#maybe the trick was too complicated

[djenxuelmxue]

Went to magic show with sister and niece

The. Magician actually. Called me up

Like picked on me in the aisle

I was in the back

For some reason I did what he said

I found myself in front of an audience on . stage

People

My leg was treming

I was scared to death he'd make me dance like the other ppl

He told me to do things but I'm not sure if I did it right lol

Withdrawal from meds or sth making my brain very slow

I hope I didn't ruin the magic

I tried to do it right and play along but it was . My brain slow plus being shaky and nor enough food.... aaaaaa

[quibbs126]

I was thinking about the idea of redesigning Dark Cacao (mostly because of the shoulder pads), and honestly, why didn’t they give him the Oreo shoulder pads from his beta?

I mean I guess the justification for his diamond shoulder pads is that they add more of that shape into his design, and the rest of his design is extremely angular so the curved Oreos might have clashed, but still

I think it would have been a way to tie back into Dark Choco’s design, and this particular shape of his shoulder pads is different and looks like it belongs to some above Dark Choco, like his father. So it’s tying in while being distinct

And considering Dark Choco’s like, the only character (at least as far as I can remember) who wears those Oreo pads, maybe it could be like a family thing

Like I don’t really see much of a point to getting rid of them, they would have worked great. And now I want to give Dark Cacao Oreo shoulder pads in headcanon designs

[senseiwu]

"Whys lloyd nicer to harumi than his dad"

I think you just answered the question right there. His dad.

Meant to love and support and be there for him

But Lloyd's whole life has been marked by things his father has done. And then s8 onwards kicks it up a whole bunch of notches.

He doesn't have to accept any changes, after all his father has done.

He's also like a thousand/s of years old.

It's probably easier to think that someone around your age, who's only been doing bad things the past few years, who you know is hurt too, can change more. That might hurt less.

...there's also the whole thing of. Manipulation having lasting effects lmao

[pastel-cryptids]

I hate youtube so fucking much

[cyborg-franky]

How do the boys (Zoro, Law, Kid and Ace) try to impress the girl they have a crush on? How do they act when their love is around? 👀💕

I have just had a week of being uncreative so I hope I didn't get too rusty. And I hope you enjoy this <3

I made it gender neurtral. Law x GN Reader Zoro x GN Reader Kid x GN Reader Ace x GN Reader

Law

He scoffs at the notion of showing off in front of anyone., let alone a crush. He’s not that kind of person. He doesn’t need to put on a show to impress you.

Law knows his superior intellect and amazing devil fruit are all he needs to impress you anyway.

Without realizing it, he’ll often info dump to you about the things he’s interested in, how to fix this bone, and how to treat that burn. 

He’s the kind of guy who needs you to know he’s the most intelligent person in the room.

That doesn’t mean there's nothing there, his crush means alot to him, and he can come across as an asshole when they are standing there listening to him over-explaining things.

He knows you think he’s a fantastic fighter. 

He doesn’t ask you what you thought of his moves, though. Instead, he listens intently to the chatter around the Tang, basking in your indirect praise and remembering what you liked about his performance the most. As long as you’re watching, he’ll aim to do better next time.

You are flattered he invites you to so many of his doctor duties, but you don’t need him to over explain taking blood, plus the needles, no thank you.

Zoro

Most of the time he’s not the type to go out of his way to impress anyone.

Maybe around his crush, he lifts heavier things, making sure their eyes are on him while he shows off.

But he’ll act like it’s nothing that he goes this hard every workout session.

When he’s resting, he flexes and gives you a little show.

Zoro thinks he’s smooth, but it’s really obvious to you.

How he smirked at your reaction when he picked up another weight seemingly effortlessly, though he could feel the strain.

He's the type of guy who is always lifting whenever his crush is around. 

He was still acting nonchalant as you complimented his form, impressed with how much weight he was pressing. 

He also loves to show off his sword techniques in front of you when a battle breaks out. His focus never wavers, but there is that little extra something he puts on just for you.

Kid

He’s a show-off, and he knows it. He gets louder and more volatile than usual. He has to make comments loudly to get your attention.

He works out in front of you whenever he gets a chance, putting on a theatrical display of his powers just for you. Not just in battle but as a general: Look what I can do! He claims he’s just fixing up the ship, but he needs your attention and praise as he swirls metal around in the sky, making things appear from thin air and turning junk into treasure.

“Get a load of this,” he barks, smirking as his metal arm grows. His massive fist clenches as he eyes you up, greedily absorbing every expression. 

“Pretty fuckin’ impressive, huh?” Oh, you know he knows it is, but you humor him by agreeing. You see how he puffs up his chest proudly cackles as he sends junk flying, making sure you can see just how powerful he is.

Ace

Ace is strange, he’s both full of himself and lacks self confidence.

He’s on the striker, enjoying the nice weather and playing around with the waves, just needing off the main ship, doing tricks on his personal boat.

“Oh wow, Ace!” his attention snaps to you as you watch him.

That’s when he starts trying to impress you, knowing you like what you see. “Oh yeah? Check this out then!” He calls, a big grin on his freckled face. He uses his fire to power the striker, going faster and faster, fighting against the waves as he pulls off more complicated and challenging tricks, all for you.

His attention is always half on what he’s doing and how the expression on your face changes with each stunt, getting more daring.

He loves it, loves your claps, adores how you gasp, knowing you care about him. Everything goes to his head as the tricks get elaborate.

He always tries to show off whenever you're around from that day forward.

[gojoest]

BOUNDARIES — gojo satoru

roommate!satoru, expanding on this post here, he’s obsessed and perverted, but you’re not exactly a saint either — i call it a perfect match

MDNI, f!reader, roommates/housemates au, not as explicit per se but he jerks off to your pictures and when given the chance he peeps at you, wants to fuck you so bad, not proofread, tenses might be messy i typed and hit post, dividers by @/saradika-graphics, wc: 1.3k

satoru never really thought that a roommate could complicate his life this much.

at first it was a minor problem.

maybe he was sexually frustrated — was what he thought — this must be what’s causing his body to react to you the way it does.

this must be why he would get hard around you all the time — watching you dash around the house in your shorts that barely covered your ass, a loose t-shirt tossed on top, no bra under it — he could tell, because he always watched really carefully, almost anticipating the moment your nipples would get hard and poke the fabric from beneath. he’d often wonder what they actually looked like, and how sensitive they were.

this must also be why he would often get hard because of you — stepping into the bathroom right after you were done showering, the sweet scent of your shampoo and shower gel wafting through the air still would pick at his senses. he’d close his eyes and try to picture you.

he would think of himself as a shameless man, getting off to the image of you in his mind, or the remnants of your scent around the house. but his desires would quickly deafen that shame as he oozed his seed out and onto the bathroom tiles. the thought of your feet touching that very ground he just unloaded on did it for him. like he was secretly marking you.

see, without realizing, the minor problem had already gotten out of hand. it was not as minor anymore.

he didn’t remember when exactly he had tossed the porn aside and started scrolling through your instagram instead whenever he jerked off. there was one picture of you in a crop top that he really loved. it was his favorite in fact. he’d put his finger on the screen, right where your belly button showed, and he’d bite his lips with lust. “here— when i put it in, it would reach up to here, right?”

he was down bad at this point, he knew it. and it was only getting worse. unsure whether it was his sick, perverted thoughts that played a trick on his mind, but he would often wonder if you were testing him sometimes, tempting him on purpose. to see when he’d break.

live with someone for long enough and sometimes you see things that you shouldn’t. a bit more flesh here and there. topless, bottomless, or fully naked when doors are left ajar. after all, you share the same space and accidents like these are bound to happen. you turn around and you walk away. and you don’t ever speak of it, out of courtesy and to avoid the awkwardness.

but satoru couldn’t quite do that. he had reached his breaking point.

were you just being careless now? or were you a temptress in disguise? why would you leave the door to your room open when freshly out of the shower? when you knew well that he was at home too? that he could walk by and see?

it’s not as much of a curiosity as it is a human reflex to look what’s inside when you see an opening, right? naturally, his gaze would drift through the crack in the door, right? — satoru kept convincing himself that it was okay to just take a quick peek.

the towel unwrapping itself and sliding down a freshly bathed body, damp with droplets of the shower water still on your skin, as you reached your hands up to dry your hair with a smaller cloth. “tch”, you clicked your tongue, glancing at the towel on your feet. bending down — the crack of your ass spreading as your body curled, divulging the way to your lips and what lied between them — you picked it back up and put it around your body again.

live with someone long enough and sometimes you see things that you shouldn’t. but when you do, you turn around and you walk away.

yet,

satoru’s feet did not move. what did though was the thing attached between them. his cock, now hard and copiously leaking as the quick peeking turned into a long staring.

call it lust clouding his rational thinking or a moment of weakness — or perhaps even both — he pushed the door wide open and barged in, with a full erection on display.

“are you testing me or are you forgetting that you live with a man?”

you turned around to look at him. a nonchalant smile on your lips, you crossed your arms over your waist and shrugged. not even slightly bit startled or taken aback by his sudden intrusion — as if you were expecting him. “i was wondering when that man would be man enough to actually make a move on me instead of fisting himself to my pictures every night. how does this answer your question, roomie?”

satoru chuckled as he charged towards you in a slow pace. “it’s a relief to know i am not the only pervert in this house”

busted, huh?

-

you knew. of course, you did. he wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was. even if he tried his best not to moan, his breathing was rash and loud, the way his hand slapped against his flesh was frantic and loud too, and the walls — the walls were thin enough to hear it all.

after a while, considering how regular he was with these activities, the curiosity got the best of you. you kept wondering — what kind of porn was a man like him watching? what was the thing that made him, gojo satoru, crumble so desperately while fucking his hand? was it just the porn, or was there something more? could that something be a someone, perhaps?

if you peeked into his room, would you find any clue?

many times you tried to reason with yourself, that it was none of your business what your roommate did behind closed doors. yet your feet ended up taking you to his room while he was out, and you found yourself rummaging through his things like an obsessed psycho ex.

nothing.

no trace to hint at the existence of someone in his life causing him to lose his mind every night. no pictures on the walls nor on his desk, not even inside the drawers. nothing.

but then again, you came here to find the porn, and his laptop was conveniently open and accessible. do not stray from your path, you told yourself, just check the browser history and go away.

funny enough, it did not lead to any porn sites. but even funnier, it was filled with multiple visits to your instagram account. every night, around the time he would take care of himself.

so— there was someone, huh? and that someone happened to be you. a sense of satisfaction swelled inside of you, your lips curled into a triumphant grin now that you knew, that it was you all along.

should you perhaps tease him a little, and see when he breaks?

-

“don’t lump me in with the likes of you — you are the pervert, i was simply curious”, you huff.

“that curiosity of yours is violating my privacy though”, satoru smugly remarked, although he knew he was not one to talk.

his bulge was visible from afar but now that he was close enough, your eyes picked on the huge, wet stain on his crotch as well. he leaked at the sight of you, huh? how cute. truth be told, the state of him right now was making the slick gathered in the opening of your cunt slowly roll down the inner of your thigh. you wondered if he could smell it.

“because peeping at me through the door isn’t a violation of mine”

“you don’t seem to mind it though”, he scanned your lower half, and smirked.

damn, he could smell it.

he continued, “but let’s set some boundaries, all right?”

you raised an eyebrow, questioning, while your eyes followed the movement of his hand as it reached for your belly, thumbing over your navel in slow circular motions.

“how about, up to here?”, his thumb pressed against your belly button. “i’ll stop once i get right here, okay?”

[lovedrruunk]

'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Prologue

In which Joel plays cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

"Ain't lesbians s'pposed to date girls?"

not proof read :P

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

"How 'bout the Johnson's daughter? I heard she was um... sapphic... Is that the right term...?"

"God you're so bad at this!"

Ellie rolled her eyes as she continued to play with her food at the dinner table. For the past couple of weeks, Joel had been slowly encouraging Ellie to 'put herself out there,' whatever that meant. And so with the recent news of her two best friends becoming a thing, he'd only gotten more relentless. It's not like she didn't want a girlfriend; it was just complicated and definitely a lot harder than Joel thought it was. Jackson was a small town, and finding someone who clicked with her, who understood her, felt almost impossible.

"I'm just saying Ellie" he continued "She's smart, she's nice, and from what I heard she likes girls. Seems like a good match to me."

Ellie sighed stabbing a piece of broccoli with her fork. "It's not that simple Joel. You can't just put two lesbians in a room together and expect fireworks."

There was a short silence before Ellie looked up to see Joel furrowing his eyebrows looking at the wall behind her seemingly lost.

"Oh my god, Joel!"

"I mean c'mon are ya sure?" He said defensively. "That is how it usually seems to go."

"Ok- well- not all the time! Anyway that's not the point... Besides, she's barely gay. She only kisses girls as a party trick." Ellie murmurs looking back down at her food.

"Off the list." He mutters to himself just as quietly as he continues to eat.

"Not that I am endorsing this but just who else is on this 'list'?"

"Tracy, Mai, Cat, Y/N, Monet-"

"Y/N?"

"Y/N."

"There's no way she's into girls." She says unimpressed.

"You seen her?"

Ellie was silent for a while as she imagined the girl in her head. Yeah no way. 'She's too perfect to be gay.' 'That sounds bad Ellie you can't say that.' You were just so... you. When Joel and Ellie had first arrived in Jackson you had been the first one to introduce her to the others your age. You showed her kindness and helped her get situated into her new life. She would remember how you would often invite her over for dinner with your family, making her feel welcome in a town where she initially felt like an outsider. You'd help her with chores, tell her about the best spots in Jackson as well as who to look out for and who to trust. But after the first couple of months, you two had slowly fallen out. Ellie had Dina and Jesse, and you had your own friends. But, of course, with you being next door neighbors the two of you would still interact from time to time. Ellie’s positive view of you never changed, you were still the sweet girl who had helped her years ago. She remembered the times you’d both sit on her porch, talking about dreams and plans for a future that always seemed so uncertain to her yet you were always so sure of it. All your hopes for the future, the places you wanted to visit, the things you wanted to study, Ellie had wondered if you still had all the same goals. And all this to say; you are not gay. If this was just a way to convince herself that she'd never have a chance or if it was a way to get Joel to back off, she didn't know or care.

"Gone quiet. You fond of her?" He said with an accusing smile.

"Nope." She stands abruptly, handling her plate before walking over to the kitchen to place it in the sink. "Thanks for dinner. I'm going to bed, goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replied watching her as she scurried up the stairs with a knowing smile.

Ellie laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. As much as she hated to admit it, Joel was right. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to talk to you more, to get to know you all over again. Maybe there was a chance, however small, that you would feel the same fondness towards her as she felt for you. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

Next chapter! (chapter 1)

Authors note!!! chat is this shocking? wdym u thought this was an Overwatch blog whaaat wdym idk what that is... FIRST SERIES U GUYS lets hope it doesn't end up discontinued ermmm if it does whoopsy. I am physically unable to post something more than 600 words so each chapter will kinda be one shot style! I was tired of all the serious modern AU smutty ellie fics (as good as they are!) i needed something silly so i had to take matters into my own hands im afraid

[nimblermortal]

Eh, not just toy breeds. Gamut is twenty-five pounds of poodle and lab, two retrieving water breeds, and she'll retrieve for a spot of fun and swim if it means following her humans, but her job is to be soft and calm when I can't be, and she does it well. Her job is to make sure I go on walks, so she knows when the walk times are and gets fidgety at those times. Her job is to get me out of the house, and sometimes that means she's coming with me to get the steam cleaner from my grandparents' house because someone has to enjoy this outing.

... on which note, for many dogs a car ride is a real treat. This may take some initial preparation - if the Car always goes to the Vet, they're not going to like it, but if the Car goes to the Fast Food Place where they get Chicken Nuggets then the Car is a Great Good. Gamut didn't much like the car as a puppy, and then around 3-4 months something clicked in her brain and she started sniffing on walks and hanging her head out the window.

And a third of the point of walking your dog is to let them sniff. That's what works their brain! You gotta get the poop out, you gotta give them an energy outlet, and you gotta get their brain working. The balance between energy and brain will vary between breeds, but for some (Gamut) a car ride very much is a substitute for a walk.

I do agree that having a dog has gotten more complicated and hard recently, but I'd argue that's because there's a lot more knowledge about raising dogs well available, and a lot more families having dogs. So there are a lot more dogs around to be nuts at each other, and enough knowledge for people to be judgmental without enough societal saturation for people to magically know how to train and socialize their dogs.

And rural dogs are not better behaved. Rural dogs are differently behaved. City dogs are way better at behaving politely around people and cars. Rural dogs go absolutely nuts over passersby. Gamut (country dog) was a nightmare around cars until Jenny (city dog) came to stay with us for a few weeks and gave her the idea that she could just. Watch a car leave. Without running in circles around it.

On which note, if you want to give your dog a brain workout, swap its country/city environment. Dogs get used to their standard environments. City dogs will go nuts at all the things there are to smell in the countryside, and country dogs do the same over city smells. (This is, again, something it takes money and time to do.)

It feels like having a dog has gotten way complicated and hard in recent years, posts talking about reactive unsocialized and untrained dogs everywhere but the thing is, was anybody intentionally socializing their dogs before the past couple decades? Are humans just way more isolated? Is it the thing about how you should adopt a rescue instead of buying?

[petew21-blog]

Romania dreaming

It has been a few months since I met George on the site for long distance dating for gays. He was from Romania, kind of cute twinkish guy. Never had much luck. I honestly can't say why I went on that website, maybe I was just bored, but it turned out as the best decision of my life.

It was strange cause from the start, we knew we had chemistry between each other, but the distance made it complicated. We often sex-chatted on the website. About what we would do to each other and so.

One day I told him I wanted to jerk off furiously, because of what he wrote, but my rommate was unfortuantely in the room. Then just a strange idea popped into my head. "What if you'd swap into his body? Then you could be with me." George told me about his Romania ancestor magic skills he had, but he did just some small parlor tricks from time to time. The bigger spells were harder. He needed a friend for that. A friend that I could be. And that I could benefit from too

George loved the idea, but was scared at first. "What if the other one in my body ruins my life while he is me? I can't let that happen."

