#mixed signals your honor

[ohohohelloooo]

prompt: person a slaps person b on the head only to realize that this is NOT their best friend + person b deathly glaring

I’m going to marry her one day.

this makes no sense without universe context but I will give NONE huzzAH

Thae whistled with dull eyes as she glanced around the “hive”. Some hive it was. Feeling an upcoming knot in her back, she arched backward until the telling crack released all the pressure from her spine. Sighing in relief, Thae grimaced. Her life was all about racing. To where? Even Thae couldn’t tell you. But she appreciated the speed and made it her life. She always jumped forward, fast, and no one could say otherwise. 

And that primary trait of hers was crowned by her wings. Until six months ago. 

She twisted to rub at the gaping emptiness on her back. Ever since the incident, her body had difficulty adjusting to the change. One thing she never noticed about her wings was that they were heavy. Yes, the weight on her back may be lighter, but it was unbalanced. Unbalanced meant constantly stretching to relieve her new “shrimplike” posture. 

Without her wings as a counterbalance, she was no better than a shrimp.

She was also incredibly hungry. Shrimp sounded tasty right now. 

Breath hitching, she swerved out of the way of an incoming tank. Gods, this place was so busy.

Everywhere she looked, it was like an abstract painting. Complete and utter chaos. The tank that nearly killed her had no set road to travel, and people were working on it as it was rolling. Along the walls were separate pods framed in yellow for the engineers of the city to do whatever they’d like. The symphony of crackling electricity, metallic thumps, and constant yelling faded into a comforting buzz. Anything technology and machines related, it was right here in the heart of the city.  

The only place where time seemed to slow was whenever Kythaela came into sight. She wasn’t blind. She could see their eyes glaze over at her aggressive features, numerous limbs, and all. Even more pointed were the sharp looks and the questions that bubbled up at the emptiness stamped clearly on her back. Was she a small Lierai or a wingless Paxii?

Thae scanned the room for Mea. Mea said to meet her here for a surprise, yet as expected she was late. 

Thae huffed, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was her penchant after all. Always came in late to save the day, with her foul mouth in tow. Thae could almost burst from how much fondness she had for that short stack. 

Speaking of the short stack, Thae’s eyes narrowed as she spotted the familiar pale blue-striped hair of the little lady. Grinning, Thae stalked towards her, making sure her footsteps weren’t heard. 

Something in Thae’s senses warned her something was wrong. Mea always put her hair up in a braid, not a bun. And when in the workplace she was seldom seen in more than a sleeveless vest and cargo pants. In front of Thae, Mea appeared to be wearing a customary Kin’ol wear. Those thoughts abated as Thae assured herself that Mea was simply back at home. 

Without a warning, Thae lightly hit the back of Mea’s head with her palm, snickering, “Hey short stack, I thought princesses were supposed to be punctual!”

The blood drained from Thae’s face as Mea turned around to reveal it was in fact, NOT Mea. Shit. Thae laughed nervously as the figure gave her a deadly glare. What have you done now Kythaela, Thae groaned internally, backing away from the woman. “Sorry sorry, you just look so,” Thae paused to look at the woman. No, it wasn’t Mea. Her features were softer, still clad with the muscles of a Kin’ol engineer, but softer. She carried Mea’s nose, eye color, and eyebrow shape, even down to the markings that decorated her face. 

Thae mentally noted that she might have to get her number later, but further beat herself up over a bad first impression. Curses. Love is truly out of reach.

“So, what???? Short?” The woman snapped, the workers she was speaking with backing away in wide-eyed terror. “You better have a good goddamn reason to disrupt me like this.”

She’s fouled mouth too? It’s Deja vu. “Please, Your Highness I’m assuming,” because after all, the telltale marks on her face signify her similar royal status, “I was only-“

“Don’t pull that your highness bullshit on me. Kacrariv’s are always stumbling around here, messing up my shit,” The woman folded her arms, eyes narrowing further. “so you BETTER have a good reason to annoy me.”

Thae scoffed, “For YOUR information, miss uncultured and uninformed, I am a PAXII. I pray your gods know what their prized diplomat is doing to people from other planets.”

Thae tucked away the image of the color draining from her face. Enjoyable, yes. Diplomatically correct as a representative of the Kacrariv nation on Thae’s part? Well, relations with the Kin’ol were as strong as they ever would be. Thae could save her charms for elsewhere. 

“THAE!” All the tension left Thae’s body the moment she heard Mea’s voice. 

“Oh gosh, Nylin, I’m so sorry for her insolence.” Thae felt a pinprick of pain in her leg and Mea tried to kick her. 

Thae spoke through gritted teeth, tense once more. “If someone hadn’t been late, maybe I would’ve been kinder. Just a thought.” Thae was screaming, cringing, crying perchance? This was crown princess Nylin of the Kin’ol and Thae had just called her racist? 

Nylin’s eyes became thoughtful as she scanned Thae up and down.

Mea cleared her throat, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t here to introduce you both, but this is Kythaela, former leader of the resistance on the Pacific coast, and-“ 

“Oh, no need to introduce her more. Your letters said quite enough.” Nylin continued to stare down Thae, although there was something new about this look.

Mea flushed and Thae turned to wink at her. Mea glared and promptly whacked Thae in the arm. And this is Nylin, crown princess as you’re aware from the guides I sent you. My favorite sister-“

“Only sister, but the best one in existence.”

“And the genius behind your new wings!

Silence pervaded the space as Thae’s brain began short-circuiting. Thae’s lungs felt depleted of air, her whisper barely audible against the buzz of the hive. “New wings?” 

Nylin’s gaze softened. “New wings.” She shifted her gaze to Mea. “They won’t feel like your old ones. I know nothing ever will.” 

In her panic, Thae flicked a glance at Nylin’s mechanical hand. It was so delicately engineered, that it nearly blended into the rest of her body. It was seamless, that’s what it was. A sense of understanding came to Thae.  

“But in every other sense of the word, they will be the same, just metallic. Same weight, same strength. If anything, you can experience the same speeds you flew at your prime racing career.”

Thae quirked a brow. “You’re a fan of that out of everything?”

Nylin shrugged, chuckling. “I’m a fan of everything. You’re a hero here.” From her tablet, she pulled up a life-sized model of Paxii wings. Thae’s wings. “So, hero, let’s get you a new set of wings.”

Mea silently placed her hand on Thae’s shoulder as Thae leaned into her touch. It was like looking into a mirror. “Mea, is this real?”

Nylin rolled her eyes. “You’re questioning my skills?”

I’m going to marry her one day.

[faefrosting]

Moar Mixed Signals doodles cause they truly do never leave my brain

Base timeline here Pirate Au stuff below Yeah sea monster Mallard

Bonus Swap Au Wish doodle where Rasmus has Wish and Comet works at UrbanShade instead

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [8]

The observants have been pestering Danny for a while now. Something about a ‘kingly’ duty. 

Apparently there is this collective of ghosts who wish to conquer the infinite realms and have been sporadically trying to do so for the past… give or take six hundred years or so? maybe longer. 

After asking around it’s clear to Danny that they get more zealous with each year that passes.

so, ghost cult, world domination, realm domination? doesn’t matter, but usually dead cult folks settle down after their deaths, in this case however from what Danny understands these people are continuing what they started in life. And this is one hell of an ancient cult that’s somehow still relevant considering that ‘new’ members still show up and join their ranks.

But Danny is King now (much to his dismay) so it would probably be best if he just put an end to this matter once and for all.

Danny went in prepared and with backup that he told to wait for his signal should things go sideways. and then went in.

he expected a big fight, a huge mess, he would probably need help at some point cause unlike with most of his rogues this was a big group who were probably a lot more organized.

he did not expect the haunt of the cult to look like a mix between middle eastern and asian, a bad feeling was starting to creep up Danny’s spine.

The bad feeling got worse when Danny got close enough and was promptly surrounded by a group of ninja’s who had their weapons out. He felt himself promptly fall into a defensive stance that he thought he had long forgotten. Danny isn’t exactly sure what to do now though.

the stalemate is broken when one ninja speaks up in arabic “the heir has finally come to take his rightful position” and all of a sudden the tension is broken and Danny is left dumbfounded and with anxiety creeping up his spine as the ninja’s fall into kneeling positions.

“young master Danyal al Ghul, we are most honored by your arrival and here to serve you in death as we have in life”

Ah

Well shit

[peachdues]

WISH

Compass one-shot • bad boy!Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!Reader

A tooth-rottingly sweet one-shot honoring my sweet boy’s birthday.

This takes place a few months into Sanemi x Reader’s relationship in Compass — the main story is still in the hot, sticky summer. So think of this like a flash-forward. Don’t worry if you’re not fully caught up — no real spoilers here!

CW: 6k • MDNI • the cozy comfort winter oneshot of your dreams • mostly sickeningly sweet fluff but enough allusions/references to these horny idiots’ very active sex life • some references to gang violence (not descriptive) • swearing • abuse of cake

COMPASS MASTERLIST

Good birthday?

The two words sit on his home screen, a notification labeled with Genya’s name.

It takes Sanemi a moment to make sense of his brother’s text, until he spies the date reflected in the upper corner of his phone.

It’s November 29th.

For someone like Sanemi, dates are only important as far as they signal when something is due — and when something is late. The only dates that matter to him are the ones he’s told to care about; those hard deadlines that go unmet and require Sanemi to strap his crowbar to his back and his gun to his hip, so he can pay some poor bastard a visit.

Today is one of those deadlines, and Sanemi has a list of obligations to follow through on. But Genya’s text is a glaring reminder of the other thing today represents.

It’s his birthday.

Every year, his brother asks him the same thing — though, admittedly, Sanemi thinks the text is more a reminder rather than a happy wish of another year’s passing. Without Genya’s annual good birthday? Sanemi is fairly certain he’d forget November 29th held any significance to him at all.

I’ll be damned, Sanemi thinks, walking up the back entrance to an old computer parts shop — his first stop of the morning. Made it another year.

As unenthused Sanemi is about his birthday, he usually answered his brother with some pithy little acknowledgement. A biting Still alive, ain’t I? or, if he was feeling particularly festive, he’d simply send a thumb’s up, one that signaled his brother that Sanemi was working and didn’t want to risk smearing more blood and sweat across his phone screen than absolutely necessary.

This year, though — his twenty-second, he realizes after doing a quick bit of math — Sanemi’s not in any position to reply to his brother. Not yet, at least. So for now, his phone will have to sit in his pocket; his hands are about to be busy.

He’s got debts to collect.

—

Two hours later, Sanemi sits on his bike in an empty alleyway spliced between Market and Eastern Avenue.

In the last week or so, a strong front of arctic air had swept through the City, plunging it deep into the throes of winter. For a moment, Sanemi was grateful for the chill of the air; he always gets worked up after a collection, his limbs abuzz with hot blood and adrenaline. Cold air helped him settle down faster, cleared his mind so he could approach the next job with the same, violent precision.

Except, it’s now colder than he likes, but that itch still burns hot inside him. Hence, why Sanemi remains here, tucked away in this dark, forgotten alley, huddled over his bike. He’s got nothing to keep warm with but his worn leather jacket and the cigarette perched his lips, its end flowing a faint orange.

Tobacco-tinged smoke curls around his head, mixing with condensation of his breath as he exhales long and slow. The rush of nicotine is both a welcome distraction and extra sedative and finally, Sanemi feels his shoulders relax.

He’s only halfway through his cigarette, but he flicks it to the ground anyway. He’s not sure whether the burning in his throat is from the cold air or this particular bad habit of his, but it’s enough to kill his desire for anything more now that his edge has been sufficiently dulled. Still, he considers whittling himself down to the occasional cigarette is a marked improvement from the daily half pack he blazed through in his youth, before he discovered other outlets for his stress. Maybe he’ll be able to kick the habit all together by this time next year.

Assuming he lives long enough to see his next birthday, that is.

Sanemi’s in the middle of stuffing his lighter back inside his jacket pocket when he feels his phone buzz. He shouldn’t check it, not when his to do list still has one more name to cross off, but he’s already indulged in one bad habit this afternoon. Might as well go two-for-two.

And boy, is he glad he does when he spies the notification bearing your name.

Tell me you’re coming over tonight.

Sanemi’s lips twitch up with a smile he hasn’t been able to muster in days. Leave it to you to brighten his day in so few words.

What time you want me, sweetness?

A cutting gust of wind tears down the alley, whipping and tearing through the layers of his clothes. Any other time, Sanemi would simply hunch over the clutch of his bike and speed off, thinking only of someplace that wasn’t outside.

Now, he’s got you to look forward to.

Your reply arrives a few seconds later. Got a few errands to run so I’m closing up early. Owner can suck it. It’s cold.

It is, Sanemi mentally agrees, and he feels a rush of relief that closing nearly means you’ll be home — or close enough to it — before dark. The uptick in violence through the City has crept too close to your neighborhood for his comfort, and Sanemi already hates you walking home in the dark without him as it is. The season’s shortened days only makes that particular anxiety of his worse.

Thank the fucking stars you’re less inclined to weather the arrival of winter than he is.

It’s a date, beautiful. He texts back before pocketing his phone. He cups his hands around his mouth and huffs, willing his breath to unfreeze his fingers enough to grip his bike’s clutch.

Another torrent of wind rips through the alley, but this time, it brings with it the first snow of winter, pelting his face with fat, cold flakes.

Sanemi tilts his face up toward the sky and grins. It is a sharp, feral thing, full of teeth and challenge. Good. Let it snow as hard as it wants; let it suffocate the City under a thick blanket of white. He wouldn’t care; Sanemi can’t think of a way better to warm up than by crawling under the covers with you. Maybe he’ll even treat himself and convince you to sleep in with him tomorrow. It’s been a few days since he last had the chance to see you. While he knows better than to be a betting man, he’d wager his odds of keeping you in bed were pretty good.

Huffing nice, twice more on his hands and Sanemi starts his bike, its motor roaring to life underneath him. His fingers are still stiff, but he can at least grip his clutch enough to steer it. No doubt the icy sting of the wind will freeze his hands in place, but he’ll worry about how to unstick himself later.

For now, he still has work to do.

In the northwest corridor of the City is a port marina that harbors a smattering of small house boats. It’s inside one of these drafty little boats where his next target hides, no doubt relying on the sudden arrival of winter to trick his creditors into looking for him elsewhere.

That ruse might have worked if anyone else other than Sanemi had been tasked with hunting him down. Unfortunately for him, his name fell in Sanemi’s lap, and now he’s going to have to play host to some very unpleasant company.

Slowly, Sanemi treads his bike to the end of the alley, eyes squinted against the wind and the snow, sweeping the street for any unsuspecting travelers. Finding nothing but the odd plastic bag being whipped and tossed down the sidewalk, Sanemi kicks his bike into gear.

As soon as he gets this job over with, he’ll get to see you.

The engine revs, and then Sanemi is thundering down the street, a renewed warmth spreading through his chest that even the biting cold of November can’t dampen.

—

It’s just after dark when Sanemi pulls up to your apartment, quickly killing the motor on his bike. He scans the dark alleyway behind your complex once, twice, before he glances up at the series of windows. Once satisfied that there are no unwanted eyes tracking his movements, Sanemi makes his way to the building’s side entrance, and begins his steady climb up the stairs.

He twirls his key to your place around his finger. God, he can’t wait to get kick his boots off, strip down to his sweater, and climb into bed with you. Maybe you’ll let him poach off your neighbor’s cable satellite again, and that way, he can find you a movie to half-pay attention to. Or, maybe you’ve snuck away another handful of advanced release copies from work, and the two of you can get to work reading and reviewing them. Either way, Sanemi is ready for the calm he only feels when he’s with you; he’s ready to relax.

The first thing he notices when he steps into your apartment is the smell of something burning.

“Motherfucker —“ he hears your vicious snarl from the kitchen right as something clatters to the floor. “One more fucking thing go wrong, I dare you —“

Calm is not on the agenda, it seems.

The air inside your studio is hazy with smoke, enough that it tickles the back of his throat. Hastily, Sanemi pushes your door shut before it can spill into the hallway and tempt one of the building’s ancient fire alarms. The last thing he wants is to summon the City’s finest and tip them off that a high profile gang member likes frequenting this neighborhood. Or the reason why.

“It’s me.” He calls out, crossing through your living room to crank open one of the arched windows behind your bed. Cold air floods your apartment, the winter wind chasing out the thickest of the smoke into night. “Baby?”

No answer; only more furious clanging and a particularly fierce “oh, fuck you.”

Cautious, Sanemi pokes his head into your small kitchenette. “Y/N?”

He’s not sure what he expected, but he can’t say he’s prepared for the sight of you, standing in front of your oven, hands on your hips and your foot tapping irritably on the floor. A cooling tray lays by your feet, and you don’t seem to be in any hurry to collect it; not when you’re too busy glowering down at your stove.

Sanemi’s eyes follow yours, and he finds what he presumes is the source of the stench. The worst of the smoke rolls off something sitting on your stove, though it’s too black for Sanemi to even guess what it’s supposed to be.

