#it's such a dramatic shift in tone from the rest of the series

[silent-stories]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: After years of building your band’s reputation as one of the most influential in the metal scene, you and your bandmates move to Los Angeles. What you don't expect, however, is that your new neighbors are none other than Bad Omens, and that Noah is a huge fan of your band.

Series masterlist

The warm Los Angeles air embraced you, filling your lungs with that distinct mix of ocean breeze and the city’s characteristic hum. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across your new neighborhood. You, along with your band, had finally arrived at the new place—a house in one of the most iconic cities in the world.

The kind of house that looked like it belonged to your band already, with plenty of stuff scattered around the front yard, half-empty pizza boxes on the porch (Jake wanted a food break at some point), and a van parked crookedly on the driveway.

The familiar chaos felt already like home.

The city felt alive, electric even, when you crossed it to reach the quiet neighborhood you had chosen. It had been a dream for so long, and now, as you unloaded the van with the rest of your bandmates, it felt surreal. Los Angeles had that charm that made everything feel possible.

You tapped your boot on the concrete as you looked at all the unloaded stuff still in the van.

Your band had been at the top of the metalcore scene for a couple of years, with sold-out shows and albums that had dominated charts. You were proud of what you had accomplished, but there was always more to chase, more to create, more to prove.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this done!” Jake, the drummer, shouted over the hum of the van’s engine, already hoisting an amp on his shoulder. His energy was always over the top, even when you were all still half-dead from the long drive.

He was wearing a white tanktop that showed off all the tattoos spread across his arms and when it went up slightly as he mived around, also the ones on his stomach.

His black hair, a mix of soft waves and a short mullet, bounced as he moved and when he didn't have a cigarette in his mouth, he was shouting or eating, he was playing with one of his lip piercings with his tongue. No matter how tired he was, Jake always had that huge grin plastered on his face. He was loud, confident, and always ready to make a joke or prank, and today was no different.

“You can’t seriously be trying to carry that whole thing yourself,” you shouted back, one hand on your hip as you took in the sight of him struggling with a speaker nearly as big as he was.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” Jake grinned, making a show of wobbling dramatically before shifting the speaker with his legs and tossing it toward the garage. “This is nothing!”

“Yeah, well, maybe try to not break anything this time, yeah?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t the first time Jake had managed to destroy something valuable, though, thankfully, his reputation for destroying gear had mostly been exaggerated by your bandmates. Mostly.

“Shut up,” Jake huffed, his usual smile still in place. “Just because I’ve dropped a few things doesn’t mean I’m clumsy.” He gave you a wink, already heading back to the van to grab another piece of equipment.

“Clumsy? Is that what we’re calling breaking everything you even only look at, now?” Alex, the guitarist, chimed in, his voice low but sharp, carrying just the right amount of bite.

Alex wasn’t loud like Jake, but when he spoke, you couldn’t ignore it. His blonde hair was short and his bright green eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, even if his demeanor was usually calm. But when Jake was involved, Alex’s sarcasm could cut through concrete. They were best friends, of course they teased each other at every opportunity.

“Hey, you don’t get to talk, Mr. ‘I only speak in soft tones,’” Jake shot back. “You know, for someone who loves to read poetry and other shit so much, you sure know how to throw out the best insults.”

Alex smirked and shook his head. “It’s called being subtle, Jake. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mixing with the warm Los Angeles air, as you set down the mic stand you’d been carrying. “Honestly, it’s like moving in with a family full of idiots,” you teased, shaking your head at the two of them.

“Hey, scream queen,” Jake joked, winking at you as he grabbed another box. “Watch it.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “Scream queen, huh? I almost like it.”

“I mean, hey, it works, doesn’t it?” Jake chuckled, clearly pleased with the nickname he’d just given you. “You scream like a pro. People pay good money to hear that sound.”

"Oh trust me, I know. But people pay good money to see all of us on stage."

The last year had been a whirlwind of success for your band. It felt like everything had fallen perfectly into place, each moment more incredible than the last. You remembered the European tour and the US dates you added to it like it was yesterday—sold-out shows in cities you had only dreamed of playing before. Every venue was packed with fans who knew every word, every scream, every riff, as if they were part of the band themselves. It was surreal, the way the energy of a crowd could electrify the air, transforming a simple stage into something far grander, far more powerful.

The crowds had been so loud, you could barely hear your own voice as you screamed into the mic, but the connection with the audience was undeniable. You thrived in that chaos, that passion. It felt like you were channeling something bigger than yourself every night. Each show was different, but the thrill was always the same. The feeling of being alive, of creating music that people didn’t just listen to but felt.

Merch had also been a huge hit. The new t-shirts and hoodies had taken off almost immediately, and fans couldn’t get enough of them.

You loved the ravens on them, the moths attracted by the light, the snakes biting their tales as a nod to the endless cycles of life, and the skulls, that well, represented the inevitable truth: we all come and go. But in between, we leave something behind, something that would be remembered. You and William, who designed each art, had poured your heart and soul into every piece of the merch, from the graphic details to the overall vision.

The designs weren’t just logos; they were pieces of art, reflecting the soul of the music. Each one was a tribute to the themes that ran through your lyrics—life, death, loss, love, hope.

There was something surreal about seeing your merch at every show, people wearing t-shirts with the name of your band written on it, white on black: Dark Waves.

"Yeah, this year's been a blast." Jake agreed, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

The weight of the box wasn’t as heavy when you were surrounded by this kind of energy, the laughter and teasing making it all feel a little lighter, even if your muscles screamed from the effort.

William, the bassist, had already moved inside, probably escaping all the noise you were already making.

You could see him coming back from the house with an armful of cables, his long, straight dark hair hung over his eyes as he moved with practiced calm. “You guys done talking about how cool you think you are yet?” he asked dryly, raising an eyebrow as he watched you all.

“Uh, no. I don’t think we ever will be,” Jake replied, shrugging and passing him another speaker. “I mean, we are Dark Waves! We are all cool here. Have you seen yourself? You’re basically a walking horror movie.” He said pointing to the bassist's completely black outfit.

William gave him a deadpan look, then tilted his head to you. "I'm not the one who screams like a banshee on stage.”

“Exactly,” Jake said with a grin, turning back to you. “Scream queen, right?”

You snorted, pretending to gag. “I swear, I’m going to strangle you both in your sleep.”

William just shrugged, smirking as he continued on his way inside.

There was a moment of silence as you all worked, the rhythm of the unloading matching the pace of a song you knew all too well. The house slowly started to take shape, equipment scattered around, ready to be set up.

You didn’t just live for the music; you lived for the moments like this. The friends you have made thanks to it, the jokes, the way your band clicked—it was what kept everything grounded in the chaos of your world.

“Alright,” you said, taking a moment to stretch your back. “That’s everything, right? No more boxes? No more amps?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex said, grinning as he brushed his hands together. “We’re done here. Now let’s figure out where the hell we’re putting all of this.”

“You guys are fucking terrible at packing,” you teased as you walked toward the front door. “You should’ve seen the van. It looked like a hurricane hit it. Half the stuff was jammed in there, and the other half was just thrown in."

“Oh please, it’s called ‘rock star packing,’” Jake quipped with a wink. “It’s a talent.”

“Yeah, sure,” Alex said with a sarcastic laugh.

With that, the last of the boxes had been brought inside, and as the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting the world in a warm orange hue, you stood in your new home, surrounded by your bandmates. It was finally real.

The noise, the energy, the chaos—it was all yours. There was no better feeling than being here, together, in LA, where you could live with your best friends.

And you had a feeling things were about to get a whole lot more interesting from here on out.

"Los Angeles, Dark Waves has arrived in the city!" Jake shouted, his voice booming and causing an eruption of cheers and laughter from the band. "And we are here to make some fucking noise!"

"Yes, in the soundproof room at the end of the corridor." You said, making the others laugh.

"And didn't we decide that after the last tour we would take a break?" William asked.

"That's what we said, yeah. But I'm sure that in two days Y/N will already be starting to jot down ideas for one of our next songs. And one of you will be coming up with some new cool tunes. Dark Waves never rests, baby."

This was only the start.

Noah was sitting cross-legged on his bed, the glow from his laptop screen illuminating his face as he was fully immersed in whatever he was doing. His long hair, was tucked under the hood of his oversized hoodie, the loose fabric almost swallowing him up. The room around him was a bit of a mess—empty coffee cups scattered across the desk, a few guitars the corner, and the soft hum of music playing through his headphones.

He didn’t notice Jolly walk into the room at first, the only sign of his presence being the faint creak of the door that Noah couldn’t hear.

“Noah, man,” Jolly called, breaking the silence.

Noah didn’t move at first. He was too absorbed in what was happening on his screen.

"Noah!” he said again, louder this time.

With a heavy sigh, Noah pulled off his headphones, the sound cutting abruptly, and looked up. His brown hair fell across his face as he removed the headphones from his ears and gave Jolly an amused glance, his eyes still half-lidded.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“You have no idea who our new neighbors are, dude,” Jolly said with a grin as he leaned against the doorframe.

Noah raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued now. “Who?”

Jolly’s grin widened. “The guys from Dark Waves.”

Noah opened his mouth to reply but he found himself speechless for a moment. Dark Waves? He’d been following them for years—since their early days, back when their sound was raw and unfiltered but still heavy as hell. He had all their albums, listened to every song they dropped, and followed their social media account religiously.

But he’d never had the chance to see them live or collab with them in any way. He never got the opportunity to speak to them, to thank them for the music, for the voice that was capable of making him feel like someone was opening his chest up and putting new emotions inside, that had been the soundtrack to his own struggles too.

His mind was racing. “Wait, you’re kidding me.” He couldn’t believe it. “Like... the Dark Waves? Like, Y/N's band? You sure?"

Jolly nodded. “Nope, not kidding. The very same. Our new neighbors are Dark Waves. The Dark Waves you always sing in the shower. It seems like we're not the only band living on this street anymore."

Noah blinked, still processing it.

“No way... c'mon, you’re messing with me,” Noah said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I said I’m not messing with you, man. Come see it yourself.”

Noah stood up, still not entirely convinced. “I’m not believing this until I see it.”

“Trust me, you’ll see,” Jolly said, winking as he gestured for Noah to follow him.

They made their way out of the room and down the stairs, with Jolly leading the way. As they stepped outside into the fading light of the evening, Boo and Harper, followed them along, clearly happy to join in on whatever was going on.

Noah couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He bent down briefly to pet the dogs, momentarily distracted by the little creatures who lived with them and he loved so much. But he quickly regained his focus as they made their way out the house and into the garden.

And there you were, on the other side of the fence that divided his house from the one next door. Your house.

Standing with Alex Reed, the tall, blonde guitarist of Dark Waves, laughing and talking casually. Noah recognized you immediately. He had seen you in interviews, on your band’s social media, in live performance videos. But seeing you in person was something else entirely.

You were even more stunning in real life than in any video or interview he’d ever seen, even when simply wearing one of your band t-shirts and a long black skirt.

That was the first moment he heard the sound of your laughter in real life and he felt a strange feeling in his stomach. It made him want to smile too, and be the only man who made you laugh like that, even if he wasn't sure why.

He felt like a fucking fanboy.

Jolly leaned in, whispering with a grin, “Told you. You’re totally staring at her, man.”

Noah flushed, suddenly aware that his gaze had lingered a little too long. He cleared his throat, trying to act cool, but the excitement in his voice betrayed him. “No... I mean... What? I’m not—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment. “Jesus, she’s... she’s-"

Jolly raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Noah’s reaction. “I'm sure twelve year old girls looked at One Direction the same way. You’re basically drooling.”

Noah rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the goofy grin that spread across his face. “This is crazy,” he muttered.

Jolly chuckled. “It’s about to get real interesting around here, man. Come on, let's go say hello.”

Noah followed Jolly out their garden.

"Hey!" Jolly called out.

You and Alex turned around at the same moment, and the sight of Noah standing there, with Jolly beside him, caught your attention. Your eyes widened in surprise as a bright smile spread across your face.

“No way!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with the same excitement Noah was feeling. You took a step toward them, a spark of recognition lighting up your eyes as you looked at the two of them.

Noah’s heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t make this awkward, fangirl." Jolly whispered as you and your bandmate made your way toward them.

Noah hesitated for a split second before stepping forward, extending his hand toward you. “Hi, I’m Noah,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding much smaller than it had before.

You smiled warmly, and when you shook his hand, he couldn’t help but feel like time had slowed down just a little. That brief contact—your hand, much smaller than Noah’s, in his—was enough to send a rush of electricity through his veins. He hoped that moment would last forever.

"Y/N." You said as you proceeded to shake Jolly's hand too. Alex did the same.

“It’s an honor to be neighbors with Bad Omens, my god!" He said.

Noah chuckled. “No, it’s an honor for us to be neighbors with Dark Waves, actually."

"I had no idea you guys lived here." You commented before raising your voice slightly, your eyes scanning the yard. “William, Jake!” you called out. “Come see who’s here!”

Moments later, the door to the house next door opened, and a tall guy with dark hair that Noah immediately recognized as William stepped outside, followed by Jake, the drummer. As soon as Jake saw you standing there with Noah and Jolly, his eyes widened, and for a split second, it looked like he might actually jump with excitement.

He took a few quick steps toward them, clearly trying to keep his cool, but his grin was so wide, it was impossible to miss. “No way! This is insane!” Jake said, his voice filled with pure joy. He turned to Noah, a bit out of breath from his excitement. “Yo, is this really happening? Bad Omens is our neighbor? Am i dreaming? What the hell?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think we’ve all lost our minds.”

Noah laughed too, shaking their hands.

"Where's Folio? Where's the little guy? I wanna know Folio!" Jake asked looking around.

"He's not here right now." Jolly chuckled.

"Damn it! I really wanna know Folio. I love that guy."

"I'll let him know." Noah laughed. Jake was probably the most enthusiastic person he had ever met.

"He really loves other drummers." You commented.

"Especially Folio." Alex added looking at your bandmate with an amused expression.

"Yeah, I definitely see that."

You turned back to Noah with a kind smile. “It’s really nice to know we’ll be neighbors. It can be hard to move to a new city without knowing anyone and I know I don't really know you guys, but I'm glad we're neighbors.”

Noah nodded, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, same here. And don’t worry, you’ll meet the rest of the band soon. They're just not here right now, but they’re always around, especially since we all live so close. Our tour manager Matt should be here soon.”

“I’d love that. It’ll be great to get to know everyone.”

There was something so genuine about the way you said it that Noah felt his heart do a little flip in his chest.

The conversation continued for a few more moments, joking about the fact that you all should ask other bands to move there and make it Los Angeles' Band Street.

Then you noticed that it was getting late and you still hadn't finished settling the essential things to spend your first night there, so you said your goodbyes.

When Noah came back into the house, he still had that stupid smile on his face.

Noah and Jolly had settled inside, in the living room, casually talking, when suddenly Noah felt a nudge against his leg. Looking down, he saw Harper, looking up at him with those big, dark eyes.

"Hey, Harper," Noah said, smiling as he reached down to pet the dog. "Where’s Boo?" He looked around the room, his smile faltering when he didn’t see the other dog anywhere.

Harper wagged his tail, but there was no sign of Boo. Noah frowned, trying to recall when he had last seen him. He stood up and walked around the room, calling out, but the house remained eerily quiet.

"Hey, Jolly," Noah said, walking back toward his friend. "I haven't seen Boo. He's not here. You seen him?"

Jolly looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch. "Huh. Nope, haven’t seen him for a while."

Noah’s eyes scanned the room one more time. "He’s usually always hanging around. Where the hell is he?" he muttered, more to himself than to Jolly. His heart skipped a beat as he realized something. "Wait… was he outside with us earlier? When we went to talk to Y/N?"

"Oh shit, you’re right," he said, standing up quickly. "I saw him follow us in the garden."

"No way," Noah said, running a hand through his long hair. "He must've slipped out when we were outside, while we were too busy talking to notice."

"Let’s go check the yard," Jolly suggested, grabbing his jacket.

Noah nodded and quickly grabbed his shoes.

The two of them hurried outside into the darkening evening, the shadows of night already stretching across the yard. Harper trotted beside them, seemingly aware something was off and glad to join the search.

This time, they closed the gate behind her.

Noah called out into the cold air. "Boo! Come on, buddy!" His voice echoed in the quiet street, but there was no response.

"If Matt comes back and Boo is not here, I'm a dead man." He whispered to himself.

They kept calling Boo’s name, voices rising in the growing dark, but the street remained still, silent.

With each passing moment, Noah's anxiety grew more and more. He couldn't have gone that far, could he?

As Noah turned on the flashlight on his phone, hoping it would help him find the dog, a voice cut through the silence of the night and he almost jumped.

"Who's Boo?" Noah saw you come out of your backyard and walk towards him on the sidewalk as Jolly disappeared into the street behind yours.

You were wearing a black t-shirt of your band, with a raven drawn on it and a large unzipped sweatshirt over it to protect you from the cool night air. Noah thought that outfit made you look even cuter.

Noah explained, "He's a small, brown dog," he explained. "About this big," he gestured with his hand to indicate Boo's size, "and he’s got a blue collar. I can't find him anywhere... He must have slipped out when we weren’t paying attention."

His voice was filled with anxiety, and it was clear he was upset about the puppy being missing.

“I’ll help you look for him.”

Noah shook his head, hesitant. “No, really, it’s fine. It’s getting late, and you’ve probably had a long day. You don’t need to help.”

But you insisted, "No, I don’t mind at all. Let’s find him."

He hesitated for a moment longer before nodding. “Alright, if you’re sure. Thanks.”

You both started walking down the block, the cool night air surrounding you as you scanned the streets for any sign of Boo. The conversation flowed naturally as you walked.

Noah glanced over at you, his voice soft but sincere. "By the way, I really adore your music. Your voice is amazing. We listen to you guys pretty often."

You smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, that means a lot. Honestly, Bad Omens has been a huge inspiration for some of our songs, so it’s pretty surreal hearing that from you."

Noah's cheeks flushed slightly, but in the dark, you couldn't see it. He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m glad we could inspire you. Your band’s music is incredible.”

Noah and you continued walking through the quiet neighborhood, the sound of your footsteps the only thing breaking the silence. The faint light from your phone illuminated your path as you searched for the dog, but your minds weren't entirely on the search anymore.

“I’m really glad I moved here,” you said, looking up at the streetlights above. “This city has a certain magic to it. Makes me want to start writing again, even though I promised myself I’d take a break after the move.”

Noah glanced over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I get that. I always do the same thing. I say I’m going to take a break—spend the day doing nothing, maybe watch some anime—and then the next day, I’m already working on something new.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly! It’s like you can’t stop the creativity from coming. I’ll tell myself I need a rest, and the next thing I know, I’m scribbling down new lyrics or ideas.”

Noah chuckled. “Yeah, creativity doesn’t care about breaks. It just hits when it hits.”

After a moment of silence, you spoke again. “So, you’re into anime?”

"What?"

"You said you like anime."

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I like anime."

"What did you watch?" You asked.

"Oh, a lot of stuff. But my favorites are probably Tokyo Ghoul and Attack on Titan.”

“Tokyo Ghoul? I adore that one! You have no idea how long I've been telling the guys about Ayato. Jake probably hates me at this point. They don't watch that stuff. But I’ve never seen Attack on Titan. Is it good?”

Noah grinned, clearly excited to share his interests. “Oh, you have to watch it! It’s intense, but so worth it. The plot is crazy, and the action scenes are insane."

You chuckled.

"What?" Noah asked.

"Nothing. I just like when people talk about something they love. It's cute."

"Well, I- mh..."

Damn it, Noah, say something with a meaning. You have about five seconds before you completely embarrass yourself.

"Hey, did you hear that?"

"What?"

Whatever you heard saved Noah from embarrassing himself even more because you quickened your pace and turned the corner to disappear behind a big light blue house. The word 'cute' somehow associated with him, when it came out of your mouth, made him smile like a stupid.

Again, damn it.

"Hey, wait!" When Noah followed you and turned the corner you disappeared behind, he found you with Boo in your arms licking your face, the scene bathed in the soft, yellow glow of a dim streetlamp.

Noah's heart immediately lifted at the sight of Boo in your arms, the little dog’s tail wagging furiously as he showered you with affectionate licks. Noah couldn’t help but laugh, his anxiety melting away in an instant. Matt was not going to kill him, after all.

"Oh my God, you found him!" he exclaimed, rushing over to you.

You looked up at him, smiling brightly. "I think he just wanted some attention from the new neighbors," you said, as Boo wriggled in your arms, clearly thrilled to see Noah again. "He’s adorable."

Noah chuckled, his breath finally steadying. "Thanks so much for helping me look for him. You just saved me a whole lot of stress."

"No problem at all," you said, handing him Boo with a grin. "Glad I could help."

Noah took the dog into his arms, scratching his head for a moment. "Don't do something like that again." He told him.

You walked in comfortable silence to your homes as Noah sent Jolly a text, saying you found the dog. Then, you parted ways.

“Well, you can tell Matt that Dark Waves helped find his dog.” You smiled.

"Oh, I'm not even telling him that he ran aw- wait. I never told you the dog was Matt's."

You chuckled. "You still think you're the only fan here? I've spent nights watching your live streams."

"You... you- wait, you watch my-"

"Goodnight, Noah!" You said with a huge grin on your lips as you entered your house, waving goodbye and closing the door behind you.

Noah was left speechless, standing there in the silence of the night for a few moments.

"Wow," He muttered as he started walking to the door, a little smile growing on his mouth, "what a day, Boo. What a day."

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

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[radarsteddybear]

What I would give to be able to talk to the writer(s)/producers/director of "That's No Lady, That's My Spy" because I have. so many questions. about how that episode came to be.

