#my new years resolution is to go more places

[hitlikehammers]

🧋That One Time It Went Soulmate v. Soulmate, Double-or-Nothing Between 🍦Robin and Eddie🎸, Because No One Could Deserve Robin’s Plantonic Soulmate EVER, but Eddie Can (and WILL) Count The Ways That He’ll Fucking ✨TRY✨

☕️OR: 5/5 times Steve/Eddie talk to anyone but each other about their feelings (for each other), +1 (other time they turn around and talk to one another)

Robin’s staring openly at him after he places their order with an extra shake to go—to take home with him for when Steve gets off work.

“You sure that’s what he wants?”

Eddie turns to her slowly.

“He’s my favorite person in the world,” Eddie says simply; “I know what his favorite flavor is.”

In fairness: it does change. He has a baseline that’s good always but, this time of year, the chill in the air? After a shift, especially one without Robin? Here, from this diner, with its stupidly weird-ass menu?

Caramel Waffle. No question.

“Hmm,” Robin hums around her straw as they go to take a seat—he’ll grab Steve’s when they’re done so it’s not melted to fuck before he can get it in a freezer.

“So,” she pops her lips together as he slides in across from her—he was waiting for this tone. She’d been cagey all afternoon. They hang out enough on their own for him to have clocked it when he picked her up: she had a mission. An agenda.

Eddie was pretty sure from the jump that both of those things were just…him.

He just wasn’t sure yet about the why.

“I want you to know that it is not out of a lesser opinion of you, or our friendship, that I am asking you this,” she starts, almost businesslike but he also sees how earnestly she means it; “and honestly I am cautiously optimistic on all fronts, but,” she bites her lip before straightening up a bit and tilting her chin, full-on resolute.

“He’s too important,” she says it, uncompromising. “And cautious optimism is not sufficient.” She nods to herself, takes what looks like a fortifying drink of her milkshake and then forges into…something not wholly unlike battle:

“What are your intentions toward my Platonic Soulmate?”

Eddie’d figured it was Steve; the mission. The agenda.

Even when they hang out on their own, Steve’s too big a part of both of them for him to ever be absent. Not for real.

But, this particular mission? Like…

“We exchanged rings, Birdie,” Eddie says, kinda at a loss; “you were there.”

She was the witness-they-didn’t-technically-need and the best-woman-that-counted-for-everything when they very-not-legally threw a barbecue to pledge for always out loud with the people they loved, when as many of those people as possible could gather and see it and know it—make it feel a fraction as big as it is in Eddie’s chest, for some slice of the world to know it explicitly, out loud.

And see it.

Robin purses her lips and stares him down, unimpressed.

“You know what I mean.”

And…yeah. If he thinks on it, he…probably does.

He doesn’t agree that it’s necessary by any means but: he can agree that Steve is too important for anything to be left to assumptions; to just ‘cautious’ anything.

Steve deserves only whole-hearts. All-in. Absolute certainty for always, when it comes to loving. To keeping and cherishing.

To having and holding.

So what she means is more than the rings. Goes beyond the so-called honeymoon period everyone’s got a comment about, which Eddie refuses to call as such, or acknowledge as anything like that at all, because like…okay, look.

His heart feels easy in his chest, now, in a way it never had before Steve. It felt that way on the worst days of PT, through the worst of the pain. It felt that way sometimes even that first time trudging through hell, without even knowing the man. Eddie hadn’t even realized his heart was all sludged up and calcified until he looked at Steve and it shivered so hard that all of that gunk sloughed off and he was made brand new.

That’s not a honeymoon period. That’s the start of the rest of his whole fucking life, where a certain vibrant level of joy is the baseline. Is their rule.

But, for someone outside Eddie’s chest: he understands. Robin means past that thing she thinks she’s seeing. She means…past Hawkins. Past the Upside Down and all the heartache. Past…forever.

What are his…

“I don’t think I believed people had souls, in like, the sense that people say it?” Eddie starts, because Robin of all people deserves the fullest truth he can offer.

Also—and fuck if he ever admits it out loud—but it’s also because if she’s gonna question his heart, in this, no matter how entitled she is to make sure?

She can damn well be subjected to the full extent of his capacity to wax poetic upon just how overwhelmingly, impossibly, marrow-deep in love he is.

“Definitely not the churchy sense,” he clarifies with a wave of the hand; “I thought they were abstract, just a word for an idea, y’know?”

She knows—she’s told him that she felt something of the same.

Before Steve.

“But he made me believe in them,” Eddie says, and fuck you, maybe his voice is already a little shaky, but he wants her to know how honest he is, how committed he is, how deep his runs—just like how she learned what it was to be Steve’s soulmate, too.

“Because it’s the very real thing that makes me feel alive like I never knew I could feel,” and his left hand reaches up a little awkward to his chest to feel what it is to be alive that big with his own palm, and the sensation of it against the ring on his previously so-long-empty finger there, now the safe-keeper of Steve’s Grandad’s ring, the one he paid some fancy jeweller with his own paycheck—we will use my family’s money, together, he’d told Eddie later, days into what actually was their literal honeymoon; this is from me, like, from my heart to yours and if Eddie’d cried a little about it, naked between rounds in their hotel bed, and if he’d kissed Steve senseless about it a lot at the same time? Damn right he should have—but pressing his hand to his chest with the now-familiar weight and warmth of that ring?

Fuck, but does he feel alive. And as far as his soul goes?

“He is where mine lives.”

It’s Steve. It’s all Steve.

“Or how mine lives. How it came to be,” Eddie still hasn’t puzzled it out entirely, the specifics; isn’t sure if he ever will. “Or both.”

Not that it matters, really. It might be the only puzzle in his whole fucking life that his brain’s willing to let lie not-wholly solved, because again: whatever the details could possibly be, they’d just lead back to a piece or part of a single entity.

The singular love of his life.

“I will kill you if you hurt him,” Robin jolts him back into the now, where he thinks maybe more silence has gathered than he thought, between the last words he did say and now.

She looks at him…not mean, not like daggers: more just really honest. Wide-eyed and more serious than he’s ever watched her be, even when they were almost certainly walking toward their own deaths in battle.

“Please do,” Eddie answers her, automatic. That is, like, not a hard thing to figure out a response to.

“Like, they’ll never find the body,” Robin leans forward over the table, almost knocks her milkshake over and frowns as she slides it aside further out of her way and takes her position again: “I’m serious.”

“Me too,” Eddie says simply before taking a long suck of his milkshake. “If I hurt him, the way you’re talking?” He spreads his arms and gestures wide to himself, all his most vulnerable parts on display because, like:

“Do me the favor. Please.”

He hopes it’d still be easy, splayed with all his squishy vital parts to hit, just bone in the way; hopes all the scar tissue wouldn’t make the job too difficult.

“Why?” Robin asks, a little…not sharp exactly.

Pointed.

But Eddie doesn’t understand why the question of whyeven needs to be asked, especially from her. It’s fucking obvious.

“If I hurt him?” Eddie shrugs, takes a sip again of his shake to keep his throat from getting too thick with any emotions at…entertaining an impossible thing.

“If I did that, I wouldn’t deserve him anymore, even if I didn’t automatically drive him away by default, for the hurting. I’d lose him either way,” and the shake doesn’t even taste right for how wrong those words feel, the bile underneath them, but it’s still mostly making the horrible words…easier.

Given the topic.

Because Eddie doesn’t care really for himself like that—though Steve, outside this unnerving and frankly fucking stomach-churning hypothetical and instead in the blissful beautiful now: Steve would get all frowny at him and scold him like one of his no-longer-little-nuggets for making idiotic choices or saying dumbass things—but Steve isn’t here.

And Eddie means this shit.

“I don’t really know if I’d even want to,” he swallows hard, thankful for the cold of the shake to keep his wits somewhat together; keep him on task to the fucking point: “to be a person, without a soul,” he leans back in the seat and crosses his arms over the squishy bits of him now, because in the now he hasn’t done anything to jeopardize the best thing that’s every fucking happened to him; that ever will.

“Not now that I know what it’s like to live with one, like this.”

And Eddie feels his lips curving at…well. Basically it’s kind of unavoidable, trying to keep a smile off his face when he thinks on Steve:

“Like this. With him.”

Robin matches him, leaning back and crossing her arms, eyeing him oddly.

“It’s not healthy to base your life around whether another person’s in it.”

“Says the platonic soulmate,” Eddie literally snorts, glad he’s not drinking for it—ice cream up the nose fucking sucks; “sounds like those codependency talks your parents were sneaking in took root somewhere, if you’re spouting them back at me.”

Eddie may not have been present for the months post-Starcourt where the Buckleys had struggled with whether Steve was a suitor or a playboy, for how often he and their daughter dogged each other’s steps, but he’s heard the stories. He knows it took them a while to…if not entirely understand it, at least to accept it.

Steve’s been known to watch the game with her dad when Wayne’s not home. Steve plies her mom with baked goods that she used to signal her acceptance of him, her welcome even, after breaking down to ask for recipes.

He gave them to her, or most of them, but won her fully over by promising he’d never be so far away not to make them for her himself.

“I never said I believed it,” Robin grouses, a little defensive; “let alone agreed with it. It was just a statement.”

Eddie expected as much. But he’s not above wanting to poke holes in her flimsy-ass attempt to set him off-balance. To…test him, however she’s trying to.

“But that’s not what I meant.”

He knew that, too. But he’s not absolutely sure what she meant instead.

Despite his myriad suspicions. He does have a formidable knack for imagining potential scenarios.

“I would have answered the same way, so,” Robin huffs; “I didn’t need that ‘why’.”

Eddie bites back a little smirk at her streak of indignation—not the time.

He’s actually getting better at that. Appropriate timing. It helps, appreciating what it means to have so many people he loves.

And then, one person who defines all that love is, all on his own. Every breath he breathes.

“I meant,” Robin finally leans in again, pins him with her stare, with meaning; “why do you love him?”

He doesn’t…expect that. Not from Robin.

But her tone doesn’t question it. Doesn’t question her dearest friend, her closest confidant, her Captial-P soulmate.

She’s…not testing him. But she is weighing him.

And somehow that’s very different.

“Why?” he still can’t help but huff a laugh. “How does anyone not?”

She squares her shoulders, but as formidable as she makes herself, as formidable as she is, her eyes are all heartbreak. But the protective kind.

“A lot of people are stupid,” she spits; “have been so goddamn stupid.”

Eddie knows she doesn’t mean him. It’s not directed his way. He agrees with her, and appreciates that if the time ever comes, he has the best second in command at his side to stand guard for the heart he loves more than his own.

He gets what she means, why she’s asking—why any of this is happening, today.

She’s seen more than him, but not even half, betweenthem, of the people so stupid, so reckless as to trample his beautiful husband’s heart.

Their soulmate’s heart.

And now that he gets it, he has so many ways to ease whatever fears she has, concerns that aren’t about him, but linger because she cares that much.

He can easily give her what she’s looking for.

“I love his smile,” Eddie says with his own, because it’s not about the way it looks, so much as the lights that glow through in him for it. “I love when he hugs me,” he’s so good at it, it makes a man feel safe as much as cherished, protected with strength and cradled with care. He feels Steve’s heartbeat against his sometimes like that, held close enough, pressed tight enough.

“And then when he < I>holds me,” when it’s all of that, but more. Longer. Sustained and Eddie can drown in it. In him.

“He kisses like it’s an Olympic sport where he’s the reigning gold medalist for always,” because sure, Eddie hadn’t had a vast amount of experience but he’d been kissed, even if only dirty and sloppy and never any further, but he’d thought they been at least decent.

Little did he fucking know.

“But then, at the same time he treats it like it’s his favorite pastime.”

Because Steve doesn’t just deal in the breathtaking, world-rewriting approach; he also dives in thorough, devoted down to his cells.

Breathtaking, world-rewriting all in its own unfathomable way.

“His laugh,” and Eddie’s smile grows as his chest feels like it expands, like it always finds a way to do just when Eddie thinks it can’t swell any more, like, for the laws of physics.

He did eventually pass physics, but. They never covered anything to do with love.

And even if they had, it couldn’t have been the kind of love Eddie feels, now.

“The way his brow furrows when he’s confused, or frustrated, like he,” and Eddie sees it, the little crinkles, the soft sparkling behind his eyes as he tries to sort something out behind them, like the fires of his mind at work, and it’s a beautiful thing.

“But mostly so I get to smooth it out,” Eddie admits because: it’s a beautiful thing. And it’s likewise a temptation.

All of Steve is kind of both at the same time, always.

“I love that he lets me take care of him,” and not just for the way it makes him feel proud of being trusted that much, where so few have ever passed the bar for entry into the magic of who Steve is, in his wholeness.

“Not least because taking care if him is one if the best things in the whole world,” because Steve doesn’t hide anything anymore, and he’s so open, so honest with every vulnerable piece, and Eddie feels like he could conquer the world with the might of that confidence, that faith; “like when your heart and your mind and your body all align right and agree, this is what you were made for,” and he believes that. He was built to meet Steve Harrington, and to be bound to every part of him. To be his partner in all things. To love and to honor and to cherish. For all of time.

“I love him for seeing me,” because it works both ways, and the feeling of having Steve is only rivalled in perfect measure by what it feels like to be had and held by Steve in kind: “and letting me see him.”

Always together. It still steals Eddie’s breath almost painful, but too sweet to ever try and tamp it down.

“I love falling asleep on his chest,” Eddie’s eyes close of their own accord, can feel it like that’s where he is, here and now, the bed of curls between those delectable nipples, the softness of his skin. “He runs so warm, like just, like when his heart beats, it’s pumping safety and comfort as a rule and when you’re pressed against him, it just emanates into you,” and that’s it, that’s exactly it.

“I love his heartbeat,” not just because he’d sought it out with desperate need after their last fight with the monsters, when it’d been Steve they almost lost. “Like the sound, when I’m against him,” because now, it’s a lullaby, an embrace, a declaration, every assurance Eddie doesn’t strictly need anymore but never passes up an opportunity to listen to and bask in, every opportunity he gets.

“I love how it feels when,” he starts, pauses when Robin’s face scrunches a little, like she’s bracing for a blow and it clicks, what she’s expecting.

He…wasn’t not going to at least skirt the edges of that part of their relationship. What often comes before he sleeps on Steve’s chest. But.

“Don’t worry, Birdie,” he assures her, dramatically folding his hands over hers with cloying sincerity; “I won’t defile your virgin ears.”

“If I have to listen to the retelling of your sexploits from him,” Robin smacks his hands away with a grimace; “I think once is enough.”

Eddie cackles as Robin groans.

“More than.”

He waves her off as he catches her breath; he won’t make her relive it herself. He’d love to, for his own sake and enjoyment but, he does love Robin. He doesn’t want to orchestrate her torture.

At least not today.

“I love how he eats his breakfast,” how he starts with a rich boy’s manners and ends like a starving man, with bits of egg on his cheek.

“I love how he brushes his teeth,” smearing toothpaste around first then going back to brush in tiny circles all around.

“I love how weirdly and, like, inhumanly quick he does his hair?” It’s record setting, seriously, like how can you get that height and that coif so perfect so fast. “But then how what always makes him almost late is picking the right shoes.”

Robin laughs, then reins herself back; it’s true though. How the clearly color-coded collections of the same fucking tennis shoes befuddle him for choice is hilarious, but so fucking endearing as hell.

“I love how I can tell him that I love him,” because for one, and the least of it all: Eddie never thought he’d find himself in a future where that was even the slightest possibility. But when it’s Steve? When it’s…when it’s this, with Steve?

When Steve lets Eddie love him? And flushes and smiles and melts for it, every goddamn time? Because of Eddie, and the size of Eddie’s love, or however much of it can be conveyed in the dearly limited medium of puny words?

“It’s him, but it’s,” Eddie shakes his head, beaming stupidly he knows, feels it in his cheeks, tugging his scars—he knows, but see, he couldn’t possibly give one single shit about it because his heart is so full, because he gets to love Steve Harrington, and—

“Loving him has been the greatest thing I’ve ever known. It’s not a privilege. It’s not a joy. It’s not a blessing,” Eddie laughs, just once: the limits of language are…offensive, almost. Because no.

It’s none of those things.

“It’s like I said, loving him?”

He waits for Robin to meet his eyes so she sees what the words can’t hold, never could, and while he’s not banking on his gaze carrying the whole of it, he’s more confident it can weave together at least some of the gaps.

“It’s what lives in me now and tells me I’m alive,” and that’s honest, that’s honest to all and every god, and all that surpasses them in the whole of being. “Maybe reminds me there are things to be alive for,” Eddie licks his lips, lets himself feel the way his heartbeat’s ramped up simply because he…he loves.

Because he loves.

“It is meaning, and it is light, and it is purpose and it’s what makes you open your eyes and feel that soft settled gratefulness that you get to do any of it, because he’s next to you,” Eddie’s words come without needing to think, or plan, for all he once scripted speeches on tabletops, or in notebooks to guide a narrative: this is his life. And more importantly: his love. His heart and his soul.

He wouldn’t want a script for any of it.

But more than wanting: he doesn’t have a single fucking need for it.

It is in his cells. He is made of all this, now. Of course it comes out of its own accord.

As blinding and as certain as it damn well should.

“He’s the reason for all of it,” Eddie finally says, voice a little shaky but it’s just because his breath’s a little shaky first, with the vastness of it all. “What would be the point, without it? Without him?”

He doesn’t need an answer, and Robin doesn’t try to give one. But he will ask, just as much without any need of a response:

“If that isn’t the same thing as a soul, then what the fuck is?”

It rings kinda quiet for a few seconds. Then minutes. Robin glances at her now melted remnants of milkshake.

Eddie looks to his own almost-full glass of wholly-unfrozen chocolate malt, and the condensation pooled underneath.

When he looks up, Robin’s eyes are on him. Shining and much less confrontational than they’d been.

“What?” Eddie asks, mostly confused but still a little suspicious. He’s been as flayed-wide as he can be, and is proud to be, and he trusts Robin implicitly but…he was being weighed and measured in order to be judged somehow.

So, he thinks it’s only smart to be at least a little bit cautious.

“Just glad,” she says, and smiles honest, no agenda left now. “You’re one of my favorite people,” and Eddie knew that in theory, at least by implication—still feels very nice to hear it.

“But you’re not my Platonic Soulmate.”

Eddie knew that, too. More than in theory. He respects the fuck out of it.

He appreciates that people beyond Eddie love Steve as fierce as this. Just as he deserves.

“It would have sucked to have had to take you out if you didn’t deserve him.”

Eddie snorts, because he knows she fucking means it. He’s almost honored that she thinks the idea of having to gut him in Steve’s defense would have been paired with any level of remorse.

“Mind you,” Robin goes a little serious again, but not…not like before.

“I don’t know if anyone deserves him,” and she says that more like I don’t think anyone could. Eddie doesn’t disagree.

But he thinks that’s the end of it, and decides he’s not going to let good ice cream go to waste just because it’s more an…extra cold Yoo-hoo slushie.

And how could he even consider letting that go to waste? Who would he even be if he did that, he wouldn’t even recognize himself—

“But you.”

Eddie looks up to meet her gaze with his lips still on the straw, mouth full of creamy chocolate. It’s not his most dignified look.

And she’s…she’s still kind of assessing, but…more like she’s made up her mind, by now. Finished her mission, fulfilled her agenda. Has the weight of him.

Possibly approves, even.

“You’re close enough.”

And goddamn, that is some glowing praise from Robin Buckley.

Especially when it comes to her Platonic Soulmate.

And yeah, maybe Eddie does drink the rest of his Yoo-hoo slushie with a little bit of pride for it.

He knows it tastes sweeter to the last obnoxious half-air-filled sip, either way.

1: Gareth // 2: Mrs. Harrington // 3: Wayne // 4: Chrissy // 5: Robin // +1: ???

🍦💚 📼

✨also on ao3

💫for @penny00dreadful—happiest of happy birthdays, my lovely 🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @eternal-sunflowers @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here, and oddly: me, too 🖤

[aggressionbread]

the january mood to get a new wardrobe

[pallaspally]

"What are you doing for your birthday?"

Well you see i am going to sit some. And i will kiss my son and daughters head at least a few times. There will be time to wallow and cry a bit, of course. Oh and to finish it off i shall run into the sea <3

[honeysuckle-venom]

I've had a lot going on lately, psychologically, and I haven't been posting about 90% of it. I haven't been able to, I haven't had the words most of the time. I still don't. The last four days or so have been spent in a psychotic episode of astonishing intensity, one that feels more like our first break when we were 15 than almost anything since then. The whole summer has been very difficult, lots of trauma stuff and system stuff and psychosis stuff I thought I had put to rest coming up but coming up...differently, like the first time all over again instead of echoes? Idk how to explain it, my therapist had all sorts of good words for it in our session today but I was so psychotic I was only processing like 60% of what she was saying and I remember even less. I do know she said encouraging things about how every schizophrenic patient she's worked with has gone through this same process of temporarily getting much much better and tasting health for the first time and then having a significant recurrence of symptoms, and something about how the experience often mimics the first break/is like having the first break again for reasons I was too out of it to understand today but that are part of the healing process. So that was very comforting to hear, because my symptoms this weekend were honestly sort of terrifying.

But anyway. None of that was meant to be the original point of this post. I wanted to talk about how spiritually unprepared I feel for The High Holy Days. I mean, I always feel unprepared, I think everyone does, you're basically supposed to. If I'm remembering right that's even one of the phrases you say. But this year I have done less prep than any time in the last 5+ years. I just haven't been able to. I did manage to set aside one therapy session a few weeks ago to discuss my New Year's resolutions from last year and to what extent I've managed to stick to them, and to decide what ones I'm making this year, which is something really important that I do every year. I take my Rosh Hashanah resolutions very seriously and it's generally a real turning point in the year for me, they aren't the kind of casual resolutions a lot of people make in January like "I'm going to exercise," they tend to be significant decisions about how to live my life and treat myself and those around me. But besides that one therapy session and a tiny bit of contemplation on my own I haven't even tried to do the kind of spiritual inventory or teshuvah that I usually shoot for. And I'm trying to be okay with that. I spent this whole summer really struggling and the last few days psychotic and catatonic; I think Hashem understands that my priority has been to stay alive and that's pretty much all I've had the ability to do. But I'm still pretty much in survival mode and it sucks to be there just a few days before Rosh Hashanah. It's my favorite holiday and I haven't been able to think about it pretty much at all. I have plans to celebrate with friends both Friday and Sunday and intend to go to services Friday and Saturday, but I'm nervous that I won't be well enough for some or all of that. We'll see when we get there, I suppose. It's just a really bad feeling to know my favorite holiday is coming and normally I do a lot of internal and external work to prepare for it and I've done basically none of it and don't even feel that special "Rosh Hashanah is coming" feeling because I'm too busy being crazy. It just feels really sad and disappointing.

[zoueriemandzijnopmars]

Goals for 2024

Reading goals

Track the movies I watch

I have tickets for de 3 biggetjes and for a festival, I’d like to go to at least one more time to a theatre, concert or festival

Take a holiday for 2 consecutive weeks (staying at home counts too, just take time off)

Spend some time abroad

Resolution: Only buy things online if I can’t get them in (or order them through) a physical shop near me

Sort and print my photos (Resolution: to take more photos)

See the sea!

