#like I know at this point it’s just like a matter of WHEN the next one is coming not IF it is

[pup-pee]

ITS THEMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[kooyabooya]

INTERLUDE

m reader x haewon // 9k words

You’ll give credit where it’s due.

If not for her, you wouldn’t be here - and if not for you, she would have quit the logistical side of the show business a long, long time ago. 

She's written her own sweet, tragic, but beautiful tale of madness; willing to stay amidst the whirlwinds of shit she’s put herself through, and you can somewhat see as to why. 

It’s when she’s let herself into the space of your apartment, hours past of the usual and typical workday. Most of the reasons in this case have their own tales and periods of reflection the next morning - though, a common thread of events that you’ve been accustomed to is the trail of her heels leading a path to the couch, her handbag tossed off to the opposite end, sinking into the cushions. She’s tired, and very unbothered. 

You’re doing your own pat down not far from her. A jacket’s tossed onto the nearby chair of your dining table; the usual essentials of your phone, wallet, and one of many pairs of glasses also find their place away from your reach. 

“Since when the hell did you snag my keys from me?” You ask, patting down the quartet of pockets to realize the sudden item wasn’t part of the things you rummaged off your body. 

“It’s called sleight of hand, dear.” Haewon says, a phone spinning in the air and to a nearby pillow, “That’s what happens when you leave a key with me after our last outing. Have someone to blame? Let that be yourself.” 

“I was wondering why you were taking longer getting out of the car.” 

“Girls like to take their sweet time.” 

“Your point being?” 

“My point?” She sits up and leans forward, diverting her attention towards one of the gacha items that you got as a gift from one of her clients - a token of gratitude, for being wonderful with me - you recall the memory for a split second, and Haewon keeps on flipping it around between her fingers. “Don’t get too pressed now. It’s not like you would be locked out of your house for that long. Besides, your landlord’s seen me with you more times than he can count. If I were to ask him for the master key, he’d probably say yes.” 

“Speculation,” you breathe, “Honestly, you can try, and I think you could be on his good side for all I know.” 

A few wisps of her hair fall far off the side, and she pulls it back with a single finger. Even in the dimmest of lightings, you can still see the small twinge of her nose pulling back, flaring her nostrils. Then she flicks her eyes back toward you, hooking. “You’ve always let me lead the way, and you’re following not far behind.” 

You’re tending to the cuffs of your shirt, rolling them up just below the elbows. “I do a whole lot more than just my job.” 

“Tch,” Haewon’s got the tip of her tongue on her upper teeth. “You know well enough that it cuts both ways.” 

Almost as if this was practiced on cue, these sliding strides you make as Haewon picks herself up from her seat, it’s like two characters taking center stage. The lighting’s barely peeking through for you to see where everything’s leveled. Doesn’t matter how much effort you put into it, Haewon’s frame is the only thing you see, the weight on your shoulders start to droop from the imaginary weight on them. You can probably settle with how the luminating radiance of the night sky showers her porcelain skin or the way her silhouette molds itself in the meshing colors of this cozy dark blue pooling through behind her. There’s also the fleeting realization that this is your space that she’s nestling in. But you can’t ignore the sudden occasional chill that sweeps through every time she walks in - even when it’s after hours, the effect is still in play. 

Haewon’s treating another few strands of her hair behind her ear before looking down at the small toy on your table top. “Not a bad idea for you to start a collection going.” 

You glance over her shoulder and pull a firm grin across your face. “You know, I was a bit perplexed in why she gave that to me in the first place - after I politely refused so many times.” A shake of your head and a sigh follows instantly after. “But the more I look at it, it’s pretty cute to have. Brings a whole lot of variety in the place right off the bat.” 

Haewon dips her head down, hiding a subtle smirk when touches the tips of her socks on the floor. “I know that you fancy your books and everything but, I was happy that you took her gift in the end.” 

“Expecting me to just say no?” 

“Blind boxes are a life lesson too. People expect one thing and when they don’t get what they want, they’re pretty torn to whether to be happy or not with what they pulled. Now that I think about it, the same lesson can be seen in Forrest Gump when he’s sitting on the bench with the old lady.” 

“A lot of people can resonate with Forrest in that moment. Probably because almost everybody’s got something that they didn’t want in the first place, and I’ll take your word for it.” You slide your hands into your pockets, rolling your shoulders back. “Makes people appreciate the many things they have.” 

Haewon cocks her head towards her left, bringing it back upright once her body’s facing yours. You’re holding your breath here for a second, swallowing a lump of nervousness down your throat. She’s got it all: the intellect, the beauty, the poise. Each and every single one of those thoughts crosses both ways in your mind, it’s been like that since you got paired with her. The authenticity of her presence doubles down what’s written on paper. Like any fool in this scenario, you carry on, thinking about all of the things you’d never thought you’d do with her - the way she tries to hide the growing blush on her face when your arms hold her, how her eyelids lower their guard when you’re closing the proximity to mere inches, how she sighs with a finger pressed to her temple before whipping some of her hair back - adorable, and perfect. There’s really no other way to describe it, or her; even if she’s not very adamant into accepting the meaningful compliments. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Her small frame nestles itself easily at your front and she’s happily dancing her fingers at the pointe end of your necktie, fiddling along with the button beneath it. You’re deluding yourself at the imaginary tug she has on you and she’s barely laid a finger. “Scratch that, I wholeheartedly agree.” 

You’d wish that you could make a quick snapshot back to the very time you first unraveled her in your home, on an evening whim just like this. The proposition of pulling up a mental calendar and ripping off the pages backwards to a full two years of working with her. Though, you’re able to automatically deduce the fact of the time you and her actually spent working together - a good portion of those cases in the sheets which is worth considering - but despite all that, there’s a good report to draw up in your head where the times flowed in fluctuations, much like in a spectrogram. Some of the days with her peaked higher than the rest, and others were on the opposite end of the spectrum. That’s just how this rapport- this relationship was. 

Haewon never really dabbled with the idea of putting a label on this ‘thing’ you have with her. 

It could be a relationship, or maybe it couldn’t. She would always immediately shut down that thought circling around your brain. 

A tried and true method in getting your hopes up. And each and every time she shot your heart down. It would send you in limbo for what feels like an endless string of days, the firm tone with her delivery very clear and straight to the point. You can’t help yourself in waiting for something to change; heck, it’s possibly everything you ever wanted with her. 

It also didn’t help when the people in your inner circle were already in their own walks of life, blooming into something beautiful with their significant others; while you’re sitting off to the side, watching them from a distance as it feels like with every passing day, you’re falling further and further behind. There isn’t enough space in your journal, let alone the selection of drinks to choose from after being downed, but the feeling remains all the same - it’s a harrowing want to fill that depression oh-so desperately. 

“Whatever happened to ‘keeping things professional’?” Dipping your head down as the tip of your nose hovers right above her head, catching the first few whiffs of that oceanic scent used in her shampoo. “Wasn’t it your words exclusively that we would stop what we’re doing now? At this moment?” 

This time, you were the one to raise that wall up, hoping that it’ll stick after being broken down so many times. 

“Mine?” Haewon blurts out once her hands finally reach to the lines of your shoulders, palms sliding along the fabric of your shirt. “What about it? Don’t try to flip this back on me when we were just talking outside in the staircase and then you decided to push me against the door, perch my chin up and-” 

“Haewon.” 

“One night. That one night. You-” 

“Haewon.” You know that she’s primarily the one who likes to repeat herself at times to get her point across, but not tonight.

She sighs, head falling forward in your chest. “Alright, I’ll bite. Yes, those were my words, and I stand by them. She’s trying her hardest to ignore your overwhelming stature, because she knows your truth; she knows, and knows, and knows.“But that doesn’t mean that what I tell you is enough to sway your mind, nor your choice.”

Her words tell you one thing, but her body welled up against yours tells you another. 

“Haewon,” you repeat again, blinking it through. Your voice slightly chokes up when her thumb skates up the line of your jaw, letting her pull get the best of you, breath canvassing the slope where your chin and neck meet. “You’re not helping yourself here.” 

“It’s been a long day,” she admits, kissing you foolishly, her fingers slither to the back of your head. Your hands have a mind of their own while it tries to scrounge up what’s left of her melting figure, humming gently into your skin. “You could’ve like- taken me home, or something. Rather than bring me here, because we both know how this story goes.” 

“Don’t get all sensical with me now,” you say to her, hand quick to her wrist in an attempt to stop her, but she’s seen that card played before. “You were the one to tell me to get the hell out of the office as fast as we could, and here we are.” 

Haewon flashes her eyes at you, narrowing her expression with the simple tilt of her head. “I guess you’re right. Either I call a cab home or have you as my personal driver. Looks like the second option was the best one to pick between the two.” 

“You did look tired.” 

“Because I am.” Her eyebrows ruffle against each other when you drop the blunt response as she returns to the slacked neck along with her wrists. “After the shitstorm with Bae, and then with Sullyoon? God, don’t even get me started. You were there when everything went down.” 

“In fact I was.” 

She scowls with a much more dragged out tone with her voice, the stress pressing down on her lips returning to their familiar parted place. “I’m trying so hard to not think about it, but it’s just- ugh.” 

“A problem to be dealt with tomorrow,” you tell her, hands bringing her closer to your waist. “Just don’t think.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Haewon deadpans, her face shifting flat with dead eyes. “And it’s easier for it to be said than done.” 

“Why not do it, then?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m asking you to not focus on work for once, genius.” 

“This is me not focusing on work,” she says, pouting, “you’re the one who’s not letting me go in the first place.” 

You manage to look away for a quick second, closing your eyes to fight back the growing cringe rising on your face. “Says the one who waltzed into my house and arms right now.” 

Haewon lets out another dry laugh, resting the side of her face below your collar, pulling down on the slightly untied knot. “Well, I guess I can let you have that over me. I’ll admit that.” 

A deep inhale puffs up your chest as you’re carding your fingers into those coffee brown locks of her hair, massaging her temple. 

“Consider that to be one of your few wins against my arguments. Why bother tell you my personal thoughts about the details we talked about in the meetings earlier, or even in the office.” She sighs again deeply, burrowing herself into your embrace. “What I would do to give that pretty dumbass a-” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already said that to her earlier, by the way.” 

Haewon looks up again, recalling for a quick second, closing her lips before sounding a simple hum. “Right, I guess I did.” 

“You don’t have to handle this all by yourself, you know.” 

“What if I want to, hm?” She beams. The flip in her mood is always an anomaly in the way that she’s brushing herself up closer to you. “You know my business - my affairs, but I didn’t tell you all of them.” 

You’re well familiar with the playing field she’s setting up here. It’s a battleground that’s seen it all between the two of you, the losses outweighing the victories (and by an overwhelming margin on her end too). She’s always the one to initiate, to set up, your thoughts already getting ahead with the same downward tilt of your head, hands caressing the fabric of her skirt, finding a familiar hold of her hips like one would always do at the start of every slow dance. 

Of course you stay silent, blinking. “Well- Haewon, I’ve got no other choice but to hear you ramble all about them, since it’s my job.” 

“You know most of them.” 

“Like you said: most.” 

Haewon rests herself into you, the lines of tape gradually coming undone. The scent of her shampoo hits your nose a little bit harder this time, her palms sliding up across your chest again. She innocently tilts her head up, parting her lips; tiny, rosy, and dangerously inviting. You have no other thought filling your mind but to lift her up and capture her all to yourself. 

Her lips are like putty - easy to form and mold into the shape that you like. But you pull yourself back, a last line of defense before her eyes and hands have their own say. “Could you say that this is a choice too?” 

“Hm.” She tilts herself upwards into the line of your neck, each quick kiss sending both your heart and mind into echelons higher than cloud nine, melting with every touch until she has your head in between her palms, holding you gently. The blinks she gives are slow, and her breath hitting your face leaves you to your own devices. “What you do with me is always a choice.” 

You retreat for a moment, pulling yourself far away where you can, Haewon’s body still within reach in your arms, forming a wall of air between the space of your chest and hers. “I feel like what we do is already risky as it seems, no? Sure, we see each other on a regular basis, deal with what needs to be done with the day, talking to clients, making sure things are right for the events, going back and forth with no definite pause in between.” Didn’t matter if she was out of the country or mere inches away from you, she’s always about work it seems - like that was the only mode programmed in her mind. “More often than not, I’m treating what damage is done which usually ends up with a few bottles of beer and don’t even get me started on how bad of a lightweight you are-” 

“Uh, rude.” Haewon pays no attention to you. Her thumb grazes your cheek again, and you can’t help the way that you’re leaning into her touch, once realizing that what you said might be too much. You feel your head being reeled in lower and lower, until you feel the tip of her nose hit the cuff of your ear. “But you’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that you have to put up with me that way.” 

Nodding was something that you always used to acknowledge her opinions or thoughts, and it isn’t any different here. 

However, your hands are playing a different role: traversing their way into the two small divots below the small of her back, resting just right above her ass. She’s getting herself more and more comfortable, undoing the first three buttons of her shirt, inviting you to dive into the new opening. You keep on gazing into her slightly swollen lips, studying at how quickly her tongue wets the bottom part, and you draw another swift inhale past your teeth before answering, “There’s no need for you to apologize, especially to me.”

Haewon keeps on pulling the undone tie, the knot basically nonexistent the more she pulls down, eventually sliding it out of your collar and onto the floor. She gives it a quick glance when it pools over her feet and yours, and her lapin eyes land on yours again, bottom lip captured between her teeth. “I just feel bad, you know? And part of me thinks that it’s only a matter of time until you’ve had enough and want to-” 

You shut her up before she keeps up the self-lament, meshing her lips against yours, wanting her to be persuaded in a different manner - one with less words and more actions. 

Drawing back, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And even if I ever had the chance to, I’d straight up say no.” 

“Look at you, so easygoing.”

“I-” 

“At some point,” she breathes, ghosting her face over yours, tugging on that want for you to chase after. “I’d thought you’d give up on forgiving me.” 

“For?” 

“Anything, really.” Haewon answers admittedly. “Whether it’s here or in the office, you have that same look in your eyes, the one filled with sorrow. It hurt me a bit.” 

Maybe right now would be the time to remind her that what she’s thinking is nothing but complete bullshit. 

So you lean down again, and pull her close. Another snapshot taken in the back of your mind. 

Two years is a long time. Two years of the same routine over and over, of working with her, unwinding after the long hours hidden away from everyone else, watching her work herself down to the bone, doing all of these things as if she’s going to die in the next five seconds if she doesn’t keep going. She’s rising to every occasion that she can, moving so fast that you can’t even bear to keep up with her. You’d admire from a distance, in awe, all while you’re at her right-hand side, unwilling to say anything to her. Obviously when she needed to get her mind off of something, or everything for that matter, she wasn’t the kind of person to be upfront about what she wants and let you read into the signs. Luckily, you’ve always noticed at a glance, and even if she isn’t the one to puff out her lips and kiss you first. No. Never. That’s a luxury that’s reserved for you and only you. Because all it takes is one look into your eyes, and the way she’s broken you down like this, she’s very aware of what your downfall is: her. 

All of this is a continuation of a growing culmination, her own personal anthology sprouted from her brain, one which you’ve caught wind of gradually. 

When you’re kissing into her again, hard, you start to feel everything around you collapse. It’s in the way that she smiles against your lips, matching every curve you give her - it’s amazing, and you could write poems of all the good things about Haewon - you’re reminded again and again how out of all the moments in the high achieving days and miserable nights, these instances feel just right. She’s drawing air into her nose, grazing your cheek, never wanting to pull each other away; until you’re sucking the oxygen out of each other’s mouths that leaves the both of you suffocating a bit. It’s all foolish, maybe just a bit, and to hell with the consequences awaiting you at the end of the bridge, because she knows that she’ll be in a safe place as long as it’s with you. 

The arch in her back rises, and you’re clinging tighter into her smaller frame, shoulder bunching up next to her neck, making it easier for you to hold. You can tell her breaths and hums are getting desperate, her own little mess up the more she melts into you. 

You’re not helping her in this situation, and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve done this to her. She’s hooking her arm well around your neck, the only line of support while you’re taking care of the rest, letting her wrists fall slack as you keep on your loving siege on her lips. 

She’s had a rough one this week. A red eye flight back from a fashion week, an entire day of going to ten different locations with one of her top clients, then there’s the whole incident with Bae and Sullyoon back to back. Amongst all of those things, you’d wish that you’d sweep her away for just a second and take her mind off from all the pressures and stress (and you definitely wished you didn’t wait until now to finally do it). 

“Mmmm,” Haewon lets her voice rumble in her throat, tightening her grip in the back of your collar, signaling you to pull away. When you do, her eyes pool into yours, shimmering pupils working overtime to map out the lines of your face. You could feel the heat from her cheeks grow warmer. Her eyes cross for a second. She lets her head go crestfallen, pulling this one smile, her simplest smile, the rarest one she could ever have that not a lot of people have had the pleasure of seeing. The gentlest and most genuine one that she could have, it sells the whole thing to you. Despite her tough shell, you realize that she’s one of the rare few that sends your heart flipping, every time she’s got your guard lowered - exactly in the way like this - it’s impossible to ignore the outshining tempts when all of your inhibitions are at their lowest. 

Her head goes one side, and then the opposite, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this.” 

Today’s been one of those days. You’re tired, even beyond tired. If she didn’t come with you, the bed would’ve been full by now. Two years of the on and off and the off and on, it’s draining. You don’t say anything, as always. Instead, you swoop down beneath her thighs and carry her, taking her lips all to yourself. 

She hums this heavenly noise when you press her against the wall, her legs hooking to a familiar spot where it hasn’t been in a while. Some of the buttons in her shirt come more undone not to your knowledge, but you play the counterpart when tending to the clip and zipper of her skirt. Luckily your body can work in two places at once, returning your focus to Haewon’s face, a sweep of her tongue over your bottom lip. 

The pressure to her waist is not too little nor too much, but just the right amount of press when your leg plays this momentary support underneath her legs, helping her slip out of her shirt while she does the same to you. Almost like you’re opening the pages of a book you finished reading, but flipping through to a certain part like the untouched skin of her chest with her simple black bra playing as the final back line of garments waiting to be discarded. She does that part all by herself, indulging on the breadth of her collarbone, forcing her to bite down a soft moan. 

Haewon here isn't one to play nice. There’s a bit of a tug-of-war going on with your mouths until you gnaw on her lips a bit too hard, wanting you to do that again the way her face is chasing after yours. But her eyes find their place in line again, gaze softening - you’re cursing at yourself because of how beautiful she looks like this. She’s always been one to have a heart of steel, create that dam covering her fragile trust, her arms wrap you in her embrace, eyes hinting at a sign of concern. The flame in your heart has gone cold, but she’s always been the one fanning the fire back to life. 

When you let her down gently, back sliding against the smooth drywall, her arms shift over her head - opening up the area of her midriff to see, to feel. Your palms have never felt anything smoother until they’re slipping the skirt off from her hips, curling over the waistband of her underwear and she fills the open space between your mouths, “fix me up baby, please.” 

Most of her solid-colored panties get caught between your knuckles, skating down her thigh - you’re hunting, searching, till you reach that empowering heat between her thighs. You could feel the top part of her forearm press firmly on the nape of your neck while one of her shoulder blades drags itself against the wall behind her. 

A drag up, then down across her folds, and she rasps. 

