#one of the most ridiculous reasons why they won't make a move is because they don't wanna cheat. on marcy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

metranart · 4 months ago

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Obsessed with Nanami being all flustered and horny while in a mission with you, his ex-girlfriend's younger sister.

Ft. Nanami Kento x reader. He is thirsty for your unshared attention. He wants to be a good but you won't let him...

Driving towards the next mission, Nanami’s gaze drifts from time to time to the person sitting in the passenger seat. It is a subtly almost stoic and imperceptible move yet highly effective.

The experienced sorcerer has found unavoidable to keep his gaze away from you for too long.

Fate was cruel, the blonde already knew that. The life of a jujutsu sorcerer is full of ups and downs, likewise… but this time, life is being excruciatingly unfair to him, making it almost like a personal affront.

Because-…why?!... why?!!!...why did fate dare to conceive an exact replica of the only woman he has ever loved.

Since his days of youth in Tokyo Jujutsu High, where he teamed up with two persons who would become his most important friends and unintentionally, got madly in love with one of them. Life tasted sour and sweet, all in the same plate.

One of his teammates was like a breath of clear and beautifully scented air filling his grateful lungs with so much joy, it was ridiculous.

The blonde sorcerer remembers how much attention his lovely teammate drew by just parading around in the school uniform or merely smiling at one of his unexpected moments of sarcasm.

The way her smile lit the rooms was something cathartical. Kidnapping the eyes of those who Nanami called classmates, to be more precise…upper classmates… annoying little bastards always lurking around the lovely third of his team. Their intentions clear, as the clear eyes of one of them.

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Getou were like a plague that more than not, invaded the younger trio space. The jujutsu sorcerers were older than them yet that did not stop them to somehow always find a way to crash their meeting points and places to hang out, a coincidence, he doubted it.

Those two were like leeches who wanted to feed from the sweet and addictive nectar of his precious classmate, so eager to probe themselves better than each other and as consequence better than him…by sporting feats of strength and power so huge that it was impossible for others to even catch up with them.

Gojo and his ever present, knowing smile adorning those soft lips as innocently leaned towards her and pretended was going to teach her a new combat stance, only to let his body stick closer than necessary while his treacherous hands lightly traced the supple skin it could grasp… sneaky, hormonally driven, young Satoru was someone to be careful of…and that fact made certain blonde crinkle his nose in disgust and narrow his eyes in anger, at his off-limits tactics.

The older sorcerer was to say the least infuriating.

Even the approaches, from his not so flashy companion became threatening to the blonde. Getou and his tight-lipped smile which to certain person made him resemble a cunning fox.

He seemed to gracefully float around like a dandelion in the wind, careless attitude backed up by his hands tucked inside his pockets.

The dark-haired sorcerer had an imperceptible and gentle way of showing up, making sure to leave a pleasant impression after every interaction. If his intentions were to incline the balance in his favor, those well-thought acts of attentive kindness were definitely smart.

The older students saw it all as a fair contest between companions, but Nanami more than sometimes felt the fantastic duo, cheats by teaming up against him… reason why he mostly ignored them.

However, so caught up in their little mischief as the older duo was, eventually they stopped paying attention to certain unresponsive blonde who never gave them and their quarrel the time of day. What was their surprise when the supposedly inoffensive blonde ended up winning the lady, without breaking a sweat.

As Getou sarcastically put it while patiently waiting for Gojo’s impending tantrum… looks like lady’s luck is on Nanami’s side on this one, Satoru.

And soon the attention everyone coveted so much turned to him when his teammate and all her affections favored his stoic self.

Getou could almost swear could clearly hear how certain white-haired, blue-eyed prodigy’s heart broke like glass been smashed against the cold, unforgiving floor when she chose Nanami above everyone.

Nevertheless, subtly glancing at his friend, could not glimpse a trace of hurt or jealousy. Only noted with resign…he was not smiling, anymore. And for the first time, Nanami was.

After all, that cute, unexpectedly lovable girl choose him above the magnificent Gojo Satoru…Nanami, a nobody, just another regular sorcerer could call himself the rightful owner of her heart. Having the girl of his dreams fawning over his touch and craving for his sole attention, was indeed good.

Ugh! Nanami secretly loved it.

It was unexpected satisfactory fact that stroke his ego, almost hand in hand with how have her to his own, stroked his libido.

Soon their relationship bloomed, and she became one of those persons only appeared one in a million…apparently, this time there was a glitch and somehow, now Nanami is trapped in a dejavu.

All thanks to the fateful day, he lost her. One day they were holding hands, the next she was gone… disappeared.

The blonde looked for her like a lost dog looks for his home and many others joined as well… Gojo and Getou being just a few who devotedly shared this particular mission… but they were too late. His darling had left this world and shattered, Nanami abandoned the sorcerer world to become an ordinary salary man.

One objective, money… enough money to make him forget that he failed to protect her, tired and boring days in an office were better than trashing in his bed unable to rest.

It was a decent job, with decent intervals of action when he deigns to help a stranger or a girl in a coffee shop to remove a weak but maiming, curse.

And what was his surprise when after several years of self-punishment, finally took the decision to come back to the sorcerer’s world and be useful again…he was struck with the vision of the beauty he once devoted himself to, but not a vision at all, but her in bone and flesh.

Shock, stupefaction, resent, hurt… yes! those are some accurate words to describe how betrayed the blonde feels seeing her again sporting the same uniform of their youth while happily smiling at a new set of teammates and blatantly ignoring his presence as if didn’t know him, as if he hadn’t been her first kiss, her first dance, her shoulder to cry or the one thoughtfully fucking her against the nearest surface in countless occasions.

Reaching his breaking point, Nanami’s fists clenches and his jaw acquires a sharper angle as he firmly strides to confront her and demand an explanation, when is hastily stopped by an old friend who corrects his deceiving trail of thoughts by announcing his mistake.

“It's her little sister, my friend.” Gojo explained, bluntly. “She’s a carbon paper copy, don’t you agree?” he draws his lower lip between his teeth and Nanami feels his blindfolded stare on him.

“You ought to know better than some of us.” The comment floats in the air, and the plausible tad of jealousy tinted in resentment it may have held is left forgotten due to how unbelievable much you looked like her.

Younger sister…? Wait, what!?...Why she never spoke to him about you?...she must have a good reason… yet why not share it with him…

His face must have mirrored his doubts for the snow-haired teacher by his side was prone to inform.

“This little one appeared in front of the school at the tender age of eleven…” he nodded his head to emphasize his statement. “Days after you left, actually—” Gojo rested his hand against his chin, remembering. “Carrying a handwritten letter from her recently deceased sister, your darling…seems like she had a well-hidden secret whose name is (y/n).”

Nanami was at a loose for words. How did he not realize before? Of course, it couldn't be her! Yet, you looked exactly like when they were teenagers and even when those golden years had vanished, the memory still fueled his heart with a furious torrent of emotion that hammered through his veins.

Momentarily stunned by the astonishing similarity, stood silent and Gojo continues explaining how you are the only trace she left behind…the youngest of a devastated, well-hidden clan of sorcerers and now, quite the lovely teen.

Your cute face is exactly like the one he dreams of when has a strike of luck instead of the usual nightmares, the way the uniform hugs your curves is sending familiar shivers through every muscle of his body, the flow of your hair cascading down your back has him nibbling at his lip with a hunger doesn’t recognize and that incredibly, gentle spark lingering in your gaze has his heart hammering an old and painful ballad of love… you are re-branding his brain with a new, yet, known tune.

You are most certainly, her little sister and he is infuriatingly hooked, could have fallen on his knees and burst into pathetic tears of the most sublime pain and relief, but instead stands expressionless and almost indifferent to your presence, knowing certain cerulean eyes drink his every reaction, and if he knows Gojo as he thinks he does… the prodigy is pondering a second chance, so bluntly, can almost savor you.

Nanami must admit trusts Gojo with his life… even if doesn’t respect him that much, the prodigy holds a special place to him… that said, makes him a little uncomfortable the knowledge you may be occupying this powerful sorcerer every thought while triggering in him, a long qualm, thirst.

Even when glancing at him looks cool and compose, the blonde senses how consumed by you he already is… how eager, patiently waits for a chance to steal the last print of an old flame that never was able to fully blow away.

A print that now lies in the next seat of Nanami’s car, scrolling through her cellphone utterly unaware of how her presence not only spikes her sensei’s interest, but has an equally, if not higher effect on Nanami’s blood pressure, fogging his rational thoughts and making him more dangerous than any curse they were to face that day.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” He hears you teasingly say, without taking your eyes from the screen of your cell phone.

Well, maybe he is not as subtle as he thought. A playful smile lingers in your lips and his rigid shoulders lose a little at your obvious teasing.

Nanami merely hums, secretly amused. His face doesn’t show what really thinks but if it did, you wouldn’t be so calm.

“I have a picture of you.” You share out of the sudden, ignoring his lack of acknowledgement to your previous comment and from the corner of your eye almost dare to claim, he is smirking. “It's an old snapshot and has a date written below...” the blonde slightly tilts his head towards you, and you know you have his full attention.

“My sister is giving you a kiss on the cheek, and you look outstandingly cold and indifferent, yet—” you make a long pause while rapidly typing something in your phone and starting to lose focus, you hear him stoically repeat.

“Yet…”

Glancing at him your gazes bump, his eyes are set on you instead of the road and the intensity shining behind his amber glasses spark goosebumps all over your forearms.

You make a pitiful and unintelligible questioning sound, and your previous idea returns. “Uh-hh..yes!-…you were adorably blushing, Nanami.” You claim, confident of your keen eye.

“It took me some study and analyzing, but I can confidently say that I may be the only person who can tell when you are blushing like a cornered nun.”

A cute giggle supports your claim, and the aloof blonde slowly returns his gaze to the road, in utter silence. A shit eating grin blooms in your face and pointing a finger at his face, you declare, shamelessly.

“Like right now! You are blushing!”

The sorcerer barely tilts his head your way and carefully bats your pointing finger away. An imperceptible grin sparking his solemn stupor.

“No, I’m not.”

The two of you finish the mission fairly slow and leave almost intact the premises, the curse was extra troublesome and annoying more than powerful and you feel like if your body weighted twice as much due to fatigue.

Your body has replenished with cursed energy and is back to normal, but this was supposed to be a simple enough mission, which actually wasn’t.

Entering the co-pilot seat, you sprawl all over the seat, heavily groaning.

“I’m too old for this.” You nag, stretching your arms over your head until your back cracks, loudly.

“If you are too old, I must be catastrophically ancient…” Nanami replies in a calm voice, absentmindedly, adjusting his seatbelt. “More like catastrophically-y, aged…like a good wineeee.” You interrupt him in slurred words and half-lidded eyes.

Not giving a second thought to your misplaced praise, he finishes and glances at you to check your seatbelt, to find it irresponsibly absent. “Put your seatbelt on, please.”

Unwittingly ignoring him due to your quick shift between awake and sleep. He repeats the request and waits.

“(Y/N), please, put your seatbelt on.”

A pained sigh leaves his lips before his mouth sets in a firm line, and he leans over your already sleeping form.

This girl is going to be the end of me…

His hand grabs for the seatbelt and pulls it over your torso, adjusting it correctly until can hear the click and checking his work, finds the belt tangled awkwardly right in the middle of your heaving chest.

“Damn it.”

The blonde sorcerer whispers under his breath and smoothly hovering over you again, lightly grabs the wronged strap in between his fingers and pulls very weakly as to not disturb you, but the stretchy material doesn’t give and has to use both hands to untangle the seatbelt.

“Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up…” he repeats, lowly as a mantra, while his palms smooth against your breast, groping and lightly touching his way as he finally untangles the material and sets it straight.

His eyes widen at the way the strap presses between your breast making it look rounder and plumper and his mouth waters, skin over his hands tingling at the delicious grazes he was able to steal while innocently arranging you.

Straightening back, Nanami places his seatbelt back on and starts the engine. There’s a long way back to the college and his mind is about to make it even longer.

You are firmly rooted in his brain.

Throughout all the mission, you were constantly asking him about your sister and that set him on the edge. How was onee-san when she was young? Was she strong? Was she awesome? Where you a couple?

Nanami adored your lovely sister but talk about her still made him sore and sometimes a little guilty…a lot guilty, especially when you where the one asking. Due to a nagging voice in the back of his head always reminding him how blatantly lusted after the love of his life's, little sister.

He must admit felt thankful for the curse to be a higher rank that he had planned, due to that distracted you enough for him to change the subject.

But now, there is no curse to distract him, and his more dangerous thoughts are up to make him feel awfully driven.

He shouldn't have touched you, but he didn't want you to be uncomfortable.

How naive of me. The ex-salary man thinks, annoyed.

The darkness surrounds the road while the car passes through the deserted lane and Nanami can feel how his pants are getting tighter while his mind plays thousands of scenarios where you are the protagonist.

A long sigh abandons his tight lips and slowing the car, finds a curve to stop.

He feels odd.

Nanami is not only exhausted but also embarrassingly aroused.

Leaning back against his seat, shuts his eyelids and takes a couple of deep gulps of air until his heart stops drumming so hard. Able to hear his thoughts again, relaxes and places a warm palm on top of his stranding erection and forces his mind into a calm state of relaxation.

In and out, in and out, he heaves.

Opening his eyes, finds the light of the city in front of him…when did I park here?...and realizes is parked in an abandoned parking lot which lies lighten up only by the bright lights of the throbbing city near a steep cliff.

The ex-salary man remembers that place from fond memories but doesn’t remember making the turn to get there.

Odd.

Cocking his head to the side, glances back at you and finding you deep asleep. He dares to palm his throbbing erect member though the suit pants. Light nibbles at his lower lip aids him to repress a moan and he ponders.

Maybe just some strokes to calm me down…she’s deep sleep…Its irresponsible for me to drive this… distracted.

He’s not even going to take himself out, stroking himself under the fabric would serve him right. Unzipping his pants, his hand merely slips under the fabric to wrap around his engorged length.

Slowly strokes up and down, from the base to the tip in fluid and regular motions.

Looking at you the entire time through his amber lenses, he lets his mind wander about the thousands of possibilities that laid between your warm thighs, and it takes just a minute for him to close his eyes to enjoy his little fantasy and for a loud moan to freely depart his sealed lips.

Nanami keeps stroking, a little faster, a little firmer… when suddenly feels faint air fan his face.

Instantly, opens his eyes to find your beautiful (e/c) orbs, gazing down at his erect cock. Fully at display, at some point, had pull himself out and now he was fucked.

Embarrassingly mortified is about to cover himself and mutter a fast apology when your words stop him cold.

“Your balls are so full…” You express, matter-of-factly, stare firmly set on his exposed flesh. “May I help you relieve the stress, Nanami? After all it is my fault–”

Your cotton-candy, mellow mewl informs and he realizes your words don’t make sense, why would it be your fault?Perhaps, you knew of his sick infatuation with you? Maybe you were aware of how frequently his mind fluttered around you… or, maybe he has been painfully obvious, and you just like to see him, troubled and strained. Having his permanent stare on your every move.

But before your words sink completely to find a proper meaning, your body is in motion. Undoing your seatbelt, you climb out of your seat and straddle him for a moment too short for his delight, to then carefully slip in between his open thighs and comfortably, occupy the space under the steering wheel.

“Are you comfortable?”

You ask and the experienced sorcerer is too stunned to answer. Mouth agape, he witnesses as your tiny hand shyly grazes his sack to then cup it and begin to do a generous massage.

Nanami can’t stop the pleasurable tremble that kidnaps his entire frame, and he blasts.

“Stop-” his firm request dies in his parted lips when your wet lips join sucking the smooth skin covering his heavy balls and a long, raspy groan fills the car.

You dedicate all your mind in the task and closing your eyes in concentration, ignore how his throbbing member rests over your face, delivering soft, faint slaps each time you suck too eagerly.

Nanami is getting there way too quickly, your inexpert massage combined with the fervent licks and sucks are unfairly disarming him, his thick thighs are sprawled on either side of you and remembering how to breath, sets on a personal quest to prevent from cumming.

Not that he doesn’t want to see your cute little face dripping in his murky essence, is more that he doesn’t want to face you after.

Finally getting his shit together, comes back from ecstasy and is able to think straight again.

What he plans to be a firm demand is highly questionable.

“Stop right now-… (y/n) …you don’t know-” gasps, “what you a-are doing…to me-” squinting his eyes, his mouth opens slightly to gulp more air.

“Am I doing it wrong, Nanami?” Your pouty lips abandon his scrotum, and you glance up at him looking like a scolded puppy.

Nanami’s heart clenches watching you pout like that. You look so eager to please him and he feels so eager to let you.