"Ok, you know what. Find anyone hot from your life that you would like me to swap into and I will come to see you. Then you'll swap me back and I'll see what the other person did. Maybe the spell makes them think they're us. That would be neat" I suggested

George was more confident now and even sent me some photos of his straight colleagues from work, so that we could see if they behaved differently after swapping back. I immediately set my eyes on Daniel. His hot, absolutely 100 % straight, colleague who worked out. Insanely hot.

We both agreed. I got ready in my bed. I told George to start the spell at 21:21. I looked at the clock and still had some minutes left. I tried to fall asleep. Maybe Daniel would be asleep in my body and it would be easier. Then it hit me. Strange nauseating feeling and the light

I was standing in the locker rooms. Cold win from the AC on my bare torso. Bare torso? Holy shit. I am shirtless in the locker rooms of some gym. That's something I never expected to happen to me. I looked down. First thing that caught my eye were the shorts. Then I looked at my beautiful muscular torso. My new arms. Then I caught my new reflection. In the mirror was the guy that I saw in the photo. Daniel. "Daniel" I said aloud. His voice sounded so strong and commanding. If he told me with this voice to get down on my knees and suck him, I would. Speaking of sucking I looked in my shorts. Nice flacid shaved cock. "Gotta find out how big you are when you're hard big guy". His phone vibrated. Fuck, I almost forgot I was suppose to send Daniel proof of swapping bodies

I sent the photo to George's instagram. Then I wrote:"This is what you'll be looking up at tonight while you suck me off"

"Peter? I can't believe it. You're really him. You have to come over!"

I wanted to get his stuff and leave immediately, but the some of his friends got to the locker and ridiculed me for being a pussy and leaving without lifting. I don't know if it was Daniel's personality or something else in me, but I felt like I had to prove them wrong. And then I said things I didn't even know. Shit about cars, girls, FUCKING GIRLS. I even lifted without knowing how. This body was on autopilote.

I left early without saying anything. Bunch of messages from George waiting for me and being stressed out what happened. I explained and asked for his adress of his dorms.

The twink I used to talk to late at night was waiting for me in black compression shorts and black shirt.

"Heey...." was all I let him say out loud. I agressively pressed him against the wall and kissed him. Tongues twisting around each other, my teeth biting his lips, hands feeling up and down his body. Slowly we were working our way to his bed. I set him down and took of my shirt. He was visibly shocked, that his work colleague was now in front of him stripping down. I whip out my hard dick and pushed it into his face. He obliged immediately and worked his way with his tongue around the bright purple head of my new dick. He was working it like a pro, trying to swallow it whole, not gagging. But that didn't matter, I had to fuck his ass. Now.

I turned him around, not even stripping him, only pulling a bit of his shorts from his ass. I spit into my hand, got it on my dick and pushed myself in. He screamed out. But I didn't care, I just pused inside and kept thrusting. He was so tight. His ass was so tight around my shaft. I shot my cum inside of him. Pulling out and immediately searching for clothes to leave.

"You're leaving?!"

I snapped out. "Fuck, jesus George I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. I think Daniel's personality still had effect on me. I didn't mean to be so rough on you. Please forgive me."

"It's ok. It did hurt at first, but it was worth it. I still can't believe you're him now. And I lost my virginity with Daniel who I crushed over for years! That's so amazing!"

"Wait, this was your first time? But, you told me all the stories. Was none of it true? Jesus, George, maybe if I knew I would have fought Daniel's personality harder."

"I didn't expect we would me irl. I honestly didn't expect the spell would wrok, but here we are. Daniel is here. In my room. Wait, I have a great idea!" he started casting a spell

"Wait!" I wasn't fast enough to stop him.

But now I was looking at Daniel. From his point of view. Already feeling more submissive than in Daniel's body. The personality of the original body truly does have an effect on the one swapped inside.

George was now posing in front of the mirror. His eyes focused on his biceps and all the tense muscles.

I was now in George's twink body. I could feel his ass hurting from the sex with Daniel's body. I could feel the cum in his ass. I felt the attraction towards Daniel's body. But I didn't feel right like I did in Daniel's. I wanted to swap back.

George now got to his new dick, which was already throbbing hard again. How that's possible, I have no idea. But as soon as he started jerking his new cock he looked at me and I felt his predator eyes on me. Fuck, this is gonna hurt

The next morning I woke up sleeping next to George still in Daniel's body. We didn't sleep much tonight, but don't get me wrong, while the sex felt great I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was in the wrong body. As soon as George woke up I told him about my dysphoria with his body. He got mad. I could tell that Daniel's personality took over. And then few seconds later I found myself in my original body again already in my university lecture.

For several weeks George didn't answer my messages. I could only see as his Tumblr profile had more and more photos of Daniel's body in the gym etc.

Not only was I worried, but I had to admit to myself that I was extremely jealous. I was in that body first. I need it more than he did

I kept spamming him with messages and then one day he answered. The message said:"I need to fuck this guy in gym. I'll swap u with him tonight. Be ready". Man, I think it's better to have one body close to Daniel's rather than be far from him

He did as he said in the message. I woke up again in the bright gym. Now lifting. I proceeded to not cause suspicion.

This guy I was now in was really handsome. More muscular even than Daniel I dare to say. I could feel that his personality was not as strong as Daniel's. He seemed more kind in my eyes, but who knows who he is. I may not know before George tells me. I saw him on the other side of the room eyeing me. Stalking me even. I left the body on autopilote and finished the workout. His body was probably used to take photos after so I let him

Maybe I could stay in his body. He is really hot. And more handsome too. But I don't know. He is the type I would love to have as a boyfriend, not to be him.

I followed George to the showers. We were eventually the last people in the gym. I got into the lockers. Patiently waiting for him to speak.

"You're Mihai now. He's the owner of the gym. So we got the place for ourselves. Let's hit the showers"

I followe him. Mihai, what a nice name for this guy. I don't feel that Mihai is someone who would just follow others and do what they tell him to. Maybe I figured out how to overpower the personality of the person.

We got naked and stared at each other.

"Nah, this is wrong." and yet again he proceeded to perform his ritual

I was now Daniel again and was looking at Mihai. Now the reality of how he acted hit him. And as I suspected before, Miahi was irl a very nice guy. "I am so so so sorry Peter. I didn't know that Daniel had such a strong personality. I tohught I could fight it, but most of the time I just found myself being the passenger, but still enjoying his life. It's so weird. But I feel better now as Mihai. Maybe you should stay in Daniel's body for now. I'll learn to control the personality of others, just as you did and then we can safely try to swap with other people. What do you think?"

"I think" I said as I turned on the water in the showers "that you need a post workout shower. And that George and Mihai need to get to know themselves better" I smiled at him kneeling down to the nice hairy cock already waiting for my mouth

Few months later

Are you asking if we stayed in their bodies? Well yeah, kind off. We made their bodies our main ones. We got them to live together, start a relationship and now even if we swapped into other bodies Daniel and Mihai bodies continue what we established. Romantic right?

Me and George often take trips to some new locations travelling around the world, enjoying life of other people. Most of the time we try to find some straight friends travelling to foreign locations, trying to score some pussy there and slightly changing their vacation plans. Heh, there was this one time where we didn't even exit our hotel room. For a week. Crazy right? That was wild. But maybe I'll tell that story another time and tell you how our life in Mihai and George is proceeding

But now we are in the bodies of these two gym bro friends, waiting for the gay bar to open. See you

A story from messages we came up with while body swap roleplaying with @hunkpossesion

I changed the plot a bit, but still the hot bodies remained.

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase three: intermission.

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: jungkook hasn’t had any drinks so far, but he’s the rawest he’s ever been.

alternatively, jungkook has three separate conversations while he’s at the club.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

Yoongi always finds some way to piss Jungkook off.

Your husband isn’t sure if he’s just that easy to piss off or if Yoongi really is an extremely annoying person that gets on everyone’s nerves (his especially), but regardless, your friend always finds some way to set him to the edge.

Jungkook almost bended a fork with his teeth when you called out baby along with your subsequent request for him to pass the sauce, but even before he could reach for said container, Yoongi (who was sitting on the other end of the table) dashes over to your seat to give you sauce and piss him off in the process.

He almost grabbed Yoongi by the hair that one time when you were on your last shot on your film camera and you wanted to take a photo of them, but right at the last second of you taking it, Yoongi told him there was a cockroach by his feet which immediately made it look like Jungkook was bowing to him. He’s already ripped up the picture as soon as you got it developed, but the anger at the seemingly surface-level tricks he pulled on him always ate at him.

Jungkook only texted Yoongi awhile ago, and while he wasn’t expecting an immediate reply given the time difference, he almost wished the latter didn’t even respond in the first place. 

you’re hwayoung’s godfather

look after her while i’m gone

The two of them have been civil, maybe even friendly at best, since yours and Jungkook’s month-long break before Hwayoung came along; Jungkook doesn’t expect much from Yoongi except for the bare minimum — the problem is that Yoongi himself wants to go above and beyond.

i know that

i don’t need you to be gone for me to look after hwayoung lol

Jungkook huffs at the insinuation, brows immediately knitted as he tries to focus his eyes on his phone that seems to be the brightest source of light in the dimmed, packed club.

?

He can admit to himself (to you too, but never to anyone else especially Yoongi) that he can sometimes go overboard looking in between the lines. It’s this nagging feeling in Jungkook’s brain that he needs to analyze everything from all angles when it concerns you and the people who are fond of you. It’s this irritating quirk of his that he himself hates because he can’t be placated at the thought of something, someone, getting in between the two of you.

Especially if it’s Yoongi, even if he’s already sworn up and down that he’s moved on from you.

Most especially Yoongi, who’s close to his family in more ways than one, now that he’s left for the meantime.

i’ll take care of y/n too dw :)

Jungkook seethes at that, his thumbs already moving on their own accord to type out a reply he barely has the consciousness to discern. He can’t bring himself to read in between the lines now; now, when he’s apart from you and Hwayoung and there’s neither a husband nor father figure at home, and now, when everything dawns on him that everything that’s happening now is real.

go fuck yourself

Everything in and out of Jungkook’s reach is real. The fight you had two days ago was indeed real, and what reminds him of that is your messages that only detail about Hwayoung and nothing else. Yoongi being h*mself which is an annoyance within its own, is real and is proved by the laughing reaction that he only attached to Jungkook’s very genuine, very offensive profanity.

Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to entertain the possibility that Yoongi’s only messing with him as per usual. He doesn’t have the energy to detangle the complicated knots in his mind that all point to him being the reason for his own undoing.

The only energy that your husband has at the moment is to switch apps, regulate his breathing, and head straight to the live footage from the security camera in Hwayoung’s room. Jungkook feels sane again (maybe even the feeling greater than contentment, but not more than happiness) when he sees the two of you pop up on screen, your laughs immediately drowning out the blaring music.

“My pretty girls,” he mumbles under his breath, his thumb twitching to switch between apps again and finally have the courage to actually talk to you about what happened and not just fawn over how Hwayoung’s breezing through her milestones while he’s been gone.

He hasn’t had anything to drink yet, and while he’s relieved at that, there’s a sense of cowardice that creeps up in Jungkook’s throat. He feels pathetic and unsurprisingly, characteristically weak when it comes to you.

Your husband settles for pushing the button that makes the security camera ding, indicating that he’s indeed watching you and Hwayoung, before he screws his eyes shut in fear that you’ll only scowl at him through the screen.

You don’t.

Instead, you only smile lightly. You’re tired and you’re filled with pent-up sentiments because you can’t exactly gossip to Hwayoung how her dad has been frustrating you to no end lately, and yet, you still smile for him because she’s watching.

There’s a knot that forms in his throat when you prop Hwayoung in front of the camera and coo at her to wave because he’s watching. There’s this unmistakeable sting behind Jungkook’s eyes because he’s reminded yet again that everything’s real; that unlike him, you’re not weak. 

You’re filled with so much love as evidenced by the way you look at Hwayoung with no fear at all of messing everything up, and it makes Jungkook choke over nothing. You have your fears too, but not one of them comes close to the degree that his doubts are in — perhaps you do have a fear of losing everything just like he does, except the resounding difference is that you’re not a coward like him.

Namjoon’s jostled him atleast three times for the past ten minutes and he’ll succumb to his friend sooner or later, but not now when Jungkook rethinks every word he’s ever said and how he misspoke, not now when he’s made the mistake of even calling Eunsu as his muse when he can’t even grasp the weight of the word when he calls someone else that in front of his wife.

Jungkook’s still a coward, with or without a drink, but he’s in the latter state when he brings out his other phone to finally call you.

He sees you flinch silently through the security camera, gaze averting from a napping Hwayoung on your lap to your phone that’s ringing. You purse your lips in hesitation yet you don’t quiver, accepting his call but not without looking straight at the camera before you do.

You’re neither unattached nor resigned with Jungkook — you’re simply stuck in the middle with him, even if the demarcation about who gets the shorter end of the stick is unclear.

“I didn’t mean anything I said last night,” he admits straightly, sparing no time as his chest tightens.

“You sounded like it,” you frown, absent-mindedly stroking Miso’s fur who just conjured out of nowhere at the exact time your husband called you.

“At the time, yes,” he sighs heavily, the knot in his throat refusing to unravel even if he’s already baring his truth. “But at that time too, I was beyond stupid a-and emotional. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I know me being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse,” Jungkook swallows, his hand cupping the air instead of a shot glass reminding him of his stupidity. “I was out of it. I couldn’t keep everything in check.”

Your voice remains hushed, but you don’t have it in you to discern if it’s only because Hwayoung is sleeping on your lap, or if talking to Jungkook lately robs you of your will to be on the same level as him.

“You could’ve told me as soon as you felt… that way, Jungkook.”

He sucks in a breath, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries not to cry rethinking about your fight. “I did try to, but as soon as you did, you asked me if taking care of Hwayoung felt like a chore to me.”

“Does it?” you ask again, ironically coinciding with Jungkook’s point that it makes him chuckle lightly. You were always so stubborn — almost always similar to his temperament.

“I respect you a lot, Y/N. You put a roof over over our heads, you put food on the table, you have everything figured out.”

“Jungkook,” you mumble, sensing the inevitable conjunction that separates the both of you further.

“But I’m the one who knows what I’m feeling the most, not you,” Jungkook sighs shakily, voice hushed even quieter than the way you look at him silently through the screen. 

He can see you, but you can’t see him. 

“We’re both parents to Hwayoung at the end of the day but in that— in that same day, you spend more time being the working parent while I’m the stay-at-home parent,” he confides, his tone gentle and slow unlike the way his drunken nature persuaded him otherwise. “Taking care of Young-ie isn’t a chore for me. Yes, it’s repetitive. I-it could be exhausting and draining but that’s what it comes with being a dad. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s with her. I’m bound to feel this way,” he pauses, breath hitching. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right away for all the shit I said. I’ve been unfair springing all of this on you on such short notice.”

You look straight at the camera, bottom lip quivering as you wrap your head around Jungkook’s sober vulnerability.

“I’ve been unfair too,” you mutter, eyes downcast because even if you can’t see Jungkook, there’s a false image of him that floats in your mind, belittling you for not being enough. “I didn’t see it from your point of view.”

There’s only silence between the two of you, the noise of the club being expertly drowned out even through the distortion of the line.

“You can forgive me tomorrow or next week, even— but the sooner the better, of course,” Jungkook chides playfully after a few seconds, smiling to himself when he visibly sees the tension melt away from your shoulders.

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance, baby. Give me a little leeway,” Jungkook pleads, in between light chuckles and strained desperation that an honest, sober husband like him could give to you while you’re long-distance. “Give me a little time to figure out a balance. I-I can’t be the best husband and dad that I want— need to be if I can’t figure myself out.”

“I get it,” you nod, your thumb unconsciously adjusting the wedding on your ring finger that’s become slightly askew. “But you promise me that you’ll come home, Jungkook,”

“I promise.”

“You have to promise me too that there’s no one else.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook tuts warningly, his confused frown at you being genuine in nature as if you could see him in real time trying to digest your paranoia. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Promise me,” you repeat again with a short-lived whine, the stirring of Hwayoung on your lap making his heart soften and your call interrupted.

“I promise.”

Jungkook relaxes into his seat, eyes still fixed on the security app on his phone as he watches you rock his daughter to sleep, pointing to the camera every now and then to tell her that her appa’s watching. 

Namjoon and Eunsu come over with drinks, and as much as there’s a momentary wave of relief that washes over Jungkook because he’s seeing familiar people, there’s a dubiously-coated type of tension that replaces the knot on his throat.

“Ah, my pretty producer,” Eunsu hands him his drink, looking past the platinum wedding band that Jungkook hadn’t dared to take off even once the whole trip, along with his phone that displays his family in full brightness. “I believe we haven’t met properly.”