You get a finger in, maybe two just to test, feeling her body tense and grasp and hook onto anything within her reach. Little by little, piece by piece, Haewon’s gradually reduced to these mere meeked noises and hums the more your hands and lips begin their grand assault across the fine canvas of her body. The wetness consumes your fingers, and your mouth increasingly gets greedy as you’re nibbling away at the firm mound of her now exposed breasts, her bra gone in one swift move, mind focusing on too many feelings all at once. 

Her head lolls up and over, opening up the left side of her neck for you to take, gasping. She can’t stop squirming in place, and you’ll deal with that soon enough. “I love your hands,” she sighs. “God, you sure know how to satisfy a woman.” 

Your brain is working on the clock, finding all of the niche places and spots on her body to get her needy for more, and she’s playing spectator, the pad of your tongue swipes upward at the midline of her chest, capturing the hard bud of her nipple between your thumb and index, twisting without a care of her quick pain. 

Haewon gets both of her hands around your head, pulling you up from drowning beneath her neck, showering your face with kisses, forehead pressing against yours, “Happy with your reward?” 

You’ll give credit where it’s due. You hate how intoxicating she is with the snarky remarks and fast banter, but you love how simple she is to break down - send her mind into a downward spiral. She could let you ruin her life, and it would be the same for you. 

It takes a moment too long to consider, your brain is running through the playbook of all the moves and positions you could have her in, which spot in your house would be the most ideal place to simply just bend her over and tear her insides apart until she won’t be able to walk or think straight. A woman like her: clothes pooled and scattered everywhere at her feet, swollen lips and tattered skin just waiting to be ruined. 

Haewon knows you well, where all she has to do is say something to snap your attention back to her: “How do you want me?” 

She’s selfish, there’s no denying that. Though, she doesn’t really care what you think when she’s kissing you shamelessly once more, smushing and smacking her lips across your face, letting her have her way and to sink into her body again. But here is where she forgets, another callback of the few other times she got too ahead of the curve too soon- 

“I think I find you to be prettier when you’re like this,” you tell her, quickly sinking down to your knees moving her thighs over your shoulders; get your face close to that warm, delightful fountain between her thighs when you lift her up from the floor, holding her there. 

-to realize that you too, are also selfish in your own accord; at some point, there’s a time to prove who has what between the two of you, and the sigh of acknowledgment slipping out of her lips gives just enough that you’re doing something right. 

It all could’ve gone wrong for Haewon at any given point in the time you’ve been working with her. All it took was a few mishaps both in and out of her control and she would’ve snapped. In those dire times of need, she had you. Whether it’d be your mouth or your fingers, the way you settle into these well-practiced strokes of your tongue and cock, and she loves to travel down the little rite of passage when you shut her up with a palm on her mouth or a hand to her throat. She knows that you have your limits, and it’s all in her cards for when she’s able to unshackle you from your common sensibilities. A hand is raked into your hair as you’re shifting your head closer and closer, until your breath starts to blanket her leaking entrance, awaiting for your arrival. 

There’s a few mumbles spilling out of her lips when you gently kiss her folds, brush your nose right up against her clit, to where her head bucks forward, giving an unintentional style of wispy bangs the more your mouth starts to scoop up the mess that you’ve created. Her hips buck and jerk, pressing your head deeper into her quivering pussy lips, wanting to get that ache so much faster than intended. 

“God, yes baby- right there,” is all she says, and she can barely manage to prop her head upright when you look up from below. 

A chuckle leaves your nose, arming a coy smile before you carry on your attention onto her swollen clit, sucking and teasing on it shamelessly until you start to feel the insides of her thighs shake against your ears, digging her nails deep into your scalp. 

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, feeling the pressure of Haewon’s legs crushing your skull from within. “Looks like you’ve been pent up for a while now, no?” 

Haewon digs a heel into your back, making you secure the tops of her thighs with your fingers, hitting her head back on the wall. “Among other things.” 

“Really.” You reply flatly, giving her another swift lick of your tongue into her aching cunt, her slick pooling across the wet pad. “Because judging how your body’s reacting, you’ve been wanting me badly since the last time.” 

“Sounds perfectly right.” 

She loses that hefty persona pretty damn quickly when you’re diving into her pussy again, stifling a moan, grinding  her hips into your head, wanting you to keep on licking until she’s had enough (spoiler alert: she hasn’t.) “Do tell me more,” you’re telling her, smacking your lips to the heat, “if you’re able to, of course.” 

“Seriously. Fuck you.” 

“Says the one who’s technically my boss.” 

“Not when it’s after hours I’m not.” 

“What are you implying?” 

Haewon’s eyes squint a bit, trying to keep focus, doubling down on the indulgence of your tongue over her folds. Her face is in a rosy shade of pink, similar to when she’s usually drunk - but this shade however, you’d prefer to see her more in. “Stop pretending to play dumb. I know you can read between the lines here.” 

“And what if I want to be oblivious for once? Like in every situation that we’re in while at work?” 

“You’re not, ah-” 

You’re not giving her any chance to breathe here. She doesn’t deserve it. And when you lather her pussy up in your spit, it’s less than an act of mercy, helplessly whining at the harshful gnawing you’re doing to her poor cunt - it’s what she wants, and she has no one to blame for making you like this but herself. 

“If you’re not my boss during these hours, then what are you?” You inquire.

“I’ll be anything but your boss. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

That’s all the confirmation that you needed, forcefully plummeting her down to her inevitable demise. You feel the muscles in her thighs clench in shock from the unexpected anticipation, biting down her shriek the more you dive into the endless depths of her entrance, satisfying that want that you and her so desperately wanted. 

“Oh,” Haewon sighs out as some epiphany. But the moment of relief washes over her in no time, her layers folding. Collapsing. Her entire body wiggles in this circular motion. “Oh.” 

The heavenly chorus of her mewls fill your ears when you’re cementing your pace, wreaking havoc between her thighs. She’s still got her hand gripping the back of your head, the other flat on the wall. Her stomach bucks and folds at the weight of your tongue, moving your head around in different directions to make sure that you’re hitting every spot with the right approach. The pleasure is building in all of the right places, and you can feel the curl of her toes on your back, ensuring that you’re doing the exact job as her personal toy. “Fuck. Right there, right there.” 

It only increases the flood by tenfold. She’s spilling more and more you kiss, swirl, nibble, and tease - doing everything you can to make sure she reaches that unimaginable peak first. “You’re so good. You’re so so good. Baby- don’t stop, oh my god-” 

Haewon can’t help herself here, leaning her back deeper into the wall and dragging her hips outward, keeping both legs on your shoulders to the best that she can, unable to let up with the bucks and jolts her hips are making into your face. Every quick rush of air past her teeth only holds so much until she starts to feel her stomach bunch up in knots. 

“T-tongue, dear. Oh jesus, you’re so good at- fuck!” she yelps, the tailends of her breaths tattered in these hushed moans, picking up in volume the more you slurp up her pussy to your heart’s content. “Almost, almost.” 

You’re well aware of the fact that Haewon is one of the main catalysts when it comes to operating her job. She’s second to none. The standard. The spearhead. She’s got one of the most sizable clientele’s for a reason. But the jaws of work can consume anybody in this climate, no matter how on top or perfect they can be. It would only be a matter of time for the fatigue to get to her - and with the recent events happening around the office, it did just that. Everyone needs a break from time to time, and she’s no different here. A tongue laps up one spot past the clit, there’s a nibble of her swollen folds between your teeth, and here is where you step up to the role of ensuring that Haewon gets her much deserved intermission here. 

“Right there, I’m gonna-ah! -umming,” Haewon wails, failing to let up with the oral assault on her quivering cunt, her cries filling up your ears, the muscles of her legs locking your back in place, fingers tugging the roots of your hair. “Cumming. I’m fucking cumming.”

These puppy eyes you do to look up, she gazes down, bottom lip still stuck to her teeth as her expression tears, coming down from her needed stress relief. You stay the course in holding her steady, taking account of the lingering twitches and tensions of muscle her body does. 

And not long after, you finally let her down from the wall. Her arms slither around the familiar profiles of your back, lazily planting her lips onto your skin again - Haewon wants another taste of you. It’s also kind of cute how her toes stack up on top of your feet, prompting you to lead the way into the bedroom while she’s closely tethered to you. 

“Love it. Love it so much.” Haewon sighs out, half-lidded eyes caught in your vision. “Love it when you make me cum like that.” 

It’s one of the few moments where she doesn’t expect a response from you, because it’s already true. 

Above everything, you carry on with your steps as Haewon’s lips continue to spell out these hushed curses - all the things that she wants you to do to her - her fantasies, the praises, what she likes you doing and what she wants to do to you with the intent of returning the favor. Her figure is so light in your hands and on your feet, limbs loose enough to bend and twist, a marked up canvas ready for another brush-to-paper moment. 

Gravity here does it’s own thing when she falls backward onto the mattress of your room, her arms doing this natural reflex of going above her head, carving up these unbelievable curves in real time to where her back is off the comforters and her left foot is inching up against her inner right thigh. This image alone was enough for you to mindlessly slip out of your pants and underwear, eyes fixed on Haewon rolling her body: belly facing down, back up, her knees dig deep into the sheets, the upper half stretching a bit while her lower half rises up past your thighs, rounding out her hips. 

Her knees spread wider across the sheets and her back dips, you think - just a bit, and the look she does over her shoulder is the right amount of lethality. You don’t even flinch when she manages to get her fingers onto the length of your cock, telling you the only thing she wants you to do: 

“Take this cock and fuck me.” 

You’d follow her words no matter what. 

Like a siren’s call out in the sea, the sound of Haewon’s voice comes off as this daring risk where the mind starts to slowly reduce itself around her hand, languidly pumping you to the point where the urge to rip the fun out of her is impossible to ignore. 

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts to say. 

You lean down to shower a few kisses to her neck, fingers sliding up to her waist, pressing for a firm hold while an airy giggle passes her lips. 

“How long have you dealt with me? Being like this? 

“Where would I even start?” You hunch over with a trail of kisses down her lower back, cupping the swell of her ass while noting that most of her slick has spread past the underside and to the back of her thighs. “I don’t even remember who made the first move back then.” 

Haewon reaches out for one of your pillows, setting it between her arms and chest, “I’m sure it was you, or maybe it was me. Maybe-” 

A wistful gasp stops her from talking when you slowly press your cock into her leaking pussy, lips slicked up and inviting between those lovely thighs of hers. You drink in the sight of the grip she has around your length as you continue to ease yourself into her, keeping it together poorly before the heat and her pulse gets to your head. 

“Maybe what?” you tell her, attempting to bring back her train of thought from fleeing away. 

This girl who’s backside is arched so high up in the air and stomach buried deep into the sheets looks over her shoulder again, eyes filled with tension - a fire blazing beneath the irises. “Maybe- you were just oblivious about the signals I was sending you, but now that we’re here, I guess you can say that you made the curve.” 

“I won’t deny anything here-” Everything about this is the reality, anyway. You drag and push yourself into the fluttering heat of her second pair of lips. Her body is so responsive in the wants and needs just from the wetness alone, but she knows that you’re not easy to take. “That was an argument I lost a while ago.” 

Your hips flush with Haewon’s and she whines, shoving her face into the pillow set in front of her as she relaxes into the stable pace. A simple yank of her waist back to your thighs serves the only preamble, the quick groan ripped out of your chest, that rush of wanting this tightness and addicting feeling more and more. 

“Right?” You’re asking again, meshing her hips with yours, leaning forward and down to the nape of her neck. Sighs joining together in an impromptu chorus, “I’m not denying you winning me over.” 

Haewon’s hands here go a bit haywire, shooting up and out. One of them comes to grips with the comforter beneath her. You watch her body move, ass rippling through every pump back into her cunt. “Yeah, but you-” 

Her head then dips down into the pillow again, writhing in the twists left and right. You catch yourself hobbling over her upper body once more, lip trapped to your teeth. “You said ‘yeah’. Let’s keep it that way.” 

A gradual rhythm gets developed here, taking in every wonderful inch of Haewon’s dripping cunt, shaft picking up more and more slick with ease in every passing stroke. She’s so wonderfully tight around your length, molding to your cock like it’s the missing piece that makes her feel complete, and whole. There’s an attempt to level herself parallel to the mattress, but you don’t give her any kind of luxury whatsoever, pushing down on the small of her back that deepens the arch, nudging your cockhead down further past the threshold of her calefaction. 

You’re blinking, you’re believing, and you’re pretty much swearing to the heavens above at the thought out realization that Haewon was meant to be yours - like she was made for only you. She’s in the right position, taking you at just the right angle, all sensibilities hanging on a singular thread. Every hit spills out a quick phrase of pants, watch her struggle in keeping her head upright, a slacking neck in response with the consistent slaps of your hips into hers. 

Her slick creates these scattered strings across the skin - not only to the tops of your thighs, but to her ass as well, the sound of her moans bouncing off the walls once they start to rise up a bit in volume. 

“Fucking-” and it’s right at this moment, where she sounds relieved, it all comes down with a firm grind of her teeth, “fuck.” 

“Yeah?” You hum. 

“It’s so-” the blowback of your cock into her cunt becomes a little too much to bear, “it’s so fucking good.” 

You’re holding her in place, right at the hips, the unbelievable form of her ass rocking back and forth with every shift of motion caused by you. The low light of your humidifier works its hours on the nightstand, illuminating the comfy and watered colors onto her skin. She’s drenched in this soft honey shade, laying ruin of the pale sheets on her knees and elbows - face gazing to the window, proffering up these listless praises to fill up your head. 

The thing is: this isn’t the first time that you and her were like this. There’s an absolute certainty that someone living in either the floors above or below your room has heard everything that’s happened within these walls. Surely someone minding their own business walking along the sidewalk outside has seen Haewon’s gorgeous tits pressed up against the glass, her face full of rapture and pleasure - not having any sense of respect or decency to keep it in the room. You remember railing her poor pussy out on the balcony one time; and that was an issue for the landlord to bring up the following day, but neither you nor her really cared. 

What really mattered here, was fucking her brains out. Easy as that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god-” 

Every word that’s punctuated out of her lips starts to collapse on top of each other, the impact of your thrusts siphoning the last bits of air trapped in her lungs. She isn’t making her condition any better, suffocating herself deep into the pillow, hoping to drown out the wet noises of her cunt slipping your cock in with refined precision. This choking grip is more dangerous than her hands, her hitched breaths are in no comparison to your labored huffs, slowing your movements with one forceful drive in, a massage of her asscheeks here, another drag and thrust back into her tight cunt, and a playful slap to her ass, tainting the slick skin in red. 

“Baby, your fucking cunt,” you hiss. “Jesus christ.” 

A whiny ‘mhm-” is all you manage to get out of Haewon, breaking underneath your weight. Her ass is still facing up, face shoved into the pillow, nicking her neck up for air, fucking her down the curve of her spine. “Oh my goodness. You got it so deep. Hit me hard. Please, and I swear to fuck - ngh-” 

You’re groaning, increasing the sway of your hips into hers, “So fucking tight.” Haewon’s hands manage to find yours, holding the swell of her ass together, moving her body the opposite direction away from you, meeting the impact down the middle which sends your balls lightly tapping the nub of her clit. She knows that you’ve been working a bit too much for your own sake, so she goes on ahead and has her own fun, fucking herself back onto your cock, the recoil alone enough for you to just freeze on your knees and take it. 

“S’that feel good?” she asks innocently.

Spilling out another expletive, you angle your hips up as her ass comes crashing down. 

“You’re so hard for me,” Haewon continues, looking over with her body still pressed against the sheets, the left side of her face smiling at the sight of you trying to hold it together. “This cock fits so well inside- jesus, ah- had to let yourself go for a bit, didn’t you?” 

“If you keep your hips moving with my hands tied, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” 

The plot was already lost from the first dirty thought you had with her. 

Her ass keeps your lower half in check, unknowingly moving through muscle memory while the walls of your room continue to reverberate the stuttering breaths and quick curses slipping out of both of your lips. Your hands hold still in tandem with her fingers and start to claw into your palms, pleasure spiking everywhere in her body, skin hot to the touch as the claps start to increase in tempo - the rate shifting to something more desperate, erratic. 

“My fucking god, shit!” She wails, her hands shooting down to her ass, spreading herself wider while you lock your eyes at the sight of your cock buried into her cunt becomes a whole lot more clearer now, “Right there baby, holy fuck- this cock is just-” Haewon’s demeanor is diminishing by the second, words and sighs tumbling over in loops, but the pitch in her whines hit a familiar key or tone, gradually crescendoing when she gives up in squirming between your fingers. 

“Pound my ass- yes, fuck- this dick is amazing.” Her head swivels up before ducking below into the open cavity of her chest and arms, sucking in her stomach with whatever strength she has left, “Give me more,” she’s panting, head spinning and spinning like a ceiling fan, “Give it to me. I need more-” 

There’s not much left for you to take other than the stray tit that’s captured into your hand when you hunch yourself over her again, lift the upper half of her body upwards so that she’s in line with yours, entrapping that heat away from the cool air, trembling. Your mouth is back to her ear again, eyes half-lidded, fingers moving around your neck while the warmth of her cunt starts to burn across your length - the new lane created where your cock slides into her that creates this sequence of events of her convulsing, shuddering, pulling her hips back with a sole purpose to just ruin her. You’re hearing a slight wheeze out of her, maybe a sob too, the head of your cock’s hit a spot past her threshold where it literally makes her go stupid; mind and body into putty, exactly the way you like it. 

Her fingers continue to hold tight, cunt clenching around your thick shaft when you’ve finally got her past that edge. There’s a bit of a moment of pause when you and her are stacked on top of each other, exhaustion finally breaking through, coaxing her second orgasm as you’re keeping your cock warm inside of her, feeling her hips spaz out of control while you endure in fucking her poor, spent, pretty pussy. Both heels of her feet bend towards the backside of your thighs, pressing her waist into the mattress, sliding yourself out the tightness before teasing her with the half of your shaft. 

“There we go, Haewon. I’ve got you,” you’re telling her. The tone of your voice drowned out by the keening shattering through. “You’re perfect. Cum over this cock, baby. You deserved it.” 

She keeps on sighing when she comes down from her second high, summoning this lazy grin while you’re peppering her face with kisses, an indication for a job well done. But she taps the top of your hand twice, resting at the crease of her hips - and the shimmy of her hips still embedded with your cock tells you only one thing: 

“I wanna make you cum.” 

The insanity this woman has. It does something to you. 

So you waste no time at all. It’s enormously more than just a mess with how fucked up she is. 

When you give her what she needs: flipping on her back was the way to go, yanking her hips back into yours until you see her eyes go wide at the sudden stroke before rolling up behind her head and past her eyelids - everything starts to fall into place with the way the back of her ankles hold your waist, which only leaves you with the sole choice of pounding her so fucking hard that you’d have to hook yourself into the arch of her back where she’ll have no where to go - it’s a position well practiced, your ol’ reliable: firing your cock on all cylinders at a pace so inhuman until she’s able to look you in the eyes and cast a spell for you to finish on her pretty face and leave her there with the damage when it’s all said and done - the assurance that you’ll give her what she wants and have you craving for more - kissing you shamelessly like she’ll be stoned to a rock come the next day, and when you’re feeling the pit of your stomach open more and more, the muscles in your hips and legs moving and tensing in the midst of this sex-filled frenzy, there was only one instinct in your mind where it didn’t take much to pump and dump your load inside her. 

You can feel yourself getting close, head dizzying. “Haewon-” 

“I know, handsome boy,” she praises, pulling you so that your forehead touches hers, “can feel you throbbing down there.” 

