#not going to tell anymore than I already have !
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menagerofmischief · 2 days ago
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pretty and pierced -> ln4
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this came to me in a dream, 18+ also, written in all lowercase, sorry
piercer!lando who you meet on a night out with friends. you're in a crowded club, dancing with your friends when one of them tugs on your arm.
"girl!" gerry, your best friend, screams at you over the loud music. "hottie alert! and he's been looking at you like he wants to eat you!" she giggles, pointing her finger and you follow it, your eyes landing on lando.
he's standing near the bar, talking with a few friends, but his eyes are glued on you. the second he notices you looking at him, he smirks, raising his hands to wave his fingers at you before beckoning you over.
gerry practically screams into your ear, already a bit drunk from all the shots she had, and grips your arm. "you have to go!" she tells you, shaking your shoulders before her arms slip down to your top, pulling it a bit lower to expose more of your cleavage.
she gives you a sultry look before pushing you into the crowd and towards the bar. "have fun!" she calls out before you're too far away to hear her from the music.
you laugh to yourself as you make you way over to the bar, where lando's standing and watching you approach with hungry eyes.
'hi!' he smiles, speaking when you're finally near enough to be able to even remotely hear him over the loud songs blaring from the speakers. "I'm lando."
you smile back at him, "y/n."
"y/n," he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue, sounding sweeter than honey. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he says, a laugh slipping past his lips when you blush. "let me buy you a drink."
you're a few drinks deep, giggling at his cheesy jokes when a half rational thought crosses your mind. "so, what do you do, lando?"
he grins, running a hand trough his curls. "I own a small tattoo and piercing studio," he says and you squeal with delight.
"really?!" you ask, grabbing onto his arm, your fruity cocktail pushed to the side. "I always wanted to get a piercing!"
"really?" lando echoes, his tone slightly teasing. "what kind?"
your cheeks burn, eyes dropping a bit lower as you suddenly get shy, and he can't help but be amused. his fingers sneak under your chin, lifting it up so you meet his eyes. "come on now, princess, don't go all shy on me. what piercing do you want?"
you don't know if it's possible to blush anymore but you certainly do. "I always wanted to get my nipples pierced," you murmur, but lando catches it, his eyes gleaming. "even got an appointment once, but I chickened out last minute."
a smirk spreads on his lips, and there's a look you can't quiet place in his eyes. "how about I do them for you?" he offers, and you nearly choke on your own saliva. "on the house."
"oh - I couldn't possibly -" you begin to protest, but he cuts you off.
"why not, princess?" he asks, "I'm offering, aren't I?" his eyes follow the curve of your body, greedily staring at your chest. "and don't you worry, I'll be gentle."
you have to bite your lip to force yourself not to whimper, paddling deeper into an unknown territory with him.
"so what do you say?" he asks and your eyes widen when you catch the implication.
"you mean now?"
"why the hell not?"
after a second of overthinking you grab your glass, downing the rest of the fruity drink in one go before looking back at him, nodding your head. "you know what? why the hell not!"
and that's the story of how you ended up in lando's tattoo studio that night. the place was closed, and a bit cold if you were being honest. you awkward sat on the tattoo bed as lando gathered all the necessary stuff.
"you change your mind yet princess?" he teased, making sure all the needles were sterilized.
you laughed, pressing your palms down on the leather of the bed. "I might if you keep being so slow!" you teased back and he laughed.
"well all done now," he said, approaching you with a metal tray. "you might wanna ..." he gestured to your top, "I still haven't mastered piercing over clothes."
you giggled, still feeling a bit tipsy from all the previous drinks, your nerves easing up a little. you reaches for the hem of your top, grabbing it with both hands and pulling it over your head. after a second of hesitation you unclasped your bra, putting it next to your shirt.
lando groaned, taking in the sight of your naked chest, nipples pebbled and erect from the chilly air in the studio. he reached out for you, hands cupping your tits, groping them greedily. "you ready?"
"yes" you said, a sigh falling past your lips as his hands groped you.
lando lifted up the needle and you tensed, awaiting the pain. instead he leaned forward, lips closing around one of your nipples and sucking, making you whine at the sensation.
"what are you -" you couldn't finish, whining when his teeth nipped at your nipple, as the same time you felt a short painful sensation in your other nipple, head snapping to look and your eyes zeroed in on the needle piercing your nipple.
you exhaled a breath and lando pulled away, grinning up at you wickedly. "didn't even feel it, did you princess?"
you shook your head, feeling your cheeks burn. lando laughed, inserting the piercing and adjusting it so it wasn't too tight. he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your nipple, making your body twitch.
"looks good," he said, preparing for the other nipple.
one of his hands cupped your other breast, squeezing once before he let his fingers trace around your pebbled nipple. you held you breath as his fingers pinched the nipple, distracting you enough to not notice the needle, just like the last time, until he was already done.
"holy shit," you breathed out as he adjusted the second piercing, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the freshly pierced nipple.
he pulled away, his hungry eyes focused on your tits. "they suit you well, princess." he purred, his hands cupping your tits.
suddenly he pulled away completely, taking off his gloves and approaching the counter, searching around for a bit before pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. he scribbled something quickly before returning to your side.
"don't put the bra on," he said when you reached for the undergarment. "let it breathe a bit, wear only the top." he grabbed the bra away, a mischievous look on his face. "and I'll keep this."
you obeyed, putting on your top. lando handed you the piece of paper and you looked at the number written on it. he must have seen the confusion on your face because he quickly clarified.
"that's my personal number," he purred, smiling at you. "the healing takes about 6 to 8 weeks, you should send me updates, picture updates, so I can make sure everything is healing well."
"oh, is that so?" you teased back, finally finding your voice again.
"oh yes!" he nodded, "I take very serious care, have to make sure everything is alright, and I gotta be able to see it to confirm it."
he walked you over to the door, lingering a bit as his eyes slid over your body. with a last surge of confidence he leaned forward and pressed a short teasing kiss to your lips, pulling away to leave you wanting more.
"and if you want any more piercing, you know where I am."
please give this one some love (likes and reblogs) it's my crazy baby also I'm thinking reader gets a clit piercing next but idk!!
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a-confused-spoon · 3 days ago
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...y'know, it's not just the fact that Caitlyn knows Viktor, but the fact that this Caitlyn met this Viktor
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I know I already talked about this, but like- HELLO??!
Mind you, Caitlyn isn't just a little sister to Jayce, her parents are also Jayce's patrons and her mother works with Heimerdinger (who Viktor used to work for) on the Council- the Council that basically dictated what kind of use hextech was going to serve in Piltover for however long the timeskip was (as said by Jayce in 1x04), so there's no way these two didn't have at least a couple interactions once Viktor becomes Jayce's partner.
Tell you what, I think these two vibed pretty well too.
First thing first, I just know Caitlyn treated the idea of meeting Viktor the exact same way a younger sibling wants to meet their older sibling's crush; "yeah I need to meet this so-deemed super cool person so I can shit-talk about you to them 'cause it's fun, but also what makes them so special to you and/or so stupid they'd want to spend time with you, allegedly?" type of deal. And there's more to this too 'cause- no wait, I really need to stress this point:
I think it's safe to assume Caitlyn didn't have many friends growing up, if any at all, and Jayce (who's what, twice her age?) is seemingly the only person she shared a bond with where she didn't have to pretend to be someone she didn't feel she was, which only became more and more a thing as time went by.
And everything is fine until the events of 1x02: there's an explosion, Jayce is put away, there's a trial and all of the sudden she's lost her big brother under no explanation other than "he's a misfit and you can't be friends with him anymore", and as far as she knows, Jayce will no longer be in her life and will likely give up all his hard work. She lost her best friend and he lost his purpose in life, all in the span of a single day.
...and then, the very next day, everything seems to be fine again? There's a Council meeting, she's allowed to be cool with Jayce again and when she asks what the fuck happened to this man he opens with "So there's this guy...".
I can only imagine little Caitlyn's thoughts whilst she was processing all the new info: "Okay so you're telling me there's a guy with a funny accent, Piltover's most important person's ex assistant, who I nor anyone's ever heard of nor seen for some forsaken reason, who you met literally last night and he sweet talked you into not giving up because it didn't work when I tried- rude but okay- and then he convinced you to commit a crime to help you complete the research my parents funded? When you were already at risk of exile? And that research was super personal to you specifically, but now it's a you guys' thing? And he's from the- WAIT, HE'S FROM THE UNDERCITY?!!"
'Cause Caitlyn was curious about the undercity as a kid too, innocently so; you're telling her she has the opportunity to talk with someone who didn't just go there, but used to live there? Someone who managed to get where he is with nothing other than the sheer power of will?!
Meeting this Viktor guy is no longer just a little "I wish", it becomes a fucking mission.
...meanwhile Viktor's barely aware the Kirammans have a daughter to begin with.
I mean- he does know, but just because Jayce mentioned her a couple times, perhaps forgetting to mention her being a 14 year-old.
Not that Viktor would give a shit either way, he isn't really fond of anyone in Piltover (aside from Jayce, Heimerdinger and Sky) and the likely spoiled heir of an ultra-rich family is no exception to this, regardless of age. However, she is close to Jayce, and her extremely important family is funding what is also his research now, so he's like "whatever, I guess I'll be as cordial as I can with this miss Caitlyn if I ever meet her".
Which happened, at a certain point in time.
I think Viktor was pleasantly surprised to find out that this good hearted and fairly smart girl was also very curious to know more about the undercity- perhaps he's taken a little aback at first; she is a councilor's daughter and he has to pay attention to what he says around her after all. But at the same time, she is a councilor's daughter and if she's so well intended then why not answer truthfully to her questions when she could, one day, help through her family's influence?
And on the other side, little Caitlyn absolutely adores Viktor, and not just because he's witty and has a funny accent, but because Viktor talks to her like she's an adult.
Cait isn't really used to this sort of treatment, but of course Viktor doesn't address her like a clueless child that needs protection from the real word: that's a privilege the kids in Zaun aren't really given, and they are no less important than her. Besides, what's the harm?
It's also great because whenever the Kirammans organize a ceremony of sorts to celebrate some new hextech achievement as Jayce's patrons, Caitlyn and Viktor would manage to chat separately from the rest of the obnoxiously rich guests, so she doesn't have to feel out of place or babied and he doesn't have to be at the centre of attention as Jayce's partner. Viktor would also get a healthy dose of rich people gossip through little Cait's unintentional open disdain for the environment her parents keep her in, and the only reason why Caitlyn allows herself to lower her guard when talking about it is because she knows damn well that Viktor both probably agrees and has no intention nor reason to tell anyone. If anything, he just comments sarcastically to most stories, and she's happy she can share them with someone who won't say "now now, don't say that about so and so".
And of course, whenever Caitlyn comes to visit them in the lab (not a very common occurrence since the 1x01 accident), Jayce is just happy to see them getting along... whenever Caitlyn isn't whispering something to Viktor while they both look at him, at least.
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thessalian · 3 days ago
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Since some Rooks are Dalish already, let's go one better:
Rook summons the entire group for what they think is a big important "I HAVE NEWS" meeting, and asks for the worst profanity options in every culture represented at the table. Not just linguistically, but idiomatically. Rook is just like, "I want to be able to cuss him out for twenty-four straight hours, minimum."
Bellara: Comes through with little snippets of profanity she's heard from Veil Jumpers from all over the place, messages Strife to ask for suggestions from the folks at their current camp, and tells the Nadas Dirthalen to give her a list of every horrible thing any of Anaris' enemies called Anaris back in the day.
Davrin: Not so great on ancient elvhen, but given that the Grey Wardens are a place you get conscripted by and/or exiled to when you have Done A Bad, as well as someplace you can go to become a hero, he has so much invective from all over Thedas that gets ... particularly colourful in its idiom. Suggestions that one perform various sex acts on darkspawn are particularly apt in this situation.
Emmrich: Turns up with a pile of parchment two inches thick of particularly filthy swearing in ancient Nevarran. Apparently Nevarran is a very good language to swear in. Emmrich did attempt a pronunciation guide but recognises that he has to go through the entire list at least once to get the full nuance. He manages to get Manfred to go play with the wisps while the tutelage in ancient Nevarran profanity happens.
Taash: The Qun doesn't have a lot of swear words (or so Shathann has told Taash over the years, and they don't know enough to argue), but Rivaini has some really juicy idioms and sounds really lovely.
Harding: She spent too much time playing "I am nice and likeable so please don't be a dick" in Ferelden to really get much of Fereldan profanity, but years in the Inquisition made up for it. She does tap her few contacts in Orzamarr, but apparently no one really knows how to pronounce the ancient dwarven runes anymore.
Lucanis: Coffee with Teia and Viago. Teia has great idioms. They mostly invited Viago to see him pop a blood vessel, but his idioms are better than Teia's. Spite, surprisingly, joins in subtly with languages no one's heard of and may not exist outside the Fade.
Neve: Sits Rook down with Elek, Tarquin, Rana Savas, Maevaris, and Dorian with several bottles of good wine, then sets them to talking about the Venatori and lets the profanity flow while the Tevinter Brigade are too drunk and raging to notice Rook taking notes.
The next group meeting gets ... colourful.
Rook sitting Bellara and Davrin down all somber and they're expecting some sort of serious conversation only for Rook to go "I need you to teach me how to curse in elven. The common tongue isn't enough. I need to cuss Solas' ass out in his native language."
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joemama-2 · 1 day ago
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" all i want for christmas is you "
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♡ drabble of my series velvet lies
♡ gojo x reader
♡ synopsis: it's the first christmas you're spending with your boyfriend, satoru gojo.
♡ tags/warnings: fluff, angst, hints of a dysfunctional household, suggestive content
♡ wc: 3.3k
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Year: 2015
“Where are you going?”
You stop midway, having just almost slipped out of the front food undetected. You thought she was still sleeping. Turning your head over your shoulder slightly, bag slung over your shoulder, hood on. “I…I’m sleeping over Satoru’s.”
“Hah,” she scoffs out, lip curving up bitterly. “And who gave you the permission to?”
“I’m nineteen, mom.”
“And still living under my roof.”
Your lips purse, holding back a frown. It’s already nine at night, Christmas Eve. You told Satoru you’d be at his by nine-thirty. If she holds you up any longer, you’ll be late. “Mom, please, okay? We’re not doing anything today and I want to spend it with him.”
Your mother stalks forward, snatching the bag off your shoulder. She looks in, spotting a small gift inside. When her hand reaches in to bring it out, you stop her with a grip on her wrist. “Please, stop. You’re drunk.”
Your mother’s eyes narrow, her lips twisting into a scowl. “Drunk?” she spits out, yanking her wrist free. “How dare you accuse me of that?”
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The bitterness in her voice stings, but you hold your ground—you have to. “Look mom, I don’t want to fight right now.” You keep your tone measured, and calm, acting like the adult in this situation. You’re always the adult around her. “It’s Christmas Eve. Can we just—”
“Can we just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising. “Pretend everything’s fine while you run off to God knows where with him? Always with him. Do you even care about this family anymore?”
Your jaw clenches at her words, frustration bubbling under your skin. “It’s not like that, Mom,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. “Satoru’s my boyfriend. He’s important to me.”
“More important than me?” she snaps back, her words laced with hurt. “Than your own mother? Than the one who gave birth to you and brought you into this world, you ungrateful brat.” Her nails dig into your skin while she tries to hold onto you, shaking your arm with vigor as if it’s a physical alignment to the harsh words she grits at you.
You falter, the weight of her question pressing against your chest. “That’s not what I’m saying,” you mutter, lowering your gaze. At this moment, you feel as if whatever you say is not good enough for her. Whatever you say, it’ll spark an unnecessary argument or fight—something you don’t want nor have the energy for. Carefully, you remove yourself from her tight hold, the alcohol in her system giving you the ampleness to do that quite easily. 
She exhales a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. For a moment, the tension between you softens, but it’s short-lived. She steps closer, holding the bag tightly against her chest. “If you walk out that door,” she says, her voice trembling with unspoken pain, “don’t bother coming back.”
Your heart skips a beat, the ultimatum hanging heavy in the air. You can’t tell if she means it—if the alcohol is speaking for her, or if it’s a wound she’s trying to inflict deliberately. “I’m nineteen,” you say again, your voice quieter this time, tinged with sadness. “I love you, Mom. But I just want to have a happy day today.” You reach for the bag, and for a moment, she doesn’t resist. Her fingers tighten around the strap as you pull it away, but she lets go, her expression unreadable. 
“He’ll never stay.” Your mother says, tinged with a hint of jealous amusement. “Men like him don’t go for little girls like you. It won’t last, it never does. And when that happens, don’t come crying to me. Because I’ll tell you I told you so.”
Turning toward the door, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle. You won’t give in, not now. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. So, you suck it up, taking what she says to a very surface-level degree. Because at the end of the day, you have some respect for her. But that is diminishing slowly and slowly until one day, you might never have it anymore. And you’re okay with that, maybe even waiting for it. “Merry Christmas,” you say softly, not looking back.
You don’t wait for a reply. 
The cold night air bites at your skin as you step outside, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest feels tight, but you push the feeling aside, tugging your hood further over your head. Satoru is waiting, and for now, that’s all that matters.
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“Minus ten points for tardiness.”
You sigh, stepping in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Closing and locking the door behind you, he follows you. Peering into the bag that housed some clothes to sleep in, his eyes are drawn to the small present. A grin sneaks its way onto his face, hand steathily reaching in. “Oh? And what’s thi—”
“No,” your eyes roll, effectively swatting his sneaky fingers. “No peeking, or you’ll be on the naughty list.”
He giggles, following you into his living room. Watching as you set your bag onto the lavish sofa, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind you. The tips of his snowy hair tickle below your jaw, not being able to resist the shiver and subsequent airy chuckle the falls from you. You feel his smile against your neck, his soft and full lips planting sweet kisses along the stretch of it like he’s tediously worshipping you. “I’m always on the naughty list, baby. You know that.”
Again, you roll your eyes—this time in more amusement than annoyance. “And naughty boys don’t get presents, Satoru.”
“What do you mean? I have my present right here in my arms.” Another chuckle and he’s kissing up your neck to your ear, playfully nibbling at your lobe. His hand turns your chin so you’re face to face. He calculates the twinkle in your pretty eyes for a second—but a second is more than enough time. Leaning down and indulging in you. “My present tastes sweet, too.” He mumbles against your lips, head tilting to deepen the passionate moment. 
Twisting your body to face him better, your arms wrap around his neck while his around your waist. You two stay like this for a few seconds, inhaling each other’s breath like it’s a meal, tongues rubbing together. The kiss deepens, his hands slipping under the hem of your sweater to rest against the warmth of your skin. The heat of the moment wraps around you both, drowning out the chilly air outside the window. It’s intoxicating, the way his lips move against yours, slow yet insistent, as if he’s savoring every second.
When you finally pull back for air before it goes too far, his forehead rests against yours, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. His breath fans across your lips, warm and teasing. “Told you, silly. I’ve actually been good,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, sultry tone that always sends shivers down your spine.
You smile, brushing a stray strand of his albino hair out of his face. “Good boys don’t try to bribe Santa with kisses, Satoru.”
“Santa should’ve known what she was getting into when she got with me.” His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “Besides,” he adds, tilting his head slightly, “if I wasn’t good, you wouldn’t be kissing me back like that.”
You sigh, lightly hitting his chest. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Only because you fill me up,” he fires back without missing a beat, the cheekiness in his grin giving way to a softer look. His thumb brushes against your cheek as he gazes at you, all traces of teasing momentarily replaced by something deeper. It’s in these moments that you realize just how much he loves you, how much he treasures these quiet times together when the world falls away, leaving just the two of you. “Thank you,” he whispers suddenly, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.
“For what?” you ask softly, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck.
“For always being my home,” he says, his eyes holding yours as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. “For making me feel like I belong.”
Your chest tightens, warmth spreading through you. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Satoru.” His arms tighten around you in response feels like a promise, one that doesn’t need words.
After a beat of silence, he decides to bite the bullet. “Do you wanna tell me why you were late?” You hesitate, lips thinning into a line he knows all too well. It’s the look that tells him he already knows the answer, it’s like a telepathic way of communicating with one another. He doesn’t push, nodding and interlacing your fingers before bringing you over to the kitchen. “That’s fine. We don’t have to talk about anything. Just you and me, that’s it. Parents gone so we have the whole place to ourselves, remember?” 
You let out a soft sigh of relief, thankful that he isn’t pressing further. It’s one of the things you appreciate most about Satoru—his ability to read you, to know when to dig deeper and when to let things be. He squeezes your hand gently as he holds onto you, the warmth of his home wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.
The faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla lingers in the air, remnants of whatever candles he had lit earlier. The cozy space is dimly lit, with only the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the windows. Satoru releases your hand to open the fridge, rummaging around with exaggerated movements to make you laugh. “Let’s see,” he says, peering inside. “What can I whip up to impress my lovely guest tonight? Gourmet pizza rolls? Instant ramen? Or…” He pulls out a half-eaten cheesecake with a dramatic flourish, “this masterpiece of dairy and sugar.”
You chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” he fires back, setting the cheesecake on the counter. He turns to you, leaning casually against the counter with that boyish grin you can never resist. “Seriously, though, are you hungry? Thirsty? Or just here to bask in my undeniable charm?”
You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll take some of that cheesecake, thanks. And water.”
“Excellent choice, my dear.” He grabs two forks and fills up a glass of water, sliding one toward you before hopping onto the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He takes a bite, pointing his fork at you. “You know, I should charge you for this. High-quality desserts like this don’t come cheap.”
“Oh, please,” you tease, taking a bite of your own. “You didn’t even make it.”
“Semantics, semantics,” he says with a wave of his hand, but his smile softens as he watches you. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you both eat, the tension from earlier slowly melting away. After a moment, he speaks again, quieter this time. “I meant it, you know. We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re here.”
You glance up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours with an openness that always makes your chest tighten. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world, makes it harder to keep your walls up. “Thanks, Satoru,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I really needed this tonight.”
His grin returns, brighter than ever. “Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty great at being exactly what people need.” He winks, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “What you need.”
For the first time that day, you feel the weight on your chest ease, just a little. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be about the things you’re running from. Maybe, just for a while, it can be about the person sitting right in front of you. Your boyfriend. Your best friend. Your one and only. Yeah, you think to yourself as you wipe some frosting from the corner of his mouth. 
You are what I need.
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“You don’t have to record this…” you mutter in embarrassment. The hat he made you wear was one thing, but now he’s acting like some dad. Recording in landscape mode as you open the gift he wrapped for you. 
“Pfft! Open it! It’s a memory we can look back on when we’re old and crippled.” He waves you off with one hand, lifting his head over the phone to give you a certain look. 
With finality, you exhale heavily and unwrap your gift. Your own anticipation is eating at you, hoping he didn’t get you something too extravagant. You already told him not to, but he’s Satoru. Besides, you’d feel like shit if he got you something expensive and yours isn’t. Nimble fingers unwrap the paper decorated with red hearts and Christmas trees, finally getting it out the way. In its wake is a small, rectangular box. 
“Proposing already?”
“Not yet.”
You snicker, taking in a deep breath before opening it. Your eyes widen, lips parting a small gasp falls from your lips. “...sa…toru…” you say, feeling a familiar tinkle to your heart, skin heating up and smile subconsciously growing. Carefully, you remove the piece from its placement in the box. Holding it up to the light, it looks even more beautiful. “This is…” The delicate necklace sparkles under the glow of the fairy lights, a silver chain adorned with a small, intricate charm shaped like a snowflake. Tiny gemstones catch the light, creating a mesmerizing shimmer. “The one you wanted.” He finishes for you, lowering his phone, the camera still rolling. “Open it.”
When you open the pretty snowflake locket, there’s a picture printed inside. A miniature version of the first picture you two took together. It’s awkward and your smiles seem a little forced due to the close proximity. But looking back at it now, all you can think of is how endearing it is. How cute it is. When you meet his eyes, he’s already looking at you—tenderness in his expression. “Thank you, Satoru. It’s beautiful, I love it.”