[spookierdeer]

OL EUA YUGQ G XGOYOT OT MXGVK PAOIK, OZ ZAXTY OTZU G MXGVK. NGVVE NGRRUCKKT! 🎃⚠️

(costume talk and yapping under the cut)

starting from back to the front:

stan and ford are handing out candy this year, stan dressed in his vampire costume and planning to scare kids and ford is wearing a mabel (turtleneck!) pumpkin sweater, about as festive as he's willing to dress up this year. ford was originally planning to hole himself up in his lab and work on data analysis or whatever nerd shit he has going on but stan invites him to help scare the hell out of kids. ford declines initially, better things to do, but after checking to see how stan's doing (badly), ford decides to help by bursting out of the bushes with a glowing laser gun, face cloaked in shadow. it's more fun than he expects or admits and he eventually fully joins stan.

soos and melody are trick or treating in a couple costume, soos as zelda and melody as link. melody wanted to cosplay link for awhile and you cannot convince me soos wouldn't jump at the chance to dress up as a badass anime elf princess who can fire lasers.

mabel, pacifica, and waddles are dressed as utena, anthy, and chu chu respectively. i have a headcanon that post working at the diner and slowly getting used to normal kid things, pacifica discovers anime. specifically shojo princess anime. she finds utena and loses her mind over it in private, with mabel eventually breaking down her walls and getting her to admit to the sin of liking anime. mabel gets pacifica to show her her favorites and mabel immediately insists they need to cosplay as utena and anthy for halloween, pacifica is a princess after all! (said in jest, but baby gay panic ensues on pacifica's end. mabel is pretty oblivious to her plight and doesn't realize why being pacifica's knight makes her feel so giddy until later on.)

dipper sees pacifica joining mabel as an excuse to flake out on trick or treating without being a total jerk, especially since they'll be joined by candy and grenda later. i know he's working on not trying to grow up too fast by the end of the series, but kids and teens are full of anxiety and doubts and i figure he would be pretty awkward about a lot of things still, even after learning otherwise. wirt doesn't want to dress up since the previous halloween ended with him in the unknown then waking up in the hospital, but greg still wants to go trick or treating. dipper tags along to help babysit greg despite it not really being necessary, wirt's just glad to have someone to chat with while he takes greg, especially someone who doesn't leap to finding him strange. greg is going as a ghost elephant and wirt assumes it's just the weird kid tradition of layering costumes over the years, but greg's logic is that he "died" as an elephant last year so now the elephant is a ghost. if wirt heard this he would probably end up freaked out, but kids are often more aware of things than expected. dipper is wearing wendy's hat since she traded with him at the end of the series.

putting wirt and greg in there could feel a little random, but these are my two favorite shows to watch during autumn and i associate them with each other. plus, it's otgw's ten year anniversary and it's so perfectly halloween, i think it makes enough sense to put them together. idk i love joy and whimsy, i am cringe and i am free.

i initally wanted to include other characters, candy, grenda, and wendy for sure but i was also considering coraline, wybie, and norman. felt way too complicated so maybe i'll draw something with those characters some other time.

[leviscolwill]

adore

pairing: bsf!jude x fem!reader

summary: you adored your friendship with jude, but sometimes you wished things weren't so complicated between the two of you. [wc: 3,2k]

contents: mostly angst ??? a few cute moments here and there bc i'm fluff girly thru and thru 🤞, they can't communicate to save their life, drunk jude, a random man being annoying, jude being a dumb fuck, language, did i miss anything ?

note: this wip has been rotting in my drafts for a couple of months, i hope you enjoy it because i really enjoyed writing it 🫶

now playing adore by cashmere cat & ariana grande...

"please don't leave me y/n... you don't understand, i need you here."

"jude, i'm literally going to the toilet. i'll be back in 5 minutes, now let me go."

your best friend had always been the clingy type whenever he'd reach his alcohol limit (which was usually only after a couple of drinks). but tonight he was practically glued to your side, not that you minded, you basically spent your whole life attached by the hip. but you had to admit, it hurt a bit to see the person you couldn't have, not in the way you wanted to have him, at least, act all lovey-dovey with you.

the nature of your relationship with jude was complex, to say the least. he was your best friend since you were kids and you wouldn't change that for the world. but the way he looked at you sometimes made you yearn for something more, or whenever his touches on your shoulder or your waist would linger a bit too long to be friendly. maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, after all, the chances of jude wanting you the way you wanted him were very low, not to mention the fact you led two different lives. but it didn't matter, you could manage to live and long for him with the hope that one day you could be more than a best friend to him. and this thought was all you needed to face him and his sparkly eyes for the rest of the night.

when you got out of the bathroom, your mind was still full of thoughts of your relationship with jude running in your mind. you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you bumped into a man's chest, not really being careful about your surroundings.

"i'm sorry, i wasn't looking." you quickly apologise to him, you were already on your way to your friends before the man grabbed your wrist, quickly letting it go.

"it's okay sweetheart, can i get your name as an apology ?" you cringed at his poor attempt at flirting with you, but you weren't feeling confrontational tonight.

"i'm-"

"y/n !" jude's voice made your head turn in surprise.

"you were gone for so long i almost forgot what your beautiful face looked like." he said smashing his face on your shoulder.

"is that your boyfriend?"

"ummm, no he's my-"

"depends who's asking." jude interrupted you, side-eyeing the nameless man.

"jude. i can speak for myself." the look he gave you broke your heart a bit, his lips pouting in sadness.

"if he is not your boyfriend, i'd gladly take your number, might even take you back to my hotel room..." it was obvious to everyone around that the situation was uncomfortable for you, that familiar feeling of disgust you always got when a man was being too friendly creeping on you.

"who do you think you are?" your best friend stared at the man with a frown on his face.

"jude, let's not..." the tension between the two men was evident as people stopped to stare at whatever was happening.

"relax mate, i just wanna talk to your friend nothing more." the stranger grabbed your wrist, still looking at jude, testing him, testing how far he would go to stop this.

"let me go." you didn't have to try getting away from him because jude did it for you.

the nameless guy suddenly let you go, and seeing him hold his jaw while screaming profanities at your best friend was all you needed to understand what just happened. jude punched him, but the alcohol in his veins prevented him from dodging the punch that came straight for his eyebrow.

immediately you took jude's arm before he found another idea to mess up your night some more, and walked out of the packed club for some air. you ordered a uber for the two of you and texted your friends that you were getting home early.

even fresh air couldn't rid you of the anger that coursed through your body. of course, you were mad at the man who couldn't keep his hands to himself. but another part of you couldn't help but be pissed at jude and his impulsive behaviour. but when you looked at him and saw blood trickle down from his eyebrow, everything was suddenly forgotten and you could only worry.

"fuck you're bleeding, why didn't you tell me? fuck, fuck, fuck." you searched through your bag for a tissue, mentally cursing yourself for how messy it was, and handed one to jude.

"just didn't wanna bother you..." he mumbled, holding it to his wound.

you both waited for the uber in complete silence, you knew you needed to have a conversation with jude about what just happened but you'd do it tomorrow, when he was sober and when your judgement wouldn't be clouded by anger.

thankfully, your uber didn't take too long to arrive, you helped jude put his seatbelt on after watching him struggle with it for a good minute. the atmosphere was tense and it seemed the driver felt it so he didn't try to make conversation with any of you.

you were halfway to your destination when you felt jude's fingers brush against yours lightly. you took a glance at where your hand lay, on the middle seat, jude's hand was right next to yours and when you looked at him he was suddenly entranced by his shoes, busy pretending it never happened.

you were sick of him acting like a child, so you held his hand, since he obviously wouldn't do it himself. the rest of the drive was silent but the atmosphere was peaceful, a nice change from the club.

you let go of jude's hand once you arrived at the villa you rented with your group of friends. you immediately took jude to the bathroom to clean his cut, he looked like a child while you were gathering the material you needed, mumbling words to himself with a frown on his face.

"is it gonna hurt?"

"probably not." these were the first words you exchanged since the club, the uneasy atmosphere of the room wasn't one you were used to whenever you were with jude. he was the one person who could understand you the best in the world, but it just wasn't the case tonight.

"can you hold my hand?" it was like he turned four again. but you couldn't deny anything from him, especially not when his eyes were glassy from all the drinks he had, so you took jude's hand in yours.

you started cleaning the cut, fully focused on your task, trying your best not to be distracted by the way your faces were inches from each other's.

"you're so pretty..."

if there was one thing you knew about drunk jude, it was that had loose lips. he couldn't keep any secret from you whenever he had the right amount of alcohol in his veins, and that often worked in your favour, but right now his words were only distracting you from your job.

"don't say that..." your heart was racing both at his words and at the proximity you two shared.

"i mean it." he was tracing your jaw with his fingers. you felt your hand quiver at the unexpected contact, and afraid you might mess something up because of jude, you quickly put a bandage on top of his, now clean, cut.

you started tidying up everything you used and expected jude to go to his room but he didn't budge.

"what's wrong?" you were a bit worried his injury was more serious than you thought and his brain was just working a bit slower than usual.

"kiss it better... please?" he said pointing at his bandage with a kissy face.

you were torn between kissing or slapping some sense into the boy standing in front of you. jude bent down so your face was in front of his, you obliged because you knew hammered jude would not have let you go to bed before you kissed him better. not because you wanted to, of course.

he was still unmoved, looking deep into your eyes so you took his hand in yours and led him to his bedroom for him to get a good night of sleep.

once you got jude to his bedroom safely, which wasn't an easy task given how starstruck he was at every little everyday thing in the house, he threw himself on his bed and grumbled something about clothes, before taking off his shirt with no prior notice. you immediately looked at your feet to give him some privacy while he changed clothes. he only giggled at your action saying he knows how much you would like to watch undress. which wasn't true, of course.

you took a quick peek, to make sure he was under his sheets. handing him a glass of water once he had his sheets pulled up to his chin and a content look on his face.

"no thanks, i'm not hungry."

"this is a glass of water?" you were perplexed at jude's words. the fatigue of your body preventing you from trying to understand his nonsense.

"well, i'm not hungry for water." you sighed at his childlike behaviour and considered shoving the water down his throat at some point before retracting, not really wanting to deal with the homicide of one the most in-demand football players of the moment.

you placed the glass on his bedside table and walked towards the door, unwilling to talk to a very drunk jude when all your body asked for was a good night of sleep.

but you couldn't ignore jude calling your name in a tired voice. you turned around to listen to whatever he had to say to you, only for him to beckon you closer with his hand. you rolled your eyes but still obliged, sitting on the unoccupied side of his bed.

"i just wanted to know why you were mad at me tonight." you didn't want to have this conversation tonight, but it seemed jude had other plans.

"because even if your intention was right, i think we could've solved the issue with no fits of screaming and fighting. i know you meant right but you can't just act without thinking all the time." you weren't even sure jude was registering your words properly, his eyes moving up and down your face.

"but i was mad at him too, he kept talking to my girl as if i wasn't right there." although jude was hardly convincing by the way the words came out of his mouth all slurred, you had to admit him calling you his girl put a faint smile on your face.

you thought your best friend was done but he just kept right on.

"fuck, you don't even know how many times i wished i was your boyfriend to stop these men looking at you that way. i mean i wished i was your boyfriend all the time, but especially then and also when you show me whoever you're talking to, you really have a vile taste in men y'know."

you looked at jude in total shock, he wasn't aware of what he just said from the way his face had the same drunken expression as before.

"do you mean it?" maybe he was pulling a prank on you. the look on his face didn't seem too serious, but then again he was drunk, how could you know how serious he was?

he laughed, how could he laugh in what was a very serious situation from your point of view?

"of course i mean it, sometimes it even looks like you want me too, maybe i just thought wrong. just tell me you don't want me, i reckon i could live with the fact i'm your best friend a bit longer." jude's nonsense somehow got even more nonsensical. how could he be saying all this with a smile on his face? even worse, how could he possibly think you didn't want him to be your boyfriend? you didn't even know what to say to him. hell, was there even a right thing to say in this exact situation?

"you can't do this to me jude... you can't just say this shit to me when you're drunk out of your mind. what do you expect me to say? i don't even know if you're aware of what you're telling me right now." words finally found their way out, your voice was much less cheery and much angrier than his as you felt a sense of injustice seeping through your veins. how could he say this to you like it was the simplest thing in the world? did he only love you when he was drunk? did he actually mean that, or was he over-exaggerating things under the influence?

"i love you and i loved you for a long time, please believe me, i know you're my best friend, and i don't want to ruin things between us... but i just needed to get this off my chest." jude was truly confused as to why you were so mad at him for this sudden 'confession'. of course, you didn't have to reciprocate his feelings, but he could only think about how he ruined your friendship for good from the way you responded so vehemently.

"goodnight jude." you left his room before he could add anything, and your thoughts were already running wild. you weren't sure if you should be feeling happy that he felt for you what you felt for him, or if you should be mad at jude for dropping this bomb on you so suddenly when he could clearly not think straight, making you doubt about the whole thing.

if you were overthinking before, your brain was now about to explode from everything that just happened in the span of an hour.

once you got under your sheets, no amount of sheep counting, lofi music, or breathing methods could put you to sleep. your brain was screaming at you, urging you to freak out about what just happened. every and each of your thoughts led back to jude, your own brain was torturing you, forcing you to separate truth from fiction at 3am.

you wished jude told you the truth, you wished his drunken words were his sober thoughts. but you didn't know how you were supposed to act like this never happened if this wasn't the case. how could you possibly come back to your little role, so well perfected over the years, of jude's best friend after he gave you the smallest glimpse of hope? your friendship with jude was the most important thing for you, but you wondered if you'd be able to pretend for the rest of your life or if you would go insane before that.

when sleep finally started taking over your endless train of thought, you came to the conclusion that if he meant what he said earlier, he'd have no issues telling you once he sobered up. you comforted yourself with this idea while your eyes closed by themselves, no more energy left in them to fight for the sake of overthinking.

jude had been avoiding you all day. the only time you exchanged an eye contact was during breakfast and even then he quickly went back to his room, not speaking a word to you. you could tell he was avoiding you like the plague, if he happened to be where you were he'd immediately flee the room, suddenly mesmerized by his phone.

you wished you were mad at him for how he was treating you and how he was making you feel, but the truth is, you could only focus on your heart breaking a little more each time he'd walk past you like you were two strangers.

after dining with the rest of your friends, you decided you were sick of jude's little games. if he didn't want to talk to you, then you would confront him whether he liked it or not.

it took you all the strength of the world to knock on his door after taking a deep breath.

no answer.

there was no way he knew it was you, you were sure of it. maybe he was just avoiding everyone tonight? you quickly refuted this idea, you saw him laugh with a couple of your friends half an hour ago.

you knocked again, a bit harsher this time to make sure he'd hear it. still nothing. you were preparing yourself to knock one more time, with much less hope than the first time.

"y/n, what are you doing?" yasmeen's voice startled you, it almost felt like getting caught doing something you shouldn't be doing.

"um... just needed to talk to jude, do you know where he is?" you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the question. you were his best friend, if anyone should know where he was, that would be you. and your friend's dumbfounded look wasn't helping the heat creeping on your face right now.

"what do you mean? he left like an hour ago, had an unexpected meeting in london or something like that... he didn't tell you?"

it had been a very long time since you felt this way, maybe since middle school when your math teacher made fun of you in front of the whole class. your mouth suddenly drying, the sensation of your heart constricting, and your eyes stinging, trying their best not to let the sadness spill. it all felt like one big joke, you hoped jude would open the door, he'd tell you he was messing with you, he'd tell you everything he said last night again.

but that moment did not come. you couldn't answer yasmeen, afraid that the truth might spill along with your tears if you uttered a word. you simply shook your head, and went to your room, trying your best not to meet her eyes. your friends weren't blind, they could tell something was wrong between jude and you today, although none of them asked you what happened, they just kept a watchful eye on you and the way you looked at jude, in hopes he'd look back.

it felt good to cry in the privacy of your own room, far from the speculative conversation others were most likely having about the whole situation.

once your eyes were short of tears, you somehow found the strength to take your phone and click on your messages with jude to type a new one.

let's just keep doing what you did all day

i'll pretend you don't exist and last night never happened

probably best for us :)

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Can I request an interaction between our beloved destined one and reader while he's in his giant stone monkey form? Whether it's after the battle with -spoiler- or at some other point? Just the idea of a giant destined one carefully cradling and nuzzling a tiny reader is adorable

((start to checking everywhere for cameras, HOW THE HELL DID YOU KNOW THAT I WANTED SO BADLY TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS?))

"What's just happened to him?!"

"Calm down! It's not THAT bad!"

"THAT BAD?! Look at Him!"

He wasn't even that big like before. A few hours before, he was bigger than a mountain; now he was... less.

He was a titan, now a scarely big and Rocky titan.

You were in danger—a big one this time. He was at his brink; he tried to protect you as much as he could; he tried to take you away, to do something, but he just couldn't.

That enemy was stronger than he saw it. That blade strikinf your arma, the red line start flowing on your body, your cry of pain.

He didn't know exactly what had happened, but he felt it. He felt anger, not being able to help you, fear of losing you, and so much desire to just hurt.

What he knew was that everything was just so small, and your scared eyes looked at him—not at your enemy, but at him!

A wave of guilt and shame had taken him, while the only thing you could do was just try to find Bajie and ask for help from him. When you told him that something had happened to the destined one, he didn't expect to find a giant stone monkey, clearly in a confused and scared state of mind!

"Back in our journey, Wukong too was able to take this form. It's like a second skin!"

"Okay! AMAZING! The great sage is great and so amazing; now tell him how to turn back!"

"I... well, I know how to do mine! It needs some patience and a clear state of mind... But this one..." The pig scratched his head. "Something is not right."

That kind of transformation required a lot of skills and so much energy. By now, he was supposed to have long gone down; instead, the monkey was still moving around, never losing his sight on you.

"W-what can possibly be not right?! Everything is not right here! Help him, please!"

"It's more complicated than that! How can I say it? He's... he's seems stuck in something...like a loop... " He started to think, looking back to you and to the giant, now sitting near the next hill.

"You said that you were attacked?"

"Yes, they were strong! Even for him!"

"And you get hurt there... Maybe he's not able to turn back because he still believes you're in danger."

"But I'm not anymore!"

"Mind play tricks! And his mind is telling him that you still need his protection!"

So he was stuck in his own survival mode, only that in his own protection came first?! You started to feel worse now! 

"W-what can I do?"

"I honestly don't know. Maybe he'll turn back once his mind is losing grip on him? ... What I can say is that you need to stay close to him until that time comes."

You turned to your poor friend. He looked so...miserable. His figure was scary, almost like one of those that you read inside a fairytale once, when you were a child. You caressed gently his foot, trying to give him some comfort.

"All right..."

///

The fire that you made was enough to warm you up. You weren't angry, deviating to not touch any food that night, but you still need protection against the cold night, even if, with this giant monkey near you, emminating an unnatural warmth, you wondered if you really needed a fire.

He couldn't even speak—a strange modification coming from that change. Words were replaced by small sounds like moans or chirping, his tail perfectly still to avoid sudden earth shock around you both. At the beginning of your journey, staying in silence helped you copying the fact to be a chosen one; it helped...now it just made you go in a spiral of thoughts that you didn't want to feel.

A small push on your back, his finger caressing between your shoulder blades, his worried look on you. You looked at him, forcing a smile to avoid more stress from what he was already feeling.

"It's fine, Yuán Fèn; I'm not hungry tonight."

He made long moan; he was clearly worried about your silence. Something was running through your mind; you were even trying to avoid his gaze. Were you scared of him? Oh please, everything but that!

