#it’s one thing to complain when you have something constructive to say but like. keep this kind of nastiness to yourself pls

[sxvual]

act five • the truth

a/n: this was a lot and I’m still so unsure about this part but it had to be posted

cw: the usual angst, themes of depression

word count: 9.8k

———————————————————————————

Sunny had always been an unusually easy child—or so her father, Gerald, often said. Raising his only daughter was, in his words, “the simplest and most rewarding thing” he’d ever done. He rarely had to scold her. Her worst offense? Hiding a stray cat in her closet for two weeks, sneaking it scraps from dinner. Beyond that, she listened the first time, brought home not just good but exceptional grades, offered to tutor her classmates, and made friends with the right kind of people.

A natural social butterfly, she floated through the world with optimism, but never blind naivety. Her head brimmed with dreams, yes—but they were always grounded by a strange, aged kind of wisdom.

She grew up with little, though you’d never know it by the way she carried herself. Money had always been tight. Her father’s hands were calloused from years of construction work and odd jobs scattered through the dusty corners of Georgia—patching roofs, fixing fences, doing whatever it took to keep the lights on and a smile on his baby girl’s face. He worried constantly about what he couldn’t give her.

But Sunny never complained.

She smiled through it all—wide-eyed, radiant, content with less.

On her eighth birthday, all he could afford was a small paint set, a few worn brushes, and a single, thin canvas. But to Sunny, it may as well have been Christmas morning. Her face lit up like she was made of joy itself. She wasted no time—filling every inch with color: landscapes, fruit bowls, her favorite cartoon characters, all whirling together in a burst of imagination.

When the canvas filled, she didn’t stop. She painted on cardboard boxes, scrap wood from the garage, even the inside flaps of shipping packages. Anything could be a canvas. Those paint supplies were her treasure, and Gerald—moved by her passion—did whatever he could to keep that spark alive.

Because even then, her talent was unmistakable.

She was just eleven when she painted the self-portrait that would change everything.

The contest prompt had been simple: Paint Yourself.

Most kids turned in bright, smiling faces. Crayon-colored hobbies. Pets with crooked eyes. But Sunny’s piece was quiet. Haunting.

She painted herself as an infant, swaddled in soft bluish tones that complimented her deep brown skin, held by no one. Above the cradle, a shadow in the shape of a woman hovered, ghostlike—arms outstretched, but unable to touch. A hospital bracelet slipped from her wrist. The background bled shades of gray and aching gold, like morning light trying to fight through a storm.

Beneath it, she scrawled a title in block letters: The Day I Arrived, She Left.

It was raw. Too much, some whispered. But it moved people.

Her art teacher cried. So did the judges. Her father didn’t say much—just shed a tear, then left the room. But that night, in the quiet of their two-bedroom home, she heard him cry. Not soft. Not gentle. He wept.

Out of thousands of entries, hers was the one they couldn’t look away from. It won—nationally.

And in that moment, Sunny knew.

She didn’t want to just paint. She wanted to say something. To pull emotion from people the way she had unknowingly done her whole life. For the first time, someone had looked at her and said: you have something to say. And she realized… she always had.

Not with her words. With her hands.

Now, all these years later, Sunny stood in the doorway of her studio—a space once sacred, now stilled. Once brimming with light and purpose, now faded and quiet.

Half-started canvases slumped in corners, their edges curling in neglect. The air smelled faintly of linseed and old dreams. Dried paint clung to palettes like memories—stubborn, ghostlike. Each color was once chosen with care. Now, they were relics.

She had something to say again—something jagged and hollow and vast.

Grief.

She wanted to pour it out, to let it spill from her like it had when she was eleven, confused by a loss too big for her small body. But this time, her hands wouldn’t move. The ache in her chest begged for release, but her fingers grasped at air. Her brush lay untouched.

She wandered past scattered easels and crumpled paper, stopping in front of a blank canvas. The silence around her was deafening. Puddles of paint caught light like spilled emotion—reflections of all the tears she’d cried, and the ones still stuck inside.

Once, she believed her art could hold her pain.

Now, the silence wins.

The brush remains dry. The canvas: empty.

And Sunny—once so full of voice—feels mute in her sorrow.

Feels mute in the one place on earth where Roman made sure she could be as loud as she pleased.

—

Roman’s place was quiet except for the occasional laugh track drifting from the bedroom. The soft hum of reality TV drifted from the bedroom, puncuated by the occasional dramatic gasp or over the top confession. Roman grinned, he followed the sound in socked feet, a brown paper bag in one hand filled with her snack requests—kettle corn, sour gummies, and a bottle of green tea she swore helped her sleep.

He paused at the doorframe.

There she was, curled up in the middle of his california king bed like she owned the thing. Barefoot, legs tangled in the sheets, wearing one of his oversized T-shirts and no pants, her iPad propped on a pillow in front of her.

She was watching some god-awful reality show about women who threw drinks and shade with the same level of violence, eyes glued to the screen, giggling under her breath. Occasionally, she’d scoff and shake her head, totally immersed.

Her presence filled the room in a way that felt right. Like this was how the space was meant to look—lived in, warm, hers.

Roman leaned against the doorframe and just… watched.

It was so normal, so simple. So her.

And yet Roman felt something clench in his chest, like he'd walked in on a version he hadn't known he'd wanted until now. Like maybe this was what home was supposed to look like.

He didn't mean to say, didn't plan it. Contrary to his meticulous nature at the core—disciplined, sharp, and a little uptight that made everything around him ordered and intentional. But it slipped out, low and certain:

"You should just move in."

Sunnt blinked, pulling a bud from her ear and tilting her head. "Huh?"

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, fiddling with the stray hairs at the base of his neck. Suddenly self-conscious but committed. "Move in with me. I mean, you're basically here all the time anyways. And I hate leaving you in that shoebox apartment. And…I like this. You, here. Feels right."

She stared at him, wide eyed with suprise, fingers frozen around the pause button on the screen.

"Your serious?" Roman stepped into the room fully now and sat beside her on the bed, placing the bag between them. "Dead serious, sunshine. I want you here, all the way."

There was a long beat. And then she slowly smiled—one of those shy, glowing, heart soft smiles she rarely gave away easily.

"You're luckly I like your water pressure," she teased, gently nudging his leg with her toe. "And the fact that you'll go to the gas station at 11 pm for snacks. For me.."

"For you. Only you.." he whispers grabbing her foot in his grasp, massaging it softly.

She chuckled, he pulled her close.

"So? What's it gonna be Sunshine?"

She looked up at him, the iPad screen forgotten. "Okay."

"Okay?" he was partly suprised.

And just like that, his bed wasn't just his anymore. It was theirs.

—

The house had grown quieter since Valencia’s visit. But not the kind of quiet Roman could live with. It wasn’t peace—it was absence. Sharp and cutting, like glass.

He noticed the shift right away. Sunny no longer lingered in rooms with him. Their shoulders no longer brushed when they passed in the hall. Conversations shrank to bare logistics. And at night, she curled at the farthest edge of the bed… when she even chose to sleep beside him at all.

She moved through rooms like a ghost—touching nothing, leaving nothing behind. Most days, she didn’t even leave bed. Roman couldn’t remember the last time they’d shared a meal that wasn’t heavy with silence.

He tried. God, he was trying.

That morning, he made her favorite drink—hot milk tea with extra sugar. Set it on the counter with a note: I love you. Have a good day. He left quietly, hoping she’d at least see it.

When he came home that evening, the tea was still there.

The note. The cup. His love.

Untouched.

The next morning, he found her in the studio, standing in front of a blank canvas like it belonged to someone else. He handed her the same cup, reheated. She took it with a distracted “thanks,” never meeting his eyes. He lingered, hoping for more. She didn’t speak again.

Later, they passed in the hallway. She turned slightly—subtle, but clear—so their bodies wouldn’t touch. Once, it had been automatic. Intimate.

Now, it was gone.

That night, she curled so far from him in bed she might as well have been on another continent. Roman stared at the ceiling, hand resting over the place her head used to lie.

The ache inside him had teeth now. It gnawed at his ribs, lived beneath his skin.

He missed her so much it made him angry.

Why couldn’t she see? Why wasn’t it enough that he was still here? Still trying?

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up. Typed.

I miss you.

She was just in the next room. He heard the faint vibration of her phone. A pause. Then silence.

No reply.

Roman’s jaw clenched so tightly it throbbed.

Before everything fell quiet between them, Sunny used to cling to Roman like he was her grounding wire. When they laid down together—whether it was after long days or lazy Sundays—she’d wrap herself around his arm like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. And he’d let her. No matter how stiff or exhausted he was, his arm stayed right there for her.

She found the most chaotic ways to multitask—cooking a meal for them while simultaneously holding his hand under the table like it was non-negotiable. If he tried to pull away to stir a pot or cut something, she’d swat at him and mutter, “Just one more minute,” as if her fingers were fused to his.

Even after she took her indefinite maternity leave, she’d show up at his office in oversized sweaters, belly leading the way, going over his schedule like she was still his assistant. She’d sit on the couch, scrolling through meeting notes, and Roman—always in a suit, always composed—would be crouched in front of her, rubbing her feet without a second thought. Her feet were always bare. He’d tickle her toes on purpose just to hear her shriek, to watch her laugh so hard she’d lose her train of thought. Then he’d lean in and kiss her knee like it was the most sacred thing in the world.

He made her feel like a kid. Like she could play, fall apart, and be soft in a world that always expected her to be sharp. And more than anything, he made her feel loved.

—

The boxes came in waves—some packed with care, others chaotic and overstuffed, like they were trying to outrun the life she was leaving behind. Sunny had moved in piece by piece: her sketchbooks first, then clothes, then the chipped mug she always drank tea out of when she couldn't sleep. Now it was all here, scattered in half-opened boxes across Roman’s pristine hallway.

She stood barefoot on his living room rug, oversized hoodie swallowed up to her knees, scanning the room with a slow, overwhelmed gaze. “Feels weird,” she said, almost to herself. “Like I’m trespassing in a museum.”

Roman, leaning against the wall in a fitted tee and sweats, crossed his arms. “It’s not a museum.”

“No, it is,” she insisted, spinning a little. “Everything’s neutral and minimal and smells like cedar wood and masculine heartbreak.”

He tried not to smile, but failed. “I live here.”

She pointed. “Exactly.”

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until he was in front of her. His hands slid up her arms, thumbs brushing her shoulders. “You live here now too. So change it.”

Her brows lifted. “You sure about that?”

“I let you put three different 'skincare' serums in my bathroom drawer, Sunny. I’m committed.”

She laughed, but her voice cracked a little at the end. Roman didn’t press it—he just leaned in, kissed the spot below her ear where her guard always dropped, and took her hand.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

She followed him down the hall, past his office and the laundry room, to the spare room that had always been closed off.

“Didn’t you say this was for ‘guests you don’t like enough to give your bedroom’?”

“I upgraded it.”

He opened the door.

She stepped in—and froze.

It was a studio. Not just a space, but hers. Wooden easel already set up. A tall drafting table. Warm daylight bulbs overhead, canvases stacked neatly in the corner. A shelf of brand-new oils, acrylics, and pencils she hadn’t even told him she needed. The window had sheer curtains now. The same kind she had in her old apartment.

Sunny turned in a slow circle, then faced him.

“You did this for me?”

Roman shrugged, but there was something vulnerable in the way he stood there—like he’d built this with his hands tied behind his back and was hoping it was enough.

“I know the little supply closet at the office wasn't cutting it anymore.”

Her eyes were glassy now. She bit her lip, hard. “You made me a room.”

“I made you a home,” he corrected.

She didn’t cry—Sunny wasn’t the crying type. But she walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest like the gesture was stitched into her. “You’re gonna make me soft,” she whispered.

“You already are.”

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, close. The silence between them tender, not heavy. Eventually, she tugged him toward the bedroom, eyes still warm with emotion.

He didn’t resist.

"Can we get a dog next?"

"Don't push it girl." They both laughed, heads thrown back, full and happy.

Later that night, when the lights were low and the chaos of boxes gave way to soft breathing and tangled limbs, Roman kissed her slowly. Intentionally. Like he’d been waiting to exhale.

Her hands roamed, familiar with every edge of him. And his were patient, reverent, tracing her like a promise—not just of love, but of permanence. Of this is yours now and I want you here, in all the ways that matter.

When they moved together, it wasn’t rushed. It was grounding. Homecoming.

Afterward, she fell asleep in his arms, fingers still curled in his.

And Roman, who once obsessed over control and order, didn’t mind the mess she brought.

It made everything feel real.

—

Roman hadn’t meant to bury himself in the office. At first, it was just easier—safer—to stay late, answer emails that could’ve waited, micromanage projects that didn’t need him. It gave him something to control. Something to fix. Something that wasn’t her silence, her sidelong glances, or the way she’d pull away like his touch burned.

Roman couldn't say it was entirely his mothers fault that Sunny pulled back, retreating back into herself like a bird in its egg not quite ready to hatch. But he'd be damned if he didn't let her know she should shoulder some of the blame. So Roman did just that, calling his mother and giving her a strong piece of his Roman sat in the parked car, the leather seat stiff beneath him, his phone cold in his palm. He stared out at nothing, thumb hovering over his mother’s contact. He should’ve called her days ago—should’ve said something the moment Sunny stopped talking to him.

But now? Now he couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t pretend that Valencia’s visit hadn’t left a bruise.

He hit Call.

It rang once. Twice.

“Roman!” Valencia answered, her voice bright, warm, too casual. “I was just thinking about you, baby. You must’ve gotten my texts—”

“Yeah,” Roman said flatly. “I got them. That’s why I’m calling.”

A pause on the line. “Oh? Everything alright tesoro?” Her tone was affectionate and gentle.

“No,” he said. “Not really.”

There was silence, then the soft rustle of her adjusting something—probably her earrings, he thought absently. She always fussed with her earrings when things got uncomfortable.

“I need you to learn how to keep your mouth shut, especially to Suniva.”

“Excuse me?” she said, the warmth in her tone dropping instantly.

“You heard me. Whatever you think you’re doing? Stop. You're not helping your being a nuisance.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but the edge in it was enough to cut through her composure.

Valencia scoffed. “I was trying to talk some sense into her. You think I didn’t see it? She’s not herself, Roman. That girl looks like death.”

“She’s grieving,” he said, jaw tight. “You think she doesn’t know she’s not herself? You think she wants to feel like this? You came into our home and made it worse.”

“I was being honest,” she snapped, her patience thinning. “That house was silent. She barely looked at you. The girl’s drowning and nobody’s saying a damn word, just placating her—”

“Honesty doesn’t mean you get to gut someone,” Roman said, voice low, eyes narrowing. “You saw her pain and threw salt on it. You wanted her to feel like she failed me. Like she failed us.”

“That is not fair,” Valencia said, sharp. “I said what I said because I care. Someone has to say it.”

“And someone has to live with her afterward,” he growled. “I do. I see what you did to her every damn day. You know she hasn’t spoken to me since you came over? She hasn’t looked me in the eye in days. You didn’t just criticize her. You humiliated her. You made her feel like she was a burden.”

He exhaled harshly, running a hand down his face. “I know I haven’t been perfect. I’ve been working too much. I’ve been angry. I’ve been numb. But you—you pushed her further back into that shell she was just starting to crawl out of.”

The line was quiet. He could almost hear her blinking through it.

“I’m your mother,” she said finally, her voice cooler now. “I raised you to be strong. I’m not going to coddle you or that girl—”

“I’m not asking you to coddle her,” Roman said. “I’m asking you to respect her. She’s supposed to be my wife. The woman who carried our child. The woman who lost our child. You don’t get to come into her space and tear her down, then pretend like you were doing us a favor.”

“So what—you want me to apologize?”

“No,” Roman said. “I want you to back off, you don't even deserve to look at my wife let alone speak to her.”

Another long pause. Then—soft, bitter:

“You really think I’m the villain in all this.”

“No,” he said, more tired than angry now. “I think you love me. I think you thought you were helping me. But you weren’t. And I'm not the one who needs help, its Sunny. And if you really love me—if you ever cared about me or Sunny—" She scoffed in a way so condescending Roman seriously had to remind himself that this was his mother and not just some random woman off the street.

"you’ll give us space to figure things out. On our own.” He finished, tensely.

He didn’t wait for a response. He ended the call and let the silence close in around him, heavy and sharp.

He stared at the steering wheel, heart pounding, wondering if it was already too late. Hoping that this might fix the rift his mother unfortunately created. But like a ripple it continued and got bigger and bigger, and their situation got worse and worse.

Sunny was still light years away. And now Roman was at a loss and didn't know how to help her.

So he stopped trying to be where he wasn’t wanted. Give her space.

If she didn’t reach for him, he’d stop reaching too. As not to overwhelm her.

But the mornings blurred into late nights and back again. He was always the first one in, the last one out. Meetings stacked one after another. Coffee and adrenaline replaced sleep. His team started whispering about his tempo—how he was running at a pace no one could sustain—but he didn’t care.

Because at least the work needed him.

At least the work didn’t turn its back in bed.

At least the work didn’t flinch when he tried to love it.

And maybe it was petty. Maybe it was cowardly. But some part of him kept hoping she’d notice. That she’d come into the office like she used to, lean on his desk and tease him for overworking. That she’d tug his tie and tell him to come home.

But she didn’t.

And he didn’t ask.

—

Madeline had worked for Roman Reigns for thirty-two days, and in that short time, he’d never once shown a crack.

Until now.

He wasn’t unkind—just reserved. Polished. The kind of man who wore silence like a tailored suit: sharp, intentional, impenetrable. Every meeting on time. Every file in place. Every word deliberate.

She used to wonder what it would take to rattle someone like him—not to hurt, just to see what lived under all that control.

Now, she didn’t have to wonder.

It started small. His tie, slightly askew. Shirt wrinkled at the sleeves. He arrived late, mumbling about traffic, hair still damp, bun glistening faintly. Some days, he forgot his watch. Other days, he didn’t touch his coffee.

By the end of the week, she started bringing him a second espresso in the afternoons without asking. He never said thank you—but he drank it.

She noticed the long pauses, the way he stared at his phone like waiting for something that wouldn’t come. The sighs. The tension in his shoulders.

So she started leaving little things—Motrin by his laptop, his forgotten glasses atop his calendar. A second lunch when he skipped the first.

She never asked questions. Never pried.

But she watched.

And what she saw was a man unraveling—quietly, completely.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not yet. But something in her stirred.

She knew loss. Knew how it hollowed you out. Maybe that’s why she lingered longer when handing him his schedule. Why her smiles softened. Why she started noticing the songs he played low through the speakers—old R&B she didn’t know, but quietly began to like.

It wasn’t just the job anymore.

Something in her recognized something in him.

And that’s how it started.

Small. Innocent. But it had started.

—

Sunny noticed the silence before she noticed the time.

The soft click of the front door never came anymore—not at dinner, not even by midnight. His keys didn’t jingle in the bowl. His footsteps didn’t echo down the hallway. Most nights, she sat curled on the far end of the couch, pretending the TV held her attention, but her eyes always drifted to the door. Hoping. Dreading.

Sometimes she didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until she let it out in a quiet, bitter sigh.

He stayed late now. Every night.

And she couldn’t blame him.

She couldn’t bring herself to reach out. Not when she remembered all the times she’d turned away—closed off, sharp-edged, numb. How she’d flinched from his tenderness, shut down his concern, pushed his love back toward him like it was too heavy to hold.

She’d been cruel. Not with words, but with absence.

And now she could feel it in return, that same absence radiating back at her like a mirror she didn’t want to look into.

She thought about texting him. “Come home.” She thought about walking into his office like she used to. Sitting on the edge of his desk. Making him laugh. Reminding him that they used to be them.

But the truth was—she didn’t know if she had the right anymore.

She’d built a wall around her grief and kept him outside of it. And now he was learning to live without the warmth of her.

—

"Are you sleeping at night?"

Madeline wasn't pushy, not overtly, she was much cleverer than that.

She came to Roman with warmth and openessness, with presence. Not flirtation necessarily, but care. Concern disguised as efficiency. Affection masked as professionalism. And Roman, for all his self discipline noticed, he noticided and didn't stop it.

She asked questions no else dared ask a man of his stature, and prowess.

He brushed her off the first few times. Said he was fine. Said it was just work. But Madeline never let it lie completely. She didn't push, not all at once. She circled the edges of his exhaustion like a lion wathcing its prey wear itself thin.

"Fine," she'd murmur, moving around his office filing scanned documents like she filed away his answer, "but maybe, and don't kill the messanger, you take a real lunch tomorrow. Not just coffee and aspirin."

Then she started showing up with things—unasked. A protein smoothie. Left on his desk after she overhead him mention skipping breakfast. A thermos of herbal tea "because the weathers been crap and your voice sounds hoarse." A new pen when his ran out mid meeting—his favorite kind though he never told her that. She plucked the only one of out his hands, and replaced it with swift but present brush of their hands.

Roman took note of all of it.

He noticed she touched his shoulder in passing when the day was tense. How she started to stand just a little too close when reading over his screen. The way she memorized the things that made his day easier, lighter, gentler.

It was how they kept finding themselves in these moments—him at his desk, eyes on his screen, pretending emails held his attention when every part of him was tuned to her. Madeline was saying something, her voice low and easy, but he wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t afford to. Not when the real distraction wasn’t her words but her—the way she leaned in a little too close, lingered a little too long, made it harder every damn day to pretend he didn’t feel it. Pretend he wasn’t thinking about her.

The office had a quiet buzz in the early evening, the kind of hush that settled deeply into his bones after a long day. Roman was at his desk, half listening as Madeline ran through the next mornings schedule—until his phone rang.

He glanced quickly at the screen, pathetically hoping it could've been Suniva. An unknown number, he almost ignored it, then picked up on the second ring out of habit.

"Roman Reigns." his deep voice

A woman’s voice chirped brightly on the other end. “Hi! This is Talia from Everbloom Florals. Just confirming the recurring peony arrangement for tomorrow—same delivery time as every year?”

His body stilled. “Peonies?” he echoed, the word foreign in his mouth. His gaze unfocused for a beat, then sharpened. “Wait—what arrangement?”