Visit at least 2 Dutch museums

Visit a place in NL I haven’t been to

Resolution: Do more sports (probably gonna sign up for a dancing class in the first half of the year)

[welcometogrouchland]

Are we journaling for our mental health? To stretch our personal writing muscles? or for a secret third thing??? (brain exorcism)

[kikiutau]

RYOMEN SUKUNA: How to Get With Your Boss 8 Days Before New Years

CEO!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader Synopsis You're a chronic overtimer at work and a chronic virgin at home. On night of Christmas Eve, you have the lucky unfortunate pleasure of stumbling across a huge fight between your hot boss and his wife. Safe to say their relationship is over. But as fate (and your ever-reliable right hand man, the elevator) would have it, being in the right place at the right time might just lead to a New Year’s resolution you've been yearning for for years: the overdue expiration of your v-card. Genre Modern au, Office Romance, 18+, Smut, Fluff  Content/TW fem! reader, cheating, unprotected sex, voyeurism, things going up into cooch that shouldn’t be in the coochie in the first place, virgin! reader, thigh fucking, food play, rough sex, slight misogyny, degradation, dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation, ooc sukuna because this is an au without trauma (we I stan), spanking, unprotected sex, manhandling, cum eating, squirting, pissing, age gap Word Count 17.4k

Author’s Note: Happy New Years guys! Consider this my gift to you all for the new year! I hope you all enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it Divider by @/cafekitsune Series Masterlist

Tuesday, December 24

Christmas Eve

Fuck. Rubbing your swollen eyes, you glared at the circled number on the calendar. A few more days until New Years. And more specifically, 8 more grueling days of a lonely holiday season. A tired groan escaped past your lips. 

Feeling the growing tension in your back from being hunched over for hours on end, you leaned back on your chair hoping to release the pressure. Disregarding the mountain of paperwork on your desk, you haphazardly moved them aside to reach for your cell phone. 

“Ah!” The universe seemingly out to get you, the screen brightness blinds you for a moment. 

You heard a slight thud, signaling to you that the phone you dropped ended up on the floor. Still recovering from eye assault, you don’t grab it right away. Through slight squints, you glanced down at your fallen device. 

12:01 

Wednesday, December 25

Christmas Day 

You let out a quiet “yay.” If there’s one date you were looking forward to, it would be this one. It’s a well-deserved and long awaited break for a distressed and tired office worker like yourself. Working overtime frequently is starting to take a toll on your mental and physical well being— if it hasn't already. 

Acknowledging the time, you tell yourself that now would be a good time to start packing up and heading back home. You quickly put on your coat and grabbed your bag, leaving the heaps of files, binders, and loose papers on the desk as a fuck you, capitalism! You don’t get paid enough to care anyways. On a more important note, your sweet, soft bed is beckoning for your arrival.  

Right as you headed out of the building, you dug through your bag looking for your phone. “Where,” you dug further, “is it?!” 

A frown graced your lips. ‘I… left it in the office, didn’t I?’ you thought to yourself. ‘What an idiot.’

Begrudgingly, you picked your foot off from the ground, and started to slowly make your way back to the Gates of Hell, disguised as those intimidating, tall, glass doors you see more often than the doors of your own home. 

As you walk through the lobby, only the clicks of your heels against the cold marble floors can be heard. The lack of human presence sends a small shiver down your spine. During normal working hours, the lobby is usually filled with the sounds of similarly disgruntled employees complaining to their fellow co-workers. 

But now, the only thing gracing the place was you. Even the janitors and security are nowhere to be seen. Well, it makes sense considering the time. You were the anomaly here. Only a masochist gets off of work at 12AM when everyone else who works the normal 9 to 5 gets off of work at 4:59. 

Well no, you wouldn’t say you're a masochist. You don’t get off to pain. But you were a perfectionist. And you had a tendency to care almost too much about how your co-workers perceived you. So if it meant getting off of work late, you didn’t mind as long as you can get all your tasks done in a timely manner. Besides, you didn’t have anyone to go home to. So why not just stay at work where the heaps of paperwork can accompany you instead.

All your coworkers were sane enough to head home the moment the clock strikes at 5. They’ll stay an hour more if they have to. And for those working overtime, the latest they’ll stay is 8. But, they’ll all shuffle out by the time the sun fully sets, leaving you all alone at your desk. 

Honestly, the only other workaholic besides you would be your boss. Your mind lingers at the thought of his muscular frame, pink slicked back hair, tattoos, and the very apparent large bulge—

Hold on. Stop. He’s your boss. 

And isn’t he a married man? 

You chastise yourself. 

Once you stepped in, your hand instinctively reached for the button with a clear “48” inscribed besides it. Standing in the well-lit elevator, you waited for the doors to close. 

One second passes. Two seconds passed. Then three seconds. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi. Seven— 

“Oh come on!” you rolled your eyes. Tapping your foot, you reached for the button to close the doors and started spamming it like you would when it comes to pressing the attack button on Genshin. “If you don’t close this second, then I’m going to pluck out your buttons and cut your walls with my box cutter!”

The moment that threat left your mouth, the elevator doors closed with a small ding. Ah, even the elevator knew better than to incur the wrath of a stressed out office worker. 

You watched the small panel in front of you change numbers in chronological order second by second. 

1

2

3

4

…

Is it just you or is the elevator slower than usual? 

After what seems to be a long time, you arrived on your floor. Coming to a full stop almost aggressively, the elevator shakes momentarily giving you a heart attack before opening its doors in a slow manner.  

Clenching onto your chest, you make your way out of the wretched box of metal, holding a middle finger up towards the horrid man made product. 

The elevator closes its doors with a ding as if it were responding to your obscene hand gesture. 

You quickly made your way to your usual area, bending down on your knees to grab your missing phone. 

A new message!

You opened the message app to see who texted you. 

Friend

Heyyyyyy girlie! So 😏There’s this guy at my workplace. 

Single. And he doesn’t look half bad. 

And you’re single and mingling. 

Sooooo I was wonderinggggg

If I could set you guys up?  

Y/N

.-.

Uhhhhhh

You typed out “sure.” Although, you contemplated hitting Send. Too distracted with your thoughts, you failed to hear the ding in the background as well as the angry clicks of heels marching past you. 

“YOU ASSHOLE!” 

The sudden scream caused you to flinch. What the hell? 

A male voice interjected. “If I’m such an asshole, sign the goddamn papers.” 

Oh, you recognized that voice. And you hoped you were fucking wrong. 

Curiosity got the best of you and from your position, you slowly peaked up from underneath your desk, to check if you're wrong. God you hope you were. 

Nope. Congratulations! You win a front row seat to watch this couple dispute— against your own will!

At the other end of the room stood your boss in all his glory; his hair was disheveled and the buttons of his dress shirt were unraveled, revealing a window of opportunity for you to see his well defined pecs. Furrowed brows and an annoyed frown decorated his tattooed face. In front of him, there was a woman dressed in a bodycon type dress, hugging all the right curves, revealing her hourglass figure. Although her face was turned away, you could probably guess that her expression was one far from happiness. 

Ok, now you are sure the universe has a personal vendetta against you. First the phone, then the elevator, now this. Not wanting to get caught by any means, you quietly stayed underneath your desk, waiting for the opportunity to leave once the bickering couple finishes their quarreling. 

“You know… None of this would happen if you would just…” the woman’s voice cracked. “Sukuna… You’re so cold-hearted. This wasn’t the marriage I wanted for us.” 

Sukuna scoffed, starting to feel an onset of a headache. He glared at her momentarily, taking a second to decide whether to rip her to shreds with his words or to let the matter go gracefully. If anything, he wanted to be home right this second—not arguing with his wife at his workplace in the middle of the night. Yet, he decided on the former. He spat out, “At least I didn’t cheat.” 

“At least he loves me! With him, I know what love feels like. Unlike you!” his wife exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger towards the man. 

One of Sukuna’s eyebrows quirks up. “Loves you?” He takes a few steps towards the woman. “He has a wife and two children, Silvia. If he loves you, then why hasn’t he left them for you.” 

The tears Silvia tried to hold in the whole time finally spilled down her cheeks. She couldn’t give him an answer because deep down, she knew her husband’s words were true. His words washed over her like someone threw a bucket of ice water to her head. 

Looking up at her husband, she crashed her lips into his. She could no longer bear the ice cold feeling that had enveloped her heart. But at the very least, she could comfort herself with the warm body of the man she currently abhors. 

Unexpectedly, Sukuna did not push her away. Their lips remained interlaced as he pushed her down onto one of the desks, leaving scattered papers on the ground. Your heart sobs for the poor unsuspecting owner of that very desk. 

Sukuna impatiently tore her dress off as she clumsily worked on the rest of the buttons of his dress shirt. A needy whine escaped her throat when he ripped her panties off. “T-those were expensive,” she mumbled. 

In response, he spun her around onto her stomach, forcefully bending her top-half down until she felt her pebbled nipples against the cold, hard desk. He spanked her left ass cheek, chuckling at the slight bounce. Another smack. And another. 

Much to Silvia’s displeasure, she couldn’t hold in her unabashed moans. Even if Sukuna’s indifference towards her made him absolutely terrible at daily affection, she had to admit: This man is a literal sex God. Not once has she left the bed unsatisfied. 

Silvia wiggled her hips, trying to get away from her husband’s abusive onslaught. In which Sukuna responded with a spank on her bare pussy. “You know,” he bent down to her ear, “I should really punish you for being such a disobedient little slut, whoring yourself out like that.” 

Seems like the man relishes in degrading both his employees and his wife.

“Please,” she begged. She pushed her ass towards Sukuna’s bulge, tempting him to punish him even more by rubbing against him. 

Now that’s a real masochist right there. Your thoughts come to a full pause when you hear Silvia moan, “Oooh FUCK!”

Sukuna, not one to respond well to taunts, pinches her clit. Happy with her reaction, he gives her slight reprieve, massaging the sensitive area with his thumb. She jerked at the sensation, her body trembling against his. 

A laugh echoes within the room. “I can’t believe you’re getting off on this,” Sukuna mocks. He toys with the wetness on his fingers, tapping his pointer and thumb together, watching the way the wet strands stretch every time he pulls them apart. “This is supposed to be a punishment. And you still find pleasure in this?” 

Spank. 

“I must have trained you really well, haven’t I? I hope Mr. Nakamura enjoyed my cum dump while it lasted.” Silvia whimpered in response. 

Spank. 

Sukuna’s eyes glared at her reddened ass. “Speak.” 

“Y-yes!” 

Sukuna let out a little hum, circling around Silvia’s poor, abused clit. Tears—whether it was because of pleasure or pain—dripped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I–” 

“But even your lover wasn’t enough for you, huh? Here you are, desperate running back to me like a cockdrunk slut,” the tattooed man mocked. “This is a little pathetic, even for you.” 

No longer able to deal with the edging, Silvia disregarded his insults, letting go of whatever pride she had left as she pleaded her husband for more. She turned head back towards Sukuna, panting for just something, looking at him with glazed eyes. 

Sukuna huffed, stopping his ministrations. He examined her face; her skin was unblemished with hues of blush red, decorating the area around her eyes, nose, and lips. Her lips were slightly swollen as were her eyes. But even then, it did not take away from her apparent beauty. 

He married her two years ago. Not out of love but rather out of obligation. In spite of his appearance adorned with numerous tattoos, Sukuna was quite conservative when it came to relationships. The old fucks at those board meetings suggested—no, pressured— the then, 29 year old man to get married as fast as possible. Tired of their constant prodding and pushing, he ended up marrying one of the girls that was introduced by one of the board members he was on good terms with: Silvia. 

Sukuna was a person who held great belief in his morals. He found cheaters lousy. And he found those who criticized cheaters but then proceeded to cheat even lousier. If there’s one thing he hates in the world, it’s hypocrites. And he was not about to become one himself. Perhaps it was due to such morals that he remained a faithful husband even if he never felt an ounce of love for this woman— any woman. 

Lust, sure. But love? Love was something so vulnerable, so unpredictable. He lived with Silvia and slept beside her for all those years. Not once did Sukuna’s heart waver in the slightest. At most, he could admit that the relationship was comfortable. Silvia was a good wife during their time together. So, at the very least, he treated their marriage as a duty and gave her the utmost respect. 

Right. Respect. That’s why he was so angry at his wife who he did not love. She disrespected him. Thinking about it, Sukuna could feel his suppressed rage beginning to simmer. And looking at his Silvia’s horny expression, it gave him enough of a will not to submit to her pleas so easily. 

Reaching towards the pocket of his suit jacket, he pulls out his beloved Caran d'Ache Léman fountain pen. He pressed the cool metal towards her slit, causing her to flinch. Slowly, he inserts the rounded point of the pen into her wet cavern. 

“Sukuna!” Silvia pouted, unhappy with her current position. Licking his lips, Sukuna rolled his eyes at his wife. 

Leaning down towards her, he smirked. “I’m so sorry sweetheart,” he sarcastically replied. “I thought you wanted more. Was I mistaken?” Feeling his wounded pride swell with glee, he continued moving the pen in and out in slow motions. 

“I– This wasn’t what I meant!” she stammered. 

Spank. 

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. “Manners.” 

Silvia groaned, burying her face into her arms. Picking her head back up for one last ditch effort, she pleaded once more. “Please please plea– FUCK! Pleaseeee, can you fuck me? I- I can’t get off.” 

Sukuna shrugged, a playful smirk gracing his lips once more. “I don’t need to fuck you for you to get off. You sure found other alternatives during our time apart, didn’t you? I’m certain Mr. Nakamura’s cock was smaller than this pen. And yet you went back to him, again and again. So…” 

Heart pounding, Silvia shook her head needlessly. She wanted to refute him but with how overstimulated she felt, she could not even muster a single coherent thought. Sukuna continued on with his ministrations, moving the pen further into her in a downwards motion. “I’m pretty sure you can get off to this.” 

Feeling the slight nudge of the pen towards her g-spot, Silvia unwillingly slips into pure bliss. Blood rushed to her head as she was brought to pure ecstasy. Sukuna sounded out her moans, purely focusing on her pussy fluttering witlessly around his fountain pen. Consumed by momentary pettiness, he slipped his pen out of her, refusing to fuck her through her orgasm. However, he waited for her to catch her breath.

Silvia went limp after the shockwaves of her orgasm had subsided. Using the strength that’s left in her arms, she shakily turned around towards her husband. There, he stood with the same indifferent expression she despised. She reached out to him, hoping to continue. Much to her dismay, he stopped her, holding onto her wrists. Before she could even say anything, he placed the christened pen into her hands. 

“My lawyer will come to your residency tomorrow. Make sure to sign the divorce papers by then,” he stated, showing his soon to be ex-wife the same poker face he’d show to his company’s board members. 

Almost robotically, Sukuna made his way towards the elevators. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to wait for it to come as it was already on the floor. If this elevator was sentient, then at this moment, it recognized that this man was the very man that could scrap it from its existence in just one word. Feeling scared—if it could even feel—the elevator quickly opened and shut its door at an unbeatable speed to prevent incurring Sukuna’s wrath. 

A few minutes later, Silvia followed suit. Finally alone, you crawled out from your hiding spot. Your brain short circuited for a while, slowly trying to wrap your head around what happened. When it did…

“What the fuck.” Your mouth fell wide open. “What the fuck.” You put both your hands on your head. “What the fuck.” You paced around in a circle. “What the fuck.” Your head whipped towards the desk the two lovers were previously copulating on. Underneath, you see the sheets of paper haphazardly decorating the floor. In the corner of your eye, you could also spot the lacy black panties Sukuna’s wife left on top of said papers. 

Oh. Hell. No. 

So that WASN’T a hallucination? An audible groan echoed throughout the office floor. At this point, there was no doubt about it: The universe wants to murder you. 

You gave a silent apology towards the elevator who was trying to save your sanity earlier. Unfortunately, you were too stubborn to recognize its efforts. Looking back down at the device that has caused you misfortune, you swiped upwards reaching the home screen. After experiencing your boss' intimate moments with his wife against your will, you suddenly lost the will to continue living, muchless go on a double date. In fact, you don’t feel like going anywhere at all with the amount of bad luck you have at the moment. 

Y/N

.-.

Uhhhhhh

Sureygyciwbcuibiwcleboi

Friend 

Great! 

I confirmed with the guy. 

Is the 26th okay for you? 

Well, crap. Did you incur the wrath of some God out there? You must have mistakenly sent the text message while you were struggling to crawl to the dark ends of your desk. Giving up on your current situation, you decided to submit to whatever fate has decided for you. You quickly sent a “ok” before moving on to clean up the stacks of documents on your desk since you were already back where you started. 

Finishing up, you proceeded to put on your coat, preparing to leave. In the corner of your eye, however, you were once again reminded of the intimate scene. Your chest stirred with an uncomfortable feeling. If the employees came back to work days later with papers on the ground AND a pair of black panties, these nosy folks will surely start talking. 

Feeling a sense of pity for the about-to-be-divorced man, you feel your humanity telling you to help Sukuna out. As stern as he was, he was a fair and competent employer who treated his employees well (as long as you didn't get on his bad side). Besides, everyone has days where life simply falls to shit. Sukuna’s just happens to be on Christmas Day (and so is yours). 

Grumbling, you open one of the pull-out cabinets below your desk to grab tissues and disposable chopsticks. You then slowly made your way towards the hazard zone. Quickly, you clipped the panties with the chopsticks, throwing it in a nearby garbage bin. As for the papers, you quickly shuffled it into one pile, not caring if they were out of order. For the unfortunate pieces of papers that were tainted with what’s possibly Silvia’s bodily fluids, you threw those out. You assumed your coworkers would much rather face the problem of a few pieces of their paperwork being missing than have to touch the ones christened by cum. 

Not all heroes come with capes. In this case, it came in the form of a traumatized overtimer. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you made your way towards the elevator. Somehow, the elevator seemed to be working as normal the second time you used it. Making your way towards the exit, you let out a breath of relief. That relief of yours ended when a familiar voice called out to you. 

Slowly, you turned your head to the source. Ah, it’s the devil’s work at play. Mustering whatever strength you had left, you quickly graced the man with your customer service smile. “Hello, Mr. Ryomen. Heading home?” 

He responded with a curt nod. “It’s late. I’m surprised you’re still here. I didn’t see you by your desk.” From how close he was to you, you could have sworn he narrowed his eyes for about a millisecond. 

The hairs on your neck became stick soldiers; your smile faltered slightly. Running through your mind for excuses, you finally landed on: “I was occupied in the printer room.” You pray to your ancestors that he didn't catch on to your lie. 

You assumed your excuse was enough, considering he no longer lingered on the topic. You’re caught off by what he says next though. 

“Since it’s so late, let me give you a ride home.” 

Your customer service smile dropped as you’re now fumbling to make another excuse. Feeling flustered you blurt out, “Oh no, it’s okay. Thank you so much for the offer though. I actually live nearby so I’ll be–” 

Rrrrrrrumble

“You’re going to walk home in this weather?” A teasing smile appears on Sukuna’s face. 

Feeling defeated, you let out a nervous chuckle. “I suppose not.” 

In Sukuna’s expensive-looking car that probably cost more than your yearly salary, you curse whatever deity is out there for your current position. It was probably 2AM right now, yet why the fuck was there still traffic at this time in the middle of the highway. 

“It seems a lot of people are trying to head back to their families for Christmas,” Sukuna blankly stated out of nowhere. You slightly jumped at his sudden comment, not expecting him to speak after sitting in awkward silence for a good 20 minutes. 

You hummed in agreement. You also assumed that the sudden snowstorm had something to do with the onslaught of traffic. You kept that thought to yourself though, not wanting to entrench yourself into further awkward small talk with Sukuna. Bringing your attention back to the traffic, you wondered if the insistent begging in your head would get the cars to move any quicker. Unfortunately for you, it was to no avail. 

Glancing to the window on your right, you tried to distract yourself with the scenery of cityscapes. Your plan was foiled when you noticed Sukuna’s reflection in the mirror. Pretending to look outside, your gaze centered on the enticing image. Sukuna seemed to have fixed his unkempt hair, keeping it in the usual slicked back hairstyle he usually adorned. The same went for his white dress shirt that he seemed to have buttoned up, leaving the top two unbuttoned. 

You focused on his hands. One on the steering wheel, impatiently tapping against the leather; the other hand on the gear shift. You wondered how it would feel if he fingered you–

Stop. 

You could feel your ears burn with embarrassment. Save your horny thoughts when you’re not a foot away from him. ‘Not now,’ you tell yourself. Trying to move on from your thoughts, your eyes focused on something else. You slowly made your way up to his face where now you could see him looking right at you. You jerked your head downwards, avoiding looking at his reflection staring right into your skull. 

Wait, does that mean…? You slowly cranked your head towards the direction where the man was sitting, only to be faced with him looking straight at you. 

“Who would have thought I’d be spending Christmas with my favorite employee?” he drawled, emphasizing the favorite.  

You got caught off guard. Luckily, you recovered fairly quickly. “Who would have thought I’d be spending Christmas with my favorite boss?” you quipped back. 

He barked out a laugh, “I’m your only boss, princess.” .

Chuckling, you shrugged. “Still stands.”  

“You got any plans for Christmas? You must be looking forward to spending time with your family and friends,” he comments. 

You swallowed the imaginary ball in your throat. “Ah, well. They’re all overseas. So, I probably won’t be seeing them this year. The plane tickets are horrendously expensive this time of year.” 

“At least you have that boyfriend of yours from the sales department.” 

“Pardon?” 

A bewildered look occupies your face. What boyfriend? You’ve been alive for a good 23 years and you have yet to even hold hands with a boy. At this point, you’ve gotten your PhD degree in singleness. Flustered, you shook your head. “I-uh. I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

He smirked. “Good to know.” 

Did he just play you? 

“Mr. Ryomen!” His deep laughter fills the small space. When it subsided, he gave you a cocky grin.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop teasing you.” He reached one of his hands towards your face, brushing a strand of stray hair behind your ears. Before you could say anything, that hand is right back on the gear shift. 

Thankfully, the traffic in front started to clear up. During the drive, you probably learned more about him than you did working 4 years at his company when you started as an intern at 19 years old. For one, he has a younger brother. He also has a hobby of tinkering with motorcycles. And if you didn’t already assume earlier on in your career, he clearly had a fondness for fucking with people (and fucking his wife, but you keep that to yourself). Thankfully, the apprehension you felt earlier was completely dispelled by the casual conversation he started.

Before you knew it, he reached your apartment complex. You promptly thanked him for the car ride, making your way out of the vehicle. “Have a Merry Christmas, y/n.” 

“You as well,” you responded. Your tongue immediately sour when you remembered the fact that Sukuna was getting divorced during the holidays (not that he knew that you knew). Oh crap. Why did you have to say that? It felt as embarrassing as telling the movie theater employees “you too” when they tell you to enjoy the movie. Luckily, Sukuna didn’t seem phased, as if he didn’t serve his wife divorce papers on Christmas day. He simply smiled, nodding in your direction before driving off. 

Thursday, December 26

You sipped on your cocktail, staring endlessly at the shiny chandelier hoping it would cure your boredom. A part of you also hoped the shiny thing would fall right on top of your date.  

“So I’m looking for someone who would…” Blah blah blah. 

You drowned out the sounds of your date’s rambling. This self-absorbed piece of shit. All he would talk about was himself. His next favorite topic being the type of girls who turned him on and the type of girls who turned him off. Then all you could remember was his ramblings about how “women nowadays are not the same anymore…” Something along the lines of that. Fed up, you have half a mind to just straight up tell him to date his own mother rather than trying to find a poor girl to be his in-home maid and incubator. You held your tongue, knowing nothing good would occur from initiating a fight with this guy. 

My god. Where did your friend even find this narcissistic bastard? You start to question HER taste in men. Purely based on appearance, the blabbermouth looks decent. But even his face card couldn’t fix his trash personality. It’s like covering yourself with perfume when you haven’t taken a shower in a month. 

You pray to your ancestors, hoping for someone to get you out of this blind date. It was as if your prayers were answered when a familiar pink-haired man walked out of the restaurant’s private rooms with another man who you could only infer to be a client. You didn’t know if it was your ancestors working some magic or if it was simply pure coincidence. If it was the latter, then it seemed too improbable to be mere chance.  

You didn’t even need to yell out a “help” when Sukuna excuses himself from his current conversation, making his way towards you. You jutted out lips, pouting almost dramatically. You only hope Sukuna could decipher the desperate energy leaking out of your eyes. 

“Ms. y/l/n, did you forget you had an appointment with me?” Sukuna looked down at his watch. “In fact, you’re late.” 