[daycourtofficial]

Blood moon in Autumn

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 1.3k | warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of sex, mentions of violence

Summary: fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series, however this can be read as a standalone. @writingcroissant actually gave me the idea for this so everyone say thanks Tori 🥰

Death was imminent, you were sure of it. Every fiber of your being ached, the pain emanating from your lower abdomen through the rest of your body. It felt like someone was stabbing you with a rusted, dull knife, the blade carving out your insides slowly at their leisure.

You heard your bedroom door open and close, footsteps coming towards the bed. You groan in greeting as the steps get closer.

“Just leave me here to die, Er.”

A soft chuckle makes its way to your ears, despite the layers of blankets you are burrowed beneath, the blankets not offering you the comfort you so desperately crave.

“You’ll be remembered for even in death, your flare for the dramatics never faltered.”

You push your face from the blankets, allowing your face to be seen. You scowl towards your mate, his smirk making you want to push him from the window. You take in the sight of him - he had changed into more relaxed clothes since you saw him last. Gone is his formal jacket, a deep red velvet with golden leaf embroidery. The garment would make anyone look like court royalty, but on Eris it made him look positively radiant, as if the fires of Autumn truly originated from him, as if the apple orchards and the crops found their nutrients from him. You loved when he wore it, your fingers tracing the fine embroidery along the lapel as you would straddle his lap, grinding softly-

You groaned, the idea of moving so much making you nauseous and slightly dizzy.

Now he wore a loose, billowy shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, casual brown trousers covering his toned legs. If it were any other day, you’d devour him. Any other day, you’d pull him directly into bed, pushing his clothes off of him, neither of you leaving bed until you slipped his shirt on to grab the two of you some pastries.

Instead, the sight of him made you slightly annoyed - he seemed fine as he set down a tray on the table next to you. He was fine this morning when he rose, having to tend to some things before returning. You were dying, and he was perfectly fine. You groaned, shifting to sit up on your elbows. “What’s this?”

“I believe those of us who leave our beds call it ‘food’.”

His smirk disappears at the pillow that hits his feet. He sends you a withering glare that just makes you scoff. “That could have hit the tray of coffee I made for you.”

You perked up at the sound of coffee - you were sure the warm liquid would at least distract your insides. Or at least provide you some comfort.

You’d take anything at this point.

“Did you make the coffee? Or did you just prepare the tray?”

“What difference does it make? Coffee is coffee.”

“Well, if Jora made it, then I aimed perfectly for your feet.”

“What if it was my coffee?”

“Then I would have aimed for the tray.”

He gives you a withering stare, his fingers halting their movements. “Now that’s no way to treat your mate who lovingly made you coffee.”

You squint your eyes, “if it’s my mate that’s making the coffee, it’s more of an assassination attempt than love.”

“You wound me, my love.” Despite your grievances, he continues preparing your cup exactly as you like it.

“Is the wound fatal?”

“Perhaps.”

“I shall pay my respects at your funeral, then. With my next husband.”

His eyebrow quirks as he rests the cup on your side table before he rounds the bed, peeling back the layers of blankets on top of you. He crawls in behind you, his body heat causing you to melt.

“Next husband?”

“I will get lonely. Besides, the hounds need a male’s touch. They’ll grow soft under me.”

“And who is this next husband? Is he capable of this?”

Before you can ask what ‘this’ is, he slides his arm around your waist, his palm lying flat over your lower abdomen, his fingers spreading across your skin. Your skin began heating under his touch, and you moaned at the relief he provided you.

“If he’s not, he’s not worth it. Perhaps one of your brothers will be capable. Lu, maybe?”

Eris growled at the teasing, your friendship with Lucien a constant sore spot for him amidst his rekindling relationship with his youngest brother. He hated to admit it, but he seethed with jealousy watching you interact with Lucien, the way your conversation would flow easily.

A life of regrets and Lucien takes several of the top five spots.

“Lucien would make a terrible husband. You’d never see him - he spends all day brushing his hair.”

“I like a well-groomed male.”

“The noises his eye makes would keep you up all night.”

“I think you’re getting us confused. The whirring would soothe me to sleep.”

He buries his face into your neck, mumbling, “you are not marrying Lucien.”

“Alastor, perhaps?”

You clutched onto Eris’s arm, the heat providing you some relief. You nuzzle your head into his bicep, and he blows out a hot breath, “if I die, and you are unable to continue alone, marry outside of my family, leave my brothers out of your marriage pool.”

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off.

“Not Azriel.”

You huff, “well if I can’t have a Vanserra or Azriel, I’ll stay alone forever.”

“I prefer that alternative.”

“I will rule Autumn alone. Just as Beron would have liked.”

You spin in his arms, pushing his shoulder down so he’d lay on his back. You crawl on top of him, laying so every inch of you is touching him in some way. Not an inch of space exists between your bodies. You poke his ribs, urging him to start heating up. He ignores you, so you start tugging on the bond between you two.

“Patience is a virtue, don’t they teach that in the war camps they call villages?”

“I’m dying, I think the Mother can forgive my lack of virtues.”

He huffs, but starts warming his skin to better provide comfort. You groan, laying in silence with him for several moments, the heat a comfort to the constant pain.

A few moments later you roll, your back laying across his chest.

“Ah,” you sigh, the pain in your lower back lessening at his touch.

“You’re spinning like game over a campfire.”

He rests his hands on your lower abdomen, the warmth making the stabbing pain into a dull ache.

You sigh at the contact, practically melting at how he soothes your muscles.

“I want to go bathe but that requires movement and leaving this bed.”

Eris laughs into your hair, but you hear the water running in the bathroom. You groan just thinking about how soothing the water would feel on your joints. You breathed out slowly through your nose, preparing yourself for the trek across the room.

You rolled off of Eris, and before you could get off the bed, Eris moved from behind to in front of you, his feet landing softly on the floor.

“Care for a ride?”

You nod, and his arms sweep you up.

“I think this is my preferred method of travel.”

“Perhaps this is how you will tour Autumn, hm? I shall carry you throughout the lands.”

You laugh as he sets you down, helping you remove your clothes. He must be warming the air somehow, because you don’t feel the chill of the air when your clothes are completely off. He helps you into the water, which you melt into immediately. You close your eyes, laying back in the tub, the porcelain a nice surface to lean against.

You’ve completely forgotten about Eris’ presence until you feel him nudge your shoulders forward, his lean body slipping behind you into the tub. His legs stretch besides yours, and you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“There’s no way my next husband will be as helpful as you are.”

He breathes out through his nose, “I fear you can only marry down from here. A pity, truly.”

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Thanks for reading 💕

[r3starttt]

TO SETTLE

PAIRING: Caitlyn x reader

SUMMARY: domestic night with cait

CW: none just 2.1K words of fluff, very self indulgent

AN: Creds to 2rusty_wings2 on twitter <3 I’m so obsessed w their art and I might be writing more fics for it cos it’s just gorgeous and cute and cozy and UGHH love fanart

TAGLIST: @Kaimythically @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @kiki5gigi @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @femininologies @dinakisser @viajeros--sin--destino @GodessAgrona @patronagrona @halle5s @abvisionss

The house seemed alive with its unyielding chill, a cold that clung to the walls and seeped into the very bones of the structure. Despite the fires blazing in every available hearth, their flames crackling and dancing with futile energy, the warmth refused to settle. The floors remained icy underfoot. The walls, aged and unyielding, refused to drink in the warmth

Your fingers, hidden within the sleeves of your sweater, grew stiff, the chill clinging to them with relentless persistence. Even bundled in layers of the warmthes clothing couldn't fight against the chill, as though the house itself were whispering it's cold right against your flesh.

Outside the frost-covered windows, the sun slipped behind snow-draped trees, leaving the sky smeared in bruised hues of gray and violet. The day had been silent, wrapped in the eerie calm that only snowfall could bring.

Each step you took reverberated softly through the expansive halls, the sound hollow and faint, swallowed by the oppressive stillness.

The air was steady, as if the house were holding its breath. And so, the faintest sound drew your attention—a soft, deliberate patter of paws on the cold floor behind you.

The rhythm matched your own footsteps, a quiet shadow trailing your path. You slowed, waiting, and soon felt the familiar brush of warmth against your leg.

Glancing down, you saw him—the young Doberman, his sleek black coat catching the dim light, his amber eyes bright, almost matching the quiet hue that illuminated the house. The orange shadows coming from every room matching his growing frame pressed against your loose pants. You quietly crossed your arms over your chest as you surrendered to his guidance.

The two of you moved as one, your steps falling into sync with his. The puppy led you with his small form confident and his tail flicking gently with each stride.

Your eyes followed him until you saw where he was headed—a dark wooden door slightly ajar, the glow of firelight spilling through the crack and pooling faintly in the corridor. The warm, amber hue seemed like an invitation, its promise of comfort beckoning you forward.

The puppy slipped through the door first, his movements quick and eager, nails clicking against the cold floor. The sound was sharp but not unpleasant, breaking the silence with the rhythm of the unmistakable chaos of his arrival—a series of hurried steps.

You linger for a moment longer in the doorway, allowing the warmth of the scene to wash over you. The air is thick with the scent of burning wood, mingling with the faint, familiar musk of the dogs and the faintest trace of Caitlyn’s tea, still steaming on the small table beside her.

The green sofa dominates the room, its almond tones matching the small Doberman who had claimed his space with all the entitlement of royalty. His back paws, still slightly too big for his body, scrabble briefly before finding purchase. With a triumphant sigh, he sprawls out, his little frame draped dramatically over Caitlyn’s lap, his eyes fluttering shut as though the effort of climbing up had exhausted him entirely.

You suppress a smile, watching as Caitlyn shifts to accommodate him—yet again. Her movements are practiced, resigned, as though this routine has played out countless times before.

The puppy stretches, his head resting heavily against her thigh, and lets out a soft, exaggerated huff of contentment. It’s almost comical in its melodrama, but then Caitlyn mirrors him, exhaling a quiet sigh that carries the same note of fatigue and surrender.

Like mother, like son, you think, a soft chuckle escaping as you lean against the doorframe. The older Doberman, lying on the opposite side and beside her, seems equally put out by the new arrangement.

Once content with resting his chin on Caitlyn’s inner elbow, he’s now forced to shift lower, his head settling just below her arm with an audible groan. “How dramatic,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head. The sight before you is disarming in its simplicity, a snapshot of domestic warmth that feels all the more precious because of how hard-won it is.

“You’re late,” Caitlyn remarks suddenly, her voice breaking the silence without disrupting its calm. She doesn’t look up at first, her gaze focused on the book in her hands. “There’s no space for you anymore.”

Her tone is teasing, a playful edge that makes you smile.

When she does glance up, she lowers her glasses slightly, peering over the frames to get a clearer look at you. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips is unmistakable, matched by the quiet glint of amusement in her eyes.

“I didn’t know I was expected,” you counter, your brow lifting instinctively. The words come out with a practiced ease, your banter slipping into place.

Caitlyn’s smirk widens, her shoulders shaking slightly with a chuckle that she doesn’t bother to suppress. She shifts her focus back to her book, the firelight catching the curve of her scar and the skin around her once wounded eye as she tilts her head down.

From where you stand, you can see the faint lines of concentration on her face, the way her brow furrows slightly as she reads. Her glasses reflect the steady motion of her eyes as they scan the page, moving with a kind of intensity that tells you she’s completely absorbed.

She’s further along than the last time you checked, the book already halfway finished. You can tell she’s enjoying it by the way her lips press together, a faint smile playing at the corners when she lingers over a particularly interesting passage. Her fingers, which had been idly resting against the spine of the book, now trail absently through the puppy’s soft fur, stroking the small Doberman’s ears with a tenderness that seems almost unconscious.

The room falls quiet again, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the rhythmic sound of her page-turning. You let yourself relax against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you take in the details—the way her robe pools around her, its deep blue fabric catching the light; the loose strands of her hair that have fallen forward, one tucked behind her ear; the delicate rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, calm and steady. This is a rare kind of peace, the kind you’ve learned not to take for granted.

For a moment, you hesitate to step further into the room, as though doing so might disrupt the fragile perfection of the scene. But then Caitlyn glances up again, her gaze catching yours. She doesn’t say anything this time, but the faint tilt of her head and the softening of her expression are invitation enough.

Caitlyn had that rare look of peace now, a serenity that had once seemed so unattainable. There was a softness to her tonight, a tangible comfort in the way she sat—relaxed yet poised, her every movement unhurried and deliberate.

You let your gaze linger on the smallest details, those that seemed to carry the most weight. The way her lips pursed slightly in thought, her bottom lip caught between the faintest gap in her teeth as she concentrated on the book resting in her lap. Her fingers, delicate but strong, turned the pages with an almost reverent care, their movements slow as though savoring each word.

It was a scene you could never have imagined not so long ago. Life had been chaos, a whirlwind of battles fought and sacrifices made. There had been no space for these quiet nights, no room for stolen moments where time seemed to pause.

And yet, somehow, you had found your way here—to this, to her. You felt it in the air, in the way your heart settled at the sight of her so at peace, in the privilege of noticing the little things: how she had claimed your white polo again, insisting it was warmer than her own, how her hair caught the light just so, how the smallest movements of her hand spoke volumes about the gentleness she rarely let the world see.

You stepped forward, your movement slow, deliberate. The old floorboards creaked beneath your weight, but the sound only added to the intimacy of the room. Her voice broke the silence, soft yet firm, halting you mid-step.

“What’re you doing? Come here,” she said, her tone gentle but commanding. She closed her book with a single finger marking her place, her other hand patting the small space beside her. The invitation was clear, even as her slight smirk hinted at the unlikelihood of you finding much room there. The large Doberman, sprawled on the cushion beside her, lifted his head at the sound of her voice but quickly settled back down, his chin resting heavily on the edge of her lap.

You hesitated, eyeing the crowded sofa. “There’s no room,” you murmured, half-protesting, though the pull to join her was undeniable.

She didn’t respond, only murmured something soft to the puppy in her lap as she gently nudged him further onto the cushion. He groaned dramatically, his small body shifting just enough to make space. You stifled a laugh at his theatrics, shaking your head as you lowered yourself onto the armrest first, testing the waters. But her expectant gaze, the slight arch of her brow, left no room for lingering. With a resigned sigh, you made your way onto the sofa, squeezing into the impossibly small gap beside her.

Her warmth enveloped you immediately, the soft fabric of her robe brushing against your arm. She set her book and glasses aside, her hands moving to cradle yours before you could fully settle. Her fingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your own, their touch soothing in a way that words could never match.

“Better?” she asked, her voice carrying that familiar mix of snark and sincerity.

You nodded, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. Leaning into her, you rested your cheek against her shoulder, letting the steady rise and fall of her breathing ground you. The puppy shifted in your lap, his small body radiating heat that seeped into you, melting away the remnants of the cold that had clung to you all evening.

“I told you it was cold,” she added, her voice soft but teasing, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of your hand.

“You’re always right,” you murmured, your voice muffled against the fabric of her robe as your eyes rolled by the forced admission.

A quiet laugh escaped her, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the fire’s glow wrapping around the two of you like a protective cocoon. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth, into her.

This, you realized, was the kind of moment worth fighting for—the kind you’d never let slip away again.

[pandapetals]

Our Shirt

You stole Logan's shirt, but really it's our shirt.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Ororo chuckled as you and she walked through the entrance of the mansion, her arm looped around yours as you stumbled a little, slightly tipsy, and found everything inexplicably hilarious.

"That guy was totally checking you out, Ro," you insisted, setting your shopping bags down with exaggerated care. "You should have given him your number."

Ororo rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth curled into a smile. "You think every guy is checking me out."

"Because they are!" You waved your hands dramatically in her direction, almost losing your balance. "I mean, look at you! You're practically radiating goddess vibes."

Ororo laughed, shaking her head as she gathered up her own bags. "You're a little drunk, aren’t you?"

"Just a little,” you giggled, leaning against her shoulder.

That’s when Logan appeared in the foyer, leaning casually against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching the two of you with a smirk. “Stop playing matchmaker when people don’t want it,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you looked over at him. "You have no sense of fun, Logan. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from Ororo. She got plenty of attention today.”

Ororo laughed, glancing over at Logan. “This will probably be the only time I agree with you, Logan," she said, giving you a quick hug before slipping past him. "Good luck with this one," she added with a wink, disappearing down the hallway.

Logan’s gaze shifted back to you, a faint, amused glint in his eye. “Is that my shirt?” he asked, taking a step closer, his tone low and slightly accusing.

You looked down at the oversized white tee you wore, pretending to be scandalized. “What happened to ‘hello, how are you?’” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist as he moved in closer. “Is my well-being not important?”

He snorted, resting his hands on your hips, pulling you snugly against him. "I’ve been lookin’ for that shirt all week, sweetheart."

You tilted your head back to look up at him, grinning. “You mean our shirt?”

He shook his head with a smirk, reaching down to pinch the fabric between his fingers. “I don’t remember signing off on that shared custody agreement.”

“Well, consider it officially shared,” you said, leaning up on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips, but Logan’s hands tightened on your waist, holding you in place.

“You’re a thief,” he murmured, his voice warm and teasing, his lips brushing yours. “First you steal my clothes, then you run off for a whole day and leave me here wondering where you went.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Were you… waiting up for me, Logan?”

A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, though he tried to cover it with a gruff huff. “Don’t get too cocky, gorgeous. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t gettin’ into trouble.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. "Just a girls' day, tough guy. Shopping, lunch, maybe a few too many glasses of wine…”

Logan’s hand moved up to your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Figured as much. You got that look about you… all rosy and happy.”

You grinned up at him, your heart fluttering at the unexpected tenderness in his expression. “Guess I just missed you,” you whispered, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe I’ll steal more of your clothes just to keep a piece of you with me.”

He let out a low chuckle, his forehead pressing against yours as he muttered, “Thief and a flirt. I’m in real trouble with you, aren’t I?”

"Absolutely," you said, pressing another kiss to his lips, this one slow and lingering. When you finally pulled back, you couldn’t resist adding, "Now come on. Let’s go inside so you can tell me all about how much you missed me."

Logan’s eyes narrowed playfully. “You keep pushin’ your luck, sweetheart.”

“Only because you love it,” you shot back, slipping out of his grasp with a wink as you headed towards the stairs.

As he followed you, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He might grumble about you stealing his clothes, but you both knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

Hi! I just saw you’re taking requests and I’m so excited!

I have two ideas if you’re feeling them both ot8 x reader of course!

1. Is reader moving in with the boys , I think it would be real cute

2. The reader finding out she’s pregnant and then having to tell the boys

𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪!

Warning: comfort/fluff

Summary: Request!

A/N: This was kind of rushed so i'm going to turn it into a mini series because i really do have a-lot to add when it comes to everything that has to do with their relationships, the baby itself and Y/n. If you would like to be added to this separate taglist comment down below!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Baby, your tummy feels weird,” I.N said, a frown knitting his brows together as he tilted his head slightly to look up at her.

They were cuddled together on the couch, enjoying a lazy day at home. I.N’s head rested on Y/N’s lap while she absentmindedly stroked the back of his head, something he always adored. But today, he didn’t seem quite right.

“What do you mean, love?” Y/N giggled, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his frown, hoping to erase it.

“I don’t know… it just feels hard and strange,” he replied, poking at her abdomen gently, causing her to flinch.

“Baby, stop that!” she laughed, swatting his finger away playfully.

“Seriously! It’s so hard and not squishy like it usually is,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with concern. “Are you on your period?”

“No, my love, not yet. Maybe it’s just because I’ve eaten too much?” she suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

“Hmm, maybe,” he agreed, resting his head back on her lap. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies, snuggled under a cozy blanket. But when Chan called, asking if they could pick up some groceries for dinner, they reluctantly decided to get dressed and head out.

“I like having you home,” Y/N said, intertwining their fingers as they walked to the store.

“I like being home with you,” I.N replied, planting a gentle kiss on her temple. The walk was short, but Y/N felt every step weighing her down.

“Are you okay?” I.N chuckled, noticing her panting slightly as they reached the store. “You look a little out of breath.”

“Yes, just a bit winded! Damn, how long has it been since we walked to the store?” she gasped for air, trying to play it off.

“We were just here last week for shampoo, babe,” I.N teased, a grin spreading across his face.

“Oh my God, maybe I’m just getting fat because that felt like a workout,” she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. I.N laughed softly and grabbed the shopping basket like the gentleman he was, following her as she picked out everything they needed—and a few treats for Felix’s baking cabinet.

Once they got home and put away the groceries, Y/N flopped onto the couch. “Can we take a nap?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled against the cushions.

“Babe, we just woke up from one!” I.N said, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“I know, but I still feel really tired. That was a workout, and my back aches,” she huffed, stretching out on the couch.

“Your back aches?” His tone shifted from playful to worried in an instant. “How bad is it?”

“Just a little bit. It’s nothing serious,” she reassured him with a pout, pulling him toward his room. “Cuddle me, please.”

“Alright, but let me grab some cream for your back first. Remove your shirt,” he instructed, and she nodded, slipping off her shirt and lying down comfortably.

When I.N returned with the cream, he lay beside her, his warm hands gently starting to massage the area where her back ached. She let out soft whimpers of relief, her eyes fluttering shut as he worked his magic.

“Is that better?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Mmm, much better,” she sighed contentedly, feeling her body relax beneath his touch. Before long, she succumbed to sleep, her breathing steady and peaceful. Satisfied, I.N tidied up the room and put everything away, glancing back at her with a smile before heading downstairs to await the others.

When the boys finally made it home, the sound of laughter filled the air. Chan peeked into I.N's room, raising an eyebrow when he saw Y/N still asleep, a content smile on her face.

“Did you take good care of her?” Chan asked, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Yeah, she took another nap. She said she was tired,” I.N replied casually as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

“Tired again?” Leeknow asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yeah, we went to the store, and she said her back ached, so I gave her a massage and put her to sleep,” I.N explained, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Maybe her period is about to come. I’ll check the app later,” Leeknow suggested. He leaned in to give I.N a quick kiss before heading up to his room, making sure to check in on Y/N before disappearing to take a shower.