“The one we’ve been delivering every May 8th for the last two years. To your home address. Luxurious white peonies, blush accents, handwritten card—always the same message. I have it on file.”

May 8th.

Roman’s stomach dropped. His fingers tightened around the phone.

The anniversary.

“I... forgot,” he said, more to himself than to her. The admission felt like swallowing a stone.

Talia paused. “Would you like to cancel?”

He hesitated. “No. Send them.”

He hung up slowly.

Madeline had stopped reading from her tablet. She was watching him closely, her brow pinched. “You okay?”

Roman leaned back in his chair, pressing a hand to his jaw. “I forgot,” he murmured again, and this time there was something hollow in the way he said it. “That’s the part I can’t wrap my head around. I never forget.”

Madeline didn’t push—not yet—but she moved a step closer, her voice quiet. “Anniversary?”

His eyes flicked to her, guarded, then reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, actually.”

“You’re married?” she asked, gently.

“Engaged, 2 years today,” he replied, his voice rough with what sounded like regret. “We were supposed to be married last spring. We postponed it. Then... we never set another date.”

A long beat passed. Madeline let the silence stretch, sensing that if she filled it too quickly, he’d shut down.

Roman opened a drawer. For a moment, he didn’t move—just stared inside it like he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Then he pulled out a small photo, edges worn. He handed it to her without a word.

Sunny. Crouched at a dog shelter, petting a gangly greyhound with both hands. She was laughing, her face completely lit up, the sun caught in her hair. She looked like joy personified.

Madeline’s chest tightened, not from sentiment but something else—something more complicated.

“She wanted to adopt all of them,” Roman said, the corners of his mouth twitching with the ghost of a smile. “We argued for ten minutes about logistics before she wore me down. Started the paperwork for two, never got to pick them up though because then we lost-” He stopped.

He stared at the photo a little too long before pulling it back. When he slid it into the drawer again, the motion felt like tucking a piece of himself away.

“What happened?” Madeline asked carefully.

Roman’s expression shifted—something darker, quieter. “Life happened,” he said, evasively. “I lost her without ever really losing her.”

His eyes dropped to the desk, jaw working as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t.

Madeline swallowed. There was pain in his voice, yes—but what haunted her was how much love still lived in it too. The kind of love that lingered. The kind you didn’t just move on from.

And for a reason she couldn’t explain, that realization didn’t soften her.

It unsettled her.

Roman’s gaze lingered on the drawer, the photo tucked inside, hidden once again. There was an emptiness in his posture now, a gravity to his silence that pressed down on the room. Madeline felt the weight of it, too, but she resisted the urge to break the stillness.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them thickened with the quiet acknowledgment of something too fragile to touch.

Finally, Madeline shifted her weight, unsure if she should press for more. Her instincts were tugging at her, urging her to get closer to the truth, to pull it from him, but she held back. If she pushed too hard, she feared it would push him away entirely.

“Do you still…” She began, and when Roman’s eyes met hers, she trailed off, unsure how to finish the question.

“Do I still what?” His voice was calm, but his gaze remained unwavering, sharp, as though the question had already been answered long before it was asked.

“Do you still love her?” The words came out before she could stop them. It was an honest question, one she hadn’t meant to ask, but it had slipped out nonetheless.

Roman didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. He met her eyes squarely, his expression unreadable. There was no doubt in his voice, no uncertainty. “Yes. I love her.” The words felt heavier than he intended, carrying the weight of everything he didn’t say—everything he couldn’t explain.

Madeline held his gaze, noticing the slight tightness around his eyes, the subtle shift in his posture. It wasn’t just the fact that he loved her, it was how much it still affected him, how the pain lingered. She could sense the distance, the grief he wore like an invisible cloak.

Roman reached into his desk drawer, and Madeline watched as he retrieved the photo with a careful hand. It was of Sunny at a dog shelter, crouching down to pet a large greyhound. The dog’s eyes were soft, trusting, and Sunny's face radiated joy—the kind of joy that was impossible to fake. A smile so wide and full of life it seemed to illuminate the room.

Roman’s fingers lingered over the edge of the photo for a beat too long before he set it down on the desk. He didn’t speak. The silence hung between them, charged, heavy.

Madeline glanced down at the picture, and though it was just a fleeting moment, she couldn’t ignore the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at it. He didn’t need to say anything more. The love was still there, in the quiet, in the way his gaze softened, and in the way the grief followed him even now.

Madeline could feel it—the weight of it. She felt an odd unease in her chest, a gnawing feeling she couldn’t shake. There was something about the way Roman looked at that photo, the depth of emotion that seemed to pulse in the room, that made her want to step back. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

For the first time, she realized there was more to Roman than the man who sat behind a desk making cold, calculated decisions. This man, the one who was capable of such raw, unguarded love—he was not so easy to define.

And yet, as much as she wanted to tell herself that her job was just that—her job—something within her stirred, something she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the tenderness in his touch, or the way he’d opened up just a fraction, but Madeline felt something shift.

This was more than just professional, and that was dangerous.

—

Later that Evening – Madeline’s Apartment

Madeline sat at her kitchen counter, her fingers wrapped around the now-cold mug of tea. The image of Roman’s quiet reverence for the photo, the love still visible in his eyes, wouldn’t leave her.

She had always known he was more than just a businessman, more than the aloof, distant man who could command a room. But she hadn’t realized how much more. The rawness in him, the way he’d opened up for just a fleeting moment, had shifted something inside her.

And then there was the way he had looked at her, too. She hadn’t missed it—the subtle way his attention lingered, how he noticed the smallest things about her, the way he seemed to appreciate her presence. She wasn’t blind to it. It was there, and it felt… undeniable.

The unease in her chest grew as she realized just how drawn she was to him. But the more she thought about it, the more complicated it seemed.

She wasn’t a fool. She knew better than to get involved with someone like him, especially someone still clearly tethered to someone else. She had seen the pain in his eyes. He wasn’t ready to let Sunny go, not entirely.

And yet, here she was, sitting alone in her apartment, her mind tangled in thoughts of him. The way his presence felt like an open invitation to more—more vulnerability, more intimacy. It should’ve scared her, but it didn’t. Instead, it was the attraction to him—the dangerous, forbidden kind—that unsettled her the most.

What was she even doing? Trying to pick apart a man’s grief, trying to understand a love she didn’t have a right to?

Madeline stood abruptly, walking over to the window and staring out into the dark city skyline.

She had to stop. She couldn’t let herself fall into whatever this was. Roman’s heart was already spoken for. He was still tangled in a past he couldn’t let go of, and she would be nothing more than an interlude in his story if she wasn’t careful.

But the pull, the desire to get closer, to dig deeper—she couldn't ignore it.

And that realization unsettled her more than anything.

The sun had barely risen, and yet Madeline was already up, pacing around her kitchen with a mug of coffee in her hand. She hadn’t been able to sleep much last night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Roman—his steady gaze, the way he seemed to wear his grief like armor, and the tenderness in his voice when he spoke about Sunny.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. The line between professional and personal had blurred, and she was no longer sure where one ended and the other began. It terrified her.

She wasn’t supposed to care this much. She wasn’t supposed to be drawn into his world, to want to know more about the man behind the business persona. She wasn’t supposed to feel this pull toward him. But here she was, caught between her desire for professional success and the temptation to be closer to him, to dig deeper into that raw, untold part of his heart.

Madeline set the mug down, her fingers trembling slightly.

She had always been in control. Always. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She had seen a side of Roman she hadn’t expected—something real, something painful, and it made her feel more connected to him than she ever had before.

Taking a deep breath, she knew she couldn’t let herself get consumed by it. She had a job to do. And Roman’s personal life—his unresolved feelings for Sunny—wasn’t her business. She could be there for him professionally, support him as his assistant, but she had to keep her distance emotionally.

With a swift decision, she grabbed her phone and sent him a text.

Good morning, Roman. Let me know if you need anything for today. I’ll be in the office by 9:00 AM.

It was brief, professional. She needed to re-establish some boundaries. She needed to stop thinking about him in the ways she had been.

But then her phone buzzed, and when she saw his name, her heart skipped a beat. She took a moment before opening his message.

Thanks, Madeline. I’ll be there in 30 minutes. I’ve got some things to go over with you.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She could’ve sworn he hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who would let his emotions spill over so easily. Yet, something about his words—and the promise of a conversation that felt more personal than usual—made her pause.

Madeline arrived at the office early, her thoughts still spinning from the events of the previous day. Roman’s message had thrown her off balance, and as she entered his office, she couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted to talk about. It wasn’t like him to seek out personal conversations, not in the way he had been.

“Morning,” she greeted, her voice steady despite the way her heart raced when she saw him sitting at his desk. He looked just as composed as ever, but there was something in his posture—something guarded—that made her think he had been up all night too.

“Morning,” Roman replied, his eyes meeting hers with a certain intensity. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about yesterday.”

Madeline stopped in her tracks, her stomach tightening. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up so soon. She thought she’d have more time to figure things out, to process it.

“I know this is complicated,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to tell you something.”

She nodded, bracing herself for whatever came next.

“I appreciate the way you’ve been there for me, I mean everything you've been doing. Your work has been great.."

Madeline’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to admit this—his vulnerability, his need to talk, to share more of what was really going on. It shifted the power dynamic again, but this time, it wasn’t so much about him being her boss. It was about him being human.

“Don't sir, it's my job and I do it.” she said, her voice soft. He nodded fervently.

"But sir, I have a question though...if you don't mind. Are you guys gonna be okay?"

Roman stood, slowly walking over to the window. “Sunny… She’s not just someone I was with. She’s everything to me. But lately, I’ve been losing her piece by piece. And it’s my fault.” He looked out the window, his back to her, as though the distance gave him the space to breathe.

Madeline could feel the weight of his words. She didn’t need to ask for more details. The way he spoke, the way his shoulders sagged, said enough. His emotions were still raw, and no matter how much he tried to suppress them, they were always there, just under the surface.

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. She had already crossed a line by acknowledging this, by being a listening ear. She couldn’t offer him advice. But what she could offer was understanding.

“You’re not alone in this, Roman,” she said, her voice steady, but with a softness she hadn’t intended. “It’s okay to not have it all together. It’s okay to need help.”

He turned to face her then, his expression unreadable. But for just a moment, there was something in his eyes—something that made her feel like he was looking at her in a way he hadn’t before. She could see the subtle shift, the way his attention lingered just a little longer than it should have.

Madeline’s pulse quickened. It was impossible to ignore the tension, the pull between them. She knew this wasn’t just about his pain anymore. It was about something else—something neither of them could deny.

—

Later that Day – Madeline’s Apartment

That evening, Madeline sat in her apartment again, reflecting on everything that had transpired. She had been careful to keep her distance, to maintain her professional demeanor, but something had changed. Roman had opened up to her, and she had allowed herself to be a part of his world, a small part of his pain.

But it wasn’t just about the pain, was it? It was about the connection. The way he looked at her differently now, as if seeing her in a new light. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were no longer just boss and assistant.

And it frightened her. Because what if she was starting to care for him in a way that was more than professional?

She sat down on the couch, her hands resting in her lap. The unease from the night before had returned, stronger than ever. She had opened a door she didn’t know how to close.

As her phone buzzed with a message from Roman, her heart skipped again.

Madeline, thank you for listening today. I really appreciate it.

The words felt weighted with more than just gratitude. They felt like a line drawn between them, a line that, once crossed, would be impossible to go back from.

Madeline stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. She had made her choice the moment she answered the phone yesterday. And now, there was no going back.

She had to figure out where this path led, no matter where it took her.

—

Just shy of midnight at the reigns household

The front door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality. Roman stood in the darkened foyer, exhaling the weight of the day—or maybe it was the weight of everything. His tie was already loosened, shirt half-untucked, the ache in his shoulders carved deep from hours of tension that hadn’t let up once. Not at work, and definitely not at home.

Madeline had lingered in his mind far longer than he wanted to admit. The warmth in her gaze, the small gestures—the way she remembered how he liked his coffee, how she laughed at his dry humor, even when he wasn’t trying. The touch of her hand on his wrist earlier… it hadn't meant anything, and yet it had.

He knew he was out of line. Letting it stretch, letting her crush breathe in the silence between them, letting himself bask in the ease and attention. It was wrong. He couldn’t give her anything, he wouldn't. But the truth lodged bitter in his throat: he liked the way she made him feel—like a man, not a grieving ghost.

The soft glow of the living room lamp pulled him from his thoughts. He froze.

Sunny.

Curled in the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, eyes swollen from sleep or something else. She looked up slowly when she heard him.

He hadn’t expected her to be awake.

They hadn't really spoken in days. Not in any way that mattered. His late nights had become routine, and she never waited up, texted to check in, nothing.

Still, something in her tried tonight.

"How was work?" she asked softly. Her voice was a thin thread, fraying at the edges, barely holding together.

Roman looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time in what felt like weeks. And all he could manage was a quiet, "Fine."

Nothing more.

He didn’t sit. Didn’t ask how she was. Didn’t ask why she was still up. Just stood there like a stranger in his own house, then turned toward the hallway.

“I’m gonna shower,” he said, already walking away.

He felt her silence behind him. Felt the words she didn’t say hang in the air like smoke. But he didn’t look back.

He didn’t have the strength to hold all of this. Not tonight.

So he walked away.

—

She doesn’t know why she follows him.

She hears the soft thud of his shoes coming off, the quiet slide of his suit jacket hitting the back of a chair. Roman disappears down the hallway without a backward glance, the same way he had every night this week—every night since they’d started drifting so far she could barely see him anymore.

She’s moving before she thinks.

Her legs carry her into the quiet space he left behind, where the echoes of him still linger. She reaches for the jacket without knowing why, fingers brushing the expensive fabric like it might hold something of him. Something familiar.

And then she smells it.

Faint but unmistakable.

Perfume.

Not hers. She hasn’t worn perfume in months. Hadn’t had a reason to. They hadn’t touched in so long she doubted her scent clung to any part of him.

But this? It was new. Sweet. Feminine. Delicate in a way that cut her down the middle.

Sunny freezes, the jacket trembling slightly in her grip. She blinks hard. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t let herself go there.

She stands in the hallway outside the bathroom. The door is ajar, the light spilling warm onto the hardwood. The sound of running water masks her presence, but she’s not trying to hide.

She just doesn’t know why she’s here. Or what she thought she’d say.

Her fingers tighten around the jacket before she folds it gently over her arm, something to do with her hands while her heart stammers in her chest.

The scent lingers on her fingertips.

So many things rest on her tongue. Who was she? Do you even miss me? Is it over?

But she says none of them.

The water shuts off. She startles. His shadow shifts behind the glass. Her breath catches.

“I’m going to bed,” she says into the space between them—her voice barely carrying, the words sounding smaller than she meant.

She lingers a moment longer, like she wants to add something—something heavy, something true.

I love you.

But her lips press shut. And she turns.

Back to the silence of the bedroom.

—

He hears her footsteps retreat just as he’s stepping out of the shower.

For a second, he thinks he imagined her voice. “I’m going to bed.”

But then he sees it—his suit jacket, folded neatly on the bench just inside the bathroom. He hadn’t left it there. She must’ve come in, picked it up, carried it here.

That soft, strange ache starts to crawl up his chest again.

Roman towels off, moving slower than usual. He stares at the jacket like it might accuse him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Not technically. But something still feels…off. Heavy.

Madeline had stood too close. Had smiled a little too softly. And he—God help him—had liked it. Not because he wanted her. But because she looked at him like he was still there. Still worth seeing. Still warm. Still something.

He didn’t know when it had changed with Sunny. He just knew that it had. The silence between them had grown teeth. And he’d let it.

Roman exhales and dresses in clean clothes. The house feels colder than it should as he moves through it. Warmer, somehow, with the ghost of perfume still clinging to his jacket.

He pauses outside the bedroom door. It’s cracked open just a sliver, enough for him to hear the quiet shuffle of sheets.

She’s awake. He knows her rhythms like breath. She’s lying still—but not asleep. Waiting, maybe. For something. For him.

Roman pushes the door open and steps inside.

The bedside lamp is off, but the streetlight outside casts enough glow to paint her in muted silver. She’s curled toward the edge of the bed like she’s trying not to take up space.

He hates it. Hates seeing her so small. So quiet. So far away.

He doesn’t speak. Just slides into his side of the bed, leaving too much room between them. Like always.

A long silence stretches between them, taut and trembling. Finally, he speaks. Quiet. Rough.

“Sunny…”

She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t answer.

Roman stares at the ceiling. His jaw tightens. He wants to say something. He does. I miss you. I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I don’t know how to reach you anymore.

But he doesn’t.

So neither of them moves. Neither of them breathes too loud. And neither of them says I love you.

They just lie there. Married in grief, alone together.

—

The next late evening at Reigns Enterprises

The hour had grown late. Most of the building had emptied, but Roman hadn’t moved from his chair. He sat across from Madeline, the room dim but not dark, the kind of light that made it easier to say hard things.

She was still there, sorting through files, meticulous as ever, but quieter than usual. Every now and then she glanced at him, like she wanted to say something but hadn’t found the right doorway in.

Finally, she did.

“My brother’s name was Eli,” Madeline said softly, almost like she wasn’t sure the words would come out until they did. “He was older by three years. Taller than me by the time he was ten, even though I hated to admit it.”

Roman looked up. Her voice didn’t wobble, but there was something fragile in the way her fingers paused on a page.

“He died when I was fourteen. Car accident. He was driving back from a concert. My parents were supposed to go, but something came up at work, so he went alone.”

She swallowed.

“For a long time, I thought maybe if I had gone with him... maybe he wouldn’t have fallen asleep at the wheel.”

Roman didn’t speak. His gaze was steady on her, softening.

“I didn’t know who I was without him,” she continued. “He was loud, charming, reckless—and he loved me. Not in the way people say that after someone’s gone, like it’s convenient. He just did. Always. He saw me. And when he died, I felt like I disappeared too.”

The silence after that was thick, aching.

“I’m sorry,” Roman finally said. His voice was low. Sincere.

Madeline nodded, blinking a few times. “I don’t talk about him much. Not because I don’t want to. But because no one ever asks. I think most people are scared of other people’s grief.”

She looked at him then, really looked. “But I think you’re carrying something just as heavy, and no one’s asked you either.”

That was the moment.

Something inside Roman cracked open—quietly, slowly, like ice thawing under sunlight. He didn’t resist it this time. Didn’t retreat. He just breathed in and let the pain rise.

“Her name was Yara,” he said, the words soft, sudden, like they’d fallen out of him by accident. He was opening up, to a woman who was not his, about a loss that was not hers.

Madeline looked up from the folder she’d been quietly organizing. Her eyes met his, surprised but gentle. She didn’t speak—just nodded once, encouraging.

“My daughter,” Roman said. “She would’ve been one this spring.”

The air shifted.

“She had these tiny fingers,” he went on, a small breath of a laugh escaping him. “Could barely wrap them around mine, but she’d hold on like she was keeping me there, right with her, like I'd wanna be anywhere else.”

Madeline set the folder down slowly. Her face, usually composed and polished, softened in a way that made Roman ache worse. She was really listening.

“She died in her sleep,” he said after a long pause, his voice growing hoarse. “No warning. No sound. One minute we were laughing about how she always kicked her socks off in the crib... next minute—” He blew out a large, ragged breath.

He stopped. His throat closed. He turned his face away, blinking furiously.

“I found her,” he said quietly. “Sunny had just gotten her to nap. She was going to paint that day for the first time since giving birth. She was... happy. She’d just started smiling again. And then I walked in, and...”

The memory suffocated him.

“I tried CPR,” Roman said, his voice breaking now. “I screamed for Sunny. We both did everything we could, but she was already gone. Just—gone.”

Madeline pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes glistening.

“I’ve never seen Sunny scream like that. Like something in her cracked open and never sealed again.” He looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else. “I’ve been trying to hold it together since. For both of us. But I don’t know how to fix something that’s... unfixable.”

The room was unbearably still.

Madeline stood up slowly and crossed to him. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask permission. She just knelt beside his chair and reached for his hand.

Roman didn’t stop her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He nodded, silent.

“You loved her so much,” she said, voice thick with emotion.

“I still do,” he whispered.

Something shifted in the air. Not romantic. Not sexual. But something intimate and unbearable.

Madeline leaned in, and before he could think, her lips brushed his—soft, brief, almost reverent. Not lustful. Not demanding.

But it was enough.

Roman jolted like he'd been electrocuted. He pulled back, breath ragged, as if he’d surfaced from water he hadn’t realized he was drowning in. His pulse roared in his ears.

Madeline blinked up at him, startled. “Roman, I—”

“No,” he said sharply, standing. His chair scraped back. “No. This was a mistake.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” he said, more to himself than to her, eyes wide and horrified. “I shouldn’t have—God, what the hell am I doing? I have sunny, I love her, I need Sunny.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his coat off the rack with shaking hands and walked out, fast, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon.

Out the office.

Down the elevator.

Into the night.

The guilt hit him all at once—sticky, clinging, acidic. It wasn’t just that he almost kissed another woman. It was why. Because Sunny was grieving. Because she’d gone quiet. Because he was weak and selfish and didn’t know how to sit in pain without needing to escape it.

She hadn’t failed him. He’d failed her.

He didn’t remember the drive home. Only that the world looked blurry. Too sharp. Too loud. He shouldn’t go home, he thought. Not like this. Not with this ugliness still clinging to him. But he had nowhere else to go.

Nowhere he wanted to be but back where he’d always belonged.

With her.

Even if he didn’t deserve her anymore.

The walk up felt endless, each step dinging like a warning bell in his chest. Roman’s hands were still trembling. Not from the kiss—brief and broken before it became anything more—but from what it almost was. What it could’ve been if he hadn’t pulled away.

If Madeline hadn’t looked so sorry. If his daughter’s name hadn’t still been trembling on his lips. If he wasn’t such a coward.

He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Not from Sunny. Not from Yara’s memory. And maybe, not from himself.

The hallway to their penthouse felt impossibly long. The weight of guilt dragged behind him like a chain. He just needed to get inside. Wash the scent of that moment off his skin. Crawl into the dark and disappear. He didn’t expect to see her there—not at the door.