“Wait, you can’t just–” 

A menacing glare shuts up the good-for-nothing. Taking this opportunity, you quickly grab your belongings, interlocking your arm with Sukuna’s, not even giving your date a chance to say goodbye. 

Once again, you're in Sukuna’s vehicle once again. Although this time it’s red instead of the usual black you noted to yourself. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend,” Sukuna teasingly comments.

You grumbled, “He isn’t my boyfriend. My friend just happened to set us up on a blind date. Well, you know how it went. Anyways, how did you know I needed help getting out of there?” 

“You were never good at hiding your emotions,” Sukuna answered. “Not now. And certainly not then.”

“Really? I didn’t even get slightly better?” you prodded. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Yes.” To him. Although he wasn’t one to linger on office rumors, he couldn’t help but notice the comments in regards to you. People said you were a vivacious one; that’s one rumor he could agree with. Some said that you were dating someone from the sales department; he thought that was true, until you debunked it yesterday. Many of your co-workers called you hardworking; he agrees. Quite frankly, you had a clean reputation. Almost too clean. So clean and perfect, in fact, he almost forgot about the 19-year-old, hot-headed intern who possessed an ego so inflated it rivaled a 10-foot pole. 

Flashback

Sukuna (28) grumbled, impatiently pressing on the elevator buttons. Fuck, one day he’s going to completely replace this box of metal with a more efficient elevator. Just as the elevator doors were about to close… 

“Wait! Bro! Can you hold the elevator doors for me?!”  

Although he certainly looks like the type to close the elevator doors on someone, he’s not completely heartless. Besides, he wondered which employee was brave enough to casually call him “bro.” Quickly, Sukuna clicked the button to open the doors. 

Unfortunately for the desperate girl on the other side, she watched in distress as the space between the two doors got closer and closer together until… closed. 

“Fuck!” She kicked the elevator doors. “You nincompoop!” 

Just as the insult left her mouth, the elevator immediately opened its door, leaving a wide- mouth country girl staring right back at red-piercing eyes.

‘Oh. A new face.’ Sukuna thought. 

The girl gulped, deciding whether or not she should ditch the elevators for the flight of stairs instead. Essentially, would she rather face humiliation or kill herself walking up 40 flights of stairs before her interview. Suddenly she remembered the wise words her mother told her before she walked through the TSA gates: You must walk through life as if you have the balls of a cis-gendered male tiger. 

Whatever that meant. So, the elevator it was! 

She stepped into the confined space shared by the other remaining person staring bullets into her head. Cold sweat adorned her back as the elevator doors closed. 

“So who’s a nincompoop?” 

‘Ah fuck,’ the girl cursed in her head. ‘I should’ve just taken the stairs T^T’ She tried to calm herself down by chanting her mom’s advice. ‘Balls of a tiger. Ball of a tiger.’

Finally getting a proper look at the guy, she almost pees her pants. This guy was definitely over 6ft. 6’3? 6’4? 6’5? At her measly 5’0 ft, she couldn’t tell for sure. And the man had very noticeable tattoos adorning both his face and his arms from what she could tell. Did she bump into a gangster? 

No matter. It’s not like she hasn’t come across gangsters in her high school days. In fact, she once chastised a gang member at her school once so confronting them wasn’t an issue— except this time it was a grown adult man two heads taller than her. 

The girl huffed, puffing her chest out, trying to be intimidating (although unknowingly having the opposite effect). “You are,” she plainly stated. 

“Hn?” Sukuna clicked his tongue. Rolling his eyes he flicked the girl’s forehead with his finger, “Are you a child? When I was in grade school, not even the kids would call me that.”

'Yeah, I'd doubt they'd say anything to you with that face of yours,' she thinks to herself, silently. Thankfully. Unfortunately, it would turn out to be her only wise decision from this point on.

Sukuna scanned the girl, starting from her broken heels, to her dress shirt that’s improperly buttoned, finally landing onto a youthful complexion staring right back at him. The audacity of this girl. “Are you lost, brat? The middle school is four blocks away,” he mocked. 

Okay, now that was pushing it. “Rude!”  Looking deeply offended, she pointed a finger towards the man. “Fuckwad! Asshat! Jackass!” Sukuna had never heard so much profanity come out of a girl’s mouth before. Even she had him admitting to himself that her colorful sailor vocabulary probably rivaled his. 

It was hilarious. 

He lets out a loud cackle. Judging by the furrow of the girl’s eyebrows deepening, he probably pissed her off even further. 

Ding 

“Hmph.” Sukuna watched as the girl marched out. Although very quickly, she snapped her head back at Sukuna. “You! I’m going to report you!” 

Sukuna's coy smile widened even further. “Go ahead.” What was HR going to do? Fire him? 

(P.S. At this point in time, Sukuna's small company didn't even have a human resources department. He WAS HR. )

His answer made the girl more frustrated, as she audibly groaned. “Whatever,” she muttered. 

Hearing another ding, Sukuna quickly asked, “What’s your name?” 

The girl’s head perked up. Her annoyed face contorts to one of apprehension. The elevators are close to closing before she yells out–

“y/n”

Flashback Ends 

Sukuna couldn’t contain his grin when remembering the first time they met. “What’s so funny?” you questioned, almost creeped out by his sudden grin. 

“It’s a secret,” he says. Not wanting to pry any further, you let him be. Much to your dismay, he brought you to your apartment complex fairly quickly, meaning your conversation was cut short once again. You could feel your heart throb. Wait… did you feel disappointed? Sad? You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact feeling. You admitted that it was unfortunate these conversations will come to an end though; the two of you will probably go back to the monotonous role of employer and employee who only spoke on matters regarding work. 

Your walk up to your apartment was melancholy at the very least. You thought about how your relationship with Sukuna changed over the four years you knew him for. Your meeting didn’t start off the greatest with the man relentlessly teasing you. Even if you were the one who caused it to occur in the first place. That’s a fault you stubbornly won’t admit to though. 

And then when you got hired as an intern, your spirit was undeniably fucked when you found out the man who teased you in the elevator was the CEO and founder of Ryomen Tech Corporations. 

Thankfully for you, Sukuna wasn’t one to hold deeply held grudges. Although unfortunately for you, the teasing did not stop at all. He’d make those annoying comments to irk you and you’d banter back, unable to hide your apparent dislike for the man. Things like hierarchy was definitely less structured back then when the company only contained a small team of 13 people. 

When you interviewed, the company was still a new tech startup at the time. Before that, Ryomen Sukuna worked as a freelance coder and web developer (and hacker)  after graduating from a small university for a few years. Impressively, despite having nothing to his name, he was able to push his way through. Ryomen Tech Corp. became a million dollar company in a span of a year. Year by year, more investors came shuffling in, and profits continued to rise exponentially. As of right now, Sukuna's net worth is in the billions, an achievement unheard of in four years. 

Stepping back and surveying Sukuna's extraordinary achievements within four years, you couldn't help but acknowledge his competence and admire his success. Despite his teasing nature, you discovered he possessed a charismatic charm when interacting with investors, clients, and other industry leaders.

That Sukuna felt detached, almost unrecognizable. It was hard to believe that the man who mercilessly teased you was the same individual responsible for such remarkable feats. You felt a tinge of selfishness, clinging to the hope that things would remain unchanged, that your relationship could continue as before.

However, his marriage brought an abrupt halt to this illusion. Visits to your desk for lunchtime teasing dwindled, leaving you to eat alone, bereft of the familiar rumble of his cackles and the cacophony of laughter from your colleagues. The teasing text messages, once a constant, gradually decreased, until his name sank to the bottom of your contact list. Soon, he faded from your life as subtly as he had entered it.

You didn't reach out to him, either. Perhaps it was your tendency to put yourself on a moral high ground, or perhaps it was your wounded ego, but you convinced yourself that pursuing a relationship—even a platonic one—with a married man was inappropriate.

Fumbling through your bag, you searched for your keys. Where. Is. It. You dug through your bag more haphazardly, your heart starting to race. Why. Does. This. Keep. Happening. Your search for your keys came to a small pause however when you noticed your phone rang. 

The caller ID on the phone's glowing screen displayed a name you had almost forgotten, buried beneath a haze of forgotten memories. It was as if a sudden gust of wind had swept away the fog, bringing that name back into sharp focus.

Nincompoop

Without giving much thought, you quickly picked up the phone. “Hello?” you answered. 

The familiar voice responds back, one that was deep and reminded you of velvety red wine, one that immediately quells your beating anxiety. “I think you forgot something, princess.” Just from his voice, you can tell he probably has his signature annoying smirk on the other end of his call. Quiet from disbelief, you didn’t answer. "Hello?" he prompted gently, concern lacing his voice. 

Silence.  

Geez. Did you forget how to speak? 

Panicked, you moved from your spot, only to unknowingly stub your toe at one of the trashbags by your neighbor’s bag. “Ow!” you exclaimed. Was there steel in that thing? You let out a pained groan, bending down to pat the outer layers of your shoe, hopefully aiding with the pain. Side note: It did not help. 

Hearing that you were present on the other end, Sukuna mumbled something on his end. You were unable to catch what he said though. By the time the pain subsided, you noticed that the call ended. 

Wait. What did Sukuna say, again? 

​​A sudden jingle broke through your thoughts. You looked up to see Sukuna standing by the elevator. He held up a set of keys, dangling them in front of him. "Found these in my car," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Seems someone forgot something."

Your jaw dropped. So, that's what he meant. He found your keys.

Sukuna bent down to eye level with you, slowly examining you from head to toe. “You okay?” he asks. 

“Uh huh. I just stubbed my toe. I’m alright now.” Your face is burning with shame. “Anyways, you didn’t have to come all the way up here. Thank you though.” You gave him a slight nod, taking your keys from his hand. Grabbing your arm, he helped you up. Feeling the heat spreading to your ears, you thanked him once again. ‘If there’s a merciful God out there, please bury me six feet underground right now,’ you pleaded in your head. 

"No problem," he said. Sukuna paused, his gaze lingering on you. "Besides," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "Wouldn't want you wandering around aimlessly, now would I?"

You felt your cheeks burn even hotter. "Very funny," you muttered, trying to regain your composure. You turned towards him asking, "Would you like some water or snacks? As, uh, thank you." 

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. Knowing you were the type of person who didn't like to owe favors, he accepted. Besides, a part of him was curious about what your living space was like. They say someone's home is a reflection of one's personality. Wait... When did he become so nosy?

You led him into your apartment, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. This was definitely not how you expected your evening to unfold. You were about to offer him a seat by the living room couch when you noticed his gaze on the framed photographs on the wall. 

He pointed to one photo. “Your parents?” 

“Yep,” you grinned. “I look like them, don’t I? “ 

His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the shape of your eyes, noses, and lips. “You do. Compliments to your mother,” he breathed, a genuine admiration in his voice. 

“T-thanks,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze. “She always said I looked more like my dad.”

Sukuna chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the air. "I beg to differ," he said, his eyes twinkling. He gestured towards the couch. “Mind if I sit down? My feet are killing me.” You quickly offered him a seat, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. In the meantime, you went into the kitchen to prepare his snacks. 

The familiar hum of domesticity filled the small apartment as you carefully gathered your items on the counter. You busied yourself with arranging the fruit platter on the kitchen counter — apples, grapes, strawberries, and cherries. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept replaying Sukuna's words. “Compliments to your mother.”

What did that even mean? Was he just being polite? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out, looking relaxed. He was running a hand through his hair, a contemplative expression on his face. Sukuna leaned back against the cushions, gazing at the ceiling. “You know,” he began, his voice a low rumble, “I was thinking... about relationships.”

You, startled by his sudden observation, almost choked on your saliva. “You were?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Seeing your parents' picture got me thinking. How do people... how do they know when they've found the right person?”

You set down your knife, intrigued. “I don't think there's a single answer to that question.”

Sukuna nodded in agreement. “Maybe not. But what do you think?”

You pondered this for a moment, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. "Well I can’t speak for others but for me, I value respect and communication. I think when it comes to finding that person, maybe a little bit of luck comes into play."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. "Luck?"

"Luck and timing," you continued, "meeting the right person at the right time and place. There was a book I read in high school where two of the characters were refugees in war and they ended up falling in love with each other. But by the end of the book, I couldn’t help but wonder: Were they truly in love, or did they simply convince themselves they were in love due to the shared circumstances? If there was never a war in the first place, would they fall in love all over again if they were to meet each other under different circumstances?”

You continued to ramble. “You’ve read the hunger games right? Or at least familiar with the movies?” Sukuna nodded, motioning you to continue. “I’m going to use Katniss and Peta as an example. If they weren't forced to fight for their lives in the arena, would they still have fallen for each other? Would their love story have blossomed under different circumstances? Or was it the shared trauma, the constant fear of death, that forged their bond?"

Sukuna watched you intently, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. He thought of his own marriage, a gilded cage built on societal expectations and a desperate need to conform. He paused his thoughts, focusing on the girl in front of him, a rare vulnerability creeping into his eyes. "But you know sometimes…the most profound connections can be born from the most unexpected circumstances,” he confesses quietly. 

“Oh yeah by the way. I got divorced today,” he says out of nowhere, in the most nonchalant manner. 

The cup of water you were sipping on suddenly clattered in the sink. You ended up choking because the water went down the wrong pipe. “What?!” 

“My wife was unhappy with our marriage. She cheated on me. I told her to sign the divorce papers yesterday. And today she signed it,” Sukuna answered as a matter of fact. 

You knew. 

You were there when he had that argument with Silvia, unbeknownst to him. But hearing him tell you is a whole different story. “I’m sorry that happened,” you automatically responded, after recovering from your near death experience. 

He let out a laugh. “Don’t be,” he shrugged, almost too nonchalant for your comfort. 

You carefully laid the fruit platter and an unopened bottle of wine on the living room coffee table. You then positioned yourself beside Sukuna, maintaining a slight distance. He reached for a plump grape, popping it into his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

"Since I'm letting you in on a secret," Sukuna began, his gaze fixed on the remaining grapes, "let me know one of yours. Like how the breakup with your boyfriend went."

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't have a boyfriend?" you retorted, a touch of exasperation in your voice.

Sukuna smirked. "Currently you don't. But surely you had a lousy boyfriend back in college?” 

You shook your head.

“High school?” 

You shook your head once more. 

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief in his expression. "Never?"

"Nope," you confirmed, feeling a strange sense of pride in your solitary existence. Then you remembered the endless ramblings of your mother and aunties about finding a boyfriend, reverting that feeling of pride back to a familiar dejection. 

Feeling a sudden wave of defensiveness you start to ramble making excuses why you weren’t dating—why you have never dated. “I’ve never been sought after romantically in my teenage years. And even when my friends set me up on blind dates, it would never work out. At some point I just assumed I wasn't built out for romantic relationships so… ” 

You practically word-vomited on the spot, your mind unable to keep up with your mouth. From your sexual history (or rather lack of), to the countless of failed blind date stories, to that one boy who rejected you in highschool… all of it came spilling out. 

The more you rambled, the more you wanted to dig yourself into a hole. But even then, you continued to talk, almost against your will as you had a poor habit of avoiding awkward situations by rambling… only to make it more awkward for yourself by the end. 

“A-anyways,” your whole ramble, rant, whatever the fuck that was, finally coming to an end. 

While you were mentally hitting yourself in the head, Sukuna, on the other hand, seemed to revel at your current mental state, the corner of his mouth raised.

“So you’ve never orgasmed before, huh,” he drawled, his smile almost menacing. Ah, fuck. Was he going to now tease you relentlessly with that newfound information? 

“So what?” you exclaimed, your arms and legs now crossed. “ It’s not my fault my body is literally built for failure in both departments of romantic love and self love.” 

Sukuna had an unreadable expression on his face. 

Immediately feeling some sort of regret, you tried to remedy the situation. “O-oh. It’s uhh not a big deal though. I could always go out and find a one night stand to help me with my needs. I-I mean…” Crap. You couldn’t even look the man in the face. 

While your face was turned away from him, you heard the pop of the bottle cork. Curious, you watched as Sukuna poured himself a pretty tall glass of wine. He took a long sip, the red liquid swirling in the glass.

Silence. 

He set the glass down on the coffee table, the sound echoing unnaturally in the sudden silence. You finally dared to look him in the eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes were narrowed, a predatory glint in their depths.

“You know,” he said, his voice stretched out in a long drawl, “If you would like, I can offer myself as a demonstration.” 

Your breath hitched. "What?"

Sukuna, leaning closer, his breath fanning your face. “Do I have to repeat myself?” 

Almost as if your body had a mind of its own, you found your lips millimeters away from his. Just as your lips were about to touch, you pulled away. With a soft thud, you fell back onto the couch, your hand covering the lower half of your face. “I-uh. I don’t know how to…” you paused for a moment before whispering, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

Sukuna's gaze, intense and predatory, swept over you. “Well, then,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “it seems like I have my work cut out for me.” He caresses your hand with his thumb before leaning down, his whole body on top of you. 

Bringing his lips to your hands, he teasingly licks it to get a slight reaction out of you. He then gently nips the skin, his teeth grazing your knuckles. Making out with the back of your hand, a rush of warmth flushed throughout your body as you imagined the same sensation on your lips instead. 

You jumped a bit when you felt his tongue once more. Slowly, he traced his tongue towards your fingers, then entwining his hands with yours, pulling it away from your face. Sukuna’s gaze then flickered towards you, watching the rheumatic motions of your chest rising and falling. 

He pulls your hand towards his chest.

“Can I keep going?” 

Your heart pounded in your ears, a quick, rhythmic beat that drowned out the howls of the wind outside. Breathlessly you answer, “Please.”

Sukuna cursed, his warm hands on you almost immediately. His lips parts, closing the space between you two. 

Sweet. With a tinge of bitterness from the red wine. You tell yourself how you could get drunk on his taste; he tastes so much better than the cocktail you were sipping earlier on your blind date.   

Trying to keep up with him, you hesitantly imitate the kisses he gave your hand earlier. You feel a faint smile on his lips which brings flutters to your stomach. Feeling slightly more confidence, you keep going. 

Just as you clench the back of his shirt, Sukuna pulls away from you. “Smart girl,” he whispered. “Are you up for another challenge?” 

Not waiting to hear for your response, Sukuna reaches for the fruit platter, specifically breaking off the stem of one of the cherries. He places it on his tongue before coming back to meet your lips once again. However this time, you find his tongue meeting with yours. 

You involuntarily moan, feeling almost overwhelmed at the moment. Pressed up against him, you could feel his erection pressed against his thighs. 

Even though the two of you were already pressed up against each other, Sukuna somehow manages to deepen the kiss between you two, teasing you with his tongue. You squirm at the sensation.

Feeling Sukuna push the cherry stem towards your tongue, you push back the stem with a competitive vigor. Thus, starting the battle of dominance between the two of you. 

Surprisingly, Sukuna is the first to part from you, sitting straight up on his knees. He stuck his tongue out showing you the knotted cherry stem sitting right on his palate. 

Fuck. 

He places the knotted stem on the coffee table before turning towards you and smirking. “A souvenir for remembrance,” he teases. Sukuna turns his attention back towards you, giving an onslaught of kisses down your neck. In the meanwhile, he hikes your skirt down, leaving you only with a pair of panties left to cover whatever dignity you had left.

“She’s soaked,” he whispers, talking to himself as if you weren’t in the room. Almost by instinct you closed your legs, only for him to spread it apart for his perverted eyes to see. 

“I want to see you touch yourself,” he bluntly stated with absolutely no shame at all. “It’s the least you can do after I gave you such an intricate lesson.” 

You turn immediately red at the memory. 

He pecks your flushed cheeks, before moving to peck your nose. “You’ve done such a good job for me so far,” he praised. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now~” 

“W-Who said I was?” you stubbornly stuttered out loud, trying to hide your nervousness (although failing majorly). 

Sukuna laughed before helping you out of your shirt. And before you know it, your bra is off within seconds, leaving you bare for him to witness. The only piece of clothing you have left is the panties he oh so graciously left on, although you doubt it did anything to hide how naked you felt. 

Sukuna bites his lips, the corners of his mouth raised ever so slightly. ‘She’s going to be the end of me,’ he thinks, watching you as you hesitantly reach for your tender breasts, squeezing your pebbled nipples. 

He snaps the band of your panties, then slowly—almost teasingly—raking it down your thighs. Sukuna licks his lips, staring at your wet, leaking pussy. He almost swears it called his name. 

Moving one hand down, you reach for your clit, softly circling around it. You focused on looking at your hand, almost physically unable to look up at Sukuna, worried your heart would stop if you were to see his face. 

You continue to pleasure yourself, although unable to reach your high. Much to your displeasure, you never had the experience of reaching an orgasm ever since finding out about the wonders of womanhood at the age of 16. Sure you’d watch videos and read tons of articles on how to reach an orgasm, but never once have it worked for you. At some point, you accepted the fact that you were physically incapable of orgasming. 

Under the careful watch of Sukuna’s eyes, he seemed to have noticed you have reached a plateau. “Here, let me help you,” he murmured. Taking your hands in his, he guides you, pressing your fingers down firmer on your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

At some point, your hands ended up clenching his wrists, as he directly played with your clit instead. Suddenly feeling a new sensation, you panic. “Haa! Ngh! W-wait. I feel like I’m going to–” 

He keeps going. And in that moment, you lose yourself. Completely. Your body spasmed underneath his watchful gaze, like a predator watching its prey. And underneath that primal gaze was one of sadistic pleasure, just waiting to strike.

Sukuna bites the insides of his mouth, trying to hold himself back from listening to the voices in his head, telling him to pound you down on the couch at this very moment. He clenches his hands into a fight fist, drawing blood. 

Million of thoughts surges through his head. It’s like a tangled mess of desires and reason, pulling him in every direction at once. He wants you. He can’t deny that. 

However, as much as he yearns for you, he reminds himself of the facts. You’re not here for that. He wasn’t here to be your lover, or to play the part of some fairy-tale prince in the background of your life. No. In fact, he’s far from that. If anything, he’s like a starving wolf just waiting to devour you at any moment. 

Sukuna was doing you a favor. That’s all it was. He’s not a romantic interest. It was simply a one night stand— just minus the fucking. And wouldn’t it be so much better if you remember your first time with the person you choose to love rather than an impulsive decision to fuck around with your boss one night. Yeah. He nods to himself internally. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Sukuna silently waits as you come down from your high. Labored breathing fills the room. 

“How is it?” he asked smugly. 

You take a few more gulps of air before answering. “Good.” 

“Just good?” 

You pouted at his teasing. “What? Do you want a rating?” 

Sukuna laughed in response. “I wasn’t expecting that but now that you mention it, I’m curious.” 

Smiling, you rolled your eyes. “4.9 out of 5.” 

Sukuna’s eyebrows raised. “4.9? Where did my missing 0.1 go?” 

From your position, you playfully kicked the side of your abdomen. “It’s for your ego. Someone needs to keep it in check.” 

Sukuna chuckled darkly, clearly entertained by your response. “Is that so?” he mused, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re the one keeping it in check, then.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-wary. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He doesn’t answer. His only response was playfully taking a bite on the same leg that kicked him. Feeling the strong urge to respond back to his teasing, you take your other free leg to nudge the prominent bulge in between his legs. 

A low groan escapes his lips. “Fuck. You’re going to end up murdering me in cold blood one day.” 

To your surprise, he slides himself off the couch and stands up. 

“Wait!” You grabbed his wrist before he could walk away from you. “But what about you?” You reach for his erection, only for him to stop you. 

“Don’t worry about me, princess.”

Your eyes filled with worry. “But I want you to feel good too.” 

You watched as Sukuna cursed under his breath. He pushes you back down on the couch, joining you once more. “Safe word is red. Red to stop, yellow to slow down, got it?” 

You nod. Unbuckling his belt, unzipping the zippers of his trousers, he finally gives himself slight relief when he takes out his cock. 

8 inches in all its glory. Hard. Flushed red, with a bead of pre-cum peaking through at the tip. 