She lets out this airy laugh when you wince a bit, hands reined at the small of her back and bringing her waist in, the impact of your cock rebounds her body once the pace starts to decrease. 

“Fill me up, like you always do,” Haewon husks, voice barely a whisper in contrast to your hoarseness, “Put a baby in me.” 

There’s this sort of tension in the air along with your body, driving your cock deep into her, burying your cum into the crevices of her pulsing hotness. Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, telling you to keep cumming inside of her, feeling every hot thread of your release coating her slopped walls. 

You can feel yourself get light-headed - the warmth alone, not to mention how wet and tight her pussy is still, a place where everything feels right - but the lust filled in your head starts to fade, blackened vision returning to normal; and before you know it, you’re coming back to earth. 

Neither of you move a muscle. Instead, you lay there for a bit, taking in the dwindling time of exploring each other’s bodies, holding yourselves together while your lips are conducting one final battle for that last dominance, the stench of sex and sweat still fresh and out to the open air. 

Haewon manages to wrap both of her arms around your neck, kissing the slope of her neck and collarbone, scratching the back of your head, looking up to the ceiling with a lazy smile, one plastered with satisfaction. She taps your shoulder to grab your attention, but all you could come up with was a simple hum, which seemed to be enough for her. 

“Go get me some lemons and water. I owe you a special something and a ride.” 

–

Morning rolls around not long after, and assessing the lay of the land of your living space with one eye open. Everything seems to be in their place, tv remotes, work bag next to the neighboring desk, and the singular cup on the counter next to the fridge. Another thing to note, Haewon already got a jump start to the day. 

You’re sliding across the floor with said singular cup being put into the kitchen sink, but with the other eye open now, you notice something at the corner of the kitchen island: a small box left open. 

“I wonder what she has for me this time,” you say to yourself, examining the box which turned out to be a contraceptive tablet. A note also slips out with a card attached. 

“Take today off. I’ll be coming over later. By the way, I hope you won’t get mad at me for snatching your little gift from Jiwoo. It was too cute for you to have sitting on your nightstand or coffee table, so I took it for myself. 

p.s 

Don’t worry about last night so much. I had everything thought out since our little ‘accident’ the first time. Can’t really say the same thing with what I said, but you can choose to ignore it…or not ;’)

- Haewon

xo <3” 

The attached card flipped over showed the name of the gacha toy gifted to you. A justified reaction of sighing with rolled eyes and the shake of your head was pretty much the start of some days; but hey, at least the breaks are enjoyable. 

“Sleight of hand my ass,” you mutter, thumbing the small slip of paper in your fingers, “she stole that from me.” 

-

a/n: sending my special flowers to @majorblinks (i love you foreverrr <3), @passingnotions (for happily agreeing to poke around wherever in the draft), and @yieldtotemptation (to opening the floodgates with ur bae fic).

thank you for reading and wemo check. :3

[beautifullilacsky]

"Will you overthinking this?" He asked as we were walking hand in hand in the park.

Me, fully aware I have already started overthinking the moment he mentioned that her friend broke off her relationship: "....... juuup"

"What are you overthinking about? Lets discuss it together, let me help"... I explained how, maybe, now that she is single, she might try to get over a guy by getting under another one. Or maybe, since you guys tall about problems and are pretty close, she turns to flirting now that she is single. "Okay and? Why would I get into that while I have my girlfriend at home? I would say no thank you. Also, I don't think she is the person to do that. I have met her before she was in a relationship, and she also wasn't like this then". Okay, well, .. maybe she will have heard bad things about me and will not like me or she will think I am not good enough for you, or too much, and tell you to break up with me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with you, not with her, but ja, well... He put his arms around me and stopped us from walking on, hugging me from behind. "Sometimes I forget how insecure you can be. Do you really think I'll just break up with you because someone tells me to? And besides, I think you should meet her. She is really kind and everytime I mentioned something, she was always more on the reassuring side." Well, I also thought your other friend was kind.. "..... true. ..... I don't have an argument against that."

"So... if she were to still be in a relationship, would it be okay? .. meh, I feel like that's a bad excuse. "Yeah she is in a relationship anyway" , as if that changes anything. Doesn't that sound like a bad thing to you?" Hmm. Well. Honestly, I felt better when she was in a relationship, assuming it wasn't an u know who typa relationship. It's always a 2 people's decision. And that way, I am at least sure that one side is on the no side (as I said it out loud, I realized how fuckedup it sounded.) "Shouldn't you trust me to already be on the no side?" .... I should, yes. I just don't know what to make of the fact that you told me that you can't promise me that it won't happen again. "That was a year ago" .... "back then I wasn't super sure, and before that I was def not sure. Also, I did not want to force you to trust me (def different exact words from his, buthey, u get the point.). It's been a year." Would you get back to it and say something different now then? "Yes. I am sure that it will never happen again".

And there it was. I know he is a firm believer in actions over words, but sometimes I need words to be sure. He told me that he tells me the truth, and I know he does. Thus, if he tells me, I believe him. So. Maybe this is what I needed to truly get to trusting him again. His word. It's not a signed contract, I know. I can't sue him if his words turn out to be false. Though, I needed this. I needed his faith in himself to make sure it won't happen again. Fuck damn hey. I needed him to believe in himself. If he doesn't believe he will stop it the next time, who am I to believe so? Well well well. Before he left, if our roommate wasn't sitting right next to me, I would've said after he asked me if I'm still okay (for like, the 3th time): "if you say it won't happen again, I trust you." Fuck. And I'd mean it. I feel like I have entered a new reality. One in which it is safe for me to have faith in him. In which, sure, maybe a girl will flirt with him, but I can laugh about it. I can be proud to be with that hotstuff that she can't help but talk to. I can make jokes about it and raise my eyebrows up and down. I can do it all, and enjoy the situation, knowing. Truly knowing. That it doesn't matter at all if the other party is on the "yes-boat". He isn't, and he won't get onto it either. Even if a chance presents itself, he won't even see it as one. He has the set in stone plan to come back home to me. Even if she would get him drunk and touch him all over, ... he will say no. Even if it scares me more with booze, he is still himself. He doesn't get into a crazy trans and turns into a different person with different values. He is still the same person who held my hand as we walked in the autumn colored park, and said that it would never happen again.

It feels like something in me has been freed. As if trust was a fluffy creature within me, which was tied down. His words freed it. It still can't believe that the tiny trust guy is free. That it's safe to stand up now and run and smile and truly trust. It's astonished, grasping for those words that set it free. Wanting to hold them and craving for them to invade its veins with its lightning energy and brightness. May it no longer feel the need to stay on the ground; the ties have been undone. Fuck.

[voidspiraling]

Omg so I was obsessing over Till again ya know. As one do. And I was analyzing (obsessing) over the baby Till comic when I noticed some thingssss. (This is just my interpretations feel free to disagree)

This frame was fun to look at bc it was just Till doodling and looking cute. But the closer you look…..

Till knew that the flowers were actually cameras!!!maybe that’s why even tho Ivan ripped up the flowers in Till’s presence Till didn’t actually hate it as much. Most IvanTill scenes rarely have these flowers in them and I think after Till grows up we stop seeing the flowers altogether.

Baby is so observant 🥹

Another thing I was obsessing over was the final few frames. In this one my eyes first went to Till because he is contrasted in the picture (blue against white bg and his head being in the center of the comp) and then to Mizi bc she is the biggest element in the picture. But after looking closer you see that Mizi and Sua are both blurry. They are also further away from Till.

But here Ivan and Till are both in focus and they’re right next to each other. I think this shows how despite what Till outwardly says on his subconscious level he feels closer to Ivan. They’re equals. This is also easy to overlook because Ivan is cut off in the picture. He’s like a shadow off to the side. This could be bc Ivan always hides what he feels to everyone and to himself. Or maybe bc he always follows Till around like a shadow lol.

Another thing I wanted to add is when Till turns around. Presumably he’s looking at Mizi (could just be the viewer but lets assume it’s Mizi) but his face is flat he only looks surprised to see her. But aside from the fact that his collar is green we don’t see any other indication that he’s happy. His face isn’t flushed nor is his face expressive like it usually is. I think this is bc his love for Mizi wasn’t in a romantic sense but more in a admiration sense, and his love has cooled down.

Not to sound mean or anything but I remember reading that the reason he fell in love with her is bc of her smile. While that is a sweet notion it feels surface level especially when you compare it to Ivan’s love to Till.

Which would you prefer someone falling in love with your smile vs. someone falling in love with your strength and passion?

I also think that it’s telling that in his R2 song he admits that his feelings were “Error: No better options” Till likely knows that he doesn’t love Mizi but he feels like he should love her bc she is so kind and gentle. She gave him such nice and thoughtful gifts. Even complimented his piercings and treats him kindly even though he’s an outcast.

In his mind he should be madly in love with her. She should be his “savior.”

But inevitably his eyes drift to Ivan.

And I think it’s telling that while Till is looking at Ivan the focal point of the panel is the kids of Anakt garden walking among real trees. It shows that his love for Ivan is similar to freedom and that his love for Ivan is real. It’s like someone feeling relief at finally expressing their love after denying themselves for so long. I think Till tried to force himself to fall in love romantically with Mizi bc he felt too vulnerable around Ivan.

He likes Ivan but he thinks Ivan doesn’t like him so that’s why he tries to fall in love with someone else to get over it. He’s probably afraid of Ivan rejecting him so he projects his love onto Mizi instead. Till doesn’t actually know Mizi all that well so in a way even if she rejects him it won’t hurt that much. And he does feel happier around her and wants to talk to her more. But I think this is more of a friendship thing than a romance thing. Till also wanted to be friends with Sua too but Sua was too obsessed with Mizi to give a damn. That’s why Till feels uncomfortable around her and likely why he gave up talking to her first.

But since Till or any human for that matter were never taught how to love all he can do is try to remove his feelings for Ivan and put them on Mizi. However this isn’t rlly healthy nor does it work out.

After all…

His collar turns green when he listens to Ivan singing. Even though he was injured to the point he passed out, even though he’s bleeding profusely, even though he likely has a major headache. Ivan’s song is comforting to him.

That can only because of love right? Hell after his round even though Mizi was right next to him looking at him he was too injured to even pay her any attention. But here he managed to open his eyes bc it was Ivan singing.

They’re love was always mutual Till was just to shy abt it and tried to run away from it.

;-;

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're less than pleased to be marrying the arrogant noble your parents arranged for you. On the day of your wedding, you cross paths with a pirate who seems keen on ruining your big day, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: minor alabasta spoilers, arranged marriage, I kind of went ham on the descriptions and readers backstory in general, violence, mother issues

𝐚/𝐧: *arises from where i fell off the face of the earth and throws down an offering* greetings.

“Respectfully…” You took a moment to compose yourself, sipping from your teacup and raising your eyes to settle on your soon-to-be husband. “You are the scum of the earth, Mr. Toleson.”

Mr. Toleson, quite used to this, only rolled his eyes and moved to pour you more tea. “Pray tell me what I have done to receive such contempt, Miss?”

That question could not easily be answered. Did your contempt stem from your lack of choice, or from Mr. Toleson’s less than agreeable disposition? Or perhaps from society’s overall decision that whatever may happen, you should sit still and be merry. Who cares if your marriage is loveless and your life unfulfilled?

You dropped another sugar cube in your tea and stirred it around. Maybe it was everything all at once. And Mr. Toleson’s… superiority in age didn’t help matters either. The rickety man just reached his late fifties, his hair reaching a color not yet gray, but most definitely not the brown of his youth. You’d seen pictures. He was a handsome boy twenty years ago, when you were but a lemon-shaped babe in the womb.

“I had plans,” you answer at last. “Plans that do not include you.”

His eyes twinkled like the idea was preposterous, his mustaches curling with his lips. Mr. Toleson gazed at you like a child, only discomforting you even further about the idea of sharing a marriage bed. “What plans, Miss?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you snapped back. “I’m going to be chained to you all my life. Even after you die, which I assume will be soon given the state of you, I’ll be forced into widowhood. I look awful in black, you know, and pretending to grieve would do nothing for my mental state—oh, where are you going?”

Mr. Toleson had thrown down his napkin, face hot and brows screwed together. He peered down his nose at your poor attempt at hiding a smile. “When you’re my wife,” he said, tone even and dark, gaze even more so. “You’ll do well to learn manners, Miss.”

There was a threat in there somewhere, for certain, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Mr. Toleson huffed out his too-small nose and spun on his heel, barking at a poor attendant to fix the table’s preposterous flower arrangement.

You gave the young boy a sorry look and stood to leave when a sharp voice filtered in from the next room. 

“Mr. Toleson! Where are you going—?” Your mother’s shrill tone cut short, a growl of your name soon to follow.

“Shit.” You whirled on the attendant boy with a pointed finger. He froze, eyes wide as several petals fell loose onto the table. “Please,” you hissed, pressing your palms together. “Ypu must help me.”

The boy dropped the flowers back into the vase, splashing a bit of water. With a single nod, he beelined for the window, unlatching it and swinging it open. You rushed over, his hands pushing you outside. “This is the only way out, my lady.”

“I’ll fall—wait!” You were swinging your legs over the sill before you realized what you were doing. Heart pattering in your chest, you cast him a look, but he was already shutting the window and drawing the curtains behind you. “Oh, dear.”

Down below, about twenty feet down and beyond the hedged yard, were the streets of the city, carts pulled by mules and passersby tracking dirt and mud and other materials across the dirt roads. You glanced around the outer wall of Mr. Toleson’s house. A trellis ran down the side just one window away, which you could use to climb down to then jump into the hedges. Stealing a breath, you began to inch along the window sill, setting a delicate foot on the wide declarative trim running from each window to the next. When it didn’t crumble beneath your foot, you went on, barely breathing as you clung flush to the wall.

Reaching the window, precariously making a step up to the next sill, you nearly tipped backward when you caught your mother’s back through the window. Feet slipping, you scurried down the trellis, losing your grip every few seconds and clinging to the wall. Eventually, you touched the earth, dusting off your dress as you faced the garden wall. Ivy ran all along it, but you’d done enough exploring whilst avoiding Mr. Toleson’s advances to know that a gate hid behind the green. It led right into a damp, drippy alleyway. You cringed down at your custom-made shoes, costing a fortune for certain. Sacrifices had to be made, and today, your shoes paid the price. 

Your wedding was a day away, and with it the end of your happiness. Not that anyone cared about your happiness those days. Expelling a sigh, you wandered the streets till nightfall, returning to the grand house in the dead of night.

Your mother paced the entry hall when you stepped inside, the tall door booming shut behind you. Her eyes were on you like a hawk, her words sharp knives. “Where have you been?”

“Uptown,” you drawled, tossing your now dirtied shoes across the carpet. “Downtown. Midtown. Where haven’t I been is the real question.”

She looked close to exploding, cheeks inflated and lips pinched together. “You embarrassed me—You embarrassed Mr. Toleson!”

Waving an absent hand, “I couldn’t care less, woman. Now let me be before I drop dead of melancholy.”

A stiff utterance of your name struck the air, the impact on your back fleeting as you swept upstairs. Again and again, she cried your name till it sounded more like a beg than an order, and it halfway made you desire to face her. But facing your mother and having her see you had long been a futile task. 

Her voice struck your back until you reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hall, whipping open your bedroom door and slamming it back behind you. Swiftly locking it, you clawed at your chest, skin constricting and choking you out. That woman… your mother could never understand.

Once, you hoped maybe she could. Your oldest servant, a frail woman who’d been serving your mother for a decade, told you that your mother went through the same unfortunate situation as you. She walked an aisle leading to shackles, just as you would at tomorrow’s soon-coming dusk. But time had turned that woman cold, making her hellbent on sentencing you to the same fate.

Eyes scanning the room, you gave a shaken sigh. Tomorrow you would be forced into a similar room, but that one you would share with Mr. Toleson. Your skin crawled. “At least he only wants my money. He cares for nothing else.”

You slipped into bed, unsure of the next good sleep you’d receive.

જ ⁀ ➴

Up with the sun, you dressed quickly and slipped out of the house, careful not to make a sound as you exited onto the street. There was ample time between sunrise and the ceremony, each second passing with a daunting swiftness. Soon, the morning bells rang throughout the city, signaling that noon had fallen. 

You stared up at the sky as the chimes fell silent, chest constricting. This walk around the city had done nothing to quell your distress. In anything, it made it worse; people on the street beamed and congratulated you on sight, offering you flowers and well-wishes. You received them all with practiced kindness, even as doom lurked behind you.

“Just a few more hours,” you mumbled, taking refuge in a damp alley. “I can visit the old pond… perhaps the frogs will be out.”

Nodding, you slipped back out with a ducked chin, walking quickly through the crowds until so little as three people were around and the the stone streets faded into soft dirt paths underfoot. Through sparse trees and lonely wood, you made your way to the duckpond on the outskirts of the city. Not a soul around; perfect.

You plopped yourself on the ground and hugged your knees to your chest, oblivious to the dust curling around you. Maybe, if you stayed right there all day, no one would find you. You could sit through the whole ceremony—through the whole year, till weeds crawled up your limbs and rocks were surfaced by the winds. You’d become part of this pond when the rain fills it beyond the banks, dissolving into an urban legend of what happens to heartbroken young women.

You smiled for the first time in many weeks. That fate sounded as lovely as anything.

The reverie broke as voices crept up behind you. Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted two entities: the first being the constable, and the second farther behind him. This group of people was more like a gaggle, or perhaps a rabble, their boisterous tones causing the constable to cast them a glare.

You jumped to your feet before he could face forward again and darted toward to big oak tree you used to climb in your youth, skidding to a halt right behind it. The constable was good friends with your fiance and would surely escort you back home the instant he saw you. 

“Are you sure we can fish here?”

“I’m sure no one’s told us we can’t.”

“Sanji!”

One of the voices, presumably the one called Sanji, laughed in reply while their counterpart grumbled under their breath. Part of you felt the need to jump out and warn them against it, because surely the constable would be quick to apprehend them. But then he would also surely apprehend you.

“Sirs,” the gruff voice of the constable barked, right on cue. “Fishing in this pond is strictly prohibited. It’s for viewing only by law.”

The one called Sanji clicked his tongue. “Is there some sort of sign we missed? Because there’s no warning stopping us.”

Oh, dear. “I’m here to stop you. Now please, put away your tack and gear.” There were a few indignant huffs, but no rustling of a confrontation. Good, good… 

“Right. Now, have either of you gentlemen spotted a young woman about?” The constable proceeded to give your exact description, spiking a panic within you. The search party had already begun. “No? Drat. Perhaps I’m at the wrong pond… Good day to you…”

You remained behind the tree for five long minutes, listening to the constable’s steps fade away and the conversation between the two men go on. Peeking out, you saw a tall skinny blond and a man with dark skin at the pond’s edge, fishing of all things.

Puffing your cheeks, you stepped out with crossed arms. “He told you it's not allowed!”

Their heads swiveled around, eyes wide and startled. The blond was the first to recover, his hold on the fishing rod slackening as an easy smile slid across his face. “My, my, what kind of nymph are you?”

Your cheeks warmed as his eyes scanned you up and down. “The angry kind.”

The other man quirked a brow, quicker than the other. “Was that guy looking for you?”

Alarms went off in your mind. “Never mind that, just don’t fish in my pond.”

“Whatever you say~”

“Sanji!” 