You whirl around and Sanemi has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

There’s flour on your cheek and dusted all down your front, along with other smears and stains of beige — batter of some sort, if he had to guess, given the cluttered mess on your counter of used mixing bowls and measuring cups. Your hair is a mess, puffed up and frizzed out from the smoke, framing a face scrunched up in pinched fury.

All things considered, you look pretty damn adorable, but he isn’t about to tell you that. The block of kitchen knives you rarely touch are too close within your reach for his comfort.

So, Sanemi takes the pragmatic approach and casually folds his arms across his chest. He offers with a measured nod of his head toward your oven. “I thought we talked about you cookin’ without supervision.”

For all the grief he’d given you about your inability to make anything more substantive than cereal, Sanemi learned rather quickly it was the most you could be trusted with. Once, you’d tried to show off your culinary skills by making him ramen, only for you to stick the dried noodles in your microwave without water. You hadn’t even noticed the acrid smell of something burning until he pointed it out, and by then, it was too late. It was only after he’d thrown the smoking bowl of scorched, blackened noodles into your sink that he hotly declared you were not to use any appliance in your kitchen while by yourself.

He’d thought you’d agreed to that ban but, as he peers over your shoulder to inspect whatever it is that’s about to set off your fire alarm, Sanemi grimly realizes the two of you are not on the same page.

“I wasn’t cooking, I was baking.” You snap, as though the distinction matters. You yank an oven mitt off one hand and snatch a loose fork from the counter, jamming it right into the smoldering center of whatever the hell it is you’ve tried to make. It pops and sags beneath the stab of the fork, more steam hissing out of the wound you’ve opened in its surface.

You hold the fork up for inspection and your eyes widen with outrage. “How is it burnt on the outside and fucking raw on the inside —?”

Sanemi glances at your oven settings and raises an eyebrow. “‘Cuz you have it set to five hundred — didn’t even know ovens could go that high.”

You chuck the fork into the kitchen sink with more force than necessary. “I was trying to get your stupid cake done before you got here. I wanted you to be surprised!”

He blinks. “What cake?”

“Your birthday cake!” You rip the other oven mitt from your hands scrunching it up before throwing it to the counter in defeat. “It’s your birthday, and I didn’t leave the store ‘til late, so I had to rush to get it done because I couldn’t swing a present other than this stupid cake!” You jab a finger toward the blackened pan still smoking on the stove. “And I couldn’t even do that!”

Sanemi’s eyes widen and for a moment, he can’t remember to blink.

All he can do is stare.

As much as he’s tried to forget them, there were a handful of November 29ths that had stuck with him over the years; a wad of chewing gum cemented to his memory that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried scraping it away.

His fifth birthday was spent clinging to his mother’s arm, begging her not to leave him alone in that dinky, unheated shoebox where they lived. His eyes had been teary, and he hated that he was acting like a crybaby, but he didn’t want his Ma to go — didn’t want to be left alone. He wanted her to scoop him up in her arms, to hum fragments of lullabies into his hair as she curled over him beneath their threadbare blankets, desperate for her body heat to sink into her son and keep him warm.

But it was winter, and Sanemi needed something to eat, so Shizu, heavily pregnant, had to go work.

She returned the next day with a lukewarm fast food hamburger Sanemi couldn’t stomach eating. Not when his mother came home sporting a new black eye, so dark and purple that not even her paper thin smile could dull her obvious wince, or the shadowy bruises peppered along her too-thin arms.

He spent his eighth birthday scavenging for spare coins dropped between the sagging, stained cushions of the old man’s broken down furniture.

Genya was nearly three and crying, his belly aching with a hunger he didn’t understand. Their mother was dead, and no one knew how to care for them except for Sanemi, and he’d been desperate; enough so that he’d clawed at the broken wooden couch slats until his numb fingers turned raw; bloody.

Because it was snowing and cold and Kyogo had left his sons at home in the dark, unheated apartment with nothing to eat.

He’d found enough loose change to justify running down to his neighbor’s place, and the old man had been kind enough to give him a packet of stale instant noodles. No seasoning packets, but the Shinazugawa boys had been too hungry to mind.

The only candles he had to mark the day were the mismatched stumps scrounged out of some cluttered drawer. His birthday wish — the very first one he’d ever made — a feeble plea that come December, Kyogo wouldn’t waste the month’s electric bill on booze his sons couldn’t even drink to keep warm. Winter in the Silo was harsh enough.

But December came and went, heralding in harsh winds and thick sheets of ice, and the apartment never once turned warm.

Sanemi never made another birthday wish again.

When he turned ten, Genya brought him home a tiny green race car, no doubt swiped from the basket of loose toys that sat next to the cashier at the nearby corner store. The paint was chipped, and one of the wheels had a tendency to stick whenever Sanemi skated it over the kitchen’s cracked linoleum, but it was a toy, and Sanemi hadn’t had one of those before. So, he ruffled his brother’s hair and the two spent the night rolling the car back and forth to one another across the floor, giddy with that childlike innocence they never got to keep come sunrise.

The corner store it came from closed not long after his birthday, its owner having been dragged out sometime in the night by hooded men, face too swollen and mouth too bloodied to scream.

Not that anyone would’ve helped, anyway. Not here.

Sanemi still has the car, though. It’s since lost a wheel, and the paint has nearly faded away, but it sits in his window sill; a prized token of the boy he’d never been.

For his fifteenth birthday, Sanemi’s lucky ass got not one, but two presents: a broken rib and a black eye. Courtesy of Kyogai, a sleazy had-been in the Corps’ ranks, whose penchant for downers meant he never had enough money to pay his dues to the Corps. Sanemi, a junior at the time, had been sent to collect money Kyogai refused to cough up, and in his youthful arrogance, thought he could simply strong-arm the Corps’ payment back.

That was when he learned never to get between a junkie and their fix — especially once withdrawal set in.

Sanemi returned the birthday generosity on a cold day in January, with his crowbar to Kyogai’s kneecaps. Rumor was he still couldn’t walk without a cane. But he never tried his bullshit with Sanemi again, and he thought that was probably the best gift of all.

So no, Sanemi can’t say he expects much out of his birthdays.

“No one’s ever made me a birthday cake before.”

It’s a breathless sort of admission, one that he’d probably be embarrassed about making if he wasn’t so caught off guard.

His admission monetarily stuns you into silence, and he almost feels ashamed. But you quickly recover and instead offer only a brittle laugh. “Yeah, well. Fucked that up for you, I guess.”

You finally look at him and Sanemi is startled by the tears rapidly lining your eyes.

“It’s just a cake, baby,” Sanemi soothes, hands reaching for you. “And today’s just a day. ‘S no big deal.”

Another great sniff. “It is a big deal!”

Sanemi is all too used to never having and not being allowed to want, so accepting what others want or try to give doesn’t exactly come easy to him. But the sight of you, nearly reduced to tears over the scorched disaster you’d tried desperately to make into something worth marking the day with has him reevaluating twenty-two years’ worth of trained indifference.

Beneath your frustration is clear upset with the situation. Because, you tried.

Sure, Sanemi’s birthdays passed without the usual triumvirate of cake-ice cream-presents he supposes other kids got. Frankly, he didn’t quite see the appeal of it anyway, but that may have been because Sanemi hadn’t known to miss what he never had. November 29th was just a day, after all; the mark of another year gone by without him taking a bullet to the head or having his body dumped in some faraway hole. The watery sun that rose that morning was no different all the others he’d managed to cheat his way into seeing. To him, it’s insignificant.

But not to you. For some reason, you don’t think you’ve given him enough.

Months of being together, and he still hasn’t figured out how to make you understand that he doesn’t need any grand gestures from you. It’s enough that you continue allowing him into your home, your bed, your life; that you soothe his fragmented heart, and chase away the cloud of numbness always lurking over his shoulder with one of your sweet smiles.

He doesn’t want for anything because he already has everything in you.

But you still want to give him more.

God, he doesn’t deserve you. And he certainly doesn’t deserve the tears swimming in your eyes or the frustration that weighs down your shoulders.

Sure, he doesn’t really give a damn about his birthday, but he sure as hell gives several about you, and your defeat is not something he’ll tolerate.

Sanemi fishes his set of keys from his pocket. “C’mon,” he nods toward the door. “We’re going to the store.”

—

“It’s not right,” you sniff an hour later as you hand him an oven mitt. “You shouldn’t be making your own birthday cake.”

“We’re making,” Sanemi corrects, seamlessly pulling the hot pan from your oven and placing it atop your stove to cool. “The present ain’t the cake, anyway.”

He tosses the mitt to your counter and turns to you, eyeing the can of frosting in your hand, one you absently stir a butter knife into, unsure of how else to help.

With a faint smile, Sanemi swipes his finger through the top layer of sprinkled sugar, dolloping it right on the tip of your nose. “You are.”

You roll your eyes, swiping your finger through the small blob of icing and bringing it to your mouth. As you suck the tip of your finger clean, you peer over his arm, nose wrinkling as you as you look down at the golden brown surface of the very much baked-through cake. “Still, box cake mix?”

“A cake’s a cake.”

The kitchen is teeming with the warm, comforting scent of sweet vanilla, one that spreads through the rest of your studio, chasing away the last remnants of burnt confectionary which lingered after your earlier baking fiasco. Boxed mix or not, you have to know that plan b smells leagues better than plan a, even if that means your ego has to take the hit.

“If you say so,” you grumble, shouldering him out of the way as you scoop out a glob of frosting, ready to slap it across the cake’s surface.

“Not yet,” Sanemi corrects, gently catching your wrist before your knife can make contact. “It’s gotta cool first, or else that’s just gonna melt all over the place.”

Your mouth twists into an annoyed grimace. “That seems stupid.” You gripe, stabbing the knife back into the canister of icing, right in its center.

“Chemistry, sweetheart. Didn’t you pay attention?”

“I slept through most of chem back in the day.”

That surprises him. “Weren’t you a goody two shoes?”

You snort. “Not when it came to science. Or math, for that matter. Always got my lowest grades in science and math.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “And a low grade for you would’ve been —?”

This time, you drop your head, suddenly sheepish. “Anything below an A.”

Of course. “Damn, wish I’d known.” Sanemi smirks. “Maybe I could’ve made bank tutoring instead of runnin’ around, bein’ a delinquent.” At the skeptical raise of your brow, he scoffs. “What? You think a blossoming criminal couldn’t also score a few As?”

Math had always come easily to him, though that may have been out of necessity than raw talent. Knowing numbers meant he could tally up debts quickly in his head and calculate the exact interest owed, which meant less time wasted wherein his target might be able to get one over on him. Not once had he ever finished a job short-changed. That’s what made him so valuable to the Corps, even back then.

His academic success across the various fields of mathematics and science (which was math with more words thrown in), was just an added bonus.

“Still, though — tutoring?” You laugh. “Sorry — for some reason I can’t picture you meeting some poor kid in the library to go over formulas and equations. I can’t even imagine someone willing to ask you — I mean —“ you gesture to him, and Sanemi knows that’s explanation enough.

“I might’ve. Especially if a certain pretty girl had batted her lashes and asked me all nice and sweet.” Gently, he pushes your hair back over your shoulder, his eyes watching your breath hitch in your throat; the goosebumps that spread over your skin. Smirking, he leans in and presses his lips right below your ear. “Kinda like how you did last week — ‘cept, you were asking me to give you something then, weren’t you?”

The way your cheeks darken tell him you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It was him. Specifically, his cum; you’d begged for it, actually, your recurring chant of fill me up, fill me up, baby, please! sweeter than music to his fucking ears.

You turn to grab the can of icing, defiantly putting your back to him, if only to avoid having to look at the cocky set of his mouth.

Sanemi’s gloating isn’t over. It’s his birthday, after all. “You know I’m right.”

“Oh, shut up before I make you decorate your damn cake.”

Still grinning, he lets you shoo him from the kitchen. Sanemi plops himself onto your sofa and fishes your tv remote from between the cushions. He busies himself flipping through the handful of channels you get, finally landing on some pro baseball game he only watches with half-interest.

“Ready!” You call a few moments later, and Sanemi tosses the remote aside, the game, forgotten.

You hover in front of your counter, hands together twisting nervously. The moment he appears in the kitchen’s small entryway, you step aside, revealing the fruit of your shared labor.

“Happy Birthday, Sanemi.”

The cake is small and its edges are a little lopsided. The icing looks like it was applied the same way as wallpaper paste. A lone, green candle sits lit in the cake’s center, its flame bright and merry.

Sanemi’s never seen anything more appealing in his life.

“You have to make your wish,” you sternly remind him as he leans over the cake, his eyes glued to the candle. “And you can’t say it out loud.”

A birthday cake; his very own birthday cake.

There’s a part of him that hesitates to blow out the candle, too entranced by the way the little flame dances and bends around the wick. After all, the last time he’d made a wish, it hadn’t come true.

And yet, another part of him — that silly, hopelessly optimistic part he knows better than to indulge — wonders if perhaps his eight-year-old self’s wish hadn’t worked because he’d lit the candles for light and feeble warmth. They hadn’t been intended for celebration, and he certainly hadn’t had a cake to hold them.

Maybe that was part of the magic; the spell’s missing ingredients.

This time, maybe things will be different.

His wish is simple, if not a little selfish. But Sanemi thinks that birthdays might be the chance to be selfish, and he’s not making his wish out loud anyways, so maybe he can get away with this.

Sanemi closes his eyes and he wishes for time. Time with you. Time with Genya. As much as the universe will let him have.

That would be enough.

Sanemi blows out the candle.

“C’mere you,” he says roughly, reaching for you. He pulls you into his side and presses a kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Your arms wind around his middle. “You did most of the work.”

“You made it a birthday cake, though.” He lays his cheek atop your head. “You turned this whole damn day into somethin’ special. Thank you.”

Without you, Sanemi would never know what it felt like to have his own birthday cake or a candle to wish upon.

Neither of you of bother with plates or cutting slices; instead, you hand him another fork and the two of you dig right in.

At the first bite, Sanemi’s eyes slide shut. Cheap box cake has never tasted so fucking good.

“Not bad,” you say thickly through your own mouthful, leaning over your counter. Another bite is already loaded on your fork. “Wonder what mine would’ve tasted like.”

Sanemi swallows. “Like raw cake batter.”

You turn over your shoulder to stick your tongue out at him, not caring that your mouth is full, or for the crumbs that fall on the counter top.

You’re about to return to the cake when a smear of white catches his eye.

“Hold it.” Sanemi sets his fork down and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger before you turn away. He tilts your face up, and smirks.

That’s when he leans in, flicks his tongue along your lower lip. He moans at the taste of sugar, the spare bit of icing left on your lip further sweetening the honey of your kiss, his mouth capturing yours.

Your moan rights everything in his world full of wrongs, your fork clattering to the counter.

The hand he keeps on your chin slides to the back of your neck, tilting your head; the other finds purchase at your hip, tugging you closer into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before Sanemi is drunk on your lips, the warmth of the evening liquid honey that pools in his stomach.

Your kiss tastes like cake and home.

He’d stay here all night if he could, but the fervor of your lips moving with his has quickly stolen his breath away. No matter how much he craves your kiss, his body demands air.

With a faint grunt, Sanemi breaks your kiss. The hand on the back of your neck remains firmly in place, keeping you close as Sanemi traces the slope of your nose with the tip of his. “You had icing on your lip. Had to fix it.”

Through his lowered lids, he can see the quickened rise and fall of your chest as you steady your own breathing; the flush in your cheeks. Your eyes are bright, however, illuminated with equal desire and challenge.

Your tongue flicks out to dampen your lower lip and Sanemi’s eyes narrow. “Maybe you should check for more.”

Fuck oxygen. His mouth is back on yours before you can finish your next inhale.

And then, he’s moving.

Though you’re walking backwards, you’re the one guiding him, your fingers hooked through his belt loops as you tug him through your kitchenette and out into the open space of your studio.

His groan vibrates into your mouth. Sanemi doesn’t have to open his eyes to know where you’re leading him; he’s treaded this very path to your bed too many times to count.

Oh, there’s plenty of time for this later, and he’ll happily indulge himself then. Besides, you’re even more sensitive in the mornings, and that means he’s guaranteed to coax two or three orgasms out of you with just his tongue before you both have to go to work in the morning, never mind what he’ll be able to do once he’s actually inside you. It’ll be worth holding off, for now.

But right now, his heart is too full, and tonight has been mending something inside of him he hadn’t known was broken. Something shy and curious, a remnant from the boy who might have secretly longed to know what it felt like to have a birthday mean something; to matter.

Still, he can’t resist fanning the fire a little, the hand on your hip sliding to your ass and squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to the dip in your thighs.

He lets you strip him down to his underwear and you to yours, since that’s how you prefer to sleep when not otherwise naked. Only when he feels your hand sliding down his bare abdomen does he still you, his fingers wrapping delicately around your wrist.