Not barefoot, not still in her robe, not looking like she hadn’t slept in days. Her curls were tied up carelessly, face flushed with something sharp and near breaking. But her eyes—

Her eyes were bloodshot. Wet. Wide. And furious.

“Suniva…” he breathed it, barely more than a whisper, like a prayer offered too late.

But her voice was louder. Sharper. Wounding. And it cut through him in perfect tandem:

“Are you cheating on me?”

The foyer fell silent. Like the universe itself had stopped breathing.

His keys slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a metallic clatter, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t. The weight of her question hit harder than the guilt already crushing his chest.

He stared at her, heart thunderous and throat dry.

And she—she didn’t blink. Didn’t break.

Just stood there, eyes brimming, stormy and expectant.

Waiting for the truth.

———————————————————————————

Tags 🏷️ :

@trippinsorrows @southerngirl41 @lilucey @alichesmi @skyesthebomb

@reginawhorge01 @jazzyboo123-blog1 @overrboarrd @heerah34 @whowrotethenote

@sharmelasworld @purplementalitybluebird @sheaabuttaababyy @beccalynns-world @littlepieceofsh

@diamondlifeee @jaded-human @pittieprincess22 @eringobragh420 @marababyyyy

@baybehkay @rockerfairy

As always let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Inbox and ask always open.

[agathabridgerton]

.

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[tsuutarr]

You’ve always felt like you’re unluckier than others. It always rains when you forget your umbrella, you always lose your pencils on the day of an exam, the bus is always late when you need to take it… 

Honestly, you’ve always felt like you’ve had rotten luck.

Lately, though, you feel like your luck has… actually gotten better. You can’t really say for sure, but just yesterday, you had thought you forgot your umbrella and bemoaned the rain, only to find that you actually did have a small umbrella tucked into your bag. And when you thought you lost your pencil, you found another one on the floor. The bus has also been on time more often lately, too. 

You’re not sure why your luck’s gotten better, but you’re not complaining.

Or, you thought you wouldn’t be. However, as you feel someone follow you home, you can’t help but feel like your sudden good luck is all because something much, much worse than minor inconveniences is going to happen to you.

When you take a few steps forward, you hear someone else also take a few steps.

When you stop, you hear someone else also stop.

When you run, someone else runs, their footsteps loud on the concrete pavement, echoing through the empty streets.

You run and run and run but you feel like you’re stuck in place. Fear is the only thing that makes you move.

Snap! Crash!

Your breath hitches as your footsteps stop. You turn around, eyes wide. Behind you, a man is buried under heavy steel bars, blood oozing out beneath him. You didn’t realize you were passing by a construction site, but as you hurry away, you can’t help but be grateful.

Maybe your luck is getting better.

What you don’t realize is that your sudden turn of good luck is due to your newly assigned guardian angel. Lately, he's always been by your side, keeping a careful watch on you to ensure your happiness. And, with how much he adores you, he'll always be with you forever and ever and ever.

There's no escaping him. Even if he tries to make you his.

So, really, maybe your luck isn't getting better, but rotting just like a fallen apple.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the post about Marinette being punished for trusting people and the response to it, this is something I always have trouble explaining because it sounds callous? But fictional characters aren't people. It's not that their lives just so happen to get in the way leading to something bad happened the writers decided that should happen, and it's important that you stop and ask WHY this happens. If the camera is "on" per se, people assume it's relevant and will tie into something larger. So like if the camera is on and all we see is Alya revealing her identity and then the result is she's outed in the same way she was in Heroes Day, the audience naturally concludes it's connected and thus realizes the lesson is either "Alya learns she shouldn't share her identity" OR "Marinette learns she shouldn't trust people" or both.

Secret identities are a great example of this phenomenon. We're NOT shown every time a villain's plan is foiled because they didn't know the heroe's identity, we ARE shown every time a heroe's identity causes friction in their lives. As such, large parts of the audience think of secret identites as inconveniences because that's what's shown (not just in Miraculous Ladybug, in tons of other shows)

Like you are supposed to make connections in Television about what's being shown to you that no one would make in real life (or at the very least no one SHOULD make in real life) because there's a limited space to tell the story and the audience is assuming the writers aren't wasting our time.

If these were real people it would be unreasonable to say because people have their own lives Marinette can't trust them, but in a story where Marinette is the main character who is explicitly always supposed that's. An accurate way to read the story!

And I also understand that this is a very boring construction if you're making headcanons or thinking about these characters! But that's a different lens, it doesn't make the broader writing lens invalid. You're speaking different languages at that point.

Anyway I hope that helps someone, that's my two cents

You summed it up perfectly! There's a ton of valid criticism to be had of Miraculous, but you can tell from the narrative framing that almost all of it comes down to writing choices and not things that are supposed to be seen as in-universe issues even though a lot of fans treat them as such. It's really weird to see things like people complaining about everything revolving around Marinette as if it's a personal flaw of hers and not the result of her being the main character in a fictional world. "Main Character Syndrome" literally pulls its name from the fact that this is how main characters work in a lot of media. It's a flaw when a real person does it, but in terms of story telling, it's extremely normal - and often good story telling - to have everything revolve around your main character or a core cast.

The issue with Miraculous is that they chose a lot of poor conflicts if they wanted Marinette to be the one and only main character, but that's not her fault. She didn't decide to have the rules around identities make no sense. The writers did. She didn't decide to make the main villain Adrien's dad while also keeping Adrien from being involved in the story. The writers did. The list goes on and on and, because none of it reflects badly on Marinette in the writers' eyes, the show doesn't act like Marinette is in the wrong. Remember, these are the same writers who think that Derision was a great episode that added depth to Marinette instead of destroying her character and making her look unhinged. Their judgement is clearly a little skewed.

While the writers love to make bad plot choices, they are generally using proper story telling language to make those choices, which is why I can tell you how characters' actions are intended to be read. The Rena Furtive and Nino example is a great one because it allows me to show that the writers do understand how to set things up. In fact, once they've decided that they're going to do a thing, they pretty much always set it up at a basic level. It's rarely spectacular and often frustrating, but it's never shocking.

In Rocketear, Alya promises Marinette that Nino will never learn about Rena Furtive. The episode then ends with her breaking that promise via the following exchange:

Alya: (sighs) I'm still Rena Rouge. (Nino gasps.) But now I'm in hiding and that's why Ladybug asked me not to tell anyone. Nino: But why are you telling me if no one's supposed to know? Is Ladybug cool with this? Alya: I can't hide it from you, because I love you, Nino, and we share everything.

Look at how this confession is presented. Look at what the dialogue focuses on. When Marinette confessed her identity to Alya, it was all about the confession and supporting Marinette. There was no discussion of this being a problem for Chat Noir or anything like that because - in the writers' eyes - that wasn't a problem for some reason. This is why Chat Noir almost instantly absolves Ladybug of blame once he finds out about the identity reveal (see: Hack-San.) The writers didn't want it to be an issue so it wasn't:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right

But when Alya confesses her identity to Nino, the conversation is not just about her confession. It's about her confession and how she's not supposed to do this. That's why Nino's response is not loving support. Instead, he asks if this is a good idea and if Ladybug knows.

These things are getting focused on because the writers are telling you that this is a bad thing. It's supposed to feel ominous. When I first watched Rocketear, I assumed that the season was going to end with Gabriel getting the fox off of Alya due to Nino because that was an obvious way to raise the stakes and they'd just heavily implied that Nino knowing would be a bad thing. I was, unfortunately, right. The only on screen consequence of Nino knowing is that he outs Alya to everyone in an incredibly forced series of events (see: Strikeback):

(Ryuko successfully prevents the Roue de Paris from hitting them, yet, it flies to the direction where Rena Furtive is. This causes Carapace to panic.) Carapace: Rena! (takes out his shield) Shell-ter! (Carapace's superpower successfully prevents the Ferris wheel from hitting Rena Furtive on top of the Tour Montparnasse. But the information of Rena Furtive's active status shocks the heroes, as well as Shadow Moth.) The heroes: Rena?! Shadow Moth: (from the top of the Eiffel Tower) She's still active?

Of course the Ferris Wheel goes straight for Alya's hiding spot and of course Nino screams her name before casting his power and of course the villain overhears it. It's all so forced and unnatural, which should make it glaringly obvious how much the writers wanted this to happen. This wasn't something they were kind of forced to do because it made sense for the narrative and they wanted to tell a good story. Instead, they wrote an awkward series of events because they really, really, really wanted Nino knowing to be a bad thing that outs Alya so that Marinette loses all of the miraculous even though none of this makes much sense.

How the hell did Gabriel hear Nino's shout from so far away? Is he able to overhear everything the heroes are saying? How does Nino even know that Alya is hiding there? And since when was a Ferris Wheel a threat to these guys? Your girlfriend is a magical girl and she's in her magical girl form, dude. You could drop a building on her and she'd be fine, a thing you have to know because this scene literally goes on to have Chat Noir go flying into a building, hitting it so hard the cement literally cracks, and no one really cares. I guess it's fine if Adrien is a punching bag, but Alya must be protected at all costs...

Anyway, while the above series of events was annoying, none of it was surprising. In fact, it would have all be perfectly predictable even if Alya outing herself was that treated as a more neutral event. Her choice leading to bad things falls perfectly in line with a truly bizarre running theme in the show: outing your identity to the person you love romantically is a bad thing that leads to bad consequences. That's why Chat Blanc and Ephemeral ended the world and why Nino knowing cost Ladybug the fox and why the character they call Joan of Arc has to give up her miraculous to be with her love and why the Kwami's have this absolutely asinine dialogue in Kwamis' Choice:

Plagg: Sugarcube! Having to force them to choose between love and their mission is just awful! Maybe Master Fu was wrong to choose them. Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength. Plagg: But the impossible part of that love is destroying them, and I know a thing or two about destruction. Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

This is the voice of the author telling you that outing the identities is not and never will be a good choice for the love square. Never mind that Alya is allowed to know Marinette's identity or that Gabriel finding out is what actually ended the world in the alternate timelines or that Felix outted himself in public but is still wielding or that freaking Gabriel was allowed to know half of the temp heroes' identities while they were still actively wielding. For some reason, those things don't matter to the narrative, probably because romantic love wasn't involved. The "identity reveals are a bad thing" rule only seems to apply when romantic love is a key element to the point where it's a reoccurring theme in this supposed power of love show.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I would love to read more about the dynamic between poly!marauders and reader. Like maybe some domestic fluff just showing the interaction between the boys and with reader. I love the way you write true poly with the boys together too 🥹🤍

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shit!” Sirius hisses, another piece of popcorn splintering off his string. It’s nearly all cranberries at this point, and half the length of either yours or Remus’. “How are yours not breaking?”

“Patience,” Remus preaches, eyes on his needle as he slides it smoothly through yet another popcorn kernel. 

“Sounds made up,” James scoffs. The remains of his own popcorn are littered about his lap and his fingers are stained pink with cranberry juice. His problems lie in inaccuracy as much as impatience, constantly getting ahead of himself and pricking his fingers rather than his target. Fortunately, Rugby Captain James Potter is no stranger to pain, so he only extends the injured finger towards where you sit on the floor for you to kiss each time before resuming his work. 

“Completely agree.” Sirius is quick to hop on James’ half-constructed bandwagon. “They’re conspiring against us, keeping the real secrets of success to themselves.” 

“They’re focussing on their work,” you say, grinning when Sirius’ foot nudges your shoulder meanly, “which is how they keep from messing up.” 

“Cruel,” he murmurs, but you only hum, a wordless You know I’m right. And he does, because he goes quiet. 

James could never stand silence. “It’s almost cold enough for a fire,” he remarks after nearly five seconds of it. “Maybe we could have one tomorrow?” 

“You just want to chop firewood,” Remus accuses. 

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands, and Sirius nods emphatically. Another piece of popcorn shatters in his hands, bits of it hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t deter him.” 

“I don’t even get to chop it anymore since you started buying it at Tesco,” James complains, shooting Remus a resentful look. “Now I just want to watch fire. It’s the last caveman’s pleasure you’ve left me.” 

You glance over, and Remus is looking downward, trying and failing to quell his smile. “Fine,” he relents. “We can pick some up tomorrow and have a fire.”

“Yes!” James leans around Sirius, planting a smacking kiss on Remus’ cheek. “Thank you.” 

“S’no problem.” Remus has gone all soft and blushy. You and Sirius exchange a fond, knowing look. 

“Hey, do you think we could pick up some of those gingerbread house kits while we’re there?” you ask the room. “We didn’t get a chance to do those last year.” 

“Patience,” Remus reminds you, recovering. “It’s hardly the end of November, we’ve got a whole month for that.” 

Your mouth pulls dissatisfiedly. “Yeah, but last year we thought the same thing and then we ran out of time.” 

“You know what we should do?” James perks up. “Have a competition! Whoever makes the best gingerbread house in under an hour gets—”

“No,” you all say on top of each other. 

You shake your head. “It’ll take all the fun out of it, Jamie.”

“You can’t put a time limit on creativity,” Sirius agrees. “Hey, I got three in a row!” He beams, holding his garland up for Remus’ approval, and the other boy appraises it for a second, nodding sagely. 

“Well done.” 

“Sorry,” you tell James, who’s still pouting after the hasty shut-down of his idea. “We can race at something else if you want to, but that sort of stuff is supposed to be more…”

“Peaceful,” Remus supplies, and you nod relievedly. 

“Exactly.” 

“S’fine,” James sulks. He sticks his needle through a cranberry, a pitiful whine escaping him when it comes out the other side harsher than he’d expected. He extends his hand toward you palm up, and you take it, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his finger. “Mm, now here.” He leans down, tapping the corner of his mouth. You smile, pecking him sweetly on the lips. He tastes like the peppermint chapstick he uses this time of year, which you love and Sirius abhors (he thinks all mint tastes like toothpaste). “Alright,” James says, lips curving against yours, “now it’s actually fine.” 

“Scoundrel,” Sirius accuses. “My poor darling, do you feel used?” 

“Not terribly,” you admit, but it’s no deterrence to Sirius, who reaches down to haul you into his lap. Your garland trails after you, overlapping with his. You settle in contentedly. 

“Who’s the scoundrel now,” James objects. “You can’t just move her about like she’s got no will of her own.” 

You’re perfectly happy to be wherever they want you, but you aren’t going to say that. “Does anyone fancy a hot chocolate? I just got those peppermint marshmallows.” 

Sirius makes a face. “No thanks. James, make the girl a hot chocolate.” 

“Why me?” James objects. 

“I’ll have one too,” Remus says. 

“It’s her idea, why doesn’t she make them?”

“Because she,” Sirius says, weaving his arms under yours to resume stringing up his garland in front of you, “is occupied. Go on.” 

James grumbles, but sets down his work. 

“Sorry,” you say, making your eyes extra big. It’s half sincere apology, half completely unapologetic beguilement, and James cracks quickly, kissing your cheek to show he’s not really upset. Then he kisses Sirius too, just for fun. 

“I wanted a hot chocolate anyway,” he says, heading into the kitchen. 

You fall into an easy silence as he works, the kettle gurgling in the background while you relax against Sirius’ chest, nearly finished with your garland. You wonder if you should offer to do his for him, even though you know the other two will definitely make fun of you for letting him off the hook. You think you will anyway. 

“Oh!” Sirius straightens, causing you to shift against him uncomfortably. He ignores the slighted look you send him, bringing a hand to your shoulder to hold you more securely against him. You’re easily pacified. “If you want to have a competition, you and y/n should have a race for who can wrap the most presents.” He looks at you. “You’re always saying you love wrapping, yeah sweetheart?” 

The endearment only slightly softens the look you’re giving him. Must everyone try to ruin your holiday rituals with racing and competitions? You know he’s only brought it up out of selfishness, too; Sirius hates wrapping gifts, and this is just another way for him to push the labor off on James and you. 

James, unfortunately, lights brighter than the tree you’d set up earlier that day. “Yeah!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Remus eyes the boiling water he’s pouring out at the same time warily. “What do you say, lovie? Maybe a couple of days before Christmas we can divvy up the presents that aren’t for us, then we just see who finishes first!” 

“Didn’t you already lose that competition the other night?” Remus quips. Sirius erupts in laughter behind you, but James only shoots him a hostile look (or his version of a hostile look, more of a squint than anything) before his eyes flit back to you hopefully. 

You roll your eyes, but this is one competition you think you might actually win. “Fine,” you say, smiling when he pumps his fist. “But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Potter. My gift wrapping skills are legendary.” 

“Oh, my love,” James croons, grinning as he carries in two mugs of hot chocolate. “My sweet, naive girl.” He passes one to Remus and the other to you, dropping a kiss on your temple. “I won’t go easy on you this time.”

[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

shotgun wedding CH. 02 | Diagnosis

summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

.

.

.

warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), arranged marriage, satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 // ch. 3 (coming soon)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

getting used to Satoru’s house wasn’t easy, for all the woman dreaming to be feet away from him at all times should think again.

one of the major problems was the noise. he must have some type of superhuman strength on his dick or something because whenever he was home, he was using it like there was no tomorrow.

from the room over you could hear the moans from the room across the hall, soft chants almost religious screaming ‘Satoru’ and lewd comments you wish you had forgotten.

on top of that, he hated wearing clothes around the house. his poor maid is probably traumatized from the things she has seen because he is allergic to clothes when he’s at home, constantly walking around shirtless or in his boxers.

just the second day in, the creek of his door was open and you caught a glimpse of his bare ass just out in the open.

never in your life did you think a man’s ass would look edible…

although, not even Hercules himself could get that information out of you.

Suguru on the other hand was a great house mate, constantly cleaning up behind you, offering to cook for you and do your laundry.

he didn’t make noise and wouldn’t bring woman home, although he definitely used to considering satoru’s life concerning comments on how suguru has changed his habits of being a man whore since you’ve moved in.

“I wouldn’t want to cause noise for the woman, she doesn’t need more extra stress, she already has to deal with you as the baby father, satoru” he grins at his cheeky remark as satoru pouts.

one thing you couldn’t complain about though was how spacious and comfortable everything was in the house. it was no secret satoru was rich and came from money but seeing his wealth in person almost felt overwhelming.

you wake up to vomiting once again, the whole stress of the situation now has been a bit overwhelming and you can’t deny pregnancy is taking a toll on you.

your maid is holding back your hair as you vomit straight into the toilet, perhaps maybe it was from all that thinking of satoru.

“Ms. Y/n L/N, Mr. Geto has suggested you stay home from work until you feel better” she says while patting a hand on your back comfortingly.

“I should be fine, it’s nothing i can’t handle and besides, i’m in a hospital so if push comes to shove, i’m in the same building as the two of them, although i doubt anything horrible would happen. it’s nothing more than pregnancy sickness” you say reassuring her seeing the worry across her face.

you give her a comforting smile and she seems to relax just a bit.

“hey, you’ve worked her for quite some time right?” you ask

she replies with a nod, “yes ma’am”

“well…i have some concerns, i don’t know satoru or geto too well before all of this and i would like to know your thoughts on them, they are obviously playing a huge role in my life now that i’m carrying satorus child and staying here, i would just like another persons opinion on who they really are.”

she pauses for a second almost surprised you would ask her that question out of all people but to be fair, you didn’t have much options to choose from, it was either her or megumi.

[ megumi would have said to run for the hills ]

“well, i was hired by satoru when he was just barely an adult so i would have known him for about a decade by now, but my personal opinion is that he really does mean well, he’s a good person and has a big heart, he can be a handful but he means well deep down, to be fair, he is letting you stay in his house rent free-“ she catches herself in what she’s saying and she lets out a gasp,

“oh i’m so sorry miss! i didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“ she starts apologizing frantically as she bows down in apology.

you giggle at her motions and stop her from bowing “haha it’s okay, i suppose you do have a point”

she blushes at your understanding of her behavior, “when i first moved her, i didn’t have much money and made my living off of being a maid, i’ve dealt with many house owners but satoru is by far the most generous. he has helped me pay for my child’s schooling and has helped me more times i could count, i don’t know what kind of father he will be or person he will be towards you but i know he will try his best at whatever it is you need him to be…for you and your child.” she says giving you a light hearted smile, you can tell she truly means what she says.

“and suguru…?” you almost forgot, you almost feel embarrassed asking about him. after all, you didn’t really need to know about him but you were still interested…just as any other person who lives with someone new would be…right?

“oh yes, suguru! he’s a very kind man, he has lived here for about 5 years with satoru, the two seem to get along very well. he’s a generous man and very friendly although it’s hard to see his interior..” she says

“interior?” you ask now curious.

what did that mean?

“well…it’s almost like an empty smile, it’s warm and gentle and it makes you feel welcome but something about him almost feels unreal, like it’s a mask he uses to perhaps hide how really feels. even when him and satoru argue, he seems to keep his good attitude but it makes you wonder what’s really going on, you know?” she is now seeing the worry in your face as she says this and continues,

“oh but i’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about, he is a generous man and very helpful, he seems to care about you a lot nonetheless! his intentions seem very pure and kind hearted, i was just stating that he seems like he has more depth underneath his smile” she says patting your hand in comfort and you smile.

you appreciate her advice towards the boys, it almost helps you have a better understanding of the two.

*knock knock

you hear a deep voice echoing behind the door, “mind if i come in”

satoru.

your maid turns towards you looking for your approval and you nod as she opens the door for satoru to come in and he sees you on the bathroom floor.

“is everything alright in here? don’t tell me you’ve thrown up again?” he asks walking closer to bend down to speak to you.

“it’s just morning sickness, i’ll be fine” you say as your maid passes you a glass of water from your nightstand.

“hmmm” is the sound satoru makes as he thinks to himself, “you’re taking the day off today, i’ll let shoko know for you, i’ve gotta go in anyways to sign some stuff anyways” he says making a groaning noise at the mention of signing papers all day.

“yeah yeah i get it dad” you say rolling your eyes as you get up off the floor, satoru offers out his hand so you can use it to help you stand.

