.

Aaron shakes his head, jaw clenching. “I don’t know how to be perfect in this, but I do know I love you. I know I can’t fucking breathe knowing you’re sitting here thinking I don’t care, thinking I’d risk losing you for a goddamn headline.” His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. “And I know I’m not leaving until you believe me.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away, your walls still up, still guarded.

“I came back early for a reason. I came straight here for a reason. Because if I wanted to take the easy way out, I would’ve. But I’m standing here because I don’t want easy. I want you.”

You swallow hard, your breath uneven. “I don’t know if that’s enough, Aaron.”

His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists. “Then tell me what is enough. Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll fucking do it. I don’t care what it takes, I don’t care how long it takes. If you need me to shout it from the rooftops, I will. If you need me to cut off every single woman in my life, consider it done. Just tell me what you need.”

Your throat tightens, because this is what you wanted, isn’t it? For him to fight for you. To prove that this is different. That he’s different.

And God, you believe him.

But you’re still hurting.

You look away, exhaling shakily. “I think I just need some space.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice dropping to that low, rich tone that always turns your brain to static.

Your pulse stutters. “Aaron—”

“You want space?” His fingers graze your hip, just barely, the contact so light it makes you shiver. “Then why haven’t you stepped away?”

You should. You should push him off, make him suffer, make him work for the privilege of touching you.

But you don’t move.

Aaron smirks, like he knows, like he’s already won. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, lips hovering just above your ear. "You missed me," he whispers, his voice so deep and smooth it nearly undoes you. His nose skims along your jaw, slow, teasing. "Just admit it, sweetheart. You missed me, so now you’re acting out."

Your breath hitches. "I—"

But then his hands are on you—gripping your waist, tugging you against him, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Whatever argument you were about to make dissolves into a shaky exhale.

Aaron hums, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "That’s what I thought."

You want to fight him, want to hold onto the anger that still simmers inside you. But then his lips find your neck—slow, deliberate—his hands sliding down to grab your ass.

"I can make you forget all of this," he murmurs, voice thick with promise. Then, his grip tightens, his breath hot against your ear. "You can be as mad as you want, baby," he rasps, his voice low, rough with hunger. "You can hate me, curse me, swear you’re done—but we both know you’ll still end up right here."

His fingers dig into your hips, owning you. "Because no one makes you feel the way I do. No one ever will."

Your stomach clenches, heat pooling low in your body. “Aaron…”

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing his way down to your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips tighter, grounding you. “Let me make it up to you, baby.”

And then he lifts you effortlessly, his soft, thick lips crashing onto yours, stealing every last bit of resistance you thought you had.

You should make him earn you, make him wonder—just for once—if you’ll ever let him have you again.

But as he presses you against the door, his tongue sliding against yours, his body solid and hot against you—you don’t want to.

You’ve always been powerless against him. And he knows it.

He groans into the kiss, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your thigh tightly as he holds you pinned against the door. He pours all his regret, all his love, into the heated caress of his lips and tongue against yours.

“Mmm, you taste even better than I remembered, he murmurs huskily as he breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw and down the column of your throat. “I missed you so fucking much, baby. Missed this. Missed you.”

He nips at your pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue before suckling hard, intent on leaving his mark on your skin. His hips grind against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

“Tell me you missed me too, sweetheart. Tell me you forgive me.”

You whimper and arch into his touch, your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. “I... I did miss you. So much.”

He captures your mouth in another searing kiss, “Fuck, baby, I needed to hear that. Needed to feel you.”

His hands roam your curves greedily, mapping out every dip and swell he's missed so desperately.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. So fucking sorry for hurting you, for making you doubt me. You're the only one I want, the only one I need.”

He starts walking you backwards towards the bedroom, never breaking the kiss, his body hard and insistent against yours.

Breathless and dizzy with need, you let him guide you, stumbling into your bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, pinning you with his weight. He gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

He slowly puts his hand down your silk pajama shorts, your slick heat coating his fingers as he teases your sensitive bud, groaning approvingly. “Damn, baby. You're fucking dripping for me already.”

He circles your clit slowly, deliberately, reveling in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips. “Was my greedy girl imagining me touching someone else? Wondering if I’d touch her like I touch you, make her beg the way you beg?”

Aaron hums, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your throat. "You know better, sweetheart. No one else ever comes close. Even when you try to push me away."

Aaron's fingers continue their maddeningly slow circles around your clit, stoking the fire building low in your belly. He chuckles darkly at your needy whimpers, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"No, baby girl. You're the only one who gets to experience this," he purrs, punctuating his words with a particularly firm press against your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

"The only one who gets to scream my name in ecstasy." His other hand slides down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep inside your dripping heat, pumping them steadily.