He feels your frown before he sees it. Cautious, your mouth breaks away from his and you lower yourself down from the tips of your toes.

A dent has notched itself between your eyebrows. “You don’t want —?”

Later, he’ll be sure to tell you that he wants you all the time — so much so that it might be a problem. But that’s not what tonight is about — not for him. For now, he can’t risk you discovering that he’s half-hard already; the second your hand finds him, he’ll be too erect to function, let alone think clearly.

He shakes his head. “Actually,” Sanemi hooks his arm around your waist and tugs you back against the bed, falling into your tower of pillows and blankets with you safely encased in his embrace. “I think I just wanna hold you, if that’s cool.”

Confusion flits briefly across your face before your eyes soften. “Of course. Don’t you know that birthdays mean you get whatever you want?”

He didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. Because this is why he loves you: you know, without him ever having to explain. You understand.

With a soft smile, Sanemi rolls to capture you under him, but braces himself above you long enough to allow you to sit up against the headboard. The moment you settle, Sanemi inches up beside you until he can rest his head on your stomach, his arm hugging your waist.

He swears he can hear your smile as you ask, “Happy?”

Exuberantly so; your body is soft in every way his isn’t, and warm. He’s in a heated, dimly lit apartment with no fear of the lights cutting out or the cold outside making his toes turn numb. The girl he loves, loves him back. Everything he hadn’t dared let himself wish for is now his, carding her beautiful fingers through his hair.

it’s almost perfect. Almost.

“Nah, I’ve got one more request.”

He leans over you and pulls a novel from the top of the stack that perpetually sits on your side of the bed, never shrinking. He hands it to you, meeting your inquisitive eyebrow with his smirk. “Read to me.”

He doesn’t care what book it is — whether it’s something he’s read before, or of a genre he isn’t all that into, it doesn’t matter. He just wants to hear you.

“A bedtime story? Really?” You tease, but you’re already flipping to the first page.

Content, Sanemi turns his face further into your stomach, burrowing harder into you. One hand still smoothing through his hair, you begin to read the prologue, pausing for dramatic effect where the passage calls for it. Slowly, the hours unfold as your voice weaves together the story — some high fantasy set in a distant world. Once upon a time, Sanemi would’ve wished he could dive into the pages of his book; anything to escape his reality.

Now, he can’t imagine being any place better than right here, with you.

—

It’s nearly midnight when Sanemi remembers Genya’s unanswered text still sitting in his inbox. Carefully, so as not to disturb you and your faint snoring, he untangles himself from you. One hand pats across the surface of your bedspread, searching for the small rectangle while the other gingerly removes the book still propped between your fingers. You’d made it about five chapters, your thumb still marking the page where you’d dozed off mid-passage.

Book in hand, he turns and tosses it on your threadbare rug, and it lands with a dull thump. He finds his phone near the foot of your bed. His eyes flick to you once to confirm that his gentle movements have not disturbed your well-earned rest.

Your mouth twitches with another light snore, and Sanemi smiles.

He clicks his phone to life, taking care to keep it turned away from you, mindful of the bright little screen. Quietly, he thumbs his answer to his brother. The moment he taps the send arrow, he tosses his phone back to the ground and reaches across the duvet for you once more.

A few hundred miles away inside a sleeping boys’ dormitory, under Zenitsu’s nasally snores and the odd, violent twitch from Inosuke, Genya’s phone buzzes from its place under his pillow.

Yeah. Good birthday.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS APPRECIATED!!

[misswynters]

Pleasure to the mind

Aemond Targaryen x fem! reader

[synopsis: You and aemond get married, spending the night together.

[warning: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni), no use of y/n, afab reader, p. in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mating press, riding, cream pie, rough sex towards the end

[a/n: smut under the sparkles, not proof read

[word count: 2.0k

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

It was your ceremony today, as you are betrothed to Prince Aemond. The halls were decorated with lavish flowers, candles and other gifts. And the presence of the nobles waiting to see you, greatly increased.

On the other hand, aemond is sitting at the middle of the table waiting for you to come in. His gaze was intense as he continued to look towards the door. A free moments later, you were announced into the room, with one of the most beautiful gown in all of westeros. It was made from the most exquisite of silks and gold. You’re hair was neatly arranged in the targaryen ceremonial hair style. The grand hall of the Red Keep was adorned with lavish decorations, tapestries of red and black fluttering gently in the breeze that wafted through the high windows. The scent of roses and jasmine filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the hundreds of candles illuminating the room. Nobles and lords from across the realm filled the hall, their murmurs of excitement and anticipation a soft hum beneath the soaring arches.

At the end of the aisle, Aemond Targaryen stood tall and composed, his violet eye fixed on the grand doors as they slowly opened. He wore his finest tunic, a deep black emblazoned with the silver three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, and a black eye patch that only served to accentuate the intensity of his gaze. His silver hair gleamed under the candlelight, cascading down his back like a waterfall of molten silver.

As you entered the hall, the soft rustle of your gown echoed against the stone floor. The dress was a masterpiece, a blend of Targaryen red and the color of your own house, woven together in intricate patterns that shimmered with every step you took. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of nerves and excitement as you made your way towards the man who had captured your heart.

Reaching the end of the aisle, you took Aemond’s outstretched hand, the warmth of his touch sending a reassuring wave through you. The septon began the ceremony, his voice a deep and melodic drone that filled the hall.

“Today, we gather to witness the union of Aemond Targaryen and Lady Y/N,” he proclaimed, his words echoing in the hushed hall.

Aemond turned to you, his expression softening as he began his vows. “Y/N, from the moment I first saw you, I knew my life would never be the same. You have brought light into my darkest days and strength when I needed it most. I vow to stand by your side, to protect and cherish you, as long as we both shall live.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you took a deep breath, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you. “Aemond, you have shown me a love I never thought possible. With you, I am home. I vow to support and honor you, to be your partner in all things, for as long as we both shall live.”

The septon nodded approvingly, signaling for the exchange of rings. Aemond slipped a band of Valyrian steel, etched with dragon scales, onto your finger, and you did the same for him, the metal cool against your skin.

“With these vows and the exchange of rings, we now join your hands and hearts,” the septon declared. “May your love burn as brightly as the dragonfire that flows through your veins.”

Aemond took your hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring. “We are one, now and forever,” he whispered, his eye locked onto yours.

“And now, seal your union with a kiss,” the septon announced.

Aemond’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive. As he leaned in, your breath caught, the world around you fading away. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft at first, then deepened as he pulled you closer. The hall seemed to hold its breath, the kiss lingering far longer than tradition dictated. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and the cheers of the gathered crowd faded into a distant roar.

When you finally parted, breathless and flushed, Aemond’s eye was dark with promise. “This is just the beginning, my love,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled, knowing that whatever the future held, you would face it together, bound by the vows you had exchanged and the love that burned brighter than any dragon’s fire.

The cheers and applause of the gathered crowd still echoed in your ears as you were led away from the grand hall, Aemond’s hand firmly holding yours. The corridors of the Red Keep were quieter, the sounds of the celebration fading into the background. Each step you took together heightened the anticipation, the weight of what was to come settling over you like a cloak.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

Aemond’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his jaw set with determination. Yet every now and then, he would glance at you, his eye softening with an emotion that made your heart flutter. The journey to your private chambers seemed both too quick and agonizingly slow, each moment stretched out by the tension that crackled between you.

At last, you reached the door to your chambers. Aemond paused, turning to you. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

You nodded, your breath catching as he pushed open the door. The sight that greeted you took your breath away. The room was bathed in the soft glow of countless candles, their light casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. The air was thick with the heady scent of incense, a blend of exotic spices and fragrant flowers that created an intoxicating atmosphere.

The bed at the center of the room was a masterpiece of opulence. It was large and inviting, adorned with fine linens of deep crimson and black, embroidered with silver dragons. Silk and velvet pillows were piled high, promising comfort and luxury. The canopy overhead was draped with sheer fabrics that caught the candlelight, giving the bed an almost ethereal appearance.

Aemond closed the door behind you, the soft click of the latch loud in the quiet room. He stepped closer, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. “You look breathtaking,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“And you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “You look like a prince from the old tales that i’ve read.”

His lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. “Tonight, I am yours,” he said, his voice filled with promise.

He took your hand, leading you to the bed. The anticipation was a palpable thing, a living entity that wrapped around the two of you. He turned you to face him, his hands coming to rest on your waist. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you nervous?” he whispered, his voice a soft murmur.

“A little,” you admitted, your heart racing. “But I trust you.”

Aemond's fingers gently traced the contours of your face, his touch both soothing and electrifying. “I will always protect you,” he vowed, his eye filled with a fierce tenderness. “You are my wife, my heart.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of his promise settling deep within you. As he began to undo the delicate fastenings of your gown, his movements were careful and deliberate, each touch sending a ripple of anticipation through you. The fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, leaving you feeling both exposed and cherished under his intense gaze.

Aemond stepped back, his eye roaming over you with a reverence that made your cheeks flush. He quickly discarded his own garments, revealing the lean, sculpted lines of his body. The candlelight danced over his skin, highlighting the sharp angles and smooth planes that spoke of both strength and grace.

He reached for your hand, guiding you to the bed. The fine linens felt cool against your skin as you sank onto the mattress, Aemond following you down with a slow, deliberate grace. He settled above you, his body warm hovering over yours.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his eye tracing every detail of your face as if committing it to memory. “I have dreamt of this moment,” he confessed to you, his voice a huskey whisper. “Seeing you like this” he continued, as he started to kiss your neck. His lips exploring every inch, leaving pecks everywhere.

Aemond leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and searing. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourself in the taste and feel of him. His hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve and hollow with a reverence that made your heart swell. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent as the tension between you reached a fever pitch. Aemond's hand slid down your body towards your core, his touch igniting a trail of fire in its wake. You responded with a hum, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the strength and power that lay beneath his skin.

When he finally pulled back, his eye was dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You are mine," he declared, his voice a possessive growl.

You hummed in response as pleasure started to cloud your mind. Aemond continued to touch you where you most needed him, playing with your core as he slipped a digit in. You nodded, your own breath catching. Eventually he stopped and looked at you.

“You gotta use your words, sweetheart” he said as he looked you in the eyes with a soft gaze. With desperation wishing for him to continue you answered, “Always…i’m yours”

The anticipation built to a fever pitch, your bodies pressed together, the heat between you almost unbearable. Aemond's control began to slip, his touches growing more urgent, more desperate. His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp. His free hand roamed over your body, rough and demanding, each touch a testament to his need for you. Your skin tingled under his touch, every nerve ending alight with sensation. His kisses grew more demanding, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your skin.

The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourself in the feel of him, the raw intensity of his desire. His hand slid up your body, towards your breast as he pushed a second digit into you. Your own hands roamed over him, feeling the strength and power that lay beneath his skin, finally settling on his sculptured shoulders.

He let out a moan, lifting your thighs with his hands until they touched your chest. Aemond started to push his hips into you. He could feel your warm walls slowly closing in, it was a tightness feeling that was driving him insane.

He claimed you with a possessive hunger, each thrust a declaration of his love and desire. His rhythm was slow at first, but it quickly built to a frantic, driving pace that left you both gasping for breath.

Aemond's control slipped entirely, his need for you overtaking everything else. His movements were relentless, each thrust drove you deeper into the mattress as he continued to press your thighs towards your body. He worshipped you, his touch a mixture of his possessive and gentle nature.

He stopped for a moment to catch a glimpse at your beautiful body and without warning he entered you again, his thrusts hard and unyielding. The intensity took your breath away, your body arching against the mattress as he set a relentless pace. His movements were powerful, each thrust driving deeper, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room.

Your thighs slapped against his hips, the force of his movements sending shockwaves through you. The pleasure was overwhelming, a mixture of pain and ecstasy that left you gasping and moaning. Aemond's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he pounded into you, showing no signs of stopping.

He leaned over you, his mouth finding one of your breasts. His lips closed around the sensitive peak, sucking it into his mouth with a fervor that made you cry out. He sucked hard, as if he wanted to milk it dry, his tongue flicking over the hardened nub, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

The sounds of your combined pleasure filled the room, a symphony of moans, gasps, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed. The bedframe banged against the wall with each powerful thrust, the noise a testament to the intensity of your love. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your body trembling with the force of his passion.

Aemond's pace never wavered, each thrust driving deeper, harder. His grip on your thighs tightened, his need for you evident in every movement. The world outside ceased to exist, the only reality the two of you, joined in a frenzied dance of desire. As you lay entwined with Aemond, the desire that had simmered beneath the surface began to boil over once more.

You looked into his eye, seeing the same need reflected back at you. With a determined glint, you decided to take control, to show him that you could match his passion. Summoning your strength, you pushed against his chest, urging him to lie down.

His eye widened in surprise and then darkened with anticipation as he let you guide him onto his back. You straddled his hips, feeling the hardness of him against you. The power in this position, the control, sent a thrill through your body.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you sank down onto him, taking him in fully. The sensation was intense, a delicious mix of pleasure and pressure that made you gasp. Aemond's hands found purchase on your waist, his grip firm but reverent.

You began to move, starting with a slow, teasing rhythm that made his breath hitch. His eye locked onto yours, a fierce blend of love and lust that made your heart race. You placed your hands on his shoulders, using them as leverage as you increased the pace.

Aemond's grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as you rode him harder. The sound of your bodies slapping filled the room yet again, accompanied by the wet sounds your clue made as you slapped yourself down onto him. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the pleasure building with each bounce, each thrust. The intensity grew, your movements becoming more frantic, more urgent.

You bounced hard on his cock, each descent driving him deeper, sending waves of pleasure through your body. The friction, the heat, it was all-consuming.

Aemond's hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements, his own hips thrusting up to meet you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of dominance and submission, control and surrender. You threw your head back, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as the intensity reached new heights.

A white sticky ring began to form beneath you, a testament to the raw, unrestrained passion that consumed you both. The sight of it, the feel of it, only spurred you on, driving you to move faster, harder.

Aemond's eye was fixed on you, his gaze burning with desire and admiration. "Gods, you're perfect," he growled, his voice thick with emotion.

"Ride me, my love. Show me how much you want me." Aemond’s words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, adding fuel to the fire that already burned so brightly. You gripped his shoulders tighter, your nails digging into his skin as you moved with renewed vigor. The bed creaked and groaned beneath you, the sounds of your lovemaking echoing in the candlelit room.

He continued to move your hips against his at an animalistic manner, sleeks of cum appearing at the bottom of his abdomen. His eyes were lit of fire thinking of you appearing a few months from not with a swollen belly. Aemond couldn’t wait to breed you and stuff you full of his seed.

The pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, your body trembling with the effort and the intensity of your emotions. Aemond's hands never left your hips, guiding you, encouraging you, his touch a constant reminder of his love and desire.

As you approached your climax, the world seemed to blur around you, the only reality the two of you, joined in this fierce, beautiful dance. The pleasure was overwhelming, a tidal wave that threatened to sweep you away. With a final and powerful thrust, Aemond pushed you both over the edge once more.

banner by: @cafekitsune

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Petting Their Hair

Lucifer

"I am only going to say this once: stop."

You get one warning. One. If you do not cease and desist, he is throwing you out of his study, so help him Diavolo's Dad. No, he does not like it. No, not even a little bit. You really aren't going to stop? You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you?

....You're very lucky he's too busy to hurl you bodily from this room. He'll just endure it for now.

Mammon

"Hah?! What's the big idea?! This is the revered hair of THE Great Mammon, I'll have you know. So that'll be 100 Grimm a touch, thanks! ....Hey, no, wait, why'd you stop?"

Once he's done turning bright red and clearing his throat, he'll try to capitalize on this whim of yours by offering you a discount on hair touches. A very poorly-planned scheme, because you're not going to pay to do something he'll start begging you to keep up as soon as you stop.

Oh, so Mammon is willing to let you touch his high-value hair for free? You're so honored. What a good boy you are, Mammon. (You can expect a bit more sputtering and some denials that he is anything like a good boy, but bro's into it big time. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.)

Leviathan

*shrieks in confused, touch-starved otaku*

Wait, no, he didn't say to stop! What's with these mixed signals? Petting his hair then stopping just because he shrieks a little bit? Did you want to touch his hair or not? Is it greasy? Oh god, when did he last bathe? ...It was only the other day. You have no reason to be disgusted. You're just a bigoted normie who assumes all otaku are crusty and gross!

Ahhhh?!?!?!?! Again?! Fine! Just don't change your mind again, because that's super confusing! And yeah, obviously he's blushing, you're petting his head and it feels nice and kind of tickles! ....Mm.... You know, once he's settled into it, it's really relaxing, actually...

Fast forward an hour or two and he's probably conked out with his head in your lap, drunk on affection and mostly asleep.

Satan

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

It feels weird. Why are you doing that? Wait, you're petting him? Like he's....a cat? Hmm. Interesting. He'll allow it. But you should do it properly. None of this mussing his hair around with wild abandon. You have to be gentle and use small movements. Maybe use your knuckles? Gently though. There, that's it.

