#like I said I should freak out and maybe I do it somewhere in my body for sure

[orangeblossomsintheair]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS (3/3) | CS55

summary : You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have. But it’s too late now. “He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

wc : 14k

an : This might be the end of the Illicit Affairs series! Honestly I might write another part (as I intended) but I realized it could also end here. I might work it alongside a few other fics on the back burner.

The thing about Carlos is that he doesn’t tiptoe. He doesn’t hesitate.

He’s the kind of guy who walks into your life, plops down, and acts like he’s always been there.

At first, you think he’s just passing through, like one of those tumbleweeds in old Westerns. Here for a moment, gone in another, leaving only a faint memory and maybe a little dust.

But Carlos is no tumbleweed.

He’s ivy. Creeping into the corners of your life, attaching himself with relentless charm and absolutely zero warning.

At first, it had just been sex.

Carlos calls, you pick up, and the two of you dive headfirst into whatever filthy scenario he’s cooked up for the evening.

It’s hot, it’s fun, and afterwards, you both lie there catching your breath while exchanging a few words like some half-hearted attempt at aftercare.

“Good for you?” he’ll ask, panting, his voice somehow managing to sound both teasing and sincere.

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes at the ceiling. “Top ten, at least.”

He laughs. Deep, warm, addictive. “I’ll aim for top five next time.”

It’s simple. Casual. Exactly what you signed up for.

Until it’s not.

Until the minutes start to stretch.

At first, it’s just an extra five. Then ten. Then before you know it, the two of you are sitting there, chatting about absolutely nothing long after the heat of the moment has faded.

Next thing you know Carlos is reaching out for the sake of company.

It’s easy to brush it off at first.

To pretend it’s harmless.

Carlos is just a guy who’s annoyingly good at making you laugh and has a voice so smooth it could probably negotiate world peace or at least a really good discount at a used car dealership.

But then, one afternoon, as you’re scrolling through your texts, you realize something horrifying:

You talk to Carlos more than you talk to your friends.

No, scratch that. You talk to Carlos more than you talk to anyone.

And it’s not just the sheer volume. It’s the content.

It’s the way his words sneak into your day, set up camp, and throw a block party. He texts you good morning before you’ve even had coffee, which is frankly criminal.

Carlos Rise and shine, baby. Did you dream about me again?

You I dreamed I hit you with my car

Carlos Hot. Was I shirtless?

You No, but you were crying. Freaked me out

Carlos Probably because I looked so good

You should block him.

You should delete his number.

You do neither, because somewhere deep down, you’re a masochist.

He doesn’t stop at morning texts either.

He sends unsolicited opinions all day, every day.

Carlos Do you think cows ever get tired of standing?

You They sit, Carlos. They sit all the time.

Carlos Yeah, but like, emotionally? What if they’re just pretending to like grass because they’re scared of change

You What would they change to, exactly? Chicken nuggets?

Carlos Maybe. Cows could be wild carnivores waiting for their moment. We don’t know what they’re capable of.

One day, while you're halfway through a bag of chips, your phone buzzes again.

Carlos Do you think birds ever judge us for not flying?

You You need therapy

Carlos So do you, but I don’t judge

You You judge me constantly 🤨

The banter becomes relentless.

Carlos If you had to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?

You Pasta

Carlos Predictable. You’re so basic it physically hurts

You Pretentious words from a man whose favorite snack is probably caviar

Carlos First of all, how dare you

You You’re trash

Carlos Trash that you text back btw

Then comes the random photos.

He sends you a blurry picture of his sneakers one afternoon.

Carlos Do these make me look fast? Be honest, but also lie

You Fast to embarrass yourself

Carlos Wow. Jealousy is a disease. Get well soon

Carlos Does it change anything if I say they’re limited edition

You Limited edition ugly

He sends you a picture of his dog another day, sprawled on the couch like he pays rent.

Carlos We’ve decided to boycott walkies today.

Solidarity with my guy.

You Tell him he’s lazy

Carlos He says those are bold words from someone who hasn’t hit the gym this week

You glare at the screen. It’s 7 a.m. How does he even know that?

You Your dog is illiterate. Don’t drag him into this

Carlos Rude. He’s very smart

You He licks his own butt

He becomes a fixture in your life without you even noticing.

Carlos Did you miss me while I was asleep?

One morning, you’re sipping your coffee when your phone buzzes.

You I slept better knowing you weren’t conscious

Carlos So, you’re saying you dreamt about me

You I dreamt I moved to a remote island where Wi-Fi doesn’t exist

Carlos Romantic getaway for two. Love that for us

You groan, but your fingers are already typing a response.

And somehow, without you realizing it, Carlos isn’t just a voice on the phone or a name on your screen.

He’s everywhere, weaving himself into your days with his relentless humor and absolute refusal to leave you alone.

That’s why when a day passes by without any contact, you’re tilted off balance.

The silence is unnerving.

You tell yourself it’s just one night.

One single night where Carlos doesn’t text or call, and you should be relieved.

Grateful, even, for the reprieve from his relentless antics.

But you’re not.

You spend the evening trying not to think about it.

You scroll through Instagram, open a book, binge half a season of some random series. But every few minutes, you find yourself glancing at your phone, waiting for it to light up.

It doesn’t.

The hours crawl by, and by the time you’re lying in bed, glaring at the ceiling, you’re starting to feel… itchy. Annoyed. Frustrated. And maybe just a little bit unreasonably hurt.

Then, finally, your phone buzzes.

You grab it so fast you nearly knock it off the nightstand.

Carlos Miss me?

Your stomach does a ridiculous little flip, but you type back quickly.

You Not even a little

Carlos Liar

Another message follows: a selfie of him holding the meerkat plushie you’d sent him as a joke a week ago.

Carlos He misses you too

You groan, but your cheeks ache from smiling.

Carlos By the way

Carlos I sent you a gift

You I didn’t get a package?

Carlos Wait

Carlos Call me when you get it

You shake your head, setting your phone down.

It’s probably something stupid. Knowing Carlos, it could be anything from a ridiculous gag gift to an actual penguin.

Two days later, a package arrives.

It’s sitting on your kitchen counter, deceptively normal-looking for something that Carlos sent.

You eye it warily, debating whether you should even bother opening it.

You stare at it for a good ten minutes, arms crossed, trying to decide whether you should call him first or just dump it straight into the trash.

Eventually, curiosity (and mild fear) wins out. You grab your phone and click the topmost contact.

It rings once before he picks up.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you,” Carlos says, his voice smooth and entirely too smug.

“What the hell did you send me?” you demand without preamble.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

“Carlos.”

“Yes?”

You groan, already regretting this decision. “I swear to God, if it’s alive-”

“It’s not alive,” he interrupts.

“Then what is it?”

“Open it.”

“No,” you snap. “Because if it’s something awful, I can’t unsee it. I’m preemptively traumatized. Just tell me what it is so I can mentally prepare.”

“That’s not how surprises work,” he replies, completely unbothered.

“It’s not a surprise if I hate it,” you point out.

“You won’t hate it.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You might be pleasantly surprised,” he insists, and there’s a tone in his voice, something too smug, too amused, that makes your stomach churn with suspicion.

“Carlos,” you warn.

“Yes?”

“If this is some kind of prank-”

“It’s not a prank,” he says, cutting you off again. “It’s a gift. A thoughtful, meaningful, deeply personal gift.”

“Deeply personal?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at the box like it’s about to explode. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It’s just a little something to remind you of me,” he adds, which is possibly the least reassuring thing he could have said.

You exhale sharply through your nose, setting your phone down on the counter so he can see.

His face lights up on the screen, all lazy smirks and overconfidence, and you hate the way your stomach flips at the sight of him.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, you slice through the tape with the caution of someone defusing a bomb.

Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his chin resting on his hand. “Excited?”

“I’m terrified,” you deadpan, peeling back the flaps of the box.

For a moment, you just stare.

Then, you shriek. Loudly.

“Carlos, what the fuck?!”

He leans closer to the camera, his grin widening. “You like it?”

“You sent me a dildo?!” you yell, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Not just any dildo,” he says smugly, sitting back like he’s the king of the universe.

You stare at him, then at the object in the box, and back at him again.

It looks… normal, at first glance.

But then you notice the size. The veins. The shade.

The very specific details.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, horror dawning. “It’s your… your…”

“My cock,” he supplies helpfully. “Yep.”

“Carlos!” you screech, clutching the box like it’s cursed. “You’re a lunatic!”

“True,” he says, completely unfazed. “But admit it- you’re impressed.”

“Impressed?!” you repeat, your voice pitching even higher. “What is WRONG with you?!”

“A lot,” he admits, far too cheerfully. “But you already knew that.”

“How did you even- who does this?!”

“Visionaries,” he says smoothly. “Trendsetters. People who care deeply about customer satisfaction.”

“Customer?!”

“Well, you.”

“I am not your customer!” you yell, holding the replica aloft like it’s a cursed artifact.

Carlos is unbothered. “Technically, you are. You’ve been enjoying the original product for a while now. Or, well, the sight of it.”

You choke on air. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely thoughtful,” he corrects.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re flustered. It's very cute.”

Your jaw drops. “I am not-”

He cuts you off, grinning wider. “So, when’s the test drive?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, setting the… thing down and burying your face in your hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Take your time,” he says, magnanimous. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he adds, like this is a completely normal conversation.

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“I know. That’s what makes it such a great surprise,” he says, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Surprise?!” you echo. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“You’ll appreciate it later,” he says confidently.

“I will not!”

“Bet you will.”

“You need therapy,” you hiss, shoving the box away like it might explode.

“And you need lube,” he counters smoothly.

“You’re deranged!”

“Efficient,” he corrects, smirking. “In case you miss me.”

“I don’t!” you lie, your face burning.

Carlos watches you, entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re keeping it, though.”

“I am absolutely not-”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupts, his tone maddeningly smug.

“I am throwing it in the trash right now!” you declare, grabbing the box and stomping toward the trash can.

He leans closer to the camera, completely unbothered. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

You freeze, hand hovering over the trash.

“There it is,” he says smugly. “Knew you wouldn’t.”

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, stomping back to the counter and slamming the box down.

“And yet, here you are, calling me,” he points out.

“Because I needed to yell at you!”

“And now you’re smiling.”

“I am not smiling!” you yell, even as you turn away from the camera to hide the traitorous curl of your lips.

Carlos laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Admit it- you think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s horrifying!”

“You’re laughing on the inside.”

“I’m plotting your murder on the inside,” you snap.

“Sure, sure,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “So. Again. When are you trying it out?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Liar,” he says again, his grin positively devilish.

Before you can come up with a response, he adds, “Just make sure to let me know how it compares to the real thing. For science.”

“You’re insane,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and ending the call with a vicious jab.

Seconds later, your phone buzzes with a text.

Carlos Don’t forget lube, babe. You’re gonna need it. ;)

You stare at the screen, your cheeks burning.

Carlos And batteries. Unless you want to do it the old-fashioned way. Your call.

You want to throw the phone, the box, and maybe yourself out the nearest window.

You Blocked

Carlos Bad girl.

—

Carlos has this way of getting under your skin. Not in an infuriating, "I can’t believe I’m dealing with this" kind of way, but more in the likes of "Why do I secretly enjoy this ridiculousness?"

It starts with a string of increasingly pathetic messages.

Carlos Please?

Carlos Just once?

Carlos I take that back.

Carlos Twice? Maybe even thrice

Carlos C’mon, I’ll be good

Carlos I’m literally begging here

Carlos On my knees

Carlos Pathetically btw

Carlos Do you need a photo for proof?

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of your head.

You Carlos, we are not doing this again

Carlos You say that

Carlos But I feel like deep down you want to. You’re just being stubborn

He replies instantly, because of course he’s sitting there, waiting for your response like his life depends on it.

“Stubborn,” you deadpan, fingers hovering over your phone. “Sure. That’s definitely it.”

And then he hits you with a voice note, because apparently texts alone can’t convey his desperation.

You don’t even mean to open it, but your thumb slips, and suddenly there he is, using that tone that he knows gets to you.

"Just once," he begs, words spilling out of your speakers like some lovesick fool. "I swear I’ll make it worth your time. Please. I just wanna watch you take me again."

You know you shouldn’t.

It’s ridiculous, bordering on embarrassing.

But then you picture his face, probably flushed, probably biting his lip in that way that always gets to you, and against your better judgment, you cave.

You Fine. But just this once

Carlos I love you

Carlos You’re the best

Carlos I’m naming my firstborn after you

You Just call me

Carlos Yes ma'am 🥰

When the call connects, you're met with the sight of Carlos lounging on his couch looking very much the part of a man who's won an impossible bet.

One arm is draped lazily over the backrest, laptop balanced on his thighs.

The soft glow from the screen highlights the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that you know feels just as delicious as it looks.

The smirk that he wears is devastating. An expression of smug satisfaction that makes your pulse race even as you curse him for it.

His shirt clings to his broad chest, the undone buttons teasing you with a glimpse of hard lines across tanned skin.

His eyes are locked onto you.

There’s heat in them, hunger.

He’s relaxed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him, the way he’s barely holding himself back.

And you?

You’re perched on your bed, knees tucked beneath you, completely bare.

The dildo lies heavy in your hand, the silicone cool against your flushed skin.

The sheer indecency of it sends a rush of heat through you, making your thighs clench.

Carlos smirks, his hand disappearing offscreen for a moment, only to return with a slow stroke along his already hard cock.

He leans forward slightly, the movement drawing your eyes to the way his length twitches in his hand.

For someone who was shamelessly begging just minutes ago, Carlos is playing it way too cool now.

“Naked on your bed, holding a mold of my dick,” he says, his voice smooth like it’s a damn sales pitch. “I mean, come on. That’s the kind of devotion poets write sonnets about.”

You snort, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks heat up. “Oh, yeah. Shakespeare totally had this in mind when he wrote, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day.’”

“Exactly. I’m a classic, baby. Timeless.”

“Delusional,” you counter, grabbing the bottle of lube with way more force than necessary.

His laugh is low and warm, the kind that annoyingly makes your stomach flip. “Call it what you want, but you didn’t say no to my ‘gift.’”

Your glare falters, just for a second, and he catches it immediately. Carlos thrives on cracks in your armor, and his smirk sharpens like a predator who just spotted its prey.

You glare at the bottle in your hand like it personally wronged you. "I hate you," you mutter, squeezing out a glob of lube.

Carlos's face lights up on the screen, all smug satisfaction and unearned charm. "Funny, because you're doing exactly what I asked. Almost like you want to."

"Don’t push your luck,”

He leans closer to his camera, his grin widening. "Oh, pushing my luck is my favorite hobby. You know this."

You level him with a deadpan stare. "And yet, here you are. Still single."

"Wow. Low blow. But fine, I'll allow it, because you're about to make my night."

"Make your night?" You scoff, dragging this out purely to annoy him. "I’m just trying to remember what this was called. A gag gift, right? Or was it just a waste of money?"

His jaw drops. "A gag gift? I can’t believe you’d say that. This is art."

"This is silicone," you reply flatly, holding up the toy with a disapproving shake of your head.

"Silicone art," he corrects, pointing at the screen like that changes anything. His grin sharpens. "And don’t pretend you weren’t curious the moment I sent it to you."

"You sent this to annoy me," you retort, spreading the lube over your fingers with dramatic flair. "And congratulations, it worked."

Carlos leans forward, his chin propped on his hand as he watches you, his dark eyes glittering with mischief.

"Oh, but look at you now. All lubed up and ready to go. Who's the real winner here, hmm?"

"Still me," you shoot back, though your fingers falter as you glance down at the toy.

Your grip tightens as if it’s a stress ball, and the obscene squelch it makes has you biting back a groan.

Carlos’s smirk grows. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep squeezing it like that, and I’ll think you’re practicing for something."

You let out a sharp breath through your nose, refusing to look at him. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

He leans in even closer. "And you’re still here. Lube in hand. Ready to-"

"Don’t finish that sentence," you interrupt, finally looking up to glare at him. "I’ll block you."

Carlos snickers, leaning back like he’s won. "You’d never block me. I’m your favorite pain in the ass."

"No," you say, grabbing the toy with more force than necessary. "You're just a pain in the ass in general. Huge difference."

His brow arches as he watches you spread the lube along the length of the toy, the slick sound louder than your ego can handle. You freeze mid-motion, hyper-aware of his gaze tracking every movement.

Carlos’s grin falters for a moment, replaced by something darker, hungrier. His voice drops an octave. "Good girl."

The unexpected praise punches the air out of your lungs, and your hands falter, nearly dropping the toy.

"Keep going," he murmurs, his tone rich with satisfaction. His eyes don’t leave yours, the heat in them curling low in your stomach. "Let me see you do it."

Your pride flares, and you straighten your spine, lifting your chin as you resume your movements with exaggerated precision.

"You’re lucky I don’t throw this thing across the room," you grumble.

Carlos hums, his gaze shamelessly lingering. "You wouldn’t dare. That thing cost more than your dignity."

"Bold words for someone whose dignity died in 2016," you snap, but the banter feels more like a lifeline now, a way to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze.

The corner of his mouth lifts, cocky and infuriating. "Touché."

You inhale sharply, your hands trembling slightly as you grip the toy.

You hate how your body reacts to him, how his voice, his laugh, his everything gets under your skin like this.

Carlos leans forward again, his smirk all-knowing. "Having fun yet?"

Your pride makes you glare at him. “Fuck you.”

His laugh is low, indulgent, the sound curling around you like smoke. "Soon, sweetheart. Very soon."

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he fires back smoothly, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent.

His voice drops to a growl. "But you won’t, will you? You’ll do exactly what I say because you love being told what to do. Makes you wet just thinking about it, doesn’t it?"

Your lips part, but the sharp retort you’re trying to form dies as his gaze drops to your hands.

His smirk fades, replaced by a hunger so fierce it leaves you breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction.

The unexpected praise sends a rush of heat straight to your core. "Keep going. Let me see you do it."

Your fingers tremble as you continue spreading lube on the length of the toy, the silicone cool against your skin.

“Fuck,” Carlos breathes, his hand tightening around his cock. “Look at you, already so obedient. Knew you’d listen.”

He shifts slightly, his voice softening. “Now, spread those legs for me. Show me how wet you are. I want to see that pretty pussy you’ve been thinking about me filling.”

Your thighs part, the cool air brushing against your slick heat as you settle back against the pillows.

His sharp inhale through the speakers sends a jolt straight to your core.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strained.

His hand pauses on his cock as he drinks in the sight of you, dark eyes dragging over every inch of exposed skin. "You’re so fucking perfect. Do you even realize how bad I want to bury myself in you right now?"

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat spreading from your cheeks to your chest as the ache between your thighs sharpens with every passing second of his unrelenting stare.

Slowly, you drag the toy through your folds, the soft, slick sound of your arousal breaking the tense silence.

It’s obscene, the way the wetness clings, glistening on the head of the silicone.

Your arousal drips along your thighs, the skin glistening under the low light and you can feel how messy you’ve become, how utterly soaked you are.

"Oh, sweetheart," he rasps, his eyes fixed on the toy and the way it slides against your swollen folds. "That's it. Get it nice and wet for me. I want to see just how desperate you are to take it."

Your fingers tremble as you position the toy at your entrance, the blunt tip pressing against your slick heat. You hesitate, glancing up at him through the screen.

“Carlos…”

“Go on, baby,” he urges, his tone soft but insistent. “Don’t make me wait. I want to see you take it.”

You bite your lip, a soft whine escaping as you slide the tip between your folds again. His gaze darkens, his strokes faltering as he watches you hover above it.

The moment the dildo breaches the first ring of muscles, your head falls back with a moan that’s nothing short of sinful.

Carlos’s eyes burn through the screen, dark and wild, his fist sliding steadily up and down his cock as he watches you begin to move.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough and needy. “You’re so fucking tight. That little pussy is made for me, isn’t it?”

You whimper, your hips starting to bounce, your slick heat making it easier to slide up and down. The toy stretches you so perfectly, but it’s his words that send fire shooting through your veins.

“Yes,” you gasp, gripping the bed to keep your balance. “It’s yours, Carlos. Always yours.”

“Damn right it is,” he growls, stroking himself faster. “You'd rather have me inside you, stretching you out, making you scream my name, hm? Doesn't matter if it's a mold from my cock. Still can't compare, yeah?”

Your hips jerk at his filthy words, and you pick up the pace, grinding down harder until the toy presses right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice dripping with dominance. “Say how much you want my cock, baby. Tell me what you miss.”

“I miss you,” you cry out, each bounce making your voice tremble. “Miss the way you fill me up, how fucking deep you get- oh god, Carlos-”

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his jaw tightening as he watches the way your body moves, the slick sounds of the dildo sliding in and out of you driving him insane.

“You’d take me so good, wouldn’t you? Let me fuck you until you can’t even think, until you’re dripping all over my cock.”

“Please,” you whine, your fingers digging into the sheets as the pleasure builds, your body tightening around the toy with every bounce. “I need it. Need you to fuck me, Carlos. Need to feel you come inside me-”

“Shit,” he growls, his hips jerking up into his hand. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Feeling me stretch you open, filling you so full you’d still be dripping with me the next day.”

Your head is spinning, the combination of his words and the relentless drag of the dildo inside you sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

“You’d let me do whatever I want, wouldn’t you?” His voice is a low, dirty rasp now, his strokes frantic as he chases his release. “You’d let me bend you over, fuck you on every surface in the house, make you come over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”

You nod desperately.

“Go faster, baby” Carlos murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You whimper, obeying.

Each downward motion stretches you all over again, and the fullness makes your eyes flutter shut as a moan spills from your lips.

Carlos’s growl cuts through the speakers, low and rough. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on it like that.”

You lift yourself just enough for the toy to drag along your walls, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through you.

When you sink back down, the stretch feels even deeper. Your thighs tremble, your pace picking up as the need builds inside you.

“Fuck,” Carlos groans. “Your tits are bouncing so perfectly. Keep going, baby, let me see them move while you ride it.”

Your breasts sway with each bounce, the motion only adding to the heat pooling low in your belly.

The way his eyes lock onto you, dark, hungry, devouring, makes your nipples pebble, the cool air only amplifying the sensation.

“You look so fucking good,” Carlos murmurs, half mindless, his strokes on his cock quickening as he watches you. “Look at how deep it’s stretching you. Look at the way your tits bounce every time you take it. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You can’t stop now, the pleasure too much to ignore.

Your hips grind down harder, rolling in small circles as you press yourself against the base of the toy.

Each motion sends shocks of ecstasy through you, your slick heat gripping the silicone like you never want it to leave.

“Bounce on it harder,” he says.

Your hands grip the sheets tightly as you obey, your hips lifting and dropping with more urgency.

The wet, obscene sound of the toy sliding in and out of you fills the room, mixing with your soft gasps and moans. Your breasts bounce with every movement, and you feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

“Baby,” Carlos groans, his fist tightening around his cock as he watches you ride the toy. “You’re so fucking perfect. You’d ride me just like that, wouldn’t you? Taking every inch, letting me stretch you open until you can’t handle it.”

Your breath catches, your body arching as you grind down harder, the toy hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “It feels so good- so fucking full-”

“That’s it,” he growls, his strokes turning frantic as he watches you lose yourself. “Take it all, baby. Keep bouncing. I want to see you come while you’re stretched out like that.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling as you grind harder, your cries turning into broken moans. “Carlos, I’m- fuck, I’m gonna come-”

“Do it,” he growls, his eyes locked on you, his voice pure command. “Come for me, baby. I want to see it. Show me how fucking good I make you feel.”

Your body shatters at his words, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clench around the toy, your cries spilling out uncontrollably as pleasure courses through you.

“Fucking hell,” Carlos groans, his own release hitting him hard as he watches you fall apart. His hand jerks wildly as he spills over himself, his groans mixing with your whimpers through the screen.

As you both come down, the air is thick and charged, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. Carlos grins at you, looking like the devil himself, his chest still heaving.

“Pretty girl.”

—-

Carlos’s phone is propped up against his water bottle, the screen showing you on the other end of the line as the two of you talk over lunch.

He’s at a small café near the gym, picking at a plate of grilled chicken and rice while you sit on the terrace of a restaurant somewhere near the Monaco Marina.

He can’t tell which restaurant exactly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too focused on the way the sunlight catches in your hair, how you’re picking at a croissant with absentminded precision.

“So, wait,” you say, mid-bite. “You’re telling me you thought you could just wing the French?”

Carlos grins, popping a spoonful into his mouth. “I did wing it. The waiter understood me perfectly.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “Because pointing at the menu is such a skill.”

He chuckles, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Why complicate things? A man’s gotta eat.”

You shake your head, your exasperation half-hearted at best. “You’re hopeless.”

“Worked, didn't it?” he counters smoothly, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You roll your eyes but don’t argue, which feels like a victory.

For a moment, the conversation drifts to lighter topics.

Where you’d want to travel next, the chaos of his morning workout, and whether or not croissants count as dessert.

It’s easy, effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that feels like second nature.

But then you glance down, suddenly fidgeting with your sleeve, and Carlos picks up on the shift immediately.

“What’s that face?” he asks, leaning forward, curiosity laced in his tone.

You pause, debating, then sigh. “Can I tell my friends about this?”

Carlos blinks. “This?”

“Us,” you say, casually, but the word lands heavier than you probably realize.

He freezes for a split second, his mind stalling like a rookie stalling a car on the grid.

Us.

You don't mean it in the way that’s currently making his chest feel too tight, but it doesn’t stop the word from echoing in his head.

You take another bite of your croissant like you haven’t just derailed his entire thought process.

“Legally? No.” he says, recovering with a smirk. “You’re under NDA. You can’t even mention I exist.”

Your eyes narrow. “Carlos, no one cares that much about you.”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

You shake your head, your expression flat. “Be serious. Is it okay or not?”

He leans back, draping an arm over his chair and studying you with an unreadable expression.

The truth is, he should say no. He should remind you how much he values his privacy, how careful he has to be.

But the thought of you talking about him, to your friends, no less, makes him feel... proud. Like he’s somehow made it onto a list of people who matter to you.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice casual. “Go ahead.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

You narrow your eyes, clearly suspicious. “You’re not going to show up at my door with legal threats if I say something stupid?”

“Not unless it’s really stupid,” he teases.

Your unimpressed stare makes him grin wider. “You’re annoying,” you mutter, but your tone lacks any real bite.

“You love me though,” he counters easily.

He watches as your face softens, just for a moment, and something about it makes his heart stutter in a way he’d never admit.

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

“And you like it,” he fires back, his voice light, though there’s a trace of sincerity underneath it.

The conversation shifts again, and by the time you glance at your watch, he’s already dreading the inevitable.

“I should go,” you say, reaching for your coffee cup.

“Busy?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you’re already sitting straighter, ready to leave.

Carlos hesitates, leaning forward slightly. “Hey.”

You pause, looking up at him expectantly.

“Call me again tomorrow,” he says, softer this time.

Your brow lifts, a flicker of curiosity crossing your face. “Why?”

He shrugs, fighting the grin threatening to take over. “I like hearing your voice.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, you’re about to call him out on it.

But then you roll your eyes, hiding a smile that he doesn’t miss.

“Goodbye, Carlos,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for the screen.

The call ends, and Carlos sits back in his chair, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he stares at the now-empty screen.

Us.

—-

It’s the bimonthly girlfriend meet-up, and Kika’s already locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile.

“So, there’s this guy,” you say casually, swirling your wine like this isn’t about to become the most chaotic conversation of your week.

Her brow arches, her smirk appearing like she’s just been handed premium-grade gossip.

“Oh?” she says, leaning in.

“Yes,” you reply, taking a slow sip from your glass, because wine is courage, and you need a lot of it right now.

“Tell me more,” she says, her tone deceptively sweet, like a predator coaxing its prey closer.

You hesitate. There’s no way you’re telling her the guy in question is Carlos Sainz.

That would be insane. Absolutely unhinged.

One, because it’s Carlos Sainz.

Two, because it’s Carlos fucking Sainz.

“We’ve been… hooking up,” you say vaguely, hoping to skate by with minimal detail.

Kika narrows her eyes. “Hooking up? Where? I haven’t seen you at the club scene lately, and I definitely haven’t heard from Charles about you sneaking out.”

You blink at her. “Why would Charles know- wait. Are you spying on me?”

“No,” she says breezily, waving a hand. “But Charles knows everything about you. If you were sneaking around Monaco with a guy, I’d know by now.”

Kika tilts her head, studying you. “So if it’s not a local guy…”

She pauses. Then her eyes widen. “Oh my God. Is it a long-distance thing? Is this why you’ve been all ‘mysterious vibes’ lately?”

You sigh, realizing you’re caught. “It’s phone sex, okay?”

Kika blinks. “Phone sex?”

“Yes,” you say, downing the rest of your wine in one gulp. “We’re doing… phone stuff.”

She hums, sitting back, her gaze calculating. “It’s a famous guy, isn’t it?”

“What?!” you sputter. “How did you- why would you even-”

“Ma’am, look at you.” She gestures at you like you’re an exhibit at the Louvre. “You’re gorgeous. You’re you. Why would you ever settle for phone sex unless it’s, like, some Vogue model or an A-lister who’s too busy jet-setting to see you in person?”

“That’s ridiculous,” you say, trying to laugh her off, but it sounds more like a dying animal.

Her grin turns absolutely wicked, the kind of wicked that makes you instantly regret ever letting her into your life. “Oh, so it is a famous guy. You just gave yourself away. Who is it? Spill.”

“I did not!” you protest, but it’s weak. Too weak.

Kika hums, tapping a finger on her chin as she tilts her head. “Hmm. Let me think. Is it an actor? A musician? Oh my God, is it Harry Styles? Blink once for yes.”

“Kika-”

“Wait!” She gasps, cutting you off and slapping the table. “Is it a prince? Are you pulling a Meghan Markle? Are we about to be royalty by proxy?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glaring at her as a nearby table turns to look at the commotion.

“Okay, okay, fine. I'll behave.”

“But,” she adds, holding up a finger and wagging it at you, “you can’t just stop there. I want details. Stories. Anecdotes. What have you two done other than, like, phone sex? That can’t be it, right? Kick it up a notch. Spice things up.”

Your face burns, and you take a long, slow sip of your drink, desperately trying to buy time. “We… talk.”

Kika stares at you, unimpressed. “Talk? Oh, please. You’re telling me a man calls you up just to talk?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Sometimes.”

Her grin turns sharper. “And the other times?”

You look away, pretending to be fascinated by the texture of the tablecloth.

“Oh no,” she says, leaning in like a predator cornering its prey. “You’re not getting out of this. What does he say? What does he do? Don’t make me guess because I will make it a thousand times worse.”

You groan, your head falling into your hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I care about you,” she says sweetly, patting your hand before grinning again. “Now spill. What’s the wildest thing he’s done so far? Flown you out to a private island? Sent you a love letter written in champagne? What are we working with here?”

You hesitate. You know telling her anything will only fuel her chaos, but at this point, it feels like you don’t have a choice.

“Fine,” you mumble. “He, um… he sent me a… package.”

You take a long sip of your wine, trying to ignore Kika’s razor-sharp gaze burning into the side of your face.

You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have.

But it’s too late now.

“He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

Kika chokes on her wine. Full-on chokes. She’s sputtering, clutching her chest as her eyes go wide.

Meanwhile, you calmly sip your drink, staring at some random painting on the wall like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen.

“WHAT?!” she finally manages, her voice about three octaves higher than usual.

“I’m not saying it again,” you reply coolly, refusing to meet her gaze.

“He sent you a-” she starts, and then bursts into laughter so loud half the restaurant turns to look at your table.

You shoot her a glare, shushing her. “Could you not announce it to the entire world?”

“Oh my God,” she wheezes, clutching her stomach. “Mr. Mystery sent you a dildo shaped like his cock?!”

You take another sip of wine, your cheeks burning. “It was… thoughtful.”

“THOUGHTFUL?!” she howls. “He’s out here like, ‘What’s a practical gift? Ah, yes, my dick!’”

“It’s not a big deal,” you mumble into your hands, praying the floor will swallow you whole.

“Not a big- ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe.

“Kika,” you hiss, kicking her under the table.

“That’s so romantic,” she says, ignoring you entirely. “Forget flowers. Forget jewelry. Nothing says love like, ‘Here’s my dick. In case you miss me.’”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best thing you��ve ever told me,” she says, still grinning like a lunatic.

She leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you… do you keep it on your nightstand? Like, right next to your lamp? Is it displayed like a trophy? Maybe on one of those little velvet stands?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glancing around the café as if someone might overhear this absolute chaos.

Her laughter crescendos, attracting a few curious stares from nearby tables. She waves them off with a flick of her wrist, too far gone to care.

“No, seriously, I need to know. Oh God, imagine if you lose it. Like, it’s just missing one day and you’re crawling around under your couch yelling, ‘Mr. Mystery, where’s your dick?!’”

You groan, your head dropping into your hands. “Can you be serious for one second?”

She sucks in a breath, fanning herself like she’s about to faint. “Okay, okay. Serious. Totally serious. I’m done. Promise.”

You peek at her through your fingers, skeptical. “You sure?”

She nods, biting her lip to stifle another laugh. “Totally. Except… I have one more question.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling like it might grant you patience. “What now?”

She leans in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it… accurate?”

You freeze, horrified. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” she cries, grabbing your arm before you can stand. She’s laughing again, her grip on your sleeve shaking with the force of it. “Come on, I’m kidding! Mostly. But seriously. Is it accurate? Like, should we call MythBusters?”

You gape at her, flabbergasted. “Why would I answer that?”

“Because I’m dying to know!” she says, eyes gleaming.

You shake her off and reach for your bag. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she fires back, wagging a finger at you like a smug prosecutor. “Which makes me think it’s very accurate.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown this glass of wine at you.”

“Please,” she scoffs, twirling her straw. “You’d never waste good wine. Now, answer me. Did he measure it himself, or do you think there was a mold involved? Like, did he sit there in some science lab with a team of experts, being all, ‘Make sure you get the angle right!’?”

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face again.

The two of you quiet down as a waiter approaches your little corner.

It’s quiet for a moment—mercifully quiet.

Kika is vibrating with barely restrained laughter, and you’re praying she doesn’t lose it while he’s standing there.

The waiter sets down your plates, refills your glasses, and gives Kika a quick, confused glance because she’s shaking like a malfunctioning washing machine.

You smile at him—tight, polite, please don’t ask questions, I beg you—and he wisely scurries off.

The second he’s out of earshot, Kika slams her hands on the table, rattling the cutlery. “Let me see it.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. “What?! No!”

“Why not?” she demands, like this is a perfectly reasonable request.

“Why not? Because we’re in a crowded restaurant, that’s why!” you hiss, clutching your purse like it’s a medieval chastity belt.

She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re saying there’s a non-crowded situation where you’d show me?”

“That’s not what I said!”

She smirks. “Sure, but you didn’t not say it.”

“Kika, I swear to God-”

“Just one peek,” she pleads, like she’s asking for a bite of your dessert. “Under the table. No one will even notice!”

“Under the- what are you, a contraband dealer?” you whisper-yell. “This is not a shady back-alley dildo exchange!”

She grins, undeterred. “So, what does it look like? Is it… metallic?”

You freeze. “Why would it be metallic?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s fancy. Maybe it’s, like, a collector’s item.”

“It’s not a lightsaber, Kika!”

She gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God. Does it light up?!”

“No!”

“Are you sure?” she presses, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe it has LEDs. You know, for… ambiance.”

��

Kika’s obsession with the whole thing also refuses to let up. She knows, and worse, she loves knowing.

It starts small: innocent comments here and there, teasing questions she doesn’t expect you to answer.

But over time, her nosiness evolves into full-blown meddling. She’s not just curious. She’s invested.

And one day, it all comes to a head.

Kika cracks.

Or rather, her big mouth does.

“This is too good,” she hisses over the phone like she’s smuggling state secrets. “I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”

You drop your sandwich mid-bite, the mayo squelching onto the table. “What the hell do you mean you can’t keep it to yourself?”

“This secret,” she says, as if it’s physically weighing her down. “It’s eating me alive. I can’t keep it anymore.”

You groan. “Kika, we’ve talked about this. It’s not your secret to keep.”

“Which is exactly why I need to tell someone!” she snaps, like that’s a logical leap. “It’s not mine! It’s yours! I’m just... borrowing it, and now I’m returning it to the universe.”

“That’s not how secrets work,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples.

“I need to tell someone! Please, let me tell Alex,” she begs, her voice desperate, like she’s asking for kidney donation approval.

You choke. You actually choke, sputtering on your words like a broken engine. “Are you insane? Have you lost what little is left of your mind?”

“She’s so cool! She won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Kika’s tone is sunny, like she’s campaigning for Alex to win Best Confidant of the Year. “She loves secrets! She’s a vault!”

“She’s my brother’s girlfriend! My. Brother’s. Girlfriend.” You emphasize each word like you’re explaining calculus to a toddler.

“And a great secret keeper regardless of who she’s dating!” She chirps, undeterred.

“She’s dating my brother,” you hiss, as if saying it will drive the point home in her thick skull, pacing across your room like a caged animal. “Do you not see the problem here?”

“I see no problem,” she says brightly. “Alex is the Fort Knox of secrets. She’ll take this to her grave.”

“She’ll take it to my brother,” you counter, jabbing the air with your finger even though she can’t see you. “And then my brother will take it to my mom, and then my mom will take it to church, and next thing you know, I’m being exorcised for sins of the phone!”

Kika laughs, the kind of laugh that means she’s not taking you seriously at all. “Don’t be dramatic. Your mom would faint.”

“Kika!” you hiss, lowering your voice even though no one else is in the room. “If you tell her, I swear to God, I’ll... I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Call Mr. Mystery and complain about me?” Her grin is practically audible.

“Yes, and he’ll agree with me!” you snap, clutching your phone so tightly it’s a miracle it doesn’t crack. “Because this is not a group project!”

“Okay, okay!” She gasps, wheezing like she just finished a marathon. “I won’t tell her! I swear!”

You pause, narrowing your eyes even though she can’t see you. “Wait. Really?”

“No,” she says flatly, so matter-of-fact you feel your brain short-circuit. “I’m absolutely telling her. She’s going to lose her mind.”

You let out a shriek so loud your upstairs neighbor thumps on the floor in retaliation. “Kika, if you even breathe a word”

“Just picture it!” she interrupts, steamrolling over your protest. You can hear her bouncing on her bed. “I’ll text her right now. Something casual, like, ‘Hey Alex, you’re never going to believe-’”

“Fine!” you snap, throwing yourself onto the bed so hard the mattress squeaks in protest. “Fine, just tell her! But we do it in the next meet-up! I have to be present to keep your unruly mouth shut!”

Kika lets out an unholy squeal, the kind that makes dogs two blocks over start barking. You yank the phone away from your ear, grimacing.

“This is the best day of my life,” she announces, and you can practically hear her smirk.

“This is the worst day of mine,” you counter, dragging a pillow over your face and screaming into it.

“Relax,” she says breezily. You hear the telltale sound of typing. “Alex is going to eat this up. She loves a little drama.”

You lower the pillow just enough to breathe. “This isn’t drama. This is my life unraveling because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, please. You’re being dramatic,” she says, her tone so casual you almost throw your phone across the room. “It’s not like we're sending the story to Charles. That would be a scandal.”

You sit bolt upright. “Kika, I swear to all that is holy, if this gets back to him-”

“It won’t!” she chirps. “Unless Alex tells him. But she won’t. Probably.”

“Probably?!” Your voice cracks, and you claw at your scalp like you’re trying to yank out the stress by the roots.

“She’s trustworthy! You trust her, right?” Kika says, still typing away.

“No! I don’t trust anyone!” you shout, rolling onto your stomach and pounding your fists into the mattress. “Least of all you!”

Kika laughs so hard she starts coughing. “Oh, you’ll thank me for this one day,” she chokes out between wheezes.

“Unlikely,” you mutter.

“Anyway, gotta go! I’ll let you know if Alex is available next week,” Kika says brightly, and then the call ends before you can respond.

You stare at your phone in silence, a deep sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

Mistakes were made. By you. Specifically by trusting Kika with anything.

—

The restaurant is stupidly fancy, the kind of place where the bread basket comes with a backstory and the waiters judge you if you butter too enthusiastically.

You sit on the terrace, the Mediterranean sparkling behind you like a postcard that refuses to let you forget how expensive everything is.

Your table has a perfect view of the marina, where billionaires are essentially playing a game of “whose yacht is bigger.”

Not that you’re paying attention.

Alex and Kika are too busy ruining your life for you to focus on anything else.

Alex is halfway through her sea bass when you drop the bomb.

She freezes, her knife poised mid-cut, before her hand falls to the table.

Her fork clatters onto the porcelain plate, loud enough to make a few patrons turn their heads.

You wince, sinking lower in your chair.

Across from you, Kika sips her champagne, completely unbothered. She smirks, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“You’re kidding,” Alex says, eyes wide with disbelief.

Kika doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, she’s not kidding,” she says, swirling her glass lazily. “She’s dead serious.”

You squirm under Alex’s gaze, picking at your lobster ravioli like it might swallow you whole if you wish hard enough. “It’s not a big deal,” you mumble.

Alex snorts, an uncharacteristically undignified sound for someone who normally looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue.

“Not a big deal?” she repeats, her voice rising just enough to make you glance nervously at the tables around you.

“Shut it. People are going to hear,” you hiss.

“Oh, darling,” Kika cuts in, her grin widening. “If people heard, they’d ask for more details. Probably start taking notes.”

Alex ignores her, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table, etiquette be damned.

“You’re telling me you’ve been having phone sex with some elite celebrity and it’s ‘not a big deal?’”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we not call it that?”

“What would you prefer?” Kika asks, her eyes practically sparkling. “Verbal intimacy? Oral storytelling?”