"Aaron!" you gasp, hips bucking involuntarily into his touch. He just smirks, knowing exactly what he's doing to you.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let me hear you." He purrs as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that special spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Please, I need…I need…" you babble incoherently, too far gone to form proper sentences. All you can focus on is the exquisite torture of your fingers and the overwhelming ache between your thighs.

Aaron groans at the desperate, needy sounds falling from your lips, his own arousal skyrocketing at the evidence of your desire. He loves reducing you to this state - pliant, wanton, completely at his mercy.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me," he coaxes, voice a low, seductive rasp. His fingers never cease their torturous movements,. He returns to circling and pressing and rubbing your clit until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Aaron dips his head to capture one pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he laves the sensitive bud with his tongue. His teeth graze the tender flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

"I've got you, sweetheart. Gonna give you everything you need," he promises darkly, releasing your nipple with a wet pop.

"Please Aaron, I can't take it anymore. I need you inside me." You're practically sobbing with need, too far gone to care how desperate you sound. All you can think about is having him buried deep inside you, claiming you, owning you in the most primal way possible.

Aaron's eyes darken with primal hunger at your desperate pleas, a feral grin spreading across his face. He finally removes his clothes, settling between your trembling thighs.

"Such a perfect little slut." he groans, voice rough with barely restrained desire.

With a powerful thrust of his hips, Aaron sheathes himself fully inside you, stretching you deliciously around his thick length. He hilts inside you, grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit.

"Ahhh, shit! So fucking tight," he grits out, fighting the urge to move.

You moan loudly, your walls clenching greedily around his thickness. "Yes, yes, please! Fuck me hard!" Lost in a haze of lust, you wrap your legs tightly around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper.

Aaron sets a punishing pace, hips snapping against yours with bruising force as he pounds into your welcoming heat. The obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with your wanton moans and his guttural grunts of pleasure.

"Yes, fuck! Take it, baby." he snarls, angling his hips to hit that special spot inside you with each deep thrust. Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire body.

"This pussy belongs to me, understand? No one else gets to have you like this." One large hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails you relentlessly. The other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. Aaron latches onto the sensitive skin, sucking a vivid hickey into the flesh - marking you as his.

"Yes, all yours! Only yours, always!" You babble deliriously, too consumed by sensation to filter your words. You can feel your release barreling towards you like a freight train, your inner walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock.

"Please Aaron, I'm so close! Don't stop!" You keen desperately, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust.

Aaron feels your walls starting to quiver and squeeze around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm. He wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to heighten your pleasure while still allowing you to breathe.

"That's it, baby. Come for me." he commands huskily, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. 

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your desperate cries as he drives into you with renewed vigor. The hand on your hip slides around to rub tight circles on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"I've got you, sweetheart. Let go for me,." Aaron murmurs against your lips, his own release coiling tighter in his gut.

With a keening cry, your body convulses in ecstasy as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. Your vision whites out momentarily, waves of pure bliss radiating from your core. Your walls clamp down on Aaron's cock like a vice, rippling and squeezing as you come undone.

"AAARON!!" you wail, not caring who hears your rapture. In this moment, nothing exists except the feeling of him moving inside you, prolonging your high. Tears of relief and overwhelming emotion leak from the corners of your eyes.

Aaron groans long and low as your velvet walls spasm around his cock, milking him expertly. The feeling of you coming apart beneath him, crying out his name so beautifully, proves to be his undoing.

"Shit, I'm gonna... Ahh, fuck!" His words dissolve into a guttural moan as his orgasm slams into him like a tidal wave.Aaron buries himself as deep as physically possible, grinding against your cervix as he empties himself inside you. Thick ropes of his hot seed paint your insides, marking you as his from the inside out.

He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. Panting heavily, he peppers your face with soft kisses - your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your mouth. "God, I love you."

Aaron rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you're draped across his sweat-slicked chest. He cards his fingers through your hair soothingly as you both catch your breath, basking in the afterglow.

"That was... incredible," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "You're amazing, you know that?" His hand traces idle patterns on your back, occasionally dipping lower to squeeze the curve of your ass possessively. Even in the aftermath, he seems reluctant to let you go.

You nuzzle into his chest, relishing the strong arms wrapped around you and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. A contented sigh escapes your lips as you savor the feeling of his skin against yours after being apart for so long.

"I love you too," you murmur softly, placing a feather-light kiss over his heart.

The air in the room is thick, warm, humming with the remnants of everything he just did to you—everything you let him do despite your best intentions to stay angry.