“How was your day, guys?” I.N asked as the rest of the boys slowly started to filter into the room.

“Missed you,” Han said automatically, crawling onto I.N’s lap and snuggling in without a second thought.

“I missed you too, baby,” I.N replied with a smile, wrapping his arms around Han.

“I’ll go check on Y/N,” Felix announced, hopping up and making his way to I.N’s room. Once inside, he climbed onto the bed, instantly cuddling up against her.

Y/N stirred slightly, opening her eyes to see Felix’s tousled blonde hair in her face. She let out a soft giggle before speaking. “Hey, bub,” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Hi, hi, hi!” Felix cheered, showering her with light kisses. Knowing how much he loved to be the little spoon, she turned and held him close.

“Missed you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair.

“Missed you too,” he replied, wrapping his leg around her waist and burying his head against her chest. She let out a soft groan as his head nestled right on her sore breasts.

What the hell was going on with her body?

“You’re cuddly today,” she chuckled, continuing to play with his hair.

“You smell nice and feel soft,” he said dreamily, slowly drifting off to sleep. Y/N smiled, allowing him to relax, knowing how exhausting practice could be. She grabbed her phone, curious to check her flow app.

As she scrolled, her jaw dropped in shock. “Oh no…” she gasped, causing Felix to stir slightly but not wake up.

The app showed that she had missed her period. But how? She was always on top of tracking it!

Panic flooded her thoughts as she glanced at the time—it was still only 7 in the evening. She needed to get pregnancy tests. Quickly but quietly, she wiggled out of Felix’s grip and rushed downstairs.

“Woah, woah, woah! Hey there!” Hyunjin chuckled as she nearly knocked into him.

“Hey, bye!” she called over her shoulder, slipping her hand from his grip as she hurried to put on her slippers.

“Are we not getting a welcome home?” Chan yelled, but she was already out the door and in her car, heart racing.

The drive was short, but her mind was racing with negative thoughts. What if? Could she really be…? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she parked.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and headed into the store, her heart pounding in her chest. The fluorescent lights felt almost too bright, but she pushed through, grabbing a couple of pregnancy tests and making her way to the self-checkout.

“Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, scanning the items quickly and hoping no one was judging her for the sudden purchase. After paying, she hurried back to her car, clutching the small bag tightly.

As she drove home, every worst-case scenario flooded her mind. What if she was pregnant? How would the boys react? Would they be supportive? Or would they panic?

Pulling into the driveway, she took a moment to collect herself. She couldn’t let them see her like this, all frazzled and scared. She had to stay calm.

With a deep breath, she walked inside, trying to put on a brave face. As she entered the living room, she was met with the warm chaos of her boyfriends, laughter filling the air.

"Hey, everyone!" Y/N managed to say, forcing a smile as she stepped into the living room. She hoped they wouldn't pry too much about what was in the bag she clutched tightly to her chest.

"Hey, baby!" Leeknow greeted her, the warmth in his voice putting her at ease for a moment. "I'm going to start on dinner, okay?" He leaned in and gave her a quick, reassuring kiss before heading to the kitchen.

"Where did you run off too?" Hyunjin asked, not missing a beat as he continued playing video games with Changbin. His eyes flicked to her, curiosity evident in his gaze.

"I went to get some… pads," she lied, her heart racing. She felt like she was about to pass out from the weight of the truth.

"You could've just asked me to run to the store, babe," Chan chimed in, looking up from his phone. "At least we know you've been feeling down lately because of your period."

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied, her voice slightly shaky. "I'm going to go put some on, then I'll come say hi properly."

"Wake up Felix for me! I don't want him sleeping too much," Leeknow called from the kitchen.

"Alright!" she responded, her mind already racing as she dashed upstairs to her room. Once inside the bathroom, she locked the door behind her, hands trembling as she read the instructions on the pregnancy test.

With each step, her anxiety spiked. "What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself, burying her head in her hands. It felt like the walls were closing in, and tears threatened to spill as she watched the timer tick down agonizingly slow. When it finally went off, she felt like she wasn't ready at all.

"Just rip it off like a band-aid. Don't be scared, Y/N," she encouraged herself, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath and turned over one of the tests.

"Oh no, no, no…" she gasped, her heart plummeting as she checked the other two. They all said the same thing-positive.

That was it...it was official, she was carrying a baby.

After taking a cold shower to calm down, Y/N made her way to I.N's room to wake up Felix. He was deep in sleep, snoring softly, looking utterly peaceful.

"Baby, you have to wash up and come down for dinner," she said gently, brushing her fingers through his hair. He groaned in response and rubbed his eyes, reluctantly stirring.

Once he was up, they went their opposite ways: Y/N heading downstairs to join the rest of the boys, who were chattering and playing games. She tiptoed over to Han, who was engrossed in his phone. Leaning down, she showered him with soft kisses until his cheeks flushed a deep tomato red.

"Okay, moving on!" she giggled, moving to the next person. She made sure to repeat this with all the boys, leaving a trail of smiles in her wake, before finally settling down next to Chan, who was the only one available.

"Did you have a good day today?" Chan asked, rubbing her back lightly. "Any cramps?"

"Um, no… I just stayed with Innie the whole day, watching movies. What about you?" She felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her-was this the right time to tell them?

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he replied, rolling his eyes playfully. She decided to give him a quick massage on his shoulder as they waited for Leeknow to finish dinner.

A few minutes later, Felix came bounding down the stairs, a bag in hand. Y/N’s eyes widened in panic as she shot up from her seat. No way he found them!

“Y/Nnie!” Felix squealed, his voice piercing through the room. Everyone turned to look at him, curiosity written on their faces.

“Y/Nnie, you’re pregnant?!” Felix practically shouted, his excitement making everyone’s jaws drop.

“What is he talking about?” Chan asked, looking at her with wide eyes. Y/N was in shock, quickly snatching the bag out of Felix's hand.

“Felix, how many times do I have to tell you not to go through my stuff?” she snapped, her heart racing.

“I was just grabbing my moisturizer from your bathroom…” he said, taking a step back, frowning.

“Wait, hold on. Why are you getting mad at him?” Changbin stood up, his brows furrowing. “Are you pregnant?”

I.N grabbed the bag from her, ripping it open to pull out the pregnancy tests. “Holy shit… s-she’s actually pregnant…” His eyes widened in disbelief as he lost his balance, falling back into his seat, while Chan snatched the tests from his hands.

"You didn't tell us?" Chan looked at her, disappointment etched on his face.

"I took three tests, and they all say the same thing," she replied, feeling tears welling up again. "I don't know what to do!"

Chan immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a comforting embrace.

"What's all the commotion?" Leeknow asked, walking into the room, a knife in hand.

"Y/N's pregnant," Seungmin repeated, almost in disbelief.

"What? I thought… wait, hold on…" Leeknow huffed, scanning the room for a seat as if he needed to process this news.

"I-I… I'm sorry, okay? I just took the test. I was going to tell you guys."

"When?" Han pouted, crossing his arms.

"I don't know! I freaked out! This is a lot, okay?" she huffed, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Is that why you ran out of the house?" Hyunjin asked, and she nodded, looking away.

"Holy shi- a baby? A whole baby…" Chan gasped, glancing around the room as if the walls were closing in on them.

"Is that why your stomach feels weird noona?" I.N asked looking at her curiously.

"That's probably one of the reasons yeah," she replied.

"Wah.." he gasped looking amazed. He knew something was off earlier on. He had felt it.

"I never knew it would be this soon," Seungmin said. He was honestly confused and didn't know how to feel about the situation. He just felt bad for her because she was probably scared shitless.

"okay.." Leeknow finally spoke, "we need to have a conversation about condoms and how to use them because obviously one of you slipped up," he rolled his eyes looking at the boys. They all laugh but try to hide it making it even more funnier.

Chan on the other hand looked stressed as fuck.

"Chan say something please.." She begged looking at him.

"oh baby girl, i'm just in shock thats all," he sighed wiping away her stray tears. "I can… I can abort it—"

“NO!” they all shouted in unison, causing her to flinch.

“You actually want me to keep it?” It was her turn to sit down, the weight of the situation crashing over her. Was this actually happening?

“I mean… yeah?” Changbin shrugged. “I don’t mind it.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a kid running around,” Felix added, his face lighting up at the thought.

"That would actually be sick, imagine a baby coming with us on tour!" Hyunjin hyped up the situation even more.

"What if there twins?!" Seungmin claps his hands in excitement.

"or Quadtruplets?!" Han gasps.

"Those do run in my family," I.N says smirking.

Y/n couldnt help but smile at the fact that they where excited for this. It made her feel a little better now although she still wasn't sure about the whole situation.

"Plus, we're all financially stable to take care of one. I don't see why not," Han chimed in, nodding in agreement

"Okay, woah, woah, woah, guys. Let's slow down for a second and ask the person who's actually carrying the baby if they're okay with it," Chan said, raising his hands to calm the excitement.

Everyone's eyes landed on her, anticipation hanging thick in the air. Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. She really wasnt expecting this at all and although she felt like she wasnt ready, the way the boys looked at her with hope was the only answer she needed.

"Oh… I guess… let's have a baby? I just-what if I'm not ready for this? What if it changes everything?"

"Life is full of surprises," Chan said gently, kissing her forehead. "But we'll face whatever comes next together. You're strong, and we're all in this with you."

"I… I guess it's just a lot to take in," she admitted, wiping away a few more stray tears. "I wasn't expecting this."

"None of us were," Felix said, a small smile breaking through his breaking through his worry. "But we'll make it work. We're a family, right?"

"Right," Y/N replied, feeling a flicker of hope. "I just need some time to process it all.”

"Take all the time you need jagi," Hyunjin reassured her.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon! (Taglist open)

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (2); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, potential smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 6.6k+

Chapter Warnings: talks about culture, your mom is a meanie

A/N: literally fighting the urge to rewatch crazy rich asians right now omg. anyways, i'm having so much fun writing this because i love explaining every little thing in detail, and this series gives me so many opportunities to do so. let me know your thoughts <3

part 2

“I can’t believe this.” Jungkook breathes out, sinking into the plush comfort of Yoongi’s ridiculously soft mattress. He runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing as he tries to process everything he had found out during the eventful lunch he just had with Yoongi's family.

It feels like the ground beneath him has shifted. You’re not exactly who he thought you were. Not that he had preconceived notions about your life, but this? This was on an entirely different level. “I wonder why she never told me.” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

Yoongi chuckles from across the room as he pulls back the heavy, luxurious curtains, flooding the space with the warm afternoon light. His bedroom is just as opulent as the rest of the mansion... floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek modern furniture, and an aesthetic that screams understated wealth.

“I mean… maybe she didn’t want to show off.” Yoongi suggests casually, as if being from an ultra-rich family is something people hide every day. “Yeah… like you.” Jungkook points out, sitting up and gesturing around the room.

His eyes narrow as they take in every detail. “You never told me you were this...” he pauses, glancing pointedly at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the antique show piece on the side table, and the impossibly soft bedding beneath him “...rich.”

Yoongi smirks as he leans against the window frame, arms crossed. “What can I say? I’m humble like that.”

Jungkook groans, leaning back on the mattress as he throws an arm over his face. “My whole life is a lie. You’re telling me I’ve been surrounded by literal multimillionaires this whole time and I didn’t have a single clue?” His voice is half-frustrated, half-bewildered, and the wide-eyed expression on his face makes Yoongi snort with laughter.

“Come on, you’re being dramatic.” Yoongi teases, his tone light but with a knowing smirk. It’s almost laughable coming from him... the same guy who was practically losing his mind over you back in the dining room. “It’s really not that big of a deal.” he adds casually, as if he hadn’t been the one freaking out just moments ago.

“Not that big of a deal?” Jungkook echoes, sitting up with an incredulous look. “You live in a mansion. You drive a car that costs more than my entire apartment building. And now I find out my girlfriend is a part of one of the most powerful families in the country?” He shakes his head, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.”

Yoongi grins, clearly entertained by his friend’s over-the-top reaction. “You’re handling this surprisingly well.” he jokes. Jungkook shoots him a look. “I’m on the verge of an existential crisis, and you’re laughing at me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Yoongi says with a shrug, making Jungkook groan again.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about that damn tea party ceremony thing I have to go to, this evening.” Jungkook sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

His fingers thread through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what to expect after everything I’ve learned today.” He breathes out heavily, as though the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.

“Don’t stress it.” Yoongi replies, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant as he leans back in his chair. He looks completely at ease, like Jungkook hadn’t just had his world turned upside down in the span of a few minutes.

Jungkook stares at him, exasperated. “How can I not? I don’t know if I’ll even be able to fit in. Everyone there will probably take one look at me and smell the filth on me. They’ll know right away that I’m a completely different breed compared to them.” he huffs, gesturing dramatically to make his point.

Yoongi stifles a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Jungkook counters, his tone sharp. “I’m just some regular guy. I grew up in a tiny apartment with my mom, eating instant ramen and working part-time jobs to get by. These people... your people... live in literal mansions and probably eat gold-flaked caviar for breakfast or something.” he rambles.

Yoongi finally bursts out laughing, the sound making Jungkook scowl even more. “Gold-flaked caviar? That’s a bit too much, even for us.” Yoongi teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “But seriously, You’re overthinking it.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his insecurities bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get it. I’m not like them. I don’t know the rules, or how to act, or what to say or how... how to dress. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.” he says, covering his face as the stress surges through his veins.

"Well, since you brought it up... do you have an outfit for the evening?" Yoongi questions. Jungkook shrugs, a bit unsure. “Well, I have this simple suit. It’s... it's this black-”

“No way.” Yoongi interrupts, shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s no way you’re wearing a simple black suit to this thing.”

Jungkook blinks, taken aback. “What’s wrong with a simple black suit?” he asks, genuinely perplexed.

Yoongi clicks his tongue like a disappointed teacher, standing up from his seat. “This won’t do. Follow me.” he says briskly, already turning on his heels. Jungkook barely has time to react before Yoongi is leading him down the hall and into what can only be described as a dream closet.

The room is enormous, with racks of clothing neatly arranged by color and style. Spotlights illuminate the array of designer outfits, from tailored suits to silk shirts and everything in between.

Shelves line the walls, displaying polished leather shoes, neatly folded ties, and an impressive collection of watches. A faint, luxurious scent lingers in the air, and Jungkook can’t help but gape at the sheer extravagance of it all.

“Okay, let’s see.” Yoongi mutters, his sharp eyes scanning the racks like a man on a mission. He pulls out a prussian blue short coat with clean, sharp lines and a tailored fit. The material has a subtle texture that exudes luxury without being flashy. “This is so so sleek and I think this should be perfect for tonight.” he muses.

“Blue?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You think that’s the move?”

Yoongi smirks. “I don't think... I know it is.” He sets the coat aside and grabs a light blue silky dress shirt, its soft sheen adding just the right amount of elegance. “This will add a little softness. Plus, it’s classy as hell.” he explains.

Before Jungkook can protest, Yoongi moves to another section, pulling out matching prussian blue trousers. “These match the coat...” he softly says, more to himself.

Yoongi then crouches down to the shoe shelf, grabbing a pair of sleek black loafers “And these... for your feet.” He stands back up and makes his way to the display of accessories.

“We’ll keep it simple...” he murmurs, looking around and a few seconds later, he picks out a delicate diamond brooch shaped like a flower. “This is gonna add just the right amount of sophistication without being too much.” he smiles, proud of himself for the fashion choices he's making.

“Try it on.” Yoongi orders, shoving the outfit into Jungkook’s arms.

Jungkook hesitates, still overwhelmed by how much thought Yoongi has put into this. “Isn’t this… a bit too much for a tea... party?”

“Not for this one.” Yoongi says matter-of-factly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Trust me, this is how you blend in while still making a statement.. you're gonna thank me for this.”

A few minutes later, Jungkook emerges from the dressing area, and Yoongi’s face lights up in approval, completely satisfied with his work.

The prussian blue coat fits Jungkook perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders, while the silky light blue shirt adds a sophisticated edge. The trousers and polished loafers complete the look, and the diamond brooch glimmers subtly, tying everything together seamlessly. (jungkook's full outfit if u want to visualize it)

Yoongi whistles low, nodding. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You look insanely good.” he claps. Jungkook glances at himself in the mirror, stunned by the transformation. “I look… fancy.” he mutters, running a hand down the soft fabric of the coat.

Yoongi smirks. “You look expensive. And that’s exactly the point.”

//

As the clock strikes 5, Jungkook’s phone buzzes with a message from you. It’s the address of the place he’s supposed to go. The pit in his stomach deepens as he reads it... nerves gnawing at him now that the event feels real and imminent.

He stands in Yoongi’s room, fidgeting with the cuffs of the silky dress shirt he's wearing, while Yoongi carefully styles his hair. After a few minutes of fussing, Yoongi steps back, his expression satisfied. “There.... perfect.” he quips with a smirk.

Jungkook sighs, taking in his reflection. He looks different... polished, refined, like someone who owns a portfolio full of stocks and leaves enormous tips at fancy restaurants without a second thought. He tilts his head, still processing the transformation.

“Let’s head out?” Yoongi suggests, and though still hesitant, Jungkook nods, grabbing his phone and wallet before following Yoongi downstairs.

When they step outside, the familiar luxury of Yoongi's estate greets him and he instantly notices that this time, Yoongi has opted for a different car... a sleek, deep-red Ferrari Roma. The polished exterior gleams under the fading daylight, and Jungkook can’t help but gawk. "This car looks like it belongs in a museum." he mutters, still trying to process Yoongi’s absurdly lavish lifestyle.

The same guard from earlier appears, carrying Jungkook’s luggage, which he efficiently loads into the the car's surprisingly spacious trunk. Yoongi slides into the driver’s seat, revving the engine, and the low, throaty hum fills the air.

Jungkook gets into the passenger seat, muttering under his breath, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

Yoongi chuckles as he adjusts the rearview mirror. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you, Yoongi, for giving me a taste of luxury.’” he jokes.

The ride to the address you’ve shared isn’t long, but with each passing kilometer, Jungkook grows more apprehensive. The city’s bustling streets fade away, replaced by quieter, tree-lined roads. And as the sun finally sets, the atmosphere feels secluded and serene, the kind of area reserved for only the wealthiest of the wealthy.

By the time they approach the destination, it’s almost completely dark, and the surroundings are cloaked in shadow. Eventually, the headlights illuminate a massive iron gate adorned with intricate designs, the kind that looks custom-made and costs more than an average car.

Tall stone pillars flank the gate, with elegant golden lettering engraved on plaques— 'The Kims' etched prominently.

The GPS pings, signaling they’ve arrived. Before Jungkook can say a word, the gates swing open automatically, revealing a long, winding driveway lined with towering, perfectly trimmed trees. A soft glow from decorative lanterns illuminates the path, casting an ethereal ambiance over the grounds.

“Is this a driveway or a runway?” Jungkook mutters as the car rolls forward. The sheer length of the driveway seems surreal and it takes them almost five minutes to reach the end.

When they finally arrive, Yoongi slams on the brakes, his jaw dropping. “Holy fuck…” he breathes, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His voice is barely above a whisper as he asks, “Are you seeing this?”

Jungkook stares, utterly gobsmacked. Before them stands an enormous mansion, more like a palace than a home. The architecture is a seamless blend of modern elegance and classic grandeur.

A sprawling facade of pristine white marble reflects the soft golden lights strategically placed along the perimeter. Massive glass windows stretch across the mansion, framed by intricate black ironwork.

A fountain stands proudly in the center of the circular driveway, water cascading gracefully in the glow of ambient lights. The front doors are enormous, crafted from dark wood and adorned with golden handles that look like they belong in a royal palace.

Behind the mansion, faint silhouettes of sprawling gardens and additional wings of the estate hint at just how vast this property is. Jungkook feels like he’s stepped into a movie. His voice is barely audible as he murmurs. “This… This is where Y/N lives?”

“Dude...” Yoongi says, still staring at the mansion. “I told you my place would be nothing compared to this.”

As Yoongi is still marveling at the house, his hands gripping the steering wheel like he’s afraid to blink and miss something, Jungkook’s gaze drifts beyond the car's window.

Near the expansive lawn and the grand entrance of the mansion, groups of people mingle, their laughter and chatter carried on the soft evening breeze. It’s all so overwhelming, but then his eyes land on you, and suddenly, the world seems to still.

You’re standing by the grand double doors, chatting with two women who appear equally elegant. But his focus is entirely on you. You’re dressed in a stunning emerald green gown that hugs your figure just right.

The strapless design accentuates your shoulders and collarbones, and the gown flows down in soft, silky waves, brushing against the floor with every slight movement. A string of delicate pearls adorns your chest, their soft sheen catching the light with each turn of your head.

Your hair is styled in a way that frames your face beautifully, soft tendrils brushing against your cheeks. The golden glow of the mansion’s lights reflects in your eyes, making them look like the night sky dotted with stars.

You smile at something one of the girls says, and that smile... it’s the kind that makes Jungkook’s heart skip a beat, the kind that could light up even the darkest of nights.

As he sits there in Yoongi’s car, rooted to his seat, he can’t help but take in your beauty. The way you carry yourself with such grace and confidence, as though you were born to belong in a setting as grand as this. Jungkook feels his throat tighten. How? How on earth had someone like him... ordinary, flawed, and a complete mess half the time, ever managed to end up with someone like you?

You’re perfect, he thinks, in every sense of the word. From the sparkle in your eyes to the way your laughter carries, soft and melodic, across the air. He feels a pang of disbelief, as though at any moment someone might tap him on the shoulder and tell him it’s all been a dream.

His hand clenches slightly against his knee as he leans back into the seat, still staring at you, unable to look away.

And like magic, your eyes meet his from across the expanse. It’s as though the crowd and the grandeur of the mansion fade into nothing, leaving just the two of you in your own world.