“I hate you both,” you mutter.

Alex waves her off, laser-focused on you. “And the… gift?” she asks, voice dripping with disbelief. “Are we glossing over the fact that he sent you a dildo?”

“It was thoughtful,” Kika offers, deadpan, before taking another sip of champagne.

“Stop helping,” you snap at her.

“I mean, really,” Alex continues, ignoring the interruption. “The man is rich, probably gorgeous to somehow convince you to give him a chance, could maybe have anyone he wants- and he’s doing phone sex with you?”

You glare at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean,” she says, brushing off your sarcasm. “Why would he go through all this effort unless-” She stops, her eyes narrowing slightly like she’s just cracked the Da Vinci Code.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” you ask, already dreading whatever is coming next.

“That man is in love with you,” Alex declares, her tone final, like she’s just announced a royal decree.

You choke on air, coughing so violently that Kika reaches over to thump your back, more amused than concerned. “He is not in love with me!” you wheeze.

“He absolutely is,” Alex insists, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“That’s a huge leap,” you argue, waving your hands in front of you. “How do you get ‘in love’ from… from phone sex and-” You gesture vaguely. “Other things?”

Alex doesn’t blink. “He’s a famous athlete, right?”

“Sure,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “So?”

“So,” she says, leaning forward, “he’s settling for phone sex instead of hooking up with someone in person? That doesn’t happen unless he’s in love.”

“It’s not settling!” you argue, flailing slightly. “It’s convenient! We have an NDA; it’s low effort!”

“Low effort?” Alex raises an eyebrow. “More low effort than walking into a club and taking his pick of willing women?”

“Well… yeah!”

Kika cackles, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, babe. You really think you’re less effort? That’s adorable.”

You glare at her, but Alex presses on, relentless. “Does he do this with anyone else?”

“How would I know that?” you snap.

“Ask him,” Alex says simply, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh, come on,” Kika says, grinning. “Just casually drop it into conversation. ‘Hey, Mr. Mystery, quick question: am I your only long-distance dirty talk partner, or is this a group activity?’”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m not asking him that.”

“Why not?” Alex demands, cutting into her sea bass like this conversation isn’t actively ruining your life. “If it’s no big deal, he won’t mind. And if he does mind, well…” She trails off, her smirk infuriatingly smug.

“Then you’ll know he’s in love with you!” Kika chimes in, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Or he’ll think I’m insane,” you shoot back.

Alex shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Either way, it’s good information to have.”

You sit back in your chair, glaring at the two of them as they sip their champagne like this is the most entertaining lunch they’ve ever had.

“You two are the worst,” you mutter.

Kika raises her glass in a mock toast. “To Mr. Mystery and his poor, emotionally repressed heart.”

Alex clinks her glass against Kika’s with a soft laugh. “And to you,” she adds, “the object of his inconvenient affections.”

You consider grabbing their glasses and chucking them into the marina, but that would only prove their point.

Instead, you stab your ravioli with far more force than necessary, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mistakes. So many mistakes.

—

You can’t stop thinking about it.

Carlos. In love with you.

The concept is so utterly ridiculous you actually laugh to yourself, out loud, like a complete maniac.

Because Carlos isn’t in love with you.

That’s not how this works. Carlos doesn’t do “love.” Carlos doesn’t do you.

Well, okay, he does you in certain… contexts, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Carlos is like a human golden retriever with too much charm for his own good.

He’s nice to everyone. He flirts with everyone. He probably gives everyone those stupid lingering looks that make your knees go weak.

He doesn’t fall in love. And if he did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with you.

But the thought won’t leave your brain. It’s set up camp there, pitching a tent and roasting marshmallows over the fire of your own self-doubt.

And then the photo happens.

It’s a normal day.

Quiet. Peaceful, even.

You’re in bed scrolling through your phone, feeling pretty good about life.

You’ve got coffee on the nightstand, a blanket wrapped around you, and a vague sense of superiority because you haven’t thought about Carlos in at least six hours.

Then his face pops up on your feed.

Carlos, golden and gorgeous, lounging on a yacht like he’s auditioning for a Bond movie. He’s shirtless, of course. Because of course he is. The sun catches in his hair, and his jawline looks so sharp it could cut glass.

You don’t even blink.

You’re too used to this by now. This is just Carlos being Carlos.

But then you see her.

The girl.

She’s pressed up against him, all long legs and glossy hair and perfect teeth. She’s laughing, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his chest like it’s hers to touch.

Your stomach does something horrifying, like it’s trying to fold in on itself.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is normal. Carlos is always surrounded by beautiful women. This means nothing.

But the way he’s looking at her…

You throw your phone across the bed like it just personally insulted you.

Then you lie back and stare at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself you’re not spiraling.

Spoiler alert: you’re totally spiraling.

Which is how you end up calling Kika and Alex.

Because misery loves company, and also because you’re desperate for someone to tell you you’re not crazy.

“Hello?” Kika answers, far too cheerful for your current mood.

“I need help,” you blurt out.

“What kind of help?” she asks cautiously.

“Emotional help,” you say dramatically. “I’m having an existential crisis.”

“Of course you are,” she says. “Hang on, I’m adding Alex.”

“No, don’t-”

Too late. Alex’s voice cuts in, already exasperated. “What happened now?”

“He posted a photo,” you mumble, already regretting this.

“Okay…” Alex says slowly. “And?”

“And there was a girl in it,” you say, your voice climbing an octave.

“Oh my God,” Kika groans.

Alex sighs. “Let me guess. Hot girl, hand on his chest, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine?”

“Exactly!” you exclaim, sitting up. “How do you always know?”

“Because this happens every time,” he says dryly. “It’s cliche at this point. You're a walking cliche.”

You whine. “He looked… happy.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kika asks, “Are you drunk?”

“No!”

“Okay, just checking,” she says. “Because you sound drunk. Or insane. Possibly both.”

“I’m being serious!” you say, flopping back onto the bed. “What if he actually likes her?”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Alex says without hesitation.

“You don’t even know who she is!”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “No one’s better than you.”

You groan. “That’s not helpful.”

“Look,” Kika cuts in, her tone gentler now. “You’ve got two options. One, you ask him about it. Two, you do what you always do and overthink yourself into oblivion.”

“Three,” Alex adds, “you block him, move to a remote island, and live off coconuts for the rest of your life.”

“I hate both of you,” you mutter.

“No, you don’t,” Kika says sweetly. “Now, are you going to talk to him or not?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “What if I ask and he laughs at me? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care?”

“Then you’ll know,” Alex says simply.

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?

Knowing.

Because right now, as painful as it is, not knowing still feels safer than finding out the truth.

“Thanks, guys,” you say finally.

“Anytime,” Kika says. “Now go stalk his Instagram and cry into your coffee like a normal person.”

“Bye,” you grumble, hanging up.

You stare at the ceiling for a long time after that, the ache in your chest refusing to fade.

—

So, you cut him off.

Not all at once, because that would be too obvious, and God forbid Carlos Sainz think you’re actually affected by anything he does.

No, you do it slowly, carefully, like easing out of a party you didn’t really want to attend in the first place.

At first, it’s just a delay in your replies. Not anything dramatic, just enough to make it seem like you’ve got better things to do than hang on his every word.

When he sends a text, you leave it unread for an hour. Maybe two.

(Okay, fine, sometimes you read it immediately and then stare at your phone for thirty minutes trying not to reply, but that’s beside the point.)

When you do respond, you keep it short. Curt, even. No emojis, no playful banter, just cold, functional sentences.

Carlos How’s your day going?

You Busy

Carlos Busy with what?

You Work

He doesn’t push, which is somehow worse.

You want him to notice, to ask what’s wrong, to demand answers you’re not prepared to give. But he doesn’t.

He just keeps texting you, the same way he always has, like nothing’s changed.

When he asks to call, you tell him you’re busy. Which is technically true, if “busy” includes reorganizing your spice rack and watching sad movies while eating ice cream straight out of the tub.

It’s not immediate, but it’s different.

The rhythm of your conversations shifts, the easy flow replaced by stilted exchanges that feel like wading through molasses.

The worst part is how much it hurts.

Because cutting him off isn’t supposed to hurt you. It’s supposed to make things better. Easier. Less messy.

But instead, you’re walking around like some tragic romantic hero, clutching your metaphorical wounds and waiting for someone to ask why you look so miserable.

You try to distract yourself.

You download a meditation app, but the soothing voice telling you to “release your tension” only makes you think about how Carlos used to tease you for clenching your jaw when you were stressed.

You go out with friends, laughing too loud and drinking too much, but every time your phone buzzes, you can’t stop yourself from hoping it’s him.

It usually is.

Carlos Did I do something

You Just busy

Carlos Are you mad at me

You No

You toss your phone onto the couch and stare at it like it’s personally betrayed you. He’s starting to notice, which is both validating and soul-crushing.

Because if he notices, then maybe, just maybe, he actually cares.

And if he actually cares, then maybe cutting him off isn’t the answer.

But then you remember the photo. The girl. The way he looked at her.

And you remind yourself that Carlos Sainz isn’t yours. He never was.

So you keep going.

You tell yourself it’ll get easier. That eventually, his texts will stop coming, and the ache in your chest will fade, and you’ll finally be free of whatever this is.

But for now, you’re just sad and tired and watching Pride & Prejudice for the third time this week, convincing yourself you’re Elizabeth Bennet and he’s Mr. Darcy, except there’s no grand declaration at the end.

There’s just silence.

—

It's one of those times where you answer Carlos' call so he doesn't think you're actively avoiding him.

You’re stretched out on your couch, half-listening as Carlos narrates the chaos of his day, his voice flitting between amusement and exaggerated frustration.

“…and then they tell me the setup’s wrong, again, so I had to sit there, listening to engineers argue for an hour. An hour! I’m telling you, I deserve a medal just for staying awake.”

“Tragic,” you reply, dry as ever. “Truly, you’re the unsung hero of motorsport.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, his tone shifting as if you’ve validated some grand injustice. “Finally, someone understands.”

You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the soft creak of leather, and you know he’s probably leaning back in one of those expensive chairs he likes so much, the ones you tease him about.

It’s a scene you’ve imagined a thousand times—so familiar it borders on comforting.

“So,” he says, drawing out the word like he’s gearing up for something. “Guess where I am right now?”

“Let me think,” you say. “Some glamorous location with a ridiculous view and an overpriced minibar?”

“Close,” he says, and you can hear the grin tugging at his words. “I’m in Monaco.”

Your heart stumbles, just a little, just enough to be annoying, but you keep your voice casual. “Oh, the usual playground of the rich and famous. How very you.”

“Hey, it’s practically home,” he teases, and the warmth in his tone makes your stomach twist. “And speaking of home… aren’t you supposed to be here too? Isn’t that, like, the whole point of being Monegasque?”

You hesitate, just for a beat, but it’s long enough.

“…Wait,” he says, his voice sharpening with suspicion. “You’re not here, are you?”

“I’m in Italy,” you admit, aiming for breezy and landing somewhere closer to forced.

There’s a pause, the kind of silence that feels heavier than it should. “Italy?” he repeats, his voice carefully light, like he’s trying not to make something of it. “What are you doing there?”

“Just am,” you say, shrugging even though he can’t see it.

“Right,” he says slowly, and you can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing through the line.

He doesn’t push it, though, because Carlos is a lot of things, but he’s not the kind of person who asks questions he’s not ready to hear the answers to.

He shifts the conversation after that, steering it back to safer waters.

He tells you about a restaurant he tried, about the ridiculous amount of traffic on his way to the track.

You laugh in the right places, make snarky comments when it’s expected, and for a while, it feels almost normal.

But it’s not.

The photo lingers in the back of your mind like a ghost. Her hand on his chest, his easy grin, the effortless way they fit together.

You thought you could handle it. Thought you could keep things light and easy, pretend that the photo didn’t bother you, that you hadn’t spent an embarrassing amount of time dissecting every pixel like it held some kind of secret truth.

But now, sitting here, listening to him ramble on about his day like everything’s fine, you’re not so sure.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, breaking the flow of his own story. His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful. “You’ve been kind of… off lately. Is everything okay?”

Your breath catches, just for a second.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to know he doesn’t believe you.

But he doesn’t call you on it. He just hums softly, like he’s letting you have this one.

The conversation winds down after that. He says something about an early meeting, and you use it as an excuse to end the call.

—

Carlos has a suspicion you’re avoiding him.

Or maybe, just maybe, Charles Leclerc has turned into some kind of shadowy mastermind, meticulously coordinating Carlos’s travel schedule just so he can keep you two apart.

It’s ridiculous, sure, but how else do you explain it?

When Carlos is in Monaco, you’re in Italy. When he’s in Italy, you’re in Mallorca. When he’s in Mallorca, you’ve suddenly jetted off to Switzerland, of all places.

It’s like you’ve taken on the role of “Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” with unsettling precision, a game he didn’t even know he was playing until now.

At first, he tried to laugh it off.

Told himself it was just bad timing, a string of coincidences that would eventually break in his favor.

But now? Now it feels deliberate. Calculated. And the worst part is, he knows you. Knows you well enough to feel the subtle shift in the air between you, like a storm quietly gathering on the horizon.

He’s tried to tell himself he’s overthinking it.

That you’ve just been busy, that your life doesn’t revolve around him and his schedule.

But the excuses are starting to ring hollow, even to his own ears.

The delayed responses to his texts. The way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes when he finally does manage to catch you available for a call.

And now, sitting alone in his Monaco apartment, his phone resting on the coffee table in front of him like a lifeline you’ve left dangling just out of reach, Carlos can’t shake the weight that’s settled in his chest.

You’re pulling away.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, sudden and brutal.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands running through his hair as he stares at the floor.

His heart feels heavy, tangled up in a mess of confusion and hurt and something he doesn’t want to name.

Why? That’s the question that keeps circling back.

Why are you doing this? Why now, when he feels like he’s finally starting to understand just how much you mean to him?

His mind races, replaying every interaction, every conversation, searching for the moment he might’ve pushed you away without realizing it.

Did he say something? Did he not say enough?

“Dios,” he mutters under his breath, his voice thick with frustration.

He doesn’t want to think it, doesn’t want to believe it, but the thought won’t leave him alone: maybe you’ve finally gotten tired of him.

The idea makes his chest ache, a dull, hollow pain that spreads until it feels like it’s consuming him.

He doesn’t want to lose you, doesn’t want to let go of the quiet moments, the shared laughs, the way you make him feel like he can just be for once.

But what can he do? He can’t force you to stay, can’t make you want him if you don’t.

He picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over your name in his messages and sends a message before he chickens out.

Carlos Where are you right now?

You Still hoping for that coffee date, huh?

Carlos Always

You …Paris

Carlos frowns at his phone, and you can almost hear the mental gears grinding in his head. Paris. Of course, it’s Paris. Because why wouldn’t it be?

Carlos Okay, I’m going there.

Your phone buzzes immediately, the boldness of his response catching you off guard.

You What?

You ARE YOU SERIOUS???

Carlos Yes.

You Carlos, you can’t just drop everything and fly to Paris.

Carlos Watch me.

You stare at your phone, torn between laughing and rolling your eyes. This is insane. You text him back, unsure if you want to be mad or amused.

You This is insane.

Carlos No, it’s determination.

You It’s bordering on stalker behavior.

Carlos Then stop running from me.

You I’m not running!

Carlos You’re in a different country every time I blink. Sounds like running.

You It’s called having a life.

Carlos A life that conveniently never overlaps with mine. Carlos Got it.

You Carlos, I swear to God if you actually come here

He doesn’t reply. The silence settles in, and you think that’s the end of it. Carlos is too sensible to drop everything and fly to Paris, right? Right?

Wrong.

Three hours later, you’re in your hotel room, scrolling through your phone while you regret the third croissant you scarfed down earlier, when you hear a knock at the door.

You frown, setting your phone down. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

Curious, you peek through the peephole. And there he is.

Carlos Sainz.

Standing in the hallway, casually leaning against the doorframe, holding a bouquet of flowers like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your jaw drops.

You swing the door open before you can think better of it. “What are you doing here?”

Carlos shrugs, flowers in hand. “You said Paris.”

“That wasn’t an invitation!” you hiss, your eyes darting up and down the hallway as if expecting paparazzi to jump out from behind the elevator.

“Seemed like one to me,” he says, unfazed, like he’s the most logical person in the universe. “Besides, I brought flowers. That makes it okay.”

You stand there, staring at him, completely caught between laughing and slamming the door in his face. “This is… I don’t even have words.”

“‘Thank you’ works,” he suggests, stepping past you as if he has every right to be there, dropping onto the armchair with the ease of someone who’s been invited to stay.

“Excuse me-” you splutter, still holding the flowers, but too stunned to do anything with them.

Carlos stretches his legs out in front of him like he’s planning to stay a while. “Nice room. Cozy.”

“You can’t just-” You gesture wildly at him, still holding the flowers like they’re some kind of shield. “Carlos, this is insane!”

“What’s insane,” Carlos says, his voice slicing through the heavy silence, “is how hard you’ve been avoiding me.”

The words hit you like a sharp slap, cutting through the thin armor you’ve been clinging to.

You wince, his accusation landing squarely on the truth you’ve been trying so desperately to bury.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, they feel hollow.

A poor, pathetic attempt to cover up the obvious.

His eyes narrow. “Yes, you are,” he replies, his voice edged with a kind of raw frustration you’ve never heard from him before. “You’ve been avoiding me, pulling away like I’ve done something-”

He leans forward, his knuckles white from how hard he’s clenching them. “Did I do something? Tell me, please.”

You shake your head quickly, your chest tightening. “No, Carlos, you didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracks, rising just enough to make you flinch. There’s a tremor in his tone, something that tells you this isn’t just frustration- it’s pain.

Your mind races, heart pounding against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape. You can’t look at him.

You can’t meet his eyes because you know what you’ll see there: vulnerability. A rawness you’re too afraid to face.

“I told you, I’m not avoiding you,” you say again, but your voice wavers. The lie cracks as it leaves your lips.

Carlos exhales sharply, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping him. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? You’re not avoiding me? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you are.”

His voice lowers, softer now but no less piercing. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, dodging my texts. You won’t even look at me right now.”

He pauses, his voice dropping even further, his words so quiet they’re barely a whisper. “It’s like you’re disappearing right in front of me.”

“I’ve been busy,” you mumble weakly, knowing even as you say it how ridiculous it sounds.

“Busy,” he repeats, dragging the word out like it physically pains him to say it. “Right. Busy. Of course. That’s your excuse? That’s all you’ve got?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he steamrolls ahead, his voice rising in disbelief. “Do you think I’m stupid? Is that it? Like I haven’t noticed you pulling some kind of secret agent disappearing act every time I’m within a five-mile radius?”

“I’m not-”

“Oh, please!” he cuts you off, throwing his hands up dramatically. “When I was in Monaco, you were in Italy. When I was in Italy, you were in Mallorca. When I was in Mallorca, you went to Paris. I thought you cared about the planet!”

“I had a reason!” you defend weakly.

“Oh, sure. Let me guess. You were ‘busy.’” He uses air quotes this time, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Busy doing what? Hiding in the catacombs so I wouldn’t find you?”

“Carlos-”

“No, seriously! Are you Carmen Sandiego? Did you take on a secret job as an international spy and forget to tell me? Because at this point, that’s the only explanation that makes any sense!”

You can’t help it.

A small, nervous laugh escapes you, but it’s swallowed by the look he gives you, a mix of exasperation and something rawer, something vulnerable that wipes the humor from your face instantly.

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Why are you doing this? What happened? Did I do something?”

“No!” you blurt out, the word rushing out of you like a reflex. “You didn’t do anything-”

“Then what?” he demands, stepping closer, his brows furrowed. “Why does it feel like every time I try to get close to you, you’re already halfway out the door? What is it? Did I say something? Did I forget something important? Did I-”

“Stop!” you snap, your voice louder than you intended, cutting him off mid-spiral. “You didn’t do anything, okay? It’s me!”

He freezes, his hands hovering in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “What do you mean, it’s you?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore, Carlos. I can’t keep pretending like this, like we, don’t mean more to me than it should.”

His brows knit together, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Your hands fly to your face, your voice shaking as you add, “Not as a joke. Not as a friend. Not in some ‘haha, Carlos is cute, what if’ kind of way. I’m in love with you, and it’s ruining me, and now I’ve said it, and- oh my God- I’m going to vomit-”

“Wait, what?” Carlos interrupts, his voice a mix of shock and something dangerously close to hope.

“You heard me!” you snap, your hands still covering your face as you pace in frantic little circles. “I’m in love with you, and now I’ve ruined everything, and you’re going to freak out and leave, and then I’ll have to fake my death and move to Antarctica and befriend a penguin colony-”

“Will you stop?” he cuts in, grabbing your arm to stop your pacing. “Just- stop for a second, okay?”

You yank your arm back instinctively, shaking your head. “No, I can’t stop! Because if I stop, I’m going to have to look at you, and if I look at you, I’m going to see the exact moment you decide this is too much, and you walk out of my life forever, and I’m not emotionally equipped for that-”

“Would you listen to me?” he shouts, his voice startling you into silence.

His hands fall to his sides, his eyes locking on yours with a desperate kind of intensity. “I’m not walking out of your life, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Jesus, do you really think so little of me?”

Your lip wobbles, your voice breaking. “You don’t get it. You’ll leave.”

He lets out a laugh. Sharp, exasperated, and a little unhinged. “I’m in love with you, you absolute idiot.”

You freeze. Your brain is refusing to process what he just said. “What?”

“I said I’m in love with you,” he repeats, louder this time, as if yelling the words will hammer them into your skull.

“Have been since the first night, I think. Do you honestly believe I’d fly halfway across the world, lose sleep, and spam you with dog pictures because I don’t love you?”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “You- what?”

“Yes!” he throws his hands up, pacing like he’s been holding this in for years and it’s physically painful to let it out. “God, how do you not see it? I thought I was being so obvious!”

Your brain is scrambling for any coherent thought, but instead, all you manage is: “Then who was that girl?”

Carlos blinks at you, mid-rant. “What girl?”

You fumble for your phone like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment to catch him red-handed.

Opening Instagram with trembling fingers, you shove the screen in his face, pointing at the offending photo. “This girl. The one on the yacht!”

He squints at the screen, then back at you, his brow furrowing.

“That’s my cousin, Marina.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“My cousin,” he says again, slower this time, as though you might be hard of hearing. “She’s married to a guy named Tomás. I was literally holding her bag while she FaceTimed her kids.”

You gape at him, the ground beneath you threatening to swallow you whole. “Oh.”

Carlos stares at you, his mouth falling open. Then it clicks. “Oh my God. Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t-”

“You were ghosting me because you thought I was on a yacht with my cousin?” he demands, his voice climbing into incredulous territory.

“It looked bad!” you squeak, the heat in your face making it impossible to look him in the eye. “I didn’t know she was your cousin! She was all- touchy!”

“She was showing me pictures of her dog!” he cries, like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation.

You clutch your head, feeling both humiliated and mildly hysterical. “I’m an idiot. I’m the biggest idiot alive.”

“No arguments there,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, then fixing you with a look that’s somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You honestly thought I’d just…what? Post my side chick on Instagram for you to see?”

“I didn’t know what to think!” you snap, burying your face in your hands. “I panicked, okay? My brain spiraled!”

Carlos lets out a disbelieving laugh, pacing a tight circle like he’s trying to figure out how he got here. “So instead of asking me, you just…decided to ignore me? For weeks?”

“I said I panicked!” you groan, peeking at him through your fingers, mortified.

He stares at you for a beat, then pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath in Spanish. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

Your heart lurches, but you’re still too mortified to fully process it. “You can’t possibly still love me after this.”

“Oh, I can,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. “But I’m definitely telling Marina about this. She’s going to think it’s hilarious.”

“No!” you cry, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. “Carlos, I swear to God, if you tell your cousin-”

He grins, all smug amusement now, his earlier frustration melting away. “I’ll think about keeping it a secret. On one condition.”

“What condition?” you ask warily.

“You stop ghosting me,” he says simply, his voice softening as his eyes meet yours. “And maybe…start trusting me a little more?”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your own stupidity pressing down on you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking at the floor. “I really messed this up.”

“Yeah, you did,” he agrees, but there’s no bite to his words. He tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to look at him. “But you can make it up to me. Dinner tomorrow?”

You nod, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.”

“And for the record,” he adds, smirking, “if you ever ghost me again, I’m showing up with a mariachi band.”

You groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs, but you can’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. Somehow, against all odds, he’s still yours.

---

@lilorose25 @widow-cevans @mderby03 @zyklion @papichulomacy @irisesinthegarden @leclercdream @moonvr @ilovemeni @iamdedsthingz @shwnirwin @softhecreator @claimingharrystigertattoo @5sospenguinqueen @wadupppdylan-blog @waytooobsessedwithlife @weekendlusting

[soniclozdplove]

Wukong came in shortly after the demon monkey left, confused at the utterly terrified expressions on his old friends' faces.

"What happened!?"

"Demon... shadows..." Was all a pale faced Tang could choke out, shaking as he cluched his shakujō tightly. Wukong blinked in confusion before realization struck, his eyes lighting up in recognition before shifting to annoyance.

"Oh! You met him, huh? Figures he wouldn't leave well enough alone."

"Who is that scary guy anyways!?" Baije asks, looking somewhere between pissed and terrified, "That freak just came in and threatened us, I thought you said this place would be safe!"

"Watch it!" Wukong growled at him, low and angry as he glared at Baije, "Macaque is many things, but I will not tolerate anyone but me insulting him!"

Tang Sanzang's most lazy disciple promptly shut his mouth with an audible click of teeth. Tang was quickly learning that this strange, mature version of Wukong was someone who is very protective of those he cares for, and will not allow any perceived threat or insult to them to exist. Considering the boastful nature of the monkey he knows, he has to wonder. Was this change caused by age and many centuries of change? Or was this something his own Wukong was capable of? It's something to consider for when they return to their own time. If they return.

How quickly he went from being annoyed at the presence of the other monkey to defending him speaks leagues about the two as well, especially considering the threats Macaque had spoken of before he'd left. The two had to have a close bond, to defend each other in the same breath they'd insult each other. Tang cleared his throat, prepared to mediate.

"I would like to know more about this Macaque, character. Zu Baije was not wrong when he said he spoke to up in a threatening manner in regards to how he sees us and your safety only to leave when he sensed your approach."

Wukong frowned, grumbling something to himself that almost sounded like "overprotective, jealous bastard" before heaving a heavy sigh and looking him in the eye,

"Macaque is just jealous. He's worried that your presence in our... in my life again will cause a rift."

"How would we cause some sort of rift between you!?" Ao Lie asked, wringing his hands worriedly, "When you, uh... the younger you, told me about him, you seemed like you were close!"

"It's... complicated." Wukong looked down, a conflicted expression on his face as he sank into the couch next to them, hands clenched together as he stared at them, "Not something I'd like to get into. Let's just say, me and Macaque had a falling out of sorts during the Journey, and Macaque has gotten it into his head that you are to blame. You appearing here and now, as you are, is very ill timing."

It occurred to Tang, as he watched his eldest student seem to go through a form of heartbreak as he spoke of his friend, that this is the first time he'd ever seen Sun Wukong be vulnerable and open about his feelings. He seemed... small. A strange thing to consider for him, when just a few days earlier he had seen a much younger Wukong bludgeoning several demons to death. Just as quickly the moment passed, Wukong perking up as he seemed to remember something.

"Oh! Right. MK wanted to do some training earlier. He wanted to know if you wanted to watch, it's just some small sparring between the two of us, maybe a bit of meditation, nothing special."

"Sparring?" Tang blinked, feeling apprehensive. Sparring implies violence. Does Wukong teach his student violent lessons?

"I mean, yeah." Wukong shrugged, "Mercy is a virtue, but one can not simply just go through life without learning to defend themselves. Especially when you're a demon! Even now, there are those who would attack a demon simply for existing in peace. Never mind back in the Tang era where they'd be forced to hide in caves, rivers, and forests to escape persecution. You all should know this!"

[juhotonin]

I’m so carefree about Ikon’s concert in Germany…

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[insomniadreamzz]

Can I please make a request for Jinx x fem reader.

I was thinking reader has really really dry skin, and forgets to use moisturizer. Maybe one day Jinx sees readers cracking bleeding hands and freaks out! Could it please end with soft Jinx rubbing in moisturizer to readers hands.

Thank you!

I care for you

Jinx x Fem!Reader

The cold weather made your skin feel all itchy since you had naturally a very dry skin, making you have a hard time during winter. Usually you knew about this issue but these days you were way too busy to care for yourself.

You were busy going on missions, helping Jinx out whenever she needed something but you didn’t get a lot of time to talk to her since she was busy herself. You missed having time only for you two without being stressed.

The blue haired girl entered her hideout after a long, stressful day. Her pink eyes scanning the area, searching for you. When her eyes looked at the floor, she saw little drops of blood on it, causing her to freak out immediately.

What if something happened to you? What if you are hurt? It’s her fault she left you alone. All of those thoughts made her nearly panic but she tried her best to not lose herself completely. You needed to be somewhere in here and you might needed her help.

Jinx shouted your name, trying to get your attention and she got greeted by you looking like you just napped, which you did. „Why are you yelling??…“ You asked her as you rub your eyes, her being too focused on being happy to see you are fine so she didn’t notice your hands, rushing over to you and hugged you so tightly you nearly fell down. „I am so glad! I-I saw blood, I thought you are injured…I thought something bad happened to you. I am never gonna leave you alone again!“ She cried in your arms, even though she had no reason to feel worried you got badly injured, you knew she thought you were nearly dead but then she pulled back to take a better look at you, her eyes scanning your body for possible injuries.

„Jinx…I am fine please. I just napped.“ You said with a little soft groan. She only stopped once she took your hands in hers, you were surprised yourself, you didn��t realise the skin on your hands were cracking and bleeding. „Y-You are bleeding! Why are you lying to me?!“ She began to panic again, her hands gently holding yours as she took a better look at them, then she looked up into your eyes again. You couldn’t tell if she was sad or just really mad at this point. Probably both.

„You shouldn’t lie to me! I thought you love me…why did you lie to me? You’re just like everyone else aren’t you??“ Her voice cracked and her body was shaking. You still were a little overwhelmed by her reaction, sometimes you just forgot how mentally unstable your girlfriend was and that every tiny thing could make her explode into a anxious mess.

„But-…Jinx I was sleeping. I am confused as well.“ You really didn’t notice your skin was already cracking on your hands, you just kept doing your work and maybe you also overworked yourself and just fell asleep without noticing anything on your hands.

She looks at you and within seconds she slapped across your face, leaving a red mark on your cheek. „Liar!“ She was still stuck in her own mind, the voices in her head getting louder as she fell on her knees and holding her head, driving totally away as she grumbled, talking to the voices in her head. You kneeled down in front of her, Jinx shifting away from you. „Hey…why would I lie to my love? You know I would never. I promised you.“ You said with a soft voice, trying to calm her down. Your heart broke seeing her cry and struggle about something you didn’t even notice. She was breathing heavily as she looked at you but you knew she was still stuck, struggling with herself.

„You know I do have naturally a very dry skin don’t you? I told you once. This cold weather makes it worse and…I didn’t put moisturiser on my hands like I should and that causes them to crack and it can get so bad that they start bleeding on some places. No one hurt me. I am fine.“ You tried to explain to her as you looked straight into her eyes. Your words sounding serious and she slowly started to come back to you to reality, her breathing getting slower and steadier.

„I love you. I would never betray you.“ You said before taking the chance to place a kiss on her lips, the voices in her head fading as she felt your lips on hers and she finally relaxed. Jinx went back to reality and she kissed you back.

„Why…why didn’t you take care of yourself?“ She mumbled before getting up. „Stay where you are.“ She said and in a few seconds she got back to you with moisturiser you usually used and gently rubbed it on your hands. Her touch was so gentle like being scared to crush your hands, it was so cute you couldn’t help but smile at her, watching her being very focused on helping you.

„If you don’t take care of yourself…I will take care of you.“ And she meant it. From now on she won’t miss a day to remind you of using your moisturiser on your hands so you won’t get hurt again.

She will always take care of you just like you take care of her.

[hedwig221b]

Kinda a two part question? Do you have supernatural Stiles recs? (really craving mermaid stuff but all kinds is very loved) and have you thought of writing supernatural Stiles?

and anon asked:

Do you by chance have any creature Stiles or mermaid recommendations? Thank you so much for helping us find stories to read and for writing such wonderful stories!

First of all, thank you! Secondly, to the first anon: I do have a supernatural!Stiles fic, it's called Predators and it's one of my best fics 🖤 I do plan on writing oracle!Stiles, but otherwise, no. Maybe, in the future, I am open to the idea!

So, here are the recs (including merman!Stiles 🧜🏽‍♂️)

Predators (creature!Stiles)

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles.

And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

Sui Tollech Gwanna Tach Omen by jackgyeoms (mer!Stiles)

Mermaid AU. Stiles was five when he first realised that not everybody grew a tail when they entered water.

No Oceans Left by zoemathemata (mer!Stiles)

Stiles has always been a merman. He just never knew how to tell anyone. He hasn’t shifted since his mom died.

It’s A-Boat Time! by Fae_vorite, isthatbloodonhisshirt (mer!Stiles)

He could hear the others talking outside, Scott and Isaac freaking out over something and Stiles snapping at them to shut up and help him get inside.

“Dude, how the fuck can you expect me to stay calm right now! Seriously, that’s a fucking tail!”

“We can talk about it later, just get me inside before someone fucking sees me! I don’t want to end up in a fucking aquarium!”

“Christ, you’re heavy!” Isaac grunted. “How much does this thing weigh?!”

“Shut up and walk,” Stiles snapped.

The Shells at the bottom of the Sea (mer!Stiles)

The one where Stiles is a seal merman trying to fit in with the sharks.

Mermaider by nothing_left_sacred (mer!Stiles)

“So what you’re saying is; you’re a mermaid princess.” Erica concluded.

“Yes, clearly. That is what I am saying. Thank you for putting it so concisely.” Stiles sassed, frowning at her. He wasn’t fucking Ariel; this was so far from being a Disney movie it wasn't even funny.

Or the one where a perfectly normal Beach Vacation escalates way too quickly, because this is Stiles' life.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane (fae!Stiles)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan (fae!Stiles)

“He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.

“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.

“What? No,” Derek growled.

“Was he hot?”

“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower.

Fuck.

Faith, Trust, And Pixie Dust by Val_Brown (fae!Stiles)

Since he was a baby he had kept it a secret. Something that he shared with his mom. But when something comes after him and attacks his pack, he has to share his secret with them. He knows they won't judge him, hello, they sprout claws, fangs and some wicked sideburns. But he changes to the size of a gerbil and has wings and pretty much farts pixies dust on everything.

Using his new alliance with Peter, Stiles charges in, pixie dust flying to rescue his pack when they are captured by renegade hunters with a strange vendetta.

Bite the Moonlight & Bleed Gold by raisesomehale (creature!Stiles)

He waits until he and Allison are the only two left in the room. “This is a joke.”

Allison says, “Have you ever known my grandpa to have a sense of humor?”

“Really?” Derek’s eyebrows are halfway up his forehead, as he gestures to the word that has been printed under Creature Type on the paper. “‘A Merman’? They’re a myth. No one has ever seen one, let alone caught one.”

Allison leans forward to skim through a few pages and draws out a photo that she sets back down on the paragraph he’d been reading. In it, a marble white ribcage crests the dark, prussian blue of a midnight ocean, the only part of the body visible besides a thrashing, predominantly red tail, curved jaggedly through the waves.

“This image was lifted from Deucalion’s personal channels,” Allison tells him. “His people are keeping the discovery all hush hush, which means they managed the photo, but probably haven’t captured the thing itself yet.” She gives Derek a significant look, “Gerard wants us to get our hands on it first.”

a dying breed that still believes by paxlux (wingfic)

He thinks, Mom, we can do this, we’ll fly.

Hot Pocket Ratio by ShippersList (incubus!Stiles)

At the threat of the alpha pack, all Derek wants is to keep his pack safe and alive. As the last resort, he tries summoning a demon to help with fighting the alpha pack. He gets a bit more than he bargained for.

Or, the story where the classic demon deal of "Will you pledge your firstborn to me?" takes some unexpected turns.

There’s A Beast In My Heart (He’ll Only Bow To You) by RayShippouUchiha (creature!Stiles)

“Stiles.” Derek fucking whimpers and if Stiles wasn’t already dying he’d kill himself for making Derek sound so hurt. Stiles just wants to protect him so much sometimes because no one else ever seems to realize that Derek is so goddamn fragile and Stiles hates them all a little bit for not being able to see that. Or In an effort to expel the Nogitsune Stiles is given the bite but it all goes horribly wrong.

A Most Unusual Hoard by churkey (dragon!Stiles)

Stiles turns into a dragon and no one can figure out what he's hoarding…

My Childhood Spat Back Out The Monster That You See by rightsidethru (demon!Stiles)

Appearances can be deceiving.

Caught by hunters, Derek immediately dismisses his gangly, fellow prisoner as a pressing concern.

After all, the amber-eyed teenager couldn't be more than one hundred and forty-seven pounds soaking wet. What type of threat could he possibly be?

(The answer: a large one.)

9/10ths of the Law by tsukinofaerii (demon!Stiles)

Stiles discovers the hazards of growing up a real boy when, at heart, he's not a real boy at all.

You Were Never Meant to Know by Mooneye (demon!Stiles)

“Not a fan of exorcisms, Stiles?” the figure asked as though he were enquiring about the rain.

“Not really. I could spew black bile if you’d like more authenticity,” Stiles answered.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Scott demanded, unease growing.

Stiles is a demon, always has been, and never intended for anyone to know. Unfortunately, his secret is forcefully revealed and he has nowhere to hide.

Blodrød by Onlymystory (demon!Stiles)

A demon possessing Alpha werewolves leads a crazed pack to Beacon Hills. He's been stuck inside werewolf minds, when all he wants is a nice human meatsuit. Humans in packs are rare these days and the demon is practically salivating at the thought of possessing Stiles. It's strong, and the pack was taken off guard, unable to protect Stiles before the demon takes control.

But like the demon says…humans in packs are rare.

Blackbird by skoosiepants (shapeshifter!Stiles)

Stiles groans and drops his face into his hands. “I’m seventeen, I can kind of use mountain ash and I can explode houses when I’m mad enough. How am I gonna win any kind of magic fight?”

“We’ll work on it,” Deaton says, as infuriatingly calm as ever. “The important thing to remember, Stiles, is that when everything else is chaos, you’re the port in the storm.”

Or-

Laura Hale never died, and Stiles is magic.

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | bad friend Scott | magical!Stiles | unrequited love

[luna-azzurra]

do you have any advice for writing a love confession without making it grossly cheesy or awkward?

im writing one between long time childhood best friends that are EXTREMELY close and im so stuck

Since these two characters have been best friends for a long time, the confession should feel like it’s built off their history together. Maybe start with a memory that’s meaningful to both of them. It doesn’t have to be a huge, dramatic moment, something small but personal, like a time they supported each other or a running joke they’ve had forever.

For example, one of them could say something like

“Remember that time we got caught in the rain walking home from school, and you made up that ridiculous song to keep me from freaking out? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately… and I realized that’s when I first started seeing you differently.”

When people confess their feelings, especially in a real and vulnerable way, it’s usually not in flowery language. If you try to make it too poetic or dramatic, it might feel forced. Instead, keep it honest and straightforward. They don’t need to say “I’ve loved you all along” in some grand, movie-like way. Let the confession come out more naturally, almost like they’ve been fighting it for a while and finally just have to get it off their chest.

You could have them say

“I don’t really know how to say this, and it might sound weird… but somewhere along the way, I started seeing you as more than just my best friend.”

There’s no way for this kind of confession to be totally smooth, and honestly, that’s what makes it feel more authentic. They’ve been best friends forever, so there’s going to be nerves, maybe some hesitation or stumbling over words. Lean into that awkwardness, it actually makes the moment more relatable and shows how important it is to them.

Maybe one of them starts talking, realizes they’re rambling, and tries to correct themselves. Like

“Okay, wait, that sounded dumb, let me start over. What I’m trying to say is… you mean a lot to me, more than I’ve probably ever said out loud, and it’s kind of terrifying because I don’t want to mess things up between us. But I’ve gotta be honest, this is how I feel.” The vulnerability in admitting they’re scared to ruin the friendship makes it more heartfelt and real.

This is probably the most important part! These two aren’t just falling for each other out of nowhere, they’ve built this strong, deep friendship over the years. So the confession should acknowledge how much that means to them. Make it clear that the romantic feelings don’t take away from their friendship but add to it.

You could have one of them say something like

“You’ve always been the person I turn to for everything, and that’s not gonna change, no matter what. But lately, I’ve been feeling something more, and I can’t keep pretending it’s not there. I just hope it doesn’t mess things up between us.” This way, they’re emphasizing that the friendship is still the foundation of everything, but they can’t ignore the fact that it’s evolving into something deeper.

Overall, just make sure it feels true to the characters and their relationship. Don’t feel like you have to tie it up neatly with a perfect line or a romantic kiss right away. The beauty of this kind of love confession is that it’s messy and emotional, and it should reflect the complexity of their relationship. They don’t need to have all the answers right away. Let the moment be about the honesty and the fact that they’re finally admitting something that’s been building for a while.

Maybe end with something like

“I don’t know where this goes from here, but I had to tell you. You’re too important to me to keep pretending like I don’t feel this way.” This leaves room for both characters to process what’s happening without forcing a big romantic resolution right away. It’s more about them taking that first step into new territory, which feels more genuine and in line with the close friendship they’ve had for so long.

[jesswritesthat]

Osamu Miya: Numbers

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.5k, fluff, slight angst

• When your work bestie gets a crush on Osamu, you start to realise that it might be too late for you.

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

In honesty setting up a work convention wasn’t where you’d expect to meet a potential partner, but it seemed your favourite confident colleague didn’t share that view.

"Woah..."

"Hm? What are you looking at?" You ceased your distraction task, scanning to match your colleagues’ line of sight.

"Mister tall dark and handsome over there."

"Who? Where?" Admittedly there was a hint of excitement bubbling inside you at the prospect but soon dispersed when Mai pointed him out.

"The guy fixing the stand, god what he could do with those hands. Who is that? He looks strong, I bet he's strong." Ramblings of an instant crush you noted, but since you knew said suspect personally you were obligated to shed some light (since you were also the one who called him here to help out in the first place).

"Oh? That's Miya Osamu, and yeah I guess he's strong. Lifting the bags of rice for his onigiri business helps I suppose."

With that, you went back to what you were doing - at least until Mai had giddily grabbed your arm filled with dire questions.

"Miya Osamu huh, is he single?"

"Um, yeah, he is."

"A business owner and he cooks too. What kind of lover does he like?"

"Ones who eat? I dunno, I'm not sure what Osamus' taste in people is." You were uninterested now, something churning deep within you, but apparently she hadn’t noticed.

"Maybe it'll be me, he's so hot though, I wouldn't know where to start."

"He has a brother!" Why did you say that?! It was the most left field tangent imaginable, a diversion almost.

"What?"

This feeling, a hint of embarrassment and a plummet in your stomach. Too late to stop now.

"Yeah, a twin brother who's more outgoing. He should be around here somewhere for you to meet." Where is Atsumu the one time you freaking need his annoying ass?

"But Osamu is—"

"—is not a famous athlete. No no, Miya Atsumu on the other hand - ooof, gorgeous specimen and... incredibly passionate too." You’d charismatically tried, as if becoming a wingman for him.

"Wow sounds like you've got a thing for him~"

That wasn't your intention, not that you're certain of the direction you were headed in the first place but convincing Mai you fancied Atsumu wasn't it.

"Hey lil' Jackal~ Ya talkin' bout me?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear, an arm slung over your shoulder in usual greeting.

"Sort of - also get off me Atsumu!"

"Ya never normally mind, is it 'cause yer all dressed up and incredibly stunnin'?"

"No I— you what? No—" Flicking between a smirking Mai and complimentary Atsumu you desperately attempted to get them to talk.

"I mean it, yer look really nice. M' sure 'Samu will agree. Have ya seen him yet?”

"Wait I want you to meet—" Too late, she’d began backing toward her desire, waving to you both with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"I'll leave you two together, I'll catch you in a minute~"

"Mai— dammit."

"Did I miss somethin'? Seems like she's set us up and got an eye on my brother." The blonde overlooked how she’d floated over to Osamu, hand tenderly placed on his bicep to get his attention.

"It's that obvious? Do you think 'Samu will like her too?" You muttered with a hint of discomfort, eyeing the pair alongside the Setter.

"Ah, don't think so. I think his heart lies elsewhere..."

"You're right. Nothing stands in the way of Osamu and food." You confidently affirmed, Atsumu flicking to you baffled.

"Not what I was gettin' at considerin' yer the one he—"

"Especially delicious rice dishes.” You cut the blonde off with your addition, the man boredly rolling his eyes.

“Why do I even bother?”

“Don’t worry, I know your favourite food too Atsumu. It’s fatty tuna.”

“Wanna get some? This is making me sick.” Atsumu jutted his chin toward the scene of Mai flirting with his twin, and you found yourself wanting to rid the image from your mind (and heart) too.

“I second that.”

———

It was the following evening after work that you’d entered Onigiri Miya near closing time, Osamu brightening upon your arrival.

"Your usual?"

"Yeah, to go please."

Osamu paused momentarily due to this unforeseen change in routine, had he missed something? An event you'd mentioned that he'd forgotten about?

"Hey so I feel a little weird talking to you about this, but it's you and—"

"—and you've probably said worse."

"Yeah..." An embarrassed laugh and then you cleared your throat. "Anyway, Mai caught me yesterday, she's one of my colleagues from work."

"I know who she is." Clear and confident, of course he knew and you felt your tone lighten in pitch and speed. Were you nervous?

"Oh good, good. I guess that's because I saw you guys talking alone, and it looked pretty private so you probably found out then."

"Uh huh, where ya goin' with this?" Osamu raised a sceptical brow, slowing on preparing your order.

"She mentioned beforehand that you didn't y'know, make her want to throw up or whatever, so I figured that you two might've made date plans and that just feels kinda weird to me." That was putting it harshly, she’d spoken non-stop about how attractive he was all freaking day.

"Weird how?" Considering he was quite perceptive, you’d hoped he’d get what you were implying without so many questions but knowing him, this was for his own benefit.

"I mean if you did date, since I work with her, I'd hear things - and I don't know... I'd like my personal and work life not to crossover and ruin my perceptions of people."

He stared at you, awaiting whatever request you were trying to ask alongside these awkward descriptions.

"So if there's any way you could not date her, that would be really great."

"Y'got some nerve, 'm a grown man - ya can't tell me who to date."

"I'm not telling you who to date, I'm suggesting who not to date."

"Well ya can't tell me that either!" Was his adamant response, the atmosphere now bordering on defensive compared the one beforehand.

"I know I have no right but—"

"No you don't, and if you don't like what you might hear then don't listen." Osamu shot back as a proposal to your problem, leaving you to truly speak your subdued feelings in the matter - one’s he hadn’t thought you’d felt.

"I just thought that if something was going to affect our friendship, then you might care about it, because if the situation was reversed then I would care Osamu."

With that he diverted his attention solely toward your order with a hum, you on the other hand felt ridiculous. Maybe you were being petty, and just because the thought of constantly hearing how Osamu loves from Mai everyday would be heartbreaking, you could endure it if he was happy. You’d force yourself to, it might even help you get over this stupid romantic liking you’d recently discovered. In that case, you’ll have to brighten this damp mood.

"Okay you’re right. Go ahead then, date her, marry her, and make her Mrs Salmon Sushi Roll, live happily ever after for all I care. I hope you'll be delighted." You crossed your arms and turned away with a small huff escaping you once finishing your embellished claim whilst Miya blinked at you with mild bemusement.

It remained quiet for moment as he digested your words, soon enough breaking the lightened silence himself.

"By the way, I was telling Mai 'bout Volleyball serves. Dead romantic." It was spoken sarcastically, but also in a way to match your prior energy. "Said strong spike serves are harder to properly receive than floaters. Hot stuff I know, and then she asked for my number."

"That's so typical of you!" Came your slightly raised voice, spinning back to him with an accusing tone.

"What?"

"Everyone knows that jump floaters are far more effective at throwing off opponents because of their unpredictability. Everybody knows that 'Samu, everyone except you apparently, now goodbye." Knowing Mai had made her move was clarification enough - hence your volleyball tangent and strive toward the exit with your flourishing farewell.

"Yer food."

You fell still at the door after his victorious reminder, a few seconds passing as you thought about crawling back for the food or just abandoning it for the sake of pride.

"..."

Screw pride, you’re hungry.

But also you might’ve wanted to know one more thing, voice quietly asking for it once you’d reproached the counter and accepted the takeout bag he tauntingly held out for you to collect.

"Did you give her your number?"

"Yeah." Osamu smiled, one of relief and sincerity. "Seemed disappointed with the Onigiri Miya menu though."

You didn’t know if you’d managed to hide the brief feeling of melancholy well but you mirrored his smile all the same.

“Yeah, I would’ve been disappointed too.”

"Why? I make ya 'not want to throw up' too?" Came his mocking retort of your previous statement, leaving you to wittily respond as per usual.

"Shut up! I might gag, but otherwise no because you’re quite pretty. Besides I’ve had your number for years so I don’t need it."

“Knew ya liked me for more than my cooking, speaking of, there’s new menu items so take a look will ya?” Rolling his eyes with a scoff, he slid a menu over the counter which you gladly took and offered your goodbyes for the night.

—

After finishing your meal at home, your fingers lingered on the menu with mild curiosity, eyes skimming over it whilst hovering over the bin.

There were a few new appetiser additions, leading you to flip to the alternate side and almost drop it out of shock.

You traced the additional pen indentations with both your fingertips and eyes like precious scripture - a sentimental smile blooming at his charming stupidity.

Yer pretty too, call me later (Y/n),

(xxx-xxxx-xxxx)

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

My Job

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You storm out after an argument with Dean, but then you get into trouble. Will he get there in time to help?

Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault (not graphic), drugging

“It’s not rocket science, kid, we’ve had these rules since you were born.”

“Yeah, but I thought-“

“What, because dad isn’t here right now, I’m just gonna let you do whatever you want?”

You huffed, “Would you let me speak?”

“No, you’ve said what you wanted, and the answer is still no.”

“It’s just a few hours!”

“And you know the rules. When we’re on a hunt, you don’t go out. At all. For any reason other than the motel is on fire.”

“It’s a stupid rule!”

“It’s a rule that means that you’re safe. While monsters are out there, you’re not, it’s not exactly unreasonable.”

“It’s just one time!” Dean’s efforts to bring the volume of the conversation down just made you want to yell louder. “It wouldn’t kill you to loosen up!”

“It might kill you!” Dean matched your volume. “Im just trying to protect you, and dad would say the same thing if he-“

“You’re not dad!” You couldn’t take it anymore. You brushed past Dean, shaking his hand off when he tried to grab your arm, and stormed out the motel door, slamming it behind you.

Who was he to say you couldn’t go out? Dean, who had to be the most reckless person you knew.

Well, maybe you’d have to show him that he should practice what he preached. You were going to do as he did, not as he said.

You buried your hand into your pocket, pulling out one of your fake IDs.

You were going to show him.

…

Not fifteen minutes later you’d slipped into a bar and used your fake ID to order a beer. The bartender gave you a strange look, unsure about the “22” printed on your ID, but he’d served you nonetheless.

You sat at the bar for several minutes, wanting to spite Dean but not really wanting to drink. He’d gotten you the fake ID “in case anything happened”, and you needed to pretend to be an adult. He certainly didn’t get it so you could drink underage, and you honestly had never wanted to. You’d seen what it did to John, and how it was starting to affect Dean. You didn’t want it to somehow turn into your coping mechanism like it had with them.

Suddenly your fight with Dean felt really stupid. Was the rule really so unfair? It was his job to keep you safe, after all, and it made you feel horrible knowing that he’d never asked for that job. You weren’t his kid, you were John’s, but Dean saddled the responsibility anyway. And how did you repay him? Screaming at him and running off without telling him.

Oh gosh. He must be freaking out! He didn’t know where you were, and you’d already been gone for a bit. You’d seriously screwed up.

“Hey, princess.”

Just the sound of the grating voice made your blood run cold, and when it was followed by a hand on your arm, you visibly flinched.

“Do I know you?” You asked the stranger nervously.

“Not yet,” the man licked his lips, and your skin crawled. “Are you even old enough to drink that?” He gestured at the drink in front of you.

“Yes,” you hated how your voice quavered.

“Right,” the man grinned, clearly not believing you. “Don’t worry baby, I won’t tell on you.”

Whenever Dean called you baby, it always made you feel safe, like a baby sister Dean would always protect. When this man called you baby, it made you want to crawl out of your own skin and hide somewhere.

“You here with anyone?”

“No—I mean, I mean yes,” why, oh why had the truth slipped out?

“That’s ok, I can keep you company,” you curled in on yourself when the man leaned his body closer to yours, hating how small and pathetic you must look compared to him.

“No thanks,” your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“What was that, baby?” The man’s hand came around your waist, and he didn’t wait for an answer. “Why don’t you have a drink, you’re so tense.” He pulled your drink closer to you, and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with it.

You shook your head, finding that your voice didn’t want to work.

“Aw c’mon, just a little sip,” the man suddenly had one hand on the back of your neck, the other lifting your drink. You tried to squirm away but his grip was too strong, and a whimper escaped your lips when the cool feeling of the glass pushed against them, demanding entrance.

“Open up, pretty little thing,” he twisted so that his arm was holding your neck in place, moving his hand over to your jaw to pry it open. You felt the bitter liquid enter your mouth, and suddenly the man put the cup down, using one hand to cover your mouth while the other pinched your nose.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. Eventually it got to the point where you had no choice but to swallow, and once you did, the man released you.

“There we go, now that wasn’t so bad, was it baby?” He leaned close, and his alcohol stained breath invaded your senses. “The next part will be even better.”

Suddenly your head felt fuzzy, your body swaying in your chair. Surely this couldn’t happen because of one sip of beer, right? The scene played back in your head, and suddenly you saw it. The man’s hand hovering over your drink when he went to lean close to you. He must’ve slipped something in it, that’s why he was so desperate to get you to drink.

“S’cuse me,” your voice came out slightly slurred as you slid out of your chair, heading for the restroom. You sensed the man following right behind you, and you broke into a run.

It was a single bathroom, so you were able to lock the door a split second after you entered. You fumbled for your phone, not even hesitating as you clicked Dean’s number.

“Y/N where are you?” Dean didn’t wait for you to speak, his voice demanding and angry. You felt tears begin to stream down your cheeks as a pounding came from the bathroom door.

“I’m so sorry, Dean I’m sorry, I need help please.”

The anger dissipated, and was replaced with worry as Dean repeated his question.

“Where are you?”

“It’s-um…” why couldn’t you remember the name? Your brain felt so fuzzy, and you were so tired.

“It’s that bar we passed, um…”

“You’re at a bar?” You heard the Impala engine start, and your heart rate picked up when the door shook with the man’s pounding.

“Dean I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “Please hurry, there’s-there’s a man and he-he’s trying to…”

“I’m coming, it’s ok just hold on baby.”

Boom!

The door hinges shook.

“Dean…” you whimpered.

Boom! Boom!

The plaster around the door cracked.

“Baby? What’s happening?”

Boom!

You let out a panicked cry when the door flung open.

“Honey, talk to me, what’s-“ Dean’s voice was cut off when the man smacked the phone out of your hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” your stomach knotted at the sickeningly sweet tone. “It’s not gonna hurt that bad, I promise. It’ll be quick.”

“Please…” you felt your knees give out, and you curled against the wall as your whole body shuddered.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you,” the man was reaching forward to grab you when he was suddenly flung backwards, and Dean took his place in front of you. He remained for a few seconds, looking you over for signs of injuries, before he turned his attention to the man, his whole body tensing with rage.

You slowly got to shaky feet as Dean began to pound his fists, his palms, his feet, everything, into the man, and before long the creep couldn’t hold himself upright, his face bloody and his body bruised.

“Dean.”

The beating stopped immediately at the sound of your terrified whimper. Dean dropped the man and turned to face you, and you ignored his bloody knuckles and bruised hands as you collapsed into his arms.

“I got you, you’re ok,” Dean’s strong arms held you tightly against him, and you relaxed completely as he picked you up, your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his torso as he carried you outside.

He set you down gently in the passengers seat of the Impala, and he moved to close the door but you grabbed onto his hand.

“Not yet,” your voice came out in a hoarse whisper, and Dean knelt down to look you in the eyes.

“You’re not hurt are you? He didn’t…” Dean trailed off as you shook your head, and relief settled onto his features. “Honey what happened?”

You recounted the story, and as you did you began to cry again. It felt like living it all over again, and soon you were sobbing in Dean’s arms as he held you close, rubbing your back and cradling your head.

“It’s over now,” he promised. “I’m gonna take you home.”

You finally let him pull away, and he shut your door before climbing into the drivers seat. You drove in silence for a few minutes, but you couldn’t hold back what you needed to say any longer.

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said, I know why we have rules and I know you’re doing your best. I-I know-“ you broke off, pulling your knees to your chest before continuing. “I know you don’t deserve to be stuck in charge of me, and I’m-I’m sorry for being so difficult.”

Dean had been silent up to this point, but now he broke him, alarm on his features.

“What? Baby I’m not stuck with you, you’re my baby sister and it’s my job to-“

“But it’s a job you didn’t ask for!” You broke in, trying to keep back your tears for the third time this night. “Dad just left you here with me, and-and I know I’m not easy-“

“Stop right there,” Dean interrupted. “Sweetheart, this is the easiest job in the world for me, ok? I mean sure, sometimes you run off and give me a heart attack,” he gave you a pointed look. “But sometimes you also help with research, or bring me food, or talk Sammy through his nightmares. Honey we need you around here, just as much as you need us. We’re family, understand? It’s all of our jobs to look out for each other, so don’t think you’re just some burden on me. Don’t ever think that.”

You felt your face light up with a smile, and you finally looked up at Dean.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Dean nodded firmly as he pulled into the motel. “Now c’mon, you should get some food and sleep.”

“Dean?”

Dean hummed as he opened your car door and led you inside.

“Can…can I sleep in your bed tonight? It’s just…I’m still kinda freaked and I thought-“

“Of course you can baby,” Dean leaned down and kissed your head. “That’s what I’m here for. It’s my job.”

[n3ptoonz]

hii !! i'd like to request submissive kung lao. like i need to ride the pride out of him or something. maybe i should be ashamed idk i don't wanna go too in detail i'm afraid becausw it's also my first time requesting anything ever but i love your writing 💓💓

well i do have a fic you'll like here, but who am i to ever not take the opportunity to write my man being submissive??? also no problem! lots of requests have had some details before you're good ty for requesting 😁

sub!kung lao hcs

explicit language used

submissive kung lao would...

have a really high pain tolerance. i mean, look at what he uses as a freaking weapon. imagine how tough and calloused them farmer hands are 🫦

let you ride him all day and all night. especially if he's been talking TOO much shit lately. he may or may not need to be brushed up on manners.

be into slapping. i make the rules! as much as he likes praise and glory, he loves humiliation. only in private because he gets to have it taken to great lengths by your demand

prefer to be tied down. it makes it ask the more fun that he physically cannot touch you whatsoever while you do whatever you please. he whines and bucks like he didn't hand you the ropes

sob tears of joy. remember that i said he has a high pain tolerance, so the masochism bar is through the skies. inflict pain on him while fueling his ego and in an instant he's in cream city

love love love for you to drag him away in public to somewhere with some privacy. emphasis on "some." bro is lowkey an exhibitionist too. one peep outta him and you instantly stop what you're doing

give as much oral as man can handle. prepare for the space between your legs to constantly be occupied by this man looking up at you with puppy eyes when he wants permission to continue

let you wear his hat while fucking. it's even cuter if it's too big

be so vocal you'd think the guy was a famous singer in his past life. the coherently placed groans and moans come together like an orchestra every time and you keep wondering how tf does he do that. but also get a massive ego boost bc only YOU can do that

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

For the spooky season, I think S.cott H.owl Being a 'slasher' type pred going after people In food themed costumes, probably while drunk or just super hungry regular food won't cut it. Wolf mode going over time haha

Oh my god, this is a genius idea! Definitely gonna do something for it.

S.cott stumbles around a bit through the crowds. He’s been spending the night at a real awesome Halloween party. Which also means there’s been some Halloween-themed booze that he’s had waaaay too much of. He also ate too many of the Halloween-themed snacks and got chased away from the snack table. But he’s still hungry…

After bumping too hard into a mummy dressed as a pirate…or maybe a pirate dressed as a mummy..? Anyway, S.cott spots something that makes him stop and his belly growls deeply. It’s…a giant hotdog. His eyes are wide and his tail is starting to wag. Hotdog…big hotdog..!

The hotdog, or in reality, the gargoyle, is laughing and chatting with a guy he’s trying to hit on. It’s going pretty well…at least until the guy suddenly goes stiff and backs away. The gargoyle has no idea what he said wrong but he doesn’t get a chance to find out. Something big and fast crashes into him and tackles him to the floor and his head is engulfed somewhere dark and wet.

S.cott is so hungry and excited and drunk that he doesn’t really question why the hotdog is struggling and screaming or why it doesn’t taste like a hotdog. He’s completely focused on devouring it! Strong gulps and slurps drag the struggling hotdog down his gullet and towards his deeply growling gut. The guy that had been flirting with S.cott’s snack slowly backs away before he finally turns and speedwalks off. No one else bothers coming over.

The gargoyle is screaming out obscenities as he’s roughly crammed into S.cott’s stomach. The werewolf finally gets back to his feet, shoving the last of the hotdog down the hatch with a few gulps. A wet slurp sucks up the gargoyle’s thrashing tail and he’s gone, S.cotty’s and bloating out into a furry orb that hangs down low with all that food packed away.

S.cott pants and huffs, rubbing over his gut. He’s got a dumb smile on his face with his jaws hanging open and his tail wagging like crazy. A thick belch escapes him, his stomachs squeezing over the hotdog and getting a muffled yell. Tasty and filling…that should be enough…

…is what S.cott would think if he didn’t spot a giant piece of candy corn walking by. He stops, staring at the guy silently like before. His belly gurgles and groans deeply. The gargoyle inside screams as the walls close in around him, S.cott’s body immediately making space for more food by smashing his last meal down. The candy corn doesn’t seem to notice the muffled screams or the wet cracks that cut them off. He’s too focused on getting to the bathroom.

The candy corn— a lizard man in reality—manages to find the bathroom by brushing past some partygoers and ducks inside. Trying to piss while wearing this costume is going to suck but he’s had too many beers. While he’s trying to get it off enough to do his business, though, some loud knocking comes from the door. “…occupied!”

After a few more seconds of struggling with his costume, the knocking returns, even louder. “Occupied!” the lizard yells. The knocks turn into banging that rattles the door. “…hey, that’s not funny, jackass!” The banging continues and the knob rattles over and over. It’s starting to freak the lizard out but just before he goes into panic it…stops. There’s a beat of silence. Then the door smashes open and the lizard screams.

S.cott tackles the candy corn into the bathtub. There are a few moments of wild thrashing as the werewolf gets his jaws down over the top of the candy and begins to greedily devour it. The lizard’s screams cut off fast, and the werewolf barely notices the difference as he snarfs his second course down.

In the end, S.cott is lying on his back in the tub, his guts bulging out above him as they bulge and rock back and forth. The lizard is screaming like a maniac, sitting in molten belly sludge that used to be a gargoyle and a tattered hotdog costume. And with how tightly the stomach walls are squeezing around him, it’ll soon have candy corn added to that.

S.cott belches thickly, some scales coming up. He gets to his feet, his guts sloshing thickly as he does, and stumbles out of the bathroom. He nearly falls over from it but catches himself on the wall. He feels stuffed now…but…

S.cott sees a PB&J walking off together and laughing. It’s a demon and a gryphon in a couple’s costume, planning to have some fun now that they’re buzzed. But S.cott just sees another delicious meal…

The two of them head upstairs and manage to find an empty bedroom to slip into. They’re so busy making out that they don’t notice the door is unlocked. They end up flopping onto the bed, one on top of the other, really looking like a sandwich now.

The door slowly creaks open and the demon lifts his head a bit. “Mm…did you hear that, babe?”

“No.” The gryphon forces the demon to look back at him and makes out with him. The demon gets back into the mood pretty quickly. But then the floor freaks loudly.

“Babe, I swear I heard—“ The demon tries to look over his shoulder but the gryphon won’t let go of him.

“Hey, are we gonna do this or not?” the gryphon asks. “I put on this stupid costume for you. I’m not getting out of it unless we’re fucking.”

The demon sighs and looks back at his boyfriend. “Alright, alright…” And he goes back to making out with the gryphon. Neither of them notice the shadow looming over them or the slobbering jaws opening wide and coming in.

S.cott begins to eat the giant, delicious sandwich. The demon and gryphon’s legs fit into his maw nicely and he starts to cram the actual sandwich in after. The couple starts to squirm and wiggle, and by the time they're up to their waists, both have noticed what’s happening. But S.cott doesn’t even hear their shouting as he focuses entirely on working the PB&J down where it belongs—his stomach.

The boyfriends’ faces get smooshed together by S.cott’s hands roughly pressing and shoving on them. They’re forced to kiss, yells muffed as they slowly and steadily get crammed down the werewolf’s gullet. Stuck in their bulky costumes, unable to struggle, all the way up until the sharp fangs snap down like a gate before them and they get fully paced up into the werewolf’s belly.

The couple are screaming and yelling for help, but it’s all muffled by the werewolf’s gut. S.cott is lying on his back, panting happily as his stomach churns and clenches down, trying to compact all of that meat up as usual. The PB&J doesn’t last very long, being crushed down into paste with some shrill screams and wet crunches. And a very thick, wet werewolf belch.

At this point, S.cott is really stuffed. And the bed feels so nice and comfy. S.cott’s panting slows down as his eyes drift shut…and eventually he ends up snoring softly, fast asleep. His guts churn and groan deeply and the last twitches die off in his stomach. The party goes on around him as he sleeps off his feast.

Come morning, S.cott wakes up with a big yawn. His head hurts from a hangover and his stomach hurts from…something else. He rubs over both with a soft groan. His belly gurgles angrily at him and wobbles. A thick belch ends up roaring out of the werewolf and he feels something solid come up.

Leaning over the bed, a few wet slaps and splats ring out. That didn’t feel like the normal kind of hangover throw-up. S.cott blinks his eyes blearily to look at what he just horked up.

On the ground, covered in slime, filled with holes, and sizzling slightly in the air is a pile of fabric. It’s all twisted together and unrecognizable. For some reason, S.cott ends up thinking about hotdogs and candy corn and PB&J’s looking at it…must mean he needs breakfast.

With some effort and a hand on his head, S.cott gets out of bed. His belly wobbles some more as he moves, now a soft pot belly that hangs low before him. It gives a low groan, suddenly very empty after the upchuck. Definitely breakfast time…

Thankfully, S.cott will find a giant banana sleeping on a couch downstairs. It’ll be perfect.

[renatogpadilla]

Bright Ideas

To say she was surprised that Lux actually came back would be an understatement.

Jinx was beginning to think she'd put up that little target range outside her hut for nothing when the neigh of a very nervous horse reached her ears.

The glowy girl strode up to her with an air of... Scholarly whimsy. Like when you go to class and find out the fun teacher took the place of your most hated class. Like she was excited to learn.

Jinx had to wonder if she'd ever looked like that when she watched her sister shadow-box with the rest of the kids back in Zaun... She probably had. It wasn't often she wondered what she would look like today if she had learned to throw a proper punch back then, but there were moments.

And now, here came this little blond meerkat of a girl, with an absolute stallion at her back. White as a sheet and with two beady black eyes that seemed to go on endlessly into the void of the creature's soul... Or maybe that was just Jinx's imagination. Every time she tried to hold eye contact, Starfire neighed and turned its head away nervously.

"Once, I was the greatest criminal in two whole cities and brought upon Marshall Law by virtue of just existing nearby..." She thought, missing a little bit of those days... And the company they brought. Just a little. "Now, I freak horses out. What an upgrade."

"Hello, Isha." Lux said. "You look in good spirits."

Gods, it's barely bright, how is she THIS SUNNY this early?

"Flashlight! You didn't chicken out!" There was genuine surprise there. Most girls that ran into Jinx felt the imperious need to bolt in the other direction...

Most girls... Some didn't. Some got close. And when you're a walking jinx, whatever gets close has a tendency to explode eventually...

Focus. Don't think about that. Why would you even think about her at a time like this?

"It wouldn't have been very ladylike of me to refuse such a rare offer." Lux said. She... Didn't quite know where that came from. There was a buzzing in her today. She threw in a curtly bow, just because.

Isha answered in kind, albeit more mockingly.

"Consider me surprised AND excited!" Isha said. "Alright, Your Sparklyness! Let's see what you've got! Feast your eyes!"

She made the most showgirl presentation hand motion she could muster towards the makeshift firing range. A bunch of metal targets and dummies, cobbled together for the express purpose of being lit up by a girl Jinx had met only last night. What an honor.

Lux put a hand on her heart. "Oh, Isha, it looks lovely!" There were even little faces painted on some of them to make them look more menacing.

That was NOT the reaction Jinx had been expecting. Usually people felt like her little art exhibitions were scary or uncanny... This girl was either secretly a freak or in desperate need of getting out of the house. Did she live in a house? Maybe she lived in a castle like some fairytale princess made to give her author some semblance of excitement... Or Vi a wet dream every once in a while. She'd caught her looking at those story books in ways nobody should look at anything in public as kids... She just wished that princess kink (if that's what it was) hadn't led her to- Wait, she had been going somewhere with this train of thought. What station was this again? This was not her stop.

"Isha?" Meerkat eyes. Say something.

"Wuzzat?" Smooth, Jinx. Professional.

"Target practice? Isn't that why I'm here today?"

"Oh, yeah! It is!" Jinx got excited now. She'd get to see how dangerous this girl really was! "Here's what I've got: You knocked me on my ass while panicking, right? Well, that ain't easy, so I got curious to see what that glow of yours could do when you're actually trying. This is all you!"

Lux didn't know how excited she was about this precise moment until it was here.

To Lux, it saw an opportunity to let go... To let herself shine for once without regret or care of what others thought... A chance to be free and discover what that was like for once. But it was also kinda terrifying. What if she glowed too much? What if she hurt her new... Friend? Teacher? Experimenter? Huh. She hadn't thought of that. She'd go with "friend" for now. That felt the most appropriate.

She just hoped Isha didn't mind a little premature sunning.

She took a few steps forward, to the rim of the range, took aim at a dummy with a little metal top hat and what looked like a cupcake painted on its chest and attempted to shoot it.

Full disclosure here: Lux had never attempted to actively hurt anything before. Every time her magic had manifested, it had ALWAYS been in self defense.

Which might explain why, when she actually took aim and "fired", all that came out was a little stream of dancing sparkles. Not enough to hurt nothing, but they looked pretty! They splatted harmlessly against the training dummy and with a soft glow, silently disappeared.

Isha let out a chuckle. "Not bad! Maybe with A bit more practice you'll manage some sunburn!"

"It's not as easy as it looks." Lux retorted. "Every time I've done it I've felt something incredibly strong. Survival instinct, or anger or just... Something raw. I guess that's the best way to put it... It's harder when I push it."

Isha's face didn't get any softer, but she did seem to be turning some gears in her head.

"Okay, that's a start." Isha told her. And she let a huge grin grow on her face. "So we start raw!"

"Excusez-moi?" Lux HAD to have heard that wrong. Whoah. Accent slip... Reign it in, Luxanna.

"Bless you." Isha responded. "How did your powers first manifest? What made you light up the first time?"

Oh, that was an ask... Probably the scariest moment of her life at the time.

"I was..." Deep breaths, Lux. "I was out riding when it got late. I lost track of time, so I took Starfire here through a shortcut through the woods. I wasn't supposed to, but I wanted a thrill. Young and impressionable, you know?"

Yeah, she knew. She nodded and let her continue.

"I learned the hard way that some rules are there for a reason. Star and I were set upon by a pack of wolves." She was not exactly happy re-living that particular memory. "They chased us deeper into the forest and eventually knocked me off the saddle. I remember their breath, their fangs... One pounced on me and next thing I knew, the pack was gone and there was light coming out of my hands."

That had been the day Lux discovered she was a Mage. The day she started hiding.

Isha took a little while, looking pensive, or trying to, at least, until she finally spoke up.

"Well, I have an idea. But you're probably not gonna like it."

Don't be 'think about the fangs'. Don't be 'think about the fangs'! Lux thought.

"Think about the fangs."

Fuck!

"Isha..." She didn't notice how much she was trembling.

A supporting hand reached her shoulder.

"I know what it's like to come face-to-face with something traumatic." Especially when that something has fangs and claws and acts on survival instinct, she thought, but she wasn't going to bring up her dad now. Or ever, if given the choice. "But the thing about fear is that the moment always looks brighter in hindsight. And you, Lux, actually have the power to make things brighter! The fangs can't hurt you now. You're in control." She was REALLY glad nobody from Zaun could see her now. She had a psychopathic reputation to uphold!

Seemed to do the trick, though.

"Can't hurt me." Lux said, more to herself than to Isha. And then she sent her mind back. Back to that horrible moment of adrenaline-fueled fight-or-flight state from back when she had no fight in her yet...

Her breathing got faster. Shallower. Jinx thought she might be having a panic attack. Lord knows she knew the signs! "Um, Lux? Listen, you don't have to go that hard, maybe this was a bad-"

Then she hit the deck as fast as her Shimmer-enhanced reflexes allowed her. It happened instantly! Lux turned around, the palms of her hands starting to glow and then...

Well, funny thing about light: It doesn't usually make noise! Jinx had no frame of reference for when to get up... Until Lux's voice got to her.

"Isha? Are you okay?" She sounded guilty... Like her letting loose wasn't the whole point of being here today! "I'm so sorry, I hope... Gods, I really hope you didn't spend too much time on that."

Jinx got up, turned around, and faced the firing range. Or rather, the sunburnt, steaming, borderline-calcinated ash-splatter that used to be the firing range...

It was like a nuke went off. Whatever wasn't dust, or a black mark on the floor of the forest, was melted and twisted in ways Jinx couldn't replicate without a forge and a good few hours' work.

It was at this exact moment that she realized that she was NOT letting this girl go without learning to focus that. No way in Hell. There had been a LOT of facets of her life that blew up in her face (in fact, most of them did. It was honestly a miracle when one didn't), but if Lux decided to go nuclear one day... Jinx was powerful enough to tank several hits from the Atlas Gloves, her sister's "overdesigned bitch-mittens" that gave her super strength. She could move at speeds the eye couldn't track for short bursts of time. Hell, she could be put through a brick wall and walk it off like it was nothing... But an angry Lux?

She would NOT walk away from that.

"Well... She said, suddenly feeling like Fishbones was about to need an upgrade... "We can work with that."

[keen-li]

Marmalade : PEEL

Series : ongoing

Chapter title : PEEL

Synopsis: in order to keep this secret you and jungkook have from your brother, your Brother's friend gives you a condition.

"I won't tell your brother aslong as we keep fucking"

its not like you don't want to. you get you keep the secret from your brother and also get to fuck jungkook

. can you say no?

fuck boy jk.

Brother's best friend jk

college student reader

Warnings: mentions of weed (not direct with ocs), suggestive, time skips, flashbacks, smutty, mentions of sex, pet names, usage of y/n, marmalade.

Word count: 8k

Your shoes hit the concert of the pathway rhythmically as you strut down campus.  The music you're listening to aiding your confidence. Walking down this campus you need all the confidence you can get. You're not as fashionable as the girls around, so you need confidence to keep up. You don't feel the need to be fashionable anyways. Most girls do it for the guys, but It's just guys who spend their time in lame circles smoking weed and shit, don't even have a stable source of income. Nothing special to dress up for.

"But you should still try something new" the person you've been avoiding for three weeks now said to you.

You've been dodging jungkook like the plague recently. Hiding in your room for as long as you can when he's downstairs with your brother.  Wearing a large hoodie to hide your face when you're in public, not like it does much jungkook probably knows that hoodie. Or even using another route when going home just incase he might spawn somewhere on the road. You even went as far as turning off your phone at night, knowing that's the time jungkook mostly texts you.

Ever since that night in the kitchen.

"I won't tell as long as we keep fucking"

He honestly has the audacity to blackmail you. You  should've told him to fuck off, but you didn't. Instead you agreed.

Sigh.

It's not like you regret saying yes, its just the thought that jungkook might tell on you once he gets tired of you freaks you out. It's possible for him to grow tired and you know that,  he's got so many options. You're nothing special to him, though it does feels like you mean something when he has his hands all over you. Whispering how much time he has before your brother's back. Usually 30 minutes.  And he sure does make sure that time is used wisley, having you in all kinds of posi-

Beep.

You don't turn to look at the source of your distraction.  But in your peripheral vision you see a car slow down next to you. You walk a little faster hoping it's not him. It is, his voice tells you that.

"You can't ignore me forever" his voice is muffled by the music that's playing through your ears, but you can tell that smooth cheeky voice through whatever sound.

You sigh and roll your eyes. You've been caught, no running now.

You muster up the courage to finally speak head still faced forward.

"What do you want jeon" you speak nonchalantly.

"Oooh, were using last names" he says feigning a scared tone. You scoff at him.

"Why don't you come to my place so we can hangout" he says one hand on the steering wheel and the other arm against the window frame elbow out the window. He's eyes don't leave your figure that doesn't seem interested him but he knows otherwise.

"No"

You can hear him sigh as his car slows down even more and so do your steps, unconsciously.

"I guess I'm going to have to text him" you stop in your tracks as jungkook threatens to pull out his phone.

"Or maybe I should just call" he looks at you as if asking which one he should chose. He's so annoying.

You finally turn to him and speak "Don't you dare" you warn.

"Get in then" he looks forward wanting you to get into his car. He must think he's in some 80s movie with the way he's sat in his car. You've been avoiding jungkook for a reason and you can't let your efforts be blown away, but damn he makes it so hard to say no.

"Put your seat belt on" he says as you slam his car door shut. You then give him a i-was-going-to glare.

Soon his car's on the main road as you both sit in silence.  You try to distract your mind by staring at the moving objects but your mind still can't move from the man sat comfortably with his hand on the wheel. He looks like he wants to say something but's thinking it through.

"How was class?" He finally spits out, clearing the silence.

"It was okay" you say falling back into awkward silence.  Why is it so awkward all of a sudden between the two of you. Is it the unspoken tension. Where is it even coming from you wonder. For you maybe it's the unanswered  question of why jungkook would still want to fuck you. And for jungkook maybe its the fact that you've been ignoring him.  He couldn't help himself bit wonder if he crossed the line with his demand from that night. Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he fuck it up? He couldn't help but wonder these things,  he should've just asked you. But again how would've that made him look.

"Did you miss me?" He turns to look at you shortly catching you rolling your eyes making him grin.

"Why would I do that?" You spit

"Remember that call" you cringe at the thought. You accidentally butt dialed jungkook and when he called you back you clarified.  You and jungkook only call each other when you wanna meet up, so when you butt dialed him you were afraid he might get the wrong message. But after his few teasing comments he let it go. Not completely though.

"It was an accident I told you" you whine complaining.

"On purpose? an accident?" He takes a turn "there's a very thin line"

You scoff. Maybe he is right. You kinda wish he fought a little harder on that call.

" 'Kay" is what is he told you when you said it was really a mistake.  You were playing hard to get, couldn't he tell?  Even if you were ignoring him you still missed him. Just the physicals though.

-

You're leaning against jungkook's kitchen counter as he re-enters his kitchen, after getting a change of clothes.  You wish you could also have a change of clothes, these just smell of your lecture and you really don't want to be reminded of that.

"You should stop leaving your shit here" he says handing you something. when he walked in you didn't notice the little lip balm he was holding. He stretches his had out so you can get it but you just stare at it analysing the brand and the flavour. He nudges his hand so you can get it but you shake your head and he twists his face confused. Your facial expression is kinda fallen showing the disturbance.

"That isn't mine" you speak feeling a nudge at your chest. "I don't use that brand or that flavour"

Jungkook sighs realising what he's done.  But his next statement doesn't show any concern for a disturbed you.

"I guess yuji left it here" he shrugs turning around and placing the cylindrical tube, that's now your enemy, on the counter next to you. You just wanna pick it up and throw it against his head. Why are you even mad? You know what you and jungkook are, you shouldn't feel this way. Maybe it's the way jungkook doesn't care and goes back to talking like there isn't tension in your chest.

And cause you don't want to make a fuss about things and make shit awkward you decide to follow suit and just talk like you don't have a lump in your throat. Iys not like its his job to care or know what you're feeling.

"Want something to drink?" He asks back facing you as he stares into the fridge.  Why did he even bother putting on a shirt, that see through shirt isn't hiding shit. And your eyes can't help but wonder. Wonder across from shoulder to shoulder.  Wonder around the muscles that flex cause he's now bending slightly to see what's at the bottom of the fridge. Wonder down his spine to his tail bone where his Calvin klein band peeks out. Wonder,  wonder, wonder and too much wondering.

Jungkook turns to look at you for the answer and when he catches you drooling he chuckles.

"Got a thing for backs?" He asks sarcastically.  He's body is now turned to you and he places the canned drink next to you, since you haven't answered him he'll just give you what he wants. You clear your throat and straighten yourself awkwardly,  eyes wondering away from him now.

"I wasn't looking at you" you lie trying to save your already gone self respect. 

"Yea right? And I'm still a virgin" you chuckle at his childishness.  Can he blame you, he's got a great back. And you haven't seen it in a while. Those long hours at the gym finally showing through.

You both stand against the counters sipping your drinks from time to time. Jungkook stands by the counter opposite from you so you have a direct sight of his body.

"You should stop giving me rides" you say and jungkook's eyes meet your face confused. What's wrong he wants to ask but it sounds too intimate,  so he let's his eyes ask the question.

"Don't you think someone will think there's something going on?" You say voice a little timid. Your eyes fling to jungkook when you hear him release a chuckle.

"Everyone one knows I'm your Brother's friend, so giving you a ride shouldn't be that big of an issue" he shrugs off your concerns.

"I get that but people still talk" jungkook nods acknowledging.

"But do you know your Brother's the one who asks me to give you rides" he starts.

"The ones with my car atleast" he say with that cheeky grin of his. You get what he's saying and you throw him a stop it glare. Which he does as he adjusts himself against the counter and takes a sip of the liquid.

You calm from your chuckles "I didn't know he asked you to do that"

Jungkook doesn't say anything as you continue to speak.

"But still I don't  think we should be seeing each other whilst in public " Your body goes back to being freaking anxious. The way you say it makes jungkook laugh, and there he goes again diminishing your serious concerns.

"Y/n you're acting like I have my hands on you when we're outside" he's right.  Why are you making it so dramatic, its not that big of a deal but you still don't want any stories going around. The last thing you want is rumours and giving your brother ideas which aren't true, well they are but your don't want him to take it into consideration.

"I know but still..." your eyes fall as you stare at your feet against jungkook's floor. Pretty floor.

Jungkook understands your concern, rumours spread like wild fire on your campus. If you didn't have the 'jungkook is my Brother's friend' card to protect you, you're sure the both of you would be under heat right now. Mainly you cause everyone would want to know who jungkook might be fucking. In these situations no one really cares about the guy they just wanna find the girl and see if her looks match up.

Yours don't , that's what you think. During this time that you've been hiding from jungkook,  you've been thinking about the fact that jungkook is outta your league. Your not unattractive in anyway, and you know that especially when jungkook's expressing to you how attractive you are,  though you think it's the sex talking. You aren't unattractive,  it's just that you aren't someone who stereotypically people would think jungkook is sleeping with. You've never brought these concerns to jungkook cause he honestly doesn't need to know. Would he even care.

Though he has told you countless times that you are very beautiful, in many ways. By the way he looks at you, the ways he touches you and the way he kisses you. Its just something that you need to work on by yourself and you aren't gonna drag jungkook into it.

Jungkook watches how your fingers tap against the counter and he knows you're anxious. So to comfort you he walks to you and puts his hand over your hand , stopping it from racing. Your eyes move to the man standing over  you and when your eyes meet he can see that you're overthinking. His hand is warm over yours, you don't bother to turn to look at it knowing it's safe under his hold. It's calms you how Jungkook knows how to help you when you're overthinking, even though he doesn't know what you're overthinking about all he cares is that you realise you don't need to especially if it's about him.

"That's okay... if that's what you want " he reassures. You nod.

Jungkook doesn't know why he comforts you or feels the need to, maybe it's the fact that he's your Brother's friend so he feels that kind of need to protect you from whatever. Otherwise he doesn't know why he does it.

He watches how your lips pout, they're slightly tinted red, he knowsit's probably your lipstick, and he's always wanted to tell you how good you look with it on. And that whatever flavour you use tastes so good. He just wants to taste it once more and remove that pout and sad look from your lips. And so he does.

But before your lips meet he's interrupted by the buzzing of his phone against the counter.  He doesn't give any facial expression you can read, not even a hum or a sigh. He picks up the phone quickly wanting the call to end so he can kiss you. He should've just turned off his phone.

He looks at the caller Id and sighs internally.

It's yuji.

Jungkook gives you one last look. "I'll be back" he says as you nod and he walks out. You're left wondering if its your brother who's called him, and your heart is beating quickly. What if someone told him you got into jungkook's car? And he's calling jungkook to know where you are cause you're not home. Many theories run through your mind and you're gonna be fucked if any of them involve your brother.

You're theories are proven wrong when you hear Jungkook say,

"Yuji I told you I can't come today"

Yuji? You've heard that name on campus before. But for what. You think for a while then it clicks.

It's the girl that's always on jungkook, you've heard many rumours about them, which you've never told Jungkook about before cause its not necessary. He's probably heard all of them before and if he has he's never talked about them with you, that's not what your relationship is about.  Its kinda stupid to call it a relationship but you need a word for it and that's the only one that comes to mind.

You've heard some crazy rumours about jungkook and yuji. Some are that jungkook is obsessed with her and won't let her get into a relationship and that he beat up a guy she was chilling with, which sounds like bullshit and unlikely. You don't know jungkook enough to know if he's the jealous kind, you haven't gotten a chance to touch those waters yet. And if he is you aren't sure if you wanna touch those waters. You've thought about jealous jungkook whilst in bed before, helps you get off, but you don't think you'll ever get to know if he is. Cause your relationship isn't anything serious.

Another rumour is that yuji is the one obsessed with jungkook,  this one's more likely. Cause she can't bare seeing him talk to another girl or even mention another girl's name. You heard through the grapevine that she got a girl expelled for even threatening to fuck jungkook. Does she even have the power to do that? Well her family is well off, like very much. So maybe it is possible, childish but possible. It's funny how you learn everything through the grapevine.

Another rumour you heard, this one is the most shocking. You heard that jungkook got yuji pregnant and she had to abort it. Why does this girl bother jungkook so much, it bothers you so much. You just wish you could tell her to leave him alone, but you aren't in any position to do so.

Anyway,  you didn't want to believe the rumour but it was so hard when during that week jungkook was acting off. He never hangout with your brother or even responded to any one of your calls. You didn't want to bug so you left it. But the question ate at you every time, especially when you were worried about jungkook.  And shortly during that week jungkook had went out of town and when he returned he told your brother that he went to his parent's place. Seems like it was a good move cause he came back to his normal self, laughing and joking with you.

"Missed me?" He said the first time you talked to him after all that happened.

You really wanted to ask him what the actual fuck happened. Were the rumours true? Why was he acting so off and reserved? But its not like its any of your business.  So you didn't,  you just let the questions eat at you. You're just here for the fucks and gags.

After that one you stopped listening to the rumours, not any other one. Whether about jungkook, students or the ghosts on campus at night. You don't listen to any of them. Cause after the jungkook ones you were kinda disturbed,  out of it if you can say. You don't even know why, you just didn't like how people go around talking about others lives. Especially if it's someone you know.

Jungkook's call seems to be taking long and you're getting bored and tired. So you decide to look around his kitchen, throwing your now empty can into the bin on your way around. It's not like you've never been in his house, you have but when you have you've been too carried away by his lips and touches that you didn't even bother looking around. And even after you're done you're too carried with getting out of his house and rushing home. You've never spent a night in jungkook's House.

"You should get home before your brother gets suspicious" he says shirtless laying on the bed chest still sweaty from your deeds. He watches as you get dressed. You know that'd he'd ask you to go home, so you never even bother to stay longer.

"Let me call you a cab" he says reaching for his phone and the sheets covering his manhood move slightly.

"it's okay I've already called one" you knew that this would happen so you called a cab already. Always be prepared.  He doesn't walk you out to your cab, just says he's goodbyes and tells you to greet your brother for him, which is a cheeky joke he likes to make.

Whilst in the cab you wonder why it bothers you that jungkook isn't so affectionate afterwards. You kinda wished he'd atleast walk you out to the cab, you understand why he doesn't drive you home. But he could atleast walk you out to the door or even give you a little goodbye kis- you don't even know why you think of these things, it's the silence that encourages your thoughts.

Shit.

You grunt and curse at the pain in your toe, you just hit your toe on the cupboard. It hurts so bad and you hope jungkook didn't hear the sound or even your now wearing out grunts and curses. After you're done looking after your toe you decide to open cupboard right above your head. It's labelled 'MARMALADE' so that catches your attention even more cause its the only labelled cupboard.

Your hand grabs the handle gently and you open the cupboard. Once you do your eyes are met with the numerous glass bottles filled with an orange jam like substance.  Must be marmalade like the label said, but why does he have marmalade and why so many bottles.

You grab one carefully making sure not to let it slip and fall, the last thing you want Is to break something in jungkook's house when you don't even know how he'd react.

You play around with the glass jar admiring the orange colour and sweet citrus smell, you don't like fhe citrus smell but it does smell good. You're lost in the brightness of it that you don't hear jungkook enter.

"Sorry that took long" you're snapped out of it when you hear his voice.

"Just got a call from..."

"Was it my brother?" You ask

"No"

"Then you don't have to tell me anything" you don't even know what he was going to say but you don't need to know. He hums and mumbles a 'you're right'

He places his phone back on the counter.

"I see you've found my marmalade" he says nodding towards the bottle. You didn't even realise you still had it in your hands. You chuckle.

"Oh yeah found a bunch of them"

"Hope you don't mind " you look at him for assurance. And he shakes his head no.

"Looks like you like marmalade" you say placing the bottle down.

"Mhm"

"Why?" You ask. It might be digging too much in his personal life but you're just curious. It doesn't matter if he answers or not....

"It just tastes good" safe answer he thinks.

You look back at the bottle picking it up and analysing it once more.  You didn't notice before but now you realise that it's brandless.

"What brand is it?"

"I make it myself " he walks towards you and stretches his hand so that you give the bottle to him.

"Explains why you have so many of them"

"Wanna taste?" He lifts his brow to you but you shake your head.

"I don't really like marmalade" you confess and jungkook lifts he's hand over your head to open the cupboard. He places the jar back in its place and with his hands over your head he looks down at you and you up at him. And says in a whisper...

"Well you're looking at it like you wanna have a taste" he stares at you longingly trapping you between him and the cupboard. You feel small under his longing gaze. You love how even just by the way he stares at you you can feel the heat travel your body. Before he moves away he licks his lips that you've been staring at hoping he'd kiss you and like he can tell he chuckles.

"So you wanna try it or no?" He stares at you the fridge door open and an opened marmalade jar in his hands. He waits for your response.

It's not like you're allergic to it, why would hurt just to try it. Plus jungkook looks like he really wants you to try it.

"Sure" you agree, "couldn't hurt"

He closes the fridge and grabs a tiny spoon. He's now standing in front of you spoon digging into the jar, and when you see him scoop a large amount you hum in disagreement.

"What?" He looks at you

"That's too much" he looks at the spoon.

"It's not too much" it is too much.

"It is jungkook"

"Come on, you can take it." He moves closer to you moving the spoon to your lips. You move your head.

"It's too much"

"Come on baby you've taken much more" you scoff.

"That wasn't jam jungkook " he chuckles knowing it's true. "That's going to be too sweet" you nod towards the spoon.

"Plus I told you I don't like it"

He sighs. "Come on take it for me. You won't eat everything"

You look at him with a raised brow.

"Please"

It's not that big of a deal so you nod and open your mouth slightly, jungkook smiles and brings the spoon to your mouth. The sweet jam meets your lips and some goes onto your tongue. You can immediately taste the sweetness and citrus flavour.

Jungkook tilts the spoon wanting you to take everything. He's such a liar. When you realise what he's doing you start to hum for him to stop, but he doesn't, it amuses him actually. You turn your head away and in your struggle you cause some marmalade to fall off the spoon and into your open chest. You whine jungkook's name as you look at the drop of jam on your chest.

"Look at what you've done y/n" he says in a lecturing tone. Your eyes widen as you see him bend to your chest , his hands on both sides of you holding the counter.

"W-what are you doing?" You know what he's doing, and it makes your chest rise up and down at a quick rate. And now that he's by your chest you're sure he can see it.

"I'm cleaning your mess" he says and the way his eyes watch yours from under you makes you push your body close to him. He sinks in lower his breath now on your chest. His sleek tongue meets your skin licking the jam right off you, you lean your head back giving jungkook more room to roam.

"Sweet" he mumbles against your skin as he moves up to place a wet kiss on your neck.

"So how does it taste" he asks moving back to watch your flushed face. You even forgot about the taste of the marmalade, only remembering how jungkook felt against your skin.

"Uhh" you search your brain to see if it remembers what the marmalade tastes like. And after a hard fight to get through the thoughts of jungkook you remember.

"Not bad. Seeing that you made it yourself" he watches your face as you speak, finding joy in the way you say things.

"But i still don't like it " jungkook moves away from you, and you can physically feel the feeling of his loss of presence from you. You watch him as he takes back the jar.

"You will one day"

You roll your eyes at that.  Nothing can make you like marmalade.

You and jungkook talk about somethings, nothing to deep. Just some Harry Potter stuff. You go back and forth arguing about some situations in the movies and you laugh at the opinions he has and he scoffs at some of yours.  You never knew jungkook liked Harry Potter nor did he know you liked it too.

"I could've had voldemort on his knees in he first movie" you roll your eyes

"Oh please. You wouldn't survive."

"Have you even these?" He proceeds to flex his biceps for you and you burst out laughing showing him your pretty smile. Has he ever told you,you have a pretty smile. He joins you in your fit of laughter.

As you calm down from your laughter and have nothing else to laugh about or say, your mind begins to wonder why jungkook brought you here. You know why he brought you here but you don't know why he's taking so long with it, you thought licking marmalade off your bare chest was a perfect opening but he didn't use it. Most of the time it doesn't take long before both of you are at eachother. But today he's taken so much time that you've even gotten the time to talk about your personal hobbies, likes and dislikes. Which you haven't done before.

But you have enjoyed just talking with jungkook. Getting to know somethings you didn't before like he can make and likes marmalade or that he also likes Harry Potter.  Its nice to just talk like this. But you want to know why he brought you here still. Does he just wanna chat?

"Anywany why did you bring me over " a little straight forward but you want to know.  You don't wanna put your mind or any other vital organ in the wrong places.

"To hang out of course" he doesn't convince you and you keep a raised brow at him while he smiles suspiciously at you.

Hangout you did do. If you're talking about lips then yes you guys did hangout. You knew he didn't bring you here for fun and you're kinda happy that he got on with it immediately after you asked why he brought you to his home. You missed his touch, soft sweet touches like his marmalade.

And afterwards you left just like every other night. But tonight your thoughts are filled with wondering what other things jungkook might like.

-

You were chilling in the living room when jungkook came over to visit your brother.  He tried to kick you out of the living but you refused.

"You found me here" you say. Your brother, kept  bickering with you but you stood your ground. You notice jungkook chuckle at your bickering.

"It's fine maybe she's watching a good movie " jungkook says pointing to the movie you're watching and stopping your pointless arguing.  Your brother sighs giving in, why didn't he just do that instead of arguing with you.

"Brought these" he hands you a bag and your brother a bag.

"What's this?" Your   brother asks.

"Just some snacks"

"Thanks bro"

You can hear them talk in the background as you open the bag jungkook gave to you. Immediately you open it the citrus smell hits your senses and you scoff. You reach into the bag and pull out a sandwich in a clear zip lock bag. You analyse the substance in-between the bread.

Scoff.

You roll your eyes at jk and find him looking at you,  winking when your eyes meet. You roll your eyes and scoff placing the bag onto your side. He really thinks you're gonna eat it, or make you like it. Instead you take the drink that was in the bag and take a sip of that instead.

You don't pay much attention to your brother and jungkook's conversation, your eyes focused on the screen. But your casually steal glances of jungkook hoping he doesn't notice.

Your attention is caught when you hear your brother mention a girls name. Seems like he's talking about a girl he has his eyes on. They keep talking about it for some time until you hear your brother say.

"What's the name of the girl you're fucking?"

The air in your lungs is swept out when your brother asks that question.  Is he talking about you? If he was he wouldn't look this chilled about it.  But you still feel kinda anxious cause what if jungkook says your name. So you look at him but he's eyes aren't on you but you feel like that grin on his face is directed to you.

"Yuji" your brother exclaims remembering the name. Jungkook turns to look at you with that smirk and watches how your face relaxes. He chuckles at that and turns back to your brother.

"Yeah that's her name"

"How is she"

"She's okay I guess. It's not like we're dating for me to care" jungkook leans back onto the couch.

"You and your fuckboy ways"

"Don't say it like that" jungkook chuckles "I'm not a fuck boy.  I just don't commit"

Your brother gives a whatever-you-say hum. You start to feel a little awkward and weird in the room. You know jungkook doesn't commit but being reminded of it causes a pinch in your chest. You know better than to think anything more of what you and jungkook do. But it still kind of affects you.

"You can keep your badboy persona as long as you leave my sister out of it" you roll your eyes, why does he treat you like a child. It's so irritating.

"Don't worry..." jungkook turns to look at you, gaze filled with nothing but mischief.

"I'd never fuck or date your sister"

-

"You're bad for not eating my sandwich."

Jungkook speaks through your speaker. His voice low and you know he's laid back on his bed shirtless while a movie plays in the background.  You know cause onetime on a video call he was in that same position,  very distracting position.

"But you knew I wouldn't eat it" you say playing with the strings of your pajama shorts.

"Yes but I had hope you never hated me enough to not eat it"

You can hear him shuffle against his sheets. You chuckle

"You put your hope in the wrong places jeon"

As simple as your words are and unbeknownst to you, those words find a way to jungkook's heart.

You were right he did put his hope in the wrong places,  he did it so many times and foolishly that he swore to himself he'd  ever place his hope anywhere again.

"Gone silent?" he didn't even realise that until you spoke.

"Fuck no.."

"You just talk a lot. Was hoping you'd shut up"

You laugh cause you know he's just joking with you.

"I'll never shut up"

"If I was there you would " you can hear his cheeky and playful tone. If he was here you'd definitely shut up, even from across the phone jungkook's words always seem to find you and cause a swarm of butterflies to swarm in your stomach.

"Fuck off: you manage to say trying to hide the excitement caused by his words.

"Wanna come over"  and the butterflies are buzzing at this point. You wanna say yes but you remember his statement earlier and you take this time to tease him.

"After you told my brother you'd never fuck his sister "

Jungkook's low and deep chuckle follows after and you feel the ripples it causes in you.

"What can I say...I'm a good liar"

"How do you think I'm able to keep our little secret?"

You roll your eyes at his cheeky and proud tone. He's so full of himself.

"I'll be there soon" you hear Jungkook hum before you cut the call and prepare an excuse like; I'm going to one of my friend's house. You don't even need to tell your brother where you're going but you do it just so he knows you're okay.

-

"I'd never fuck or date your sister"

"I'd never fuck or date your sister"

"I'd never fuck or date your sister"

Thay phrase has been playing on your mind quite often lately,  you don't even understand why. Would jungkook really never date, did he say that seriously or was he saying that just for your brother. You know jungkook doesn't date but if he did, Would he date you? That's all you wanna know it's not like you care but you just want to know if you're date-able in jungkook's eyes. That's all you wanna know. That all.

"So you won't eat my marmalade sandwich but you'll eat that " you hear a voice speak and you don't even have to turn to know who it's for. Instead you turn your eyes to what you assume the voice is talking about. A chocolate donut.

"Just tastes professionally made" you say finally turning to the man standing by the table. He's in black sweats and a black hoodie. He always looks so good in that hoodie.

"These hands are professional babe... and you should know that"

You scoff at that and wonder what he's doing here.  Since when does jungkook come to the café on a weekday.

"Maybe my marmalade isn't good?" he pouts. You know he's sad look is just a facade, jungkook never gets emotional around you and you're not sure how you'd handle it cause jungkook always seems like an emotionally well put together person and you admire that. He doesn't let things get to him or atleast he doesn't show it.

"Your marmalade isn't bad. I told you I just don't like marmalade" you take a sip of your coffee as jungkook watches you intently. His mind slips into a thought and he smirks at it before speaking.

"Why don't I show you how to make it and maybe you'd like it after" he straightens his figure making him appear even taller than he did before. Why is he so head in about making you like marmalade.

"At my place tonight" he says winking at you causing to smile.you wonder if he genuinely wants to teach you or its just an excuse to do your little shenanigans. You're still thinking about what he's just said and before you respond you're interrupted by a soft feminine voice calling out jungkook's name. He turns his to eyes the girl who latches herself onto jungkook's arm.

She smiles up at him and he smiles back at her.

"Okay maybe not tonight...but I'll text you when"

The smile you had on your face had been wiped off at this point. You didn't notice but you were glaring at the girl, if looks could kill she'd be dead. You're not sure what emotion is triggered in you but you know its not anything friendly. You were excited about the idea of going to jungkook's tonight and you were gonna tell him yes, after playing hard to get a bit. But this long haired mini skirt wearing chick has ruined it. Looking at her description, she must be yuri. Doesn't make anything better.

You hadn't responded to jungkook and the nudge on your shoulder reminds you to do so. You nod not saying anything, afraid that if you opened your mouth you'd spew profanities at her, so instead you just nod finally moving your burning gaze off of her. She hasn't noticed your look cause her eyes are either glued to her phone or to jungkook.  She can't even bother to introduce herself. BRAT .

"OKAY see ya marmalade girl " he says walking away with the girl arm in arm with the food they just ordered.

You scoff. And after you do that you catch yourself. Why does it bother you so much, you don't care you shouldn't care. It just makes you a little mad,  just a little.  But you shouldn't feel this way, it doesn't matter whatever you feel, jungkook is never gonna change his ways and you should get used to that if you're gonna keep fucking jungkook.

Sigh.

You wish you hadn't said yes. Maybe it would've been better if your brother found out than you having to feel these unknown and unspoken emotions. Which are one-sided.

-

You've been unconsciously and unwilling waiting for the text jungkook promised to send you. Well he didn't promise but it did feel like one.  He doesn't even need to call you over, it's okay if he's changed his mind. That's what you've been telling yourself.

Your heart has been on the edge this week, especially when you hear that little notification sound. But after two weeks, felt like forever, he finally seemed to remember his promise and texted you.

"Wash your hands" he says to you. "I don't know what you've been touching" you roll your eyes at him and glare at him. You should be the one telling him that. Seeing that you've been hearing  about him and yuri together.  You don't even mean to indulge yourself in rumours but you can't help it when you hear jungkook's name especially if it's side by side with a girl's name. Cause you might never know one day that girl's name might be yours and that's a day you dread. Even the thought causes your heart to physically ache.

Jungkook hands you an apron and you admire the little orange whirly pattern on it. Its so cute. Kinda reminds you of what a grandma would have in their kitchen.  You'd never pin jungkook as the type of person who would care about having to wear an apron whilst in the kitchen,  but by the look of things he looks like he takes it very seriously.

"Careful we don't want a bloody marmalade" he says noticing the way your hand slipped when cutting the orange.  You really hoped he didn't notice but he did. You aren't usually the nervous kind in the kitchen in most situations you're usually what jungkook is right now in the kitchen, the teacher. But you do feel nervous under jungkook's gaze currently,  that's what's making you so clumsy. He watches you so closely and you feel kinda suffocated by his presence even though he isn't standing so close to you. He doesn't need to be close to you to make you feel small and vulnerable under him.

"Why do you even like MARMALADE so much" its more of a rhetorical question to tease him for his interest in Marmalade so much.

"I don't know" he starts.

"It's just got a taste I can't find anywhere else" he whispers into your ear, you didn't even notice that he moved his lips to your ear, the waves of his sudden tone sending electric waves to your core. The way he says it so calm and sure almost like he's speaking to you but you know he's just talking about Marmalade.

You muster up the courage to only hum not knowing what might leave your mouth if you opened it. Maybe a plea for jungkook to just bend you over right here over his counter.

"Now that that you're done we can start" you didn't even realise you had finished,  you're pretty sure jungkook watched you peel air for some time before deciding that he was amused enough by your lost look. He can tell what you're thinking, he knows when you get like that. And he loved watching your mind get lost in thoughts cause of him. He loved how your pupils would distance and you'd bite your lower lip thinking about him, he knew you were thinking about him. But he'd never dare tell you he knows cause he's afraid you'd might get shy and stop doing it, he knows you get shy sometimes and he likes it especially when it's him you get really shy for.

But he thinks you're so cute when you get shy cause of him.

Has he ever told you that?

It wasn't long after jungkook set the jam to boil that he had you bent over the counter pounding into you mercilessly. He couldn't hold in the burning feeling inside his lower belly anymore, with the way that shirt is hugging your breasts and the way he's been wondering if you're wearing his favourite panties inside those sweats of yours. You were. He loves these panties he kinda felt sad at the thought of removing them. So he didn't. He rubbed your heat and fucked you with your panties on.

You never knew how much of a turn on it was until now. Being bent over with your panties still on your face against his cold marble counter as he fucks into you.

A taste I can't find anywhere else.

He keeps thinking about that as you clench around him soon milking him for all he's got. Your little whimpers and whines guiding his movements.  He smirks as pride rushes through his veins at your occasional call of his name.

-

"Since when do you like MARMALADE?" Your brother asks you watching as you place the little jar into the fridge.

"I don't like it, jk just gave me some of what w-he made... I'm not even going to eat it" you close the fridge, turning to face your brother who shrinks his eyes at you.

"Did you know jungkook makes marmalade?" You say chuckling remembering your reaction to when you first found out.

"I did " he says not sounding as enthusiastic or excited like you, then you realise you probably shouldn't be so excited about anything to do with jungkook in front of your brother.

"I'd never say this to his face but even though I don't like it, I think it tastes quite good." You shrug in your own thoughts.

He watches you like a detective trying to decipher your facial expression. He doesn't think much of it only wondering why you're getting marmalade from jungkook or how you even got to find out that he makes marmalade.

"Are you hanging out with jk now?" The question comes out sharp and brutal and it snaps you out of your thoughts,  you turn to your brother who has his hands folded in suspicion.

"He just gave me some marmalade. What's the big deal?" You shrug it off hoping he doesn't pry. Did you fuck this up for you and jungkook.

"Don't get too close to him. He might be my friend but he will fuck you over if you get too comfortable" you know he's saying this cause he just cares about you and is trying to protect you. But he doesn't need to protect you from jungkook, you don't think jungkook would fuck you over like that. He might not be the most affectionate or open but you doubt he'd ever fuck you over. He's not like the other fuck boys you know, he's not even a fuck boy in your opinion.

But you do understand where your brother is coming from.

"I'm not even talking to him in that way. I don't even talk to him" your face grows sadder cause your brother is right, you can't put all your trust into jungkook, like you did the others, he might end up fucking you over too.

"That's how it starts. Plus he's my friend not yours" he says coldly as he walks out, his words prick at your heart and you're reminded of your place.

You never actually thought you and jungkook would come this far with your fucking around,  you thought it'd be a one time thing but it ended up not being that.

Do you regret it? No.

You just hate how the after effects feel, the realisation and the effort you have to put in to hide it from your brother. It's been such a burden on you lately on your heart causing you to feel things you can't explain. You just wish jungkook wasn't your Brother's friend. In another universe maybe. 

That night while having your nightly thoughts you got a text from jungkook.

[Jk] have you tried it yet?

You were glad that he was the one to text you in that moment especially with the way you're feeling, it's like he knows. But that's what you think he probably doesn't know and is texting you oblivious to your racing mind that always seemed to be calmed down by his presence even though he was the reason why your mind has been going crazy nowadays.

[You] Not yet.

you text back as soon as you can.

[Jk] why not?

[Jk] are you waiting to try it together?😏

And there goes the blush on your cheeks and the butterflies in your stomach.

[You] That doesn't sound like a bad idea.

you hope you sound confident through this text cause you aren't feeling quite like it while sending it.

[Jk] should we the next time we hang out?

Hang out? He honestly shouldn't even call it a hangout cause you do anything but hangout. Maybe he should call it a pending fuck session.

[You] sure that will be great.

you hope you don't sound desperate.

[You] and can you send me a written recipe

you've wanted him to send you one for some time you don't even know why cause you aren't even interested in Marmalade.

[Jk] is marmalade girl interested in making marmalade🤨

You can hear his mocking tone from behind that text and you scoff sending him the rolling eyes emoji.

[You] No

[You] Just wanna know how to just in case

[Jk] just in case what?

You feel the conversation turn a little emotional.

[You] just in case I wanna practice making it and you aren't around.

That's bullshit and you know it, you never plan on making marmalade you just said that cause you don't have an excuse for that message you sent. Its like marmalade is the only way you'll ever get to know more about jungkook and so you're gonna use it. You should honestly take heed of the warnings your brother gave you.

Don't get too comfortable.

Honestly you shouldn't why the fuck do you even want to know more about jungkook. You should honestly just stick to fucking and calling it a night its always been better that way.  You're not sure what other problems might arise from trying to get to know jungkook.

[Jk] I'm always gonna be around y/n

You'd honestly forgotten you were even talking about marmalade so when he said they it made a pull at a usual spot in your heart. A spot you left untouched and bruised.

[You] too sweet, you'll make it spoil

(Its a jam joke) you try and set the scene back to a comfortable and unserious one.

You know jungkook gets the joke when he sends you the laughing emoji

[Jk] I'll send you the recipe

[Attachment sent]

Open

Firstly peel your freshly washed oranges...

Taglist: @skzthinker @kissyfacekoo @ohsweetmimosa @httpjeonlicious

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

i had an idea about Death Seeking creator! So imagine Kaeya is the one to find our diary.

Kaeya Albreich. Mr. Cool as ice, flirty McFlirts-a-lot, the second character we get automatically (and hardest to C6 HOYO RERUN HIS ASS ALREADY ITS BEEN 4 YEARS <_<)

The guy who already feels immense guilt over how things ended with diluc because of his heritage, finds his entry and it's just...so much hope and potential from the creator only for it to come crashing down in a fit of despair, because he was the FIRST TO KILL US

can you even begin to imagine how much MORE guilt he'd feel because of it?

an example: "I saw kaeya today! he's always been my favorite character, seeing him at the angels share makes this feel all the more real! I still don't know how i came here, but maybe with his help, he and i can persuade the knights to try and understand whats going on?"

*suspiciously dark red hand print stains the end of the page*

"i don't...i don't understand? did i do something wrong? i went up to talk to kaeya, but the moment i said hello, his eye narrowed at me and he attacked me with his sword! i ran, i ran so hard, all the way to starsnatch cliffs! but he kept following me, throwing shards of ice every chance he got. And that look on his face, it was so angry! it was like i had personally offended him, but i've never spoken to him before now! he backed me up to the cliffs edge, and with a single slash of his sword he...

...why did he kill me? what did i do wrong?"

MY WORD/pos

My mans can't catch a break can he? HE WOULD FEEL SO GUILTY

Though I don't think he would go guns blazing (or sword swing I should say-) immediately at the first encounter. I've already written on how I feel Kaeya would be with "imposters" (it's somewhere in the Death Seeking tag).

But with the diary idea added onto this the amount of guilt he would feel when reading the entry about his manipulation, seeing them curse him thinking he was different and actually wanting to help. GOD THAT WOULD TEAR UP HIS INSIDES.

And then seeing the more scribbled entries mentioning the next encounters they had where they freaked him out enough to attack out of fear and such. MAN

The amount of begging for forgiveness he would be doing is just incomprehensible. Like he would actually look like a dying pathetic man begging for his life. Omg my head is swirling over this its so good.

[vicsnook]

Good Luck, Babe! Pt. 2 | Jake Seresin x Reader

word count: 2004

warnings: mentions of abortion& throwing up

notes: Hey y’all! As promised, here is part 2 for Good Luck, Babe! Hope y’all enjoy and part 3 is definitely coming soon. As always please don’t forget to like and reblog 🫶🏼.

I’m pregnant.

I slide down to the floor and sob. How could I have been so careless? How could I have let myself be in this situation? I can’t even take care of myself, let alone a baby. And the worst part is that Jake’s gone and I have no idea how to contact him.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, I finally feel steady enough to stand. God I wish Mer was still around, she would have been the only one to not judge and help me figure things out. I never realized how alone I’ve been until now.

Calling my mom is definitely out of the picture, I was already freaking out enough for the both of us. I do know having this baby would be the most irresponsible thing I could do. I can hardly afford my apartment and to get groceries as it is. But before making that kind of decision, I need to talk to Jake.

Unfortunately for me, it’s only Monday and the Hard Deck is only open on the weekend. I check to see if I still have Mickey’s number but of course I deleted it. Just my luck, guess I’ll just have to wait till Friday to hopefully break the news.

-

I stare at the Hard Deck from the front seat of my car while getting major deja vu from the night everything changed. Peering around the parking lot, I don’t spot Jake’s truck or Mickey’s car. Finally, after what feels like hours but was really only 5 minutes, I open the car door and head inside. It’s now or never.

The bar looks exactly the same as last time minus Jake and Mickey. I check all over and they’re nowhere to be found. Worry starts to creep in that I’m going to have to do this all alone.

I take a seat at the very end of the bar and the bartender comes right over. “What’s it gonna be, honey?” she asks, looking at me pitifully with her big brown eyes. “Just water, please,” I respond, feeling like she can see right through me.

I nursed my drink for almost an hour before giving up. Heading out to the beach, I notice the sun starting to set and couples walking hand in hand by the shore. Tears well up in my eyes as reality starts to finally sink in but I swallow them back down, hoping he might still show.

Making my way to the car, I notice the parking lot is now even more packed than when I arrived. I peer around the rows looking for Jake’s truck but still no luck. Sighing, I get in my car and let the tears fall down.

Putting the car in reverse, I look in my rearview mirror and immediately put the car back in park once I catch a glimpse of him. Am I dreaming or re-living that night?

I hurry out of the car and sprint towards the door but once I make it inside, regret fills me up from head to toe. How can I do this? Maybe I should just leave. But I don’t even make it to the door when his hand catches mine and spins me around to face him.

Those green eyes that gave me the best night of my life and also left me with the worst result, now are staring into mine. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks, while leading me to a table in the corner. “Is everything okay?” he says, turning my face up to look at him and I can see concern etch in his features when he notices the tear stains on my cheeks.

I sit down on the chair and brace myself to say what will surely change everything. “I’m pregnant.” His eyes widen and I regret the words that just came out of my mouth as he looks down, digesting what I just said. “Are you sure?” He finally manages to say and I nod, wishing the Earth would just swallow me whole.

“Let’s go somewhere else. This isn’t a good place to talk about this,” He blurts out, getting up. “There’s no need for that Jake. I just came to tell you and to say that I’m not keeping it.” He stares at me in disbelief and I know whatever he says next, I definitely won’t like.

“Are you crazy!? You’re not getting rid of our baby. Absolutely not. Now come on,” He hisses, grabbing onto my arm and practically dragging me out of the bar while I plead with him to let me go. Thankfully when we make it to the door, someone bumps into Jake.

“The lady asked you to let go of her arm Bagman,” says the man in the Hawaiian shirt who has the best mustache I’ve ever seen. His smug look tells me that this probably isn’t good.

“Mind your fucking business Rooster,” Jake says, his face turning red with anger as he tries to pull us around Rooster. But before we can make it out the door, once again Rooster has blocked our path.

“Let go of her right now, or I will have Penny ring the bell on your ass,” threatens Rooster to which Jake chuckles sarcastically. “I mean it, Hangman.”

“It’s okay, really,” I whisper from behind Jake. Beginning to get uncomfortable by the stares we were getting. All I want is to leave and pretend this never happened.

Jake looks back at me and gives me a grateful smile then turns back around. “You heard her, Rooster.”

Rooster looks over at me again and I nod reassuringly , trying to make him move which he thankfully does and I feel his eyes on my back until we’re outside the bar.

The weather is muggy and the smell of cigarettes makes me feel sick. Before I can even make it into the car, I pull my arm out of Jake’s grasp and bend over, throwing up on the bushes. His hand immediately goes around my waist to steady me while his other one holds onto my hair which normally would make me smile but I can’t focus while emptying the contents of my stomach.

After catching my breath and wiping my mouth with my shirt, I feel Jake’s hands pull back. All I wanted to do was turn around and cry on his chest but instead, I head to the car while he follows.

His hand closes my driver's side door as I try opening it and I turn around annoyed. “What Jake? You left. No note, nothing. I came here to tell you as a courtesy. Now please move, I don’t feel well and just want to go home.” I half yell, exasperated, he still looks angry but at the mention of my well being his anger dissipates and is immediately replaced with concern.

“Let me drive you home so I can explain please. I’ll Uber back here for my truck.” He pleads, and being that I still felt sick and a headache was starting, I consider it. But I think back to him leaving and decide against it. “I’m fine, Jake. Please let me go.”

Unfortunately, my words immediately betray me as I push him off to the side and turn around to throw up again in the grass.

“See, you’re not fine, I’m taking you home. End of discussion.” Jake states firmly as he leads me to the passenger seat and takes my keys.

Thankfully he remembered where I lived so the drive was silent. The only thing I knew for sure was that this was bound to be another long night and not the fun kind.

-

Once inside, he helped me over the couch and went to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.

“How come your fridge is empty? He asks, looking at me curiously while taking a seat beside me. My cheeks flush in embarrassment as I answer. “Being a paralegal doesn't pay much, Jake. That’s why I can’t keep this baby, I can hardly afford myself as it is.”

He looks ashamed before quickly replying,“Honey, it wouldn't just be you who’s responsible for this baby. I can afford it and more. We’ll probably have to get married so that you can -”

“Married!? Have you lost your mind?” I shriek. What the hell was he thinking? A month ago he hit it and quit it and now he was proposing wedding bells. I think I’m going to be sick again. But he continues on like my reaction didn’t happen.

“Well yes, darlin’. I know we got some steps out of order but you’re having my child, of course, we’re getting married.” He says, like it’s common sense and I don’t if I want to kiss him or slap him.

“For fucks sake Jake, I hardly even know you. I can’t marry you nor can I have this baby.” I say, pulling my knees close to my chest while my head throbs in pain. God I wish I hadn’t let myself get so depressed when I realized what he did and thought of taking the morning after pill.

“Well we have 9 months to get to know each other and I think that’s plenty. People nowadays marry even sooner than that.”

His tone so matter of fact it made me want to strangle him. This couldn’t be happening, surely I’m just having a nightmare. Jake definitely isn't in my living room proposing we get married and be a family, right?

But after pinching my arm he was still there watching me. I needed time to think but with him there it’s like any rational thought flies out the window.

“Jake, I need some space. Please. I’ll think about what you said but right now all I want is to be alone.” He opens his mouth to object but I add, “You can come back tomorrow, I’ve just had enough today. I promise, we’ll talk some more then.”

After a moment of consideration, he nods in agreement and gets up, extending a hand out to me and I look at him confused. “Let me put my phone number on your phone, and promise me you’ll call me if you need anything.”

I nod, handing him my phone and looking down while swallowing the lump on my throat. He hands me my phone back and I set it down beside me. His eyes find mine and he gives me a small comforting smile and I feel my heart flutter a little but before I can let it fill itself with hope I’m standing up and leading Jake to the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, looking up from his phone after ordering his uber. “Goodnight Jake.”

I close the door and lean against it, letting a few tears escape before quickly wiping them away and heading to the bathroom for a much needed shower. I sit on the floor of the shower and let myself cry it all out again, the only difference is that this time I cry because of Jake’s proposal rather than his absence.

My fingers are very pruned when I finally get out of the shower. I stare at myself in the mirror, turning sideways to see if a bump has begun to form but I’m met with none since it’s probably too early for that.

Finally I decide to go to bed, stopping by the living room to grab my phone. As I unlock it, I stop dead in my tracks, noticing that Jake’s contact name is Baby Daddy and that he texted me “I’m sticking around. I promise.”

My legs feel wobbly as I read it over and over again but thankfully I’m pulled away from obsessing over it by the doorbell. I look out the window and see no one but against my better judgment I open the door and look down to be met by a grocery delivery and some flowers.

Maybe things will be okay after all.

click here for part 3.

taglist: @rosiahills22, @harperdoodle, @weirdothatwritess, @mrsevans90

[hyacinthdoll1315]

3.5 Months of Moth HRT

So, um, hi again! Not much has changed since last time but well, feel like I should be updating this more. a few things have changed. My eyesight is a bit fuzzier now. not enough to need glasses at least! but stuff that's really far away has gotten more, smudged I guess?

I called the doc about it since I was worried about having another eye infection (eww) but apparently, it's not too uncommon to occur by this point, something about the eyes beginning to split? I wasn't able to pay attention to much of it (been so scatterbrained(maybe some more tea will help?) but I did some looking into insect eyes and it seems to be the case? something about less resolution.

my sense of smells really strong now, and I'm starting to find it affecting my emotions. like, you know how ants have this smell they leave when foraging? it, kind of makes me hungry now. not that I've been sticking around ants much! I'm a moth through and through thank you very much! (paperyum)

the biggest thing I think is my skin? I'm not quite sure but it kind of feels, tight? and it's been drying out easier. like, wearing a suit that's too small. not sure what that's about, but at least my setae is still growing!

Well, silver lining I guess.

look, that's, not why I decided to write this though, I just. I feel used, in a way. and I need to write it.

So, about a week ago I went to hang out with my friends again. they've been nice and as cool as always, but, I don't know, there's this kind of, disconnect? like, Only Alice (Tea friend!) has really tried to understand while the others have kind of just acted like nothing changed and teased me a bit as normal. I guess it's just ribbing, but, I don't know, I've never really agreed with it.

but uh, we went to the mall, which was kind of nice, the others wanted to watch a movie and go to the arcade, and it was kind of fun? though a little overstimulating (too loud and the movie was boring) I kept getting weird looks the whole time though, and I just. why? they kept looking at me like, I was strange, which I sort of get, but some seemed creeped out, others disgusted.

I used to be pretty oblivious (I admit, I am kind of naive) but now I just, I couldn't stop seeing it. Even when we went to get food, there was this look in people's eyes like I was, wrong. I even heard someone call me a "freak of nature", though maybe they were talking to someone else? (no, it was about me, definitely).

I tried telling the others I wanted to go somewhere else but they just kept saying it was fine and we could go do something else first. I didn't even get to go to my favorite teashop out of fear of losing the group!

Eventually, we stopped at this ramen place and I remember we were mostly joking around a bit. I was having my salad (meat tastes a bit weird now), I don't remember it all. I think someone said something and I felt hurt, said something like, "I can't help it", I think it was about having to be a vegetarian, and I remember one of my friends just, poked the top of my head and laughed at me, something like "well duh, a moth like you doesn't eat much. don't worry about it, just follow the lights." or, something like that I just.

I felt sick. I quickly got up to the bathroom and I think I heard Alice chastising them but I don't remember. I just, needed space. The whole lamp thing is so annoying! like, everyone acts like moths always move toward light when there's so much more going on there! humans may not know how it all works, but it's definitely not just what people think it is, like some infatuation with it!

After that, I just wanted out. the others acted like nothing happened, but, I don't think I can keep hanging around with them anymore. like, they're my friends, you know? they should be there to help! and they do, or at least Alice does. the others just tend to joke around and be silly.

so yeah, that's what happened. they've tried contacting me with stuff like "Hey Emily, we didn't mean anything by it" "We were just joking, Em", or just "Hey Emily, you coming for our next dnd session?" I think I'm going to stop talking to them, just reduce contact, say I'm busy with other stuff, anything to stay out of, that, again.

I haven't gone out in a bit, just been getting my groceries, got my tea, and been trying to relax. I just hope I can find people who can better understand.

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