#it’s about making decisions that move us in the right direction

[sebsbarnes]

Hi i love your work! I was wondering if u could do a fic where tangerine x reader are running from enemies on a job and they end up making out to try and hide from the enemies because pda makes people uncomfortable? Like the comment black widow makes to steve rogers in the winter soldier before she kisses him?

im backkk! so sorry for the massive delay, i love this request. it may be a little rusty so i apologize now.

pda || tangerine

tangerine x reader

warnings: brief talks of shooting and guns

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

"you're a fuckin' idiot, tan," you snapped in defeat, looking at the man who appeared clueless about the situation.

he tsked and continued to move deeper into the building, "there's nothing to worry about. alarm gets tripped so what? we got a few minutes before anyone shows up."

with slow footsteps you followed behind him. irate was the only word to describe your mood. you mimicked him behind his head, arms up in the air, your gun flailing around dangerously in your right hand as you muttered in a whiny baby voice, 'we got a few minutes'.

tangerine and stubbornness go hand in hand, you can't have one without the other. his attitude made missions sometimes far easier when there were issues with other individuals or, in this case, far more difficult. instead of waiting an extra five minutes for the incoming call from lemon providing tangerine with the keycode, tangerine took it upon himself to smash the keypad. of course, an orchestra of alarms rang out and bounced off the walls of the building in an almost deafening manner. but rest assured, there was no one in the building...according to tangerine.

"c'mon we need to hurry up," you said, now walking in stride with him, "second-floor unit 204."

it was a file the two of you were after. information was scarce to get. a mission would come through, assigned off to you, and that was the extent of knowledge you had. as far as you and tangerine knew, your boss wanted the list of names encrypted on the file. what you didn't know was that the building was teeming with employees ready to defend the file.

there was a loud boom followed by an eerie silence. immediately you and tangerine halted, his hand coming to hover in front of your body preventing you from moving. tangerine's eyebrows were pulled into a deep furrow attempting to use some sort of instinct to decipher where the noise was coming from. he caught your eye before following your pointed fingers that were angled above and to the left. just as he pivoted his head, a symphony of gunshots rang.

"move!" he demanded, gripping your jacket and shoving you behind a structural pillar.

the whizzing of the bullets sounded as if you were surrounded by a swarm of bees. you were silently cursing at tangerine for his rash decisions earlier. you watched as tangerine shot five men in succession.

"oh but we had time, right?" you barked, aiming your sights on seemingly the last gentleman. with a squeeze of the trigger, the bullet went flying, piercing the man on the side of his neck.

tangerine sprinted from his position, "let's go," he directed, grabbing onto your wrist.

"god-," you panted, "i hate working with you sometimes."

"oh shut up," he huffed as your legs pounded against the waxed tiles, your wrist still bouncing in his grasp.

just as the two of you were about to push open the front doors, a bullet shattered the glass causing the two of you to stumble. daring to peer behind you, you were met with about four men charging forward.

"shit, c'mon," tangerine rushed.

tangerine guided you around the corner of the building, sprinting into a busier part of town. there was no chance of losing the men and although the distance between grew wide, you could still hear the pounding of the footsteps. with you in tow, tangerine darted into a convenience store. through short breaths, you could hear tangerine muttering how there is a back exit. you took the opportunity to shrug off your jacket and toss it down one of the aisles in a measly attempt to disguise yourself. without warning you gripped tangerine's button down and popped the first three buttons open. he sent you a look of disgust.

"can you try disguising yourself?" the annoyance in your tone evident. without a word, tangerine huffed as he discarded his perfectly tailored jacket and vest by shoving it into a man's arms.

you and tangerine decided to cut into a park. it was risky doing so. the park only had one real entrance and exit and there wasn't much to hide behind. tangerine figured it was the best option instead of walking the busy streets and putting innocent lives in danger. so, the two of you darted through the gate but not before one last look at the unwelcomed guests trailing behind. thankfully, there was enough distance that the man leading the pack didn't notice the small detour you two took.

"what the fuck!" you groaned quietly after a few minutes of heaving breaths and pebbles scattering beneath your feet. you noticed one of the men walking slowly through the park's weaving pathways.

tangerine ran a hand through his hair, "we got nowhere to go."

you felt your palms getting sweaty as you tried raking your brain of what to do. tangerine looked just as clueless as you. the park had one entrance and the two of you were trapped in the corner.

"kiss me."

"what?" tangerine asked incredulously.

"pda, it uh-" you stammered, "it makes people uncomfortable."

a nervous chuckle escaped his lips but you couldn't miss the way his tongue poked out between his lips, "i'm not-"

before your mind could process your movements you were shoving tangerine by the shoulders and forcing him to sit down on the park bench. as if it was the most natural action in the world, you placed your knees on either side of his legs and sat on his thighs. leaning down you pressed your lips against his. your hands trailed up the back of his neck and into his now loose curls. you noted how tangerine didn't seem to move at first until it was like he suddenly came to life and his hands gripped at your hips.

tangerine's mind was spinning. he'd never dare to admit but he dreamed of this. the way your lips slotted perfectly into his, the feeling of your heart thumping against his chest, your nails gently gliding against his scalp, the feeling of your weight on him.

the kiss was gentle yet desperate. a kiss so perfect that you only read about it in romance novels. too perfect that you didn't even hear the suited man wielding a gun mutter how disgusting people are these days. his grimacing face going unnoticed as your lips molded to tangerine's. the echo of his footsteps receding faded into the night.

your lungs burned for air but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. tangerine's cologne clouded your senses with a perfect mixture of cedarwood and green mandarin. his facial hair tickled at your face. you could feel tangerine's thigh flex with the movement of your body. his hands cradled your frame, your shirt slightly bunched in between his fingers. it pained you to pull away but you lost the ability to breathe.

your eyes fluttered in a sense of disbelief but also awe as tangerine's eyes bounced around your face. he noted the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, but for him, his breathing paused. he took in the way your lips were slightly swollen and glistening, the vanilla lip balm you applied earlier now transferred to his lips. your shirt now lopsided on your shoulders from him gripping your sides. though only one lamp lit the bench the two of you were perched on, tangerine could still see the pink flush dancing across your cheeks. gently, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, already missing the kiss.

if pda made people uncomfortable, tangerine wanted the whole world to feel unsettled.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader argue about their next steps

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is a combination of a few asks and takes place pre-OBX season 3. warning for some angst + arguing

Y/n ended her call with her manager Morgan with a sigh. It was a conversation she had been dreading, but she also knew was inevitable with the direction her career (and character on OBX) was moving. She had been dropping hints to Drew that her contract with OBX was ending, that she wanted to move onto some different projects, Caroline’s character arc was coming to a close…

“Hey, baby.” Drew smiled as y/n walked into their living room. He was sprawled out on the couch, his limbs propped on the ottoman and Charleston curled up at his side. Y/n smiled lightly at him, the grin not quite reaching her eyes in a way that made Drew’s brain sound off with bells and whistles.

“Um, I just got off the phone with Morgan,” y/n said quietly, Drew leaning in intently as she spoke, “and I don’t think I’m going to be renewing my contract for OBX.”

Drew’s face dropped, his eyes blinking rapidly as he stared at her in a stunned silence.

“W–what?” Drew said incredulously. Y/n sighed, running a shaking hand through her hair. Whether or not either of them cared to admit it, Outer Banks and shooting together was a big aspect of their relationship. Hell, it was how they met and how they spent months of the year practically inseparable on set.

“I– I just…” y/n swallowed harshly, “I want to try new things and I don’t want to feel tied down to—”

“‘Tied down’? Is that really how you feel?” Drew scoffed, shaking his head at her words.

“Drew, you know I don’t mean it like that.” Y/n sighed, her hand resting on Drew’s tensed shoulder.

“What do you mean, then?” Drew said. “‘Cause I’m trying to understand and it just sounds like you think the show’s a burden and—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/n said sharply. “I love the show and working with the cast— and working with you— but I just… it’s time for me to move on.”

“But I’m still stuck on this— what, this shitty, teenaged Netflix show? I can’t move on?” Drew shook his head. It was hard to not take it so personally when the show had given them so much, and for her to just leave like that… it hurt.

“This has nothing to do with how I think of you or your acting or career. You know you��re… a lot more important to the show than I am and you have a much more challenging role and—” y/n ran hand down her face with a sigh, “—this is 100% only to do with me and my career and my future.”

“But what about our future?” Drew said. “I just… don’t you think this is going to change things between us?”

“But it doesn’t have to. It doesn’t have to change anything.” Y/n said, taking Drew’s hand. His eyes closed, Drew ran his hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

“This is… this is really what you want?” Drew whispered, his thumb brushing along the back of y/n’s hand lightly.

“I think it’s the right step.” Y/n said quietly. Drew chewed on his bottom lip, mulling over his racing thoughts and questions before his gaze finally lifted to meet y/n’s. She could see a glint of sadness in his eyes, a recognition that the unique bond of the show would be changing.

“I don’t want you to think I didn’t think about us when I was making this decision.” Y/n whispered, squeezing Drew’s hand lightly. Drew nodded, squeezing her hand back.

“If this is what you think is best, then I support you.” Drew said. Y/n let out a sigh of relief, cupping the side of Drew’s face as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel forgotten or—” Y/n began, but Drew cut her off, kissing her forehead chastely.

“I’m sorry for freaking out, it's just… I can’t imagine the show without you and it just scared me to think about it.” Drew said lowly. Y/n frowned, to which Drew shook his head, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. Her arms snaked around his torso, feeling the ridges of his muscles under her fingertips and hearing the thrum of his heart in her ear.

“We’ll figure it out, ok? I love you and we’ll figure it out.” Drew said simply. Y/n, squeeze him tighter.

“I love you. Thank you for supporting me, Drew. Really.” Y/n whispered.

[kavehinpink]

ya know what, wishing a very fuck you to everyone who voted outside of the democrat/republican parties instead of for kamala. you knew they wouldn’t win, that it was between kamala and trump, and you’re complicit in his victory. try to moralize it all you want, but that’s the truth. we’re in a battle against fascism and you directed resources away from the fight to soothe your own ego and now we all have to live with the consequences. you think you can convince trump to stop aid to israel? get your fucking head out of your ass. more and more people’s lives are in danger and you. are. complicit.

[starrytalking]

Honestly realising it is completely fine to not want a romantic relationship not only because I just don’t want to but also because I don’t want the commitment and want to freely make decisions for my life just how I want to live it felt really nice :)

[gikairan]

In a modern fantasy setting, magic users would be the most desirable computer programmers and you can't convince me otherwise

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

[stellawish]

swiss roll

summary: satoru trying to help his son to learn how to roll over genre: fluff, domestic life warnings: none dad!gojo x mom!reader

“Here we go, buddy.” Sitting on the floor in Haru’s nursery, Gojo gently laid his son on his belly. The baby started to wiggle his short legs while looking at the colorful animals printed on the mattress.

Satoru began to gently massage the baby’s small back. Using rubbing motions with his hands, he drew a line from the shoulders to the lower back. In response, Haru started babbling.

The contrast between your son's small back and Gojo's large hands looked comical. Watching this, you giggled.

As first-time parents, you are always learning and seeking new information, whether from books or various websites.

Recently, you caught Satoru watching a tutorial video. "Massage helps strengthen the back muscles and aids in digestion," said the woman in the video about helping your baby learn to roll over.

Satoru continued with the same gentle movements of his thumbs, drawing lines in opposite directions as he moved lower.

When he finished, he turned the baby onto his back and said in a mock-serious voice, "Now the real training begins. This time, don’t expect any mercy."

Your 4-month-old boy showed his gummy smile, and unable to resist, Satoru kissed his son’s round cheek.

Your husband took Haru's short legs and lifted them into the air, directing them towards his tummy. Then he lowered them down and repeated the movement again.

You were lying next to them on your side, resting your hand under your head and watching the scene with a broad smile. “By the way, Toru, Megumi texted me and said they’ve arrived.”

Megumi and his friends went to summer camp for a few weeks. When he first told you about this plan, both you and Gojo were surprised, as Megumi isn’t very social and prefers spending time alone.

So, his decision to attend summer camp delighted both of you. “I’m glad he’s opening up and coming out of his shell,” you said.

“They’re good kids,” Gojo added.

“There's a great spot nearby that sells some awesome strawberry Swiss rolls. I should get him to bring some home.”

You watches him simultaneously lifting the little boy by his arms and placing him in a sitting position. Satoru read somewhere that such activities strengthen the baby’s muscles and help them learn to roll over independently.

“There you go, little one.” As he turned Haru onto his back, Satoru tickled the baby’s neck, making him wiggle.

Next, your husband, carefully supporting the baby’s side, flipped him onto his tummy and then back onto his back, repeating the action once more.

For the last time, Gojo exaggeratedly sighed and, in a playful manner, said, “Good job, buddy. You did great.” He praised his son. “Now tell me, where did you get your athleticism from, hmm?”

You giggled. “You, my little Swiss roll.” Gojo tickled the baby’s belly and blew raspberries, causing Haru to wiggle and giggle.

Satoru decided to spare the baby and pulled away with a big smile. “Okay, now which book do you want to read today?”

He flipped Haru back onto his tummy and stood up while you gently stroked the baby’s back.

Gojo chose a book and lay down on the other side of Haru. He opened the first page and placed the colorful interactive book in front of his son, encouraging him to explore it.

You stretched your left arm out and accidentally pressed a toy, which squeaked “meow.”

This distracted Haru from the book, and he turned his head toward you. Unable to find the source of the sound, he tucked his right arm underneath himself and, lifting his plump left thigh, ended up on his back.

You and Gojo looked at each other in shock, questions in your eyes. “Did you see that?” your lips stretched into identical smiles. “Oh, my baby, what a good boy. Can you do that again, hmm?” You both began to shower your chubby little one with kisses, eliciting his laughter and making his cheeks rosy.

While you all cuddled together, praising your little one, you locked eyes with Satoru. Despite the genuine joy for your son’s first victory, you saw the reflection of your own thoughts in his eyes: Don’t grow up too fast, son.

more dad!gojo HERE

all rights reserved ©stellawish. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[minarisplaything]

I Know What You Want ft. Wonyoung

premise: Inspired by those "your birth month is your ex gf and your current gf" slideshows on tiktok. Might do more of these because they are light and fun.  

pairing: Wonyoung x Male Reader content warning/kinks: cheating, daddy kink, anal a/n: happy sunday, always lube up properly o7 audio version (note: audio version is without daddy kink bc i got too lazy to edit around it) wc: 2.4k

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Wonyoung asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone. 