His lips curl into a soft smile, the kind that makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t quite put into words. “I’m glad you love it,” he says quietly, his gaze steady, unwavering.
Your fingers lightly brush over the tiny photo, the memory of that day flooding back to you. It had been awkward, both of you still figuring each other out, yet there was something unspoken in the air even then. Looking at it now, it feels like the perfect encapsulation of where it all began—a little clumsy, a little uncertain, but undeniably sweet. “You kept this picture all this time?” you ask, your voice laced with surprise and affection.
“Of course I did,” he repliesmas if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It was the first moment I had proof you actually liked being around me.” He laughs, his playful tone back in full force.
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a dork.”
“Your dork,” he counters, moving closer. “I wanted you to have something that’s just… us. A little reminder of how far we’ve come.”
Your heart swells, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning. “It’s perfect,” you say, meeting his gaze. “It’s so thoughtful, Satoru. I’ll treasure it.”
He leans down, his nose nudging yours. “You better, because it’s a symbol of my undying devotion to you.” His voice is teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes you smile.
“Well, now I feel bad about my gift,” you admit, scrunching your nose. “It’s nothing compared to this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. “Anything from you is the best gift I could ask for. Besides, I already got what I wanted—you, here with me.”
You roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. “Alright, alright, you win. I’ll stop doubting myself.”
“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Because there’s no competition—you’re already the best thing in my life.” And just like that, you’re reminded why you fell for him in the first place.
When it’s his turn to open his present from you, he’s making you hold the camera now. You’re nervous—rightfully so. Satoru has everything he could need and want, and then some. So coming up with a gift was both hard and tedious for you. But, you can pat yourself on the shoulder for a job well done. 
He’s much more quick when unrwrapping it, big smile on his face that barely shows off his excitement. In just barely three seconds, the wrapping is off and carelessly thrown to the side, opening the little box. His eyes widen for a moment, and then his expression shifts into something that makes your heart flutter—equal parts surprise and awe. Nestled inside the box is a custom-made keychain, simple yet meaningful. It’s crafted from silver, with a small engravement of your shared favorite flower, a purple hyacinth. The small phrase, “here with you, now and always.” is below the flower.
For a moment, he’s speechless, his fingers carefully lifting the keychain from its box. The soft clinking sound it makes as it moves feels like the only noise in the room. “You made this?” he finally asks, looking up at you, his voice softer than usual.
You nod, biting your lip nervously. “I… I had it made, yeah. I know it’s nothing big, but I wanted to give you something personal. Something you could keep with you wherever you go.”
His thumb brushes over the engraving, and his lips tug into the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “It’s perfect,” he says, his tone filled with a tenderness that sends warmth spreading through your chest. “I mean it, this is—this is incredible.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling a wave of relief. “You really like it?”
“Like it?” He sets the keychain down carefully, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I love it.” His eyes glimmer with something almost boyish, the excitement he always has when you do something that touches his heart. “I mean, look at it!” he says, picking it up again. “This is so thoughtful. The writing? And the flower? Genius. It’s your flower, I always think of you whenever I see one. It’s like you’re with me all the time now, even when you’re not.”
You laugh softly, your nerves dissipating. “That was the idea.”
He grins, turning back to you and holding it up proudly. “You’ve officially raised the bar for all future gifts. I’ll carry this with me everywhere, you know that?”
“I’d hope so,” you murmur, watching as he clips it onto his keys right then and there.
Once he’s done, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers into your hair.
You smile, your hands resting against his back. “I guess we’re both pretty amazing, then.”
He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. “Best Christmas ever,” he declares, and the look in his eyes tells you he means it.
“I love you.”
“I love you more,” he whispers back, hands itching for you.
You two seal the end of the gift giving with a kiss, straddling his hips. It feels just right. His hands, his lips, his whispered praises. Like he said, you have the night to yourselves, and you plan to take complete advantage of that. Because after all, that’s not the only gift you’re giving him. 
In the future, one night after a particular revelation that shook his world, he finds himself looking at the keychain that’s been locked in a drawer he hasn’t dared to open in years. And if he scrolls high enough in his photo album, he’ll come across a familiar video that starts wholesome but ends with something far more…naughty.
(You two forgot the camera was rolling.)
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a/n: hi everyone, today i felt inspired and wanted to give out a cute little drabble pre everything. i hope ur all having a wonderful day and make sure to eat well!, tagging the usual taglist
taglist is now closed
taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins
@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited
@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee
@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping
@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus
@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve
@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345
@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae
@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife
@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins
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jakesyluslly · 10 hours ago
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summary: you're going through a stressful time and you surrender yourself to sylus
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𖹭𖹭𖹭
you were going through a stressful time. your mind was too full, you couldn't think clearly. your depressive mood was eating and draining you from the inside. maybe stress was normal, but you couldn't control it. at some point you couldn't even tolerate yourself. you wanted to do nothing, literally nothing.
you sat on the bed, wearing a thin nightgown that reached down to your knees. you pulled your legs up to your chest, put your chin between your knees and just stayed like that for a while. times like these came and went, yes, but it didn't make you feel good at that moment. besides, you didn't want to talk to anyone. yes, not even to him. you didn't want to overwhelm sylus with your problems, you didn't want him to have to deal with your problems when he already had enough of his own. you pretended that everything was fine, forgetting how well he knew you.
sylus opened the door slowly and walked in. he knew something was wrong, of course he did. he sighed when he saw you curled up in a ball on the bed. seeing you upset made him even more upset, you kind of set the mood for him. he approached you slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed. ''sweetie…'' he gently brushed your hair out of your face, he wanted to look at you. he grabbed your chin and turned your face towards him, he could read everything in your eyes. ''i'm fine.'' you mumbled, but he didn't believe a word you said. ''don't expect me to believe you.''
he put his hand on your cheek, his thumb stroked under your eye. “if you don't want to tell me what happened, then don't.” he whispered. he took you in his arms and sat you on his lap, made you rest your head on his chest. “but let me keep you company. let me share your silence, your pain.“ his words brought tears to your eyes. all the emotions you had repressed were coming out. you were unable to speak, as if someone was squeezing your throat. ”sshh…” he stroked your hair, massaged your scalp. it was killing him to see you like that. he closed his eyes, lowered his head and inhaled the scent of her hair. ''you don't need to hold yourself back. let your emotions come out. you want to cry? cry.'' you felt his breath in your hair, his presence reassured you. you wrapped your arms tightly around him, you needed him, more than anything. you rubbed your nose against his neck and finally tears started to stream down your cheeks.
sylus held you tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back, stroking your hair. ''everything will pass. everything will be fine.'' he held you close to him, feeling your tears on his skin. you trembled like a wounded bird in his arms, and his heart trembled to see you like that. ''this won't last forever, my love. no pain is permanent.'' he continued to tell you what was in his heart. you were crying as you listened to him, but you felt yourself relaxing. it was as if tons of weight were slowly lifting off you. ''sometimes i feel so helpless.'' you murmured through your tears. ''i feel hopeless, a failure. i… i can't help myself.''
sylus listened to you carefully, pressing soft kisses into your hair. ''you're so strong.'' he whispered in your ear, you could feel his voice deep in your soul. ''you can't imagine what you've been through. you'll get through this, you'll overcome everything. but…'' he held your chin and lifted your head, looked into your eyes for a while. he stroked your lower lip with his thumb as he looked into your eyes, swollen and red from crying. ''…but you don't have to go through it alone. you're not alone. i'm here.''
he took your cheeks in his hands and wiped away your tears. ”i can't take your pain away from you, but i can make you share it with me. i don't want to see those beautiful eyes of yours crying with sadness anymore. haven't you cried enough already?”
you didn't understand his last sentence very well, you weren't sure what he meant, but you couldn't dwell on it. ''i will always hold your hand, no matter what.” he said, smiling softly. he took your hand and brought it to his lips, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. you felt your heart soften as you looked at him, you were glad you had him.
“get some rest. sleep will do you good.” sylus was about to put you to bed when you stopped him, you had other plans. “sylus… can i sleep on your lap?”
sylus' curious expression was replaced by a smile, his eyes softened. ''of course, of course, my darling. come here.'' he took you in his arms, held you like a baby and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. ''I'll be here when you wake up, right next to you.'' he hummed a soothing melody to help you fall asleep easily, stroking your hair. you felt your eyelids feel heavy, your eyes were already hurting from crying. there was an indescribable pleasure in sleeping after crying. soon your body relaxed and you fell asleep in sylus' arms.
he kissed you from your cheek to your chin, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. “my most precious treasure. from now on i will be with you every moment, i promise.”
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sleepynoons · 3 days ago
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hi op feel free to ignore everything under - all you need to know is i love your writing *shakes head vigorously*
there are several things i think were immaculately done, but that'd require me to churn out an entire research paper, which i don't have the brain cells for anymore post-finals. so here are some scattered thoughts yep and yap
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i don't gravitate towards mysterious or reserved characters because my personality simply doesn't mesh well with them. in fact, when i was watching wbk, i was always so wary of suo, and felt lowkey a lil uncomfortable with him LMFAO
but strangely enough, i think this discomfort became a very integral and driving force throughout my reading experience. of course, this was already the case due to the violent and dark nature of yakuzas, underground sex work, etc., but emphasizing suo's yandere-ness and how he doesn't shy away from it really completed the tone of the story. also, i feel like i came to terms with suo's character, which i rarely ever experience in general. really, this is all to say that it makes total logical sense in my brain to imagine a route where suo evolves into a yandere, and part of me strongly believes his real background in the wbk manga/anime won't be too happy-go-lucky either (otherwise the alternative would be like him wearing an eyepatch for the shtick bc he's a chuuni??? idrk????).
anyway, the reoccurring theme of redirection in suo's tactics really sealed the deal for me, and i think it was a good way to tie in references to his relationship to his master, the martial arts that we know he's especially good at, and how all of these things he's kinda exploited and sullied to "become a worse person for you." suo being very knowing and intentional is so snakey and creepy but also, i get a lil fucked up when it comes to men who are obsessed, so also incredibly erotic LMFAO i also just want someone to buy me a luxury penthouse out of concern for my safety *sad fist bump*
one thing i did find unexpected is suo's leadership within the yakuza. yes, necessary for the plot, otherwise he wouldn't be able to pull any strings. but because source material heavily emphasizes leaders as individuals like umemiya or sakura or even hiiragi, it's interesting to place suo in juxtaposition with them. not sure if it's bc i don't find suo particularly reliable in general, but i think this fic made me realize that he's still wise beyond his years and very, very ruthless. it's def very telling that, throughout the story, suo resorts to fear to assert power. anyway, i j think it was a particularly interesting detail to add in his role in the succession conflict.
btw, i do like how suo's change and transition isn't fully told or revealed. it's not a story meant for us, as it's a truth really for suo and reader. but even reader can't really keep up with him at times, and i find that dynamic really charming, as sadistic as that sounds. i like that reader is so vulnerable. i like that reader is not afraid to be vulnerable around him in the ways that matter, even when she's aware that he's fucking insane. and i really like that reader is aware of how much it takes to be vulnerable, so she doesn't push him. i think reader restrains herself (un)knowingly, and that's her way of loving him. obv less romantic in real life lol (don't try to fix anyone, been there, done that, lost myself, and still finding myself), but i do like how reader is suo's salvation :,,, even if she doesn't think she's particularly patient, she really is - like girl, Fuck Him Already!!!!!!
(could go on and on about how juicy the friction and tension is between suo and reader but that's for pt 2 hehehe)
this is kinda my half-assed transition into talking about reader, and honestly, my thoughts from earlier encapsulate the general thesis i have about her: she's really a lot like suo, way more than she thinks. i think she operates in very similar ways, just goes about it differently.
i think reader is way more reckless. she's very self-sacrificing. she's very good at putting up a front, even when she's internally low in confidence and self-respect. i think she just wants to be happy with suo, and hopefully, with their other friends as well.
and truly, i think suo has very similar end goals. i just think, with how things turned out, suo made the very calculated yet risky (also aggressive?) decision to do the things that he did. making their underlying principals and values and reactions so oddly similar, from my perspective, is sooooo neat, and it adds more depth to why they go so well together.
also, reader is so brilliantly the comedic relief in this whole thing. usually, in storytelling, it's someone else and is used as fodder. i really like how reader is a lil awkward and bad with timing and everything else, cause it makes the reading experience flow so much better. really helped with the pacing of the story, gave it the character + breathing space needed to process everything. i also just like my readers a little fucking hilarious.
anyway, op, so beautifully written - see you in pt 2 gg
TOKYO VICE | part 1
You knew that if you agreed to move in with Suo, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these alarming behaviours were all signs that he desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good decision. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Unfortunately for you, you rarely made good decisions. (Or: After joining the yakuza, Suo develops the concerning habit of controlling every facet of your life. This is somehow less worrying to you than your uncontrollable lust around him.)
8.7k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au. yandere suo (not abusive and reader is into it), dark comedy, a little angst, smut. warnings: borderline sex work, off-screen criminal violence. nsft – no actual smut in this chapter, but there are still graphic discussions of sex. mdni. thank you to @sleepyqinfei for beta reading and to @/cafekitsune for the banner!
sequel to sincerity and this sakura/reader wip
part 2 here
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You’re not exactly sure why you and Suo have never fucked.
It’s certainly strange, given that you're pretty sure that Suo has expressed at least passing interest in you over the years, and you have felt a lot of interest in him. (By ‘interest’, you mean that you feel an insatiable lust around him that you fight to ignore on a daily basis.) You can't exactly pinpoint why nothing has ever happened despite this mutual attraction, especially given your profession and indifferent feelings toward casual sex.
You can think of a number of probable reasons, which are separate from those you classify as stupid reasons. The latter class comprises silly concerns like a fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of not being pretty enough, fear of not being good enough, et cetera. All very juvenile feelings—insecurities that you had in your teenage years, the days in which Suo ran around Makochi as a delinquent while you worked an honest job at a bar. (It was a girls’ bar in the red light district, but that's neither here nor there.) Your circumstances have since changed, and those anxieties have since faded. None of them have any material consequence for your current life, so you don't see any point in thinking about them.
The stupid reasons, then, definitely don't have anything to do with why you've never fucked Suo. But you can think of a few, more concrete reasons that may explain it. For one, Suo has been your friend since childhood and it’s generally a bad idea to have sex with your long-time friends. He was also your roommate for a while and it’s an even messier idea to have sex with your roommates. And now, in your adulthood, he’s your landlord in addition to being your boss, which makes him the worst possible person you could have sex with. You could lose both your home and your livelihood if things go south—both severe, material consequences that should theoretically keep your lust at bay.
Also, he's also a member of the yakuza.
Now, strictly speaking—you're not really opposed to having sex with violent criminals. It’s definitely not a good idea, but you don't usually have good ideas anyway. But for the past several years, you’ve been pissed at Suo for joining the yakuza in the first place, which actually does keep your blatant attraction to him in check. You simply dry up when you think too hard about all the feelings of betrayal.
When Suo was on the cusp of graduating from Furin and thinking about his future, you’d grabbed him by the collar and made him promise not to join the yakuza. They constantly tried to recruit from Bofurin, and they especially wanted Sakura, Suo, and Sugishita. You were adamant about chasing them off from Suo and Sakura whenever they approached—you had no need to worry about Sugishita, as Umemiya had already said he shouldn't talk to them, so there was no chance he was going to—and you begged Suo over and over not to join. Delinquency was fine, but a crime syndicate was something else altogether.
Suo seemed serious about it when he said he'd listen to you. He even applied to colleges, talked about maybe becoming a teacher and eventually supporting you so you could stop working in the mizu shobai industry. Back then, he often teased you by saying that you should marry him and be his housewife (or he could be your trophy husband, if you so wished). You thought he was joking, but with the way he always talked about his life after his degree, you wondered if he would seriously suggest it.
Of course, it was most likely just teasing, and you were fine with that. You were simply excited that he'd found a career that would make him happy. Nirei had also been accepted to university at that point, and even Sakura had an honest job lined up on Keisei Street. The future had looked bright for everyone.
Then Suo’s master died, and he lost his fucking mind.
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The two of you buried Suo’s master in a Chinese funeral. He had never had children of his own, having satisfied his paternal instincts by picking up strays, and he didn't have much in the way of family in Japan either, so you and Suo performed the shou ling yourselves. One person kept a constant vigil over his body while the other searched on Google for what arrangements should be made next. After all, while Suo’s master had immersed his foremost disciple in his culture, he had never taught Suo any funerary customs. He hadn't thought there would be a need.
Suo didn't cry nearly as much as you, but he was probably in more pain. Your master had trained you a little bit when you were a kid, and he'd taken you in for a while after your parents kicked you out, so of course you were gutted. But he had practically raised Suo, so it was naturally worse for him. More shattering.
You often think about the first night you decided you'd sleep with him in the same futon because he was crying so much. He insisted he was fine, but he didn't complain when you got under the sheets with him and started thumbing away his tears. When you took off his eyepatch, you found, to your astonishment, that he was crying from his missing eye as well. Both of you thought the tear ducts had been destroyed in either the accident or the enucleation, but it appeared that not even that prior trauma could mask his grief over this one.
Nevertheless, by the time of the funeral procession, Suo had stopped crying.
“Master supported us and taught us to stand on our own two feet,” he said as the joss paper burned. He took your hand in his and smiled. “So it'll be fine. We’ll be okay on our own. I'll make sure of it.”
At the time, you had found this very comforting. You didn’t think too much of it, as you had a bad habit of relying on Suo for your emotional stability. His master had raised him to be an emotionally intelligent person, so it had been fine, even though you had a track record of reckless decisions. He’d still exercised endless patience with you. He never once got angry with you, nor did he ever force you to do what he felt was the right thing. Instead, he gently redirected your self-damaging behaviours—not so different from the martial art that he practised.
He disapproved of the run-down and lonely conditions of your apartment, so he spent a great deal of time there and helped make it into a proper home. He didn't like how dangerous your job at the girls’ bar was, so he walked you to and from work every night until you never left without him. He worried when you started having sex with your customers, especially when you began having nervous breakdowns over it (you were, after all, still a teenager and really only interested in having romantic vanilla sex with Suo), so he staged an intervention with Nirei and Sakura. In this way, Suo convinced you that you were loved and protected and didn't need to do something you hated so much. They would get you out if you felt trapped. And you didn't feel trapped, per se, so you left on your own—but it was still only because of them. You promised them afterwards that you'd never do it again.
This was Suo’s brand of kindness as a teenager. He always taught people, guided them away from harm rather than steering them—a behaviour he’d mimicked from your master. Your master, in general, had defined all of Suo’s values and his way of living, which was honest and gentle and conscientious. It was one where he used his abilities to protect the weak and care for his friends. He even kept his spiteful and alarmingly violent tendencies under control, though sometimes he slipped when fighting genuine assholes. But he still tried. He tried because he strived to be as kind as his master—who represented everything that Suo wanted to be in his adult life.
Thus, the death of Suo’s master meant the death of his principles. It changed the kind of man that Suo wanted to be. You don't want to say that he became a worse person, but he absolutely became a worse person.
He especially became a worse person with you.
As it turned out, Suo’s idea of making sure that the two of you would be fine on your own was, well, not really fine. It wasn’t that he became cruel to you, per se. It was more that whenever he saw a problem with your behaviour, his approaches to redirecting it became—put as nicely as possible—heavy-handed.
After your master’s death, you got a job at a high end, yakuza-owned club. Two weeks later, Suo broke his promise to you and joined the yakuza. So I can stay close to you, he explained gently, wiping away your tears as you cried hysterically, but you're convinced to this day that he did it partly out of spite. So a few years later, when you started having sex with your customers again and he tried to stop you, you decided to spite him back. I need to stay on top of the rankings, you'd explained dispassionately. The mamasan said it's fine, and the manager doesn't care. He even thinks it's good for business.
Suo’s response was to simply become the owner of your club.
This move was very extreme, but also very effective. Any customer who so much as brushed against you on the premises was instantly thrown out, and the mamasan started watching you like a hawk to make sure you weren’t going to any love hotels after work. Douhan were off-limits. For the first time since your teens, you became completely celibate—not only because of your new workplace circumstances, but because you simply didn't want to find out what Suo would do if you got together with a man he despised (and he despised every man you dated).
His most absurd play was when he became concerned about your living conditions again. Your latest apartment was too plain, too small, and the area was too dangerous. It didn't even have a shower, and the other tenants behaved concerningly toward you when you went to the bathhouse at night. But the rent was cheap, and it was still an upgrade from your last place, so you shrugged it off when Suo suggested that you move. Even when someone tried to accost you at night, you were nonchalant about it. You kicked the shit out of them in a fight and continued your routine unbothered.
The next month, Suo bought a luxury penthouse and suggested you move in with him.
His offer (command) came with conditions. One of the bigger ones was that you'd let him accompany you out at night if you ever needed to run errands in dangerous places. Or—nevermind, actually. He should really just accompany you everywhere at night. Maybe during the day too. And—ah, there was no way you'd be going to work alone, nor coming back by yourself—you were now always to be driven by someone in his organisation, if he wasn't available himself. Rent was a point of contention, when you asked about it: you wanted to pay at market rate, and he insisted that there was no need to pay at all. He ended up proposing a highly discounted price, which would give you ample financial freedom, but questionable financial independence.
These were insane terms. You knew that if you agreed, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these behaviours were all signs that Suo desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good idea. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Case in point—he was likely connected to the brutal accident that later befell the man who tried to assault you.
“I'm not sure what you're implying, but at least he didn't die,” Suo said cheerfully when you confronted him about it. Which really meant: At least I decided not to kill him. This was a flag bigger and redder than any other you've ever known, and you consider yourself an expert in red flags. You knew you should run in the other direction.
So naturally, you put your arms around him, tenderly said, I'm sorry I've been worrying you, and then you moved in the next day.
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While Suo treats you with endless patience, you have personal limits to the patience that you exercise with him. Specifically, your patience with how he treats you.
You don't mind the lack of social freedom, nor the lack of personal freedom, nor the lack of freedom of movement. You also don't mind living with a man full of intractable trauma surrounding the death of every parental figure in his life; in fact, you'd rather be by his side than not, if he needs to cope with something so painful. And anyway, your friendship is otherwise unchanged if you ignore the heavy restrictions he's imposed on every facet of your life. So that's all fine.
But the celibate lifestyle that he's cornered you into? You simply aren't built for it. Holy shit, do you need to get laid.
Nearly two years without sex has brought you close to another nervous breakdown (there have been few better sources of entertainment or validation in your life), and worst of all, it has made your profound lust for Suo incredibly hard to ignore. Waking up every morning to him in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower and his broad silhouette exposed, tests the absolute limits of your self-control. The contours of his lean and muscled form are distracting enough; coupled with the vivid colours and lines of his irezumi, the sight of him becomes maddening. It is a horrible thing to be exposed to when you haven't gotten any dick nor strap in over a year. It gives you thoughts about him that are overtly sexual, which is bad, as you have materially consequential reasons for not wanting to fuck Suo.
Things with him must absolutely stay platonic. But with sexual frustration like yours, being platonic with him means that you need to get erotic with someone else. A boyfriend or girlfriend is out of the question; you don't want to be responsible for yet another brutal accident. So you instead decide to quit your job at his club and start working on Keisei Street. At least this way, you can start fucking your customers again.
It’s a perfect plan. Suo’s oyabun is very indulgent toward him, and everyone else in the family respects him too. He consequently has a tight grip on his organisation and the territory they control, despite his relatively young age. Not a single person is ever to touch Keisei Street—largely because Sakura is part of Roppo-Ichiza, and Suo is nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. Plus, many of his other fellow Furin alumni are in the gang as well. If Suo’s men ever started fucking with people on Keisei Street, it would not only have grave implications for gang relations—it would be personally upsetting for Suo. This means you can fuck all the Keisei Street customers you want, and not get a single one of them threatened or killed.
A pretty brilliant idea, if you do say so yourself.
Suo’s expression doesn't change when you break the news to him. He delicately places his teacup—custom-made from Yixing, just like the matching clay teapot—down on the mahogany tabletop, and he looks at you with a calm smile.
“Come again?”
“I'm quitting my job at Red Dragon,” you repeat. “I already gave the mamasan my resignation.”
“And she accepted it?” Suo asks, in a tone that is so carefully nonchalant that you know it means he is actually furious with her. “How interesting,” he muses. “What brought this on?”
“I've found a better paying opportunity on Keisei Street.”
“I'll give you a raise,” he says easily.
“A raise?” You cock a brow. “The pay is mostly commission-based at Red Dragon. You know that.”
“Then it would be unwise to leave. You have a loyal customer base at Red Dragon. All very rich, and”—his smile grows sharp—“very polite.”
Polite. An interesting word. It actually means: None of them will ever proposition or harass you because they know they'll be maimed if they do. An easy thought to use to your advantage.
“It's loyal but it's small. Everyone who's anyone in this part of town thinks that we’re married. Do you know how hard it is to pull new customers in when they're scared shitless of my yakuza husband? And anyway”—you frown, trying to look as pathetic as possible—“I'm lonely.”
Suo stares. He looks surprised, possibly because you absorb every minute of his free time with silly conversation, new restaurants, and skiing trips. (He likes snow, so you ask for these trips more for him to relax than anything else.) You also text him frequently on days he's working, and he very diligently replies, even if he's in the middle of something like a raid or a hit or brokering a massive deal. Suo still very strictly keeps to his rule of never touching his phone when in conversation with other people—unless he needs to text you.
So his suspicion is fair. Suo is very attentive and doesn't allow you much opportunity for loneliness. In turn, you’ve always been very happy spending time with him, even when it's only him.
“Lonely?” he repeats. “Are you, now?”
“Yes. You work so much,” you complain, which is not a lie, “and I don't have any friends to spend time with when you're gone.”
“You have friends from work.”
“No, I have competition at work. The hostesses are so cutthroat about rankings, they hate me. And each other.”
“You like Shuuhei and Hanzo,” he points out, referring to his men who most frequently chauffeur you.
“Yeah, they're friendly, and they're very funny. I like them, but I can't be their friend.” Suo stares at you, nonplussed, so you spell it out: “They're too scared of you to get close to me. What if it looks like they're trying to fuck the boss’ wife?”
“Hm…” Suo studies you, looking thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time, he's contemplating the consequences of restricting your freedoms and marking you as his. That is to say—maybe he's finally realising that you have no friends and no life.
The beads of his earrings glimmer as he tilts his head at you and frowns. Suo almost looks innocent with that confused face of his. “And how would working on Keisei Street help?” he asks.
“Because all our old friends are there!” you exclaim. “Sakura’s in Roppo-Ichiza now so he’ll definitely be coming by all the clubs. Tsubaki too. And Nirei and Kiryu visit them quite often—and even Tsugeura does sometimes, even though clubbing isn't one of his virtues.” You grab onto his arm, pull yourself close, and give him your most disarming, pleading expression. “Please, Suo?”
“Hm.” He strokes your cheek and looks at you fondly, in the way that one would do with an adorable and slightly annoying kitten. “I don’t think so. It’s not very safe there.”
He isn't wrong. Not only are you untouchable on his turf because of your association to him, Suo has also just crushed all the han-gure and petty criminals in his territory with brutal efficiency. His part of the red light district is, quite ironically, one of the safest places in the city, and certainly safer than Keisei Street.
But undeterred, you point out, “Shuuhei and Hanzo can still drive me there and back if you want. But I don't think it's necessary. Do you really think Sakura would let anything happen to me?”
This is the true brilliance of your plan: capitalising on the fact that Suo is as nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. He pauses as soon as you bring up the point, and you can practically see the gears turning. “Well, if it's him…”
“I even texted him about it. Look—here!” You whip out your phone, receipts ready. The corner of Suo's mouth lifts at your obviously rehearsed pitch. “He says he'd make sure I'm taken care of. And he says it'd be nice because he misses seeing us. Can you believe it—Sakura actually admitted that he misses us! Typed it with his own two hands and pressed send! I bet he was super embarrassed about it.”
“Huh. He even used a sticker. I've never seen him do that.” Suo smiles as he reads through the chat. He looks like his old self. You suddenly feel a little wistful, and also a lot bad. This started as a ploy to get laid, but it’s made you realise that you really do miss your friends—and Suo probably does too.
“If I worked on Keisei Street, then you would have plenty of reason to visit,” you point out, feeling somewhat tender.
“I guess that's true,” Suo says. Your heart aches a little bit at the look he gives you. It's a platonic ache, of course. Or at the very least, it isn't an erotic one. It doesn't really make you want to have sex with him anyway. But if you could lean forward and press your lips to his—platonically—then you definitely would.
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Suo's civilian friendships are complicated by his double life. Quite unusually for yakuza, Suo’s syndicate insists on using pseudonyms and false histories to avoid anti-yakuza laws, on the off-chance that the police decide to do their jobs and actually enforce those laws someday. Lying for comedy is one of Suo’s greatest passions, so he was happy to manufacture an absurd backstory: his name is Yanzhao, and he learned kung fu in a Shaolin Temple before moving to Hong Kong and working for the triads. He wears the eyepatch because he lost his eye in an altercation with the cops, which he won. By the way, you're his criminally beautiful wife who he met in Macau. The two of you had to leave for Japan since he killed a police officer and now he's wanted by the governments of both China and Hong Kong. Also, he's a very devoted husband, so if anyone lays a hand on you, he’ll kill them too.
Somehow, everyone has bought into this story. Every criminal organisation in the red light district now fears a high-ranking yakuza known as Yanzhao, who is easily recognizable by his eyepatch and tassel earrings, and who is also homicidally obsessed with his beautiful wife.
In some ways, his infamy is convenient. No one wants to fuck with Suo, or with you by extension. But it also poses some issues: Suo has to keep a low profile in areas controlled by rival organisations, or else he might be ambushed. It also means he cannot easily go out and see his old friends. Even though he always masquerades as a civvie when he does, wearing stud earrings and a glass eye, it's still a little risky—especially since he likes to visit the strongest member of Roppo-Ichiza. While Roppo-Ichiza aren’t yakuza, they're still han-gure, so some of its more criminally entangled members might recognize him anyway.
But Sakura himself, bless him, has not put two and two together and figured out that Suo Hayato and Gui Yanzhao are the same person. This is partly because Suo lies very convincingly about his fictional career in the tea industry, but you think it's also because Sakura is so gullible it's endearing.
I use the glass eye now because it's better for networking, Suo had explained before Sakura could interrogate him too much, his voice too smooth and too quick for the other man to get in a word edgewise. My business partners find the eyepatch too silly. The tassel earrings too. By the way, would you like some Baimudan tea? I thought of you when I smelled it—I know you like fragrant things—so I picked some up for you on my last visit to China. I was there for business a couple of weeks ago.
He, of course, neglected to mention that said business involved meeting with the 14K triad.
Despite the enormity of Suo's omission (lie), Sakura is none the wiser whenever he meets with you. He thinks you're just a regular hostess who has freedom of movement and various other human rights, and that Suo’s just a regular guy who isn’t homicidally obsessed with you (a detail of Suo's fabricated life story that is unfortunately grounded in reality). All this to say, Sakura doesn't think twice about mentioning the fact that you have a routine of going to love hotels after work.
Suo, as always, remains calm in the face of unsettling information. He sets down his tea (just tea, without shochu), and politely says, “Pardon?” He's once again using the nonchalant kind of tone that suggests mortal danger.
“She's always going to love hotels after her shifts.” Sakura is frowning at you, pink but scowling. “I thought you said you were done with that stuff. You promised us you wouldn't do it anymore. Suo—are you really okay with this?”
On the one hand, you find it exceptionally sweet that Sakura, after all this time, remembers your promise and wishes to hold you to it. He was so worried about you when you started having those nervous breakdowns as a teenager, and he probably still is. On the other hand, you're shitting bricks at the fact that Suo is now aware of your activities. Because sure, he likely won't fuck with Keisei Street—but you realise, as he stares at you, that you can't be certain of this. After all, your fake yakuza husband has very real homicidal urges.
“Um,” you say. “It's just business.”
“Business,” Suo repeats.
“You don't have to do that stuff to keep good business,” Sakura grouses, unaware of Suo’s carefully suppressed rage. “You're real popular already.”
“Are you?” Suo asks, looking right at you.
“I mean—I told you the pay would be better, right?” you reply, voice oddly high and nervous, and this is when Sakura notices that something is wrong.
“Oh,” Sakura says, looking between the two of you. “Suo, you didn't know?”
“I didn't,” he says. “Actually, she told me specifically that she wasn't going to do that if she worked here.” He turns to you, still smiling. “That's the only reason why I allowed this at all, remember?”
A chill travels down your spine. You did, in fact, commit to a perpetually sexless lifestyle in order to be granted some semblance of freedom: Of course I won't sleep with any customers, you'd said. You know I don't really like doing that anyway. I promise I'll behave! I’ll be out of the clubs and right back home. Sakura said he’d make sure I’ll get to a cab safely after the bar closes and everything!
“Um,” you say again, but this time you have no follow-up.
“Wait,” Sakura demands, “what do you mean by ‘allowed her’? What, do you need to give her permission to work now or something?”
Suo smiles disarmingly at Sakura. Without missing a beat, he says, “Generally no. But we’re dating now, which complicates what she’s allowed to do with other men at her job.”
Sakura spits out his drink. You choke on your spit.
“I… um?!” Sakura’s staring at you, so you quickly recover. This is a mortifying lie, but it's better than Sakura finding out just how batshit Suo has become since his school days. “I thought we were going to keep that a secret, dear?”
“Ah, you're right. Sorry, I got too excited.” Suo gives you an endeared look before turning to Sakura. “We were going to keep it to ourselves unless we got serious about it. But we've been talking about marriage lately, so I thought it was fine to mention.”
“...”
You’re going to have an aneurysm. Why does every cover that Suo comes up with involve a marital relationship between the two of you?!
“Oh… holy shit.” Sakura’s expression is complicated—somehow, more complicated than yours, even though you’re the one getting cornered into a fake engagement. It's unbelievable how shy he still is about this kind of thing. Maybe it’s just particularly embarrassing since he's known you two for so long, you reason. Regardless, he remembers his social cues enough to say, “Congrats, guys. That's great. That's really great.”
Suo gazes fondly at you across the table. “We were thinking you could be our best man,” he adds, and you consider violently kicking his leg.
“O-oh. Uh, yeah! Sure! But what about Nirei?”
“Rather than having a maid of honour,” you say reflexively, used to lying through your teeth for Suo, “we’d like him to be our best man as well.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” Thrown off guard, Sakura completely forgets about the love hotel business. He whips out his phone. “When were you thinking of having your wedding? I'll put it in my calendar.”
“I’m not sure.” Suo turns to you. “What were we thinking again, dear?”
You're going to die. You're going to die and it's a good thing because if you survive this embarrassment, your future will be bleak. As soon as Nirei finds out about this, he’ll want to start helping you with wedding planning, and then it would just be too awkward to cancel things. You’ll have to enter a fake marriage with Suo, which will be completely sexless, because even with a vow of everlasting love, there are still too many concrete and materially consequential reasons for not sleeping with him.
Condemning yourself to a lifetime of sexual frustration, you reply, “I think we were talking about a summer wedding.”
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The drive home is awkward.
Hanzo and Shuuhei pick the two of you up. Suo mentioned that he wanted to talk to you and you alone, so they bring the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. The two of them are entirely cut off from you thanks to the soundproofing, which traps you with Suo, who’s drinking a bottle of oolong tea as the two of you sit in complete silence. You think he's waiting for you to squirm—which you do.
You stay like that for five, agonising minutes before Suo finally says, “So you're sleeping with your customers.”
You swallow. “Yes.”
“For business?”
“Yes.”
“How much do you make?”
You blink. “Huh?”
“How much do you get paid for a single night of work, including gifts that your customers give you in exchange for sleeping with them?”
You're halfway through citing your earnings when you realise where he's going with this.
“So you make less than you did at Red Dragon,” Suo concludes, “and you're very smart with your money, so I know you know that, and you probably went into this knowing that you'd end up at a net loss.” He turns to you, gives you a look so sharp that it almost scares you. All made worse by his civilian disguise, which makes him feel unfamiliar. His glass eye shines strangely in the light, and his scar tissue is hidden by the makeup you helped apply. You wish he'd taken it all off before having this conversation.
“So,” he says, “what’s the real reason you changed jobs?”
Already knowing that he’ll figure you out sooner or later, you admit, “I just wanted to start having sex again.”
Suo blinks. “You… what?”
“I wanted to have sex with people,” you repeat. “I hadn't been touched for nearly two years, okay? I needed to get laid or else I'd go insane.” You cross your arms and look away, suddenly feeling petulant. “I'm sure you've noticed that our arrangement makes it impossible for me to see people.”
He doesn't answer, because of course he's noticed. He’d designed his house rules with precisely this intent. If he accompanies you everywhere you go, then you can't exactly go on dates, and you definitely can't meet people for sex. Not unless you feel like having Suo watch as some anonymous guy fucks you, and you don't. As hot as the idea is, it’s definitely not platonic behaviour, and it would probably trigger the whole homicidal obsession thing.
“Do you like it?” Suo asks, startling you. You look at him, confused.
“What?”
“Do you enjoy having sex with your customers?” he asks. His voice and gaze are even. Unrelenting. “Does it make you happy?”
You stare at him, a deer caught in headlights. You didn't expect Suo to actually care about whether you enjoyed it or not, and you didn't really expect to care yourself either. But truthfully, you hated it. You simply weren't feeling it with most of your customers and avoided intercourse with all but one. Then in that one case you let someone earnestly fuck you, it was a complete letdown. Possibly the worst sex you'd ever had. You spent the whole time watching the clock, wondering how long it would take, and it turned out that your hookup had remarkable stamina but absolutely no technique. To pass the time, and in an attempt to feel something, you tried to imagine it was someone else who was inside you. You cycled through a whole list of people, including all of your exes, a few of your past customers, every single member of BTS, and then—finally, inevitably—your long-time friend, roommate, and landlord.
To your complete horror, when you imagined that it was Suo who had you folded in half, his cock so deep inside you that you could feel it in your throat, you came so hard that you drenched the sheets.
You lay there afterward as your customer showered, alone in the bed. Normally you'd be getting dressed at that point, but you were too distracted. You kept thinking about what it would feel like to be held by Suo after having your guts rearranged by him—embraced tenderly like you know he would do with you, kissing him platonically like you've always wanted to do with him—and you realised that you didn’t actually want to have sex with anyone else. Despite all your life experience, sexual experience, and job experience—in that moment, you felt like a lonely nineteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have romantic, vanilla sex with her best friend, but who was instead having impersonal, disappointing sex with various salarymen.
This was a feeling so disgusting that you’ve decided to never tell anyone at any cost.
“Yeah, it's fine. I guess I like it.” You pretend to study your nails. “Sometimes I cum, which is all I really want.”
Suo keeps staring at you. “That’s it?” he asks, voice measured and careful. You raise a brow, playing dumb.
“What do you mean?”
“That's all you want? Just to get off?”
You gaze out the window, trying not to look at his lips.
“Yes, that's all.”
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No matter how batshit Suo gets, he always maintains a certain kindness and maturity in how he handles conflict with you. It's a lesson that he learned from his master, which has perhaps been distorted over time, but remains important to him nevertheless.
If you do something upsetting, Suo is never forceful about getting you to act differently. Sure, he has fucked up ways of either getting you to behave or making you understand the consequences of your actions, and perhaps he has his manipulative moments. It was probably not a good thing that he coaxed you into indefinite house arrest, for instance. But he never threatens you, and he never hits you, and he never disrespects you. In fact, more than anything, he makes it a point to never let you feel like you aren't loved.
So when Suo abandons you after that conversation in the Rolls Royce, you lose your fucking mind.
Suo doesn’t come home in the days following that evening, without any note nor explanation. For the first time in years, he stops replying to your texts. Your immediate thought is that he's been gravely injured or perhaps even killed, which sends you into a panicked spiral. But every one of his men who's come by to check on you has implied otherwise—but I'm not allowed to tell you anything else, anesan, I’m sorry, they all say. And when you realise that Suo is actually fine and he's just playing a fucked up mind game with you, one that makes you feel distinctly unloved, you feel simultaneously heartbroken and apoplectic. The man is not allowed to corner you into de facto imprisonment and then just fucking leave. In fact, if he tries, you might imprison him.
You spend a few days sitting at home and crying over this, as well as torturing yourself by thinking about useless things (fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, et cetera). But eventually, you get tired of wallowing in self-inflicted misery, and you decide to just track your fake husband down. His men have been adamant about not letting you out of their sight—presumably so you don’t fuck any more of your customers, because Suo can be spiteful like that—so you have to be strategic about your plan to find him.
You decide to do it during work. You tap out in the middle of a shift, feigning illness, so nobody bats an eye when you put on the most shapeless hoodie you own and throw on a face mask. Your chauffeurs (handlers) don't notice as you sneak off—and for the first time in years, you walk through the red light district all alone.
It feels strange not to be protected, and even stranger not to be surveilled. You marvel at the unfamiliar experience of complete freedom, and at the possibility of being able to run off and disappear if you so wished. But you don't, of course. Not only do you care too deeply for Suo to abandon him, you're also pretty sure he has your driver’s licence and ID card locked up somewhere. At least you haven't been able to find them, and Suo was oddly evasive about it when you asked. (I haven't seen them, he'd said, but I don't think you’d need either of those things immediately, anyway, do you? And you nodded in response, because it was true that you liked being his passenger princess too much to care about your licence.)
So rather than bolting for the subway, you head straight to your old workplace. The gleaming doors of Red Dragon welcome you as you cross its threshold, and you're greeted immediately by the scent of luxury colognes and expensive cigars—both evoking a strange nostalgia in you. Even the click of your heels against the marble floor feels familiar. You realise that you've missed the place despite its cutthroat culture and its owner’s authoritarian control over you, which you suppose isn't surprising. This club was more or less your home for years and, thanks to said owner, was the safest place you've ever worked.
And being that you feel you've returned to your very safe home, you don't expect it when you're abruptly stopped by the bouncer.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his arm in your way. You don't recognize him, but you see the edges of his irezumi peeking out from the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt.
“Yeah, actually,” you say. “I'm looking for Gui Yanzhao. Is he here right now?”
The bouncer—or chinpira, you guess—bristles.
“You're looking for who?”
“Yanzhao?” you say impatiently. “Eyepatch, tassel earrings? Owner of the club? Probably your boss?”
The bouncer steps forward and reaches for something in his pocket, which makes you suddenly nervous, and also makes you realise that in a hoodie and a face mask, you ordinarily wouldn't be allowed in this club, let alone into the room of its yakuza owner. You're so used to VIP treatment here that you simply forgot.
You take a step back. “Um. I think there's been a misunderstanding.” You lower your face mask, which doesn't help as you've never met this man, and he must be new. You’ll need to complain to Suo about his onboarding process later, if you aren't killed before you can find him.
It turns out that this yakuza rookie has a knife in his pocket, which is not the worst thing he could have been carrying, but is also not the best. You're getting ready to run in the other direction when a more senior member of the gang comes by. He gives you a startled look, which then turns alarmed when he sees his younger brother’s knife.
“Anesan!” he yells hurriedly, and he snatches the chinpira’s knife straight from his hand. His lunge for the weapon turns into a hurried bow. He pulls his colleague—whose face has turned very white in a very short amount of time—into an even deeper one. They look on the verge of prostrating.
“Oh, Yamashita. Hi! Is this guy new?”
“Yes! My sincerest apologies for my younger brother’s idiocy, and his insolence in raising a weapon at you.” There's a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. “If you would like him to atone, then he would be more than happy to—”
“No, that's fine. I'd really like him to keep all his fingers.” If you have to see a rookie cut off his pinkie today, you think you might actually change your mind on running away. Fuck your documents—Suo can keep them. Surely life without proof of identity can't be that hard. “By the way,” you say, trying to change the topic before Yamashita can suggest alternative acts of atonement, “have you seen my husband?”
Yamashita hesitates at your question, looks conflicted. You feel a little bad for him, and for every other gang member who needs to worry about accidentally offending Suo. You watch him sweat for a full ten seconds before he says, “You can follow me. But anesan, you might find it unpleasant upstairs. I can find someone to drive you home instead, if you'd like.”
You give him a funny look. This was your workplace for a very long time—you can’t think of many things that would happen here that might seriously upset you. “What, is he cheating on me?” you guess.
“What? No! Aniki would never!” Yamashita seems genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “He's crazy about you!”
“Then I'm sure he’ll be happy to see me,” you say, although given that he's ignored your texts for four days straight, you aren't so sure. Regardless, this seems to be good enough reasoning for Yamashita, and you’re taken to the top floor of Red Dragon. You ponder the whole time, on the elevator ride up, just what exactly Suo’s been up to that's made Yamashita this nervous about letting you see him.
Then the door opens, and you’re given your answer in the form of several body bags—all cleanly zipped up and conscientiously laid out in front of the elevators in a single, neat row. A sight that is significantly worse than a rookie cutting off his pinkie finger.
“Oh,” you say faintly. You try not to throw up. “So this is why he hasn't been home.”
“Exactly!” Yamashita replies, beaming. “See, anesan, I told you. He'd never cheat on you!”
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Suo is in the lounge of the top floor, which has been cleared of both civilians and corpses for the night. He's sitting on one of the couches, leaning back with his one eye closed, as if asleep. The golden tassels of his earrings are draped over the expensive leather of his seat, intertwined with his dark hair. A cup of tea sits in front of him, steaming. Even this far away, you recognize it by the scent alone: jasmine, probably from Longjing. One of the most expensive blends he has, and that which he saves for days he’s stressed, though he never admits it when he is.
The sight of him would almost look tranquil, except for all the blood on his knuckles and his cuffs.
Off to the side, two of his younger brothers are chatting away. One is pouring cups of some doubtlessly expensive liquor, and the other is smoking a cigar. There's karaage on the table too. You recognize all of this as part of a ritual that some of the guys like to do after a hit or a shootout, not dissimilar to getting ramen or McDonald’s after going to a club.
You catch a bit of their conversation as you approach. One of them holds up the liquor bottle (Isojiman sake, you now recognise from your girls’ bar days, one of the rarer bottles costing around nine million yen) and asks Suo if he wants to join. “No thanks,” he says predictably, “I'm on a diet.” Then he turns and looks right at you—startling you, because you had thought you were being fairly quiet—and gives you a smile so genuine that it reminds you of his Furin days. “Would my beautiful wife like to drink for me, though?”
“No thanks,” you reply, “but your beautiful wife would like to talk to you.”
The two guys clear out to give you some privacy. You’re left alone with Suo, feeling awkward after several days of resenting him for no reason. (You’d rather die than go to therapy, but the whole fear of abandonment thing is probably something you should start addressing.) You don't even know where you want to sit. Eventually, you settle for placing yourself next to him, which is a decision that Suo quickly overturns by pulling you into his lap.
A flutter erupts in your stomach as he settles you on top of him. This physiological reaction is absurd, as not even ten minutes ago, you were trying not to throw up at the line of corpses in front of the elevator. It should also scare you somewhat that Suo’s hands—delicately adjusting your body—are still covered in blood. But truthfully, you can't help but be happy when he makes you feel so loved.
You take one of the napkins on the table and start wiping at his knuckles. Tenderly, in case they're bruised or skinned.
“You didn't call or come home,” you start.
“I thought it would be too dangerous.”
You frown, thinking of all the bodies outside. “Was this a rival organisation?”
“No. They were ours.” He sighs. “A succession conflict. There are a few people who don't like how I'll run things if I take over.”
You nod. Suo is very old-fashioned in his ideals about the yakuza, which you think is an imprint of his master’s influence, and something that appeals to his current ‘father’. He values chivalry. He likes protecting the weak. His filial devotion to his deceased master has now extended to every member of his yakuza family, especially his oyassan. He’s almost certainly the top candidate for taking over after the oyabun dies, but being that part of his old-fashioned principles excludes lucrative projects such as sex trafficking, you suppose it’s natural that some people in his organisation would prefer him dead rather than in charge.
“You’ve never ghosted me during violent conflicts before though,” you say. “I was worried that something happened to you. Or that you were upset with me.”
Suo’s hand drops to your waist, pulling you a little closer.
“They knew where we live. They tried to get to you, you know.” Your eyes widen in alarm, so he cups your face with a palm. His thumb glides along your cheek, and your response is almost Pavlovian: your heart rate immediately slows at the comfort of his touch. “It’s fine. They won't bother you ever again.” The cheerful smile returns. “And if anyone else ever does, I'll handle them too.”
Your heart swells. Enthusiastic pledges of murder are not a healthy sign of affection, but after so much loneliness—whether from the past several days, or the years before that, you aren't sure—you can't find it in yourself to be disturbed. You feel and sound painfully fond when you reply, “I know.”
Suo’s expression dims a little then. “I thought you'd like the space anyway.”
“What?” You give him a confused look. You have never once given him any indication that you want even an inch of space from him. You'd crawl into his ribcage if you could. “Why would you think that?”
“I thought you felt suffocated. You left my club just so you could have sex with other people.” You blink, lingering on his wording. Other people. He continues before you can ask about it, sighing, “You didn't even ask me who I'd give permission to touch you. You just went ahead and decided on your own.”
“...”
You try not to look disturbed. Suo’s apparent wish to control your sexual decisions is news to you, and somehow more alarming than the murder pledge. And even worse—you immediately clench in response to his words. The thought of Suo dictating who does and doesn't get to touch your cunt is… well, your mind is heading in a distinctly non-platonic direction.
Trying to ignore the heat in between your thighs (but at the same time encouraging it), you ask: “Who would you have been, um, okay with touching me?”
“Sakura or Nirei,” he says immediately. “Though only Sakura would be interested.”
“What.” You gape at him, all arousal forgotten. “Bullshit. He would never.”
“Yes, he would.” Suo tilts his head. “Haven't you noticed?”
“I don't think there's anything to notice? And also—he’s so shy, I don't think he'd ever agree even if he were interested!” You give him a bewildered look. “He couldn't even look at us when we said we were getting married, he was so embarrassed!”
“Embarrassed?” Suo stares at you, an amused glint in his eye. “Is that what you thought was going on?”
“Was there anything else?”
He studies you for a moment, clearly entertained but not explaining why. “Well—it’s fine,” he says. “It doesn't matter for now. Especially since he's helping us plan a wedding and all.”
You make a face. “I still can't believe that's the cover you went for.”
“Are you upset with it?” he asks smoothly, and you huff and say yes, but from his sly look, you think he knows it's a lie.
Naturally, you deflect before he can further interrogate you. “So, given that you are now my fiancé, am I no longer allowed to work on Keisei Street and see customers after my shifts?”
You don’t expect it when Suo says, “No, you can.”
You stare. “What?”
“You can keep seeing customers if you'd like. You said it makes you happy, so why would I stop you?” Suo’s brow furrows, his usual calm replaced with concern. “Do you really think I do the things I do to make you miserable?”
Guilt gnaws at your heart. He looks so disappointed. “No,” you tell him. “I just thought it'd make you miserable that I was sleeping with people without your permission.” It is partly why you hid it from him in the first place, after all. You don't like to see him sad—you’re still haunted by the deep grief he was in, after your master died—and also, his misery tends to bring bodily harm to other people these days.
Cognizant of both concerns, you ask, “You’re really okay with me sleeping with my customers? I can stop, if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. I still don't like it, but you can continue for now if you want.”
Suo’s mouth curls—not in a gentle way, as has been his expression since seeing you walk in, but in a way that sets off your flight or fight response.
“I'm sure we’ll reach a mutual understanding soon enough.”
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END PART 1
thank you genuinely if you read all that because this is a deranged au and I still can't believe I wrote it sldfkjsldfkj. please do let me know if you enjoyed my yandere suo delusions. sorry there was no smut in this chapter. I promise there is a ton in the next one (probably too much... lol. it's a 10k chapter and literally half of those words are about orgasm denial sldfkjalskdjdf). it's completely written and I hope to edit and have it up by next week!
also here is glossary of terms and world building notes if you are interested!
tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics !! <3
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softestqueeen · 2 days ago
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just a kiss
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pairing: aaron hotchner x afab!reader
summary: a kiss under the mistletoe with a certain casanova makes your boyfriend, aaron hotchner, question himself.
warnings: 18+ MDNI!! smut, p in v, fingering, jealous!hotch, hurt/comfort, jealousy fucking, slight breeding (i’m just a girl guys), unprotected sex (guys, don’t do that)
wordcount: 1990 words
a/n: better late than never guys, i really wanted to write something for christmas! I’m thinking about writing something short for spencer as well, but i don’t know how much time i will have. But anyways, merry christmas to those who celebrate! enjoy <3
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“Oh oh, a mistletoe. You know what that’s means mama, come here and give me a kiss,” your good friend and colleague Derek was already rubbing his hands together before holding them out to you.
You decided to humor him, taking a step closer to him, definitely not expecting him to pull you in and tip you back. Letting out a surprised squeak, you tell Garcia, who was watching the spectacle with wide and curious eyes. “Don’t look Penelope, you don’t wanna see this.”
It was the last thing you said before Derek pressed his lips to you, pulling away with a loud smooch. He lifts you back on your feet again and lets out a laugh, quickly matched by your own laughter.
He gently pats your hip before leaving to join the others in their festive activities around Rossi’s mansion. Garcia immediately lets out an excited squeal which you only answer with a dismissive wave of your hand before following Derek into the heart of the party.
You don’t mind the kiss anymore, until you are alone with your boyfriend Aaron Hotchner. He was standing by the fridge, beer in hand and a frown adorning his handsome face.
Looking around to see if anybody was nearby, you step closer to him, going in for a kiss, which he tried to avert by moving his head. He gives you a tight lip smile before quickly leaving the kitchen, leaving you with a heavy heart and even more confusion.
Why was he acting so weird all of the sudden? Did you do something wrong the last time you saw each other? Yes, your relationship was secret, but you both agreed to keeping it from the team. So, what was wrong?
Following a harmless Christmas tradition under the cheers of Penelope already slipped your mind. You didn’t think it was that much of a deal.
A little while later, while Aaron was still avoiding you like the plague, the two of you unknowingly found yourself under another mistletoe. (damn you, Garcia)
You looked at your (secret) boyfriend, while the team cheared you on. “We don’t have to kiss in front of everyone, if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s alright. If they want a show, let’s give them one,” Aaron answers you, a rare smile slipping through. His answer confused you, why was he suddenly talking to you like nothing happened?
Leaning up, you place a quick peck on his lips, briefly placing your hand on his arm. As quickly as it started it was already over again. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, knowing he was never one for PDA.
“Show’s over guys,” you announce before going to the kitchen to fulfil your actual plan of getting a refill for your drink.
Aaron silently follows you, even though he just left the massive kitchen. After watching you for a moment, he asked you the question that had been on his mind since you kissed Derek some time ago.
“Why did Derek get a real kiss?”
“What do you mean?” The confusion was written all over your face.
“Just now, under the mistletoe.” Oh, so that is what this is all about. He continues “I only get a small peck, but you kissed Morgan like it was the last time you would ever kiss someone” in a smaller voice he added “It almost seemed more real with him.”
“Aaron, are you jealous?” You almost let out a small laugh, but his almost pained expression made you hold back. In that moment he looked so small and vulnerable, avoiding your eye.
Stepping forward, you take his hands in yours and tell him “Listen to me now, Hotchner. You’re the only one that I want, yeah? I need you to know that.” Your hands now move to cup his face, his dark eyes meeting yours again, the uncertainty in them slowly fading again. “I only gave you a small peck because of the whole ‘we don’t want to tell the team about us” thing. And of course, when Mr. Flirty himself tips you back for a little smooch under the mistletoe you can’t really say no that easily. And why would I, a seemingly single woman refuse to kiss my very good friend Derek Morgan. But that doesn’t matter now, because you Mr. Aaron Hotchner are it for me, I don’t want anybody else. You understand me?”
Hearing you talk like this made Hotch almost feel a little bit silly. Of course, he loved you and knew that you loved him too. And deep down he knows that he never doubted that, but you kissing Derek made something ugly and green sprout in his mind and he was foolish enough to let it overshadow the love you shared.
“I’m sorry, of course I know. I love you like nobody else but seeing you with somebody younger and more charming made me question myself.” It pained you to know Aaron felt hurt by this.
“No, don’t be sorry. I promise I won’t kiss any more colleagues under the mistletoe. Ok, I think that’s a lie, I have the feeling Prentiss is just waiting for her opportunity.” Your joke had the anticipated effect, making you both laugh. Without thinking you lean up, meeting his already waiting lips in an almost passionate kiss. After parting , you both share a knowing look before departing and joining the party again.
++++
The party continued everybody – even you – oblivious to Aarons inner debate. Of course he knew that you were stable, especially after you reassured him, but something still didn’t let him enjoy the time, especially when you were talking to Derek or as as silly as it may sound, Prentiss. He couldn’t get your comment out of his head, even if it was a joke.
Thankfully there was not just the team at Rossi’s Christmas party, but also a lot of his other friends and fbi people, so it wouldn’t be noticed that the two of you were missing.
He quickly found you and thankfully you weren’t talking to anybody at the moment. Closing the distance, he leaned into you and whispered in your ear. “Meet me upstairs, the first bathroom to your left. You go ahead, I’ll join you in about five minutes, darling.” With a quick kiss to your cheek, he left you alone and went back to the party.
Even if you questioned his behaviour, you also trust this man with your life, so you went upstairs and waited. After almost exactly five minutes you heard a knock and a quiet it’s me, making you open the door.
The moment it was closed again, Aaron connected your lips with his and kissed you like his life depended on it. His hands immediately went to your waist, his grip never faltering for even a second. You let out a surprised squeal but weren’t unhappy with how things turned out, so you immediately returned the kiss with just as much enthusiasm, your hands wandering over his arms before letting them rest on his muscular chest.
The unit chief lead you backwards to the sink, turning you around and pressing you against it. The cool tile made you shiver, your thin dress making you feel every dip. You were quickly distracted though, now feeling Aarons massive body against you, his hard cock pressing against your back.
Feeling his length made you gasp. You boyfriends hands rested against your hips again, his lips trailing over the back of your neck and your shoulder.
“You look so beautiful in that dress; it almost kills me to act like I don’t care. Especially when I see everybody looking at you, but you’re mine, aren’t you?”
You were again surprised by his words. Was he really that jealous? Your only answer was a whined only you, before Aaron let his hand wander underneath your dress.
He started stroking your wet cunt through your wet panties, the kissing and his behaviour already having an effect on you. Pressing your ass against his erection, you let out a small moan.
Aaron wanted to be inside of you as fast as he could, so he didn’t hesitate to push your panties to the side and let his finger glide through your folds.
“Already so wet for me, baby. Do you want my cock?” As he was saying that, he slowly pushed one of his thick fingers into you, slowly pumping in and out of you while waiting for an answer.
After a moment you realised he was waiting for an answer, his fingers on you making it hard to concentrate. “Yes, Aaron, need you so bad.”
He swiftly added another finger, now slowly curling them inside of you, preparing you for his length. Letting out another string of moans, your grip his hand, signalling hm to go faster.
“Please Aaron, I’m so close.” It was more of a whine, your head dropping back against his strong shoulder.
Aaron reached forward, hugging your torso against him.
“Let go, come for me, now” it didn’t take more for you. With a breathless call of is name you came undone, your whole body trembling. Aaron supported your weight, his fingers slowly coming to a halt inside of you before pulling out, making you whine.
The unit chief placed a kiss upon your shoulder, before using his now free hand to open up his fly and pull out his rock hard cock. He gave himself a few slow pumps, spreading your remaining wetness over his length.
He properly bunched up your dress to your waist and pulled your panties to the side again, before lining his tip up with your hole. Slowly he buried himself inside of you, his hand now going to your mouth to muffle your moans.
Your eyes closed, you already anticipate the heavenly feeling of him rubbing against your walls and moments later he starts moving. First slowly, giving you a moment to adjust to his length, and then he starts pounding into you, as if to get you both to your release as fast as possible.
The only sounds in the small bathroom were skin slapping against skin and your mixed moans and groans.
Aaron moves his hand, gripping your face and directing it to the mirror in front of you. “Look at you, so pretty. All just for me. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, huh?” His possessive words make your pussy throb and your walls contract around his cock. You’ve never seen your boyfriend act like this, but you weren’t complaining.
“Only you Aaron, only you,” you breathed out, already feeling your release, the coil in your stomach threatening to snap.
“Please Aaron, I’m so close. Please cum with me, fill me up,” was all you could get out before your whole body started to tremble again, your second orgasm hitting you even harder as the firs. If it wasn’t for your boyfriend holding you up, you would have already slumped forward.
“Fuck,” was all Aaron could get out before his cock twitched and released inside of you. He halted his movements and buried himself to the tilt, now using both of his hands to hug you close to him.
Once you’ve both calmed down, he pulled out and moved your panties back and your dress back down.
“Don’t wipe it away, leave it as a reminder as to who you belong to.” He told you gentle, before adding, “I’m going to go back to the party, follow me after a few minutes.”
He placed another kiss against your lips before pulling away completely to leave the room, leaving you breathless and satisfied.
You were both sure about your relationship now and even when Prentiss eventually gets you under the mistletoe and leaves a very passionate kiss on your lips, the wetness in your panties is a gentle reminder to who you belong to.
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a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated! i’d like to write more with criminal minds characters, so if you have any ideas/requests lmk!!
please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen
requests open!
taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon @bigbananaa
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cakesunflower · 3 days ago
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lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 17
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Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16
A/N: oh boy.....
“Baby, can I ask you something?”
Isla tears her gaze away from the window as she watches the town go by, turning to face her mom in the driver’s seat. “What’s up?” she asks, fixing the skirt of her summer dress.
Anne blows out a breath, left elbow resting on the sill of the car door. “I know this relationship of yours with Rafe, you’re keeping it a secret from your sister and friends.” Isla bites the inside of her cheek, already feeling the anxiety brew in the pit of her stomach over the subject of this conversation. “How much longer do you think you can keep this up?”
Isla sighs, head falling back against the seat in defeat. “Mom—”
“I don’t mind keeping it quiet from your sister,” Anne cuts in with a hint of a smile, glancing at Isla briefly before her gaze returns out onto the road. “But seriously, honey—”
“I’m waiting for the right moment,” Isla says, lips twisting to the side as she looks down at her dress. Spaghetti straps with a flowing skirt that stops a few inches above her knees, a pretty yellow color with tiny white daisies patterned all over it. “But I know no matter when or how I tell them, they’re not gonna be happy. They’ll for sure think I’m insane or something.”
She sees her mom’s eyebrows furrow, forehead crease. “It can’t be that bad. They’re your friends, your sister. Give them a little more credit.”
Isla scoffs, her smile sardonic as her eyebrows raise. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many fights the guys have gotten into with Rafe and his friends? There’s a lot of history between them all, and none of it is good. So I just—I don’t know how I’m supposed to look them all in the eye and tell them I’m dating Rafe. The only person who wouldn’t be totally pissed is Sarah. But the others? Especially Kie and JJ? They’ll think I’ve, like, betrayed them,” she mumbles, gaze dropping to watch herself anxiously play with one of the rings she wears.
It’ll hurt, when they find out. It will hurt them and it will hurt Isla, and her anxiety is preventing her from seeing the slight possibility that the reaction won’t be as big as she’s fearing, or that they might get over it quickly. It all just seems too explosive to go in any other way than badly.
“They love you,” Anna says firmly. “So they’ll get over it. It might take them some time to accept your relationship, but I know they will. Especially when they see that you’re happy with Rafe.” The idea of it makes Isla smile slightly, though she doesn’t let that seed of hope in. But Anna sits confidently next to her, which is a little reassuring for Isla, even if her stomach is still in knots. “And when your relationship isn’t a secret anymore, I’d love for Rafe to come over for dinner.”
That makes Isla’s smile widen slightly, shy yet excited at the notion as she nods, her earrings tinkling as she does. “Yeah, me too.” Then she scoffs, adding, “Just make sure Kie doesn’t poison his food.”
Anna lets out a laugh at that, shaking her head in amusement. As the car rolls to a stop at a red light, she turns to meet Isla’s gaze, her eyes soft and warm. “Look, I know you want to make sure the time is right to tell them, but don’t wait too long that you end up psyching yourself out of it, okay? It’d be better for them to hear it from you than somehow finding out some other way.”
Isla nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek, because her mom hasn’t said anything Isla doesn’t already know. Telling her friends herself is exactly what Isla wants. She knows the longer she waits, the more opportunity she is giving for the universe to play a card against her and have her friends find out about her and Rafe through another way. It would make the situation even worse if they didn’t hear it from her, even if the idea of telling them still makes her beyond anxious. She loves her friends so much. She can’t imagine her life without them.
Even so, their reactions aren’t something Isla is looking forward to. Avoiding the problem, for now, just seems easier.
Isla is still thinking about it after her mom drops her off at the dock, her mind still running on the ferry over to the mainland where she’s meeting Rafe. He already had to be at Chapel Hill for work on behalf of his dad, so he and Isla had made a plan to meet at Sutton’s for their date. Kie was working at the restaurant today, her friends occupied with something or another, so it was the perfect time for Isla to meet up with Rafe.
If anyone asked, she was meeting up with some friends she had made when she toured the university’s campus a few months ago, so no one would be the wiser.
When Isla turns the corner to get to Sutton’s, she smiles when, in the distance, she easily spots Rafe standing outside. His back is to her, but she recognizes him easily, her smile widening as she approaches him, artfully dodging any other pedestrian in the way. Rafe, though, stands in the shade of the mid-size tree along the sidewalk, seemingly busy on his phone, until Isla skips the last few steps until she’s sliding up right next to him, left arm winding around his waist.
“Excuse me, but could you by chance be waiting for someone?” she grins, giggling when he tenses up the second her arm is around him, but relaxing a split second later when he looks down at her grinning face.
Rafe’s own smile lights up his face, dancing in those blue eyes as he settles his arm around her shoulders. “Sure am,” he says, fingers brushing up and down the bare skin of her arm. It’s the middle of summer, and he’s going to make goosebumps break across her skin as his eyes drink in every inch of her. From the yellow dress against her brown skin to her wavy hair falling down her back to the gold of her jewelry; from her necklaces and rings to nose ring and several earrings. “Waiting for the prettiest girl around,” he finishes, dipping his head to press a sweet kiss to her lips.
Isla smiles, kissing him back and welcoming the fluttering in her chest. “Such a charmer,” she teases as they pull back, her right hand on his chest. “But it’s time for you to feed me.”
That pulls a laugh out of him, and Isla can never get tired of the sound. So light, making a hint of crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes, showing off perfect white teeth and a smile that could heal anyone’s heart. No wonder he takes care of a lot of Ward’s business when it comes to face-to-face time with clients; Rafe is undeniably charming, his smile disarming and effortlessly making a person forget about anything else. Isla doesn’t mind it one bit.
“Yes, ma’am. Let’s go,” he says, walking them to the front doors of Sutton’s, opening one of the doors and gently nudging her forward to walk in first, following close behind her as they enter.
Isla smiles when she’s instantly hit with the scent of burgers being cooked and the salty tinge of French fries. There’s an Icee machine towards the back on the left, and while there are tables to sit at the front, towards the back are aisles and fridges loaded with snacks and drinks. The walls are white and red tiled, a menu board along the wall behind the ordering counter, right above the window looking into the kitchen where Isla sees people bustling around. 
Rafe had said this place wasn’t extraordinary, just a burger joint mixed with a store, but it’s the food that makes this place popular. It already smells amazing as they step up to the counter to order.
The man standing on the other side, an older guy with graying hair and a goatee, instantly grins when they step up. “Rafe Cameron, my man,” the man laughs, hand reaching over and Isla smiles as Rafe’s hand clasps his. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.” His gaze shifts over to Isla, his smile widening. “And who’s this lovely lady you’ve got with you?”
Isla sees Rafe grin as his arm rests on her shoulders again. “This is my girl, Isla.” Her heart skips happily at his words as he says to her, “This is Morgan. The genius behind the food you’re gonna eat today.”
Isla laughs. “I can’t wait.”
“Music to my ears,” Morgan says, waving his fingers in a come on motion. “What’ll you have?”
While Isla gets a cheeseburger deluxe, Rafe gets a steak burger, fries for both, and once he pays for their food and drinks, they claim a small round table against the wall while their food is being made. “Oh, hey,” Rafe says, shifting forward in his chair as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. “Wheezie asked me to give this to you.”
He holds out a tiny brown cloth bag and recognition lights up Isla’s face as she reaches for it. “What is it?” Rafe asks with a chuckle, watching curiously. 
Isla grins as she undoes the strings that shut the bag. “You didn’t open it and look?” she asks teasingly.
Rafe settles back in his chair. “Wouldn’t invade your privacy if it was something you wanted to keep to yourself or something.”
Her smile softens as she reaches into the bag. “You’re adorable,” she says with a gentle laugh, pulling out the beaded bracelet Wheezie made. “See?” Isla shows him, holding the bracelet up.
A smile touches Rafe’s lips, his fingers twisting his own bracelet once. “You asked her to make you one?” When she nods with a hum, he looks at the bracelet again and says, “That’s a pretty blue.”
Isla observes the bracelet, the sky blue beads Wheezie had used and white heart beads in between, the blue color absolutely perfect. Isla bites her bottom lip, hesitating for a moment, a bit shy before confessing, “Matches your eyes.”
She sees Rafe’s smile falter a bit at the revelation, surprised, but his smile returns quickly, those blue eyes lighting up while Isla’s cheeks heat. Letting herself be vulnerable with him, emotionally, is something that has become easier—though it doesn’t stop her from blushing anyway. But Rafe always seems to welcome her shyness, her vulnerability, and hasn’t made her regret being open with him.
And it feels good—to let someone in, in a way that she hasn’t in a while. Rafe is sweet to her, soft, and she finds herself falling for him more and more. Despite the secrets, despite the complications that would come from telling her friends, her feelings for Rafe aren’t something she can ignore—she doesn’t want to.
“You’re a romantic too, huh?” he muses, his smile gentle but Isla sees the sheer happiness in his gaze that makes her pulse quicken.
“Of course,” Isla grins, putting on the bracelet to join the one she already wears on her wrist, the matching thread bracelet she has with her sister, Sarah, and Cleo. Her throat works as she fiddles with the yellow bracelet, sitting nicely next to the blue beaded one, and Isla exhales slowly through her nose. “I was thinking. . .”
“Uh-oh,” Rafe smiles, chuckling when she shoots him a feigned glare. “What about?”
Isla twists her lips to the side, right leg crossing over her left knee and adjusting the skirt of her dress. Sutton’s isn’t too busy, but there’s a subtle bustle of the cooks in the kitchen and other customers scattered around at tables. Letting out a breath, she admits, “I think I’m gonna tell the others about us.”
She watches as Rafe’s expression shifts, surprise washing over his face because no doubt she took him off guard. Truthfully, they don’t have conversations, at length, about Isla telling her friends about their relationship. Rafe has given her full reign on how to go about that because, the fact of the matter is, Rafe doesn’t give much of a damn of people’s opinions on him, even his friends’. If anything, Isla knows Rafe’s friends would give him shit for dating a Pogue, even if a lot of them still see Isla, Kie, and Sarah as Kooks, but they’ll be quick to get over it.
But Isla’s friends, on the other hand, are a different story, more volatile. Anxiety has made her keep this a secret, but she and Rafe have been dating for nearly two months now, and things between them keep getting better and better. She wants to share that happiness, doesn’t want to hide it like some dirty little secret. Plus, Isla is tired of sneaking around; it started off fun, and it still has some of its thrill, but being with him publicly, without worrying about getting caught, is also something she wants.
“Are you—you’re sure?” Rafe asks, sitting up as his gaze intently searches hers. “Because I don’t want you to take that step if you’re not ready—”
“I’m sure,” Isla tells him with a nod, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a slight smile. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready. You know them. They’re stubborn. I think holding it off for too long might be worse because they’ll think of how long I’ve been keeping this from them, you know?” Her eyes meet Rafe’s. “I think you and I are in a good place, right? This works between us, it feels good.” Her cheeks heat up with her smile as Rafe grins a little too. “So, yeah. I’m gonna tell them, and hope for the best,” she adds with a chuckle.
Rafe nods, taking this in while his smile remains. “You know I got your back, yeah?” With a tilt of his head, he hesitates for a moment before asking, “Do you want me to be there when you tell them?”
A gentle laugh escapes her, eyebrows rising. “I think it might be better if it was just me.” The mere sight of Rafe would be enough to raise their hackles before Isla would be able to get a word out. “Maybe I should get them drunk first.”
Rafe snorts out a laugh, just as his name is called from the counter. “I’ll follow your lead, sweetheart,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair and heading to get their food.
Isla watches him, biting the inside of her cheek and absently admiring the firm shape of his ass in those pants while also picturing the scene in her head of when she drops this bombshell on her friends. There will probably be yelling, looks of betrayal and possibly disgust—Isla just needs to mentally prepare herself for all of them. And, honestly, she’s been doing that since the minute she and Rafe decided to pursue a relationship—hell, since their first date—but no matter how much she tries to prepare herself, Isla doesn’t think she’ll be ready.
It’ll be fine. Hopefully.
“Here we fucking go,” Rafe says when he returns, placing the tray in front of them and picking up one of the styrofoam boxes labeled cheeseburger deluxe and handing it to her. “This is yours. Dig in.”
Isla places a paper napkin on her lap before opening the box excitedly, feeling Rafe’s gaze on her as she admires the picture perfect burger and a good portion of French fries. It smells delicious as she picks it up, perfectly hot in her hands, and when she lifts it to her mouth, her gaze flickers up and catches Rafe’s.
“Are you gonna watch me eat?” she asks with an amused laugh.
He matches her smile. “Just the first bite. Wanna get your honest reaction.”
Isla shakes her head, smiling at his interest and curiosity as Isla finally takes a bite of the burger. Flavor explodes on her tongue and Isla’s shoulders drop as she chews, eyes widening at Rafe, who is smiling in satisfaction. “Oh, my God,” she mumbles after swallowing, reaching for a napkin to pat at her lips. “This is amazing.”
Honestly, it’s probably better than any gourmet burger she’s had. And Isla hates to admit it, but it’s even a little better than the cheeseburger they make at The Wreck—though, she’d never tell her parents that.
“I told you,” Rafe answers smugly, reaching for his own burger. But before he takes a bite, he asks, “You wanna try mine?”
Isla smiles as he holds the burger out, putting her own down and reaching for his. She takes a bite, the steak burger colored with different sauces and spices, but delicious all the same. She tastes the familiar tang of a pickle as she chews, nodding in approval as she hands it back to Rafe. “Delicious. I ate a pickle, sorry,” she apologizes with a grin.
Rafe chuckles and takes the top of the bun off, picking up the second slice of pickle and putting it in her container. “I don’t like pickles.”
Isla blinks. “Why didn’t you ask them to keep them off?”
He shrugs. “You like pickles,” he answers simply before taking a bite, leaving Isla smiling fondly at the boy before her.
“You’re so cute,” she grins, nudging his foot with hers under the table as she picks up the pickle and tosses it in her mouth.
“Cute, whipped,” Rafe hums with a roll of his eyes, waving around a fry. “Either one works.” He flashes a smirk.
Isla wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “Regrets?”
He smiles, but his gaze is serious. “Absolutely not.”
*****
Isla’s fingers brush along the spines of the rows of books, unable to help herself any time she’s in a bookstore. After lunch at Sutton’s, which had been delicious, they began walking down the sidewalk until they came across a bookstore and, like a magnet, Isla was drawn inside. Rafe had no arguments, following her in with a smile, but about ten minutes later, he stepped outside for a work call.
Isla already has three books in her arms since he left the store, which she knows will amuse him. It’s not her fault she can’t leave a bookstore without buying something. It’s a compulsion at this point.
By the time Isla’s ready to check out, she frowns at the front windows of the store, wondering where Rafe is. That’s a long phone call.
Once she pays and is happily dangling the strap of the paper bag from her fingers, Isla exits the store, ready to pull her phone out to text Rafe—only to spot him easily out on the sidewalk. Instantly, her confusion falters and a smile spreads on Isla’s parted lips, her heart picking up its pace when she sees the small bouquet of sunflowers he’s holding.
He’s already grinning, like he’s expecting her, and a breathless laugh escapes Isla, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she walks over and he holds the flowers out. Her sandals tap against the pavement as she approaches Rafe, stopping in front of him and reaching for the bouquet—except he clicks his tongue and pulls them out of her reach.
“Ah-ah,” Rafe grins with a lift of his chin, blue eyes dancing with mirth as Isla’s eyebrows raise. “Not for free.”
She’s quick to know what he means, her smile widening as she steps closer until there’s barely any space between them on the semi-busy sidewalk. Isla is wrapped in the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne, woodsy with a delicious undertone of spices, and with a hand on his chest, she rises on her toes with an upward tilt of her chin, and Rafe’s grin widens as he meets her halfway because he’s too tall for his own good, lips pressing to hers.
Isla sucks on his bottom lip and his answering groan is enough to send desire coursing through her, desperate need for Rafe making her head spin as his tongue swipes against hers. She knows they’re in public, but can’t bring herself to care as she feels his free hand pressing to the small of her back, his touch warm even through the thin material of her dress. 
Her head spins with his kisses, and she groans quietly before mumbling, “Wish we were home right now.”
“Yeah?” Rafe murmurs as Isla’s eyes flutter open, watching him look down at her with hooded eyes. His gaze flickers around them, then, before he smiles. The mischievous glint in his eyes has Isla raising her eyebrows before he says, “I’ve got an idea.”
Fifteen minutes later, her free hand clasped in Rafe’s, Isla is stifling a laugh as they walk down the carpeted hallway of an upscale hotel. “You’re insane,” she giggles as Rafe takes the keycard and taps it against the security lock of the hotel room Rafe booked for them just for the afternoon.
He holds the door open for her, using his grip on her hand to usher her into the room. The curtains are parted to let the afternoon sun brighten the room, the king sized bed practically calling their name as Isla sets the flowers, purse, and bag of books on the nearby table. It’s a simple, spacious room with a king sized bed with a bed frame against the wall, cushioned in the middle with a wooden frame. A TV opposite of the bed, a mini fridge with a glass door showing off the drinks and treats inside—though, all she and Rafe really care about is the bed, of course.
She feels Rafe come up behind her, his fingers brushing along her neck as he moves her dark hair over one shoulder, Isla’s breath catching when his lips ghost along her neck. “It’s not home—” Neither hers nor his. “But it’s the second best thing.”
“Mhm,” Isla hums as his hand snakes across her stomach, pressing her closer into him as she leans her head back against his shoulder. “You’ll hear no complaints from me,” she says, tilting her head enough to press her lips to his, grinning when he instantly returns the kiss.
Isla turns in his arms, her own wrapping around his neck and pushing herself into him, heat pooling between her legs when his hands slide down her sides before they cup her ass through the material of her dress, applying pressure to pull her closer. Isla moans and her fingers run through his hair as he moves them, no doubt moving them towards the bed.
Her skin is on fire, craving his touch, and she drops her hands to undo his belt. As his tongue teases hers, deepening the kiss, the back of Isla’s legs touch the bed. She has five seconds to toe off her sandals—thank God they don’t have clasps—and suddenly she’s being pushed down, a gasp of a laugh escaping her during the moment their kiss breaks as Rafe’s lean body climbs over hers, kissing her once again as she practically sinks into the soft mattress.
“This fucking dress,” Rafe mumbles into the kiss, Isla’s heart pounding as she feels his finger hook under one of the spaghetti straps. “Bet you wore it just to drive me crazy,” he rasps, pulling one of the straps down her shoulder.
Isla’s lips curl up because he’s totally not wrong. It’s one of her favorite dresses, for sure, but Isla had put it on with the simple thought of Rafe’s reaction to her wearing it. “Is it working?” she asks, pulling out his belt and tossing it to the side. It clatters somewhere on the floor.
Rafe growls quietly and Isla gasps into his mouth when he takes one of her hands and brings it to cup his cock over the material of his pants. He’s big and hard and Isla’s body practically sings with the desire of having him inside of her again. “What do you think?” he asks, nipping at her bottom lip and tugging at it sharply. She swears she feels the pull in her pussy.
“Gonna do something about it?” she asks breathlessly between kisses, her leg hooking around his hip to bring him closer, heart pounding as they breathe in each other’s air. 
She arches slightly when she feels his hand cup her breast through her dress, the bodice fitting nicely enough that she didn’t need to wear a bra with it. “Yeah,” he grunts, the air hitching in Isla’s throat when his fingers curl under the neckline of her dress. “Gonna taste every inch of you.”
Cool air of the room hits her in the next second when Rafe tugs the front of her dress down, the material soft and stretchy enough for him to do so easily. Rafe pulls back and Isla already misses the taste of his lips, but she catches the way his gaze darkens at the sight of her exposed breasts, hunger flashing across his face before he leans down and closes his lips around her nipple.
Isla cries out at the wicked touch, hand finding the back of Rafe’s head, fingers threading through his hair as he sucks at her nipple, tongue flicking and each teasing movement has Isla’s head tilting back, lips parting and eyes fluttering at the electricity that buzzes through her veins. When his teeth graze along her nipple, Isla gasps, fingers tightening in his hair as her back arches, pushing her breast further into the warmth of Rafe’s mouth as his hand cups her other breast, fingers tweaking and playing with her nipple.
“So fucking pretty,” Rafe mumbles, switching over to the other breast, and Isla lifts her head enough to watch him suck, his lust filled blue eyes locking on her dazed green, her heart pounding when she feels his tongue flick her nipple again. 
“Rafe, Rafe.” His name is all Isla can utter, lost in the head spinning ecstasy she feels from his mouth alone. “Please—”
She’s not sure what she’s begging for at this point, but he lifts off her chest and kisses her, swallowing her moans and licking into her mouth. His tongue plunders and ravages and takes, and Isla happily lets him as her fingers blindly find the hem of his shirt, giving it an upwards tug. The kiss breaks long enough for Rafe to pull the shirt off the rest of the way, Isla’s fingers admiring the hard muscles of his abdomen and feeling them flex under her touch.
“Can you do something for me, baby?” he murmurs against her lips. Isla hums in response, fairly certain she’d do anything he’d ask. Rafe kisses the corner of her mouth, brushes his lips against hers, and asks, “Sit on my face? Please?”
Oh, fuck yes.
She looks up at him, panting, admiring the lust in his eyes and pink swollen lips. She doesn’t miss the way her breasts glisten with Rafe’s saliva as she nods dazedly, and Rafe smirks at her instant agreement, moving to turn them so he’s laying down and she moves to straddle him, taking off her underwear and tossing it to the side. When her hand moves to undo the zipper on the side, Rafe’s hand gently grips her wrist.
“No.” Isla’s gaze flies to his, admiring his kiss swollen lips and the hunger in his eyes. “Keep it on,” he says, voice hoarse with need that Isla feels in her belly and between her legs.
Isla’s skin flushes, heart pounding and breath shallowing as she glances down at herself. The skirt of her dress is bunched up while the bodice has been tugged low enough to expose her breasts, nipples taut and perked not just because of the coolness of the room, but Rafe’s earlier ministrations. 
His hands brush up and down her outer thighs, a ghost of a smirk curving his mouth. “Come on, baby.”
It’s all the encouragement Isla needs, desire thrumming her veins as she shifts up his body until she’s hovering right above his face. She tries to keep the skirt bunched to her waist, but the second Rafe’s hands sneak up to her hips under her clothes and he pulls her down and a gasp rips through Isla the second his mouth comes into contact with her. With his grip on her, he makes her sit on his face and Isla has to grip the top of the wooden frame of the bed, head bowing as she feels Rafe lick into her eagerly.
She remembers that day on his kitchen counter, but here, Isla doesn’t hold back the moans that escape her as Rafe’s tongue pushes through her lips, licking into her opening as already making Isla’s head spin. Her knees rest on either side of his head, but she still feels herself tremble when Rafe’s tongue flicks against her clit and Isla throws her head back.
“Oh, God, Rafe,” she gasps, hips moving against him as her grip tightens on the frame. Even if she looks down at Rafe, she can only just get a glimpse of him from beneath the skirt of her dress. The sensation of his mouth working on her sends electricity zipping through her body, his fingers digging into her hips and helping her move as whimpers escape her.
“Could stay here all fucking day, y’know,” Rafe mumbles, his words accompanied by the crude sounds of him licking and sucking. “Favorite fucking thing. Heaven.”
The last word is groaned out as he sucks her clit into his mouth and a sharp cry escapes Isla because in the next moment, she’s falling apart above him with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest and liquid fire flooding her veins. Isla chants his name, over and over, until she’s shaking on top of him and body threatening to go limp.
But then Rafe moves them swiftly. With his hands on her hips, he pushes Isla backwards and shifts himself until she’s on her back and he’s moving on top of her, her head now by the foot of the bed. Isla giggles breathlessly at the sudden movement, stomach flipping excitedly at the way Rafe moves her around so easily. He grins down at her, messed up hair and swollen lips and flushed cheeks.
When he comes back over her, capturing her lips in a slow, dizzying kiss, he asks, “You want me?”
Her hands are in his hair, tongue in his mouth. God. “Yes.”
One of Rafe’s hands finds hers, linking their fingers together next to her head as he kisses her deeply. “You have me.”
*****
“Sarah will understand, right?”
A light scoff sounds from Rafe. “We’re sitting in a bathtub, and you wanna talk about my sister?” he asks, teasingly nipping at her neck.
Isla laughs gently, her back pressed to his chest. The warm water is brilliant for her muscles, which definitely got worked out after her and Rafe were done. Since Rafe had booked the hotel room for a few hours, they still had some time to kill, and Rafe took it upon himself to fill up the tub and because this is one of those fancy hotels, there was even a small bottle of bubble bath that he practically emptied in the tub.
“I’m just thinking,” she says, sitting between his legs with her head resting back against his shoulder. One of his hands links with her, resting on the lip of the tub, while his other hand brushes his fingers across her stomach under the water, so light yet enough to tug at her center. “I’m not looking forward to their reactions but I’m hoping, you know, that at least we’ll have Sarah on our side? Maybe?”
Rafe is silent for a couple of seconds as Isla watches his fingers play with hers, chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for him to say something. “You want me to be honest?” he asks quietly, making her heart thump.
“Yes.”
“I’d say it’s fifty-fifty,” he answers and Isla’s heart drops upon hearing that. And maybe he feels her tense against him because his arm snakes around her waist, holding her close. “I have a feeling my sister’s more loyal to your friends than she is to me.”
A lump forms in Isla’s throat when she hears the hint of dismay in Rafe’s voice. She knows Rafe and Sarah’s relationship isn’t perfect; they’ve had their issues, especially when Rafe and his friends got into it with Isla’s friends. Things can get tense between them, but Sarah hasn’t had any complaints against Rafe over the last couple of months—mostly because Rafe hasn’t been getting into fights with the guys. If anything, he pulled Topper back that night at the Boneyard, and Isla recalls Sarah commenting that she was pleasantly surprised at Rafe stepping in like that.
But to know Sarah may also be upset with Isla and Rafe’s relationship makes Isla’s stomach twist in knots. She was hoping that Sarah would be their safe bet because, as much as Isla loves her own sister, she doesn’t think Kie will be too receptive to this relationship. Maybe, over time, her friends will adjust and accept, but Isla is dreading that initial reaction upon them learning the truth. It makes her stomach feel hollow with nothing in it but dread, anxiety ruling over.
“I’m sorry,” Isla whispers, eyebrows furrowing together as she squeezes Rafe’s fingers.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Rafe instantly says. “My and Sarah’s relationship is slowly getting better, which is why I think it could go either way. If this had been months ago, she would’ve totally been against us,” he adds with a gentle laugh. “But maybe she’ll be quicker to come around. Honestly, baby—” He brushes his lips across her cheekbone. “There’s no telling how any of them are gonna react, right? I don’t think you should stress yourself out by running every possible scenario, you know? They’re gonna react how they’re gonna react. It’s out of any of our control.”
Isla sighs, pouting. “That’s not as comforting as you think,” she mutters with a short chuckle.
His grip tightens and Isla feels his head drop until his lips press to her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding truly regretful, which only tugs at her heartstrings. “I’ve got you though, okay? No matter what happens or what they say, you have me.”
Now those words have Isla melting, relaxing in his embrace as her lips curl up into a gentle smile. “Nice save,” she says playfully before turning her head enough to press her lips to his cheek. “But you’re right. No point in psyching myself out.”
It’s easier said than done, of course, but it’s all the more reason why Isla needs to tell her friends sooner rather than later. Like, tomorrow, maybe. The idea makes her heart thud unsurprisingly, but it’s a feeling she has come to be familiar with—though, one she can’t wait to get rid of.
She sighs then and says, “We should probably get out before we get all pruney.”
Rafe hums against her neck. “Sounds sexy,” he quips, making her laugh as he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, if we have to.”
They make quick work of drying off and getting dressed again. Fortunately, Isla’s makeup isn’t too messed up, just cleaning off some mascara residue from under her eyes and reapplying her lip oil. She pulls her hair out of the bun it had been in for the bath, combing her fingers through the wavy strands so they fall nicely around her shoulders.
He gently taps her ass when they exit the elevator once the doors open up to the lobby, and while Rafe goes to check them out, Isla sits down on one of the couches, placing the flowers next to her as she checks her phone in case her sister or friends texted her. She only has notifications from their Snapchat group chat; Kie sending a video of her making a sandwich at work, JJ sending a picture of his bike that he’s working on, and Cleo sending a picture of Pope sitting at his desk while she seems to be laying in his bed.
Isla doesn’t send a picture or video in return, not wanting her friends to see where she is. But being occupied by her phone doesn’t last too long because a few seconds later, she hears an annoyingly familiar voice ask, “What are you doing here?”
Isla freezes, her heart pounding as she very quickly realizes that this can very quickly blow up in her face. With her grip on her phone tightening, Isla slowly raises her head until her eyes find Topper standing before her. He’s standing before her in a suit and tie get up, eyebrow raised at her as he waits for an answer that Isla doesn’t want to give, and definitely doesn’t owe him.
Panic blooms in her chest, but Isla shoves it down as she puts on a mask of indifference, tilting her head at Topper. He definitely doesn’t look happy to see her, his jaw tense and eyes hard, but that’s not what Isla focuses on. She’s more worried about talking her way out of this before he sees Rafe and somehow puts two and two together.
“Visiting a friend from out of town. She’s staying here,” Isla lies smoothly, gesturing to the lobby. Her gaze flickers past him, towards a sign on an easel in front of one of the ballroom doors. It reads Thornton Conway Archer, which is the name of the law firm Topper’s mom is a name partner of. Great. How the hell did she and Rafe miss that on their way in? Isla shoots Topper a tight smile. “Nice monkey suit. If you’ll excuse me,” she says, grabbing her bags and flowers and getting up from the couch, skin heating with anxiety of needing to get away.
“A friend from out of town, huh?” he repeats, unconvinced, as he steps in Isla’s way, making her stop short. She masks her panic with a glare. “Didn’t wanna show them the glories of The Cut, huh?” he says condescendingly, making Isla feel the urge to punch him in the face. Her friends have really rubbed off on her over the years.
Isla blinks at him. “Is there a reason we’re having a conversation right now?” she asks blankly even if her nerves are skittering, needing escape. Except Topper’s gaze has already flickered over Isla’s shoulder and dread pools in her stomach when she sees realization dawn on his face.
“Rafe?” he asks and Isla’s teeth press together. Maybe she can play it off smoothly that she had no idea Rafe was here; maybe their cover isn’t totally blown yet. Topper doesn’t look too thrilled to see Rafe and Isla knows it’s because of their confrontation outside of the country club. “What are you doing here?”
Isla raises her eyebrows, hoping to give off an expression of surprise as she looks over her shoulder to see Rafe slowly approaching them. Their gazes meet, and she can easily see the annoyance—and concern—swimming in his blue eyes as he makes his way over, pocketing his wallet. His tongue presses to the inside of his cheek before his gaze slides back to Topper, eyes hardening.
“Business meeting,” he answers simply. He glanced between her and Topper and casually asked, “Everything okay here?”
Topper scoffed, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. “Why? Wanna come to her rescue again? You know—” He narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. “It’s pretty convenient that you two are both here.” Looking at Rafe, he asks, “Do you have a new hobby of coming to the Pogues’ rescue nowadays?”
“What can I say? Right place, right time,” Rafe lazily drawls and Isla admires his ability to appear unbothered. But there’s slight tension bracketing his mouth, so subtle yet Isla notices it because she knows him, and she knows that he’s a bit thrown off, too, to run into Topper here. Then Rafe’s glaze flicks to her meaningfully and Isla hears him loud and clear.
Isla inhales sharply, offering them a tight, close mouthed smile. “Alright, well, I’m gonna be anywhere but here,” she says with an upward flick of her eyebrows. Before Topper can stop her, she moves around them and tries not to appear that she’s fleeing—even if she is.
She’s about to head to the doors to exit, but recalls that she told Topper the so-called friend she’s visiting is staying here. “Shit,” she mutters under her breath before making a B-line towards the hall where the elevators are located.
Fortunately, she disappeared from the view of the lobby as she approached the wall at the end of the hall. Isla leans back against it, resting the bag of books by her feet as she tilts her head back and lets out a breath, eyes shutting. Goddamn—Topper has the annoying habit of popping up at the most inconvenient times. Not that his presence is ever welcomed, but lately it’s been on a whole other level.
She’s alone for maybe a couple of minutes when she hears footsteps, and by the time she opens her eyes, Rafe is approaching her. “Hey,” he says worriedly, glancing over his shoulder while making his way over. “You good?” he asks once he’s stopped in front of her, effectively obscuring her view of the hallway behind him.
Isla huffs out a breath, shooting Rafe an incredulous look. “Why is he always everywhere?” she asks in exasperation, letting out a breathless laugh that’s only slightly tinged with alarm. “Do you think he, like, suspects anything?”
Rafe rolls his eyes, shaking his head reassuringly. “He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know shit,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. 
“Let’s hope that’s true,” Isla huffs, running her fingers through her hair as she hopes to sway away the nerves that had risen.
“Hey,” Rafe says gently as he places his hands on the sides of her neck, his thumbs brushing along the underside of her jaw. “Let’s not let him ruin our day, yeah?”
Isla smiles slightly, dipping her chin in a nod before Rafe tilts her head up by placing some pressure where his thumbs are, ducking his own head to kiss her gently. Her eyes flutter shut and she sighs into the sweet kiss, lightly gripping the front of his shirt as she parts her lips to allow his tongue to slip in. God, yes. With just one touch, one kiss, Rafe manages to make everything else disappear, and it is so easy to get lost in him.
“Alright. Time to go,” he sighs, bumping his nose against hers before pulling back and smiling down at her. 
They’re able to make it out of the hotel without another run-in with Topper, though just to be safe, they head out separately before meeting up a block down from the hotel. It had been a perfect, wonderful day as she and Rafe take the ferry back to the OBX, their fingers interlaced as they sat in the last row below deck, away from anyone around.
As she watches the water glitter, her phone buzzes, and she pulls it out to see Kie had messaged in the groupchat.
From: Kie🐬
can u come to jb’s, isla?
Isla arches an eyebrow, but messages back.
From: Isla
yeah, i can be there in 25
It’s not long until they get to the dock back in town, which means she and Rafe have to part ways and she has to go see her friends. Rafe offers to drop her, but she insists on taking an Uber, kissing him goodbye and heading over to John B’s, texting in the chat to let them know she’s on her way. She puts the small bouquet of flowers in the paperbag of books, the bag dangling from her fingertips as she got out of the car and thanked the Uber driver before shutting the door.
Her lips still tingled with Rafe’s kisses as she walked across the patch of grass towards the Chateau’s porch, noticing the others’ cars and bike already parked. Isla’s not sure why Kie asked her to come over, though it’s not unusual for them all to meet up here, of course.
She spots them sitting scattered around the screened in porch, the murmur of conversation dying as soon as she opens the door and walks in. “Hey,” she greets, albeit a little slowly as all gazes turn to her. For some reason, she feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
They all look at her, stone faced and hard eyed, and Isla blinks as she remains rooted on the spot, her gaze flickering to every face. Sarah won’t meet her gaze, instead looking down at her lap or at John B, who sits with pursed lips. When Isla looks to Kie, her sister stands by the wall, arms crossed and a furrow between her brows that creases her forehead. On the recliner, Pope sits forward with his elbows resting on his knees, chin resting atop interlaced fingers, and Cleo is fiddling with her switchblade as she sits on the arm of the chair. JJ isn’t facing her, instead looking out onto the Routledges’ land with arms crossed and every muscle of his body seemingly tense.
Isla’s throat tightens. Something is so very wrong.
In fact, Isla can feel the tension in the room, suffocating. Her pulse kicks up a few notches, the uncertainty of what she walked into filling her with unease.
“Um,” Isla starts, shattering the silence. Something tightens in her stomach, something foreign and indecipherable, as she lets out a short chuckle and tensely jokes, “Who died?”
It’s Kie who responds, a kind of hardness in her eyes that has never been directed towards Isla. “When were you gonna tell us that you’ve been hooking up with Rafe?”
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hitlikehammers · 2 days ago
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oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)
part ii: you shined a light on your home
for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚
<<< part one
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Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.
He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.
“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—
Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.
“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.
Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.
“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.
“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.
“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”
Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:
“What the fuck, man?”
And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.
But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.
He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.
But there isn’t.
“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.
That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.
“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.
Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.
“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:
“I’ve never seen him like this.”
Well. Fuck.
Fuck.
“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—
“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—
“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”
He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…
Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.
Until…Steve.
And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.
“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.
Bullshit.
Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.
“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.
“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—
Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.
But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.
But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—
“How the fuck do you—”
“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.
It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.
But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.
Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.
But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.
Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.
“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.
Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.
“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”
Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.
He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.
“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.
The kid’s fucking scared.
And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?
That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.
“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.
It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.
Say it.
“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”
And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?
(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.
It’s with his Steve, and no other.)
“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:
“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”
Okay. Rude.
“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.
He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.
“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—
“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—
“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”
And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.
Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.
“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:
“He doesn’t want me around.”
He doesn’t want you—
“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:
“When we actually get to see him at all.”
“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—
“Not Steve.”
Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.
It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.
“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.
“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.
“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.
“Being invisible hurts the worst.”
Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.
“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”
“You’re together.”
Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.
“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.
Ever.
But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—
“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”
Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:
“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.
And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.
“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”
Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.
As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.
“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.
He feels…actually?
Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.
“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.
“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—
“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”
Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.
“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”
He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.
“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.
“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.
“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.
“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.
Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.
And then they…weren’t.
“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.
But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?
“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—
Wait.
Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.
He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.
More like his heart, but. Same idea.
And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.
And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…
never gonna leave you all alone again
He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.
Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…
Did he leave his Stevie alone?
No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.
Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.
Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.
But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.
And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.
“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:
“Fix it, man.”
And Eddie…
Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.
But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.
He’s sitting here being unwanted already.
Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.
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for @kultiras🖤
✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts @bumblebeecuttlefishes @shrimply-a-menace @wheneverfeasible @1-tehe-1 @themoonagainstmers @dreamercec @ravenfrog @live-laugh-love-dietrich @stealthysteveharrington @tinyplanet95 @theohohmoment @samsoble @tinyloonyteacups @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @pretend-theres-a-name-here @dragoon-ze-great @warlordess @notaqueenakhaleesi @pukner
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wilhelminyard · 2 days ago
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compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 1) :
WYMACK :
"if your parents are a problem for you, we'll move you to south carolina early."
"foxes are foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn't sign you if you didn't qualify. that doesn't mean they know specifics. it's not my place to ask and I'm sure as hell not going to tell them."
"it's about second chances, neil. second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you."
"I have never, ever hit someone without provocation and I'm sure as hell not going to start with you. you hear me?"
"I'll take care of this. you take care of you."
"do you have any idea what could have happened to you between here and there? what were you thinking? you should have called me"
"any of us would have come and gotten you"
"it's not your job to take care of yourself anymore. it's your job to play, and mine and abby's job to look after you."
ANDREW :
"oh you might actually turn out to be interesting"
"you be something. kevin says you'll be a champion. four years and you'll go pro. five years and you'll be court."
"curious that a man with so much potential, who has so much fun, who could 'be something' wouldn't want any of it"
"a liar who practices occasional honesty. clever."
"are you going to tell kevin?" "don't ask me stupid questions"
"oh neil, as unpredictable as he is unreal"
"what would it take to make you stay?"
"I'll stand between you and the moriyamas"
"you gave your game to kevin. give your back to me."
KEVIN :
"neil is exactly what the foxes need right now. his inexperience is inconsequential. we went through a hundred files looking for a striker for this year, but neil is the only one we approached. we knew as soon as we saw him we needed to sign him. we're just lucky we got there before anyone else did"
"our primary concern was keeping neil safe"
"*to riko* leave him alone."
MATT :
"are you bleeding anywhere?"
"coach says [neil's] got potential. andrew says you're fast. [...] andrew bets you can outrun everyone on this team."
"seriously are you okay?"
"I'll owe you one" "you won't owe me anything"
"you be careful, okay?"
"I'm fine" "you say that a lot. I'm starting to think you don't know what it means."
"coach says stupid but I say you have balls of steel"
NICKY :
"neil, you clean up good"
"andrew is keeping you, same as he kept kevin. it means you're part of the family now. [...] family means something different with us because it has to. it's not about blood. it's not even about who we like. it's about who andrew's willing to protect."
"that makes you invaluable to andrew"
"you're one of us, which means we'll never push you further than you're willing to go"
DAN :
"are you okay?"
"coach said you hitchhiked your way back here. I'd yell at you for being stupid but coach said he handled that already"
"we didn't let him [in]. he didn't make it further than the front door."
"neil? you don't have to do this, you know"
ALLISON :
"looking fancy"
SETH :
"maybe you're not as stupid as I thought"
AARON :
(I know it surprised me too but it's probably the only compliment he gives neil throughout the entire series and they literally just met at that point)
"at least you're not going to completely drag us down. it'll take most the season to get you where we need you to be but I can see why kevin picked you"
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won4kiss · 18 hours ago
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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────UNDER THE MISTLETOE.
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(⛄️) ── 𝓟ARK SUNGHOON﹙성훈﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ f2l ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ both of them r oblivious ៸ ❞ 𝓅ark sunghoon x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 1.4K ꒱ SYPNOSiS 𐙚 in which you and sunghoon are oblivious about your feelings for each other until your friends finally do something about it .ᐟ MERRY CHRISTMAS ! ── LiBRARY
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THE SNOW OUTSIDE HAD CLOUDED THE STREETS IN A MILKY WHITE, it was the kind of day that felt magical, the dim lit cafe protecting you from the snowstorm outside as the hot chocolate warmed your hands.
unfortunately for you though, the magic felt quite out of reach at the moment.
you sighed, staring at the filled to the brim hot chocolate in front of you—your best friends, yuna and jake, were seated across from you at the café table.
both currently giving you the same exasperated look they’d been perfecting over the past week.
“i’m just saying,” yuna sighed, her voice melting into the dangerous territory of concern mixed with frustration, “it’s really not like you to just avoid sunghoon, what’s going on?” ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!
you glanced up at her, then quickly glanced away from her curious gaze.
how were you supposed to explain to your friends that the rumors about him and karina were the last straw? that your heart couldn’t take sitting next to him anymore while imagining him falling for someone else?
“it’s nothing,” you mumbled, stirring your drink absently. “can’t a girl be busy?”
jake scoffed in disbelief, not buying it for a second. “busy? you skipped movie night. that’s our thing. even sunghoon noticed, and he’s usually so dense he couldn’t tell the difference between a cotton ball and a marshmallow.”
yuna snorted, but her gaze softened. “look—i get it. it’s hard when you have feelings for someone who you think doesn’t feel the same”
“i never said i have feelings for him,” you blurted out defensively, even as your pink cheeks told a different story.
“you didn’t have to.” jake leaned back with his arms crossed. “it’s written all over your face every single time you look at him.”
you swallowed hard, glancing out the frosted window. did you really look at him like that? did everyone really know?
“it doesn’t matter anyway,” you sighed. “he’s talking to karina now. she’s like—perfect for him, his ideal type. and i’m not.”
yuna rolled her eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t get stuck. “okay, seriously? karina likes him, sure, we all know that—but sunghoon barely looks at her unless she’s waving directly in front of his face. he’s been moping around because of you, not her.”
you froze. “that’s not true.”
“except it is.” jake leaned forward, his voice serious now. “he’s not as oblivious as you think, he knows something’s wrong between you two, and it’s pretty much driving him crazy.”
“really?” you challenged, though your voice wavered. “then why hasn’t he said anything to me?”
“because he’s sunghoon,” yuna said as if it were the most obvious thing on earth. “the guy can land triple axels on ice but can’t figure out his feelings to save his life. you’re both completely hopeless.”
you shook your head, sinking lower into the plush seat. “it doesn’t matter. i’m over it. i’m ready to move on.”
jake groaned in annoyance, while yuna practically slammed her hands onto the table, gathering judging looks from the bystanders. “no, absolutely not! and we’re done watching you two tiptoe around each other like you’re each others middle school crushes. we’re fixing this.”
“wait, what?” you asked, but they were already exchanging knowing looks.
the plan, the one which you had no idea it existed, was very simple: lie to the both of you and hope for the best.
jake approached sunghoon that same evening at their gym session, where he found him punching a bag with more aggression than usual.
“damn—what’s up with you?” jake asked casually, leaning against the wall.
“nothing,” sunghoon muttered, yet his furrowed brows and clenched jaw said otherwise.
jake smirked knowingly. “you’re such a bad liar. is this about y/n?”
sunghoon flinched at the sound of your name, missing the retaliation of the bag entirely. “what? no—why would it be about her? did she say anything..”
“uh-huh.” jake pushed off the wall, walking closer. “you know she thinks you’re into karina, right?”
sunghoon stopped, his heart beating painfully in his chest. “why in the world would she think that?”
“because you’ve been seen hanging around her more lately,” jake said simply. “and because y/n is an idiot who doesn’t realize how much you like her.”
sunghoon opened his mouth to deny it but found that he quite literally couldn’t. his feelings for you weren’t new—they’d been brewing beneath the surface for years, just waiting for the right moment to arrive, but how could he admit his feelings when he wasn’t sure you felt the same?
“she doesn’t like me like that,” he said finally.
jake rolled his eyes. “wow. you two really are the exact epitome of hopeless. you know she’s planning to confess to someone else, right? she said she’s moving on.”
sunghoon’s stomach twisted at jakes’ words, his head spinning to his direction immediately. “she said that?”
“word for word,” jake lied with a grin. “but hey, if you’re cool with losing her to another guy just because you’re afraid of confessing, that’s your call.”
sunghoon wasn’t cool with it. not even a little.
meanwhile, yuna was feeding you a similar story.
“sunghoon’s been acting weird,” she said as you walked home together. “i think he’s going to confess to karina at the christmas party.”
your heart sank, even though you’d told yourself you were done hoping. “that’s great for him,” you said, forcing a smile though you could feel your heart breaking at the simple thought of it.
“is it?” yuna tilted her head. “i mean, if you’re really okay with it, then i guess there’s no reason for you to..i don’t know, tell him how you feel..”
“i told you yuna, i’m over it.”
“sure, sure.” yuna waved you off, but there was a gleam in her eyes that made you suspicious.
the annual christmas party at jay’s house was a big deal for the people at your school—loud, chaotic, and full of mistletoe planted around the house.
you arrived late, hoping to avoid too much attention (or a certain someone), but the moment you stepped inside, sunghoon was the first person you saw.
he was standing near the lit up tree, dressed in a cozy knitted sweater that made him look ridiculously handsome.
when his eyes met yours, they lit up, but the warmth quickly flickered into something more unsure and nervous.
“y/n,” he said, stepping closer. “hey.”
“hi,” you replied, your voice quieter than usual.
for a few seconds, you just stood there, the noisy blaring music of the party fading into the background.
then sunghoon finally glanced up, and you followed his gaze to see a random piece of mistletoe hanging above you.
“yuna,” you muttered under your breath, realizing exactly who had orchestrated this.
“guess we’re supposed to kiss,” sunghoon said, his voice dripping with a nervous humor.
you laughed awkwardly, stepping back—plotting your escape already. “we don’t have to.”
but before either of you could move away, jake appeared, blocking your escape. “oh, come on guys. it’s tradition.”
“jake,” sunghoon started, but his friend was already retreating into the crowd with a content smirk.
you looked back at sunghoon, your heart pounding. “we can just—”
“i like you,” he blurted, cutting you off.
your eyes widened. “w-what?”
“i like you,” he repeated, his cheeks flushed. “i like you so much—i’ve liked you for a long time, and i don’t want to pretend i don’t anymore. so if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine, but i just needed to tell you.”
you stared at him, your mind racing with questions and thoughts. “but karina…”
“karina?” sunghoon frowned. “i don’t like karina. i’ve barely talked to her.”
you blinked, the pieces finally clicking together. “wait. did jake and yuna…?”
“set us up?” sunghoon finished your question, laughing softly. “yeah, probably.”
for a moment, neither of you spoke. then, almost hesitantly, sunghoon took a step closer.
“so,” he said, his voice softer now, “do you feel the same?”
you didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded instead. the relief on his face was immediate, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.
the kiss was sweet and soft, and when you pulled back, sunghoon was smiling like he’d just won the lottery.
“finally,” jake muttered somewhere in the background, but you were too busy looking at sunghoon to care.
that night, as the snow continued to fall, you walked home with sunghoon’s hand in yours, feeling like maybe—just maybe, christmas magic was real after all.
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© WON4KISS 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.
NOTE. merry christmas and happy holidays to the people who don’t celebrate !! this was based off mistletoe by jb if u couldn’t tell 😞😞 neways enjoy ur christmas everyone !! <3
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ao3-rex1223 · 24 hours ago
Text
𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐈𝐕
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Pairing: DBF!Leon x Fem!Reader
Tags: vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, cunnilingus,
Summary: Leon is called away to a mission in Spain before Christmas and you wait anxiously to see if he'll make it home in time.
“I’m going to try my hardest to finish in the next couple days,” Leon reassures you over the phone. He’s been away for two weeks on a mission in Spain since a rogue military faction started snooping around for remnants of Las Plagas. You pace Leon’s living room; ever since you two got together, you spend a lot of time waiting at his place. You tell your parents your ‘house sitting’ since they still don’t know you’re secretly dating him, though sometimes you wonder if your father at least suspects and isn’t saying anything. He never questions what you’re doing anymore. As soon as you say you’re going to Leon’s, he simply smiles and nods, never pressing you for further details. 
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You flop onto his bed, twirling your hair in your fingers. “Think you’ll be home by Christmas?” you ask, hope rampant in your tone, the holiday only one week away. Your eyes glance around the bedroom you share with him more often than not, lingering on photos of you two placed in simple frames all over. You smile to yourself, feeling the warmth from the happy memories. 
“I wanna be there. I’ll do everything I can, baby.” 
“I’ll make sure your house is nice and Christmas-y for when you get home,” you promise, already envisioning so many decorations, it’ll be like Christmas threw up all over his house!  
I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” Leon replies with a chuckle. 
You hear gunshots ringing in the background, causing your heart to race wildly. “Leon!” you choke out, plagued with worry.
“I better go, baby girl,” Leon says suddenly. You can hear rustling, like he’s moving quickly. “Love you.”
“I love you, too, Leon. Please be careful!” you cry, tears pooling in your eyes. The line goes dead and, as always, you never know if it’s because he hung up or something awful happened. You won’t know until he calls again. It could be hours… It could be days. You take a deep breath and sigh, hands trembling as they hold your phone, eyes staring at the screen with Leon’s image and contact information still displayed. “Just come home,” you whisper to that digital picture. 
In an effort to distract yourself, you make a trip to the local hobby store to find some decorations for Leon’s house. Your mood lifts slightly as you wander the store, picking out every tantalizing Christmas decoration you see, filling the large shopping cart full before you’re even half way through the store. You glance down at your haul so far; reindeer, Santas, porcelain houses, lights, fake snow, candles, garland, nutcrackers, bows, stockings, ornaments, even a few gnomes dressed in holiday garb. You return your gaze to the aisles ahead…and then…in the distance, you spot an eight foot tall synthetic tree, decked out in colorful LED lights and your eyes shine like a small child padding down the stairs on Christmas morning to see all the presents that good old Saint Nick left for them. Beaming, you rush to the nearest employee and ask - no, beg - them to help you get one of those magnificent trees. The twenty something year old worker clearly suppresses an eye roll - not that you’ll let it get to you - and tells you he’ll ‘check the back’. After a few minutes, he returns and tells you there are no more of the trees you wanted in stock. “The closest we have in stock is a nine-footer,” he explains, his tone detached and apathetic, as though he'd explained the lack of stock a dozen times already today and couldn't muster any more effort.
Unwilling to let this Grinch steal your cheerful attitude, you gleefully exclaim, “Oh! I’ll take the nine-foot one, then!” You practically jump up and down. 
“Great,” the worker replies, coldly and turns on his heel, heading back to the stockroom. You bob your head and sing softly along with the Christmas music playing overhead. Finally, the worker returns with a flatbed carrying your beautiful tree. 
After struggling to get it into your car, eventually you strap it to the top and carefully drive back to Leon’s place with your massive purchase of holiday decorations. You link your phone to the stereo in his living room and start playing more Christmas music, along with which you are all too happy to sing. You immediately start putting up the nine foot tree. With tender, loving care, you add lights, ornaments, and tinsel. You string more lights along the mantle of his fireplace and garland on the banisters. The small statuettes you bought find places on his coffee table and end tables. 
Throughout the afternoon, you’re constantly checking your phone to see if Leon has called or at least texted. Nothing. You know he must be pinned down somewhere. He will always let you know he’s okay when he can. You clasp your hands together in a silent prayer for his safety. 
Meanwhile…
Leon forces himself to breathe quietly as militia men scour the decaying laboratory - the one that used to belong to Luis. He stays hidden behind a cabinet, clutching his handcannon in position to fire if needed, but he’s hoping to avoid a direct confrontation, not that it wouldn’t be the first time he’s faced down a hoard of enemies…and it wouldn’t be the first time in this location, either. Flashbacks from that day he came here to rescue Ashley Graham back in 2004 fill his mind. That was long before he met you, before you changed his whole goddamn life. Christ, he misses you. He misses the warmth of your body pressed against his; he misses your smile; he misses your laugh, your kisses, your warm, wet mouth around his-
“Hey! Check over there!” one of the men commands, pulling Leon from his reverie. Fuck, he thinks to himself as he hears heavy boots approaching his hiding spot. He cocks the powerful magnum, ready for a fight. Some big burly motherfucker pokes his ugly head around the corner of Leon’s hiding spot. He growls, bearing his sickly teeth which are quickly blown to pieces by the bullet fired from Leon’s weapon. Shit, can’t catch a break. Guess we’re doin’ this, Leon realizes. He pushes the large man’s limp body away and gets into position, ready to take out anyone else who dares come his way. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will keep him from returning to his girl. 
Back at Leon’s place, you decide to bake some cookies, hoping to have a nice treat for him when he gets back, as if you didn’t practically buy out the store’s entire stock of Christmas decorations. You inhale the warm, homey smell of the delicious dessert, soothing your weary heart, which still worries for Leon’s safety. You take a deep, centering breath, reminding yourself to trust in Leon’s abilities. 
Two days before Christmas, you finally hear from him. “Hey, baby girl. I'm coming home!”
You shriek with joy, jumping up and down in his living room. You spend the day meticulously cleaning the place, making sure it's perfect. 
And on Christmas Eve, near midnight, The door opens, his face marred by fatigue and restless nights, but still handsome as ever. The soft glow of the fireplace illuminates his features in a warm hue. “Baby…” he whispers, his voice barely loud enough to hear. Tears pool in your eyes, your nose tingling as emotion overwhelms you. You rush toward him and throw yourself into his embrace. 
Just like that, with the love of his life in his arms again, Leon feels whole once more. He crushes you against him, soaking in your warmth, soothing his aching soul. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your unique scent. It reminds him why he fights, why he continues to battle the evils of the world, because, as bad as things are, if he can make it a little better for you, it’s worth the pain and effort. For a while, you simply hold each other, the crackling of the fireplace and the quiet whispers of the cold winds outside the only soundtrack for your heartfelt reunion. When you finally part, he gently cups your face and presses his mouth to yours in a tender and passionate kiss. The softness of your lips is a balm for his wary heart. Your tongues slide together in perfect synchrony, a dance of love and devotion. 
You finally break for air, gazing with longing into each other's eyes. “I missed you so much, sweetheart,” Leon coos, his voice cracking slightly from the weight of all his emotions. 
“I missed you too, Leon,” you reply, pressing a delicate kiss to his nose. 
He smiles, his tense muscles finally relaxing after the long and grueling mission. “Hey,” he begins, his voice smooth like butter again, “got something for you…” He bends down to pick up a box with a bunch of holes in it. You look with curiosity at it, certain you hear it…whimpering? A giant red bow adorns the top. He holds the bottom while you lift the lid. Inside is a small, fluffy white puppy, looking up at you with innocent, golden eyes. It yawns, inadvertently showing off its sharp little teeth. Adorably ferocious, you think to yourself. 
“Leon…it’s…” You try to speak, but feel too choked up. Your hands carefully reach in to pick up the helpless ball of fur. Holding it in your arms, it sniffs you cautiously before licking your face, drawing out a genuine, joyful grin from your lips. 
“You remember me telling you about that dog that helped me out all those years ago?” Leon asks. After you nod in affirmation, gently scratching your new friend’s furry cheeks, he continues, “I found him again. Had a litter of pups around. This one was the runt; he wouldn’t do well on his own in the wild, so I brought him home. Thought he could keep you company while I’m away. Merry Christmas, baby.”
Tears fall down your face at the thoughtful gift. “Oh Leon! I love him!” you exclaim, kissing him deeply once again, your soft pup nestled between the two of you. 
After settling the pup - who you decide to name Buddy - into his new home, you and Leon share a bottle of champagne to celebrate his safe return. You clink your crystal glasses and snuggle together on the couch while Buddy snores softly, fast asleep on the recliner. 
Hearts yearning to share the most intimate of connections, Leon lifts you into his arms, bridal style, and carries you to the bedroom, the champagne glasses long since drained of their titular contents. He lays you on the bed with infinite gentleness and crawls over the top of you. He kisses your lips then peppers kisses all along your cheeks and jaw. He pecks a few more just below your ear before whispering, “I love you so much baby. More than anything. I fucking need you.”
You moan softly, cunt getting slippery with your essence, arousal growing, unobstructed. “Leon…I need you, too. I love you!” Tears pool in your eyes again as your feelings for him overwhelm you, yet again. 
He hums his approval at your response, hand gently lifting your shirt, grazing your perfect breasts as he removes it entirely. He growls hungrily as his eyes take in the plush mounds. “Missed these two, as well,” he adds with a smirk and kisses both breasts before taking one hardened bud into his mouth. 
Your teeth take your lower lip between them, biting gently as pleasure begins to fill you, originating from the gentle nibbles on your tits. You can feel his cock hardening, throbbing against your thigh through his pants. He sucks on the fat of your breasts, definitely intending to leave hickies there. Your hands reach down to tug at his shirt. His mouth releases you for mere seconds, long enough to whip his shirt off and throw it across the room. He continues to kiss his way down your taught stomach. His hands grab the waistband of your sweatpants and panties, pulling them down and off, effortlessly. “My Christmas feast…” Leon growls and pushes your legs apart. His thumbs part your wet folds and he looks hungrily at your glistening, pink sex. He licks his lips before diving in, hot, open mouthed kisses claiming your neglected pussy. Your hips roll in time with his expert licks, angling your clit toward his tongue. He closes his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking on it like it’s a rare delicacy. Your abs tighten as your body begins to respond on its own, your back arching hard and your head digging into the bed. Your hands death grip the sheets, nails nearly cutting through the fabric, a mind numbing climax imminent. 
“Leon! I’m cumming! Fuck! I’m cumming!” you cry out, the pleasure worth the wait you had to endure while he was gone. Orgasm ripping through you, he pins you in place with his strong arms while he continues to lick you though your waves of euphoria. As you pant, gasping for air, he kicks off his pants and gives his aching dick a few strokes, precum leaking from the tip. He pushes your legs apart again, which practically fall open whenever he looks at them. 
“Can’t wait to be inside you again, sweetheart. Not at home until I feel your perfect cunt wrapped around my shaft,” He guides his throbbing cock toward your willing entrance, notching the tip past your eager barrier. He drops onto his hands above you, arms caging you in as he slides further inside, the familiar sensation of his thick length filling your tight channel and kissing the entrance to your womb like a warm embrace, a feeling of completeness. “Fuck…you’re so goddamn tight, baby girl. Never gonna get tired of this,” Leon purrs. His mouth connects with yours once more, pouring all of his pent up love and passion into the heated kiss. With tender thrusts, he begins to move inside you. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock rubs your g-spot, teasingly slow. You moan and whimper, begging for more with incoherent babbles. “Yeah, baby girl. You want more? Want me to put a baby in you, honey?” His mouth returns to your neck, licking and sucking, his own arousal and need growing beyond his control. 
His words make you arch into him even more, the thought of him impregnating you is once again a potent aphrodisiac. “Yes! Please! God, I want it so bad!”
He groans at your impassioned affirmation. He begins snapping his hips forward hard, your tantalizing breasts jiggling with each movement. He withdraws nearly completely out before slamming back inside you again, driven by primal instinct, an innate desire - no, a need - to breed you, to watch your belly swell with his child, to claim you in every way imaginable. He laces your fingers together, pressing them gently into the mattress. His rhythm is frenzied and irregular as he begins chasing his own high. As you cum a second time, you tense, hard, then cry out as your walls collapse on his dick, sucking him in deeper. With a guttural, rough moan, Leon thrusts into you one final time, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. For a long time, he simply remains buried inside you, unwilling to sever the connection just yet. He pulls you with him as he rolls off of you, deciding to keep himself warm inside your delicious heat for the night. “Need you to cockwarm me, baby girl. Been too damn long.”
Your pussy quivers weakly as the last remnants of your orgasm trickle out of you. “Always, Leon. Merry Christmas, baby,” you coo softly, running your fingers tenderly through his hair. 
He closes his eyes as you caress his scalp and rub it gently. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he replies, wrapping his arms tightly around you, pulling you close as he begins drifting off to sleep, comfortable and happy for the first time since he left for the mission to Spain. 
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azuredawn81 · 3 days ago
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cherry jubilee with macklin!!!
'tis the damn season taylor
road not taken | macklin celebrini x ex gf!reader
♡ summary: everyone dated someone in elementary school. these relationships never lasted. macklin and y/n were no different. after all, their “dates” were just going to the park and drinking caprisuns or sitting on his couch watching pokemon. their “relationship” was just playing together at recess and y/n giving a short kiss on the cheek after his games. but even after their “break-up”, they were still good friends, until he moved in 2019. it’s been years now, with no contact, but now he’s coming back to vancouver to play the canucks.
♡ pairing: macklin celebrini x reader
♡ content: fluff, angst, insecure!macklin
♡ word count: 3k
♡ warnings: none
♡ prompt: ‘tis the damn season - taylor swift
♡ note: this was written with interspersed breaks of holiday inflatables.
♡ taglist: @devilinpradaheels @Summert158 @lekkerfrikandelletje @camiesully
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
“so, hometown game,” will began, “how are you feeling?”
“i don’t know. it’s been my goal to be in the nhl, but now, i’m playing against my childhood team.”
“on your other childhood team.”
“the sharks don’t count.”
“i mean, you were a kid when you moved here.”
“the sharks don’t count.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
macklin sat on the couch, with y/n. it had been such a big day. they had just wrapped up sixth grade, the end of elementary school.
“whatcha thinking about?” she asked, looking up from where she nestled at his side.
“us.”
“specifically?”
“i don’t know. i just like being your friend.”
“i like being your friend too.”
“it’s nice.”
“remember when we got married in your backyard?”
“y/n, don’t remind me.”
“you called me mrs celebrini for a month, until you forgot.”
“didn’t you ask aiden to help you divorce me?”
“maybe.”
“but look at us now.”
“do you wanna go run in the sprinkler.”
“is that even a question?”
she grabbed his hand and they ran next door to her house, into her backyard. her little sister was already playing in the sprinkler, overjoyed to see y/n and macklin.
it was going to be a nice summer.
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
he had grown used to the mics all around him, all the time. that was the nature of being 1st overall, a star rookie, a standout player. he had grown used to the world knowing all about his life, his family, feeling like they were entitled to know more than what was already out on the internet.
“macklin! how do you feel about playing the canucks tomorrow?”
”were you excited about going to california?”
“did you miss vancouver?”
“are you excited to be back?”
“i never wanted to leave.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
“macklin, you’re so weird.”
“no, i’m not!”
“yeah, you are. you’re always with y/n.”
“and?”
“is she your girlfriend or something?”
“not anymore.”
“not anymore? so not even she wants to date you?”
“it’s not like that!”
“do you wish you were dating her?”
“i- she’s my best friend!”
“guys, macklin’s in love with y/n!”
“no, i’m not!”
“loser!”
macklin was quiet the whole car ride home from practice. everything said was true. he was weird. y/n was not his girlfriend anymore. not even she wanted to date him. he did wish he was dating her. he was in love with y/n.
“mom?”
“yes, dear?”
“how did you know you were in love with dad?”
“well, we went to school together and he was just super sweet.”
“would you be sad if he had moved?”
“macklin.”
“mom, it’s an honest question.”
“of course i would’ve been sad. he might not have gotten the chance to tell me how he felt.”
macklin let out a quiet sob. clearly, his situation was hopeless.
“what’s wrong, dear?”
“we’re moving in a few months. and i’ll be in c-california and y/n will be here.”
“i know she’s your friend, but you can make more friends down there.”
“mom, i have a crush on y/n!”
“oh my. now, that’s different.”
“and i can’t do anything about it because we’re moving!”
“mack, don’t start that. you know how much your father’s new job will help our family.”
“i’m her best friend too! she’ll have no one!”
“that’s not true. y/n is a little social butterfly.”
“i can’t leave her here.”
“i get that you’re having all these feelings, but you’re 12. you’ll meet other girls.”
“they aren’t her.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
macklin sat on his bed in the hotel in vancouver. will was setting up his toiletries in the bathroom.
“it’s nice of them to let us stay a little bit after,” will said, trying to lighten the mood.
“yeah.”
“mack, are you okay? you’ve been moping this whole time.”
“it’s weird, will. this was my team. some of these guys were playing when i still lived here. i’ve seen quinn hughes play here.”
“and now you’re playing against him.”
“it’s weird!”
“there’s something else bugging you.”
“i’m fine.”
“mack, you can talk to me. we’re best friends.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
mom: look what i found
mom: attachment: one image
mom: i heard she’s going to be there
mack: ok?
mack: i haven’t talked to her since middle school.
mack: i don’t care.
mom: don’t give me that
mom: you two were best friends
mom: you should care a little bit
mack: i don’t
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
“c’mon, let’s go explore.”
“i don’t need to explore. i know this city.”
“how long has it been since you’ve been back? c’mon, macklin, let’s go.”
“fine.”
macklin and will made their way out of the hotel, ready to go out on the town.
“do you think you’ll recognize anyone?”
“i hope not.”
will must’ve spoken that into being or something, because right as they turned that corner, mack walked right into someone he knew.
“oh my god, macklin???”
“y/n?” his y/n. “are you okay?”
“yeah, i’m okay.”
“you guys know each other?” will asked, looking between y/n and mack.
“yeah… yeah, we do.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
macklin couldn’t breathe. y/n had her head on his shoulder, her hands fidgeting in her lap. they were laying in the grass of her backyard, looking up at the vancouver sky together for the last time.
“do you really have to go?”
“i’d stay if i could.”
“you could stay with my family.”
“i don’t think your dad would like that.”
“it’d be fine.”
“he’d make me sleep on the porch.”
“that’s better than you being in stupid sacramento.”
“san francisco.”
“doesn’t matter. it’s not vancouver. it’s not next to me.”
“it’ll be good for hockey.”
“really? leaving vancouver will be good for hockey?”
“i’m sorry, y/n.”
“it’s fine.”
“no, it’s not.”
“macklin, you leave tomorrow. i can’t do anything about it.”
he laced his fingers in hers. “i’m sorry.”
“do you want to spend the night?”
“tonight?”
“well, you won’t be here tomorrow night.”
the two kids giggled as macklin pulled y/n to her feet and they ran inside.
“mom!”
“what is it?”
“can macklin spend the night?”
“tonight?”
“mom, he’s leaving!”
“i suppose. make good choices.”
she took his hand and walked upstairs to her room, the fairy lights creating a warm, inviting feel.
“i don’t have my pajamas.”
“lucky for you, you can’t remember to bring your stuff home.”
y/n opened a drawer, full of his stuff.
“that’s where it all went!”
he took a hoodie and pair of shorts and went to the bathroom to change. y/n put on one of mack’s big shirts, the fabric swallowing her whole. his dad had bought it a few sizes big on accident and never got around to returning it.
“y/n? are you decent?”
“yeah!”
macklin came back in. “remind me to steal my clothes back.”
“nah.”
“you’re the worst.”
they climbed underneath the fluffy pink duvet and just couldn’t stop giggling. “you’re my best friend.”
“you’re my best friend too, mack. always have been.”
“always will be?”
“nah, you’re ditching me and for what? the sharks?”
“y/n, please be serious.”
“of course, you’ll always be my best friend. will i always be yours?”
“duh.”
and there they laid, in y/n’s bed. they just talked and talked, planning visits and to reunite after high school. macklin shared how nervous he was, how badly he wanted to stay with his team, his home, her. y/n listened, her fingers tracing flowers and stars on his arm.
“what if you forget me?”
“like anything else is worth remembering.”
“i’m being real.”
“i won’t. but i have a real concern about you forgetting me.”
“i could never.”
“whatever you say, mr. hockey star.”
“y/n, i could the next mcdavid and wouldn’t forget you.”
“you say that now.”
“not even crosby could forget someone like you.”
“i’m sure he did. cole harbour is a lot smaller than pittsburgh.”
“he definitely visits.”
“yes, but everyone knows crosby. everyone knows mcdavid. everyone knows gretzky.”
“no one knows celebrini.”
“they will. but no one knows l/n.”
“i do.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
somehow, he’d ended up across the table from y/n at a little coffee shop. her hair was longer, her cheekbones more defined. she was more grown-up, but at the same time, the same girl he left here.
“so, what are you doing back in vancouver?” he asked, not looking up from his water.
“winter break.”
“where are you going to school?”
“university of toronto. great psychology program.”
“nice. i’m here for the game.”
“i know.”
“you do?”
“everyone knows, macklin.”
“so you knew i was on the sharks?”
“i didn’t stop following hockey when you left.”
“you never said anything after the draft.”
“what would i have said? hey macklin, sorry i haven’t reached out since we were thirteen. congrats on going first.”
“that would’ve been something.”
“i’m not the one who gave up.”
“are you saying i did?”
“i’m saying maybe the u14 aaa junior sharks had a little something to do with it.”
“don’t act like that, y/n!”
“you know, i thought for the longest time, maybe hockey just kept you busy and i shouldn’t take it personally. but then i saw that blonde in all your posts.”
“y/n, you don’t get it.”
“this is stupid. why did i bother? you’ve changed, i’ve changed. can’t expect a guy to remember you when he’s got a new toy.”
she stood up and took her espresso with her. “bye mack.”
“no y/n, come back.”
“why?”
“you can’t villainize me for dating someone else. we were friends. and you definitely dated people too.”
“so, let’s call it even. fresh start. i’m here for a few days. let’s catch up, clean slate.”
“i’m going home. you know where to find me.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
“dude, you got a date or what?”
“or what?”
“is it with that girl.”
“yep.”
“who is she?”
“y/n l/n. my best friend.”
“ouch.”
“sorry, will, she came first.”
“bros before hoes, mack.”
“will, there’s pictures of us in her bathtub in her mom’s scrapbook.”
“damn.”
macklin took a look in the mirror to adjust his tie. “how do i look?”
“snappy.”
“i’ll see you around.”
“use protection!”
“shut up, dude!”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
he stood in front of that familiar house, with the cream walls, the wrap around porch, and the brown door. mrs. l/n’s lavender bushes were still bright and vibrant, even after all these years. he raised his fist and knocked on the door. mr. l/n opened it, his eyes wide in shock.
“macklin?”
“is y/n home?”
he turned inside. “y/n! you have a gentleman caller!”
y/n appeared shortly after, in a little black dress and satin pumps. her makeup was perfect and her hair was in a cute half-up, half-down.
“speak of the devil.”
macklin quickly hugged her, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. “missed you.”
“missed you too, big guy.”
“y/n, honey, did you arrange this?”
“yeah, we ran into each other earlier.”
“i see.”
“bye, dad.”
“make good choices.”
she stepped outside, her car keys in hand. she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and switched her keys to the other hand, so she could hold macklin’s.
“so, lily had to use the car for some outing with her boyfriend.”
“so…”
“we’re taking the truck.”
“that’s your dad’s baby!”
“i’m his baby, thank you very much.”
macklin helped y/n into the cab of the truck. “why’d he spring for such tall tires? he works in finance.”
“i barely understand the guy.”
she put the key into the ignition and put her bag in macklin’s lap. “thanks for being my passenger princess tonight.”
“yeah, your dad would kill me if i touched the wheel.”
after she turned the headlights on, she looked over at mack. in his eyes, she saw the same boy who held her hand under the stars, who threatened the playground bullies, who kissed her in order to steal the last cookie. she shook her head like an etch-a-sketch to erase the thought.
“where do you want to go?”
“we could just ride around.”
y/n put the truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway, turning onto the street.
“you’re trouble, celebrini.”
“yeah, but you love it.”
“i missed it.”
“what’d you do without me?”
“cried.”
“actually?”
“yeah.”
“i’m sorry.”
“blame your dad.”
“hey.”
“not like you wanted to leave anyway.”
“i missed you a lot too. california’s got nothing on you.”
“don’t lie.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
“y/n, did you hear?”
“hear what?” ”macklin’s supposed to be the top draft pick.”
“who?”
“celebrini? our old neighbor?”
“oh, him? cool, i guess.”
that was all anyone ever talked about. her mom, still close friends with robyn would never stop gushing about how great macklin was at hockey. the other people in her grade were thoroughly impressed that someone from little vancouver was going first, as if connor bedard hadn’t done it last year, as if macklin still lived here.
“didn’t you guys date?”
“yeah, in fourth grade.”
“but weren’t you friends?”
“not anymore.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
macklin celebrini and will smith - two peas in a pod
celebrini and smith - star rookies and best friends
will and macklin - how their friendship is shaping sharks hockey
“i can’t believe this.” y/n said, flopping onto the bed in her dorm. “i’ve truly been replaced.”
“when did you last see each other?” lena, her roommate asked.
“not the point.”
“what’s the point then?”
“he said i’d always be his best friend.”
“didn’t he say that he’d never forget you too?”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
macklin was chatting with will during warm ups when he noticed a sign with his face on it. the sign read “hey #71! i’ll trade you a kiss for a puck!” and had many, many hearts drawn on it.
he skated up to them and said “i need to see your face first!”
they dropped the sign reveal y/n. she made half of a hand heart, which macklin completed.
“meet me by the player tunnel after. name drop me. i’ll get you that kiss!”
“good luck! score a goal for me!”
“i’ll score five!”
macklin did, in fact, not score five goals. he scored two, which was good enough for y/n. she was let into the area by the locker rooms and waited patiently for macklin. eventually, he came out, his hair wet with water from his post game shower. his tie was askew, but that didn’t matter. this macklin - her macklin (not that she’d say that out loud) - looked the same as that macklin, the one who insisted she come to all of his games. he had that same glimmer in his eyes, the same smile when he saw her.
“so about that kiss?” she said, batting her eyelashes.
“i have something to say first.”
“i have something to say too.”
“one?”
“two.”
“three.”
“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!”
“you are?”
“since when?”
“y/n, i’ve been in love with you since we were ten and you asked me to be your boyfriend after grayson julian said she wanted to be my girlfriend. i remember you saying you couldn’t lose your best friend to someone mean like her. i loved you through every bad test, every argument over google slides templates for projects, every mile we had to run in pe. i loved you every mile i flew away. i loved you with every goal i scored, every assist i did, every pass i made. i loved you in san francisco, i loved you in minnesota, i loved you in chicago, i loved you in boston, i love you in san jose, and i love you here, in vancouver, if you’ll have me.”
“macklin celebrini, i am so extremely mad at you.”
“you are?”
“you ghosted me a week after you landed in california!”
“i didn’t know how to manage a relationship at age 13, much less a long distance one!”
“you’re such an idiot.”
“i know, i feel really stupid.”
“but you’re my idiot.”
“i am?”
“mack, i’ve been in love with you since we were nine and we were drinking caprisuns on my couch. i couldn’t get the straw to poke a whole and you took the pouch and did it for me. i was in love with you when you lost games and tournies, when you got picked on for being bad at math, and when we watched the stars in the backyard. i never stopped loving you.”
⋆˚☆˖°⋆。° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
macklin couldn’t breathe. y/n had her head on his shoulder, her hands fidgeting in her lap. they were laying in the grass of her backyard, looking up at the vancouver sky together.
“i didn’t want to leave. but i couldn’t stay.”
“mack…”
“if i could’ve stayed, i would’ve. i would’ve slept on your porch and given up hockey if i meant i could stay here, with you.”
“you don’t need to do that.”
“but i would. if i had a time machine, i’d go back and convince my parents to stay.”
“no.”
“what?”
“if you did, things would be different. yes, we might’ve dated in high school, but we also might’ve lost each other.”
“i guess you’re right.”
“aren’t you glad you kept your options open?”
“yeah,” he kissed her cheek, “i really am.”
“the road not taken is looking really good right now.”
“does it?”
“mhm… he’s tall with perfectly tousled hair and probably abs.”
“i’ve got abs.”
“prove it.”
“you’re terrible!”
“you love me!”
“yeah, i do.”
“we could just sleep out here.”
“it’s december in canada. we’re going inside.”
“sounds good, babe.”
“babe?”
“you like it?”
“love it.”
and with that, he took her hand, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. he slipped one hand behind her head, the other one to her waist.
“i think i still owe you that kiss.”
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narcjsistx · 1 day ago
Text
𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 | OS
kaiser micheal x fem reader ; words: 1.6k (1679)
coming from this event, eighth day, 25/12
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!
plot: why kaiser was at your door the night between christmas eve and christmas day? why did he have a red package, even though you had broken up last month?
It was cold, very cold. Berlin had been covered in snow since the beginning of November, and things had gotten worse during the Christmas week, when the snow had also caused some damage due to the excessive amount. You loved the snow, so going to work with the white weather around you wasn't a sin, and above all it didn't bother you because you always covered yourself well with a heavy coat and an excessive amount of scarves; but now, with only your pajamas on, you were cold. You didn't know if you were colder because of the temperature or because of seeing Kaiser after a whole month, maybe the second one, but who knows
It was a while past midnight, at least half an hour; your friends had just left your house, after you had celebrated Christmas Eve all together, opened the presents and toasted. You were cleaning the living room when you heard the doorbell, and thinking you would find some of your friends who had forgotten something you went to the door calmly, completely confused instead of finding your ex, Kaiser Micheal
"...What the fuck are you doing here?"
Last month you broke up after a relationship that lasted three years, three years so intense that you couldn't even describe them if you had to: you met thanks to one of his teammates, one night in a bar after the team's victory, and two weeks later you were together as an actual couple. Maybe you had run, maybe not, but at the time it didn't take long for you to understand that you could work together, and so you decided to give yourself a chance. Less than six months later you were living in his house, keeping him company and most of all loving him. With Michael it had never been all roses and flowers, you argued like normal couples, but somehow you always came back to look for the other, like a magne. You went to his games, you cheered for him, and he cheered for you for your goals. You balanced each other out, and many of your friends joked that you were going to get married soon because only one could stand the other with a wedding in between
You actually thought so too, and probably he did too. But last month you had broken up, and even now you couldn't understand how he had the courage to tell you that he didn't love you anymore, if until a few hours before he was resting in your arms. And so, from that day on, you didn't want to know anything about him anymore, going back to live in your old apartment
But what the fuck was he doing here now? And why did he have a little box in his hand?. Thinking about this, you realized that it was his birthday, since it had already struck midnight; but wishing him a happy birthday? No, absolutely not, partly out of resentment and partly because you knew he didn't like celebrating his birthday
"I had to talk to you, or rather give you something. I saw your friends' cars and knocking suddenly while you were busy seemed a bit of a jerk... I waited out here for a few hours. And above all, I didn't feel like talking to you with them in front"
It was cold, damn cold, and you knew he didn't like the cold because of his past, where he had often been forced to sleep freezing as a child. But for you, had he waited? With this cold?
"Talk? Wasn't that enough the last time we talked?"
More than talking, the last time you did nothing but yell at each other. He said so many bad things to you, and you didn't even hold back
"No, it's not enough for me. I have to talk to you and give you something"
"I don't want anything from you, and you also said the last time that you wouldn't give me anything anymore because I don't deserve it, right?"
"Don't bring that moment back now"
"And why shouldn't I?"
The wound was still open, and you knew it would be for a long time. You couldn't lie and say you didn't love him anymore, damn it, it was the opposite; you certainly don't stop loving someone from one day to the next after three years of being together. You also knew that, somewhere in his heart, Michael probably felt the same, but that didn't justify him leaving you. You were angry, disappointed above all and sad
"Y/n, please, let me talk. You know I never talk in vain in serious moments"
He had never done it in three years with you, his charisma stopped when it came to talking about serious situations, knowing that he couldn't always throw everything into irony. You wanted to hear him talk, to understand what the fuck he wanted at such a time and especially with such a situation in between, but would that have been beneficial for you? Could you have let him talk?
"Hurry up. I'm cold"
"I try to be as fast as possible, I swear. I don't think I can explain to you how much I hate me for what I did to you, leaving you wasn't on the list of things to do with you, in fact, I don't even know how I could have done such a stupid thing. I'm an idiot, I really am, I'm like my father who as soon as he had all the happiness in his hands he let it slip away... and you know, maybe you're the only one who really knows, how much I don't want to be like that pig. I made a mess because I'm not used to having someone who really loves me, and when I do stupid things that push this person away from me, because I don't think I deserve it. I know perfectly well that you're the only one who cares a little about me, and I also know perfectly well that you're the only one I really care about, that I love in a way that's maybe even a little obsessive. I would like to give you something that I was planning to give you for Christmas if we had stayed together, but something went wrong... but I want to give it to you anyway, and ask you to think of us, because now I have no more doubts, I haven't had them for 3 years now and above all I didn't have them when I bought this"
Maybe you needed these words from him, even if you hated to admit that he already had you tied to his finger. From the day of the breakup until now you had always wanted to see him apologize, and now that you had him in front of you it didn't seem true: Michael wasn't someone who admitted his mistakes, he preferred to miss a goal rather than do this, he also hated showing himself weak in front of the people he cared about. And now he was doing it, both of them, in front of you, just to explain the situation to you
But what did he actually want to give you?
"Micheal... god, this is unexpected. I thought I was going to have to move on"
"Don't start, or at least decide whether to do so after I've shown you what I have in my hand. Think about it, because I have no more doubts"
You look down, Michael clears his throat before getting down on one knee, he who always told others to get down on their knees for him. You hear a small sigh, before the little box opens to reveal a ring, glittering and gold
"Y/n, Schatz, I had no doubts about asking you something so important, because I've met people, but there's only one who understands me, and that's you. I have a shitty personality and yet it doesn't seem to push you away from me, and for that I should thank you every day. You know perfectly well how much I don't like my birthday, yet somehow since we've been together you've made me learn to appreciate it at least a little, and now I would like to appreciate it more if you accept, because it's a gift that only you can give me. I wanted to ask you this to take our relationship to the next level, but the way things went I find myself forced to ask you to give me another chance, this time for life. Y/n, will you marry me?"
You tremble, because you don't know what else to do after a proposal like that. You look at him, and in his gaze you read a sincerity that you have never seen before, which shows how serious he is. You remain like that for whole seconds, unable to tell him what, you know, he wants to hear
"Micheal, my god... yes, yes I do, yes!"
Before he can get up and hug you, you throw yourself onto the cold floor with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you feel his arms wrap tightly around your back, pulling you closer to him. Small tears begin to form at the edge of your eyes as you hold him perhaps a little too tightly because of the emotion. You hear him chuckle, as he runs his hand up and down your back, not giving you the chance to pull away
"You're an idiot, you really are"
"I know, but now you will be able to tell me until our last days, Schatz"
TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix
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levis-poison-is-my-medicine · 16 hours ago
Text
Today Only
(The Tea Lovers Pt. 9)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A Levi x reader fanfic
Crossposted from AO3
You've got the perfect plan for Levi's birthday – now Levi just has to play along. What could go wrong?
tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 3.2k)
(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)
You sneaked across the foyer of the scout's headquarters, stifling a yawn. Maybe you could still get in some shut eye before morning assembly. You hadn't slept a wink all night, having waited at the docks for the first ferry of the day, and now you were chilled down to the bone. It was still criminally early, and you couldn't wait to slide under your warm covers. At least you were already in your pajamas.
You tiptoed around a corner, colliding with something solid.
"No!" you gasped, protectively wrapping your arms around the box you were carrying as you fell flat on your butt.
You squinted up at the unexpected obstacle, which, or rather who, was glaring down at you.
"Levi?" you asked, blinking in confusion. A smile formed on your lips, but then it froze – he wasn't supposed to see his present. You scrambled to your legs, attempting to hide the box as you hurried past him.
"Where do you think you're going?" He grabbed your wrist. "Care to explain why you are late?"
You winced, trying to tuck the box under your arm without drawing any attention to it.
"I missed the last ferry, that's all. Sorry if I made you worry."
Levi's eyes narrowed at your response. "Ferry? Were you in Mitras? Don't tell me you were there for t–"
"It wasn't like that," you said quickly. "This is private, okay? I'm not obligated to talk about it. And I don't want to." You had to look down to try to hide the smile tugging at your lips. Lying had never been your strong suit.
"Still, you should have told someone where you were going," he said sternly, not loosening his grip on your wrist. "You can't just disappear like that, with no way to reach out to you."
You glanced back up at him. There was an intensity in his gaze you had never seen before.
"I guess you're right," you murmured. "I didn't plan this. I was only supposed to be gone for the day."
"But you weren't. Something could've happened," he muttered. He looked away briefly, letting out a sharp breath. "Just don't do something stupid like that again, okay?"
"Okay," you said. "I promise."
Levi nodded and let go of your wrist.
"Actually, should we do a pinky promise?" You held out your pinky.
"No."
"They are stronger, didn't you know? If you break them, your pinky falls off."
He snorted. "You don't actually believe that nonsense, do you?"
"You're no fun," you pouted, but there was a gleam of mischief in your eyes. Before he could respond, you quickly grabbed his hand, intertwining your pinky with his.
Levi went still for a moment, his gaze flickering down to where your hands were connected.
"Fine," he muttered. "But don't go breaking it."
"Of course not. I want to keep my pinky, remember?"
He rolled his eyes. You gave him your biggest smile, relieved to see that he didn't seem mad anymore, and released his hand to suppress a yawn.
"By the way, how come you're still awake at this hour?" You leaned in slightly, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, which were even more pronounced than usual. Levi didn't say anything, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away again.
"You should really get some sleep," you said. "I'm heading to bed, too. I'm so tired." Giving him a quick smile, you added, "Good night!" before scampering away, hugging the box with his present to your chest.
"Night? It's already morning," Levi grumbled, but you were already out of earshot.
– –
In the end, you barely managed to squeeze in one hour of sleep. That wasn't enough to dull your excitement, though. Only a few more days until Levi's birthday, and there was still so much to plan.
Determined to not lose any precious time, you went up to Erwin's office, wielding a letter of apology. You couldn't afford to to be delayed by disciplinary actions – it was best to be proactive.
You knocked once, then stepped inside without missing a beat.
"I'm so sorry for being late. Please accept this letter of apology as a token of my sincere, most heartfelt regret." You placed it on his desk. It was five pages long, packed with every minuscule detail you could've possibly thought of.
Erwin acknowledged it with a weary nod. "Ah, the prodigal child has returned."
You grinned. "Yes! And we have many important things to discuss."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do we?"
"Uh huh. I've devised a plan."
"A plan...?"
"Yes! For Levi's birthday, to be exact. And you happen to play an important role in it!"
"Of course I do," he muttered, heaving a resigned sigh.
"Don't worry," you said, practically bouncing with excitement. "It's not that hard! You just have to keep him occupied while I decorate his office and set everything up. Maybe you can call a meeting and just talk about whatever."
Erwin didn't seem to keen on the idea.
"Just for an hour, or so. If you're unsure how to fill the time, I made flashcards with suggestions."
With a proud flourish, you set down a small tower of paper cards in front of him.
The first card read: 'Striving Beyond the Horizon - A motivational speech for the upcoming expedition'.
He glanced at the flashcards, his brow furrowed slightly. "... I don't think these will be necessary, thank you."
"Suit yourself!" You picked them back up, accidentally dropping one in the process.
Erwin took it from the ground, reading it slowly, his lips twitching slightly as he took in the dramatic wording.
'Why do we keep going? What compels us every day to put on this uniform, to march towards the unknown, towards the Titans?' [Make a dramatic pause here, maybe sweep your arm out in a grand gesture to buy more time.] 'I believe there to be meaning in the journey itself, in the act of moving forward, the striving… in each of the discoveries we make along the way. Not just about the Titans, not just about the world outside, but about ourselves.' [Make prolonged eye contact here.] 'It is not just our knowledge that grows in our ever-present push against the horizon. No. We too, grow as people. As we challenge the walls, we challenge what it's like to be human.'
"Did you write an entire speech?" Erwin looked at you incredulously.
"I may have gotten a little carried away," you admitted. "It should be about an hour long, if you follow the additional directions I put in."
Erwin ran a hand over his face. "While I commend your effort, I don't think Levi would sit through an hour-long speech just for him."
"Yeah, you might be right about that." You gave him a sheepish smile. "But since this is you we're talking about, I'm sure you will figure out other ways to keep him away from his office. I have complete faith in you!"
Erwin rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking thoroughly exhausted. "You're going to great lengths for Levi."
"Of course! He's saved my butt more times than I can count. I have to give back somehow."
He scrutinized you for a moment, then shook his head. "Does Levi know you're back? If not, you should probably tell him."
"Yep, he caught me this morning when I came back, gave me a solid talking-to."
"Good. He was up all night worrying about you."
You shot Erwin a look of disbelief, then chuckled. "Haha, good one. You almost had me here. But this is Levi we're talking about."
"I'm not joking," the commander said matter-of-factly.
"Well, he probably just couldn't fall asleep. You know how he is," you replied with a shrug.
Erwin exhaled sharply. "Sure." He motioned to the papers on his desk. "I should get back to work."
"Yeah, I shouldn't keep you any longer. Thanks for agreeing to be a part of the plan though, you're a huge help!"
You beamed at him, then turned to leave. Erwin looked after you blankly. Had he really agreed? Well, with you, he figured there was rarely any other option.
– –
The alarm sounded before dawn, rousing your roommates with groans of confused annoyance. You sat up straight, feeling the excitement rush through your veins. It was the 25th of December – time to set your plan into motion.
You made your way to the mess hall kitchen, ready to kick off the first phase of your operation. After that, you went back and forth between your room and Hange's office many times – she'd kindly allowed you to store everything there, so you'd be faster setting everything up later.
As you hustled and bustled about all day, you avoided Levi like a ninja, even skipping breakfast to ensure you wouldn't run into him until it was time – teatime.
About an hour before the big moment, you crept towards Levi's office. Hiding in the shadows just around the corner, you waited patiently, listening intently to the sound of Levis footsteps as he disappeared into Erwin's office. When you were certain he was out of sight, you emerged from the shadows with a mischievous grin.
"Time to get out the good stuff."
You darted across the hallway to his door, eager to go inside and start the next phase of your plan. There was just one little problem – it was locked.
"No! Don't do this to me!" you implored the lock, but the door refused to budge, unsympathetic to your pleas. With a small, frustrated whine, you gave up. There wasn't any time to try this yourself – you'd need someone who was good with their hands.
Without hesitation, you started running, sprinting all the way to Hange's lab. You burst through the door with a dramatic little jump, but then couldn't get a word out, too busy catching your breath.
"Woah now, what's got you galloping in here like a wild stallion?" Hange asked you with a grin.
"Code… Purple," you gasped between breaths, alluding to the colors of the signal flares used during expeditions.
"An emergency, huh? Should we drop everything and panic, or can I help?"
"That depends," you panted. "Do you know how to pick a lock?"
Hange rolled up their sleeves. "Oh, you bet I do."
Next thing you knew, you were kneeling next to Hange on the floor in front of Levi's office, watching them rummage through the toolkit they brought along.
"Nice! This one should do the trick!" They inserted the small, makeshift pick into the lock, wriggling it around carefully. You could hear something shift inside, giving in to the deft movements of Hange's hands as they twisted and turned the pick just the right way.Click, then click again.
"Done!" Hange said with a triumphant grin, and pushed down the handle. The door swung open easily, making short shrift of the fortress that was Levi's office.
"You're a gem!" You flung your arms around their neck.
"More like a crook who steals gems, now that you've made me your partner in crime," they said conspiratorially, waggling their brows.
You giggled. "Don't pretend I'm a bad influence! There's no way this was your first time after what I've just witnessed."
"Maybe I'm just a natural," Hange said, feigning innocence.
"Nice try, but I'm not buying it."
"Okay, okay," Hange said, hands raised in mock surrender. "You got me. I'm a total scoundrel."
You giggled again. "And I'm so glad for that – this totally saved my butt. But now I really need to hurry!"
"Good luck!" Hange gathered up the evidence of your crime and winked at you. "This will be our little secret." Then they set off in the direction of their lab, whistling a jolly tune.
You cracked your knuckles. The game was on again.
– –
An exquisite fragrance filled the room as you gently lifted the infuser from the new teapot, having allowed it just the right amount of time for the flavors to fully unfold.
You took a brief moment to admire your work – the desk was adorned with a lavender tablecloth, in the center of which perched the new tea set in all its elegant glory. It was surrounded by dainty little plates of tea biscuits you had baked this morning, all of them shaped like tiny Levi's with a unique pose or outfit. Soft, flickering candles were scattered between them, casting a warm, inviting glow. Behind the table you had hung a handmade paper garland, spelling out 'Happy Birthday, Levi!' in bold, purple letters.
"Perfect!" You clapped your hands and put on one of the silly birthday hats you'd crafted, emblazoned with 'Squad Levi' in bold, and 'today only' in smaller letters beneath. You'd told everyone to put it on around teatime, though you doubted most would actually go along with it. There were special versions for Petra and the rest of the squad, replacing 'today only' with 'for reals'.
You headed for the door with an excited grin. It was time to fetch the birthday boy – wouldn't want the tea to get cold.
You ripped open the door to Erwin's office, shouting "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEVI!" at the top of your lungs.
A lot of heads turned your way – it wasn't just Levi in that room with Erwin. There was the entirety of his squad, and squad Mike, too. You gave them an awkward wave. A beat of silence passed. Then everyone started cheering and donning their birthday hats. You breathed a sigh of relief.
"Let's adjourn this until tomorrow," Erwin said, also putting on his birthday hat.
You couldn't believe your eyes. Levi seemed to feel the same way. "Not you, too," he mumbled, but there was an almost imperceptible quirk to the corners of his mouth. Petra and Lynne practically swooned at the sight. Oluo bit his tongue, trying to imitate him. Nanaba just rolled her eyes.
Amid the chaos, you grabbed Levi's wrist. "I need to show you something," you said, pulling him along with you.
"It's in here." You pulled open the door to his office.
"Thought I locked that," Levi muttered.
You didn't reply, a huge grin spreading across your face instead. Stepping aside, you made a grand, sweeping motion towards the table, eager for him to see the fruits of your labor.
"Ta-da! Do you like it?" Not giving him any time to respond, you immediately added, "It's a tea set. For you. Made from the finest porcelain of the most supreme quality. I'd know, since I was there when it was made. For a part of it, anyway. It was so much fun!"
With a bright smile, you handed him one of the cups. He held it by the rim in that strange way he always did, and turned it in his hands, quietly studying the design. You watched him intently. There was a subtle raise to his eyebrows, and his lips were slightly parted.
"This must've been expensive," he said finally, his gray eyes meeting yours.
"Maaybe...“ you said. "But do you like it?"
"Of course I do," he said matter-of-factly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Don't be stupid."
"Yay!" You jumped with delight. "I'm so glad you do! Totally worth every penny, then. Only the best for my fellow tea lover."
Levi snorted. You snatched the cup from his hands.
"Time for tea," you said, solemnly pouring the hot liquid into the cup.
"I made biscuits, too." You passed him one of the small plates. He glanced at them, his brow furrowed.
"They're you by the way," you said happily.
"...I can see that."
"Aren't they absolutely adorable?" You popped one into your mouth. "Mmm."
"Tch. I can't believe you just ate me," Levi said wryly.
"Sure did! And I'll have you know you were absolutely delicious."
He stared at you for a moment, then shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle. "Now that's just cruel."
You grinned. "Just try one, you'll see."
You selected a Levi in his cleaning get-up, wielding a tiny mob. "This one should clean your palate nicely." You chortled."Get it?"
Levi rolled his eyes. "After that shitty joke, I'll need something to clean my ears instead." But he ate the biscuit, anyway.
"That's so mean," you pouted. "It wasn't that bad."
"If you say so." Levi took a sip of his tea. His eyes widened. "That's... the tea from South Maria."
"Yep, you guessed it, just like I knew you would. A true connoisseur, through and through." You gave him a warm smile.
"But you only have so little of it," he murmured.
"True. That's why I saved it for a special occasion."
He huffed. "This hardly–"
You didn't even let him finish. "It's your birthday! If that's not a special occasion, then I don't know what is. Besides, there's no way I could've drunken it without you."
Levi set the cup down with a faint clink, then met your gaze, his eyes lingering on you just a little longer than usual. "Why?"
"Everything's more fun when you're around." You shrugged.
Something flashed in his eyes then, an involuntary flicker of something intense searing through his usual cool demeanor, but it was gone before you could fully catch it.
You suddenly felt a strange warmth spreading through you, not unlike the sensation of drinking hot tea, only it was in your chest. The unfamiliar feeling made you shift in your seat, unsure of its cause. You glanced up at Levi.
His mouth twitched, as though he might say something, but instead he just reached for his tea again. You took a sip of yours, too.
"Wow, it's even better than I thought! Out of this world delicious!" you exclaimed. The rich flavor encompassed your senses, and you closed your eyes to savor every last drop.
When you opened them again, Levi wore an expression you rarely saw on him. It was barely more than a subtle curve of his lips, but he was definitely smiling.
The warmth in your chest returned with a sudden lurch.
You absentmindedly brought a hand to your heart, bunching the fabric of your shirt in your fist.
"Right," you said, reaching behind you. "I made you a hat, too. You should put it o–"
"No."
"Didn't think so." You set the hat down on the table anyway. "I'll just put this here in case you change your mind."
Levi shot you a look that said everything: no chance in hell.
It made you giggle.
"Sooo... How do you like your birthday so far?" You clasped your hands under your chin. "I wasn't sure what you usually like to do on them, so I just kind of went with a tea party theme."
"Can't say I ever really celebrated my birthday before. So this is a first. But…" He paused, his gaze briefly softening. "It's… nice."
You couldn't help but smile, a wide grin forming on your face. "I'm so happy!"
"But don't think you won't have to clean this up later," Levi muttered.
"I know, I know." You both knew he'd end up helping, anyway.
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A/n: Happy birthday, Levi! Thank you for giving me the motivation to start writing fanfic! (and to keep my place a little bit cleaner, lol.) Btw, I've also written a one-shot for LeviWeek, which will be out in a few days! Let me know if you wanna be tagged for it!
Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn, @omlyurslvi
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chobblesomewrites · 3 days ago
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oh i sent an ask on your other account cause i read a post if yours wrong but can you pretend i sent it here
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"You fitting in nicely, little Gemstone?"
Gem snaps her eyes open and brings her head up from the pile of pillows she's been laying on, blinking her tiredness away to find Skizz looking over at her with a endeared smile. Impulse was just right behind him, already made a spot for himself on the piles of pillows over the carpet Xisuma sewed for her.
She sits up properly and ruffles her own curls as she greets the two, "Hi you guys. You didn't tell me you were visiting," she grumbled, causing some worried looks from her visitors.
"Well, we weren't supposed to until the next day when you weren't busy still decorating the cave, but we couldn't wait to give you the--!" Skizz's excited ramble was then cut off by Impulse's loud 'ssshhh'.
"You'd be ruining the surprise, Skizz," he warned gently.
This caused Gem to straighten up and flash an inquiring look to the two, "Surprise?"
The duo shared a knowing smile but didn't answer Gem. Instead, Skizz went over and flopped himself next to the ginger haired girl, making himself comfortable as he stretched over the pillows, "Nevermind that- You're makin' it pretty comfy over here, Gem! Didn't know a cave could be this comfy!"
Gem poked at Skizz's side with a pout, "Hey, what surprise are you talking about?!"
It was then Impulse's turn to continue on the conversation like Gem wasn't overly confused right now, "The place looks great, Gem," he commended with a smile, "Looks like you had fun with it!"
Seeing as neither of them was gonna sate her curiosity, she continue to pout but relented to the change of topic anyway, "It looks okay." She brought her knees to herself as her gaze flickered all over her space, "It's comfy, but it feels.... non-homey. Empty?"
She looked doubtful. Honestly, this was what Gem had been mulling over even before Skizz and Impulse arrived here. She had just finished piling up a comfy corner on the carpet- which seems to do its job well considering the child of Apollo was rolling over it like an excited dog, but the cave still feels so lonely.
Gem didn't understand it either. She had the freedom to put everything she wanted in this cave, decorate it how she sees fit (an opportunity she often doesn't get at home) but it's not enough for her. She probably just wasn't used to having such a big space for herself.
Impulse examined her expression and held his chin in thought, "Empty, huh?" he repeated, now taking the time to look all over the cave as well. His thoughts were broken off by Skizz excitedly nudging his leg with his foot.
Impulse rolled his eyes fondly and gently swatted Skizz's foot away, earning a giggle. Gem smiled at this interaction both fondly and confusingly.
"Seriously, is anyone going to tell me what you're so excited about?" She seriously couldn't take it anymore.
"Oh, it's nothing-"
"More than nothing!" Skizz snickered. Impulse quickly realizes that he can't contain the excitement of even his own partner in this plan.
"I don't exactly know what the problem with your cave is, but how about this for a solution?" Suddenly, Impulse shifted so that he wasn't sitting infront of a box that had apparently been behind him this entire time.
The oracle perked up and crawled over as the child of Hermes pushed it towards her.
The box looked nothing too special. It just looked like a cardboard box they used to transport the jams the camps sold outside with the addition of horrible but adorable drawings of Gem all over it, possibly from more than one camper that's not her two visitors.
At least, judging with the way one of the drawings of Gem as a cat has 'Scra and Grain was hree!' written next to it. It looked like a box she'd receive from an overseas family that misses her except said family was literally a walk away.
She looks between Skizz, Impulse, and the box doubtfully, only encouraged to finally open it up by their expectant smiles.
Gem stumbled back in surprise as she was jumped at by some fluffy monster that jumped out of the box. She couldn't hold back a scream, which was followed by the Skizz and Impulse duo laughing at her reaction.
She pushed the big fluffy thing out of the way and finally got a good look at what she was 'attacked' by. What she expected to be a monster were... two plushies almost half her size.
Her green eyes stared into the beady ones of the shark before transferring to the clownfish one that was slightly smaller, jump off to the side.
"You idiots, I thought you gave me a monster! How did you even pack those things in such a small box?!" Gem yelled accusingly as she pushed the shark plushie off her. Skizz took the shark in his arms, flailing its fins with his hands.
"Awe, you'd call these little guys monsters?" the son of Apollo cooed, making the biggest puppy eyes as he puppeted the shark plushie to flail around sadly.
Gem rolled her eyes and looked over to Impulse for help, but even the son of Hermes had taken the clownfish one and puppeted it to make it seem alive, "Little Gem thinks we're scary, big shark!" Impulse said in a high pitched voice.
"Aw, how about we hug it out and show her how unscary we are, little clown?" Skizz replied with an equally high pitched voice before he leaned forward and started playfully smothering Gem with the shark, causing the oracle to squeak in surprise and exclaim in complaint. Though she eventually learned to giggle the more relentless Skizz was with his attacks.
"Ough, stop it!" she yelled in between giggles, tugging at the shark so that Skizz wouldn't have control over it anymore, "You guys treat me too much like a kid!"
Impulse tutted and shook his head, "Oh, no, no- Not us. Your new roommates, see?" he waved the little clownfish's fin and Gem couldn't help but groan.
"You guys are idiots," she mumbled as she squeezed at the face of the shark, finding herself a lot more relaxed the more she squeezed, "Why a shark and a clownfish anyway?"
Impulse shrugged, "We didn't know what you liked, but X told us you just liked aquatic stuff in general. I was the one that bought the shark."
Skizz had an actual answer, "Your hair reminded me of a clownfish!"
Gem frowned at Skizz's answer, looked down at her hair and pouted at the son of Apollo who then added cheekily, "Our little Nemo~"
Dramatic screaming and loud cackling rang out of the cave as Gem had accidentally started a pillow fight from trying to protest against her new nickname.
It wasn't that her cave was lacking decorations. She just needed memories to fill up the empty corners.
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