So this is what it feels like. Admittedly, he probably wouldn't take kindly to this if anybody else was doing it, no matter how well they imitated proper cat-petting technique. But you're a special exception, so in the future, if you feel the need to do this, just let him know. And for the love of all things unholy, don't breathe a word about this to his brothers.

Asmodeus

"Oh, you like my hair? Isn't it soft? I'll show you the conditioner I use."

Asmo loves having his hair played with! Or brushed, or combed, or tugged (just not too hard, please!) His hair is silky smooth thanks to a mixture of his natural good looks and his shampoo/conditioner combination. He'll let you borrow them if you're interested. Your hair will look amazing! And it'll feel even better!

This is cozy. He'll just settle in and let you do this as long as you want. Careful you don't get too handsy; he knows how irresistible he is.

...Well, maybe if you're a little handsy he'll let it slide, but just because it's you.

Beelzebub

"Are you....petting me?"

Kind of weird, but it feels nice, so he isn't complaining. It's a little bit embarrassing, just because it makes him feel a little bit like a puppy, but then again, who doesn't like puppies? He'll be able to continue to go about his day not minding you petting his hair now and again. The only awkward part is how damn tall he is. You might need to keep a step stool handy.

Belphegor

"Nnngh, knock it off...! ... ... ...I changed my mind, do it again."

His initial reaction to being woken up to you stroking his head is annoyance, because dammit, he was sleeping. But once he shakes the cobwebs out of his brain, he'll realize that it actually felt really good and he could absolutely fall asleep under these circumstances.

He'll wait a little while, hoping you'll give it another try of your own accord, but if you don't, he'll eventually cave and grumpily ask you to do it again.

Diavolo

"Hahaha... That's enough, now."

He isn't actually a fan. Maybe it's the fact that he's a prince and has been acting as an autocrat more or less for centuries, but being stroked like an adored pet feels really degrading. Of course, he won't hold it against you, but seriously, stop.

Barbatos

"Are you finished playing around quite yet?"

Another one who isn't into this at all. He's more than happy to spend his free time petting you, if that's what you're interested in, but he is a petter, not a pettee. Read into this what you will.

Solomon

"You're so forward!"

Solomon likes it very much. Too much, possibly. Are you flirting with him? There's something incredibly intimate about touching someone's hair, don't you think? No, please, continue.

Simeon

"Um, what are you doing? ...As long as you're enjoying yourself, I guess!"

Simeon is more bewildered by this than most. Like, are you trying to scratch an itch for him? Is this one of those "viral memes" he's heard so much about? Well, it feels nice, and it isn't as if it's hurting anybody. He'll indulge you for now.

A little to your left, please. Ahhhh, that's the spot...

Luke

"Hehe, that tickles... Hey! Is this a Chihuahua joke?!"

It feels kind of nice, but as soon as he takes a second to think about it, he realizes that you're treating him at best like a little kid, and at worst, like a dog, and he isn't having any of that. He'll scold you for treating a Celestial being so casually, remind you that he's actually a lot older than you, technically, so who's the real baby, and secretly pine for more pets for the rest of his life.

[hellsburners]

in vino veritas

summary: the emperors have given the general a gift. pairing: general marcus acacius x male reader word count: 1.7k warnings: smut, rough dom, top marcus, bottom male reader, sex pollen pic a/n: im seeing the movie tomorrow!

masterlist

A chill rolled down the general’s spine as he entered the throne room. Two golden chairs sat atop a dais, shining under the sunlight. Seated were the emperor’s with their bone white togas and their red hair. Acacius has seen great monsters in his conquests, but none as bloodthirsty and mad as these two. 

He was still bloodied from battle, dirt and soot covered his body, his chestplate dented and scratched. He dropped his sword on the marble floor, the clang of metal echoing the palace walls. 

“You have brought great honor to Rome, General,” the Emperor Geta said. His golden eyes gleaming with pride and greed under the sunlight. He gestures at the servants below the dais, where they fetch the general’s sword and pour him a glass of wine. The Emperor takes a sip of wine, the corners of his mouth smirking roguishly. 

“A feast must be made in your honor,” the younger emperor shouted in joy. “With the finest meals and a celebration in the colosseum!” 

“None is required, my emperors,” the general spoke. “I only wish for someone to tend to my wounds and a soft bed to lay in tonight.” 

He took a sip of his wine, the bitterness helped distract the ache in his body. He saw Caracalla whispering something to his brother, snickering and chuckling under his breath. Geta’s eyes widened, a smile forming from his lips. 

“Very well,” Geta clapped. 

The sound of his clap echoed in the room, a ringing sound forming in the general’s ears. He staggered back, his vision blurring—almost black. The wine, he thought. He fell hard on the floor, his body numb. He saw the two emperors walk down the dais, towering over him like roman statues of the gods. They both laughed maniacally

“In vit veritas, General.” In wine, there is truth. 

Marcus Acacius woke up from the sound of a fallen metal bowl. It was night time, the torches in the room were lit. He wasn’t in the throne room anymore, yet the fineries in the architecture and the furniture in the room signaled that he was still in the palace. 

“Forgive me, general,” you said. Picking up the fallen bowl and the cloth bandages scattered on the floor. You had tended to the general’s wounds. There weren’t many but it was imperative they be cleaned to reduce any infection. “How are you feeling?”

You saw the general rise from his bed, his wide frame casting shadows on the bed. He wore nothing but the bandages you wrapped around his chest and the silk blanket that covered his privates. He groaned, his voice hoarse and deep. “Fine I suppose, a bit sore.”

“That is to be expected. Your injuries, though minor, will take a few days to heal.” you said. You couldn’t help but stare at him, even as you cleaned his wounds. His thick wavy hair that you brushed until the dried blood came off. His tanned skin and his broken nose. You admired every feature almost as if you were looking at a god on earth. 

“They laced my drink with something, what was it?” Marcus spoke. His hands brushed over his thick thighs, bending down while his hair fell on his face. “I feel feverish and weak.”

“A flower from one of Rome’s colonies, once dried it turns into a fine powder that can be mixed into wine. It is undetectable from smell or taste,” You said. Fear rose to your throat. In front of you was the most dangerous man in Rome. Despite his weakness you knew, surely, he can kill you with ease. “In small doses it could be a sort of aphrodisiac the emperors have been using in their—parties. Large amounts can be quite lethal.”

The general tried to stand but to no avail. You rushed quickly to his aid. It was true, you tried to cradle his muscular arms and they were hot to the touch. He groaned, grabbing onto your arm tightly. The silk shifted under his legs, your eyes widened to see the silk was bulging. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“General,” you said in shock. 

“Tell me, boy,” his eyes were sharp like knives and dark like an abyss. “Is this part of their games?”

“This is a part of its effects, that is the truth,” you said, your face was close to his, his hand still gripping onto your arm. His breath was hot against your lips. But trust me, general, I had no part in this.”

“What will make it go away then?” he said, the silk pulled down the soft v of his pelvis, you could see the hint of hair in the middle. 

“Time is the only cure. It will take until sunrise for the effects to subside,” you said. He cursed under his breath, sweat dripping down his temples. You pushed his hair back, your fingers cold against his skin. You rested your knee on the bed, your other hand caressing his broad shoulders. “But if there is anything I can do to help, my general.”

His hands wrapped around your neck, tight. His eyes stared at you with his brows furrowed. He dragged you down to the bed. He was now on top of you, he was wide and strong, his breath labored. His hands pinned you down, his nails digging into your skin. He dove down to your neck kissing you. Nibbling and licking down your skin. You tasted of salt and flowers, oddly sweet. 

“You will serve me, boy,” he said. “Until sunrise.”

You nodded. He ripped off your toga, tossing it aside, lost in the sea of silk. He continued to take his time on your body, kissing and sucking leaving marks all over. You moaned from his wet lips and his warm tongue, which trailed down your chest to your perked nipples. You could feel his rough facial hair scrape your skin, it stung but it sent more shivers through your body. 

“Then let me serve you,” You said, slowly changing places so that he was sitting on the bed, and you straddling his muscular thighs. You placed a kiss on his lips, which tasted of dried blood. He pulled you closer, kissing you roughly while you fought to take in the air. His tongue mixed with yours changing each other's taste. When you pulled back to breathe you saw that his pupils were dilated. 

You continued to trail kisses on his ear, slowly tracing the tip of your tongue down his neck and to his chest. You did the same with his nipples, licking and teasing which made him moan. It was godly, the way he sounded. Such brute strength in the battlefield long gone under your touch. Your hand went down to the growing ache in his center. His cock was aching hard and thick, the tip leaking. When you touched the bead of cum he shivered and cursed. You went down to place soft kisses around the shaft, taking in his soldier’s scent. You placed the pad of your tongue under the shaft and licked to taste the tip, engulfing the head as you went down—deep. 

“Fuck,” he said, his chest rising and falling. You sucked down and hollowed your cheeks as you came up, releasing the head with a loud pop. He placed a hand on your head and pushed you back down. You bobbed on his cock feverishly as he moaned more and more. He was shaking a bit, his hands pulling on your hair as he fucked into your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as you took his thickness deeper into your throat. You could feel him getting close which is why he released his hold on you, you clutched your throat and coughed up. His thick cock was glistening wet with your spit, the tip a deep red. 

“Have you ever been with a soldier?” he said, panting. You shook your head, wiping your tears and your lips on the silk. “Then come here, boy. Let me show you how a soldier of Rome takes his price.” 

You held onto his shoulders for balance. He guided his cock into your hole, slowly pulling on your waist until he was fully inside. You dipped your head on the corner of his neck, slowly moving your hips in a rocking motion. You moaned in his ears like a wanton mess. His arms hugged your waist and pushed you deeper down his cock. He pulled on your hair to continue on leaving marks on your neck and chest. 

His hands wrapped around your neck as he kissed you more, his other hand found to stroke your hardness, your tip leaking a mess down his hand that made his strokes more slick. You were in ecstasy, like the drug had worked itself into your body as well. You went off his lap and sunk down on the bed with your face down on the silk, presenting your behind for him to use. He was like a lion eager for his prey. He took your hair and rammed his cock into you again. Fucking into you with so much force you could feel whatever expensive wood that was used on the bed creak. He panted like a man tired from a day’s work. His other hand pressing down your back so your ass arched more. 

“I am close,” he moaned. 

“Please, general, fill me,” you said. He pushed your face deeper down the bed, it felt as if he was crushing your skull. His thrusts became erratic and labored. The rhythm faltered from his sheer strength. He released with a strong grunt. His seed filled into your hole which made you feel full and warm. He collapsed on your back like a heavy bear. You tried to capture your breath. Slowly pushing him off.  You stood up to take back your toga, the sun peering from the horizon. You sat on the window with a watering can in your hands. You slowly poured water on the bright blue flower on your windowsill, a bag of gold coins next to it. You chuckled, the same chuckle Geta and Caracalla would do. “In vito veritas,” you smiled. Admiring the big man snoring on your bed.

hey y'all I'm back! please like and reblog with your thoughts I'd love to hear them! And if you have any more sweet sweet prompts about Marcus or any of Pedro's characters do send them on my inbox!

[thepeonysbackup]

◇Meal time◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Part two of: Dry humping

Tags: More boring plot between, MDNI, smut, under the table, Husk gets traumatized, semi public, oral (M receiving)

Summary: After your incident in the kitchen, it seems the overlord just didn't have enough of you. So under the table in the dining hall of the new hotel you kept him warm from beneath the table until he sees it fit to take things to the next level.

A/N: I wasn't expecting to make this, but wooah- The last one got so much attention, and I honestly am honored you’d want more from me.

Word count: 1.3k

Request: Yes/No (By: @notalwaysa and my other ducklings~)

Part three at: Satisfaction

The grip Alastor held on the silver spoon within his clawed fingers tightened enough to bend it in half as his smile tightened. The soft caress he felt on his inner thighs made it happen, your dainty fingers slipped up it to the zipper of his red pants, pulling slowly as Charlie gushed about how much she was enjoying the dinner you'd planned for them all, the flavors all mixing in oddly fond way she couldn't place, she gave a sigh as she took another large bite which earned laughs and giggles from the girls. The wet patch on the crotch of his clothing from your moments just prior remained, his hips lifting ever so slightly to push himself a tad bit towards your grasp made you rather aware of how much he was urging you on, coaxing with mere movements for you to unsheath his steadily aching heat. Your lips drew a flat line when Vaggie inquired on your whereabouts, your hand gradually massaging the easing boner that was reforming in Al's lap. You managed to shuffle even closer until your head was right against the table cloth, breath fanning the fabric as your motions became slowly lighter, a teasing pinpoint from just enough to make his radio static hiss almost enough to catch attention of anyone else. “Yeah, she made this stuff for us, and she ain't even here to see us enjoy it!!” Angel dramatically groaned across from Husk, who was sitting beside Al, whose eyes were flickering around, and ears were on guard. “Uhh- Well..- Hey! Maybe she got tired and went to bed. It must've been exhausting to make this for us, especially when she didn't have to at all, by any means!” Charlie defended with a nervous smile, head looking around as well, “Don't you think so, Al?”

The mention of him made his attention turn from you to the princess, his tight smile easing slightly as he gave a laugh and gently slurped on the Gumbo from his special bowl, his free hand snaking down to place it above your head so he could stroke your hair in an unexpectedly soothing manner, “I believe wholeheartedly that she's here in spirit,” He gave a hum, static prickling the volume to a more unreasonable amount then usual, “Absolutely enthralled that were enjoying such a wonderful meal together.” He nearly strained as Charlie gave a dramatic coo, sparkles practically floating around her as she spoke about how proud she was that he was getting along with you so well. Oh boy, if only she knew just how well.. Suddenly your hair was gripped tightly and you were pulled flush against his crotch, cheek getting rubbed lightly against the lukewarm frabric in a concerningly soft way contrast to the grip you felt on yourself. It was a signal, one you had no problem understanding and acting on as your hand finally pulled his reharddened sticky length from its confines and gave a damp kiss to its base before a long teasing lick all the way up to its slit, burning the lovely sight of it jumping in your hand into your memory. He must've never touched himself, let alone let others, how perfect for you..

*SLAM*

The sudden sound came from the Overlord above, hand hitting the underside of the table after letting go of your hair, supposedly he hadn't expected such an action just yet. You had that to your advantage, giving him a few more soft barely-there licks up to his tip before placing both your lips against the side of his shaft and slowly making firm stroking movements up and down with your hand, lips working what you couldn't fit around your petite fingers. He made a grunt as he manifested a napkin and brought it up from his lap as if that's what he had been grabbing all along, “You okay?” Intruded Husk, his brow raising skeptically as his gaze began to travel down to the legs of the deer demons chair, where he could just barely see a pair bare skinned knees shifting slightly beneath them, he had to blink, looking back at his owner. “Peachy, old pal. Why do you ask?” Alastors nonchalant response urked the barcat, voice rumbling as he gave a, “Er, no reason.. Forget it.” Due to the subtle change in the way his deer had smiled, it's was sharper, strained with an expression that traveled to the dials in his eyes that spoke millions of undeniable threats. He couldn't say anything.

The meal continued with banter, Alastors claws now digging into the underside of the wooden table, eye twitching from your affection from below causing the pre-cum to form at his tip, shaft pulsing lightly as your tongue now played across his skin more confidently. He sighed quietly, ears flicking backwards for but a moment before he heard an annoyed, “Fuck-” From his side, seeing as Husk had dropped his spoon somehow. You took him into your mouth, a sharp breath from above being your cue to keep going until you had about half of him inside, eyes closing momentarily, your mind completely void of everything else around you as you gave a small noise against his hardness as it pushed past your uvual. You hadn't noticed the hand that was searching for the glinting silver below the tablecloth, or how it had brushed over your leg just enough to rise a small swallowed whimper from you, a head and body quickly found its way underneath the table only to jolt to a furry stop at the sight of you in such a not only lewd but shamless position. As your eyes opened, it took you a moment before you caught a glimpse of the bartender beside you gawking in sheer disbelief.

You were such a polite thing, never once had he thought...

But when you did, you stopped completely in your tracks to whip your panting head over to him, tempted to explain yourself, but stopping in the process as it would've alerted everyone. Alastors hand turning you back and against his cock again made you rethink and bat your eyes in thought before you ultimately gave Husk one final glance before setting back to work. The white claws of the former overlord quickly swiped the spoon from the ground before he went to stand up, hitting his head hard on the table which caused everyone to stop talking and laugh a bit as he came back up with a red furry face without his hat. Nothing was said about you, but the hand that was still on your head probably wouldn't have stopped pushing you down either way. The sporadic movements made your vision spotty, throat quickly becoming sore from the painful angle in which he was aiming you at as you almoat silently gagged on him, throat contracting enough for him to shove you down all the way. Almost silently.. Sadly, there had been just enough noise for Angel to hear, and his head perked up, “Am I going crazy or did I hear somethin’?” He said aloud, head on a swivel before Vaggie gave a groan and her hand pinched the bridge of her nose, “No, there's no-” You couldn't hold the soft cough that left you as you ripped yourself back, not having expected the man to give your throat a thick load that dribbled right down your chin onto your chest. “Okay, yeah, I heard that-” The fallen angel added just as Alastor placed his napkin next to his glass of wine, “Well, I must say I did enjoy our little family meal. But I have many things to do this evening, I do hope you discover whatever that odd noise truly was!” With Alastors words being spoken quickly and methodically he sunk into his shadows while grabbing both his cane and the glass of red liquid casually, you coming along with him just as quickly as Charlie bid him goodbye.