You groan softly, tilting your head against the pillow as his lips trail up to your neck, slow and teasing. “You’re annoying as fuck.”

Aaron chuckles, low and satisfied, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. “Mmm, is that what we’re calling it now?”

You roll your eyes, still dazed, still trying to regain some semblance of composure after the way he wrecked you. “You think this fixes everything?”

He hums, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “No. But it definitely helped, didn’t it?”

You exhale sharply, biting your lip to keep from smiling. He knows it did. But you refuse to let him get away with everything so easily.

After a pause, you shift slightly beneath him, your fingers trailing up his spine as you murmur, “I’m starting to think you like making me jealous on purpose.”

Aaron chuckles, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy line along your hip. “I like reminding you that no matter how mad you get…” He leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re still mine.”

A sharp shudder runs through you, your body betraying you as you press into him without thinking.

Aaron hums, satisfied. “See?” His breath is warm against your skin, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing over your bare waist. “All that anger, all that fire—burning just for me.”

You hate how easily he unravels you, how he can read every little reaction like he wrote the script for you.

Your breath is unsteady, your nails digging into his chest. “You’re insufferable.”

Aaron grins. “And yet,” he whispers, lazily pressing a kiss to your jaw, “here you are.”

You should stop this. Make him beg for forgiveness. Make him pay for how easily he plays you.

But then his teeth scrape along your pulse point, his hands sliding up your ribs, his body pressing even closer—

And just like every time before—

You lose.

[thewritetofreespeech]

tav is the one person in the starting party that's experienced in survival (could have the Outlander background, is a ranger/druid, etc.) and is actually kind of happy that astarion is a vampire, because hunting will be so much easier if they work together. he gets plenty of blood, tav gets help in keeping these "cityfolk" well-fed, and they can have some bonding time, wins all around. ...basically, this is an ask for astarion bonding time during hunting for fresh blood/meat

-------------------------------🩸-------------------------------

The peace & tranquility of the woods was something you always loved. Even with all the craziness going on with the tadpole, traveling to Moonrise, and seeming to have death or danger around every corner, the solace of the forest was something you could always rely on.

“Good gods! Look at all these bugs! And here I thought I was the only blood sucker out here!” Or….it was peaceful.

“Astarion, if you don’t keep quiet we won’t be able to find anything.” You whisper the reminder to him. Knowing he can still hear you between his elf and vampire hearing.

“Right, right…” He whispered back. “Is hunting for game always so boring?”

“It is if you want to catch anything.” You tell him.

Astarion hummed. “Hmm…this is so different from my usual hunting.” He commented as the two of you cut through some brush. “Back in the city, it’s all talk to catch your quarry. Tight lips don’t open hearts you know.” In the conversations you had had about his past, rare though they were, you knew that Astarion’s ‘usual’ quarry were those that he brought back for his master. Very different prey, you had to agree, but as cruel as it was the end results were still the same.

“Well, here, you need to be quiet and observe. Tight lips might not open hearts, but they’ll fill bellies.” The vampire scoffed.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that logic.”

The two of you continue your path until you come upon a clearing with a deer in it. Close to the water’s edge. Ready to drink. “What do we do now?”

“SSSSH!” You hiss at Astarion.

Luckily your hissing doesn’t alert the deer and you ready your bow to strike it. “I’ll land the first blow. You can take it down from there if you get closer.”

“Aha, simple.” Astarion boasted. Readying himself to leap out of the shadows. However, before either of you could make a move, a branch broke in the distance and scared the deer off. “Wait! What? Where did it go?!” He squawked as he watched it bound off into the thicket.

“That happens some.” You remark as you unnotched your bow.

“But he was right there!” He remarked in frustration. A sentiment you sympathized with, but when you hunted game as much as you did this was fairly common. You just had to laugh. “What are we supposed to do now??”

“You move on to plan B.”

You lead Astarion through the woods up the stream to a river trap you had set baring fruit. Or in this case trout. “Fish? Really?”

“It’s better than nothing.” You tell Astarion, ignoring his miffed look. “There’s also a rabbit snare near camp.” You told him. “Be nice and I’ll let you have first crack at them, if we have any.”

“I knew you were looking out for me darling.” The vampire remarked with glee as the two of you headed back. “Of course, if I’m still peckish, I’ll have to find some other source of blood to keep my strength up.”

“Let’s just see how many rabbit we get before you start going after my neck again, Astarion.”

The pale elf huffed. “Suit yourself.”