"You sound jealous." 

She shrugged. "I'm not jealous. I just didn't realize Sunmi-sunbaenim was into robbing the cradle." 

"I'm twenty-one," you pointed out. Surely grown enough to make your own decisions on who you dated.  

"She's thirty-two," Wonyoung countered. 

You let out an annoyed sigh, "I'm not doing this with you today, Wonyoung. Why did you want to meet?" 

Wonyoung bristled at your directness, her posture straightening as she scoffed. "You start fucking some hag and you start acting brand new around me." 

"Some hag? Really? Wasn't it you who kept saying how much you adored Sunmi-sunbaenim?" 

"That was before she took what was mine."  

You let out a bark of dry laughter. "I'm not yours. I don't belong to you, Wonyoung." 

A healthy response would have been to accept the setting of boundaries and acknowledge their mistake. Which naturally meant that Wonyoung took your words as a challenge.  

"Is that right?" she asked, taking a step towards you. "You belong to her now, huh?" 

"That's right." Which wasn't exactly true. You didn't think you belonged to anyone but something about the entitlement she was acting with made you respond out of indignation.  

What you didn't expect was for her hand to reach out, manicured fingers sliding down to grasp your crotch. "Then why do I still get you hard?"  

"Wonyoung -- "  

A thin eyebrow arched itself, the picture of arrogance. "Are you going to deny it?" 

"Your delusional."  

"Am I?" She began to massage your cock over your clothing, and despite your protest, your cock was all too eager to respond to her familiar touch. "Are you telling me if I bent over right now you wouldn't fuck me against this wall?" 

God you hated her. Or at least you should. The reality was that despite your separation. Despite the toxicity that had existed in your relationship. Despite being in a happy relationship now. There would always be a part of you that was weak to her. To both her advances and her behavior. 

As if sensing your wavering disposition, her touch became heavier. "I'm not wearing any panties under this skirt," she said her tone taking on an innocent air. "Just the way Daddy likes." 

That was all it took.  

It was pathetically easy in the end for Wonyoung to get you to snap. Though, if anyone was going to be capable of it, it was going to be her. She knew you too well, for better and for worse. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if her whole look today; the mid-thigh length skirt, the cropped blouse that was a size too small and hugged her frame as a result. She even let her hair down today so it'd be easy for you to grab it. Combine that with her lack of underwear and calling you daddy and, well, you never stood a chance.  

You surged forward, gripping Wonyoung's shoulders and spinning her to face the wall. She lead out a delighted fit of laughter as she arched her back, pressing her ass against your groin. Your hands moved to your buckle, shoving down your pants to free your cock from its denim cage. 

"I can't stand you, you know that?" 

Wonyoung giggled as she tossed you a look over her shoulder, "Whatever you say, Daddy." 

With cock in hand you used the other to shove her skirt up, revealing that she had spoken true in her words. You could see her bare pussy, practically begging for you. You bit your bottom lip, hating that the thought of missing this crossed your mind. "You were waiting for this weren't you?" 

"Can you tell?" Wonyoung smiled wickedly, "Can't you see how wet I am for you?" 

You could. And if you needed any further confirmation you ran your cock between her legs, coating it in her arousal. You had to stop yourself from delving into any further foreplay. This was just a one-time fuck to get it out of your system. At least that was what you told yourself. But as you slipped the tip of your cock into her and began to thrust forward, you were reminded of why it had been so hard to quit Wonyoung in the first place. 

"Oh fuck yes, Daddy," Wonyoung said, her back arching further. "You feel how you're stretching my tight pussy? You haven't felt that in a while have you?" 

You bit back the urge to tell Wonyoung that wasn't how that worked. Now wasn't the time for a biology lesson nor defending your girlfriend's honor. Instead you focused on stuffing her inch by inch, watching as her pussy swallowed more and more of you until you were pressed flush against her ass. 

"Oh, fuck," you groaned out, your head falling forward slightly.  

"It feels good doesn't it? It's perfect," Wonyoung cooed. "We're perfect." 

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Don't think I'm won over that easily." 

Refusing to give into the sentiment that she was suggesting you slipped your cock out of her before stuffing her again and again. You repeated the process, each time going a bit hard, a bit faster while making sure she felt every inch of your cock. The truth was it was fucking heavenly. Sex had never been the reason your relationship fell apart. And even now months later it was like returning to something familiar. Despite yourself you wanted to enjoy this, for however long it lasted. 

Your fingers moved to tangle in her dark, wavy locks, pulling her head back as her lithe body shook with your rough thrusts.  

"You like that, Wony? This is what you wanted right?" You taunted, giving into the moment as you seized back control.  

"Yes!"  

"You couldn't find anyone else to fuck you this good could you?"  

"Noo," she moaned. 

You tugged on her hair roughly, "No, what?" 

"No one fucks me this good, Daddy!"  Wonyoung cried out. 

You rewarded her diligent response with a spank on her fit ass.  

"Mmmfph!" She moaned, biting her bottom lip as you continued to fuck her roughly. You could feel her walls tightening around you, her juices already dripping around your cock each time you pulled out of her. The telltale signs that her first orgasm was on the horizon were there for you to see. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her mouth hung upon as she did her best to hold herself against the wall. All she needed was for you to push her over the brink.  

"Are you going to come for me? Come for daddy," you whispered against her the shell of her ear as you stuffed her. 

"F-fuck! I'm coming!" Wonyoung cried out, not even bothering with trying to contain her moans of pleasure. The look on her face was pure ecstasy and you found it was a look that, despite having near memorized it, it was one you missed. 

Her walls tightened around your length as her orgasm shook her body. You were relentless, continuing to fuck the top idol through her climax. One arm slipped around her waist should her legs go weak on her. By the time it was all over she had leaned forward, her face pressed against the wall, her eyes slightly glazed over as her body rocked with your slower thrusts.  

  As you looked at her perfect ass still pointed out to you, an idea popped into your head. 

"Don't move" you instructed her, though you weren't sure if she comprehended you. 

You slipped your cock out of her, ignoring the lazy "Hey..." That came from Wonyoung at your action. You were still achingly hard and now thoroughly coated in her juices. That would come in handy soon enough. You got down on your knees, spreading her firm cheeks. Her pussy lips were swollen from your rough fucking but that wasn't your target, instead your tongue was probing her asshole, much to Wonyoung's surprise. 

"W-what are you doing," she asked, the intrusion bringing her some of her senses back. Still, she made no move to stop you.  

Her inaction only emboldened her as your tongue worked her backdoor. In all the months the two of you had spent together. In all the spontaneous sessions that broke out between you whether it was loving or after a fight, this was the one hole that Wonyoung had never let you claim. In fact, she had been adamant about it every time you even mentioned it. But you had a plan for that now. When you were satisfied you withdrew your tongue and moved to test her hole with your index finger. 

"Really, what are you up to back there?" Wonyoung said, letting out a shaky breath. 

"Ssh, just relax," you instructed her. 

"You – fuck – you know that's off-limits," she returned. 

Now was your trump card.  

"Sunmi let me fuck her ass." 

A poignant pause hung in the air. It was as if Wonyoung was considering what you had just said. Though, given her actions thus far, you had a feeling you already knew her mind was made up. Wonyoung wasn't nearly as cut-throat as some made her out to be but she wasn't someone who took kindly to coming in second place. Least of all when it came to you. 

"Make sure you don't go to hard" she finally said. "And you better soak your cock, I'm not some stretched out hag." 

"Unnecessary," you chided her. Still, she was right on one point. You returned your tongue to her asshole, preparing it the best you could before moving back to your feet. Your cock slipped inside of Wonyoung again, giving her a few rough thrusts before pulling out and applying some more natural lubrication of your own as you spit on your cock. Finally you were ready. Well, as ready as you could be. Mostly your cock was just aching at the thought of finally being inside Wonyoung's ass.  

You positioned your tip at her entrance, gently beginning to push the head forward. "Remember to relax," you said, a hand on her lower back. 

"Oh, fuck," Wonyoung swore, her cheek pressed against the wall. "You're too fucking big." 

  "I thought you liked that," you taunted her. 

"Shut up," she groaned.  

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was the Wonyoung you knew. Not the princess she pretended to be in front of the camera. You continued pushing ahead, slow and steady as the head of your cock finally penetrated her.  

"Holy shit..." You muttered under her breath. 

"Fuck. Just....wait there a second," Wonyoung muttered, one long arm reaching back to press against your hip as she got accustom to the new stretch. 

You were more than happy to abide. Even just having past the head of your cock in her ass had you reeling. You knew that some of your reaction would be based on the novelty of it. On the fact that you were fucking Jang Wonyoung's ass for the first time. That you were the only person to ever do so. But the truth was it also felt far better than you could have imagined. It wasn't your first time. You hadn't lied when you said that Sunmi had taken you first. And, to be fair, you had loved it then too. But it had been different. You had merely experienced it as Sunmi rode you, in control the entire time. On top of that,t here wasn't the same history. As much as you hated to admit it, it didn't compare to this. 

"Okay," Wonyoung said, breaking you from your thoughts, "You can move." 

That was all you needed to hear. You pushed forward, inch by inch watching as her hole stretched around your cock until you made it about halfway down the length of your shaft.  

"This will have to do," you grunted. 

You began to move your hips, slowly at first as you rocked against her before adding more vigor. Steadily with drawing your cock before filling her backdoor again and again. Soft pants left Wonyoung as her nails dug into your flesh, her hand holding onto your thigh. 

"How does it feel," you asked her. 

"Like I'm being split in half," she groaned. 

"And?" 

Wonyoung was silent for a moment before a breathless, "...so good." 

"Yeah?" Your cock twitched inside of her. 

She nodded, her eyes closed, "Fuck yes. Fuck, your cock feels so good inside my tight little asshole." 

"That's right," you said, picking up the pace. "And no one will make you feel like this." 

"It's all yours," Wonyoung moaned. "Always yours, Daddy." 

Somewhere along the way you had transitioned to the one who was laying a possessive claim as opposed to Wonyoung. Whatever, you tossed it up to the heat of the moment. This changed nothing but it did motivate you to see this through to the end. After that it'd be like this never happened but until then her ass was yours. 

Your grip on her hips tightened as your pace increased, pounding her  backdoor. Wonyoung's hand dipped between her thighs, rubbing her clit as she chased her second orgasm.  

"Fuck!" She chanted, becoming more vocal as her climax drew near. 

"I'm going to come," you grunted. "I'm going to fill you up." 

Wonyoung didn't have the capacity to reply, instead her mouth fell open in a silent cry as her second orgasm washed over her. Not one to be a liar you finally managed to fit your entire length into her ass, just in time for your own release to hit you. Your cock swelled before spilling an obscene amount of cum into her bowel. As you pulled your cock out you watched your cum ooze out of her puckered hole.  

"Jesus christ..." You muttered, chest heaving.  The sight alone was damn near enough to make you want a round two. 

For once Wonyoung didn't have a smart comeback, instead slowly sinking to the ground in a heap, her cheek still pressed against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Idly you couldn't help but wonder if this was how she imagined this encounter was going to go when she first confronted you. Maybe you'd get to ask her once some of her senses returned. For now you just wanted to bask in the pleasure of what had just happened without thinking too hard. 

TWO WEEKS LATER. 

"Un-fucking-believable." 

You stared at your phone, watching as the latest tiktok reel came across your screen. You watched as your girlfriend, Sunmi, and your ex-girlfriend, Wonyoung, completed a dance challenge together. Of course, Sunmi had no idea about your past relationships. Wonyoung on the other hand was well aware. 

And yet here she was, doing a dance challenge with the same woman whose boyfriend had been fucking her ass not two weeks earlier. 

You could only shake your head in disbelief and some mild concern. "What the hell are you plotting, Wony." 

[gloomwitchwrites]

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price (wc: 420)

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado

@saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @lxblm

@ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow

@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

@lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez

@gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @glassgulls

[fishnapple]

Signs that they are the one for you

This reading is about the signs that show the person you have in mind is the one who is best suited for you and can match you the most. This is not about THE ONE(TM) or your ultimate happiness, but they might very well be that.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

GROUP 1

If you are someone who is not always decisive, someone who takes a lot of time to commit to something seriously, someone who needs to weight all the pros and cons to arrive at a decision, then this person will make you step out of that operating mode. They will make you want to commit, fast. You will find yourself making decisions about this person, about this connection a lot easier, taking just a little time.

Sometimes, it will feel like a sudden move, a rash decision on your end. But you being decisive and committing fast is not because you are afraid, worry or want to rush things. This person, this connection, just feels right to you. You don't have to think long and hard or to find excuses and reasons to do something or not do something.

There will be elements of fatefulness surrounding the connection. Your intuition will be in top shape, there will be no illusions muddling up your mind and heart. You will see this person clearly, both their good and bad, and you won't find excuses for their bad nor focus exclusively on their good. There is a willingness to see and to understand each other truthfully. But that doesn't mean you will accept all of their problems and let them be, no, you will want to work with them, trying to help them be a better person, to improve together, to transform together. It's not the "I can fix them" mentality, it's"we can work together."

You will be able to talk freely with each other and discuss everything on your mind. Even when your opinions and viewpoints clash, it won't create conflict between you. You will feel a sense of shared missions, shared dreams, and together, you can achieve those easier, like having two hearts and two minds look in the same direction.

One of the sign that they are the one is that people will view you being together positively. I'm not saying that you should depend on opinions of other people to gauge your relationship. A lot of relationships that are considered ideal by people are actually not that ideal to the people inside those relationships. What I mean is, people will see an improvement in your life when you are together, the good impacts you have on each other will be visible.

GROUP 2

An obvious sign is that you will smile a lot when you are around this person or when you think about them. They just bring joy into your life. Other people would probably comment that you guys are a lot more talkative when together than being with others, a loud couple perhaps?

You will trust this person more easily than other people, there is a sense of familiarity, having experienced the same things, dream the same dreams. You share the same values and life philosophy that makes it easier to navigate life together.