[iguanodont]

Way back when you first posted your cool weird DnD dragons, I think you mentioned something about them maybe being eusocial with kobolds and maybe dragonborn acting as different biological casts and I honestly think about that idea a lot. When you wrote that, were you imagining these kobolds being just as anatomically weird as the dragons whose colony they were a part of?

I’ve actually drawn kobolds before, but I’ve changed some things about their designs and lore since then.

They have a few different castes, not all of which are present in every dragon, and certain castes can change into others. For example, most kobolds are born as quadrupedal Carriers, which act as couriers and assistants to Manuals, which are the bipedal worker caste and second phase of development. A favorite kobold may also be metamorphosed by its parent into a winged drone, which grows significantly taller and acts as scout, messenger, and lover to other dragons. The appearance and unusual sociality of drones has led many layfolk to mistake them for half-dragons, which are almost unheard of in chromatic lineages. Metallics, which are more prone to interacting directly with nondragons are far more likely to produce hybrid offspring. Some species also develop larger “warrior” caste kobolds (swolbolds)

The illustration depicts blue dragon kobolds, which possess a hornlike antenna for locating conspecifics, calling for help, and finding their way home. Brass dragons, which wander the same habitats, will occasionally steal blue kobolds for service by mimicking their Queen’s psychic signal.

Honorable mention to fairy kobolds, which are the mixed bag of smallfolk varmints that metallics commonly press into service. These creatures readily find their ways into dragon lairs through the same liminal byways used to slip between material space and the faewild. Like the faewild, dragon lairs are high magic environments, and often conveniently close to human dwellings to forage from. But it comes at a cost: fairies are a magic rich snack for a dragon, so they have to adapt fast. Using their innate knack for glamouring to blend into a lair’s unique aesthetic, a fairy will begin working to protect and furnish its home as they would in any other dwelling which ultimately serves the interests of the dragon. If the dragon notices them at that point, it usually tolerates them bumming in its house.

[unabashegirl]

Fragments 2 — one shot

Harry runs into Y/N in Japan. She is his ex and she is seeking closure.

Author's note: Hello everyone! I've been holding the final part bc I feel like you are all going to hate me or love me for the ending and I am scared! Please don't hate me! I hope you enjoy!

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots like The Cover and much more :)

Please note that everything that is both underlined and italicized is from the past—they are flashbacks!

word count: 3.9K

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

The kitchen filled with the gentle sound of slicing knives and the rhythmic motions of rice being pressed into nori. The chef’s voice was calm and patient as he guided them through the process, but Y/N and Harry remained mostly silent, their focus turned inward as they worked. The only other sound was the soft, traditional music playing in the background, adding to the atmosphere of quiet reflection.

Y/N carefully rolled the sushi, her movements precise as she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. She could feel Harry’s presence beside her, his silent focus mirroring her own. They moved in tandem, following the chef’s instructions, but there was a tension in the air, a heaviness that neither could ignore.

When the last roll was finally placed on the bamboo mat, the chef stepped back with a satisfied smile. “Very well done,” he praised, nodding to both of them. “You have a natural talent for this.”

Y/N gave a small, polite smile in return, glancing at Harry who nodded in agreement, though his eyes seemed distant. The chef clapped his hands together lightly, signaling the end of the lesson.

“I will leave you both to enjoy the fruits of your labor,” the chef said warmly. “Please, take your time. It has been an honor to teach you.”

With that, he bowed and quietly excused himself from the room, leaving them alone with their carefully crafted sushi rolls.

Y/N stood there for a moment, her eyes lingering on the perfectly arranged sushi before them. The silence that followed the chef’s departure felt louder, more suffocating. She could feel the weight of unsaid words pressing down on her, but she wasn’t sure how to break through the barrier that had formed between them.

Harry was the first to move, picking up a pair of chopsticks and carefully selecting a piece of sushi. He looked at her then, his gaze searching, as if trying to find something in her expression. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying an undertone of uncertainty.

Y/N nodded, reaching for her own chopsticks, but her hands trembled slightly as she did. She felt his eyes on her, watching, waiting for something—maybe for her to say the words that neither of them had yet found the courage to speak.

They ate in silence, the sushi as perfect as the chef had promised, but it was difficult to enjoy it with the thick tension in the air. The music played on, soothing and distant, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

The silence between them grew unbearable, stretching out like an unspoken challenge neither of them wanted to confront. Harry set down his chopsticks, the clatter against the plate louder than it should have been in the quiet room. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers rubbing at his temples as if trying to ease away the tension that had built up over the course of the afternoon.

Y/N noticed his sudden stillness, her heart rate quickening as she sensed the shift in the atmosphere. She watched him, her chopsticks frozen in mid-air, her breath catching as she waited for him to speak. There was something in his eyes—something dark, conflicted—that made her stomach churn with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Harry finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with a depth of sorrow that she hadn’t seen before. His voice, when he spoke, was strained, as if the words were being torn from somewhere deep inside him. “I guess it’s time to tell you”

She blinked, her chest tightening at the seriousness in his tone. “What is it?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

He hesitated, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on the table. “The reason I distanced myself,” he began, his voice cracking with the weight of what he was about to confess, “was because I… I did something.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. “What do you mean?” she whispered, dread settling in her stomach.

Harry looked away, his jaw clenched as if he could barely bring himself to continue. “I cheated on you,” he finally admitted, his words laced with a deep, agonizing guilt. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. And when I realized what I’d done… I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t look you in the eyes knowing how much I’d hurt you.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath Y/N’s feet, the shock of his confession hitting her like a physical blow. Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, each one cutting deeper than the last as she struggled to process his words. She could barely breathe, the pain in her chest so intense that she thought it might suffocate her.

“You… you cheated on me?” she repeated, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and raw, searing hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you just pushed me away?”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you more than I already had,” Harry confessed, his voice heavy with regret. “I thought if I distanced myself, if I just… distanced myself, it would be easier for you. That maybe you could hate me and move on, without having to see my face and be reminded of what I did.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision as the reality of his betrayal settled in. “So instead of being honest with me, you let me believe it was something else—something I did wrong?” she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “You let me think I wasn’t enough for you?”

Harry winced, the guilt in his eyes deepening as he heard the pain in her voice. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I made it worse by not telling you. But I was scared. I was a coward.”

Y/N’s hands shook as she wiped away the tears that had started to fall, her heart breaking all over again as she realized how deeply he had hurt her. “You should have told me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You should have let me decide how to feel, how to move on. Instead, you just… left me in the dark.”

She walked through the living room, her steps light and tentative as if trying not to disturb the heavy silence that hung between her and Harry. He was seated on the large, plush sofa, a thick blanket draped over his legs as he stared intently at the flickering screen of his laptop. His eyes were focused, but his posture was rigid, every line of his body radiating a cold detachment that Y/N found hard to ignore.

“H,” she began softly, her voice breaking the silence like a tentative knock on a closed door. “I was thinking of making some hot cocoa. Do you want some?”

Harry didn’t look up from his laptop, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard. “No, thanks,” he replied curtly, his voice devoid of warmth. “I’m busy.”

Y/N’s heart sank at his response, but she tried to keep her tone upbeat, forcing a small smile as she turned towards the kitchen. “Okay, Just let me know if you change your mind.”

She busied herself with the cocoa, the rhythmic sound of the milk heating and the clinking of the spoon against the mug providing a small, soothing distraction. She could hear Harry’s muffled voice as he spoke into his phone, his words barely audible over the hum of the appliances. The conversation was brief, and when he hung up, he remained seated, his focus returning to the laptop.

As Y/N walked back into the living room with her steaming mug, she hesitated for a moment before taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. She tried to find a comfortable position, but the distance between them felt insurmountable.

Harry,” she said after a few minutes, her voice trembling slightly as she attempted to bridge the gap. “Can we talk? I feel like we haven’t really spent any time together lately. So, I was planning perhaps we could spend the weekend at my parents cabin outside of the city. I’ve already asked for the keys”.

He glanced at her briefly, his expression impassive. “I can’t this weekend,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve got a lot on my plate. Maybe later.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, but she nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. “Alright”.

She took a sip of her cocoa, the warmth of the drink contrasting sharply with the chill she felt in the room. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the soft clacking of Harry’s keyboard and the occasional rustle of his papers. Y/N watched him from across the room, her heart aching as she saw the man she loved becoming more and more distant.

Time passed slowly, each minute dragging as Y/N tried to fill the silence with small, meaningless activities—flipping through a magazine, tidying up the living room, adjusting the throw pillows on the sofa. She would glance at Harry every now and then, hoping to catch his eye, to see a sign of the warmth they once shared. But each time, she was met with a cold, unfeeling stare.

Eventually, she stood up, unable to bear the distance any longer. She walked to the window, looking out at the city lights that seemed so distant and unreachable. Her reflection in the glass was a stark reminder of how far apart they had grown, and the sight of her own lonely figure only deepened her sense of isolation.

Y/N took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “Harry,” she said softly, her voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. “I know things have been hard lately, but I miss us”.

Harry’s eyes opened slowly, and he looked at her with a mixture of fatigue and frustration. “I don’t know if we can fix this,” he said quietly.

The sadness in his voice cut through Y/N like a knife, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “But I’m willing to try. For us”.

Harry looked at her, and for a moment, she got a glimpse of his old self. But then, he closed his eyes and pulled away slightly, the emotional distance between them reasserting itself. “I don’t know if I can,” he said softly.

“I know,” Harry said, his voice thick with emotion. “I was wrong, and I’m so sorry. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But I need you to know that it meant nothing. It was a mistake—a stupid, drunken mistake—and it never changed how much I loved you.”

Y/N shook her head, the ache in her chest almost unbearable. “But it did change things, Harry. It changed everything. You broke us… and you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes filled with tears, the sight of her in so much pain almost too much for him to bear. He reached out, wanting to comfort her, but Y/N flinched away, the hurt too fresh, too raw.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she pulled back. “You don’t get to touch me, not after this.”

The rejection hit Harry like a punch to the gut, but he knew he deserved it. He had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he repeated, his voice barely holding together. “I wish I could take it back. I wish I could undo everything and go back to the way things were.”

But Y/N could only shake her head, the tears streaming down her face as the reality of their situation sank in. The man she had loved so deeply, the man she had trusted with her heart, had betrayed her in the worst possible way. And now, there was nothing left but the broken pieces of what they once had.

Y/N sat there, tears streaming down her face as she tried to come to terms with the bombshell Harry had just dropped on her. Every part of her wanted to scream, to throw the pain back in his face, to make him feel even a fraction of the hurt he had caused her. But all she could do was sit there, numb and hollow, as the man she once loved shattered everything she thought she knew about their relationship.

Harry’s own tears were falling now, silent and slow, as he watched her break before his eyes. He had expected anger, yelling, even hatred—but this quiet devastation was worse. It was the kind of pain that didn’t have an outlet, that didn’t have a voice. It just lingered, suffocating them both in its grip.

“Say something,” Harry finally whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “Please, Y/N… anything.”

But what was there to say? What words could possibly convey the depth of the betrayal she felt? Y/N looked at him, really looked at him, and saw a man who was just as broken as she was. The realization hit her like a tidal wave—he was drowning in his own regret, but that didn’t make what he did any less unforgivable.

“You want me to say something?” she finally replied, her voice eerily calm despite the chaos inside her. “Fine. I loved you, Harry. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. I would have done anything for you, given you everything. And you threw it all away for… what? For a night of wild sex?”

Harry flinched at her words, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “It wasn’t worth it,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know that now. But at the time, I was just… lost. I was struggling with the pressure, the expectations, and I messed up. And I hate myself for it every single day.”

“Good,” Y/N said sharply, her eyes blazing with the anger she had been holding back. “You should hate yourself. Because you didn’t just hurt me—you destroyed me. You made me question everything, made me question if you ever loved me”.

Her words sliced through Harry like a knife, each one cutting deeper than the last. “I loved you.” he whispered desperately. “I love you. I was the one who wasn’t enough. I was weak, and I let my insecurities and fears ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Y/N’s tears fell faster now, the anger and heartbreak swirling together in a storm she couldn’t control. “You should have come to me,” she cried, her voice breaking. “You should have trusted me, talked to me, instead of turning to someone else. We could have figured it out together, Harry. But you made that impossible.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I hate myself for that, too. But I can’t change what happened, no matter how much I want to. All I can do now is tell you the truth, no matter how much it hurts, and hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart splintering with each word he spoke. “Forgive you?” she repeated, her voice hollow. “How am I supposed to forgive you when you’ve taken everything from me? You were my safe place, my home… and now, I don’t even know who you are.”

She glanced around the small entryway, her eyes lingering on the few personal items she had packed—clothes, a few cherished mementos, and the essentials she needed to start a new chapter.

The decision had been a long time coming, but today, she had reached her breaking point. She had given everything she had to make their relationship work, to bridge the emotional chasm that had grown between them, but Harry’s coldness and distance had eroded her hope. She was tired of fighting alone, tired of trying to hold onto something that felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

She had just finished dragging her suitcase down the stairs when she heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. Her heart sank as she realized that Harry had returned from the studio earlier than expected. The footsteps grew louder, and she braced herself for the confrontation she had been dreading.

Harry stepped into the hallway, his face lighting up with a mixture of relief and exhaustion as he saw her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of surprise. “Going on a trip?”

The sight of him, looking worn out from a long day at the studio, only served to amplify the emotional storm inside her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. "I'm leaving.”

Harry’s expression shifted from confusion to alarm. “Leaving? What do you mean? Where are you going?”

Y/N reached for her suitcase and gave it a resolute tug. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of fighting, tired of trying to make things work when it feels like I’m the only one putting in any effort.”

Harry’s face fell, his exhaustion giving way to a wave of panic. “Y/N, wait. Can we talk about this? Please?”

She shook her head, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling over. “I’ve tried, Harry. I’ve tried to make us work, to be the person you need. But I’m exhausted. I deserve to be loved, to be with someone who truly wants to be with me”.

Harry’s eyes widened with hurt and confusion. “Please, just give me a chance to explain.”

Y/N took a step back, the weight of her decision pressing heavily on her shoulders. “I’ve heard all the explanations I need,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “The truth is, I’m done trying to fix something that feels broken beyond repair. I’ve given everything I have, and I just… I can’t keep doing this.”

She reached for the handle of her suitcase, her hands trembling slightly. “I just want to be loved, Harry. I want to be with someone who sees me and values me for who I am. And right now, that isn’t you.”

Harry’s face contorted with anguish, the pain of her words cutting deeply. “Y/N, please don’t do this,” he pleaded, stepping closer but stopping when he saw the resolute look in her eyes.

Y/N took a deep breath, her resolved unwavering. “I can’t stay here and keep hoping for something that may never change.”

She turned to leave, but Harry reached out, grabbing her arm gently. “Just give me one more chance,” he begged, his voice filled with desperation.

Y/N looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of his tear-streaked face and the raw emotion in his eyes. “I deserve more” .

With that, she pulled her arm free, her heart aching as she walked out of the apartment and down the stairs. Every step felt like a small victory and a deep loss at the same time. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she took one last look at the building, at the life she was leaving behind, and then stepped out into the evening air.

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the air thick with the unspoken question hanging between them. Y/N could see the desperation in Harry’s eyes, the plea for a second chance, but all she could feel was the overwhelming ache in her chest, the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to hold herself together. “I don’t know if I can ever look at you and not resent you for it”.

Harry’s face crumpled at her words, the pain in his eyes almost too much to bear. “I understand,” he said softly, his voice filled with sorrow. “I won’t ask you to make any decisions. I just needed you to know the truth. I’ll accept it even if it means letting you go again.”

The finality of his words hung in the air, a bitter reminder of how far they had fallen from the love they once shared. Y/N looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer, the tears blurring her vision as the reality of their situation crashed down around her.

In that moment, the sushi on the table, the music playing softly in the background, the cozy warmth of the restaurant—none of it mattered. All that existed was the chasm between them, the deep, irreparable wound that no amount of apologies or regret could ever heal.

She stood up from the table, her movements slow and deliberate as she gathered her things. Harry stood up as well, his face pale and stricken with anguish. “I know that I am supposed to let you go. But please don’t go” he begged, his voice cracking. “I can’t lose you again”. Harry had hoped that this time around things would’ve ended different than that day at the apartment. However, it seemed like he was reliving it.