Your expression instantly lights up, a radiant smile spreading across your face. You excuse yourself from the two women without the slightest bit of hesitation, your steps purposeful as you make your way towards the car parked by the grand fountain.

“Oh my god, she’s coming… she’s coming here.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, panic and exhilaration twisting together in his chest. His words snap Yoongi out of his trance, but before Yoongi can even react, Jungkook is already out of the car.

“Baby... you made it.... Hi.” you say, your voice sweet and filled with warmth as you approach him. Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. The faint scent of your perfume envelops him, soft and comforting, and for a moment, he’s too stunned to move.

Just seconds ago, Jungkook’s mind had been a mixture of nerves and doubts, the unfamiliar surroundings and the weight of everything he’d learned earlier still pressing on him. But now, as he feels your arms around him and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest, all of that melts away.

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. In your embrace, the humoungous mansion, the status of those around him, and the intimidating luxury that surrounded him, no longer mattered. None of it.

Right here, right now, he feels safe. He feels like he belongs... not with the wealth, not with the prestige, but with you. It’s in the way your presence calms his racing heart, in the way your touch grounds him. With you, it feels like home.

And in that moment, he knows. No matter how out of place he might feel in this world of opulence, as long as he has you, he’ll always belong.

“Ahem.” Yoongi clears his throat, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches the two of you pull away from the hug. He stands by the side of the car, arms casually crossed, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. His gaze flicks between you and Jungkook, his eyebrows wiggling as if to silently ask... Are you going to introduce me, or what?

Jungkook’s eyes travel to Yoongi, and the subtle shift in his expression tells Yoongi that he’s caught on to the unspoken request. He gives a small, sheepish chuckle, the tension that had lingered before, now dissipating.

“Babe, this is Yoongi.” he says, his voice soft but genuine as he reaches out to encircle your waist again, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your back. He turns his head to Yoongi with a grin. “And Yoongi… this is Y/n.”

You look at Yoongi, a warm and open smile immediately spreading across your face. You’ve only heard bits and pieces of stories about him from Jungkook, but you already have a good sense of his nature. “Yoongi, hi!” you greet him, your voice bubbling with kindness.

“Thank you so much for bringing him. I'm a little mad at you for stealing him away from me on his very first day here...” you tease, your eyes sparkling as you glance up at Jungkook. “But I still get it. I guess I’ll forgive you... only this time, though.”

Yoongi chuckles, genuinely amused by your playfulness. He raises his arms, giving a mock bow, and offers a teasing apology. “I apologize. But thank you for letting him come meet me. It was really nice catching up after all these years." he sincerely says.

You smile at the sentiment, inching closer to Jungkook as you move past the brief formality. The three of you stand for a moment, the evening breeze and the sound of the water splashing in the fountain, wrapping around you.

The conversation feels comfortable, like a warm, shared space where everyone is still figuring each other out but already enjoying the connections being made.

Then, with a sudden idea that seems to come naturally to you, you look up at Yoongi with a soft but insistent smile. “Why don’t you join us tonight? It’ll be fun.” you suggest, your tone light but sincere.

Yoongi looks like he’s about to refuse, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he opens his mouth to protest. “Oh, my god, no. It’s alright, really-”

You cut him off gently, your voice light with the promise of something easy and enjoyable. “Oh, come on. It’ll be amazing. Besides you're already here and I would feel like a horrible person if I just sent you away without an invitation. Plus, I'm pretty sure you'll find some you know in there.. so please, do come.”

Yoongi hesitates again, the pull of his curiosity and the warmth of your invitation winning him over. But deep down, he knows he’d be stupid to refuse. Why the hell wouldn’t he want to spend his evening at the Kim estate, soaking in the luxury and splendor?

“Well... if you insist…” Yoongi begins, finally giving in with a playful smirk. “I’d be honored to stay.”

Jungkook watches the exchange with a soft grin on his lips, his heart swelling with a quiet affection for you. In moments like these, it’s impossible not to marvel at how effortlessly you make everyone feel at ease.

Your ability to connect with anyone, to put people at ease with your calm demeanor and genuine interest, is one of the things he admires the most about you.

//

As the three of you enter the mansion, Jungkook’s eyes immediately widen at the sheer gloriousness of the place. The space is expansive, and the walls are adorned with elegant artwork, framed portraits, and intricate carvings that speak of a long history of wealth and taste.

The air smells faintly of fresh flowers and something warm, like vanilla, and the soft lighting gives the house an intimate yet sophisticated feel. He can’t help but be in awe, his footsteps slowing as he takes in the magnificent surroundings. From the grand chandeliers overhead to the tastefully arranged furniture, every corner is meticulously curated.

Suddenly, Yoongi is distracted by a familiar face in the crowd... a friend of his, evidently, who bumps into him as they walk into the entryway. "Yooooo...Yoongi, What are you doing here, dude?" the man beams, instantly dapping him up.

Yoongi’s expression shifts from casual to excited as he greets the man, and soon enough, they’re deep in conversation, his attention completely absorbed by the exchange.

Seizing the moment, you lean over to Jungkook and softly whisper. “Come on, let's leave Yoongi to catch up with his friend." you simply say.

Without giving him an opportunity to agree or protest, you take Jungkook’s hand and lead him up the grand staircase, the polished wooden steps creaking slightly beneath your heels.

The second floor seems even quieter than the first, with only the distant murmur of conversation from the living room and the lawn below. The hallway is empty, the walls lined with family portraits and antique furniture that speaks of both elegance and history.

As you walk down the long corridor, Jungkook follows quietly, his hand wrapped around yours, the warmth of your touch grounding him.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch his gaze and flash him a playful, flirty smile. Then, with effortless grace, you turn to face him, continuing to walk backwards, your eyes never leaving his, a teasing glint dancing in them.

A comfortable silence settles between you two as your eyes take him in. He looks undeniably charming. The way the outfit fits him, accentuating his sharp features, makes your heart flutter in a way you didn’t expect.

Even though you’ve only been apart for a few hours, you’ve missed him deeply. Unable to find the right words, you let your gaze speak for you, your eyes lingering on him with warmth and admiration, as if memorizing every detail.

“Did I tell you how fucking gorgeous you look tonight?” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the stillness, and you can't help but giggle at the awe in his expression.

His eyes glint with admiration, the kind of look that makes your heart flutter in your chest. He’s not hiding his feelings, and it’s evident from the way he glances at you, his gaze tracing your figure as if trying to etch every detail into his mind.

You feel a spark ignite inside you at his words, but you manage a smile, keeping your composure as you look at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” you tease, your steps slowing as he steps closer, releasing your fingers from his hold as he places his hands on your waist, halting you in your tracks.

The corridor feels quieter now, the faint hum of distant chatter fading into the background as his presence fills the space. He pulls you closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “I missed you.” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest, his gaze flickering to your lips. And as though it’s second nature, he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss.

A smile curls on your lips as you kiss him back, the warmth of the moment sending a flurry of butterflies through you. You can’t understand how he always manages to have this effect on you, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“I missed you too.” you whisper as he pulls away, your eyes catching the faint shimmer of your lip gloss now smudged on his lips.

Despite the intimate moment you’ve just shared, you can’t help but laugh softly. He tilts his head in slight confusion, his brow arching adorably. Without saying a word, you take his hand again, leading him forward down the corridor.

“Come on, I want to show you my room.” you say, your voice light and eager as you guide him further into the corridor.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in eagerness as you lead him further down the corridor, past several closed doors. The silence around you both feels almost comforting, as if this is a moment just for the two of you... away from the grandiose of the house and the people downstairs. You’re aware of the weight of the space around you, but in this moment, you’re only aware of him.

“I’ve lived in this house ever since I was a baby...” you continue, your voice quiet but soft, allowing a sense of nostalgia to seep in. “After moving out to New York, the one thing I missed the most was my room.” You look up at him, your smile deepening. “So... I really just... wanted to show it to you.”

Jungkook seems struck by your words, his curiosity piqued, but you don’t elaborate further. You can tell he’s fascinated by the house... he’s seen enough of it already to know it’s not just a regular mansion, but you’re careful not to make him feel overwhelmed.

You don’t want him to think you’re bragging or showing off, not when it comes to your family’s history or the house that’s been passed down for generations. It’s always been a part of you, but you’ve always hated the idea of people seeing you through the lens of privilege.

You’ve never been the type to flaunt it, but the quiet discomfort always lingers. The fear that people will think you’re trying to distance yourself from others or act like you’re somehow above them. It’s why you’ve never told Jungkook much about your background, not in the way some people might expect. You didn’t want him to misunderstand.

As you round a corner and approach your door, Jungkook glances at you, sensing that there’s something more beneath the surface of your words. He opens his mouth to ask, but you cut him off gently with a soft smile, knowing he’ll get to know everything in time.

For now, all that matters is this moment, and as you unlock the door to your room, you can’t help but feel an odd sense of calm. You’ve never shared this part of yourself with anyone before... not like this. But with him, it feels like you’re finally letting him see all of you.

As you switch the lights on, a soft glow fills the room, instantly giving it a warm, inviting ambiance. Jungkook takes a step inside, his gaze sweeping over the delicate details that make up the space. The walls are painted in a blush pink hue, accentuated by crown molding in a creamy white tone.

The furniture matches the aesthetic, with an elegant white queen sized bed and a quilted headboard adorned with tiny, pearl-like studs.

There’s a fluffy cream rug sprawled across the polished wooden floor, and a cozy armchair tucked into the corner beside a tall bookshelf that’s overflowing with colorful novels, fashion magazines and trinkets.

The vanity table by the window catches his attention, its surface sprinkled with makeup items, a small vase of fresh flowers, and neatly arranged bottles of perfume. Above it, a mirror framed with soft golden lights reflects the subtle shimmer of the space.

The walls are brought to life with framed posters of iconic bands and celebrities, each placed thoughtfully, as though telling a story. A string of Polaroid pictures hangs on the wall near the bed, giving the room a personal, nostalgic touch.

He notices little figurines of 'Hello Kitty' on a floating shelf and a small collection of plush toys sitting in a basket near the window seat. The room feels youthful and dreamy, like stepping into a snapshot of your childhood.

Jungkook takes it all in, pausing as his eyes land on the posters and the subtle quirks that reveal glimpses of your younger self. He can’t help but imagine you here as a teenager... probably sprawled out on the bed, reading or listening to music, daydreaming about the future. The thought makes him smile, a warm fondness settling in his chest.

His thoughts are interrupted as you walk over to the vanity and pick up a picture frame, holding it up with a soft smile. “That’s me...” you say, pointing to a baby in the photo. Jungkook steps closer, curious, and his eyes fall on a little version of you, chubby-cheeked and wide-eyed. “And that... is Tae.” you continue, pointing to a young toddler that's securely holding you in his tiny arms.

Jungkook chuckles softly, leaning in to get a better look. “You still look the same.” he chuckles, his gaze shifting between the picture and you. "And Taehyung looks like he’s already ready to fight anyone who gets near you." he adds.

You laugh, gently setting the frame back down. You glance at the photo one last time, feeling a small tug of nostalgia before turning to Jungkook, who’s still looking around, clearly charmed by this intimate glimpse into your past.

"Your room is beautiful." he finally says, his voice soft with admiration as his gaze takes in the delicate details surrounding him. He can't believe he's being shown this deeply personal part of your life, and it makes him feel incredibly special.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his neck with a tender smile. "Thank you, baby. I'm so glad I could show it to you." you say, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Just as the moment seems perfect, your expression shifts like you've suddenly remembered something crucial. "Oh my god! wait... no way... I totally forgot!!" you exclaim, breaking away from him.

Jungkook is bewildered for what feels like the hundredth time today as you grab his hand and practically drag him out of the room and down the long corridor. He's still trying to process what’s happening when you lead him back downstairs. His eyes dart around, noticing the guests still lost in their conversations, oblivious to the two of you passing by.

"I told my mom I'd introduce you to her the minute you'd arrive but… I totally forgot!" you admit hurriedly, your voice tinged with a mix of excitement and guilt as you weave through the crowd.

The words hit Jungkook like a bolt of lightning, and his eyes widen in panic. Your mom? He was going to meet your mom? Right now? No warning, no preparation? He feels a surge of anxiety bubbling up in his chest.

"Wait... wait!" he halts abruptly, tugging your hand so you’re forced to turn around and look at him in confusion. "Babe, a warning would have been nice. I need to prepare myself for this moment... this is your mom we're talking about." he breathes out, clutching his chest dramatically.

You chuckle, brushing off his concerns with ease. "Oh, come on, Kook. She's just my mom. You'll be fine, I promise." you assure, gently tugging his hand again, urging him to follow you.

Reluctantly, Jungkook lets himself be led through a side door and into what appears to be the kitchen. As soon as he steps inside, he’s overwhelmed by the bustling atmosphere. The space is alive with activity... chefs moving in synchrony, slicing, plating, and perfecting dishes with meticulous attention to the tiniest details.

The scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the aroma of roasted meat and delicate spices, creating a sensory overload.

Jungkook’s gaze darts from one end of the kitchen to the other, trying to absorb everything at once. A massive spread of colorful dishes is being prepared on a long marble countertop, and he doesn’t even know where to focus. For a moment, he forgets his nerves as he marvels at the organized chaos around him.

"Stay with me." you murmur, squeezing his hand reassuringly. But Jungkook can’t help but think about how this might be the most intimidating moment of his life... meeting your mom in the middle of what feels like a five-star culinary operation.

You glance around the bustling kitchen, scanning the scene for your mom. It doesn’t take long before you spot her back as she leans slightly towards one of the chefs, gesturing animatedly while the chef nods thoughtfully, hanging on her every word.

There’s a commanding yet sophisticated presence about her, and the sight makes a smile creep onto your lips. Without hesitation, you tug Jungkook along, your excitement bubbling over. “Mama!!” you call out, your voice cutting through the hum of the kitchen.

At first, she doesn’t respond, too engrossed in giving precise instructions about something to the chef. You don’t mind, though because you know how focused she can get when she’s in her element.

As you approach her, you release Jungkook’s hand, letting him stand beside you as he instinctively straightens his coat, smoothing the fabric nervously.

Now only a few steps away, you finally stop, waiting patiently for her to finish her instructions. Jungkook stands a little stiffly next to you, his hands clasped in front of him as he watches the exchange, silently psyching himself up for what’s coming next.

Once she finishes instructing the chef, she finally turns around, her soft features lighting up with a smile when her eyes land on you. “Y/N.” she says warmly, acknowledging you.

Her appearance is effortlessly chic, exuding an aura of power and sophistication. Dressed in a sleek, wine colored dress paired with a delicate pearl necklace and stud earrings, she looks into your eyes.

Her posture is immaculate, shoulders back, chin high, and she carries herself with an air of unshakable authority. Her eyes... sharp and piercing, hold a fierceness that can make anyone squirm under her gaze.

She’s never been the one to smile easily, and even now, her expression holds a seriousness that makes Jungkook feel like he’s being sized up before he’s even said a word.

But when her eyes shift to Jungkook, her demeanor subtly changes. The faint smile that played on her lips moments ago falters, replaced by a look of mild disapproval.

One of her eyebrows arches as she takes in the man standing beside you, and Jungkook immediately feels the weight of her scrutiny. It’s clear from the way her gaze lingers that she’s not the least bit pleased to meet him.

“Mama, this is Jungkook.” you begin sweetly, your voice light and cheerful, as if trying to bridge the gap of tension. “I told you I was bringing him.” You smile at her, radiating warmth, but it’s met with a polite but distant smile from her, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Jungkook isn’t blind to it, he can see the coldness lurking behind her expression.

“Hello.” she finally says, her tone neutral, devoid of warmth. Her words are carefully measured, making Jungkook feel like she’s already testing him.

He feels his heart rate spike, but he doesn’t let it show. With a deep breath, he bows at a perfect right angle, his voice steady as he speaks. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He straightens up, his posture confident despite the nervous energy coursing through him.

He meets her fierce gaze head-on, determined to make a good impression, though her icy stare makes him feel like he’s being dissected.

You glance at Jungkook, noticing his effort, and squeeze his hand briefly before stepping closer to your mother, hoping to ease the tension.

She nods curtly as Jungkook introduces himself, her sharp eyes trailing over him from head to toe, as though she’s analyzing every detail.

"So, you're from New York?" she asks suddenly, her voice carrying an edge that makes Jungkook straighten his posture. The question catches him slightly off guard, but he quickly nods in acknowledgment.

"Yes, ma’am." he answers politely, his voice steady.

Your mother narrows her eyes slightly, a calculating look flashing across her face. "I'm sure you've noticed how different things are around here... in Korea." she says, her tone almost conversational, though there's an unmistakable undercurrent of something more. "Very different from your... western culture." she adds, the words laced with what feels like a taunt.

You shift uncomfortably, sensing the rising tension. Jungkook hesitates, unsure of how to respond, and you decide to step in. "Mama, he lived in Korea before he moved to New York..." you explain gently, trying to diffuse the situation. "I'm sure he knows how things are around here."

But your mother doesn't acknowledge your reassurance. Her piercing gaze stays fixed on Jungkook. "Your parents?" she asks next, one eyebrow raised, her expression unyielding.

Jungkook’s throat tightens as he answers, his tone polite but guarded. "My mom... she owns a café in New York." he replies, hoping to keep the answer straightforward.

Your mother’s expression barely changes, but Jungkook notices the faintest flicker of disapproval in her eyes. It’s subtle, but it cuts deep. "Ah... so it's only your mother, then?" she probes further, her voice calm but pointed.

You feel your stomach drop at her words, the implicit judgment in her tone impossible to miss. Your protective instincts kick in immediately, and before she can say anything more, you interject.

"Okay, Mama, that's enough interrogation for now..." you say, your voice cheerful but firm as you grab Jungkook’s hand. "We need to get going. Grandma is going to be here any minute now... and the party is going to start soon." you add.

Jungkook notices the way her eyes flick down to your intertwined hands, and her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. She doesn’t say anything, though, merely nodding stiffly as she steps back.

Before the situation can escalate further, you tug Jungkook out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As soon as you’re out of your mother's sight, you stop and turn to him, your expression apologetic.

"I am so so so sorry for that." you say quickly, your eyes scanning his face. You can see how pale he looks, the color drained from his cheeks. The conversation clearly rattled him, and it breaks your heart.

"I don’t know why she was acting like that." you continue, your voice softening as you place a comforting hand on his cheek. "I’m really sorry, baby. That wasn’t fair to you."

Jungkook exhales slowly, feeling the warmth of your palm against his skin. He hates how unsettled he feels, the subtle but unmistakable judgment in your mother’s eyes still gnawing at him.

He’s not naive, he knows exactly what her words and looks implied. But he doesn’t want to burden you with his feelings, so he forces a small smile and shrugs.

"Please... don’t apologize." he says gently, his voice calm but distant. "She’s your mother. I get why she’d question me like that... I’m dating her daughter, after all." he reasons.

His attempt to brush it off doesn’t fool you, but you decide not to push him. Instead, you give his cheek a small caress, hoping to soothe him.

Sensing the heaviness lingering between you, Jungkook shifts the conversation. "Anyways... don’t we have a tea party to get to?" he asks with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite the war in his mind.

You know he’s deflecting, choosing not to dwell on the interaction with your mother. So you let him, offering him a gentle smile in return. "We do." you reply softly, squeezing his hand. "Come on, let’s go."

As Jungkook trails behind you, the weight in his chest feels almost suffocating, each step amplifying the unease swirling in his mind.

Three weeks... that’s how long he’s going to be here for. The thought echoes in his head, heavier with every repetition.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to endure it, not when your mother’s piercing gaze feels like it sees right through him, layered with unspoken judgments that cut deeper than words ever could.

The very idea looms ahead, an uphill battle he isn’t sure he’s equipped to fight, yet one he knows he cannot avoid.

<- part 1 // part3 ->

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy (lmk if u want to be added <3)

[etherealyoungk]

the boy next door | choi seungcheol

✩ seventeen as romantic tropes series ✩ masterlist ✩

PAIRING: seungcheol x reader

THEMES: boy next door trope, mutual pining, fluff, pinch of angst

WARNINGS: kissing, shirtless cheol-

WORDCOUNT: 2017

A/N: enjoy <3

choi seungcheol, he had always been the boy next door. ever since you moved into the neighbourhood four years ago, you got to know him and his family. it was like there was just a spontaneous spark between your family and his and they bonded immediately. you'd gone to the same school as seungcheol, become good friends with him, and graduated highschool together. and now here you were going to his family's beach house for a little summer vacation before college started.

"are you packing to move to the beach permanently?", seungcheol questions when he sees the way you're sitting on your suitcase and trying to close it, because it won't seem to zip close otherwise, not with the way you've stuffed it full.

"shut up if you're not going to be of any help", you tell, frustrated, struggling even more.

seungcheol wordlessly bends down the same moment you slide off the suitcase. he pushes it down with one hand, his ridiculously big bicep flexing as his other hand finds the zip and he manages to close it with ease and grace, unlike you.

he looks at you, proud and you give him a thumbs up. "are you excited?", he asks you. "very, gotta use the last of my freedom before college starts", you tell as you sit on the floor.

"well, i'll see you tomorrow, i should head back, mom's been after me because i still haven't packed", he says, getting up and ruffling your hair in the process before he leaves.

your and seungcheol's dynamic was like close friends. you two had grown close over the years, sharing countless memories and inside jokes. but this year felt different somehow as if there was an unspoken shift in the air and you couldn't help but feel something, something that tugged at your heartstrings.

the next day you bid your parents goodbye for the next two weeks and you're sitting in the car, seungcheol beside you as you head to his family's beach house. you were more than excited and ready for this vacation. you fall asleep in the middle of the journey, resting your head on seungcheol's shoulder as you doze off. after a while you feel someone softly shake you awake and your eyes flutter open.