He keeps on looking at you with that small stick in your hand, picking at the fire here and there...

He kept on looking when it saw those small movements in your shoulder and that sound in front of you.

"It's... it's my fault..."

His eyes widened, your body was shacking, and a series of silents sniffs and sobs emanated from you.

"I should... I should have stayed back. I should not have tried to help you."

You threw away the stick, trying to cover your face, not seeing how a mess you were starting to become from him.

"I'm so useless! I can't even defend myself, and this is the result!"

Your sobs became louder; now some painful moan came to you.

"Yellowbrow was right! I should have been gone long ago! Look at you; this is because of me! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

The Yaoguai words keep lingering in your head; he did not only hurt your friend but you as well. He had played with bits of your mind, and he tricked your own value of yourself, or you just decided to voice the voices in your mind that kept on ringing. 

He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Hug you and do what he always does! But he couldn't, not in that state! But he didn't want to leave you like that, not without trying.

His giant hand cupped your entire body, and, with a gentleness that was abnormal for a body like that, he pressed your own on his chest. His warmth engulfed you, an embracing and kind one, made only for you. It was different front the one that irradiated when he was crashing the ones that had hurt you—not menacing and angry, just...kind. Just for you.

You fell in silence when, with your ear on his enourmous chest, you felt a thunderous beat, slow and steady. His heart beat; you hear it every time he has hugged you before; it was like a song without words, and now it was for you.

It's alright, I'm here it was saying.

You tried to hold on this time, but that beat, the gentle touch, and his secure breath were like a summer breeze.

You just couldn't, and you cried. You cried so hard that your voice started to get raspy in your throat and that your face hurt for the saltiness of your tears—that you couldn't see because your eyes were almost stuck. He held you so close to let you hear that he was there, that you could just let go, that it mattered to him.

You don't know how much time passed. It felt like an eternity when you finally had the strength to let go of his chest plate made of rock and try to clean your face.

"I'm sorry. It's just a lot. You've been through a lot; I don't have any right to break down like this." You sighed while sitting down, your back lying on his rock body. " I don't know how you can keep it up with me."

His finger was caressing your arm; how could you see so little of you? His finger then left your body and started to scratch on the ground. He couldn't take it, but he still needed to tell you the truth, right?

Observing his action, you noticed how stupid and silly the draw of something round, bald, and angry was.

"Is that Yellowbrow?...what about him?"

He scratched again, drawing what It reminds you of the sack where he caught your monkey in the fight. You remember how disperate you were when you called him. Pleading him to not give up.

"Yes, I remember...you were there; you were so...angry, and...I tried to help."

His giant face smiled, pointing to you and nodging you a little.

"No! You came out of your own. Just...it didn't matter."

He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. 

"The fourth sister? ...She wanted to escape. It was my idea to hide her in the Zodiac village, but..."

He kept on drawing again and again.

"The...second prince...oh, mister horse too! ...o-oh..."

You got it now, that cheeky monkey.

"Ah, I got it. You're trying to say that I did a few good things here."

He puffed; the sudden air almost made you fall from your position and made sniff out the fire.

"Ah! Okay okay! Many good things!"

He started to make a strange sound, similar to the one that the other monkeys had done when they were happy. His eyes had a glim now, as if he's satisfied. His hand cupped you again, his thumb starting to rub your head gently, causing you to giggle a little.

"Hehe... I'm fine... a little, but fine."

Your smiley expression had finally reappeared after hours of just moping and overthinking. You needed that cry, as he needed to stop and think about your next move at least.

He gently took you again to his chest, now mostly for himself, and you were able to listen again to his huge heartbeat. It was funny that something that reminds you of thunder could make you so calm. You sighed, caressing a small portion of Him.

"It will sound cheesey, but I like hearing your heart... It's calming and secure. I bet I could recognize it between many."

For a moment, you clearly heard his heart beating faster, stronger this time. You chuckled, imagining his bashfull face when he's normal. Now, he was just a big rocky monkey, still with a very struggled face for your words. Far too cheesey, his tail started to create a dust storm just because of those.

You gave yourself a few slaps on your cheeks to get yourself together and shaken your legs in the air just to free some of the stress from them.

"You're right! I need to start to believe a little in myself! Yellowbrow was vanquished anyway, so bad for him! And I even learned how to become smaller! This has to prove something!"

He nodded his head in a fast and repetitive motion, his full set of fangs showing up in a huge, funny grim. Despite the menacing look,. To you, he was just a big cutie.

"Hehe...thank you. You're my rock. Pun intended!"

You two kept on talking—well, you talked all the time, making some plans for the future, suggesting things, and even practicing in front of him a few of the tricks that he had taught you during your previous times. You even ate something in the end, your appetite coming back with your smile.

When your eyes couldn't stay open any longer, he was able to lay down without provoking any landslides or sorta and used his huge hand to make a small roof on your head.

"I'm safe, Yuán Fèn; don't need to-AH!"

Instead, he just scoops you closer to him, completely protecting you from everything and everyone. By the look on his face, it was more like a cuddle session. Not that you could complain...

With a tender smile, you accepted this small request and stayed close to him, falling asleep almost immediately under the tune of his heartbeat, while his gargantulean tail encircled you both.

//

You stirred in your sleep, sensing a forming bump on your head. Did you sleep on a rock? Ugh, you should have prepared your bedding last night. The must had been quite high; you felt it from some opening on you. How long did you two sleep anyway?

With thought of the fact that, in that current situation, worrying about weakening up early wouldn't be a problem until he reopts his original form, you closed your eyes, snuggling on his soft che-SOFT?!

With your eyes wide open, you found out that the rock surface that protected you during your sleep was gone; now you were negulfed in two strong, furry arms and a very tight tail on your wait.

"...Yuán Fèn!"

"Ummm..five more minutes..."

"NO MORE MINUTES, YOU'RE BACK! YOUR A FLESHY MONKEY!"

His tired face contorted in a shocked expression, firstly because he was literally holding you so close that he could literally merge with you, and secondly, he was a fleshy monkey again!

"You did it! You're back!"

"We did it, silly girl! WE!"

And, while laughing, you launched yourself towards him, hugging him close to you, not noticing a certain pig that was coming towards you with an old man and a not so certain solution for your now solved problem.

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@cleverfeststarlight @anfie01 @tunadunanana

[badgerbl00d]

you've reached situationship central!

☆ characters: law, kidd (pt. 1)

☆ up next: TBA

☆ summary: being stuck in an on again off again (very indulgent) relationship with either the surgeon of death or captain eustass kidd requires a great deal of patience

☆ content: angsty, happy ending, nsfw, smut, complicated relationship drama, kidd is scottish, 18+ mdni

☆ a/n: hellooo i am finally settled at my uni and hoping to begin writing regularly again and start going through my requests (thank you for all of them by the way).. please enjoy me writing about my top two op crushes rnn <3

law: 

#i’d forgive him so fast oops | 3.3k words

With Law, all of your meetings are at midnight or after, he’s painfully careful to ensure that no one has even the slightest clue of what your relationship has begun to blossom into– He’s scared of course. Anything could go wrong; his rationality is placed at risk every time you walk past him and he allows himself to indulge (even if for just a second) in the smell of your perfume– strong and floral. It lingers even after you’ve walked past him, ignoring him just like he asked you to do during the working hours on board the Polar Tang. Law does what he can to suppress the sting he feels when you, oh so obediently, listen to him. You do your job too well, he thinks, not even sparing him a glance if you’re not being directly addressed. ‘This is your own fault’, he has to remind himself. It pains him when the crew stays up late playing poker and cards and drinking alcohol, talking about all your hopes and dreams, when you entertain your crewmates with stories and he hears about how you’re there for them all in times of difficulty, a listening ear, a supporting friend, an emotional anchor to the crew. 

Maybe, he thinks, I should end it. He knows that that’s the right answer, if you’re just friends he might allow himself to be welcomed into the radiance and warmth around you that he denies himself and has instructed you to deny to him. He’s too scared to lose you now.

On late nights, Law lays in bed, his room hazy from the cigarette he lets burn in an ashtray you gifted him and he thinks about the few direct conversations you’ve had about your… situation. That’s what you had called it, “Law,” you had said, “We have to talk about…”

“About what?” He still beats himself up over how he delivered that question, biting and poisonous. He can’t shake the memory of the frown it elicited on your face. 

“Y/n, we don’t have to talk. Please, let’s not talk. Talking means we have to confront the reality of the situation.”

That was what he should’ve said. Instead his tongue betrayed him, acting faster than he could register. About what? Idiot, he thought. 

You took a deep breath before answering him, “About us, Law. Our… situation.” 

He had scoffed at you. Let out an indifferent huff, as though the matter was beneath him. His chest aches when he thinks about it now. The hurt on your face was so obvious. 

“So talk.” 

It was dark that night. He can’t remember if tears pooled on your lower lashes, or if it was a trick of the slight bit of light pouring into the dark room. He chooses to believe the latter option. 

“What are we doing? I can’t… I don’t want to continue like this. Secret and hidden– I want to, I want to be able to talk to you during the day. To tell you about how I am and ask you about yourself I want to help you and be there for you. To kiss you whenever and hold your hand–”

“So do I,” he should have said, “I want that too.”

“You are there for me,” was his reply, instead, “As my trusted crewmate. And I never said you couldn’t talk to me, but I maintain my position. We can’t be discovered, the risks are-”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, sighing, “The risks? Our entire life is a risk. You think the crew would care? And what does it matter what you’ve said– it’s how you act. I’ve tried talking to you and you treat me with such an awful indifference Law. I respect your intelligence and leadership so please don’t act stupid. 

What am I to you?”

He paused. Wrong move.

Your bottom lip trembled as you closed your eyes and inhaled. His memory doesn’t serve him very well but if you did cry that night it was now that the tears flowed. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice incredibly soft. You had accepted defeat. He wanted to tear his skin off. This was agony. Why couldn’t he just say what he felt? 

“I want you,” he says to himself now, picking the cigarette back up, placing it between his lips, “I love you.” 

Three weeks too late, he thinks. The cigarette burns in the back of his throat, his chest filling with an uncomfortable warmth. 

The last few weeks had been uncomfortable to say the least. You refused to talk to him, and he didn’t blame you. He barely saw you, the last time he’d gotten a proper look at your face was six days ago now. You looked beautiful, maybe he should have said something. 

He lost track of time. An hour has passed now since he laid down to smoke, or has it been two? His head is spinning, never has regret gripped his heart so aggressively. 

The aching in his chest tugs him out of bed and into the hallway. He finds himself walking toward the library where he knows you’ll be. 

Where less than a month ago you were sat on his lap, soft arms gently wrapped around his shoulders as he kissed up and down your arms, buried inside you.

He missed your warmth, the way just being in your presence felt like sitting next to a fireplace, drinking a cup of tea. Your touch soft and reassuring, Fuck, he thinks, fuck.

The coolness of the metal floor jolts him out of his daze, he’s moving with a purpose now. 

It’s not too late, he reassures himself. 

The library door is closed, a warm light pours out into the cool, blue hallway from underneath the door. His hand hovers over the door knob for a moment, listening. Silence. 

Law gently opens the door, and is welcomed by the sight of you fast asleep on Shachi’s shoulder, your crewmate’s arm wrapped around you.

Law pauses, Shachi looks up. He subdues the jealousy that quickly spreads throughout his body.

Shachi shoots him a look, as if to say, “I’m doing my best.”

Law’s throat hurts, speaking is too risky. He sends back a puzzled look.

Shachi beckons him over, placing his free hand up to his lips, “Shh.”

Law’s head feels like it’s about to explode. He can’t do this right now. His stomach twists at the sight of his crewmate’s arm around you. He was always so mesmerized by how you slept– envious, even, at how gently your eyes closed, how your soft lips parted once you were out, how deeply you slept. 

His mind slips from him, replaying memories of how you’d cling to him when spending the night in his room, your arms securely around his neck, your face tucked into him. The sound of you giggling in the morning when he’d wake you up with kisses peppered all over your face and neck, trailing down and down your body. He inhales, trying to recollect himself– The memory of your body is overpowering. His hands clench into fists at his sides.

“She’s been asleep for about two hours,” Shachi started. Law’s chest tightened, two hours?

“I didn’t know what to say to her. She’s so… sad. Some guy, I think, broke her heart. Or, is currently breaking it. I don’t want to pry. Maybe you should talk to her?”

Law concentrated all of his efforts on answering his subordinate to avoid collapsing to the floor and begging you for forgiveness right then and there, Shachi be damned. His worst crime, in all of his life, he thought, is to have done this to you. 

The thought of being ‘some guy’ that broke your heart nauseates him, he has to fix this.

“Captain?” Shachi seemed to have picked up on Law’s distress.

“Shachi,” Law started, his eyes fixed on you– his expression must have been something pained, or regretful, “Leave her here. Go to bed.”

Shachi’s brows furrowed. Law tore his eyes away from you to look at him, “I’ll take care of her.” 

The redhead quickly picked up on the subtext and inhaled, about to say something but bit his tongue. Shachi gently removed his arm from around your shoulders, propping your head up on the sofa behind you and stood quietly, making room for Law. 

“Captain,” he started, shooting him a look that wasn’t quite placeable. Disappointment? Anger? It wasn’t either, perhaps something in between, he decided you were capable enough to handle this yourself, “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Law sat down next to you. He wanted to laugh. You had a way about you, even in such a moment of difficulty for Law, that made him want to give into you completely. God knows he had spent every second he’d known you fighting that urge. You slept on, completely undisturbed by any of the commotion around you. A strand of hair fell across your face, an obstruction to an otherwise perfect view. He brought a hand up to it, gently pushing it to the side, tucking it behind your ear. You stir, slightly. 

He hates himself, he thinks as he brings a firm hand to your arm, and gently shakes you to a conscious state. 

You wake with droopy eyelids, sleep still generously distributed throughout your body. It pains him to wake you, he knows you need the rest. He watches your lashes touch your rosy cheeks as you blink your eyes open, gathering your surroundings. You yawn, stretching your hands above your head, your shirt rising just enough to show off your lower tummy. Law curses whatever devil placed you in his life. 

“Mmm.. What time ‘s it, Chi?” you ask. Jealousy rears its ugly head in Law’s chest at the use of a nickname for Shachi. 

Law clears his throat, “One twenty three in the morning.” 

You jolt, straightening your posture, upon recognizing your captain’s unmistakably deep, tired voice. 

“Law,” you say, looking at him, “I was just leaving, actually. Shachi was supposed to wake me up an hour ago..” You adjust the hem of your shirt and push your hair out of your face. An awkward silence filled the room– an awful reminder of how fucked up your… situation had become. 

You can’t bear it, Law can tell, any more than he can. Your discomfort is obvious and he hates to be the root of it. 

“Well, goodnight,” you say standing. Your voice wavers. 

“Y/n,” Law says, “Sit. Please.” 

You wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off. You’d even rehearsed it with Ikkaku.

“Fuck you Law,” you’d practiced, “Fuck you and never speak to me again I never want to be around you. You’re so…”

That was usually where Ikkaku would have some suggestions:

“Immature? Selfish? Mean? Evil? Misogynistic? Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah,” you’d agree, “But I don’t think I can say that to him directly, he is the Captain after all.”

“He’s also a doctor,” she’d observed, “But you don’t seem very healed to me.”

These conversations replayed in your head as you sat down, following his orders. 

You kept your gaze focused downward, your bare feet shuffled awkwardly against the carpet. 

“We should vacuum this,” you said, “Feels kinda dusty.” 

Silence settled between the two of you. It was unbearable. 

You continued, “I’ll mention it to Penguin, um, I know he likes stuff cleaned a certain way. And, oh, right, I meant to tell you about the books we’re picking up at the next port. They ran out of the edition of the Watson book you ordered–”

“Y/n.”

You shut up. You could feel the tears start to well in your eyes. No, goddamnit, you thought, Don’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m… sorry.”

You looked up at him, a puzzled expression on your face. 

“No, you’re not,” you said. If there were any other noise coming from anywhere on the ship he would not have heard you, you spoke so quietly. 

“No, you’re not,” you repeated. 

Law inhaled, guilt had never had such a physically debilitating effect on his body. 

“Y/n, listen. I am. I can’t sleep, or eat, or think, I can’t–”

“Neither can I, so, thanks for that. It’s been a great few weeks for me.”

He swallowed.  

“Please look at me.” 

You look up, your cheeks coated in two parallel streaks of tears. His eyes are red, the bags under them a deep shade of gray. He really hasn’t slept. You curse yourself as you reach a hand up to his face, and scoot yourself into his lap.

His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, chest to chest, and he places his forehead against yours. 

You feel a small string of tears fall into your lap. He’s crying, you realize. 

“I fucked up,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

He runs a hand up and down your back, it’s unfortunately soothing. You want so badly to push him off of you- deny his touch and affection, but as his hand slows and his grip on you tightens, as he pulls you into him even further and allows himself to indulge in the feeling of your body against his you know that you’ve once again fallen into his trap. 

“I can’t keep doing this, Captain.”

There was a time when hearing his title come from your lips elicited an unspeakably sinful desire within him. Hearing it from your mouth was such a delicious indulgence. Now he knows you use it to distance yourself from him- to avoid using his name. 

“I know, baby,” he says, “I know.”

You sit up in his lap, wiping your tears. 

“I can fix this,” he reassures you, “I promise.”

“How? What is there to fix?”

He’s silent.

“I thought about what you said, that night,” you continue.

‘That night,’ he wants to blow his brains out. That terrible night when he started this, when he couldn’t answer a simple question, when he started the downward spiral of the past three weeks, the tension between the two of you getting worse with each passing day. 

“You’re right, Law,” you went on, “To not have answered my question. We aren’t anything. You’re my captain and I’m your crewmate– nothing more, nothing less.”

You both knew that was a lie. Here you were in the dim candlelight on the library couch, the navy blue ocean stirring just outside the glass window behind you, sitting on his lap letting him hold you. He pulled you into his chest, laying your head down onto his shoulder. You let him. It was a delicate thing, to play such a game of cat and mouse, your roles always shifting back and forth. You let yourself be pulled into him, sinking into his touch, arching your back into his chest doing whatever possible to be closer to him for even just a moment. 