You will want to give gifts to each other, on no special occasion, just because something reminds you of them and vice versa so you want to give that to each other. It will feel natural to share with this person. If you are someone who is independent and used to getting everything by your own efforts. This connection will make you more open to accepting from others and also sharing with others. Instead of "you" and "me", it will be "we".

The energy of this group feels very positive and active, like you guys are building something together. Lots of stones stood upwards, pointing to the same direction, almost like they were about to take flight, towards the sky. "Waking up" or "arise" would be the word.

The revelation that they are the one will hit you suddenly, likely when you're unsure of how to ground the connection, the feeling of uneasiness will keep piling up inside. Until they all fall down over the cliff, leaving behind the tiny sprout of realisation. It will be an overturn. You will feel a new creative energy. By being with this person, you will want to create something, to build something, it might translate to sexual desire. As if a restraint has been removed in your psyche and the energy inside is released and set free.

This person will feel like an answer to your long forgotten questions, a warm meal and a nice rest at the end of a hard day, they will appear in your mind when you're asked what do you see in your future.

GROUP 3

There are two distinct sides here, one is warm and dark, one is cool and light. This person will be the other side of the same coin to you. You will feel a sense of mirroring and contrast with this person. Like chirality, right hand and left hand. You will be able to balance each other out, bringing to the table the traits that the other person lacks, helping each other develop a more balanced psyche.

You will have a grounding effect on this person. As much as they are the one for you, this is the sign that you are the one for them. You will know intuitively how to work with their worries and pains. They may suffer some insomnia, repressed anger and some hidden unknown fears that are hard to express and harder to have someone understand them. But you will be that person. With you, they will feel more safe and grounded enough to work with themselves in a healthy way. And they can do that for you too, remember that you guys are mirroring each other. You just know how to touch the other person in the most caring and considerate way that makes the other person feel safe and anchored. You will probably develop some more healthy habits together, trying to get rid of toxic and unhealthy habits that have their roots in losses and insecurities.

You will be in a constant mode of being both the student and the teacher, learning and guiding each other, together. Sometimes, you can both learn to be more confident in yourself, to express your individuality, having fun, other times, you both will learn the importance of being in a social group, of friendships and how to care for society. How to be a part of something yet still have your freedom. There's no definite role for each person, each has something to share and teach while also has something to learn from the other person. You will have a sense of growth with them. That what you do and what you think matters, not just to your life but bigger, and they will make you more aware of your impact on the world.

Talk of serious, long-term commitment will be early on with this person. Similar to the other groups, you will want to commit, to build a lasting relationship with this person. The idea of having a home together, acting as one unit, and the relationship being sanctioned officially will feel natural to you.

GROUP 4

This person will make you want to dream the "impossible" dreams. Whatever you think as impossible, they will have a way to sway your belief and make you feel like it's possible after all. You will not feel contented anymore with just being small and playing it safe with your life. You will dare to cast your gaze to farther horizon, seeing yourself in a grander way, acting in a more decisive way, which may come as a surprise to the people around.

They will introduce you to many different topics and diverse subjects to widen your perspective and knowledge. They could act a little like a mentor to you, maybe they are someone who has more experience in various areas of life, regardless of their age, who's seen the world more and they are ready to share that with you. Their way is not bossy nor domineering but gentle and affectionate, making you more willing to open up to new ideas. When they're explaining something to you, it will not feel like sitting in a class, hearing the teacher droning on and on, but it will feel like sitting with a friend, eager to share experiences of their newest adventures, lots of giggling, laughing and joking.

In the most positive way, by being with them, you will become more of yourself, light up those dark, forgotten corners inside and embrace them with clarity and self-forgiveness.

I think both of you will bring some baggage and old habits into the relationship at the beginning. Could be a desire for perfection, the desire for control, to force and bend the situation to one's own will. But gradually, those baggage will be lifted and unpacked neatly, transformed into something that can work for both of you. The force that wants to lead, to direct, will be united. Instead of working against each other, you will work together.

Your appearance might even change. Notice how some couples tend to look alike and similar to each other after being committed to each other for some time. It will be a positive change. The state of happiness will be apparent physically.

GROUP 5

You will feel triggered by this person. Every action and word from them will feel like a personal attack, at first. It will be unpleasant, but only when you're not ready to face yourself. And they will be the one to help you with that task. No matter how hard it is, you can count on them to be there for you, to remind you how to be strong and yet vulnerable at the same time.

They will help you free up emotional baggage that you've held on for far too long, lighten your loads so that you can run more freely, see the world more clearly and discover the poetry in living.

Time and space will not be felt when you're connected to this person. No matter where you are, no matter how much space and time is between you, you will feel an inexplicable connection with them. You guys can disconnect for a few months, come back and resume the conversation as if no time has passed at all, you maybe continents apart from each other but the presence of the other person will always be felt. Through the conversations you have with other people, through the lyrics of the song you listen to, through the rain and cloud, through the blanket and cold hands.

You open a window so that the wind can come in at any moment, you will be like that with them. This person will be there when you have the loudest laugh, and when you have the heaviest tears, they will bear witness to them all, without a flinch, without judgement. If at first, you find their words and action harsh and cruel, you will gradually see them differently. You will see them as your pillar of strength and comfort. Has anyone ever dared to be so honest with you like that? Has anyone ever let you be that honest to them like that? If your answer is no, then you will know that this person is the one.

[angelickisscs]

buying your love ~ blurb ‧₊˚

୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ jude bellingham x reader

summary: ignoring your ex is a lot harder than you could have imagined

YOUR BACK WAS pressed against the wooden chair as sweat began to settle on your skin. The sun had decided to make a sudden appearance during spring, the humid air emitting from it being enough to push you out of your slowly boiling house. It saved no effort for the summer, instead opting to use it all up on one day.

Your friend’s decision to all meet at the closest pub garden being one that a large number of others had shared. A loud chatter blurred around the edge of your consciousness. Currently, the race that two droplets of water were having to see which would make it to the bottom of the glass first was far too interesting to miss.

There was a disinterest that had followed you around all day. Without any warning, you lacked the ability to focus on anyone’s words or actions. Whether or not that was the heart that clung to you or the brown eyed man that was still trying to get back in contact, you couldn’t be sure.

It was a surprise when your friend’s hand ended up waving itself directly in front of your eyes, its appearance largening in the glass’s reflection.

“You alright?” She questioned you with a cocked head. You sent her a vigorous nod in return, leaning forward to grab a handful of the assorted nuts they had left on your table.

Her eyes watched you atop of her beer glass, your every move forced under a harsh microscope. Your shoulders were beginning to shrink inside of themselves, your body slightly falling downwards in the chair.

Though, when you finally looked up at her, they had been escorted elsewhere. Despite this fact, the discomfort remained in your body, making you shiver no matter the temperature.

You took the chance to look around you slightly. The tables around you were full, little had their umbrellas up, most choosing to catch a tan under the sun’s aggressive rays. Shoulders that had browned were now beginning to taint themselves a particular shade of red, including yours.

One pair of eyes were stuck to your body like super glue when you were about to finish your brief search, their familiar appearance leaving you no choice but to hastily look away.

The water droplets race had now finished, a round two commencing with others running. You had opted for the left side to win, mentally placing a bet on it to see if the distraction could calm your racing heartbeat. Both failed miserably, left colliding with the right side as it was about to cross the finish line.

It left you nothing to do but allow yourself to creep your eyes back in his direction. They met with his once again, his collected appearance being enough for you to glue to him for much longer than originally planned.

A white vest adorned his chest, framing his biceps to such perfection it was worthy of an art museum. The cap he wore shielded his face from most around him but the seats he had opted for gave you a perfect view of him and him, you. Though from the way a cheeky grin had enveloped is face when he realised you were staring directly back at him had you wanting nothing more than to be able to look away.

You could feel your eyes begging to move but your brain managed to keep control of them. It kept them in control for as long as it could before it was deemed as unworthy to be making such decision from your heart. Its delicate outer-layer shattering one too many times by that man to concede zero contact from just a smile.

With that, you rejoined the conversations with your friends no matter how hard it was. His nagging eyes stayed on you, pleading with you for just one more look.

“And my boss just refuses to give me a bloody break!” Your exasperated friend complained one final time before your others moved in to give their equally as annoyed opinions. You had attempted to give your words of advice but the lack of information you had managed to pick up had you agreeing with everything else everyone was saying.

Jude had not left you with that awkward situation for long, your phone soon buzzing with texts from him.

You look beautiful. The first had read, not having a moment to linger in the spotlight before the second came in. I brought you that dress.

You rolled your eyes at both, your hands itching to put the phone down and have a nice evening with your friends like you had promise but it soon became obvious that your brain had appealed your hearts decision and resumed its previous role.

you did. Was all you could muster in that second. The tips of your fingers had moved with such hesitation that it took close to four minutes to type in and send those two words.

It wasn’t even a second before a text from him was shooting back. Maybe I could see more of it tonight.

Looking over to him, you watched as he raised his eyebrows in questioning, pushing you to answer his possibility.

maybe not

You slammed your phone down onto the table after that, the strength at with which you do so mixed with the swiftness shocking all your friends. In attempt to distance yourself from him, you had only ended up closer than ever and that barrier you had set up around your heart was beginning to crumble each time it expanded with more force than it should be.

“I ask again, are you okay?” The final words that Sara had spoken were heavily enunciated, the worry becoming alarmingly clear as she leaned closer towards you.

“Yeah, awesome.” You responded after a few beats. There was a silence that encapsulated your table, each of their eyes on your face with such a violent heat that didn’t mix well with the humidity already getting itself familiar with the air around you.

They all laughed slightly at your answer, obviously not believing either word that you had to say. Though none of them pushed, knowing the effect that it could have if they were to.

Sara used her closeness to snatch your phone from its downward position on the table when everyone had become distracted for a brief second. The notification she had seen on your home screen had her jaw on the floor though she quickly recovered to keep your privacy.

“Him? Again?” She whispered to you as she met with your pleading eyes. Within a matter of milliseconds, it had given her all the information that she could need.

Sara had been the only one to know of the situation that had taken place between Jude and you, her investigative tendencies coming out in full force when she realised you were beginning to become more secretive during hangouts. She wasn’t happy then and nothing had changed since then.

You sighed, a certain sensation that not even you could pinpoint running through your body with a cooling effect. “It’s almost sum-.”

“You’ve tried the summer fling before.”

She was quick in cutting you off, hitting your knee under the table when she did so. Her eyes held such an accusatory look to them that you felt like a child again, your mother scolding you for having a random sweet before dinner.

“He broke contact not me.” You grimaced at your own excuse, “Plus, I turned him down.”

“Take the phone back and tell me you won’t change your mind then.” Her hand was extended in your direction, the pressure that she was putting on you in so many different forms had you doing exactly what she had challenged you to.

The phone case’s corners were lifted out of place before being popped back down, your fingers needing a job that wasn’t texting his latest text back no matter how hesitant they were the first time. He had a particular way of weakening you and you were yet to figure out his exact methods so that you could create a good enough defence to them.

Slowly, you span it around in your hand. The facial ID was quick to recognise your features, your phone unlocking to show you a Venmo notification followed by a text. Out of pure confusion, you made the decision to click on it, already beginning to lose to Sara.

Then maybe I could see you in something else?

The text was sent first, soon followed by the £750 he had decided to send to you.

Your eyes widened so far that they almost encountered your furrowed eyebrows. Looking upwards towards where he once sat, the site of an empty chair and his friends laughing between one another introduced itself to you.

It wasn’t long before you realised where he had ended up, a pair of hands softly falling upon your reddened shoulders. His face was dangerously close to your neck, the warmth of his breath colliding with the flesh on your ears in such a way that it mixed perfectly with the humidity.

“I’ve always liked red on you.”

[calumfmu]

Bad Decision, Right?

You were new in town, guarded from the wandering eyes of everyone in Hawkins High. You had one rule, don't overshare, even if it was at the hands of Steve Harrington, certified asshole and heartthrob of the school.

8.7k+, 18+, mdni (!!!), steve harrington x fem!reader

cw: smut, angst, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral, fingering, swearing, you know the whole deal

You were new in town, the conversation of the hour at Hawkins High. It had barely been one week since you stepped into the school, and everyone knew your name—or lack thereof, you should say. “New girl, new girl” was all that you heard whenever you passed down the halls. You could barely keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head whenever you heard the whispers around you.

You should be used to it, you suppose. It was your third time moving in six months. Your dad could barely keep a job at this point, and your mom hid her pain in the bottom of her wine glasses. Being at school was supposed to be your only escape from your home life, but with this small town, it only made it worse.

Being new and not getting close to people was your routine. Keep your head down, don’t speak to anyone, don’t even think of making friends. There was no point.

And that’s exactly what you told yourself when a teenage girl with a sandy brown bob was smiling at you as she leaned into the locker next to yours. She was wiggling her eyebrows at you, smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. You ignored her, shoving books into the top shelf of your locker.

“Can I help you?” There was no venom behind your words, no snark, just boredom.

“You’re new here, right?” She smiled even wider, arms crossed over her chest as she took a look at you. You could feel her eyes trail up and down your body, as if she was trying to ‘figure you out’.

“No way! How’d you figure it out?” You pressed your lips in a faux smile as you glanced in her direction. You weren’t trying to be rude, but just like the other friends in the last few towns, there was no point in being nice either.

You focused heavily on the books in your locker, searching for the biochem book. There’s no way you had lost it already. It was only your 6th day of school.

“Mmm, I think I'm in like with you already,” the girl muttered, shaking her head seemingly in adoration at your dryness. You spared another glance at her, wondering why this girl wouldn’t let up. “I’m Robin.”

A hand shot in front of you, interrupting you in your search for that god forsaken text book. She—Robin—was waiting for you to shake it, eyebrows raised as you both sat in silence. Staring down at it, you contemplated your options. you could: 1) take it, make friends and forget about the constant cycle of losing them or 2) ignore it, just like you had with everyone else.

“Well, I'm not going to bite you,” Robin continued, forcing her own hand into your grasp to shake. Your hand was limp, and a small glimmer of something sat in your chest. She stood up straight, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she looked for something. Before you knew it, her own copy of that exact textbook you were searching for appeared in her hands as she held it in your direction.

You opted for silence, staring confused as she urged you to take it.