“will you be okay for the rest of the day, should i bring you anything back? do you need ibuprofen or something”

“some gummy bears would be nice” you say and he shoots you finger guns as he makes his way towards the gun

“you’ve got it” he says as he makes his way out with a light wave goodbye as he walks out.

a small alarm beeped from your maids watch as she seemed startled by the noise, “oh that’s lunch, i will be back here in the afternoon, if you need anything Mr. Suguru should be home soon, i suggest some rest for now” she says as she sees her way out.

this gave you time to rest up today before going back to work where you’ll have to work up the courage to tell nobara, yuji and megumi about the news.

you’ve been dodging their messages, there was probably about 200 messages from nobara and yuji themselves meanwhile there was no text or anything from megumi.

maybe he was pissed about the whole gojo thing?

after a long needed nap you wake up and the sun is already going down, no sign of gojo or suguru as the house seemed unusually quiet.

you make your way towards the kitchen and scramble for a pot to make yourself dinner on, although it seemed impossible considering satoru had a million cabinets.

you groan as your finding no sight of the pans growing frustrated before a large arm comes up behind you reaching up at one of the top cabinets that you hadn’t even acknowledged until now revealing tons of pans.

you look up and see suguru put on his signature smile as he pushes his long black bangs behind his ear, the rest being held in a bun.

“oh” you say as you look towards the pans like an idiot.

“this what you were looking for?” he says with an amused grin,

you nod and put your head down in embarrassment,

“well go on, get what you need” he leans back with arms against him as he is eager to watch you grab the pan

you then realize how high it was, that dick.

you step on your tippy toes hoping he wouldn’t notice your struggle as he lets out a soft chuckle behind you as you’ve now retorted to climbing the counters.

“you need some help over there?”

“shut up…yes”

he lets out a laugh as he brings the pan down from the cabinet.

“so that dumbass knocked you up, hm? how are you feeling about that?” he asks in a playful tone although the concern was still there.

“oh you mean how much of an honor it is to carry THE satoru gojo’s child is? just amazing, brilliant” you say sarcastically.

before you knew it time flew by in an instant talking to suguru, you guys talked about work, life and satoru.

it was dark out and you both were comfortably sat across from each other of the couch that laid in the middle of the living room, the dim light lit down on the both of you, it felt homely almost.

you and suguru were mid conversation when you heard the chaos coming from the opening front door with a loud drunk satoru with a blonde wrapped around his arm, satoru not paying attention to him nearly leaning his whole body weight on her as they walked in.

they both must have came from some sort of party because they were both dressed in fancy clothing, their outfits had to be worth someone’s house.

satoru stumbles across the kitchen searching for the alcohol in one of the cabinets, “hey suguru, where did we leave that whiskey we got back at that one party shoko threw a few years back”, he stutters over his words.

“left top cabinet above the oven, but go easy on it”

“why? you feeling greedy suguru” satoru says in a teasing tone as he finds his way back towards the woman he walked in with

“perhaps, but shoko said that’s some strong stuff, you get all bratty when your hungover darling” he remarks back at him.

satoru let’s out a laugh

your eyes turn towards the woman he’s s with in which you come eye to eye with as she’s already staring at you, she seems almost disgusted and you feel a sense of intimidation.

you weren’t jealous or anything but it was no secret that you clearly didn’t belong, they were both dressed nicely and suguru’s house clothes themself are well kept meanwhile you look like a mess

you didn’t bother to care since suguru was the only person here but being around satoru just felt…

humiliating.

you’re interrupted by your thoughts when it’s almost as if suguru reads the uncomfortable situation and places a soft comfort hand to your back, rubbing it slowly

you’re brought back by satoru’s voice once again, “hey suguru, wanna join me with this one”

it was like you weren’t even there.

the woman carrying his child and he hasn’t looked at you once let alone acknowledge that you were even in the same room as him.

the woman next to him laughs and gives suguru bedroom eyes, you look towards him to see that his eyes were staring down at his cup with a hint of annoyance as if he was embarrassed by the way satoru is acting as of now

he places a firm hand now still on your back.

“nah. she ain’t my type” he takes a sip of his coffee now grabbing the side of your waist gently, protective like

you see satoru let out a frown before noticing suguru’s hand placement, staring directly at you now.

the first time he has the whole night.

“ahhh i see. hey there” he greets you with a wave,

a wave? why the hell is he greeting you as if he hasn’t seen you before, as if you don’t live in his house, carrying his baby.

satoru continues, “is this one of your girls? damn you must’ve messed her up real bad, she looks a little beat. you alright sweetheart?” he teases but leans down to look at you examining your face.

you look down, not answering him

suguru notices your upset expression and squeezes your hand softly before standing up to look at satoru

“Satoru, why don’t you show your companion the guest house, i’m sure she would find it much more amusing” he says as he starts to lead satoru out of the house

“haha i get it, want some alone time with the lady, i wouldn’t go to hard on her, she already looks worn”

satoru says nothing as he walks them to the door before satoru turns around towards you again, “oh right, where are my manners, nice to meet ya darling”

and he left.

suguru comes back you, now kneeling in front of you

“are you okay, y/n?” he asks looking up at you for any sign of anger or tears

you nod, “yeah, think i’m ready to sleep, night” you say as you get up to walk towards your room without looking back at suguru

that night, as you lay in bed with tears staining your pillows, you wonder how you ended up here.

could you have had a child the right way? with someone you love?

why did the father have to be satoru gojo.

06:25

beep beep

the alarm goes off on your phone, not bothering to scroll down at the concerned messages sent from nobara and yuji.

still nothing from gumi.

today would be the day you would have to face them, still having no clue what to tell them exactly

the morning was quiet, not bothering to talk to anyone as you make your way out in your own vehicle as you go to work.

you are faced with yuji when you walk in, noticing your face he lets out a smile and big wave motioning for you to come his way

“hey yuji” you say as you walk up to him

“hey l/n, where the hell have you been, kugisaki has been like losing her marbles and has been taking her insanity out on me! she hits so hard” he frowns at the thought

you laugh, “sorry i’ve just been really busy lately and it’s a long story but i’ll make sure to explain to all of you when i find the time to sit down and talk with all of you today, that way she doesn’t end up shaving you in your sleep”

yujis eyes widen playfully holding a shushing finger to your mouth, “shhh! you never know when she’s listening, don’t give her ideas!” he says looking around paranoid

you’ve got to admit, you missed hanging out with the gang again, it reminded you that you were still young and distracted you from the fact that you would become a mother soon.

you made small talk with yuji as he caught you up with how things were at the hospital and with the gang,

“how is megumi? has he said anything?” you ask

“surprisingly not, i thought he would’ve made some comment by now about how you ran away to per-sue a life of becoming homeless and popping pills from the stress finally breaking you but he has been unusually quiet!”

“oh, uh-“ you were interrupted by being tapped on the shoulder behind you as you turn around being met face to face with familiar white hair,

asshole.

“hello Mr. Itadori, would you mind if i borrowed Ms. L/N from you?” he gives yuji his signature persuading smile and yuji nods

“yeah sure, my break is about over anyways but nice talking to you y/n- I MEAN UH MS. L/N!!!!” he says as he waves you off and walks away,

you turn your attention to satoru and without a word he grabs your hand to pull you

“where are we going? the hell do you want Gojo!” you ask annoyed

he pulls you aside to an empty closet and locks the door behind him with a key he had in his pants,

“what the fuck satoru? why did you lock us in here?!” you grow angry at his lack of communication.

the anger doesn’t last long because moments later you are faced with the white haired man on his knees now hugging your hips,

“i’m sorry y/n, i’m so sorry. suguru told me what happened last night and i was hammered and wasn’t thinking at all and i’m so fucking sorry, i promise i wont be bringing any of my ‘friends’ to the house anymore.” he says as he catches his breathe, leaning against your stomach leaving a small kiss on your stomach that held his baby.

“i don’t care if you bring your fuck buddies to the house, you’re a grown man, that isn’t my problem” you say not looking at him as you keep your hands to your side,

you were trying your best to keep your composure, satoru has a habit of getting exactly what he wants so his affection wasn’t gonna work on you.

“then why wont you look at me? i know we aren’t together or anything but i mean you’re carrying my child so the least i can do is respect you, and the drinking thing isn’t a thing that happens a lot i swear…i’ve just been a little stressed and worked up because this is all new…”

the way he acted wasn’t okay but you did understand this was a lot, it’s a lot on you too so you couldn’t really blame him for having a drink, you would too if you could.

“It’s okay, satoru” you say helping him get up from his knees so he can stand again and you help him fix his composure and he looks at you with a smile

the smile that could always make you forget how much of a dick head he can be sometimes.

but he meant this one.

his walkie talkie goes off as he hears his co worker stating that he’s needed in for last minute surgery

“gotta go” he says as he gives you a soft pat on the head

“be careful, if you need anything you can come to my office” and he rushes off.

work was pretty slow today, most of the patients had very minor injuries thankfully, it’s nearly the end of your shift before you get a last minute patient

“hey listen y/n, i know this is so last minute to ask but can you stay a little late today and take this last patient, i’ve got an emergency back at home, good news though! you’ll be working with kugisaki, i know how close you two are” shoko says as she smiles, “thanks again”

nobara stares at you and waits for shoko to leave,

“y/n where have you been, i’ve been texting you like a million times, i thought something serious happened to you”

“I know, i’m sorry just- i need to tell you something, i was going to wait til everyone is all together but i’ll just say it now” you say and this catches nobara’s attention as she looks at you with worry

“spill the tea, what is it?” she asks

“i’m pregnant..”

nobara pauses and you think she’s upset before her jaw nearly drops to the floor

“WHAAAAAAATTTTT???? BY WHO? OH MY GOD DID YOU HOOK UP WITH ONE OF THE MEN AT THE EVENT??? OH MY GOD I BET IT WAS SUGURU” she says invested as she begs to hear more details dying to know who the father is

“i would rather not say who but that’s why i haven’t been answering you guys texts, it’s just been a lot to take in lately” you say

and she finds her composure and hugs you

“don’t worry about it girl, i just wish you would have talked to me sooner, i wish we could’ve helped you” she says

you smile and let her know it’s okay before you make your way to meet your next patient,

you read over the information listed in your check board about the patient, the patient was minority injured in a car crash but needs to be checked for concussion

this shouldn’t take long

you look up to meet eyes with the woman from last night that was around satoru’s arm.

nobara now takes the clipboard, writing things down as she watches you examine the woman

“oh so you’re that one girl who looked sick last night with suguru, wow never would’ve guessed you would work in a place like this” she cockily laughs and nobara looks up at you with a slight hint of confusion and excitement at the mention of you being with suguru last night

“don’t know, you probably have me mixed up with someone else.” you say trying to stop this conversation before nobara gets any ideas.

“oh no i never forget a face. you know…” she scoots in closer to try and get under your skin, “i’ve never seen you around before and trust me i’m over there a lot”

you can tell she’s lying but you don’t really care enough to correct her.

“listen, i saw the way you were looking at satoru all lost puppy like and shit and i know you want him and all but me and him are kinda a thing and know each other really well and he was telling me last night about how he can’t wait til i get all swell with his kids and birth his baby, so you should probably pregnancy test me, you never know!” she says

it’s obvious she’s trying to get a reaction out of you and nobara is obviously catching on to a hint of annoyance from you but she knows not to push on or ask more, especially from a bitch like the woman sitting in front of you.

nobara figures it’s better to ask you yourself than some delusional woman who probably has a concussion.

“Ms. L/N I think we should discuss these papers, we will be just a moment, you just sit tight!” she gives the woman a fake smile before leaving the room with you

she grabs your arm and pulls you to the side,

“what am i hearing about! oh my god..geto??!!…ughhhh hes such a sweetheart! and doctor save a hoe? oh my god what about all this? you never told me you moved in girl!”

“keep your voice down nobara” and nobara giggles,

“so it’s true then!” she might as well start jumping from excitement, “oh my god this is like the stuff you see in movies, i’m high key jealous of you rn!” she says as she pokes your arm and you roll your eyes playfully at her

“yeah yeah whatever, what about the woman’s results?”

“oh yeah, she doesn’t have a concussion although she may be a tad bit delusional” she says and you both laugh

“could you walk her out? yuji has been waiting in the parking lot for like an hour complaining”

“yeah, no problem” you say

you both go your separate ways as you are now walking the woman to the entrance as she blabbers on about the details of satoru gojo, as if you cared to know more about the famous satoru gojo. not like you were carrying his child or anything

you both make your way to the checkout desk when you see satoru walk towards you both in his formal work attire rather than the scrubs he was wearing earlier, hes wearing black shoes and dress pants with a blue button up shirt, leaving the top buttons undone

the classic sexy doctor get up

the woman next to you waves at him trying to get his attention and he formally waved at her as he would any patient

“hey Mr. Gojo, last night was amazingggg!” she draws her words out and satoru looks confused and nods and waves her off wishing her a nice day

did he not remember her?

“Y/n, when does your shift end? we should ride home together, suguru and i came together but he left early so do you mind?” he asks turning his attention fully towards you

you see the woman give off a small scoff of jealousy as she marches away

“my shift ends now and yeah sure” you say bluntly

as you both walk silently to the car. watching his tall shadow trail behind you, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“did you uh get her pregnant” you stop in your tracks,

he stops to stand in front of you and gives you a look of confusion, “huh? uh i got you pregnant if that’s what you mean but you know that already obviously so..” he lets out a nervous laugh,

“no uh i mean the girl just now, like um did you uh…finish inside of her…?” you don’t know why you felt so nervous asking about this, was it really your place to ask if he got another woman pregnant? “she said y’all are a thing and you were talking to her about how you can’t wait for her belly to get swell and for her to birth your baby? did you get her pregnant?” you continue, not being able to hold eye contact with him

“oh uh i had no clue who that girl is, must have been a one time thing, pretty sure i just picked her up from a bar, but uh no i didn’t finish inside, pulled out..” he sounds nervous and a little embarrassed.

you nod somehow relieved, maybe you just didn’t wanna live with her, you thought to yourself

“okay…good then, uh let’s go home”

“mhm” he hums

he follows you like a dog as you grab your things and he takes them out of your hand to hold. the car ride home is silent and he places a gentle hand on your stomach softly pinching your hips, you feel a little awkward at first before you let yourself embarrass his touch. you can feel satoru’s eyes on you as you doze off, leaving satoru watching you with a hint of a soft smile across his lips.

.

.

.

A/N. this took forever to write but im excited on writing the next chapter, which will hopefully be done by thanksgiving, i hope you enjoyed luvs <3

let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this series!

tag list: @jeannieboys @maskedpacific @muimuiwisteria

[imaginehappyhavoc]

Could i ask for the thh boys with an artistic reader that likes drawing them? Thanks! -🌠

Pairing: thh boys x artist!reader

Genre: fluff!

Warnings: N/A

Makoto Naegi:

♡ Makoto thinks it’s the sweetest thing!

♡ He considers himself pretty average in all aspects, so it was a shock to him when you said he was your favorite model.

♡ He gets really flustered every time you show him one of your sketches, but it doesn’t stop him from telling you how amazing it is.

♡ You’re just so talented! It’s hard not to get butterflies when you draw him so pretty!

♡ The little heart you drew next to him was also a pretty great addition, he thinks.

Byakuya Togami (platonic):

♡ I’m gonna be honest, drawing Byakuya is like submitting a sketch to an art show.

♡ The first time he notices you drawing him, he demands to see it. He has to make sure you’re representing him properly, after all.

♡ His critiques, while unwarranted, are surprisingly constructive.

♡ He’ll then say something along the lines of: “Try again. Here, I’ll even give you a better angle.” And he’ll pose.

♡ He’ll never admit it, but he loves the attention.

Yasuhiro Hagakure:

♡ It takes him forever to realize that you were drawing him, and not just doing random sketches.

♡ When he figures it out, he quite literally makes the “:0” face, followed closely by the “:D” face.

♡ He all but begs you to let him see your drawings, and he hyped you up endlessly once you let him.

♡ Now, he keeps trying to convince you to make a career out of your art. He says he’ll even be your first investor!

♡ You wonder where he plans to get the money for that, but you decide not to ask.

Leon Kuwata:

♡ This mf goes wild.

♡ He tries so hard to hide it, but oh dear lord he’s so in love with you. How did he manage to bag someone so talented and sweet?

♡ Like Byakuya, he’ll pose for you. Unlike Byakuya, he’s joking.

♡ He’ll totally ask if he can keep the drawings you make of him.

♡ If you let him, he’ll keep them in his school bag, and pull them out to show people at the slightest provocation.

Chihiro Fujisaki:

♡ They have absolutely no idea why you think they’re such a good model, but they’re certainly not complaining.

♡ However, it’s hard for them to keep still once they realize you’re drawing them.

♡ They just get so nervous! In a really good way!

♡ When you’re done, they’ll shyly ask you if they can see. If you say yes, they’ll blush about it so hard they can hardly speak.

♡ They want to keep your drawings, but they’d never ask. Maybe someday they’ll find the courage to take one back to their dorm, just to admire your work.

Mondo Owada:

♡ Speaking of flustered: Him.

♡ This man is a mess about any kind of affection that isn’t physical touch. He has no idea how to cope with it.

♡ He can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s the one you wanna draw. He never thought he was all that attractive.

♡ Once he sees one of your sketches, he’s suddenly made very aware of the way you see him. You think he’s beautiful, and Mondo just can’t deal with that kind of adoration.

♡ He ends up shouting his thanks to you, as he always does when you get him flustered.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru:

♡ He is so deeply moved by your work.

♡ He would praise you until his last breath, if he could. However, it wouldn’t be efficient, so he settles on displaying your art.

♡ According to him: “It’s an incredible skill that you’ve honed so well! It deserves to be appreciated, not just by me, but by everyone!”

♡ If you get flustered about it, he’ll reassure you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s so proud of you, and he’ll tell everyone who’ll listen about it.

♡ While he’s very flattered that you chose him as the subject matter, he’s far more focused on the quality of your drawings. The hard work you must have done to achieve such beauty is truly admirable, in his opinion!

Hifumi Yamada (platonic):

♡ Hifumi is an artist as well, so this makes him happier than anything else!

♡ Once you reveal that you’ve been drawing him, he reveals that he’s been drawing you, too. Art trade ensues.

♡ He’ll model for you enthusiastically. If you need help figuring out how an arm would look when bent this way or that, Hifumi will happily demonstrate.

♡ He gives the most useful, constructive criticism you’ve ever heard in your life. Real, good advice that helps you improve.

♡ You two will sometimes just sit in silence with each other, drawing your friend while they draw you. Good times, all around!

[pedge-page]

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

- - - -

You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat. 

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

 He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears. 

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you���re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened. 

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

-

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

-

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

-

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

-

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

-

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

-

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?” 

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

-

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

 The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar. 

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see. 

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside.  “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm  unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily. 

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs. 

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands. 

 “…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

-

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two.  When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

-

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it. 

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls  and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

- - - -

Series Masterlist

Previous

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005

[michanvalentine]

Lately, I feel like a total perverted maniac obsessing over Baldur’s Gate 3 scenes, since I keep watching them over and over… especially the ones involving my pixelated vampire boyfriend.

Anyway, I was goofing off as usual and rewatching the scene where Astarion either makes a move for the first time or not during the tiefling party. Now, maybe someone else has already pointed this out and it’s been discussed at length or maybe I'm talking a lot of nonsense, but when our pale elf approaches with the bottle in hand, saying he never imagined himself as the hero praised for saving so many lives—and then adds that now that he’s here, he finds it awful and hates it—it feels to me like he’s hiding what he really thinks about the whole thing (perhaps he doesn’t even fully understand what he feels). Let me explain.

Astarion says he never imagined himself as a hero, etc, then adds “and now that I’m here,” pauses, leaves the thought hanging, and takes a drink from the bottle. Only then does he say it’s awful and he hates it. But… is he talking about the wine or about being a hero? The scene is well-constructed, the dialogue is ambiguous, but when you choose to drink from the same bottle, Astarion points out, “See what I mean? Awful!” So, he was talking about the wine!

Of course, he goes on to complain about the company (“I’m surrounded by idiots!”), the taste of the drink (“It tastes like vinegar!”), the fact that their heroic outing hasn’t changed the world, and that all he got for his trouble was nothing (“Just a pat on the head!”). But, in reality, Astarion never actually says that saving lives disgusted him!

He doesn’t say he enjoys it either, mind you, especially since in the first act of the game he’s still very much keeping to himself, selfish to the core, and focused on his own survival. Let’s not forget that just a few days earlier, he was still under Cazador’s thumb. But in my opinion, the fact that he found himself in the role of the hero—even though it’s a situation he would have gladly avoided—left a mark on him... something he doesn’t actually talk about, even when it seems like he is. Unlike Shadowheart, who openly admits it despite being surprised by it. A thought, a feeling perhaps, that the vampire spawn keeps to himself, hidden beneath his quips and the mask he keeps firmly in place. He’s not ready yet to let go of his beliefs, his worldview, and everything he’s learned about life in the worst possible way. However, this experience has marked the beginning of something. Something he’s perhaps still trying to rationalize and understand. That’s why he’d rather talk about the wine and complain about the boring party! xD

Let’s remember that Astarion is a dramatic, whiny diva, especially when things don’t go his way. xD But his frustration, going back to the wine tasting like vinegar, probably stems more from that detail than from saving lives. After all, as he says, it’s terrible and he hates it, simply because it’s not blood. And honestly, can you blame him? Poor vampire spawn, always hungry!

[morgana-larkin]

Alright so I got this prompt messaged to me by @dreamer-329 : Hi I have read almost all your fanfics and I love them a lot, I saw you are fine with receiving prompts and while I was listening to music this song came on and I got an idea haha

Hearing this song made me think that this would be a perfect club song for Melissa x reader, song is Mi casa su casa by Omar Rudberg, here is what i thought of but you can spin this however you see best fits, Melissa is out with some of the Abbott crew and she sees R dancing and is into them, they briefly bump into each other at the bar ordering drinks but nothing happens until R is dancing to this song and they look at Melissa(who is already watching them) and sing the lyrics while staring intently at her and dancing more provocative by every line they sing (I can see it in your eyes

This is what you came for

Baby, don't be shy

Because you got something I've been wanting

A long, long time

And I got something you've been wanting

That's no crime 'cause

You got a body

I got a body

Let's have a party

Mi casa su casa)

I thought this was a cute and smutty idea and wrote it over the holidays. I just finished it and I definitely had to edit it as I wrote most of it when I was not sober and some of it made no fucking sense. Hope you like it!