Y/N took a deep breath, the finality of her decision weighing heavily on her. “I can’t” her voice cracked as tears streamed down her face. “I can’t keep doing this to myself. You have to let me go”. She walked towards the restaurant’s exit, her heart heavy with the sadness of the parting. As she reached the door, she turned to look back at Harry one last time, her eyes filled with sorrow and a lingering love that could never be fully extinguished. “Bye H”

Harry watched her, his own tears falling freely now. The pain of her leaving was evident in every line of his face, but he made no move to stop her, knowing deep down that he had lost her.

Y/N stepped out into the cool night air, the city lights casting a gentle glow that only served to highlight the deep darkness she felt within. She paused for a moment, looking back at the restaurant where they had just shared their final, heart-wrenching conversation. Despite the sadness that still clung to her, a part of her felt unexpectedly lighter.

The weight of the past seemed to lift from her shoulders, replaced by a newfound clarity. She realized, with painful but liberating honesty, that her worth was never in question—it was never about her. She had finally found the closure she had so desperately sought. As she walked away, she felt a quiet confidence settle within her. She knew now that she deserved to be loved deeply and genuinely, and that there was someone out there who would truly appreciate her for who she was.

As she disappeared into the horizon, Harry stood alone in the doorway, the ache of her absence a stark reminder of the love that had slipped through his fingers. Of the only person that loved him with honesty.

part 1

[trumpkinhotboy]

I'll keep an eye on you - III

pairing: jacob black x reader

genre: as always for this series, a mix of fluff and angst

warnings: curse words here and there?

word count: about 3000

a/n: It's finally here babes !!!!! this beautiful little series i love so so much🥺Thank you so much for your patience and all the lovin you have been giving to this little series of mine, it means the world to me<3

part I part II

A month had passed.

Slowly, you were healing from the horrible ordeal you had been through. Jake still came to sleep at your house almost every night. You kept up that routine for a few weeks, but after a while, you asked to try it alone. Even if he reluctantly agreed, he knew you needed to do this. So he promised to stay close the first night, ready to come in if you needed him. As it turns out, you were okay, and as days went by, you no longer needed him to keep watch hidden in the trees beside your house. Slowly, you were able to sleep all alone in your bed. You were incredibly proud of it, even if you missed having Jacob's warm body lying next to you at night.

You never spoke again of that night you confessed how everything gnawed at you. You thought about it often but never found the right time to discuss it. Since he hadn't mentioned it, you allowed it to go without answers for longer. You knew you'd end up getting to the bottom of it anyway.

The crisp autumn air ruffled your hair as you headed to the Reservation in your rusty truck, window pulled down, and music blasting, at least as much as your poor speakers could muster. You were incredibly excited to see everyone, and the prospect of hearing legends about the Quileutes made you tremble with excitement. You couldn't help but feel honored to be invited to these tribe gatherings. There weren't many outsiders allowed to hear the old tales.

You hadn't even parked your car when you saw Jacob's humongous form jogging for you. As always, a bright smile illuminated his tan face. And as always, you felt your knees wobble when you realized you were the recipient of such a beautiful thing. "Y/n! Over here!" He signaled for you to bring your truck closer to the backyard. Groaning, your truck obliged, and as soon as you shifted in park, your friend opened the door with a hand lifted for you to climb down. "Milady," he joked as his big hand engulfed yours.

Without letting go, he guided you to the rest of the tribe already gathered behind his little house. Some of the boys were working on making a big fire, and you were delighted to smell some delicious burgers being cooked over on the BBQ. Emily was busy ordering Sam and Paul around as she laid out plate after plate of delicious-looking food on a nearby table. You couldn't help a smile when you saw her swat Paul on the shoulder for not checking the patties often enough, and made a mental note to go and say hi to your friend as Jake pulled you in the opposite direction.

You reached the sitting area where Jacob's father and a few others were gathered, idly talking. You couldn't ignore the funny looks Quil and Jared kept giving you as you approached the little group. They whispered to each other, giggling like little gossips before Jake gave them the darkest look you'd ever seen to shut them up. You ignored their odd behaviour but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on.

Before you could ask anyone about it, Paul announced the food was ready, and slowly the small crowd went over to fill their plates. After filling up yours with more food than you could ever ingest, Jake guided you to his friends with one hand on the small of your back. Its iridescent presence you could never ignore made shivers run down your spine. Small touches like this one were becoming more and more familiar between the two of you. Even so, you didn’t think you would ever get used to the delicious warmth it always spread in your body.

You all sat around the fire, eating merrily the food Emily prepared and as you joked with everyone, you were once again surprised by how comfortable you felt around them all. How natural it felt for you to be with them. To sit by Jake's side, his thigh pressed against yours as if any space between your bodies was intolerable.

You were caught in a conversation with Seth, the sound of laughter and excited conversation filling your ears. Jake’s presence by your side made you feel so content and safe. Until one minute you were laughing with Seth, and the next you felt Jacob getting up. "Everything okay?" you asked. You didn't hear what was said but were aware that he was talking with Quil and that their tone had gotten heated before abruptly stopping.

"Yeah, just gonna get something to drink." he curtly answered.

You gave him a quick smile, knowing by the expression on his face he was not okay. Which was later confirmed by the way he sat next to you but kept a very noticeable distance. You didn't comment on it, not wanting to make a scene, but when you focused on your plate again hunger had completely left you.

"Hey, don't mind him, Y/n. Quil's an idiot," whispered Seth.

You looked at him with question marks in your eyes. "Oh, sorry, I thought you heard what he said. Uhm, he just said something about how you and Jake acted like a couple."

You turned your head in Jake's direction, but despite your pointed stare, his eyes would not drift in your direction. You analyzed the distance between the two of you, feeling a sharp pain in your heart. That would explain Quil and Jared’s odd behaviour earlier and the death stare Jacob had given them. You had thought it was simply because he didn’t want them to tease you. Now, you had the sinking feeling his reaction was due to another reason completely.

The night merrily carried on until late, the elders had gone home and it was only the pack and you left around the fire. The joyous heat had simmered to hot embers, encouraging you to scoot closer, chasing the warmth.

Jake kept looking over at you, an ounce of worry in his dark eyes. He was still far away, not making eye contact or talking with you. Your frustration at his distant behaviour had only grown during the night but when he suddenly signaled for you to follow him and walked towards his car you followed without hesitation. You looked at him open the door, fetching something on his seat, and back out. He walked closer and handed you his coat.

"I saw you shivering. Thought you could use this." His tone was low and even here, alone and away from the group he avoided your eyes. You stared at the piece of clothing in your hands, more confused than you'd ever been. A petty part of you, angry at him for acting so distant wanted to refuse and walk away. But the part of you that was freezing its ass off couldn't refuse the perspective of more warmth.

You wrapped it around your shoulders as you looked at him. "So this is what this is about. You only wanted to give me this?" His failure to answer only made you sigh deeper with annoyance. "I'm so confused, Jake." You didn't have to add anything, from the way he looked at you and the sigh he let out, you knew he knew. "You've been acting so weird but keep behaving like nothing's going on. Tonight, I mean, what is that? I come here, you look happy to see me. Then suddenly Quil says some dumb shit and you get as far away from me as possible. What's up with that? Are you ashamed? Is that what this is?"

He sharply looked up from the ground. An animal light fired up his eyes. "I would and will never feel ashamed of being with you. Never."

"Then what's going on? Tell me. Ever since that night, you've been acting differently."

You had reached a new level of intimacy in your friendship that night a month ago. You both shared private information, deciding to trust and rely on each other. But that night, there were also a lot of secrets still kept.

"Y/n I- I can't."

"Can't what? Jake, tell me. I can weather it. Whatever it is."

His body shook under the intensity. He seemed to be fighting his whole self to get the words out. Then it clicked. You remembered a year ago when you'd seen him in such a state. When he started his transformation, Sam had forbidden him from telling you. You only discovered his secret when you infiltrated his house and found him half wolf, half human in the most terrifying process you had ever seen. Your blood started boiling in your veins.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This, again?" You turned to look at the people gathered around the fire a few meters away. Your gaze zoomed in on its target. Sam, laughing with Emily sitting at his side. "I'm done with this."

You stormed over to the bonfire and planted yourself in front of the leader. Sam looked up at you with a laid-back smile which quickly disappeared when he noticed you were fuming with rage.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" he carefully asked, then he looked back at Jacob running up behind you. A shadow passed in his gaze.

"You know what's wrong. You're doing it again. This is the thing I hate the most about your powers, Sam. Taking away someone's right to talk is wrong. Especially when it puts him in pain." You pointed to Jake, not taking your eyes away from Sam. You heard Jacob mumbling for you to calm down and let it go, but ignored him. "This needs to end."

"Y/n..." he started. You noticed the complete silence surrounding you and the tense look he kept giving Jacob.

Sam was an honest guy. He was a great leader who always took responsibility and ownership of his actions. The fact that he wasn't saying anything wasn't like him at all. He had never tried to deny the orders he gave in the past. Realization shook your core as you felt a deep sadness pierce your stomach. "You're not the one who asked Jake not to tell me anything." You turned to look at your friend, the truth written on his face. "You asked him."

His failure to answer was the only confirmation you needed. A storm of thoughts and emotions took control of your senses. Dread, dismay and then burning rage took hold of your brain. "Why." The simple word sounded harsh and rough coming from your mouth.

"Y/n, please let it go," he begged in a whisper.

"This is so dramatic for nothing. I don't get what's the big deal and why he would ever ask that," you heard someone mumble. Everyone turned to look at Quil, who froze under the sudden weight of the attention. "What? It's the truth. There's no reason he should ever want to hide that Y/n's..."

Faster than your human senses could comprehend Jacob had pounced on his friend. Throwing him off the seat he was in, he trapped him on the ground. Even if Quil was also a werewolf, there was no way he could ever fight Jacob off right now.

"You shut the fuck up. This has nothing to do with you." Jacob's voice sounded poisonous. Immediately, the other members got to their feet, ready to pull them apart. Jacob seemed like he was taller and meaner. Long gone was the sunshiney smile you loved so much. At that moment, he was more wolf than human. "This is my business. She is my business and no one else."

Everybody looked at the ground, no one would cross eyes with you. The sound of his voice when he uttered these words, the way his body seemed to be angled to protect you even if he was a few feet away. You had seen this behavior before and had observed it a thousand times in Sam's behavior toward Emily or in Paul's toward Rachel. Another realization hit you like the impact of a collision between two asteroids.

Your eyes were fixed on Jacob’s back, still turned to you. Even then, you could feel it. You always knew. Some part of you always knew. That bond between the two of you was stronger than just love or friendship. It was destined, you were two parts of the same soul.

You staggered, feeling light-headed, when a gentle touch at your elbow stabilized you. Emily stood beside you, helping you stay collected and brushing your back with comforting strokes.

"Breathe Y/n." You barely heard her but listened to her words. Fresh air filled your lungs and steadied you. You looked back at Jacob who had immediately released Quil when he saw your reaction. Worry was written on his face. You hoped he could read the fury written on yours.

You walked up to him and stopped when you were barely inches away. For the first time that night, Jacob looked thrown off. You searched his eyes before you started screaming. "YOU IDIOT?? WHY WOULD YOU NOT WANT ME TO KNOW I'M YOUR IMPRINT? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TRY AND FORBID ME TO KNOW THAT." You stepped back, and turned on yourself, grabbing at your hair like a mad woman. "I can't BELIEVE you hid that from me. I can't believe you tried to do that. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH ME? Is this what it is? You don't want to be with me? The thought of being with me was so abhorrent that you asked your leader to FORBID you from telling me?"

Your eyes filled to the brim with angry tears as you confronted him. He chuckled, a dry thing, devoid of any real amusement. "How can you even say that? Now I am an asshole for wanting you to have a choice? For wanting you not to feel obliged to be with me because of some ancient wolf thing? For wanting you to have a choice to escape this life you would have with me?" His eyes were feverish, a particular kind of pain shining in them.

"What- what do you even mean?"

"After what happened to you, I didn't want you to feel tied to me, the reason you were almost killed. That's something I can never change Y/n. Danger and threat will follow me wherever I go." His shoulders slumped miserably. "It's not fair of me to profit from the imprinting process to have you with me. To have you be with someone like me."

There was no sound except for the singing crickets in the night and the sound of the fire softly dying out.

"Jake..." His words extinguished any fire in your chest. You understood better than anyone else the feeling of wanting to protect someone you cared about. You delicately took his face in your hands, "Jacob Black. I want you to understand this and get it through your thick skull. That was not your fault. None of this is. No matter what happened, I... I wouldn't change it. The night of the incident, I remember how happy I was walking to you and the rest of the pack." At that, you looked with love and respect at all the members still surrounding you.

"You can't say that," he whispered painfully, tears in his chocolate eyes. You exhaled and forced his chin up so he'd look at you. "I mean it. I knew you were at Emily's and I know I would still make the same choice of walking over there to be with you. There are no other possible options for me when it comes to you. I need to be where you are."

The atmosphere changed and the other members took it as their exit signal and left you two under the stars. A soft light illuminated his eyes as he looked at you. "How could you ever think I wouldn't want to be with you?" You felt his hands warm your cold cheeks. "Are you really that blind? It's always been you, Y/n. You've changed the trajectory of my life from the moment I laid eyes on you. Even before the wolf stuff, I always knew you were the one for me. I love you Y/n."

A warm fuzzy feeling spread from your head to your toes as you listened to the soft timber of his voice in the cold night. Nothing else mattered at that moment, it was only you and him and the confession he just shared with you.

"So you asked Sam to forbid you from telling me so I could have a choice?"

He nodded, "I didn't trust myself to keep the secret, I can't keep anything from you. If you want to be with me, I want it to be because you... love me, not because you feel you have to respect some ancient wolf thing ritual." You heard his hesitation to utter the word love. Even after all the time you had spent together, doubt and fear still had their claws embedded in his brain.

"You say I must be blind not to have seen your feelings for me, but I'd say you aren't better. Ever since we were kids, it has always been you. The boy who made mud pies with me. My best friend. The person who supported me through everything. The man. The werewolf. You, in all your forms, Jacob. I am yours, and I think I have always been."

He let out a shaky breath, his dark eyes transfixed on your face, his hands limp at his side. He nervously licked his lips, "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded imperceptibly, the rhythm of your own heart accelerating as he bent down. You felt his soft breath fan over your lips and waited patiently until his plush lips met yours. This new contact solidified something inside of your chest, the bond connecting the two of you seemed to tighten, a clear presence you couldn’t ignore anymore. You melted completely into his embrace when his strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you up as your knees wobbled under the intensity of the moment.

You were home. You had found him. Your forever.

Your Jacob.

-

taglist: @tgarrett26 @twilightlover2007 @butterclove

[kissedcherries]

Love From A Music Video | Charles Leclerc smau.

pairing: Charles Leclerc X Singer! fem ! reader.

face claim: Sabrina Carpenter.

based on this request: Hi, how are you? Sooo i was thinking maybe a smau where Charles is dating a singer and he's playing the guy who Milo was (in Sabrina carpenter's Feathers music video) and this breaks the internet even more and this leads to them dating ??? idk, just like a really wholesome one where she was his celebrity crush like Taylor and Travis's relationship. Sabrina carpenter as a face claim if this okay and thank you.

warnings: badly translated french!

yourusername

liked by oliviarodrigo, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 998,245 more.

yourusername very excited for y’all to see what I've been working on💋.

46,933 comments

user8 so nobody else see’s Charles in the likes?

user2 oh no, we see it. he tryna be slick.

user6 yall remember he said she was his celebrity crush?

user5 omg user6 , i forgot about that

Oliviarodrigo so exciteddddd

liked by yourusername

Yourbestiesusername soooo, who’s the dude?

yourusername you come into my comments just to start stuff 😐.

user9 wait… is that charles?

user3 you assume it’s Charles from a sliver of a shoulder?

user9 let me be delusional in peace.

charles_leclerc can’t wait to be able to listen!

yourusername i can’t wait for you to hear it:)

user16 charles…honey, what are you doing here?

user5 OMG IM SO EXCITED. WE’RE FINALLY GETTING NEW MUSIC

liked by yourusername

pierregasly liked by pierre gasly.

yourusername such an honor to have you like my post😁

user7 ooo pierre and y/n???

user10 can women and men not be friends ??

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, sza, and 1,679,234 more.

yourusername feather out now💋.