“We’re in the same class,” she said as you reluctantly grabbed the book from her hands. You stared down at the copy, chewing at your bottom lip as she swung her bag around her shoulders once again. You don’t do hand outs. “We don’t really use it that often, even if the teacher scared you into thinking we do. But i promise you’ll open it up maybe once.”

“Uhm, thanks.” Your voice was small as you ran your hands over the cover, finally glancing up at her. There you noticed her features, freckles gracing her face, black eyeliner on her bottom water line, smudged out. Wispy bangs hanging over her forehead, and that sweet smile on her face.

“Come on, you could sit next to me!” She closed your locker for you as she grabbed onto your arm, leading you the rest of the way to the classroom. Thoughts were racing your mind as the two of you made your way through the crowded halls of the school. You didn’t do this normally, you liked to keep your distance. It was the way things should be.

Just as the bell rang, you made your way into the classroom, following Robin as she found her stake at your normal double desk. It was in the corner of the room, normally just you sat at it with an empty chair next to you, highlighting the loneliness that echoed in your life.

You sat next to her, still eyeing her as she made herself comfortable. Her things—a single notebook and random pen with bite marks at the end—carelessly thrown in front of her. The teacher, whose name you couldn’t remember for the life of you began the lesson, a topic you had become extremely familiar with over the past few schools.

“So…” Robin whispered, leaning over to you. “Where are you from?”

“Uhh… around?” You didn’t know where to call home.

She quirked an eyebrow at you, tapping the pen on the desk. “Mysterious, I like it.”

You nodded in response, leaning forward on the desk as you tried to regain your focus on the teacher’s lesson. The conversation didn’t end there.

“How the fuck did you end up here? In Hawkins, of all places?!” She whisper-shouted the last of it, looking down when the teacher sent her a warning look. She mouthed ‘sorry’ and gave a half shrug as he side eyed her. She turned her gaze back on you once he had turned around. “Seriously, spill.”

Clearing your throat, you shrugged, “Your guess would be as good as mine at this point.”

She sighed, leaning in closer as it wasn’t a sufficient answer. “No, seriously, wha-“

“Miss Buckley, please.” The teacher’s voice boomed through the room, all eyes turning on the pair of you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment, hearing Robin mutter another apology, this time to the room.

The rest of the class was spent in silence between the two of you, you nor Robin saying anything to each other as the lesson continued. You were antsy, anxious to run right out of the room and escape the overly talkative girl you had just met. The end of the day was right there, your favorite time of the day where you could just hide from everyone and ignore the stares of others.

Right as the school bell rang, you grabbed your bag off the floor and began heading your way towards the door, ignoring Robin’s calls of your name and “wait!”.

You made your way through the halls, trying to find the comfort in the thought of your own home. It was hard to even do that. Robin suddenly cut in front of you, smile wide as ever as you were stopped in your tracks. Oh my god, you thought to yourself. I'm in a horror movie.

“yn!” She exclaimed, placing both of her hands on your shoulders. “Come with me! I have some people I’d think you’d like.”

“You know, really,” you attempted to make your way around her, smiling sheepishly as you thought of excuses. “I have somewhere to be, people, you know— waiting for me!”

A dead pan look crossed her face. “You and I both know you have no friends.”

ouch.

“So good thing you can meet mine!” That happy-go-lucky attitude returned once more as she grabbed your hand, leading you towards the Hawkins exit. You looked at the sky, begging something, anything to strike you down in that moment.

The two of you stopped at a maroon colored BMW, a group of teenagers gathered around. They were laughing, joking around at each other as one of them sat on the hood of the vehicle. He had long hair, styled in a similar fashion you would see on the cover of a magazine, and a dusty blue colored jacket, fitted with pockets and zippers over the front. He immediately caught your attention, his wide mouth stretched in a smile as he laughed at a brunette girl, throwing a piece of candy at him.

“Hey losers!” Robin shouted, bringing everyone’s attention to you two. The group's conversation halted, curious as they looked at you standing behind Robin, arms crossed over your chest. “I brought new bait!”

That same small brunette girl groaned, shaking her head. “Robin, I thought we talked about calling people that.”

Robin laughed, placing her hand on your shoulder as she brought you to the forefront. Anxiety crossed you as you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. You briefly closed your eyes again, sighing as she began introductions.

“yn, this is the gang, gang, this is-“

“We’re really not that either.”

“Shut it, Steve. You guys, this is yn,” Robin said, arm wrapped around your shoulder now. “that’s Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.”

They all gave waves and greetings in your direction, earning a small wave back.

“It’s lovely to meet you, yn,” Nancy smiled warmly, walking up to you so she could shake your hand. You took it, giving a small smile back. It was the most genuine one you had given in a while.

“Nice to meet you too, Nancy.”

They began to bring you into the conversation, asking questions of where you’re from and what brought you into town. You avoided all of them, answering in vague, short answers as you wished to stay anonymous. There was nothing really to tell them. What are you supposed to say? Oh, my dad’s gambler, moms an alcoholic, we move every few weeks because they think a new city is going to solve all their problems.

They seemed to catch on—well, Nancy did at least. You could see the silent nod of disapproval she gave to Robin and Eddie as they pressed you. They changed the subject once they picked up on it, choosing to ask you more impersonal questions. You liked her, you figured. She seemed genuine and sweet, someone who could truly read the room.

Robin was sweet too, but she was a little too much upon first impressions. She did seem like she cared about you, but in more of trying to be your best friend upon first meeting type of way.

The boy on the hood of the car—Steve— was more quiet. You kept glancing in his direction, eyes drawn to him as he included himself in the conversation. He quipped jokes back and forth with Eddie, shoving his shoulder when he made a joke that was “too far man!” or made an obscure reference to some random video game.

“So are you in, yn?” Robin's voice broke you from your thoughts.

“I'm sorry, what?”

You blinked in confusion, finding all pairs of eyes on you once again. You had zoned out, staring at Steve, not failing to notice the small smirk on his face. The sunglasses on his face hid his eyes, but you could only imagine the glint behind them as he realized what you were thinking. He raised an eyebrow at you, awaiting your answer like the rest of everyone else.

“Party tonight at Steve’s?” Robin answered, as you turned your attention towards her once again. You spared a glance at the boy, seeing as his attention was back to Eddie, a small conversation happening between them two.

“Oh- uhm, I really don’t do that.” A blush crossed your face.

“C’monnn, yn!” This time it was Eddie, elbow leaning against the beemer.

“No, I’m sorry, you guys.” You vehemently shook your head, taking a step backwards as if you were uninviting yourself.

"yn, yn, yn!" Eddie began a small chant, Robin following as she clapped her hands along to it. It was all too embarrassing for you, your face flooding with color as you weren't used to that type of attention.

"Okay, okay! Fine!"

You caved, raising a hand to stop their chant. Everyone cheered, clapping at your words. Robin was beaming at this point, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as she swayed back and forth. A small giggle escaped your lips, rolling your eyes at how excited this group of strangers were for you.

Everyone went into motion—Steve hopping off the car, Eddie waving goodbye to group, Nancy and Jonathan heading in the same direction of the parking lot. Robin turned towards you, smile ever present on her features.

"We could get ready together, yeah?" She asked, throwing her bag in the backseat of Steve's car. He slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine as Robin opened the passenger door. "Come on, get in. You can get ready at my house."

You stared at her holding the door open, thinking of the mistake you had already made even speaking to the weird group of friends. It wasn't too late to turn around, you could go your separate ways and not turn back.

Steve honked the horn, pulling you out of your thoughts. You saw him looking at you through the glass, sunglasses perched on the top of his head. His brown eyes met yours, and immediately, your heart sank. Bad decision #2.

You made your way to the back passenger door, sliding in as Robin held a smug look on her face.

"Good decision, rookie," she laughed, closing the door behind her as she settled into the seat.

As Steve pulled out of the high school parking lot, you couldn't help but think this is a feeling you could get used to. You shouldn't, but it was in the back of your mind. It was only going to last a few weeks if that, but you could, in theory, have fun while it lasted.

Robin's house was empty and quiet. Her room tucked in the back corner of the hall, a giant 'Keep Out' sign adorning the door. Covered in posters of movies you hadn't gotten a chance to see, her walls were a faint blue, barely being able to be shown as memorabilia covered the walls. There were framed pictures of her looking miserable in a band uniform, movie tickets thumb tacked to the walls, and polaroids of her and Steve throughout the room.

It had been a few hours since school had ended, the sun setting in the distance as time ticked closer towards the start of the party. Steve had dropped off the two of you, muttering a goodbye in your direction and a full farewell in Robin's. Something you were used to. They were a cute couple, you thought to yourself.

You examined them, walking slowly as the details of everything stood out to you. She was a little nerdy, but vibrant, her entire life spread out right in front of you.

"Do you want to borrow something?" She asked, ruffling her hair into place as she stared at you through the reflection of the mirror. You jumped, startled at she brought you out of your focus.

“Oh.” You looked down at your outfit, smoothing out the wrinkles in your denim jeans. “If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course, dummy,” she went over to her closet, throwing a few pairs of clothes on her bed for you to examine. You made your way over to them, fingers dancing over the fabrics.

It had been a while since you got anything new, you didn’t even know if the two of you were the same size. Your fingers stopped at a pink shirt, liking the satin feel against your skin.

“I like that one,” she whispered, closer to you than you had thought. You turned around, making eye contact with her. “I don’t really wear it often, you could have it if you want?”

“Oh, no! I-I couldn’t do that-”

She rolled her eyes, fake frustration showing through. “How many times are you going to keep saying no to everything?”

She grabbed the shirt and a random skirt lying next to it, shoving them in your hands as she began to push you in the direction of the bathroom.

“Go! Change! Wear it, it’s yours!”

Reluctantly, you complied, taking a step towards the bathroom across the hall. You closed the door behind you, taking off your shirt as you examined yourself in the mirror. You could roll your eyes at yourself, not recognizing the person in front of you as you slipped the clothes over you. They were nice against your skin, flattering your complexion as the fabric hung around your frame.

You exited the room, surprised at Robin standing right outside the door. She smiled at you, taking in the look of you in her clothes—well, yours now, technically.

"Stunning." She looked at you in appreciation as you fought back a smile, teeth digging into your bottom lip. "Now, c'mon, we're going to be late."

There were already crowds of people at the Harrington house, cars parked in the driveway and up the street, small groups of people walking up the walkway into the house. Music sounded out from the open front door as teenagers made their way in and out.

This wasn't your scene, you could already tell. It was going to be like a circus, seeing as everyone at school had already created a narrative about you. You could only imagine what they were going to say now.

You turned your head towards Robin, her hand at your wrist, pulling you in the direction of the front door.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," you began, shaking your head as all the nerves you previously had filled your senses again.

"Nonsense, you loved my friends," she replied, continuing her way to the open door. Your feet felt heavy, dragging as the music became louder with every step.

"Robin—no, I'm serious."

A queasiness took over you, turning at your stomach as heads began to already turn your way. The two of you made your way through the front door, music and the sound of people overcoming you. You had heart palpitations, your chest pounding with every inch you took further into the house.

Her grip at your wrist felt like a vice, your thoughts suddenly thinking of how you should be home. Your mother would be worried sick at this point, who else would be there to check if this was the night that she drank too much?

"Eddie!" Robin suddenly exclaimed, letting go of your wrist as she ran towards the center of the room. You watched as she met up with the long haired man, throwing her arms around him as if she hadn't seen him hours prior.

In this moment, you made a dash for it. You tried to make it towards the front door, but a crowd of people entered just as that thought crossed your mind. They were cheering over something, loud voices scaring you away from that general vicinity. Every direction you looked, there were people.

Unfamiliar faces staring at you, making you feel like even more of a circus act than you were before. Begrudgingly, you made your way towards the staircase in the corner of the room, pushing through the throngs of people crowding the bottom of the stairs.

You had to push a few people off of you, their drunk advances calling after you, "Hey, it's the new girl!"

Every door you tried was locked or had a line of people behind it, freedom escaping you as you searched. White double doors at the end of the hall caught your attention as you walked up to them, trying the doorknob. You sighed in relief as they pushed open, solitude finding you once again.

You closed the door behind you, head leaning against the solid wood as you caught your breath.

"Fuck!" You yelled, kicking the frame before you turned to look around.

A giant king bed was in the center, pillars extending at every corner. Framed photos hung on the walls, Steve's face at the center with other members of his family in the photos. His parents' room, you figured. The only safe space away from the crowds of people.

You sat on the bed, kicking off your Mary Jane's as you leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Your heart was calming down at this point, no longer feeling the beat of it throughout your entire body.

I just have to wait it out. Robin will find me eventually, you thought to yourself.

As you lay in the giant bed, arms crossed over your chest, you began to doze off. The dull thud of the music was like a lullaby, loud, but more comforting than falling asleep to the sound of your parents arguing. As sleep overcame you, you could barely hear the steps leading up to the door or the sound of the door swinging open.

"What did I tell you guys about coming up he—oh, yn," Steve's voice sounded through the room, interrupting your slumber. You sat up on your elbows suddenly to look at him. "What're you doing here?"

You flushed in your face, sliding out of the bed to grab your shoes. You moved to walk past him, set on ignoring his questions. He blocked the door. Asshole.

"You literally invited me," you deadpanned, stepping to the side to go around him. He matched your step, a small smile crossing his face as he blocked you from leaving. Glaring up at him, you huffed.

"Obviously," he smirked, hand on his hip as he stared down at you. You broke eye contact with him, looking to your right as you debated how far of a jump the window would be to the ground level. Second stories can't be that high, right?

"I don't want to be here anymore," you sighed, glancing in his direction as he continued to stare down at you. You didn't notice the way his smile faltered. "The people are just—I can't deal with it."

"Why? Has anyone said anything to you?" He questioned, voice with a slight urgency behind it. You started up at him, confused at the tone behind his words.

"And why do you care?"

You were snappy, irritation showing through as you became defensive. His hands shot up, surrendering to your words.

"Hey, now, I'm just wondering," he answered, taking a step into the room. He still blocked your exit, noticing the way that you still eyed it like a cornered animal. "Any friend of Robins is a friend of mine."

Rolling your eyes, you maintained eye contact with him, butterflies inching into the depths of your abdomen. The nervousness was growing with every second his eyes stayed on yours.