"wake up sleepyhead, we've reached", seungcheol says as you lift your head up, still sleepy. he proceeds to clutch his shoulder dramatically, telling you how inconvenienced he was and you smack him, annoyed, but you can tell by the way he laughs and smiles stupidly that he was teasing you he like he did.

that day you don't really do much other than settling in the small room you had and helping his mom with preparing dinner while seungcheol was off on a side quest his dad had sent him.

the next day, the sun was already high in the sky as you made your way towards the beach, the salty breeze teasing your skin and tousling your hair. you're wearing shorts and a crop top and you felt the warmth of the sun against your bare arms, a sense of freedom washing over you with every step.

you're halfway to the beach when you hear seungcheol call out for you. you turn around and your jaw almost drops to the ground. why?

because seungcheol was shirtless, his bare chest basking in the sunlight. his toned body and physique was on full display. it was like a scene from a movie and for a moment, you found yourself frozen in awe as you stared at him. "wait up", he says as he jogs towards you with an easy smile, catching up to you. you can feel your heart rate quicken as he closes the distance, his presence commanding attention with every step. you have to pry your gaze away from his sculpted form, and you focus on the ground beneath your feet, willing yourself to regain composure.

together, you continued towards the beach, the sound of the crashing waves growing louder with each passing moment. despite your best efforts to maintain a casual demeanour, the image of seungcheol's shirtless figure lingered in your mind, sending a flurry of butterflies dancing in your stomach as you tried to keep your eyes straight and not dart towards his side.

you walk towards the water and sigh as the cool water envelops your feet, a contented sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the wet sand between your toes grounding you in the moment. you close your eyes, feeling the breeze tangle in your hair. but your tranquillity was short-lived as a sudden splash of water jolts you from your moment, drawing your gaze to the mischievous grin of none other than seungcheol.

a playful glint dances in his eyes as he launches another playful splash at you, the droplets of water peppering your skin. "oh you're asking for it aren't you", you tell with a teasing grin of your own, bending down to scoop some water in your hands and retaliating with a splash of your own. you both walk a little deeper into the water and he splashes you again. his hands grab your waist as he captures you in his grip and you've been utterly defeated. you let out a laugh as he loosens his grip on you and you turn around, looking at him. his hands linger on your waist and you gulp as you try to calm your racing heart.

the next week goes by and you're having fun and having a great time relaxing, spending time with seungcheol's family and having some wind-down time for yourself as well. the only thing that seemed to really affect you and your brain chemistry? the fact that seungcheol was practically walking around shirtless the entire time. you swear it was like he hadn't even packed any shirts because you don't think you'd seen one on him apart from once.

as the days went on, the realisation that you liked seungcheol crept up to you like the tide rolling in and you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that your feelings for seungcheol were evolving into something more than mere friendship. it was starting to make you feel restless and uneasy.

you found yourself lying awake in bed, thinking about seungcheol. despite spending every day together, it was never enough. there was a craving for more, a desire for more of his company, more of his laughter, more of him. so you decide to create some distance between you and seungcheol because that was the only way you could think of to deal with your complicated emotions.

seungcheol notices on the second day. he notices the subtle changes in your behaviour, the way you're not spending time with him like you were, somehow always being holed up in your room more often than before. the way you would make excuses to stay back whenever he was going to the local market or on an errand his dad sent him on instead of tagging along like you always did. just the way you were keeping a distance from him, talking less, not your usual self had him worried and the distance started to eat away at his heart. had he done something wrong?

the next day he decides to do something about it. so he climbs up your balcony late into the cool night and knocks on your window, startling you.

"seungcheol what the hell?", you nearly shout when you see him balancing on your balcony with that stupid grin that made you heart somersault. thankfully he was wearing a shirt otherwise you would have sworn you'd have gone insane otherwise.

"i want to show you something", he tells, offering his hand to you.

"i'm tired, later okay", you tell, making an excuse. seungcheol's smile falters a but his determination does not.

"please, you can only see it today", he says, reaching for your hand anyway, not willing to let you get away this time.

you glare at him but give in and seungcheol beckons you to climb out the window and follow him.

"what-i am not climbing the roof seungcheol what is wrong with you?", you whisper yell because it's late into the night and you don't want to wake his parents up.

"trust me okay", he tells, taking your hand, holding it firmly and helping you climb onto the roof. you're gripping onto seungcheol's hand so tight once you get on the roof, scared and the sudden height makes you dizzy, making you stand closer to him. his arm finds your waist to help steady and ground you and he guides you to a small portion of the roof. he sits down and so do you.

"care to explain why we're here?", you prompt, looking at seungcheol.

"look up, see that constellation over there?", he says, pointing out to it. your eyes search the night sky for the constellation he was pointing at, expecting something extraordinary but it was only the same old one you see every day.

"but i see that every day", you tell, giving him an unbelievable look.

"exactly, just like you see me everyday. so why are you suddenly avoiding me?", he asks with a raise of his brow as he looks deepy into your eyes.

"i-i'm not avoiding you", you tell, lying but seungcheol can see right through you.

"seriously yn? you expect me to believe that?", he asks, giving you another look as he runs a hand through his hair. "what's going on? you can tell me", he assures, looking at you and waiting for you to speak, giving you that space.

you sigh and look ahead, watching the beach, the water mostly still apart from small waves. the salty breeze tangles into your hair and the night is chilly, stars peppering the deep blue night sky. how could tell seungcheol you liked him?

"it's stupid okay and not important", you tell, dismissing the topic and your feelings. "it's not stupid if it's bothering you", he says, looking at you with those big, sweet, brown eyes that you can't help but fall for deeper.

you gulp. "i think i like you", you tell so softly after a few moments of silence. your words are so soft that seungcheol would have missed it if he wasn't listening so carefully and you see the small wave of emotion that ripples through his face and eyes.

"i told you it's stupid, just forget i said anything", you tell, moving to get up but seungcheol doesn't let you, holding you back down.

"don't i get a say in this?", he asks, and the tone of his voice makes you sit up straighter somehow.

"no? it'll be embarrassing if you're going to reject me, it's better if we stay friends anyway", you tell, already feeling nervous.

"i think i like you too", he says, his words cutting into the tense air between you both and you can only blink at him as he gazes at you.

"you know when we went to prom together because no other guy asked you out and i took you since you were so excited and wanted to go? that's the moment i realised i liked you, liked you more than friends. you were glowing that night", he fills in, his words making your breath catch.

and you both continue to look at each other until you break eye contact, nervous and a little overwhelmed.

"we shouldn't", you tell softly. "why not?", he asks, moving closer his hand coming to cup your cheek and you steal a glance at his lips. he leans in slowly and you do too until his lips meet yours and he leaves a soft kiss on your lips. he pulls away, looking at you, only to be pulled back as you grab his shirt, kissing him again.

he kisses you back, slowly moving his lips against yours and you sigh into the kiss because no matter how many times you had imagined this moment, nothing would compare to the real one right now.

seungcheol kisses you sweetly under the moonlight and star-speckled sky and all you can do is kiss him back because nothing could have prepared you for how hard you would fall for the boy next door.

taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @blue-jisungs @wootify @n4mj00nvq @itsveronicaxxx @fallingforshua29 @joshuaahong @frankenstein852 @lvlystars @mirxzii @wheeboo @fairyhaos @kikohao @rubywonu @odxrilove @writingmeraki @asasilentreader @kwonshiho @belladaises @graybaeismytae @mykpopficblog @seunghancore @emotionalsupportbrat @moodays @avaaahuang @foxinnie8 @wonvsmile

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 2)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 1, Part 3

summary: Your new roommate has... interesting habits.

warnings: sexually suggestive, nothing explicit.

a/n: i think i've realised miggy in this fic is a combo of his movie and comic counterpart. Miguel O'Hara: part-time whore lmfaooo

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lady death, at the cradle of a babe.

You've decided: if Miguel's the Sun, then you're a black hole. Cold and dark where he was warm, to seemingly everyone else but you. Even then, the metaphor didn't carry, and O'Hara wasn't quite the shining centre of the universe you had first thought him to be.  

In the dim gloom of a little lamp on your bedside table, you’re left squinting at a crisp white document. Blank; save for a thousand tabs open, and the blue links of a half-hearted bibliography. You’ve got the bare bones of an assignment; left too late, as usual. The rest lies at the tip of your tongue; nips at the ends of your fingers like the heat of cigarette butts, and as fleeting as wispy smoke in an ashtray. To get yourself through it, you’ve resorted to romanticising it all, pretending you're a wistful poet dipping the feathered end of a quill into ink. Writing something… revolutionary; as opposed to the mish-mash of articles and studies you’ve crammed within the last hour and a half. There’s a pounding at your skull: the dull beginnings of a migraine, most likely. You squeeze at your temples, eyes shut – and the thrum matches the thud at your thin walls. Rhythmic, obscene, and it creates a cruel staccato; shaking the flimsy plasterboard that separates your room from your roommate’s. 

He’s fucking someone. Loud, like it can’t be heard by half the complex. It's the third girl he’s had over in as many weeks. Not that you were keeping count. For a supposed tutor, you hadn’t seen much studying - despite the bright eyed young women that seemed to be at your doorstep most days. Perhaps you're being dramatic, but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the kind of pupils Miguel had had the privilege to “teach”.

You remember the first time the true weight of Jia’s words became clear: whilst banging on the front door after a draining day of lectures. 

You’d forgotten your keys after rushing out the morning of, and arrived to a locked door in the afternoon. You had been starving, insides churning with the thought of takeout you’d saved the night before; a greasy bag nestled in the corner of your shelf in the fridge. So maybe you'd been antsy, irritable at a stretch; fist on the door like a divorce lawyer, hungry in more ways than one. 

Wasn’t Miguel already home? He had to be, you can hear the low tones of his voice leaking from the gaps at the sides of the door. And.. rustling, the shift of fabric tousled and pillows hitting the floor. It’s then that you hear another voice, higher pitched; gentle and soft where his is baritone. If you’re not mistaken; and something at the pit of your stomach hopes you are, for some reason; he’s laughing, speaking in hushed tones, whilst she giggles at something he said. You bang at the door even harder, hoping the sharp rap-rap-rap interrupts him. It feels like you’ve had half of your college’s senior cohort in the city in and out of your apartment - or, at the very least, the pretty ones. For some reason, this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back; and your knuckles sting against the lacquered wood. You’ve half a mind to shout into the keyhole, to tell him to hurry the fuck up, or else–

Miguel opens, brow tight, and wiping something from his lips with the back of his hand. It’s suspicious; he looks carefully flushed, lips plump and cheeks slightly ruddy. You notice the way his head flops onto the lip of the open door; slightly out of breath like he’s done a dozen push ups. And with the way his biceps flex and tense under his open button up; paired with some slacks in a pitiful attempt to look less slutty; he might have. The image makes you purse your lips to stop inappropriate laughter: Miguel on the floor, brows kneaded in concentration as the woman in your apartment looks on, entranced. It feels more plausible than the reality; making out on your couch, whilst her hands travel to undo the button at his waistband.

What doesn’t help, is the look he gives you; like you’ve interrupted something important.

“Oh.” He says, clearly deflated. “It’s… you.”

You flash him a sarcastic smile and push past into the front room. You’ve seen her before: the girl on your couch. Sarah, a pretty thing in Miguel’s advanced Math class, you’d learned from the last few weeks. It’s not the first time she’d been over, but she doesn’t usually stay; rather, she’d drop something off at the door and twirl her hair whilst she waited. You’d answer, because of course he was never home at the right times, and she’d crane her head in for a glimpse of him. The first time; you were struck by the effortlessness of her beauty. And on your sofa, she seemed hardly fazed; the gentle curve of her stomach and thighs spilling onto the tattered cushions, donned in a patterned sundress. Her lips are pert, curved into a knowing smile as she giggles at the scene you and Miguel make at the door. 

“Hey, Sarah.” You give her a small wave as you make your way into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. However, you don’t have the energy to dignify Miguel with a response – so you stay silent. He bristles.

“You don’t have a key, or something?” You’re digging through the shelves as he calls out to you, hands on his hips like you’re in the wrong. You can’t help but hiss under your breath. He’s got an attitude, when only one of you had been left outside the door; starved and exhausted. And the other: getting off on your sofa. Poor Miguel, left with a limp dick and full balls.

 "Forgot." Your answer is curt, and you don't even bother to look up. You can hear him scoff, incredulous - as if the mere idea was so offensive. It makes anger bubble up at your gut, head still buried behind the fridge door. 

"That's convenient." You can't hear the words that come out after, but you're sure it's not exactly glowing praise. You lob a hypothetical grenade over the lip of the fridge door: a middle finger, crisp and clear. 

Takeout in hand, and a bag over your shoulder that feels like a concrete block; you drag yourself to your room, without giving Miguel so much as a second glance. When the door slams, you're hit with the full weight of Jia's words; a moment that seems so long ago. Miguel's probably picky about who he tutors for the same reason people swipe left and right on dating apps: he's an unrepentant whore. 

The thought had seemed somewhat premature, at the time. You had had little to no evidence: a string of pretty women in your apartment did not a slut make, after all. It wasn't quite enough, just a knee-jerk reaction after a bad day. The most charitable interpretations tell you that by all means, your roommate is an upstanding guy. A model student; who left his undergrad with honours and a disgustingly high GPA, head of half a dozen clubs and societies, and currently getting his masters sponsored by a prestigious biotech company in the city. He’s a chronic overachiever, more or less.  All things you've learnt from the people he’s tutored, small talk in between sessions (and they’ve all been nice enough). It seems a little more than convenient that the prettiest ones end up in your apartment - in his bed. And yet, you can’t get a straight answer from the man himself. Favours for a couple of friends, he says every time you complain. 

With the noises you hear from the room over, you wonder how he treats the friends he really likes. 

You think he’s doing it on purpose. That’s the only explanation you’re left with as you massage your temples in desperation. A steady pounding, that makes the shared wall shudder. Interspersed with graphic moans, the higher pitched panting of his partner; Yes Miguel and Just like that; seems to blend with his groans. Sleep pulls at your eyes, and you want to scream into the pillows. It’s muffled, but you can make out his voice beyond the wall; low, hushed tones that makes desire pool at the base of your stomach. And you’d rather die than admit it; but you zone out for a moment, a little lost in the haze of a daydream. God, his stamina. It feels like they’ve been going for hours, obscene grunts and groans spilling into your room. The wide span of his shoulders, the way light is cut at his jawline - and you wonder what he’d look like on top, or the sounds he’d make underneath.

Shaking your head, you try to convince yourself: it's the lack of sleep that makes you think of the way his hands would feel on your waist.

~~~

The honeymoon stage, if there ever was one, was well and truly over. 

In the morning, you’re woken up by the thud of the front door. Laptop cracked open on the covers, you shift to wipe the drool crusted on the side of your mouth. The good news: you remember getting down a couple thousand words before fitful sleep. Not to a great standard, of course, but as your deadline approaches, you’re grateful for whatever you can scrape together. Stretching, your back creaks with the memory of last night: hunched over your laptop, barely able to concentrate. Still in pyjamas from last night, you pad into the front room, looking for water to satisfy your dry mouth. 

The bad news: you’re met with Miguel on the sofa, splayed out on the cushions lazily. There’s a mug of something on a side table, which he’s clearly neglected; eyes closed, and an arm drawn upwards to expose the tan skin of his chest. He’s wearing nothing but loose plaid pants, hair a mess and frustratingly peaceful. For once, he’s not wearing the perpetual frown you’ve been subjected to for the past few weeks, and he looks five years younger as a result. You tilt your head to the side – like a mere 90 degrees would make him look any different – and you can’t believe this was the man who was terrorising you the night before. He looks… cute. Innocent, almost.

The sight makes you scoff. You snatch a glass from the cupboard with a clink-clink, and he stirs. You watch him stretch as you fill it; a mop of brown peeking over the back of the couch. He peers over, groggy and seemingly confused. 

"....When did you get back?" His voice is gravelly, heavy with last night's sleep – or lack thereof. You ignore the feelings it stirs up; pleasant and comfortable and domestic. 

"Good morning to you too, " You say it under your breath but he hears; catches it and holds it at his chest like a songbird. One hand over his heart, he smiles, wide; a lazy, sarcastic grin, but it still makes your face heat up. It's too damn early for this, you think. "I wasn't… for fuck's sake… I came back last night."

"Oh." He frowns, sweeping into the kitchen, and opening up the cupboard. 

"I couldn't sleep." Miguel's not stupid, and you wait for him to take the hint. "There was… too much noise last night."

"So that's why you're up early." He clicks his tongue. "You don't have a lecture to be late for?"

"You don't have another girl to fuck and ignore?" Without missing a beat, you snap at him – too tired and annoyed to entertain it. 

"Ouch." It's blaise, thrown over his shoulder without a second thought. He doesn't even look at you, head buried and eyes scanning the shelves – looking for his morning coffee, no doubt. He finds it, opening the packet and elbowing you in the process, and you give him a glare. Did he have to do that right next to you? 

You catch the ghost of a smile on his face. 

"...Miguel?" You say; quietly, because you can't quite find your next words. 

"Hmm?" He hums, fiddling around with the machine; a ritual you've only caught glimpses of. 

How do you tell your roommate you can hear him have obnoxious sex through thin walls? Well, probably by opening your mouth and saying it, but anything resembling your true feelings dies in your throat. 

He doesn't prompt you to finish the question, choosing to let the silence wash over you both. The clattering of a spoon against ceramic is the only noise in the little kitchen. It's not something you hear too often - never waking up at the same time as Miguel through a combination of coincidence and sheer willpower. Naturally, your routines are asynchronous - a half step, half-hearted jig to crashing music. That is to say: if you and your roommate were partners in a… ballroom, perhaps: you’d be stepped-on-toes and two-left-feet on the dancefloor. Disastrous, to say the least.

And yet, half-asleep, you watch as he pads around the kitchen; poking into cupboards and bringing out the ingredients to a hearty breakfast. Eggs and chorizo and tortillas; your stomach rumbles at the thought of a proper cooked meal. Ever the stereotypical college student, your usual food has mostly been instant noodles and leftovers. Maybe you’re just tired, but he makes the drawers and fridge shelves seem bottomless. It’s clear Miguel eats and he eats well – because of course he does.

“Could you…” You jump a bit when he places a gentle hand at your waist, moving you to the side as he reaches for a chopping board on the counter. “Sorry. Do you mind?”

It’s brief, but the fleeting touch fucks with your head as he cooks. Flashes of the night before run up your spine, electric. You watch his deft fingers fly on the chopping board; slender, a wide palm covering the span of a large pepper. How would they feel on your waist – properly – at the crook of your back, or at your thighs? Sighing, you chew the inside of your cheek and lean your head back against the wall. You feel the whispers of another headache. It's much too early for this.

He puts a pan on the stove. Shirtless, despite the heat of the spitting oil, and he pops a piece of a bell pepper in his mouth with a little smile that makes you roll your eyes. It's smug, somehow, like he knows something you don't – like he knows exactly what he did yesterday (or rather, who) and he’s enjoying your reaction.

Except: you’re exhausted, and he’s giggling like you’ve caught a kid with cookie crumbs on their face, empty jar in hand. 

It’s a quiet he sits with, comfortable; moving around the space with the kind of familiarity that comes with time. It makes you wonder just how long he's been here, which other roommates he’s terrorised over the years. Maybe, Miguel’s got a reputation, and there’s a Yelp review sitting somewhere you’ve neglected to read.

“Did you see her leave?” He still doesn’t look at you. Instead, his eyes are trained at the eggs on the pan, onions and veg making a lopsided smile in the runny yolk. Even his food seems smug.

“Her?” You frown, not quite following. 

“...Katie?” He says it like it’s obvious, as if her name alone should set off half a dozen bells in your head. It’s Katie, this time - not Jia, or Sita, or the slew of other girls he’s been fucking in the past few weeks alone.

Your eye twitches. Involuntarily, of course, but it feels like your body is physically rejecting his bullshit.

“I didn’t know she stayed the night.” A lie, obviously. You heard her well enough through the walls, not even a couple of hours ago.

“S’okay,” He shakes his head, nonchalant. You trace the curve of his shoulders and gentle slope of his plump lips. “I would’ve called her an Uber, or something.”

“You’re a gentleman, Miguel.”

And he laughs, a deep rumble that rings off the tiles. Admittedly, you like the way it sounds, and the way his eyes crinkle up into crows feet. He’s pretty, you think. In an annoying kind of way.

Oh, fuck him. You get closer, and stick a fingertip into the rich red of the pan. Wrapping your lips around it, with the heat of Miguel at your back, and yes, it's fine. Okay, fucking incredible – you know, nothing you haven’t tasted before.

Making eye contact, you watch him blink in surprise. It’s the first time you’ve seen him unsure of himself; not dripping with the arrogance of a few minutes ago. Not wanting to give anything away, you keep your face steady.

"Needs salt, I think."

The spell is broken and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I've seen the crap you shovel into that big mouth of yours… ¿mi mamá no me enseñó a cocinar para que vengas a decirme que sabe mal…?"

[My mom didn't teach me how to cook so you can come here and tell me it tastes bad…?]

It's your turn to smile at the sweet taste of revenge. Not enough to fuel the next couple hours of essay writing, but a small victory nonetheless. You flash him pink tongue, and watch as his gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second. 

"More salt?" He scoffs. "You wouldn't know good food if it bit you on the ass."

It's childish, but he chucks a tea towel at your head; and you narrowly miss it. 

"Asshole." You spit out, frustrated. Your stomach grumbles, loud, and you watch his face crack, amused. 

His lips curve into a shit-eating grin. "Idiot." 

Face tight, you storm out of the kitchen. 

You're holed up in your room for the rest of the day; only leaving for snack and toilet breaks. Luckily, Miguel doesn't disturb you, except for a full plate left outside your doorstep in the morning. It tastes delicious; warm and homely, but you'd rather pull your teeth out than see that stupid fucking grin on his face. Instead, you give him a grudging thanks, shrugging as if to say: it was somewhat edible. 

And when you hit send on your essay, with a whole 11 minutes to spare, you sigh in relief. You got through it, eventually; even though your roommate is trying to kill you, your new apartment is falling apart and you're failing half your classes already. But you're through the day, and approaching the end of the week with minimal emotional damage. Key word: minimal. 

In the warmth under the covers of your bed, it makes you think. It can't get any worse, right? It won't – it can't. 

Something shifts. Like a rip in the space time continuum or a malevolent god, the universe snatches up that thought; ripe and ready to spit you back out onto the fire. 