34,690 comments

charles_leclerc thanks for letting me be apart of such an amazing project ❤️.

yourusername thanks for being my boy toy in my music video ❤️.

carlossainz55 i would like you to know that Charles is giggling right now.

yourusername oh really?

landonorris he’s not lying. i just walked past Ferrari and heard him.

charles_leclerc HES LYING. HES A LIAR. HE LIES.

carlossainz55 i have proof. i can send it to you?

yourusername please do😂

charles_leclerc i feel betrayed.

user3 “Your signals are mixed, you act like a bitch You fit every stereotype, Send a pic.” your honor, i’m afraid she ate.

user6 okay now announce y’all are dating before i contact Ferrari strategist.

lewishamiliton song was amazing, yourusername 🩵.

yourusername thank you, lew lew🩵.

user9 y/n and lewis’s friendship is so 😻.

yourusername has posted on their story.

replies:

user18 rue, when was this?

carlossainz55 this is no soft launch

user2 is that who i think it is??

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 1,987,345 others

yourusername is this how this hard launch thing works?

24,578 comments

charles_leclerc je t'aime tellement, ma chérie ❤️.

yourusername i love you too, my lil vroom vroom guy ❤️.

yourbestfriend bitch be romantic for once.

yourusername that was romantic wym?

user13 did i expect it? no. do i love it? yes.

liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername.

landonorris my parents🥹 (y/n pls say yes. charles said no.)

yourusername you said no to our son? charles_leclerc?

charles_leclerc but y/n

yourusername but nothing. he is our son, treat him as such.

landonorris 😁😁.

user8 y/n really said charles has no option but to adopt Lando 😂.

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername, landonorris, and 1,976,455 more

charles_leclerc Je t'aime tellement, ma chérie ❤️.

26,357 comments

user9 damn. charles really pulled a hot ass girl.

user8 right, i thought his ass was awkward

user18 bro pulled his celebrity crush

yourusername Je t'aime tellement plus, mon amour ❤️.

yourusername (i want everyone to know i google translated that. so if it’s wrong , not my fault.)

charles_leclerc it’s the thought that counts, chérie.

landonorris my parents🧡

charles_leclerc i still didn’t agree to that.

landonorris yourusername he’s being mean to me.

yourusername Charlie, what have i told you. Accept our child.

carlossainz55 yk sometimes i worry about you y/n

yourusername it’s okay, Charles does too:)

lewishamilton congrats you two🩵.

liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername

yourusername thanks lew lew🩵.

arthur_leclerc congrats❤️

liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername

charles_leclerc thank you brother❤️.

the end

[yanderehsr]

Imagine being in a relationship with a yandere and not knowing that they're yandere but you think that they're unhappy in the relationship so you break up with them

Sure, you didn't specify a fandom or characters so I'll mix it up a bit if that's okay

Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Alhaitham: It isn't a surprise that you don't know he's a yandere, he is perfect in hiding his darker thoughts, it isn't a surprise either that you think he doesn't like you, even as a yandere he will be distant most of the time, he just doesn't know how to deal with his strong feelings.

The break up doesn't happen, Alhaitham's studies you so well that he can predict anything you do before you do it, he is like an akasha terminal with only information about you. He will admit that knowing that you think he hates you actually hurt him a bit, but it's all okay, all missunderstandings are cleared now, and you wont leave him again.

"Why would you think I'm unhappy, I'm never happier than when I am with you, remove such silly thoughts from your mind, dear"

Signora: It's not hard to imagine why you would think she is unhappy, she views herself as above you, that you should feel honored to be with her. No matter what she does or what she says, she never feels unhappy being with you.

Signora's reaction to you trying to break up is rage, how dare you leave her, it will take a while for her to calm down and hear you out. After hearing you think she is unhappy, she will start to be softer towards you, she doesn't want this to happen again. You will recieve more compliments even if she isn't the best at them.

"You aren't allowed to leave me, how could you ever think that I'm unhappy after all I've done for you"

Jingliu: She acts cold even to you, sure she may keep an arm around you at all time but it wouldn't be a surprise if you think she is forcing it for you, her face barely ever changes even to you and her blindfold always stay on, she gives a lot of mixed signals.

A break up with Jingliu would never end well, she wouldn't hesitate to remove a few limbs to make you stay, even if you explain it to her that she seems unhappy with the relationship she will still remove the limbs, she loves you so much, she can't risk you ever leaving her, you can't leave her if you don't have any legs now can you.

"Stop crying, you brought this upon yourself... did you really think I didn't like you, I guess I need to show you just how much you mean to me"

Hubert: He places his loyalty to Edelgard above even you, even as a yandere that wont change, Edelgard has been his whole life and sure he may love you but to put you above the empress is something he would find hard to do.

But it hurts Hubert however much he tries to hide it when you tell him he looks unhappy in the relationship, it hurts him even more when you tell him you wanna break up. He isn't unhappy, far from it, you are someone he wishes to spend the rest of his life with. You will feel a cloth over your mouth and nose as you start to black out, the last thing you see before waking up the next time is Hubert's eerie smile.

"Did you sleep well, my apologies if you feel any side effects, that wouldn't be my intention, now lay down again, I'll be back in a short while, have to make sure there isn't any way out"

[dxxtruction]

"Louis acting like a pimp to Armand" And what is a pimp exactly? Quickly. And, oh so sexual trauma survivors can't engage in kink now without it being all about that? Pet names? They can't be submissive anymore? Consensually? Sexually healthy? Be serious. I'd hardly say there's much power difference between them during all this anyway, except that Louis is freer than Armand and it's been putting a strain on their relationship. Louis wants more from Armand, and less of this 'being his past' for them both, and so helping Armand with this could fix that. It's healthy to want to help your partners get out of a rough patch?

I mean, the whole exchange was very clearly set up as a "I want to help you" after such a great moment of vulnerability Louis feels just how much Armand is desperate for it. Louis called Armand so they could work out a plan together.

And the bit with the umbrella was Louis' way of asking 'are you willing to listen to me?' and Armand said yes by unfolding it. Louis goes on and explains, Armand is allowed to argue against it, but Louis makes his point. And then he gives Armand a way to make his own choice in it too. Armand's already decided 'I want you, more than anything else in the world', but Louis still asks after if he's sure of his choice, and with a name, Arun, that is the one of his fullest agency, running the point home. Honoring the situation Armand calls Louis Maitre - as a way of being like 'I'll do as you've said then'. To make this work he's going to have to give Louis some of the control, yes. But it's the first time such a role is ever established, and it was his choice to do it. So so what if they do it in a very suggestive way? They can't like doing that? I think it's them having fun.

I struggle to find how Louis is being overly domineering here when really he's giving and offering Armand the most agency he's ever had. Same with finding it manipulative. The manipulation was more earlier in the episode I think, when he was stringing him along, giving mixed signals. He's no longer toying with him like that. Louis might be pushing Armand, leading him on to make a decision, but he doesn't mean bad by it.

But back to this pimp thing. I find it frankly offensive that this is where people are going with this. I get it, but to run with it being the case is, on many levels, wrong.

Louis told us episode 1 this was the only sustainable line of work to support his family and keep their standing, at the time. It was never his choice to be doing this either but his blackness allowed no other options. He did what he did so his family could stay in that house and maintain all their same comforts. It gave him privileges most black men didn't have at the time that he wanted to maintain and even have more of. Anyway, it doesn't and had never defined him the way 'being good at running things' had. And in that case he just likes having that kind of control where he can get it, which makes sense.

The world is what placed that kind of role onto him of what he was allowed to be able to run, not himself. And on that he actually treated the sex workers he employed well and respected them enough to give them more opportunity.** He recognizes they don't have much in the way of options either.

Louis employed sex workers, yes, but he didn't subject them to abuse, (like how Armand was)*. He didn't oversee things in a way that would go against their consent (see; episode 1 again)**. Sometimes a job is just a job. And Sex work is work.

Armand's particular past with sexual abuses may strike a particular cord with Louis, given all that, but the very last thing either is thinking is that Louis' pimping Armand out here. This is merely their decision as companions, and had nothing to do with adding another line in a laundry list of selling Armands body out to people at the command of someone else. Armand rescinds some of his control to Louis' wishes, because he wants him, and he trusts him, that's all.

If you aren't allowing Armand that choice, and are doubtful it's fully his, you're putting him right back in the box of being defined by his abuses. Putting him back into that space where he isn't given any agency over what he does. (Which is exactly opposite of what the intent of this scene is for)*.

*: (edit) added for clarity.

**: (strike through) numerous people are saying I'm misremembering these points so disregard it. (Thought he was siding with Bricks, it was the other way around). (Technically one aspect of those opportunities were for getting around the law). I don't have a perfect memory, it happens. Let's not get mad about it. Doesn't change much of the point which is that Louis, now, Louis then, was always considering more about the running things and for stated purposes. So I guess I'd say he may only have respected the SWers enough sometimes for what allowed him to do that, and there are moments he certainly expressed remorse over the fact, but he has a great deal higher respect for Armand that is genuine. It's incomparable. Please read my added notes in the tags, it should address most other concerns.

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby

The Interview

“Hello everyone! I’m at studio 151 in Manhattan’s East Village and I’m with the amazing (y/f/n) (y/l/n)” Seth meyers introduced you.

“Hi!” You flashed a smile at the camera.

“And in honor of her tour we are going to do a celebratory shot.” You clinked your glasses together before throwing back the shot. “This is day drinking with Seth and (y/f/n)!”

Seth situated himself behind the bar as you sat on a bar stool in front of him. The camera crew, writers, Veronica, Rosie, (y/bff/n), and Auston all stood off to the side behind the camera.

Seth invited you to do his infamous day drinking segment which you happily jumped at the opportunity. Rosie didn’t love the idea of you getting drunk on camera, but after lots of begging and bribing she finally agreed. However, she did insist on coming along to keep you in line.

“You are about to go overseas for your tour so I figured there’s no better way to send you off than drinking.” Seth kicked off the conversation leaning his forearms on the bar.

You laughed, “That’s a perfect idea.”

“I’m going to make you various drinks based on your songs and you will rate them.” Seth explained while lining up multiple liquors.

“Okay, I’m nervous.” You admitted sheepishly looking at the options he brought out. “I feel like we shouldn’t be mixing all of these together.”

“Oh we definitely shouldn’t.” Seth agreed while setting out two glasses. You both laughed as he began mixing together the first drink.

“The first drink is called the wild drink inspired by your hit, Wildest Dreams.” Seth finished the drink by pouring in a generous amount of tequila, “the secret to this drink is that you’re just mixing a bunch of shit together and hoping for the best.”

You laughed nodding along, “That sounds super safe.”

“Yes!” He cheered handing you one of the glasses, “a wild drink for wild dreams.”

“Cheers.” You tapped your glasses together before downing the drink. The liquid burned your throat, but you finished it setting the empty glass down.

“That was awful.” You giggled. “I give it a 3/10.”

“Our next drink contains 7 different types of liquor based off your song, 7 rings.” You watched as Seth poured more than a shot of seven different types of liquor in two glasses.

“Is there anything besides alcohol in this drink?” You asked already questioning your choice to do the segment.

“No.” Seth deadpanned making you both laugh again, “So you told me earlier before we started filming that you wanted to go to Magiano’s for dinner.” You nodded recalling the conversation you had when you first arrived to the bar. Magiano’s was a popular and expensive Italian restaurant in the upper East side. “Well if you finish your whole drink, I’ll pay for your dinner tonight.”

“Deal.” You immediately agreed. After shaking hands you began chugging.

The only thing worse than being drunk on camera would be throwing up on camera so you forced yourself to breath through your nose as you finished the drink.

“I’m going to be drunk before we even get to the games part of this interview.” You giggled placing your empty glass on the bar.

“That is the goal,” Seth responded struggling to finish his drink as well, “We want to get you as drunk as possible.”

“It’s definitely working.” The aftertaste burned your throat and wasn’t sitting right in your stomach. “That’s a -2/10.”

“You told me your favorite drink is a vodka cran, so in honor of your song Mixed Signals, I’ll be making you a simple mixed drink.”

You silently said a thank you prayer for the slight break. Your cheeks were starting to heat up and your body was feeling lighter, two signs of your impending drunkenness.

You hoped the next drink would be mainly cranberry juice, but watching as Seth generously poured the vodka followed by a splash of cranberry you knew that wasn’t the case. He popped a straw in each before sliding your glass across the bar to you.

You watched as he chugged the drink finishing it in 5 seconds. Not wanting to ruin your streak you followed also chugging your drink down. “8/10.”

“So our first game is similar to truth or drink, but we call it shot or silent, based on your song, silent. We will go back and forth asking each other questions and you either answer or take a shot.” Seth explained to both you and the camera.

You nodded glancing down at the shot glasses in front of you, “got it. Can I ask the first question?”

“Go for it.” Seth encouraged.

You giggled reading the card to yourself first before reading it aloud, “Do you think you are the best late night tv host?”

“I’m self absorbed so of course I think so.” Seth shrugged reaching down for his stack of cards.

“First question for you, Do you have a favorite hockey team?”

“Wow you really are just going right for it.” You laughed.

“Listen I have a team of writers.” Seth clarified throwing his hands up in defense. “this is all them, I’m just asking.”

You decided now was as good as anytime to just start hinting at it. “The Toronto maple leafs.”

“Good answer.”

“You have three kids, who’s your favorite?” You asked reading off of the card before setting it down on the bar.

Seth picked up a shot glass before saying, “I love all of them equally.”

He downed the liquid, slamming the glass down on the bar before picking up his cards to ask you the next question.

“Craziest thing you’ve ever done on a plane?”

“I’m not answering that.” You immediately responded picking up a shot.

“She’s not answering but you guys, her boyfriend is standing behind the camera so we could just ask him.”

“Don’t you dare.” You threatened throwing back the shot. You glanced over your shoulder at Auston who sent you a wink. You’re already warm body heated up even more.

“Next, I’m going to show you pictures of yourself and if you can tell me where you were, I’ll take a shot. If you can’t, you take a shot.”

The first picture he holds up of you includes you in a deep green evening gown.

“That was at the met gala.”

“Damn.” He picks up a shot finishing it off before holding up the next photo. It’s you on the Grammy’s red carpet.

“The Grammy’s.”

The next picture was a paparazzi one of you walking down a street in a casual outfit. They cropped it so you couldn’t see any landmarks to help you out.

“That could literally be anywhere.” You looked closer trying to remember the outfit, “Maybe in LA leaving the studio.”

“Incorrect.” Seth smiled looking relieved to not have to drink for once, “This is a photo of you in Toronto.”

“Damn.” You mumbled taking the shot. You looked closely at the next image he held up.

“Oh that is me leaving a show!” You instantly recognized your outfit as one you’ve worn on tour, but you couldn’t remember which venue. “Ugh if I don’t get this it’s going to haunt me.”

“Just take a guess you have a very small chance of getting it right.” Seth joked.

“Maybe Red Rocks amphitheater?” You guessed biting down on the inside of your cheek in anticipation.

“You are…” Seth held the pause, dragging out the answer, “Incorrect!”

You groaned placing your head on the bar, “This is you leaving Madison Square Garden.”

“Oh my gosh I should’ve gotten that! I’m sorry everyone who attended that show. You were memorable my outfit obviously wasn’t.” You looked into the camera and held up your shot following your toast and downed it.

At this point you couldn’t remember how many shots you’ve taken, but you were way past your limit. The alcohol was hitting and you were getting loose lipped and giggly. You were already chatty without alcohol, but once you got drunk you definitely loved to yap and lately your favorite thing to talk about was Auston.

You left Toronto to visit your parents home for a few days before you came to New York to do this interview . Auston didn’t join, opting to just meet you in New York. One night while home you got drunk with your family. Your sister recorded you as you blabbered on and on to your aunts about how good of a boyfriend Auston was. You threw in that you would never tell him that because it would make his ego way too big and that even though you were dating it was still your job to chirp him in order to keep him humble.

The next picture Seth held up was you again in a fairly casual outfit, but one thing did stick out. The maple leafs hat on your head. You took a closer look and even though they tried to crop it you could tell you were holding someone’s hand.

“This is me at scotiabank arena.”

“Correct.” Seth groaned placing down the picture, “Double or nothing whose hand are you holding?” He had a new found sense of enthusiasm and a glint in his eye.

“I’m holding one of my best friends hands, her name’s Steph.”

You thought back to that night that you and Steph decided to drive to a game together. The traffic wasn’t bad, parking was easy and everything was good until you were going in. You decided to go in through the back thinking it would cause the least amount of chaos, but of course, somehow the paparazzi was one step ahead of you and already camped out back.

You were already on edge because of the commotion that was to come when you stepped foot into the arena, so having it start before you even got in made your heart jump into your throat.

You didn’t even realize you were gripping the steering wheel until you felt Steph’s hand on top of yours, “Hey, I’m going to be with you the whole way.”

“Fuck you.” Seth chirped getting ready to take two shots of vodka back to back.

You laughed, “I’ll take one and you take one.”

You did a cheers and drank the alcohol.

“Okay, cut!” The director shouted. “Great job everyone let’s take a 30 minute lunch break.”

You stood up from your chair and immediately steadied yourself against the bar. You were way more drunk than you thought.

“You okay?” Seth asked, joking long gone and only concern in his voice.