He brought a hand up to run through your hair, and rested his cheek on the side of your head. 

The silence was less bitter this time. You both sit in it for several minutes, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

You try to resist the urge for a split second, and then, as usual, cave into his touch. You place a soft kiss on his neck (a spot of complete and absolute weakness for Law). He responds with a kiss on your head. 

He inhales, and you brace yourself.

“Y/n.”

You don’t respond. 

“I love you.” 

Your cheeks immediately are covered by an onslaught of tears you hadn’t even felt forming. You sniffle, wrapping your arms around him tighter. He squeezes you harder, before making you sit up and look at him, face to face. 

He’s given up. He’s never been more fucked than he is now. He watches you, your expression, for a moment. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, he thinks, cheeks pink from his body heat, lashes damp from the tears.

“Y/n, I am sorry,” he wipes away your tears with one hand, the other tangling itself into your hair. You sniffle, a frown settling on your face.

“I want you,” he confesses, “Always. I think about you always and I can’t sleep and I’ve been telling myself that it’s because of work but it’s you. I can’t sleep without you. I can’t think without you. Everything reminds me of you, my pillow still smells like you, your clothes show up in my laundry, you have jewelry on my desk I can’t escape you. I don’t want to.”

You softened at this admission, but with Law there was always a catch. 

“But?” you ask.

He sighs, “If anything were to happen to you I’d be responsible. It felt better, safer to end, or deny things and keep you safe than keep going and risk your safety.”

“I’m a pirate, Law, I’m at risk anyway. Don’t lie to me, that’s not the only reason.”

He kisses your forehead, “I know, I know. I am worried about the risks of another crew finding out or, god forbid, the navy. But I can’t… be without you. I haven’t slept or eaten or… worked, really. I’m scared you don’t feel the same.”

You don’t what overcomes you in that moment, but the next thing you know your lips are attached to his, his hand pulling you into him by your neck.

You whine when he pulls back, ignoring the tears flowing down your cheeks.

He kisses your nose, your forehead, your cheeks as he wipes your tears whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m sorry.”

His lips find yours again, and he kisses you more aggressively this time– it’s carnivorous and hungry, his grip on your waist tightens enough to bruise and you wince. 

“L-Law, be gentle,” you whimper.

His grip softens slightly and he pulls away from your mouth to start planting sloppy, wet kisses on your neck.

You mewl, arching your back into him completely melting at his touch. Soft moans escape you as you tug at the hem of his shirt, helping him pull it off.

You run a hand over his abs, savoring the view as he helps you take your own shirt off. 

“Wait, Y/n, wait,” Law manages to get out, his breath heavy and fast, “What are we?”

You laugh, kissing him, slipping your tongue between his lips. He moans and you ignore his question. You pull away a sticky string of saliva connecting your puffy pink lips to his. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and grind down on it ever so slightly. 

Law bites back a moan, throwing his head back on the couch leaving his neck wide open for you. You gently bite down on his neck, kissing it after. 

You missed him so badly, no one had ever brought out in you what Law did. His confession immediately healed all the previous wounds he’d inflicted on your heart, wounds that only he would have been able to heal anyway.  

“Law, I need you,” you cry.

“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” he coos, holding you.

“I need you, always. Not conditionally. Not after midnight. Always.”

He sighs, a silent acknowledgement of his wrongs. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ve never… felt like this. I didn’t want to mess up, I suppose. Or ruin things between us. I’d rather stop this and still be able to see you every day than have you be mine and lose you for it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Law. I promise.”

He places another kiss on your forehead, sleep begins to take over in Law.  

“Law,” you pout, sitting up, “It’s cold.”

He blinks, taking a moment to process your words, savoring the way you say his name, “Okay, baby, let’s go to my room. Stay the night? Please?”

You think about it for a second, “Okay.”

“I love you,” he says.

You pause. His chest tightens. 

“I love you, too.”

Law picks you up, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he walks back through the Polar Tang, toward his room. 

He smiles, you’re going to be upset about the smell of smoke. 

“Baby,” he says.

“Hm.”

“Let’s tell everyone at breakfast, tomorrow.”

You perk up, “Tell them what?”

He laughs, and kisses the top of your head, “That you’re mine.”

kidd: 

my fav scottish #pussypounder | 3.9k words

Your vision begins to blur at the edges, as Kidd’s grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. You’d complain if you were able to form any thoughts other than enjoying the rhythmic slap of his hips against your ass, your mind numb as you begin to drool from the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your clit. You yelp at the sudden sharp pain of Kidd’s metal hand slapping your ass, it energizes you to match his thrusts halfway. Kidd loves watching you fuck yourself on his big, fat dick in doggy-style, his chest swells with pride at his ability to reduce you to such a pathetic, whiny personal slut for him. The sound of sloppy, wet slaps fills the room, a consistent tempo of plap, plap, plap.

“Feel good, lassie?” Kidd laughs, his pace never faltering.

“Mmmff, fuckkk Kidd, please don’t stop!”

“I‘m getting close, love,” his voice now slightly strained, “Where should I finish, hm?”

“Inside,” you beg, “Please, inside!”

You yelp as his metal hand once again makes harsh contact with the fat of your ass, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let bliss take over, now approaching your own end. 

“Kidd,” you whine, “Gonna… cum!”

“That’s right, lassie, cream all over me,” Kidd growls. 

His thick accent makes your clit throb, and he can feel you tightening around him.

“Ya like when I talk to ya like that?” his hand moved from your neck to the base of your scalp where he roughly grabbed a generous handful of hair, yanking your head back as he bent over to kiss you.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, your mind completely hazy from the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, “Mmf mmm-”

Kidd pulls away, a deep laugh filling the room, “What’s that, love?”

“Gonna.. cum, daddy!”

Your captain’s pace slows ever so slightly, he savors every inch of pleasure he can draw from your drooling pussy– you know he’s close. 

“Cum with me, sweetheart,” he commands.

It only takes a few more strokes before you oblige, sinking further into the mattress as you release your orgasm and feel Kidd finishing inside you. He indulges you in a few more strokes; he loves watching the creamy, wet mixture the two of you produce whenever he cums inside of you.

“Good girl,” he says as he slowly pulls out, before collapsing on the bed next to you.

“C’mere,” he beckons you toward him, patting his chest for you to lay on. You obey. He brings a hand to your neck, and kisses the top of your head before closing his eyes. He starts snoring a few minutes later. 

To say sex with Kidd was amazing would be the understatement of the year, it was heavenly, divine, rough, passionate, wonderful. He knew your body better than his own, being with him was indescribably delicious. The sex you had filled your mind for days and days after, so much so that Kidd had begun to recognize it on your face when you were thinking about your latest encounter. A dazed, hazy look would cloud your eyes during meetings, dinner, days out in the towns you stopped at. It drove Kidd insane, knowing you were thinking about him that much– and, for the most part, he was always happy to indulge. 

Pulling you (and your panties) to the side whenever he had time, Kidd was a very generous man when it came to you, always happy to give you exactly what you needed. After all, he’d tell himself, he needed you functioning at full capacity and if this was how he needed to remind you of that, who was he to complain? 

He was just as entranced by you, though he’d never admit it out loud. More than once he caught himself seeking you out just to talk, to spend time in your presence. He’d come up with poorly thought out, half-assed excuses to be near you.

“Y/n,” he’d say, “Come help me in the workshop lass, you have small enough hands to fix this screw.”

Or, “Come hold this light while I work, love.”

“Come read with me, sweetheart, I need your opinion on the best kind of metal to use.”

“Grab me an apple from the kitchen, will ya, lassie?”

It was obvious to you, of course, given that it was a fault you yourself echoed through your own actions. 

“Kidd, can you zip up my dress for me?”

“Kidd, could you fasten my necklace for me?”

“Kidd, taste this, tell me if it’s good.”

“Kidd, Kidd, Kidd…”

Everyone else on the crew found it endearing, you brought out something mature in their Captain– which they greatly appreciated. 

“Looks like he just needed to be having sex regularly,” Wire joked. 

You couldn’t disagree. 

You and Kidd worked so well together, you’d found yourselves fighting back to back a handful of times now moving in sync with one another, not having to communicate, simply understanding how the other thinks, moves, works. 

You lost count of how many nights you’d spent in his room, and vice versa. It was terrible to admit but you were attached. You slept better with his chest against your back, strong arm wrapped around you. Your day was better when you woke up to his snoring and got to kiss him awake. 

You laid now on his chest, sweat drying on your forehead and back, wincing internally. 

This wasn’t great. 

Yes, you worked well together and the sex was amazing– but you hadn’t quite worked your way up to admitting that maybe there was a deeper attachment brewing, and you knew your Captain was definitely not thinking that way at all. 

Besides, there was something freeing about the casualty of it all. Kidd was there when you were unbearably horny (which had been often, as of late) and you were there when he was (which, again, had been quite often as of late). 

No strings attached! That was a good thing… Right? You were free to do as you wished, see other people, reconnect with old flames you crossed paths with on the open ocean, and there were no worries about childish feelings or getting hurt. 

Right?

Kidd had fallen asleep, you could hear his soft snores and his hand that had been rubbing your back had fallen limp by his side. 

Fuck, you thought. This wouldn’t do. You liked Kidd, but he was the last person on Earth you needed to fall in love with.

You slowly sat up, inching your way to the edge of the bed. You went to stand, when you were jerked back by a metal finger pulling you by the hem of your panties.

“Where’re ya goin’?” He asked, voice deep and raspy with sleep.

You ignored the heat between your legs. 

“To bed, Kidd. Goodnight.”

He laughed, “Come lay down then.”

You were silent. Why shouldn’t you? You’d slept with him hundreds of times before. 

No attachments. 

“I… sleep better in my bed,” you said. Awful excuse, you noted. 

“Alright then,” he sat up, yawning, “Let’s go to your room, then.”

“Kidd…” you started. You didn’t know what to say. What were you feeling? Attachment? Love? Had you ever really been in love before? What did that even feel like? 

The nature of your relationship was unspoken but mutually understood. This, whatever this was, was casual, no strings attached, sexual, non-exclusive. 

He sat up, making his way to the edge of the bed to sit next to you, “Somethin’ wrong?”

This wasn’t supposed to be hard. It was supposed to be fun, easy, a stress reliever. 

“Um, yeah, I just– I started my period so I have to go wash up and stuff. I’ll see you in the morning,” you lied. 

Something’s wrong, Kidd thought. Say something, he urged himself. 

“Let me take care of you, lassie,” he said, gently placing an arm around your waist, “Think a bit of blood bothers Captain Eustass Kidd?”

You let out an unconvincing laugh, “It’s alright Kidd, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You stood, making your way to the door. 

“Alright,” he sighed, lying back down on his bed, sure now that something was wrong with you, “But give me a kiss before ya go.”

You paused at the door, back to your Captain. 

A moment passed.

Another moment. 

“Goodnight then, Y/n.”

You walked out, closing the door behind you, cursing yourself. 

Kidd lied back down, fully awake now. His stomach turned, something resembling nausea settled in his abdomen. Was he too forward? It hardly seemed likely that asking you to stay the night was out of bounds, especially when he had just been buried nine inches deep, emptying a load in you. He sighed, and rolled over onto his stomach as his mind sought a possible explanation. 

You weren’t on your period, that much was certain. Not that he was tracking your cycle, of course. He definitely didn’t go to significant lengths to make sure his schedule was freed up when you ovulated. 

Maybe, he thought, the feeling of nausea increasing, There’s someone else. 

He dismissed the thought quickly, but it ate at him. You leaving so suddenly, not even offering him a kiss goodbye… You didn’t even look at him. 

Kidd, despite the recent calmness he had, was still Kidd and the more he ruminated on the sickening possibility the more real it became. 

That must be it, he convinced himself, What obligation does she have to me anyway? We’re not… together. 

His chest ached, it infuriated him. He spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, contemplating whether he had any right to kick down your door and demand you give him the name of your lover or if he should simply never speak to you again. Should he ask the other members of the crew? He didn’t want to involve them; it was his problem, he decided. 

When inspiration did finally strike around five in the morning, just before the sun had started to rise, he ignored the gut feeling that had begun to indicate that it wasn’t the best idea. 

Tomorrow, he decided, when we stop for supplies I’ll find and flirt with a pretty girl. Give her a taste of her own medicine. With this resolution (that he had absolutely convinced himself was the best approach to the situation) he fell asleep, hard. 

It was too cold, you thought as you lounged in the library of the Victoria Punk, cuddled up by the fire you’d had Heat set for you before he left. You had opted out of going into town, and since you weren’t able to cite lovesickness as a reason you stuck with the period excuse. You didn’t miss how Kidd rolled his eyes at you when you offered the excuse again to him. 

The windows were icy, the temperature continuing to drop as it got later and later. It had quickly heated up in the library, you fanned yourself with an old copy of your favorite book. You passed multiple hours on your reading chair, in a hoodie Kidd had let you borrow months ago. Too bad he’s not here, you thought. You faded in and out of sleep, drowsy from the hot fire and the poor quality of sleep from last night. The sun was set when the peace and quiet was disturbed by the sound of a woman’s light and airy laughter. It carried through the ship, leading you to sit up and turn to look for the source of the sound. 

Your chest tightened at the sight that greeted you, and you were never more desperate for something that could hide the expression of disgust and hurt you felt forming on your face. 

Kidd sauntered on board with his hand around the waist of a woman you’d never seen before. She was wearing a dress notably similar to one you owned that he had complimented multiple times. The longer you looked (though you tried to keep it short) the more you noted similarities between you and her. Similar height, hair color, facial features, bodily assets. The moment you felt your bottom lip tremble you turned back in your chair, standing quickly and gathering your things, making a beeline to your room. 

Kidd made eye contact with you on your way out, eyes slightly widening upon seeing your sweater.

Heat and Wire walked up on board the ship a few minutes later, and shot you a sympathetic look. It was no surprise to them that Kidd was being immature over a simple misunderstanding (he disclosed last night’s events to them in more detail than was necessary) and despite their advice to not follow through with his idiotic plan, he did anyway. 

Kidd immediately knew he had fucked up, bad. The look on your face was enough to tell him that he had crossed a line and clearly had suffered a severe lapse in judgment. He immediately dismissed the woman, leaving Heat and Wire in the extremely awkward position of having to walk her off the ship– they made a mental note to make sure Kidd was on bathroom duty for the next month. He ran after you, but the door to your room was already shut and, he wiggled the handle for a few seconds, locked too.  

He knocked every few minutes, growingly increasingly agitated at your refusal to talk to him. 

Knock, knock. 

“Y/n, c’mon lass, you misunderstood– I don’t even know her!”

“I was just… I was– ugh, I don’t know what I was thinking!”

“I wanted to make you jealous, lass, just open the door so I can explain.”

After the third hour of knocking to no avail Kidd resolved that he would simply wait you out, you had to come out eventually. 

It was another three hours, nearly midnight, by the time you opened your door. Kidd was half asleep when you opened the door, and snapped back to full consciousness when he saw you. 

Your brows were furrowed and you looked at him with more disgust and contempt than usual. He crossed his arms and blocked your path.

“Get out of my way.”

“Talk to me,” he responded.

“About?”

He laughed, your blood boiled, “So you’re not upset? About… anything at all?”

“No, dearest Captain, why on Earth would I be upset?”

“Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You scoffed, “Really, Eustass I didn’t take you for such an idiot. Get out of my way.”

He sighs, a smirk still settled onto his face, and moves to the side, gesturing for you to go ahead.

You walk past him, making your way toward the kitchen. You don’t fail to notice how he tags along beside you. 

“Ugh, Kidd! What? What do you want from me?”

“Tell me why you’re upset.”

“You know why I’m upset, moron.”

“Tsk, tsk, that’s no way to talk to your Captain.”

You bite your lip, “I’m sure she’d talk to you exactly how you want. Stop following me.” You go to take another step, but he grabs your arm pushing you toward the wall of the hallway. He pressed his chest into your back, pinning you against the wall as he bent down bringing his lips to your ear and teasing you with a few kitten licks. 

He grabbed your wrists, holding them against your lower back with an uncharacteristically gentle grip. Like he was daring you to fight back. You relax into his grip, arching your back to rub your ass against his bulge. 

You hate how weak he makes you. 

A deep breath escapes Kidd, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your thighs are starting to get sticky.  A soft moan escapes your lips as he presses his hard cock into the curve of your ass. 

“Mhm,” Kidd teases, “Somethin’ else ya want to tell me, lassie? Go on, use your words.” 

“I don’t have anything to say to you, asshole,” you snap back, trying to suppress the urge to give him the attention he so desperately needs.

“But how often do you keep yourself busy with other women?”

You break. His grip slightly tightens, his confidence faltering for a split second. 

“Ohh,” he remarks, an infuriating smile settling onto his face, “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m just bored.”

He moves your wrists into his left hand, his right wrapping around to the front of your hips and under your skirt. He runs his thumb along your slit, your panties dripping with arousal. 

“Doesn’t feel like you’re bored, love,” he says, pressing harder against you, “Please, darling, tell me what’s wrong. I already miss you.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Right. And you really think I’m stupid enough to believe that? I’ve already told you what’s wrong.”

“I do miss you,” he laughs, “And, no you haven’t. You’re too smart to be truly bothered by my little stunt earlier. Somethin’ else is bothering ya– and don’t say it’s your period I know that’s not true.”

You pouted, refusing to answer the question. 

He ran a thumb over your lips, bending slightly to be able to gently kiss you. You don’t fight back. 

He lets go of your wrists and you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders bringing him in for another kiss.

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, he presses you into the wall, slipping his tongue past your lips.

This is hell, you think, Just tell him you’re done.

But, then again, you weren’t. That was the issue. 

Your chest was tight and your brain foggy as you pulled away from the kiss. 

Kidd’s chest heaved with heavy, deep breaths as he began the process of regaining his composure. He slowly lowered you down the wall until your feet touched the floor. He leaned against the wall, his metal arm resting above your head, caging you in. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and cupped your face with his right hand, bringing it up to his own. You stood on the tips of your toes and he bent lower to more easily pepper your face in kisses. 