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong…

Loudly sighing, cools his mind and letting all his good senses be melt by you, asks the only question that is able to formulate. “…Are you sure?”

There’s a pregnant silence and he, anxiously, waits.

He wants you so bad, shamefully remembers how tempted felt to touch you more in your sleep. To slide his hand between your open legs under the fabric of your skirt, to grope under your uniform shirt and feel the softness of your skin. But he isn’t that kind of man. He only takes when given.

Finally, you nod, and he gently denies his head.

“I need verbal–”

“I’m sure, Nanami.” You reply, rapidly but shyly. “Please-e let me help you.” You stammer, weakly and a cute blush spread over your cheeks.

It’s enough for Nanami.

Opening his pants, a little wider, he strokes his shaft, invitingly and you lean up on your bended knees to let your tongue run from the roundness of his scrotum and up his thick length, leaving a wet line of delirious tingles along your way up. Your pink tongue flattens a visible vein at the side and your lips wrap, slowly, around the tip.

Nanami wasn’t expecting this level of compromise at suck him off and his mind goes uncontrollably, wild and foggy.

Your pink lips are devoutly hugging the tip, delivering slow and wet cat licks until you feel your head be pushed from the back and you are forced to engulf almost six inches of raw meat, slipping down your delicate throat, roughly.

The bulbous head of his cock faintly hits the back of your throat, and he gasps, loudly.

“Please…” the sorcerer mewls, “open wider-” bucks into your mouth, eyes tightly closed. “WIDER...” the blonde commands, in a tight voice and his palm presses harder against the back of your nape. His hips start to move, humping your narrow mouth, taking your head in his hands to dip his cock as his thrusts ignite a rhythm.

You whine and his eyes open to look at your glossy eyes looking up at him, lips stretched around his shaft, mouth full of him, nose hitting his pubic bone with each lunge as his plump balls coat in spit falling from your drooling lips.

You are too much to take in. You are too fucking much. Nanami is losing it. Your fingers are digging at his thighs and your cheeks resolutely hollow to try to suck him deeper.

Desperately, trying to achieve his needy command.

It's so wrong, so despicable of him to be filling you so utterly good. It's like your mouth was carved around his erect cock.

Tears run down your cheeks and Nanami doesn’t even try to slow his pace or alternate from hitting the back of your throat to let you breathe.

He’s far gone to gift you with those courtesies, he gave several warnings and even more chances to leave him be.

But your stubborn self-refused to listen, now the only thing can do is take his glasses off to place them over your eyes and slip them up the bridge of your nose, to lower the pang of enthusiasm that your wet eyelashes mixed with how much you are struggling, arouses him.

Needs to keep a little control over himself, you are so inexpert he might break you, if let's go completely.

You look so good; it is taking all in him to not thrust faster. You are as breathtaking as your sister once was.

And it hits him, his eyes narrowing at the realization, you are way better.

“Never thought I would say this…but i think you look even prettier than your sister used to look when she sucked me off after classes-” he praises, drawing a large hand down your cheek to tilt your drooling chin up and guide your mouth to swallow more of his length until feels your agitated breath fan against his pubic skin and he holds, lightly.

“Breathe through your nose.” Indicates, in a calm voice. “You wanted to know more about her…” You blush at the mention of your beloved onee-san and your current state, but Nanami’s seems fairly relaxed, “…haven’t you been pestering me about that all day?”

Gagging tears run down behind amber glasses at the same time you nod, weakly and whipping them gently with his thumbs, he continues.

“The first time I fucked her dumb was after we defeat a special class curse…she had your exact age, we both were so young-” his voice was thick with something you couldn’t decipher but the way he looks down at you, tells miles about how serious he’s been. “I pressed her against the hard concrete and ram her from behind without letting her adjust to the girth of my cock…” you sharply inhale trying to pull your head back and he pulls you back in and holds you still between his strong hands. “I said, breathe through your nose.”

The stoic blonde waits for you to stop gagging, softly petting your hair and once your pulse is steady again, he continues sharing. “It was not gentle or romantic, in the least, pure and raw passion-…” his orbs roll to the side as if remembering and faintly grinning, he admits. “She even let me strip her bare in that filthy place, to mount her against everything we could put her on…” his right palm slides down your throat in a measured motion, palming with the pad of his fingers at your delicate neck to figure how deep inside you, he is.

Lightly nudging finds the head of his cock at the top of your delicate neck and he hums, approvingly at how deep your swallowed him being your first time. You were certainly struggling to keep him nestled inside, yet he isn’t ready to leave your warmth.

“At first, she couldn’t swallow me whole but after hard training I loosen her throat enough to hug my cock at its fullest… just like you are struggling to do right now…” his fingers tap playfully against your swollen neck, and you groan.

Whirling your tongue around his tip, as your last attempt to unbalance him enough to pull back, finally succeed and he moans huskily, to then pull you off from the hair, lips making a loud pop sound when your mouth leaves.

You pant, heavily. Tears run wild down your strained cheeks as you swallow some spit to moisten your sullen throat.

Trying to catch your breath, you feel the rim of his coat sleeve gently cleaning the drool from your mouth, soft and precise wipes as if polishing fragile china and his large hand cups your jaw delivering a mindful massage while his other hand threads his long fingers inside the strands of your hair and both palms dutifully lower the pain cause by his previous roughness.

“I apologize, just wanted to make a point.” He simply states as if that explained everything. You look at him, confusion swimming in your round puffy eyes and he sighs, innocently cocking his head at you. “Your sister and I had a very special relationship, based in raw trust and the most pure and unprejudiced understanding.”

You weren’t dumb and his secret innuendo didn’t pass unnoticed. It was more than obvious that they knew each other fairly well to share their kinks and deepest secrets and trusted each other enough to not feel judged when they did.

You want that, you want Nanami to claim you as he once claimed your sister. You want Nanami to trust you as he trusted her.

“I want to be like her!” you proclaim, heatedly. “I can take it.”

You say, staring directly into his eyes, determination shinning in your orbs. Nanami shakes his head, pleasantly surprise and in a lazy motion takes back his glasses, bumping the tip of your nose with his index finger before putting the amber glass back on the bridge of his nose.

The experienced sorcerer leans, surrounding the steering wheel with both his arms and whispers in a husky, joyful voice.

“Want me to train you like I train your onee-san?” A mischievous smirk stretches his mouth, and you marvel at how handsome he looks when he’s relaxed.

You nod, eagerly.

“Fine.” He speaks. “I’ll train you.”

Your eyes round with excitement and he grins at your sparkling attitude.

“Lesson one.” You lean closer, attentive for his next words. “Breathe through your nose.”

A wide smile stretches your face, beautiful and full of joy and he feels butterflies flying inside his stomach when you say his name.

“Nanami.”

“Nanami…”

“Nanami Kento!”

The blonde opens his eyes, startled and confusion raids his usually stoic features.

“Nanami-” You call once again, this time softer. “You fell sleep.” You swiftly explain and glancing around finds the car where he left it, at the side of the lane and not in the parking lot near the cliff.

Damn it! Dammit! I dreamed all…? What a magnificent asshole I am…that was the lividest dream I’ve ever had…Damn it…Damn it…

“I know.” His voice is thick and clearing his throat, his face goes back to plain and indifferent. “Just resting my eyes…to continue safely.”

You accept his answer, easily.

“Classic Nanami,” you beam. “So trustworthy.” Smiling adds. “I feel so safe around you.”

His mouth sets in a straight line and he starts the car again, feeling a whole lot more guilty.

The trip is fast and silent, and you attribute it to him being tired. But you couldn’t be more wrong.

The experienced sorcerer is deep in thought, more like deep in regret. Analyzing every aspect of his wet dream, can only come to the conclusion that he is in desperate need of placing you in your sister’s shoes.

Probably is being unfair to that prerogative, what he really wants is for you to want to be in your sister’s shoes.

For you to want and need him as much as he does with you. Is that too much to ask? He thinks not.

Reaching the school, he stops at the entrance, and you hop down the car, bouncing skirt claims his entire attention and snapping out of it, Nanami quickly says his goodbyes with a fast motion of his hand.

The motor roars and before he leaves, you turn around and point at his face through the open window.

“Hey Nanami!” he turns to look at you, holding a stare that’ll worry you, if it weren’t being hidden behind his glasses, and ignoring his throbbing need, you cleverly proclaim.

“You are blushing!”

Damn it.

➡️ JJK NSFW ART

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enderlovez · 17 days ago

Text

On Thin Ice

Spencer Reid x Chubby Reader WORD COUNT: 1300+

Summary: After a particularly grueling case, the weight of your insecurities catches up with you. Despite years of toughening yourself against judgment, an unexpected moment of self-doubt has you questioning everything—until Spencer reminds you of your worth.

Content Warning: body image issues, insecurity and self doubt, emotional vulnerability, mentions of childhood bullying, Spencer is a sweetheart, metaphors about falling through ice

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You've always been the fat kid.

The one picked last for teams in gym class. The one who endured sidelong glances at lunch when you grabbed a second slice of pizza, even though everyone else was already on their third. The one people were dared to ask out during games of truth or dare.

The one whose confidence had to be built like a fortress over the years of relentless judgement, brick by painstaking brick. You'd grown used to the torment over the years—or so you thought.

The things you've seen in this job are enough to shatter most people—dead bodies and grieving familiar and the kind of darkness that crawls under your skin and refuses to leave.

You've stood on the edge of danger more times than you care to count, facing down killers without so much as flinching, literally been stabbed and shot. None of it breaks you. But tonight, staring at your reflection in the BAU bathroom mirror, you feel like you're crumbling.

Your blouse, which you'd liked when you put it on this morning, now feels all wrong. The fabric stretches across your chest and stomach in ways that make your skin crawl.

It fits—technically—but your brain won't let you believe it. The logical part of you knows it's fine—it fits and it looks good, no one cares. But the voice in your head, the one you've spent years trying to quiet, whispers, Isn't it a little snug?

You press your palms flat against the sink, trying to steady your breathing. Why does this matter? you ask yourself. Why do I care?

You see the worst humanity has to offer every day. You quite literally deal with life and death and unimaginable grief. Your body—how it looks, how it fits into societal expectations—should be the least of your concerns.

And yet, here you are.

Maybe part of the reason everything feels to terrible tonight is because of him—Spencer. He's been talking to you heaps more lately, and though it really should make you feel better, it only deepens whatever this insecure feeling inside you is.

The way he moves, the way he talks, the way his beautiful mind works—everything about him fascinates you, and you've been harboring this ridiculous, all-consuming crush for months.

But no matter how much you try to push it down, it always creeps back in, and with it comes the certainty that you're not his type. How could you be? He's brilliant and kind and effortlessly charming in his own unique way, and you're... you. Soft in all the undesirable places, sometimes a little too loud for even yourself.

It's not that you don't think you're worth something, but when you're next to him, it's hard not to feel like you fade into the background. And you've been next to him a lot more than usual.

The mirror reflects your frown back at you, the tightness in your chest growing until it feels like you might snap. You splash cold water on your face, hoping the shock will pull you out of your spiral.

It doesn't, but you can pretend it does.

The bullpen is quiet when you step back into it, the hum of computers and the rustle of papers the only sounds. Most of the team has gone home for the night, except for Spencer.

You find him in the kitchenette, his tall frame bent awkwardly as he wrestles with the ancient coffee maker.

He glances up as you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you. "Couldn't sleep?"

Right—you were going to nap somewhere before getting back to work before you detoured to the bathroom.

You shrug, leaning against the counter. "Something like that."

Spencer nods, his focus shifting back to the coffee pot. "I think this machine predates the invention of modern technology," he mutters, earning a faint smile from you. He pours two mugs of coffee and hands one to you, his finger brushing your briefly.

"Thanks," you say, your voice quieter than you intended.

For a while, the two of you drink in silence, no words shared. None are needed. It's comforting, standing next to him in the soft glow of the kitchenette light. For a moment, you almost almost feel normal in your own skin. Like everyone else.

Except Spencer has always been too perceptive (especially when it comes to you, but you don't need to know that), and you can feel his gaze periodically flicking toward you, studying your face.

"You know," he says eventually, "it's okay to feel overwhelmed. You don't have to hold it together all the time, not when you're... in this particular profession."

The comment catches you off guard, and you look at him sharply. His expression is calm, his tone heartbreakingly gentle, but the words hit a nerve. You force a laugh, trying to deflect. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just tired is all."

He doesn't buy it. Of course, he doesn't. This is Spencer Reid, profiler extraordinaire, the man who can read you like an open book even when you think you're being subtle.

"Are you?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. His voice is soft, but there's an unfamiliar firmness to it that makes you pause.

You want to brush him off, to keep the walls you've built around yourself firmly in place. But the words slip out before you can stop them—apparently your subconscious is desperate to get it out.

"I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just that sometimes I feel like... I don't know, like I don't belong here. Like I'm walking on thin ice, and any second it's going to crack, and I'm going to fall through."

Spencer's brows knit together, and he sets his mug down on the counter. "Why would you feel like that?"

You hesitate, the familiar shame and embarrassment bubbling up in your chest. "Because I've always been the... the fat one, okay? The one people look at and judge before they even know my name. I should be used to it by now. I am used to it, but sometimes..."

You trail off, swallowing hard.

"Sometimes it just gets to me, and I hate that it does, because it's so stupid. There are so many bigger things to worry about than how I look. People are actually dying out there, and I'm sitting here worried about my stupid blouse being too tight..."

Spencer step closer, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wonder if you've said too much, if he thinks you're being ridiculous. But then he speaks, and his voice is steady, full of quiet conviction.

"It's not stupid. What you're feeling is valid," he says. "And you're not 'the fat one.' You're you—intelligent and compassionate and one of the strongest people I've ever met. The way you connect with people and make them feel seen, even in the darkest moments of their life—that's not something everyone can do. That's you."

The words hit you like a wave, the sincerity in his tone making your throat tighten. You look down at your coffee, unable to meet his eyes.

"You don't have to say that just to make me feel better," you mumble.

"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better," he replies. "I mean it."

He hesitates for a moment before reaching out, his hand hovering near yours. When you don't pull away—you don't think you could ever make yourself pull away from Spencer—he rests it gently on top of yours. The warmth of his touch is grounding, and for the first time all night, you feel like you can breathe again.

"Thin ice can hold more weight than you think," he says quietly. "And even if it does crack, you won't fall. I'll make sure of it."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you think them away quickly. "Thank you, Spencer," you say, your voice thick with emotion.

"Anytime." He smiles, the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through the clouds. "And for the record, I think you're beautiful."

Your heart does a little flip, your face warming. Maybe one day you can tell him how you feel, how desperately in love you are with him.

Baby steps.

#spencer reid x bau reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x chubby reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #enderlovez

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kaiser1ns · 3 months ago

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love it when my fellow pals make deals with humankind. you are the cutest when it comes to temptations, saying how you won't give in but guess what ... you do give in and regret it later! well, i know dear ol' endo likes to make his deals not only to satisfy himself but also to help people like you see things from a different angle. i wish you the best of luck, my little puppet! oh, send him greetings from me when you see him, and now enjoy making deals with the devil.

𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻!𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

DEVIL ALWAYS TEMPTINGㄑword count :: 9669 ▿ does it matter that the boy you appeared with at the party to make your ex jealous, is actually a demon hungry for deals and human souls. that sounds fun, right?

CHOOSE ANOTHER DIMENSION IN WEIRDMAGEDDON

Friday nights were supposed to be fun and relaxing, you were supposed to be with your boyfriend sitting in front of a mirror, laughing and taking ridiculous pictures as you tried Halloween costumes together. He’d tease you about the silliest ideas you thought of like dressing up as peanut butter and jelly, or Sulley Sullivan and Mike Wazovski. You could still remember how his face lit up with that precious smile when he agreed to be a pirate and you as a siren. But tonight, you were the one drowning in tears of the deep ocean called love.

Instead of brightness and laughter, there was darkness and silence. The only light thing in your room came from the dim glow of your phone screen, showing how late it was, as you lay there on the soft mattress and now the weight of your thoughts pressed you down as hot tears escaped again. You wanted to stop crying, you were hurt and you couldn't open your eyes, you didn't even want to look at yourself knowing how miserable and pathetic you were right now.

Two weeks ago, Umemiya Hajime had ripped your heart from your body with a simple break-up and his reasoning was I’m sorry…I love you but I don’t feel the same anymore. It’s better to end this. We can always be friends, right? Be friends your ass, how can you still be something after everything that happened, after he broke up with you out of nowhere. The big party you'd been looking forward to was creeping up, and you had to show up … with a date. That was the worst part, you had to show up eventually if not with him at least with your friends. They were kind enough and tried to suggest people, but it felt forced and awkward. No one seemed to make a move on you, or they didn’t want to be your “pity date”.

And why would they? You were the one Hajime had dumped, the girl who wasn’t part of the perfect couple anymore. The butterflies were long gone and the pit in your stomach deepened every time you thought about that party, about him.

A big trash bag sat in the corner of your room, filled with reminders of the love that had once been around. Everything he had ever given you—every piece of clothing he bought because he thought you would look so cute, stuffed animals and merchandise, all inside ready to be thrown away. It hurt more than you wanted to admit. It meant so much to you, but you don’t need to keep memories from the past that will only add to this sorrow, and you knew better than to not dwell on the past for too long.

You could almost hear your friends’ voices amidst the chaos in your head telling you to get up, to find someone to go with. They said it was supposed to be fun, but fun was the last thing you wanted to experience as you had no date to go with. No one you knew wanted to go with you anymore because most of the boys you hung out with were Hajime’s friends. So what now? Would you go alone or just stay home? Finding some stranger to be your date seemed equally painful — pathetic even. You don’t know which is worse … going alone or pretending everything is okay. Sighing and letting the tears fall now, sinking deeper into the dark, suffocating from the emptiness as you closed your eyes, hoping that when you opened them, things would be different. But you knew they wouldn’t.

“I’m sick and tired of this.” but you couldn't just snap your fingers and be fine, it just had to happen, unfortunately in the most absurd way. "I hate men." Reaching for your phone you took it as the bright light immediately flashed before your eyes, and it took a few seconds to get used to it. What else could you do now besides watching videos on TikTok and Instagram? As quickly as you open the apps you immediately close them. What on earth is this algorithm showing you tarot readings, heartbroken quotes, and whatnot?

Ugh ... As if the universe wasn’t already cruel enough. You sat up, staring at the ceiling. If only there were a way to escape all of this sadness. Suddenly your phone buzzed because you forgot to turn it off, and a video popped up on the screen, grabbing your attention. It was some girl with bright eyes and a confident smile, talking about shifting and manifesting your desires. It sounded like another piece of nonsense you had seen a hundred times before, but something about the way she explained everything made you watch it till the end.

“But please be careful, okay guys?” she warned, her voice more serious, “If you see a tall black figure, it’s said to be the devil. He’ll want to make a deal with you. Do not look at him and run away. Trust no one.” She laughed softly at the end, maybe to make the viewers less scared by the information she just dropped. But you know what they say curiosity killed the cat. Shifting? Manifesting? A way to control your mind and your reality? You’d heard crazier things. Right now though, you were desperate and had nothing better to do. What else did you have to lose?

Wiping your face from the last tears, you took a deep breath and followed her instructions. Slowly, you calmed yourself, your breathing became even as you focused on the mental images she described. First came the colors—shimmering blue hues like the ocean, soft pink like the cherry blossom, and glowing golds. Then, shapes, doors, corridors, and rooms that were upside down twisted in the most impossibly and inexplicably ways.

No, wait. You were dreaming. Your mind was creating all of this. It felt strangely lucid, as if you were half awake, half asleep in this vivid and colorful dream world. The corridors around you stretched out, leading to endless doors, each different from the last. But one door stood out from the rest. It was black, with tints of teal and all kinds of symbols drawn—triangles, stars, Roman numerals—it was like the graffiti that you see in town every day.

Without thinking, you walked towards it, your hand reaching before your mind could catch up. It’s just a dream, right? Nothing can hurt you here.

The door cracked open, revealing a large living room. The walls were adorned with paintings, most abstract as they gave more life to the black and white furniture. A massive couch sat in the center, inviting but oddly out of place. You stepped inside, scanning the room and on the nearby table, papers were scattered everywhere, filled with drawings. Picking one up, noticing how detailed it was. A wolf and a cannon and the word Frank stylized under it. Every line and stroke was done to its perfection, maybe the artist poured their soul into the work.

But just as you were about to check another one, something snatched the paper from your hand. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. A big mistake.

There it was. The black figure.

It loomed over you, tall and shadowy, no face or nothing. Its form is undefined and menacing. You couldn’t make out a face, the presence was enough to freeze you in place. Panic made its way through you and you bolted towards the door. Run. You have to run and get out of this place. Oh, no. The door is locked and it doesn’t want to open, no matter how hard you pull the handle. This is just your dream. You can change it. You can control it.

Stopping dead in your tracks, closing your eyes. A big, fluffy cat, you thought. That’s what it should turn into. Something harmless.

When you opened your eyes, the black figure hadn’t turned into a cat. Instead, standing where the shadow had been was a boy. He looked about your age, his skin covered in tattoos—the same symbols that are drawn on the door, now etched across his arms, neck, and even fingers. His black curly hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he wore a sleeveless black tank top, a checkered jacket thrown over his shoulder, and dark pants. He looked completely normal, and even reminded you of the famous singer you adored.

“It's rude to come uninvited, you know?” he didn’t even look at you as he organized the drawings, which you assume were his. “It’s even more rude to stare at someone. Cat got your tongue, doll? You don’t like it here?”

You swallowed hard when you heard his voice. It was calm but had that teasing tone, almost mocking you in some way but at the same time it was nice, it wasn’t impolite. You wondered what to say, how to answer this mysterious person, and all that came out was a weak whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to …”

He chuckled slightly, leaving the stacked papers on the table as he looked over at you and you closed your eyes. Do not look him in the eyes, do not open them at any cost. The black-haired male raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Don’t be shy now. I was thinking of making changes to this place anyway. Do you have suggestions?” His eyes were sharp, piercing through the haze of your dream but you stayed quiet, nails digging into the palms of your hands. “What a pretty and sweet thing. Come one, open your eyes. I don’t bite…” Your heart pounded in your chest when you felt fingers under your chin tilting your head up. “Unless you want me to.”

You realized that, somehow, this boy wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. He was and felt very much real. He turned your head slightly, you couldn't see him but you could feel his eyes on you, lingering, waiting. What’s happening? You wanted to look, you wanted to see him again. You wanted to ... Then why don't you do it? It's just a fantasy, a dream. There is no logical explanation for what we dream, it just happens.

You were imagining all sorts of horrors the boy could unleash, but instead of something terrible, you were met with an unexpected warmth. Slowly, almost unwillingly, you peeked through your lashes. There he was. Not menacing or cruel, but sweet. Warm. His blueish-teal eyes were soft as they locked onto yours, the light in the room reflected in them. His features were sharp, but not harsh, with the kind of effortless charm, the perfect balance between beauty and mystery that made your heart about to burst out of your chest. Is this the man of my dreams? You weren’t sure, but the longer you stared, the more your world started to turn upside-down, the more you felt the dizziness.

“Hi,” he finally said, his warm smile morphing into a devilish grin, and your stomach dropped. “Took you long enough, angel. Making eye contact is important when you meet new people.” He tilted your chin up with his hand, making sure your gaze stayed on him before letting go, running his fingers through his tousled black hair as he casually walked to the couch.

He sat down with his legs straddled, sinking into the cushions like he owned the place, his confidence radiating. With a lazy wave of his hand, he motioned for you to come closer. But you stayed pressed against the door, unable to just go to him like you were the best of friends.

“Who are you?” you blurted out, voice shaky. Your back stayed glued to the door, not ready to take any steps forward just yet. “And why are you in my dream?”

For a moment, his expression shifted. It wasn’t a surprise, more like he was amused as if he expected you to ask this but still found it entertaining. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch.

“Who am I?” he echoed, tapping his chin like he was deep in thought. “Well, I’m a single lady waiting for someone to put a ring on my finger.” You blinked, staring at him in confusion. Was that supposed to be funny? He looked at you, expecting a reaction, but you just gave him a blank stare.

“Not funny?” He tilted his head, his grin faltering. You shook your head, still baffled. The corner of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a laugh, and then he shrugged it off. With a snap of his fingers, the click echoing in the quiet room, you were no longer by the door. You were sitting right next to him. "I'm many things, I can't tell you exactly who I am." he wrapped his arm around you pulling you closer to him, and you felt the warmth of his body.

Every time you blinked different types of food and drinks appeared on the table in front of you. You were very confused and still had no answers to your questions. It's just a dream, you tried to convince yourself, but you couldn't concentrate with the stranger’s hand on your shoulder. "And can I know your name so that I can take your sou–” he paused before clearing his throat and giving you a slight squeeze. “I mean soup recipe! I have been dying to try new things, so hopefully you can help me out.”

You glanced at the table again, more confused than ever. Soup recipes? This is ridiculous. But… maybe ridiculous was exactly what you needed right now. Slowly, you began to relax, letting the strangeness of the situation wash over you. Nothing bad can happen. It’s just a dream.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, testing how it felt to reveal something so simple. “And… well, is that even the right thing to tell someone new?”

“Shoot,” he replied, not missing a thing as he casually got a piece of cake from one of the plates. He took a bite, chewed a little loud, then held the fork towards you, offering a taste. You hesitated but then leaned in, accepting the bite. The cake melted in your mouth, unexpectedly delicious. I will do it, I guess? It wasn’t that bad, free food and a hot stranger. It was nice indeed.

You swallowed, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out. “So… my boyfriend, well, now ex broke up with me. And I just feel so… ugh!” You groaned, waving your hands in frustration. “I’m sad and angry and… just everything. He lost feelings? Like, what does that even mean?!”

His eyes widened, and leaning in slightly. “No way!” he gasped, playing into your exasperation as he talked with a full mouth. “Is he for real?”

“Yes!” you blurted, grateful for his dramatic reactions. “For real! He said he lost feelings out of nowhere and just ended things. It’s like I don’t even know what I did wrong! How do you just lose feelings like that?”

He made a face, shaking his head. “Do you want him to lose his mouth so he can stop with the bullshit?” You blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion, though there was a part of you—maybe a very small, vengeful part that found the idea almost tempting. “No, I mean… is that even possible?” you asked, your curiosity rising despite yourself.

He grinned, leaning back into the couch now drinking from a cup that you were not sure if it was a real skull or not. “Sweetheart, look around you. Everything is possible.”

You took a breath, looking around at the room that constantly shifted and changed with every blink of your eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Everything here feels possible. You shook your head lightly, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“So…” you began, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If everything’s possible, does that mean you can finally tell me who you are?” You leaned in, feeling more comfortable now. “It’s only fair, right? Sharing is caring.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flickering with that same mystery. “Fair enough.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you and suddenly the atmosphere changed, you could feel the tension. “But where’s the fun in giving away all my secrets so soon?” Glancing at you again, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe you’ll figure it out. Or maybe…” He paused, his voice lowering into something more suggestive and dangerous, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Either way, angel, you’re in for a ride.”

Was this boy real? Or was he just another part of this wild, impossible dream?

But for now, you didn’t care. Something about him made you want to stay in this dream, even if just for a little longer. You trusted him, but at the same time, would you really trust someone who doesn't exist? They say that a person you don't know, but just passed by can appear in your dreams. It must be that, but why was it all so ... real? His touches, the taste of food, reactions, and feelings.

“You’re no fun,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bite of the various cakes displayed on the table. But before you could take it, he laughed and it wasn’t a genuine and comforting, more like a mocking laugh. “We’ll see about that pretty soon,” he said, his grin widening.

Suddenly, everything vanished. The food, the room, him…all of it blinked out of existence in an instant. You gasped, finding yourself surrounded by pitch-black darkness. There was nothing but silence, your own breath echoing in your ears. Where did he go? As you stood there, frozen in time and nothingness, trying to make sense of it all.

But then, just as quickly as the darkness came, you blinked and opened your eyes—this time, for real. Your room greeted you with its familiar shadows and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and shining upon the many posters of your favorite band on the walls. You were back in bed, breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. Sweat clung to your skin, your hands trembling slightly.

It was just a dream. Nothing more, you told yourself. You inhaled deeply, letting the cool air calm your nerves. It felt so real, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been, you wanted it to be. The nameless boy who gave you the attention and comfort you sought and longed for.

You shifted under the covers, pulling the fluffy blanket closer to your body, sinking into its warmth. The tension began to go away as you reassured yourself again. Just a dream. A strange one, but still… just a dream. Relaxing fully, you let your eyelids grow heavy, your mind slowly drifting off once more, feeling peaceful and safe in your own world.

What you didn’t know, however, was that you weren’t alone.

As you slipped into a deep slumber, a presence quietly joined you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close into a snug embrace. You felt the warmth against your back, but it was subtle, comforting enough that it blended into the haze of sleep. Fingers gently traced through your hair, playing with the strands, and a soft whisper tickled your ear.

“Good night, doll.” the familiar voice murmured, but you didn't hear or feel him because he was no longer a fragment of your imagination, but a real person...at least for what he would present himself to be.

And then you drifted off into the deepest, most relaxed sleep you’d had in weeks, unaware that the stranger from your dream had followed you into your reality.

The next morning, the first thing you felt was warmth—an unusual, comforting heat that made you snuggle deeper into your blankets. Your face nuzzled against something soft but firm, and without thinking, you wrapped your arms around it, sighing contentedly. You had no intention of waking up. It’s Saturday, no need to rush.

"Good morning, sunshine." the voice was sweet and teasing, as you let out a sleepy groan, burying your face further into what you assumed was your favorite plushie. “Mmm, five more minutes…” you muttered, your voice muffled by the warmth. You squeezed tighter, expecting to feel the familiar softness of your stuffed animal. But instead, your fingers brushed against something warmer, something that wasn’t soft cotton or fabric—skin.

Your eyes shot open, heart pounding as you jolted upright, realizing that what you were holding wasn’t a plushie but a human body. You gasped, scrambling back and tumbling off your bed with a loud thud on the cold ground, trying to piece together what was happening.

A head poked out from the top of the bed, black curls and teal eyes sparkling with nothing but playfulness. It was him—the boy from your dream last night, the same one you were sure had only existed in your imagination. But now he was, in your bed, looking down at you with that familiar devilish grin.

“I thought I was supposed to fall for you,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “But apparently, the roles are reversed.” He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reactions and how he could smell the fear and panic. Your heart raced in your chest as you opened your mouth to scream, but before you could make a sound, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, your voice was gone, leaving you mute. You clutched your throat in horror, your mouth still wide open, but no sound came out. You tried again—nothing.

He leaned over the side of the bed, looking down at you with a smug expression. “Be quiet now, angel,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I don’t want you screaming…not yet.”

Your mind raced, thoughts going from point A to point Z. Who is he? How is he here? What is he? You crawled backward, pressing yourself against the wall, eyes wide with fear. He watched you, his head tilted slightly, clearly enjoying your reaction because to him this was just another game with humankind. He loved it when they showed fear, how afraid a person can become when they see him out of nowhere. It was priceless, the reactions and the emotions. You should see your face, he can’t stop staring at it.

"I know you have questions," he said casually, stretching his arms as if waking up from a peaceful nap. "But we'll get to that in a moment." He paused, looking around the room and how you decorated it, he will take some inspiration to his own if you don't mind. "First, let's make sure you didn’t hurt yourself with that fall, okay?"

With another snap of his fingers, you felt your body lighten. The fear that had gripped your chest was starting to leave, and though you still couldn’t speak, the panic was slowly being replaced by confusion—and maybe curiosity. You looked at him, trying to make sense of everything, but nothing added up.

"Better?" he asked, leaning back on his elbows, clearly far too comfortable in your bed. Managing to nod slightly, though your mind was still racing from the supposed dream to this pleasant morning surprise. Just what exactly was going on?

"Good. Now, let’s have a little chat, shall we?" he said, flashing you that grin again. You stood up and didn't sit on the bed next to him, but on the chair in front of your desk, pointing to your mouth, showing him that you really can't talk “Oh, yes. Sorry, doll.”

Watching him move around your room as if he belonged there. Every gesture, every glance he gave you made the air in the room feel heavier. His presence was suffocating, yet alluring in a way you couldn’t explain. He walked like he had always been there, but when he turned to look at you, it was as if he already knew what you were thinking—like he had known you for far longer than just this dream.

"So you want to make that jerk jealous, right?" he asked, his voice casual but sharp enough to pierce through your thoughts. You didn't answer right away, instead staring down at your hands as you played with your fingers. “Eyes up here, darling,” he commanded, and despite not wanting to, your gaze lifted to meet his. It felt unnatural like some kind of spell was pulling you in, forcing you to obey. The moment your eyes locked with his, you felt that strange magnetic pull again, something dark yet engaging about him.

“I do… yes,” you finally answered, your voice quieter than you intended, because something was unsettling about how easily he was reading you, how he seemed to know your desires before you even thought about voicing them.

"And you want me to help you with that," he continued, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey, his smirk never faltering. "But, of course, you know that I’ll want something in return." His tone was teasing, yet you could sense the serious undertone that followed. You stared at him, swallowing hard. “My soul right?” you asked, knowing full well who he was by now—though you were still processing the absurdity of it. Making a deal with the devil was a gamble and usually, the mortals always lose.

"Straight to the point. I like that. A bit impatient, but we’ll work on that." He chuckled, his fingers trailing over the objects in your room touching every piece of your life. His eyes flicked over to your wall, landing on a particular poster. It was of a musician you had a bit of an obsession with—tattoos, piercing on his eyebrow and mouth, the typical bad-boy image.

“The dude with the tattoo sleeve on the poster. You like him, huh?” he asked, turning his gaze back to you. Your face heated, embarrassment rushing over you. It was awkward enough to have a stranger in your room, but a boy commenting on your obsessions? That was a whole new level of awkwardness.

“Yeah, but what about it? You think you can pull off looking like him or something?” you fired back, your tone slightly defensive as you crossed your arms.

His grin grew wider, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Even better, sweets. Even better.” And with a snap of his fingers, you found yourself pressed against the wall, his body close, caging you in. Your heart raced as you stared up at him, your mind spinning at how effortlessly he had shifted reality.

“Let’s make a deal,” he whispered, his eyes flashing a deep, unnatural black, and for the first time, you noticed the small horns beginning to grow from his head. A black tail curled around your leg, sending a chill through your body. “I’ll be your boyfriend for the party, and you…” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. “You’ll pay me back when the time comes. Don’t worry about it.”

You were both stunned and terrified, his presence overwhelming as his words echoed in your mind. Was this even real? Could you trust him? The truth was, you knew the answer already. You couldn’t trust the devil. But the temptation was there, and it made you desperate to unfold it and take it.

“How can I trust you?” you whispered, your voice shaking. His head rested on your shoulder as he chuckled softly against your skin, the vibration making goosebumps appear as you tensed at his sudden physical affection.

“My little puppet… wait, that’s not my line,” he murmured, the grin evident in his tone as he lifted his head to meet your eyes again. “My sweet doll, I can do things you wouldn’t even dream of. With a snap of my fingers, I can teleport you to the future, change the present, twist the past. I can give you everything you want.” His words were hypnotic, each syllable wrapping around your thoughts, making you wonder—what if?

It was true, everything about him screamed power. And you knew you deserved better than what your ex had given you. But this? Making a deal with the devil himself?

"You know you deserve better than that scumbag," he said, his hand grazing your cheek. "So, my offer stands—I’ll be your date to the party, and when the time comes, you’ll pay me back. Simple as that." His eyes glowed as he leaned closer, the danger in his smile was more than just a warning.

You took a shaky breath, trying to think rationally, but it was hard with him so close, his offer so tempting. "You know about the party? How?"

"I told you, I know everything." He stepped back slightly, giving you room to breathe as a swirl of blue flames danced in his hand. His grin widened as if he could sense the battle raging inside you. He stretched out his hand, the flames flickering and welcoming you.

“Deal or not?” He needed to convince you because you were perfect and he loved when girls turned up to him for help, especially with their love lives. But the thing is you never searched for him, you just found him on accident and that to him was something new. This never happened before, he was always summoned but seeing how scared to how comfortable you could get with him in seconds ... He wanted to have you all for himself.

You stared at his hand, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. This was a perfect opportunity, but was it right? You wanted to show up with a date, and you did want to take revenge. But you have morals, at least you thought you did. If Umemiya can't love and satisfy you then another man will. And yet…what would the cost be?

But before you could stop yourself, your hand was in his, shaking it.

"Endo Yamato, pleased to date you," he said with a sly grin. The blue flames also engulfed your arm and you expected them to burn you, but they were surprisingly warm and didn't cause any pain. Looking around you saw most of the objects were in the air, you were also levitating until the flames disappeared and everything fell into place.

"Y/N is everything alright?" your mother's voice echoed as you heard the footsteps approaching. Still holding his hand and panicked because, in a few seconds, your mother would see you with a strange guy in your room. What would she think, finding you and him? Surely, she’d freak out.

"I-I..." you looked at Endo expecting him to help you but he just grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos, making you sit back down on the bed as if nothing had happened. He, however, took a seat at your desk, turning on your computer and launching a random game as if he’d done this a thousand times before. It was disturbingly domestic like you were truly a couple who had just spent the night together again.

The door opened, and instead of the explosion of anger you expected, your mother greeted you with a warm smile. She walked in with a plate of cake. "Oh, Yamato! What a pleasant surprise, I didn’t know you were staying over." She didn’t even blink at his presence, as if he had always been a part of your life.

Your heart nearly stopped. How did she know him? You stared at her, mouth hanging open, while Endo merely smiled, leaning back in the chair with waving his hand, pausing the game he finished in milliseconds, and it took you a whole week to do it.

"Good morning, ma’am! Y/N told me you make the best cake. Figured I'd stay and have some," he said, and you could almost hear the teasing in his voice. Your mother chuckled, completely unfazed. "Well, I’ll get another plate for you then. I’ll be right back." She turned and left the room, leaving you in a dead silence.

The door clicked shut, and you quickly turned to him, eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”

Endo didn’t look concerned. If anything, he looked pleased with himself. "Relax, sweetheart. I just adjusted things a little. In your parents’ minds, I’m your new boyfriend. They know me, they like me. I even got your mom to bake me a cake. Now that is what I call power." He winked, leaning forward in the chair.

"You… you messed with their minds?" you stammered, scared of how much he messed up with their minds and you hope he only did that and nothing else.

"Yeah.." He stretched his arms lazily getting up from the chair. "Now I exist to them. To everyone who matters, I’m your charming boyfriend, Yamato. And no one will think twice about us going out together or hanging around. I made myself part of your world."

You sat there, heart racing, trying to process it. It felt like you were in some type of movie, in Wonderland but after everything else—the dreams, the flames, the deal—it was hard to deny. He really was in your life now. And worse? He was making himself comfortable.

"So," he continued, his eyes sparkling with what you want to think of was the life he took from you, "how about we go shopping for those Halloween costumes? I want to make sure we’re the best-looking couple at this party."

You blinked, trying to shake off the lingering shock. “Costumes? Already?” He grinned, standing up from the desk. "Why not? You want to look perfect, right? And I’ll be the perfect date. Trust me." You hesitated, but part of you, maybe the reckless part, was curious. This strange, devilish boy had thrown your life into chaos, but he offered something hard to resist: a way to take control, to show up at the party with someone who’d make your ex regret everything.

"Fine," you muttered. "But, I need to get dressed first."

"Sure," he said, not moving. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and didn’t mind if you changed in front of him. But you did mind because you wanted your privacy, at least whatever you can call alone time now.

"Please get out!" you repeated, voice more forceful this time, pulling your shirt halfway up your stomach before realizing he wasn’t leaving. His gaze lingered, his lips curling into a smirk. He was like a snake, a beautiful but venomous snake ready to strike you down anytime. "Why? You’re my girlfriend now. You shouldn’t be shy around me," he teased, his eyes trailing down to where your skin was exposed. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made your stomach flip.

You flushed, face hot with embarrassment and frustration. Grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket, you marched him toward the door. “Go eat some cake while I’m getting ready,” you muttered, pushing him out. Endo chuckled, hands raised in surrender. “Alright, alright. But don’t take too long, doll. We’ve got a date to plan.” He shot you a wink before disappearing down the hall.

You closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. What have I gotten myself into? You couldn’t deny the thrill, but the danger was just as real. Endo Yamato wasn’t just some ordinary guy—he was trouble in every sense of the word. And now, he was your devilishly charming boyfriend.

Was this the biggest mistake of your life? Maybe. But there was no going back now. With one final look in the mirror, you shook off the nerves. If anyone could make Umemiya Hajime regret breaking up with you, it was Endo Yamato. And you will embrace your new life, whatever it offers you will take it. You just signed a deal with the devil, so take advantage of the luxury.

The mall was full of people as ever, the noise of chatter and music echoing in the background as you and Endo wandered through store after store. His hand was warm in yours, firm, yet oddly comforting despite the strangeness of everything that had happened. It had been his idea to treat you, to buy you something nice, and while the gesture was sweet, it left you feeling... a bit out of place.

You stood in front of a full-length mirror, dressed in a short white dress that hugged your figure in ways you weren’t used to. Your boyfriend stood behind you, watching with a satisfied smirk as you hesitated, his reflection staring back at you. He held a few more clothes in his arms, ready to spoil you with more options.

"You look so good," he said, his voice soft but confident. He reached out and held up the same dress in different colors. "There's also a pink and blue one. Which do you like more?" But instead of picking, you just stared at yourself, a sadness creeping over your features. You weren’t used to wearing things like this. It fits you perfectly, accentuating curves you usually hid beneath looser clothing. When you were with Umemiya, he never cared what you wore—he let you stay in your comfort zone, never pushing you to try anything new. Now, here you were, feeling exposed and unsure, your usual self-confidence slipping away.

Endo noticed immediately. He glanced at you in the mirror and saw the doubt on your face. His smile faded slightly, replaced with something more thoughtful, "What's wrong?" You hesitated, still looking at the reflection instead of him. “I’m just… not used to dressing like this,” you murmured, “What if people stare at me?”

Ah, so that was it. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his grip on the clothes tightened as he processed your words. He could tell you were beautiful, no matter what you wore, but he also understood. You were stuck in a box, never exploring past the boundaries you’d built around yourself. You deserved more than what you’d allowed yourself to have. He had something in mind for that.

He turned to you, his expression more serious now. “I’ll be honest with you,” he began, stepping closer so you could still see his reflection standing tall behind you. “No one’s going to care. And if they do stare, let them. Who are they to you?”

His words hit hard. You looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and they were trying to convince you. "Nobody," you said softly, realizing that he was right. The people out there, the strangers, their opinions didn't matter. But still, that nagging self-doubt clung to you.

Endo’s gaze softened as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly to face him. “You can’t let yourself stay trapped in this comfort zone forever. If you do, you’ll keep missing out on new things, new sides of yourself you haven’t even discovered yet.” He was deadly serious now, his tone steady. “You’re beautiful no matter what. But you deserve to see how much more there is to you than what you’ve been hiding behind. So don’t let anyone, not even yourself, make you feel less.”

You sighed, your eyes flickering between him and the clothes he was holding. You knew he was right, but stepping out of that comfort zone was easier said than done. Still, something about his words made you feel… braver. You could take that step, even if it was small. Finally, you took the clothes from his hands.

“I won’t even try them,” you said, suddenly resolute. “I’ll just buy them.” Endo’s lips curled into a proud, satisfied smile as he watched you head back into the dressing room to change into your original outfit. When you emerged, his eyes lit up, and he couldn’t hold back a wide grin. "Now, that’s my girl."

You smirked back, feeling lighter than before. “You’re paying, though.” He laughed, seeing how he provoked you into doing something so simple. “Of course, doll. Anything for you.”

As you walked together to the cashier, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel like things were changing. Maybe Endo was right—maybe this was the start of something new, a side of yourself you hadn’t known before. Whether it was him or the situation, you weren't sure yet, but you knew that stepping out of your comfort zone felt a little less terrifying. Having the devil as your boyfriend was an experience of its own: both thrilling and exciting, and you couldn’t wait to see Umemiya’s reaction.

After Endo paid, the two of you walked out of the store, your hands weighed down with at least three shopping bags filled with clothes that were far beyond your usual style. You felt strange and satisfied yet guilty at how much you bought. But somehow, that discomfort that had followed you earlier was fading. Maybe it was his influence or the fact that he had pushed you out of your little box, but the worry was no longer coming at you.

The devil walked beside you, his hand still casually intertwined with yours, his other hand holding his bag from one of the stores where he insisted you pick out something cute because spoiling you was part of his fun. He is your boyfriend, it's his duty to make you feel good and enjoy yourself.

"We’ve got you new clothes," he said, glancing down at the bags swinging by your side. “Now, for the Halloween costumes... What do you want us to be?"

You hadn’t even thought about the party since all this craziness started. But Halloween was coming up in just two weeks, and you needed to decide. The two of you made your way to a nearby Halloween shop, the sound of spooky music and the bright displays pulling you inside. You wandered through the aisles, surrounded by racks of costumes and props…You were not using the costumes you bought with Umemiya, totally not. So it’s time to think of something new.

“Maybe something simple?” you suggested, looking through the shelves of cheap costume accessories. Your hand landed on an angel halo and some flimsy white wings. You held them up and smiled, “I could be an angel.”

Endo raised an eyebrow, “How fitting,” he said, voice laced with irony as he reached up to pat the small horns protruding from his head. “You know I don’t need a costume, right?” Somehow, you forgot what happened in the morning and how he turned into his true form with horns and a tail, wrapped around your leg. Good for him, because he can pretend they are real unless someone wants to try them on. Oh, well that’s a problem for the future.

“Right, you already come with the horns and tail. Guess we’re going as the classic angel and devil couple, then.” You tossed the wings and halo into your basket and turned to see him eyeing some fake devil horns hanging on a rack. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I think I’m good,” he said, pointing to where his horns were supposed to appear. “I’ll just wear what I’ve got.”

Once you had everything you needed, the two of you left the store, the cool evening breeze hitting your face as you walked out of the mall. It was such a good day today. Going towards the parking lot, Endo stopped for a second, turning toward you and before you could ask what he was up to, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as warmth flooded your face, your cheeks burning bright red. The butterflies you thought had long since died after Umemiya’s betrayal? They were very much alive now, fluttering like crazy in your stomach.

He pulled back, his smirk widening as he took in your reaction. “You’re blushing,” he teased, eyes full of satisfaction. You couldn’t deny it, the heat in your face said it all. “I-I’m not!” you stammered, trying to play it cool, but the way your voice wavered gave you away completely. You know this boy for not even 24 hours and he is already making you feel like this. It’s the magic, most definitely you will blame it on his magic.

“Sure, angel,” he said with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around your waist as you both made your way back to the car. “But I think I’m starting to grow on you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, letting out a small sigh as you rested your head on his shoulder. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of your life after all.

“Wait, hang on…” you asked removing your head from him as you looked at him, because why are you in a car, and not at the bus station? “We came with the bus, how do you suddenly have a car? And so much money?”

“Less questioning, more watching the pretty sunset.” his hand gently turned your face to the window to watch as the sky was tinted with pink and yellow hues, making you forget about everything as he stepped on the gas. Maybe deals with the devil don't sound so bad after all.

It was October 31st—Halloween night. Ever since Endo had stepped into your life, he had turned everything upside down. He wasn’t just the devil you made a deal with, he had become the best boyfriend you had ever had. He was doting, caring, and spoiling you beyond measurements. One night, while your parents were asleep, he teleported you away to Paris to have croissants under the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. Another time, you skipped school just to marvel at the Sistine Chapel together. Whatever you asked for, you’d get. But you were careful not to ask for much because the payment would escalate quickly.

The magic wasn’t just about the exotic trips. Endo made you feel more confident, you were finding yourself in ways you hadn't before, and he loved watching you fly with your new wings. He encouraged you to push boundaries, be bold, and stand up for yourself. It wasn’t just a Halloween costume you were slipping into tonight; it was a new version of yourself, and you could tell he was proud of that.

Tonight, though, he was being extra annoying, and was testing your patience. Standing behind you in the bathroom as you applied your makeup, his tail had found its way around your waist again, tugging you close as you tried to focus on getting ready.

“Yamato, I told you to stop wrapping your tail around me,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as you swiped the red lipstick across your lips, making a satisfying pop sound. Pulling away from the mirror, examining your reflection. The white dress, the halo perched above your head, the wings—it all screamed angel. But what kind of angel were you really? A fallen one perhaps.

He grinned, his sharp teeth peeking through as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t help it, angel. You’re stuck with me.” His voice was playful, reminding him how much he enjoyed teasing you. You rolled your eyes. “Remove it before I cut it off,” you warned, turning slightly to meet his gaze. His tail loosened immediately, slinking back, but his grin remained as wide as ever.

"What happened to ‘I love you’, ‘You are the best’, ‘Please, harder and fas–" You put a hand over his mouth and he pretended to be defeated, but there was pride in his eyes. He was happy to see how much you had changed over the past two weeks. The girl who once doubted herself had become confident and bold, and he loved every second of it.

He watched as you adjusted the final touches of your outfit. “Look at you now," he said, his voice low and almost admiring. "Such a pretty and bossy woman. I love that new side of you.”

You slipped on your white heels, the final touch to your angelic costume. But as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but question. What was even angelic about you anymore? You had let him claim you in every possible way. Your body, your soul, everything was his, and you didn’t regret it as everything happened so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if he used his magic to make Halloween come faster.

Grabbing your phone, you prepared to upload another Instagram story with your devil darling. Ever since you posted him for the first time, everyone who had ignored or unfollowed you was suddenly watching your stories again. Funny how that worked. You smirked, knowing that tonight’s post would send them reeling and you will know the gossip because of your friends. They always tell you if someone is talking behind your back, someone like Hiragi insulting Endo, or Tsubaki being disappointed in you…and Umemiya saying he is fine but he isn’t fine.

“Showing me off again?” He asked, leaning back, watching you swipe through your phone. You nodded, snapping a quick picture of the two of you in the mirror. “Of course. People love the drama between me and Umemiya.”

You were no longer the quiet, shy girl who stayed within the lines, living by the rules set by others. You had stepped out of the zone and were living in a big mansion, filled with adventure, luxury, and a man who encouraged you to rise higher instead of keeping you stuck in one place. The devil had taught you something valuable: first, to believe and love yourself, and second, to choose a man who would elevate you, not hold you back.

“Ready for tonight?” he smiled, his horns gleaming in the bathroom light, perfectly matching your halo. “I’ve never been more ready. Let’s show them what a real angel and devil look like.”

Match made in Heaven—is what he enjoyed telling everyone and only the two of you knew the meaning. One thing was clear: You were in love with the devil, and he didn't just want your soul for the deal—he wanted everything from you. Endo Yamato wanted you. Make sure to repay him fully because the devil is always tempting, and he hates to wait too long.

It was like time had stopped, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, hoping he hadn’t done anything that involved magic for this dramatic entrance. Everyone turned their heads to watch as you walked through the crowd with Endo. But his smirk told you he hadn’t done any tricks, much surprising to you—tonight you were simply the topic of discussion.

His arm tightened around your waist, and the big room was filled with whispers and glances, and it made you uncomfortable at some point and he sensed this, leaning down playfully whispering in your ear. “Just ignore them, angel. We're just giving them a free show~”

Well, if it wasn’t your best friend the fate itself when you found yourself face-to-face with none other than your…ex. He was accompanied by Hiragi and Tsubaki, the two friends you’d once spent so much time with. Umemiya looked at you and you could see the surprise, confusion, and maybe even regret in his eyes. He managed a weak smile, but couldn’t take his eyes off Endo, who only gave him that signature devilish smirk.

“Hi,Ume!" you greeted cheerfully, waving to Hiragi and Tsubaki, trying to make this less awkward and with how Umemiya barely reacted, still, clearly caught off guard by the presence of your devilishly attractive date. “Hi,” he muttered, eyes lingering to Endo.

"So what do you want to talk about?" you asked wanting to just have fun without thinking so much about past relationships. Umemiya'a was a wonderful boyfriend, but Endo was out of this world.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group until Umemiya finally cleared his throat, "Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked as you glanced at your boyfriend, and he just shrugged, releasing his hold on you, as if he knew that whatever conversation you had with Umemiya, it wouldn’t change a thing. “Go ahead,” he said, giving you an encouraging nod.

Taking a deep breath, you followed Umemiya to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes but close enough that you could still feel Endo's gaze, watchful and reassuring, grounding you in your decision to move forward.

“So...uh,” Umemiya began, keeping his eyes on yours trying to search for an answer, trying to search for the real you. “You really...you’re really with him?”

“Yes, I am,” you replied, keeping that calm and confident tone, because you needed to assure him that everything was fine, even without him. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Umemiya’s jaw clenched, and he looked away as if trying to gather his thoughts.

“Look, I know things got...weird between us. I never thought you’d—” He hesitated, eyes flicking back to Endo, who was currently chatting with some other partygoers, yet somehow still looked every bit as menacing. “I mean, him, really?”

“Yes, him. If you are going to judge me, just let's drop this conversation and have fun?” you said, getting a little annoyed but you understood his concerns. However, he is an ex for a reason. “He treats me well, listens to me, and I’ve been happier. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Umemiya frowned, he was frustrated “I didn’t think you’d… move on so fast.” He looked at a loss for words, struggling with the effects of his own choices. You took a deep breath, finally feeling closure start to settle over you. Whatever you’d once wanted from him—an apology, an explanation—no longer mattered. You’d moved on. “Look, I hope you will have fun despite everything. Past is past, forgive and forget, right?” you said, ending the conversation with that same smile you gave to him when he was feeling down.

As you turned to walk back to Endo, you felt at peace. Your past with Umemiya was just that—your past. Rejoining him by the drinks, he looked down at you, so curious. "You came back very quickly. How did it go?" he asked handing you a drink which you drank immediately. He knew how it went, what the conversation was, after all, he is the Devil... he has eyes and ears for all evil. "Nothing much. He's just sad, I guess. But I don't care." He just nodded and looked at you with that look, as if you were something so sweet and lovely, like a dessert ready to be savored. He was sure to savor every last bit of you when the time came for you to repay him.

"Yamato, are you listening?" waving your hand in front of his face you slightly worried for him. "Yeah, yeah. You wanted to fix your make-up?" He chuckled, leaning down closer to you. Smiling, you took his hand, guiding him through the crowd toward the restroom. As you walked, people parted to make way, their eyes on the angel and the devil, perfectly matched.

By "fixing your makeup” you hadn’t meant making out, but Endo had other plans. His lips met yours as he leaned in, pressing you gently against the wall. You closed your eyes, letting the world fall away. His hands found your waist, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, and your mind went blank as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving traces of his dark lipstick on your skin. You weren't the only couple being all over each other, so who cares what you do?

When you finally caught your breath, you opened your eyes, only to see his smirk—sly and devilish as he pulled away, leaving you flustered and breathless. "Why did you stop?" You didn’t immediately realize why he’d pulled back until you followed his gaze. Standing a few feet away, looking as if he had seen a ghost, was Umemiya. Endo’s teal eyes were exactly like his flames, burning and full of what one could say is lust and joy, as he caught your ex’s gaze and, finally showed his real black eyes and sharp fangs.

It was Halloween, after all. Strange things are bound to happen, and if anyone asked, it was just an impressive costume trick, okay?

Endo’s hand found its way back to your face, and he kissed you once more, gentler this time but no less possessive. "Just relax and give your soul to me," he whispered against your lips, the words a promise that felt as luring as his embrace. "Give me everything so I can give you so much more."

You closed your eyes again, the feeling of being in his arms somehow made all your doubts, insecurities, and the heartache you’d carried from your past with Umemiya fade away. For the first time, you felt completely, unapologetically loved.

When you finally pulled away, the Devil watched you catch your breath, your heart racing as he could feel how you were wanting and begging for more. "Come on, angel," he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek with a grin. "This party is boring. Let me show you how demons like to have fun." Tonight, you were in his world, where the rules didn’t matter, much more than any exes of yours.

Tonight he will show you how much fun is to make tempting deals with the Devil, so enjoy yourself to the last bite of the apple—temptation is the key to your soul.

WEIRDMAGEDDON VICTIMS :: @maruflix @exkiusme @17020 @stunies @y2kuromi @seneon @littleplantfreak @meidiary @heartkaji @nyxypoo @ryescapades

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amiti-art · 4 months ago

Note

HI! I’m here to ask honest opinion on….Lore Olympus. I’m sorry for putting my opinion here….but I hate it. I’m sorry, I try to see it in a good way….put it paints Apollo as a horrible person. And there are other things that I’d respectfully don’t like about it.However, I want to see your opinion. That is if you’re willing to share it. BTW, I fricking love your drawings., especially the ones about Apollo and his myths! Have a good day or night!

Hello!

I'm glad you like my art 🫶🏻

So, Lore Olympus.

This probably won't come as a surprise to most people, considering how much Apollo art I've made, but I hate Lore Olympus. And not only because of how poorly Apollo was portrayed there.

I'm going to be honest with you: I never read much of it. I read maybe a few chapters some years ago because it was advertised as Greek mythology retelling, but I didn't continue because it was boring to me.

Much later, I saw a lot of posts pointing out all the things wrong with Lore Olympus, and boy oh boy, it's bad.

From what I've seen, it’s hardly a retelling; if the names of the characters were changed, nobody would realize this is supposed to be myth-inspired.

And look, I'm not saying you can't change anything when making a Greek mythology retelling, because it's simply impossible to keep everything the same as in the myths—especially when you want to create a story that covers many myths. The math isn't mathing when it comes to Greek mythology, because the myths changed over time, and different city-states had their own versions of the stories, so it's pretty impossible to make a cohesive timeline without changing something.

But from what I've seen, there isn't much Greek influence in this Greek mythology retelling. From the way the characters dress and speak to the food they eat, there is nothing Greek about this comic, it’s completely Americanized.

And I hate Americanization so much. I remember watching Netflix's "The Witcher" and being so disappointed because there was nothing Slavic about it. They kept Jaskier's original name from the books and called it a day. They turned it into another generic fantasy show.

I know that many Greek people feel the same way about Lore Olympus and other American adaptations of their myths. I love Percy Jackson, but the whole "gods moved to the USA because this is where Western civilization is" is just so icky to me. Greece still exists, hello??????

Back to Lore Olympus. For some reason it's fans think that the comic is a valid source for mythology, and they spread so much misinformation.

For the last time: Persephone was abducted in the myths. There is no version where she goes to the Underworld on her own.

Demeter is a heartbroken mother looking for her beloved daughter, not some evil helicopter parent standing between Persephone and her happiness. Justice for Apollo and Demeter.

Also, Persephone is sometimes drawn like a child and looks more like Hades' daughter than his wife. Why?????

And from what I've seen, Persephone is ridiculously powerful for some reason and fights Kronos or something???????

Also, apparently, Leto is portrayed as a manipulative mother????? Leto??? The Titan goddess of motherhood??? Why????

I don't understand why this comic got so popular, to be honest. Probably because of the artstyle.

#asks #anti lore olympus #greek mythology #greek mythology retelling #apollo #demeter #hades #lore olympus

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crusty-chronicles · 10 months ago

Text

As requested, I present to you ✨

Hiei Bringing His Airheaded S/O To Demon World

Absolute chaos

The entire time he regrets bringing you there.

He only did so because he was tired of you crying everytime he left. Even though he always came back to you no matter what, idiot.

Truthfully, he prefers you staying in the living world because there's less things that could kill you.

No bloodthirsty demons salivating at the scent of you. No carnivorous plants waiting for you to aimlessly stumble into. And no threats of kidnapping and being used for ransom.

It's not like you can't take care of yourself, but the chances of a someone or something taking advantage of your naivety are high

Which is why he specifically tells you to stay close to him.

“If you get lost here, I won't try to find you.” It was a small warning that he'd never really follow through with. But he needed you to take this seriously.

“But you found me when I got lost on my way home that one time.”

“I mean it this time.”

He has to keep a constant eye on you at all times.

Even going as far as holding your hand to keep you in place.

Which is very humiliating for him. The three eyed demon not used to openly showing his affections.

His first stop is Mukuro's base. To which you responded ‘Why is it moving??? I think I'm gonna get motion sickness.’

Because of his constant supervision, he isn't really able to do his job.

And so it begins.

He needs his Jagan, so it's either you or the other poor humans who stumbled past the makai barrier.

Guess who he chooses most of the time.

The few times he does leave you, he makes sure you're occupied with something.

“Go spar with those new recruits over there while I'm gone.”

“Okay!”

Bless those poor demons. They never stood a chance.

Hiei warned Mukuro beforehand about you.

How you're decently strong but don't have a single thought in your head.

She didn't believe him at first. At least, not until she met you in person.

How you managed to bust a hole in the wall by tripping, she'd never know. She saw it happen, but she still doesn't understand how it's possible.

Hiei introduces you to her and immediately regrets it.

“You’re a liar! You said you didn't have any friends.” You pointed out, causing the three eyed demon to tense up.

“I don't. Mukuro's an ally.”

“We both know it's the same for you.”

He's actually mad you're smart enough to figure that out but not why you shouldn't eat glass.

He's pretty embarrassed about your relationship. Not because he's ashamed of you. Couldn't be any further than the truth. He relishes in the fact you're so strong, paired along with your heart that has more kindness than he's able to fathom.

No, Hiei is embarrassed because here he's respected. His reputation is infamous and he's regarded highly. Known to be cruel yet reasonable.

But here he is telling you not to wonder off like some worried parent.

Here he is inspecting the smallest of cuts on your finger and healing it.

It's just so embarrassing for him to be soft in front of others who aren't you.

“So this is the one that has you returning to the human world.” Mukuro teased.

But Hiei wouldn't take the bait.

“I don't know what you're talking about.

Only for you to come up to him with a small gem. Presenting it proudly to him.

“Hiei! Look what I found! Isn't it pretty?”

It's a ruby. Something you'd told him reminds you of his eyes. It makes a tinge of red appear on his face.

But Hiei's a stubborn demon.

“And what do you expect me to do with it?” A tone that would sound cruel to anyone but you.

“Maybe I could turn it into a necklace like the one you gave me.”

“That's a ridiculous idea.”

It was inevitable something would happen to you on this trip. A lot of demons were still bitter about the outcome of the tournament. And with Hiei's involvement with the reform, you were only a huge target.

He ends up wearing it for the rest of the trip. Guarding it with his life. Much to the amusement of the Mukuro and her henchmen.

He came back to the base expecting to see you waiting, but you weren't there.

He didn't waste a second using his Jagan to find you.

He fully prepared to end the life of whatever demon decided to mess with his mate, but when he found you, you'd already taken care of it.

Save for a few scratches on your arm, you were completely fine.

It led to Hiei scolding you for walking off with someone you didn't know. Promising this would be the last time you ever came here for acting so reckless, and that you weren't to leave his side for the rest of the time you were here.

It proved that he was right with you staying in the living world. It was safer for you. And he had Kurama to take care of you if anything happened. You were completely alone here.

“How come you didn't want me to come here?” You asked while he went over your injuries once more.

His answer came immediately.

“Because I knew you wouldn't be able to stay out of trouble.”

“Hey, it's not my fault that guy wanted to fight. How was I supposed to know he wasn't a part of Mukuro’s army?”

He glared up at you.

“You're an idiot.” Then his gaze softened. A look reserved only for you.

“…But you're my idiot, therefore my responsibility. I can't have you getting hurt on my watch.”

What kind of mate would he be if he couldn't even take care of you in his element?

You sat in silence for a while, and he briefly wondered if he went too far. You usually never took his harsh words to heart. He was relieved when he heard you speak again.

“You seem to really like it here. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to stayed after all one of these days.”

You still thought he would just abandon you? Truly your naivety infuriated him.

“In case I haven't made my intentions clear before, I come back for you and you only. Yet you still doubt my devotion. If you expect me to stay in the living world forever with you, you shouldn't.” But I'll always come back for you. Words he'd said over and over again.

An idea struck you then.

“We could stay here if you want. Get all old together. Maybe start a family.”

He couldn't stop the heat crawling onto his face. The way the red seemed to glow from his flustered state. He had to look away from you and move back.

“As if. I have no intentions to keep you here, nor procreate with someone who can't even tie their shoe.”

He heard you laugh and the red only worsened from there.

He didn't like the effect your words had on him.

Tempting him with something so sweet. Something that would inevitably give him even more of a weak spot.

But you weren't meant for this world. Your home was on the other side of this barrier. And his was with you.

For now this arrangement of being with you periodically would work.

#hiei yu yu hakusho #yu yu hakusho #hiei jaganshi #hiei x reader #yyh hiei #yyh x reader #airhead s/o #stronk s/o #x reader

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fangirleaconmigo · 1 year ago

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Geralt x Jaskier Geraskier First kiss, friends to lovers

Geraskier Dancing

When Geralt of Rivia was a child, he begged Vesemir to teach him the kind of dances they performed at court. The answer was always no, but he kept trying.

After the trials, when Vesemir seemed so affected by his eyes, Geralt would widen them and look up at his tutor, pleading.

After all, Geralt thought, what if he rescued a fair maiden, and she demanded that he accompany her to a party? Perhaps she would drag him, giggling and flushed, onto the dance floor. He would be her noble savior, and she would be his grateful maiden.

He didn’t tell Vesemir his reasoning of course. He said that it might be important for royal courts, with kings in them. Wouldn’t it be best if he could fit in? Fencing was similar to dance, so surely Vesemir could handle teaching it.

Vesemir sighed and gave him the same speech he always gave.

"Geralt. You are not training to be a knight. Put that out of your mind. You are a professional. A working man.

Further, you are a mutant now. You will not be greeted with gratitude. You will be lucky to be greeted with the cash that you are promised."

Geralt felt stubborn. Furious. But he knew when to drop the subject.

Vesemir would pat his shoulder and offer him a sweet bread. His eyes always held regret.

Geralt understood him now. After years of hard lessons, he understood. When he thought back on his youth, he felt like a dolt.

The women he saved were traumatized. He was meeting them during the most terrified, violent moments of their lives. They screamed, bled, and threw up. And they all ran. With his bloody sword and ashen skin, he looked little different from the monsters he fought.

At least to them.

And yet?

He still learned how to dance, despite having given up the dream.

It started with Jaskier of course, like most misadventures and novel undertakings. The young bard had just shown up in his life one day and sort of just...never left.

His enthusiasm, energy, and optimism infected Geralt's life, as did the handsome twinkle in his eyes.

One night, after several glasses of wine they shared their most ridiculous childhood dreams. Jaskier admitted that he wanted to publicly rub his success in his family's face, to make their rejection sting less. So Geralt admitted that he'd always stupidly wanted to woo a grateful damsel on a dance floor.

He thought they were just talking nonsense, so he was startled when suddenly, Jaskier was on his feet, woozy and holding out a hand.

"C'mon. Lesgo." Jaskier jerked his curly, disheveled head towards an empty spot on the tavern large enough maybe for one large man.

Geralt refused at first. It was silly. Besides, They were both men. Who would lead?

But Jaskier simply grabbed his hand. When they touched, Geralt found that all of his resistance dissipated like a magic spell. He found himself standing and allowing himself to be dragged. And after they moved a few tables, he found himself touching the small of Jaskier's back and swaying with him.

Why didn't it feel odd? It should have felt odd.

It probably felt fine because they were alone.

They always danced alone.

They would be in a bar that was emptying out, the last drunkards stumbling home. Jaskier would be inviting, leaning against him, words slightly slurring.

Geralt selfishly loved him like that, not because Jaskier would lose his inhibitions, but because Geralt would. Plausible deniability.

"No one is here, Geralt. You won't ruin your fearsome rep--rep--pox on it. People won't see you." Jaskier waved dismissively as he dragged him.

The bard's lips grew pinker when he drank, and his cheeks flushed when they danced.

So Geralt let himself be led into the middle of empty bars, dance halls, and sometimes even just under the stars near a campfire.

"Y'need this for" *hiccup* "d'plomacy." Jaskier tugged him this way and that.

Despite the slurring, Jaskier always moved gracefully, like a swan. He'd sing to himself, lost in the music, touching Geralt with surety, guiding him. His body would be warm and little puffs of his wine soaked breath would drift towards Geralt. The witcher would inhale and try to control the surge of something primal in him awakening from a terribly long slumber.

Jaskier always led.

"I thought you were teaching me to dance with ladies," Geralt complained playfully one night. Jaskier was leading him in a lazy circle under some street lanterns on an abandoned street. Trash and litter was everywhere, left over from the spring festival. Their feet crunched on discarded candy wrappers as they moved.

"I am," Jaskier huffed indignantly, eyes hazy. "You must charm these noble ladies. It's not easy, you know. You must practice."

Geralt bit the side of his mouth trying not to smile. He didn't want to ruin the moment. He was so close to Jaskier, the closest he ever got to stand. "But I'm not learning to lead."

"Oh, s'fine. You'll just," Jaskier gestured, twirling his hand in a circle, "turn it all round." Then it was a rolling motion. "Flip it. Change it backwards. You know what I mean. They'll love it."

It was quiet for a moment, Geralt turned his head and crept closer, so he could secretly smile to himself.

"You already complain they simper around me," he murmured near his friend's ear. "You want to make it worse?"

Jaskier snorted loudly. "They're just trying to get to me, Geralt, you know that. Price of fame!!"

Then he spun Geralt, and all the while, Geralt grumbled, purposely moving stubbornly. "I don't twirl, Jaskier."

Jaskier was wobbly and dismissive. "Y'doing great."

Geralt really did learn during those nights. But they never spoke of it in the morning. Those nights were sacred and untouchable lest they shattered in the light of day.

But one day, they finally, truly paid off.

Geralt wanted to run and tell Vesemir. He'd been right. He had needed to learn the skill after all.

Because one spring day he rescued a beautiful young woman, and she was grateful. She was lovely, truly. Her auburn hair cascaded down her back, caressing her delicate waist.

She had been menaced by a werewolf and run screaming into Geralt's arms, invitation to a ball at the ready. It was just like in his youthful dreams.

The werewolf wasn't such a bad guy to be honest. His name was Gil. And he wasn't so much menacing her as he was trying to say hello and simultaneously coughing. But it was an unpleasant sound to be sure. It was a hacking cough.

Geralt had intervened, having been sent there on an errand by Jaskier. The witcher took Gil aside to speak to him. The werewolf was moving on, anyway. He'd just come to see a picnic of beautiful women that Jaskier had told him about, thinking he would say hello.

Geralt wanted to shake Jaskier. Gently of course. To tell his friend that yes, he had needed help with dancing, but certainly did not need help with finding ladies to rescue. They were lying about everywhere there were monsters. Jaskier wasn't around though, he was nervously flitting around at fittings and lute tunings, preparing anxiously for the dance.

It was silly of course.

And to be honest, the young woman hadn't needed much rescuing. Gil's nose was still sore where she had hit him with her bag.

But nonetheless, when she'd seen Geralt she'd sighed and pretended to be quite helpless.

Geralt carried her to safety on Roach, and she had invited him to a dance that night. They were in Lettenhove, and the dance would be packed with nobles. It was the perfect setup.

Geralt got ready with trembling fingers. He laced on his best armor and slicked down his hair. His stomach was weak just to think of it.

When Geralt arrived, the maiden was there in a stunning gown. She arrived breathlessly, ready for her dance. She batted her eyes and curtseyed.

Geralt bowed slightly, and led her onto the dance floor. After a few moments, her raptured attention began to cool. She was well educated and polite, but Geralt caught her regretful glances towards the handsome young nobles in the corner.

He didn't blame her. He was not a small man, and he was stepping on her toes.

The bloom was very quickly off the rose for the young maiden.

"I'm sorry. My mistake." Geralt muttered at every wrong turn.

If you had asked Geralt as a child, whether the disappointment of a maiden would sting, he would have imagined so.

But it didn't. This was not what he had come for. This was not why his stomach had done somersaults as he had laced on his armor. It was because this party was not just packed with nobles, but very particular nobles from a very specific family.

Geralt glanced up to find him.

Jaskier stood off to the side, close by, clutching a glass of wine, and staring daggers at his cousin across the room. His cousin was a handsome man, if you went in for that kind of thing, though not as handsome as Jaskier. But he was holding court with several ladies.

Geralt excused himself with the relieved young lady who tried to look as though she were not fleeing.

Geralt came up behind Jaskier, and touched his back.

Jaskier did not jump or startle. He must have known Geralt's touch and scent by now. He simply turned and smiled.

"You're here!" Jaskier looked behind him. "And Juliet?"

Geralt shrugged. "I never actually learned to lead."

Jaskier's face fell. "I'm sorry, I-" he looked mortified, "-I don't actually know how to teach dance. I only know how to dance. I was just-"

Geralt cut him off by pulling him into his arms with an 'oof'.

Jaskier startled, leaning eagerly into the embrace. But then he remembered himself and looked around cautiously.

"I don't care if they see," Geralt whispered. "I want them to. Let the miserable bastards gossip until their throats are sore."

The widest, brightest grin he had ever seen blossomed on his handsome bard's face. "Well then." Jaskier straightened his shoulders and cleared a catch in his throat. Let me do this properly."

The bard gently detangled himself from Geralt's arms. Then he bowed at the waist and held out a hand. "Geralt of Rivia? May I have this dance?"

Geralt nodded and straightened his jacket. "You may, Viscount Julian of Lettenhove."

Jaskier held his hand with both of his, but he shook his head and whispered. "No. Viscount Julian is theirs. I am Jaskier. I am yours."

Geralt's heart melted. He did not know how to cope with that, so he just nodded.

The music fell silent, and a new song began.

The witcher and the bard were the first couple out on the floor. It may have started as a way to help Jaskier rub his success in his family's eyes. But almost instantly they forgot all about that. They lost themselves in the movement, the laughter, they only saw each other.

But Jaskier's family saw. His mother. His father. His envious cousins. They all saw that he was loved. That he was talented, famous, and loved.

Geralt didn't think a whole lot about Vesemir that night.

He simply danced. And when the last note on the last song died out, he touched Jaskier's chin. His love's eyes lit up with hope. Geralt didn't want to draw out the suspense, so he pulled him in for a kiss. It was tender and they were sweaty, their hearts beating in their chests.

It felt right. And not because they were alone. It was because they loved each other.

When Geralt visited Vesemir during the winter, he brought up his childhood dream. He would tell the old witcher that he understood now.

Love wasn't something you earned through daring acts. It wasn't something you extracted from terrified women as the price for their safety.

Love was a bard who tried his damndest to fulfill your dreams at the expense of his own.

Love was taking him in your arms and fulfilling his.

Well, Geralt tried to say all that. Perhaps it didn't come out the way he meant. Perhaps he stumbled over his words and grunted some.

But when he pulled Jaskier into the room to introduce him to Vesemir, the old witcher understood.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #descarada writes geraskier #i hope you enjoy it my geraskier friends

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purplecoffee13 · 1 year ago

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The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 1

Summary: “Y/N hates Harry, but fake dating him for a while seems to benefit them both, and she wouldn’t pass an opportunity to torture him, of course. But the lines drawn are blurry, and the tension is high…”

Wc: 3.4k

Tropes: semi-enemies to lovers (she doesn’t like him)

Warnings: jealousy, (slight and mentions of) violence, sexual tension

"Okay, just let me see if I got this right. You want me to be your girlfriend during the wedding of your cousin to get your parents off your back about another girl?"

"Fake girlfriend." Harry corrects me. "But yeah, that's basically the gist of it."

I stare blankly at him before letting out a scoff. This must be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard, and I've had a guy call me 'daddy' before.

"Why don't you just reject the poor girl? I'm sure that message will get to your parents."

"Do you seriously think I haven't tried that?" He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I was just saying.." I raise my brows. I don't get why he's acting so frustrated, he's the one asking me for help. Which reminds me...

"Also, why me? You don't even like me."

When Harry and I first met, he was dating my old best friend, Marie. One night, he tried to kiss me while we were all out on the town, and I flipped out at him for betraying my best friend like that, and thinking I would ever go along with it.

The next day I told Marie about it, but she accused me of seducing him and we stopped being friends. Ever since then, I've hated Harry Styles. I hate him for creating that mess, for thinking I'd do something like that to my friend and I blame him for losing my best friend.

We never really spoke much to each other after that whole situation —besides the occasional forced conversation or collaboration during a project — so naturally I was surprised when I heard someone knock on my door and it turned out to be him.

"Because I don't want to go through the hazard of leading someone on, and all my other girl friends are taken and Leila's gay." He explains with a shrug.

"You won't lead someone on who's gay." I reason.

"My parents know Leila, so that wouldn't work." He counters, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "So, do you want to do this or do have any other burning questions?"

As a matter of a fact I do, ass.

"What makes you think I would help you?"

Harry clears his throat, shifting on my bed until he's seated with his body towards me. I get a bit nervous with how serious his face expression is.

"I've heard the stories about Malcolm, how he's trying to get you back." My face falters once the sentences leave his mouth. I didn't know it was that obvious. I know that Harry senses my uneasiness, but he goes on anyway. "After what he did, I understand that you don't feel the same as him, and this way we can get him off your back."

I frown, because he's right. It would benefit me too, and I hadn't even realized it until he pointed it out.

I caught Malcolm cheating on our six month anniversary, which was about about two months ago. I immediately broke up with him, and blocked him on everything. Unfortunately, Malcolm had somehow divulged himself into the delusion that he could convince me to get back together and he has been annoying me ever since. And while fake dating Harry seemed like absolute hell, it would be the perfect opportunity to send Malcolm the message that I’d moved on.

Malcolm disliked Harry too. I’ve never known why and I don’t think I ever will, but I didn’t question it at the time because I didn’t think very highly of Harry anyway, and assumed he’d pissed Malcolm off during a project or something.

I let some dramatic silence flow over us that consists of me frowning very deeply as if I'm working everything out in my brain, but I quickly open my mouth to avoid drawing it out too long. I have to say that it sounds like it could be fun, and an opportunity to embarrass Harry in many ways, in front of his parents.

Now that's tempting.

"Fine, I'll do it." I give in, secretly getting more excited as I make up ways to torture him in my head. "Anything I need to be aware of?"

"Wedding's in Italy, so you'll have to fake a stomach flu." He casually remarks, as if it isn't something he should have clearly mentioned before asking this loaded favor.

"What?! I was going to spend spring break at my moms!" — not that I was looking forward to that — "And how in the world am I going to pay a ticket to Italy? You know what, maybe this isn't such a good idea—"

"The ticket has already been paid, you don't have to worry about that. But if you'd prefer to be with your mom instead of a hotel in Italy, that's your call."

Harry's face stays neutral, but I can see in his eyes that he's hoping for me to say yes. I'd be lying if I said I was excited to spend a week at with my mom and her new husband; Italy sounded way more appealing. So, that—along with the whole Malcolm situation—was the only reason I said

"Okay, I'll go."

*****

"Oh my goodness, how romantic! When do I get to meet him?" My mom chirps over the phone. Her voice has raised two octaves since I told her that I'd started dating someone in secret about a month ago, and that it was getting pretty serious and he was now taking me to Italy for his cousin's wedding.

It was a bit weird to lie to my mom, but most of what I was telling was actually the truth, so that made the lie a bit easier to keep up.

"Oh I'm sure you'll meet him soon. Sorry I won't make it during spring break, though." I feel the need to apologize anyway, we hadn't seen each other in quite some time and she'd really forced me to take time off from my life here and work on our relationship.

"Yes, well it would have been good to see you, but you're young and these are the adventures you need to go on!" She encourages me as kindly as she can, and I fake a smile, even though she isn't there to see it.”

"Thanks for understanding mom."

"Of course sweetheart. As long as you take lots of pictures, we're good." She jokes. After that, we just say our goodbyes and I hang up.

I'd been running around so much to try and find outfits for Italy that I'd forgotten Harry and I were launching our fake relationship at a party tonight. We didn't really set that many boundaries yet, but I was quite okay with anything. It had to be believable, and my hatred didn't make me blind. Harry was hot and I knew it, everyone knew it.

He was at my door at nine on the dot, which I hadn't expected. We drove to the party because Harry wasn't in the mood to drink, giving me a free pass to get wasted. However, I made a promise to myself not to get too drunk tonight and accidentally slip out the truth.

By the time we arrive it's around nine thirty and the house is already filled with people. Since I broke up with Malcolm, I haven't really been to a frat party anymore, I've grown to dislike them actually. However, this is the perfect place to be seen, and our friends were going to be here so our 'relationship' would be picked up on soon.

Harry and I agreed on the friends with benefits to lovers story, and that's what I start telling my friends while they look at me as if I have grown a second head.

"But you hate the guy, you just complained about him last week." Zoey, one of my friends, remarks, making my stomach drop.

Fuck, I did talk shit about him last Wednesday.

"Uhm– yeah, that was just to keep up appearances." I quickly manage to make up. They all hum in understanding, which is quite surprising to me. From the looks of it, I know that they're not fully convinced, but I hope they'll just see it as my crazy rebound phase and leave me alone.

"Well, as long as he makes our little Y/N happy, right?" Natalia throws her arm around me, raising her brows at the rest of the girls, and they all agree with her.

"Okay... but if he hurts you I will cut off his testicles, fry them until they're crispy and force them down his throat." Zoey grunts, squinting her eyes at Harry who is standing a few feet behind us. He has his back turned to us because he is talking to his friends, but it's funny nonetheless.

I notice that Zoey's glare quickly disappears and blood starts to rush to her cheeks. Just when I'm about to ask what has gotten into her, I feel someone throwing their arms around me from behind.

By the tattoos on his arm I'm immediately able to tell that it's Harry, and my heart starts racing at the realization that this little act needs to be kept up for a month or two, and it needs to be realistic.

"Hi sugar." Harry greets me sweetly before kissing me on my head. I fight hard to keep myself from vomiting at that hideous nickname, and play along.

"Hey hot stuff." I turn around, and I catch the twitch in his eyelids as the equally, if not more disgusting name leaves my mouth.

"You want to go get a drink?" He asks after letting out a small sigh. I nod, and he intertwines his hand with mine before leading us to the kitchen.

I can see the people staring at us with wide eyes, and I don't blame them. It is a rather weird look, me and Harry. However, I ignore it and focus on the main goal, I can't back out anymore so I might as well make it as fun as possible.

When we get to the kitchen, Harry immediately nominates himself as my bartender.

"What d'ya wanna drink, babe?" He asks, observing the countless bottles on the counter.

"Something strong please." I lean my elbows on the counter, watching in silence as I see him scanning the table before grabbing a rum bottle. He fills almost half of the cup with rum and the rest with coke.

He pushes it into my hands when he's done, a bit of the drink spilling on my fingers as I take the cup from him.

"Hey! Be gentle, boyfriend." I grumble, sucking on each of my fingers to clean the rum and coke off them. Harry's gaze lingers on my mouth and fingers a little bit too long, but he is fast to regain himself. Scoffing, he leans forward until he's inches away from my face.

"I don't do gentle, girlfriend." He mocks me before backing away from me again. "Taste it."

I give him a firm glare, but take a sip of my drink anyway. My eyebrows instantly knit together at the strong taste of the drink.

"You know I asked for a drink, not a horse tranquilizer."

"You said you wanted something strong. 'S not my fault you can't handle a bit of liquor." He says as he pours himself some soda. I roll my eyes at his little jab and continue drinking the strong drink anyway.

There is a bit of silence between us, and when I feel it get awkward, I decide to speak up.

"D'you want to go back to our friends?" I propose, tilting my head a bit as I wait for an answer. Harry's eyes avert from whatever's in front of him and throws me a small smile before nodding his head. I'm about to start walking when Harry suddenly grabs my waist, turns me around and pulls me into him. My drink nearly spills again.

"Just don't call me 'hot stuff' in front of my friends, it's an awful nickname." He pleads with a small smirk, occasionally breaking eye contact to observe the party.

"Says the one who called me sugar." The corners of my mouth start to lift too, liking this playful part of him. Because I spend most my time that I've known him hating him, I never really got to experience this side.

"At least mine is accurate." He reasons, grabbing my hips and guiding me until I have my back against the kitchen island. My heart beat picks up a bit; I'm not used to him being this close to me and I didn't expect him to be either. I remind myself that it's an act, even though we're not in front of our friends so technically there's no reason for him to get this close to me. But, I allow him, mainly because he smells so good.

"And why is that?" I ask, my eyes landing on the cross necklace dangling as he leans into me a bit. When I meet his eyes again, Harry has a smug look covering his face.

"Because I bet you taste real sweet."

His hoarse voice manages to awaken a tense feeling in my stomach. He closes the distance between us until our noses are touching, and a hitched breath leaves my mouth. He smells very intoxicating and I feel very floaty even though I've only had a couple of sips from my drink.

"You wouldn't mind if I see for myself, would you?" He pushes some strands of hair behind me ear before cupping my jaw with his right hand. I ignore the way my body is reacting. I haven't slept with anyone since Malcolm so this is the first time I've been so close to someone in a few months.

"Knock yourself out, hot stuff." I tease him. My laugh quickly fades away though, when he actually leans forward and kisses me. I didn't think he'd actually do it, I just thought he was purposefully riling me up.

I can't help myself to do anything other than go along as he deepened the kiss with the subtle entrance of his tongue into my mouth, entangling us even more than we already were.

A part of me was surprised to find out how good it felt, but something inside of me already knew. There was just something about Harry that always made me wonder. I mostly think it was because he managed to hit a nerve that nobody else could with his annoying antics and inappropriate actions, and I guess I always wondered if he would be the only one to be able to soothe it too.

This kiss makes me lean towards the idea that he indeed would be the only one to know exactly how to relieve me, just like he knows how to irritate me.

I have to say I'm a bit disappointed by how quickly he pulls away, but the smirk on his face gives me just about the same feeling as that kiss did.

"Let's go back, hmm?" He suggests, peaking his head to the side before planting a kiss on my forehead and putting his arm around me. I nod with a faint smile, my lips still tingling from that kiss and let his tight grip pull me further into him.

My smile immediately fades, though, when I see Malcolm staring daggers at Harry and me from across the room. My heart drops. I had no idea he was going to be at the party. The reason I actually agreed is because when my friends asked me to come initially, they assured me he wouldn't be there. I figured that his friends, who were here, would see us and that he’d find out that way.

There is no choice but to walk past him, and my hope for ignoring him crumbles when Harry decides this is the time to chat with him.

"Oh hey buddy, didn't see you there." He fakes some civility, and the puzzle pieces click together. Of course he wasn't kissing me because he wanted to; He saw Malcolm and wanted to piss him off to satisfy his own personal vendetta against him. I know it's what I agreed to, but it feels kind of weird anyway.

I don't want to be in the middle of whatever feud those boys have, and I definitely don't want to be confronted with Malcolm right now, so I wiggle my way out of Harry's arm and try to walk past the two. But when I do so, Malcolm grabs me by my arm and stops me in my tracks.

"Seriously? Him? Is this to get back at me?" He asks, the seriousness in his tone matching the crease between his eyebrows.

"Don't worry Mal, I'm sure there's a girl out there who'd like to settle for your small dick." Harry remarks, clearly pleased with himself.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." I growl at my ex, clenching my jaw. My second attempt to walk away fails when he tightens his grip even more as he pulls me back, which causes me to stumble backwards.

Before I get the chance to yell at him to let me go, as the painful feeling in my arm had turned into a lingering sting, his hand has disappears. When I look up from checking the fresh scratches on my arm, I see Malcolm pushed against the wall with Harry's hand around his neck.

Louis and Zayn, two of Harry's friends, are suddenly standing behind him ready to fight if necessary. I'm so stressed about how quickly this situation escalated that I don't give myself time to wonder how those two popped up out of fucking nowhere.

"Touch her again and I swear to God you'll never see the light of day." Harry threatens, and I actually find myself being kind of scared by his voice and his demeanor. He backs up, turning around with a frown that fades when he spots my widened eyes.

He pushes Zayn and Louis out of the way, his eyes and hands immediately focusing on my arm that still has a red handprint on it, along with a few scratches from Malcolm's nails.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" He tilts his head to see all the way around my arm, his fingers softly hovering over my elbow.

"'M fine." I huff, puzzled by how many sides of Harry I've seen today. "I'm gonna go home."

"I'll take you." He immediately offers, following me as I walk towards the door.

"I'll get a cab." I quickly make up, not wanting to be around him anymore. I walk out the front door at a fast pace, hoping he won't be able to keep up.

"Y/N! Stop!" Harry yells out, running until he's in front of me. "You're not going to take a cab, I'm going to take you home. C'mon, my car's across the street."

"What the hell do you care? You're not my actual boyfriend!" I say the last part a bit more hushed.

"I care because I'm a decent human being." He argues, setting me off more. I thrown my arms over each other.

"No you're not! A decent human being wouldn't use someone for the sake of their own personal vendetta!" I yell at him. Harry stifles out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Isn't that exactly what you're doing?!"

"I'm doing this because this is the only way Malcolm will leave me alone. You kissed me because you wanted to set him off, to make him mad. What if he decides to get back at me when I'm alone one day?"

"He won't. He's too much of a pussy for that." Harry growls, but I can see that he's starting to see the logic in my argument.

"That's not the point, Harry!" I groan, throwing my head back and taking a deep breath. "Look, if we're gonna do this, we've got to set the record straight. I don't mind you kissing me, but it'll only be in public places to keep up the act, not for personal, selfish reasons. Understood?"

After some silence, Harry finally answers me.

"Yeah, okay. 'M sorry." His keys dangle between his fingers that he plays with as a nervous habit. "Can I take you home?"

I nod, throwing my arms over each other to warm myself up from the breeze that just passed over, and we start walking to his car.

Part 2 here

#Harry styles #fanfic one shot #one shot #harry edward styles #one ditection #fake dating #enemies to lovers

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viscountess-nila · 1 month ago

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TDP Season 7 SPOILERS

There are a plethora, overflowing cornucopia of reasons why Netflix should greenlight Arc 3, but imo the most important one is the fact that Claudia still loves the people who were once in her life.

Terry says it himself when discussing how to change her mind with Ezran's council,

"Love is what drives her. Love for her family"

Yes she destroyed the world, yes she is almost nearly corrupted beyond reason but she said it herself,

"I'm still nice. I'm still me"

We all know she most definitely is not herself, but in the face of her brother's pain on the Storm Spire

She stops. She tells him she won't kill him. Which is lower than the bare minimum for anyone else, but it is a lot for Claudia.

So what if, in arc three, however long and painful the process is, Claudia feels the remorse she should?

What if she reconsiders her decisions. Viren did it. Why can't she?

And moving forward with this, it's now evident Aaravos sees Claudia as his daughter, his only light in this world. And from this season, we've also seen that the only people who can make Aaravos think back on his morality are people he cares for. In seven seasons the one time we've seen Aaravos actually look regretful is when Terry (someone he cares for, at least during that scene) calls him out on his deception and half truths.

In fact, he feels the regret so acutely he actually goes and reveals all his deception to Claudia (the only other person he cares about). The only reason they go forward with the inversion is because Claudia feels Aaravos's pain and wants to avenge Leola as well. If it weren't for that, Aaravos revealing his deception would have caused all his plans to fail and he was okay with that - because he hurt someone he cared about. Mere months of love smothered his millennia of anger.

And more importantly, the main message in this show is stopping the cycle of violence, emphasising the power of compassion and forgiveness over punishment and destruction, so instead of leaving it with this brutal (temporary) end for Aaravos's life, wouldn't it be better to defeat this cycle of violence and give us an end where Claudia's regret leads to Aaravos stopping and thinking 'is this really worth it'. And ending where their compassion wins over their inner violence, to prove the point young Ezran said so long ago.

This season emphasised their father- daughter relationship so much, that much love and emotion can't be just for them to be a badass evil duo (though they will be).

He is going to come back in seven years and nineteen days. He's been doing this because of the destruction of an innocent life (who he loved) and his plans did fail. So this isn't the end for Aaravos.

Plus the Cosmic Order, whose cruel judgement is what propagated all this, remained unseen this entire season. And they're the violence that started this cycle. To see Aaravos reformed and possibly forgiven by the world (I am delusional I realise) would show them how pointless their cruelty and order is and how ridiculous their reasoning for Leola's death was.

For the show to truly prove its message, it should continue. Show us compassion does win over violence, forgiveness wins over revenge, love over hatred. And shove it in Cosmic Order's face. That this brutal destruction of Aaravos's physical form isn't how this story ends.

Claudia still loves her family. And Aaravos loves Claudia. Show us that love is enough.

And additionally, MORE DANTE BASCO. ANYTHING FOR MORE DANTE BASCO.

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zerodaytesttape · 20 days ago

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More Cal and Andre headcanons that no one asked for coming right up🫡

- Andre’s the first one to notice when Cal’s not okay, even when Cal doesn’t say anything. Cal’s never been good at hiding it, even though he tries to, and Andre always catches the small details. It's how Cal avoids looking at him, how his shoulders slump. He hates seeing it, but he knows there’s nothing to do but wait for Cal to snap back out of it

- They both have secret collections of things they never talk about. Cal has a drawer full of broken watches and dead batteries, little pieces of something that used to mean something to him. Andre’s collection is different. Bits of paper/old notes, ripped-up concert tickets, anything that had a small piece of meaning at some point. Neither of them will ever admit to it, but sometimes they catch each other looking at their collections like they’re trying to remember who they used to be

- Cal pretends not to care about anything, but Andre knows better. He sees the way Cal’s hands tremble when he thinks no one’s looking, the way his eyes linger on things he can’t have anymore. Cal doesn’t want to admit it just as much as Andre doesn't, but he’s scared. dying, of being forgotten, of not mattering. That feeling, as Zero Day approached closer to them, turned into numbness. Everything goes numb for Cal, he blocks it off and disassociates

- Cal never cries. Andre has tried to get Cal to, tried to make him feel safe enough to let it out, but it never happens. Cal just holds it all in, burying everything. Andre doesn’t push anymore. He’s afraid that if Cal starts, he might not stop. The reason why Cal doesn't ever really cry is because he never has a reason to, he doesn't care about things long enough to cry about them. Andre cries a lot more than Cal does, Cal is more numb and detached than Andre. Andre cries when he's angry, he cries when he's embarrassed, he cries late at night when he misses his brother who moved when he was younger, he cries because he's scared to die even if he knows(thinks) that Zero Day won't be his end, he's more sensitive

- Whenever Cal’s in a room full of people, he’s the loudest one, cracking jokes, being the center of attention. But when it’s just the two of them, there’s a different kind of stillness. It’s not that Cal’s quiet, he’s just too aware of Andre, aware of how he’s always watching him, always waiting for him to say something that will make things feel less heavy

- Calvin is the one who is always getting caught up in trouble, and Andre always follows. But it’s never because Andre wants to. It’s because Cal needs him there, even if he never says it. Cal gets reckless when he’s scared or bored, and Andre stays

- Andre’s a little scared of how much he relies on Cal, how much he needs him around to keep things from falling apart. He doesn’t talk about it, he doesn’t even acknowledge it, but it’s there, it's just underneath his sarcasm. He’s terrified of losing him, even if he’d never admit it out loud

- Cal has a habit of flipping off people when he’s frustrated, even if they’re not looking. Andre finds it hilarious, THAT'S the thing that will always get Andre to uncontrollably laugh. He's sometimes amused by how much Cal doesn’t care about anything. Cal’s the first one to snap at anyone who gets too close, but it’s just his way of hiding the fear that someone might actually notice him

- Cal gets annoyed when people call him "sweetheart" or “cute”. It's, like, the worst insult to him. But Andre notices that the only time he lets it slide is when it’s said by him. Andre never really says it but there’s a softness to the way he looks at Cal that Cal can’t ignore no matter how hard he tries.

- When Cal’s exhausted, he gets sarcastic in ways that make no sense, but Andre just follows along, because it’s a way to fill the space when nothing else is working. It’s like a game between them, to see who can make the most ridiculous comment that almost makes sense.

- Andre and Cal's playful arguments often look something like "You're so annoying"(A), "you're annoying"(C). Their interactions are something like "That's a cool tree"(A), you're a cool tree.."(C). Cal doesn't make sense, but things like that make Andre smile

- They have a running joke about who’s the "better shot" even though neither of them really wants to prove it. It’s not about the guns or the targets. It’s just something to hold on to, its really just a way to make everything feel normal when everything else is falling apart

- Cal’s wardrobe consists almost entirely of black band tees, ripped jeans, and oversized jackets. Andre will wear the same thing, but his clothes always look a little more carefully chosen, like he’s trying too hard to look casual when all he really wants to do is disappear

#zero day #andre kriegman #cal gabriel #i love men #i love zero day #zero day 2003 #calvin gabriel #caldre #send help

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Drive with you forever

Chapter 1.1: coming home

Max Verstappen x reader x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri

Summary: Seb brings reader home for the first time

Warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect

Notes: cute moments with Seb. This is what I live for.

Masterlist

Seb looks beside him to the passenger seat of his car. The small girl he'd met just a couple weeks ago is finally coming home with him.

Hanna had gone back sooner to get a few things ready for her. They are basically starting from scratch. She needs new clothes, her hair is matted, she's smaller than she should be. It didn't dawn on him when he said yes that she was coming to them like this.

But he wouldn't have it any other way. In their small cross-country trip, he'd already grown fond of her. Christian is going to kill him later for needing a week off, but again, he couldn't care less.

He would've been home sooner if it wasn't for all the legal things they needed to tie up. Now she's officially his, last name and everything.

It's definitely going to be interesting having a newborn and a teenager around.

Her head is leaned up against the window. Soft music is playing in the background. She looks at peace.

There is something about this girl he can't figure out. From what he's been told, living situation was nothing short of inhumane.

One of the first things they did when she was allowed to stay with him and Hanna, was getting her hair taken care of. It looked absolutely painful. Hanna called a friend of hers to come help.

The girl had flinched at every motion, but the woman was patient and gentle with her. The was the first time she asked Seb not to leave her alone.

It was then they were told that the amount of neglect it takes for that to happen is ridiculous. The odd fatherly instinct that Seb has always had was kicked into gear. Maybe that's the reason he feels so connected to her.

Now her hair is a way that she wants it. The tears of joy she cried made him and Hanna shed a few as well.

Seb pulls into the driveway of his home. The girl perks up at the sight, frantically looking at him and then the house. It's not small by any means, but its peaceful and relatively secluded. A piece of land he intends to make into something great.

He parks and exits the car. Then he moves around the outside to open her door. "Welcome home."

Cautious. Every move she makes is cautious.

Even as they enter the house it's like she moves as if someone is going to jump out at her around every corner. He takes special notice of the way she touches nothing aside from the ground, and her steps are silent. She walks in a way that assures she won't make a sound.

Sebastian shows her around the house, making note of the most important places for her to remember. When he opens the door to what is her room now, his smiles at her. "This is yours."

She peaks her head inside with caution. Then she mumbles a 'thank you'. Seb can see the outline of tears in her cheeks. It shatters him.

"It's completely yours. You can decorate it however you want."

"Decorate?"

"Like fill it with things, move the furniture around, anything you like." He explains. Her confusion only makes him wonder if she even had a room at her previous place.

He's not sure that she really understands yet, but she nods at him anyway.

"Why don't you get settled in, feel free to explore the house and I'll come find you when it's time to eat?" He suggested. Sebastian had learned that even if she agrees with them, maybe she'll start to see that she can say no.

Seb joined his wife in the kitchen. Determined to give the teen some space to adjust to her surroundings and help Hanna with dinner.

"I've never wanted to commit a murder more than I do in this moment." He groans, throwing his arms around the waist of his wife.

"And why is that?"

"Because she looks petrified to step a toe in the wrong place."

Hanna turns to face him. Her head now resting on his chest. "Good thing she's here now. I know you'll protect her."

It's definitely going to be a challenge. They are already new parents and now they are in charge of a teenager. But they are a team, and they'll figure it out together.

Seb once again watches the girl at the table. He feels clueless. She has done nothing but stare at her food with her head down and hands neatly folded behind her.

He's noticed that she usually hides if she is in desperate need of food. He caught her once looking for food and she quickly fell to her knees begging for his forgiveness.

They'd yet to have a dinner all together at a table. Now he has no idea how to help her and that tiny voice in the back of his mind is trying to tell him he's not cut out for this. An annoyance he shakes away.

Hanna whispers to him that she's going to feed the baby and asks if he'll be okay. If he's honest, he doesn't know. But he shakes his head yes anyway.

Something of an idea hits him. He's not sure if it's a good one and will have to find out the hard way.

He switches his spot which was originally across from her to next to her. She still doesn't look at him. "Can I ask you a question?"

This seems to get her attention. Her eyes barely move to look at him at she slowly nods her head yes.

"Were you not allowed to eat? With your dad?" He says it as gently and carefully as possible.

He can see the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. She barely is able to shake her head yes.

"Well here you're allowed to eat whenever you want."

It's a barely even a whisper. "Really?"

"I wouldn't lie about something like that."

The smile despite the tears almost makes him cry too. He wants to, but they still have dinner to get through.

The first time Seb sees her Scars, he also feels the rage he feels every time something about her past home life shows itself.

Hanna had given her a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear to bed. The girl's night terrors caused her to wake up sweating and Hanna had suggested something more breathable to help the issue.

The teen came down to say goodnight before she turned in and Seb had the urge to call anyone who could tell him where her father is.

The lines litter a majority of her now visible skin. Some even look recent, the botched stitching still holding them together.

He doesn't care whether they are bleeding or not; he wraps all of them. It's not much, but it's Sébastien's way of helping.

It's interesting to him how she smiles at the gesture. She actually finds his franticness amusing.

So he does it for every cut after.

The first time Seb had come home from a race after she came to live with them, he brought her back a blanket.

He wasn't thinking too much about it. Just saw it on his way out and thought of her.

She, however, thought it to be the best thing she'd ever seen. Hanna said she never goes anywhere without it. Even has to pry it away from her to wash it.

It hadn't dawned on him that she's probably never had a comfort item before. That blanket is probably the most comforting thing she's ever received.

So, when he asked her one day if she'd had anything to eat all day (Hanna said she was struggling), she immediately dropped to her knees.

He felt strange. She'd done this a few times and often as a result of her feeling she did something wrong.

Seb grabbed the blanket off her bed and wrapped it around her, then got on his knees in front of her to make them level.

It's never sat well with him, the idea of having someone beneath him. It feels dehumanizing.

She buries herself it the blanket. Seb can see her body relax at the feeling.

She may not be his biological daughter. But he loves her as his own.

Next ->

@styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora @hollie911 @pretty-little-bunny382728

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 1 year ago

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could you do a seventeen reaction to the “my bf told me to slow down on my spending” tiktok prank/trend

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNkkMHsq/

ok that is absolutely hysterical yes i can!! hope u like it :) let me know if there's anything else you'd like to see! this is allllllll gonna be fluff so i think we're ok on the warnings...let me know tho!

scoups: "what are you doing, baby?" he calls across the room as you walk at a snail's pace toward your wallet on the counter.

"just following your advice to slow down on my spending," you say with a grin. a less-practiced eye would have failed to notice the corners of cheol's mouth twitch upward before he looks at you with a straight face.

"you know that's not what i meant," he says.

"yeah, well," you continue, finally reaching your wallet and picking it up, "I need to pay rent."

he can't help himself from cracking a smile at you as he watches your stupidly slow movements. rolling his eyes, he comes into the kitchen and grabs your wallet from you gently and puts it back on the counter. "move in with me," he says.

you're so shocked you freeze. "what did you just say to me?"

"don't pay rent. move in with me. you'll save money on rent, and gas money from driving here all the time, and most of your stuff is here anyway so it won't be that bad to move. move in with me."

"wait, wait. you want me to move in to save money? and for convenience?" this kind of hurts to hear.

he kisses your forehead. "i want you to move in because i love you and i want to be with you forever. but that'll free up a big part of your income, too, so you can save for other things."

he pulls you in by the waist. "and if you want to buy things, spend my money, not yours," he says, and his low, quiet voice makes you blush. "i get using your own money for gas and car payments and things like that, and i appreciate you wanting to be responsible for those things, but if you want a new outfit or you want to eat something, i'll get it for you. save your money for the essentials, and use mine for whatever else."

"you're ridiculous," you say, grinning, brushing his hair off his forehead. "all of that for little old me?"

he shrugs, smiling his lovestruck smile at you. "it'll all be yours one day anyway."

jeonghan: the first time you did it, he laughed. but now, at time number 4, he's starting to get confused.

"i didn't mean literally slow down, honey."

"i know," you say, still moving comically slow.

"can you stop for a minute and come over here?" he asks you quietly, a soft smile on his face. He pats his lap.

you give up on the theatrics and take a seat on his thigh.

"i want you to listen very closely, love. i don't want you to spend more money because there are things coming in the future that we should be saving for."

you smile at him. "i know," you say. "i'm sorry for being sassy about it. i just didn't like the way you said it."

"i'm sorry that i wasn't more clear about my reasons for asking you to be more careful." he holds you close and presses a kiss to your temple. "i know you wanted to pay for that wedding dress yourself, but you can always reconsider. i'm happy to pay for it."

"you already bought the ring," you remind him.

"and i also make a lot more money than you," he reminds you with a grin.

joshua: "why do you do that every time you go to pay for something?" he asks.

"because you told me to slow down on my spending," you reply with a grin, slowly tapping your card to pay for your coffee.

he laughs. "i appreciate how committed you are to following my advice," he says, "but that wasn't what i said."

you pause halfway between sliding your card into your wallet. "it wasn't?"

"no," joshua said, gratefully accepting the coffee from the barista and spinning on his heel to find you a seat.

you follow him, dumbstruck. "what did you say, then?"

he laughs. "i said you should stop spending money on me," he reminds you.

your mouth falls open. "i don't remember that part," you admit quickly.

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "i know it's hard for you to receive any kind of criticism, constructive included," he says gently. "so next time i say anything like that, i'll try to frame it in a more positive way so the message is easier to digest. is that okay?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "are you trying to apologize for triggering my rejection-sensitive dysphoria?" you ask.

"yeah, that's exactly what i'm doing," he says with a smile.

you lean over and kiss him. "it's okay, josh. i can also work on managing my reactions better."

he catches your hand in his and brings it to his lips before the two of you pull out your laptops to begin working.

junhui: "what are you doing?" jun says, amused.

"i'm slowing down on my spending," you say, grabbing your keys with all the urgency of a sedated sloth and making your way to the door.

he giggles. "i can see that. what are you going to spend money on?"

"i need new shoes," you tell him.

"are you going to drive slow too?" he asks you with a laugh, watching you from the doorway.

"honestly, my plan was to start running the minute i make it out the door," you say.

"you're such a goober," he says, and when you turn over your shoulder to look at him reproachfully, you see the warm fondness in his eyes. it makes you pause for a minute, because he just looks so yummy leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, watching you with his half-smile and that feeling in his gaze that makes your knees weak.

"do you have time right now?" you ask him suddenly.

"why? did you want me to come?" he asks.

"well, yes, there's that," you say, "but i think there's something i need more than new shoes right now."

you grin as his eyes light up in realization about what you mean.

soonyoung: for awhile he was bemused when you would use your wallet like a car running out of gas, and his cute confused face would make you chuckle.

then, he was a little frustrated. "aw, come on," he'd say. "you know i didn't mean this." and when you'd just grin, he'd start laughing exasperatedly. "you're so stubborn!"

then he became a little worried. "how long are you going to do this?" he'd ask you, his eyes wide. he looked so precious like that that it almost convinced you to stop doing it so he stopped being worried.

almost.

and now, at the end of it all, he has given up. instead of fighting, now he's joined in your slow-motion option when paying for things. it has now become an inside joke. everyone around you is baffled when you approach registers at the grocery store like two tortoises, giggling like kids.

and you're reminded why you fell in love with him in the first place, which erases any indignation you may have felt about him asking you to "slow down" on your spending.

because everything is fun with him.

wonwoo: he is entirely unbothered by your ridiculous slowness when paying for anything these days. he just watches you with his steady gaze, sometimes grinning, always patiently waiting for you to finish.

finally, one day, he says, "you know, i only told you to slow down because you told me you were saving up to go on vacation. is that still the plan?"

you deflate a little bit. "my friends all bailed on the trip, so i don't think it's going to happen anymore."

wonwoo shrugs. "then i'll go with you."

"really?" you ask, surprised. "i didn't really take you for an amusement park guy."

"i'm not, really," he admits. "but i am your guy. plus anything with you is fun for me."

"i'd love that," you say, "but i was really looking forward to it being a girls' trip. we were gonna have a spa night and paint nails and do face masks, we were gonna go shopping..." you trail off as wonwoo's eyebrow raises.

"who says i cannot participate in a spa day?" he says. "or take you shopping?"

"i mean, i guess you can," you say. "but do you want to?"

"of course! i'm a huge proponent of self-care." he grins. "so when do we leave?"

jihoon: it had just slipped out one day when you were at the market. you had handed him a fifth gourd he didn't recognize, and he had said, "whoa, slow down on the spending!"

but now, because you are a menace, you had done exactly as he asked. every time you went to pay, you met his eyes with a mischievousness that for all his attempts to be serious never failed to make him crack a smile. it had become a kind of game between you -- how long could he last with your intense eye contact as you pulled out your money to pay at a speed that would make turtles look fast?

the answer often was "not very long" -- the longest he lasted was probably a generous four seconds. the shortest was the time a dog had actually collided with your legs and nearly knocked you over while you were doing it. you were fine, and his reflexive giggles after he steadied you made you giggle, too.

it was this incident that made him address it. "i didn't mean it," he said. "i'm sorry. that was a dumb thing to say."

because the two of you were in public, you knew better than to do what you felt like doing, which was kiss him all over his adorable face. instead, you settled for a quick kiss on his cheek, which still made his face pink. "it's okay," you reassured him.

seokmin: ever the sucker for a good bit, you were not at all surprised when seokmin joined in your "slowing down" prank. it didn't take him long, either -- by the second time, he was giggling along with you, blocking your card from the slot at the counter and inserting his own in slow motion.

"nooooooooo," you intone in horror, using a lower register than usual, mimicking a slow-motion movie voice, and seokmin can't handle it. he collapses in a fit of laughter, and you join in.

"i don't know why i told you to slow down on spending," he admits later through giggles. "i spend way more money than you."

"well, you also usually pay for my things, and you make more than i do," you reason. "it wasn't bad advice. i can always use a reminder."

he slings an arm over your shoulder. "maybe, but you also deserve reminders of how well you're doing, too."

you laugh. "seokmin, you give me those all the time."

"i can do more!" he insists.

"well, i'll never say no to that," you say as he kisses your forehead.

mingyu: he watches you with one eye twitching as, for the third time today, you reach your card slowly toward the slot.

"why are you doing this?" he says once you've left the store, sounding both frustrated and amused.

"you don't remember?" you realize. "oh, well, that makes this way less funny."

"please explain," he requests.

you sigh. "you told me to 'slow down' on my spending."

he giggles, and you give him a fond smile. "oh!" he says. "well, i don't even remember why i said that, but you can move at your normal pace. i don't actually mind if you spend money."

"thanks," you say, grabbing his offered hand. "you know, i was a little frustrated when you said that."

"why?" he asks, his eyes wide with surprise at this twist.

"because you were looking at the receipt from all the things i bought for a party we held at my place for your friends. it was your idea." you give him a sheepish smile. "sorry for trying to prank you as payback."

"damn. i wasn't even thinking when i said that," he says, looking thoughtful. "I'm sorry, babe."

you smile up at him. "it's okay. i know you had good intentions."

his eyes crinkle at the corners in that way that you love as he leans down to kiss the crown of your head.

minghao: he shouldn't find this cute. he should be encouraging you to stick to your goals. and he should be setting a good example, too. but here he is, grinning when he should be straight-faced, as you slowly approach the register.

"you don't have to do that, love," he says, his voice mild, trying to avoid laughing at your ridiculousness.

"you said to slow down," you remind him.

"i'm trying to help you meet your savings goal for this month," he groans. "and you are making it very difficult."

"well, it does actually help to do this," you say. "while i'm moving in slow motion, i have time to think to myself if the purchase is something i really need or is worth it. so your advice has actually been helping me make smarter money decisions!" you wiggle your eyebrows at him as you continue your painstaking trek to the register.

he watches you struggle for a brief second before giving up. quickly, he pays for the meal, and then drags you into a chair, giving you a kiss on the cheek that is much more aggressive than you're used to.

you look at him quizzically as he sits in the seat across from you. "are you that mad?" you ask him.

"no," he says softly. "you're just too cute. you're weakening my resolve."

you raise your eyebrow over your coffee cup. "i think you need to meditate more, minghao."

seungkwan: you started the prank months ago, as a sassy response to your boyfriend's observation that since you started dating, your bills have almost doubled. and even after you talked about it and set a budget that made you feel more comfortable, you continued it.

so why do you keep up the "slowing down on your spending" prank?

because seungkwan laughs. every single time.

you don't do it all the time. just in very particular moments -- usually if there's tension or low energy. you'll begin moving like the air is made of jelly, and he'll perk up immediately, laughing harder the slower you go. you milk it as hard as you can so he'll keep laughing, enjoying the sound like it's music.

inevitably, every time, he will look at you like you invented happiness. "i love you," he always says, sometimes in relief, sometimes in contentment, and sometimes in exasperation, but he always says it.

and by golly, if that's all it takes, you'll make a fool out of yourself a thousand more times just to hear it.

vernon: he literally doesn't notice. he just goes about like it's business as usual as you literally crawl toward your wallet. typical unbothered vernon. but this time, it's unacceptable. because you're doing your darndest to make him laugh, and he's not even picking up on anything being outside of the ordinary.

so you clear your throat, and vernon's eyes follow the noise to the literal floor. "yeah, babe?" he says casually.

"you're not going to ask?" you say, gesturing to yourself.

"about what?" he asks.

"why i'm doing this?"

he chuckles. "i just kind of figured you'd explain it to me."

you purse your lips. "you told me to slow down on spending."

"oooooooh," he says, amused.

"you need to spend less time around the guys," you huff, standing up. "it makes all my efforts a lot less exciting to you."

he brings you into a hug after brushing off your clothes, which are dusty from the floor. "well, firstly, i thought it would be good if we set a savings goal together, so that's a little different than just telling you to slow down," he points out. "and secondly, you're plenty exciting."

chan: the poor man is confused, but he rolls with it, matching your pace as you approach your wallet.

you absolutely know he has no idea why you're doing this, so you pause. "do you get it?" you say, your hand hovering over the leather case.

"not at all," he admits.

"i'm slowing down on spending."

he laughs. "oh!" he says. "i never would've gotten that." and then in a quick move, he grabs the wallet before you can.

"i only told you to do that because you were on the verge of buying something that i was planning on getting you for your birthday," he says. "but now that you mention it, i think i want to make it a rule that i get to pay for everything for you from now on."

"what? why?" you say, shocked.

"there are a few reasons. the best one is that i love you," he says, dodging as you snatch at the wallet in his grip. "but some other ones are: because i can, and because i want to give you the world."

as you swipe for the wallet again, chan wraps an arm around your waist. you freeze at the sight of his eyes smiling into yours, barely having a second to think about it before he presses a light kiss to your lips.

"you don't really need to slow down," he says, handing your wallet back to you as you try not to be too flustered. "it really was just the birthday thing. you can spend your money however you want."

"thank you, my love."

#seventeen #seventeen reactions #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt fanfic

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