Satisfied, you trudged off, letting their bickering be drowned out gradually. With the knowledge that the whole city now knew to look out for you, probably thinking the aloof noble girl just lost track of time, you took the long way around, slinking through dirty alcoves you once called your kingdom some years ago. 

This whole city was your empire, in your mind. You and the other young girls and boys traipsed about without a care, creating your own world only the lot of you could see. You, of course, were high empress of all alleyways.

Growing up like this meant your mighty empire was toppled. All your old friends had new lives now, time ticking by with mundane tasks and masks to keep up. Many of them would attend your wedding,  but they might as well be strangers now. Such was the way of your city. You get old and you lose your life. 

A subtle burn welled up behind your eyes as you rounded a dark corner and found the old crates you’d formed into a palace, untouched and frozen in time as the curling alleys of the city grew dusty from neglect. You stopped short at the sight, quickly snapping back to reality and darting away, running as fast as you could to get away. Left and right, you were reminded of how expansive these alleys really were, and how easy it was to get lost in them.

Not that you would ever get lost; you’d cling to your memories as long as possible. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was a surprise when instead of a dead end, you turned to find a long alley leading out to the market. The scent of the baker’s stall and sweet rolls being sold wafted down to you, providing a momentary calm—before that laugh broke it all down.

Creeping back around the corner, you waited for the laugh to stop, peering around to find that you weren’t alone. Near the mouth of the alley, a boy stood clutching his chest, laughter fading even as he glanced out onto the street. For just three whole seconds, you swore he was something out of a novel.

Pretty face  scarred on one side, but it didn’t make him any less to look at. Hair windswept despite the stillness, clothes ratty in some places and newly stitched up in others. Whoever he was, you’d never seen him before, so where exactly did he come from?

“Hey.” You blinked widely, realizing quite too late that you’d been caught. Locked in severe eye contact, you ever so slowly retreated back around the corner, flattening yourself against the wall. Maybe if you didn’t breathe, he’d think he hallucinated and walk away.

“Hey,” that boy said again, closer now. “What’re you doing?”

You didn’t make a sound, flush against the wall as if trying to disappear even when his face appeared in your peripheral. He blinked, waiting for you to do something. “Why’re you being so weird?”

“I, well…” You glanced around, anywhere but his face. “I was taking a walk.” You tensed up, held your breath, and blurted, “I don’t talk to strangers!”

You stared hard at the ground, hoping that he’d think you were crazy and walk away, but then the boy laughed at you. Gasping softly, you raised your head and gazed at him softly, lips parted slightly. Nobody had ever laughed at you before, at least not to your face like this boy, heaving as his chuckles faded. 

“You’re talking to me anyway.” He had you there. His eyes glinted despite the sun being obscured by the tall buildings. 

“I…”

He thrust out his hand suddenly. “I’m Luffy.” His hand, his face. His hand, his face. Your eyes darted back and forth until you finally settled on his hand. Dirty, that was the first thing you noticed, and then the callouses. You’d only seen hands like that on a sailor. 

You blinked back up at his face, locking in on his eyes. Sailors weren’t to be trusted. They took young girls’ hearts, along with something more personal, and set back off to sea. That’s what your mother said, but you had a feeling your mother had never seen someone like Luffy before. You’d never seen anyone like Luffy, so bright he could’ve been the sun itself. You took his hand quickly, shaking it firmly, and introduced yourself. 

Luffy chuckled. “Now I’m not a stranger.”

You couldn’t help but crack a grin. “I suppose not. Do you sail?”

“How’d you know?” Luffy tilted his head, leaning back on his heels, and you forgot how to speak. Luffy wasn’t too bad to look at. He was unlike any of the handsome boys you’d seen in court, sure, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps it endeared you more. Luffy, whoever he was, was different from everything you knew.

“You hands, I suppose. They’re like a sailors’.”

His laugh was odd, like a shi-shi-shi sound, prompting a stifled snort out of you as well. “Yep! I’m a pirate!”

Instantly, your whole face dropped, frozen in place. “Oh… that’s… something.”

Pirates were very different from regular sailors. They stole and pillaged and plundered and did many other terrible deeds. Your great-grandfather had been killed by a pirate… but you’d never known him. It’s all hearsay. Besides, Luffy didn’t look like he would ever think of maiming you. He looked like your next good friend, even if just for now. 

“Your crew is here, then?” you asked, moving to sit atop a set of crates along the wall. Luffy jumped as he followed, plopping in the dirt in front of you instead. 

“Mhmm. They’re… somewhere.” He snickered. “We just left Alabasta, y’know.”

You leaned forward to gawk at him. “So you saw what happened? With Crocodile? It was crazy.”

Again with that strange laugh of his. “Yep. I’m the one who beat his ass into the ground!”

“You—huh?” Tilting your head, his smile infected you, tugging at your lips. “So, you’re the savior of Alabasta? Not that marine?”

You sat in awe as he told you everything, going so far back that you learned exactly how he met Princess Vivi. By the end of an hour, you were on the edge of your seat, knees snug against your chest as Luffy described it all in grand detail. 

“Wow… that sounds amazing. Not the part where you nearly drowned in sand, but you know.” Resting your chin on your knees, “You must feel so… free out there.”

Luffy nodded quickly, eyes unfocused for a moment, staring at the unseen. “Yeah. It’s amazing.”

Your smile grew dim and melancholy. The bells of evening rang in the distance. “Thank you for telling me your story, Luffy. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, his expression one you could only call cute. “You wanted to know… what’re you so sad for?”

You hummed, startled. “I’m not sad.”

“Are too,” he said, eyes narrowed. “So what is it?”

For some time, you didn’t say another word. Luffy stood now, hands planted on either side of yours knees as he stared right at you. It wasn’t threatening or seductive, simply curious in a way you’d never witnessed. Like he truly wanted to know. And so, you told him.

“I’m getting married. Today.” You shut your eyes and grimaced. “And I don’t want to, but I have no choice.”

“So… don’t?”

You reeled back. “Did you not hear me? I have to.” Luffy only tilted his head as you scoffed at the sky. “My only choice is to comply with the path set before me. If I stray too far… I can’t stray too far.”

You hardly realized how angry you’d gotten till Luffy’s finger poked at your forehead once, twice, three times. You blinked slowly. “What?”

“I don’t really get it,” he said. “But you seem pretty sure.” He was right in your face, oblivious to the fluster rising in your face. And then he smiled a beaming smile. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“There you are!” A coil formed in the pit of your stomach, eyes slowly drifting to the mouth of the alley. The constable stalked toward you looking as relieved as he was pissed off. “Your mother’s been sending everyone out for you, miss. Have you lost your mind?”

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring how Luffy stared at you all perplexed-like. “I’ll… I was looking for some flowers for the parlor. Didn’t find a patch in bloom. I’ll head back now.”

The constable stepped forth, not yet noticing Luffy. He began to loom over you, and only when Luffy inched closer to your side did the constable’s gaze flicker to him. Disgust was the only word to describe how the constable looked at Luffy. “Let me escort you home, miss. Wouldn’t want you to lose your way again.”

You looked between the two of them nervously. “Of course, sir.” You stood from the crate and moved to follow the constable, hoping beyond hope Luffy would forget the entire ordeal, for his sake. The constable was going to forget all about your new friend, if only Luffy stayed quiet.

“Hey.” You tightened every muscle in your body. “Who’s she marrying anyway?”

The constable jerked to a stop, his deepset brow furrowing.

“Only the most powerful man around,” the constable replied very carefully, very calculated. He sized the boy up. “She’s very lucky to be marrying Mr. Toleson.”

“Let’s go, sir,” you insisted, daring to hook your arm through the constable’s and nearly drag him away. He dug his feet in. “Introduce me to your friend, miss.”

“He’s—he’s not my friend,” you blurted, eyes glued to the ground. “Sir, let us go. I’ve made us late enough. I have to prepare—”

Luffy took a daring step forward. “You shouldn’t have to marry someone if you don’t want to.”

The constable gritted is teeth, hand closing around your arm. “What would you know about what she wants?”

“Let’s go—”

“She doesn’t like this Tole guy,” Luffy persisted. Your eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t looking at you, sight set on the tall man beside you. “So she shouldn’t marry him. Tole-y can find someone who actually likes him if he’s so desperate—”

“Shut. Up.” Dangerous. Your tone was dangerous, wide glare moreso. Luffy silently eyed you, looking right through to your soul. “Goodbye. We have to go. Places to be. Come, Constable.”

Halfway turned, the constable kept one eye on your friend, feet slowly following after you—when Luffy reached out, grabbed your shoulder, and tried to tug you to his side. You whipped around to smack him, but your palm swiped at air. 

Luffy stood five feet back, his arm stretched beyond comprehension and latched onto your shoulder.

“What the…” Head foggy, you barely registered the click of a gun till it rose in your peripheral. Everything went by far too quickly, and suddenly you stared down the head of the constable’s pistol, gasping like you hadn’t a clue how you’d got there. 

“Get out of here, Luffy,” you ordered, not taking your stare off the constable. “I won’t say it again.”

He was gone when you finally chanced a look over your shoulder. The constable swiftly took your arm in a vice and led you onto the street, holstering his gun and muttering, “Street rats have no place here.”

“Sea dog,” you corrected absently, quite out of your own head. “He’s a pirate, so, sea dog.”

As if that would cease his endless muttering.

You were shut inside your house and shuffled away to a sunny parlor, tended to by maids you’d known since birth, their chattering unable to draw you out of your stupor as they powdered your face and tightened a corset round your waist till the room started spinning. 

Meanwhile, a pirate boy returned to his friends, not sparing their newly caught fish a second glance as he asked Robin if she’d heard anything about a wedding in the city. The archeologist grinned as if she knew precisely what had transpired in that alley, though she couldn’t possibly have.

At any rate, the notorious Straw Hat pirates now prepared to act on their captain’s whim, not one of them questioning when he said his “new friend” was in trouble.

જ ⁀ ➴

The carriage ride to the chapel was so you bumpy you were half convinced the driver did it on purpose. You sat wobbling from side to side, eyes glazed over, and you let your mind drift away—you became a specter, wandering blindly till you blinked, and you stood in a sunny side-room, waiting to be fetched for the altar.

Your arms like gooseskin, you peered into a spotless mirror despondently. Your hair was done up prettily, face caked in different powders and creams. The sickening scent of rose perfume surrounded on all sides. The dress fit nicely, not too tight, not too loose. Perfect. Not a thing was out of place.

It all set in at once; by the end of the hour you’d be Mrs. Toleman. Your mother would receive all the benefits, all the praise. She’d smile and really mean it. Your husband would be free from bankruptcy, your family’s massive inheritance given to him the moment you say, “I do.” You’d stand on his arm the rest of his life, the perfect ornament, so quiet and dull. 

An older woman fussed over the tears dotting your lashes, roughly swatting them away with her handkerchief, chastising you for such childishness. 

“If my daughter were in your position,” she said after nearly gauging your eye. “She’d be ecstatic.”

You gazed quite darkly. “Your daughter was in my position,” you whispered, causing her to freeze putting away her handkerchief. “I’m sure you recall her escaping to the circus very clearly.”

A sharp gasp. A drawn hand. Your mother stepped into the room, flustered beyond compare, and the maid resigned to fume quietly. You wished she would slap you. Perhaps the strike would redden your face so much that the whole thing was called off. 

“Well,” your mother exasperated, eyes raking down your form. “I hope you’re ready. Look pleasant.”

She weaved an arm through yours as a bouquet of lilies was shoved in your hands. A sneeze crawled up your nose and died as you held your breath, for the next moment you faced two long and full rows of people you’d never met and would never see again. 

Despite the petals and music and lovely weather, it felt very much like a funeral march. The empty faces of the guests chilled you to the bone, not one of them sparing even a grin. A few checked their watches. One boy tugged on a young girl’s pigtail, and the girl was swatted for disturbing the peace. A ginger girl fought with a green-haired male in one of the farther pews. Against the far wall a blonde caterer absently smoked a cigarette. Somewhere, a bird sounded like it was dying, crooning a sad song.

This damn city. These damn people. You’d die here, physically, spiritually, and mentally so. White hot panic welled up within you, but it was far too late to even think of darting for the door; you stood before your groom, gazing blankly into his chest.

You felt as if you were dying, a life so short flashing before your eyes as your hands were taken into the clammy grasp of Mr. Toleson. He wore no smile, no warmth upon his face. Only cold indifference. You hoped you looked the same, lest he spy your terror. 

The officiator droaned on meaningless words, warbled by your dazed mind. Only when your hands were squeezed harshly did you refocus, blinking widely.

Clearing his throat, the officiator shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

Were you at this bit already? Heart thundering, you didn’t dare to look at Mr. Toleson, panicked gaze flickering to the now bated audience. Every eye stared at you, boring into you fiercely, only worsening your condition. 

“I…”

Mr. Toleson gripped you tightly, painfully. He gritted out just for you to hear, “You what? We haven’t got all day…”

“I–I…” A gulping breath. A flash of red ribbon and straw. Cutting your eyes across the room, you settled on a boy near the back of the pews, a grin emblazoned on his face. He caught your eye and held it fast. You hardly believed your eyes, yet understood in an instant.

“Miss,” said the officiator.

Luffy tilted his head, as if asking are we doing this? You chanced a flicker of a smile. 

You ripped your hands from Mr. Toleson’s sweaty grip, eyes wide and childish smile inching across your face as the room filled with sharp gasps. Gaze flickering up to Mr. Toleson’s aghast expression, you lurched back three, four, five steps till your heel met the edge of the raised platform. A hand settled on the small of your back as you slipped to the floor. The caterer planted his feet beside you, face grim as he gritted down on his cigarette. 

“Are you alright?” he muttered. You gave a quick nod.

The point of no return had come, and you’d taken the path once blocked by a landslide, the path you’d dismissed entirely just an hour ago. Your mother gasped your name, a hissed out word, drawing your gaze quickly. She was deathly pale, like she was about to be sick. No sympathy of yours rose to meet her, none at all, and the freedom of two words boomed from your chest. 

”I don’t!”

Silence. You heaved in a breath of air, and no one said a word. Like time had stood still.

Then a litheful, frightening laughter ripped through the church and everything sped up all at once. Mr. Toleson’s face rivaled the ripest of tomatoes. 

“Why… you…” He hadn’t so much as taken a step when the caterer whirled around and kicked him right in the chest. Only when he blew his hair out of his face and stomped out his cigarette, looking like he’d done this twelve hundred times before, that you started to think he wasn’t a caterer at all. 

“I’ve seen you before,” you thought aloud. Chaos erupted all around, guests rising from their chairs in a panic, and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “Oh! You were at the pond!”

Sanji, that was his name. He dodged a punch from one of the quicker groomsmen, an easy smile on his face. He faced you then, hands shoved in his pockets. “That’s your priority, love?”

You flushed, whether from the tease or endearment, you didn’t know. “Well—”

“You!” your mother’s shrill voice cut the air. You turned just in time to catch her pouncing at you, her hand clawing for your arm. Her nails barely got close to scratching you when a hand branched out of her chest and drove her back by a vice around her neck. Somebody screamed as guests began a mad rush to escape the inevitable fight; everyone had the same guess—pirates.

You’d never been so happy, even with the disembodied hand issue.

Mr. Toleson rose to his feet, nursing his chest, his eyes aflame. He whirled in the groomsmen. “Don’t just stand there!”

The men broke out of their daze. The constable shook himself out of his shock as several other burly men of the town shouted angrily. You inched backward as dozens of eyes settled on you, heart quickening, when that ginger girl from before rushed up with a bow staff and gave several men severe head trauma. The green haired man drew three swords out of nowhere. That other man from the pond jumped over a pew, a slingshot in hand. And a tall, graceful woman stared down your petrified mother. 

Only those willing to put up a fight were left, leaving only the rougher men of the town and the pirates of your friend Luffy. 

Sanji flung an attacker off his back and sent the guy flying your way, wiping the smile from your face as you yelped and dodged. You scurried off to the side, nearly tripping head over heels in your dress, having to hike up your skirts as you twirled in and out of the swiftly rising rabble.

Luffy’s marksman remained unscathed at his vantage point, lining up a shot and letting it fly. You gasped delightfully when the constable was nailed right in the forehead and hit the floor unconscious. From your place flush against the wall, you beamed at the destruction.

Pews turned to splinters under the power of the swordsman. Refreshments scattered across the floor as the ginger was thrown into a table and jumped back up again. Flowers fluttered around as the raven haired woman used some kind of magic to extend her reach. And Luffy—he laughed through it all. People jumped at him with fists and clubs, yet he threw them all off like it was nothing. Perhaps to him it was.

You stifled another smile behind your hands. The people of your town were absolutely demolished by these pirates. These glorious, heroic pirates you would be thanking for the rest of your life—

“You did this.” In an instant your wrists were captured by your ex-fiancee. “Witch. Where’d you get the money to pay them, huh?”

“Let go,” you bit back, jerking away only for his hold to tighten, prepared for your escape this time. 

He yanked you closer. “After everything I’ve done for your family—” 

You spat in his eyes and kneed his crotch, watching satisfied as he crumbled to the floor. “Family my ass.”

You darted into the chaos without another word. Men lay unconscious every few steps, their bloody and bruised faces staring up at you. You tripped over someone’s leg, growled sharply, and took hold of your skirts. One by one you ripped off the layers of tulle, leaving you in your knee-length bloomers, dress reduced to the lacy bodice and shreds of fabric at your hips. Finally you yanked your heels off, hopping on one foot and then the other. 

Right as you were about to drop your left shoe, the man of honor, some guy called Henry, made for you swiftly. Gasping, you gripped the toe of the heel and clubbed him over the head.

Someone grabbed your shoulder a second later. You shrieked and dropped to the ground, slipping out of the grip and rolling to the side. The swordsman appeared suddenly and cut the man down in one move. The body dropped beside you. You blinked, gasped, and let a delayed scream flee your lips. The swordsman reached to grab your wrist and hoisted you to your feet. “You okay?”

“Y-you killed him!” you cried.

“Relax,” he rolled his eyes. “I hit him with the hilt.”

Sure enough, the man only had a gash on his temple and some head trauma most likely. The swordsman looked you up and down briefly. “Watch out for the ero-cook lookin’ like that.”

You hardly cared if you looked indecent. “Where’s Luffy?”

He didn't get to answer—a laugh you quickly grew to recognize had you whipping around, eyes peeled. 

His profile shone in the evening light bleeding from the windows. He stood with his head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, a blinding smile on his face. Transfixed, you wondered, not for the last time, if he was more than human.

When his laughter died down Luffy held his fists close to his chest and looked around as if searching for another fight, his gaze finding you. Your heart skipped, but his smile dropped deathly fast. You didn’t have the chance to wonder before his fist zipped a hair's breadth away from your cheek. You hit the ground instantly, head ducked between your knees. You might have remained there forever, wondering just what possessed him, if you were stupid for trusting him, overwhelmed by something akin to heartbreak—when two sandaled feet entered your sight.

“Hey,” he said, giving you deja vu. “What’re you doin’ on the floor?”

Eyes wider chest heaving, you sprang to your feet and got nose to nose with him. Luffy merely blinked widely, unfazed. “What’s wrong with you!? First, you help me, then you try to hit me! Why—Don’t touch me!” 

He gripped your shoulders and spun you around in one fluid motion. All your sputtering got caught in your throat. Two feet away Mr. Toleson lay flat on his back with the worst bloody nose you’d ever seen. 

One. Two…

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. Ugly laughed. Louder and more all-consuming than you ever had before. You tried to choke on it, only making the sound sizzle into harsh snickers. 

Luffy felt like he was in a trance, watching you dazedly as he broke into his own fit of laughter.

“Gah!” Your mother bolted for the door, throwing a fretful glance over her shoulder. She paused, wove around a man limping for the exit, and dragged Mr. Toleson to his feet. Coughing, your would-be fiancée set his grim sights on Luffy. Your mother tugged him with her, more forceful now. “Come. She isn’t worth your life.”

Really, it shouldn’t have bothered you. She’d never done anything for you, yet—her words struck you oddly, fiercely. They were gone before you recovered. You glanced around at a loss as Luffy stood a strong pillar in your peripheral. Your eyes darted to meet him as the final pieces of your world crumbled to dust, and you found nothing but cool assurance; you sighed out a breath you’d been holding since you were ten. 

“Good riddance,” you choked. Luffy’s lips ticked up in a smile. The figures of his friends came into focus as they gathered around in the wreckage of the church. Emotion tingled in every corner of your body. “Thank you, all of you. I’m… forever in your debt.”

That wasn’t all you wished to express by far. You’d been thinking it the whole while, perhaps even from the first moment you learned he was a pirate. The request teetered precariously on the tip of your tongue when the caterer cut you off.

“No need, madam,” he said with a flourish of his wrist. “Always a pleasure to assist.”

His eyes took you in gratefully, and he was quick to wipe away the small bit of blood leaving his nose. You grinned, almost grimacing, and gave an awkward laugh. “Of course…” Luffy’s shoulder brushed your own, drawing your gaze to him. His bright eyes had you wanting to reach up and brush his messy hair out of his face. Somehow, you refrained. “Just what kind of pirates are you? I didn’t think your lot were in the business of wedding crashing.”

Luffy shrugged his shoulders, barely smiling as he replied, “I like you.”

You choked on nothing. “Well—that’s—indeed.”

The silence of the room, only some harsh breaths breaking it, had you questioning what came next. Your adrenaline crashed all at once as your eyes got heavy and your shoulders sagged all at once. You rubbed at your eyes and suppressed a yawn, shivering as a breeze drifted by. 

The ginger girl noticed the change at once, moving to your side despite her own exhaustion. “Let’s get you cleaned up. That can’t be comfortable.”

For some reason, you didn’t jerk away from her touch, so gentle and kind as she took your arm. “Yeah. Uhm, I can go to my servants’ quarters. They won’t say anything…”

The girl scoffed, catching your eye. “No way. You’re going to our ship.” She blanched a second later, backtracking. “If that’s okay with you.”

You watched for any sign of falsehood, and found none at all. You shook your head quickly. “No, that’s fine. Can we go now?”

The girl—Nami, you later learned—giggled and swiftly ushered you out of the wreckage and into the sun. You gave a soft laugh of your own, still very reserved yet filled with the tentativeness of someone realizing that everything would be okay. 

And Luffy watched you leave, his lips tugging upwards subconsciously. He stood solidly as each of his friends followed after you, till only Robin remained. She had her arms crossed, head tilted low and eyes scrutinizing. She took in Luffy’s stance, his twitchy fingers, his eyes transfixed on empty space. All usual features on her friend; it was his dopey grin that gave it all away.

“Captain,” Robin spoke. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded. He didn’t even stutter, his reply instant. “Why?”

She nearly chuckled, holding back if only to humor him. She nudged his shoulder with her own to spur him into motion, and the pair walked slowly into the streets. 

“What do you know about your new friend?” she asked as they passed under a bakery sign squeaky as it swung with the wind. 

He paused. “She’s fancy… and unhappy.” Luffy kicked a pebble and watched it skip all the way to the end of the sloped path. “Very unhappy. She’ll be happier with us.”

Robin’s heart went tender as she looked away, hiding a smirk. “Have you told her that?”

Catching her eye, Luffy smiled. “She knows.”

They caught up enough to spy the others as Usopp and Nami had their arms around your shoulders, bickering absently whilst you snickered quietly between them. Robin nodded, for who was she to argue? Besides, maybe you did. The smile on your face may have betrayed just that.

જ ⁀ ➴

You still heard the boisterous laughter of your new friends even as you swept away from the galley, heart beating a little too fast to be comfortable. They were amazing, sure, but overwhelming at best. All you needed was a moment and you could return unnoticed to the good food and warm company. As soon as you got some air.

You instinctively reached to pick up a skirt as you rose the stairs to the deck, only to grab at air, look down, and grin at the sight of Nami’s brown trousers. 

The cool night breeze hit you like a wall the moment you stepped outside, shooting shivers down your spine. The saltiness of the sea clung to your skin and clumped in your hair, filling your nose with every deep breath of air. 

The deck felt odd against your bare feet, grating against your skin just enough to make you wary of splinters despite the apparent fine craftsmanship of the wood. You leaned into the ship rail and gazed down upon the rolling waters. A soft and steady kussshhh kussshhh greeted you, a gentle sea spray kissing your cheeks.

So far, the sea was far greater than you’d ever conceived. Freedom rippled in every gust of wind billowing in the sails; the waves sang songs of grandauer; the stars winked secrets you couldn’t hear but felt in the creak of your bones. The music of the world had finally included you in its symphony, and you would never go back. 

Never.

You heard him before you saw him, his bumbling, careless steps thumping against the deck. Luffy came up out of the belly of the ship, gazed around once, and settled his sights on you. You met eyes and simply existed; he smiled first; you returned a grin. Luffy approached with all the familiarity he shouldn’t have given you in such a short time. 

“You disappeared,” he said too loudly, threatening to break the perfect silence settled around you. 

“I did,” you whispered back. After pursing your lips, you turned back to the sea and waited, assuming he would take the hint. It took two seconds longer than you anticipated, but Luffy’s shoulder soon bumped against your own. 

When he spoke again, he was softer, “How do you feel?”

You sucked in a lunfull of cold air and laughed it out. “Free. I didn’t think I’d ever feel like that again.”

He nodded, because he wanted to say so many things but at the same time had no clue what to say at all. Luffy had never experienced this before, being at a loss for words; all evening he’d dwelled in this confusion that only grew every time you smiled and he lost his breath. What was so different about you that all his words felt terribly redundant? 

“Wow.” He turned his head quickly, blinking at you. You were already looking right at him. 

“Huh?”

You shook your head, shy smile dripping in tease. “You’re quiet. I didn’t take you as someone to just dwell like this.”

How many minutes had passed? Luffy wasn’t sure, but you looked content, so he didn’t really care. His eyes danced all over your face, puzzlement laid in his brow. You tilted your head and began to worry about the cloudy look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you said. Luffy gave a wordless nod, still looking so lost. You wanted to touch him, the realization setting in suddenly, hand itching to grip his arm. “Why did you help me? You didn’t have to.” Crossing your arms, you turned to watch the curling white foam ripple off the ship. “It certainly made things harder for you. They might tell the Navy, and I can imagine that’s plain hell.”

“They won’t catch us,” he scoffed, catching your eye. “And like I said, I like you.”

Your lips pursed before you let slip a chuckle, face far too warm for your liking. He probably didn’t know what he was saying. “Right. How could I forget. Is that all?”

“You’re… funny.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Real funny. Odd. Makes me feel funny.” He said it with such nonchalance you wondered if he was joking, but the longer you stood and stared at your feet the more aware you were of his presence at your side. Finally, you lifted your head, finding him staring out to sea. He was one to talk about being odd. You hardly understood what was so odd about you; you felt fairly normal if you said so yourself—but that wasn’t exactly the point. 

Because Luffy was confused after all, just like he looked to be. The conflicted boy never strayed far from your shoulder, his hand brushing yours every few seconds. You hardly knew him—you didn’t know him—yet you couldn’t deny the overwhelming trust clawing its way into your heart. 

So, really, there wasn’t much more debate on whether you should ask. 

“Let me stay.” “Join my crew.”

The pair of you whipped your heads around suddenly. Eyes wide, you smiled, bursting into laughter with him, leaning into his side so he was half holding you up, your forehead hitting his chest—you missed hugs, sighing deeply as his warm hands brushed your skin and—

Cold rushed up your spine. You jerked away, an apology on your lips, when Luffy grunted and reeled you back in. You hit his chest with a thump as his arms wrapped around you three times. Eyes wide, body stiff, his deep breathing enveloped you till all you heard was in and out, in and out, that steady yet unsure rhythm. 

“I’d like to join your crew,” you said after a while. 

He focused on the space ahead of him, hold loosening bit by bit. “I’d like you to stay.”

You pulled away, and this time he let you. “Somehow, I feel I’m making a grave mistake.” He tilted his head all puppy-like, so you reveled in his puzzlement. Spinning out of his arms you faced the sea again. “You’ll most likely get me killed, Captain.”

Luffy blinked rapidly, heart thuding at the sly grin planted on your profile. Captain. He liked that. He always did, but now especially—when it came from you. 

“I won’t let that happen,” he said with such casualty. He stepped into your line of sight. “You do want to stay, don’t you?”

As if you had a choice, you mused. Even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t change a thing in your eyes. You smiled softly at him, a spark of wild excitement in your eyes. “More than anything.”

It started small, only a grin until it grew too wide to remain shut, his teeth shining seconds later. His eyes squinted, head thrown back, and you swore his laugh echoed to the very depths of the sea, encircling your whole being.

He fascinated you, filling you with this sense of freedom you’d never known before. Luffy was larger than life, and you stood there to witness his existence. Somehow, even then, you understood the gravity of who he would become. 

What an odd pair the two of you made. Him so unrestrained and you so proper—though surely the longer you spent with him the less true that became. Neither of you really cared either way; you found the other wildly fascinating, and in that moment on the deck as he blinded you with his smile, that’s really all that mattered.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @kryscent

[thatbitchery]

Personal finance is tied mostly to your systems as a person. You could make 6 figures a year and still be broke and in debt or you could make 20k a year and be on your way to financial freedom.I have finally achieved financial freedom, and no I do not make super much, depending on who you compare me to. Mostly it's my financial and personal habits that keep me going.

I do not consider fancy a marker of a good life, as a matter of fact I do not understand it. What do you mean a MEAL costs 1000 its never that serious please. I don't consider Givenchy to be any more elevated than what my tailor can make me for 100$. Fancy is not important to me so when I was building my one year emergency fund I did not consider fancy part of the budget. I do not try to purchase status.

And I can not stress this enough- taking risks with my money. Buying a vending machine is one of the best decisions I made this year. Buying a business, as risky as that was, turned out to be great. I have lost money, too. Like a lot. I bought stocks in a startup that crashed and lost a pretty little buck. I dipped into the VR business not too long ago and that tanked. It is not about making the right decisions- with money that is almost never possible. Its about taking risks.

My end goal is not a career its the money. Meaning? I have worked jobs odd and unclassy and not so fun. I have packaged fish at some point- hated it. I have worked as a cashier once. As the personal assistant to some pig that was always trying to get their hand up my skirt. I have done real estate. Currently doing event (wedding) Planning for my girl. I did forex, once. I have been paid to go as someone's date to some event. I am not picky with my jobs because the job is not the end goal, the money is. The goal is to retire by 30 and I will do whatever it takes to get up there. It's the getting paid part that matters the most to me.

Learning to leverage my skills and the situation plus to recognize the opportunities when they show up. My girl's last organizer canceled last minute and I offered to take it if she tops the fee up because I love her but not THAT much. In the process I have met so many people in this place and making connections in a new country will never be a bad idea. I have zero to none skills in event planning but all i hear is compliments (Pinterest the things I'd do for you) and I can add event planning to the options my future self has for careers especially given the profile of this one. A lady at church was divorced and man left her with a mortgage and a financial crisis (your daily reminder marrying rich isn't all that) and i drew up a contract to cover her mortgage and kid's education in exchange of a piece of her estate plus slowly easing my way into becoming her financial go to person and asset manager. A bargain, seriously, and I've passed it through enough lawyers to know my fancy little mortgage note will make me very very happy in a few years. Leveraging my mentorship skills to work my way into society because the way to anyone's heart is their children. Its free on paper but is it really? These are the next CEOs and I'm building my space this early. Leveraging my relationships for more relationships. Opportunities are not given they are created. 

THIS. ESPECIALLY THIS - having a value system. Knowing what is important to me and what isn't. Being a part of high society is NOT important to me so why would i buy a gala ticket the same price as my rent? Buying brands to keep up a rich girl aesthetic? Winters in Gstaad although I despise snow? Being part of high society isn't something I value at all so I don't play social games I'll just go home. Yes I'll maintain my relationships but everyone that is everyone knows it is not a race I fancy (Which, weirdly enough, has made it very easy for me to navigate it). Like I said, fancy things are not important to me so apart from an Aston Martin I don't care about the price I care about the quality. I will be at a thrift store I really don't mind. My peace is very important to me so I'll pick the fancy overpriced library fees over other libraries and I will pay a ridiculous amount in rent for an apartment in the peaceful part of town and I will splurge on a fancy cafe because I know the price range itself buys me peace. Ramit Sethi (In his book I Will Teach You To Be Rich) gives this as the core point of getting wealthy, knowing your value system. What is important to you? What isn't? If you're not for something you're for everything. 

Minimizing responsibilities. I don't have kids and I don't intend to. I don't stupidly commit to things without thinking real real hard about them. I didn't buy things that require me to keep up with paperwork, I don't take on things I need to track. My greatest responsibility in life is my three cats. 

[teamarine777]

The assassination had gone off without a hitch. All that was left, was the escape. "What's the plan?" Forest,'s question was in ernest. This biz was new to him. Vulpin, a seasoned veteran, looked at him like he had asked who the gods were to talk to humans like they do. "Oh my gods. Forest, I know this your first time, but please try to keep up. I had us wear fancy outfits to an assassination at a fancy party. What do you think the plan is?" Forest's brow wrinkled in that cute way it always does when he's lost the plot. "Oh! We act like we were invited, and walk out the front door," Forest exlaimed, exited he'd umderstood their out. "Give the boy a prize! Now, check to make sure the coast is clear, while I cover up our involvement with fuck face over here." Vul nodded to the body, who's face was in the cracked toilet bole, blood spilling out the fractures. Forest nodded, and slowly cracked the door. "Two rich bitches, at the sink," he whispered. "Change of plans. Make it look like he fell onto the toilet." Vulpin gave the order so matter of factly, Forest didn't even think. He just nodded. Vulpin walked out of the stall. "Hey, boys. Listen. Things are a little messy, but we're not here for you. If you just stay put-" She's cut off by the sound of swords being unsheathed. "Ugh. Why did everyone her have to be Zevans?" Forest didn't know Vulpin well, but it was obvious to most that she used rhetoric a lot. Forest was cool with it, even if it was overdone. Next, Forest heard the sounds of swords clashing, two gasps, and a sigh. After positioning the body the best he could, he peeked out of the stall. Vul was fuxing her fur using the mirror. She muttered something about a comb, then saw Forest in the mirror. "Hey, bud. You get the body done?" Forst nodded, and asked, "What's the plan for those two?" Forest pointed to the two seemingly dead men on the floor. Forest noticed they weren't bleeding, and, upon closer inspection, had bruises on their heads. "I knocked 'em out. As far as a plan goes, we need to eliminate witnesses somehow, but we can't kill 'em. It'll wreak of assassins, three rich fucks dead at a party in the night." Vul turned to Forest. "The way I see it, we've only got one option; take them with us," Forest sighed. "Can't. They'd slow us down too much. We'd have to walk through the ball with two bodies. It'll never work." V spat a little blood in the sink, washing it away. "I have an idea. It's so stupid it might work." Forest was the king of that genre of stupid. "What did you have in mind?" Vul raised an eyebrow. "I'll explain, but first, promise not to embarrass me," Forest said. "Embarrass you? I'm more high class than you could dream of being," she teased. "There's blood on your shirt," Forest chuckled, before Vul was frantically cleaning her shirt.

"Please try not to embarrass me."

"Me embarrass you? I'm more high class than you could ever hope to be."

"Uh-huh. There's blood on your shirt, by the way."

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

Love Language (Jason Todd x Reader)

Prompt: Jason Todd with a gift giving love language

Jason Todd wasn’t the best good at- capable of expressing feelings of affection. Maybe it was just a byproduct of having skipped most of his adolescence, what with the interruption of being buried alive then resurrected in green goop. But whatever, maybe that was just speed running his character development.

What’s not so nice however, is that he’s missed out on those teen years of fumbling through relationship firsts. Sure, maybe they’d be awkward, and he’d look back and laugh at those memories today. But part of him feels like those adolescent years would be far more forgiving towards hesitant confessions and embarrassing slip ups.

Now he’s having to navigate it all as an adult. Unfortunately, it’s not all smooth sailing for Jason, what with his twin quest for revenge and justice blocking out most of his schedule.

The thing is, he has no issues knowing what affection should feel like. He’s experienced the butterflies in his stomach, his throat lodging up because he’s afraid he’ll say the wrong thing, sneaking glances and immediately averting his eyes when he gets caught admiring you.

He’s experienced the pre-date nerves, having to stare down the mirror to convince himself he’s got this (why is it so much easier to punch a bad guy then tell you that your hair looks nice??)

And he’s also experienced the post-date embarrassments, replaying moments where he felt like a total dunce cause of something he said without thinking (he swears up and down he was not being raunchy when he said he likes sleeping with you. He meant it in the literal sense! Your presence helps lull him to sleep)

No, he definitely has no issues in experiencing sentiments of love and affection. But man does he struggle expressing said feelings.

He’s not sure he’s the best at communicating his fondness towards you. At least not with words, given his tendency to put his foot in his mouth when it comes to matters of the heart.

He’s come to realize while he may not be the best with words, he’s a good listener with a keen eye for detail.

Er- okay, perhaps he could have a keener eye for detail, but hey a man’s gotta have his Achilles heel right?

And that is exactly why he’s stood in the living room right now, with three different pairs of vintage sunglasses neatly laid out on the coffee table in front of you.

His stiffens a bit at your questioning gaze before clearing his throat.

“So, do you remember last week, when you were helping me out with groceries and we passed that vintage charity shop on the way back to my place?”

You do have a vague recollection of passing by a well decorated store selling accessories and other Knick-knacks. You nod as you briefly recall pointing it out to him.

He takes your nod as a sign to continue, “Right so, you had pointed out the store, and I recall you admiring a pair of sunglasses at the window display… you said you’d buy it when you get your next pay cheque. But I thought I’d surprise you with it instead”.

Right, well you are surprised, so that bit was accomplished. Though you can’t help but note how he talks in terms of a singular pair, yet there are three (very stylish) pairs of sunglasses in front of you. So you were surprised and confused.

You look back at him, the question on your lips. But the slump of his shoulders and grumbled huff escaping him tells you he’s already figured out what you’re gonna ask.

“Now look, I remembered the shop… I just couldn’t recall which pair you were talking about. So I- uh, I bought all three of them”.

‘Great. Now she’s gonna think I’ve got the memory of a goldfish and make poor financial decisions’

Jason barely suppresses a groan at the thought, averting his gaze in embarrassment.

“Look I think you’d look good in all of them, so yeah… I mean at the very least you like one of them right?” He asks, his voice faltering towards the end as he begins to doubt whether this was a good idea to begin with.

You barely suppress a laugh at his predicament. Of course he’d do this. Instead of just asking you, he’d rather just buy all three pairs to surprise you.

Your mind flashes back to all the times he’s voiced concern that he’s not expressive enough of his feelings towards you, worried that it would drive a rift between the two of you.

But you know that’s not true at all. He does care, he cares a lot. He’s just got a different love language, one that fits him all too well.

You shake your head with a smile as you rise up from the sofa, walking over to engulf him in a tight hug.

“You’re such a goof you know that?” You mumble against his shirt. Jason mutters in protest though he wraps his arms around you without missing a beat.

You lean back to see his face, a bright smile adorning your features, “Thank you I love them, all of them. And I love you” you declare before pecking his cheek.

A short laugh escapes him at your actions. He takes a moment to drink in your happy smile before proceeding to flick your forehead.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“I’m no goof”

“Oh you’re not? Is that why you technically bought one pair of sunnies for the price of three?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, deciding not to respond lest he implicates himself further.

So maybe words of affirmation aren’t his thing, and maybe it will take him a bit longer to respond back with ‘I love you too’.

But that’s not to say that Jason Todd isn’t completely and hopelessly smitten with you.

—————————————————————————

God he’s so fun to write, a total deer in the headlights when he’s in love.

Should I try this with other love language prompts? Lmk if you have any suggestions!

[milkteabinniechan]

♡His Brother's Bride - Felix

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: old money! Felix x fem! reader

summary: You're to be married to a respectable, eligible bachelor to bring your two families businesses together. But what happens when you fall for the brother instead?

warnings: none really! Lots of fluff, some angst.

a/n: this is a shorter one I'm sorry! I'm still getting back into the swing of things. But I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope it shows :)

There was a lull in the conversation. A moment of silence. And that was all it took for Felix to move in closer. Closer than a friend would stand. Close like a lover, his hands came up and around your sides. His fingers traced the intricate pearls that lined the corset of your wedding dress. You held your breath while his hands continued their journey up your spine. Each passing second he was bringing you in closer and closer.

“Don't marry him.”

Your eyes trailed across his tailor made suit, soaking in every detail of the expensive tuxedo your husband-to-be had picked out for his best man. A matching suit with his brother. Why did it have to be his brother? Your father owned one of the largest wineries in the state. The only other one that even compared belonged to Felix's family. It will be good for business. Your father declared very matter-of-fact one evening at the dinner table. You would marry the eldest son of the rival company and the two wineries would merge into one giant, money-making machine of capitalism and greed. You knew the boy your father spoke of. An eligible bachelor that was handsome and worldly. But you wanted to know more. So you hatched a plan to learn as much as you could about your new fiance. When your family and his would come together to meet and agree on the fine print, you would disguise yourself as someone unassuming and blend into the crowd. 

The dinner party was a shitty mask for what was really happening. Two rich old men were about to get a hell of a lot richer. You made your way across the room and spotted a well dressed man standing alone. He had long, blonde hair and freckles splayed across his cheeks and nose. He smiled politely at a man walking by and your heart jumped for a moment.

“How's the food?” You asked, sidling up next to him.

The man paused and turned to face you. That warm smile returned but more sincere this time. “Eh. Rich people have no taste, ya know?” He scoffed and pointed over to the dinner table adorned with food that looked delicious but you knew from experience that that was far from the truth.

You held in a loud laugh that came out as a snort. “So this isn't your first dinner party then.” You teased, nudging his arm slightly and trying to ignore the obvious muscle underneath the expensive suit.

The two of you talked for the better part of an hour. You gave him a fake name and told him you were some distant cousin from across the water. He didn't pry, accepting your lie as fact almost immediately. He told you his name as well. The sound of it seemed to ring in your ears like the bells of a church. Then he told you his brother was getting married. An arranged marriage. He was getting fitted for a tuxedo just next week. You swallowed hard at the sound of arranged marriage. The words echoed coldly.

“What's he like- your brother?” You moved in close, your head cocked to the side casually.

Felix stepped back for a minute and looked across the room at where his brother was standing. His mouth quickly curled up into a warm, affectionate smile. “He's great. He's going to take great care of his new bride.” You sighed heavily. Your hand falling back onto the table while you let your shoulders relax. “Good.” You said curtly.

Felix tilts his head in confusion. His lips part for a moment as if he wants to ask you more but instead he stops and hands you a glass of wine from the table beside you. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing against yours as you take it. A spark of electricity seems to pass between you at the touch, and he lingers for a moment before pulling back. You hold the wine tight in your hand hoping that the feeling of the cold glass will ground you and keep you from floating away. For a moment, neither of you say a word. But your eyes are screaming into his while a string quartet fills the silence between you. Felix moves on instinct, his body closing the gap as your lips inch closer to one another. You part your lips and crane your neck, all sense of social etiquette left somewhere on the other side of the world. Then an ear-splitting sound pierces through the euphoria as your father calls for you to join him. Felix's eyes shoot open as he connects the dots with who you really are. “You're the one my brother is marrying?” His voice is full of pain and betrayal. You want to apologize and tell him you can explain but your father shouts again and you follow him into his study, leaving Felix standing alone again. The smudge of your lipstick still lingering on the edge of the wine glass.

“Today is the big day! Are you excited?” Your mother buzzed around you while two women pinned your hair back tight. “Just thrilled.” You groaned back. Your mother rolled her eyes and poured herself another glass of champagne. You waited until everyone had left you alone to finish getting ready before you made your way outside onto the grass. You struggled to lift your dress and run at the same time, tripping and tumbling slightly as you moved. You just need air. You needed to breathe. To take stock of what was about to happen. What was about to happen?

“Are we running away?” A deep voice hummed from behind you. You twirled around to see Felix standing there with a playful smirk. “Just say the word and I'll start the car.” He had his hands in his pockets but he lifted his chin up towards the cars parked nearby. You smile softly. A sad, desperate laugh escapes your throat. “Sounds good. We'll be runaways together.” You whisper back, your face hanging low. Felix gently lifts your chin, bringing your face to his. “As long as we're together.”

A moment of silence. A second alone. You could feel the heat coming from Felix's body as he leaned in. Your eyes glance at his lips and then to his eyes. His hand dragging from your chin down to the back of your neck. “Before you say ‘I do’, I want to kiss you first.” Your eyes flutter closed, and he parts his lips slightly. He leans in the rest of the way, pressing his mouth to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulls back after a moment, his breath hitching as he looks at you, his eyes filled with love and affection. You pull him in again without warning, kissing him deeper. A marking kiss telling him that he was the first. That your lips belonged to him.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat

[kiemiu]

headcanons of chris dating a lavish hyper feminine gf | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 943 (library) + (request)

boyfriend!chris who loves that you have standards. as someone who grew up with a certain lifestyle, you made it clear to chris before you started dating him that you don't settle and have pretty high standards. expecting him to take a step back because most men do when they realize they can't afford you, he surprisingly doesn't. he just smiles with low eyes and says "i can handle whatever you throw at me, mama."

boyfriend!chris who reaches for his wallet without hesitation every single time. before you can even set all of your items on the counter, he's pulling out his wallet. when you go out to eat together, he pulls his wallet out as soon as the waiter mentions the check. it doesn't really matter where you are and what you're buying, he's gonna be the one to pay for it. doesn't even entertain the idea of you paying for something by yourself and will actually roll his eyes at you when you start to reach in your purse.

boyfriend!chris who pays for your mani pedi every time you go to the nail salon. all you have to do is offhandedly mention your acrylics growing out and he'll give you his card to go and get your nails done. every now and then when he has the free time, he'll go get it done with you. he usually finishes his treatment before you, so when he does he likes to just sit next to you and gossip with you and your nail tech. if you mention that you're hungry and the nail tech still has a long way to go with your nails, he'll pick up something to eat for the both of you and even the nail tech if they want anything. without thinking twice he'll feed you so you don't disrupt the nail tech while they're working. he'll get really shy whenever the other people in the salon point it out and coo over how doting he is.

boyfriend!chris who also chooses your nail design. he's consistently been choosing your nail color and design ever since you've gotten together and he takes the job very seriously. he'll genuinely get offended if you let someone else choose your nail design or if you get a touchup without letting him know. besides that, he loves to get matching designs, even if it's something as simple as having each other's initials on your ring fingers.

boyfriend!chris who loves to watch you get ready in the morning. if you ever have somewhere to be and he doesn't, he likes to follow you around like a baby duck and watch you pamper yourself. he'll hold your hair up for you while you search for a hair tie, he'll blow dry your hair for you, he'll choose your perfume, he'll even pick out your outfit if you let him. if he's not doing that, he'll just watch you do your makeup in fascination and whisper compliments, usually something along the lines of. "beautiful before and after." never fails to ask you for a kiss after you put on lipgloss, even though you'd think he'd hate the sticky feeling, he actually loves it and won't wipe it off even long after you're gone.

boyfriend!chris who keeps a compact mirror on him just in case you need it. when you're together, you try not to be on your phones as much, especially when you're out spending one on one time together so to avoid you looking at your phone he carries a small compact mirror around for whenever you feel the need to check your makeup. you could just carry it in your purse, but he prefers to do it. he says it'll be safer in his hands, especially since it's made out of glass but the real reason is that he likes you asking him for help.

boyfriend!chris who carries all of your bags. it could be groceries, shopping bags, or luggage, it doesn't matter. he'll always do the heavy lifting as well as the easy lifting. all you have to do is be pretty for him, he enjoys the view. if he sees you carrying something he'll take it from you without hesitation, especially if it looks heavy. most of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it, he just feels the need to grab whatever you're holding. what if you chip a nail? he can't have that happen, you'd be so upset, and what kind of boyfriend would he be to not keep you happy?

boyfriend!chris who is always pleasantly surprised when you buy him stuff in return. he genuinely enjoys spoiling you, and the way you always show appreciation for him and the things he does for you always makes him feel fulfilled as your boyfriend. so, whenever you give him something back that's not affectionate doting, he's always pleasantly surprised and really appreciative.

boyfriend!chris who loves to kiss your attitude away. you've accumulated a bit of an attitude due to everything being handed to you, so whenever something doesn't go your way, you have no qualms about showing how annoyed you are about it. the platform uggs you wanted went out of stock? well, chris is right next to you to kiss the pout away and promise that he'll get them for you as soon as they're back in stock. your nails didn't turn out the way you wanted them to? no worries, chris will take you to get them redone tomorrow. he's always there to smother his pouty baby in kisses.

boyfriend!chris who is completely wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @oliviagirlsworld @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore

[gem-de-lune]

Daily Vibe Check 11/26

To lighten the daily read load but still ensure I get to everyone, i will be reading on 1 Riize member daily, and Seunghan every other day or just if something with him shifts significantly. I will do Riize collective reads every other day that I'm not doing a Seunghan Read. So today it is Seunghan + Sohee and then an SM read i found in my asks. Tmw it will be Riize collective + Any other member + something relevant to current topics or asks. Hope that makes sense.

Seunghan

Knight of Chalices + King of Wands + 6 of Wands

Honestly bro is just chilling right now...lowkey this is his card when he is at his most neutral/leaning positive state. Very charming very vibey. He seems to be cheeky lately. He is doing well. I asked about how he felt about Rolling Loud in Thailand, and he responded with the King right there. He's feeling very very high up about the ordeal. Rather than being the King, he sees Briize as the King, and him gathering his graces and motivation to push gorwards simply by watching. There are a lot of fond and just overall respectful and "in awe" emotions attached here. To the point where he may wonder if it is overbearing for others (cough OT6 cough) leading me to believe he may have seen their distainful reactions. Nonetheless it wasn't enough to erase his positive feelings on the matter. He really feels like he should bow down in gratitude lmfao.

When I had asked if he had contacted members recently i got the 6 of Wands, which is a yes signally a positive and celebratory? Chat. Therefore, it is probably around or on Taro's birthday they spoke.

One thing of note that I and maybe many have noticed is that Taro seems the most standoffish out of all the members regarding this entire situation from the start. This is true-ish deep down. I pulled another card to clarify the 6 of wands, which made everything I already knew click into place for me- but I accidentally reshuffled it in my deck and I do not remember exactly what card it was- but I know it fully cleared this up for me so I will share the explaination I came to here:

Taro doesn't really know how to deal with negative situations. At all. He acts as if they do not exist unless he must face them. He is not good with them. He will spiral out of control and doesn't know how to work through those things properly, so he believes the most mature thing is to not engage to begin with. Therefore, it was very awkward for him to try and contact Seunghan directly. He does not know what to say. He has been avoiding it even if he also believes he was wronged and is still OT7. He is the most awkward member about this. I do believe that Seunghan mayhaps reached out during his birthday, and this relationship is starting to mend again. Wanted to share bc this makes me sad and happy.

Sohee

The World + 6 of Chalices + 2 of Pentacles

Sohee is generally feeling really good, maybe like something has been completed to an extent sucessfully. I think, tbh that he is glad to be home lmfao, but he really enjoyed the adventure. That sort of feeling. Since people were asking, I decided to ask if he had really smiled and nodded at the Riize is 7 banners at Rolling Loud, to which I pulled 6 of Chalices. This is a yes, it made him think of some other memories- so since that is the case I really think he may be referring to Madrid, which is funny bc Briize were saying he was grinning just like he did back then!

I then asked him how he thought things were progressing for Seunghan's return, to which I got 2 of Pentacles. Things are still being prepared and there's not a clear answer at the moment. This question led me into the next few things we will discuss regarding SM.

SM

Knight of Pentacles + 8 of Swords + Knight of Wands + Queen of Wands

Generally, there is a lot of turmoil here. Careful planning and preparation, but its almost like one team is like "let's do this now, this is stupid and we need to act now" and the other is like "why do we have to do that? I don't wanna". One side wants to do as they have always done, and the other side is younger and more open-minded, wanting to avoid disaster due to refusal to adapt. The older side sees this as reckless, the younger side sees the older as lazy and slow. It is very tough, and they are at odds. I will come back to this energy a bit later.

8 of Wands + 2 of Chalices + 10 of Wands

Someone asked if SM was making a decision regarding Seunghan this week. Pulled 8 of Wands and 2 of Chalices. Yes?? I think they 100% have the intention to do so. But with the 10 of wands as the outcome I think that whatever outcome it is it will be while before it is released, and whatever it is will be due to a lot of pressure being put on SM. So I advise that OT7 really make sure to keep laying it on as thick as possible as this will affect the outcome.

Bottom of Deck:

8 of Chalices + 5 of Wands

The theme here is still a lot of conflict. One side will need to grow mature enough to give up their stance. Whoever gives in first wins.

Final Notes:

Mainly, what I wanna speak on is the energy SM is feeling right now. I made a transit reading when Pluto went into Aquarius that discussed what tf is going on with SM lately and what will be going on for the next few years. I will link it HERE (for twt users, i will link in the twt)

Other than that, again, keep spreading the truth and laying on the pressure here. We are approaching a kind of finale situation rather soon. Or at least some news regarding such. Note that even if we win, we may not KNOW right away. We may not know 100% until closer to a CB. I hope not, but it's certainly possible. So please keep doing what you're doing, and do not give in!!

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 14

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

“Kegs have been secured, so we should be good for tonight,” John B announces from where he’s sitting on the steps of the pool, phone in hand as he shoots off some texts.

“Hallelujah,” Isla sounds blandly yet playfully, as she remains laying with her eyes closed on the floaty, enjoying the warmth of the sun against her skin.

“You’re not enthusiastic enough for my liking,” JJ’s voice comes from next to her and, before Isla can even open her eyes, the floaty she’s laying on is suddenly jerked and a shriek escapes Isla, which is silenced when she’s underwater.

She instantly closes her mouth so she doesn’t swallow any water, which roars in her ears and muffles the sound of her friends’ laughter as Isla pushes herself back up before breaking through the surface. “JJ! I’m going to fucking kill you!” she yells, pushing her hair back and wiping the water out of her eyes before she opens her eyes to glare at her best friend roaring with laughter. Kie is pressing her lips together at the other side of the pool, clearly trying to side with her sister but struggling to stifle her laugh.

“I was trying to keep my hair from getting wet, you ass!” Isla growls, tugging at the hair tie that had been keeping her hair up, but now the wet strands were making it hard until she was able to yank it out. No point in keeping it up now.

Now she’s going to have to wash her hair before the party tonight, and her scowl remains on her face while JJ remains grinning widely. “Just making sure you’re wide awake for tonight.”

Isla throws a few more colorful curses at him, but of course he only laughs in return until she splashes him. She swims towards the steps, walking when her feet can touch the ground and walks out of the pool. “Where are you going?” Kie asks.

“Getting something to eat. You want anything?” Isla asks, grabbing her pink towel and drying herself off as much as she can before wrapping the towel around her hips and securing it there. The metal of her necklaces feel cold against her skin, hair wet against the bare skin of her back thanks to the red bikini.

“Diet Coke, please,” her sister calls back.

“Oh, me too, girl!” Cleo adds on from where she’s laying on one of the poolside chairs. 

Isla gives them a two fingered salute, slipping her feet into her flip flops and heads inside the Cameron house through the back French doors. Sarah’s parents are out at work and Wheezie is up in her room, Isla thinks, as she walks into the kitchen and heads towards the fridge.

She opens the fridge door, whistling a tune to herself as she digs through the various items to grab two cans of Diet Coke and puts them on the counter next to the fridge. Isla reaches back inside and grabs one of the chocolate pudding cups, her sweet tooth acting up.

She straightens, peeling off the top cover and dipping her finger into the pudding, scooping some up and putting it in her mouth, licking it clean and humming appreciatively at the chocolaty taste. And then a pair of large, warm, and familiar hands grip her bare waist right above the hem of the towel, and Isla instantly melts when she feels lips on her neck, a blonde hair ducking into view.

Isla’s pulse quickens, pulling her finger out of her mouth as she smiles and whispers, “My friends are right outside, Rafe.”

“We’ll hear anyone if they walk in,” he murmurs, his voice deep and low as he kisses her neck. Isla’s stomach clenches as she sighs contently and leans her head back against him, eyelashes fluttering when he nips gently with his teeth and soothes with his tongue. “I missed you.”

The breath shudders out of her, cheeks warming as she tries not to tighten her grip on the pudding cup lest she squeezes the pudding out of it in response to what Rafe is doing. “You saw me yesterday,” she reminds him through a breathless smile.

“Truth time? It’s getting increasingly impossible to get you out of my mind, Isla,” Rafe says, the heavy honesty in his words making her heartbeat seize for a moment.

He has the fascinating ability to render her speechless. Biting her lower lip, Isla turns in Rafe’s arms to face him, tipping her head back to look up into those pretty blue eyes with that gentle smirk dancing on his lips. “Who would’ve thought Rafe Cameron could be so romantic?” Isla teases, well aware her friends are right outside, but craving the warmth of his body as his arms loop around her waist once more. He scoffs out a laugh, his cheeks slightly pink, and it makes her grin as she places her free hand on his chest. “I think about you all the time, too, you know. It’s very distracting.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs quietly, smiling down as his gaze dips to her lips, the desire evident in his eyes. “Hope you’re not expecting an apology.”

Isla laughs and rises on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, sinking back to her feet when he leans into her, his hands at the small of her back to keep her close. Despite her friends being just outside, the kiss is slow, dragging, tasting each other and reveling in it.

“Okay, okay,” Isla breathes out, reluctantly pulling away from him and slowly opening her eyes. “Very risky. We’re gonna get caught.”

“Scandalous,” Rafe smirks, their moment at the beach flashing through her mind as she laughs breathlessly. As they pull away, both obviously hesitant as the space between them grows, the mischief remains in his eyes as they dip to the pudding cup. “You’re gonna keep that all to yourself, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. She likes that as much as when he calls her baby. Giving an amused, close mouthed smile, she holds the cup out to him. But then he raises an eyebrow at her when their gazes meet, the expectancy obvious in his eyes, and Isla’s stomach dips as she instantly realizes what he’s—silently—asking of her.

Throat drying, Isla dips her finger into the cup, scooping the cold pudding, taking a step closer to him again and raising her chocolate pudding drenched finger, careful not to let any of it drip to the floor. A quiet, almost thrilled laugh escapes her as she rushes out, “Hurry, before—”

Rafe is swift. His larger hand wraps around her wrist, bringing her hand closer to him. His gaze is locked on hers and Isla’s thighs clench when Rafe wraps his lips around her finger. 

Electricity explodes throughout Isla’s body, the breath stalling in her lungs as Rafe’s tongue slides around the digit, cleaning up the pudding that she scooped for him. When she becomes aware of her breathing, it comes out in labored pants, lips parting slightly as Rafe licks her finger clean in the warmth of his mouth. She feels the tightness travel between her legs, pulsing, breathing shallowing out as the smirk is reflected in those wicked blue eyes.

It’s over too quickly, though Rafe takes his sweet time in pulling his mouth off her finger, now clean yet shining with the sleek sheen of Rafe’s saliva. He slowly straightens, rising to his full height, looking down at her with heat darkening his eyes while Isla struggles to get her racing pulse to calm down.

She can’t process a single coherent thought, though she’s vaguely aware she’s probably standing there like an idiot, slightly open mouthed as she tries to get the world to stop spinning so wildly. 

He’s totally going to be the death of her. And judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it—and is proud of it.

“You should get back to your friends,” Rafe quips, leaning back and taking a step away, much to Isla’s dismay. But he’s right, even if she pouts and scrunches her nose in response, which only makes Rafe break out into a devastating grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Isla shakes her head, snatching up the soda cans and tucking them into the crook of her arm against her body while the other hand holds onto the pudding cup she won’t be able to eat now without picturing him. “Asshole,” she hisses, trying to bite back a smile as she moves around him and out of the kitchen, throwing him a grin over her shoulder at the last second before disappearing from his view. She swears she hears him chuckle.

*****

Five hours later, when the sun is gone and the moon has made her appearance, Isla is surrounded by drunk peers at the Boneyard. A few bonfires are scattered around, music playing and drinks being poured. Some take advantage of the kegs, while others brought their own drinks. Isla sits with her sister around one of the fires, her beer cup between her legs but the two of them more so enjoying the joint they pass back and forth.

The party started a while ago and Isla’s only one drink and half a joint in, but it doesn’t stop her gaze from wandering, looking for Rafe. She doesn’t risk trying to be sneaky by pulling out her phone and texting him, not with Kie sitting right next to her. So she just tries to enjoy the party, watching people play games or dance. Her immunity, so to speak, to weed keeps her from losing all of her faculties—unlike Sarah, who takes a few hits and gets lost in her own world filled with giggles.

The summer night chill is drawn away by the warmth of the fire, and Isla enjoys the sound of people talking and music playing mixing with the crash of waves on the shore. The salty breeze dances through Isla’s hair, tickling her cheeks as she passes the joint to her sister, slowly blowing out a puff of smoke as her gaze wanders.

Unsurprisingly, her gaze glances over faces familiar and not, smiling when she spots Pope and Cleo dancing as he twirls her around. Isla’s tongue pokes the inside of her cheek as she searches and is disappointed when she doesn’t spot Rafe. He had said he would be coming tonight, but Isla hasn’t seen him yet. She lets out a quiet breath, gazing wandering up to the sky as she distracts herself by counting the stars she can see. It’s not as though she and Rafe could even hang out closely whenever he comes, just admire each other from a distance and let their eyes do the talking without letting anyone in on their secret.

It’s a fucking pain to be in his vicinity and not being able to do anything about it. Her body craves being near his, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solidness of his body, the electricity of his touch and the flutter in her chest when she sees him smile. To feel all of that, so much, and not being able to do anything about it publicly yet. But soon. Someday. She just needs to figure out how the hell to break the news to her friends and when. Either way, she’s not sure she’ll be prepared for the fall out.

Straightening her head from being tilted back, she tilts it to the side and eyes her sister. The fire glows against Kie’s warm brown skin, the light reflecting in her eyes as she lazily eyes the joint between her fingers. As Isla welcomes the warmth in her own chest—from both the joint and thoughts of Rafe—she finds herself asking, “What’s stopping you from telling JJ how you feel?”

She watches as her sudden question registers on Kie’s face, but Isla couldn’t stop from asking. As she swims in her own feelings for Rafe, how this short time with him has thrilled her, made her happy, in ways she hadn’t seen coming, Isla finds herself wondering about her sister and the boy Kie so obviously likes. Kie and JJ are perfect for each other, balancing each other out when necessary, and it’s frustrating that they’re still dancing around the edge of everything. 

Kie lets out a long sigh, head tilting back and as she uses her free hand to brush back strands of hair that escape the bandeau wrapped around her head. “I don’t know if the time is right,” she says lazily. “Don’t know if he’s ready for something like that yet. He’s dealing with some shit with his dad.”

Isla huffs. “He’s always gonna have shit to deal with when it comes to Luke. You might be waiting forever if you’re waiting on that,” she points out with an arch of her eyebrow.

Kie bumps her shoulder with Isla’s. “Why’s it so important to you, anyway?”

Isla pauses for a brief second, reveling in the haze of the weed that lightens her head, before she decides to be honest. “I want you to be happy. I see the way you two look at each other. Everyone sees it, Kie,” she adds pointedly, though with a gentle smile. “It’s only a matter of time, you know.”

Her sister throws her a look, one that is a mix between wary and bemused as she takes another hit. “What about you, huh?” Kiara counters, raising an eyebrow. “You’re so obsessed with my love life, what’s going on in yours? Anyone keeping you busy?”

Isla pushes aside the way her heart skips a beat, Rafe’s face flashing through her head upon hearing Kie’s question. Somehow, though, she manages to keep her cool, her smile at ease as she gives a single shoulder shrug. “Nope. I’m just enjoying the summer with you guys before college starts.”

It’s a lie—a big one. It tastes a little bitter, but right now, it’s necessary.

Kie groans, face scrunching and throwing her head back before she shakes it. “God, please, summer only just started. Don’t talk about college.” Huffing out a breath, she says, “But I mean, come on—there’s a lot of potential out here, no?” She spreads her arm out, gesturing around them. “You could find someone.”

Except Isla already has, but Kie can’t know that. “I’m good,” Isla snorts out a laugh, pulse quickening for a moment. “You know me and my very particular tastes,” she adds jokingly.

And as if by some answer from the universe, Isla’s gaze catches sight of Rafe through the crowd of partygoers. She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth, watching from a distance as he smiles while greeting his friends. The sea breeze dances through his hair and he, too, is by another bonfire that makes him glow in an orange-golden light. And there it is—the fluttering in her heart that comes wherever Rafe is concerned. She has to admit, it’s a new development in her life that she’s not at all upset by.

Taking the joint from Kie, Isla takes another long hit that she knows won’t do much, but it’s enough to keep her from launching off the log she sits on and go kiss her boyfriend. Her very hot, very secret boyfriend.

Isla’s neck tenses, physically stopping herself, and only reaching down to grab her cup of beer and taking a swig. She needs a distraction. She had been eager for Rafe to get here, but for what? They can’t be together, can’t dance, without her friends looking at her like she’s crazy. 

If only it were easier.

But it’s not, so Isla looks at her sister and asks, “Wanna grab the others and dance?”

A lazy grin spreads across Kie’s face as she nods. “Hell yeah.”

Minutes later, they have found Sarah and Cleo, joining the groups of people in a mutually decided area that’s designated as the dancing area. Isla’s free hand is locked with Sarah’s, the two of them dancing to the beat of a Rihanna remix with Kie and Cleo, drinks in their other hands. The music makes a lovely cacophony with the rush of waves against the shore, people’s chatter joining in but slightly muted.

Isla’s not sure where the guys are—she wouldn’t be surprised if John B and JJ were caught up in a keg stand somewhere with Pope supervising. But as she twirls Sarah around, laughing, her gaze catches something through the crowd of people. Absently moving to the music, Isla brings her cup up to her mouth, eyebrows furrowing slightly over the rim of the cup as she sips while watching some girl get a little too close to Rafe.

An obvious Kook, by the looks of it. Rafe stands with his usual group of friends, and Isla recognizes the girl as Danielle Greggs, a girl who is closer to Rafe’s age. . . With very little space between the two of them. Isla narrows her eyes, somehow still absently moving to the music with her friends, and watches as Danielle laughs at something Rafe says, clearly swaying closer to him, and suddenly Isla’s chest burns. But then—

She watches as Rafe’s gaze flickers down to Danielle and, without drawing too much attention, takes a step away from her to add some space as he takes a sip of his drink. Isla takes a deep breath, warm satisfaction coursing through her when Danielle notices Rafe’s step back and a quick look of embarrassment flashes across her face as she looks away and brightens her smile while engaging in the group’s conversation. 

Isla finds herself smirking, relieved at Rafe’s obvious display of loyalty, even if her own jealousy still brims. This—this part of a secret relationship is what severely sucks. Watching other people flirt with her boyfriend because they think he’s single, and not being able to step in and show her own possessive side. Isla tries to relax her tensed muscles, subtly rolling her neck as she forces her gaze away from Rafe. Even the sea breeze isn’t enough to cool down her heated skin that erupted at the sight of another girl flirting with her guy.

She’s yanked out of her thoughts when Sarah bumps into her with a giggle, and Isla’s eyes widen slightly in amusement as she keeps her friend upright. “I need another drink,” Sarah grins, looking at Isla and squeezing their joined hands. “Come with?” 

Isla laughs, nodding. “Let’s go, babe.”

She lets go of Sarah’s hand only to throw her arm around Sarah’s shoulders, Sarah’s own arm winding around Isla’s waist as they weave around people to where the kegs are kept. Isla’s face scrunches when they pass by someone throwing up a few feet away, a friend holding the girl’s hair back, but they’ve all been there. 

“Let it out, Stacy! Puke and rally!” Isla calls out to the vomiting girl, earning a chuckle from Emma, the girl who’s holding Stacy’s hair back as Stacy waves feebly before going back to puking. 

“Oh-ho, that’s gonna be me by the end of the night,” Sarah laughs, her brown eyes glazed over and cheeks flushed. Isla has a feeling she resembles more or less the same as Sarah.

“Not if you pace yourself,” Isla tells her through a laugh of her own. “Drink some wa—”

“Sarah, hey.”

Simultaneously, both Isla and Sarah roll their eyes in exasperation, though Isla doesn’t stifle her groan before muttering, “Here we fucking go again.”

They don’t stop, but are forced to when Topper appears in front of them. Isla presses her lips together when she feels Sarah’s arm squeeze around her waist. The wind tousles Topper’s blonde hair as he gives Sarah that half smile that Isla thinks he probably considers charming, but to her it’s just an indicator that he’s about to make a fool out of himself again in front of Sarah.

“Hi, Topper,” Sarah returns, considerably less enthused, as she brushes her hair behind her ear with the hand still holding the empty cup.

Isla’s lips twist to the side, her patience immediately wearing thin. How does Topper not notice how Sarah would rather eat sand than have a conversation with him? Is he truly that oblivious—or does he just not care? Never mind the fact that she’s been with John B for a year now. It’s about time Topper lets the candle he’s still holding for Sarah blow out.

“How’re you doing?” Topper asks her, not even glancing towards Isla, as if she’s not there. Which is fine by her because she could give a shit about being acknowledged by Topper Thornton, but his obsession with Sarah doesn’t just piss off Sarah and John B—it annoys their friends, too. Come to think of it, how is Rafe even friends with him?

“Good, good,” Sarah answers, always polite, offering a close-mouthed smile that doesn’t at all meet her eyes. Isla wonders if Topper notices or cares. It’s just embarrassing at this point. “Isla and I were just getting another drink.”

“Oh, cool, I’ll walk with—”

“Jesus Christ, Topper,” Isla cuts in, groaning as she throws her head back before straightening to glare at him. This time, he finally looks at her, that idiotic expression on his face. Isla gives him a look of her own, as though he just drooled on himself. “She’s not fucking interested—hasn’t been since she dumped you. When the hell are you gonna move on?”

From her peripheral vision, she sees Sarah pressing her lips together, no doubt trying to stifle a laugh. Meanwhile, Topper’s expression quickly transforms into an annoyed glare. “I don’t think this conversation involved you, Isla,” he says evenly with a lift of his chin.

Isla scoffs, her mouth curving up in a sardonic smile. “Thank God for that, because I don’t think Sarah wants to be involved in that conversation, either,” she counters. A glance at her friend tells Isla that Sarah is definitely trying to smother a smile. With a shake of her head, Isla says to Topper, “Dude, just let it go. She’s not into you. She’s moved onto bigger and better things—”

“What’s happening here?” John B suddenly appears out of nowhere on Sarah’s other side. But his gaze, hardened, is fixed on Topper, who immediately straightens, like he’s trying to puff out his chest.

Isla glances at Sarah, who suddenly looks like she has sobered up now that John B has made an appearance. Isla can’t blame her for that, because whenever John B and Topper are in the same space, people need to be on their toes because no doubt a fight may break out.

Gaze darting, Isla tries to see if JJ or Pope are nearby—preferably the latter, because while JJ is more liable to join in on the fight, Pope would try to pull John B away. Isla watches as John Be steps in front of them, staring down Topper, whose chin lifts as he says, “Nothing, man. Just chatting.”

“Okay.” John B gives a single dip of his chin. Isla, standing behind him, can’t exactly see his expression, but she knows there’s that special glare on his face that he reserves just for Topper. “Find someone else to chat with. Not my girlfriend.”

Oh, Isla sees the flash of anger in Topper’s eyes when John B utters the g word. No doubt rubbing salt in the wound that Sarah left Topper for John B, but who could blame her? Then again, Isla may be biased since John B is one of her best friends, but whatever. 

But that anger that Topper shows has him switching gears, Isla realizes, when he scoffs and spits, “You know, it’s only a matter of time she leaves you the way she left me.” Isla feels Sarah stiffen, while her own eyebrows slant down in a glare as Topper steps up to John B. The air is immediately tense with the anticipation—or dread—of something about to happen.

Over the sound of the party, Isla hears John B scoff. “When are you gonna let that go, man? It’s embarrassing at this point,” he says, giving voice to Isla’s own thoughts from seconds ago. “Move on—and back the fuck up.”

Those last few words are harshly spoken because Topper had, indeed, stepped up to John B. Around them, Isla can see others taking note of what’s brewing; everyone knows fire is bound to erupt when John B and Topper get into it. “Oh, God,” Sarah mutters next to Isla, her grip around Isla’s waist loosening as she takes a step towards John B, her hand reaching out to gently fist the back of his shirt. “John B—”

“Why’re you getting so defensive?” Topper asks John B, arrogantly tilting his head to the side. At this rate, more and more people are gathering, watching the scene unfold. When Isla glances past Sarah to her right, she sees JJ and Pope shoving their way to the front, Kie and Cleo right behind them. The girls look unsurprised about this confrontation, though wary, and while Pope looks like he’s trying to calculate the fastest way he can pull John B away, JJ looks like he’s ready to jump in and join. 

Topper’s mouth curves up into an almost cruel grin. “Is it ’cause you know it’s true?” Isla’s jaw clenches, and then Topper goes for the killing blow with a scoff. “Once a whore, always a whore, am I right?”

That does it.

Isla has a split second to pull Sarah back from John B, the blonde yelping in surprise as Isla yanks her away from her boyfriend, right when John B lunges forward and cracks his knuckles against Topper’s jaw. Gasps sound from the surrounding crowd, Isla’s eyes widening and holding Sarah’s hand as she tries to go after John B, but Isla doesn’t want her friend to get caught in the crossfire as Topper recovers and goes after John B.

“Shit,” Sarah curses as Isla moves her to the side, watching as John B and Topper crash onto the sand, fists flying viciously. “Topper, get off of him!”

“You son of a fucking bitch.” John B’s words are spoken through gritted teeth, in between punches thrown at Topper. He’s on top of Topper, one hand gripping the front of Topper’s shirt while the other throws another punch. “Keep her name out of your mouth, you fuck.”

“Oi, stop them!” Isla hears Cleo say, glancing over to see her talking to Pope. “They’re gonna kill each other!”

“My money’s on John B,” JJ says from the other side of the crowd from where Isla and Sarah are, looking far too entertained to put a stop to what’s going on. By the sight of his lazy yet excited grin, he’s not too worried about stopping the fight.

Somehow, through the struggle, Topper ends up on top of John B, and Isla’s heart drops to her stomach when she sees with widened eyes that Topper has his hands around John B’s neck, right on top of his bandana. And Topper’s grip is tight, judging by the way John B struggles, his face turning a dangerous shade of red to purple.

“Oh, my God,” Sarah panics, fear stricken.

“Topper, let him go!” Isla yells, muscles tight as she stops herself from launching at the blonde to pull him off. “You’re gonna fucking kill him!”

Her heart is racing, pounding in her ears, but it’s as though those words trigger JJ, because suddenly he’s there, too. He grabs fistfuls of Topper’s shirt and yanks him back, JJ’s teeth obviously gritted as he uses all of his strength to shove Topper off and onto the ground. He falls on his ass with a heavy thud, but isn’t down for long.

“Oh, you want some too, Maybank?” Topper taunts, getting to his feet. 

John B is gasping for breath, Sarah racing to him after she breaks out of Isla’s grip and crashing to her knees next to her boyfriend, fussing over him. Isla’s gaze is wide and darting, going from John B and Sarah to JJ, who shouts at Topper, “Think you’re forgetting this is our side of the island, Top! You can fuck right off back to Figure Eight.”

Isla crouches on the other side of John B, wincing when she sees the bleeding cut on his lip and the discoloration already starting on his jaw. Sarah, meanwhile, goes back and forth from worrying about him and admonishing him for getting into a fight, her panic still evident as John B calms her down while trying to catch his breath at the same time.

“Oh, God,” Isla mutters, catching Sarah and John B’s attention. They follow her gaze ahead, to where now it’s a confrontation between JJ and Toppers. People surrounding them are either egging one or the other on, or recording on their phones. 

Isla bites the inside of her cheek when she sees Rafe and Kelce break through the crowd to get to the front, behind Topper. She watches as Rafe’s narrowed eyes find Sarah, looking as though he’s searching her for any sign of injury, before his gaze locks with Isla’s. She widens her eyes at him, gaze flickering to Topper, a silent plea for Rafe to pull his friend back. 

In the past, Rafe has always been eager to jump into a fight against Isla’s friends; it’s one of the reasons why JJ, John B, and Pope hate him, and it’s as good of a reason as any. But it’s been months since her friends and Rafe physically got into it, since before she and Rafe started seeing each other. And Isla hopes that tonight that streak isn’t broken. It’s not as though she doesn’t have faith in Rafe, because she does. But as much as she loves her friends, Isla is fairly certain that they won’t have an issue picking a fight with him.

She sees Rafe’s jaw clench, his chin subtly dipping once, and a semblance of relief pours through Isla to know that Rafe is on her side on this. But the situation needs to be deescalated fast, because Topper sneers at JJ after hearing his words. “Yeah, your side of the island,” Topper scoffs with a shake of his head, that sardonic smile back on his now bruising face, since John B had gotten some good hits in, too. “But you freaks took our girls, didn’t you? First Isla and Kie—” Isla stiffens when she hears her name, noticeably catching sight of Rafe’s eyes narrowing even further, this time at his own best friend. “—and now Sarah. What, the girls here aren’t good enough for you Pogues? You gotta take what’s ours and screw them, too?”

Isla’s face scrunches up at his gross words, exchanging a look of disgust with Sarah, who looks like she’s wondering, for the hundredth time, how she dated Topper in the first place. 

“Take what’s ours?” Oh, no. Isla freezes, watching wide eyed as Kiara steps away from the crowd and storms up to Topper, shrugging off Pope’s attempt of trying to pull her back as a look of indignation fires up her dark eyes. Even JJ is suddenly not very interested in Topper, looking at Kie and putting an arm out to keep her from getting too close to Topper. “Could you be more arrogant? That is some disgusting patriarchal bullshit, Topper.”

Isla rises to her feet, watching raptly to see if she needs to step in and pull her sister back, despite the truth of Kie’s words.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, here we fucking go,” Topper groans with a roll of his eyes before shooting Kie an irritated look. “This has nothing to do with you, Kie.”

“Um, you mentioned my name, so it kind of does,” Kie snaps back, taking another step forward, JJ right next to her as Isla’s heart thumps. She’s hoping that as shitty as Topper is, he wouldn’t lay a hand on a girl, but tension still tightens Isla’s muscles. Her alarmed gaze flickers to Rafe, who is watching with that same look of concentration furrowing his eyebrows—but he’s also slowly approaching where Topper stands. Kie, however, isn’t done. “Just because you haven’t moved on from being dumped, doesn’t mean you can come here and pick fights just because your pathetic ego is hurt.”

As much as part of Isla wants to cheer at Kie’s words, her heart jumps to her throat when that previous anger flashes across Topper’s face and, to Isla’s horror, he narrows his eyes and takes a step towards her sister. Isla finds herself instantly moving forward, too, JJ growling a low and warning, “Hey,” at Topper and the threatening step he takes towards Kie.

But then before anyone else can do anything, by the time Isla has reached Kie’s other side, Rafe is right behind Topper, his hands gripping Topper’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, man,” Rafe says to Topper, his voice calm yet Isla detects the thread of edge creeping into his tone. Topper stops in place under Rafe’s grip, and Isla inhales sharply yet quietly as Rafe forces Topper to take a step back, his gaze on his friend. But Rafe’s eyes—she’s seen that look in his eyes, previously directed towards her friends. Rafe is pissed. “Forget about it, alright? Let’s get out of here.”

Isla’s narrowed eyes watch Topper’s jaw work, her heart thumping wildly and having practically forgotten about the audience around them. But they’re all silent, watching, as Topper finally raises his hands up and takes a step back, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. “Fine, whatever,” Topper scoffs, shaking his head as he shrugs Rafe’s hands off of him and turns. But not before muttering, “Fucking Pogues, man.”

Isla watches as Rafe watches Topper go and join Kelce, before Rafe glances back at Sarah for a split second, who has helped John B up to his feet. Rafe’s gaze then flickers to Isla and she presses her lips together, offering the slightest bit of a grateful smile. She wishes she could hug him for pulling Topper away, from putting a stop to this before Topper went after JJ and, worse, Kie.

But he gives her the tiniest of smiles before he turns and goes, and Isla feels stuck either way, between him and her friends, with one foot in both worlds and wishing they’d collide sooner rather than later.

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 2: support our son

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm still trying to figure out what app/site to make the texts on so if anyone has a good suggestion please help please i'm struggling

previous | masterlist | next

You used to come over to Jay’s place nearly every other day. But it had been two weeks, and you were nowhere to be seen. It was to the point that Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon began asking if you would ever come over again, to which Jay was forced to answer that you were probably hanging out with Huening Kai. He didn’t know your actual whereabouts most of the time, but he guessed. Which made him internally cringe every time.

What he disliked the most, however, was his incessant urge to text you whenever the smallest inconvenient thing happened in his day. He was sure you would very likely reply, but he was scared of what it would be like now that the dynamic of your relationship changed. It should probably be the same, but what if your voice over text changed because now you were seeing someone else?

Jay wasn’t fond of the idea in the slightest. Did you even really like Huening Kai? Who the fuck was he to take you away from Jay? (Yet you weren’t his to begin with.) He missed you, but he could hardly voice it out to himself, let alone you.

The day he nearly killed a man on the spot was when he saw you and Huening Kai walking side by side on campus. It wasn’t just that, actually, because the two of you were holding hands, and you were laughing about something Kai had said. It was even worse because he was clearly walking you to class — a class that you shared with Jay. So you were bound to cross paths, and no matter how hard Jay tried to slow his pace down, you still managed to notice him.

“Oh, hey, Jay!” you called him over with a smile on your face. It was brighter than he remembered, and he couldn’t figure out if it was just his brain playing tricks, or whether you were genuinely happier than he had ever seen you before. “You know Kai, right?” you asked innocently, but it only brought back Jay’s anger from the Sanctuary Café.

Heeseung just wanted to take Jay out to an open mic. Neither of them knew that it would also be the day of your first date with Huening Kai. Jay hated every second of being there, but to you, it must’ve been an unforgettable night.

“And Kai, this is Jay,” you said with a smile, pointing at him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Kai stretched out his hand forward, but the gaze with which he beheld Jay told him that he knew everything about you and Jay. That you gave him every single gory detail of what had been going on before the two of you began dating, and that made Jay even more furious. Because he refused to acknowledge any other emotion he felt.

He ignored the tightness in his chest as he shook Kai’s hand with a nod. “I’ve heard nothing about you,” Jay replied, not lying, because he genuinely knew nothing about Kai besides the few pieces of gossip and what Heeseung divulged some time ago. Kai wasn’t surprised by that information at all. You hadn’t told Jay anything about him either.

“We have to get to class, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” You looked at Kai with such admiration in your eyes that Jay wanted to step between the both of you and push Kai out of the way. But he couldn’t do it. All he could do was stand and watch and constantly clench and unclench his fists.

“Yeah, of course,” Kai replied, bending down to kiss your temple, but you grabbed the collar of his band tee and brought his mouth down to your lips. Kai let out an involuntary giggle as it happened, and Jay had to abruptly turn away, incapable of not rolling his eyes.

“Bye,” you mumbled quietly, a soft smile decorating your lips.

“Band practice starts at five.”

“I know, Kai,” you laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be there. We need to support our son.”

Jay furrowed his brows, but with Kai’s knowing grin and playful roll of his eyes, neither of you was going to elaborate on what you actually mean.

Your son?

And yet that was the first thing Jay asked about once Kai was finally leaving you alone, his back turned to the two of you. “Your son? The fuck happened in the last two weeks?”

You chuckled at Jay’s confusion, an amused look brightening up your features. “Yujin’s still in high school,” you said, shaking your head. “The keyboardist. If you remember him. He’s actually just started his second year.”

“So you call him your son?”

“Yeah, he’s the whole band’s son. And mine, now.” You grinned proudly, just thinking about Yujin. “Anyways, I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact much lately, but I’m still getting used to this whole new dynamic of me having a boyfriend and all that.”

“Oh, you’re official already?”

“I’d hope so,” you said, shrugging. “What about you? Any new conquests lately? Surely, you already found someone else? Maybe you’ve already had someone on your roster, you know, that kinda stuff.” 

If Jay wasn’t too busy cringing at your words, he’d probably notice how tense your tone was, and how much you hated saying them, but he didn’t. All he heard was that you really didn’t care about him any more than a casual fuck and perhaps a somewhat close friend. 

“Nah, not really,” Jay replied anyway. “I’m actually kinda… I don’t know. Haven’t felt like doing much lately.”

“Right. So just you and Jane?” you asked teasingly.

“What?” And maybe it should’ve hit Jay instantly that you were speaking of his guitar, but instead he thought that you were suggesting he really was with somebody else already, and he did not like that. “Oh.” He realised moments later.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that.” He nodded. Jay had to count all his small victories of today among the losses, too, however, because you were actively speaking to him finally. And not just that — you sat down next to him in class.

tags: (send an ask or comment to be added!) @moonpri @addictedtohobi

[myanmardoesnotexist]

Analysis of Why Valentino Cares So Much

So, I know I write a lot of fanfiction, but perhaps my favorite thing about Rosquez is the psychology of Valentino, specifically his bizarre fascination with Marc (This is outside of shipping goggles btw). As the years go on, this fixation with one specific rivalry has become increasingly more clear, and I kind of just wanted to dive into why I believe Valentino Rossi cares so much.

To me, it comes down to two things:

#1: Marc was the first to really win (in Valentino's eyes)

With Stoner, Lorenzo, and Sete it was a rivalry for sure, and there was anger, but Valentino seemed to view it as sort of a game he could control. And he did control it, he came out the victor both to the public and on track. When they eventually got over their rivalries years later, it was Valentino being a 'benevolent king' with the vibe of sparing his enemy. Even if they beat him in the championship, ultimately Valentino won the game of relevance and importance in MotoGP. With Marc it was slightly different. Valentino got the entire racing world to turn against Marc (in a way he never had before with other rivals), and yet somehow it didn’t work. Marc kept on winning, he brushed off the hate, and he’s well on his way to matching Valentino is championships next year. Even if Marc's reputation never recovered, even if we know that Marc was very hurt by this, none of it matters because he is the more relevant one now. Marc is still riding, is on the currently best team (a team that Valentino failed to bring a championship to) and each year more and more people view him in a better light.

On top of that, Marc's name is up there with Valentino's as one of the legends in MotoGP history. Stoner, Sete, and Lorenzo are all brilliant drivers and some of the greats, but that top list is Agostini, Doohan, Rossi, and Marquez. Valentino is arguably still more legendary than Marc, but he will never be able to escape from the younger man. Their names are up there together forever, and to Valentino that is a first with a rival. He cannot look at any of it and say that he won, so it must mean he lost.

#2 Marc was the first to actually hurt him personally.

With Marc he clearly felt in some way personally betrayed. He liked Marc, this is almost undeniable. He was proud of him, he cheered him on, they hung out, honestly Marc was almost an unofficial VR46 student with the way their relationship was in those early days. Yes, Marc represented a passing of the torch, but Valentino almost seemed okay with it at that point. Until he became competitive again and found out that Marc doesn't just look up to him or admire him, but wants to beat him, point blank, and will ride on the limit to do that. This came in 2014, but honestly I don't think is was as prominent because Marc had such a dominant season it was hardly a real fight. 2015 though, it was Valentino really fighting for the title. And he probably expected Marc to bend the knee, to be on his side. Maybe not help him, but not impede him in any way. But they had their friction throughout the year, and the fact that Marc was racing him just as hard as he races everyone else got into Valentino's head. Because Marc was supposed to be on his side. So if he's not, he must be against Valentino and for Jorge Lorenzo. There is no in between.

So he lashed out, he let paranoia hit him, and yet somehow he still didn't get satisfaction. Because even though he did his best to hurt Marc, the other man barely seemed to flinch (which we all know isn't true, but to Valentino I think it is). And that would be particularly rough, because it would mean Marc didn't care. That all of that friendship was one-sided on Valentino's part, that he was the one used, which to someone like him, who always has control, would be new and very very uncomfortable. And so he created this narrative that Marc never liked him, Marc never looked up to him, everything was a lie and a manipulation, and he is a villain with no heart. Because I think to Valentino it is impossible to even act like he doesn't still care. So if Marc can do that, it must mean all of it was fake.

To me these two reasons are why Valentino can't seem to let go of this one particular rivalry, and seems so viciously angry about it ten years after the biggest incident happened. His crazy brain fascinates me, and even if you look at it through a purely platonic, non-shipper lens, its one of the most interesting relationships in MotoGP.

[acecardexe]

JOYRIDE- ROOMATE!JEFF.TK x FEM!READER

Summery: You and jeff had a compromise. Don't go to each other's side of the room. But the mess and smell in his side of the room was building up like mold and you've had enough.

Warnings: . cussing,implied nsfw, Jeff is a perv (he steals some clothes of yours..)

A/N: got severely lazy at the end (╯︵╰,)

You and jeff weren't exactly the best of friends, but you were roomed up with him so you both had to just suck it up. So you made a truce, don't go to his and he won't go to yours. It's simple. Very foolproof..

That is until his room started looking like a birds nest with the smell of dead raccoon, you told him to clean up but he would just ignore you, insult you or glare at you or just simply give you excuses

Today you have HAD enough. While he was out doing whatever he was doing. You made sure he would be out for a while, just so you can clean up his room, you weren't going to do too much of a deep clean, you were just going to clean up enough that it wouldn't feel like you lived next to a trash can.

After an hour you finished a quarter of his room and moved over to his bed, clothes stacked on top of it that smelt like blood and sweat, you put it in the laundry basket and stripped the sheets, when a small black fabric fell out the dirty pillow sheets.

"The fuck is this..?" You mumbled to yourself, and picked it up. To your ever surprising horror, you found your lacy black panties that you were looking for everywhere you even asked Jeff but he just made a disgusted face and asked why he would have it.

Suddenly the door opened and in came the devil himself, Jeff. He stopped seeing you on his side of the room, anger flashing on his eyes. Until he looked at the price of fabric you were holding and he gave you a weird look And was quick to give you and answer

"That's not yours."

"it has my name on it."

You could hear him swear under his breath, as he realized he couldn't get out of the situation. He grumbled "what are you doing on my side of the room anyways?!" You went quiet, but frankly in your head cleaning someones stinky ass room was better than stealing someones underwear and god knows whatever he does with it. "Cleaning." You simply responded as if it was the most obvious thing and that it didn't look like you were raiding his side at all.

"Right." He said not making eye contact with you, The tension and the awkwardness level was so thick you'd need an axe to cut it. If Jeff wasn't a psychopath he would be red at this point, but unfortunately, or fortunately he isn't. He couldn't even argue that you were on his side because he was on your side as well. How else would he have your panties.

You decide the best thing to do is leave, "anyways, I'm going to wash your shit since you won't", you picked up the laundry basket with the dirty clothes you found in his room and headed to the door.

"Hold on" he held out an arm to stop you from getting out. "What if you tell this to someone else huh?" He shut the door.

"I- excuse me? What?" I stopped putting the basket down and crossing my arms

"I can't have you doing that now." You furrow your brows, it's not like Jeff had the best reputation in the mansion, he was feared but people knew he was also disgusting. So why did it matter if I blabber that he did shit with my panties, I'll throw that out anyways now that I know where it's been.. Or probably been.

"I'm not going to say anything" you huffed, rolling your eyes, desperate to get out of the room that was getting hotter every second. He grabbed you by the waist and growled

"Yeah as if you can keep your mouth shut, I guess I'll just have to fix that"

"The hell does that-"

His lips crashed into yours in a forced aggressive way as he pulled you closer and pulled you up onto your bed. it was going to be a long night.

CP MASTERLIST

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 4

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

You'd be lying if you said that at least part of the motivation for coming tonight wasn't to see him. Or rather, for him to see you.

"It was totally badass though! You were like, 'No I won't leave till I'm done!' even though the building was collapsing and stuff!" Chargebolt complimented, quite enthusiastically.

Jirou looked unimpressed. "You make it sound dorky."

You had to agree. "It wasn't like that." You argued amusedly, lips twisted into a grin. "It was way cooler."

You had contacted Jirou after that day that she had visited you, deciding that you had gone far too long without her in your life. It was weird, finally getting to know somebody who you had gone to high school with, but it was nice nonetheless.

She was dating Chargebolt, you'd learned, the quirky but endearing individual who had secured his spot as ninth on the Japanese hero charts.

Tonight was a new experience for you. Everyone else standing as you socialized with Japan's top heroes, it was odd being the only one sitting. In a wheelchair no less.

Insecure wouldn't be the right word to describe it. You were practically Bakugo's female counterpart. You didn't get insecure; but you couldn't deny that you did feel rather out of your depth.

"Hey look! it's Kiri!"

You turned to where Chargebolt was pointing–feeling your back straighten instinctually as your eyes locked onto an ash blonde man dressed in a nicely pressed suit stood beside him.

Bakugo choked as he saw you–but Kirishima was headed towards where you stood before he could come up with an excuse not to follow. His grip on the champagne glass in his hand tightened.

"Hey Denki! Jirou, L/n." Kirishima greeted with a toothy as they reached your group–Bakugo quietly standing by his side, his eyes trained firmly on his shoes.

"How are you doing, L/n? You look amazing." The red haired giant greeted kindly.

His knuckles were going white as he stared holes into the floor. He had bought you those shoes, he noted. The day that the two of you opened your agency.

God, how could this be happening?

He couldn't look up–couldn't bear to see you like this. Crippled.

It felt disrespectful to the memory of you he held so highly in his mind. His partner on the battlefield. Someone he trusted with his life.

So he kept his neck bent and his mouth shut, feeling ready to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience.

"-t children, Katsuki?"

"What?" He asked, only catching the last half of your sentence as he tuned back into the conversation. He felt his chest squeeze oddly at the sound of your voice.

"I asked if you were still screaming at children." You repeated, cocky grin slightly tense as you tried to fall back into the same familiar rhythm of teasing and bantering that you normally had with him.

No matter how much you denied it, part of you was on the edge of your seat, yearning for his approval.

But how could he give it to you while he was so focused on the floor?

"Oh. Uh, no." He said gruffly, eyes unwavering. He didn't so much as crack a smile. "I've- uh- I've got to go. I think I hear Pinky calling." He mumbled, hand in his pocket and head bowed as he quickly left.

Your smile faltered slightly–and suddenly everything you had thought about 'not feeling insecure' flew out the window as you shrunk back into your chair.

What were you doing here? In a room full of Japan's top or soon to be top heroes?

They had been your classmates at one point, but it was different now.

One wrong move and now you sat, crippled in a wheelchair as they all strived to reach the common goal you all shared.

The goal you would no longer be able to achieve.

You stared at your lap as the cogs in your mind turned furiously

"L/n?" Jirou called, not appreciating the way your shoulders curled inward. "You alright?"

You nodded slowly. It was an uncomfortable feeling, the one that haunted you now. Not sad. You had long believed there was no point in being sad. Rather... resigned.

Defeated.

You had fought a battle, and you had lost. Now you had to live with the consequences.

Like the partner you had known since your first year of high school unable to even look you in the eye.

"I think I'm going to head out early." You finally mumbled, shaking your head to try and clear your thoughts as you looked around for your things.

"They haven't even announced the awards yet," She frowned. "You don't want to stay?"

No. You really didn't. "Just text me an update? Of who gets what." You couldn't care less, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

You were headed for the door the second she agreed, mumbling quick goodbyes to everyone who stopped you on your way out.

The sterile smell of the hospital only spurred your movements faster as you rolled through the automatic entrance. Bags that had been so kindly brought to you by your friends for your stay dumped haphazardly by your room door, medication wildly thrown into your pockets; you grabbed your things, heaving them into your lap as you made once more for the hospital lobby.

You just needed to start anew.

Red lights foretold an ominous warning as you waited silently in the back of your uber, headed home. Tonight would be spent packing what you needed, you had decided.

Tomorrow, you would be gone.

a/n: wouldn't you like to know weather boy

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