“‘m sorry lassie,” he said, between kisses, “I’m an arse.”

A huge one, you thought. 

You kissed him back, his lips salty with the taste of sweat. 

“Forgive me? Please? I… You mean a lot to me. Don’t be upset, I can't take it.” 

A smile crept onto your face. You placed a hand on his chest, it felt like touching marble. He was so difficult to resist– but your mind flashed you the image of his arm around another woman and you steeled yourself. You pushed him back, slipping out from beneath his grasp walking out of the hallway back toward your own room. 

He followed after you like a dog on a leash.

“Y/n, bonnie lass, hear me out, baby” he pleaded; You walked just fast enough to stay out of his reach, “I am sorry, love.”

You kept walking, your poor Captain trailing behind you uttering pleas, “Y/n, slow down lass, let me explain. She doesn’t mean anything to me, I just wanted to make you jealous.”

You stopped, finally having arrived at your destination.

“Make me jealous?” you repeated, turning to look at him, an expression of disgust settling on your face, “By bringing her on to OUR ship, hm? That was your genius idea, Captain? How did that work out for you?”

He sheepishly looked down at the floor, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

“Why on Earth would you ever pull some bullshit like that with me? I’d have never done that to you.” 

This did get a rise out of him, “Oh, you’d never? So leaving me last night the way you did– with no explanation and a half-assed excuse is any better? You couldn’t even look at me, you refused to kiss me! Kiss me. It only makes sense you have another man on your mind.”

Your expression slightly relaxed, “Another man– that’s what you really think? That’s what this is all about?”

Kidd was silent, his stubbornness had gotten the better of him.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to offer him an explanation. 

“Last night,” you started, “I got scared–” “Scared? Of me?”

“Kidd!”

“Right, sorry, go on then.”

“I realized…” you paused, it was harder to say to his face than you expected, “I like you.”

Kidd’s countenance softened, “Well, lass, I’d hope you like me by now.”

“No, Kidd, I like you– I love–,” you bit your bottom lip, cutting yourself off. 

Your captain’s eyes widened, before a sly smile began to spread on his face. 

You ignored it, “I get that you don’t feel the same, I know this isn’t anything… serious, but–”

His arm shot out to wrap around you and pull you into him, you brought your own hands in front of yourself to push against his chest, maintaining the distance between the two of you. 

“C’mere, lassie,” he laughed, easily overpowering you and hugging you into him, “You’re a stubborn little thing, ya know?”

You huffed, tears pooling on your lower lash line, this was all so frustrating.

“Look at me,” he said, lifting your gaze with a finger under your chin, “I love you, Y/n.”

You looked up at him and the sight of your pink, pouting lips and watery eyes made him dizzy. 

He kissed you, squeezing your cheeks with his warm hand and squeezing your waist with the metal one. You deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips, reaching behind you to open the door to his bedroom. 

Kidd understood your request plainly, picking you up and walking to his bed with you. The door shut with a harsh bang, drawing you both out of your momentary reverie. 

Your captain gently placed you on the bed, pulling back to admire you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman on the ocean, you know?”

You smiled, blowing him a kiss. Kidd turned to lock the door and started undressing, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your anxieties had completely evaporated since his lips touched yours, you took a deep breath to process your confessions to each other. 

A smile made its way onto your features and your cheeks darkened. 

Kidd made his way back onto the bed, and pulled you into him, where you laid on top of him resting your chin on his chest. 

“I do love ya, lassie, I wasn’t joking,” he said.

“I know, Captain,” you said, visibly reassuring him. 

“Shall I help you get these off, sweetness?” he asked, tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You nod but hold up a finger, you weren’t quite done reprimanding him.

“Captain,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Yes, lovely?”

“If you ever pull some shit like that again, I’ll kill you.”

His smile dropped for a split second before he started laughing, and rolled over to pin you against the mattress. 

He bent down to kiss and suck at your neck. 

“Eustass,” you said, voice flat, “I’m serious.”

“Mmm,” he left one more kiss before answering, “I know you are, trust me.

Now let me make it up to ya.”

[jeoncasino]

Prospects

⋆ †₊ 0.1

Tired of life and all it had to bring for you, things take a turn when you find out two of your friends start to take a liking to you. With newfound emotions and a whole lot of drama, what happens when they start competing for your love?

Pairings: JJK x fem! reader [x KNJ]

Genre: college au, love triangle, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn, eventual smut.

Tags: rich! jjk, law student! jjk, dark hair! jjk, sweet! jjk, jealous! jjk, needy! jjk, obsessed! jjk, but also dom! jjk, slightly toxic! jjk, english major! knj, boy bsf! knj, co-worker! knj, husband material! knj, brown hair! knj, sweet! knj, jealous! knj, sad knj:(, pet names, everything’s so complicated and everyone’s in denial, jk's love language is physical touch and acts of service, jk has mommy issues so he's too attached to oc, joonie is so sweet i feel bad for him, gguk will try everything in his power to make oc his, ggukkie lowkey hates joonie lol, this is an actual slow burn yay!

Warnings: mentions of drug use.

⋆ †₊ Series Masterlist

Minors do not interact.

Smoke surrounds you. For a moment, the noises and lights from the party, once a chaotic blend, seperate distinctly. Each sound creates its own frequency, each beam of light cutting through the haze in sharp lines. Everything around you slows down, the moment captivating you in a trance that would otherwise not been achieved without smoking a certain plant.

Elaine, your best friend, who was sitting to your left, seems to be talking to you. You can't quite grasp what she's saying, but she leaves shortly afterward, leaving you alone in the beautiful backyard of this otherwise dirty frat house. You really were avoiding going inside—the floors were sticky, and it smells funky. Honestly, you didn’t even want to be there. Frat parties aren’t your thing. But Elaine, in apparent need of de-stressing (though later confessing she just wanted to see her latest infatuation, Zia), had dragged you out on a Thursday night. You thought about getting mad and leaving, but she’s your best friend—and every guy here looks like they’d spike her drink—so you stayed. Plus, she bought you a blunt, so it evened out.

As you gazed at the dark-glowing canvas of the night sky, you felt a presence beside you. Skeptically, you glanced to your right, only to find a man staring at you. You jumped.

“Oh my god?” you gasp, eyes wide, hand over your heart.

The guy laughs, clearly amused by your reacton. Trying to figure him out, you took a look at him. He wore a loose white shirt and baggy jeans. Dark hair framed his face. Two rings pierced the right side of his mouth, his right arm covered in tattoos. Honestly, you felt intimidated—frat parties drew all kinds of people, you know? But when you finally met his eyes, the softness of his gaze made him seem far more approachable then you originally thought.

“Will you quit staring?” He teased.

Your cheeks burned. “Oh please, I’m on drugs,” you muttered, looking away, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I know. Thought I’d join you on your trip.”

Confused, and extremely thirsty, you asked, “Who are you?”

“Seriously?” He replied, somewhat annoyed. “Jeon Jeongguk. We share a class—U.S History with Mrs. Webster,” He paused, anticipating an answer. He met silence. “No?”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m too high to remember anyone from that class.” Thinking it over, you added, “Seriously, though, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you.”

And that’s because you hadn’t. Jeongguk, though quite popular, found himself completely partner-less tonight. He didn’t like being alone, so when he spotted you, high and alone, he thought he’d try his usual trick with you—pretending he knew you from somewhere. It usually worked.

Not today though. At your response, he was utterly offended. Did you seriously not know who the Jeon Jeongguk was? Even he recognized you—the sharing a class part not being a lie—so it made no sense. Although, he didn’t know your name either, so maybe you did know him, just not his name, and the drugs are clouding him from your memory.

Yeah, he thought, it’s definitely the drugs. “Did you know marijuana causes memory issues?”

You snorted. “Just say you’re offended.”

He shrugged. “What’s got you all alone out here?”

“My horny friend, I guess.” You turn to face him. “You?”

“I was taught to never leave a pretty girl like you alone,”

“Okay, Mr. Charming, please be serious.”

He laughed. “My friends ditched me too.”

“Hm,” You didn’t know what else to say. Usually, you were good at small talk, but you were literally in cloud nine and too thirsty to properly think. “Do you mind getting me some water? I’ve got cotton mouth and don’t want to go inside.”

“It smells wierd doesn’t it?” He scrunched his nose as he replied. You nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Many chit-chat’s and half a bottle of wine later—Jeongguk found it somewhere in the frat—you both bid goodbye with teary eyes and warm embraces, somehow convinced you’d never see each other again after this party. Both of you not letting go, Elaine and his friends have to literally pry you guys apart, causing everyone to fall comically like dominoes.

Attempting to open your eyes you rubbed them, immediately closing them as the morning sun assaults your vision. What even happened yesterday? Your head pounded, nausea swirled in your gut. You felt horrible. Trying to go back to sleep, you turned in your bed, feeling the dreaded build-up of saliva once you layed on your side. Uh-oh.

You rushed to your bathroom just in time.

“Elaine?” you half-yelled, wiping your mouth with your hand muffling your voice.

No response. You stumble out of your room and head for the kitchen. There, your find an already-ready best friend cooking god-knows-what.

Looking up at you, she said, “Good morning, Mrs. Jeon,” her tone dripping with mockery.

“What? Mrs. Jeon?” Confused, you try to piece together last night’s events, but it’s no use. Panicking, you exclaimed, “Oh my God, Elaine, what happened yesterday?!”

She looked at you unimpressed. “Oh, nothing much. Just that you and Jeongguk were all over each other yesterday!”

“Jeon who?” You asked.

“Be so serious right now,” She couldn’t believe you. “Y/n, he’s like, super well-known around campus. Rich as hell and a jerk.” She added, “Cheated on Jayla, rejected me when you bet me to hit on him for five dollars.” Elaine huffed with her arms crossed.

Recalling how hilarious that day was, you laughed so hard your headache worsened tenfold. “I might die if I keep laughing,” you stuttered, gripping the kitchen counter for dear life. “Is that why you don’t like him?”

“This isn’t funny! You guys made fools of yourselves last night. I genuinely thought he laced your drink.”

Drink. The word triggers flashes of last night—Jeongguk approaching you, him bringing you water, a bottle of wine somehow appearing in your hands. Blood drained from your face as you remembered how you parted ways—throwing yourself into his arms, him not letting go, literally shedding tears as Elaine dragged you out of the frat’s backyard.

You’ll make sure to never drink again after this.

“Elaine, did I really—”

“Yes, Y/n, you did! Do you know how embarrassing that was? Don’t even get me started on the reputation you just gained yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All his closest friends were there,” she said, serving her plate with freshly cooked eggs. “They thought you guys fucked or something.”

“Ew?”

“Did you really?” The question almost offended you.

“Stop! God, no, obviously not,” you shuddered. “Just because we hugged?”

“No, because Jeon fucks everything he touches,” she replies matter-of-factly. “He also got a little possessive, he wouldn’t let go.”

“Of me?”

“Yeah, we all fell to the ground because y’all wouldn’t budge. My biceps are sore, no joke.”

You slumped against the counter, hiding your face in disbelief. “Wait so, now people think I’m easy?”

“Yes. Now let’s just hope the rumor didn’t spread outside the frats,” she said, walking out of the kitchen with her plate full of eggs. “People were watching, you know? I almost left you there with that whore. Anyway, you better get ready—your first class starts in 20.”

You sprint to your room.

“Thanks for saving me a spot.”

Namjoon lifted his backpack from the seat next to him as you slid into it, placing your own bag on the floor.

“No worries, buns,” he said, noticing your wet hair immediately. “Were you in a rush this morning?”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“Did you have a night shift yesterday? I don’t recall scheduling you late this week.”

“No, it’s just that Elaine dragged me to this party and I—” You stopped yourself. Were you really going to expose your half-secret to Joonie out in the open? Nuh-uh. “I’m just so hungover. Let’s talk later. Focus on class.”

Although curious as to what happened last night that got you this flustered, Namjoon chose to not push the subject, both of you focusing now on whatever the professor was droning about.

You liked that he always walked you to class. Obviously if his class was far or if he got busy he wouldn’t, but for the most part he did. You found it chivalrous, a trait that most men nowadays lacked. That’s why you liked Namjoon—he was friendly but polite, not shy to ask about your personal life but never stepping any boundaries. Not to mention his other great qualities, like how intelligent or hard working he is. You both had gotten originally close through Yeyo’s café—he trained and guided you along the harsh path of being a first-time barista—and having worked most shifts together, you became each other’s favorite co-worker, mingling whenever and hanging outside of work at times. At these occasional dates, the both of you learnt you shared similar struggles, like not having anyone support you financially or having complicated relationships with your families. All these things made relating to him easier. He never failed to make you laugh or help you see the good in the bad, and for him you were grateful.

Now you’re here—two months later, at the same university—him walking you to class while you complained about the workload your professor just assigned.

“I mean is he kidding? Not everyone has free time like him. I’ve got work!”

“I think his wife’s divorcing him or something,”

You gasp. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled at your reaction. “You know the professor’s assistant?”

“Oh, the one who wants you?” you teased with a grin, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

Namjoon elbowed you gently. “Stop it,” he muttered. You laughed at his flustered expression.

“Anyway,” he continued, eager to change the subject, “the other day, I stayed after class to ask her for some extra points, but she got off track and started telling me all sorts of things about him.”

“Like what?” you asked, leaning into him with interest.

“Why do you sound excited?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t act like you don’t indulge in professor drama,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you shot back, avoiding his gaze.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he teased.

“Okay, fine! Just tell me what she said, please,” you pouted, grabbing onto his arm, feeling the firmness of his muscles. You knew that whenever you did this, he’d give in—like that one time at the fair when you’d been so thirsty you begged for a water bottle that cost him twenty bucks.

He sighed, giving in as expected. “Well, according to her, his wife wanted a Chanel bag, but the professor wouldn’t buy it for her. Then, she thought he was having an affair, so she looked through his things, but she found out he lied about how much money he’d inherited, so now she’s filing for divorce.”

“Gosh, I almost feel bad for him,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. “Almost.”

“Meanie,” Namjoon grinned and squeezed your nose.

“Hey! Stop, you’re—” About to punch him for ruining your makeup, he darted away as fast as he could.

“I’ll kill that motherfucker,” you muttered, opening the door of your next class.

“And I was like, are you dumb?” Elaine exclaimed through the phone.

After your last class, you decided you’d stop by the nurse’s office to get something that would soothe your headache, when you recieved a call from your best friend. Though spontaneous calls weren’t surprising, what she had just informed you was.

Apparently, she met up earlier with Zia, who had the audacity to ask her if she found it embarrassing to have a friend who had slept with Jeongguk. And obviously, her being the bestest, most protective friend ever, denied the rumors going around the frats in attempt of clearing your name.

As you walked out of the nurse’s office and into the bustling campus, she continued, “And I swear, in that moment, I was about to punch her. I mean, I always knew Zia was a little dense, but this? Ugh, it’s infuriating! I don’t even know why we fucked anymore.” She sighed heavily.

You found a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, needing to process everything. You’d been too busy with classes to think much about the previous night’s events, but now, with the day’s tasks behind you, the anxiety started creeping back in.

“Did you guys actually fuck yesterday?” you asked, leaning back against the bench.

“No, we had literally just fucked at the sorority, when she started asking dumb ass questions,” Elaine huffed. “I think I’m never finding love.”

“Don’t say that, E,” you replied, rubbing your temples. “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Elaine’s voice softened. “How are you holding up, though? I’m sorry for everything. I can’t help but feel responsible,” she added, and you could practically see her pouting on the other end of the line.

You took a deep breath. “Honestly, I was too busy this morning to even care, but now that I have time to think, I kind of just want to hide from everyone.”

“I’m sorry. I love you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

“I love you more.”

“Well I got to go, I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

Listening to the ring which notified the call was over, you finally had some time to process everything. Trying to find where you went wrong, the most controversial thing that happened all night was the fact that you were hanging out with… Jeongyeo? Or was it Jeongyu? Uh, you’ll make sure to ask Elaine later. Anyways, you saw no harm from having an innocent chat with him. All you did was drink with a rich frat college guy— and basically cry to each other but that was too embarrassing to even think about—so your ever crumbling reputation made no sense. You guys didn’t fuck, most certainly didn’t kiss, and by now the guy should’ve cleared the rumors, so why were they making such a fuss over it?

It was all so childish. Yet, despite your attempts to rationalize it, your stomach churned, your hands grew clammy, and your mind raced with anxiety. Every passerby seemed to stare at you with judgmental eyes.

You sighed deeply. This felt like high school all over again. You had to pull yourself together. If these people wanted to make a fuss over nothing and use you as their entertainment, then so be it. You had bigger things to worry about—like paying your bills or pursuing a career. So, with that, you decided to push the drama to the back of your head and refocus on what really mattered, finally finding peace once again in your mind.

And at peace you were.

At least that was the case until you got back home, because as soon as you walked into the apartment, Elaine rushed over, breaking the news to you. “Y/n, you won’t believe this. That miserable old landlord is raising our rent!”

You blinked, trying to process the new discovery. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine threw her hands up in frustration. “I begged him to exclude us from the raise, but he wouldn’t budge. He said it’s either pay up or move out.”

Trying your hardest not to kill him right now, you paused. What were you going to do now?

Trying to keep an optimistic outlook, you replied, “Look, I know it’ll be hard, but we can do this. Let’s just take extra shifts at work and start looking for an affordable place to stay at.”

She wasn’t sure about your proposition. You both worked long hours as is, not to mention how time consuming and disrupting it was for school.

“Y/n, we barely get to sleep some days,” Elaine said so lowly it was almost a whisper. Finding the situation impossible, she added, “I’m dropping out.”

You scoffed, “Are you crazy? You’re not doing that,”

“What else is there to do Y/n?” She frowned.

Lips pursed, you racked your brain trying to come up with a solution. Dropping out was not an option, and if keeping your education meant being homeless, then so be it. You both had a car, so maybe you guys could sleep there until you found a new place. And if you had to shower, you could probably just ask Namjoon if-

“Oh my god! Namjoon!” You yelled as you reached for your phone.

“What? Y/n what are you doing?”

Dialing Namjoon’s number, you replied with a smile on your face, “Pack your stuff, we’re crashing Joonies place.”