[cringe6fail6star6]

I want to study him

Spoilers for Belphegor (Selfie) n my ramblings in no specific order

Not even in sexual way, just moving my hand over his body n feeling piercings n what not on him sounds like fun, just watching him bc this freak looks funky

I know he's not a lobotomite (hes the most reasonable of the kings ive "officially" met, which surprised me too much) but fucking look at him. Any face that isn't neutral is a goldmine

<- what is this face? Weirdo *twirls my hair and kicking my feet in the air*

Don't get me started on his pleading face, he's adorable, recommend everyone looking at it when u think bout giving up, I know I need to see him miserable n pouty

Beels favorite sketchbook looking ass

Idk if I'm disgusted by him or jealous of him or desire him so I'll just say all of it either way he should be under a microscope he's a micro organism to me

I want his eyes in a water jar

He probably when goes to the bathroom alone chooses pussy bc it's easier to wipe

I can not fucling exist what is my brain

These bitche sfucked in front of an angel who's head was stuck in a guillotine bc he couldn't chose to hang him or to slice his head clean off. The angel will probably die from dehydration. Put a cat bowl under the angels head so they could lick some water into their body lol

Harumon is precious n I see my MC glaring at Vassago every time he has Harumon with him. But also I want to tease this thing like with my dog "haha fatty fatty no parents" type deal. Love it tho. Wherether it supposed to be.

I like how all of them just work in the same room. Cute hangout.💓 they're so cute. Also I constantly forget how actually powerful these bastards r. Like /gen.

Did not expect vore tho, but go off king. (????)

With all due respect, which is surprisingly more than for others, terrifying guy - but I do get it. The whole doing wherether he wants not the vore.

But "Beleth go do it" passive skill is hilarious. He gets slightly faster when Beleth is near. My brother in Lilith - what

Damn he goes straight to the point too, need a translator tho, but straight to the point.

[asupersonicsavior]

“Well i mean- sometimes, or, most of the times it is, but i think thats.. usually because the royalty is seeking the knight out because they arent fond of their own king or queen. But, as you know— i dont, really hAVE anyone in mind for that sort of thing, besides- well.. you, yknow-?” Arthur hummed with a nervous smile, moving to his feet, he looked up at the knight with a gentler expression, hearing how galahad talked of himself.. he took a breath and gently, he moved to take the knights paw in his own, but didnt force him to turn to him. Just.. gingerly holding his paw in a comforting manner.

“Galahad, i dont see any issues in what you’ve said. I used to be and i still am the same way! I was just some random hedgehog they chose to save the kingdom- and suddenly became king. I also put myself in reckless dnager!, like jumping from the castle windows, diving headfirst into fights, etc- galahad, what you’ve listed arent.. bad traits. Atleast not to me. Ive been watching you for awhile and it just.. i see a handsome, adorable, and brave person. I dont see a reckless idiot or someone whos untrustworthy. You.. you’re sort of like me in some ways and o guess it just.. charmed me. And its not even because of just your looks— your personality is golden! It makes being in the castle so much easier when you’re around to lift spirits and such. You’re just.. special. Special to me, atleast.” Arthur sighed, he did his best to explain to galahad in detail how he felt, his hold on the other’s paw loosens, if just abit as he takes a gentle breath. “..but- i understand if you don’t feel the same, or if you’re not ready for such a thing. I’m not planning to force you into anything, i promise that much. I can take a rejection.” Arthur hums softly, a gentle little smile of reassurance to carry his words.

[ @asupersonicsavior for sir galahad, using king arthur!]

The king had been restless. Ofcourse when you had a king who was still a very young adult, things were goong to bore him. Add onto that? The said king had a hyperactive personality behind closed doors that really only the maids and knights saw. So.. well. Being cooped up in the castle so long, he had decided to take on a disguise, albeit not the smartest one, and despite all the other seasoned and experienced knights? Arthur had requested galahad to accompany him as he snuck off from the castle, out past the walls— just to have some time to theirselves. A time to unwind, to have.. fun. Thats how arthur put it. He had this massive cloak that was way too big for the kings short size, but it hid his bright blue fur pretty well with the oversized massiveness of it. The only way someone could notice him was if they took the cloak off or looked st his bright emerald green eyes and assumed immediately who it was. But Arthur knew only Nimune and the knights could assume he was himself by only his eyes.

"Arthur, I understand you want to take a breath of fresh air, but where exactly are we going?" Galahad asked, confused on why the King chose specifically him to serve as his bodyguard. "Not that I have a problem with it, but why did you choose me to bodyguard you?"

[vaguely-concerned]

kill me

(*wobbly tearstained voice* this is father & son richard plantagenet in henry vi part 3 1983 dir jane howell btw. which is. extremely good)