On another note: I’m working on 3 other prompts for Mel atm so be patient! Especially as I might need a moment after I saw the dress Lisa wore to the golden globes…😮‍💨

Mi Casa or Su Casa

Warnings: smut, teasing, teacher-student role play (small part)

Words: 2.6k

“I still don’t get why youse dragging me out.” Melissa complains as they all step into a bar.

“Because we all could use some fun after the week we’ve had.” Janine says excitedly and they all find a table to sit at. “I’ll buy the first round, what does everyone want?” Janine asks and everyone gives their order to her and she goes to the bar to order.

Melissa looks around the bar and sees a few people dancing to the song that the DJ is playing. She sees a few other people scattered around the bar, most in conversations with the other people at their table. Janine comes back a few minutes later and passes everyone their drink.

“Here’s to putting up with all the golf course construction.” Jacob says and they all cheers to that.

A couple rounds later and they’re all looser, even Melissa. Melissa then notices a few people walk by the table and she looks to see a few young women walking by. One of them turns around once they find a table and Melissa does a double take.

You decided to go out with your friends after you were ready to come back out after a breakup and one of your friends suggested a bar where you can all dance. You walk into the bar and you pass by a group of people at a table and then one of your friends decides on a table and you turn around to sit in a chair. You look around the bar and you notice a ginger woman staring at you and you smile and wave at her. She smiles back at you and then joins the conversation at her table.

You notice her keep glancing at you and then she goes to get up and walks to the bar. You get up with the excuse of getting the next round even though you just got the previous one and you go to meet her at the bar.

“Hi.” You say and she turns to look at you and you smile.

“Hi.” She says. “I’m Melissa.” She adds on and you shake her hand.

“I’m Y/n. Melissa is a beautiful name, it suits you.” You tell her and she smiles with a slight blush “So I’ve noticed this hot ginger staring at me for the past hour. Would you know anything about that?” You ask her and she pretends to think about it then shakes her head.

“Not a thing, but maybe she thinks you’re cute.” She tells you and you smile.

“Well I think you’re cute as well.” You tell her and then the bartender brings her drinks and she takes them.

“I gotta go bring these to my friends but maybe I’ll see you around.” She says and then walks away, with a slight sway to her hips. You watch her walk away and then the bartender asks what you want to get and you order all the drinks.

You go back to the table with your friends and then they ask you all about that woman you were talking to.

“I don’t know anything about her other than her name is Melissa.” You say to all of them.

“Then go talk to her more, or even go ask her to dance.” One of your friends suggests.

“She’s busy with her friends right now.” You tell them and they look over at the table.

“Go up and ask her to dance.” They tell you. “Or you can dance seductively and get her to come to you.” They add and you think about it and decide to do that. The next song comes on and you get up and go to the dance floor. You know the song that comes on and you also start singing as well as dancing to it.

“Well woman the way the time cold, I wanna be keeping you warm. I got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm.” You sing and move your hips along to the song. You also have your hands up in the air as well as everyone else who’s dancing and it makes your shirt go up and anyone can see your belly button. “Oh lord, girl, I got the right tactics to turn you on. And girl I wanna be the papa, you can be the mom, oh-oh.” You sing out and you quickly glance and see that Melissa is watching you and you smile before you keep dancing to the song. The next song comes a couple minutes later and you instantly recognize the guitar beat.

You swing your hips to the beat before the lyrics start and you decide to go a bit further with your seductive movements to see if she’ll come to you.

“Mi casa su casa. I’ve been watching you all night, over on the dance floor.” You sing out and you look at Melissa and you see she’s still watching you. You decide to keep your eyes on her while you still keep dancing. “I can see it in your eyes, this is what you came for.” You continue while you run your hands down the side of your body and you see Melissa grabs her drink and take a sip. “Baby, don’t be shy, because you got something I’ve been wanting, a long long time. And I got something you’ve been wanting.” You sing out and move your hips more. “That’s no crime cause, you got a body.” You sing while you point to her. “I got a body.” And then you run your hands down your chest down to your stomach. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You sing out and turn around and wiggle your butt a little.

You turn back around and you see Melissa making her way over to you and you look back at her table and see all her friends watching her. She makes her way over to you and she puts her hands on your waist while you’re still dancing and you wrap your arms around her neck. She pushes you closer until you’re pressed up against her and the next chorus is just about to play.

“That’s no crime cause, you got a body, I got a body.” You sing and she moves her hands to your back and runs her hands all over while dancing to the song with you. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You continue singing. “I got a body, you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She then flips you around so your back is pushed up against her front and she runs her hands down the side of your body and she starts singing the rest.

“I’ve been looking at you all night long. From over on the dance floor, I really want to take you home.” She then places her hands on your stomach and she starts taking over the dancing, making you move in time with her. “You got a body, I got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She sings and then gets right to your ear. “I got a body, and you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She finishes singing the song but she doesn’t move away from you or let you move. “You wanted me to come to you.” She says and you smile.

“Is that a question or a comment?” You ask her and she gets you to turn around.

“A comment, staring at me while running your hands all over your body gave it away.” She tells you. “What do you want to happen?” She asks you and you shrug your shoulders.

“I haven’t thought that far.” You tell her and she shakes her head with a smile. “All I thought was getting the hot ginger that’s been staring at me to come over.” You tell her and then she cups your cheek and leans in. You lean in as well and connect your lips with hers. They feel fucking magical and much softer than you’ve imagined all night. You feel her hand move from your cheek to the back of your head and the other move to your waist.

“What would you say if I asked you mi casa or su casa?” She asks when she pulls away and you blink at her for a second before smiling.

“I’d say…su casa.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Let’s go grab our stuff and I’ll call an Uber.” She says and you nod before you speed walk to get your things.

“Where are you going?” Your friend asks.

“With the hot ginger to her place.” You say and then walk over to Melissa.

“Melissa, why are you grabbing your purse?” Barb asks and Melissa just smiles.

“I’ll see you all on Monday.” She says and then she grabs your hand and leaves.

“Can I stay at someone’s house tonight? Melissa is not as quiet as she thinks.” Jacob asks everyone.

You get in an Uber with Melissa and she rubs your thigh the entire time. Once you get to her place she takes your hand again and you quickly get out. As soon as she turns the light on to her house you get a good look at her and you’re mesmerised.

“You’re even hotter now than at the bar.” You tell her and you kiss her again. You trap her against you and the door and with the way her hands are all over your stomach and chest, she doesn’t mind. She then pushes you away, takes your hand and brings you upstairs to her room.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes.” She says once she closes her door.

“And what are you going to do about that?” You ask her and she smirks before taking your sweater and shirt off. You then go and take her blazer and shirt off before both of you get on the bed.

You end up straddling her lap and she unclips your bra while you’re kissing her and you help her take it off before she throws it somewhere in the room. You then unclip her bra and you throw it away without any care once you get a look at her chest.

“Do you like them?” She asks when she sees you staring at her boobs and you nod.

You go directly to her neck while you cup both her breasts and she moans into the kiss. You push her back on the bed and then you take her leather pants and underwear off. You run your hands up her smooth legs all the way up to her hips. You see her start squirming under you and you smile.

“Eager already Melissa?” You ask her.

“You were pretty much grinding on me at the bar.” She says and you snort. You then bend down and wrap your mouth around a nipple and she moans out. You switch to her other nipple and you can tell she needs it bad.

“When was the last time you had sex with someone?” You ask her and she sighs.

“A few months.” She says and you hum.

“Really? You look like someone who can’t go that long without it and someone who can get someone no problem.” You tell her.

“You’re right, and yet you’re making me wait.” She tells you and you smirk. “I mean if you won’t do anything then I’ll just- oh god.” You cut her off by circling her clit and she’s now whimpering and gasping underneath you. You’re slowly circling her clit as you want to see her slowly come undone and also have her beg for more. You watch as she squirms, trying to get her high quicker but you’re not letting her. “Please, please go faster.” She begs and you smirk before circling her clit faster.

You feel her entire body under you and you listen to her as she comes and you don’t stop. You insert 2 fingers in her dripping centre and start fingering her while circling her clit. She gasps out and bucks her hips when you insert two fingers and starts moaning at the sensitivity.

“Oh god.” She begins saying like a mantra as she gets close to her second orgasm. She squeezes around your fingers and then she comes again and she holds your hand and gets you to pull out. You then lick your fingers and taste her and you moan at the taste.

“You taste good.” You tell her and she pulls you down to her.

“You think so?” She asks and you nod. She then pulls you into a kiss and tastes herself mixed with the taste of your mouth and she loves it. “Take the rest of your clothes off.” She orders and you immediately obey. “So obedient.” She smirks as you take your pants off.

“Something about you and your tone that makes me want to obey.” You tell her and she hums.

“Wish my second graders were like that as well.” She tells you and you tilt your head.

“You’re a teacher?” You ask her and she nods. “That’s so hot.” You tell her and then kiss her.

You feel her move her hand down and then she starts circling your clit and getting you all wet before she inserts a finger in your entrance. You moan into the kiss and then she slips another one in and then starts pumping in and out of you.

“What do you find hot about me being a teacher?” She asks and you have to take a few seconds to think about what she just asked you.

“I think it’s more about thinking of you…teaching me a lesson.” You say in between moans and she smirks.

“Why would you need to get taught a lesson? Have you been a bad girl?” She asks and she feels you get wetter after saying that. She then pulls out of you and flips you both so that she’s on top. She sticks her fingers back inside of you and she smiles at you gasping and moaning. “Be a good girl for your teacher and do as I say.” She tells you and you whimper while all the moisture goes right to your pussy. “Are you that excited to be a good girl for me?” She asks and you nod. She then curls her fingers inside of you and you start seeing stars.

“I’m so close, I’m so close.” You tell her and she feels you clench around her fingers and she moans at the feeling.

“Be a good girl and come for me.” She tells you and you immediately come, like the good girl you are.

She gets in bed beside you after helping you clean yourself up and she wraps and arm around you and you both fall asleep. The next morning Melissa wakes up and sees you’re already gone and she sighs. She walks downstairs, a bit weirdly due to last night and she sees a note.

‘Last night was fun, txt me ;)

xxx-xxx-xxxx’

She reads it with a smile and immediately puts your number in her phone and texts you.

Melissa: Hey, it’s the hot ginger. I noticed there was a girl missing in my bed this morning.

She texts it to you and then she goes to get breakfast ready but then gets a notification and sees it’s from you.

You: Hey hot ginger, maybe that should be your name in my phone 😉

You: Sorry I left, I had plans with my parents this morning but I’d like to do it again sometime if you also want to as well

Melissa: Yes I’d love to, just one question

You: What’s that?

Melissa: Mi casa or su casa?

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

Let me know if you want to be added!

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Overwhelmed

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Prompt: Reader has bouncing between so many things in her life that is leaving her chronically exhausted. It hasn’t been too much of a problem until one afternoon. The only one that seems to notice is JJ.

Warnings: Near death experience

The blinding sun crinkles your eyes as you drive your way to the Chateau. Sweat beats down your entire body from the day working with your father. He is a construction worker with his own company, and you work with him during the summer for some spending money. Even though he is your father, he still has you doing all the same heavy lifting as anyone else that works for him.

Normally every summer has been fine. You also work at a local gym on Figure 8 almost every day for a few hours. You’d work with your dad in the morning, work at the gym in the afternoon, and hangout or relax with your friends in the evening. 

Though for some reason this summer your dad thinks any free time you have will be with him, unless you’re sleeping of course. You’ve had talks with him, and he always seems to be on the same page. That is until he starts telling you all that he needs help with and how you are going to come and help before and after the gym all week.

Luckily today ended up being a day he didn’t have much for you to do. Instead of wasting another second you made a beeline for your friends before he could change his mind. You love your dad, and the extra cash, but trying to keep up with work and maintaining your social life leaves very little room to just breathe. 

Though you find yourself struggling to try. From the constant buzz of life that has become almost normal, you find yourself getting anxious anytime you are just laying around. Even if you are with your friends. Anytime you aren’t on the boat or helping with the newest endeavor of finding the gold, you feel like you should be doing something.

“Hey it’s my girl!” JJ shouts from the couch on the porch. Beer in hand.

“Hey babe.” You say with a smile after greeting him with a kiss. “Did you guys catch anything on the boat?”

“Not much but we did manage to save some leftovers for you,” your best friend John B offers. “It’s only been sitting out a few minutes.”

Feeling your stomach rumble, you assure him that you are hungry enough to eat it raw. Walking into the kitchen you let your smile faulter. You allow the wandering exhaustion to settle over you for a moment. Holding back the exhaustion is exhausting enough.

You feel the nice warm water wash your hands of drywall dust, paint, and sweat. Heading over to the counter you find your plate and grab a fork before rejoining the boys. Kie apparently has to work tonight since she was out all day with the boys. Though she promised to come back over after her shift at The Wreck.

You take the empty seat next to JJ, and as you do an involuntary sigh escapes your lips. As you dig into your dinner you hope that the guys haven’t noticed. If they ask you if everything is okay, you’re afraid some tears of frustration and tiredness would break through. Instead you focus your attention on the food in front of you and the latest pointless debate between the boys. Before you know it, every last bite on the plate is gone.

“Hey lets go back out on the HSM Pogue!” John B excitedly gets up. “Sun is setting, nice night dip.”

Everyone excitedly agrees and you head into the spare bedroom to slip into your swimsuit. As you pull up your straps, completing your ensemble, there is a knock on the door. Without asking who it is, you tell them to come in. Only one person would want to come in and that is JJ. It is basically his room after all.

Closing the door behind him, JJ takes in the sight of you. The newly defined muscles on your arms and legs from the work with your dad. You can’t complain about the benefit of the job. Though when his eyes meet yours all you can see is concern.

“If you’d rather stay in and relax I’ll stay with you.” JJ offers you. An overwhelming sweep of adoration floods through your senses, but next comes the wave of anxiety. No, I can’t do nothing.

“It’s okay, we can go on the boat.” Your voice upbeat and convincing of the energy you do not contain. “I’m fine.”

Even as the last two words leave your lips, tears form behind your eyes. Thankfully the room is dark, no power on the Cut from the hurricane. Unconvinced, JJ nods and heads back out with the other two. You take two deep breathes as you clear your eyes and slow your now racing heart. With a quick nod at yourself in the mirror, you make your way out to the HSM Pogue.

The sound of the waves hitting against the boat is almost enough to pull you to sleep. That and the warmth of JJ’s arm around your waist. Leaning into him you find your eyes fluttering shut every few minutes. If this wasn’t the first time you’d physically seen everybody in days, you would have just stayed at the Chateau with JJ.

Situating yourself, you lean toward the cooler for a cold beer. Even though you know alcohol is a narcotic it just gives you something to do than think about how tired you are. From the corner of your eye you see JJ analyzing you. Aside from a beer here and there, you aren’t much of a drinker. It isn’t until you send him a smile that he drops his watchful gaze and smiles back.

“This looks like a good spot.” John B insists as he slows the boat to a stop and throws the anchor over.

The four of you jump into the cool water. The sudden alertness gifted by the water sends you through the break into the sky. Though as your body adjusts to its temperature the feeling of exhaustion returns.

JJ wraps his arms around you and peppers your face with kisses. Squealing, you try to pry him away from you but your efforts are futile. Taking your frame in his, JJ manages to throw you a few feet in the direction of Pope. Who of course fakes offence at the unseen attack. Water is thrashed around by each person until a full blown water war breaks out.

Swimming around to the boat, you take deep breathes as you watch the boys continue splashing around. You plan to hide out for a bit before climbing onto the boat and performing a cannon ball that will soak everyone. The splash to end all splashes. Not wanting to spoil the fun yet, you float on your back in the water. 

You close your eyes and feel the cool water soak into your warm skin. The aches and pains from the day’s work unravel from your body. Dark clouds filter behind your eyelids as the sounds around you become more muffled. You know you should get up but you can’t will your body to move. 

The water around you laps farther up your face, and within a few moments you’re completely submerged into the water. Making the mistake to breathe, a burning sensation fills your lungs and your body fights out of its own slumber. But you’ve already breathed in too much water and your body is still too exhausted to propel your body toward the surface. 

**

Looking around JJ realizes that he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in a few minutes. He calls out (Y/N)’s name while circling around the boat. Giving up on swimming, JJ climbs up on the boat and surveys around the best he can in the dark.

Panic rises within JJ’s chest and his breathing becomes labored. JJ knew he should have suggested harder that you two stay at the Chateau. He could tell through (Y/N)’s eyes how exhausted she truly is. Just a few nights ago he went to surprise her at home. Crawled in through her window with a big bag of snacks and drinks that will keep her up well into the night. However, the moment JJ wrapped his arms around her, (Y/N) was knocked out cold.

With his shaking hands, JJ grabs for a flashlight and shines it on the water. JJ knows he won’t be able to see anything but he can’t think straight. Just before he is ready to radio for help he sees a bubble rise to his right.

Not wasting any time, JJ dives into the water. His eyes spot (Y/N) a few feet down from him, unmoving. A shot of ice cold fear radiates through his body as he fights his limbs to move him toward (Y/N). JJ wraps his arms around her waist and propels his legs to break the surface above.

“HELP!!” JJ screams to John B and Pope. “HELP!!”

The guys hear him and turn to face his panic-stricken face. Realizing that (Y/N) is in JJ’s arms, the guys spring into action. John B gets onto the boat while Pope joins JJ and lifts (Y/N)’s limp body. JJ grabs onto the boat and pulls his body up and is quickly joined by Pope.

“Tell me how to do CPR!” JJ frantically shouts to Pope.

“You think I know?”

“You’re the fucking genius,” JJ lays you flat on your back, “so help me goddammit! I can’t lose her!”

“Okay okay!” Pope presses his fingers against his temple as he thinks about what to do. “Chest compressions! Two sets of 30 and then mouth to mouth. Check for breathing and then start over!”

JJ places his hands over (Y/N)’s chest and begins to press up and down. His actions start off timid, afraid that he will hurt her but feverishly picks up when he sees there is no change. Lowering his mouth to (Y/N)’s, JJ breathes air past her lips and sees her chest rise and fall. JJ can’t believe that only moments ago the last time he was this close the two of you were kissing, and now he is trying to breathe life into her.

I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. She’s my everything. I can’t lose her…

JJ presses up and down (Y/N)’s chest to this mantra. Years ago, his mother left and his father became a raging drunk who is always on someone else’s meds. (Y/N) made him stable, made his life feel stable. Without her, JJ is scared he will end up just like his father. (Y/N) has showed him that there is more to life than the Outer Banks. They always talked about leaving one day, buying a house, running a business, and eventually starting their own family. Right now, all those happy plans are slipping past JJ’s fingertips along with (Y/N).

**

A burning rush of water flows up your throat as a coughing fit surges through your chest. Grabbing on to something nearby, you flip on your side to help expel the contents. Even as all the water leaves your system you keep coughing and feel as though you will never stop.

After what feels like forever, your coughing subsides and you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso. As you take in what happened, you feel your body begin to shake at the realization that you could have died. Tears flood your cheeks and fall against JJ’s bare shoulders. That’s when you register that JJ is shaking as well.

“JJ,” you say as your hand holds the back of his head, “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

JJ doesn’t speak but shakes his head against your skin. His head fits in the crook of your neck and you feel him breathing in your sent. It’s as if he doesn’t believe that you are awake and breathing.

“JJ look at me.” You whisper.

Reluctantly JJ’s eyes meet yours. You see his blood shot eyes and tear-stricken face. JJ leans his forehead against yours as his fingers run through your hair. A pit hits the bottom of your stomach as you think about how worried JJ was and how reckless you were.

“Next time,” JJ takes a deep breath as his voice catches, “can we just stay at the Chateau?”

“Yes, yes.” You sigh in relief.

JJ connects your lips with his. The kiss starts off soft and gentle, but JJ quickly turns it hungry and desperate. It’s as if he needs you instead of air. In this moment you make yourself a promise that you won’t over work yourself from now on. You’ve realized that you aren’t the only one that will become overwhelmed.

[chobani-flip]

nicknames and terms of endearment @bucktommypositivityweek eddie pov, eddie is a good supportive friend, a teensy bit cracky? maybe?

___

"did you know that calling someone a silly pig in cantonese is a term of endearment?" says buck, having secured his phone in the inside pocket of his turnouts.

they're on their way to a four-car pile-up on the freeway and it's just buck and eddie from their usual crowd in the cabin with chim and hen having gone ahead in the smaller ambulance car.

thompson and mckenna give him blank looks while eddie huffs out a loud breath and settles in to follow whatever tangent brewed up inside buck while he'd been staring at his screen in between the calls.

"french people call their loved ones cabbage," offers gerig, their new probie, uncertainly, slowly trailing off at mckenna's widened eyes and minute headshakes.

"do not encourage him," thompson mouths and eddie has to pretend to be stroking his mustache as he tries to hide his grin. they should know by now that buck needs no encouragement.

it's only been a week since he stopped following up every mention of tommy with "you know, my boyfriend", so eddie figures this is a natural development. though to be fair to buck and his heart-eyes, sometimes the "boyfriend" was louder than necessary with a significant side-eye in gerrard's direction.

"i know! i was just reading about it!" buck says, tapping at the cell in his turnouts. "it's so weird! but it shouldn't be! we say 'baby' and 'honey' and 'sweetiepie' and i was just thinking: why? because yeah, babies are cute but they're babies. and honey and pie are sweet but cavities aren't fun. so..."

eddie sees mckenna throw a slightly desperate look towards the front seat, and remembers that he's always been a bit of an asshole, but their 'captain' has somehow managed to fall asleep between the alarm, clambering into their turnouts and inside the truck, the siren, and the manouvering on the road. again. eddie makes a mental note to up the number on the new complaint form he's got sitting on his tablet at home. hopefully, they'll be rid of him before gerrard falls asleep holding a megaphone next to a construction fire with their crew still inside.