Author: pls this took me long enough to post and im not sure i even like it lmfoaoaoa. nobody told me how hard and time consuming this was. anyways yall if it sucks LMK ! i’ll make sure to burn this post down if it sucks ass. shout out to anyone who finished reading the first chapter of this series ! omm ilysm. i’ll also try to comment the people who wanted to be added to my taglist, hopefully it works. bye !

This is a work of fiction. The scenes, characters and events depicted are purely fictional and not intended to represent real-life procedures or individuals. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Do not use this story as your own.

@jeoncasino 2024 ©

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ WAS I SUCH A FOOL? — NANAMI KENTO

summary . . . two years after breaking up with nanami kento, he shows up at your concert

contents . . . 70s rock band, NSFW 18+, fem!reader, brief discussion of drug and alcohol addiction, exes, singer!reader x drummer!nanami, rival bands, secret relationships, infidelity, reader is in a relationship with toji, smut, piv, creampie, “angry” sex, angst, complicated relationships — 7.5k

notes . . . inspired by many things, including silver springs by fleetwood mac, daisy jones & the six and nana <3 so if you like any of those things and kento, this is for you!

It was the final stretch of your tour. 

A finale that led to the conclusion of months spent in nothing but a cloud, one where you lingered only on the outskirts of your memory. Hazy traces of drawn-out celebrations, sweaty sex in the bathrooms during a house party, camera flashes from paparazzi—they were the only glimpses that you got from the weeks that had gone by, images that weren’t quite cohesive. 

There had been days where you didn’t quite remember your name, stumbled over the recollections of the night before, the weeks before, but you didn’t mind so much. It would all be fine, as long as you never forgot your lyrics up on the stage, where millions of eyes watched your every move carefully, would judge you for even the most minor slip-up. 

You could forgive yourself for almost anything, but you’d rather die than embarrass yourself in front of them, your fans, the only ones whose love you had left. 

The list of people you’d disappointed in your life couldn’t be condensed; even those who spared their affection like it was a necessity held some shred of bitterness towards you. They couldn’t be blamed, really. Not when your life was one to scorn, and you were a dying star, burning bright and burning fast. 

Still, you couldn’t think of a better way to live life. The warmth of drugs and alcohol and the music spared you from surviving every day in misery. 

Of course, singing seemed to do the trick better than anything. It was more of a high than anything else had ever been, and the way you felt on stage was close to the same sort of love you’d felt two years ago. The adoration of fans was innocent enough to fill the void in your gaping heart. 

You clasped your hand around the microphone, closing your eyes as you leaned forward, sultrily singing the rhythm before you would come to the crescendo at the end of your song. 

Years of work had led up to this—the grandeur of singing to a venue filled to the brim with fans, each of them knowing the words to your creation. Every crack in the audience was taken by a body, one rank with sweat, contributing to the thick air, cloaked in smoke. A crowd of people that seemed undesirable, and yet, they tolerated the smell, the feeling of a stranger pressed up against their backside, just for a few moments of seeing their favorite album played live.

They were here for all of you. A band that was never supposed to make it this far, and yet, held the number one single in the country, a few gold records, and covers on magazines that some could only dream of being in. 

Yet, with your ego the size of the sun, and the dreamy haze that you put yourself in, you couldn’t help but feel like the crowd was always rooting for you. Hearts formed in their eyes as they watched you sway behind the microphone, and it brought a smile to your lips, one that always came with the rush of performing.

The words you wrote took you elsewhere, transported you to a place where you could truly spill your soul out, your ink on the page as permanent as the mark you’d leave on the world. You were important, weren’t you? Maybe not in the way you wanted to be, but still in a way that mattered. 

The bass played steadily behind you, strumming, deepening, sinking into your veins. Although you focused, it was easy to forget yourself and where you were. The lines and the chords were too familiar from all your late night practices, from the cigarettes you’d shared in bed with Toji Fushiguro, who played the bass like he bled honey.

The lyrics you’d penned from your very own hand, sang deeply from your diaphragm, always led to a flash of memories in your mind like a film screen, each word punctuating another moment in your life that had pushed you into a mess of a woman. 

Toji’s name might have been next to yours on the songwriting credits, but this song, the one you belted, belonged to you and you alone. It put you on display, stripped you bare; if anyone really bothered to search deep enough, they’d see you for what you were. 

They’d see that, contrary to the opinion of the public, these songs were not about Toji at all.

A tear dripped off your lashes, and you clenched your jaw, refusing to let sadness overpower the anger that you should’ve felt towards the man you’d left behind. For months, you’d blamed yourself—but it had taken two to weave the web of hurt that still ensnared you. 

Shaking off the despair, you stared out into the crowd, digging deep into your lungs for the breath that would sustain the powerful note, the punctuation of your song, the climax of the pain and fury you’d never get rid of. The lingering emotion that had you questioning if you’d been the one to ruin the best thing you’d ever had, or if, perhaps, you’d just been bad for each other all along. 

You traced your gaze through the faces, soaking in the love in their expressions, the praise that came with their reactions to your lyrics. How that sort of love didn’t make you feel whole, but it certainly put you back together in a way that made you believe you weren’t so broken anymore either. 

Then—the world stuttered, momentarily, halting to a screech as brown eyes, just as steadfast and tender as you remembered, stared over dark glasses. 

You fell behind in the song, just a note, a pause that lasted less than a second. Your lips turned dry as your heart fell down to the floor, dropping into your stomach, twisting your insides. You almost convinced yourself it was an illusion, until he blinked, shifting, though not uncomfortably, disguised just enough so that no one else in the crowd knew who he was but you. 

Nanami Kento, there, right before your very eyes. It was the first time you’d seen him in person since you’d split up two years ago—a breakup that would’ve made the headlines for weeks, if anyone had known about it. 

You squeezed the microphone harder, the sound in your voice dripping with emotion, raw and raspy, but in a way that was beautiful. You’d never sang like this before, but the muse of your song, the man you always wrote about, stood before you. 

Kento didn’t look much different—but you wouldn’t have noticed the changes anyways. You saw him in the papers constantly, unable to avoid him as much as you were certain he was unable to avoid you.

You sang the few notes of the song; Toji brought you to a crescendo, and your voice nearly cracked from rage, the breath ripped from your lungs as Kento dared to watch you with pity at the mess you’d made of yourself. After all this time, you couldn’t stand to see that sort of compassion on his face.

The lights suddenly seemed too bright, the crowd too wild, Kento’s eyes too deep and sad and unreflective of those around him. 

One of your other bandmates closed out your evening, and though the crowd demanded an encore, you refused to get back on the stage, couldn’t do it even if you tried. The contents of your stomach emptied out right as you stepped out of their sight. 

“Shit!” one of the stagehands shouted, jumping out of your way as you heaved again, wiping your eyes. There was another round of cursing, and sure, they were used to stars indulging too much in things they shouldn’t, but that wasn’t the only reason for you vomiting all over the floor. 

“Hey, hey,” a voice said, calming and steady as a hand traced up your spine, rubbing soothing circles. “Everything okay, baby? Need some water?” Toji was concerned, deep eyes scanning your face for any signs of weakness.

You shook him off, and Toji whispered to another one of the men over his shoulder, telling them to close the final curtain. Even though you wanted to protest, you wiped your mouth, and accepted the water that a dark-haired woman had rushed to you. 

“I’m fine, Toji,” you said, breathing heavily, wondering if there was any ounce of truth to your words. Nanami’s appearance had been the last thing you’d expected, and you didn’t want anyone to notice, out of the fear that someone would start digging into your past with him. 

You could only hope that your shared glimpse had gone unnoticed, a plethora of emotions spelled out there, ones that you’d been horrible at hiding. 

Toji directed the stagehands around, dragging your manager over, even as their conversation fell on your lifeless ears. Everything sounded like static, and you didn’t want to speak, sweaty and hot, a panic rising up in you. 

“I’m going to the dressing room,” you said, needing to get away from the shouting, the wave of anxiety that was arising. It was quickly becoming too much; even Toji’s presence was too much. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You want me to stay with you?” Toji asked, his eyes flashing with an emotion you couldn’t discern, perhaps possessiveness, perhaps something else. He’d always been more jealous than you would’ve liked, but his presence was a comfort from time to time. 

Not now, though.

Shaking your head, you drew away from him, Toji’s large palm falling off the small of your back. “I’m fine, really.” Nothing you said could’ve convinced him completely, and you didn’t bother. Instead, you left the stage without listening to the rest of his protests, climbing down the stairs and disappearing out of view. 

Surprisingly, he let you go. After nearly four years of sharing a band, it seemed Toji Fushiguro was starting to understand you. 

The truth was, with your shaky hands and the rampant nervousness that seemed to heighten only after a show, you knew you needed something. Toji had forced you to flush everything that you’d kept locked up, but you always kept a back-up, just in case, for times where the music wasn’t enough. 

You went to the dressing room, hands shaking at your sides as you tried to regain some control of your breathing, rid the rancid taste from your mouth. There was still a box of cigarettes in your pocket, and you lit one, the smoke easing some of the emotions that spun wild circles in your chest. 

As you returned backstage, your bodyguard, Itadori, a young man that you’d hired on the spot, smiled softly, falling away from the door to the dressing room. There had been too many close calls, too many incidents in recent years that you didn’t want a repeat of. Ever since you’d gotten enough money to hire proper security, you’d put it in Itadori’s pocket. 

“Anyone try to sneak back here?” you asked; you’d heard horror stories of fans trying to steal items, even trash, things like used tissues with snot dripping off it. It’d been a nightmare of yours since you first started going on tour.

Itadori shook his head, and let you in, released you into a room that wasn’t quite silent, but was better, worlds better, than the blaze of music that had followed you off the stage, bursting your eardrums. Sometimes, you forgot how loud it truly was out there. The ring in your ears and the deafening quiet were the sole reminders of the difference in sound after the shows. 

You smoked to the end of the cigarette, filling the room with a cloud as you calmed yourself, rummaging through your bag for the spare bottle of pills that you’d hidden away from Toji. For emergencies only, you’d promised yourself. 

And, well, this was certainly one of those times. 

Without any water, you swallowed it, feeling a lump in your throat before it slid down, dissolving into your stomach. You’d wait for it to take effect before you left, called a car. Perhaps, you’d be able to forget this evening had ever happened. You’d go back into the studio in a couple weeks, start on your next album, and this would all just be a dream. Surely, you convince yourself of that. 

There were just a few weeks left in the year anyways. You’d be able to put it all behind you, and maybe, you’d be a new person in the new year. A stupid idea, but a hopeful one, and one that would propel you through the holidays, the end of the tour, and the rest of your life.

A sound on the other side of the door caught your attention, a conversation taking place that you hadn’t heard at first. Hushed voices, under frustrated breaths. For a moment, you couldn’t register that it was Kento’s words that were rushing through the cracks in the plaster, the wood-paneled door, but it shouldn’t have come as any surprise to you.  

He’d been the one to seek you out. Why would he come all this way just to watch you play, without so much as a conversation? You’d been a fool to think otherwise, that you could escape the grasp that the blonde man always seemed to have around you.

“Please, Itadori. I know you remember me. Don’t treat me like a stranger.” Kento sighed heavily, the irritation leaking into his voice as he lowered the tone. “Just let me talk to her.” 

“You can’t be back here,” Yuuji answered, but the hesitation in his tone had you wondering if he was contemplating the opposite. 

After all, Yuuji had been the only one to know about you and Kento; it was hard to keep it a secret from someone who was around you almost always. It was why you trusted him so sincerely. He’d never spilled the truth to anyone, even when he could’ve made thousands with a story like that.

“I just need to see her.” Desperate, almost. The strain of the syllabus tugged at your chest, and though you willed him away, the other part of you, still rancid with sentimental emotions for your ex-lover, begged him to keep pushing. To stand out there until you couldn’t hide any longer. 

“I’m sorry, Nanami. I am, but you’re not authorized. I don’t want to let you in without her permission, and she hasn’t given me that.” 

Kento took a long breath, and didn’t say anything for a moment. His voice went even quieter, and you pressed your ear against the door, straining to hear it. Even the slight inflections of the sighs in his chest had something unfurling within your stomach, comforting and familiar. “Fine.” A shuffling, closer to the door, his shoes against the wood, before his words were nearer to your ear. “I’m sure she’s in there listening to every word anyways. Running as usual.” 

There was no response from Itadori. You could hear the self-satisfaction in Kento’s voice, and he could probably see your shadow under the door, sense you just inches away, somehow.  

You exhaled, and snuffed out the cigarette. Then, you threw the door open. 

Even knowing he’d be there, the sight of Kento still caught you off-guard, but this time, you anticipated it, and remained composed. He stood with his arms crossed, the corners of his lips pulling up smugly, like he’d know that snide remark would be enough, because he’d always known you better than anyone. 

“What the fuck do you want?” you said, narrowing your eyes, darting them all over his face. Still as handsome as you remembered. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”

“You should fire your security team,” Kento said simply, pushing past Yuuji to barge his way into the dressing room. With judgmental brown eyes, he glanced around it, even though you were certain he’d played at this venue before, knew exactly what secrets hid in this room. “They accepted my bribe way too quickly.” 

You stared at him, slammed the door behind you, hopeful that the sounds of the crowd that still rampaged would be enough to drown out your conversation. “Right.” A bitter laugh escaped you, the door rattling on its hinges. “You must feel pretty proud of yourself right now.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Kento’s eyebrows raised, and finally, he stopped perusing the room, crossing his arms over his chest to stare at you. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but I haven’t changed much.” 

What he meant was that he was still an honest man, despite the backwards practices and corruption of the world the two of you lived in. Nanami Kento was a specimen in the scene of music, someone a bit too perfect, seemingly too straight-laced, serious almost to a fault in front of a crowd. He lost himself in the songs, just as you did, but he held himself with some sort of dignity.

Maybe, for that reason, it never made sense for you to be together, anyways. Not when you were an endearing mess, and he was the leader of your band’s closest competition. The group that Toji hated almost as much as the family he’d run away from.

It should’ve been obvious that the two of you were doomed from the start. 

“You can’t just show up, Kento, and demand a conversation. I haven’t talked to you in two years for a reason. Do you really think I want to see you?” 

“I don’t know.” His eyes narrowed, matching your anger. “You let me in, didn’t you?” 

“Because you’re pissing me off, and you’re a stubborn asshole who won’t leave until you get what you want.” Stalking towards him, you poked your finger in the middle of his chest, the touch doing nothing to move him, so strong and statuesque. “Jesus. Nanami fucking Kento, bribing security members, just to talk to me.” You laughed bitterly, a snort leaving you. “After two years, you really must be desperate.” 

There wasn’t any sincerity, and the laugh he returned was hard and mirthless. “I see time has made you kinder.” 

“Fuck off.” You were dangerously close to him, your hand splaying across his broad chest, the scent of him as familiar as ever, his mouth so near your own. It was infuriating how comfortable this felt, how you could slip back into time with him in a way you’d never been able to with Toji. “I never wanted to see you again. Don’t come back to ruin my life. I don’t deserve that.” 

You shoved at him again, and again he didn’t move, his frame hard beneath your palm. 

Kento grabbed your wrist as you tried to pull away, his already deep irises darkening. “Funny. That’s funny.” He searched you for something, and he was sure to find it, even as you schooled your expression into something neutral. It was too hard to hide from him—that’s why you’d run in the first place. “I remember being the one that was left with no explanation. I wanted to marry you, but you disappeared without even a word. Did I deserve that?” 

Though his words didn’t crack, they came close to breaking at the end of the sentence. The silence was sharp, deadly, almost as if you could reach out and touch it. But you didn’t. Kento’s soul-searching gaze dissuaded you from any movement. 

“That’s what you think?” You shook your head, yanking your wrist free as you took a step back. Laughter bubbled out of you, and the anger made it sound crazed, like something that wasn’t quite your own. “You think it was my fault.” 

“Wasn’t it?”

You scoffed once more. “Please. You never would’ve married me. All our time and work would’ve been wasted. Your band means everything to you, and I refused to let either of us drown for something as stupid as love.” 

A beat passed as Kento faltered, conflict twisting his expression before the frustration pulled back, tied up with a fiery bow. “Stupid?” He was cornering you, crowding you to the side of the room. You hadn’t registered your feet moving, but in just a few, quick steps, your back had hit the wall with a thump, his breath fanning across your nose. “That’s what you thought it was? Just a waste of time?” 

“Maybe.” you spat, raising your voice, pushing at his shoulders. “Maybe I just wanted someone better than you.” 

“Well, then, I hope you’ve fucking found it,” Kento’s hands shook at his sides, his eyes twitching with anger. “I hope you’re happy.” 

“I am.”

“Good.” Heavy breaths left him. Somehow, he seemed relieved, as if he thought you’d be the one still holding on, when it was him that had shown up unannounced, staring at you with stars in his eyes. “That’s good. You can hate me all you want, but I want you to be happy. I want you to move on.” 

“God, Kento,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s been two years—”

“I’m getting married.” 

The remark slammed against you, the guarded expression dropping from your face to reveal one of utter bewilderment. For a moment, fleeting as it was, you had no protection against Nanami Kento, who caught it smoothly, the stricken glaze of your eyes, the way your lips had parted without any words to dispel. 

Semi-satisfaction reflected in his own, finally stripping you bare, allowing him to see the truth for what it was—and it was a truth you weren’t sure you’d even accepted yourself. 

“You’re right,” you finally said, and though only a second had passed before you schooled your features back into an impassive position, a second was too long for a man who knew you so sincerely. “I don’t care, Nanami.” 

Kento blinked. 

Gaining the upper hand, you tried to skirt around him, cowering away from his knowing glare, but you couldn’t go anywhere. Kento pinned his hands to the wall beside your head, looking at you through his lower lashes, as if he’d known you would try to escape him. 

Heat bounced between your bodies, the space boiling, passion and rage and a hundred scarlet emotions twisting up in the air you exhaled. Would Toji have been able to read the conflict that manifested between your brows, the way your irises had changed colors, fading into a gradient of listless melancholy?

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that.” Kento said, harsh, cruel, but nothing less than the truth. 