“Yeah, Im just going to go to the bathroom.” You closed your eyes for a moment before turning slowly and making a beeline straight for the bathroom. You went in the first stall you saw and sat down next to the toilet afraid you were going to throw up at any moment.

You weren’t sure how long you were in there, but you heard a soft knock followed by your name. Looking under the stall you confirmed it was Auston by his shoes.

You pushed yourself off the ground just enough to unlock the stall door. You slumped back down and Auston followed suit.

“You good?”

“I’m fine.” You waved off his concern.

“Are you sure? Because you can’t even keep your eyes open.”

“Yeah, Im just tired.” You hated the way your words slurred slightly together giving you away. “We’ve been up all day.”

“You know it’s okay to admit you’re drunk.” Auston’s usual smirk irritated you even more because he was right.

“I’m not drunk.”

“You’re right.” He agreed, “you’re hammered.”

He dodged the swat that was aimed at his chest and laughed as he watched you completely slump into his chest. “I just want to lay down for a little.”

“You are not lying down on this floor.”

“Fine.” You huffed pushing yourself off his chest. You underestimated your own strength because your push made you hit the back of your head off the bathroom stall.

“Ow!” You whined.

“Yeah you’re totally sober.” Auston mocked.

“Shut up, Matthews.” You flipped him off with the hand that wasn’t rubbing that back of your head. Your pouting didn’t last long as you became tired once again, but this time you didn’t fight it. You don’t know when you fell asleep but the next thing you heard was Auston’s voice.

“Come on, baby.” Auston picked you up from the bathroom floor.

“I’m…” your words came out slow as you struggled to put into words what you were thinking. “I’m fine.”

“What the hell happened!” Rosie’s voice was piercing.

“She’s drunk.” Auston didn’t even try to hide his irritation with her.

“Obviously.” Rosie shouted, “Thank you for pointing out the obvious.”

“Rosie relax. She’s drunk, not dead.” Your best friend attempted to cool the situation.

“It’s easy for you to say, you aren’t the one who has to do damage control.” She bit back. “This is your fault.”

“Mine?” Auston’s tone went up an octave. “I didn’t make her do this.”

“You encouraged her.”

“Correct. Because she’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah and you’re such a great boyfriend.” Auston let out a deep sigh through his nose choosing to ignore the comment.

“Are you going to keep blaming me or move so I can put her in the car?”

Rosie side stepped crossing her arms over her chest. Auston gently placed you in the car before closing the door.

“You’re new to all of this, so let me explain something. We all have a role to play in her world so I suggest you learn yours.”

“Oh I know my role very well, maybe you should learn it too because I’m not going anywhere.” Auston threw back mirroring her stance.

“She should’ve never started dating you.”

“Maybe not, but I’m going to go do my role and take care of my girlfriend. I suggest you do yours and start ‘damage control��” Auston didn’t wait for a reply as he opened the car door sliding in next to you. He allowed your head to fall into his lap.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“You’re fine, just close your eyes.” Auston encouraged running his fingers through your hair.

You slept the rest of the car ride, the only time you opened your eyes was when you felt yourself being lifted from the car and carried inside. Auston instantly shushed you as you attempted to tell him to put you down and told you to go back to sleep.

You opened your eyes again when you were placed on the bed, but once again Auston encouraged you to keep them closed, kissing you on the forehead.

When you finally woke up later in the day your first thought was that you wished you hadn’t. Your head was throbbing and your stomach felt like the slightest movement would have you puking.

You rolled over to your other side being greeted by a shirtless Auston. The blankets were covering him from the waist down while they were covering your entire body as you curled into the bed.

“Hi.” He smiled over at you clicking his phone off, effectively turning off the game he was watching.

“Hi.” You shyly smiled back. The last thing you really remembered was sitting at the bar with Seth. Everything after that is fragmented and blurry.

“You feeling better?”

“I am.” You attempted at a nod of reassurance, but even that made your head hurt. “What exactly happened?”

“You passed out in the bathroom so we called it and brought you back here.”

“Did I do anything embarrassing?”

“Nah.”

“Auston.”

“Nothing worth reliving, trust me.” Auston tried avoiding the topic, but the look you gave him showed that you weren’t going to drop it.

“Fine. You did fall on the ground trying to go back into the bar.” That explained the pain you felt in your legs and the bruising on the palms of yours hands.

“And you cried in the car because you thought everyone hated you.” That checks out. You’re sensitive and emotional and crying while drunk (happy or sad) usually occurs.

“And the change of clothes?” You questioned. You were only wearing Auston’s tshirt, no bra or panties. You knew Auston would never do anything with you drunk, but having no memories scared you.

“You also threw up all over yourself and me in the hallway. So I cleaned you up in the shower, put you in my T-shirt, put you to bed, and then showered myself.”

“It’s worse than I imagined.” You groaned burying your face into your pillow.

“It really isn’t. We’ve all been there before.” Auston shrugged.

“I’m avoiding everyone.” You finalized.

“Forever?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

Auston’s loud laugh amused you and also hurt your head at the same time.

“Okay well before that starts, Seth did want you to call him when you woke up.” The mention of the late night host put you into a panic as you remembered the dinner reservations you made for you and Auston tonight.

“The reservation!” You exclaimed shooting up from your lying position.

“Woah, slow down. I canceled it.”

Your shoulders slumped forward and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I ordered pizza. We’ll go out to eat tomorrow night.” Auston placed a kiss on your forehead before putting on his shoes on to go pick up your food. Your favorite pizza place in the city was just down the street from your hotel.

You grabbed Auston’s hand to gain his attention before he got too far from the bed. “Thank you.” You hoped your eyes held the sincerity that you felt. Auston was not just good for you, he was so good and sweet to you.

“I’ve got you.” He held out his pinky finger which you interlocked with your own. Auston lent forward placing a kiss on his own hand, “always.”

“I’ve got you, always.” You echoed his sentiment before placing a kiss on your own hand.

—

“Everyone please welcome my next guest 4 time Grammy award winner (y/f/n) (y/l/n)!” Seth introduced you. Walking from behind the curtain onto the stage, you waved to the studio audience.

“Hello” you smiled settling into the chair closest to his desk.

“How are you?”

“Much better than the last time you saw me.” The audience laughed along with you.

Your day drinking interview had over 12 million views on YouTube and was the talk of the internet. Everyone found it hysterical that your interview ubruptly ended because you got too drunk and had to go home.

“Last time I saw you we were getting day drunk-” Seth explained

“And I got too drunk.” You cut in causing everyone to laugh again.

“You did get very drunk, but I was also extremely drunk so when my producers told me you were going home I was so confused.” Seth confessed.

“Can I tell my version of the story and then you can tell what happened from your point of view?”

“Please do.” Seth encouraged leaning forward.

“So about halfway through the interview we cut to eat lunch and take a little break. I went to the bathroom and it just all hit me at once and I was slumped.”

“I saw the bathrooms they did not look the nicest.” Seth added, gaining another laugh.

“They weren’t!” You also laughed “But, god bless my boyfriend because he came and sat with me on the bathroom floor and rubbed my back and he kept waking me up.”

Seth picked up the story from his point of view, “Yeah so we’re all waiting out by the bar and you also brought one of your best friends with you and she was joking with us saying ‘they’re all over each other all the time, I guarantee they’re hooking up.’”

The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter as you covered your face trying to hide your blush. Nonetheless, you nodded to encourage Seth to continue.

“So we all thought you were having sex in the bathroom, but really you were dying.” He shrugged like it was casual, making you both laugh again.

“Yes, exactly.” You confirmed.

“And your boyfriend comes back out and we’re all giving him a hard time like ‘oh how was the bathroom?’ And he just looks at your manager and was like ‘we have to take (y/f/n) home.”

And your manager gets up and goes into the bathroom and then pokes her head out and was like ‘can someone get the wheelchair.”

Seth pauses allowing the audience to react again before he continues on.

“And your boyfriend was like ‘no no I’ll carry her, it’s not the first time.”

“Yeah.” You giggled, “The next thing I knew I was waking up in bed so confused and then I FaceTimed you.”

“Yes.” Seth nodded, “We FaceTimed because I wanted to confirm that you were alive. And Venmo you money for the dinner I promised.”

“That was the worst part of it all! We had to cancel dinner!” You exclaimed, “But, again, I have an angel of a boyfriend, so he ordered pizza and we ate in our hotel room.” You finished the story.

“Here is the picture of the dinner because you sent it to me.” Seth pulled out a card of the picture allowing the camera to zoom in.

“So it was a good night in the end.” Seth finalized.

“It was a very good night.” You agreed.

“We’re going to take a quick commercial break, but there’s more to come with (y/f/n) (y/l/n)! We’ll be right back.”

[mykoreanlove]

the kissing booth 💋

„Bestie, you love me right?“

You didn’t need to turn around and look at your best friend in order to know that she was batting her eyelashes and seducing you with her macaroon Bambi eyes.

„Nope“, you answered flatly.

„Y/N, what the fuck?“, she asked out in agony.

You turned around laughing, looking into her offended face.

„What do you want?“

She jumped up in excitement, eager to tell you her plans.

„Okay, so, I want to go to a kissing contest and I need you to come with me. Moral support and such…“, she confessed.

„A kissing contest?“, you asked bewildered. 

„Yeah, it’s for Eun Woo’s new music video. He actually wants to cast a nobody and they need to check if there’s enough chemistry.“

„You’re telling me that you are getting in line with thousands of other girls in order to kiss Eun Woo? Are you out of it?“

„Y/N, nooo! You know how much I want to become an actress. This could be my stepping stone. Please! I can’t do this without you!“, she begged. 

„What do you need me for? Carry your chapstick?“, you rolled your eyes.

„For once, yes. But I also need you to hype me up. You know how insecure I get with all the competition out there. Please. Please. Please?“

„Fine“, you huffed out. „But for the record, I don’t think you need this. You are so talented and someday someone important will stumble upon your talent. You hear me?“

„Yeah, yeah, yeah, thank you!“, she cried out in excitement. 

A couple of days later you found yourself waiting in a big mall complex with thousands of other girls, eagerly waiting for their shot at - whatever they would call it. 

The crowd was mixed - fangirls, vixens, influencers, shy girls, confident girls, wallflowers, girls that came for Eun Woo, girls that came for fame, girls that hoped this would be their breakthrough in the world of entertainment. 

And amidst all of that were you.

Not giving a fuck about Eun Woo, or entertainment at that point.

„Ladies, welcome! Thank you so much for participating in this kissing booth. Eun Woo will be here shortly and then we can get going!“, a staff member called out. 

„Can you imagine how dry his lips will be if he kisses all of us?“, your friend asked astounded. 

„Oh please, as if he will kiss everyone in here. Is this your first time?“, a voice next to you answered. She was a beautiful girl - tall, thin, porcelain skin and natural make up. She looked like someone Eun Woo would kiss deliberately. „His manager will select a few, watch“, she further explained.

And just like she foretold Eun Woo’s manager appeared and selected a couple of girls. 

„Shit, what if he doesn’t select me?“, your friend asked panicked. 

„Of course he will select you. How could he not?“

You watched his manager make the rounds and choose the most beautiful girls, the ones that were made to be kissed by Eun Woo.

You felt your friend panicking more and more as the manager walked into your direction. Like a reflex, you took her hand into yours and squeezed it, signaling that everything will be alright.

„You“, he said as he looked at your best friend. Both of you sighed out in relief.

„And you“, he said as he looked at you.

„What, me?“, you asked confused. 

„Oh my god, we are doing it together, y/n. So cool!“, your friend jumped up and down excitedly. 

All of the chosen girls were ushered into a private section of the mall, waiting for Eun Woo to arrive. The girls’ faces were filled with excitement and hope, whereas yours was filled with confusion. 

„Which number did you get?“, you asked.

„47“, she answered.

You looked down at your plate - 100. 

„Am I the last?“, you mumbled under your breath. 

Minutes after the guest of honor finally arrived - welcomed by chaotic screams of his many admirers. 

„You know, he isn’t my type but he is so fucking handsome. Wow“, your friend remarked. 

For the first time ever you took a good look at him. Your friend was right - he was a very handsome man. Tall, lean, a bit of muscles. Sharp gaze with sharp features, long full hair and a charismatic smile. You could easily see why every girl was falling for him. And yet, you were not convinced. 

„Don’t you think he looks uncomfortable?“, you whispered.

„What? No way. He loves getting all the attention. Look at him.“

And you did. But no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t overlook the fact that his million dollar smile didn’t reach his eyes. To you, he looked uncomfortable.

„Okay, get in line please“, the staff advised you all.

Eun Woo sat down behind the counter, waiting for the girls to get ready.

You were watching this whole ordeal with mixed feelings. His body language was tense, his muscles looked stiff and you worried if this was really the right thing to do.

„Okay, wish me luck!“, your friend said before she went to kiss Eun Woo.

„You got this“, you mouthed at her, showing your support once again.

You were the last in line and after a couple of other girls it was finally your turn.

Eun Woo looked relieved as he realized that you were the last one.

„Hi“, he smiled at you warmly.

„Hi“, you said politely.

He leaned over and perked his lips but something inside of you begged you to stop this. So you did.

„Hey, uhm, is it okay with you if we just hug?“

His face fell, not understanding why you would refuse this once in a lifetime opportunity.

„You don’t want to kiss me?“, he asked, a pinch of sadness in his voice.

„No, I’d rather just hug“, you explained flatly.

Within seconds his face lit up again and he came in front of the booth, holding his arms out to you. 

You smiled as you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his torso for a short moment of time. 

He was soft and smelled amazing, so you were grateful for your risky choice.

„Okay, let’s go. We’ll have to choose the winner now“, the staff advised.

As you were ushered into the waiting room you were confused about your feelings. 

You never really liked him, pretty boys were never your type, yet somehow you felt attracted to him. 

You sat down and waited, overhearing the conversations of the others.

„I am telling you, when we kissed, it was like angels were singing. He is so into me, I just know it!“

„Our kiss was so passionate. I stuck my tongue down his throat! He was so surprised but so into it!“

„I love him. I just love him. How is he so beautiful? I need him in my life. I need him to be mine.“

„Pretty sure he will pick me. He looked at me like he wanted to rip off my clothes.“

„His lips were so soft. I want to kiss them again.“

Hearing all of this made you sick - they were treating him like an animal in a cage. 

Did no one else notice how uncomfortable he looked doing this?

„This waiting is the worst“, your friend sighed as she sat down next to you.

„Yeah, it better be worth it“, you smacked her lightly.

Before you could playfully banter you were interrupted by the staff entering the room.

„Okay, everyone. Thank you for participating in this kissing contest. I hope you had a great time today.“

The girls cheered and applauded, eager to know who would kiss him again.

Shortly after, Eun Woo entered the room, smiling brightly.

„Hey girls“, he shyly greeted. 

„I want to thank you for showing up today. I know this is a special occasion and you all did well. However, you know we can only have one winner…“, he mumbled.

You looked around, every girl was hanging on to his plush lips.

„And the winner is… number 100, y/n.“

The girls’ faces instantly fell, but they still applauded you on your victory.

„Oh my god, you won“, your friend cheered for you.

„Me?“, you asked in disbelief. 

„Yes you“, she confirmed and pushed you to the front. 

Eun Woo’s face lit up as he finally saw you, making you suddenly feel all kinds of things. He held his hand out to you and smiled warmly, inviting you take it and follow him.

„We are not shooting today, if you’re worried about that“, he explained as he looked into your concerned face.

„It’s not that…“, you admitted.

„Then what is?“

„I just don’t understand. I mean, why me?“

He looked at you intensely, his eyes boring into yours.

„I chose you because you were the only one that treated me like a human being.“

Your eyes widened in surprise as you heard him.

„I didn’t want to do this but my management forced me into it. I don’t know if you can imagine what that’s like but basically I am their slave. So, if they tell me to kiss hundred girls, I have to do just that. Some think I’m lucky, but I feel abused.“, he confessed honestly.

„I am so sorry, Eun Woo“, you answered truthfully.

„Thank you. But I guess that’s the price I have to pay… for all the fame and fortune.“

„Still, you shouldn’t be forced to kiss strangers like that…“

„You saw right through me, right?“, he asked curiously. 

You hesitated to answer.

„That’s why you didn’t want to kiss me, right? Because you saw how uncomfortable I really was? That’s quite rare, y/n.“

„People rarely see you for you, right?“

He shook his head.

„No, it’s always Eun Woo, the star. Eun Woo, the actor. Eun Woo, the pretty face. But no one sees Eun Woo, the person. Well, no one but you.“

His eyes sparkled as he confessed all this to you. 

Suddenly, a warm feeling spread through your whole body, making you painfully self-aware. 

Is my lipstick smeared? Do I smell? Did I put on perfume? Is my make up okay? 

„I’d like to take you out, y/n“, Eun Woo suddenly proposed.

„Me? Why?“, you asked dumbfounded.

The most heartfelt laugh escaped his lips, he definitely wasn’t used to this answer. 

„Because I’d like to talk to you. Human to human, that is. What do you say?“