"so have you finished the graph yet?" eddie asks and enjoys both buck's delighted grin and mckenna's look of horror. because he knows buck. of course there's a graph in the works.

"not yet! but it seems that across languages people use things that are valuable like precious metals or gemstones very often, and then body parts or like, you know, 'my heart' 'my soul'. and then there's fruits and vegetables, like the cabbage in french, or melon in mandarin, and animals like cat, bear, mouse or rabbit."

"could you send me a link to the jstor article?" asks gerig, the probie, bringing the conversation to a halt. "or, i mean, wherever you got the research," he continues, nervously, shooting nervous glances at the dangerous looks buck, thompson and mckenna are throwing him. though buck's the most predatory of them all. "my sister keeps talking about jstor when she complains about all the essay writing she needs to do, so i thought that's what everyone used for research."

"so it's just for college students?" there's a bit of a whine in buck's voice, and eddie stretches his leg to give his ankle a commiserating tap with his boot.

gerig shakes his head, and buck's face brightens.

"i think some library cards give you access as well. or you can pay for it yourself, but callie says it's really expensive."

"jstor, jstor," buck mumbles to himself, tapping at his cell inside his done-up turnouts, and craning his neck to check the screen of the navigation at the front for their eta.

"i can remind you when we get back?" gerig suggests, tucking his legs further under him to avoid the kicks from mckenna and thompson.

"thanks, probie!" buck's smile is all sunshine. "you know, i bet they have something on the mandarin gege and korean oppa. because like, i know it's not really weird for them, that it's not actually like calling your lover your older brother, not really or whatever, but-"

eddie snorts.

"what?!"

"glass houses, buckaroo," eddie says, remembering the last time he caught a glimpse of the contact name on buck's screen when he was facetiming tommy during downtime and learned more about their relationship and sex life than he strictly wanted to. buck frowns at him, so he taps at his own inside pocket and gestures with his chin, enjoying the realization spread red across buck's cheekbones.

"that's not- that's a- that's different..." he trails off. "or is it? oh! that's interesting. i wonder if-"

and then the truck's jerking to a halt, and gerrard's barking: "what? what! are we there yet? well, go! go! get out! get to work!"

and then they're all climbing out of the truck, getting the jaws and rushing to help out chim and hen with the injured.

after the ambulances leave and they settle back into the truck, eddie watches buck pull out his phone and start tapping away.

"jay store... is that without the e, probie? right, yeah, got it...oooooh"

eddie leans his head against the window and wonders when buck's gonna decide to share his upcoming academic research on daddy kink with the whole 118 and their decrepit captain, and whether that might count as a murder attempt.

___

author's note: i don't believe ive seen our evan buckley introduced to jstor or other catalogues like this in fic and i think that's kinda criminal. fanon buck loves to research all kinds of niche shit, and he'd enjoy the fuck out of reading academic papers and then quoting macshay et al in people's faces.

[yvesssssssss]

hi hello ms esteemed yves!! idk if ur taking requests rn bc I see ur writing a longer work currently so ty anyways on behalf of starving uzuki luvers everywhere orz however if you are, could you do like... sakamoto day guys w a total adrenaline junkie/thrill seeker s/o? not like she's an extrovert necessarily but my favs r kei shishiba and natsuki and they r all more lowk Yk that kinda contrast ... hope you have a luvly weekend <3

I hope you like it! Hopefully, this is what you were looking for—thank you so much for the idea, it was super fun to write!

Kei Uzuki

You were the kind of person who got a glint in your eyes when knives were flying. The tighter the hallway, the louder the gunfire, the faster your heart raced—and Uzuki? He noticed.

Fascinated by you at first. Most people tremble when the air gets thick with violence, but you smile, calm and sharp as a blade’s edge.

You’re not a loud daredevil, but he sees the way you walk into danger without hesitation. When a mission goes sideways, you lean into it, eyes glittering. It makes his heart stutter.

“You know this is insane, right?” he murmurs, brushing blood off your cheek after a fight you picked for fun.

“It was fun,” you say, chest still rising from the rush. He doesn't disagree.

He tries to read you like a weapon, figure out where the trigger is, what makes you tick. But you’re always two steps ahead—jumping rooftops, riding motorcycles through enemy lines, smirking over your shoulder like you dare him to keep up.

When it’s just the two of you, quiet in a motel room or hiding out, he’ll ask: “Do you ever get scared?”

And you’ll answer honestly: “Only when it’s boring.”

It terrifies him, and he likes it.

Shishiba

He’s chill. You’re not. At least not in the way that lets you sit still.

You’re the type to take an assignment and add extra risk. “There was a shortcut if we went through the collapsing construction site,” you say. Shishiba just stares at you.

“You know you could’ve just taken the stairs.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose like he aged ten years in one sentence.

Lowkey lives for how you always make things unpredictable. He complains, but he never stops you. Even when you suggest “testing” the Order’s security systems by sneaking in “just for kicks.”

Deadpan lectures you. “If you die doing something stupid, I’m not picking up your body.”

But he’s always there when things go wrong. Always.

One time, you jumped out of a second-story window just because the ledge “looked fun.” When he caught you midair, grumbling about it, you kissed his cheek mid-fall. He didn’t drop you, but he did go silent for five whole minutes.

You keep him from getting too jaded. He keeps you from getting killed. It works.

Natsuki Seba

He’s a genius with nerves of steel, but your chaos still makes him sweat a little.

“Wait, you want to do what?”

“Break into the JAA HQ from the roof. For practice.”

“That’s not practice. That’s pre-suicidal behavior.”

He genuinely doesn’t know whether to admire you or lock you in a room for your own safety.

He watches you race toward danger like it’s a sport and mutters to himself, “We’re not getting out of this alive, are we?”

But your energy is contagious. He starts planning around your thrill-seeking habits. “Okay, if you have to climb that tower, wear this tracker so I can hack their systems if things go wrong.”

Gets a little bit addicted to the way your eyes shine when the adrenaline hits. The way you laugh—short and breathless—after sliding under a closing gate or dodging bullets by instinct.

Sometimes he joins you, heart pounding, breath hitching, your hand in his.

“Remind me why I let you talk me into this?”

“Because you love it. And me.”

He grins, breathless. “...Damn it. You’re right.”

[mins-fins]

all flights are delayed !

"i like to call myself a pretty man connoisseur.."

synopsis: your sad to say it, but you don't have much going on in your life. you have a very time consuming major, just a few friends, barely any time to go out, and spend most of your free time either a: working, or b: sleeping. so for once, when you finally have the friday off, and your dragged off to go watch a football game between a rival school of yours, you really do wish you were anywhere else. somehow though, it turns out to be one of the best things to happen to you, because a charming oreo–haired musical theater major from your rival school just happens to saunter his way into your life, you didn't expect to fall in love in your junior year, but your also not complaining!

pairing: xiao dejun x male!reader

genre: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, musical theater major!xiaojun x health science major!reader, fluff, like the lightest of angst, lowkey fast burn 😖

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing(?), gay people, a little miscommunication, reader having a crisis over oreo xiaojun, probably a lot of repetitive phrases, huang guanheng is EVERYWHERE

word count: 12.8k

notes: OKAAAAAAAY hello! now in the beginning i really did enjoy writing this but after like the fourth scene its all so disgusting and jumbled up but i am also very proud of myself because this is the longest ever fic i have ever written (it is all xiao dejuns fault), actually it is ALL of nct's fault because why do i have a bunch of 8k word fics of so many nct members..😢 anyway if this seems any rushed or makes absolutely no sense at times its because im tired and i worked extra today but it doesn't really matter because constructive criticism is good (i shouldn't even publish this tbh) but there is a first for everything! enjoy!

YOU'VE NEVER BEEN A FOOTBALL FAN. now you know that might be a little of a sour opinion, especially to the men in your family, but it's just never been a sport you enjoy. it is just a little fun to watch, especially when drunk, because the sight of men in tight ass clothes running around a field chasing a ball is possibly one of the funniest things you think your drunk mind has ever seen. which is why now— in the stands, listening to the loud shouts and screams from your schoolmates, and rival scholars, you feel as if your ears have just been popped.

after all the days of working, and doing nothing but schoolwork, you were glad to have the rest of the friday off. there was nothing else you wanted to do but put on an oversized sweater, make a bowl of ramen and rewatch gossip girl for the seventy fifth time already (yes, you keep count), but no— guanheng decided he was going to drag you out of the dorm to watch stupid football game, one about "school spirit" or whatever, you weren't paying attention to him when he decided to go on his ramble, and now he's abandoned you once again! probably off to go talk to one of his 1000 other friends or something.

you almost consider leaving, but then you witness the amount of people you'd have to maneuver through, the amount of excuse me's you'd have to utter, the amount of pushing you'd endure as you tried to make your way through the crowded stands, besides, you can't leave without guanheng, your pretty much the only person responsible for keeping him alive at this point.

so you somehow suck it up and manage to stick around. your ears are practically on fire right now, and you desperately want to take off your shoes because of how they are poking you at the moment. you almost feel like your being pressed together by all the people in the stands, as if walls are slowly pushing in and crushing every single bone in your body.

"that team is doing horribly.." you mutter to yourself in an attempt to calm your crazy mind.

"i know, we suck".

at first you think you've made up the voice, because in the past hour and a half all you've heard is shouting, cheering, and loud music blasting on your ears, no one has made any attempt to talk to you since guanheng up and left you alone in the stands, so the response almost seems like muddled up words created by your brain as a response—

but it's not.

someone actually did respond to you, and in a split second there is a completely new person standing beside you, also observing the game but not looking as pleased to be there. when you do glance to your left, you come across possibly the most beautiful boy— no, person, you come across the most beautiful person you think you've ever seen in your twenty years of living, for once it feels like everything stops.

you are not the kind of person that just.. does that. now you've met tons of pretty people, you've met so many people that you could definitely say are so beautiful they could be displayed in a museum as an art exhibit, but never in your twenty years of living have you ever seen yourself go silent at the sight of a beautiful person— your brain feels like it's malfunctioning, you're not exactly sure what to say, you open your mouth but no words come out, and you almost consider punching yourself because you probably look like a complete idiot right now.

"oh? you don't go here?"

that's what you decided to say? of all things you could've said, of course he doesn't go to your school, he just implied that the other team belonged to his school, why would that be the best thing to say out of everything else?

the stranger looks up, then he laughs, and your not sure how you keep your composure. "oh no, i go to vixsith" he replies, using his thumb to point backward, though he's not pointing at anything in specific, just pointing to point. you're not sure why you pick up on that, or why you're even watching where his hands are going anyway.

"your insulting your own team?" you inquire, and he laughs even harder at your question, covering his mouth with his hand. "this is about school spirit, have faith in them" you joke, and all he does is continue laughing, crossing his arms as he tries his best to calm himself down.

"i'm being honest, the only person on that team who knows how to play is mark, he deserves better" he remarks, eyes focused on the player he just named. he then seems to have a random realization and turns to you once again. "i'm dejun by the way" he holds out his hand for you to take, and you just blink at it like an idiot, before coming back to your senses and quickly shaking his head.

"y/n".

at the sound of your name, he seems to have yet another realization. he points at you and narrows his eyes. "we have a mutual friend don't we?"

at the question, you narrow your eyes, cogs turn in your brain as you think about who he could possibly be referring to, then it comes to you—

"guanheng".

the two of you say his name in unison, and the two of you both try to stifle your laughs as the realization dawns on you. "he knows everyone i swear" you mutter, and dejun snorts, looking away from you to laugh. "even from other schools.."

"oh we go way back" dejun responds, moving his hair out of his face. "middle school actually" he adds, and your eyes widen, as if your shocked, of course guanheng has friends from way back when, why are you surprised?

you don't feel as surprised as you do lucky..

"was he still as inhumanely flexible as he is now?"

dejun laughs again, he does that a lot. "yes, yes he was".

"he talks about you a lot.. you know" dejun comments out of the blue, tucking his hair behind his ear. "he basically lives with us, and if he's not sleeping over we always assume he's with you".

"oh so that's why he always just.. appears and disappears.."

"yeah that's kind of his thing" dejun scrunches his face, looking bored by the lack of action happening on the field. "i can never find him unless he directly comes to me first" he doesn't look at you as he says those words, but you're very much staring at him the whole time.

you almost feel like a creep in a way, you want to punch yourself in the face again for continuing to stare at him. you blink a couple times before turning your face away, trying to correctly articulate your thoughts.

"both teams suck".

you only say those words because you want him to continue talking, you want to hear him talk, it's nothing that crazy, having a conversation with him is just so intriguing to you for some reason..

"well yeah— but you guys get more training so you have an advantage" he comments, narrowing his eyes at the field, arms crossed over his chest. "the guys on our team have no idea what their doing".

"do you like football?" you ask, not sure why your so interested in his answer, you just are, you have no explanation for your sudden intrigue of this charming oreo–haired boy that goes to your rival school.

your much too distracted by how gorgeous he is to worry about giving yourself an explanation.

dejun laughs again, shaking his head. "not really, my dad does, so i just know things because of all his screaming and shouting" he replies, arms still crossed over his chest. "i'm not really a sports person, i do musical theater for pete's sake".

"oh so you sing?" you don't mean to ask another question, you're worried that you might be bothering dejun with your constant inquiries, but he actually seems glad, excited that someone is asking him about his major.

"well yeah" he responds, his smile growing. "all things theater, i write the songs, i act the parts, i play instruments, sometimes i even take offstage roles instead of my usual onstage ones".

he fiddles with his fingers, picking his nails. you assume, from his mannerisms, that he doesn't know what to say because most people don't really ask him about his major, or what he does, it's like he's elated that you even asked him.

"what about you?" dejun instead asks, veering away from the topic of his major and instead making yours the main topic of discussion. "what do you do?"

"health science" you say the words as if it pains you to, like it's the single most uninteresting thing you've said this whole interaction. "i know, it's boring".

dejun laughs again; "no no! i didn't say that!" he waves his hands in a disagreeing manner as he chuckles at your words. "i just don't meet a lot of people interested in pursuing science.."

"it's more of the health aspect than science actually" you mutter, and dejun just looks even more interested in what you have to say now. "but science is a big part of it so.."

"you must be very smart then" dejun remarks, smiling as the two of you make eye contact.

"i'm alright" you just say, finally pulling down your formerly rolled up sweater sleeves now that the air outside has begun cooling down. you only lightly shiver, and you glance back at dejun one more time..

"where do you think guanheng is?" he asks, clearing his throat as he scours the still full and lively bleachers, searching for your friend. "off doing whatever he does.."

you're currently very distracted, and you don't even realize what's going on when you snap out of whatever daze you were having and everyone is suddenly standing up and cheering like there's no tomorrow.

dejun looks over at you, and he can clearly see how confused you are because he laughs for one last time. "you guys won!" he somehow manages his voice over the roar of the crowd. "congrats!"

he's yelling, but he's not exactly loud, he still manages to sound so gentle whilst yelling at you.

"thanks!" you blurt out as a reply, and you feel like a complete idiot for that, but dejun smiles, so you don't feel all that embarrassed.

the game is over, and people are going to start to leave soon. dejun looks back, spotting a group he recognizes, then he looks over at you, a smile on his face. "i've gotta go now" he says, almost disappointed in a sense. "it was nice meeting you y/n!"

you nod, not knowing what to say. "yeah! you too!"

you too? you too?? is that what you say y/n!?

dejun gives one more beautiful smile before heading off, and you blink, having absolutely no idea what just transpired in those few minutes.

holy shit i forgot to ask—

but you couldn't— because he was gone, gone in such a flash you couldn't even spot his oreo hair in the crowd.

YOU FORGOT TO ASK FOR HIS NUMBER. YOU FEEL SO STUPID, your not even sure why you wanted to ask him that, but in the back of your mind that was the question you were preparing yourself to ask from the moment he told you his name, that he was friends with guanheng, the moment the two of you began laughing about your majors and stuff like that. the whole interaction with a pretty oreo–haired musical theater major at a football game is all that you were thinking about last night, as you tried to find pretty much anything else to think about as you struggled to sleep.

how did you forget to ask him for his number? you want to smash your face into your computer screen because of how stupid you are. you said "you too!" like a fucking idiot, but maybe you were just too distracted, he was smiling at you with that beautiful smile and staring at you with his absolutely gorgeous fucking eyes, how could you even think coherently whilst a beautiful man (from a whole other school but who cares?) was staring at you with his pretty brown eyes like you were the only person in the world?

okay your pushing it now..

but there is just something, something about him that drew you in, your not sure why you were so adamant on getting to know him, but he was just so— you can't explain it right now! you are currently very sleep deprived and also moody because of your disappearing roommate that always decides to appear at the worst times.

you don't remember the last time you ever got an actual eight hours of sleep, these days that seems like a dream more than a reality, but guangheng is just never tired. he's somehow always up, doing something, hanging out with people, he never sits down in once place and just stays still.

when he walks into the room, hands on his hips and gaze immediately focused on you, you barely bat an eye at him, just spare him a quick glance, noticing how pissed off he looks. you scour your mind for an explanation as to why he must be mad now, probably something someone said, or he got into yet another argument with one of his classmates, your not even sure anymore, you don't know where he is half the time.

"could you do me a favor?"

you almost laugh out loud, not at him, but at the idea that he wanted you to do him a favor. at this point, he probably owes you thousands of favors considering how many you do for him, but he seems upset, and you don't have any of that pettiness leftover to ignore him, so you move your eyes to look over at him.

"why should i?"

okay— you lied, your still just a little petty, but you totally have every right to be! guanheng deserves just some sass from you after disappearing each and every time he decides to take you out somewhere.

guanheng blinks, then he pulls out the signature guanheng frown, a sad stupid frown he always makes when he wants to persuade you into doing something. you're not sure how you've even ever fallen for that signature frown, maybe it's because he's just so great at looking sad, at looking upset, he somehow always manages to make you feel bad for him, and therefore, end up doing the favor for him.

"because i'm your best friend, your roommate, and you love me so much" guanheng smiles wide, like he just found out he won the lottery, and clasps his hands together as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

"i don't know.." you mumble, looking back at your computer screen. it's a saturday, you have no classes saturday, you can just sit down, relax, be the absolute lazy motherfucker you were put on this earth to be. "i don't feel like going out today".

guanheng huffs, crossing his arms. "one last favor! just one! then i'll get off your back!"

"your horrible at following your promises, heng" you comment absentmindedly, your tone is much meaner than you intended, and guanheng's gasp is enough to tell you that he indeed takes offense to those words. "what? i'm not lying".

"y/n!" oh great, he's whining now. "i will get you anything i can, anything! just this one favor! please?"

your about to say no again— but then it's like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you get a spectacular idea. anything? he did say anything, and he can give you something you want.

the number of a pretty boy preferably!

you let out a sigh, and guanheng knows what that sigh means, it means you agree. "fine, i'll do you this favor, but this is the last one".

guanheng's smile brightens, and he cheers like a kid that just got the best christmas present one can receive. "thank you! thank you! thank you! i love you!" he kisses your cheek, and skips off to another room.

"get your jacket!" he shouts, already rooms away from you, so he has to shout.

"what?"

"get your jacket! were leaving!"

you furrow your eyebrows at his words, but you don't say anymore, because you did agree to do this favor for him after all.

so, without questioning it more, you get up and go grab your jacket.

"SO WHEN YOU SAID A FAVOR..?" you don't continue on with your sentence, pausing to let out a breath as you shove your hands into the pockets of your jackets. guanheng looks over at you, and he just chuckles at the unreadable expression on your face. when you agreed to do this favor for him, you didn't know it included leaving your dorm and having to be dragged out to yet another unfamiliar place. "did you forget to mention the fact that we'd have to leave the school?" you finally finish, eyes focused and narrowed on your friend, who again, smiles at you with that signature guanheng smile.

"it's a saturday, most of us don't have classes anyway, they won't question it".

"is that supposed to make me feel better?" you ask to yourself more than to guanheng, but he hears you anyway, and that results in a snicker from him. despite that, he doesn't respond to your silent question, making you frown just the slightest.

"stop pouting".

"i'm not pouting" your quick to rebut, rolling your eyes at his words. you almost bump into him when he suddenly stops, and your about to yell at him again for being stupid when he places a finger on your mouth.

he knocks on the door in front of him, not paying attention to the burning glare your currently sending him.

"i'll bite off your finger" you threaten, moving forward and pretending your about to do that. guanheng squeaks and quickly moves his fingers away from your lips, a flash of true fear in his eyes. all you do is give him a menacing and totally not threatening smile.

"psycho.." he whispers, he looks like he's about to say more, but the door opens, so he closes his mouth and turns around.

"come on!"

he grabs your wrist and drags you into the dorm, and you felt your heart rate increase. maybe he knew these people, but you sure didn't! what if they thought you were weird? you want to pull him back and tell him that he shouldn't just drag you into some strangers dorm, but he is much too distracted to even notice your uneasiness.

"i've returned!" guanheng yells, letting go of your hand to place his hands on his hips, as if he was proud of himself.

"can you slam the door on him!?"

"ten! come to me!"

before you can ask him what the hell is going on, he sprints down the hallway, you assume to go after this ten person, you just blink, shoving your hands into your pockets as you begin to rock back and forth on your heels.

"hello stranger!" an unfamiliar voice exclaims, you look up and come face to face with a pink–haired boy with a bright smile.

"hello" you reply politely. "i like your hair" you immediately remark, pointing at his hair like an idiot because you don't want to touch it and make him uncomfortable.

his face lights up, as if you were a millionaire that just gifted him a life changing amount of money. it was as if no one ever told him that his hair was pretty before, or that they liked it. he jumps up and squeals, excited. "thank you! ten said it was stupid!"

you furrow your eyebrows, then chuckle. "what? no it's very pretty, pink suits you!"

"hah! i told you guanheng! pink does suit me!" he yells down the hall, and you can hear the small shout of rebuttal that guanheng responds with from all the way down the hall. "thanks! only a few people actually noticed that i dyed my hair".

you laugh again, okay he is very funny, you like him!

"oh! i'm yangyang! the nicest person who lives here!" he introduces himself in the same fashion a reality tv star would, and quickly grabs your hand to shake it. you don't complain, just laugh again as he vigorously shakes your hand.