“Is that so?” Your face was forced dangerously close to his own once more, inches between you. “You wanted a different reaction?” A glimpse in his guarded features, and you wondered how anyone could say Nanami was stoic man, when he wore a thousand different emotions on his sleeve. “I’m sorry you deluded yourself into thinking I’d still be in love with you.”

“Right.” Kento’s nose brushed against your own, his eyes so dark. Still, there were flecks of gold visible, just barely, only when you were this close. “All those songs on the radio, all those lyrics you’re getting paid millions for… Those aren’t about me?” he demanded, shaking his head, his expression pinched. “You think I’m an idiot? I know. I know, and you can pretend all you want, but you can’t pretend like you’re not the one who fucked it all up.” 

You scowled, but neither of you moved. “Get out of here, Kento.” 

“No,” he said, breathing heavily, the movement of his tongue over his lip short-circuiting your competence. “Tell me why.” 

“Get out,” you said through gritted teeth.

His face was more severe than you’d ever seen it before, cheekbones sharper from his pinched jaw. “No,” he repeated, glowering down at you, speaking slower, punctuating his words. “Tell me why.” 

“I—” but you couldn’t think straight with his mouth that close to yours, his eyes penetrating your soul, so angry, but not without their usual sweetness. No one had ever loved you the way Nanami had, and you were a fool, but he deserved better than you. He deserved the love he’d wanted, to not settle for someone who wanted fame more than she wanted him. “I hate you.” 

“Funny how, even now, hate still feels a lot like love.” 

You blinked up at him, your expression twitching, lips parting with more poisonous words, fingers shaking with the need to slap him away. Yet, when you moved, planning to push him out of your orbit, Kento moved quicker; the strategy sketched in your mind didn’t quite match the one enacted by your hands. 

“You’re so naive, Kento.” 

His lips were on your own, and you melted instantly, tugging him hard by the lapels in a bruising kiss. It tasted like a familiarity that couldn’t be replicated, tainted by the heavy heat that soaked into you. 

Kento’s hands wrapped around your waist, jerking you forward, fingers easily finding the space between your hipbones, tracing them with a tenderness that was equally filled of devastating need. He tasted strongly of alcohol, like he’d drowned in it hours before, if only to fill himself with the bravery he’d need to speak with you after so long. 

And you were equally a coward; walking naked into a crowd would be easy compared to the feeling of vulnerability that came from Kento’s sweet mouth on your skin. The way he shoved you further into the wall, fingers brushing along your waist, hateful and loving all at once. 

“Stop, Kento,” you said, but it was weak to your own ears, not an ounce of honesty there. His mouth flitted across your neck, warm and tender, and it was different. It was nothing like Toji, who cared about you, maybe even loved you, but had never understood you. 

Not like Kento did. 

“Say it with a little more conviction.” Kento kissed beneath your jaw, hopefully with enough sense not to leave any marks there. “Tell me you want me to leave. That you never wanted to marry me.”

“I do,” you insisted, but it was breathless, your eyes fluttering closed as his hand drifted up your stomach. “I didn’t.” Kento’s palm was warm, burning a hole though the thin material of your top. Before you could protest further, his fingers traced across your breast, thumb dragging across your nipple. 

You shivered, but made no move to push his hand back down.

“Convincing.” Kento smiled. His eyes were melted chocolate, the sort of unmatched comfort you’d never again receive. “Tell me you never loved me.” 

A burning itch started in your nose, foreboding the wave of emotions that would succumb you. You sorted through the hostile regret, forcing yourself not to feel such nostalgia from his embrace. 

Things were better now, weren’t they? You never would’ve made it as a star, had you not escaped the desperate hold of your love for the blonde drummer.

“It’d be a lie. I loved you once.”

“But not anymore?” 

You didn’t let him get much further than that, kissing him without thinking—needing to stop thinking, before you spiraled into the endless cycle of wondering why you’d ever left him at all. The feelings were never-ending, latching on and holding tight, reminding you at inopportune moments of all the mistakes you’d made: him, the worst of all. 

Kento groaned into your mouth as you parted his lips, remembering what he tasted like. His hair was longer now, thick between your fingers, bangs falling in straighter strands over his forehead. Had there ever been a place where you felt safer, than when his arms were warm and secured around your waist?

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kento panted into your mouth, his cheeks flushed, skin warmed from the way that your hands roamed all over his chest. 

“No more talking.” You pushed him backwards towards the sofa, this one a deep, velvety green, a contrast to the orange hues of the rest of the room. “I’m tired of talking.” 

Kento seemed like he wanted to protest, but his anger had melted, and his eyes were soaked in lust, pupils blown wide. Objections about how you never talked, always beat around the bush, erupted, then died. For once, he relented. “Fine.” Kento’s voice had deepened, the irritation coated by whatever semblance of affection he still held for you. “If that’s what you want.” 

You tugged at his belt buckle, wishing you could move faster, even as Kento undid the ties that held your loose top together. It fell off your shoulders, and you finally ripped the belt from the loops, unzipping the tight slacks that had paired well with his worn jacket. 

His skin was hot beneath the garments, and Kento’s muscles were even more defined from all his years of playing the drums. He’d kept himself healthy as the time had passed, never indulging in anything as often as his bandmates. 

You felt sick with need for him, confused as you sorted through how much of your aching chest was love, and how much was a desire that you could’ve felt for anyone. 

“Fuck,” Kento muttered against your mouth as you slipped a hand under his shirt, feeling your way across his abdomen. “It’s been so fucking long.” 

He was so perfect. How could you ever have forgotten? Not even the magazines with their fancy cameras could do him justice. Kento was a work of art, a masterful creation, and you were jealous of anyone else who had gotten close enough to see it. 

“I—” you opened your mouth to say you missed him, or maybe something else, but you bit it back down, not wishing to showcase yourself so openly. Instead, you pulled at the hem of his shirt, frustrated when it wouldn’t come off. 

Kento’s knees hit the back of the sofa, and he fell, pulling you onto his lap, gazing up at you with an affection you didn’t deserve. His fingers covered your own, and he helped you jerk the tight shirt off his chest, the material doing little to cover his marbled figure. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said into your ear, low and husky, his hands slipping down your jeans, shifting you up to ease the material off your thighs. “The whole word knows it; you’re an angel on the covers of all those magazines. Can’t stand it when Satoru and Suguru talk about you,” he grumbled against your mouth, throwing your jeans to the ground as you wiggled out of them. 

You laughed, wondering why it was always so easy with Kento, to smile, to shift your palpable anger into something less fragile.

“Yeah?” you muttered against his mouth, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties, so cold against your bare skin. “I bet you go home and jerk off to the covers of me, don’t you, Kento?” 

Kento grinned against your lips as you traced your fingers against his jaw, somewhat tenderly, and with a possessiveness you’d always struggled to reign in. The bulge in his pants was more than obvious, straining against the tight cloth. “What gave you that idea, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes fluttered shut, mouth drifting across his own, tasting the air between you as you tugged his cock free. It was warm and familiar in your palm, and though it wasn’t like fucking Toji, you’d never forget exactly how to touch Nanami Kento.

“I know,” you said, stroking him, feeling the length in your hand, the vein running along it, “because that’s exactly what I do.” 

The admittance left you before you could think to refute it, and Kento didn’t let you, kissed you harder, realizing that no matter how far you strayed from one another, there would always be a cord attaching you together. 

“Shit,” Kento rasped, his head falling backwards as your thumb grazed over the tip of his cock, your thighs straddling his own. “That sweet mouth of yours always knows just what to say.” 

Your cheeks warmed, a smile gracing your expression as you dragged your hips across his thigh, leaning forward to kiss him. It’d been a while since you’d wanted anyone so badly, a craving soaking into every vein of your body, buzzing with desire. Need settled deep in your stomach; your kisses grew sloppy. Your lips were coated and glossed with Kento’s own saliva, puffy from how hard he pressed his hand to the back of your neck. 

“Do you think of me when you fuck your fiancée too?” you asked, stroking him without even looking, the movements from memory, his pre-cum glistening on your palm. “Do you look at her and wish it was me instead?” 

Kento groaned deeply in the back of his throat, his face flashing with the anger you’d intentionally put back there. Quicker than you’d anticipated, he’d flipped you onto your back, towering over you. His face was pinched as he kissed down your neck, across your collarbones, down your stomach.

You wanted him to regret this, to feel every ounce of the infidelity he was committing. To make him admit to himself that whatever pretty woman was waiting at home would never compare to the one he had never stopped wanting. 

“I could ask you the same question,” Kento said, his mouth on your thighs, squeezing his fingertips into the soft skin of your knees. “Fucking Fushiguro. He always wanted you so bad, and I couldn’t stand it.” Genuine hatred dripped off his words as he leaned back over you, his fingers hovering over your clothed cunt, contrasted with the satisfaction of his expression. “Now he has you,” Kento said, dropping his fingertips over your panties, feeling the spot where you were already soaking through the material, “but I still own this pretty pussy.” 

You gripped his biceps as his fingers rubbed small circles into your clit, a sideways grin forming onto his dark lips. “Kento,” you breathed, nails digging into his arms. “I want you to fuck me.” 

“You make it too easy, baby,” he said softly, even when his cock was painfully hard, leaking between the two of you. “Just have to say a few words and you’re already soaking wet for me.”

Your lips parted as Kento slipped his fingers underneath your panties, and the contact of his hands on your cunt, after so much time, had a sharp exhale leaving your chest. 

“N-no, wait—” you stuttered, pushing his hands away as you slipped the lacy material off your hips. “Just fuck me, Ken, I can take it.” You reached for his cock, but his eyes flashed, annoyance sparking in his eyes. “I just want you inside.” 

“I’ve got you all to myself finally, and now you want to rush it?” Kento glared, forcing your hands back down beside you. He was so much stronger than you, and though you needed him to touch you, he spread your legs further instead, let nothing but the cool air kiss your bare cunt. “Don’t.” 

You whimpered as he released your wrists, leaned down to brush his tongue through your folds. Your eyes fluttered closed, and he gathered the slick up into his lips, tasting you, his nose brushing against your clit. 

A deep sigh reverberated in the room as you felt your love for him wash over you, a love that was once hidden away, but not eradicated. It coated you, made your lust only double, and sentimental blabber began to leave your mouth, as Kento forced his tongue deeper into your aching hole.

“I missed you, Ken,” you said, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as your gripped his blonde hair, hatred for yourself just as strong as adoration for him. You weren’t supposed to be crying, not now, not when this wasn’t supposed to be sex at all, but some sort of hateful fucking that was slowly turning into desperate lovemaking. “I missed you.” 

Kento smiled softly against you before pulling away, his mouth soaked from your arousal. “I know, sweetheart,” he said, looking at you tenderly; it made you sick to think that there would be a ring on his finger soon. You’d go back to your hotel room with Toji, and he’d go back to the fiancee that deserved him more than you did. “My pretty girl.” 

“Don’t say things, like that.” You steadied your emotions, as, finally Kento pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, the wrinkle between his brow forming as he watched you carefully. “Don’t be sweet to me.” 

You’d gotten used to fucking Toji, who was thicker and longer than Kento; and Kento slid right into you like he was meant to be there, your body relaxed and willing. A groan left him, and he laced his fingers with your own, squeezed your hands together against the armrest of the sofa. 

“Why?” Kento asked, emotions guarded by curiosity. You swallowed, leaned your head back with a heavy breath as he inched inside of you. “Don’t want to admit you’re still in love with me?”

“I’m not—” But you were cut off, your objections falling flat as Kento’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuck, fuck,” he said, drawing out the word like it was more than one syllable, his deep, throaty tone parting your lips. There was a flush on his cheeks, pink, his forehead sweaty as the blonde strands stuck to it. 

You’d always loved his hair down—maybe, it was because of you that it became his signature. 

“You feel so good,” he said, drawing himself out of you, thrusting back in, pushing further and further until he had bottomed out completely. “God, I don’t remember you ever squeezing me so tight before.”

He sounded drunk on the feeling of you; you couldn’t help the start of a smile that formed on your face as he fucked you, losing his sanity while he succumbed to pleasure. There were sinful sounds between you, and you felt a little outside of yourself, knowing that you still had a hold on one of the most famous drummers in the entire world. 

Kento kissed you all over your face, and you lifted your hips to meet him, wishing you could take him deeper, let him soak into your entire body.

“Do you regret it?” Kento whispered, his thrusts growing faster, cock throbbing inside of you. “Or do you just regret me?”

You opened your eyes to meet his dark, sweet irises. A man like him shouldn’t have fallen for someone like you, should never have stooped down to love you. The truth rested on your tongue, but when Kento hit deep a spot within you, dizziness sparked at the back of your mind, and a lie slipped out instead. 

“I don’t regret anything, Kento,” you said, smiling lazily, like you didn’t have a care in the world. “Least of all, leaving you.” 

To your surprise, Kento laughed, light and carefree, even though it was stuttered, raspy from his need. “You always were a good liar,” he reached between you, brushing his thumb over your clit with a hazy expression. “Much better than me.” 

Once again, Kento saw right through you, reminding you of why you’d gone your separate ways. It was dangerous to have someone around that you couldn’t hide from. 

“Ken,” you whimpered, gripping his wrists when you realized how close you were. There was anguish interlaced with your arousal, but your orgasm was approaching all the same. You clenched around him a little harder, swallowing, and Kento smirked, his voice husky. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dropping, almost commanding, in a way that he knew always had you writhing helpless under him. “Pussy’s clenching me so tight. You gonna cum for me, baby?” he said into your skin, fucking deeper into you. “Let go.” 

The instant relief washed over you, and you groaned, loud into the room, coming hard around Kento’s cock, your body shaking as he worked you through the orgasm. 

A smile formed as he kissed your mouth, forcing words down your throat. “That’s it,” he hummed. “Always so perfect for me. I missed you, I love you so much,” and his words turned desperate while he dragged himself out of you, forcefully, trying hard not to let himself go.

“It’s okay, Kento,” you said, stupidly, crazily, running your hands all over him. “You can come inside me.” 

Kento's mind drew a blank, and he groaned deeply, nearly collapsing on top of you as he came, spilling his thick, hot cum into your cunt. And you were an idiot, a fool, because you’d never let Toji do that, never let him fuck you without a condom, but Toji wasn’t Kento—

and you would’ve let Nanami Kento do anything to you. 

Kento held you close to him, squeezing you to his chest as you both breathed heavily, remembering what it was like to be in each other’s arms. His cock grew soft, and his cum spilled out of you, soaking your thighs, ruining the sofa beneath you. 

“Did you mean it?” you asked, running your fingers through his blonde hair as he rested his head on your chest, arms warm around your body. “Do you love me?” 

The air grew stale, thick with the sins committed in the room. Kento smiled, kissed your neck, and said nothing. 

“Do you love her?” you asked, begging for an answer, not knowing who she even was. Not knowing if you cared.

“I do.” 

“But not as much as you love me.” 

He tipped his chin up on your chest, looking at you with sad, dark eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted, tracing his fingertips across your stomach. “But I love you enough to do this to her. That must mean something.” 

Maybe, you thought, running an analog through your mind of all the reasons that could lead anywhere but affection. You’d both been under a lot of stress recently, times changing as you reached fame. It was nice to think back to a life before all that, when all you’d had was some cash in your pocket, and a dingy nightclub to play to. 

Perhaps you reminded each other of that.

You craned your neck, looking up at the ceiling, your hand stilling against his scalp. “What does it mean, Kento?” 

The moment passed between you, where things were hollow and empty. You could see a lifetime stretched out in front of you, but it was all in shades of grey, nothing sketched in a thick, black outline. Nothing concrete.

What you knew for sure was that you would break his heart again.

Maybe not soon, but eventually. Toji would hate you when he found out, your bandmates would hate you for lying to them. You and Kento would never live in peace, and instead, you'd spend the rest of your life stalked by the press, flashes blinding you, tabloids written about you, paranoia spiking in your chest as they tried to convince you that he was cheating on you with his bandmate.

It would be a disaster. 

It would be even more heartbreaking than saying goodbye. 

“It means that if you say you want me, I’ll break it off.” Kento sat up, bringing you with him, suddenly serious. “I can live without you, but I don’t want to. I love you, I’ve always loved you. Just say the words.” He kissed you softly, pleading with you, lips all over your face. “Say that you still love me, and we can get through anything.”

You exhaled a breathy laugh, tracing his features, wondering why that made you feel so sad. It was a good thing, wasn’t it? Kento could live without you, and you wanted him to. 

Even if you couldn’t live without him. 

“It was good to see you,” you said, letting his hands fall off your face as you slipped away, begging the tears to just stay put, to stay gone until you could get Kento out of the room. “Hard to believe I’ve made a cheater out of you, Nanami Kento.” 

His face fell, smile dropping as he stared back, like that was the last thing he’d expected you to say. You turned your back to him, slinking away as you picked your clothes up off the floor, tugging your jeans back on. “Why—”

“Don’t let me ruin your marriage,” you continued, ruffling your hair to put it back into position, plaster a grin on your face despite the agony you felt. “I know I’m pretty, but I’m just not worth it.” 

“Stop that,” Kento stood, taking two strides to you, his eyes desperate, wild, but you stopped him, your arm outstretched, keeping your distance. "Don't stay that."

“I meant what I said, Kento. I’m happy with Toji, I’m happy with the band, and you’re happy with your fiancée. I’m not going to let you fuck any of that up.” You pushed him away, and this time he stumbled, didn’t bother to chase after you. “I missed you, but I don’t want to be with you.”

Kento searched your eyes, but you kept your face neutral, hard, emotionless. He couldn’t doubt your sincerity, and for once, he couldn’t spot your lie.

Finally, he sunk back in on himself. Nodded once. “I should go, then.” 

"You should," you said firmly. “Take care of yourself.” 

Kento licked his lips. He sorted himself back out, jeans zipped, shirt tucked. His hair looked every bit as perfect as it had when he walked in, even if he looked twice as sad.

“I love you,” he tried, once more, pausing with his hand on the door handle.

Sometimes, though, love wasn’t enough. 

You smiled, and wrapped an arm around yourself, knowing that, people could call you a lot of things, but they could never call you selfish.

“Please don’t send me an invitation to your wedding, Kento.”