"What do you want Steve?" There was something about his energy, the way he was studying you with his head cocked to the side, hands on his hips. You felt vulnerable in that moment, wanting to run and hide and cover your body. It was somehow worse than the hundreds of people in school staring at you.

"I don't like my parents too much either," he blurted out, catching you off guard. You furrowed your brow, shaking your head at him.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

You looked down at your sock clad feet, shoes still dangling between your fingers by the straps.

"I do," he answered, taking a step towards you. You instinctively took a step back, defenses prickling at the back of your neck.

"You don't know anything about me," you were whispering at this point, losing the words to say as he stepped out of the path of the door. There it was your exit plan, but you couldn't move.

"I do," he repeated, holding a hand out as if he were ushering you in that direction. "You have this look to you. I used to have it, too. I just got better at hiding it."

You were numb, eyes glancing between the door and him. His eyes were captivating, drawing attention even when it was unwarranted. His perfectly styled hair fell around his face, a single strand curled at his forehead. As his gaze continued to bore into you, the look on his face was serious, yet made the nervousness fade slightly with every continual look.

"The way you're always so quiet, just waiting for someone else to fill the silence, not bothering to give any information about yourself," he continued, breaking eye contact for the first time. You followed his gaze, noticing he was focusing on one of the family photos on the walls. "I had that same thing, look, feeling, whatever you want to call it. It never does get easier, but... you just have to pretend. Until it kinda works?"

As his speech continued, you toyed at the shoe straps in your hands. His words somehow comforted you, even if you did truly feel that he didn't know what he was talking about. His situation couldn't be similar to your own, so it was a lost cause for him to try and guess what was going on.

"You can go," he muttered, shaking his head as he looked away from the photograph. Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking at the open door behind him. "I just thought—maybe, a similar experience would help you."

You stared at the entry way, all efforts to run leaving through the door without you. Your feet made no effort to move, heartbeat a dull thud in your chest.

Steve sighed, turning around to leave himself once he saw that you were making no effort to leave.

"W-wait," you said, stopping him in his tracks. His hand was on the door frame, one foot out as his head turned to look at you. Curiosity crossed his features. "How do you pretend?"

He smiled, closing the door as he stepped back into the room. That should've scared you, but you couldn't be bothered. Steve was different from what you initially thought he was. Wasn't some asshole boyfriend of the girl you had just met. He did seem like he had a heart, so it made sense why him and Robin were close.

He ushered you to sit back on the bed, sitting across from you, knees barely brushing your own.

"You just do." His fingers pulled at the duvet cover, eyes glancing up at you through long lashes. "You try not to think about what you're going through too much. Distract yourself with people, even if the connections aren't genuine. That way you'll find people who actually do care. It's few and far between, but they are there."

Your voice faltered, "My connections never are genuine, always being the new girl. It sucks."

Steve laughed, nodding in agreement with your words.

"I'm sure it doesn't help, but you just have to try," he leaned on one elbow, body stretched out as his legs hung off the side of the bed. You averted your gaze from him, deciding that it was too much to stare at him in that position.

"When I met Robin, we were so different. She was this sarcastic, kind of mean person who laughed at my failures. Made me feel stupid for trying too hard," he laughed in between his words, shaking his head at the memory. "She made me realize that I didn't have to be a caricature of myself to fit in, I could be friends with who I want, and I shouldn't have to worry about what people think of me, especially my parents."

You nodded, smoothing out your skirt.

"She made me open up in ways that I hadn't before, leading me to make real friends who didn't care about who Steve Harrington was. They didn't care about my name, the popularity, any of that."

You examined him, noticing his dark blue shirt hugged his frame. Your eyes trailed over the shape of his chest, the way the shirt was stretched over his biceps. You shouldn't be looking at him in this way.

"She's lucky, you know," you said, folding your hands over your lap. Your arms were tight at your side, not moving in favor of thinking it would help you shrink in front of him. Steve quirked an eyebrow, questioning your words. "Robin, to have you as a boyfriend."

Steve laughed out loud at your words, shaking his head as his hand waved in the air.

"No, noooo," he laughed, hand running over his face. "She's not—no, I'm not really her type."

You were confused, words at a loss.

"We're just good friends, you could say," he chuckled low in his throat, blinking rapidly as he looked off into the distance behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry," red crept over your features, blushing at the embarrassment of getting things so wrong. "So you're with Nancy, then?"

He laughed again, shaking his head even more rapidly than he did before.

"Yeah, that one didn't really work out," he grimaced, hand running over his left eyebrow. He winced as he seemed to think of a distant memory, fingers dancing over the bone there.

You nodded, curious about his gesture.

"S'just me," he shrugged, smiling up at you as you stared back down at him. "So, what is it about the mysterious yn that everyone wants apart of?"

You began to answer him, supplying details of the last few years of your life. It was the most comfortable you had been with a person, giving details that you swore you'd never give to another person. You mentioned your dad, his gambling addiction becoming worse and worse over the past year. Your mom finding her solutions in a liquor cabinet. How your problems were never enough for them since it wasn't an 'adult matter'. You didn't speak on it all, but with the details you provided, it was enough to give him an idea of you.

The conversation flowed well between the two of you, Steve providing his own details of his relationship with his dad. He had to live up to the Harrington name, even if he felt like he would never truly be able to do that. You found yourself laughing at his stories, even if there was sadness deep within it. He hid his pain with humor and a slight hint of flirting, if you could call it that.

"Hey, look, I think I have to go back downstairs," Steve said, sitting up from where he was lying on the bed. "Make sure everyone hasn't burned the place down."

You nodded, disappointment filling your chest as you realized this night was over.

"Yeah, I think I better head home myself," you reached down to grab your shoes, lay abandon on the floor besides the bed. You stopped in your tracks, Steve's hand coming to lay on your thigh. Glancing up at him, you found him inches away from your face.

His gaze fluttered down to your lips before looking quickly back to your eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat, all words just scrambled English in your mind.

As he leans into you, his lips brushed against yours, the taste of mint chapstick flooding your senses. The kiss was chaste, a quick brush of skin on skin that made your heart beat in your chest.

Your eyes were closed, briefly feeling the absence of his lips on yours before they crashed into you again. His mouth moved against yours, hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You let out a breathy sigh as the two of you moved in sync, feeling weightless in his grasp. He nibbled at your lip, other hand coming up to grab at your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your fingers pull at his hair, breathless against his lips before he pulls away, placing one more quick peck at you. You felt numb, but this time, in a way that made you want to never leave his side. Your eyes fluttered open, fingers still tangled in his hair as he looked down at you.

"Don't be a stranger, yn," he whispered, placing one last peck on your lips before removing himself from you. He made his way to the door, glancing at you once last time with a smile on his face before he exited, closing it behind him.

You groaned, shoving your face into the duvet cover as you realized what had happened. Bad decision #3.

The next few weeks of classes went surprisingly well, and you found yourself listening to Steve's words in every interaction you dealt with. Of course, you were still the 'new girl' to most people, but you dealt with it in grace. You ignored strangers' advances into the details of your life, just telling them information about the last town you were in compared to Indiana.

Your friendship with the group became closer, Robin becoming your right hand in every interaction. She became less invasive in your information, but protective of you nonetheless. It was a bond like nothing you had experienced in the last few years, a feeling of a home you had never had settling over you.

Your relationship with Steve had blossomed into something you weren't quite sure what to call it. In front of the group, it was platonic, stealing glances at each other when you were sure no one was looking. His hand always seemed to graze over yours during the 'right' moments, catching your breath in your throat as you stumbled through the sentences you were saying to your new found friends.

In private, it was something else. Steve pushing you against a wall, pulling you into the nearest closet, cornering you in the bathroom at Nancy's place, any place to leave you breathless as his lips found yours in a fever never seen before. His fingers roaming your body as wet, hot kisses were placed wherever he could find stake. You found yourself day dreaming of those moments, mind fleeting the conversation at hand amongst others.

And that's where you found yourself now, pressed in the backseat of Steve's BMW, shirt half unbuttoned as his hand grasped at your breast, mouth pressed into your jawline. He lay between your open legs, rutting against you as you moaned breathlessly.

"F-fuck Steve," you arched into him, hand pulling at his clothes, urging him to come closer.

You two were supposed to be in 3rd period by now, sneaking off as you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. It was barely 9 am, but whenever you could find the time, the two of you snuck off, hoping to go unnoticed.

Your skirt was hiked up to your waist, exposing your red panties. His tight-in-the-front jeans pressed against you, all in the right and wrong places. Your hands roamed under his shirt, feeling his heat underneath your palms.

"Yeah, baby?" He moaned against your skin, hand coming up to lace through your hair. He pulled tight, guiding your mouth to his once again. He groaned against your mouth, hips grinding against yours.

You mewled in response, fingers pulling at his waistband as you urged him to take them off. The two of you hadn't gotten that far yet, but you were becoming more ready with every interaction the two of you had.

"Steve, fuck, m-more."

Your fingers found the button of his jeans, trying to undo it blindly as you moaned against his mouth. You felt him smirk against your lips, nibbling at the skin.

"Look at you, princess," he muttered, pulling away to see you in a breathless state. Your hair was a mess, fanned out behind you as you were pressed into the leather of his seats. "Such a mess for me."

Your fingers continued working at the button, finally freeing it as you were able to slip your hand down the front of his pants. Just as you grazed the bulge behind his boxers, the two of you heard the bell ring, signalling the end of the class period.

"Fuck!" You closed your eyes, fingers stopping in their tracks. Steve pulled off of you, leaning in the opposite direction as he moved to adjust himself in his pants.

You watched as he rebuttoned his jeans, fixing his shirt and the rumple in his clothes. He watched you while doing so, smile playing at his lips.

He leaned down briefly, pecking your lips once more before pulling away. You sat up, trying to chase his lips as he settled down. Placing a hand on your inner thigh, his eyes raked over your figure, lingering on the exposure of your panties in view.

"Gotta save it for later, babe," he whispered to you, thumb reaching out to pull at the band of your underwear.

Huffing in annoyance, you sat up to fix yourself, adjusting your clothes as you realized the moment was over. "When later?"

Steve was smiling, pulling his black jacket over his polo. He winked at you, dazed look on his face.

"We're just going to have to find out, babe."

"What the fuck happened to you?" Robin exclaimed, hand coming up to touch your neck before you smacked your hand away. You covered your neck with your hand, heat flooding your cheeks as a blush creeped in. "You looked like you've been mauled."

"I-I think I burned myself this morning. You know, straightening my hair," you muttered, pulling your hair over your shoulder as you covered it. Robin's eyes tightening, squinting at you as you avoided her eyeline.

"You don't straighten your hair," she deadpanned, arms coming to cross her chest.

"Oh my God, did I not tell you? I just learned how to. This morning, actually," you smiled at her, fawning innocence.

Her eyes were small as she stared at you, making you feel smaller and smaller under her inspection.

"Yn."

"Robin."

The two of you started at each other, you with a fake smile covering up your lies and her with a serious expression, making you crumble.

Steve suddenly appeared between the two of you, arms coming up to rest at each other's shoulders as he pulled the two of you into his sides.

"And what are my two favorite ladies up to?" His smile was big, still moving off of the confidence he had earlier in the backseat of his car. Robin rolled her eyes, gaze glancing at you as the three of you made your way to his car. It was the end of the day, students fleeting the school as the hallways became more and more empty.

"Yn, here... she was attacked by a wild animal, the teenage boy kind, and won't tell me what happened," she answered, annoyance clear in her words.

"Robin!" Your eyes were wide, hand coming up to grab at your neck once more.

You felt Steve look down at you as his arms left your shoulders. He had a slight smirk, glancing down at the assault on your neck before settling on your eyes.

"Oh?" He was terrible at pretending.

"Yes! Steve, can you believe that?" Robin muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. "She's keeping secrets again."

You rolled your eyes, huffing as Robin wouldn't let it go. The three of you found your way into the parking lot, making your way towards the vehicle you had become quite acquainted with during the last few weeks. You blushed looking at it, knowing what had occurred earlier.

"Secrets, huh?" Steve answered, unlocking the doors as you all made your way into it. You sat in the backseat, back thrown to your side as the memories of earlier began to cross your mind. He looked at you through the rear view mirror, noticing the way you squeezed your legs together. "I do love a good secret myself, don't you, Robin."

"Uh huh."

"Steve!"

He chuckled, starting the engine as you turned to look out the window. You watched as the school became smaller in the background, the streets of Hawkins passing by faster and faster.

"I'm just saying yn, I would tell you," Robin said, throwing her feet on the dash. Steve complained, hitting her ankle with a free hand, only to be ignored by the brunette. "Whoever it is, I just hope he's serious about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

You were quiet, eyes focused on the passing buildings. You didn't know what to say, not wanting to speak for Steve.

"I have a feeling he is," Steve supplied, meeting your look in the rear view mirror as you suddenly turned. Your heart was fast in your chest. "You're beautiful, yn. Any guy would be stupid to not be serious about you."

"Thank you Steve!" Robin sighed, throwing her hands in the air as the car pulled in the front of her house. She turned towards you, reaching out to place a hand on your knee. "Seriously, yn. I just want you to be safe."

She grabbed her bag by her feet, placing it in her lap as she reached for the door hand.

"Now, c'mon... I have so much to tell you about today."

You reached for your own bag, only to be interrupted by Steve's voice.

"Oh, yn, you wanted me to drop you off at yours, right?" He questioned, glancing back at you as confusion crossed your features.

"Uhh... n-"

"I swore you told me that earlier this morning," his eyebrows raised, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Confusion settled into your face as you didn't know what he was talking about. "You had something you needed to do at home. Finish what you started, I think you said."

Oh.

Robin stood outside the door, it ajar as she looked between you guys. She was confused, sighing as she swung her bag over her shoulders.

"Whatever, losers," she left the door open, watching as you made your way to the front seat, core tightening as you thought of what was to come. "You owe me, yn. I need details immediately on whoever did that to you."

You nodded, tucking in your legs as she made her way to the front door, closing it behind her. You sat in silence for a bit, smile on your face as you watched Steve start the car on the trek to his place.

"Finish what I started, yeah?" You smiled at the man in front of you, him turning his head as he continued the drive. He didn't answer you, instead moving his hand to rest on your knee.

As the drive continued, you couldn't help, but find happiness in the place you sat. It was the most content you had been in years, finding comfort in the once stranger you sat with. This boy had caught you by surprise, tugging at your heartstrings in a way you didn't realize possible.

"Coming, yn?" He asked as you hadn't realized he was stopped at his place. Your stomach dropped, staring at the house in front of you. He was the only car in the drive way, a normal thing he had mentioned to you countless times.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning over to you as he placed a small kiss on your lips. His large hands were placed on both of your cheeks, thumbs rubbing circles against the skin. "We don't have to do anything you don't want, okay?"

You nodded, your own hands reaching up to be placed on top of his. You began to follow him inside, your first time being at his place since the party a few weeks back.

His room was big, smaller than his parents, but a picture of exactly what you thought it was going to be. He threw himself on the bed, leaning up on his elbows as you stood there at the foot of it.

"Come 'ere," he held out a hand, urging you closer to him. You complied, placing your hands and knees onto the bed as you crawled up to him. He guided you between his open legs, your stomach pressed against his as his lips found yours.

"Just stop me whenever, okay?" His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt between them. Finding only reassurance, he placed his lips on yours, leaning back into the bed as you settled into him.

His mouth moved slow, hands moving down to rest where your thighs met the curve of your butt. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the way your skirt was pushed up.

"'S that okay?" he muttered, licking into your mouth between his words.

You nodded, moving so you straddled him. His gaze darkened, fingers finding the hem of your blouse as he pulled it off of you. The cold air of the room hit your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

His hands moved to cup at your breasts, slipping underneath the fabric of your bra.

"You're beautiful, you know that, babe?" He whispered into the air, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. You were exposed now, feeling so vulnerable under his gaze as his eyes undressed you further.

Reaching down, you pulled at his own shirt, feeling the muscles of his body tense as he leaned up to take it off. You leaned down, pressing your mouth to his once more. His tongue found its way into your mouth, sliding into yours with a sharp groan.

Your hips rutted against each other, your skirt hiked up to your hips for the second time today. A wet patch grew in the front of your panties, the red material becoming sticky with desperation.

He separated himself from you, flipping so you lay down on the bed. His fingers worked on his jeans, unbuttoning them before sliding them down his thighs. Throwing them across the room, he returned his body to yours, kissing down your jawline.

Your hips had a mind of their own, rutting into him with feverishly. You gasped at his kiss down your neck to your chest, mouth encompassing your hard nipple.

He moaned as his tongue worked the nerves there, eyes glancing up to your face to gauge a reaction. You were a mess, throwing your head back into the pillows as his tongue moved along your skin.

"F-fuck, Steve, need you." Incoherent phrases left your lips, mouth babbling with every move he made.

He giggled, tongue leaving your nipple as he kissed your stomach. Your skirt was pushed to your belly button at this point, his fingers pulling at the band of your panties as he made his way towards your core.

Placing a kiss over your clothed clit, he glanced once more up to you, "'M gonna make you feel so good, princess."

You moaned as he pulled your underwear off, legs widening as his tongue worked over your folds, darting out as it grazed over your fluttering hole. Your hips bucked into his face, his hand reaching out to press your hips into the bed.

Arching your back, you mewled as he sucked at your clit, free hand coming up to press a digit to your entrance.

"Need you inside," you muttered, reaching down to grab at his hair as he continued to lick at you. Two of his fingers pushed inside, your slick easing the way.

As he curled them inside you, tongue relentlessly hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top, you moaned louder and louder. That explosive orgasm was approaching you fast, tightening your core as he fingered you senselessly.

He moaned against you, feeling the way you released more slick against his fingers deep inside you.

"So wet, princess," he muttered against you, eyes gazing at you through his assault at your clit. You moaned, arching your back as he continued to tongue fuck you.

"'M close, Steve," you groaned, guiding his face further into you. He moaned in agreement, covering your nub with his mouth as he sucked hard and fast.

It started at your spine, the orgasm taking over your senses as you arched into him. His fingers didn't slow down, fucking you through it as its intensity grew. Pleasure rippled through your body, your breath coming in fast pants as you lost all words to say.

As your high came to an end, he left your heat, leaning up to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips, moaning at the wetness on his chin.

"Taste so good, baby," Steve whispered, reaching down to take off his own boxers. You looked down, seeing the weight of it pressed into your stomach. Fuck, he was big. "Just had to share."

His words immediately sent a wave of heat to your abdomen, pussy dripping with need as your orgasm wasn't enough. You needed this man.

You widened your legs, breathless as he hooked your ankle over his hips. His cock nudged at your entrance, pressing against the tight hole as you started into his eyes.

"Okay baby?" He asked, leaning on his elbow as that same hand brushed hair out of your face.

"Need you, Stevie."

He groaned at your words, pushing in slowly as you both moaned at the intrusion. There was a burn, the stretch slow but enough as you pulsed around his cock.

Stopping at the hilt, his hips were flush against yours. He leaned down to breath out into your hairline, hips slightly stuttering as he fought the urge to fuck into you.

"Feel so good, baby, fuck," he was breathless, words sounding caught in his throat. "So fucking tight, baby."

Your nails clawed at his back, face pressed into the hair at his chest as he breathed heavily.

"'M gonna move, okay, baby?"

You nodded, digging crescent shaped marks into his skin as his hips reared back before pressing into you again. The head of his cock rubbed against a bundle of nerves deep within you, leaving the two of you breathing heavy, urging small uh uh uh's out of you.

He pressed small kisses into your hairline, hips rutting into yours over and over as you arched into him. You both were close, fighting the urge to cum instantaneously.

The movement of his hips became sloppy, the slapping of skin echoing through the room, drowned out by the animalistic noises leaving your mouth.

"Fuck, I'm so close, sweetheart," he moaned, pressing his lips into yours. Your noises were swallowed by him, another orgasm overtaking you as he fucked you through it.

You felt yourself throb around him, a low groan escaping his lips as he released deep inside you. His orgasm was loud, him moaning into your mouth as he teeth dug into your bottom lip. The pain of it only made you cry out more, your hands finding his hips as he rode it out.

He groaned one last time, hips stopping before he pulled out of you, the wet noise sounding loud in the room. You grimaced at his absence, leaning over so you could cuddle into his side.

Steve laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I've got you, princess," he muttered, mouthing at you. You closed your eyes, ear pressed to his chest as you listened to the beat of his heart. Calmness took over you, a warm feeling settling into your core as you lay in his arms.

The bad decision you had once made in talking to him ended up being the best thing you could've done. The boy in your arms was everything and more you had wanted, you had needed in your life. Every mistake you had once thought you made was perfectly clear in this moment, leading you to the wonder that was Steve Harrington.

His breath sounded shallow, slow drags of air being taken as you settled into his arms. You thought of him asleep at this moment as you cuddled into him.

"I love you, Steve Harrington," you whispered into the quiet of the room. He made no move, his breath did not falter. You sighed, closing your eyes as you were set on sleep.

Moments passed, the sounds of the two of your breathing being the only thing you could hear for what seemed like ages.

"I love you too, yn."

Steve's whisper back, sent your heart racing again as you moved to look into his eyes. He was smiling at you through hooded eyes, blinking slowly. You pressed your lips to his before pulling away, staring into him once more.

I could enjoy this while it lasted, you thought to yourself. What's the harm in this?

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART I

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! this turned out pretty long so i will be splitting it into parts so it's easier. next part will be posted soon. i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i had writing it. enjoy!

part two

The breeze riffled through your hair as you drove, the sun warming your skin through the open windows. The Irish countryside stretching out before you, lush and green, with rolling hills and quaint villages dotting the landscape. The scent of wildflowers and the sound of nothing but the wind in the trees filled your senses.

It was rare, really. The silence, the feeling of complete freedom, and the solitude that enveloped you. A fleeting escape from the chaos of your everyday life.

The ping of your phone interrupted the peaceful moment. You tapped on the pop-up notification after briefly glancing at the directions to your destination. It was a message from Cillian. Well, two, actually. One was asking how far you were, and the other was a Spotify link followed by a question mark. Ever since he started hosting his bbc radio show, he's been sending you potential songs for his playlists to get your opinion. Not that he needs it anyway. But you always appreciate being included in his process.

Your lips curled into a smile as you clicked on the link. The familiar sound of The Blue Nile's "The Downtown Lights" flooded the car, instantly making you feel a wave of nostalgia. It's been ages since you've listened to that song. The synth-pop melody carries you up the pine-dotted path to where his house perches atop a hill, overlooking the crashing waves below. You've been here a couple of times, and yet it never gets less breathtaking. The Victorian architecture contrasting beautifully with the rugged coastline, creating a scene straight out of a painting.

The car glides right past the wrought iron gates, and you cut the engine in front of the stone steps leading up to the grand entrance. You shoot Cillian a quick text letting him know you're here, unbuckle your seat belt, and hop out of the car.

The June sun beats down on your skin instantly, heat radiating off the cobblestones as you open the backdoor to look through your bag for a hair tie. The smell of saltwater mingles with the sound of gulls overhead, sending you into sensory overload. "Gotcha," you mutter to yourself as you finally find the hair tie and pull your hair back into a loose bun.

"You drove here?" you hear him call out from behind you, his voice tinged with surprise. "And you're alone?" you turn around to see Cillian walking towards you, a curious expression on his face.

"I actually had to throw a tantrum to convince them to let me come alone," you reply with a chuckle, feeling a sense of pride at your small victory. "I was like, It's Ireland. What's the worst that could happen?"

Being who you are means being guarded against any potential danger or harm at all times, being driven to almost everywhere, and always having a security team around.

Cillian laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter and makes you want to hear it again and again. "Well, I'm glad you made it here in one piece, love," he says with a grin. "You're not a very good driver."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You did regret your decision to drive from the airport 10 minutes later when you realized you were on the wrong side of the road. But he didn't need to know that.

"I made it in one piece, didn't I?" you playfully retort, trying to salvage your wounded pride. Cillian chuckles and shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He looks good, you thought. Unbelievably good. Well rested. His jet black hair was perfectly styled, even though you know he didn't put any effort into it—the slightest hint of silver at the temples, his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Though they looked a little tired, as if he had been through a lot since the last time you saw him.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling a rush of heat on your cheeks.

"It's good to see you," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual. Cillian's smile softens, and he replies, "It's good to see you too." He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. The soft fabric of his t-shirt brushes against your skin as you embrace him, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says, leading you towards the house. Once inside, you make your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet; you wondered if anyone else was home. Cillian's family wasn't by any means loud or boisterous, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

"You hungry, love?" Cillian asks, opening the fridge, pulling out a white ceramic container, and setting it up on the kitchen island. You take a seat on one of the stools while he stands across from you.

"For something sweet?" you smile, seeing the container filled with what seems to be a piece of strawberry sponge cake. His mom must've made it. "Always," you reply. He hands you a spoon and takes one for himself, the two of you sharing the dessert in comfortable silence.

Until he broke it.

"How was Madrid?" he asks softly.

"It was good, great crowd," you reply, taking another bite of the dessert. "But tiring," you add, feeling the exhaustion of the long trip settling in.

"How many nights did you perform?"

"Four."

"Jesus, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

Your eyes meet his; confusion clear in your expression. "You think that's a lot? Didn't you used to do four or five nights in a row of the same play?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "for months…?

"Yeah, but that was a different kind of exhaustion," he explains, taking another bite. "Performing the way you do in front of a live audience for three hours is a whole different ball game, love."

Love.

There it was again. That godforsaken term of endearment that he seemed to throw around so casually. It made your heart race every time he said it, even though you knew it probably meant nothing to him. But the way he looked at you now, with a hint of admiration in his eyes, made you wonder if maybe—

"Want the last bite?" he offered, taking you out of your thoughts. He pushed the container towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, as if silently urging you to take it.

"Oh, hello," a voice exclaimed from behind you, breaking the moment. You drop the spoon on the counter, a little startled. As if you were caught in the act of something forbidden. You turned around to see Yvonne, Cillian's wife. She said your name with a surprised tone, making you feel guilty for some reason. "I didn't know you were here," she continued, her eyes flickering between you and her husband.

You started to rise from your seat, confusion clouding your thoughts. That's weird. Cillian usually lets his wife know when you're visiting, but this time it seems like he didn't. She walked towards you, enveloping you in a hug. "When did you get here?" she said.

"Not long ago," you replied, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "I, uh, wanted to take a break and thought Ireland might be a good place to do that," you added, hoping to diffuse any tension that may have arisen. She nodded understandingly. "And you're staying here?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly assured her. "I rented a place nearby, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Nonsense," Cillian interjected. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room."

"She's already paid for it, Cillian," Yvonne retorted, giving him a stern look.

Something was definitely off.

This was the last thing you wanted. You've specifically chosen the cottage for two reasons. First, to have space. The whole point of this trip was to finally have peace and write music. You've been stuck for months, not being able to find inspiration in your usual surroundings. Everything felt dull inside you all day—an emptiness that was smothering.

Second, you needed to stay the fuck away from Cillian. Being close to him was dangerous territory, one you didn't want to navigate right now. The plan was to come and visit and occasionally hang out and that's it. The thought of being in such close quarters with him was overwhelming. Staying here meant risking your heart and sanity.

You hesitated, also not wanting to intrude on their space, but Cillian insisted.

"Okay…How about if I stay for a couple of days and then move to the cottage?" you suggested, hoping to compromise. "Sounds perfect to me," he said.

This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few days, you dream too much, don't write enough, and try to find inspiration everywhere. As you settled into the routine of staying at Cillian's, you found yourself enjoying the peaceful surroundings and his company more than you expected. The days seemed to blend together, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that left your heart racing.

But you also felt constantly distracted by his presence, making it difficult to focus on your writing or anything else, for that matter.

All you could think about was him.

The piano room surrounded you with its warm, inviting atmosphere, and you found yourself drawn to it more often than not. The big windows overlooking the garden let in streams of sunlight, casting a warm glow over the bookshelf. You felt the softness of the carpet as you sat on the grand piano bench, running your fingers along the keys absentmindedly.

You started humming a tune that had been stuck in your head for days, the words appearing softly and effortlessly as you played:

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo

The prophecy?