In your head, you do a mental backflip. Never mind. You take it back. You don’t think that’ll fit anyways. 

“Close your legs together,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. Although he says that, he’s the one closing the gap between your legs, proceeding to place them on his shoulders. Speechless, you watched as he brought his cock closer and closer to you until he’s placing it between your lips, coating his appendage with your cum. 

“Haah... Oh!” You're surprised when he drags his cock over your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. You could have sworn you got even wetter than you already were. 

Once wet, Sukuna takes his time, slowly sliding his cock between the plush flesh of your thighs. He groans, his head falling back as you watch his Adam's apple throb. 

Sukuna starts out slow. Apart from your labored breathing, you could hear the wet faps everytime he moves his hips, gliding his cock cover your wet cunt. A sob of pleasure washes over you when his cock brushes against your clit. You came, your entire body convulsing with overstimulation. 

By this time, Sukuna had quickened his pace, the couch sliding across the floor with each drag of his hips. With his cock pumping in and out, he gave your thighs the same hue of red as the flush on your cheeks. 

“I’m going to–” With a loud groan, Sukuna came. Thick, hot strands of his cum splattered on your stomach, with a few drops reaching your breasts as well. He continues to half-heartedly thrust until his high faded. Panting heavily, eyelids fluttering, he takes his sweet time memorizing the image of your body rightfully decorated with his seeds. If he were to be hit with a truck right now, he would die a happy man. 

Snapping back to reality, Sukuna gently places your legs down, turning towards the coffee table to grab a few tissues. When he glanced back towards you, his eyes widened. 

You were sat up—prettily so, he might add—licking his cum off your fingers. At the sight, Sukuna Jr. became hard again, ready for round two. Sensing his stare, you looked right back at him, a smirk adorning your lips. Maintaining eye contact, you gathered the rest of his cum on your fingers, licking it once more. 

'What a damn minx,' the man thought, unable to take his eyes off you. His eyes darkened, wanting to revert back to his primal urges to just take you for himself. 

Fuck him. 

Sukuna smashes his lips against yours, tasting the remnants of himself. But no matter, because all he could focus on at the moment was you.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to the bathroom. 

Once inside, he places you on the vanity. “Let’s not go any further he tells you,” he insisted, nudging his forehead against yours. You cocked your head to the side, confused. “If we go any further, I don’t think I can control myself.” 

‘Then don’t,’ you thought. 

Sukuna was really hanging on his last thread here. Thankfully for him, you just nodded, deciding to not push the matter any further. 

Friday, December 27th 

Cold. 

It was cold. 

The warmth of the blankets is the only thing that keeps the biting chill of the morning from nipping at your cheeks and nose. You snuggle deeper into them, wishing you could just stay there forever. As you shift, you feel the soft, steady pressure of his arm around you. You awaken, heart quickening, not used to another human presence in your bed. 

Noticing who the person was, you immediately relaxed. Although that came to a quick stop, once you noticed the shirtless torso staring right back at you. Glancing down, you realized you were naked too. 

Fully awake now, you race through your memories of last night. Right after your… uhh… Sukuna’s assistance in helping you further understand your womanhood, he brought you to the bathroom. You two then made out on the bathroom vanity. Then, the two of you showered. He was shampooing your hair and then… blank. 

You couldn’t remember anything after that. 

Crap. 

You looked at the man beside you, his face impossibly serene. His hair is adorably messy, strands falling across his forehead, and his lips are slightly parted as soft breaths escape him. The sight makes your heart swell, bringing a grin to your face. 

Carefully, you reach out, feeling mischievous, you gently booped his nose. The contrast between your cold touch and his warmth stirs him. He scrunches his nose, his lashes fluttering as he slowly blinks awake. His sleepy eyes meet yours, and lazily blinks for a few seconds. He then wordlessly nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing in your scent. 

A soft, muffled groan escapes him as his nose brushes against your skin. “Cold,” he mutters groggily, his voice a deep rumble that makes you giggle. Despite his complaint, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter, effectively trapping you against his warm, bare chest.

“Good morning,” you greeted, running your fingers through his messy hair.

“Mornin’,” he yawns back. 

For a moment, the two of you linger in the warmth of the blankets, both wordlessly agreeing that you guys would much rather stay in your current positions for the rest of the day. But the sound of your alarm buzzing from the nightstand breaks the spell. He groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Nope. I refuse. Let’s just call in sick.”

You laugh, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “We can’t do that, Mr. CEO. Come on, get up.” He pouts in response and you can’t help but inwardly squeal at how much he seems to resemble a sulky cat. 

Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, and the two of you begin to prepare for the rest of the day. After a quick shower together and a few shared glances in the mirror, you both finish getting ready. 

The two of you step out into the crisp morning air, making your way to his car as frost glimmers like delicate lace on the windows under the pale light. He starts the engine, the heater sputtering to life and gradually filling the cabin with warmth as you settle into the passenger seat.

The drive to work is quiet and peaceful, with soft music playing on the radio. You steal a few glances at him, watching the way his hands grip the wheel and the faint concentration in his expression. It’s then you notice he’s wearing the same suit as yesterday—a subtle reminder that he hadn’t planned to stay the night. 

The car rolls to a stop in front of the towering company building, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the soft light of the winter morning. He parks in his usual reserved spot and turns to you with a warm smile. “Alright, don’t miss me too much,” he teases.

You roll your eyes playfully, getting out of his car. “Trust me, I won’t.” 

Inside, the hum of the office quickly pulls you into the rhythm of the workday. Emails flood your inbox, and tasks pile up as you try to focus, but it’s no use. Your thoughts keep drifting back to him—his voice, his annoying smirk, the way his hair was still slightly messed up this morning, and his cock.

Stop. 

You find yourself staring blankly at your computer screen, rereading the same line of text over and over. 

“Mr. Ryomen! How can I…” 

Your ears perk up at his name, and before you can stop yourself, your head turns toward the source of the voice. From your desk, you catch a glimpse of him on the other side of the room. He’s speaking with one of the department heads, his expression serious yet calm as he listens. Occasionally, he nods or gestures slightly with his hand. But it’s the subtle quirks you notice—the way his lips twitch as if suppressing a smirk, or how he adjusts his cufflinks absentmindedly. 

For a brief moment, he glances in your direction. You immediately snap your eyes back to your screen, your cheeks burning, praying he didn’t catch you staring.

But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You keep your eyes glued to your monitor, trying to make yourself look busy, but it’s no use. You can feel him before you even see him.

“Daydreaming already?” his voice rumbles softly, a teasing edge to his tone.

Your head snaps up to see him standing beside your desk, hands casually tucked into his pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“N-No, of course not,” you stammer, straightening in your chair. “Just...focused.”

“Focused?” he echoes, raising a brow as his eyes flick to your screen. “On an empty email draft?”

You glance at the monitor and cringe inwardly. “I was...thinking about how to word it,” you say quickly, trying to salvage your pride.

He chuckles, leaning in slightly so only you can hear. “If you’re this distracted, maybe I should’ve kept you in the car a little longer.”

Your face grows impossibly hotter, and you glare up at him. “Aren’t you busy?” You shoo him away with your hand.

“Plenty,” he says smoothly, his grin widening. “But I couldn’t resist checking on my favorite employee.” Before you can respond, he straightens and takes a step back. “Carry on, then.” With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you flustered and unable to focus for the rest of the day.

Usually, you would take the overtime—but not today. Today, the idea of staying longer just feels unbearable. You left the minute the clock struck 5. You practically race to the elevator, your pulse quickening with every step. The doors close behind you with a soft chime, and as the elevator descends, you feel a small sense of relief wash over you.

By the way, on your walk home, you stopped by an adult store. From there, you quickly bought a dildo (you tried to find one a similar length and girth as you know who) and scurried your way back home. 

Saturday, December 28th 

You came into work on a Saturday, mainly because there’s a pile of leftover paperwork that you didn’t manage to finish before you left yesterday. And you blamed Sukuna for it. 

The quiet hum of the building is quite a stark contrast to the bustling energy it usually has during the weekdays. You manage to finish fairly quickly with no distractions, particularly with the absence of a certain pink haired tattooed man. By the time you’re done, you stretch your arms above your head, the tension in your shoulders easing as you stand and walk around to shake off the stiffness from sitting too long. You glance at the clock—it’s still early enough for lunch.

As you head to pack up your things, you’re startled by the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up to see Sukuna, eyes scanning the room with mild curiosity.

His eyes land on you, widening. “You’re here on a Saturday?” he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, just wrapping up some stuff,” you answer, grabbing your bag and shrugging. “Had a little bit left from yesterday.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, walking over to you. “Well, since you're done with your ‘extra work,’” he says, “how about joining me for lunch in my office? I could use the company.”

You hesitate for a second. You're not exactly opposed to the idea, but considering the guy who’s asking you out to lunch is the very person driving your head mad, it's not exactly the easiest invitation to accept.

But then again, it’s just lunch, right? 

You offer a half-smile, trying to mask the lingering uncertainty. “Alright, I’ll join you,” you say, trying to sound more casual than you feel.

Sukuna smiles back at you, the corners of his lips twitching upward in that signature smirk. He walks towards the elevator with you following suite.The two of you step into the elevator, the soft chime signaling its ascent. For a moment, the only sound is the soft hum of the machinery. 

Suddenly, the elevator jerks, causing you to stumble slightly. Sukuna grabs you by the shoulders, steadying you as the lights start to flicker. You glance over at Sukuna, who doesn't seem too alarmed, but the furrow of his brow tells you he’s noticed it too.

"Did it just stop?" you ask, voice laced with surprise.

"Seems like it." His voice is calm, though you can detect a hint of frustration in his usually smooth tone.

You both glance at the display, watching as the floor numbers refuse to change. 

Fuck you, elevator. 

Sukuna pulls out his phone, his fingers swiftly tapping away on the screen. “I’ll text maintenance,” his tone is clipped. You watch as his fingers fly over the keys, typing a quick message. He pauses for a moment, then taps send.

Luckily for him, maintenance responded to him immediately. Sukuna scans the text message for a few seconds before raising his head to look at you. “Apparently, the whole building is out of power. It'll take about half an hour before the power starts running again.”

You blink, trying to process the information. "The whole building?" you echo, glancing at the elevator walls as if expecting the entire structure to come crashing down.

He gives a nod, his gaze narrowing as if he’s already over the inconvenience. “Yep. Looks like we're stuck here for a while.” He pauses, checking the time on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket. Sukuna’s lips twitch into a half-smirk as he takes a step closer, the space between you now noticeably smaller. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, then.”

“Well, you're not exactly the worst company to be stuck with, though,” you admit. You find yourself thinking about that one time you were stuck with Alan from finance and Jeffrey from HR. Alan, bless his soul, stayed silent in a corner the whole fifteen minutes, trembling out of fear. On the other hand, Jeffrey was consistently trying to flirt with you the entire time, probably breaking a few HR protocols here and there. The irony. 

You scoff thinking about it.  

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking over to you. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You got a problem with being stuck in small spaces or something?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that," you quickly reply, trying to brush it off. “Just... thinking about some interesting elevator experiences I’ve had.”

He smirks, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, clearly not buying your quick explanation. “Hmm, sure. Sounds like you’ve got some interesting stories,” he muses. 

Closing the space between the two of you, he traps you against the walls of the elevator, leaving you no room to move. “Speaking of interesting stories, I heard from a few little birdies you left early yesterday.”

You stiffen, taken off guard by the sudden proximity. His smirk deepens as he leans in just a bit closer, his breath warm against your cheek. You can feel the pulse of his presence more than ever now, the space between you thick with tension.

“Did I?” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe I just had things to do.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, his gaze intense as he watches you carefully. “Is that so?” His tone is teasing but holds a hint of something more dangerous. He doesn’t move back, instead, his hand gently rests against the railings behind you, trapping you in place. “I find it funny how Ms. Overtimer decided to leave at 5 o’clock sharp. She couldn't have been trying to avoid someone, was she?” 

What was this? An interrogation? 

You swallow, unable to escape the directness of his gaze. “N-no. Like I said, I had stuff to do.” 

His smirk deepened. “And what would that be?”

You flushed, thinking back on your nightly activities yesterday. The voices from the “How To Give A Good Blow Job” video you were watching yesterday echoed through your head. 

What’s important with a blow job is to use lots of saliva to make it really wet. 

When you approach a penis, it’s very important to…

Go all the way, but don’t just lick the tip.

You don’t just lick it like a lollipop or like an ice cream cone, you really put it all in your mouth.

The next thing you thought of was the porn videos you watched right after that, as you tried to imitate the actions of the porn star on the dildo you just bought. 

As you snap back to reality, you’re faced with Sukuna’s arrogant looking face staring right back at you. “I’ll tell you what I did,” he rasps into your ear. “The moment I got back home, I fucked my fists, pretending it was you.” 

His hands reach underneath your shirt from the back, gliding over the hooks of your bra. “I thought of your drenched little pussy, bouncing on my cock, clenching around me, cumming again and again, just begging for more.” 

Your pussy throbs from his words. Before you know it, you wrap your arms around him, kissing him like your life depended on it. 

At some point you parted for air, gazing up at him through hooded eyes. Playing with his trousers, you bend towards his ear, whispering, “Do you know what I did? I bought myself a dildo, the size of your cock.” His hold around you tightens. Teasingly, you bite his ear, causing him to groan. “Do you know how hard I worked yesterday? Trying to suck that piece of plastic because I wanted to surprise you with a good time.” 

You can’t even get another word out when Sukuna’s mouth is back on yours, trying to devour you until there’s nothing left of you but a damn puddle. Just when he’s about to strip you of your shirt, the elevator door gracefully opens as if it wasn’t stuck just moments ago. 

It didn’t even take a second before Sukuna pulled you into his arms, bringing you straight into his office. 

Safe to say, the two of you enjoyed each other for lunch. 

Sunday, December 29

You’re sitting on your couch, eyes glazed over as you skim through another round of work emails, when one subject line catches your attention: "New York Business Trip". Curious, you open it, expecting some mundane update or meeting schedule. 

Surprisingly, your company is sending you and a few others to New York for a new client. The email outlines everything: flight details, accommodations, and a packed itinerary filled with meetings. You blink a few times, rereading the email to make sure you’re not imagining things.

Ah. 

Well, you should probably get to packing. 

Monday, December 30 

The flight to New York was mundane at best. Luckily no crying babies were on the flight. 

By the time you got there, it was already nighttime. Tired and exhausted, you and your colleagues made your way to the hotel.

You quickly fell asleep, your mind rather occupied with work.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna had also flown into New York a day prior for his own business engagements. 

Tuesday, December 31

The client offers you a sincere handshake as they prepare to leave. After stepping out, a collective sigh of relief fills the room.

As the door clicks shut, one of your coworkers slouches dramatically in their chair, their voice heavy with complaint. "Ugh, I’m so tired. Do we really have to work so close to the new year?"

Another coworker, ever the optimist, chuckles and leans back in their chair. "At least we're in New York for the new year. I mean, that's gotta be pretty exciting, right?"

A third coworker, always the one with the best ideas, perks up with enthusiasm. "Why don’t we just celebrate tonight? Let’s hit a nice restaurant and make the most of being in New York. Who’s in?"

The idea quickly gains traction, and with a few enthusiastic nods, plans are made. The team agrees to head out together to celebrate.

You all decided on a restaurant by the pier, away from midtown which tended to be one of the busiest parts of the city during the new year. Drinks are poured, toasts are made, and the atmosphere quickly shifts from business to pure enjoyment. The laughter grows louder as more wine flows, the chatter about work now replaced with stories of company drama. 

“Jeffrey from HR got fired!” 

“No way! What happened?” 

“I heard he got caught trying to buy drinks with the company card!” 

“I heard he got caught harassing some of the female staff!”

“I heard…” 

“Classic Jeffrey,” a coworker mutters, shaking their head. “The guy was a walking HR violation. Good riddance.”

You laugh. “Funny, considering he’s HR himself.” 

Another coworker, slightly tipsy, raises their glass. “To Jeffrey’s unemployment!” Everyone laughs, raising their glasses in solidarity.

The conversation shifts as someone notices a familiar pink-haired man, sitting at a table behind you with a relaxed, almost amused expression.

"Wait, isn't that…?" One of the coworkers squints, their eyes widening. "Mr. Ryomen?!"

The room falls quiet for a split second, and all eyes turn toward him. There's a brief, stunned silence as the reality sets in. Sukuna raises a brow, sensing the sudden shift in attention. "No need to act so formal, people," he says, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "This is a celebration, not a board meeting. Dinner’s on me." At his words, the initial awkwardness disperses, a collective cheer erupting around the table. 

Sukuna's gaze drifts toward you, and for a moment, the chatter around the table fades into the background. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. The night continues, the laughter growing louder as more wine flows and the atmosphere grows more relaxed. Your coworkers are clearly enjoying themselves, their inhibitions loosening as they drink and joke.

Somewhere between the third round of drinks and the jokes about Jeffrey, Sukuna leans closer to you, his voice low as he addresses you. "You wanna head out?"

You glance around, noticing that the group is becoming more boisterous, a little too drunk for comfort. You nod, slipping out of your seat quietly, unnoticed in the haze of celebration.

The two of you walk side by side, his hand slipping into yours as he gently tucks it into the warm pocket of his winter jacket. Ending up by the pier where you can enjoy New York City’s cityscape alone, the two of you stood by the railing, the city lights shimmering in the distance, reflecting off the water below. The noise of the city feels distant here, leaving just the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the occasional hum of passing traffic. 

Sukuna stands close, his presence comforting and intense, but there’s an unspoken ease between you now. He watches you looking at the skyline, almost entranced by the city lights. He's entranced by the way your gaze softens, the flicker of wonder in your eyes, as if the city itself holds a kind of magic just for you.

His gaze drifts down to your face, the way the soft glow of the lights highlights your features, and for a moment, he forgets the world around him.

“You like it here?” he asks, his voice low, almost lost in the wind.

You nod, taking in the sight of the towering buildings, the lights that make the city pulse with life. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice quiet, but content.

Sukuna smiles, a rare, almost gentle curve of his lips.“You know,” he begins, his voice a bit more serious now. 

You turn to face him. “I like you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, the sincerity in his eyes undeniable. “More than I should.” 

Your face shifts to one of surprise before a smile spreads across your lips. “And?” you ask, a teasing edge to your voice as you try to coax more out of him.

Sukuna’s expression falters for a moment, a look of surprise crossing his features, as he didn’t expect for you to react so playfully, before his usual confidence returns. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming yet somehow comforting, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“And…” he murmurs, taking a breath as if steadying himself for something more. He tilts his head slightly, a small, almost playful glint in his eyes now. “This confession has been long overdue.” 

You cock your head to the side. “And?” 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. Cradling your face with both his hands, he pulls you gently toward him, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes soften, the playful glint still present, but there’s a sincerity now that you can’t ignore.

“Goddammit, woman,” he mutters, although there’s no trace of frustration or anger behind it. “And,” he starts again, voice quieter this time, “I want you.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“I need you.” 

Another tender kiss, this time to your nose, as if savoring the simple closeness of you.

“I love you.”

‘I've loved you ever since your stubborn ass appeared in that elevator,’ he thought. 

Without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s slow, deliberate, and full of all the things he hadn’t been able to say. The world around you seems to fade as the moment stretches on, leaving only the two of you, suspended in the quiet of the city night.

Sukuna closes his bedroom door behind you with a soft click, turning towards you once he locks the door. Crossing the short distance between the door and you with a few, casual strides, he helps you out of your coat, carelessly leaving it on the floor once off. Not even moments later, the rest of your clothes soon followed the fate of the discarded coat. 

Your body was bare before Sukuna’s affectionate gaze; vulnerable and utterly exposed to his wandering eyes. “You’re soaked, darling,” his silken cadence carrying a hint of teasing. It’s no surprise though, considering he fingered you in his car on the way to his New York City penthouse. 

“Put it in already,” you whine, tired of waiting. In fact, you’ve waited for exactly a week ever since the man took your first kiss and first orgasm. 

He bites your thighs in response. “Don’t you know patience is a virtue?” 

“Funny, I don’t remember signing up to be virtuous,” you muttered. 

He laughs in return. “Well, it’s not too late to start, but you might want to hurry.” You rolled your eyes. This man is insufferable. You start self-pitying yourself for falling for this man’s charms. 

Sukuna begins to pepper kisses down your thighs, before reaching the wet mess between your legs. He gives your cute cunny a wet, sloppy french kiss, causing you to squirm. Sukuna’s hands, however, found themselves wrapped around your thighs, preventing you from squirming away. 

Just when you’re about to reach your high, he parts from you, a frustrated whine permeates the air. He playfully tsks at you, shaking his head with a smirk. “What did I say about patience?” 

“I don’t want to hear that from you!” you exclaimed. “You’re impatient and far from virtuous, you pervert.”

“Me? Impatient? I held out for 4 years. Just when I could take you for myself, I cockblocked myself for a week.” He taps the head of his cock on your slit. “If anything, I’m the epitome of virtue.” 

“That’s bull– AH!” Your head smothered in the crook of his neck, legs trembling, your upper body falling limp to the dull aching pain in between your legs. 

On Sukuna’s end, he hisses from the way your virgin walls tighten around his length, his eyes half-lidded. “Shitt…” he curses breathily, the tightness of your pussy is almost too much for him. With the addictive way your walls wrap around his cock, he can’t help but yearn for more. He snaps out of his mind-fucked haze when he hears your quiet sniffles. 

Sukuna gently distracts you by petting your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he shushes you softly, the warmth of his hand grounding you. He licks away the tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eye. 

“You're an animal,” you croaked out. His fingers continue their gentle path through your hair, the action tender but possessive. 

“Shouldn’t that be obvious by now?” he murmured, silencing your whimpers with a deep kiss. One of his fists, curled so tightly, draws blood, as he holds back a debauched smile from appearing on his face. His breathing is labored, each exhale coming out in sharp bursts, but his eyes—those predatory, crimson eyes—remain locked on you with an intensity that borders on dangerous. The control he’s desperately clinging to is beginning to fray. That debauched smile of his still doesn’t quite break free, but if you were to open your eyes, you can see it lurking, threatening to spill over at any moment. 

Right. This is why he was so hesitant about claiming you as his. Because once he did, his possessiveness would consume him entirely, and no amount of restraint could keep him from acting on the wild urge to mark you, to own every inch of you. It’s why he had kept his distance, why he had let the silence stretch between you for so long. But now, with you so close, with your scent filling his senses, it was clear he had waited too long.

The struggle within him intensifies, the weight of his desires battling with the need to maintain decent dignity, but seeing the frown on your lips tugged on his fucked-up sense of morals. So, he patiently waits until your legs are no longer trembling. Kissing the palm of your hands, he asks, “Can I start moving now?” 

You respond with a breathless yes. As you wished, he started moving with carefully curated, slow thrusts. Your mind fills with confusion, unable to figure out the difference in the waves of twisted pain and pleasure you feel with each drag of his hips. 

Sukuna bends down to your tits, taking your pebbled nipple in his mouth, while teasing the other one with his hands. “So fucking tight,” he rasps, parting from your sensitive bud, leaving only but a string of saliva. 

God, this pussy will be the end of him. You will be the end of him.

‘Aren’t you the most prettiest thing,’ he thinks to himself.  

On the other hand, you feel too overwhelmed to even think. You pant through each tactful thrust of his, your hands clutching onto his bed sheets to ground yourself. Feeling the specific drag against your g-spot, you let yourself go without warning. 

Feeling your pussy clench wildly around his appendage, Sukuna curses, attempting to pull out but ultimately failing when your cunt just sucks him right back in. A choked up laugh bubbles from his throat, as he submits himself to pleasure, releasing his sperm right into your cavern. When he pulls out, he savors the scene of your stretched hole pulsing wildly yet clenching around nothing. 

Sukuna gives you a quick kiss on your lips, symbolizing a job well done, before walking towards his mini fridge to get beverages for the both of you. Disregarding your aching lower half, you sat up from your position, watching your lover—butt naked—tinkering with the items in the fridge. 

You stare into space when you think about how… soft he was with you. You almost wonder if somehow a ghost took over his body the few times he was intimate with you. You knew that man had a penchant for torturing his bed partners with pleasure. It was almost common knowledge with anyone who has interacted with anyone from Silvia’s high society circle. Or any one of the Sukuna’s past flings. You, neither in Silvia’s circle nor friends with any of Sukuna’s past flings, only relied on the words from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a… you get it. 

Anyways, his gentle demeanor with you almost deceptively deceives you of his true nature in bed. As delighted as you were by his ability to approach you with such surprising gentleness, you wanted to know the full extent of Sukuna’s… bedtime habits, so to speak. 

There’s a saying: Curiosity killed the cat. 

So don’t say this narrator didn’t warn you beforehand. 

You snap back from your thoughts when you realize Sukuna was heading back towards you with two bottles of water. He opens the cap for you before handing you one of the bottles, placing the edge of the bottom on your forehead, a gesture that takes you by surprise. The coolness of the bottle against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, sharply contrasting the lingering memory of his body heat pressed so close to yours.

You take the bottle, mumbling a quiet thank you, before taking a few sips. He hums in response, proceeding to take a drink from his bottle himself. You watched his Adam's apple bob with each swallow, the movement oddly captivating. 

“Don’t you think you’ve been holding back?” you stated as a matter of fact. 

He stops drinking, looking at you over the rim of his bottle, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing your words. The silence hangs between you, thick with anticipation. Slowly, he lowers the bottle, twisting the cap back on. His gaze never leaves yours, sharp and calculating, like he’s trying to read the real meaning behind your statement. 

“You’re way too eager to push me,” he murmurs, his lips licking off the excess moisture from the liquid. “You should be more worried about your wellbeing than the rumors floating around about my sexual preferences.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, putting a strand of hair behind your ears. 

You slap that hand away, pouting. “Well, if you’re not going to fuck me properly, I’ll just go find someone else to do it,” you state, preparing to stand from your spot and pretend to leave the room. 

Sukuna clenches the empty plastic bottle in his hand, the sound of crushed plastic permeating in the room. 

“Sit down.” He pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. 

The command is simple, but it cuts through the air with a force that makes your body freeze, your movements halting mid-step. There's no mistaking the tone in his voice—low, dangerous, and absolute. The room feels smaller now, the air in the room somehow thickens.

You hesitate, eyes flickering between his clenched fist and the way his gaze remains locked on you, as though daring you to challenge him. And despite yourself, you do end up sitting on his lap, his arms immediately cradling you against his body. He grazes his teeth on your shoulder, before actually biting, drawing blood. 

Startled, you flinch. However, with Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you, you couldn’t move nor could you run away. 

“You’re being such a brat,” he slurred, sounding drunk on your smell. He brings his other hand to caress your cheeks, “And here I thought you were my good little girl.”

Your heart quickens with excitement, the pulse in your chest pounding louder than ever. It’s a heady mix of anticipation and the raw thrill, the tension between you both so thick it’s almost suffocating. 

"Am I not being good enough for you?" you asked with a hint of mock innocence, feigning ignorance. You intwine your hands with his, nuzzle your face into the palm of his hands. 

“If you were, we wouldn’t be in this position,” he rasps, his self-control hanging by a thread just waiting to snap at the right moment. Your breath hitched slightly when he runs his large, calloused hands around your sides before stopping by your ass cheeks to fondle it. His voice was low and husky as he spoke, filled with a barely restrained lust. "You're being a dangerous tease right now, love.” 

“Dangerous?” you mused, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. “Why am I so dangerous?” You began to slowly grind your hips against his, gently rocking in his lap. 

Sukuna's hands clenched tightly on to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he felt your body move against him, creating a torturously good friction. “Precisely because of this,” a hint of a growl escaping from his lips.

You purposefully let out a loud unabashed moan as you continue to rub yourself against his tattooed thighs, hoping to crumble whatever’s left of his self-control. Pushing out his cum from earlier, you smear it all over his thighs. “Oops,” you gasped, faking your astonishment. “Sorry for making such a mess, Kuna. You know I couldn't help myself,” you taunted, unknowingly signing a sealed deal for the absolute annihilation of your body for the next morning come. 

Snap 

The very next second, you’re thrown onto the bed. You look behind you where his large and strong frame hovers over yours. You don’t even get a chance to savor the look on his face when he grabs you by the hair, pushing your head face down into the mattress. 

“That’s it. Shut it, you cock hungry slut.” 

Oh! So there’s that sadistic pervert of a man you know and love. 

Inserting his fingers into you, he starts targeting your g-spot, probing at that one spot on purpose! 

“That’s enough!” you protested, your legs shaking from quite possibly overstimulation.  

He doesn’t stop, pretending as if he didn’t hear. After a while of constant whining on your end and absolutely zero reactions on his, you attempt to crawl away from him, the sensation far too overstimulating for you. Your plan comes to a foul stop however, when he drags you back with a sharp pull by your legs. 

Your head snapped back to look at him, his eyes burning holes into your skull, looking absolutely furious with you. “I thought you wanted to fuck around and find out?” A hand comes down onto your ass cheek. “I’m giving you exactly what you asked for, so why are you running away?” 

Exactly, why are you running away? You give yourself a mental prayer, before deciding to absolutely stop using your head and to start thinking with your cunt instead. 

Sukuna presses his body up against yours, his weight almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Practically accepting the position you're in, you wholly welcome his cock sliding into your needy pussy. 

“You’re probably the best cock sleeve I’ve come across so far,” he groans. “Probably because of that slobbering pussy of yours.” He forces two fingers into your mouth, a mad grin spreading across his face when he feels your tongue swirl around his digits. “Right,” he thrusts even harder, causing you to gag on his fingers, “and I can't forget about that slutty mouth of yours.” 

Fuck. Was it just you or did his cock just get bigger while inside? 

You can’t even focus for long when he’s prone boning you into the mattress like the pleasure-drunk sadist he is. 

Each time he looks down at you with those glazed eyes.

Each time he pushes into you. 

Your mind goes blank from pleasure. 

The vulgar sounds of flesh on flesh echoes in your ear, filling up your head til you can’t think of anything else. 

Panic arises in you, snapping you out of your euphoric haze when you suddenly feel the need to pee out of nowhere. With a sudden surge of clarity, as if flipping a switch, you quickly inform Sukuna of your urgent matter. Or at least you try to— through the moans, pants, screams, and incoherent ramblings. 

Weirdly enough, even through all that, he surprisingly understands your intended message quite well. Although his response is not one you expect. 

 “Go ahead,” he sneers. “Squirt, cum, piss as many times as you want. The sheets are dirty enough already.” 

“...Ngnhh. It feels… strange… good. O-h fuck!” You squirt—or was it piss, anywho it didn’t matter what it was—for the nth time that night. You're unsure how many times you came so far. But then again, who’s keeping count? 

“Say you love me,” he mutters under his ragged breaths. 

You don’t seem to process his words though. Thoroughly fucked over, the only sounds you make are absolutely obscene. “Ngh oh~ hahhh!” 

“Louder,” he demands, his cock pummeling into your aching cunt. “Say you love me. Come on. Say it feels good.” 

“Haa! Hngh! Oh!” Only unabashed moans escapes your lips, your mind too fucked to comprehend his words. 

“Did I already fuck you dumb?” he mocked, clearly unimpressed with your lack of decorum. That’s a lie. He’s reveling in pure joy 

Suddenly, he changes his pace, going obnoxiously slow.

You writhed in response, whines escaping your mouth. “Nooo,” you protest, missing the fast pace already. 

“No?” Sukuna slowly pulls out until his tip is only part enveloped by your warmth. “Weren’t you begging me to slow down earlier though?” 

You don't even remember if you said that. In fact, you can't recall any of the jumbled words that came out of your mouth. And for all you knew, he could've just made it up.

Fucked as you were, you could only respond with a mumble of incoherent whines.

In response, he spanks you, your pussy clenching in response, making him grin. “Aww, does my pretty little slut like that?” He spanks you one more time, pleased when your walls clenched around him once again. 

Now that he’s got your attention, he repeats his orders to you once more. Through thick tears of pleasure dripping down your face, you whisper, “I love you, Kuna.” 

Fuck. 

Now, you were really going to be the death of him. 

Not giving you a second to breathe, he pulls you towards the edge of the bed. Then, almost effortlessly, he holds you in the full nelson position. You’re surprised when he walks you towards the glass windows of his bedroom. From there, you could see the whole entire city of New York, its lights shimmering like a sea of stars beneath you. The skyline stretches far and wide, towering buildings casting long shadows across the streets, their lights flickering in rhythm with the pulse of the city. But more than that, you see the fucked-up position you're in, reflected in the glass windows. 

“Since you enjoy the view so much…” Sukuna slowly positions his cock to your needy cunt. You squeal the moment he penetrates, his heavy and thick cock mercilessly berating your slutty walls. “Enjoy it while you can!” 

He brings you down on his cock, harder with every pound. Expectedly, your vulgar juices trickle down his 8 inch cock with every drag of your hips, creating a white ring around the base of his cock. 

“Kuna– I- ngh! Tooo-oooo d-deep! It’s too much!” 

Your words cause Sukuna to chuckle. Too much? Too much? Your pussy sure didn’t think so, welcoming each thrust with open arms, even greedy for more. It sucked in his cock so well, getting tighter every time he tried to pull out. 

You interrupt his trance when you start chanting his name over and over again, the only warning he has until you squirt all over his cock, his floor, and his penthouse windows. He follows suit, pulling out his cock, and allowing his cum to join the mess you have already made. 

Feeling light-headed, he thirsts for air, deciding that your lips was the only remedy he wanted—needed, at this moment. 

In the midst of your kiss, fireworks sprung into the night sky, painting the sky with their brilliant lights. The colorful splatter of light shines through the windows of Sukuna’s New York penthouse. 

Wednesday, January 1

Your attention was briefly drawn to them as they sparkled and crackled above, their explosions echoing through the silence of the night.

Sukuna, his breath still coming in warm pants, looked up at the fireworks only momentarily before returning his crimson eyes back towards you, intense and unwavering. 

He places you down, his hand gently cupping your jaw, turning your head to the side. As the fireworks painted the sky with fleeting brilliance, Sukuna's lips found yours again, grounding you in a moment that felt timeless—far more profound than the fleeting lights above.

Author’s note: My apologies for any grammar mistakes in advance 🙇‍♀️ The fic ended up being longer than I expected, so I had to cut/summarize several scenes to ensure everything would fit on Tumblr.  Here are some of the plot points that I skimmed over (that were originally supposed to be stretched out into proper scenes): A shower scene y/n learning how to give a blow job using a sex toy Phone sex between the two the day y/n got the business trip email  And of course, the office sex scene

There’s a few more but that’s a secret for now haha. Anyways if any of you all are interested, please let me know

[sxorpiomooon]

What is 2025 going to be like for you? A pac reading

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Pile 1-

oooo you are going to be in your divine feminine era the ones who are trying to get pregnant might receive good news this year! However there's an evil man that I'm sensing that you must be careful about 🙏 this man is devil incarnate 🙏 ain't gonna do y'all any good to waste your time on this man and it won't be good. Now this is the fun part there's gonna be two guys and there will be a test and one of them is going to be a guy that I've told you about earlier and the other one will be completely opposite- will love to spoil you, very successful and well reputed, business and money minded, very stable, patient and gives you the princess treatment. It's almost as if you have to recognise and be precise about what you want. Lord I also think you guys might marry this guy or this will be very long term. The entire spread makes sense now my pile one choose wisely and you'll be set for life.

Pile 2-

Good year career wise and socially. I see you guys meeting new people and having fulfilling experiences with them. I keep hearing "fill your own cup" this pile will attend alot of parties or social gatherings this year and guess what you'll be the star of each and every one of them. You will meet new people that will turn out wonderful for you and you will go to new places too for some reason I'm seeing alot of travelling as well. You will also de well creatively this year are some of y'all sag risings in solar return lmao alot of travelling and spirituality. You will be making very significant and big amount of progress in your life whether it's going to be in the friendship aka personal sector or the professional sector. Alot of you have these shit on vision board bc I'm having visions. Alot of you will travel overseas I'm seeing crossing a river or ocean.

Pile 3-

This pile seems very exhausted with themselves especially of the mistakes that they've made or make so much that they almost wait for them to happen now. This year's gonna be chill for you guys it might start with you guys being bored actually the first half you might be more onto observing other people and what's happening I'm seeing y'all chugging alot of liquid and drinks this year tho? Very hydrated the body is going to look fabulous. Oooo there might be a focus on eating and drinking healthy I'm seeing matcha y'all got that grey clothes vision boards LmAAAAO those apple headphones😭😭😭. However I'd wish for you guys to use more kinder language with yourself? And I understand that discipline is important but discipline does not mean torturing yourself. Give yourself some breaks and don't get too obsessed with the idea of something. Learn to let go of it a little bit and have it chase after you I heard focus on the progress not on the result. This year you are going to make great progress tho I actually see you guys checking out your boxes and finding out that you've actually fulfilled all of your new years resolution. Huge self improvement this year. You go pile three!!!

[lcriedlastnight]

five times lando takes the lead + the one time you do | lando norris

○ tw: swearing, lando being cute, someone might find this a little toxic but i don’t so shh○

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c: 5k of me projecting. it was my birthday today so here’s a present!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

1.correcting your posture.

you had told lando way back at the start of the year that your new years resolution was to fix your posture. you didn't expect him to really take in what you were saying because he was swamped with work emails and all the other shit he had to do to get ready for pre-season. it was a simple passing comment, hell you guys weren't even official when you had told him about it. why would he remember something so insignificant about someone he was casually seeing?

well you just assumed that he wouldn't, maybe that was just because you can't really remember anything small thing he had said to you in the very early days of your relationship so it made you feel bad if he did.

it was safe to say you did not do well with your resolution and had almost completely forgotten that you had even made it a resolution in the first place but it seemed like lando hadn't.

it was a race week this week and you had the privilege of joining lando this. before jetting off halfway across the world both lando and oscar had been asked to join zak and andrea at mtc just to go over some things about the car and the upcoming race. to be honest you didn't really know why but lando had asked if you wanted to come and you didn't even think before you accepted.

it was very busy as lando drove you in towards the the car park in his flashy car, it always made you feel like a pop star when lando drove you around and lando did it because he knew you loved pretending the paps were following after you after they discovered you with your new man (lando). he found it cute.

"c'mon then, sweetheart. let's get this over and done so we can get on the plane." lando says as he holds a hand out to help you out of the car. you and lando were heading straight to the airport after this 'meeting' so you were both in clothes more on the comfortable side. both repping some sort of mclaren merch of course. yours was most likey stolen from the driver himself.

you both meet oscar as you walk in. he's by himself so you ask about his own girlfriend and if she was attending the race. oscar shakes his head sadly, telling you she's focusing on her studies and you can't help admire her for that. you have always had a soft spot for lily, just like lando has for oscar you're sure.

a member of staff heards the three of you into a meeting room where zak and andrea are already waiting. seeing them both next to each other always makes you a little nervous for some reason, you never know why and lando loves to make fun of you for it. they both greet the three of you with smiles and you feel lando move himself closer to you, not wanting to show basically any pda in front of his bosses but wanting you to know he was here and still thinking of you. he ends up so close to you that your arms are grazing against each other.

zak starts the meeting off and you can't lie, you aren't listening one bit but you hope to god lando is because oscar is asking questions and nodding his head like it's important. you worry though when his hand comes to the small of your back to rub there slowly. oh there is no way that boy is listening to a word that's being said. god help him.

you try to listen in for lando because he clearly cannot be trusted to do it himself. it's difficult to understand but you have a whole flight to ask your boyfriend what it all means as you catch him up.

you actually feel like you're on a roll and actually taking in what both men are talking about when lando throws you off completely. his hand that was resting on the small of your back comes to lay in the middle of your shoulder blades, ultimately straightening your posture. you already feel it at the bottom of your back and you feel the urge to sag back down again but lando's other hand is forcing you to stay in the position that he wants. it makes you feel warm but you try to push it to the back of your mind as you mentally take notes for the incapable boy.

the meeting wasn't too long, which now made sense in your mind as to why they didn't ask you all to take a seat but lando made you stand like that for the rest of the meeting. zak and andrea wish you both a safe flight before bidding everyone goodbye. oscar turning in his spot to exit the room and lando's hands forcing you to do the same. halfway down the corridor he removes both his hands and grabs your hand with one of his, now free ones. every time you drop your shoulders down you feel a little nudge and you are straightening up right away. lando squeezes your hand every time you do what he silently asks.

once you both are back in the car and lando is driving you both to the airport, that is when you ask him about it.

"what was all of that about?" you ponder, eyes flitting all over his pretty face as he drives like it's his second nature (it one hundred percent is).

"didn't you say you wanted to straighten your posture up?" lando questions, like he actually looks confused on why you would ask him that. he's acting like it was a common occurance but it doesn't piss you off, no instead you just smile. you just can't believe he remembered something so small and boring about you and tried to make it happen when you forgot about it.

the flight was filled with you trying to explain what it was exactly that zak and andrea had told you and oscar in the meeting room at mtc.

2. he keeps you feeling safe.

it was a really good race for lando today, he had begged you to come out clubbing with him which had made no sense to you whatsoever because wasn't going out clubbing a way to de-stress without your girlfriend? well it didn't matter what you thought because lando was literally on his knees in front of you in your hotel begging you to come. of course it was a joke and he was doing it get a laugh out of you so you would accept his offer but it really set you off balance seeing lando like that.

he was supposed to be the one that made you feel like getting to your knees and begging for something, joke or not. getting a taste of the roles being reversed made you wish for the way it usually was with the two of you. you didn't do too well with change.

"okay, okay, if i agree will you get up?" you ask him, the change clearly sends waves of discomfort through your body and because lando knows you too well, he knows this.

lando smirks up and you and replies with a simple, "yeah."

that's how you end up jumping into a quick shower to get yourself ready for the night ahead. lando is also in the hotel bathroom while you're showering. he makes sure to make his presence known as he clatters about, searching through his toiletry bag for his (your) favourite cologne. you love the homely feeling that rushes through you as lando makes conversation with you as a way of staying close to you when you're getting ready. he never fails to make you feel wanted.

you don't know how this is the first time since you had started dating lando that you were both going clubbing together because you were sure it was known worldwide that he loved a good night out. it made you feel special that he wanted you to come with him tonight. and to celebrate an amazing weekend, not just for lando but for the whole team. you hoped oscar and lily would be making an appearance, you had missed spending time the girl and you were both a little more introverted than some of the other wags, so you knew that if she was there you would have someone the entire night. not that you were expecting lando to leave you alone - you were just planning for a worst case senario.

lando walks over to you as you're standing in the bathroom trying to slip in a pair of earrings he had actually gotten you before you had even started dating, in front of the vanity mirror. you were struggling, you couldn't remember the last time you had a reason to wear earrings, never mind ones this fancy.

the brunette's arms snake around your waist as his chin sits on your shoulder, admiring you from the mirror. you looked beautiful to him everyday but in this dress? he remembers picking it out for you when he was at a boutique in japan earlier this year and just imagining you in it made his heart race. this had been the first time you had worn it besides the time you tried it on for him after he brought it home for you.

"look at you. don't know how i'm going to keep my hands off of you tonight, love." lando speaks into your shoulder, leaving soft, gentle kisses in his wake. his words make you flustered but you have no time to respond because lando is talking again.

"osc and lily are outside in a car waiting for us. i'm pretty sure max is coming out too." lando murmurs, a subtle demand for you to hurry up and get downstairs, which you blindly follow.

your eyes light up at the mention of your fellow mclaren wag tagging along. lily, like you, was never one for clubbing and to be honest neither was oscar but you knew how great of a weekend this was for mclaren and weren't too surprised the young australian wanted to join you and your boyfriend in the celebrations. you were surprised that his girlfriend was coming though. surprised and elated.

lando just smiles at the delight in your eyes before giving the back of your dress a light tug to get you moving. minutes later you're clinging to his arm as you are both exiting the fancy hotel lobby and out into the mild evening. you see the car waiting for you as soon as you leave the spinning doors.

the ride to the fancy club was filled with you chatting away to lily, the poor girl couldn't get a word in edgeways but she didn't seem to mind much, just listening to your work stories with a grin on her face, nodding when it was polite to do so. if you didn't know someone you were proper shy and never mustered up more than a simple sentence or two, but if you knew the person? god, let's just hope they brought earplugs because it was almost impossible to shut you up.

the night had been going perfectly and to your knowledge it still was. you were stood up at the bar with lando while you waited on your drinks and lando was talking to some guy, you didn't listen to his name because to be quite frank, you didn't really care what it was.

as much as lando was one for showing you off and wanting to constantly have his hands on you, he was never one for doing it in public, where he couldn't control who see what. it just never sat right with him so he just kept it as minimal as possible with hand holding. you knew this so of course you didn't try and force him to do anymore, even though you were a very clingy drunk.

so when lando comes to stand directly behind you and wrap his arms around you, just like back at the hotel in front of the mirror, it shocks you. you knew lando was barely drunk so you had no clue why he was getting so touchy with you, especially when he was mid conversation with someone. you don't want to interrupt his conversation by asking him why so you just lean into his touch and continue waiting. it isn't long before the bartender slides your drinks across the table, apologising for the wait. you shrug it off and spin in lando's hold to give him his drink.

"thank you, love." lando smiles and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. in your intoxicated state it makes you all blushy and giggly. you're sure you hear lando make up some excuse about having to leave before he's leaving the man at the bar and moving you back to the booth, back to all your friends. as you sit down at the edge, lando stands in between your legs, looking down at you with what can only be described as heart eyes.

"what was all that about?" you ask him, gentle eyes peering up at his. lando's gaze darkens just as touch as you question him about his sudden urge to touch you and hold you close. he shrugs before putting your drink onto the table and pulling your head close to his stomach.

"he was staring at your arse." lando answers simply, voice filled with possessiveness. you don't even respond, just smile into his loose fitting t-shirt. you notice your makeup stains it but lando wears it proudly, wanting everyone to know you are his.

3. he tells you what to do (in a sweet way)

a lot of people thought that lando telling you what to do and basically bossing you about was weird. you didn't think so but apparently almost all of your friends thought so. it wasn't like lando was mean about it, he was so fucking sweet to you all the time it literally made you melt sometimes. the way that anyone thought that lando wasn't head over heels in love with you baffled you to no end.

to explain, lando knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew what you wanted to eat before you had even realised you were hungry. you were so easy to read to him, but that meant that the driver also knew how indecisive you were and how anytime you were faced with a decision that was even mildly difficult your brain, quite literally, short circuited. it was something that up until you met lando and he had gotten to know you, that had caused you major problems. but now with lando here, he made the decisions for you because he knew what you wanted even when you didn't.

neither of you really stopped to think about how it would look to someone outside of your relationship because, well why would you? to you and lando, anyone else's opinion on your relationship didn't matter. at the end of the day it was what made you and your boyfriend happy. and this way just worked for you both.

the first time you noticed other people maybe gave a second thought to what you and lando had was when you were invited to a close friend of your sister's baby shower. you both had grown up together and since your older sister couldn't make it due to being on holiday at the time, she had invited you and told you to bring someone along with you. you didn't really know that men weren't really that common at a baby shower so you, of course, asked lando to accompany you.

you had to ask nicely for lando to take the most normal looking car he had so you two didn't stand out too much, not wanting to be the talk of someone else's baby shower. that would make you feel horrible.

your sister's friend cheers your name as she opens the door after you give a few polite knocks. you stand hand in hand with lando and you will never forget the look on her face when she saw him standing with you. you knew it wasn't because she recognised lando, but because there was a literal man at her baby shower. a man she didn't even know, nonetheless.

"hi. uh come on in?" it's phrased as a question, it's how you know the poor girl is still puzzled. you feel a little bad no matter how funny it is.

she leads both you and lando to a beautifully decorated gazebo, filled with baby pink banners. well at least you now know she's having a girl. you feel bad for lando more and more as you sit down on the free seats by the entrance and realise there are no other males here at all. you had to make it up to him later, you supposed. you told him as much but he shook his head and said he was going to have fun. you doubted that but let him believe it anyway.

a few drinks in and the previous tension that was lingering from not really knowing anyone here had disappeared and you were now chatting away now you had some of that liquid courage.

just as you finish up your conversation with the girl on your right (you know it's horrible but for the life of you, you can't remember her name) lando turns to you and says, "go and get a glass of water." and if that didn't raise a few eyebrows then you doing so without any hesitation whatsoever, would've.

what everyone didn't know though, was that you didn't want to get drunk at a baby shower and although you felt just the appropriate amount of drunk for an event like this, lando knew that anymore would tip you over the edge, hence his instructions. and you follow because why would lando tell you to do something if it wasn't in your best interest? you did have to admit though it was funny watching everyone silently lose their shit when you two did this. you both agreed it would never get old.

4. he helps you through a crisis

it was clear to anyone who knew the both of you that in your relationship, although you were both prone to worrying and panicking, you trumped lando. he had even begun to suspect you had some sort of unknown anxiety disorder from the silly little things you worried about.

the thing that shocked him most though was that you thought it was normal to feel like that, normal to worry about silly little things that don't really matter that much in your day to day life. ever since you had started waking up on your own you had set at least ten alarms on your phone and it annoys the fuck out of lando but he has never mentioned it to you because he knows the reasons behind it and yelling at you will do nothing but make you worry more. why do you set so many alarms for the next morning? well, because you may sleep in of course! lando understands that, of course he does, even though he doesn't really get the whole being worried about being late thing, he understands. it's when you set ten alarms when you both don't have any plans the next day. and when you sleep through every single one of them because he tired you out the night before. it killed him.

so it was safe to say you were a worrier, much more than your other half. even though you worry an abnormal amount, lando knew how to keep a level head and even learned how to talk some sense into your more sillier worries. this one wasn't one of those though.

you were due to start your brand new college course and god if you hadn't gone through every single situation that could go wrong in your mind about a million times until you had made yourself mentally sick. lando, obviously, noticed this and took you out for a day of buying new clothes and supplies that you would need for your course. bless his heart for trying to distract your horrible mind.

"what about here? does this do cute clothes? i liked that outfit they had at the window." lando mentions as he gestures to some store you had never set foot in before.

"not sure." is all you reply with. lando's not quite sure exacly where you are in your mind but he knows your travelling down that horrible, panicking road quite quickly and he needs to find a way to get your mind off of it and onto something else.

unfortunately, he isn't quick enough and you're halfway to a panic attack and right in the middle of the shopping square is the last place you want to have it. lando's thumb is swiping across your hand trying to ground you but it's not enough, you can feel the heavy pressing on your chest, like cement is filling it up.

lando can always tell when you're about to go into a panic attack. you either get quite and shut him out, trying to push him away (for some reason unbeknown to him) or you get mean and say a lot of stuff that you don't meant at all and regret almost as soon as you say it. this time you were quiet so lando tries to lead you somewhere less busy, wanting you away from everyone's eyes.

almost as soon as you're alone your breathing picks up and you just let yourself panic. you sink to the floor as you heave in breaths but lando is quick to follow you down to hold your hands and try and will you back to him.

"hey, c'mon now love. you know what to do. give me five things you can see." lando says, voice all warm and syrupy. it makes your insides melt and weirdly makes you feel better already.

although this way is a lot less demanding and raises a lot less eyebrows it's one you appreciate a ton, maybe even more than the others. it made you feel seen, like he actually knew you and wanted to help you even when you were at your most vulnerable and needed a helping hand into getting back to your normal, bubbly self again.

5. he distracts you without even knowing (he knows)

it's been said by many people many different times throughout the course of yours and lando's realtionship that you both know each other inside and out. it's so easy for people, like his fans who only get a glimpse into your time spent together, to see that you know each other like the back of your hand.

there is one specific moment that goes very viral on tiktok that you have to admit, anytime one comes up on your for you page you give save it to your favourites to watch during those times when you miss lando just a little more than usual.

lando can tell when your mind isn't one hundred per cent focused on something, just like you can tell when he is letting his mind wander to what film he was going to force you to watch later on that evening. the tiktok that had went viral was a prime example of this. lando's best friend, max had went live at the flat you and lando shared. you were supposed to be studying for an assignment you had to complete at the end of the week but instead both boys had ended up distracting you from your studies. it didn't bother you at all, or else you wouldn't have sat in the same room as them. okay maybe you would've but it wasn't your fault you were obsessed with your boyfriend.

max was answering some of the questions that were popping up in the chat as lando sat alongside him, chiming in whenever he felt it necessary. his eyes were focused more on you and what you weren't doing. you could tell by the stern look in his eyes that he was trying to tell you to get back to studying or else he would kick you out of the room so you would actually work, and you didn't want that so you put your head back down and try to focus.

it doesn't last longer than five minutes because max is then making a funny joke about the amount of times lando had tried to fix his toaster and failed and it kept you fairly distracted, much to lando's chagrin.

a few more stern looks were thrown your way and every time you focus back on your work, only to get distracted again minutes later. lando had never seen you so easily distracted before, it was actually quite amusing if he wasn't so bothered about you actually studying so you could pass the class and the assignment.

the next time lando sends you a look over the camera you aren't even watching him, eyes pretending to read whatever was on your own computer as you smile and try to hold a laugh in at whatever max was saying. this pissed lando off to an extreme he knew he shouldn't be at. he was just worried for you, you had told him the night before about how tonight was the only night you could pack this much studying in. he knew he shouldn't have let max stream here tonight. he knew his friend would serve as a great distraction from something you didn't even want to do in the first place.

once max quietens to read the stream you hear three firm taps on the table and although you have never heard anything of the sort before in your life, you just know it's lando telling you silently to get on with your work without saying it in front of the stream and making you both look bad. you wanted to keep some parts of your relationship out of the limelight and this one was one of them.

you shuffle around in your college bag and find your headphones, slipping them on to let yourself fully concentrate. the sight pleases lando and not just because you picked up on his silent gesture and actually listened to him but because you were doing what you said you had to get done today. lando was a firm believer in setting small goals, like studying for an hour, and achieving them. you knew for a fact that once max left, lando would be showering you with praise and kisses.

+1 you tell him what to do

you knew the dynamic in the relationship and you were not big on change at all nor were your instincts anything like your boyfriends. you always wanted to listen and never tell others what to do. you used to do that and you were called bossy, so you vowed never again.

you were quite happy with lando and how your relationship was but there was some times where you had to put a foot down and actually make a decision because this was something that lando maybe had no clue about.

you had just gotten home from what seemed like one of the most gruelling shifts at work and all you wanted was to come home and crash in lando's arms. all the way home your brain kept repeating, thank fuck it's friday and i don't have to anything tomorrow.

once you finally arrive home, it feels like entering the gates of heaven. that is until you notice that lando isn't in any of his usual places when you return home and instead is in front of your vanity mirror, applying some moisturiser on his face. he only does that when he's going out. the thought of him leaving right now makes you want to flip out but instead you keep calm and enter the room.

"hi, love." lando greets as soon as you slump into the room and trape towards him. you quite easily fall into his embrace. it's then that you notice he's wearing his going out clothes and that he was almost definitely going to be leaving you tonight. you nearly tear up just thinking about laying alone in your bed tonight because were you fuck in the mood for joining him tonight, not after the shift you just had.

you mumble back something you're sure can be considered a greeting and you rest your head in the crook of his neck. lando's arms move around your back as he hums all soft and gentle like. it's almost like he's trying to lull you to sleep while you're standing with him. you also catch a whiff of his aftershave and it makes you want to cry, he smells so good and exactly like how lando is supposed to smell. you need him to stay with you tonight.

"you goin' out?" you mumble once more, it's a miracle he can even hear you, but he does as he responds just as nicely as he did before. it almost makes you forget that he is planning on leaving you.

"yeah, it won't be a late one." he tells you.

you don't respond just let yourself rest in his embrace and cling on tighter every time he tries to pull away, telling you that he's going to be late if he doesn't leave right now. as if you actually cared. once it gets to the point where lando is desperately trying to get you off of him, that's when you finally speak up.

"you're not leaving me tonight. i need you here." you don't ask, you demand it. if he left you right now you were so sure that you would cry so hard and not stop until he came home. you were also in no state of mind or just state in general to be taking care or a drunk or even a tipsy lando. as much as you loved that version of your boyfriend, all you wanted tonight was to fall asleep in his arms to some dumb film that was on comedy central.

"i'm not?" lando questions, amused. before he can even say anything more your hands are gripping him harder and in turn that pulls him closer to you.

as it turns out lando isn't too keen on leaving tonight either and you both end up ordering a takeout and getting some snacks to have a cute night in with one another. it was exactly what you needed after this hell of a week. you didn't think you were even being demanding but lando always joked that this night was the most demanding he had ever seen you and he knew for a fact he loved it and wanted to see more of it. one thing lando loved more than anything was learning knew things about you.

[staryunaa]

heyy >w<

love your writing btw, do you write nsfw for Ness? (the bllk one)

tysm!!!

✦𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

ness eats you out!

context ☀︎* after a week of soccer matches, ness can’t help but miss you soo much!

a/n - one of my new years resolution was to post atleast one a week so…. expect like more rambles because like no way i can keep this up… I still need to finish old requests so yeah! ps if there’s errors or mistakes in my writing i recently did gel x nails soo…. plus im planning to create a hsr Valentine’s Day event!! enjoy hopefully!

content warnings - afab reader, barely proofread so beware of mistakes, pxssy eating, oral fixation ness, messy make out, ness is a yapper lol, a lil swearing, oral s*x, cunnilingus, smut

follows and reblogs appreciated! masterlist

“ahh! im soo glad you’re back ness!”

you tightly wrap your arms around ness, peppering kisses all over his face. ness flusters, melting a lil in your arms, he quickly returns your hug and quickly kissing you on the lips.

“i missed you too dear.”

he quickly leads you into the bedroom, placing his bags and gifts on floor. he adorably sits on the bed — tilting his head smiling at you.

“Oh- I got you some souvenirs from Spain! I found this cute little jellycat from France too!”

his blush deepening after realizing he’s been yapping on and on for more than 10 minutes now. he looked way too cute right now. you couldn’t resist him so after a few minutes.

“h-hah.. ♡ m-missed you.. t’so muchh!”

he runs his fingers through your hair, bringing your body closer to him — your chest pressed up against his. he holds the back of your head tightly making sure not to let go, his lips meets yours. your tongue brushes up against the corners of his mouth, kissing them softly.

he slowly makes his way down to your thighs, nipping at the exposed skin. he looks up at you, asking for permission and of course you say yes.

he carefully separates your legs, moving your panties aside — starting off with some simple kitty licks to your cunt, before going all in and sucking on your clit. you pant, not expecting for ness to be this bold. his hold on you, still tight as if you were the only thing left in this world. a new wave of heat filling your stomach, leaving you dazed.

his tongue working inside your aching cunt, as it dipped in and out making sure to give your clit some attention once in a while. a coil in your stomach starts to tighten, pleasure taking over your head — you cry out as your hips jolted forward. he was lost in the taste of your sopping cunt, his mouth covered in saliva and with one push of his tongue. your mind was spinning as you came on his face,

“f-fuck.. i love you ness..”

ps ness came undone after you said you loved him

[thepsychonyx]

I want to speak about why the second part of the Best-True ending of Dragon Age Veilguard pierced me so deeply. The Flycam screenshots are from Aru/Elf botanist (YT linked at the bottom).

To set the tone, the music established the emotive themes of the scene. It speaks to the Lost Elf theme- however it is forever changed and lighter. This elf that was Lost for so many years is now Found. There is hope in the strings, there is redemption in each note. This also speaks to the specific codex from the lighthouse in Solas’ secret room. Not his office at the top of the building, extravagant, beautiful, overshadowing all others and looking down in godly benevolence - his private quarters on the main floor, where parts of his travel with the Inquisition surround him.

When Lavellan speaks to Solas, she is using a resolute voice, almost chastising him for thinking he has to do this alone. He has her, and she will keep reminding him.

*Edit: Please note she also speaks the common tongue in this instance.

Solas implores her to think of the dangers the journey he is going on will have, his head is down to show the residual shame and his plea for her safety. But also a part of him hopes. The reason all he says is that “there will be danger” is a statement of warning but not fully entreating her to stay. His heart has a pause, he is prioritising her safety and wants her aware of the dangers.

Note, that he also speaks in Elven in response to her, his first language and mother tongue. As a trilingual, one usually reverts to their more natural tongue during a heightened emotional situation - in this case, Solas' warning statement is also a subconcious plea for her to understand him and join him despite the danger. He will never push her further than she wants to go like he was pushed by Mythal.

This is the shot normally, the downward and side tilt are clear making the imploring effect of his words resonate further. Unlike before where he only looked at her for small spans of time his attention is fully focused since being absolved of his duty. After she responds that she will be with him, forever no matter what, he shifts. This is akin to when making vows “I stay with you in sickness and in death” but they are crossing the boundaries of mortality. This is “I stay with you in any plight, any condition, any reality. I commit my eternity to you”

Her response is an amalgamation of the following:

1) You are not alone in it emotionally and mentally as I am with you

2) Physically I am with you to endure it with you

3) Our joined manifestations will make it a better place quite literally, so the bleak darkness that could have encroached will not exist when we are together

This is also validated a bit by Trick Weekes QA:

She then states their love is eternal, and she chooses to walk on any path with him fully and wholly. A love that transcends time, mortal barriers, immortality, the different realms of existence. This combined with their standing pose as if at the altar of a wedding is the final part of her vows. Said in the same hallelujah pattern and in elven as he would speak - she commits to his language (mentally and emotionally) so he best will understand her declaration. (This is confirmed by @northgalis on Twitter).

This, in front of the witnesses who are the allies who helped them unite in their union, Rook and Morrigan whilst overseen by the Veil itself in the position of holiness. His blood is the bond they now share, the new blood magic in a way that ties them to a new fate of their own making. The veil that brought them together in the beginning of the journey they now tread into together.

Then they confirm their vows with a kiss, she pulls him in first, similarly to their first kiss in the fade and he reciprocates. Solas is weakened, hurting, feeling unworthy of the brightest soul in the universe but she chooses him and he finally submits to his desire and need for her. His duty now to himself, atonement and the woman who chose him with it all in mind.

Aru’s flycam footage also shows the kiss being deeper and him actively

After the kiss, he SMILES. The ending is now so much less bleak it is tender, it is soft it is comfort, it is peace.

A smiling glance. meeting at a crescendo; a shared moment of understanding;

Screenshot from Daoithe on Tumblr.

He then proceeds to thank Rook, for helping him see when he allowed himself to be so plagued by grief and guilt and not giving up on him as it could have turned to despair, revenge and anger, like all the other endings which I hate because they go against his very nature. The other endings spit in the face of his complexity the story keeps explicitly imploring you to see and have empathy. Solas is a spirit of wisdom, when guilt festers that wisdom manifests in the worst possible ways. And with no one to listen and read between the lines, the fate he is subjected too is far too unkind. But here, he not only is freed of his guilt but also, just as importantly and very implicitly, his fear of dying alone.

If you have played inquisition you will recall there is a moment near the climax of Here Lies the Abyss where Inquisitor and their chosen companions go into the Fade. Solas is easily one of the most fascinating and best companions to take with you as he from the onset has been a “Fade expert” and his lines throughout are intriguing and educational. During the quest you come across graves embodying the different characters biggest fears. And Solas? Dying alone. The god who went against everyone he knew for a better world, whose empathy only continued to hurt him and freed others with hopes to better the world is the most lonely man. And he is terrified and within himself brought low by his loneliness in his commitment to the path he feels he must take. This is why the next part transcends the scene.

After the kiss which confirmed their bond and pact - binding them together with love and empathy, wisdom and curiosity married - he thanks rook and looks back at Lavellan, his Vhenan. And it is a *micro second* shot that completely defeats me. His head held high, the concerned imploring tilt gone as he holds his chin higher in appreciation, respect and awe for the woman who chose him. The love of his life, his eternal companion. The only one to truly fully see him, respect him, and love him wholly. Who has forgiven him and chooses a path which only leads to him. He is honoured to be loved by her, and will work to be the better man he feels she deserves, but also beginning to accept that her love for him is in any form he takes. The one he prizes above all others, chose him, and he will never be alone - and that is everything.

Seeing completely, and being wholly seen.

This scene literally destroyed me in the best way. I am left hollow with love and adoration for this character and his relationship to his love Lavellan and no other romance will meet the threshold they have created for me. It is not Solavellan hell no longer, they have transcended to Solavellan heaven.

My playthrough video of the second half of the ending sequence.

Here is Arus Flycam YT video for reference:

Arus Flycam Lavellan POV of the True - Best ending

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[valalice]

݁₊ DECISION TO DECISIONS ARE MADE. ft. 𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓼.

pairing. ellie williams 𝑥⠀fem!reader

✦ summary. new year's is just a few days away and your roommate, dina, plans a party to celebrate the new year, inviting a certain special someone. ellie wanted nothing more to do than lay in bed, ignoring the fact that she's starting out yet another year without a kiss. however, she gets roped (or threatened) into attending a party she didn't even want to attend, for the sake of being a "good friend". now minutes before the clock strikes 12:00, both you and ellie are left without a special someone to embrace as everyone else welcomes the new year. what decision will the two of you make? wc. 6k

warnings. fluff. angst. modern!au. loser ellie if you dare. reader is a socialite. roommate!dina. drinking (everyone is of age). ellie smokes. mentions of joel. the both of you are lowkey crushing on each other so bad. self sabotaging. talk of new year's resolution & the future. kissing.

a/n. my little treat to you all, happy 2025! i was going to make this set in tlou universe, but i can't stop thinking of city living and ellie, so here we are. ellie definitely has a loser girl, self sabotage mindset in this, but trust all she needed was to get kissed silly by a pretty girl! anywho, happy new years, lovely's, and i hope 2025 brings you success, peace, and treats you gentle 🤍 remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list | tlou m.list

The TV screen illuminates the dark room, the whistling wind swirls around flurry flakes into the night. It’s the first big snow of winter, and you hope it sticks instead of turning to the grey mush that’ll occupy the crevices of the city streets. You push your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head against your knee and letting your cheek squish into it, allowing you to observe the storm and the snow building up on the window seals. It’s unfortunate you think, and perhaps a little funny that the snow storm decides to happen the day after Christmas. Maybe even a little poetic or just a big fuck you from nature. However, you’re content by it.

Your name's being repeated, it takes a moment for you to fully comprehend that you're being called upon, still wrapped within the thoughts of your own mind. Till something small and light hits your head, "What?" lifting your head up from where it rested upon your knee to turn to face the culprit, eyes flickering down to see the lone popcorn fallen on the couch cushion. "Dina—" you scowl, letting an arm fall from around your legs and picking up the kernel, throwing it at Dina's face. Her face scrunching up as it bounces off her forehead and lands in her lap. "What was that for?" it sounds closer to a whine than a question, the storm outside is now forgotten.

"You weren't answering me," she responds, her focus falling to her lap to pick up the popcorn kernel and pop it in her mouth. "and you're not even paying attention to the movie, you picked it out."

Twisting your lips, eyeing the TV screen, "Yeah, I guess you're right." It wasn't a movie you've never seen before, in fact it was a one you've seen more times than you can count. A safe pick for you as Dina let you choose the movie this night, and when picking it your mind was already elsewhere. So, even now with just a glance at the screen you can tell exactly what point the movie is at. "What did you ask me?"

Dina's hand piles into the bowl, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shuffles it in her mouth. Watching her demolish the delightful crunchy-buttery snack made you outstretch your arm, a silent ask for some popcorn. She takes hold of the bowl and passes it to you, taking your own handful of popcorn and eating it one by one. Dina swallows, "Was thinking of hosting a New Year's Eve party."

As if she could already sense your hesitance for the idea she continues on, firmly placing her hands on the plush couch to give her leverage to twist her body, making it face you as she tucks her legs underneath her. And as she leans forward, "C'mon it'll be so much fun. And we have yet to have a party in our new place, there's far better room here for one." she exclaims.

Your eyebrows raise at the last statement, "Barely." you remark, eyeing the room straight ahead into the kitchen. It was a nice place, far nicer than the shoe box you and Dina lived in months prior, but by no means is it more spacious.

"Okay, so maybe not by much. But, think about how much fun it'll be."

"I guess." You ponder the thought of it, dozens of people boxed in your guys' apartment like sardines in a tin can to welcome the New Year. Then you grimace at the thought of everyone drunk and sweaty, the booming voices counting down the clock, people scrambling to find someone to messily kiss. "I retract my statement, actually."

"Oh, c'mon." Dina huffs.

"Why can't we just invite over some small friends? A small gathering? Yes, a small gathering sounds far better." Nodding your head at the idea, trying your best to convince Dina of your idea.

"That's boring. It's gotta be a party, and besides, aren't you supposed to be a socialite?"

You let out a groan at her words, "Reluctant. It's a curse that I'm good with people."

"And that's why you're going to invite some of your fancy socialite friends over."

Your brows furrow deeper than you think they've ever done before. "I'm doing what now? And they're not really friends, just—" you pause to think of a nice name to call them rather than the ones you're currently thinking of. "acquaintances. And I thought you were just thinking of having this party?"

That cracks a smile onto Dina's face. "Well it's decided now." she muses, bunching up her shoulders and throwing up her hands.

"Really?" feeling unfazed by her.

"Yep!" Dina quips.

"Why do you always invite? They're not very good people." you confess.

Dina shrugs, "They suck but at least they bring good booze."

A laugh erupts from you, enacting a full body shake, pointing your index finger at the girl. "I like the way you think."

"I know." she smirks.

The mattress underneath Ellie vibrates, causing her to groan and flip over, giving her phone the cold shoulder. Sighing when it stops, feeling herself mold further into her pillow. Till the bzz bzz bzz begins again, she tries to ignore it and focus on getting back to sleep, but at this point it's been ringing an eternity. Dramatically turning her body back over, taking a hold of her phone and holding it up to her and squinting; Dina. A finger presses answer and she brings the screen up to her face.

"Hello?" she groggily asks, running a hand over her sleep ridden-face. Her body aches from the travels.

"Where are you going to be on New Year's Eve?" Dina demands.

Straight to the point she guesses, rolling her eyes at the lack of "Hello, to you too, Ellie. How are you feeling from your long travels?" Ellie lets her arm fall over her face. "In my bed. Is that okay with you?" she grumbles, hoping this isn't one of Dina's schemes.

"Wrong answer."

Ellie's head pushes further into her pillow, confusion written all over her twisted up face. "How?"

"You're going to be coming to my party." The girl on the other side of the phone corrects.

"Is that an invite where I can accept or decline?"

"No, you're attending this party."

Ellie lets out a long string of groans in retaliation. She didn't even why she bothered to ask if it was an invite, of course she'd be forced to attend another party.

"Oh, stop being dramatic. You always have fun."

A chuckle falls from Ellie's lips. "If you think me having a few beers and listening on to some random conversation is fun, then sure."

There's some rustling on the other end of the phone, like a faint jingle of keys. The noise alone alerts Ellie to check the clock on her night stand, moving her arm from over her face to peek at the clock; 2:54 p.m. She throws her arm back over her face.

Dina huffs and takes a breath, "You just never put yourself out there. That's why. You could easily spark up a conversation with a rando and they'll love you!"

Ellie scoffs at the image of her talking to some random person, let alone her initiating it. "Yeah, right. Besides, I don't really like any of the people that are at your parties, they're all outsiders from our group." Remembering a time at one of Dina's parties when she planted her ass on some couch then out of nowhere a small crowd started to surround her. One of the guys in the group had some weird bullshit rhetoric he was spewing, so she called him out, correcting him in the meantime as well. Everyone around her froze and started looking at her as if she grew another head; she carry's that memory with her to not fuck with any rando's.

"They're my roommates, friends, or acquaintances, whatever they are." Ellie perks up at the mention of you, her arm falling off her face once more, and this time she shuffles in her bed to sit up. "But, they bring that good beer you like."

"Ah, right. All's forgiven, I guess." she doesn't think her voice could get any sarcastic.

There's a moment of silence, Ellie clears her throat. "So, uh, how's your roommate?" It's an innocent question she asks, a hand coming up to her head to smooth over her messy bed head. She knows your name but she still calls you Dina’s roommate.

"Oh! She's good. Neither of us went home for Christmas this year, so we spent it together."

"Cute." Ellie hums. Whenever she hears Dina talk about you it makes a small part of her ache for a roommate, someone to always be around and grow a close bond with. But, not everyone gets as lucky as Dina in the roommate lottery, and the thought of it always gets pushed out of her mind in favor of a space entirely her own.

"She's going to be at the party." Dina blurts, knowing what Ellie is trying to do, she knows the brunette girl too well.

"Well, I would hope so." Her response was casual, holding her phone away from her face and unplugging it from its charging cord, deciding to press the 'Speaker' button and not succumb herself to holding the hot screen phone to her face. Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, she stretches, a few small noises falling from her lips when doing so. Is it so wrong for her to ask such a question?

"I just bet you do." Dina teases, not convinced with the facade Ellie's putting up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ellie quirks, pushing the shirt that's ridden up her abdomen and pushing it back into its rightful position. The socks on her feet shuffling against the ground to move her body out of her room and to her liven area; it's living area and kitchen combined, she thinks it's a cool name since the entire area is open, but everyone else just calls it the dumbest name ever.

"You don't need to skirt around asking about her. I know about your little crush on her."

Ellie chokes at the word crush, playing it off back hacking up a lung. "I don't have a crush on anyone." she argues, still trying to recover from her coughing fit, wiping away the few dribbles of tears in the corners of her eyes.

"It's all that damn smoking." Dina retorts at Ellie's fit.

"You sound like Joel." Ellie snorts.

There's a beginning of an insult Dina begins to say until she gets interrupted. Being nosy Ellie tries to listen in to what it could be. “Uh, hold on a sec, Els.” 

"Yep, it's not a problem." Ellie says, her mouth falling into a tight line. She takes a seat on her couch, listening intently to the chatter happening; as best she could, it's extremely muffled, almost like whispering. Placing her phone to be perched on her thigh she takes hold of her hand, picking at the skin around her nails. Picking at a stubborn piece of skin before she pricks herself and starts bleeding, "Ah, shit." bringing her finger up to her mouth to nurse at the bleeding spot.

“Ellie?” Your voice startles her to remove her finger from her mouth urgently, and straighten her hunchback.

She picks up her phone for some reason, clearing her throat. “Hey.”

“Hi!” You exclaim, enacting a small jump in Ellie's heart. Are you happy to talk to her or are you just like this? She'll settle on the latter. “How are you doing?” the simple question makes her feel embarrassed, a soft pink hue forming across her freckled cheeks.

“I’m doing all right. I just- uh," she pauses momentarily, and she thinks of lying, and telling you that she just got home from running errands, and before that she went to the gym for a few hours; to make herself seem productive. "I just woke up.” she tells the truth.

“Rough night?” there's something endearing in your voice and how it seemed to drop when you asked if she had a rough night, as if you're trying to work a dirty secret out of her by telling her you wouldn't tell a soul. And truthfully if she did have some wild night, it wouldn't take much for her to tell you about it.

Ellie shuffles on her couch, leaning forward, placing her elbows on her spread knees, leaning her head on her unoccupied hand. “You could say so. I landed back here at like 3 a.m.” Although the flight had not been her worst by close measure, she was still sleep deprived and being on a plane always managed to make her body ache.

“Oh, from Christmas. You visited your family, right?” Yet, again her heart leaps. Dina must've told you her plans in passing, but it's the fact that you remembered that made her heart thump a little faster.

She knows she's cheesing way too hard, but maybe you could somehow sense her happy mood through the phone, or at least she hopes. “Yeah, I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving, so it was good to see them.” Her family wasn't large, nor typical, but she held them dear to her heart.

“That’s very sweet.” you say, and just as Ellie hoped, on the other side of the phone you sit on your couch mirroring an identical dopey grin. She pushes her head into her palm, she hates that you have such an effortless effect on her, and she hates how your voice sounds airy, much like the noises doves make as they fly around. “Did you get everything you wished for, for Christmas?”

The question takes Ellie by surprise, letting out a soft, breathy laugh. “Oh, c’mon.” She's sure she'll bore you with the niche presents she got, and she's even more sure that you wouldn't care.

“Sorry, sorry.” you chuckle.

Ellie shifts once again, letting her body fall into her couch, a hand running through her knotted hair as her leg bounces vigorously. “I hear you're hosting a New Year’s Eve party.” She's making conversation.

“Well, it’s really Dina doing it all. I’m helping out, though.”

“That’s good. You're a real trooper helping Dina with all her shenanigans?" The smile she once had now turns to a crooked smirk; anything to send harmless jabs at Dina.

"Need a trophy for it really. But, I don't mind, she's lucky I love her." Your words strike something within Ellie, she doesn't know quite what it is, but there's something at how comfortably the word love falls from your mouth, it makes her feel bitter.

“You coming?”

It's a yes or no question, but Ellie still takes a moment to think. Dina's already made it clear that she has to attend, but she could also use this as an opportunity to back out of it and just spend the first few weeks of the new year hiding out from Dina like someone hiding from a hitman. “Uh, yeah. I am.” She's fucked.

“Fantastic!” You amuse her, not in a silly way, but in a way as in she's never met someone who genuinely uses the word fantastic quite like you. She finds it cute. “I was a little reluctant about it, but I’m coming around to it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Oh. So you weren't on board for this either?

“I’m sure I will, too.” She's beyond fucked up.

You don't respond, but that inaudible whisper is back, the two of you must be talking. “Oh, um. Dina wants her phone back," Ellie can feel herself deflate, slumping into the couch. She felt childish that she wants to whine and say she wants to keep talking to you. "but how much longer do I have to wait to get your number, or do you just not like me?” Your words bring life back into her, placing a hand on the soft cushion and pushing herself up. The two of you have known each other for about four years now and you two don't interact without the influence of Dina. And she feels embarrassed that not only do you think she could possibly not like you, you're also the one asking her for her number. But, of course you are, she's not as outgoing as you.

“What? No, no, it’s not that." It could never be that. "Just, uh, get it from Dina.” She panicked, but then again she didn't know if you had your phone on your or paper and a pen near you to write down her number. Dina comes in clutch, she guesses.

“Okay, I will. See you Tuesday night, Ellie.” You said her name again.

“See you Tuesday.” There's silence and she almost thinks you hung up till she taps her screen to see Dina's ID screen.

“And you say you don’t have a crush?” Dina's voice quips.

Ellie groans, her hands slapping at her face before they drag down.

Ellie's phone buzzes in her pocket, reaching for it she frees it from her jacket and unlocks it.

You

Hi! Hope you're excited for the party tonight, can't wait to see you! x

4:23 p.m

Ellie

Hey! Can't wait to see what Dina put together, and right back at ya :)

4:24 p.m

She stands in the store aisle as she watches a blue text bubble appear with three little dots, it abruptly stops, and instead of whatever you wanted to say you replaced it by hearting her message. Ellie stuffs her phone back in her pocket. Sighing as she throws her head back, squinting at the fluorescent lights. Rolling her neck she looks straight forward, swiping the golden figure from the shelf into her hand, taking it and the complementary beer for the party to the register.

Chatters overtake the living space, looking over it you see how certain people group together, it's endearing really how certain types of people naturally gravitate towards each other and stick together like magnets. You take another sip of your beer, looking down in your lap, flipping over your phone to check the time, 10:40 p.m on the dot. You huff, unlocking your phone and picking an app to mindlessly scroll through.

Someone says your name, causing you to lift your head in an instant. “Oh, Mack.” Lifting yourself from off the couch to hug the girl, letting your phone fall into the cracks of your couch in the process. “Hey.” She breaths into the embrace.

“How are you? You enjoying yourself?” you ask, you've gotta be a good host, although you've asked the same questions over ten times now when greeting each person. But, with Mack you don't mind all that much. She's one of the more tolerable socialites you know, and maybe even a friend if you dared.

“I’m doing good, and uh. Yeah! I just got here a little bit ago, saw Dina and everything. I love the new place.” she answers, looking around the room at the last part to take in the space once more.

“That's good, and thanks. Dina and I have been really enjoying it.” Flashing her a polite smile. “She was actually the one to push the idea of a New Years Eve party.” You're creating conversation that you're not sure you want to create.

“Well it's a nice party. You guys really went all out with the decorations.” Motioning to all the gold and black decorations littering the living space.

You hum, forcing another smile, “Why don't we sit down? I heard you just joined a startup from Jonesy, congratulations!” And there you've done it.

Out of your sight, Ellie shuffles into the apartment, searching for either your or Dina.

“Ellie!” A familiar voice yells over the chatter, Ellie looks out to see a tan hand up surfing through the crowd, it’s Dina. She pulls Ellie in for a hug, and she wraps her unoccupied hand around Dina.

“Hey.” Ellie’s greeting was faint, something only Dina could hear.

“Was worried you were gonna flake.” An elbow nudges into Ellie’s side, and she squirms, swatting Dina away.

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” she grimaces, green eyes flickering around the sea of people packed into the small space.

“Yeah, I’d hunt you down if you did.” Dina’s words are playful, but there's some truth to them. Ellie focuses back on the girl in front of her, and she remembers the beer in her hand.

“Oh, I bought some beer.” Lifting up the case and showing it off.

“Great! Can never have too much of it.” Taking a hold of the case from the brunette and walking to the kitchen. Ellie follows after her, watching as Dina opens the fridge and places the case of beer next to another one, the one she knows one of your fancy friends brought, the one she likes. It makes her chuckle thinking that her case of beer will feel at home with the rest of the alcohol in the fridge.

“Did you want one?” Dina asks, still bent into the fridge.

“Yeah.”

Dina reaches and grabs a beer, extending her arm to Ellie. But upon one look, “Not that one, the one I bought.”

Dina removes her head from the fridge to stand up straight, questionably eyeing her. “I bought it with my money so I’m going to drink it.” Ellie shrugs.

“Whatever you say.” Dina mumbles, placing the beer back and grabbing the one from the other case, handing it to Ellie; she says a quick ‘Thanks’ looking behind her on the counter she's leaning against, grabbing a bottle opener and piping it open, pocketing the top in her jeans pocket taking a swig of the drink.

“Uh, where's roomie?” It's an ice breaker she tells herself.

Dina pouts, leaning so she looks over Ellie's figure into the open space living area that's completely filled with people. She shrugs as she sets herself back in place. “She's somewhere in there, y’know how she is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Taking another, longer swig of her beer.

"So," Dina begins. Ellie squints at her, the look in Dina's brown eyes tells her something is up. "Who are you kissing tonight?" Of course.

Ellie swallows. "Who are you kissing tonight?" She's deflecting, but she's also genuinely curious.

Dina looks off somewhere then back at Ellie. "I'm sure I can find someone. Now, stop deflecting. Who are you kissing?"

She rolls her eyes at the stupid question. "You know the answer. No one." It's been no one for years, it would be something she's embarrassed about but she's too used to it to feel that way. A reason she didn't want to attend the party, she didn't want to have to come face to face with the fact that she's so content with feeling alone, even when there's countless people who kiss other people with no strings attached on a night like December 31st; Ellie just couldn't do it.

Dina could see the question get under her friend's skin, the aversion of her gaze as it flickers around, focusing on anything but Dina, and the hand layer unoccupied on her jeans, a nimble finger scratching at the fabric. "Okay, okay. Stay lonely and un-kissed, loser."

Lifting herself up from leaning on the counter, "Have fun finding someone random to kiss." Ellie swings her beer up in the air, a solute to Dina's findings. The moment she turns her back to Dina she feels a twinge of regret, maybe she's being too sensitive about the topic. . . Nah. She knew what her friend was trying to insinuate when asking who she's kissing tonight, and with her hounding to know if she has a crush on you, it's too much. Ellie Williams isn't kissing anyone on New Year's Eve and she doesn't have a crush on you.

Your butt feels numb, you hadn't moved much since you sat down in an effort to seem interested in whatever Mack is talking about. It's routine really, ask someone about something recent, often something new or life changing and the person will talk your ear off, litter a few Ah's and Oh, Really's?, maybe a few questions of your own if you're feeling frisky. But, at this point you're starting to worry about how long someone could possibly talk about a startup.

Stretching your neck side to side you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, opening them to put your attention back on Mack. And as quickly as it happens, you lose it. Eyes roaming the window you were staring out of just a few days ago, you couldn't see it about an hour ago, you guess people have congregated elsewhere. You're just about to focus on the girl sitting in front of you, again, till a bright little flickering flame catches your eye. Squinting as you watch the flame be brought to something then be gone, the moonlight and the city lights allow you to see silhouette, Ellie.

Turning back to Mack, you place a warm hand on her knee, "I'm really sorry, Mack. But, I think Dina is calling me." you lie, a very tiny fabricated lie that shouldn't hurt her too much. Rising from the couch and walking towards the window.

"Oh, but—" Mack's head twists behind her, a finger pointing to the opposite side of the room where Dina's at, talking to a few people.

Both you and Dina had thought it was a good idea to keep the balcony window open during the party, knowing that everyone would be packed in tightly together and some fresh cool air could keep the environment comfortable. The sheer blinds flap from the wind and you catch them, entering the balcony, but not quite. You were right, now faced with the back of Ellie staring down to the city streets, taking drags of the cigarette she just lite, expelling the smoke to let it be carried away by the wind and be swirled around. Everything about her is so signature, from her half up half down hairstyle, the chunky tan jacket she wears everywhere, the jeans she has on, down to the boots she exchanged during the winter season instead of wearing her converse; and there's a beer at her feet.

"Smoking and drinking? Pick a struggle." You remark, folding your arms over each other.

Ellie's startled by your voice, again. Turning around to see you standing in the opening of the window. The sheer cream blind sway behind you, but the moonlight illuminates to make them appear brighter, it gives you a halo that hitches Ellie's breath. And there's a toothy grin on your face, it's a telltale that you're clearly teasing her.

She tears her gaze away from you and turns back around to lean on the railing of the balcony, nodding her head.

The grin on your face drops at Ellie's action, and there's a few short clicks of your footsteps before you're also leaning against the railing next to her. "Was it too far?" you ask, in a softness close to a whisper.

Ellie turns to you, brows furrowed. "No, I just um—" She eyes the cigarette between her fingers, bad habits die hard. "My New Year's resolution is to quit." she stated, she doesn't exactly know when she decided this, but she always felt the need to say something unnecessary around you in hopes to impress you.

Your eyes widen at her words, "Oh, wow, Ellie. That's huge." you beamed, you feel proud to know this, and you wonder if Dina knows about her resolution. "You know we're all here for you."

Ellie huffs out another drag, she does it by looking in the opposite direction from you. "Yeah, I know." she agreed, turning back to you. "It's going to be fucking hard, been smoking for years."

"You're strong, Ellie. It is going to be hard, but again, just please remember that you have a support system. Even if you don't want to go to Dina or whoever, I know we're not super close, but I'm here." You're sincere in your words, and you just hope Ellie can tell that you are. Comfortable silence, or as close to silence falls over the two of you, eye contact not breaking as you gaze into each other. As Ellie looks at you she lets your words soak in, everything about you is soft right now; the kiss of your lashes on your cheeks when you blink, the small smile on your face and how it reached your eyes causing them to twinkle, the faint aroma of your perfume, to your words. Just alone with your comforting words she likes to think she could quit smoking cold turkey, despite knowing she'd probably roll over and die if she did.

"Thank you." A smile now mirrors yours. And in response yours stretches wider, a silent, No problem. "What are you doing out here?"

"Needed a breather." You needed more than a breather, you needed to escape from the Hell that is uninteresting conversations.

"You got one." She quips, she's sure you have better things to do, better things to talk to than her.

Your eyebrows rise, you weren't expecting a response like that. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Williams?" Quirking your head to the side. Feelings of Ellie not liking you come washing back, and your body burns, but she said she does like you, and you trust her.

"Not a chance." She confirms.

"Sounds like you are." You press, still hung up on such a response.

"I would never." Ellie consoled, she feels bad for her snarky remark, so she places emphasis on the word never. "It's just that—" She stops mid sentence, your sharp gaze waiting for the next thing to come out of her mouth, she feels hot and looks away for a moment, releasing the hand on the railing to come up and pull at her collar before smoothing to rub at her neck. "I just thought you'd be doing your socialite thing right now."

"Why does everyone keep calling me that?" You groan, and everyone as in Dina and now Ellie.

"What? You are." she proclaimed.

"Not by much," you grumble, looking down to the streets of the city. "Can I confess something to you?"

Ellie walks around you, to the little table and chair you and Dina had set up on the balcony, you could only fit those two things without taking up the entire balcony, so whenever the two of you come out here one sits on the chair and the other sits on the metal staircases. She buds out her cigarette into the ashtray Dina keeps outside before returning to her spot next to you. "My lips are sealed."

"I don't really like my life." you admit. It's a heavy topic that's been looming over your head in dark clouds. You would have talked to Dina about it, but she thinks your life is the best thing ever, and you know if given the chance she'd gladly jump into your shoes, and you'd let her.

"Oh."

"Yeah." you sigh, "Sorry if it's too much. I don't have many people to talk about this to." This is a bad idea.

"No, it's not, trust me. I just don't know if I'm the best person to talk to this about," She feels under qualified to talk about such a topic with you, although she understands the feeling all too well. "maybe Dina will?"

"Dina won't understand."

"Ah." she acknowledges, she agrees with that. "What's the matter?"

"I just feel unhappy and unfulfilled." you say, and you feel ungrateful doing so. "I shouldn't be that's the thing."

"How so?"

"Because, I guess I have everything. And I'm lucky and thankful." You break, collecting your thoughts. "But it's like everything I do is to please others. I'm tired."

Ellie frowns. She thinks of a decent way to try and comfort you, but each one doesn't sound right, and she doesn't want something she says to make you feel worse; there's even a passing thought of pulling you into a hug, but she decides against it; you guys aren't there quite yet. "Fuck that." A little brash, but she hopes it'll get the message across.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a breathy laugh. "What?" Confusion written all over your face from Ellie's response.

"Fuck that. Fuck people pleasing. And fuck not being happy your life." You're startled by her words, not knowing where she's trying to go with what she's saying; Ellie doesn't know where she's going either. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out her phone, "It's 11:43, and we're leaving all that bullshit in the past in about 16 minutes. You're turning a new leaf in 2025." she retorted, feeling a new kind of adrenaline from her words.

You break out into a loud laughter, sure enough that the few people walking on the streets could hear you, but positive enough that no one inside the apartment could hear you. Ellie watches you fit, laughing a little herself, but not too much to take in the scene in front of her. You; mouth wide, curled open, cheeks plump as the press up into your closed eyes, the little birthmarks on your face and how they move as you express joy, she's taken aback by you.

When you calm down, there's still some giggles exiting your mouth. "Fuck all that."

A weight is lifted from off Ellie's shoulders, she twists and leans over the balcony railing. "Fuck all that!" she yells into the night.

You follow her actions. "Fuck all that!" you repeat louder.

A random person on the street heard the two of you and yells in retaliation. "Shut the fuck up!" their booming voice roars, but it only makes you and Ellie whip your heads to each other and erupt into a shared fit of laughter.

The two of you lean on each other to have support from the full belly laughs you guys are having. Ellie brings a finger to swipe at her eyes, "God, I'm crying." she croaks out. But you notice commotion happening inside, and you sober up from laughing quickly.

"You hear that?"

Ellie turns to look into the apartment just as you're doing, she can't see much, but she can hear the countdown.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Ellie stays strained looking, the blind are sheer enough, and there's still wind picking them up and flapping them, so she's able to see everyone inside with little party gadgets and jumping up and down as they count. "Well happy-" Words leave her mouth when she feels a hand on her cheek, pushing her to turn it to look back at you. Her green eyes widen when she feels the tip of your noses touch.

Three.

Two.

One.

It doesn't take much to move just a smidge closer, and kiss Ellie, letting your eyes flutter shut. Fireworks rocket off inside Ellie's head and her body tenses, this was the last thing she expected to happen, but her panicked state begins to match your relaxed one, a hand coming up to cup at your jaw, while the other comes to rest on your waist, pulling you further into her. She swears your lips is the softest thing she's ever felt, the way at which you two kiss has her chasing for more.

The noises of cheers rings through your ears, and you're the one who lets up first, giggling when Ellie still has her eyes closed, leaning into you for another kiss. You swipe a finger along her bottom lip, breaking the string of saliva that connected you two.

When her eyes peer open again, they're dazed, probably much like yours. "Happy New Year." you whisper, a coy smile on your face.

You watch as Ellie seems to remember something, and you're disappointed to feel her touch be removed from your body. She stuffs both her hands in her jacket pocket, like she couldn't remember which one she put an item in. And she lets out a little Ah Ha, as she pulls out a golden statue, or trophy. She hands it to you, and you take it in your hands, examining it, there's a little ripped piece of paper taped on the stand of the trophy with Ellie's scribble handwriting on it.

#1 Trooper of Dina's Shenanigans

"Happy New Year."

You caress the little trophy, holding on to it, and looking back up at Ellie.

2025 is going to be a good year.

‧₊˚ taglist. @samcvrpenters @bready101 @opt1mistic @honeygiii123 @elsn @aliceellieswife @oceangalore

[yorshie]

sees your requests open and slides in like a penguin on ice 🧊

possibly showing off a new swimsuit in front of the turtles in hopes it gets Raph's attention because every other hint you've dropped has gone wayyyy over his head (...or so you assume) 👀

showers you in love and sparkles!!! ✨️💕🫂

Kkkkkeeeeeiiiiisssshhhhhhaaaaaaa. *clings to you like a wet noodle*

I scrolled all the way down to the bottom of my requests and gasped when I saw your name. >:3. I gladly shower in the love and sparkles, and hope you forgive me for the amount of silent pining I’m about to shove down everyone’s throat. lol.

Bay Raph x fem reader (I think the only gendered terms are two pieces bathing suit but idk does that count in 2025? Question mark? Idk I’m tired)

SFW

Ok. Breathe. You can do this.

The mid-morning sun cut through the lacy curtains and across the tiny vanity surrounding the sink. The bathroom you were holed up in was better suited for the sixties, with the chair rail topped with faded, flowered wallpaper and the worn floor that couldn’t quite hide the handmade nails driven in to hold the boards in place. You knew plans had been made and then discarded over and over concerning updating it, but no one could quite agree on how to update it, and hardly anyone came up to use the little bathroom cooped up at the end of the hallway to be reminded about it.

Which was precisely why you were holed up in it now. Even though the door hadn’t locked for years, it was the safest place to hype yourself up.

You were failing miserably.

“You got this,” You told your reflection for what felt like the hundredth time, gaze flicking down below your chin before resolutely jerking back up to your face.

A second ruled by your thundering heartbeat, before you gave in. “Nope. I can’t do this.”

It’s just a bathing suit. You reasoned with yourself. Just a bathing suit, modest even for two piece standards if you were being honest but…

God, it….. it was so red.

The exact same shade of red as Raph’s bandana.

You’d hunted for that exact shade of color, of course. You practically had it tattooed to the back of your eyelids, had lost countless hours imagining what the feel of that bandana would be like under your fingers if you were only brave enough to reach out.

You’d contemplated it, once, when leaning against the back of the couch while bantering with Raphael. Had thought about just… reaching out, twirling the nearest loop of fabric about your fingers and wrist like it was something commonplace, something you were allowed to do-

But your bravery had deserted you the moment Raph had looked over his shoulder at you, eyes crinkled soft in silent laughter, relaxed and carefree in the conversation. Something you had thought impossible when you had first met him.

You couldn’t have handled it if that soft look had disappeared, if the armored walls he had slowly lowered during the time you’d known him snapped back into place.

You stared at the red bathing suit again, tugging on it gently in the hopes it might cover up more perceived flaws, like it might answer your unspoken questions, like it might give insight on whether or not this would work.

None of the other things you’d chanced to show Raph how you’d felt had worked, after all.

You wanted… You just wanted to show him…

You let out a pained, warbling curse, head dropping to rest in your hands as you contemplated sneaking back to the room you were sharing with April and pretending you were too sick to go downstairs.

A heavy knock sounded on the door, a muffled voice quickly to follow. “Hey, princess, ready to go?”

You startled, badly, tripping on the worn, warm rug laid out in front of the claw footed tub and having to catch yourself to keep from going completely ass over tea kettle into the cold porcelain.

It hurt, no matter what, slipping on the rim and sliding into the hollow, swim suit bottom riding up painfully on the descent.

Raph called your name out in question while you internally panicked, staring at the door while dread coiled oily and dark beneath your sternum.

”I’m- fine!” You called back, wincing internally when your voice cracked in a lie between the two words.

Evidently Raph heard the tell as well. “uh, huh. Yeah, sure. Try that again, peaches. You good?” There came a testing rattle of the doorknob, and your heart leapt. “You didn’t fall, right?”

“Don’t-“ you struggled to get back on your feet, hands and hip slipping on the tub with a loud squeak when your skin stuck to the cold surface. “Don’t open the door!”

The testing jiggle of the doorknob stopped, and you could feel the stare Raph was leveling at the door through his pointed silence. “You did fall.”

Accusing. You flinched at the sound, stumbling towards the door and leaning both hands against it like that might succeed in keeping him out if he decided otherwise.

“I promise I’m fine!” You hurriedly looked around for your T-shirt, anything, a towel for god’s sake, to wrap yourself in. A helpful thought flitted through your mind that you had left your clothes on your borrowed bed to avoid the exact scenario of trying to hide the bathing suit, and your head thunked against the door in internal shame.

Raph shifted on the other side, feet scuffing slightly. You could hear the sound of stiff fabric rubbing against scales, and realized he must have been on his way out to the pond when he came to check on you, the stiff sound of swim shorts unmistakable.

“Ok…. Well, I got a towel for ya, if you want it, so you don’t have to sit on the grass when we’re done swimming. You ready to go?” It was a lot, you knew, for him to give up the line of questioning. It made the answer you were about to give him sour all the more.

You gripped the door knob tight, your other hand clenching tight enough to drive your nails into your skin as you waffled. “I- I don’t think I can.”

A pointed silence. Then: “What? Why?”

It was your turn to shift, weighing each word. “I’m uncomfortable.”

Raph turned that over for a moment in silence, before you heard another rustle of cloth. “Here- open up.”

You gripped the doorknob tighter, parroting him in words and tone without meaning to. “What? Why?”

“S’ my shirt,” The door opened despite you clinging to it, just a smidge, just enough for him to wedge the article of clothing through the crack. “You can cover up with it, so you can still have fun.”

You took the shirt automatically, staring at it like it was a foreign thing while Raph shut the door once more with a soft click.

It was worn, likely years old, the seams frayed and a number of small holes dotting along the neckline. It would likely swallow you whole, take several rubber bands to hold to your frame, but…

It was red. A more muted color than your bathing suit, but-

You swallowed, hard, setting the shirt on the sink and laying a hand on it for comfort, before steeling your spine.

You heard Raph take a preemptive step when you turned the knob, backing up out of the way, but your eyes were fixed somewhere on his midriff as you stepped out into the hallway next to him.

”You…” His words trailed off, sounding a bit higher pitched than you were used to, and you chanced a look up at his face.

Green eyed wide, he stared at you, gaze tracking down over your torso before he seemed to remember himself and his eyes snapped back to your face. The finer scales around his beak and cheeks mottled, turning a more muted color, as blood rushed to his face. “You -ah, s’… nice-”

He snapped a hand up to his face like that might stop the train crash of words leaving his mouth, and you felt the first warm ember creep alive in your chest, that oily feeling lessening.

Silence, for a long moment, as you both considered each other. Sunlight streamed through the far window across the opened space beyond the bannister, backlighting the side of Raph’s shell and his face a golden color. Somewhere below, you could hear Donnie humming a song.

“I… liked the color.” You told him softly, finally, wrapping one arm around yourself and leaning against the door jam, breaking the stand off.

Raph made a low noise, muffled, behind the meat of his hand, and your gaze dropped in time to see his other fist clench tight before tracking back up the scutes covering his chest.

”You good?” You asked him with that same, quiet voice, feeling that beat of self consciousness grow the longer he stayed silent. Chancing another glance up at him, you found a deep look settling over his face, thoughts flashing like rapid fire hits as microexpressions twisted the features around his fist with an alarming rate.

’Yeah,” he finally breathed, hand dropping to clench at his side with the other. “Yea, m’fine. You uh- you ready, then?”

He still had that slightly hunted look, barely stepping to the side as you nodded slowly and moved past. Your elbow grazed the hard plating of his plastron as you stepped past him, and you heard him suck in a sharp breath at the sensation.

Goosebumps erupted down your spine as you felt him move to shadow your steps down the hall, but when you turned to look over your shoulder his gaze wasn’t on you, that still rather thoughtful scrunch between his eyes. “Your shirt?” You reminded him, gesturing back down the hall.

Narrowed green gaze considered you for a moment, not looking back towards the still lit bathroom. They tracked down your form for a moment, and you felt that kernel of warmth once more.

”Leave it… unless you need it?” The second part was intoned like a revelation, half turning like he’d go back for it.

Your hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. ‘No,” You squeezed, and felt the muscle ripple in response. ‘I don’t.”

[madamedramatics]

A scenario where Shepard jokes with Vega, saying she's practically Garrus' wife now after she promotes him to her XO during the war, resulting in them unintentionally spending a lot more time together.

The joke goes over Vega's head, and he goes to congratulate Garrus personally. Garrus is confused, and Vega promises to keep the "secret marriage" a secret. Garrus now has to figure out how in the hell he accidentally proposed to and married a human and how is he supposed to tell his dad he missed the unplanned wedding and the ceremonial meeting of his fiancé. He was almost 30, but this was going to get him grounded for at least another 30 years or maybe even life.

Was he supposed to get his new wife a gift? Where they supposed to get matching tattoos like Turians? He could've sworn he read somewhere that humans consummated their vows the same way Turians do. Where did he go wrong dammit!?

He adores the idea of Shepard being his wife and loves knowing that she was so excited that she even told Vega about it. He just now has to figure out how he married her in the first place without her knowing he doesn't know. Because then she'll think he never wanted to marry her, and that is NOT the case. Maybe Tali will know? No way. She'd just call him a bosh'tet. Wrex will also call him a professional idiot. Liara won't judge, but he's sure she still hasn't gotten over her crush on the Commander, and he doesn't want to rub his new marriage in her face. Maybe Joker will tell him if he promises him the new fornax issue.

Garrus has had his fair share of giving his dad a pseudo aneurysm, but this one was going to send him into cardiac arrest for sure when he finds out his son married a woman the family didn't even meet. He needs a drink...after he finishes bribing Edi to scrub away everything she just heard him say out loud.

Garrus doesn't know that Vega is the galaxy's worst secret keeper, telling Shepard he's keeping the secret marriage a secret unwilling to let Shepard convince him that she's actually not married yet. She goes to see Garrus to have a good laugh about Vega's idiocy but walks into Garrus telling Edi he will use Shepard's override if she doesn't get rid of something.

Garrus is absolutely mortified and gives the cheesiest greeting to his "wife." She assumes Vega already brought the joke to Garrus but she's not overlooking him trying to be suspicious with Edi. He recovers, mentioning it was for his sesrch history for a gift he wanted to get her. He did intend to get her a gift so the phrase wasn't a complete lie...

She jokes about it and calls him her husband. Garrus, the realist he is, does not take this as a joke. She leaves him to his vices, and Garrus is now in a full-blown panic. He needs to understand what he did, and he needs to know now.

(If my brain gets any more random ideas, I'll at least finish and provide a resolution to this concept, lol. Feel free to offer your own ending)

[mungdou]

DANDELIONS PT. 2

PR. ushijima x reader; semi x reader

W. swears

GR. angst, comfort, resolution

WC. 3.2k

AN. revenge is so sweet; tysm for all the love on the first part!! it was such a warm welcome back haha :)) requests are still open so please ask away my brain is highkey empty.

(pt. 1)

It's been a while since you've felt lonely. After that day, Semi started sitting with you during lunch to chat about his day, hum some new riffs he was testing out on his guitar, or just as good company. He'd get something from the cafeteria whilst you ate the pre-packed lunch you made the night before. Needless to say, there were more than a few bites missing from your lunch after the hour was over. It was peaceful and more than anything you could ask for.

"Y/n, listen to this-" He played a short video clip of a new song he was practicing. The sound was smooth, almost as if he had run the audio through a creamy filter. Were his fingers always this nimble? Or did you just start noticing? Mesmerized by the short clip, you couldn't help pressing the reset button 3 or 4 times before Semi began pulling away.

Your eyes looked up, snapped out of the trance his fingering put you into. "Oh! Sorry, I couldn't help myself-" You smiled as your face burned with embarrassment. "That was amazing, Semi-Semi, definitely remind me next time you practice- I'd love to come listen to you live." Your fingers twiddled under the table, hoping the sudden advance didn't come out too eager. His playing was beautiful- his fingers danced on the fretboard meticulously and the notes were so smooth, almost like magic.

His lips curled in a proud smile and he seemed to perk up like a dog. "You... wanna come over? Like, to hear me practice? Me? Really?" He mustered out, his words stumbled over another. His ears turned pink and waved his hands around, gesturing between the two of you without direction.

You giggled at his flustered reaction and grasped his flailing hands. They were flushed at the knuckles, and you could feel the hard-earned callouses that had formed from years of guitar and volleyball practice. His palms were warm, but his fingertips were cold, and as you squeezed his hands, they seemed to relax into a gentle position.

"Yes! I'd really like it if I could... does this Sunday work? You'll be going home for the weekend, right?" You eagerly spoke, your hands squeezing his just a bit harder.

Semi nodded shyly, his eyes darting between his enveloped hands and your eyes. "Ahem-" He coughed softly. "Here, give me your phone, I'll put my address in for you." He took your phone off the table and typed in his address before turning it to you to confirm that you had it.

"Hmm? Oh! You live so close by to me!" You exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Yeah this is like, a 15 minute walk from my place! Wow, Why haven't we seen this before, that's so convenient, Semi-semi!"

"Oh really? That's crazy, we could have been catching the bus together or something-"

"SEMI-SEMIIIIII??" The disembodied voice of a familiar lanky middle blocker interrupted your newfound discovery. "DID SHE JUST CALL YOU SEMI-SEMI????"

"Goddamnit" Semi groans, turning away from Tendou, banging his head against the table.

"Hi Tendou, what's going on?" A shit-eating grin creeped on your face with full intent to milk this 'Semi-semi' privilege you held over his head. One of the only things you could hold above his head to be honest.

Tendou's teeth grit, greeting you with a playful glare before turning to Semi, "Why can she call you Semi-semi without getting verbally attacked? This isn't fair, I'll have you know." He tsked, "And what's this about meeting up?? Hmm?? Unsupervised, might I add?"

"Shut up, Tendou." Semi growled, picking up his tray and walking away.

You smiled nervously at Tendou, "So..." You began.

"So..." Tendou copied.

"How's Ushijima been? I mean- well- yeah." It was hard asking. It had been a few weeks since he insulted your character and needless to say, everything about it was hard. His words and your acceptance of those words. As much as you wish it didn't, time still moved on even though you were left in pain and embarrassment. The only thing that helped you get through with it was Semi and Tendou.

"He's doing okay, I guess?" Tendou mused before sauntering to pester Goshiki abut his bowl cut or something.

You guess? Okay, weird.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Even though Tendou stayed close to Ushijima, he still came over to ask about how you were doing every so often, or to tease you about something or another. It was refreshing, that despite all this, he still treated you the same.

At least he didn't pity you.

It was a shame how fast rumors spread after Ushijima rejected you so coldly.

Most said that it was your fault for interfering with his feelings.

Some thought that it was his fault for being so blunt without apologies.

Even less thought it had to do with Aoi.

Most people in the inner volleyball ring knew the truth. That Aoi had changed their cornerstone ace for better and worse. On one hand, he worked twice as hard to impress her and to better himself. On the other hand, he became ever so slightly distracted, and it didn't help that Aoi rarely did her manager duties.

At some point, it had become too much for you to handle basic manager duties on top of appealing to Aoi and Ushijima. Aoi's whole point of being here was to help out, but instead of pushing carts, hanging laundry, or taking notes, she could be seen trailing her boyfriend up and down the court with a water bottle and towel only for him.

Imagine pulling a hundred pound anchor of dead weight on a chain with your teeth while using your hands to organize papers and running 5 miles an hour.

It was obvious that people noticed. They pitied you more than they cared to admit, but they were too afraid to speak out. Plus, you reassured them that everything was fine as to not stress them out further.

Besides, it wasn't like you could fire her at this point. She was supposed to be taking over after you graduated and it was already too soon to the end of the year to start over.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

That Saturday, you woke up earlier than usual to make some cute thumbprint jam cookies to bring over as a snack for your hangout the next day. You biked out to the local grocery store to grab some missing ingredients and some nice fruit for his parents before visiting for the first time. After grabbing all the ingredients, all that was left was to peruse the aisles for fun.

"Ooh, they have truffle fry chips? That's new- ahh I shouldn't... but then again... hmmm." You murmured to yourself, crouching down to look at the options of savory treats when you heard a voice call out your name.

"Y/n-senpai?" A familiar cute, yet unfeeling voice rang in your ears, making your stomach flip in anxiety. You turned around and saw Aoi standing at the end of the aisle. Whipping your eyes back down to the bottom of the shelf, you took a few deep breaths as you heard the pitter-patter of her heel-adorned feet run down the aisle towards you.

"Aoi." You curtly nipped, with an unfamiliar lack of emotion lacing your words. "What are you doing here?" Standing back up to face her, you noticed that she had showy makeup on and was dressed nicer than usual.

"I'm here to get something with Toshi~ But I should be asking you that." She smirked boastfully, her cute demeanor barely shielding her bitter intentions. "You are so... weird. No offense. Why are you here? Probably stalking Toshi like always. Ugh, you're so suffocating, like, leave us alone. He. Doesn't. Like. You. What don't you get about that? Honestly, I might need to call the police or something to report you-"

"I. Don't. Give. A. Flying. Fuck. You. Dense. Ass. Child." You clapped back, clapping between every word, emphasizing your hate towards her. "You wanna talk about being clingy and obsessed? Really? Because last time I checked, who's the one who constantly follows Ushijima around the court, ignoring everyone else around them? The one who's always rushing over to hover over him to gush about how amazing he is after practice while others pick up your slack?"

Her face turned pink with anger, the flush blocked by the sheer amount of concealer she had on. "Well- you were rejected, yet you still show up around him, to practice and to show the notes to him all cutesy and whatever. You're practically begging for attention." She ticked her head to the side, as if she was saying checkmate.

You doubled over laughing. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes as you wheezed, trying to catch your breath. "Hah... Hah.. Oh my god you are such a little comedian." Wiping away the tears, you stood straight up and finished off your thought. "Showing up to practice and taking notes, putting aside my differences to make sure that the team functions?? Aoi, I'm gonna metaphorically hold your hands while I say this."

I stepped forwards and leaned down, moving my lips close to her studded ears. I lowered my voice, babying my voice to make sure she understood.

"That's what you call being a mature manager. Woahh~~ Whahh~~ Isn't that amazing? Though, if I'm being honest, you probably don't even know what being mature means, so I don't blame you if this completely flies over your head."

You walked past her frozen figure, waving nonchalantly as you passed. "And by the way, to answer your question, I live in the area- in fact, I live right next door to Ushijima. The same place for the past 5 years, so forgive me for intruding on his space or whatever."

On your way out, as you scanned your ingredients by the self-checkout, you caught a glimpse of a softly weeping Aoi and a silent, but furious, Ushijima in the background.

Well, at this point, what do I have to lose? If he's mad at me, I've already accepted that. If he's mad at her, I win.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

When you returned home, you hastened your pace, prepping all the ingredients and efficiently moving around your kitchen to make your cookies as quickly as possible.

Flour, butter, eggs, sugar, jam.

Finally, after an hour, you popped the cookies into the oven, wiping the sweat off your brow in triumph. After setting a timer on your phone, you ran up the stairs and collapsed on your bed.

As you lay there looking out the window, you began to think about what happened just a few hours ago. Oh the rant you were about to go on when you see Semi later tomorrow.

The thought of seeing Semi relaxed you, a heavy weight leaving your shoulder, and now all you were stressing about was to not fall asleep before your cookies were done.

Don't sleep. Don't do it, you're going to burn your whole house down. You'd better not pass the fuck ou-

"Get out."

A voice bellowed from outside your window. You sat up quickly and peered out your curtains. Across the way you could see Aoi and Ushijima arguing in his room. It was hard to hear, and only snippets were caught.

"but-"

"did i stutter? please, get out. i am saying this as nice as I possibly can."

"Toshi- please, she was the one harassing me, I swear!"

"do you think i am that dense? i was in the next aisle, i am not deaf."

Your cookie alarm loudly rang from your pocket while you peeked out the window, scaring you, but also getting the attention from the perfect couple next door. Their heads sharply looked over, but you slammed the window and shades to avoid their gaze before rushing down to take your cookies out of the oven.

phew. at least they came out nice.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

It's a weird feeling, waking up before your alarm.

After dressing up in a nice white top, a jean skirt, and a gray overshirt, you went downstairs to pack your cookies and fruits into a canvas tote before leaving your house to walk over to Semi's place.

"Y/n." Ushijima's deep voice startled you.

"Oh! Good morning, Ushiji-" You started before being cut off.

Ushijima cleared his throat, "You should call me by my first name again. We aren't unfamiliar, after all."

You smiled, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. "Wakatoshi. What's up?"

"You heard, did you not?" His intense gaze wavered for a split second, tilting down towards the curb.

"Well, it was hard not to- though I didn't mean to eavesdrop like I did... Sorry about that, by the way." You sheepishly looked away, struggling to meet him in the eyes.

"It's alright. I should be sorry for the way I've treated you for the past few weeks. I never should have let her blind me into treating you like that. I never thought that her intentions were impure." He looked into your eyes, a light gentleness glazed over his own. "Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

"I can," You began, "and I will, eventually. But I don't think I can just forgive and forget right now, but lets just establish good terms from here on out? I'll let you know when I've healed- emotionally- that is."

"Thank you." He paused before speaking up, "Where are you off to?" looking at your treat stuffed bag.

"O-oh. I'm on my way to visit Semi... I'm running a bit late, so I'll catch you later! Bye Wakatoshi!" You jogged off, quickly making your way over to your destination.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You arrived on Semi's doorstep, but before you rang the doorbell, you tried to catch your breath. However, the door swung open to reveal Semi, draped in a loose gray hoodie and cargo pants. Both of you flushed with embarrassment.

“You… hah… I didn’t even ring the doorbell, Semi-Semi.” You laughed, out of breath, looking at him as he put his hands over his face, trying to hide his flushed cheeks. “Were you waiting for me~”

“N-no-“ Semi turned around, holding the door open to let you in before turning back to dace you, “Well, you were running late, y’see- and, uh, I was worried…” he trailed off after seeing the pouch in your hands. “What’s that?”

You looked down at your hands, “I made cookies for us to eat! Oh!! I also got some fruit for your parents- are they home?” You rummaged through your bag and took a nicely wrapped melon.

“Nah, my parents aren’t home right now… We can just leave it in the basket over there.” He led you to the kitchen and took the melon to store away.

"So... you were waiting for me, weren't you?" You smiled, leaning in close, "I didn't even ring the doorbell- You were definitely looking for me through the window..."

"I- No, It heard your huffing and puffing a mile away-" he stammered, his ears now flaring red. "A-anyways... let's go upstairs- you can bring the cookies with you..."

Following him up the stairs to his room, you noticed all the baby photos adorning the walls, before stopping in front of a familiar one.

Semi heard your steps come to a stop, turning around to join you. "Wow this is so embarrassing- that's from my daycare graduation-" He started, before turning to see your face.

You looked almost startled, "I have this same photo in my house, look-" Your finger pointed at the little girl behind the platinum haired toddler. "In the pigtails behind you-"

"Seriously?" Semi huffed, looking closer at the photo, "Damn, you're right- it really is you."

"Wow Semi-Semi, your hair is naturally this color? I could've sworn you dyed it or something-" You giggled, examining the photo in detail before quietly whispering, "You were a really cute baby."

Semi looked at you with wide eyes. "I heard that-" He coughed out before grabbing your arm and pulling at you to his room. You yelped in surprise, but after walking through the hallway of pictures, you finally made it into his room. It was covered in band posters and at the very corner stood a guitar propped up on a stand.

"Wow- your room is so decorated, it's putting my room to shame," You laughed before plopping onto the floor. Semi picked up his guitar and started to tune it.

"It's nothing special, just some stuff that I've printed throughout the years." He smiled, plucking at the strings before playing some chord progression.

It was almost angelic, the way he played. His fingers danced around the strings so naturally, like he was born to play.

"You play so beautifully," You smiled, looking intensely as he played, "If you put a halo on and wore all white, I could swear you were an angel or something."

"Probably not as beautiful as you are, though." He blurted before catching himself, his fingers frozen in place. "Wait-"

"Really?" Now it was your turn to blush. "Wow Semi, you are such a flirt~" You felt the blood rush to your face while the words fully sunk in.

He cleared his throat. "Uh... Yeah... You are really pretty, did you know that?" His fingers hovered over the strings, almost as if his brain didn't know how to control them anymore.

"You too." You squeaked out, trying to find your voice and composure. "You too, Semi-"

He put the guitar down, and it's hollow body clattering when it hit the floor. "I like you." He smiled shyly, not sure what to say next. "I really really like you."

You shuffled, closing the distance between the two of you. "Me too." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. "I really really like you too."

Both you and Semi sat in silence for a while, though the room kept getting warmer and warmer.

"O-oh!" You exclaimed, stopping the stagnant silence. "The cookies! Uh- Really good! Eat-"

Good job, Y/n, really, really good job.

Semi, in a state of panicked eagerness, grabbed one and practically swallowed it whole before choking a bit. He pounded his chest, tears watering in his eyes.

"Ah!! Water- Water!" You scrambled, pulling out the thermos in your bag.

Semi quickly took the bottle and gulped down the water, sighing in relief after the cookie passed through.

"Are you okay?" You exclaimed, the panic leaving your body. Semi nodded in embarrassment.

"Yeah... it was really tasty- the choking was my fault."

"No, I should have warned you that it was the crumbly kind of cookie." You paused, before buckling down laughing. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gasped for air.

Semi started to laugh, and soon the silence and panic was replaced with cackles.

"Hah... this is gonna be a good story to tell everyone." You sighed, calming down and leaning on his shoulder.

"Yeah...." Semi smiled, resting his head on yours, grasping your hand and interlacing your fingers.

"Wait-" he froze. You looked at him, puzzled by his reaction. "No we can't tell anyone- Especially not Tendou- I can't take the embarrassment any further."

You giggled, looking up at Semi through your eyelashes.

"No promises."

AN: omg this took so long haha my bad yall, hope u liked it :)

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