"y/n, it's nice to meet you".

he gasps, recognizing your name. "oh you're the famous y/n! guanheng always talks about you, for a long time i was convinced he was in love with you!"

"why are you tarnishing my brand!?" guanheng shouts again, sounding even more pissed off than he did before. "huh!? liu yangyang!?"

yangyang shakes his head, ignoring guanheng's loud shouts and flapping his hand, mocking him. you laugh as you watch him mock the other, who has absolutely no idea what he's doing right now.

"you have a project to do!" another unfamiliar voice shouts.

yangyang gasps again, suddenly looking stressed. "fuck yeah— um!" he turns around and reaches over to grab his laptop, then he turns back to you and gives you a smile.

"yeah, my apologies" you just wave it off, urging him to keep going. "um i'm doing a project where i have to interview people on their majors.. trust me i don't know either, but! i've interviewed like the whole school already, and i need one more person.."

"and that person is me?" you ask, but you already know the answer to that question, yangyang nods, much more quickly than he seemed to intend to.

"yes!" he exclaims, but then he clears his throat. "but only if you want to, i don't want to force you into anything you don't want to do—"

"no no no it's fine!" you cut into his sentence, shaking your head. yangyang, again, looks elated that you agreed.

okay so this was the favor guanheng wanted you to for him! (not for him necessarily— but his friend). he could've just told you about this straight up instead of being vague about it, it wasn't even that burdening of a favor, not like the other ones you've done for him.

"guanheng! why don't you bring him around more often? he's better than you are!" yangyang yells again, probably for the nth time that hour.

guanheng doesn't answer, but you knows he's pouting, you can just sense it at this point, you call it your "roommate instincts".

"oh hi y/n".

now that's a voice you recognize, and you almost don't believe your eyes when the one person that kept you up all night walks into the room and smiles as he sees your figure. "dejun, hi" you smile back at him, hoping you don't sound as awkward as you feel.

dejun looks so so pretty, as he always does. he fiddles with the necklace hanging around his neck, his eyes lingering on you for an unspecified amount of time.

"ten hit me with his shoe" guanheng suddenly storms into the room, arms crossed over his chest. "asshole.." he mutters under his breath, huffing like some sort of baby.

dejun then laughs, covering his mouth with his hand, and that causes you to laugh, turning your head to the side as to not make it obvious.

guanheng exchanges glances between the both of you, a prominent glare in his eyes, but then the look in his eyes changes, and he points at the two of you. "you two have met?" he asks.

dejun pauses, still humored by the previous words said by guanheng, and your brain almost malfunctions once again. "i— um" great, you just sound so natural and not awkward.

"we met at the game" dejun immediately says, saving you the awkwardness of having to collect your words in your brain. you thank whatever god or deity up there for dejun's quick response, and he just flashes you that familiar pretty smile. "yesterday, you know, while you were off doing who knows what.."

guanheng gasps, looking at dejun like he'd just cursed his entire bloodline. "you— your just such a bitch! you know!?"

"ow! don't punch me! i'm fragile!"

guanheng lands one more punch on his shoulder, and it gets one more squeak out of dejun, who jumps once again. "i don't care, your horrible".

yangyang blinks, probably already used to their little quarrels. he then turns to you, just shaking his head as they continue to whisper–argue. "so, what do you major in?"

it's almost like you totally forgot, his project, the thing that guanheng dragged you here to help him with. "health sciences, i take courses in everything related to healthcare and like— half actual science courses?"

"so your looking to work in healthcare?"

"yeah basically, i've already taken courses in emergency service's, becoming a paramedic is my top option!"

yangyang gasps at your words, he looks over at guanheng, then quickly back at you. "are you single?" he asks, again with the same quickness.

dejun snorts, hitting guanheng as begins laughing hard. guanheng scrunches his nose, staring at yangyang like he's crazy. "what kind of question is that!?"

"what? that is a totally valid question to ask!" he exclaims, crossing his arms. "it's for my project! clearly!" he lies.

"your— oh my god, unbelievable".

"so are you?" yangyang asks again, looking at you with suspenseful eyes. he is very much interested in your answer it seems.

your finally finished with your laughing fit, and nod, still very amused. "yes i am, i'm single".

"good, this is very important information".

yangyang gives you a giddy look, and dejun just continues to laugh.

you're not sure why your so focused on him though..

YOU AGAIN, HAVE NO LUCK SLEEPING that night, and after the first hour and a half of tossing and turning, you gave up on trying to chase slumber you knew you wouldn't be able to catch. you assumed that the longer you stared at your computer screen, the quicker you'd get tired and the quicker your eyes would become heavier, but no! it's now almost two in the morning and you still aren't sleepy in the tiniest bit, you didn't know insomnia got this bad, if you knew this prior to coming back to school this year, you would've bought more of those sleeping pills. you lean your chin onto your hand as your computer continues playing audio from a random episode of brooklyn nine–nine.

the millions of thoughts rampant in your mind were probably distracting you, rendering it impossible to sleep, and also rendering it impossible to focus, seeing as your just looking around your room, which is pretty much boring you considering all you've been doing for the past thirty minutes is looking around your own room.

you think your gonna bore yourself to death, you pretty much prepare to stay up for the next five hours until your alarm rings and startles you out of your daze (which has happened way too many times for your comfort), but then your phone rings.

it's almost two in the morning, who exactly is calling you at this time? who knows that you're awake at 1:56 in the morning and decided to call you? they probably knew you'd pick up..

and you know who it is— it's so obvious.

dejun.

you don't mean to pick up your ringing phone as fast as you do, you want to punch yourself in the face for how desperate you seem, and you almost don't answer the phone because you feel so embarrassed. "hello?"

"hi!" dejun sounds way too joyous for someone who is sleep deprived, and up at 1:57 am. "sorry? was that too loud?"

"no no your fine" you reply, even though the speaker is on, guanheng can quite literally sleep through anything, there was one time the fire alarm was going off for a good ten minutes and he didn't even budge. "guanheng is a pretty heavy sleeper".

"he's lucky, i can't sleep" the sound of shuffling on the other line resonates in your ears, and dejun huffs, sounding frustrated. "you were the only person i assumed would be awake".

you snicker. "why is that?" you inquire, he was right, of course, but you just wanted to hear his reasoning, and also wanted him to keep talking.

you really like dejun's voice for some reason, it just scratches the right part of your brain. in these past two days you realized that you like a lot of things about dejun, many more things than you thought you might.

"your major has the word 'science' in it so i just assumed the amount of sleep you get is slim to none".

now that gets another laugh out of you, you laugh much more than you intend to, but also— it's dejun, and you can't resist the loud laugh that escapes your lips.

oh your such a desperate little bitch—

"well you'd be correct" you respond, humming as you pick at your nails. "at this point sleeping is beginning to make me tired".

there's a long pause, and your worried you made everything more awkward, because you don't hear anything from the other line. for a moment, you're almost convinced dejun hung up on you, but before you can speak he beats you to it.

"i can keep you company until you get tired" he immediately suggests, and you almost choke on your spit when he says that. "i don't mind".

you go silent, feeling as if all logical thoughts in your mind have suddenly disappeared into the air. you might sound like a complete loser right now but that was just so sweet of him to suggest, you smile much too wide for your own comfort, but you don't even think about that, because your just so charmed by the words.

"you are.." you pause, clasping your hands together as you think about what words to say next. "yeah yeah, that's fine" you finally continue, your new words having no connection to the previous ones you previously said, you just hope dejun doesn't notice.

"good! it would've been awkward if you said no" dejun giggles, and you just can't get over how cute he sounds. "plus, i wouldn't want you to be tired in the morning, lord knows how much you do in a day.."

you feel an unfamiliar fluttering feeling in your stomach, because he is so considerate? he wants to help you, he's just being so nice to you at.. two! two in the morning! you bite down on your bottom lip, hoping it doesn't bleed from how hard your tooth drives into it.

"aww, you care about me that much?" you ask, just wanting to hear him talk again. you feel like a teenage girl giggling and kicking her feet over a high school crush, except you can't kick your feet and giggle because then dejun would know.

"okay, be quiet, don't make me hang up".

"okay okay don't do that!" you say, totally meaning to sound as desperate as possible this time. "if your not here i won't ever fall asleep".

you hear something similar to a squeal on the other line, as if dejun had heard your words and just freaked out.

the realization honestly boosted your ego.

"you— you suck!"

"you offered to help me jun, don't get like this now!"

you're not sure how long it goes on for, but you swear you two laugh all night while on the phone.

"SO WHOSE THE GUY?" the question is asked so abruptly that at first, you assume you heard your friend wrong. when you look up, he stares at you with that deadpanned gaze, and that's when you realize he's completely serious. you chuckle at the realization that your friend is sure that your in love with someone (well you are— your just surprised that he figured out so quickly). "what guy? there's a guy?" you tilt your head, acting as if you have no idea what he could possibly be talking about. you giggle as you watch him slowly get even more irritated by your answer.

"you always come in here looking a little less miserable each day" chenle observes, leaning forward as he narrows his eyes at you. "someone is making you excited to live life?"

"do i always come in here looking miserable?" you ask, completely diverting your attention from chenle's previously asked question, which makes him pout.

"yep!" renjun exclaims, sitting beside you, he crosses his legs in his chair and presses his lips into a thin line. "so! who is he?"

the two seem way too excited to know about your never talked about before crush on dejun. now— you didn't know it was so obvious that you were now smitten for this new guy, you're usually the friend that's known from straying the furthest away from love, you don't remember any people you've legitimately liked that weren't elementary school crushes..

so yeah, your friends totally had every right to be surprised, because your absolutely smitten for a man and they just want to know who this man that is making you so happy is!

you hate that you give in so easily. "he's one of guanheng's friends.." you mutter, picking at your nails, looking down to make sure you don't witness renjun and chenle's reactions with your own two eyes.

renjun gasps, sounding like those ladies at the hair salons that just heard the juiciest gossip. "ooh! who? does he go here? do we know him? is he pretty?"

chenle looks over at renjun like he's crazy, that familiar judging stare in his eyes as he watches renjun lean closer to you with a totally not creepy smile on his face. "don't you think your acting a little too interested in this?"

"i just want to know!" renjun shouts, playfully glaring at the younger. he then turns back to you, and you assume his cheeks must be hurting from how hard he seems to be smiling. "tell me please?"

"he's— he's just your run of the mill pretty guy who is nice, and smart, and absolutely adorable who tells horrible jokes that still end up being funny in some way and he has a pretty laugh and i just love his voice, and talking to him, and, i can't even explain it because it'll sound stupid!"

"you sound like a psycho" chenle immediately says, laughing at you like you just confessed to an atrocious crime against humanity. you sink into your chair, slumping towards the side.

"aww! the pessimistic y/n is in love!" renjun squeals, again, like those women at the hair salon who just heard the juiciest gossip. he grabs your arm and shakes you vigorously, causing you to get dizzy in the slightest bit. "i can't believe i've lived to see this day!" he shouts, continuing to shake you as you can't properly get out your cries for help.

"renjun you're gonna kill him" chenle pinches the older in the arm, making him yelp and jump, he giggles as he witnesses the glare the older male sends him, his crushing grip remains around your arm, but you don't even mention at this point, because at least he's not shaking you anymore.

"sorry" he remarks, definitely not sorry as he squeezes your arm once again, beginning to get overly excited. "it's just.. exciting you know?"

"it's exciting that i'm in love with someone?" you raise an eyebrow, and though you expect renjun to respond, chenle quickly does.

"yep! you'll finally be gone!"

his cheer results in a gasp of offense from you, and all chenle does is giggle in victory.

THE ONE THING YOU'VE LEARNED FROM THE now excessive amounts of times you've hung around guanheng's other friends is that they're loud, they are all really loud (even sicheng! who, for a good majority of the time, is always quietly staring at his friends with clear concern in his eyes), even if they don't mean to, they're somehow always either yelling, shouting, or making some sort of scene. they're all just naturally hilarious, like comedians that don't realize they're comedians because they're just being themselves. in the past few weeks, it's like you spend more time with these people that don't go to your school in comparison to people that actually go to your school and that you can see easily.

but if you're being honest, you don't really mind that your spending all your free time with them, because they are indeed very fun to be around (and you get to see dejun much more regularly, which is something you rather enjoy), and because life would be insanely boring if guanheng didn't decide to drag you out of the dorm every other day to go do stupid things with his friends that go to a whole other school.

"you are such a cheater! i won fair and square!"

"you did not! your the cheater! sicheng is my witness!"

sicheng, who was not listening to anything either ten or yangyang had to say, looked over at the younger with a look of concern washed over his features. he blinks as he's suddenly put on the spot, smiling nervously as the youngest stares intensely at him, waiting for his answer. "uh.. i— i don't know".

his delivery makes you burst out laughing, and you cover your mouth with your hand as to not make yourself look like an absolute fool. you don't even realize that you picked up on one of dejun's habits, you might be spending too much time around him..

actually, forget that! there is no such thing as spending too much time around dejun, and that might make you sound like a "simp" but you don't care.

you've fallen, and you've fallen hard.

"okay.." guanheng presses his lips into a thin line, ignoring the way ten and yangyang now begin discussing the logistics of cheating in card games, unfortunately dragging poor sicheng into their argument. he turns to dejun and scoots closer to him. "can you do me a favor?"

dejun groans, playfully rolling his eyes. you assume he's done as much favors for guanheng as you have, and you barely stifle the snicker that dares to escape your lips.

dejun hears the sound, and smacks your arm hard, making you jump. he only gives you a teasing smile before turning to guanheng, having to give him a response.

"at what lengths do i have to go for this favor?"

guanheng scoffs, crossing his arms. "it's nothing insane or anything, i just want you to get me something.."

"and you can't get it yourself because..?"

"i have no money on me" and there goes that signature guanheng frown, dejun opens his mouth to argue but then he shuts it so quickly it seems like he just got out in some sort of trance.

"fine fine" dejun rolls his eyes once again, surrendering much too quickly. "you owe me though—"

"take y/n with you".

there's a pause, both you and dejun go very silent for a moment. whilst dejun is just confused, you absolutely know what guanheng is doing, and you have to use every bit of patience in your body to restrain yourself instead of jumping over the table and tackling him right then and there.

dejun is clearly clueless, though, because he just raises an eyebrow. "why?" he inquires, somehow sounding so sweet even though his question is asked with so much confusion.

"y/n knows what i want".

what a smooth lie, dejun glances over at you, and you just shrug, having no idea what more to say. "he needs to take a walk anyway" guanheng lies again, wow, two in a row! he's on a roll.

"okay..?"

so that's how you find yourself on a walk with the person that you are very much in love with, a somehow comfortable silence spread between the two of you as dejun hums an unfamiliar tune to himself, hands in his pockets, eyes closed as he slowly sways back and forth.

he looks very peaceful, just doing what he does, being effortlessly pretty as he does so, and you observe his behavior, almost entranced by it in a sense.

you only stop when he speaks up—

"do you think they're still arguing?" he suddenly asks, and you snap out of whatever daze you were having, praying that he totally didn't notice you admiring him like a creep. "or are they just.. conversing calmly now?"

you don't want to seem like even much more of a weirdo, but you feel like he asked that question just as an excuse to talk to you, and maybe your thinking too much into it, but you've definitely done that before, so you know what it looks like.

"i hope they aren't still arguing" you answer, and dejun looks up at you, smiling. "that'd be a long ass time to argue".

"well they like arguing just to argue" dejun replies, fiddling with his necklace. "but they're harmless.. for the most part".

his delivery makes you laugh, and you look down at your shoes. "you're a very calm person, you know, the opposite of guanheng".

the sudden statement from dejun makes you look up at him once again, and this time, he's staring directly at you, as if he had been waiting to make eye contact with you the whole time. "calm?"

"well compared to my roommates you are" he giggles, and maybe he doesn't mean to, but he stares at so intensely that your legs feel shaky.

"who knows? maybe i'm a fraud" you tease, purposefully leaning closer to him so your words have an effect. dejun's eyes widen, and he lightly leans away from you, looking speechless. "you'd never know, though".

you don't know how you suddenly got so bold, or why you were so amused at the sight of dejun freaking out, you feel like some sort of genius for what you just did, and you snicker at yourself before leaning back.

dejun takes in a deep breath, looking like he's trying to fix himself. he clears his throat and stumbles through his next words. "i— uh.. you're such an idiot!" he decides to say, crossing his arms over his chest.

your not sure how the two of you became so casual in this amount of time, a few weeks ago, dejun wasn't such a regular figure in your life, and you were just any other college student doing their best to get by, not thinking about falling in love with a gorgeous oreo–haired man—

but you're also not complaining.

you aren't sure how you got so lucky, how it just happened that you could continue to spend time with the cute boy you met at a stupid football game simply because the two of you shared mutual friends, it's one of times guanheng's actually done you a favor, without even realizing it too!

"okay i'm sorry" you giggle, shoving your hands into your pockets, you once again begin taking from dejun's habits and sway back and forth. "seriously!"

"you're unbelievable" dejun exaggerates, rolling his eyes, but it wasn't serious, and you knew it wasn't serious. "but i meant what i said, your calm".

you raise an eyebrow at him, wanting to know more about the observations he has about you. "could you elaborate on that?" you don't mean to laugh, but you do, and it causes dejun to laugh too.

"you just.. seem content with what you have" he explains, but he doesn't explain it enough, so he continues. "like someone could get you a piece of paper as a birthday gift and you'd be pleased".

you laugh, hard, because he somehow managed to get you spot on. you almost feel like he is reading your mind, because he nailed you down with each word. "really? i guess i am like that".

"ah, so my prediction was right then!"

you laugh at how glad he is. "yeah, i am truly not that hard to please, gifts are gifts and if someone gets one for me, there's no use in being mad if the gift isn't something i like, at least they remembered to get me something!"

dejun stares at you for a specifically long time, looking you up and down. he stares at you with warm eyes, a gaze that seems so near and dear to his heart, a gaze so loving that it looked like he was about to get down on one knee and propose to you.

"i like any and all gifts" you continue.

"are there any specific kinds of gifts you like?"

dejun asks that question in a tone that makes it seem like he's totally not trying to sound suspicious, but he is totally asking you that question for a very specific reason.

guanheng must've told him something..

at least, that's what you assume, but dejun is patiently waiting for your answer, and you can't daydream the whole time about the true meaning of his words.

"i like books, plushies, music tapes, vinyl's, you know.. regular gifts that people like receiving".

dejun hums, as if he's noting down the information you're telling him in his mind, still, you don't say anything about his mannerisms, just keep it to yourself.

"are you noting down my reply?"

"i'm just keeping it in mind!" he says, smiling brightly at you. "just in case your special occasion comes up and i don't know what to get you".

oh! so guanheng definitely did tell him something..

"i mean— were friends! any gift from you will be a good gift".

at the word friends, dejun seems to pause, cogs in his brains turning as he tries to process your words. you don't understand why he would be trying to understand your words, because the two of you were clearly friends, did he think you two were something else?

you see the flash of disappointment on his face, but it quickly reverts back to a smile and he simply acts like nothing happened. "sorry, the word 'friends' just caught me off guard".

a lie..

how interesting.

"seriously though, i just want to get you a gift you'll appreciate forever".

but you're already enough for me— do you know how much you've changed my life?

your own thoughts manage to surprise you, because the words that you just told yourself in your own mind startle you enough that you make a judging face at yourself. luckily, dejun is turned away from you, so he doesn't notice.

"well that's thoughtful of you".

"i try my best.." he responds, finally looking back at you with that same loving stare, one that wants to lure you in and make you trip on your own feet.

for some reason, the two of you stop. there's an uncharacteristically long pause, like the world just decided to cease for a moment, and you both are completely stuck in place, just there, staring at each other.

dejun's eyes move, as if scanning your face like a camera, and they (of course) stop at your lips. he stares at them for what seems like forever, and it almost looks like he's restraining himself, but by the way he bites his bottom lip, it's clear—

he wants to kiss you.

and maybe there's a small voice at the back of his head that tells him to cut it out, because he almost immediately snaps out of whatever daze he was having, and clears his throat, his cheeks going a bright red.

"uh— sorry, yeah, um, we should get going" he says, shaking his head as he pulls his sleeves down.

"guanheng will yell at us if we're late".

okay, so he just decides to not talk about it? you want to ask him why he didn't just do it, because he clearly wanted to, but before you can even open your mouth, or get any words out, he grabs your hand and the two of you continue walking back to the group.

he doesn't say anything more, doesn't try to make anymore small talk, and while you do want to bring up what just happened there, you don't.

you just bask in the feeling of dejun's hands intertwined with your own.

it's a good feeling, you decide.

THAT MOMENT IS STUCK ON YOUR MIND for what seems like years. you can't get over it! how he was looking at you, how he clearly wanted to kiss you, but for some reason, decided to stop himself from doing so. you're not sure why you didn't just tell him that it was okay, that you would be completely fine with him kissing you, but you guess that you're just a complete idiot as well, because you just stayed silent throughout the whole thing, the two of you equally deciding in silence to not bring it up, just sitting next to each other in awkwardly for the rest of the night.

and yeah, it's become normal for dejun to constantly run through your mind these days, it's like he has his own subsection in your mind, dedicated to thoughts about him and him only, but it's like he's just become rampant in there ever since that.. thing he did (or should you say, didn't do, considering he decided to not kiss you when the opportunity was right there), maybe you should've pulled him in, maybe you should've (for once) been impulsive and done the first thing put to your mind.

and this crawls through your mind for days, then those days become a good week and a half. now— you and dejun aren't not talking or anything, it was just sort of difficult to look at him without thinking about that.

you're so into your thoughts these days, that you are much more spacey during your classes, at home, and somehow, guanheng picks up on your weird turn, which is crazy, because guanheng was the last person you expected to notice something like that, he usually never notices most things in front of him anyway.

"okay, what the fuck happened?" he decides to randomly drop it on you when he seems to have had enough, which is funny, because he's technically the person that started the whole thing.

you look up from your phone, blinking at him like he just said something out of this world. "hm?" he scoffs at your lack of a response, shoving your shoulder, which results in a glare from you.