The humming went on whenever you didn't know what to say next, filling in the gaps between the notes on the piano and the lyrics:

A greater woman has faith

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

The melody filled the room until you stopped abruptly, frustrated that the lyrics weren't coming as easily as before. You closed your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, elbows resting on the keys of the piano.

"You good?" Cillian's rough voice broke through your frustration, causing you to look up and offer a weak smile. You don't know how long he's been standing there or how much he heard of your struggles. "Just hitting a wall with this song," you admitted, running a hand through your hair.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sympathetically. He moved towards the records stacked on the shelf and pulled one out, placing it on the turntable. "I don't want to mess with your creative process or anything, but maybe a break with some music will help," he suggested.

Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" began to play, taking over the room with its haunting melody.

"So you play one of the saddest songs ever?" you deadpanned, "Thanks."

He chuckled softly, "You were playing some pretty intense stuff; I figured it would fit right in."

Oh, so he did hear you.

"Ah, I know it's different from my usual stuff," you said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your music. "I might scrap that one. They might not be onboard with the change."

"And why's that?"

Thom Yorke's voice faded into the background as you contemplated his question, unsure of how to respond.

You shrugged, "I listen to sad music, not make it."

"I liked what I heard," he reassured you, "and change is good. It keeps things interesting."

His low voice was soothing, and you found yourself feeling more at ease with the idea of trying something new. Pop has been your comfort zone for so long, it's what stands out of you, but most importantly, it's what sells. At least, that's what's important to the industry. Maybe it was time to push yourself out of it.

"I guess you're right," you replied, a faint smile creeping onto your face.

"As always," he said, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He stood leaning against the table where the record player sat, arms crossed, looking as if he had too many things to say and not enough words for them.

"Would this be a good time to ask you if everything's okay?" you inquired, noticing the weight of unspoken thoughts in his eyes. "With Yvonne, I mean," you added, nervous to bring up the topic.

That first day, when you arrived at the house, you could sense there was something going on between them. Something bad. The tension in the air was so obvious, but you didn't want to pry. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she hadn't been around or the absence of a certain ring on his finger.

"And here, I thought you were never going to ask," he replied, his words laced with sarcasm.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," your voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I-I didn't want to overstep."

He studied you for a moment, or at least, you assumed that was what he was doing. Finally, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat,"We've separated."

A cold feeling settled in your chest as you processed his words. The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. "Cillian," is all you managed to say, the concern evident in your voice.

He still wouldn't look at you. Knowing him, in moments like this, he wouldn't want to be coddled or pitied, so you save your apologies for later.

"What happened?"

He waved his hand dismissively, still avoiding your gaze. "Nothing, really," he said, his tone final. He didn't look upset, but rather resigned to the situation. "It hadn't been working for a long time; we both knew it was coming. I guess we were holding on for the boys more than anything." You could see the sadness in his eyes, despite his attempt to appear nonchalant. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you feeling defeated and unsure of what to say next. You don't think there's anything you can say that will make this or him feel better.

And boy, did you wish you could take away his pain with just a few words.

Cillian walked slowly over the piano, stopping in front of it. He streched his arms over the wooden soundboard, gripping the edges tightly as if seeking some sort of solace in the instrument. He finally looked at you.

"Why didn't you say anything, Cill?" you asked softly, "I would've—"

"You would've what?" he interrupted, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn't want to worry you, you have more important things than my marital issues."

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it tore at your heart to see him suffering in silence. "You're my friend. These things are important to me, Cill," you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. He flinched slightly at your touch, but then relaxed, leaning into your hand.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he appreciated your words. You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief and the way his fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the piano.

One morning, you woke up to the wind gently rustling through the trees outside your windows. The morning light was clear and clean, leaking through the glass and falling against the walls of the room in soft patterns. It felt too early to be awake, too peaceful to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

You roll over to look at the little clock on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, so you threw the covers and climbed out of bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath your feet as you walked to the bathroom.

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth, trying to wake yourself up fully. Holding up your hair, you tie it into a ponytail while walking over the bedside table to grab your phone and airpods. You put one in your ear and hit shuffle on one of your morning playlists. You couldn't function without some music. "Keep On Loving You" by Cigarettes After Sex starts playing.

On your way to the kitchen, you walked by Cillian's room and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Who the hell sleeps with their door open? Psychos, probably. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked inside to see him sprawled out on his bed, body illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains—characteristic warm and cool shades revealing every hollow and speck of bare muscle. He slept with every limb stretched out, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It was a rare sight, quite poetic.

He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of your presence. So you let your mind wander.

You imagined yourself crossing the room, pulling yourself on top of him. You imagined the way his bare body would look beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair messy around his face, his skin warm against yours. His hands—rough and soft at the same time—running over your thigh, your breast, your neck. You could almost feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at you.

But then reality snapped back into focus.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. This was just a fantasy, a dangerous game to play with someone who was somewhat off-limits. But truth be told, the temptation was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment. It was all you could think about ever since he told you about his troubled marriage.

It took a long time for your heartbeat to slow. You headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help clear your mind. As you rummage through the cabinets for a mug, his voice startles you from behind. "Need some help with that?" he asks, making you jump.

For a moment you thought you were still imagining things, but you turn around to see him standing there with a t-shirt on as opposed to five minutes ago. Great, him walking around shirtless in his kitchen, sleepy-eyed, messy hair, and rough morning voice would've been lethal.

"I've got it, thanks," you reply, shaking the mug slightly in your hand. You quickly pour yourself some coffee and try to focus on the task at hand: looking for the sugar.

"Sleep well?" he asks, voice still husky from sleep, his accent more prominent. He's rifling through the cabinet for a mug of his own. You can't help but notice the way his muscles flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches up. You hum in agreement, trying to hide your blush as you take a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Grand," he replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. You exchange small talk about the upcoming day, but your mind keeps drifting back to how good he looks in the morning light.

"Any plans for today other than locking yourself in the piano room?" he teases, and you shoot him a playful glare. "Maybe I'll actually venture outside for once," you quip, laughing.

"How does the beach sound like?" he asks, "The boys are coming over, and they're bringing some friends, and I thought a trip would be a nice change of scenery."

"I could use some sun," you admit, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Let's make it a beach day then," he suggests, setting his mug on the sink. "We leave at 10, piano woman."

"Ha ha, very funny," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "But I'll hold you to it, annoying man," you reply.

"Annoying man?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was your favorite person."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

•••

"Are you done with your sad boy music?"

Cillian bursts out laughing, the sound taking you by surprise. He's been playing Radiohead on repeat for the whole car ride, and you were starting to feel like you were in a melancholy music video. "I like their music as much as the next person, but I think I need a break from the sadness," you say.

"Fine, fine," Cillian concedes, reaching for his phone to change the song. The bleak atmosphere in the car lifts as "Linger" by The Cranberries starts playing, filling the space with a more pleasant vibe. Cillian glances at you, he's wearing dark shades that hide his eyes, but you can still see his stoic expression softening as he catches you smiling at the change in music.

"Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, you start silently singing along to the lyrics, gesticulating dramatically for added effect. Cillian smiles at your antics, his own lips twitching in amusement as he watches you. The boys were so caught up in their conversation with their friends in the backseat that you were pretty sure they weren't even paying attention to the music or your impromptu performance. With a small smile on your face, you face out the window and enjoy the rest of the car ride in content silence.

When you arrive at your destination, all of you unbuckle your seat belts once Cillian puts the Bronco in park. You all pile out of the car, stretching your legs and taking in the sights around you. You close your eyes for a second and take a breath. The sea air—you loved that smell.

•••

A few hours later, after countless swims and some snacks, you find yourself lying on a beach towel, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the temperature on your skin. You're reading a book you picked up at an airport several months ago by Elin Hilderbrand, or the queen of beach reads, as many call her. You were completely engrossed in the story until you felt Cillian settling down next to you.

His hair was damp from the water, and his skin was slightly glistening. Gosh, he looked absolutely stunning. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," you reply, closing the book and sitting up. "Having fun?"

"Lots," he says with a smile, reaching over to grab his sunglasses. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. The laughter and chatter of his sons and friends coming from the water redirects your attention back to the beach scene before you. You look back at Cillian, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"They love you, you know," you say softly, watching the genuine joy on his face as he watches his children.

"I don't know if I'm doing it right," he says, eyes still fixed on the boys. "I worry I might've fucked them up by letting my relationship with their mother fall apart."

He continues, "Sometimes I feel they resent me for it."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I don't know, they just seem distant sometimes. Like they're holding back."

"Hey, that's normal for kids to have mixed feelings about their parents' separation. I was so happy when mine got divorced because it meant no more fighting, but it was also tough to adjust to the changes. It's very conflicting stuff," you say, huffing a small laugh. "Also, they're teenagers now, right? That's a tough age to navigate even without the added stress of divorce."

Cillian nods in agreement, exhaling out a yeah.

You squint against the sunlight beaming behind his head before continuing.

"You're a great dad, you always have been. Just show up and be there for them when they need you, even if they don't always seem to appreciate it. They'll remember it in the long run," you offer, remembering how much your own father's presence meant to you after your parents' divorce. "And I'm not a parent, but what parent feels like they're doing everything right all the time, anyway?"

Cillian turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment before offering a small smile. "I guess you're right," he says sincerely.

"Fork found in kitchen," you retort, breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He chuckles, "That's clever."

"Well," you continue, "I've been accused of many things over the years, but being unoriginal isn't one of them."

He laughs. Just like he did back in the car: a genuine, carefree laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

"Want to go for one last swim, piano woman?"

You roll your eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Not likely," Cillian replies with a grin. "It's too fitting."

You stand up and stretch. You're wearing a one-piece teal-ish swimsuit that you swear you only chose based on comfort and not because it makes your ass and breasts look fantastic. Cillian's eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He doesn't move.

"Are you coming or…?"

"Right, one last swim," he finally says, standing up and following you towards the water.

Maybe that one last swim wasn't a great idea after all.

And why is that?

Because not even five minutes into the water, you thought it would be a good idea to jump from a high rock, and now you're sitting in the car with your knee scrapped, throbbing in pain, and regretting your impulsive decision.

•••

"You're so fuckin' stubborn."

You try to move into a more comfortable position while ignoring the pain shooting up your leg by pressing a hand against one side of the door to keep yourself steady. "And you're so clearly overreacting."

Cillian pushes his bedroom door open. He's also clearly pissed. The ride back to the house was deathly silent. Well, not silent. His sad boy music made a return, and this time with Broken Social Scene. You couldn't ask him to change the music without starting another argument. Even the kids were quiet, beyond asking several times if you were okay, which you assured them you were. Obviously a lie.

As Cillian walks around the room, you reach for your midi white beachy dress and look down at your knee in horror. It's no longer just a bruise, but a gash that is slowly oozing blood. Not as much as before, but still. It looks nasty underneath the shirt Cillian used from his car as a makeshift bandage.

He grabs the first aid kit from a shelf and turns around to face you.

"Take off your dress."

"Pardon me?"

"Take off your dress so I can properly clean and bandage the wound," Cillian repeats, his expression serious. You look down at the blood-stained fabric as if you needed any more confirmation. "Off, C'mon."

You stiffen at his demand, your body going completely rigid at his bossy tone. You watch him stride into his bathroom. He pushes aside some stuff on the counter and tosses the kit onto the counter.

Okay, yeah. He has good reason to be upset. You had no business jumping from that rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he'd said before, right when he went to get you. And now you can see the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You can hear him shuffle in the bathroom while you remove your dress. You still have your swimsuit on underneath, but you feel exposed without the extra layer. Maybe the pain is catching up to you or the fact that you have upset him or that he's waiting for you in the bathroom to take care of you but tears sting your eyes as you try to process the situation. You take a moment to collect yourself. You cannot go in there like this, he cannot see you this vulnerable. At least, not now.

He's braced against the counter, head hung low, when you push open the bathroom door. You nearly back out to give him some space or time to compose himself, but his eyes meet yours and his expression straightens. He clears his throat and then freezes. "I—you're wearing your swimsuit."

"I am. Were you expecting me to change into something else?"

"No," he grumbles, "I mean, nevermind."

He turns back and starts grabbing sterile gauze, his movements slightly jerky. He gestures for you to sit on the counter. "Up."

"I'm not sure I can do that given my—" Before you're done speaking, he scoops you up and sets you on the counter. Your hands are locked around his neck, and his are firmly gripping your waist. They fit perfectly there, like they're made to hold you close.

He reaches behind him, both your faces close together now, and grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his neck and onto your thighs. He puts a hand on your uninjured leg, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is going to hurt." You stare at his impossible blue eyes and think to yourself: yes, this is going to hurt.

"Oh, shit shit," you gasp, gripping his forearm. "Holy fuuuck."

"I've got you, breathe," he commands, and you allow yourself to focus on his voice, letting it ground you. The antiseptic burns both your nostrils and knee as he continues to clean the wound, the pain shooting through your leg causing you to clench your teeth.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out.

There's nothing but silence in response.

"I told you multiple times not to go up there," he finally says, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet."

"I know," you whisper, feeling guilty.

"Don't do that again," he commands, his accent thickening with emotion. "You could've hurt yourself even more."

"I know," you repeat, not sure how else to respond.

His head is bowed in concentration as he finishes cleaning the wound, his hands steady despite the anger in his voice. You can see his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he works. He applies a little more pressure to the bandage than he should've, and you let out a soft moan. This doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The air in the room seems to shift. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something soften in his gaze before he looks away.

"You're not supposed to like that."

Your cheeks heat up immediately.

He's gotten closer to you, your hands somehow made their way to fist his navy blue linen shirt. His body is between your legs, the delicate material of his pants brushing your skin. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't say I mind it either." Your heart races at his proximity, unsure of what to do next.

His hands slide up your thighs, gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's going to kiss you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the right decision to let him.

But now is not the time to be rational about it.

"I'm not gonna stop you," you say quietly, "I wouldn't know how."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. He doesn't move.

It's like you're both aware of the line you're about to cross, so neither of you moves.

You keep your eyes firmly on his face. His lips inch closer to yours, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin. Your body is angled towards his, hand gripping the edge of the counter. Your slightly damp hair, now cold, making you shiver.

He's impossibly hard against you, the material of his pants is thin, and you're aware of every inch of him pressing against your throbbing core.

"And I wouldn’t know how to stop kissing you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He shifts slightly, causing his erection to press even more firmly against you, both letting out a soft moan. His mouth hovers just inches from yours, just kiss me, you thought.

There's a knock on the bedroom door, which is, by the way, open.

"Dad?" You both freeze.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, offering a sliver of privacy but not enough to shield you from any potential interruptions.

"Yes?" Cillian calls out, trying to sound casual despite the intense moment that was just interrupted. "We're ordering takeout, do you want anything?"

"No, buddy, we're good, thanks," Cillian replies, his voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. You hear the steps retreating down the hallway.

Cillian steps back, and the absence of his body against yours is jarring. It clearly would've been a mistake to take this further, but a mistake that would've felt so fucking good.

"We shouldn't do this."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

He moves towards the door, his movements tense and purposeful. "I'm gonna—" he says, motioning the door.

"Yeah," you quickly reply, "I got it."

You watch him leave, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

a/n: thank you for reading! please share your thoughts with me, let me know if you guys enjoyed it :)

part two

[steviesummer]

inspired by and as a direct follow up to this post by @strangersteddierthings:

Eddie is horrified. He remembers the day Steve is referring to, though clearly not as well as Steve does. He calls out as Steve raced up the stairs and hears his door slam.

“Fuck.” He stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He can’t believe things went so bad so quickly. He’s been trying to get to know Steve better, get closer and damn if he didn’t just blow the hole thing. He’d shown up early, told Steve he needed to prepare as an excuse to spend some time with him. Despite everything that happened over spring break, Steve had remained guarded, standoffish no matter what Eddie tried. At least now he knew why. He’d fucked things up before he’d known there was something to fuck up.

He feels even worse about calling him a bully. Sure, Steve had looked the other way and even laughed at some of the mean jokes others had made, but he was far from the worst. That dubious award went to Billy Hargrove, but even without him, there was plenty of people who did far worse than Steve did. Especially because Steve is right. He did hit first, metaphorically at least. He can justify it all he wants as trying to protect himself, but that doesn’t make it right. Steve all but admitted that as he said the same thing. He feels nauseous at the realization that maybe he was just as bad as those he decried. That for all his talk about accepting outcasts and defying convention, he was just as prejudiced. Swallowing hard, he heads back to the dining room and looks at the clock. There is no way he is going to be able to run the campaign today. He’s not going to be able to focus or even play without thinking about how things might have been if he hadn’t driven Steve off all those years ago. He grabs the phone and dials Gareth’s number. “Emerson house, Sheryl speaking.” “Hi Mrs. Emerson, it’s Eddie.” Eddie is proud that he manages to keep his voice even. “Is Gareth there?” “Oh, yes! Let me go get him for you.” “Thanks Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie focuses on breathing while he waits. “Eddie? Hey man, what’s up?” Eddie breathes out. “Hey Gareth. Look, I know its last minute, but we’re gonna have to postpone Hellfire. Something came up.” He could hear Gareth’s frown through the phone. “Postpone? What happened, did Harrington do something?” As if he couldn’t feel worse. “Nah. I’ll explain later, but can you call Jeff and Frank, let them know? I gotta call the freshman, too.” “Alright, but I’m going to hold you to that.” “Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow.” Eddie promises before hanging up. He weighs his options for how to tell the Party. Eventually, he decides on calling Mike, know that the younger teen won’t push too much. He’s dialing the Wheeler home before he can second guess his decision. “This is Mike.” Eddie feels a rush of gratitude that Mike is the one who answered, rather than Nancy or one of their parents. “Hey Mike, it’s Eddie. Listen, Steve’s not feeling great and having Hellfire here isn’t going to help. Can you call the rest of the Party, let them know we’re gonna move it to another day? I’ll keep an eye on Steve.” Eddie knows Mike is a confused, given how adamant he’s been in the past about not canceling or moving Hellfire, but as he expected, Mike accepts what he says at face value. “Sure. Need us to bring anything?” “Nah, I’ve got it. Pretty sure he just needs some peace and quiet so he can rest. But thanks.” They say their goodbyes and Eddie puts the phone back on the hook.  With that done, he checks that the door is locked and faces the stairs. Now for the hard part. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, if there is anything he can say that will fix this, but he has to try. Even if doesn’t change things between him and Steve, Steve deserves at least that much. Every step feels like it takes effort, chest heavy with guilt, but it only takes him a few moments to get to Steve’s door. It’s closed, which doesn’t surprise him. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking. Nothing. “Steve?” If it wasn’t for the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing he could hear through the door, Eddie would think he had left. He glad that he at least didn’t drive Steve out of his own home. He rests his forehead on the door. “I’m sorry.” Eddie hopes Steve can hear how much he means it. “You’re right, I fucked up. I made an assumption and took out my anger at other people on you. And that wasn’t fair and it’s not okay. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it wasn’t you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes - “And despite that, you still humor the kids when they talk about D&D and agreed to let us play here and didn’t punch me in the face, which makes you a better man than I.” He falls silent, listens as Steve’s breathing slows. He isn’t sure how long he stands there. He wonders how many other people he hurt this way, without even realizing. Knows he wants to do better, be better. He sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. “Anyway, I canceled Hellfire for today. I told everyone something came up, don’t worry about that. I’ll make up some story, make sure they know its not your fault. And uh,  let me know if you want to hang out again or something. I know I’ve been around a lot; didn’t realize that I was making you so uncomfortable, which is probably another thing I should apologize for. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waits a moment for an answer, but when none comes, he backs away from the door and walks downstairs to gather his stuff. It hurts, but he knows Steve deserves space and to be the one to initiate contact. He has some thinking to do, anyway.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist 

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away.  You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired  of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

 “Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

[eccentricwritingbaby]

can we make this work?

carlos sainz jr x norris!reader

summary - carlos falls for lando's sister, lando forbids it, you and carlos push to get your brother and his best friend back

masterlist

-

“...and this is my sister, y/n,” lando proceeds to finish off the family tree of introductions towards his spanish teammate. carlos’ eyes meet yours and you both feel it, the pull towards each other.

“hola, y/n” carlos gives a shy handshake in your direction as you do not fail to leave his eye contact. you whisper a quiet ‘hi’ back towards him and he flashes you a smile, you returning it with ease. lando narrows his concern at your interaction and interrupts quickly, pulling you away from his teammate. 

“c’mon, y/n, i have so much more to show you around here,” 

“calm down, lan,” you chuckle at your little brother, “i’m here all weekend, you do know that right?”

“ha - ha,” he mocks back to you, “i just don’t need my sister running off with a certain spanish driver all weekend when i haven’t seen her in a month,”

“you’re right,” you sigh and glance at lando, “i should go visit my boyfriend, fernando, while i can get the chance-”

“you know who i meannnn,” lando whines, all while continuing to drag you through the paddock. 

“lan, i just met carlos, nothing’s happening,” you laugh again at his ridiculous accusations, “how slutty do you even think i am?”

“it’s not all about little miss y/n, i saw the way he looked at you, i have my doubts but he is off limits, i swear to go-”

“wait,” you cut him off sharply, “how’d he look at me?”

“oh SHUT IT”

-

“shhh, hermosa,” carlos whispered into your ear, “can’t have your brother hearing, hm?” you could only shake out a nod as your boyfriend continued to ravish your neck in between kissing, sucking, and biting. small moans escaped here and there as carlos continued to push you against the door of his driver's room. 

it had been two years since that day you both had met. ever since then, you both were enamored with each other. your actual relationship began about a year ago when carlos moved to ferrari. before then, it was random hookups when you were back home in england as he was there for mclaren, or when you would make your appearance at races. 

now, though, now, you are happier than ever. your work had you in italy for the past five years and it had never felt fully at home. until he moved there. you connected quite easily again and the attraction took over, leading to the beautiful beginning of your serious relationship. carlos sainz had a way of making you feel comfortable, but not bored. loved, but not suffocated. he had taken over your heart and you had no intention of kicking him out. but there was an issue. your shit of a little brother. and little did either of you know, your perfect bubble of love would be popped very soon. 

two knocks was all it took before lando pushed the door open into the drivers room. you pushed carlos away from you as fast as you could but there was no use. lando was fuming. 

“what. the hell. is going on here?” your brother muttered out in shock. 

“lan, i can expla-” you began before lando gave you a look and you immediately shut down. 

“i’m not asking you, y/n. i’m asking him,” the mclaren driver pointed directly to your boyfriend, accusing finger waving toward his face. 

“okay, lando, just take it easy,” carlos attempts to calm your brother, he pulls his hands up in defense and lando keeps pushing toward him.

“no. no, i am not going to ‘just take it easy’. you both have lied to me,” he continues as he looks rapidly between the both of you, “but you,” he then turns his disgust to carlos, “i know what you do to your girlfriends. that is not touching my sister,”

“lando, please, i am a grown woman who makes her own decisions,” you push through his accusation, “you are not going to be able to protect me from everything and you haven’t protected me from everything. for fuck’s sake lan, dad didn’t even act this way when he found out,”

“what?” lando stands shocked in front of you.

“i said, dad didn-”

“I HEARD!” your brother cuts you off quickly, “dad knows before me? who else knows?”

“well mum for starters, and cisca and-”

“oh my god, y/n! you told everyone before me?”

“well i knew you’d act this way! which is crazy by the way,” you finish your telling off as both your boyfriend and you anxiously wait for his response. 

“both of you,” he responds quietly, “both of you just leave me alone,” lando proceeds to make his way to the door and he solemnly shakes his head in defeat. once the door is shut, carlos faces you with the same expression evident in his own eyes. 

“shouldn’t we go after him?”

“no, he’s been like this since he was little. he needs his time to himself to think,” you shake your head, “are you alright?”

carlos takes your hands in his and pulls you closer to him, “i’m fine. i’m sorry, mi amor, i’ll fix this,”

“it’s not your fault, carlos. you have nothing to apologize for. maybe my parents will talk some sense into him,” you glance up at him and place a soft kiss onto his lips before continuing, “are we, you know, okay?”

“si, si,” carlos nods fervently, “of course, i don’t want anything between us to change,”

“okay, love, good. neither do i,”

-

a week had gone by and neither you nor carlos had heard from lando. you were beyond concerned until your parents informed you he was okay, just needed to process. you took their advice to let it all just sit, but carlos could tell you were getting antsy. even though lando and you had your differences and times apart, you were like his second mother. he went to you for anything big in his life. you were his role model, his best friend. and he was yours. the time apart was killing you. 

with that, carlos took it upon himself to fix the situation. ultimately he felt it was his fault, with lando’s words continuously echoing in his ears, ‘i know what you do to your girlfriends. that is not touching my sister’. carlos can admit he’s had a rocky past with girls before, but you were different. he cared on a different level than he ever had. and the ring that was safely tucked into the bottom drawer of his dresser, hidden under a few pairs of socks for extra measure, said beyond otherwise. 

you sat up when you watched your boyfriend grab his keys and jacket, making his way to the door of the hotel room you were staying in before the race weekend. 

“where are you headed, love?” you gently ask in his direction. 

“i’m going out to see charles, do you want to join? it’ll only be for a minute with our press officer,” carlos lies with ease, knowing you wouldn’t want to join him for a boring meeting. and just as he predicted, you scrunched up your face in disgust and shook your head. your boyfriend then let out a laugh and bent down to say goodbye in the form of a kiss, you hummed into it and smiled as he pulled away. with your light whisper of ‘hurry back, i’ll miss you’ carlos just smiles and nods as he heads out. 

instead of making his way to charles’ room at 205, he makes his way up to the third floor to room 307, where your brother was. two knocks once again, oh the irony, and lando is pulling the door open to face carlos. he rolls his eyes and attempts to slam the door but your boyfriend brings that to a halt. 

“wait, wait. lando please just listen,” carlos pleads to your brother.

“what?” lando speaks sharply, “you’ve got one minute and the clock is ticking, so let’s go,”

“lando, please. y/n and i have been serious for a year now, i have no intention of hurting her,”

“a year?! a year. you are not helping your case here, you both have been lying to me for a year?!”

“okay, lando i understand why you’re upset but please just hear me out,” carlos sighs at your brothers dramatics, “i love your sister, i am serious about your sister. we didn’t tell you because she needed time. i respect her, and her wishes. but please, i am begging you to understand that i love and cherish her,”

“what do you want me to do? carlos i have seen you leave a trail of broken hearts in your wake, you are not adding my sister to that,”

“but i won’t. i promise. would i have bought this if i wasn’t serious?” with that question carlos pulls the engagement ring he had bought you out of his pocket and pushes it toward your brother, “now i’ve been waiting until we’re both ready, and i still need your parents blessing, but i bought it because i am serious about your sister. i love her, lando,”

“you big sap,” lando brushes off the moment with a chuckle, “fine, i understand. but if you do hurt her i swear-”

“you’ll kill me i know,” carlos finishes for him, “now can you please come with me to talk to her, she misses you much more than she’s willing to admit,”

“ya i will, i’ve missed her too,”

“i know, the norris genes are filled with stubbornness i swear,” carlos laughs along with his now friend as they head down to the second floor in order to appease your heart and mind. 

as you hear carlos unlock the hotel room door, you jump off the couch in order to greet him, yet falter as you stare into your brothers eyes. 

“what are you doing here?” you ask softly.

“i came because carlos spoke to me,” at lando’s admission your eyes find your boyfriends and he gives you an apologetic smile, “listen, y/n. i overreacted. i just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be hurt,”

“i am a grown woman, lan. hell, i’m older than you! i practically raised you following you around to races. i can take care of myself, make my own decisions thank you very much,” your voice level remains calm but lando can tell you’re irritated. 

“i’m sorry, y/n. i really am,”

“then tell me and carlos you’re happy for us,” you plainly state. 

“what? why-”

“just say it, i need to hear you say it,” the irritation comes out a bit in your push for approval as you stare down your little brother.

“i’m really happy for you both, y/n. now can i have my big sister back? please?” you launch yourself into his arms at his question and laugh with a bit of pride and a lot of joy. 

“she never left, lando,” carlos adds on from a few feet away where he stands. both the norris siblings look over at carlos and beckon him closer into the hug. 

and to that, with your two favorite boys at peace, your heart beat practically out of your chest.