~~~

You wake up and something feels off, already. For one, light streams in through the blinds, a slight chill from the open window. It’s peaceful, and the first thing you hear is the song of morning birds just beyond the glass, instead of cars and clattering garbage trucks. 

But it’s a Friday, and you’ve got that 9:00am; the one you were insane enough to sign up for at the beginning of the semester. What you should be hearing is the call-for-war of your alarm; the one that slaps you square across the face and wakes you the fuck up. On time, of course, but still the kind of sound that strikes fear into the hearts of grown men. Groggy, you wipe the sleep from your eyes. And then you frown. The lilting chirp of songbirds (well-fed pigeons that shit all over your windowsill, large enough to be classed as biological weapons), instead of your alarm…?

Your hands go cold, and dread creeps in. Reaching for your phone, you click it on and it shuts off just as quickly. You’re met with the red icon of a dead battery. Fuck.

Leaping out of bed, you rush into the hallway. From there, you see Miguel; out of his workout clothes and flitting in and out the kitchen. Except usually, at this time he’s just coming back from his run and banging at the door to hurry you out of the shower. He spots you and furrows his brow in confusion.

“Aren’t you meant to be…?”

You don't let him finish, and call out. “–What’s the time?” 

He looks at his watch. “Uhhh… quarter past 8?”

“Fuck!”  It erupts out of you, and you bite down the rest; opting to dart back into your room.

Miguel gets closer, pops his head towards your door; in the careful kind of way someone might approach a sleeping bear.

“Are you–”

When you open it in a robe and toiletries bag in hand, he’s there; tentative, and slow, and in your way. A beat passes and your eyes widen, incredulous. Like a fucking lump of coal, he’s slow on the uptake.

“...Move.” 

You push past him into the bathroom and he throws his hand up to surrender. You’re the oddest person he’s had the pleasure (?) of sharing an apartment with, he thinks. Mostly harmless, but hard to read.

The shower sputters to life, changing from hot to ice cold in a second. You grit down a scream, powering through it until the suds wash off. Sheer resolve makes you towel off and change in record time. 

You’re grabbing your bag and chucking whatever you can find in the fridge onto bread. Whilst making a crude sandwich, you’re distracted – going through the calculations in your head. You’ve got a train to catch in about 20 minutes, and if you keep a brisk pace you can make the walk in 15. When you switch subway lines to get across town, it’ll be tight, but you can make it up by cutting across the barriers and keeping those elbows sharp on the stairs. God forbid you miss the transfer, because you’ll have to wait another 15 minutes for the next one and–

Miguel watches by the doorway, a little amused. So caught up in your own world, you don’t notice. He takes a sip of a mug of hot coffee, and you look up. Your face, cute and all scrunched up as you concentrate; but he can’t help but enjoy the flash of displeasure on your face.

“Don’t want to hear it.” You’re spreading butter aggressively, if there was ever such a thing.

He shrugs. “...I didn’t say anything.”

“I can hear it, Miguel. You’re thinking out loud, and…” Wrapping up your meal in tinfoil, you stuff it into your bag. “...I don’t have the time to tell you to fuck off.”

With a little gasp, he clutches at hypothetical pearls. He gives you a sarcastic grin before you’re off – slamming the front door in your wake.

_

_

_

[monstertreden]

ˎˊ˗ STARK REALITY ˎˊ˗

-Reader: GN reader (It can be either platonic or romantic) -TW: Angst to the core (I suppose it is somewhat bittersweet) -Character: Rodimus Prime (Transformers series) -Summary: Lately, the captain of the Lost Light had begun neglecting his own responsibilities, anchoring himself to his berth... -Word count : 1489 A/N: I'm dropping this before christmass hell yeahw 🔔 I started to work on this after me and my friend joked about Rodimus using Gen Z slang 💀💀

“Rodimus- I swear to Primus-‘m thryng…mhh to…sleep, one more metal-crushing hug and I’ll throw you out of the ship...”

“Hey hey heyyy slow down there pretty, how could you ever blame me?? Damn, you don’t know how HARD is to keep my servos all to myself when I know you feel sooo nice snuggled in my arms like this” There he was, once again, sprawled in his room on his berth, venting softly in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He had his servo draped around his sparkmate’s waist, holding them close. That menace of a bot curled his lips into a playful pout, resting his chin lightly on their helm as he let out a theatrical sigh “You’re always a party pooper”.

In response, the other bot chuckled, shaking their helm at his antics “Me? Shouldn’t YOU be more responsible instead? I’m starting to think that all this Prime thing has gone over your helm...”

"NUH UH now-… alright, maybe just a little...What can I say? On one servo I must tend to my responsibilities as a Prime…" He grinned, his tone becoming lighter as he added with exaggerated flair "Buttt on the other hand… it’s poggers."

His sparkmate groaned audibly, immediately cringing at his elegant choice of words. Yet, they couldn’t expect much else from him—though they still, somehow, managed to have some faith in this lovable fool. “Never. Never say that again.” Exasperated, they buried their faceplate deeper into his plating, slapping his chassis. "I don’t want to hear any more slang you’ve picked up from those fleshies on Earth" they grumbled. “It’s horrible”

A laugh vibrated through his frame, as he squeezed them closer. "Aww, c’mon! It’s totally poggers! You love it," he said, his grin widening. Despite the banter, the comfort between them was unmistakable, their connection stronger than any playful jabs or groggy protests.

"Ughhh, now I completely understand Ultra Magnus," they groaned, their voice dripping with dramatic exasperation as they shifted slightly in his arms.

That remark struck Rodimus right in his spark. With a mock gasp of offense, he clutched at his chassis dramatically, as though they’d just delivered a fatal blow. "Comparing yourself to that old cranky bot?? No way at all!! No way I’m letting you transform into a copy of him!" he retorted, his voice rising in playful indignation as he held her closer, his optics still closed with a cheeky grin spreading across his lips, his tone dropping into teasing. "You’re way cuter, pff" Sticking out his glossa he squeezed them for emphasis like a kid would do with their comfort plushie. "And, most importantly” he continued with a mock-serious tone “you don’t have a stick up your aft like he does, I mean, I can still come to you when I ‘forget’ to report a report."

"You certainly are a pain in the aft," they muttered, though their tone carried no real annoyance.

Pleased with himself, he nuzzled against them like an overgrown turbo-puppy. "Yeah, but you love me anyway, ah" His voice brimming with that unshakable, shameless confidence he always brought with him, a complete package.

Surrendering to Rodimus's behavior, they gently caressed the sides of his faceplate, making him melt in their servos. All pretense of bravado slipped away as his guard came completely down. He curled against them like a small kitten seeking warmth, his frame humming softly in contentment. He was a sucker for cuddles and they both knew it, always seeking comfort in the other's presence, content just by being close to them, helm on top of where their spark resided. “You look silly sleep talking with me with your optics closed shut”.

“’Cause you’re reallyy pretty y’know? Your prettiness can easily blind me, babygirl” What a buffoon he was, but a lovable one, through and through. For them, he would act even stupider, just to hear them laugh, it always sent warm waves to his spark, a steady reminder of why he cherished those moments dearly.

“Rodimus. Prime.” They began, laughing “Let me go!!, I swear I’ll suffocate at this rate in your grasp”

"Nooooo... “ He whined dramatically, like a sparkling throwing a tantrum, yet his loopy grin remained unaltered ” I don't want to let go. I want you close to me."

“I know that you dumb idiot, but you've been in your room for cycles!” Their voice took a softer tone “They need you too, y’know, more than me right now.”

He froze at their words, his systems reacting instantly. His grip tightened instinctively, reluctant to part from their embrace. An unnerving silence settled over them for a moment before his sparkmate murmured, "I’m sorry." They interlocked their digits with his, a gesture that made Rodimus shudder slightly as his shoulders hunched, savoring the warmth of their touch.

" You don’t have to apologize. It's not your fault. I just... I just miss you. I yearn for your touch, warmth, and presence every day” His voice filled with a mix of grief, affection, and longing. “Would you stay for another minute...please?"

He felt their servo come to rest gently over his spark, the warmth of their touch cutting through the storm in his processor. Their voice, soft and soothing, broke through his thoughts. "We both know it’s not healthy" they said, concern threading through their tone.

"I know, doll. I know. But sometimes... Sometimes I just wish I could forget all of that and just hold onto this moment forever."

He let out a sigh, knowing deep down that they were right. He knew he couldn't cope with all of this by isolating himself and reliving memories forever. But letting go was easier said than done, it was too much to bear. How long had he been isolating himself from everything and everyone? Cycles, surely, but it felt like an eternity. The silence of the room, once their sanctuary, now felt suffocating.  Deep down he wanted to break free from this opulent room, but he was holding back, his spark too heavy to simply get up and go on with his day.

"…. but it's just so difficult to move on when I still miss you so much. Every time I look at a room we used to share, it feels like a part of me in my spark dies inside."

There was a moment of steady silence, that made Rodimus feel insecure as he held his breath, as if they were not there until they spoke again.

“I know you keep my chair tidy, but..why don't you just store it away?”

His optics flickered at their words, a faint glimmer betraying the emotions he tried to keep hidden. His grip on their forearms tightened, trembling slightly as if bracing himself against a tide, he stammered, a sour smile on his faceplate.

"I-I  keep your chair tidy because it reminds me of you... of our time together. It's the last thing I have that was truly yours,and.. and throwing it away, moving it out of my sight... it would be like throwing away a part of you."

The confession tumbled out all at once, his tone cracking as he finally admitted the truth aloud. Rodimus paused to recollect himself. His vents hitched, and for a moment, the silence was deafening.

"I know it's foolish, everyone said that..I didn’t mean to lash out at them- but I can't bring myself to discard it-It’s- it’s not just a chair- It's like a silent promise that you'll come back one day.."

He confessed, his voice expressing both grief and frustration. That day, someone had dared to comment on the empty chair, an offhand remark that ignited something volatile within him. He hadn’t taken it well, his usual lightheartedness replaced by an uncharacteristic intensity that even he didn’t fully understand. The chaos in his mind was interrupted by an almost forgotten sensation, their servo, warm and steady, gently guiding his own to rest over their spark... A fresh wave of emotions crashed over him. He knew they were right, that he couldn't stay in this state forever. But the thought of letting go, of moving on, felt like a physical ache in his circuitry. “I’ll always be there, somehow-“

Tears started to prickle his optics* "I..I can’t, I really can’t"

“Listen to me..” They gently turned his faceplate towards hers, servos cradling his faceplate with utter care “You can do it, for me, for you..for us.”

“You still have lots to do, captain.” They soon added, he could feel them cracking a smile at him. “My captain”

Oh, how he wanted to look at their smile once again, yet he kept his optics shut, his spark aching. He knew they were right, that he had his duties as captain to attend to, a crew that needed him to be more than this hollow husk of himself. But moving forward felt impossible, But for them? He’d do anything, he’d tear the Matrix from his chest, give every piece of himself if it meant keeping his promise to them alive. He would try, he’ll try for them, to move on and carry on his duties as captain, even though letting go felt like ripping out a piece of his spark…

Minutes passed and when he felt nothing more against his faceplate that’s when he opened his tired optics, confronted with the stark reality that they were no longer there, his room was empty and cold. The weight of everything crashed down on him and his spark ached with a deep consuming sorrow. He couldn’t stay there anymore, rotting on the berth.

“For you, for me… for us…”

He repeated this as a mantra, slowly getting up from their once-shared berth, fuelled by the love he felt for them and the desire to make them proud. As he got up, his helm felt heavy, he stood there for a moment, brushing his digits against the edge of the berth. Opening the door of his room, he stepped a pede out, the dim lights of the corridors of the Lost Light welcomed him back.

“I promise, watch me.”

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

[cherryhazee]

The Art of Timing | Luke Hughes

wc: 2.3k

Part 1 of The Art of Loving series

Luke is sitting at a table by the window, the soft glow of the library lights giving a quiet warmth over the room. He’s so focused on his textbook that he barely notices the people around him.

Across the room, Avery spots the last open seat right across from him. She heads over, placing her thick textbook on the table with a soft thud, the sound making the curly-haired boy finally look up.

“Mind if I sit?” she asks, her voice soft.

“Um, no. Not at all,” he blurted out, his cheeks heating as he quickly scrambled to move his papers out of the way to make room. Smooth, real smooth, Hughes. He bit back a cringe, trying not to let his nerves show. His cheeks flushed slightly as he looked at the dark-haired stranger before him.

She smiled at him, just a little, but enough to make his stomach flip. “Thanks… uh…” She paused, glancing at him as if searching for something.

“Luke,” he says quickly “I'm Luke Hughes.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke Hughes. I'm Avery” she says, a small smile playing on her lips as she takes the chair out and sits.

They both fall into silence for a few minutes, the awkwardness seems to hang between them for a second, like they are both waiting for something to happen. Luke’s mind raced, his thoughts scattering like confetti. What do I say next? Should I try to be funny? Should I ask her about her major? He had so many things he wanted to say but none of them felt right in the moment. His fingers drummed lightly on the table, his gaze often flicking to his notes before darting back down.

Deciding to break the ice, she leans forward slightly, her lips curling into a smirk. “So, what are you studying for?” she asks while twirling her highlighter between her fingers, the neon pink gleaming under the lights.

He fumbles slightly, glancing down at his notes, a nervous laugh escaping him. “History of… something,” he says, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “At this point, it’s just dates and facts blending together.”

Avery laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I feel that,” she said, the lightness in her voice putting him at ease. “I’m trying to memorize every technique for my art exam. I swear if I hear ‘surrealism’ one more time...” She rolled her eyes dramatically, and Luke found himself chuckling along with her.

His face lights up “I’m sure that’s a lot more interesting than dates and wars,” he says with a grin.

She shrugs playfully. “Maybe. But I think the only war I’m fighting right now is with this book.”

Luke’s smile grows as the tension between his shoulders starts to ease and his nerves begin to fade. This isn’t as bad as I thought. She’s easy to talk to. His thoughts drifted for a moment, just enough to realize that he was actually enjoying this conversation.

The air around them seems to shift from awkward to something more comfortable, a quiet connection forming.

Luke spots her again a few days later, this time in the bustling coffee shop near campus. She’s sitting at a table near the back, sketchbook in hand, fully absorbed in her drawing. Unsure whether he should interrupt he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle for a moment longer than necessary. But then he pushes the door open, the bell chiming above him.

Her head lifts at the sound, her face brightening with recognition.

“Hey. Fancy seeing you here,” he says as he takes a step closer, his voice slightly more confident than the last time they spoke. His eyes drift to the sketchbook in front of her. “What are you drawing?”

Avery glances down at her sketchbook, then back up at him. “Just a concept for one of my projects. I’m still working on a few details, but I think it’s getting there.” Her tone light and welcoming. She pats the empty chair beside her, inviting him to sit. “You wanna take a closer look?”

Caught by surprise, he nods, moving to sit. As he leans closer he’s hit with her sweet aroma, something between a mix of vanilla and caramel. “So...What do you think?” her voice snaps him back to reality. Too distracted to think clearly, he replies with the first thing that comes to his mind. “Wow, that’s... really good. Those are, uh, really nice traces.”

She chuckles, the sound light and easy. “Thanks. But it's just practice, honestly. You should see my sketches from last year, they were terrible.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Luke notices the pride in her voice.

He goes to say something else but a notification pings on his phone stealing his attention. He glances at it, then realizes he's running late. “I should probably go... I’ve got a class in a few minutes,” he says while standing up reluctantly.

She nods, smiling. “Of course. We’ll catch up again soon?”

Luke gives her a shy smile, feeling a little guilty for having to leave so quickly. “Yeah, definitely. Take care, Avery.”

“You too, Luke,” she replies, her smile warm as she watches him head toward the door.

Later that day, Luke’s mind kept wandering back to his recent meeting with Avery. The way her face lit up when she recognized him back at the coffee shop, the easy confidence in her voice as she talked about her art, and the casual way she’d invited him to sit with her. The memory of her laughter, soft and genuine, echoed in his mind, pulling him back to those moments over and over.

“Hughesy! Look up!” a voice shouted, startling him from his previous thoughts. He barely managed to dodge the puck coming directly at him, his heart racing as he looked up.

“What’s on your mind these days? You seem distracted.” Ethan, his hockey teammate, asked him while skating closer with a curious look on his face.

Luke forced a casual shrug, gripping his stick a little tighter. “Nothing, man. Just… stuff.” He could feel his cheeks heat up, knowing exactly what or who was occupying his mind.

“Stuff, huh? Didn’t know ‘stuff’ could make a guy zone out mid-practice. Must be someone, sorry, something interesting.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Luke rolled his eyes, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing serious, really. Just thinking a lot about New Jersey and... yeah.” He said lying a little, he had been thinking about his move to the league these past few days, but not necessarily right now.

Ethan snorted, giving him a knowing nudge. “Right. Well, whatever it is, I’m here if you wanna talk, alright?”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. No need to worry,” he shrugged it off trying to change the topic.

But as they lined up for another drill, he couldn’t help as his thoughts slipped back to Avery once again, hoping he would bump into her anytime soon.

And then, as if the universe had answered his thoughts, there she was. A week later, Luke found himself surrounded by the noise and energy of a house party celebrating their team making it to the Frozen Four. He scanned the room pretending to pay attention to Mark, who was reliving some dramatic highlight of the previous game. His eyes gliding over the crowd, some faces he recognized, others he didn’t. The house was packed, bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of the music.

Then, he saw her.

At first, it was just a fleeting glimpse. She was standing by the counter, a red solo cup in her hand, laughing with a small group of people. But it was the way she laughed that caught his attention. It was light and genuine, cutting through the background noise like a melody. Her head tipped back slightly as her eyes sparkled with amusement. In that moment, it wasn’t about her being the center of attention. It was how effortlessly she seemed to draw people in.

For a moment, he stayed rooted in place not knowing if he should come up to her, watching as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked effortlessly stunning, her dark chestnut hair falling loose over her shoulders and her outfit somehow casual yet put-together.

Mark, still mid-story, followed Luke's gaze and immediately caught on. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said with a wink before giving Luke a playful nudge. “I’ll let you two talk.” Without missing a beat, Mark turned and melted into the crowd, leaving him standing there.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned, her eyes landing on him.

A smile broke across her face, bright, warm, and entirely unguarded. “Luke!” she called out, lifting her cup in mock salute. “Look who decided to show up to his own party!”

Luke’s stomach did a flip while he grinned and watched as she took a few steps toward him. “Didn’t know this was your kind of scene,” he teased, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to steady himself.

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises,” she replied, her tone light and playful.

The night stretched on, and though they mingled with others here and there, it was clear that Luke and Avery kept gravitating back to each other. At one point, they found themselves at the kitchen table, challenging each other to a few rounds of beer pong. Avery’s competitiveness came out in full force as she landed shot after shot, leaving Luke impressed and more than a little competitive himself.

“Okay, okay, you’re good,” he conceded after a particularly tight round. “But I’m still winning this.”

“Oh, you wish,” Avery shot back with a wink, tossing a ping-pong ball into the air for the last cup. It hit the rim and rolled off, missing it by barely a few inches. She let out a dramatic sigh, throwing her head back in mock defeat.

It was Luke's turn, he grabbed the ball and waited a few beats before finally taking his shot. The ball traced a perfect path in the air before dropping cleanly into the last cup, a triumphant little plop echoing off the table.

“Guess I’m not on my best game tonight,” she said, reaching for her cup and drinking its content. Her eyes flicked back to him, playful and daring. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise, I might’ve been unimpressed.”

Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. He quickly masked it with a casual shrug, trying to match her easy confidence. “Guess I’m lucky then,” he said, his grin growing.

As the crowd began to thin, Luke noticed how much of the night had slipped away while they were together. “Hey,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual, “I really enjoyed tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

Avery smiled, a warmth in her eyes that matched his own. “Definitely,” she said. “It’s been fun. But I should probably head out, got an early class tomorrow.”

“Yeah, same with practice. Let me walk you out,” Luke offered, already moving to grab a jacket.

The cool night air greeted them as they stepped outside, a stark contrast to the heat and noise of the party. The sound of the music faded as the door swung shut behind them, leaving only the crunch of their steps on the gravel driveway and the distant hum of the night.

Avery let out a soft laugh. “It’s colder than I expected,” she said, her breath visible in the frosty air.

Luke noticed Avery shiver slightly, rubbing her hands together for warmth. Without a second thought, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her skin as he adjusted it.

“Here,” he said, offering it with a small smile. “Wouldn’t want you freezing.”

Avery chuckled softly as she slipped it on. “Thanks,” She tugged the zipper halfway up, her hands momentarily lingering in the pockets to chase warmth. “I always forget how cold these spring nights can get.”

Luke glanced at her, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. “You’d think we’d be used to this by now,” he said, smiling.

As they kept walking, Luke glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets to keep from fidgeting. The soft glow of the streetlamp caught in her dark hair, making it shimmer like strands of polished wood. For a moment, he thought about saying something—anything—but the easy silence between them felt too perfect to break.

As they reached her friend’s car, Avery stopped and turned toward him, “Thanks for walking me out,” she said, her voice softer now. “I know you didn’t have to, but... I appreciate it.”

Luke shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way her words made his chest tighten. “It’s no big deal. I just wanted to make sure you got here okay.”

A slightly hesitant smile appeared on her face. “I’ll see you around, right?”

“Of course,” Luke replied, his smile genuine. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

She nodded, stepping back. “Take care, Luke.”

“You too, Avery,” he said softly.

As she climbed into the car, Luke stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets again. He stayed rooted in place until the taillights disappeared down the street, the faint hum of the engine lingering in the air.

Turning back, Luke found the walk home stretching longer than it should have. Even as the air grew colder, his mind kept returning to her—her laugh, the warmth she gave off, and the way she made everything feel easier. Something about her made the world feel a little less loud.

As he entered the living room, he was met with the expecting eyes of his friends. “So? Did you get her number? You two seemed close” Dylan said while smirking at him. Luke's smile faltered as he registered the words his best friend had just said.

“Shit, you didn’t. Didn’t you?” Ethan said as he took in Luke’s face.

“No...but! I’m sure I’ll see her around, I always do” he replied trying to not worry much about it.

But little did he know…

Next Chapter

[elliespeach]

no chances part four | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"you still wanna ask me those questions?" ´ˎ˗

pairing: ellie williams x afab reader synopsis: you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and after letting your competitive nature get the better of both of you, tensions are high on and off the court. warnings: 18+ we made it yall it's smut time. mentions of weed, foul language, explicit sexual descriptions, r! receiving fingering/head, thigh riding, scissoring, slight choking kink, fight then fuck kinda deal wordcount: 3.1k author note: hi hi lets pretend that the car ride actually took an hour they do it in minutes but lets just pretend ok? ok. i have been in a slump this week my brain is attacking me so i hope this is well enough for yall i didn't wanna leave u hanging!! i have plans i cannot share w you guys ab this series n i am hype asffff but anyway enjoy

when her car left the parking lot it was silent. the radio played softly but you or ellie didn’t utter a word. suddenly the reality of what she had offered sunk in, you two had an hour drive together. ellie focused on driving while you stared out into the window at the dark road. she had almost kissed you again and for the first time it didn’t raise any alarm bells in your head. everything was calm in those moments inches from her face, as if the world had been swept away from underneath the two of you. hearing the song on the radio dim out, your head turned to face her. ellie’s eyes were fixed on the road, one arm at the top of the wheel with the other resting on the gear knob. she caught you in her peripheral and her head turned slightly. 

“we don’t even know wh–” 

“i think you played–” 

you both spoke over each other, attempting to awkwardly break the silence that had enveloped you. ellie laughed lightly and it was probably the first time you had ever heard her laugh, “you go,” she said, turning the wheel to make a left and you caught a glimpse at her hands, gripped firmly around the wheel and a memory of them doing the same to your hips flashed in your mind before you cleared your throat to rid of it. 

“i was just gonna say we don’t even know who won the game,” you recalled, your hands placing themselves in your lap and pressing your legs together slightly. 

“oh, yeah–” she swiveled her head to catch a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. “my money’s on my team.” she said cockily, again turning the wheel with only one hand. 

“only cause i wasn’t playing, right?” you banter, remembering her somewhat of a confession from your walk. she rolled her eyes but a small smile crept on the sides of her lips as she did. 

“oh my god, that is not what i fuckin’ said,” she laughed again, another quick glance at you, who was smiling proudly earning another eye roll from her. 

“what were you gonna say?” you asked her, peeling off your knee pads from your legs as they started to itch. 

ellie glanced down at your movement, quickly pulling her eyes back up to the road, “oh uhm–” she readjusted her grip on the steering wheel. “just that, your coach was stupid to pull you, you were doing fine.” 

your head snapped towards her, a dramatic shocked expression on your face. “a compliment? how did you not just implode spontaneously?” 

ellie shifted in her seat, bringing her hand that was previously on the gear shift to the bottom of the wheel and leaning on the window with her now free arm. “just say thank you like a normal person?” her tone had a hint of annoyance but the sly smile on her face gave her away, and instead of prying it out of her you just accepted it. 

“thanks–” your eyes darted back out to the road, out of the seclusion that was the community center and into a more urban area with street lamps and business on either side of the road. your eyes caught the highway sign right as you passed it and you sat up, your head turning to see it fade back into darkness as her car kept moving. “that was the highway,” you turned to her, her head snapping back as if to see the sign herself but her eyes returned to the road in front of her within seconds. 

“fuck,” she uttered under her breath. the car started to slow down, taking a quick look around the road. “one sec,” she turned her car to the left, placing it as close to the curb as she could, then shifted the car into reverse. her arm swung around to the back of your headrest and her body moved with it. you couldn’t help but stare as she did, her eyes fixed on the road behind you. because of her positioning, you could see the outline of her muscle filled arm, as if she was flexing them. the movement of her upper body made her shirt ride up in the front, exposing some of her toned stomach and before any thoughts could come to mind you darted your eyes away. 

ellie could feel as you watched and when she turned her head to meet your eyes they were already gone and she swiftly put the car back in drive before pulling away. the radio was the only thing audible in the car as she turned on the highway, picking up speed as she did and her car revved over the radio. you waited until she was comfortably cruising in the fast lane before speaking again, hating the words that came out of your mouth but not being able to do anything to stop yourself, “so can we talk about the big fat elephant that's in the car?” 

ellie sighed while checking her rearview mirror then looking at you briefly, “if you want to,” 

“why wouldn’t i?” 

“i dunno,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the highway in front of her. it was quiet again but only for a moment before she continued. “i can’t give you an explanation, if that's what you want.” she almost sounded disappointed in herself. 

“why not?” 

ellie rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath in. “why don’t you give me an explanation?” 

“because you kissed me, you cuddled with me, you almost kissed me again.” you listed off your reasons, using your fingers to count them off and she looked annoyed. 

“i didn’t do it alone–” her tone was harsh, as if the conversation was treading on thin ice. 

“yeah, but you started it.” you returned her attitude, feeling a familiar fight coming on. 

“do you want me to sit here and tell you that i did it for a reason? there was no reason–” ellie used her hand that was resting on the gears to emphasize her words, feeling agitated that you brought this up when the ride was going smoothly. the high was wearing off between the two of you and with it went the calm that had settled too. 

“why are you being so cagey?” your voice raised slightly. ellie switched lanes, seeing the exit she had to take in the distance. 

“why are you asking so many fucking questions?” she returned your raised voice, turning the wheel to take the exit. the ramp was long and curved and she slowed to a stop at the red light at the end of it. taking the time to turn to you, a grimace on her face.

you groaned, crossing your arms and leaning your knees against the car door away from her. “just thought we could have a legit conversation, but that seems out of your capabilities.” 

ellie pressed on the gas when the light turned green, making a turn towards your campus. the drive had felt like the longest and the shortest in your life, and now you kind of wished you took the bus. she remained quiet as you did, noticing your position in her passenger seat. “jesus fuckin’ christ,” she breathed out as the welcome sign to your campus came into view. 

you started again, “i just think its funny becau–” 

the car came to a halt on the deserted road sending you forward and you looked at her in disbelief. she quickly put the car in park and as you looked at her face only illuminated by the orange dashboard in front of her, you couldn’t read her. “what the hell, ellie?” you questioned, looking around and you thought she wanted you to walk the rest of the way. 

her hands came up to your face, redirecting your focus to her. she cupped your cheeks and brought your lips to hers. although the anger for her in you was still firmly in your chest, you didn’t fight her instead leaning further into the kiss. her tongue found yours like it had in the bathroom weeks ago, slipping it’s way over your tongue harshly sending shivers throughout your body. butterflies danced in your stomach as her hand left your face, wandering down your body to explore. 

you wanted to be closer, the middle console blocking any other physical contact you two could share. while still letting her tongue roam your mouth, you moved over the console and placed yourself in her lap. it was uncomfortable, but her hands instantly wrapped around your hips and slid down to grab your ass. you rocked your body against hers, liking the feeling of her underneath you and she squeezed your ass tightly. your lips disconnected from hers and instead found her neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses all over it. ellie’s breathing was barely recovering and as you kissed her neck, incoherent mumbles and short quick breaths filled your ears. 

her hands that had been running up and down your back found their way in between you two, groping your tits firmly and you hummed against her neck at the feeling. the pressure formed between your legs all the faster as she massaged them, keeping one hand placed on your breast, squeezing as much as she could, she used her other hand and traced it up your chest to your neck, wrapping her fingers lightly around it. this pulled you back from her neck, making eye contact with her green eyes. though the green had vanished, replaced with dilated eyes glossed over with every touch you placed on her. 

she studied your face, her hand still around your neck. her head tilted, taking you all in while you straddled her lap and a sly smile formed on her wet lips, “you still wanna ask me those questions?” her voice raspy, hoarse even and she tightened her grip on your neck ever so slightly. way different than it was before and it took everything in you not to melt in her lap. 

“shut up,” you groaned, bringing your face back down to kiss her again, rolling your body against her. you could feel her smirk against the kiss, retreating her hands back down to your hips to move with them against her. the smirk didn’t diminish and this time it was you who snuck your hand up to her neck, gripping with the same firmness she had, you broke the kiss but hovered over her lips as her eyes opened to meet yours separated by only millimeters, “you are insufferable.” 

a light chuckle came from her, sinking her fingers into your hips, “and yet here you are,” her neck extending to allow your grip to remain. there was a beat of silence, both of your heavy breathing over powering the radio that still played lightly in the background. you let go of her neck, sliding your hand down her torso and feeling her tits through the layers of clothing. she attached her mouth to your neck as you had done, sucking a little too hard and you worried about hickeys but it felt too good in the moment to tell her to stop. but she did and her words bounced off of your now sensitive skin, “do you have a roommate?” 

that’s how you ended up barging into your dorm with her hands all over you, slamming the door shut behind her without ever breaking the kiss. she pushed you against the closest wall, gripping your skin in her hands before trailing kisses down your neck to your stomach, getting on her knees as she slid off your shorts to reveal the very small underwear you had on. she kissed your pussy through your underwear and you had to stop your knees from buckling at the feeling. a wet spot was very obviously noticeable on your panties and it only intensified ellie’s efforts. using her teeth she bit down on the top of your underwear, pulling it down as much as she could before your dripping cunt was in front of her. she used her fingers to move your panties down further, running her hands back up your legs as she looked up at you with lustful eyes. 

she lifted one of your legs, slinging it over her shoulder before plunging her tongue into your folds. you bit down on your lip to keep from moaning and your fingers laced themselves in her auburn hair, her tongue already better than anything you could do to yourself. it traced circles on your clit and as she shoved herself deeper into your pussy, you couldn’t help the moans that slipped out of your mouth. with hearing this, ellie was brought back to the bathroom and her brain went into overdrive. she removed her tongue only to then suck on your clit, feeling your leg shake on her shoulder and she brought a finger up to run through your slick. 

she looked at you as she did, her mouth a wet mess and you were in shambles above her. her finger teasingly ran up and down your exposed cunt, giving you just enough but not nearly anything close to the feeling over her tongue. your head leaned back against the wall and your eyes shut tight and she tsk’d, still moving her finger lightly, “eyes on me–” she breathed out, waiting for you to look back at her. when you did, a small smile formed on her lips and she brought her slender finger down your cunt. she slid her finger in, never taking her eyes off of you and watching as you crumble before her. when your chest started to heave as she thrust her finger in and out of you, she brought her mouth back to your clit. 

you were a mess. dripping on her face and bucking your hips as she went to work, the sensation feeling too good and you felt the familiar twinge below your belly button. you were saying her name between breaths and it only made ellie go harder, pumping her fingers as quickly as she could and revolving her tongue through your slick. without warning she retreated, kissing your stomach while she stood back up. your hands found her face to drag her into a long kiss, she pulled you off of the wall and backed you into your own bed. your elbows propped you up as you watched her tower over you, you used this time to yank off your shirt and sports bra, leaving your chest bare for her.

ellie slipped off her own shorts, her underwear with it before climbing on top of you, reconnecting her lips to yours. you tugged on her shirt and it was off in seconds thrown god knows where. she sat up, tracing her fingers along your body as you laid beneath her and it looked like she wanted to say something but refrained herself. instead, lifting up one of your legs and placing herself so her own drenched pussy was atop of yours. she rocked her hips back and forth, feeling the wetness from both of you spread. mumbles left her mouth as she held your leg in the air, covering her own moans by placing soft and sweet kisses on your leg. ellie steadied herself by clutching onto one of your breasts. her pace began to be ragged, feeling herself come nearly undone. she looked down at you, mouth open and eyes in a haze as you gazed back up at her and despite nearing her finish she leaned down so that her thigh was now pressed against your cunt. you whined into her mouth as she kissed you, the tipping sensation leaving as quickly as it came. 

she shuffled off of you, leaning her back to the wall and patted her lap. while you sat down on her lap, she removed her sports bra. her hands fell to your figure and she gazed at you, that unreadable expression still plastered on her face. she looked down at you on her lap and shook her head lightly, “like this–” she moved your body, lifting your leg to move her own out of the way so you were just sitting on her thigh. she tucked your knee in between her legs and her green eyes focused back on you. 

moving your hips on her thigh, ellie kneaded on your tits. she enveloped them in her hands while your knee rubbed against her cunt. your hands rested on her legs behind you, back arching and tits out. ellie wasn’t able to conceal her moans at the sight of you and the feeling deep in her stomach. her hands dug into your thighs, pulling them with every thrust of your hips. “h-holy fuck,” she tossed her head back. the sound of her voice was enough for you to start moving faster, and as you did ellie straightened her posture. she wrapped her arms around your back, pulling you closer while you rocked desperately against her thigh. 

your foreheads crashed, heavy and hot breath spread across each of your faces. with this, you unraveled. cursing coming out of your mouth along with her name in pants while you shook around her thigh, feeling on top of the world. ellie’s hands moved to your tits, watching you cum on her and feeling your tits in her hands she tipped over the edge as well. her breathing was ragged against you and her forehead left yours while she tipped her head back, eyes rolling. you fell on her chest, while both of you tried to return your breathing back to normal. 

she sat with you for a few minutes in silence, you had moved off of her thigh and laid beside her, arm draped over her stomach. her arm was on your back, rubbing small circles. after a bit more of quiet, which seemed to be one of your specialities, you sat up and her eyes followed you. and again, you both spoke over each other. 

“i should go to bed–” 

“i should probably go–” 

without much less, ellie pulled herself off the bed and collected her clothes that had been scattered. you pulled on your own shirt and the awkward silence was heavy in the room. after she had dressed she moved towards the door, hand on the handle. “i’ll see you at the next game?” her eyes scanned your face. 

“yeah, i’ll see you then,” you said painfully and without so much of a second glance she left, the door swinging shut behind her. 

part five

[dotthings]

The latest episode of the SPN Then and Now podcast gave us some insight into process during the early days of the Dean and Cas era. I transcribed a few bits to share.

First I really appreciate Rich's appreciation of Dean and Cas: "I love the origin of the Dean and Castiel relationship, I thought it was so engaging to have those two start building that rapport, that yes, maybe you said Misha had said maybe it was a bridge too far, I didn’t see that as a viewer, I just thoroughly enjoyed it, and I felt their connection sort of solidifying in a fun way that felt real and not hyper-dramatic." (This is extra neat considering Rich "I am the prophet of Destiel" Speight Jr directed ep 15.18).

Then there's the commentary from SPN director J. Miller Tobin, which gives us insights into the early development of the Dean and Cas relationship, Jensen and Misha's friendship, and their growing rapport and development as screen partners.

Rich: …to me, this was the first episode where I saw what the Dean Castiel relationship then looked like for the rest of the year.

J. Miller Tobin: It’s funny, then I watched it again this morning, and I kind of had the same feeling. This is sort of old Castiel, and he’s sort of starts to move into where he is for the rest of the series. There’s that shift into sort of the comedic tone in his relationship with Dean, it’s the Dean and Castiel show.

Rich: It really is. This didn’t exist before. It was a tonal shift.

J. Miller Tobin: Right.

Rich: Now I obviously know that some of that some of that must have been in the script. Was any of that something…like the personal space bit, was that scripted? Or was that you guys on the day?

J. Miller Tobin: I don’t remember. I don’t remember.

Rich: It felt like an improv because of the way it was blocked and he turns and there’s that scene…

J. Miller Tobin: That long beat, and again, Jensen is just a master at it, he barely moves a muscle and you’re laughing your ass off already…the truth is you just let those two guys start riffing. They’d known each other long enough now that they were very well aware this was kind of a shift in tone and they had a chance to start to play with it a little bit, and as good actors do it was subtle, and it was easy.

Rich: I just think it’s cool that you got to be the guy to sort of set that framework. Obviously the actors are doing a ton of that work too. But again, bless your hands…

J. Miller Tobin: I just like to get out of the way and let them do what they do best.

-Supernatural Then and Now podcast, April 8, 2024

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Reader

Back to the Start

AN: Another follow on fic to my original RD x R series - a look at where the couple is now.

*Part of this story mentions neurodivergence, this is based on my own diagnosis and for the sake of the story, Rachel or Millie have never said that they are*

Laying on the sofa in the house you have recently moved into with Rachel felt like bliss – a full circle moment. Your head rested on her lap while the TV glowed in the background as you both scrolled on your phones after a long day at work. Rach had recently stepped down from international duties which meant she had more time to build a life with you but you didn’t let her make the decision lightly. Watching her last game in the stands when nobody knew it would be the end made you sad but the pictures and shirts hung up around the house reminded you both that it happened. You had chatted over tonights dinner so the silence and unwinding was welcomed as you let go of all the workplace drama.

“I’ve been offered tickets to a show tonight, do you wanna go?” Rachel broke the silence making you drop your phone and look up at her, you had been looking forward to relaxing since the start of your shift this morning. You were finally getting over the stress of moving and was enjoying spending time in your first home with your fiancée so your reply wasn’t encouraging. “Err..what is it?” your tone of voice already telling her that you weren’t keen on moving from the sofa anytime soon. Running her fingers through your hair she knew how tired you were. “Something called Six in London?” she said, moving the phone away from her face and gazing down at you to see your reaction,“Six?!” your demeanor quickly changed, sitting upright suddenly in excitement. “I’ve wanted to see that for ages!” your eyes glowed with enthusiasm that wasn’t there a few moments ago. “They’ve said we can meet them beforehand if we get there early enough too?” Suddenly filled with a whole truck load of energy you started bouncing around the room gathering your make up, mirror and hair brush while ticking over outfits in your mind. “Oh, I do like being your girlfriend, you know that right?” you gushed, leaning over the back of the sofa to kiss her but she pulled away before you could. “Excuse me! You’re my fiancée remember!” she screeched cheekily and waved your own hand in your face to remind you of the ring on your finger. “How could I forget” you blushed, admiring your ring, “I can’t wait to marry you” holding both her cheeks you brought her in for the kiss she’d backed away from a few moments earlier. “I can’t wait to call you my wife” she breathed in between your lips stroking together. “Say that again” your words mumbled seductively into her mouth, leading her to snap her head away from yours and start to dramatically perform to an invisible audience. “What? My wife? Oh yes this is my wife (y/n), Mrs (y/n) Daly, that’s her, the love of my life!” You giggled as the goosebumps trickled up your arms when she grabbed you and pulled you back onto the sofa with her. 

The instructions in the email Rach had received told you to get dropped at the stage door which allowed you to enter the theatre in secret. Since coming back from the World Cup you were lucky if you made it around the local supermarket without being stopped 3 times - your whole life had changed and now you’d become Rachel’s personal photographer when it came to the fans. Sometimes they asked for a picture with you too but that was a rare occasion so you revelled in the days where you could sneak into somewhere without being spotted and try to live a normal life like before. You met the actresses and took photos together that would be used as promo on the show’s socials (this always seemed to be part of the package when you’re invited somewhere for free, you didn’t mind if it saved you money though!) then was shown the way to your box. You’ve been in boxes for shows before but this was like another world, it had a door for a start and the normal seats had been replaced with a sofa, allowing you to snuggle close together away from everyone to enjoy the show. It was amazing and you both really enjoyed it, the songs had you up and clapping at the end wishing you could watch it all over again.

You let most of the crowds leave before you did then took a stroll down to Trafalga Square, you’d never seen it at night before. “Is this bringing back memories?” you asked flicking your eyes around the vast empty space and wrapping your arms around your lady. Remembering the Euros celebration and Rach singing her Rag Doll in front of thousands of fans. You were one of them, smitten with her brave and carefree attitude how she did that without a care in the world. “I was… stood right around here, I think” you said slowly, waiting for her to catch on. Rachel who was watching the traffic looked at you stunned - “this is when my crush started, you singing in front of everyone, being so happy and just not giving a shit about anything, I loved it, made me want to care less about what people think, it was brave.. and sexy” you said fiddling with her hair between your fingertips. “I still can’t believe I did that to be honest, I think I was still drunk and thought fuck it” she laughed. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.. still can’t” winking at her, “and now you’re marrying me” she gushed.. “and now, I’m marrying you” confirming what she’d said your eyes sparkled looking up at her. Walking over towards the fountain Rach quizzed you on why you hadn’t told her you were at the celebration before, you said that you were waiting for a cute time and this seemed like it.

Perching on the ridge of the fountain wall you positioned yourselves to be looking at each other, London had never seemed so peaceful and calm. “Do you think our lives are planned out for us when we’re born?” Rachel asked, making you take a minute to think; you had studied philosophy and ethics in school and this was something you had written countless essays on, it’s typically a Christian view and being agnostic you allow yourself to believe in anything you want. “Not necessarily, but our story makes me think fate exists. Like my life wasn’t planned for me, I’ve made all of this happen, nothing is taking away my own achievements. But was it fate that lead me to you?” you paused in thought, stroking her leg. “Maybe.. seems to be more and more coincidences as time goes on. But then, can it be called coincidences because I was here celebrating your win? Because so was a lot of people. So who knows” you shrugged, leaving her to put forward her thoughts. “I believe in fate, I believe you were and are my fate and everything that’s happened has lead me to you. If I didn’t sing that, would you have fancied me? Would you have been front row, would you have taken my shirt? Then slept with me, come home with me and never left? Because if I didn’t sing that song you wouldn’t have started fancying me, no?” she projected. “You could be right there, your personality shone that day and that is what I fall for so..” you drifted off. “I’ve always been told by girlfriends that I’m too much, I’m a lot to handle. Then I was diagnosed with ADHD and everything just made sense. Millie has it too, must be why we became best friends” she drifted off. “You’re neurodivergent?” you interrupted with a hint of surprise in your voice. “Yeahhh?” her reply seemed coy, trying to gauge your reaction and whether it was good or bad. “Me too! I’ve read that we gravitate towards each other! Okay. It’s official. I do believe in fate!” you exclaimed excitedly, shaking her lightly with a huge smile on your face. “Woah, I was so worried to tell you in case it scared you off” her voice became more high pitched with every admission, “me too! I can’t believe it!” You hugged happily knowing neither of you have to hide that side of yourselves anymore but stopped suddenly when your excitement nearly landed you in the cold and murky fountain water. “Baby, nothing will scare me off. I’m marrying you for you, you’ll never be too much for me. The more the better!” you reassured her, both smiling with deep knowledge that you were both absolutely meant for each other. Sitting side by side on the fountain wall you talked for what seemed like hours, the cool evening breeze gently tousling your hair, you began reminiscing about the start of your relationship and how far you’d had come.

“We should probably go catch our train” Rach said glancing at her watch. You smiled and kissed her one last time before leaving, basking in the glow of the city lights and the warmth of each other's love, you knew that your story was far from over. But one thing was certain - you were in it together, forever and always.

[pagesfromthevoid]

A Real Nightmare | a.a. | 2

Astarion x fem!tav

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Terrible flirting. Biting. Tav is horny lmao

Author’s Note: I played Baldur’s gate for 7.5 hours today AND wrote this. Fuck yeah. GIF from @rinriya

Talk to me! | Series Masterlist

“Have you ever considered –I don’t know –not being the way you are?”

Astarion scoffed, waving his hand dismissively at her question. “Please, and miss out these little moments only you and I share? Darling, I could never.”

She didn’t respond, though Astarion knew better than to assume she wouldn’t bite back a bit.

With the loss of her tent, Tav had resigned herself to sleep on her bedroll under the stars. However, that meant that she had opened herself up to being bothered by everyone and anyone walking by –and Astarion truly couldn’t help himself. She was easy to rile up, and more importantly, easy to fluster. His plan was simple enough –manipulate her into falling for him, ensure she won’t turn on him, cut her loose when the tadpole ordeal was done with.

Easy enough.

Her bite back came in the form of a jab in his ribs with her staff –a little too close for comfort as far as he was concerned.

“What in the hells was that for?” He hissed, yanking away from her as she settled back into a sitting position. Astarion held his side, sneering at the ache that bloomed just below his ribcage.

“For being annoying.”

“Oh, I’m sorry –here I thought I was entertaining your little crush.”

“Crush? Crush?” She looked at him incredulously, as if the very thought of having an inkling of romantic feelings for him was impossible. Astarion, of course, knew better. He could smell the blood that rushed through her when he flirted. “In your bloody dreams!”

It was just too easy to flirt. “Oh, you are always in my dreams, my love.”

"Your dreams; my nightmares," she retorted, her tone laced with a teasing edge. She moved closer to him too, unable to keep herself from his orbit.

He chuckled, rubbing his side where she had jabbed him with the staff. "Ah, you wound me, my dearest Tav. I thought you'd at least consider joining me in the realm of dreams."

Tav rolled her eyes, but Astarion could see the little smile that threatened to tug at the corner of her lips. He had her right where he wanted as he shifted his weight, resting on his side as he peered up at her.

"Considering it and actually doing it are two very different things," she replied, her smirk growing more pronounced.

Astarion rested his head in his palm, looking up at her through his lashes. She swallowed hard, and he knew he had her.

“Admit it, Tav. There's a spark, a certain...fascination."

She raised an eyebrow, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Fascination with annoyance, perhaps."

He grinned, undeterred. "Or maybe with the enigmatic rogue sitting right next to you."

“You’re right, Astarion,” she sighed dramatically, putting her hand over her heart for a moment. He sat up properly now, close enough that his arm brushed hers.

Astarion narrowed his eyes slightly, cocking his head to the side as she got closer to him than ever before. Her hand reached up and touched his jaw lightly. For a moment, he was surprised by her response, by her sudden touch. It was soft against his cheek –not teasing, not caressing. Just impossibly soft hands on his skin, and Astarion had to keep himself from shivering.

“I am fascinated by you. Overwhelmingly, obsessively fascinated…,” Astarion, by instinct, leaned in closer –he could feel her breath on his lips, and for a moment he wondered how she would taste on his tongue. But then she gently smacked him on the cheek and pulled away, “by how self-indulgent you are.”

Astarion blinked in surprise, the gentle smack breaking the spell he was under. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind in those few seconds, trying to process that she had bested him in the art of flirting. And while he was certain she wasn’t doing it to trick him (Tav was far too nice for that, he had learned over the last few days), it was still a shock to his system.

This wouldn’t do; he was supposed to be manipulating her –not the other way around.

Tav smirked, savoring the moment of triumph she seemingly had over him. "You see, Astarion, fascination doesn't always lead to adoration. Sometimes, it just leads to more creative ways to put you in your place."

The vampire, still rubbing his cheek with a bemused expression, chuckled. "Well played, you cheeky little thing. I must say, you do have a talent for keeping me on my toes."

“If you two are done flirting,” Karlach cackled, throwing a piece of bread at Tav’s head. She grumbled a bit, looking over her shoulder at the tiefling while the blood rushed to her cheeks. Embarrassed that she had been caught flirting with him, no doubt. “I think it’s time for Fangs there to take watch so we can get some rest.”

Tav pulled away from Astarion entirely then, giving the tiefling her undivided attention with a friendly nod and a smile. He, however, was staring at Tav and the blush that had crept its way up her body. It made his jaw ache with need –not a lustful need, but a hunger-pained one that he knew he would need to deal with when everyone had gone to sleep.

Finally, he broke his gaze from her and stood, offering his hand to her like he had the other day. Tav took it with a smile, pulling herself up —though this time she pulled away sooner than before.

“Goodnight, Astarion,” she called over her shoulder, waving at him as she followed Karlach to her tent to change. “Wake me if you need a break!”

He wouldn’t be waking her though. Not tonight —not if he wanted to build his strength properly.

*****

Sleep had proven to be elusive, slipping through her grasp like sand through fingers, leaving her restless throughout the night. Since the crash landing, a peaceful night's sleep had become a rare commodity. It wasn't solely due to the unfamiliarity of sleeping on the ground or exposure to the elements; an underlying unease persisted. The constant presence of the worm writhing behind her eye seemed to amplify with each passing moment, as if determined to delve deeper into the recesses of her brain. The combination of the unusual environment, the uneasiness of her new companions, and the tadpole just made sleeping impossible, even with her eyes closed.

As the night wore on, the restlessness in her bones refused to abate. Unbeknownst to her, Astarion had been silently stalking in the periphery, drawn by the tantalizing scent of her blood. In her restlessness, a voice whispered in her ear –Open your eyes, my dear. Do not let him take without asking. Perhaps it was a bad dream making her feel anxious, and she forced her eyes open to avoid furthering any nightmares that wanted to creep their way into her mind.

Except the nightmare seemed to be real as her sleep deprived eyes focused on fangs, then ruby red eyes, then finally Asterion's horrified look of realization that he had been caught.

“What in the hells are you doing?” She practically screamed, scrambling out of her bedroll as Astarion pulled away with his hands up.

“Shush, please –I wasn’t going to hurt you, I swear –I just…I needed blood and I –,”

“Thought you could just have some of mine?” She finished for him, pushing herself off the ground.

For a moment, Astarion looked panicked; scared even. And while that tugged on her heartstrings a little bit, it wasn’t enough to wet the flames of anger that were swirling around inside her.

“I just needed a taste,” he explained, voice shaking some as he tried to defend himself.

“How long has it been since you killed someone? Days? Hours?”

“Please,” he begged, shaking his head now. “I feed on animals –bears, boar, kobolds. But I’m weak, and if we’re going to keep up the way we are…I need something more. Something stronger.”

Tav contemplated Astarion’s desperate plea, her heart torn between concern and the growing sense of connection with the vampire before her. A flicker of empathy softened her gaze as she sighed, finally giving into her desire to help over hindering him further.

“Fine,” she agreed, her voice gentle yet firm. She pointed at him, as if scolding him. “But only if you promise to ask next time. I want to help you, Astarion, but I can’t have you draining the life out of me. We’re a team in this mess, and I’d rather you take a little from me than risk going after something more dangerous.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in a mix of surprise and gratitude, his usually guarded demeanor momentarily giving way to a genuine expression of thanks. He nodded earnestly, the weight of her trust not lost on him.

“Thank you, Tav,” he replied, his voice touched with sincerity. “I promise, next time I’ll ask. No more midnight surprises.”

She nodded once, looking around for a moment to ensure their friends were still asleep. Then she motioned to her throat, baring it to him. “Okay…well, have at it, then.”

He chuckled darkly, unable to help himself, before reaching out to touch her waist gently. “Let’s make it a bit more comfortable for you, darling. Lay down.”

His touch against her waist only aided in the blood rushing to her cheeks, and she was suddenly very aware that he knew that. There was no way Astarion didn’t know how much he flustered her, or how easily he made her blush. And somehow that made her blush even harder.

But Tav simply nodded, ignoring the embarrassment as she laid back in her bedroll and closed her eyes. Her heart beat fast in her ears, pounding as she felt Astarion’s body hover over her’s —felt his mouth just barely touching her throat before finally piercing her with his bite. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hands shooting up to grip his biceps in surprise.

The pain, however, was short lived and was soon replaced by a strangely warm feeling that pooled in her belly as she became lost of the feel of his mouth on her throat. There was no helping the sound that escaped her lips —a soft moan that caused Astarion to tense up momentarily as he drained her of her blood.

Her fingers loosened on his biceps as he continued to drink, and while the pain was turning into something far more, she did her best to push him off of her.

“Astarion,” she murmured, voice cracking as he pulled away sharply.

For a moment, he hovered over her as if trying to catch his breath; to return to his senses. Her neck throbbed where he bit, and though her vision was a bit hazy, she saw a drop of blood slip down the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, she lifted a heavy hand to his lips and wiped the blood away with her thumb.

“I hope I taste good,” she sighed, admiring the fresh crimson on her finger tip. Her body felt heavy, and she was sure sleep was going to overcome her at any moment.

Astarion lifted her thumb to his mouth, tempted to bite once more but instead kissing the blood off her finger. “You have…no idea.”

Finally, he pulled away from her and stood slowly, taking a deep breath. Tav sat up weakly, closing her eyes for a moment to stop her head from spinning.

“Get some rest,” he ordered, turning away from her. “I need to find something a little more filling.”

He stepped away, but stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “This was a gift, you know,” he reassured, voice soft and sincere. “I won’t forget it.”

Tav was inclined to believe that.

[kentosovertime]

𝕖𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕤𝕥; (n.) someone who only pretends to smile

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤… when geto and gojo grow apart, resulting in their break up, gojo finds friendship and belonging with you and when geto returns he decides he wants you for himself 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕠… 2.3k wc, college!au series, satosugu, geto x gojo x afab!reader, chapter 4 is gojo x reader, explicit content and language, includes themes of manipulation, jealousy, angst, spiteful behavior, etc. toxic friendships, emotionally constipated men, cheating, fingering (receiving), no orgasm 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣… reblogs and likes are appreciated 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤��… send me an ask (link) if you want to be tagged

𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕥𝕒𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕒𝕤𝕜 𝕓𝕠𝕩

You squint, taking a catalog of the food that was present in their fridge, wondering how men live like this. There was nothing in here that you could use to make anything substantive or nutritious. You roll your eyes at the mental image of Satoru scoffing at the mere mention of a meal option that didn’t involve some sort of sugar option.

Maybe you could settle for a late night snack while you wait for something to be delivered from your local pizza joint? You sigh heavily, vowing to go grocery shopping for them in the morning as you snatch one of Satoru’s favorite snacks he made you try once. 

Where even was he? You hum in thought, chewing the food with a furrowed brow. In fact, it had been a while since you had seen and hung out with your best friend. He’s always insisting that he has somewhere to be or something to do.  That or you already had plans with Suguru.

As if summoned by your thoughts, he rounds the corner, kicking off his shoes onto the mat before stretching his arms above his head with a groan. 

“Is that my pastry?” He pouts at you so dramatically it has you rolling your eyes before you smile at him warmly. His presence always had a way of cheering you up and plastering the biggest smiles on your face. Something that not even Geto manages all the time. 

While you always felt better around him, you didn’t know about the butterflies that erupted in his stomach whenever he saw your eyes get a little brighter when he made you smile just from existing near you.

“S’not my fault you don’t keep groceries in the house, shit head.” You giggle and shove the rest in your mouth with a playful smirk. “But I did order pizza if you want some.” 

“No Sugu' to share it with?” He lobs the nickname you’ve started to use when referring to Geto, even with others in the friend group, adjusting his tone to poke fun at you. He saw that his work shoes weren’t at the front door, so he must be out. 

He wasn’t expecting it, but this might be the perfect opportunity to apply just the right amount of pressure. 

“He’s working late tonight.” It’s your turn to pout, disappointed that him working late had interfered with your ability to make plans with him tonight. “The closer called out and he was asked to cover their shift.” 

“How are the two of you?” He leans against the counter next to you, searching your face with concern. 

“We…” You look up at him nervously, a shy flush gracing the apples of your cheeks. The last thing you wanted to do was upset Satoru by talking about his ex with him. You’re not blind enough not to see the tension after the night he caught the two of you on the couch. “We’re good. I was hoping to be able to go out with him tonight but…”

You trail off with a shrug, something inside of you feeling unsettled with who you’re having this conversation with. It wasn’t just Satoru’s history with Geto, but your own feelings in the mix. There was a time that you wouldn’t have had such strong feelings for Geto. A time where you were nursing a schoolgirl crush on Satoru. Months ago, you would have wanted Satoru to open his eyes and see that you were right in front of him. But other than your hidden feelings, you genuinely care about him, you wanted him to be happy more than you wanted him. 

“Really? That’s good…” Why is he frowning at you? Your gut twists painfully, suddenly coming to the realization that he’s probably come to hate you. Why else would he be avoiding you? 

“I’m sorry we’ve been so busy, ‘Toru.” The thread of your friendship feels so precarious in your hands, like it may snap at any moment. “You know you’re still my best friend, right? No matter who I’m dating…”

“So are the two of you official now?” He shoves the flinch at you so casually referring to him as only your friend. But it will be ok, he’ll make it ok. 

You stare at him blankly, your words dying on your tongue. Satoru watches as your mouth opens and closes, failing to give you the answer he already knows to be true. It was impossible to deny when Shoko described how you cried into her arms about how you were wondering what was wrong with you for him not to ask. 

“W-well n-no-” You stammer, your voice cracking with emotion. “He h-hasn’t asked that yet, but he said I’m the only person he plans on seeing right now, s-so it’s fine.” 

“Good to see the perfectionist asshole makes the same mistakes as me.” He says, full of frustration as your eyes squint in confusion, trying to make sense of the words that are now flying from his lips. “Do you know how helpless I’ve felt?! I am so fucking angry at myself for not pulling my head out of my ass long enough to realize how I felt!”

“I didn’t… Toru’, I didn’t think that you still h-had feelings for him anymore-” You shrink away from his anger, shaking slightly as your eyes water and spill over.

“What?” He growls in confusion, hating how you're flinching away from him. “I don’t care that you’ve fucked him. I care that he’s fucking you! He walked back into my life after razing it all to the ground only to turn around and steal you from me. He knows how I feel about you and he took you anyway! All to string you along for months and not even have the balls to make it official? Can’t you fucking see that you deserve more than someone who doesn’t give a shit about you?!”

Your fear quickly flares into a burning inferno. You know that Geto cares about you. You can see it in his eyes whenever he listens to you rant about your interests or when he lays the sweetest kisses against your forehead before he lovingly plays with your hair. He always wants to be near you, Satoru wasn’t there when Geto practically begged you to move in permanently. And he certainly wasn’t here when you were the one slamming the brakes on that idea out of consideration for the man in front of you before Geto attempted to fuck a yes from you, grunting as he drilled into you, telling you that he wanted nothing more than to come home to you everyday.

But despite all of this there was a small, scared part of you that was whispering in your ear that he still hadn’t thought to ask you to be his girlfriend. That didn’t matter then, right?

You had everything you needed other than his words to show you he loved you. Just because he loves differently than Satoru doesn’t mean you don’t matter to him. 

Satoru was warm, loud, and passionate, never bothering to be anything other than who he was and Geto was more reserved, coming across as cold and calculating, shining in his own way by reflecting the light around him back at you. They were the sun and the moon, both equally beautiful and loved. Could they not see that in each other? Was that why everything had ended?

While trapped in your own thoughts, Satoru approached you slowly, reaching out to brace his arms on either side of you, his palms pressed against the counter. You try to take a step back and are stopped by the countertop’s hard surface, trapped between it and Satoru, who was leaning closer to you. 

“You can’t just walk in and try to claim me because someone took your favorite toy, Satoru.” You pant, your body yearning to be closer to him as all the attention it used to crave comes rushing to the surface. Your reprimand has not bite to it as your eyes dip to his lips hovering just above yours. 

You want to claim his lips, finally see what he tastes like. You love Geto, yes love, but you want his best friend, his ex, to grab your hips and pull you into his mouth as he lifts you onto the counter and devours you. 

“I can do whatever I want.” He coos confidently as he makes you shake with need. He smirks as your harsh pants hit his lips, hovering his mouth just far enough away that he’s not kissing you, but you can both drink in each other's air. 

As you breathe heavily, trying to lean forward to capture his lips, he slides a hand done the front of your clothed center, rubbing you through your leggings. The choked whimper it pulls from your mouth has him pressing his hips into you harder, pressing his erection into your thigh as he circles his fingers faster, 

“Please, ‘Toru- Ah!” You whine out for him so prettily, struggling against his hips. “Please k-kiss me-” 

“Not while you still belong to him.” His refusal wracks your body in frustrated shivers as your hips buck into his hand. “But I’ll still make his little whore, cum.” 

His hand shoves down the front of your pants to trail through your soaked folds, easily finding and sinking into your cunt. You shriek and jolt in his hold, squirming wildly when he easily zeros in on gummy spot inside you with come hither motions.

“You just walk around my apartment with no panties on?” He growls in appreciation, working his fingers deeper. “My little bestie just wants to fucked whenever he wants. You make it so easy to use you. You like knowing I’ve been listening to you being fucked sensless picturing that exact thing?”

When you don’t answer, the free hand still leaning on the counter flies out, harshly grabbing into the hair at the nape of your neck to jerk your head back so you’re forced to look up at where he towers over you. 

“I asked Sugu’s slut a question.” He coos, pressing his forehead to your and grinding the heel of his palm into your clit as he calls out what you’re doing with him and not the person you’ve been seeing, greedily eating up every twist of pleasure your face makes.

“Y-yes, I like that-” You sob as you feel your body tense, ready to explode around his fingers. You love the idea of him being unable to stop himself from fisting his cock whenever he heard you moan, even when it wasn’t him pulling the reaction out of you. “Please I’m gonna-” 

Satoru’s head flies up and his fingers still as he hears familiar footsteps outside his apartment door, followed by the jingle of keys. 

“Sorry, angel.” He chuckles and licks up a tear that falls down your face as your chest heaves to catch up with the orgasm you were just robbed of. “Find me later if you want to finish this.”

Geto rounds the corner into the kitchen just in time for Satoru’s hand to pull out from the band of your pants while a sly smirk plasters itself onto his face when he meets Geto’s eyes and licks his fingers clean. His gaze dares Geto’s to say something in reaction as he pushes off the counter. 

Knowing Satoru only ever acts out with the desire of having a response, Geto ignores him and smiles softly, making his way to you instead. 

Even if he hadn’t seen where Satoru’s hand was, he would have known something heavier had happened. He knew your body about as well as Satoru’s now, and it was clear from your fucked out face, red cheeks, blown pupils, and heavy breathing that you had been enoying yourself. He can also tell by the way you’re practically writhing and pressing your thighs together that you hadn’t cum yet. 

He finds himself twitching in his pants at the thought of seeing the two of you together like that, not being nearly as mad as he expected with how possessive he was of you. It was a fantasy that he had buried deep down on the account that he never saw any signs that you were attracted to Satoru or their messy past. 

The darker parts of him are amused by you shrinking away just slightly, fearful of his non-existent anger. It has him cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a searing kiss, smiling against your lips when you meet him needily. 

He only pulls away from the need to breathe, noting just a hint of apprehension left in your gaze. Geto chuckles and leans forward, lovingly murmuring in your ear for only you to hear. 

“Don’t worry about him, baby. I promise it's ok.” You gulp and nod your head, letting him scoop you into a tight hug tht chases away all of your worries. 

Over your shoulder, Geto raises an eyebrow in a questioning challenge, daring Satoru to say what’s so clearly on his mind now that he’s here.

Satoru doesn’t take the bait, giving him an unapologetic shrug, refusing to feel sorry for finger fucking his ex's girl until she was sobbing out for him. He simply finishes licking his fingers clean, making sure Geto watches before he disappears into his room with a loud “good night”. 

You flinch at the slam of his door, looking up to Geto to meet his eyes as you sniffle, tears rolling down your cheeks, afraid that he was acting at it being ok. 

“Sugu’...?” You croak in confusion, wanting to lean into him for support. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” He gently pulls you against him, lifting you into his arms to carry you to his room while kissing your forehead to soothe you. “I swear its ok, love. Just come tell me what happened.”

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