"what happened?" he asks again, this time without the extra swear word, he makes himself comfortable on the other side of the couch. "you are acting weird" he points at you accusingly, like you'd just been accused of a crime and he was trying to figure out if you were truly suspicious.

"i don't know what your talking about.."

"stop stalling!" he complains, grabbing your arm and beginning to shake you back and forth. "tell me! you can't keep acting weird and just not tell me what's wrong".

now you want to tell him, but in your mind it sounds so stupid that you feel like guanheng would laugh at you the moment you uttered the first few words of your sentence. "you're going to laugh".

guanheng gasps, offended by your response, though it is true, he just wants to be dramatic. "i won't! i'm concerned! i'm being a good roommate and asking you what's wrong!"

so, you roll your eyes, taking a deep breath. "okay so hypothetically.." you begin, because you have no other idea how to start your sentence.

hypothetically just means = it was indeed not hypothetical!

"hypothetically, uh huh.." guanheng hums, understanding the true meaning your words have. "okay sorry, continue".

"let's just say that, hypothetically, i am totally in love with one of your best friends, and that friend totally wanted to kiss me but then chickened out last minute and like an idiot i didn't say anything and i have no idea how to go about it".

guanheng's eyes widen at your words, and his jaw almost drops. "hypothetically though" you add to the end of your sentence after a long pause.

"right right! hypothetically.." he nods, though he can't contain his look of excitement at the words. "and you didn't kiss him back!?"

you're almost knocked off the chair from how intense his yell is. you groan and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed and ashamed. "i didn't know how to bring it up and not be awkward!"

"just say 'hey dejun you could totally kiss me and it'd be fine because we are both mortifyingly in love with each other'!" guanheng shouts, louder than his previous words. he's always so straight up, and you almost wish you didn't tell him anything. "it's that easy!"

"it is not!" you shout in rebuttal, crossing your arms and frowning. your acting like guanheng at this point, but that's not what you're noticing at this very moment. "it's easy for you! you date people and you kiss people all the time! i don't do that!"

"excuses excuses!"

you're at a loss for words at his lackluster words, you once again, frown and turn away from him. "i'm sorry! i have never been hardcore in love with someone like this before! i don't know how to talk about it!"

guanheng looks like he's about to yell again, but he takes a deep breath and relaxes himself, leaning back in the couch. "okay, i'm sorry for yelling.."

"y/n, you really just need to tell him how you feel straight up, because if you keep stalling than none of you will end up confessing in the end and you'll both just be going through a loop of 'should we or should we not?'"

you blink, staring at guanheng for a good few minutes, honestly surprised. this is probably the best advice he's ever given you, usually, you’re the one that has to give him advice because he always ends up doing something stupid and has someone that wants to murder him because of that stupid thing he did.

"that was actually.. good advice" you reply, laughing at guanheng's eye roll. he just shoves you, making sure he does extra hard this time to get his point across.

"shut up! i always give good advice!"

"you usually don't give any advice at all.." you mutter, running a hand through your hair as you look away from your roommate, who just glares at you like you just committed a federal offense.

"say something again and i'm gatekeeping dejun from you!"

"your what!?"

at the sound of your shout, guanheng giggles as he scurries away, proud of himself for the words that escape his lips.

YOU'RE NOT SURE HOW YOU SOMEHOW LET guanheng drag you off to a party on a friday night where all you wanted to do is relax. parties have never truly been your thing, but that's because being surrounded by a bunch of drunk and high adults just isn't your idea of fun, you're also just not a big drinker, so the only reason you usually even end up at parties is to take guanheng home when he gets too drunk and can't fully articulate his thoughts. so, the fact that guanheng was somehow able to convince you to get out of the house and go to a party when you truly should've been at home, watching horrible sitcoms.

but no, you're here! and you can't leave without guanheng because if you did, he'd probably find a way to end up killing himself, or he'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and would end up getting punched in the face.

so you find yourself in a familiar spot, your back against a wall as you stare at your phone, somehow able to ignore the hundreds of screaming drunk people that surround you, it's become a skill of yours, and you're not sure how exactly it developed, you've just become such a natural when it comes to ignoring others.

guanheng, of course, has already walked off to do his own thing, but not before reminding you of the advice he'd given you a few days prior, yelling at you to 'just tell the boy you like him!'

maybe his advice is burned into your brain, because now all you wish is that you were with dejun, talking about something stupid, or just talking.

and there must've been somebody listening in on your thoughts, because he suddenly walks around the corner, head whipping around like he's searching for someone.

your not trying to look at him, but he catches your gaze immediately, and he skips towards you like a kid in a candy store.

"hi" he greets, a little giggle to his words. his face is a shade of bright red as he giggles once again, though nothing's funny. "pretty".

he whispers the last word, with the intention of you not hearing it, but his mind must be too clouded for him to realize that he said it much louder than he thought he did, but you don't say anything, just hum.

"hello" you greet back, and he laughs once again, covering his hand with his mouth. "are you okay?"

a loud snicker leaves his lips, and he moves closer to you to link his arm with yours. he rests his head onto your arm, a content smile spreading across his face. "i'm drunk".

his honest answer makes you question his state for a moment, since when do drunk people admit that they're drunk? or maybe he's only just tipsy.. your not sure, but he's not acting like a totally sober person right now.

"are you sure?" you raise an eyebrow, dejun just responds with a small 'hmph', and he keeps your arm linked with his. "dejun".

"yes! i am!" he yells as rebuttal, shaking your arm a few times. "do you wanna smell my breath?"

"oh no no no" you reply, covering his mouth with your hand. he laughs at you, his cheeks as pink as yangyang's hair, he grabs your hands, and whilst yours are cold, his are burning hot. "okay you have energy".

"i'm sorry" he suddenly blurts, another snort escaping his lips as he leans his head against your chest. you give him a look, confused as to why he felt the need to apologize.

"for what?"

"for doing that thing" dejun responds, closing his eyes as he sways back and forth. "i probably made everything awkward, i didn't mean to".

that's what he thinks? he thinks that he made everything awkward? you feel your heart break at the realization, but all dejun does is laugh sadly.

"you didn't— you didn't make everything awkward, it's okay".

dejun laughs again, clearing his throat. "just tell the truth, y/n.."

you chuckle, not at dejun, just at his words. he wants you to tell the truth? fine.. you will!

"dejun" you begin, using your pointer finger to tilt his chin up so the two of you make eye contact, you watch as his eyes widen, but he doesn't move, just lets you do your thing. "you can kiss me, it's okay".

he blinks, as if trying to figure out if you were lying or not. he opens his mouth, but no words come out, so he closes it again. "it is?" he asks again, just wanting reassurance, you hear his voice crack, but he's getting impatient, he wants your answer.

"yeah it's fine".

that's all the conformation dejun seems to need, because he finally presses his lips to yours after what seems like years of waiting. your arms naturally rest on his waist, and there's just something, something about this that makes you smile.

there's an urgency in the way he kisses you, and his hand comes up to hold your face. he is just so desperate, and it would be a lie to say that you weren't just as desperate as he is. you'd been wanting this for so long, you don't even know how many times you thought about what it would be like to kiss dejun.

his fingers caress your cheek, and the contact feels like your skin was set ablaze. maybe this is what you needed, and you assume it's exactly what dejun needed to, because he pushes on your shoulder with a seemingly inhumane amount of force, which makes you gasp a little.

while your one arm is around his waist, the other one goes up to run your fingers through his hair, somehow causing the two of you to both smile, barely stifling your laughs.

after what seems like forever, dejun pulls away, and while you're standing there, breathless, he just smiles, relaxing as you play with his hair. "you like my hair?"

you aren't sure why out of all things, that's what he decides to ask, but you laugh, completely enamored by the boy in front of you. "yep, it's soft" you reply, biting your inner cheek. "the color suits you".

dejun tilts his head, looking up at you with his insanely pretty eyes. you just want to squish his cheeks, or wrap him in a blanket and hold him forever, you aren't sure why you just have this surge of loving emotions for absolutely no reason, maybe it's the way he's staring at you, or that he just left you breathless and did it so flawlessly.

he hums, not knowing how to respond to your compliment. he just suddenly gets shy, his ears turning red at your words.

"you're so stupid.."

that's probably his favorite phrase to say to you by now, but you don't mind, you just smile as he hides his face away from you. 

"dejun" you call out despite him being right in front of you, and he looks up at you again, gaze warm as he gives you a small smile.

"yes?"

"i love you" you immediately spout, not even surprised by how high your voice has gotten. "like— in the i'm in love with you kinda way and not in a i just want you to kiss you but not call you my boyfriend kinda way".

dejun pauses, snickering at your words, he looks at you like you're the only person in the world.

what other way could there possibly be?

but you don't get any response, at least, not from him, because all he does is lean forward and press his lips to yours.

YOU'VE NEVER REALLY BEEN A FAN OF YOUR BIRTHDAY, and you aren't sure why. it used to be a fun thing up until you turned twelve and it suddenly felt like a switch had flipped, as if your birthday was making you miserable. now it's not like you always feel depressed on your birthday, it's just that sometimes you don't want to have a huge birthday celebration. most of the time— you only request for huge birthday bashes on specific days, like when you turned ten (you were very excited about becoming a double–figured age), or when you turned eighteen (you became an adult, not that exciting but it was definitely something, you could finally legally drink), but it's truly only specific days that you don't mind having large, people–filled birthday parties.

and not only were you not exactly anticipating your birthday, you already had something even bigger on your mind the whole time.

like dejun ghosting you! that's definitely one!

okay so you tell the guy you love him, you make out with him at a party (in the opposite order but oh well), he doesn't give you a response and then he decides to just ignore you?

maybe he just didn't know what to say, and that also lead to him just not picking up his phone for a good two weeks as he completely ignored your calls and texts and voicemails!

and with this being the only thing on your mind, your birthday seemed to be the least important event at the moment.

you didn't really want to think about it, and the campus was starting to make you feel sick, so this year you planned on visiting your parents after the day was over, considering your special day fell on a friday—

but guanheng, guanheng had other plans.

he practically begged you to let him throw the party for you, he wanted to do it so bad that he vowed to never ask you for a favor ever again (which is a lie! he never keeps his promises!), he was acting so desperate, it was like you'd just saved his life or something.

you're not sure what made guanheng so eager to throw a party for you, especially because you just didn't know what you would do with a bunch of people in your dorm.

but he insisted, he would throw you the best party in the world.

and after what seemed like forever, you two finally agreed on something—

you go visit your parents friday evening, and guanheng throws your party on saturday, easy!

"what do you mean strawberry isn't a good flavor!?"

you scoff at his question, nodding your head, as if confirming your words. "i don't like strawberry flavored things, you get me a strawberry cake and i'm making you sleep outside".

your threat results in a gasp from your roommate, who looks genuinely hurt by your words as he places a hand on his chest, horrified. "you are such a horrible roommate! threatening me when i'm throwing a party for you".

"it'll be a horrible party if you get me a horribly flavored cake".

you totally mean what you say as well— you truly dislike strawberry cake.

and when guanheng said party, you didn't exactly anticipate how many people he would decide to let into your dorm.

now you know a good chunk of these people, but most of these people probably decided to come just because they knew guanheng, all they did was utter some happy birthday's and then they ran off to do their own thing.

guanheng got most things right, he just invited a bunch of people that really didn't care for your birthday, just wanted to be around him.

so it's no surprise that you felt just a little disappointed about the people at your party that just didn't give two shits about your actual birthday.

and guanheng was off doing something else, though you could actually see him this time, he was telling people where to put the gifts they brought for you.

your beginning to feel suffocated in your own dorm, which is ironic to you, because this is quite literally the place you go to get away from a bunch of people, it's the only place of yours that isn't full of people.

so, you clear your throat, and push through people to get to the door, not wanting to stay inside with all these people, you'll probably end up throwing up everywhere if you stay inside even longer.

when you exit the dorm, you take a deep breath the moment you close the door, letting your back fall against it. you immediately jump as you see a person behind the door—

okay so dejun (who you confessed your love to by the way!), is pacing back and forth in front of your door, totally stressing. you blink, a look of confusion spreading across your face. "um.."

"are you okay?"

you aren't even sure why you opened your mouth, but if you didn't, this would just go on for a good twenty more minutes.

dejun jumps, clearing his throat as he smiles awkwardly. "you— scared the shit out of me".

he's acting so casually? after not talking to you for a good two weeks!?

"sorry—"

"i'm sorry!"

dejun immediately yells, covering his face with his hands. "i'm so sorry for not texting you! or calling you! or giving you a response! it was so stupid of me to not consider your feelings and instead of just telling you straight up how i felt i decided to ignore you but i was scared that i wouldn't be able to tell you without making it awkward and it—"

"dejun" you place your hands on his shoulders, turning him around to face you. "your rambling".

he sighs, eyes darting away from your face, he frowns. "but it's not okay, i didn't talk to you, i probably came off as such an asshole! you were probably so confused, and i just.. said nothing!"

you observe his features, and he looks even more anxious at your silence. his face goes red, and his leg begins bouncing up and down, whilst his hands look for something to hold.

"okay, calm down.." you mutter, reaching for his left hand and lacing it together with yours. "it's okay, there's no need to be worried".

"i'm sorry" he says again, finally looking up at you. "i get it if you don't forgive me—"

"dejun" you cut into his sentence, squeezing his left hand. "i forgive you.. i love you".

you repeat your confession once more, and dejun blinks, processing your words.

"i love you too".

and finally, after what seems like forever, after what was so long, he gave you a response.

before you could say anything more, dejun pulls you in for a hug, his arms circling around your waist. you're a bit taken aback by the sudden display of affection, but you also don't mind, because he squeezes you tighter.

"happy birthday" he mumbles, a small smile coming to his face as he feels your hand comb through his hair. "i'm sorry".

"stop apologizing" you say, lifting his chin up so you could look him in the eyes. "i forgive you, it's okay".

and it is, you're being completely honest, but dejun doesn't say more, immediately pulling you back into a warm hug

but suddenly, the door to your dorm swings open and guanheng peaks his head out, eyes widening as he witnesses the current thing. he has absolutely no context to anything which was happening at the moment, he just opened the door to witness a totally unaware dejun hugging you.

"uh.." he blinks, glancing between you two, but not asking anything, just clearing his throat. "it's time to cut the cake?" he laughs awkwardly, and you just smile, giving him a i'll be right there look.

"o...kay" he doesn't say anything more, just goes back inside and closes the door.

dejun giggles as guanheng closes the door, pulling away again to look up at you. "oh he is totally tired of us".

"we didn't do anything, though".

dejun snickers, lightly hitting your arm. "okay okay, you need to stop, it's your birthday, you have to go cut your cake".

"and.." he pauses, pulling a box out of nowhere and handing it over to you. "open your gifts".

you raise an eyebrow, confused. "where were you even hiding that?"

"that's irrelevant! it's your birthday, come on!"

and you let him drag you back into your dorm, smiling at him the whole time.

YOU ALMOST CONSIDER THE WAY YOU are acting to be absurd, and it's funny how much of another side dejun can just bring out of you. now you would never consider yourself to be a grumpy person, but people usually do describe you as having a 'natural frown'. you never really thought of yourself as being like that, but you guess that people don't see you look so happy much, because they continue to point out how it's like some glitch in the matrix to see you just a little less miserable as each day passes. chenle especially makes comments, talking about how you need to "put your smile away" because not seeing your resting face constantly freaks him out, renjun on the other hand, is elated, or maybe he's just glad he can finally be rid of you, you don't know.

but all that put aside, you are happy, and you have a cute oreo–haired man to thank for that.

and maybe this is all you really need, just dejun, the two of you don't even have to do anything, he can just lay his head down onto your shoulder and you'd be having a good time.

you like it when he sits down and paints your nails for you, or when he watches you bake over your shoulder, not knowing what to do but happy to watch you do your thing, or when he coerces you to win prizes from carnival games for him with his absolutely adorable eyes (he doesn't even need to try to coerce you, you'd do it either way).

"i'm pretty sure this is illegal".

"it's not!" you reply, though you mean to reassure dejun, your words seem to worry him more than anything. you take his hand, squeezing it. "dejun, i'm not getting you into any illegal activity".

"i can never tell with you" he retorts suspiciously, keeping your hand in his as you lead him up, he would have tripped if not for you holding your hand and guiding you up.

you clear your throat, patting the spot beside you as dejun immediately sits, so close to you that your legs are touching. "if i ever wanted to do something illegal, i'd know better than to bring you along".

he gasps, and you can't resist the urge to laugh at how offended he sounds. "what is that supposed to mean!?"

"you" your pointer finger touches his nose, and he doesn't even try to move. "are a snitch, you would be horrible to commit a crime with".

dejun slaps your hand away, and you laugh at the way he crosses his arms, a familiar pout gracing his absolutely beautiful features. "you— i.. take that back!"

"it's true! even yangyang would be a better option than you!"

dejun is even more offended by the words, and he slowly scoots away from you, arms still crossed as he pouts. you giggle as he remains scooted away from you, still angry about the words you said.

"uh— jun, i was just joking!"

"you suck".

dejun glares, but his glare is anything but serious, as you can see the way he slowly starts to break under your gaze, resisting the urge to burst into laughter. "i hate you".

"you love me".

he does, and he can't pretend he doesn't, because he almost immediately snickers, looking away from you as to not laugh more.

oh he is just so adorable.

you scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist, making him yelp. "you're so cute" you mutter into his shoulder, and at this point, dejun doesn't even try to pretend anymore.

"you're so corny" he says, patting your arms that currently circle around his waist. you lean your head down onto his shoulder, making yourself comfortable, and he just lets you, because at this point he can't really push you off him.

"don't fall asleep, i'm not going to carry you back to your place".

"you would be too weak to carry me anyway— ow!"

you yell loudly as dejun nudges you in the stomach with his elbow, and while he looks absolutely proud of himself, you just glare, absolutely done with him.

but you don't say anything, just lets your fingers run through his hair, probably your favorite thing to do with him. he just cups your face, and he just smiles at your face, giggling. "your just as cute as when we first met".

the statement makes you snicker, because you did not expect for him to say that out of all things he could've said. you get why he says it though, because you are at the place where it all began, the bleachers, the same bleachers where you two were standing when you shared your first interaction.

you tilt your head, wanting to tease him more. "so there were moments where i wasn't cute, then?"

dejun scoffs, turning away from you. he lightly pinches your arm, and you yelp once again, inching away from him. "why do you enjoy hurting me?"

he smiles innocently. "i don't, i have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!"

your face drops, and all dejun does is laugh, squeezing your cheeks. "don't be mad, babe, you know i love you".

and you do, you do know, he never fails to remind you of how much he does.

"i love you too.."

with your eye rolls, and tiny mutters, dejun knows, he knows that you're telling the truth.

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Type of Boyfriend

People often wonder what type of boyfriend Coriolanus Snow would be like.

He’s a coat of many colors, a jack of all trades, a fucking wild card if you will, so a definite answer can truly never be given.

However.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who insists on the stereotypical gender roles, his girlfriend must look presentable at all times—to help his image—and he is to be the sole provider of their household.

Coriolanus does however hold his girlfriend’s purse whenever he takes her shopping, the six-foot-two man proudly wearing her outrageously expensive handbag on his broad shoulder while he follows her around the store.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of man to roll his eyes at any signs of weakness. He doesn’t tolerate things like that, childish notions that he left behind years ago when the war ended.

Coriolanus does make the exception for his girlfriend though. Especially when she falls and hits the pavement hard, scraping her soft knees. He’s thorough in cleaning them, wrapping them in bandages and then placing kisses on the bandages cuts for good measures.

A woman’s body is something he knows much about but he always seems to be lacking when it comes to the somewhat taboo topic of his girlfriend’s menstrual cycle. Quite the painful topic where she’s concerned. He does everything to help make her feel better. Heating pads, chocolates, kisses, whatever she wants. He truly does hate to see her in pain to the point where he begins to grow a certain disdain to her uterus for inflicting such pain on his precious girl.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to claim he despises being forced to indulge in cute little dates. Don’t ever try to get him to do a simple face mask, even though he’ll complain when he feels that the amount she’s applied isn’t “an even coat.” And heaven forbid he be coaxed into wearing a matching set of pajamas while he watches her construct a pillow fort in their living room, mostly because he’ll just have to take over since the structural integrity is clearly at risk with these throw pillows.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to absolutely despise his girlfriend being in the company of other men. He might make the exception for her father but that’s about it. He can’t help it, can’t trust these other men and their intentions with his precious rose. She is the air he breathes and for that to be taken away from him is something that terrifies him.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who looks forward to falling asleep but only because it means his girlfriend is safely tucked away in his strong arms. He loves to watch her sleep, listen to her soft breathing and watch her nose twitch every once in a while. She’s managed to touch a deep rooted kindness in him that he thought no longer excited until he met her. To have her seek him out for comfort and safety is a gift within itself and one he could never take for granted.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to be surprisingly good at braiding hair. It’s no secret that braided hair is all the rage in Panem and he’ll be damned if his girlfriend is left out of the rising trend. He can do a mean fishtail and don’t even ask if he can dutch braid because he sure fucking can.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to be extremely petty when it comes to the simplest things like putting the dishes away or making the bed. He can’t help but keep a mental spreadsheet in his mind of what has been done by who. Even if it lands him cleaning out the litter box.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to claim that he can’t stand his girlfriend’s cat but rushes both of them to the vet when her cat gets sick. He’ll be right with the love of his life while they wait in that oh-so crowded waiting room with the parrot who keeps saying the most creative curse words he’s ever heard. He’s most definitely going to pester the veterinarian with a thousand questions concerning the cat’s health even though it turns out the spoiled thing ate a sock. And his girlfriend won’t get a chance to pay for the vet bill, because Coriolanus insists on paying for everything.

And when it’s later that evening and all is well and his girlfriend has drifted off the sleep he’ll confess to the feline that he was just a tad bit worried about her health. But he’ll deny such claims should they be brought up.

But Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who has a certain dark side that he hides away. So heaven help his girlfriend when she finally discovers it and realizes that it’s far too late to escape the jaws of this venomous snake.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |