#spent more time looking for a good image to end this than i did actually writing the thing

[wearysparrows]

Couldn't Keep Them to Myself if I Tried

ao3/masterlist

Summary: You invite Sylus over for a simple movie night -- but he has other ideas of the definition of "casual."

CW(18+): Alcohol usage, Vaginal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Porn Without Plot, Not Beta Read, fem reader (afab), female terms are used towards the reader, reader is mc but it's not pertinent, alt title: you and Sylus have a normal one. 4.6K

This night had been your idea, and you were already beginning to regret it before Sylus had even arrived on your doorstep. Rather than go to an upscale restaurant like Sylus had initially suggested, you had instead invited him over to your apartment for a movie night – whatever that meant. It wasn’t that you had anything against the concept of restaurant dates, (could you call them dates?) but rather that you wanted something more relaxed on occasion. The frequency of your attendance to restaurants that did not have prices on the menu was becoming alarming.  Sylus was wholly unbothered by this. Any time spent with Sylus was a good time, though, to be fair. You were surprised when he agreed so readily to your comparatively low-brow idea of spending time together. You checked your phone at the thought. 

Sylus:

Be there soon. Got what you wanted on the way

10:07PM

You didn’t bother to respond, knowing he was likely coming on his bike, anyway. Just looking at the text made your heart rate increase and your stomach flip in on itself. You took a loud, steadying breath, and examined yourself in the full length mirror in your bedroom. You had originally tried not to agonize too deeply about what to wear for the occasion (it was your house, after all), but had failed in that regard. After much deliberation (and sending a million example photos to Tara for feedback) you had settled on what you thought was the best compromise between cute and comfortable. It wasn’t as if Sylus had never seen you in your house clothes before, but this occasion was intentional – and you wanted your look to reflect that. 

Thus, you had decided on an off the shoulder sweater – it was an ivory color, with an oversized cable knit that kept the cold of the night air at bay. A gift from Sylus, as it were. He had given it to you rather nonchalantly, but you felt anything but nonchalant after cross checking the price online. You tugged at it, and your collar bone poked out from the side that fell from your shoulder. Under this you had a pair of cotton sleep shorts, which were appropriately adorned with images of small teddy bears. Fabric content was important for health and comfort, after all. Though you had hated to admit it, you had agonized over your panties for the longest – not that you expected anything to happen tonight. Your relationship with Sylus definitely recently escalated on the physical level, but you had yet to actually go all the way with him. To that end, you had settled for something that was comfortable, but appropriate if things did go that direction. A simple ivory pair with navy blue stripes, with a cotton lace trim. They matched the sweater. A happy coincidence. 

Your phone dinged with the sound of a message notification, reminding you of its forgotten presence in your hand as you were scrutinizing yourself. You unlocked it, swiping down on Sylus’s text.

Sylus:

Here

10:16PM

Your stomach again attempted to cave in on itself, and made a valiant attempt to crawl out of your throat. You couldn’t pinpoint at what point exactly seeing Sylus had made your body have such a reaction, but it had only worsened recently. You were nervous. You quickly made your way from the bedroom to your front door. After you had chastised Sylus for one too many breaking-and-entering fiascos, he had changed tactics to simply texting you when he arrived (as opposed to knocking like a normal person). You adjusted your sweater and hair before opening the door, taking one of many deep breaths that night.

On the other side of the door he stood, illuminated from behind by the porch light. It made the white of his hair glow softly in a small halo. His casual dress reflected yours – which came as a surprise to you, even though you should have expected as much. It was just a movie night. He had opted for a tight fitting black tee which left nothing to your imagination, and a pair of gray sweatpants. Because of course he had. You didn’t let this thought go any further in your mind, lest it run away with it. He was holding a grocery bag, the contents of which you were certain to contain the shitty alcohol you had requested. You looked up at him. Why was he so fucking tall?

Sylus was looking back down at you. He was kindly ignoring how you had been ogling his clothing choices, but did look amused. You felt like you would never get used to the intense carmine red of his eyes. He had a knowing glint there, like usual. You felt that he saw right through you.

“May I come in? I’ve brought the goods.” He held up the bag as evidence to support his statement. You opened the door for him, stepping aside so that he could enter.

“What are you, a vampire who needs permission to enter?” You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. Sylus was in your apartment. At night. And you were going to relax. Together. At night, alone. He clacked his teeth together at you in response playfully.

Shit.

Sylus had taken your words as an invitation to entry (if you hadn’t seen him eat and drink so many times, you would have wondered if he really was a vampire), and had busied himself unpacking the bag onto your coffee table neatly. You were still standing by the open door, and you closed it, locking up hurriedly. You approached him, standing behind the coach and leaning on it, eyeballing what Sylus had brought for you to share. 

“Low quality soju, per request.” 

He had arranged three flavors on the table – original, peach, and plum. Two identical silver cups sat ready and waiting next to the bottles. You nodded your approval, keeping your expression stately. 

“It tastes like juice. Don’t knock it till you try it.” You responded, wagging a finger at him. You knew he probably would have preferred an expensive wine (which he had offered to bring from his personal collection), but you had rejected this motion in favor of forcing him to do something under the umbrella of what you considered to be normalcy. Not that he seemed particularly upset by it, minus a few grumblings about your tastes.

Sylus chuckled at your words, shaking his head. He was smiling. 

“I haven’t knocked it. Yet.” 

You felt yourself flush at his words. You were certain he hadn’t meant it to be any kind of innuendo, but you felt a twinge between your thighs, anyway. You cursed yourself mentally. Sylus gestured to the couch. 

“Sit.”

The command of a man who was used to getting his way from other people. In your own home, no less. You were hoping the relative darkness of the room would hide the redness of your face. With no reason to argue, you made your way to the other side of the couch. Sylus sat down before you had a chance to, on the far right of the furniture. He motioned to the space next to him. You filled it with your body, unsure of how close in proximity he wanted you to be. Or how close you wanted to be. You settled for a respectful two inches or so of space, and drew your bare legs up next to you. Sylus had his legs spread open, as he usually did. Despite his casual attire, you thought his striking beauty looked out of place in your simple apartment. His knee tapped your thigh gently. Your eyes snapped to his face, breaking you from your thoughts on his looks.

“Did you have a movie in mind? I’ll pour our ‘juice.’” 

He reached for the cups and alcohol as he said so. You tried not to openly admire his bare arms, and promptly failed. The muscles in his forearms rippled under his skin as he reached for the cups. How often was he working out? 

You scrabbled quickly for the remote, taking it from the coffee table and turning on the TV. You did, in fact, have something in mind. You had decided on something that wasn’t too serious, and would allow for conversation – if it happened. You figured that you wouldn’t be at one-hundred percent focus after a few cups, anyway. You quickly opened the movie on your streaming service.

“One-thousand and One Vampire Knights?” Came Sylus’s quizzical voice from beside you. It nearly made you jump in your focus to find the film. You turned to him as you hit play on the movie. He handed you a cool silver glass, full of the clear liquid. His fingers were so large that it was nearly a struggle to neatly take the cup from him. You kept making contact with the sides of his index finger and thumb with your own. He was incredibly warm, despite the coolness of the cup. You managed to take it, after a short struggle.

“Don’t complain,” You poked his bicep with your fingertip as you spoke. 

“You agreed to this. You can handle a corny vampire flick, right?” Sylus flexed his bicep – just the tiniest amount – under your touch. He drank the contents of his cup swiftly. You watched the bob of his Adam's apple – the flexion of his tendons in his neck as he did so.

His lips were a touch wet as he spoke.

“Not complaining. There isn’t much I wouldn’t handle in the name of monopolizing your time.”

You needed to drink after that comment. You immediately downed the contents of your own glass.

Yeah. Like juice.

Sylus had poured you the peach flavor. You licked the residual off wetness from your lips. You felt more than saw Sylus’s gaze on you. Even in the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the movie, his eyes were piercing. They reflected what little light there was like a predator illuminated in the night. He was already refilling your glasses. You were certain you had yet to turn your attention to the film at all, yet. You turned from him hurriedly. Sylus, who had his arm that was free from soju duty on the back of the touch, took the opportunity to wrap it gently around your shoulders. He pressed you to his side, moving your whole weight easily with just one arm. The movement made your drink nearly spill, and you quickly drank it before it could go anywhere besides the inside of your mouth. 

Sylus always had a way of making you feel small, especially like this. Pressed against his side, you were curled up like a cat against his thigh and chest. Your heart was beating so loudly that you weren’t certain he couldn’t hear it as well. His warmth seeped into the bare skin of your legs and shoulder. You hadn’t realized how cold you had felt until you had felt his body against yours. You could smell his aftershave. It was something sort of sweet but spiced at the same time. You couldn’t quite place it.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes still focused on the movie, but his voice was close to your ear. 

“You looked cold with all that bare skin.” He was whispering, as if not to interrupt the characters on screen. You still hadn’t actually paid any attention to the film. He took your cup from you, and set both his and yours back on the table. With his other hand now free, he pulled your knees and thighs into his lap. He rubbed his hand over your bare calves repeatedly, and squeezed the tops of your cold feet. His hand was so warm. You had been so focused on acting normal that you really hadn’t taken notice of how cold you were. Your feet felt like ice, even with Sylus’s proximity. You had an inkling this wouldn’t last for long, though, because his relatively innocent ministrations were making your body have a reaction. Even just touching your legs and feet was enough to rile you up. He just had that effect on you.

You bit your lip and tried to actually watch the movie. You really did – but it was near impossible with Sylus’s hands running up and down your legs, rubbing your calves and feet idly. His eyes rarely seemed to stray from the screen, but his grip kept you pressed firmly against him. 

Someone on screen was being sucked dry by an innumerable number of vampires. You hardly registered this, as you were thinking about what would happen if you were to sit squarely in Sylus’s lap and tell him clearly what you wanted from him. You did not act on these thoughts. Instead, you reached for the alcohol and glasses from the table. Sylus let you leave his grip for a moment — though he seemed reluctant to do so. He had a hand on the inside of your knee, making sure you didn’t fall as you leaned from the couch to pour the drinks. Something about it felt even more intimate than his earlier touches. When was the last time anyone else had touched the back of your knee ? Maybe never. 

You poured the drinks, shoving one into Sylus’s hand. You needed less of a clear head for this situation.

“Drink.” You commanded.

Sylus bowed his head at you, going along with your desires.

“Yes, ma’am.” You heard rather than saw the smile in his voice as his lips pressed against the glass. You mirrored him, and quickly poured more. You both drank again. This repeated itself two more times before Sylus halted your pouring with his index finger on the lip of the bottle.

“What’s the rush, baby? We have all the time in the world.”

This always happened with Sylus. Even though you were certain he had a ridiculously high tolerance, he switched into even more intimate pet names for you when you drank together. You flexed your ankles, stretching, nervous energy having nowhere else to go. You could feel the dilation of your veins even in your fingertips.

“No rush. I just like this stuff.” A half-truth. It was good. Bad for your health, but good for lowering your inhibitions and anxiety levels around him.

You set the drinks back down reluctantly. You hesitated for a moment about what position you should return to in relation to Sylus – but he answered your unspoken question for you. Your knees were drawn up over his lap, resting against his abdomen, your feet on the couch on the other side of him. Your torso was still pressed into the grip of his arm. It was almost like he had you in a princess-style carry, but while seated. 

You could feel the easy rise and fall of his chest, the movement enough to move your knees up and down. His fingers were grazing along the backs of your thighs now. The movement was so gentle, it almost seemed absent minded. Just when you thought they were straying close to where you wanted him, they were going the other direction. You were definitely wet, now. You put a hand on his chest, and scrunched up his shirt there. An attempt to ground yourself, lest your soul leave your body because of the situation. He seemed to take this as encouragement. His voice tickled your ear, breath warm against it.

“You’re so soft here.” He cupped the back of your thigh, petting it. His voice sounded almost like he was making a comment on the nature of a piece of art, rather than the current state of your skin. You suppressed a small shudder. You willed him with your mind to just stick his fingers inside you already. He was nearly cupping your ass, anyway.

“And you’re very warm. And you smell good.” You said instead. The alcohol had you feeling a lot more honest, suddenly, and a touch more relaxed. Sylus’s hand paused for a moment, before it resumed its movements. He peered at you, blinking. A smile graced over his features. It made your heart twist up in knots. You hoped you were the only one who saw this side of him.

“I’m happy to warm you up any time you’d like.” He turned his gaze back to the movie, but his fingers were dragging over the space of your inner thighs now, just above your sex. Never actually touching it, save for the briefest ghosting of knuckles. You could feel the rate of your breath quicken. If he moved down the slightest bit, he would be touching you there. You tried with all your willpower to focus on the movie. You hadn’t a clue what was happening. A great many people dined at a banquet on screen. 

Sylus’s fingers finally found their way under your shorts. He pressed in between your cunt through your panties with his index and middle fingers. Just brushing there, up and down through the fabric barrier. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you – you weren’t entirely sure that he was actually going to do anything of the sort. You were already so wet that you knew he could feel it through the fabric. Even with just the gentle touch, there was a slick sound. His other arm kept you pressed tightly to him, still. 

He hadn’t even taken his eyes off of the movie.

You glared at him, half-heartedly. It was hard to be mad when he was giving you exactly what you wanted from him – no matter how much you disliked admitting it. While you were attempting to burn a hole in his face with your gaze, he had pressed your panties to the side, and was stroking you lightly with two fingers, just the same as before. You squeezed your thighs together involuntarily. As if in response, he began slowly pressing a finger inside of you – slowly . Despite how easy it would have been to slip right in with how wet you were – he took it knuckle by knuckle, curling it inside of you as it bottomed out. You put a hand over your mouth to stifle any sounds that threatened to escape. You felt that if you alerted him to your pleasure, he might stop altogether. He put another finger inside you, much more roughly this time. You keened into his touch.

His gaze did meet yours now – finally leaving the screen. He was watching you intently, looking down at you. You felt yourself relaxing into his domination of the situation – cradled in his arms, fingers inside you. His thumb found your clit, circling it there. You hadn’t had much time to get off recently, so you were feeling extra sensitive – especially under his touch. He seemed to sense this, and doubled his efforts, fingers curling inside you as he did so. You spoke from behind your hand. 

“Sylus,” you breathed. “ ‘m gonna cum quick.” 

“Don’t cover your mouth. I want to hear you.” His voice was a low command. As he spoke, his thumb worked harder at your clit. The fingers inside you alternated – one pressing in, the other pressing out. He was trying to stretch you. You took your hand from your mouth. Your moans echoed in the small space.

“Sylus –” You choked out. 

He had put a third finger in. The pleasure was already too much – your head felt hazy and hot from the attention and the alcohol. Your orgasm found you suddenly, white hot and mind-emptying. Your body arched into his touch. He worked you through it, fingers still stretching you out. You twitched under him, much too sensitive for him to continue. You pulled your bottom half away from his lap, which removed his fingers from you unceremoniously. There was a lewd sound as you did so. Instead, you flipped yourself around so that your head was nearly in his lap, laying on your stomach. You supported your weight with your forearms. 

Because of the nature of your previous position, you hadn’t been able to feel his arousal at all – but you could see it squarely in front of your face now. It was straining against his sweats, the outline overwhelmingly visible, a wet spot just at the tip. He was looking down at you, and carded a hand through your hair. The cool air hit the parts of your scalp that were free from the weight of your hair under his touch. You tugged at his waistband impatiently, which elicited a rumbling laugh from him.

“Do you see how hard you get me? Look.” 

 He helped you pull his waistband down, freeing his length. It bounced out against his abdomen, visibly leaking precum from the tip. It left a mark on his expensive black shirt. The sight had you newly wet. 

You did look. Technically, you had seen it before – but not in real life. Only over text. Per your request, of course. Somehow, it managed to look significantly larger in person. A thick vein pulsed on the underside. He was sporting girth and length. You swallowed thickly. He twitched under your gaze, clearly enjoying being admired from this angle.

You gripped it, experimentally. It was hot and hard under your touch. Your fingertips could hardly wrap around – they didn’t even touch each other on the other side. 

Fuck.

You gave him a few experimental strokes. You heard him exhale in response through his teeth. You sat up, crossing your legs underneath you while facing him on the couch in order to give your hands better leverage to touch him. You spat on them before continuing. Sylus’s eyes were hot on your skin. Your palm, slick with saliva, rolled over the head of his cock. He groaned lowly in his throat. Even in the low light, you could see the flush gracing the skin of his face. The combination of the sight and the ingestion of alcohol had you feeling like you wanted to tease him – just a little. You paused your movements.

“Show me how you do it yourself. So I can do it how you like it.” The confidence in your own voice surprised even you. A little knowing smile came over Sylus’s features, and his hand replaced yours for a moment, the movement gentle in its own right. You put your hands in your lap, feeling a little empty with the loss of him.

“Watch closely, then.”

You watched him intently as he stroked himself leisurely under your observance. His confidence even while jerking off in front of you only reminded you why you liked him so much. His breath had increased, and you could see the quickening rise and fall of his taut abdomen and chest. He licked his lips as he focused on his own pleasure. You resisted the urge to kiss him, as you were busy studying other things. He started with a tug at the base that turned into a clockwise movement of his hand around the shaft, curling around himself to get in contact with more surface area. He was still wet with your spit.

“You’re looking so intently. Do you like watching me like this?” 

Even while he was getting off in front of you at your command, he was teasing you. You huffed, shooing his hands away again. He set them aside with a quickness that he didn’t bother masking. It was clear, even with his earlier words, that he wanted your touch in place of his own. You replaced your hands around his cock, attempting to replicate the motions he had done on himself. His hips bucked up involuntarily into your hand. You wet him with more spit.

“I like watching. But I’d prefer to do it myself. Is this…good?” You peered into his eyes for a response. Despite the confidence in your words, the concern that you wouldn’t be able to finish him off with just your hands was there. His pupils were blown wide. He nodded his assent, eager.

“You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. You make me feel – ah – good.” His words were momentarily interrupted by you palming the head of his cock while he spoke. His hips kept stuttering into your hands. He was leaking so much now that you no longer needed spit to lubricate him. You doubled your efforts, and felt him get impossibly harder in your grip. You couldn’t believe you had him falling apart in your hands like this. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby. Where..” He had to start again, breathing heavily through his nose.

“Fuck – where should I cum?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but you weren’t entirely sure why he was even asking. You squeezed him harder.

“Cum in my hands.” You replied simply. You could tell he was right on the edge. 

Something about your words must have done it for him, because he did, without much warning other than reaching his hands around yours as you stroked him. He squeezed his around yours, and came in thick ropes over your fingers. You stroked him through it until he chuckled  in a stuttering sort of way that sounded overstimulated – but he didn’t complain. He laid his head on the back of the couch, chest heaving. Your hands were covered in his cum. There was a lot. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were struggling with the fact that you had just given Sylus a casual handjob on your couch. You saw him looking at you in your periphery for only a moment before you suddenly felt his lips crash into yours. It was rough – one of his rough palms pressed the back of your head to him, and your teeth clicked together at his insistence. Your hands were still covered in him, having nowhere to go. The kiss made you feel hot all over again after just having had a moment to cool down, and you ignored the urge to stroke Sylus back to life and ride him on your couch.

You had to brace him with your forearm. He was looking into your face, wondering why you had pushed him off.

“I need to clean up.” You showed him your cum covered hands. He followed your gaze, as if he had forgotten. His eyes widened. He had the good grace to look a bit sheepish.

“Shit. Sorry, love. Let me help.”

At some point during his insistent kissing, he must have put himself back into his pants, because he stood, and scooped you up from the couch. He could have thrown you if he wanted. You yelped involuntarily, but he was already on his way to your bathroom. Your hands still had nowhere to go – you couldn’t even hang on to him. Still, you knew he wouldn't let you fall. He set you gingerly to your feet on the bathroom floor, and turned on the faucet for you, guiding your hands to the stream. He pumped soap on them. He was leaning against your back, practically eclipsing your form while you washed. You could smell the arousal still coming off of him. His hands moved over yours in the sink – helping you clean yourself. The movement felt so absurdly intimate that it almost made you laugh nervously. He turned off the faucet for you, and you dried your hands on the hand towel beside the sink. Before you could even get a word in, he had you back in his arms, and was returning the two of you to the couch. Instead of returning you to your seat, however, he kept you in his lap. 

“I think we may have missed the movie,” He said, deadpan. You smacked his bicep lightly. 

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” He grinned, looking very pleased with himself. You couldn’t have gotten away from his grip, even if you had wanted to. You settled for laying your head on his shoulder. He put his nose in your hair, and inhaled deeply. You had never felt a peace quite like the one in this moment.

[lilacgaby]

Yay request open oh oh if youre in Gumi era just having idea can I have more of his domestic fluff like planning on their future life any kind of domestic will do (๑•́ω•̀) 💗💗

title: my heart is yours eternally

pairing: boyfriend-> husband!megumi x girlfriend->wife!reader

summary: megumi thought this life he planned was only one in fairytales, but as he looked at the life he built with you, he knew it was real.

note: i love megumi pls pls pls request him more ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

"i want a small wedding." he said out of the blue as you two laid in his bed, holding your hand in his and he looked over you. "one that's intimate, i don't mind you choosing the theme or anything."

as you nodded thoughtfully, you entangled your fingers together. "mhm. just for us. and i want you to have a pretty ring too, i think you'd look nice with one in silver."

"you think?" he replied, eyebrow raised.

"i know so. and we can have a huge wedding cake-"

"vanilla."

"yes vanilla, with ice cream too. just for us."

he seemed content with that, smiling softly. until a thought crossed over his mind and he looked down at you with a look in his eye.

"i'll get you a nice ring, i promise. you just need to wait." he said, determined.

"i'll wait for you 'til the end of time, 'gumi."

he flushed and squeezed your hand tighter, he had to get the best for you. he couldn't sleep right if he didn't.

"you want any kids 'gumi?" you asked absentmindedly, not noticing the way he choked on air at the thought. images of you pregnant ran through his mind, his mind spiraling as he failed to find the words.

"megumi?"

"oh, uh.. a brother and a sister. that's all we need."

"sounds good, i wouldn't want our baby to get lonely when we're gone after all."

he felt his mind sputter at the thought of your baby, with features from you and him.

the topic of conversation eventually changed to something different, a show you were watching. as he listened to you recount how happy you were that the characters you hated died, his mind still kept going back to the conversation you had earlier.

he fell asleep holding your hand, images of the life you'd have together running through vividly, like he could almost touch it.

since then, he was determined to make that a reality for the two of you.

he proposed to you on your anniversary, taking every possible note he could about the types of rings you liked before choosing one. as he held you hand in his and slid on the ring, kissing you with only the sunset behind you as witness, he felt truly loved.

the months spent planning your wedding weren't as stressful as you handled it together. finding the perfect venue, small like you both wanted.

going on dates to sample cakes, laughing at megumi's face of disgust. choosing the topper for the cake, opting for two loving bunnies at the top since none of them could get megumi's hair right.

choosing who to invite, megumi 'begrudgingly' inviting his old friends from jujutsu high, and you yours.

him going out with gojo and yuuji to pick the perfect suit, you choosing your dress with your most trusted friends.

walking down the aisle, megumi felt emotional since you were just so gorgeous, he never felt as luck as he did when you were announced husband and wife.

well actually, that's a lie.

when you gifted him a box, full of baby clothes and a stick with two life changing lines on it, he knew you were his good luck charm.

as he promised, he loved you through even your sickness. a lot of foods made you nauseous, so he'd started to learn how to cook because it was exhausting for you.

your bump was bigger than average, not like he'd say it to your face, but it was confirmed when you went to get your ultrasound. twins.

you squinted your eyes at him and jokingly hit him on his shoulder lightly, saying, "this is your fault!"

he only laughed. at your gender reveal, just a small thing between you two, you held hands and cut a cake slice out of the cake. to your surprise, it was blue and pink.

your stomach got huge, at 9 months you just wanted your kids out. megumi would take you out on walks everyday, well just strolls around your house technically, but it was a lot for you.

on day number 3, your water broke. you thought you'd finally feel relieved, but good thing megumi was there because you panicked. he was too but mentally.

as you delivered your babies, the son first, you squeezed his hand for dear life.

when you went home with 2 kids a couple days later, you sleeping as megumi held the two in the rocking chair he'd picked out, he felt like it was a dream.

when you awoke, and he'd matched the features of your son who took after you and your daughter after him, his heart fluttered as he felt his body soar.

this is what love is, and this is what he dreamt of.

[f1amour]

Hiya!! Can I pretty please request a blurb that’s both angsty and a lil fluffy?

🍮 Lewis Hamilton - “I’m scared of losing you”

❝ i’m scared of losing you ❞ — lewis hamilton

pairing | lewis hamilton x reader

content warnings | angst, comfort, age gap mentioned (not specified)

★ navigation | main masterlist

─────────────────────────

“lewis is ready for this season to end” “lewis wants a fresh start and it’ll be with ferrari” “seems like hamilton just wants a a fresh start with life in general…does that include his girlfriend?”

the tweets did not stop rolling in and you couldn’t help but get lost in them. you couldn’t help but believe the words many were saying. maybe lewis was over this season, done with mercedes, and maybe he was over you too. he noticed the distance you had put up after the brazil gp. there was a two week break and you had spent it at home trying to relax but that was not possible with your constant checking in on twitter to see what people are saying about you.

you weren’t one to be on your phone so much at least when you had free time with lewis you guys tried your best to be in the moment. so when he came home from taking roscoe on a walk only to find you in the same spot you were in before he left almost two hours ago was concerning. it was concerning enough when you didn’t join them on the walk which you usually do, telling lewis you wanted to stay back and start on dinner. dinner was nowhere to be seen as you say on the barstool in the kitchen phone on in your hands with tears in your eyes.

lewis quickly lets roscoe off his leash and walks to you, “baby, what’s going?” his finger lifts your chin up to look him in the eyes but the tears in your eyes just make him frown. “please talk to me. i’m worried about you.” his soft voice fills your ears as you let him wrap his arms around you giving you a hug you didn’t know you needed until now.

your body shakes shading his as you let all your tears and frustrations out until you finally calm down his hands rub your back as you take deep breaths, “i…i’m scared, lewis. i’m scared of losing you,” you tell him what you’d been feeling for weeks now. lewis was not expecting those words to come out of your mouth. in fact, he felt that he was losing you due to this distance you’d been putting up.

his hands cup your face and gives you a smile that makes you believe your thoughts of losing him were just your imagination, “oh honey, now why would you think that? i can’t imagine my life without you. who told you something?” he asks, knowing damn well you’d never just start having these thoughts for no reason.

you look down at the countertop as you hand him your phone which had your twitter feed full of negativity, “lewis looks over this team and ready for a fresh start either ferrari he probably feels the same in his love life as well, lewis wants to focus on his 8th world championship not shopping for wedding rings for his young girlfriend who brings bad luck—,” lewis stops after the last tweet and looks over at you, your hands covering your face trying to avoid his gaze.

“look at me. plenty of people feel the opposite of these tweets. you got sucked into a thread that is all people who don’t actually support me. my fans, my true fans adore you. maybe even more than me. you’re only a few years younger than me and that isn’t an issue with me, love. i love you. you’ve brought the good luck for me. you bring faith every single race week especially this year where it’s been fucking hell most of the time. i can’t imaging my life without you, ever.” his words soothe your mind despite still feeling a bit anxious from those tweets you realize maybe listening to complete strangers rather than the love of your life wasn’t the best idea. however, lewis always validated your feelings and why you may have gotten lost in the dark side of the media where people aren’t always so accepting of your relationship.

“i’m sorry, lew. shouldn’t have listened to them i just…i don’t know how you deal with everything and still keep your head up. i’m exhausted,” you confess, you were never one to be on social media and read comments unless they were from friends or family. seeing how the last few races have been brutal for lewis you wanted to defend your boyfriend but ended up on the wrong side. “baby, you were with me for 2021. you are probably the only reason i didn’t quit and why i still haven’t. you’ve got faith in me, i hold that very dear to my heart. i’m with you till the end.” his last words make you cry some more but happy tears now as he chuckles at your smile, “there’s my girl. now, let’s take a break from the phone and cook some dinner together.”

he helps you off the stool and you grab his hand turning him back, “i love you too.” you pull him into a kiss and all lewis could think about is the engagement ring hiding under roscoe’s bed ready to make an appearance once the season is over.

[richarlotte]

365 Days from Rot to Hot (Pt. 3).

Find your colors. You could use AI, take a trip to Lowe’s (this is one of the things I did), or actually use a service, but sorting out what colors suit you is essential. A major part of building my blend and creating my personal style was based around finding things that suited me, and I do believe that you shouldn’t start buying clothes or putting a look together unless you know your undertone, have a grasp of your colors and your body type, understand your seasons, and are prepared to experiment with what you’ve learned. Finding your colors should be the first step you take, as it will make the process of creating looks easier and give you a general idea of what things will look good on you.

Search for inspiration and don’t hold yourself back. It’s your life; it’s your fashion; it’s your style. You can be as basic or as eccentric as you want. If you think Kendall Jenner and Hailey Bieber are goddesses, then take inspiration from them. If you’re a budding Betsey Johnson or a Lisa Frank and want to design your own clothes and make them even brighter, then do that. If you’re obsessed with Bella Hadid’s western era and want to chase your own wild horses, then go ahead. I’d recommend doing what I did and creating a number of Pinterest boards and using Instagram to create polyvore-like style and vision boards.

Set a reasonable budget and stick with it. You cannot spend more than you have, and it’s not wise to get into debt pursuing a lifestyle that you know you can’t afford in the long run. Create a reasonable budget and work with it; don’t try to work around it. I found myself shopping from Walmart, Meijer, Gap, and J. Crew Factory and looking for sales before I bought anything. Don’t jump into the process and waste your money buying everything straight off the racks; utilize stores like TJ Maxx, look for sales, use what you already have, and really make an effort to make your dollar stretch. Another part of working with your budget is not blowing it by shopping at Shein; if you buy something and then have to throw it out and rebuy it after 5 wears, you’re not actually getting any bang for your buck.

Utilize Pinterest and social media to find women that look like you. An integral part of creating your own blend and finding what works for you is seeing it on other women. I followed a number of women that looked like me and didn’t look like me, lived in areas of the world I found fascinating, and had tastes that I wouldn’t describe as mainstream. I used a number of different languages to search for the trends that I liked; I used Twitter and Instagram to look at hashtags; and I took total advantage of the resources I was able to access. I used magazines, went through online archives, and spent time building my ideal image. Was it perfect? No, but as time passed, it became more and more helpful, and it eventually became the Pinterest board that I use now and my main vision board.

Tie it all together and see how things work. I had to experiment with so many different looks, delete and recreate so many vision boards, and try things for myself. Am I a hairstylist? No, but I’m also not a billionaire, so I had to learn how to style my wigs to see what suited me. I went to stores to try things on, experimented with IG to see if certain pieces of jewelry would suit me, and had the time of my life during my experimentation phase. Collecting online images isn’t enough, and it’s very hard to actually get a grasp of what you like if you’re doing everything online. Try your lookout, put things together, adjust it as you please, and tie your loose ends up.

Pt. 4 to come next.

[revehae]

hurts so good (1)

pairing ↠ jeno x you x mark

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, unprotected sex, degradation, slapping, impact play, cheating

summary ↠ mark is too gentle for you in bed and when you share this problem with a mutual friend, jeno, he's more than willing to help you get off.

wc ↠ 4.2k

a/n ↠ this part one of a repost! i love this fic and it would be a sin to not share it with the world again. also i kinda love this banner… mark’s looking off to the side; jeno looks straight into the camera. it’s perfect

don’t like it, don’t read.

no matter how much you knew you loved mark, you couldn’t shake the itch you had. 

an itch that needed scratching. which he was not very good at doing.

mark kissed his way down your belly, trailing a gentle column of pecks to your thighs. you resisted a frown that desperately wanted to cling to your lips. for the past couple of weeks, your boyfriend had been attempting to initiate sex with you, but every time up until now, you had turned him down.

it wasn’t that you weren’t sexually attracted to mark or anything like that. first of all, you dumbfounded by how fine your boyfriend was. unbeknownst to him, every now and then, you would touch yourself to thoughts of him and mental images of his handsome little face.

the problem was that those fantasies tended to get you off harder than he did.

“you’re so pretty,” mark murmured, running a hand through your folds. you were wet - because your body couldn’t deny wanting him, much less when he put his hands on you - though not nearly as wet as you could have been.

mark didn’t need to know that. in fact, the only reason you had agreed to letting him fuck you now was because you didn’t want him to assume that you were cheating and had found more than adequate loving elsewhere (not that you had just yet). and maybe you were also a little sexually frustrated and you knew this was the closest to release you would get without actually seeking out another partner. mark was the love of your life and you never wanted to break his heart like that, so half the time you sucked it up and closed your eyes.

the sex was good. you would never deny that. but good wasn’t good enough.

mark dipped his head between your thighs, now starting to lap at your cunt which guaranteed a mind-blowing orgasm, and you let him have his way with you for a while.

one time, you told mark that you and a group of friends were competitively abstaining from having sex and foreplay was the sole thing that wasn’t strictly forbidden. for insurance, you convinced rosé and her boyfriend jaehyun to vouch for you. you and mark spent the week blowing each other and to this day nothing mark did got you off as hard as it did when he ate you out.

but after a while, you tugged mark’s hair, purring, “fuck me.”

mark pulled back, a little baffled. he liked eating you out. he noticed that it made you cum harder. “i haven’t prepared you yet. i don’t wanna hurt you.”

that’s the problem, you thought, miffed. “it’s okay. i can take it, baby.”

“are you sure?” mark’s brows were furrowed. it was cute. you also liked the way his brows furrowed when he was balls deep inside you.

“mm-hm. fuck me, please.”

mark reluctantly obeyed, because the last thing he wanted was to cause you any pain, but you kept insisting it would be fine. he was the type to always put your pleasure before his own, even if it meant ignoring how hard his dick throbbed and how desperately he needed to fuck you, because he loved you and you were his world. it was appreciated on your end, that was no doubt, but a bit of a nuisance.

with mark hovering above you now, you gripped his shoulders, biting your lip when he at last penetrated you. mark was slow and steady, at least when he first started fucking you, taking his sweet time to push every inch inside you. tears stung your eyes. there was a slight burn to his every thrust, and his steady pace prolonged the pain, but you were in love with it. plus your boyfriend leaned a little towards the girthy side. 

mark noticed your tears instantly and ground to a halt. “does it hurt?”

“no,” you lied, because you didn’t need him to worry his pretty little ass off. “feels good, markie. keep going.”

you gave a kiss of reassurance to his neck and that was all mark needed to pick back up where he left off, pushing in deeper with every thrust until he was completely swallowed by you. the whole time, mark was still kissing you, as if he was trying to take your mind off it. you wished he wasn’t afraid to be a little bit rougher with you. come to think of it, there wasn’t a single time where mark had ever hurt you on purpose - not even a smack to your ass or slap to your thigh. 

it made you feel guilty knowing your boyfriend was only being the caring gentleman that you had fallen for, but you couldn’t help what turned you on. you liked when he underestimated his strength, handling you a little bit harder than intended, or when he came and absent-mindedly gripped your hips like a vice, knuckles white and his hold tight enough to bruise. mark would apologize over and over, insisting he didn’t intend to, but you never complained. you liked to see the little bruises in the mirror or catch glimpses of them throughout the day.

at one point, mark picked up his pace, slapping his hips into yours with a rhythm. “harder,” you told him, wanting him to break you. “i can take it.”

mark did as told, though not without gently kissing your lips and telling you how beautiful you were. to mark, it was always a sight to see you like this. he was so proud to call you his. he was in love with how you sucked him in, how tight you were, but most importantly, he was in love with you and hoped his body would convey that during sex.

you moaned at how deep he was, closing your eyes and tuning him out. what would it take for him to break you - to fuck you like he hated you?

“almost there, baby,” mark groaned a little later, bringing his hands to your clit because he knew your body intimately and that was his saving grace.

“cum inside,” you whimpered, imagining him making threats of getting you pregnant. you could hear his voice in your head. that, combined with the drive of hips into yours, was the force pushing you towards the end.

mark kept pounding you out, becoming less and less steady. it was a telltale sign of him being close to release. your pleas for him to come inside you only made it worse, because the thought was at the front of his mind and he desperately needed to fill you to your utter capacity.

you needed him to cum inside you so badly. mark was groaning and grunting, unraveling before your eyes. at last he emptied his load into you, hips still rocking into yours until he reached the last of his high. you moaned at the feeling of him filling you to the brim, his fingers digging into your hips harshly.

mark, now returning to earth, glanced at you and frowned. “you didn’t cum.”

“i did.”

“don’t lie to me. that’s the worst thing you can do.”

you frowned. 

mark crept closer, running a finger over your cheek. he wanted absolute eye contact. “what am i doing wrong?”

“it’s not you, baby. i promise,” you sighed, running your fingers through his hair. “it’s me. i liked it. i’m just a little hard to please.”

mark retorted sharply, “and what does it mean if i can’t please you?”

“you do a very good job at pleasing me, mark. i told you, it feels good when you’re in me. don’t overthink it,” you told him sweetly. in all honesty, it wasn’t far from the truth. mark hit you in all the right places. there was just something missing.

mark leaned into your neck and murmured, “are you sure?”

“yes. so don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“okay,” mark huffed and moved his head to your chest.

two weeks later, you found yourself at jeno’s place. he was a mutual friend of you and mark and somebody you were both very close with. you had come over to drop off a plate of strawberry tiramisu per mark’s request but, as to be expected, got tangled in conversation.

jeno, curious as ever, asked, “speaking of mark, what’s going on with you and my boy?” 

you furrowed your brows. “what do you mean?” 

“he’s in one of those ‘my-girl-hates-me’ moods again. i thought you guys had gotten into an argument or something, but he won’t tell me, and since he’s so down in his spirits i just left it alone,” jeno said with a shrug.

you bit your lip. you had two options. you could either keep what happens with you and mark between you and mark, or you could open up a little. jeno was a trustworthy guy and friend, and thus you were more inclined to be honest with him. “we’ve hit a wall lately,” you said vaguely.

“as in?”

“as in the sex is very… how do i put this… we’re not having sex very often,” you explained, clearing your throat. 

that clearly got jeno’s attention. “don’t tell me mark’s game is declining.”

“no, it’s not mark. the sex is good. it’s just...,” you chewed over your words, unsure of how to put it in a way that could rationalize how you felt. without coming off completely insane. “he’s too gentle,” you whispered. 

to your surprise, jeno didn’t look at you like you had fifty heads. he actually seemed amused. jeno cocked his head, a smiling tugging at his lips, and asked, “and you like it rough?”

you nodded. to say the least. 

“have you communicated that with him?”

“i mean, no. but i have my reasons. how am i supposed to go up to him and tell him the reason i’m not cumming is because he’s not fucking me within an inch of my life?”

jeno chuckled. “my boy is a softie when in love,” he said.

exasperated, you leaned your head against jeno’s shoulder and groaned, “exactly. and i feel like an idiot for complaining about that of all things. he’s literally doing everything right. even if i did tell him, i seriously don’t even think he’s capable of hurting me on purpose.”

“i mean, how rough do you like it?” jeno’s question didn’t strike you as anything but an attempt to be helpful. “do you like getting spanked?”

“yes,” you said frankly.

“slapped?”

“yes.”

“hair pulling?”

“that’s the least extreme think i like.”

“flogging?”

“okay, now you’re crossing a line,” you said. that was a bit too extreme.

jeno threw up his hands. “hey, you’re the freak, not me.”

you frowned. you were thinking about mark again. he was the perfect boyfriend. maybe you should’ve let him go so he could find somebody that could appreciate him and all his efforts to show his girlfriend love, but you were too selfish for that. you threw jeno a glance. “do you think i’m crazy?”

jeno shook his head. “no, i think there’s a line between pain and pleasure. for some of us it’s thinner than it is for others. for some of us it’s larger,” he said, a little more sober than you expected.

which made you think. it wasn’t very often that you ranted about your life problems to jeno, though whenever you did, he always proved himself to be a good listener and good at giving you sound advice (no matter how inconsequential your problems might’ve seemed).

then, your attention flitted elsewhere, eyes at his bulging biceps. you were too in your head to really notice that he had his arm around you, and mark surely didn’t send you over here to snuggle with his best friend. you didn’t fail to notice that jeno was muscular because you weren’t blind and he made no attempt to hide it, the opposite rather, always proudly flaunting his physique. but this was the first time you were having thoughts that you probably shouldn’t.

you called, “jeno?”

“hm?”

“do you think mark would encourage me to seek out somebody else if he couldn’t fulfill my needs, or would he want to work through it?”

now that was the million dollar question. on the one hand, your question was not lost on jeno and he saw dead through you. you had been less than discreetly checking him out. but on the other, you were mark’s girl and it was the proper thing to do to give you an honest response. “both,” jeno told you, honest as could be. “because he wants you to be happy more than anything, but i know the second he let a pretty little thing like you go, he would lose his mind.”

your cheeks got warm. jeno just called me pretty, you thought. then, you instantly chided yourself. mark called you pretty too. and you liked it. the only reason you were getting excited because of jeno doing it was because there was a chance he could be the one to satisfy those cravings lurking inside you.

jeno cocked his head. “do you want me to help you?”

“help me how?”

“with that problem of yours,” he said, amused that you were playing dumb. as if you weren’t giving him those eyes only a moment ago. “girls always tell me i’m the right amount of rough.”

you gawked. “are you offering to have sex with me?”

jeno shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. to be honest, he had wanted you for a while now, but again, you were mark’s girl. “somebody’s gotta do it. i wouldn’t mind.”

you hated that you were actually considering it. your thighs tingled with excitement, wanting it more than anything. but your boyfriend never once left your mind. “what about mark?”

“he’ll be glad it’s just me instead of somebody else,” jeno said confidently.

“you say that like mark himself told you that.”

jeno shrugged again. “it’s a yes or a no, princess.”

you mulled it over. this was a very, very stupid idea. and an egregious mistake in the making. but when you were thinking with your pussy instead of your head, all rational thoughts were completely off the table.

“yes,” you said, your better judgement clouded.

jeno smirked, satisfied with your answer. and lifted you into his burly arms, ignoring how you cried out in surprise while he carried you to his bedroom. you had no time to recover before he threw you against his mattress, wasting no time to climb on top of you and pull at your clothes with a vengeance. and you let him, because you were inclined to let jeno do whatever he wanted to you right now.

forget the consequences. you would worry about that part later.

you heard fabric tear and gawked in surprise when you realized jeno had torn your underwear off, sitting up to look at him, only to be roughly forced down your back again. he leaned directly over you, searching your face with fire smoldering in his sharp eyes. “i’m not mark. you’re not going to have your way with me. you’re going to lie down and take what i give you,” he hissed, voice low but clear as ever.

all you could do was nod. the words were sucked out of you. your throat had gone dry. and your muscles were painfully stiff. for now.

satisfied, jeno crept back down your body, positioning himself between your thighs. he ran his fingers over your folds and chuckled. you were already so wet from nothing at all. he didn’t intend to prep you very much, but pushed his fingers in and out of your pussy merely to feel how tight it wrapped around them. you impatiently whimpered out his name, clearly needy, and earned yourself a solid slap to the cunt.

you immediately squeezed your thighs back together, letting out another, more agonized noise, but jeno yanked them back apart just as quickly and your strength was no match for his, keeping your legs spread even as he smacked you a second time.

“jeno,” you whimpered again, tears bundling together in your lashes. you had chosen a godawful day to wear mascara.

jeno was completely unfazed, opening his bedside drawer to rummage around for a condom and held it up, cocking his brow at you. “condom or no condom?”

“are you clean?”

“yep,” said jeno. “i got tested a couple of weeks ago.”

“then, please fuck me raw,” you begged, throbbing at the thought. even when mark came inside you, you almost found it better than the sex itself.

jeno tossed the condom to the side with a chuckle and stepped out of his boxers, which made your jaw slacken. you had seen the imprint of his dick only moments prior and had tried your best to pretend like it didn’t bother you, but the sight of his hard cock standing tall against his stomach was enough to make you cry. jeno cocked his brow at you again, snickering to himself, and lined himself up at your entrance.

the wind was knocked out of you. good god he’s packing.

you sucked in a breath when jeno forced his way inside you, tears rolling down your cheeks at how much he stretched you out. you couldn’t even take all of it at once, but jeno would make you, ignoring the whimpers you cried as he stuffed you to the hilt. his brows scrunched together, fingers clawing into your hips to anchor himself with how deep he was inside you, and you swallowed every deliciously guttural sound that left his lips.

then, jeno had a brief lull of indecision, and pulled back out to roughly flip you over, just to penetrate you again just as quickly once you scrambled on your hands and knees. “fuck,” you whined, filling once more a surreal fusion of pain and pleasure.

jeno had told you there was a thin line between pain and pleasure. and as far as you were concerned, he had never been more right.

jeno, hands at your hips, asked huskily, “does it hurt?”

you bobbed your head, unable to stop the flow of tears. but i love it, you added in your head.

jeno was satisfied. “good,” he replied smugly.

never had you felt so full. you could feel him in the pit of your stomach and it was driving you mad. jeno had no intention of letting you adjust to his size either, already brutally smacking his hips against yours with a vengeance.

you let out a noise when jeno gripped your jaw, abruptly lifting up your tear-stained face. “look at yourself,” he growled, forcing you to look into the mirror across from his bed. no wonder he made you change positions. “shame you ruined all that pretty makeup with those tears.”

you looked a damn mess and it didn’t help that you had jeno rutting into you from behind, making you lose any and all sense of order you still had. jeno loved how helpless you looked. all you could do was lie there and take it, and you could barely even do that. when you tried to look away, he forced your face back where he wanted it, chin between his fingers, and said darkly, “i don’t like to repeat myself. look at yourself. i want you to watch yourself get fucked by your boyfriend’s friend because you can’t get off to being fucked normally.”

that made your walls clamp around him, and consequently a deep howl escaped jeno. it was criminal how sexy he sounded, and the more you pleasured him, the rougher his hands got on your body. you could already feel the bruises at your hips that would probably take weeks to completely fade.

a certain sharp thrust made you whimper and hang your head, singing out his name. jeno slapped your cheek and the sting went straight to your cunt, making you clench around him. you brought your head back to the mirror, remembering you were supposed to be watching yourself, though you were tempted to glance off just so that he would hit you again.

jeno shook his head when he felt you clench around him, chuckling to himself. he smacked his palm against your face again for amusement, just to see you soak in the pain. “you’re so pathetic, you know that?” he asked, followed by a laugh. “need to get roughed up to get off?”

you whined, “please…”

“please what?” jeno asked, in spite of knowing damn well what you wanted. but he wanted to hear you say it. he wanted you to hear how pathetic you sounded.

you bit your lip. was he really going to make you say it? “please hit me,” you whispered.

jeno hummed, furrowing his brows in mock confusion. “kiss you?”

you shook your head and cried, “jeno, please hit me again.”

satisfied, jeno gripped your jaw in his fingers to keep it in place as he forced you to look in the mirror, then slapped your cheeks a couple of times. “is that hard enough for you, baby?” 

“harder,” you whimpered. 

jeno laughed. 

jeno kept hitting you and throwing you around, whispering the cruelest of words in your ear and telling you how disgusting you were for liking getting roughed up. it should have humiliated you, but it also brought you closer to climax in record time.

jeno wasn’t far behind you, because you kept tightening around him every every degrading word and violent touch, and it drove him mad with lust. not a single part of him was worried about mark right now, and from the looks of it, you had forgotten about your boyfriend too, completely absorbed in how jeno was hitting you in all the right places. literally.

face to face with climax, jeno gripped your hair, pulling it back. you whined, but jeno merely nibbled at your ear before saying, “i’m gonna cum in this tight little pussy and you’re gonna take every drop.”

“yes, please,” you replied, not opposed at all. “fill me up, jeno. please.”

“fuck,” jeno groaned, slapping his hips into yours even harsher. you were so fucking perfect that he was tempted to steal you from mark and make you his bitch. and he might have already done that without even trying.

with a couple more hits, you were unraveling around jeno and it triggered his own orgasm. he came inside you with a grunt and leaned over you to clamp his teeth into your shoulder, trying to smother his own sounds. you, on the other hand, couldn’t control the noises that left you, moaning and shaking harder than ever as your climax got the best of you.

jeno pulled out, sated, and watched you crumble on his sheets, chest heaving. “good?” he asked. 

you nodded, still trying to catch your breath. and clear your mind. “yeah,” you croaked, blinking. “thank you.”

jeno snickered. “any time. i can tell you needed it.”

damn right, you thought.

you cleaned yourself up and as if nothing had happened, jeno thanked you for the tiramisu before you headed home to mark. before you got in the car, you grabbed your phone to let him know you were on the way back, and were thrown for a loop when you saw what time it was, plus the missed texts you had from your boyfriend. you had completely loss track of time.

when you stepped inside the house, mark was in the living room watching the amazing spider-man 2, and immediately turned around when he heard the door unlocking. “babe,” he said, leaping up to hug you. “i missed you.”

“i wasn’t gone that long,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around your boy. he felt safe. “but i missed you too.”

mark never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t, but there was a little frown on his face when he murmured into your neck, “you smell like jeno.”

you swallowed. “well, i was at jeno’s house. where jeno lives.”

“you were there for a while.”

“yeah, well,” you started, guilt suddenly blindsiding you. “you know how jeno is. can never say hi and bye and be done. he always has to start a conversation.”

“sounds like him,” mark said, nodding. “did he at least like the tiramisu?” 

“of course he did. he’s jeno.”

mark chuckled. “wanna watch gwen stacy die for the billionth time with me?”

you frowned. “only if we watch andrew save tom’s mj right after,” you replied. 

“deal.”

the two of you ran to the couch, and you pushed your guilt to the back of your heart as you snuggled in your boyfriend’s arms, trying desperately to forget what you just did to him.

“babe, i’m gonna go make us some popcorn,” mark said, slowly backing away from you. 

you sent him off with a nod, smiling and flitting your gaze back to the television screen. 

in the kitchen, mark opened the pantry and slid his phone from his pockets to open his text messages. how’d it go?

how do you think? 

mark rolled his eyes. she’s glowing. what did you do? 

it’s not that hard, mark. all you gotta do is slap her around a little. 

mark poked out his head, watching you with your eyes fixated to the screen. i’ll keep that in mind, he replied back. 

there was no reply and mark’s phone didn’t buzz until the microwave beeped. still on for friday?

you bet. 

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Knowing a change of scenery was what your mental health needed, you transferred to where your brother, Mark, goes to college. The good news is, he’s not too cool for his younger sister, so he lets you join his friend group immediately. The bad news is, Haechan is in that friend group, and a brief encounter four years ago was enough for you to understand he does NOT like you. Even worse news, he’s a lot hotter than he was four years ago…

Chapter Fifteen: I'll just ask Mark - four images, 1.5k words - heads up, this chapter deals more with y/n's mental health than previous ones

You were thankful you didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day, because time slipped right by you while at lunch with Haechan. The two of you got sandwiches and coffee from the library café, but when you quickly realized all the tables were taken, you ended up bringing the food back to Haechan’s apartment just a short walk away. This is where time started flying past. The two of you turned on an old cartoon show to watch while you ate, but once you were finished, your own voices quickly overtook the sound of the television.

It was a strange truth to find out - that you and Haechan actually got along swimmingly, taking to each other like a duck to water. Of course, up until the last week or so, the majority of your time knowing each other was spent either ignoring one another or exemplifying passive aggression; so your ability to actually carry a conversation for hours was a very new concept, but one you could hardly take the time to question when you were too busy laughing until you couldn’t breathe.

Haechan was the first to calm down after the last bout of laughter shared in the living room, and he leaned his head against the front of the couch - the two of you opted to sit on the floor as you ate since there was no coffee table to place everything on; not to mention the couch wasn’t that comfortable in the first place.

He rolled his head to the side so he could look at you, your eyes squeezed shut as you bite on your bottom lip to try and stop more laughs from leaving your system. He let a soft grin come across his face as he took in your presence, and the fact that he was happy here with you. “Remind me to thank Mark for convincing you to transfer,” he says gratefully, traces of a laugh still tainting his light voice. Though, all at once, your body stills, and you open your eyes to meet his soft gaze before swiftly bringing your focus to where you had begun messing with your fingers in your lap.

“Oh. It wasn’t really- he didn’t convince me, so to speak. I had to transfer.” You fumble through your words, embarrassment tinging your cheeks a shade of pink.

Haechan furrowed his brows at you. “What do you mean?” He asks curiously, and you can’t help the heavy sigh that escapes you.

You stop fidgeting, but you can’t bring your gaze up from your lap as you respond smoothly. “I was really, badly depressed. Not to mention half the student body at SM used to actually bully me," you recall with a scoff.

“At the end of the day, I just wanted my brother closer than thirty minutes away from me. Helped me feel less alone, or at least helped me not make rash decisions, I mean- I hated myself. Wasn’t sure I was anything but a waste of space, honestly; and the idea of going to my brother to be talked down felt better than going to my friends, cause I always thought they would leave me if all I did was come to them with struggles. My brother can’t leave, he’s stuck with me. Though most of the time, that doesn’t really make it any easier - it’s still putting so much responsibility on Mark, when he’s probably the last person who needs any more added to his plate. Regardless, he does his best - and only partly because he's forced to," you say with a weak laugh before continuing softly.

"In transferring here, my parents made him promise that he wouldn’t allow me to throw myself into oncoming traffic, or maybe it was off a bridge. I don’t know. Something stupid but-”

You cut yourself off when you hear what you think is a sniffle from beside you. You whip your head over to look and get confirmation that he’s actually crying. “Haechan?” You get out worriedly, your brows furrowing as you take in his wide watery eyes and small trembles. You reach out to wipe away at the tears racing down his face, and he just shakes his head against your hold.

“Don’t leave. Don’t you ever dare leave,” he manages to get out somewhat firmly. Your lips form a tight smile at his care and you shake your head, trying to dispel his worries.

“I’m not-” You start, but he cuts you off and you’re sure it’s because he doesn’t quite believe you…not that you could blame him.

He moves from sitting flat on the ground to instead lean over and engulf you in a hug, made awkward by the fact that he was practically just ramming his body into your side. You didn’t care, you wrapped your arms around him the best you could as he gets out choked words. “I need you. Here. I need you here,” he hiccups, and you break.

“Haechan…it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” you say, trying your best not to cry now, too as you begin to rub a hand up and down his back.

You feel a light poke at your side and glance down to see his pinkie outstretched. You look back up to face him in confusion, but his eyes are still directed towards the floor, not to mention squeezed shut. “P-promise,” he gets out weakly. With the tears staining his face, the shaking of his body, and his choked words, you knew you never wanted to see Haechan like this ever again. So, without truly realizing how much this pinky promise was going to mean to him, you lace your finger with his and watch as the smallest wave of relief crashes over him.

He falls more decidedly against you, and you hold him there tightly, running your fingers gently across his clothes and through his hair. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, but you know you didn’t let up from the hug until he was completely rid of tears. Though, when you lift your arms up and allow him to sit back upright, he doesn’t, and a small smile crosses your face as you gently place your arms back around his figure.

You hadn’t seen him look this small ever before, and the fact that he was being this emotional and vulnerable with you was making warmth spread through your entire body. You only hoped it could transfer through the hug you had him in, figuring he probably needed it more right now - for some reason, it couldn't click that he was crying over you, that he was currently concerned about making sure you felt comforted and cared for...though that quickly changes with his next words.

“I’m sorry I was a dick to you earlier,” he finally says with resolve. You move to shake your head and dismiss it, but he presses on. “I treated you poorly for no reason, and I’m sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is remind you of someone from your old school. I’ll do better. I promise all I’ll ever try to do is put a smile on your face, but if it’s ever not genuine, I need you to know that you can come to me, confide in me, whatever. Your heavy feelings aren’t going to scare me away. You don’t need to ever pretend around me, and if I’m the only person who has made that clear, then so be it, I’ll be your rock.”

He finally moves as he says this so that he can make eye contact with you, unfortunate because you had finally started crying at his words. “It’s so hard,” you squeak out. “With my family, I mean - I just want to be a good daughter- a good sister. They don’t deserve all that stress of my mental health. I- I broke my family’s heart telling them how I thought of myself…the point I was reaching. I don’t ever want to worry them like that again.” As you finish, your attention is turned towards where Haechan lightly grabbed your hand in his.

“You broke mine, too, but you need to understand that I’ll let you break it over and over again if it means you aren’t going through this alone.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone and it sends even more tears racing down your cheeks. He sighs, bringing a hand up to wipe gently under your eyes. “Y/n,” he says, his voice soft but filled with intent.

You nod your head, knowing what he was looking for - any confirmation that you were actually taking in his words. “Thank you,” you say weakly, causing a corner of Haechan’s mouth to perk up in a soft grin.

His hand that was previously at your cheek moves up to eventually run back down through your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. “Do you wanna watch The Aristocats?” He asks gently.

Your wide eyes meet his. “You’d watch it with me again?” You respond in awe.

Haechan lets out a small laugh, turning his gaze to the floor before shaking his head and looking in your teary eyes again. “You said it’s your comfort movie…I’d watch it a thousand times.”

[previous] -> [masterlist] -> [next]

a/n: yuhhhh

Taglist: @fullsunstrawberry @choizzn @raevyng @dudekiss3r @yewshi @artsenthusiastk77 @injunnie-lemon @markeroolee @chan-yeoldelling @sunflowerhae @mystverse @urlovelily @luvandletter @jeonghansshitester @dinonuguaegi @untilthesunrises @clean-soap @andassortedkpop @dlin3 @roseangelxfuma @gomdoleemyson @simmsunshine @swanyvess @awktwurtle @t-102 @kukkurookkoo

@hahaechans @ypoom151999 @goldenclosethobi

[sl-newsie]

Melted Mind (Dr. Spencer Reid x OC Coworker)

Summary: The team checks into a hotel and one of their coworkers has never used a sauna, leading to late night shenanigans. (Hinting at intimacy towards the end)

“You’ve never used a sauna?”

I’ve had a lot of strange and unusual conversations with the BAU but this has got to be a very random one. I guess one half-mention of never having used a sauna seems to be the hot topic of tonight.

I shake my head at Emily’s question. “Never had a reason to. I can’t stand being too hot.”

Of course now Spencer has to hop in and give his input. “Saunas actually help us sweat toxins out of our bodies and improve lymphatic drainage. They also reduce stress levels and help strengthen the immune system.”

I love him dearly but he can come in at the worst times. Just because he’s my boyfriend does not mean he can drag me into this too.

Meanwhile Emily is looking at the hotel’s brochure. “There’s one in the pool room. We should try it.”

Um, no. We’ve just spent three hours flying. I feel no need to sit in a boiling hot room with my coworkers.

Quick, grab the suitcase and start walking away. “I think I’m going to relax in my room-”

Morgan grabs my arm. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

In the corner of my eye I see JJ and Penelope waving goodbye with cheeky smiles. Hotch has already gone to his room and Rossi avoids the situation by heading for the bar. There’s no getting out of this.

There’s no other way to say it. This is Hell. I won’t sugarcoat it. 

I don’t care how Emily tries to sell this as a good thing because it’s a ‘steam sauna.’ Spencer’s facts from earlier have completely flown the coop because thinking about the positive health benefits of sweating is the last thing on my mind. All I can think of is drinking water and staying alive.

“I’m melting.” We’ve been here for half an hour and I’m already slumped in the corner.

“You look like a lava lamp."

My glare can burn through walls. “Thanks, Morgan.”

“That swimsuit is really cute,” Emily comments. “But why wear a shirt over it?”

The suit I packed is my patriotic one. A one-piece suit with blue and white stars at the top cascading into red and white stripes. When we met up in the hall I threw on a swim shirt and I guess that raised a few eyebrows. Why? I don’t know.

“Some call it image paranoia, I call it modesty. I will not walk around half-naked in a hotel lobby.” Technically my onepiece could count as a leotard but it’s still not modest.

Emily snickers. “Between you and Reid both you guys could give a lecture on social etiquette.”

“I’m giving a lecture?”

Reid pokes his head in and a wave of cold air washes over me. It’s Heaven! But it’s only a split second because he closes the door and I’m submerged in the moist prison once more. He hops up on the seat next to me and from the look he gives me I can tell he’s looking to see if I’m still alive. I think I am. Maybe.

“Here’s the boy genius!” Morgan claps and gestures to my limp body’s presentation of a corpse. “What do you think of this lovely swimsuit?”

Why? Why did Morgan of all people have to find out about us? I’m honestly surprised Penelope didn’t find out first. If only Spencer didn’t want a picture of me on his desk so badly. Ever since we became official he’s been much more manly about it. Like he wants to make sure everyone knows I’m his. It’s actually cute.

Spencer gives me a look-over. “Very patriotic. It looks nice.”

Those eyes say more than that. He loves it.

“Thank you. I’m lucky I brought it with me. Though this may be what I’m buried in if I don’t make it through tonight. This sauna’s going to be the death of me.” 

So the night goes on. My mind dwindles in and out of the conversation but the only thing keeping me awake is Spencer’s occasional squeeze on my shoulder. Though him rubbing my back is definitely not helping. After a while my mind starts to wander.

“Ever notice how radio stations play the same songs over and over?”

The chatter stops and in the corner of my glazed eye I see everyone look at me. 

“That’s kinda deep,” Morgan teases.

“I can’t help it. This sauna’s making me think deep.”

Emily waves a hand in front of me. “Ok, I think it’s time to call it a night. You need to drink some water. Make sure she gets to bed safely, Reid.”

Reid gives me a hidden smirk. He’s definitely thinking about that out of context. Thankfully the others are too tired to notice and we all slowly exit the human vegetable steamer from Hell. 

“I’ll go get you a towel,” Reid says before walking off.

I’ll finally get to go to my room, rinse off and relax- Uh-oh. I catch a quick glance out the window. A pair of blue sunglasses lies on a patio lawn chair. No one’s outside. I guess I should do the Girl Scout routine of returning them to the lobby desk.

Brr! How is the air outside so cold? The sauna must have really gotten to me. Back inside now- Oh no. Is it my wandering mind or am I locked out? No. No! I don’t have a key card!

Inside Spencer walks around the pool looking for me. The towel he’s carrying might as well be a fur coat.

“Oh- Spencer! Help!” I knock on the glass door. “Please! I’m locked out!”

Reid’s eyes widen and he strides over. “How did you get stuck out there?”

“Someone left their sunglasses out here and I didn’t think about needing a key card to get back inside. Could you let me in?”

He starts reaching for the door but then gets an amused smirk. “Hmm. I don’t know…”

Is he kidding? “Spencer! Please! It’s freezing out here!”

Reid checks the thermostat. “It’s only 65 degrees.”

“I just came out of a sauna! Do you want me to pass out?” I put my hands on my hips.

Spencer’s laughter is muffled by the glass but he turns the doorknob anyway. “Open sesame.”

I sigh in relief at the warm air. “Thank you- oh!”

My temperature spikes the instant Spencer’s lips are on mine. He backs me against the cold condensation-covered door and pulls me close to him. I hope no one’s looking!

“It was hard not to do that in front of the team, seeing you in this suit.” Spencer presses a kiss on my cheek. “It looks very nice.”

If I weren’t so exhausted I’d encourage this. “Ready to go to bed? I’m getting tired.”

“Me too.” Reid wraps the towel around my shaking shoulders and we start walking back. “Would you like me to rub your back?”

“I’d love that very much, Spencer.”

The sight of our hotel room is equivalent to scoring an A+. I speed-wash through the shower and all but dive onto the soft bed. I lift my sleepy head up to look at Spencer, who’s sitting in the lounge chair staring at me.

“What?”

“You know my attraction to you didn’t start from your body,” he murmurs, still looking at me as if examining a piece of art.

I smile shyly and look down. “It was my eyes.”

He walks over and kneels down to my level. “It was your eyes. Those eyes that show a deep wisdom but are always wide with excited curiosity.”

Spencer crawls up onto the bed and rests his head on my chest. “Still tired? I can feel your heart rate elevating-”

“Let me pause the lecture, professor.” I put a finger to his lips. “It’s time to sleep. You can resume tomorrow.”

He sighs but gives in to his own tired state by going limp. I’m too tired to push him off. 

“You were right, Spencer. Saunas really do reduce stress levels. Even if I was almost locked out.”

He smiles with his eyes closed and feels around for the bedside light switch. “Goodnight, angel.”

The room goes dark and I give him one last kiss. “Goodnight, genius.”

[loomisadvocate]

the inevitable 𖤐 part five

woodsboro would soon be a distant memory - but some things would make it hard to forget.  

pairing: billy loomis x fem!reader

word count: 7.4k (holy shit i am so sorry)

tags/warnings: strangers to enemies, enemies to lovers, smut (eventually), angst, slow burn (heavy on this), cursing, alcohol and marijuana, make out scene who cheered!, probably others i'm forgetting.

a/n: clearly i got a little carried away with this part... it's the longest one to date. i hope that's not a bad thing. not 100% edited bc i promised i would post today. enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

“I’m sorry, he actually said enchanting?”

Tatum stifles her laughter to avoid any of her soda passing through her nose. That, and to avoid any more stares from the old woman who’d been glaring at Tatum over her less-than-modest plaid skirt. You nod, scrunching your nose up at the memory.

Your outing with Tatum has, so far, been spent filling her in on your entire Billy situation. It was prompted by her asking why, and you quote, “rat-boy,” was so hellbent on the group knowing in the first place, seeing as you’d only formally known each other for a few weeks. In the spirit of having no more secrets, you gladly answered her question.

You started from the very beginning: how a seemingly innocent conversation about red wine versus white turned into a quick trip to the garage that ended in telling him your plans to move. If Tatum thought the garage incident was hilarious, she was sure to piss herself when you told her about him coming to your window.

“Wait for it; it gets much worse.” You laugh along with her and take another bite of the pretzel you were sharing, wiping cinnamon sugar dust off on a useless paper napkin. “So then a week later, I’m writing my paper and hear something outside. I’m thinking it’s a small animal or something, but no. Guess what?” You pause for dramatic effect, Tatum raising an eyebrow and waiting expectantly. A few seconds go by before her hand smacks on the table and she gasps.

“Shut up!” The old woman next to you grunts and picks up her belongings, clearly fed up with your friend’s dramatic reactions. Tatum doesn’t care, and neither do you. If people looked at you and saw two high school seniors behaving like they were spilling middle school gossip, you couldn’t care less. You’d been waiting for more moments like these with her, and you’d be damned if you let a stranger spoil it with just a dirty look.

Tatum lowers her voice and leans in closer to you. “Shut up. He came to your house. Through your window?”She confirms with you, and you nod with your nose scrunched up.

“And I actually let him in, which is the even crazier part. But I talked to him—like, actually talked to him, Tatum. And he wasn’t that unbearable. Then, for whatever reason, he just flipped a switch.” You run a hand through your hair and push the pretzel towards her. Thinking about it all was taking away your sweet tooth. 

What confused you the most about Billy Loomis is why, all of a sudden, he made fucking with your circle a personal mission. You racked your brain, thinking perhaps you had offended him by accident and didn’t realize it. You’d been doing that over and over again, coming up empty each time. Tatum knew him much better than you did and had a different angle, seeing as her boyfriend was the boy’s best friend.

“I think Billy is just a shithead and likes to get under people’s skin. He’s really good at it,” she offers. You already had the opportunity to learn that the hard way. “So what happened after you guys talked? Did you throw him out on his ass?” She asks with a giggle, getting a kick out of the mental image of you grabbing him by his hair and tossing him out of the window. A bit morbid, but a girl could dream.

You hesitate to answer. It’s not that you wanted to lie again; god no, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But something about telling another soul about the tension and the bubbling desire you’d been feeling in your gut since meeting him? It felt eerily similar to the reason you took so long to tell Tatum about leaving; it would make it real. You were perfectly content living in denial for as long as it took, even if that was up until the moment the moving van drove away.

You don’t answer, and Tatum kicks your leg lightly under the table. “Hello?’ She draws it out, waving her hand in the air. “What, did you guys make out or something?”

“No!” You shout immediately—defensively and hopefully convincingly. A few more people turn to look due to your quick outburst. “He got all... angry? Called me ungrateful and said I needed to wrap up my pity party. So I called him an asshole, and then..." You trail off at the memory. He taunts you, his lips now ghosting over your temple and his slim fingers resting on your hip. Through the thin, unreliable material of your t-shirt, you could feel him tracing circles. 

“And then what?! You’re killing me here.” Tatum is growing more impatient by the second, like she’s heard the juiciest rumor about her favorite celebrity on TV, and suddenly the signal goes out. You look at her with uncertainty. Truthfully, you weren’t even entirely sure what had happened yourself. “I swear to god if you don’t spill.”

“And then it got weird,” you continue. Tatum doesn’t speak for you to know she’s asking how it got weird. “He got really close to me, like he was going to kiss me. And then he just didn’t? He said I should finish my paper and said my secret wouldn’t last much longer. Then the party happened, and he tried to give me a ride to school this morning. Well, I accepted the ride only ‘cause I would’ve been late and—“

“Whoa, we aren’t going to just skip that part. You guys almost kissed?!” Your best friend was crazed by all of this. Finding out you were moving, that Billy had it out for you, and that he had made a half-move on you all in one day was a bit much, even for her. She had absolutely zero interest in your ride to school this morning. Besides, she would be reinstating herself as your chaffeur starting tomorrow anyway. 

"It was just weird and tense; nothing crazy happened. But it was definitely something. I just don’t know what his angle is.” You shrugged the entire thought away, entertaining it felt distasteful.

Admittedly, you hadn’t reached the point of being repulsed by him. The Billy you’d met a month ago was lingering in every crevice of your brain. Even the Billy that appeared in your bedroom seemed more kind, more palatable in some sense. Billy had proven thus far to be, if nothing else, a complete wildcard. You weren’t sure which Billy you would get on any given day. One day he is mocking you in your bedroom; the next he’s embarrassing you; and after that, he’s offering to bring you to school.

It was all too confusing, and your mind being seemingly detached from your body was not helping. The manner in which he could keep you frozen in place with a single look, your eyes the only part of your body able to move. Tracing over his stature, his lips, and his hands. It was positively disturbing. Now it had happened not once but twice, and everyone knows what they say about the third time.

"It sounds like he wants to see if he can get the library girl to open up more than her books." Tatum giggles and finishes off the sugary snack, crumpling up the paper to toss into the trash later. You don't respond; you're still fantasizing about the night in your room. Even when he wasn't in proximity he was able to throw your focus. What you fail to notice is Tatum's dawn of realization—the revelation that occurs while you're daydreaming. 

"Oh my fucking god, you want to screw him!" She says it accusingly, pointing a finger at you. This is definitely enough to catch your attention. Your mouth is agape, but nothing comes out in your defense. After stuttering a few times, you manage to say something; however, it doesn't remedy much. 

"Tatum, I don't want to screw him! He's horrible. Abhorrent, even." You throw in a big word in an attempt to throw her off your scent. Tatum knows you. She's known every guy you've thought to be remotely cute based on how you look at them. You never made a move on anyone the entire time you'd been in town. Partly because you preferred to avoid any serious attachments and strife when you eventually moved, but also because boys just weren't something you prioritized. 

"You're basically drooling just thinking about it. God, no wonder there's so much tension." Tatum is enjoying every second of this. Maybe a small part of her is doing it on purpose, just as a little payback for what happened. Your willingness to talk to her about it, despite how humiliating it was for you, didn't go unnoticed. What killed you was how on the nose she was. It felt good to have your best friend in the loop on what would likely be your first and last real boy problem until the end of the school year. 

"Ugh, you're right." You confess, unable to even laugh. Instead, you grab the hair at the top of your head and rest your face on your palms.  "What do I do, Tatum?" You ask for guidance; your voice muffled. First you hear the slurping of the rest of her soda; she'd run through hers in record time.

"Just mess around; you're leaving soon anyway. He’s clearly into you, in his own bizarre, freakish way. What's the worst that could happen?" Tatum answers nonchalantly, and it earns an incredulous look from you. Tatum had personally ensured Billy was nowhere within five feet of you up until last month, and now she was encouraging you to sleep with the enemy? 

"You're insane. I'm not going to mess around with him. He's an asshole; he has no respect, and he's made it clear he likes seeing me miserable.” You shake your head and lean back in your chair; one of the legs must be shorter than the rest because it's been rickety since you sat in it. 

“True, but maybe he could like you? The only person who knows what Billy is thinking is Billy. Stu probably doesn't even know what happens in his bird brain." She offers an explanation, and you can't exactly disagree. You never knew what his motive was, and clearly, he kept his cards close to his chest. 

"I know he's a dick; trust me," she continues. "And I'm definitely not a fan of him after what he pulled. But it's almost summer, and you've never even gone on a date with someone. Obviously, it's not a necessity, but you could probably benefit from a little something to take the edge off. You are a little bit uptight." Tatum's hands are clasped on the table as she tries to reason with you. Not only are you still in shock that she's suggesting this, but now you're surprised to find yourself agreeing.

Even so, there was still the matter of addressing his little stunt. Now that you and Tatum were fine, the next two things to take care of were, first, Randy, and secondly, the fucker that caused all of this in the first place. 

"I can't believe you're telling me to screw around with Billy Loomis." You state, frankly, with a twinge of amusement donning your features. 

"I can't believe you were already thinking about screwing around with Billy Loomis. You wear your thoughts on your face, by the way." Tatum smiles at you patronizingly, but you know it's with a light heart. You definitely had a lot to think about, but most of it needed to wait until after you tracked down Randy. 

The squirrely one of the group was hardly ever taken seriously, but you knew that in this situation he needed to feel heard. He truly did see you as a sister. Whenever Stu would shoot down his ideas, you were always one step behind him, coming to his defense. You always said yes when he asked to hang out after school, mainly because he would go into a dramatic monologue about how much you hated him if you said otherwise.

Even though Tatum was your best friend, it was an unspoken feeling among all of you that Randy had somehow gotten the shittiest end of the stick. Randy was chaotic and, at times, unpredictable, but in a lot of ways, he was the one who bridged everyone together. You were positive that if Randy wasn't part of the group and hadn't pulled you from the library so many times, you wouldn't have gotten as close to Tatum. In the same beat, Randy was a simply guy. You knew an apology and a promise of grabbing food (on you, of course) would likely be enough. You still wanted to make it up to him.

With a clap, you stand up, ready to get out of the food court that was quickly starting to fill up with more people. The mall on a Monday afternoon was, believe it or not, one of the more entertaining places to go around town.

"No more Billy-talk; let's go. I need to find Randy." Tatum agrees quickly, standing up and tossing all of your trash in the bin before looking around in her bag for her car keys. Tatum agreed to stop by the video store on the way back and wait for you to talk to Randy. She assured you that he wasn’t angry, and noted that it wasn’t really in his nature to get angry anyways. That brought you much more comfort. 

"For the record, fooling around when you're mad at someone is so much more fun. Why do you think I start fights with Stu so often?" Tatum twirls her car keys around her pointer finger and catches them in her palm. "Let's roll, Arizona," she says in a deep voice, earning a light smack on the arm from you. 

You push Billy to the back of your mind for now, where he sits at any given moment lately. Perhaps Tatum was right, but if you were going to fool around with Billy Loomis, you were going to need to get your nerves in check. 

Your talk with Randy was equal parts amusing and proactive. As Tatum informed you, Randy was nowhere near angry. Hurt, yes. Shocked, absolutely. But Randy, like your best friend, also knew that you couldn’t be an awful person if you tried. All of your self-hatred over the situation now felt slightly hilarious. You’d caught Randy at the beginning of his shift, luckily for you. That meant he wasn’t annoyed by people making, in his opinion, subpar movie choices just yet.

You’d given him a very similar spiel to the one you gave Tatum, filled with an obscene amount of “I’m sorry’s” and a very long hug. You had to remind him you weren’t leaving that night to get him to pull away. Nonetheless, it appeared that a lot of your worst fears were no cause for concern. Nobody (that you knew) hated you or would be cursing your name for the foreseeable future. 

Randy did make it a point to really hammer that Windsor College was still taking applications despite the priority period ending already. He and Tatum had applied as soon as they opened, wishing to get as far away from Woodsboro as possible. Why it ended up being Ohio of all places you had no idea. Still, you rattled the idea around in your head. You figured it couldn’t hurt, but that was something you had to speak to your parents about.

The last you’d heard, your father was planning on taking a book deal that required him to live in New York in order to be close to the publishing company. Out-of-state tuition was likely going to be way too expensive, even with grants and scholarships. If you were able to convince him to agree on Ohio, you wouldn’t have to completely start over in the friend department.

Tuesday morning arrives, and for the first time since last Friday, you wake up without a weight on your chest. Your usual morning routine ensues, and it’s music to your ears when you hear the familiar horn of Tatum’s car outside your window. The ride to school felt even better today; after all, you didn’t have an impudent troll following you until you got into the car. Stu is taking up his usual spot in the passenger seat, his seatbelt evidently not on. Midway to school, he turns around, practically on his knees in the seat, which earns a reprimand from Tatum.

“So how are things with you and Randy? All better now?” He asks enthusiastically, a twinkle in his eye telling you he was probably asking because he wanted some juicy drama to laugh at.

“Yep, we’re all good. All is right in the world again, or whatever.” You nod once and keep your answer brief, refusing to give in to his wish. Your relationship with Stu was interesting, to say the least. You didn’t quite know him well, but his personality made it easy for you to take his banter in stride instead of taking it offensively.

“And what about things with Billy?” He asked immediately after, and Tatum slapped his shoulder quite harshly. You can see in the rear view that she is glaring at him. You scoff and direct your attention to her.

“You told him? Him of all people?! Tatum!” You lean forward and push Stu away by putting your hand over his face, staring at your best friend with a look of betrayal.

“He was gonna hear about it eventually; besides, he technically brought it up first!” She defends herself, pointing the finger at her boyfriend. You look between the two of them beyond confusion; what reason could Stu possibly have to bring up you and Billy? You raise both of your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to speak.

“You guys were like, eye-fucking each other on Friday. I didn’t know if I should feel awkward or kind of turned on,” he starts cackling as you start hitting him repeatedly.

“Don’t. Even. Go there!” You pause between each word, giving him a final slap on the top of his head. Stu was probably the least observant of everyone. If he and Billy were Dumb and Dumber, he was definitely the latter (which wasn’t saying much, really).

"Hey, fucking chill! I'm all for you getting some. A little weird it's from him, but maybe it'll fix that uptight attitude you've got going on," his words echo the ones his girlfriend had uttered to you less than twenty-four hours prior. 

"Why do you guys think I'm uptight?!" You immediately shift into an even stronger defense mode, pleading frantically to the couple in the front seat for some kind of answer. You were no idiot; you had enough self-awareness to know that perhaps you could take your unyielding need for structure and order down a couple of notches.

Stu catches that you don't comment on 'getting some' from his best friend, and sticks his tongue out at you. "Arizona's fucking Billy!" He yells it as Tatum parks in her usual space, loud enough that if the windows were down people would have definitely heard it.

"Leave her alone! They haven't screwed yet." Tatum speaks up finally; although not to as much of your benefit as you would've appreciated. She puts the car in park and you jump at the opportunity to get out before you strangle Stu for his teasing. You scowl at the 6'4 child next to you and he, as usual, ignores your silent protest. 

"Don't worry, Stu has to be on your side because I'm on your side. That means no Billy tomorrow night, right babe?" She looks up at him to confirm, but you can tell she's shooting daggers at him; compelling him to provide the answer she was looking at again. 

"What's going on tomorrow night?" You ask. Hopefully it was nothing involving as much alcohol as the last time you spent time with them. 

"Movie night, Randy insists there's a movie we need to watch that can't wait until the weekend. Billy will not be there." Tatum's chin turns up and she smacks Stu's chest. He feigns discomfort but she quickly provides him with a swift kiss.

"No Billy," you repeat. Relief washes over you. The unavoidable confrontation with him that had been plaguing you could be put off for one more day. The three of you split up to go to your respective classes, and you can only hope that Stu makes good on his word and keeps Billy as far away from you as possible.

——— 

Stu, surprisingly, keeps his promise. In fact, Billy was nowhere to be seen all day at school yesterday. Today he'd passed by you in the hallway, but he was too invested in whatever conversation he was having to notice you, or he chose to ignore you. Either way, you were content. Stu welcomes you inside, clearly prepared to drink the night away in his signature red 'party robe.' You didn't plan on drinking copiously; after all, it was still a weekday. However, the memories of the last time you were in Stu's living room began creeping up on you as soon as you walked inside.

Nobody brought up last Friday, which you were grateful for. But if you were going to relax enough to enjoy your night, at least one drink was necessary. To avoid falling into the cycle of running through beers all night, you instead asked Stu for a shot of tequila from his parents' liquor cabinet. It was hot and stung your throat as you forced it down, but the warmth that filled your chest afterwards was well worth it. That, and the soda you'd downed immediately after, helped with the foul taste. Everyone else indulged in a shot of well, most of them chasing it with their first beer of the night.

You were comfortable in the same place you were the first time you'd come to Stu's house. It seemed like so long ago. The season had already changed to summer since you'd made small talk about wine with the boy, who would soon become something close to your only adversary. Tatum and Stu were already settled in their places while Randy fiddled with the VHS player, a sight you'd become used to.

The tape's sleeve tossed haphazardly on the small table read Hellraiser IV: Bloodline, and you kept your complaints to yourself. You didn't plan on spoiling Randy's enthusiasm for the remainder of your time in town. You just really did not like horror movies, good or bad. Randy performs his regular pre-movie sermon, this time complete with a full run-down of how the original director had bowed out due to "artistic differences" and that a lot of the characters' fates had been rewritten. You couldn't help but inaudibly laugh at the irony. Oh, how you wish for your fate to be rewritten. 

You actually try to focus on the movie, despite the faint buzz you can feel between your ears from the tequila. A group of guards are attempting to break down the door in order to take Dr. Paul Merchant when loud knocks at the front door scare all of you. 

"Jesus, fuck!" Stu yells and groans loudly, hopping up over the back of the couch. Your attention briefly wanders to the entrance, but the front door is out of sight from where you're sitting. You don't hear much and assume Stu is coming back any second. 

A few minutes go by without Stu's return, but Randy and Tatum are too captivated by the movie to notice. You get up quietly to avoid any other unexpected scares, going through the open archway until you can see the front door. Stu's towering height is hiding whatever he was looking at. 

"You can't be serious, Stu," you hear a voice whisper. Whoever he was looking at. Stu senses you behind him and quickly turns to look over his shoulder, revealing none other than Billy fucking Loomis. Of course, he would be here right now. 

Upon seeing you, Billy attempts to step inside through the small gap. "Just - there you are. Arizona, can I please talk to you?" 

Stu puts his leg out to block his path, his hands clasped together, while his eyes flash between the two of you. It would be a lie to say Stu wasn't finding this a thousand times more entertaining than the movie. 

"What could you possibly have to say to me that I would care about?" You respond boldly, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him, like you were suggesting a challenge. You should drink tequila more often. Billy's lips stay pressed together, and you can tell by the slight twitch of the corner that your reply was both unexpected and unappreciated.

Stu knows his friend far too well and quickly interjects. "How about you guys go talk in my room?" He suggests it, more-so an attempt to beg Billy not to make a scene. Stu is smiling, but it’s strained. Billy was not used to hearing any form of 'no,' and the last thing Stu needed was Tatum yelling at him for Billy showing up unannounced. You glance over at the living room, both of them completely unaware of what was happening in the foyer. 

“I’d rather rot than listen to anything that comes out of your mouth.”

With that, you turn on your heels and walk straight back to the kitchen. Luckily, your arms were crossed to hide your shaking hands from his view. They are just still enough to pour yourself another shot of tequila, and you drink it without a chaser this time. You shake your head first, then your shoulders, and end with your arms in an attempt to get your body to relax. You desperately need to calm down and carry on with the rest of the evening as you intended—Billy free.

You return to your spot just as Stu reenters the living room, and trailing not too far behind him is Billy. So much for him not being here tonight. Tatum finally looks over when Stu sits down next to her, and her jaw drops while she follows Billy with her eyes.

“Really?! I told you not to invite him!” She whispers harshly, making no effort to keep it a secret that he wasn’t exactly wanted. Billy doesn’t bat an eye; he just sits on the floor furthest away from you, right by the arm of the sofa Tatum and Stu were occupying.

“He just showed up. What was I supposed to do?” Stu whispers back, throwing his hands up defensively. “Just watch the movie; who cares?” He mutters, avoiding looking in your direction. You and Tatum both roll your eyes, settling more into your respective places as you attempt to focus on the movie again.

It’s not much longer before Duc de L’Isle is summoning the demon princess, Angelique, into a woman’s body. Even with the movie accelerating, you’re processing none of it. The small television doesn’t give off enough light for you to see everyone, but it does cast the perfect amount of illumination on Billy. The movie progresses without your attention, and even with Randy’s animated reactions, Tatum’s commentary, and Stu’s childish (and inappropriate) jokes, you have no reaction. You feel as though you’re watching yourself from the other side of the room, desperately trying to look uninterested enough to avoid any attention coming your way.

You and Billy are playing the same game. From his spot on his floor, you are just in his peripheral vision. He can make out that you're sitting with your knees to your chest, but he can't see your face clearly without making it obvious he was looking. He is actively fighting every urge to steal a quick glance at you, truly hoping to find you looking right back. Every so often, he adjusts, the hard floor starting to be a literal pain in his ass. Each time, he manages to look at you for what feels like half a second. 

Thirty minutes later, your couple of shots of tequila are starting to wear off, making you painfully paranoid about a certain someone. Just as you'd done before, you get up quietly and pad over to the kitchen. The tequila bottle is sitting in the same place you'd left it, your empty shot glass by its side. You sigh softly, taking the top off and pouring another to the brim this time. You quickly scan the counter for something to chase it with, but all the sodas are empty. You take a few steps to the fridge and pull it open, bending over to look for something. You spot a lone can of root beer in the back and grab it. 

When you turn back around, another lanky figure is waiting for you. You gasp instantly, and the root beer falls from your hand. Nobody in the living room stirs at the disruption; the movie is too loud.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you begin, your mouth immediately snapping shut as your brain catches up to your body. 

"No, just me." Billy gives you a placid smile. You don't say anything in response, stepping around him. You make it a point to hit his shoulder. 

"Fair, I deserve that." He nods in understanding, hands clasped behind his back. You deserve a hell of a lot more than a shoulder-check, you think to yourself. 

The can opening fills the space Billy expects you to take up with a response. He watches you intently, chin turned down, while you chuck back the shot and follow it up with root beer. You do your best not to show it on your face. 

"Arizona, I'm just trying to apologize," he begins, taking a step towards you. Immediately, you fall back and hold your hand up between the two of you. 

"Like last time? I'm not interested in hearing it." You snip back at him. "Why can't you get the hint that I don't want to listen to your fake sympathy? And I sure as hell don't need to be reprimanded by someone like you." You keep your voice low enough to keep this conversation as private as possible. The last thing you want is another confrontation like last time.

He stays silent and stares at you, his face falling just enough for you to notice. It's clear he fully expected his ambush to work, but there was no way you would go through this again. Not if you could help it. His nostrils flare so fast you almost miss it, but what you do miss is how fast his hand is wrapped around your elbow. You begin to protest and try to yank it out of his grasp, but Billy is intent on getting you upstairs. You both struggle up the stairs, and you are nudged into a bedroom with gaudy blue and red plaid sheets. The door is almost slammed behind you as Billy stands in front of it. 

"What the hell is your problem?!" He demands an answer, and you laugh incredulously. 

"Are you serious? What part of I don't want to talk to you do you not understand?" You attempt to leave the room, but he intervenes by stepping over to the left. You huff and try the other side, but he mimics you. 

“I rarely apologize, you should feel grateful. Are you that goddamn stubborn?" His height is an advantage in this situation, and he uses it to make you step backwards towards the bed. 

"Do I need to remind you that this entire thing is your fault?You are always so out of line; you just can't help yourself, can you?" Days of pent-up anger at the boy in front of you bubbled up to the surface. Your fists are clenched by your side, something Billy finds quite endearing. You were right; he couldn't help himself. It was too easy to get you this way: defensive, riled up, with a spunk nobody else in the group had seen except for him. He knew it was in there somewhere; he just didn't expect to find your buttons so quickly. 

"What did you say earlier?" He cocks his head to the side, and his forehead creases. A beat passes, and he snaps his fingers. "That's right, you'd rather rot than talk to me. Rot, Arizona. Bit harsh, isn't it?" He speaks evenly, his words laced with condescension. 

"I meant it, and I still mean it," you confirm. "You had no right to do what you did." 

"Oh, I know that. For the record, I am very sorry about how it all happened," he says, rocking back on his heels a couple times. You allow his words to go in one ear and out of the other.

"But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have told them. You and Tatum seem like two peas in a pod again, so was it that horrible?" His hands are held out, palms facing up as if to say, see? It all worked out. 

It takes a moment for you to decide if you want to even entertain this. 

"That's... Billy, that's not the point. It turned out okay, but it's the principle of the situation." You are too exhausted by the subject to continue holding your ground.

"Girls and their principles," he chuckles. You raise your eyebrows and shake your head once, about to really force your way out, but Billy tries to dial it back.

"It's a joke, Arizona. Relax. I really am sorry. I was a dick that night, and I would probably be one again. But everything is fine now." This boy needs an extensive course on the art of a meaningful apology.

You sigh, almost in defeat. Billy was so caught up in the specific situation that he was neglecting everything that occurred before it. You'd opened up to him; you'd trusted him with your feelings. You told him something you hadn't even told your best friend, and he used it against you. 

"That night in my room?" You start, jogging his memory for him since he had clearly forgotten. "I thought you were actually hearing me. I thought I was gaining another friend before I left, and you didn't care. You embarrassed me in front of everyone, yeah. But you also just..." You trail off, and this is why you didn't drink tequila. You can feel your eyes heating up, and you have to catch your lip between your teeth to keep it from trembling. 

"I what?" He asks. He's speaking softly now, inching closer to you.

You don't want to say it. You'd come to terms with the fact that Billy was not your friend, but it was unusual how simply unkind he could be. You had only been crying because of hurting Tatum, but you hadn't fully processed your feelings about what Billy had done. You were so intent on soaking up more good with your best friends that you ignored the other side of the coin. Now it was just the two of you a third time, and even after your bold display downstairs, you are still scared to tell him how you feel. 

"You really hurt me, Billy." You finally breathe, and Billy is right in front of you. As quickly as the air comes in, it leaves again. You blink profusely, trying your best to keep any rebellious tears at bay. For the first time, Billy feels. a pang of guilt. He wasn't the most emotionally intelligent guy on the planet, but he thought he had enough awareness to remember that this was a layered betrayal for you. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." It's the first offering of regret that you believe, albeit not completely. Each shot of tequila has relaxed you up to this point, but you feel that familiar air coming around you again, of your defenses being broken down with hardly any effort. You don't respond, and Billy takes it as an opportunity to move closer. Now you are almost nose to nose, Billy shrinking down to meet your height.

His eyes have that same look that you'd seen the night in your bedroom. His hair is falling in the exact same place. Deja-vu strikes you in the gut when you realize that once again, you haven't moved an inch. Billy's hand comes up to cup your cheek, head tilted slightly so he can get a good look at you. 

"You are so confusing," you confess, mustering up enough nerve to make eye contact. The corner of his lip comes up in a half-smile; he knows he's confusing. It's not an accident. 

"I know; it's what makes me interesting." He remarks, and your head shakes in disagreement. His hand is cupping your chin now. You're talking in order to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming heat beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

"You don't have to be an asshole to be interesting, Billy." Your head is spinning from the proximity of your bodies. You begin to think back to your first encounter in Stu's garage—how charming he appeared to be and how easily his compliments rolled off his tongue. Even in your bedroom, he seemed endearing before it went downhill. In a different circumstance, you actually might've liked him. 

"Then what else should I be, hm? Any suggestions?" Before you can answer, his thumb swipes languidly over your bottom lip. It seems to draw a deep breath out of you, much to Billy's satisfaction. He has you exactly where he wants you, where he's so easily been able to get you.

"You could try being decent for once," you retort, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as you stay firm in your conviction, his touch is getting more distracting as the seconds pass.

Billy's smile widens. "Decent, huh? I can be decent," he replies as his thumb continues its slow descent along your jawline. You almost laugh. He can be decent despite proving otherwise at every turn. 

"Everything is okay with your friends. And we're finally alone. Do you want to keep talking about that, or do you want to talk about us?" He challenges. You want to push him away to reclaim some control over the situation. But there's a part of you that's satisfied the longer you stay this close to him. After all, he was right; everything was better now. He was the only loose end that hadn't been tied up. Tatum's advice is echoing in your head; it couldn't possibly be that bad. Could it? 

"I don't want to talk." Your voice is low but no longer hesitant. Your eyes trail from his lips up to his eyes, and without needing to say a single word, Billy understands.

His other hand cups just under your ear, and he pulls you the few centimeters of space to close the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours gently. The first thing you notice about his lips is the lingering taste of alcohol. You wonder for only a second if he did the same as you, downing a few shots in preparation for some kind of confrontation. Billy takes his time, his grip on you loose enough that you could pull away at any moment if you wanted to. After weeks of dancing around each other and playing tug of war, every logical part of you wanted to stop this. But the other part of you that never gave in to anything but always wanted to try—that part was much stronger right now. 

Your hands come up to wrap around Billy's wrists, and slowly but surely you stop fighting all of your urges to stay away from him. Billy takes this as a signal that you want this just as much as he did, likely for very different reasons. You feel his hands trail down to your lower back, resting right on the dip before the top of your jeans. Your hands find their way to his shoulders instead, and Billy begins stepping back towards the bed.

You follow his every move, completely enthralled by the warmth pooling between your legs to take notice, or really to even care. Billy's tongue swipes along your lower lip just as he sits on the edge of the bed, using his hands to guide you onto his lap. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and greet it with your own, your fingers moving to clasp around the back of his neck.

The excitement was starting to kick in, and kissing Billy turned out to be the most incredible thing you'd done in a while. Your best friend's words come back again, and this time you have every intention of listening to them. 

Your lips are still moving with his near-perfectly. It is a shock after telling yourself how incompatible you were and putting so much of your energy into making sure he knew just how much you couldn't stand him. A wave of urgency passes over you, and you're pressing yourself against him without a second thought. Billy groans when you brush against the steadily growing bulge in his pants, so you do it again. 

Billy pulls away just enough so he can speak, his lips even pinker than usual. "Slow down, Arizona. We have plenty of time," he teases you, and this time you don't take it personally. Your heart is racing, and you don't know what's making you feel more drunk: Billy or the tequila. 

"Sorry, sorry." You shake your head, attempting to get yourself to think clearly. Billy's hands are comfortable on your hips, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to rub small circles. 

"It's okay. Just come here," he says softly, easing you forward, his lips touching your throat instead this time. He places a few kisses, and a shiver runs down your spine that makes your back arch. He catches your lips again, but it's even slower this time. He's torturing you. You whine, beginning to get a little greedy when you hear someone who is definitely not Billy. 

"Well, well, well," Stu leans against the doorframe, shaking his head in amusement. You've never moved so fast before in your life, hopping off of Billy's lap and scrambling to try and look like you weren't just devouring him. 

"I fucking knew it; I told you!" He pumps both fists into the air triumphantly. Tatum and Randy soon pop up right behind him, and you begin to swear under your breath, hiding your face in your hands. Billy is sitting next to you, leaning back on his hands as if nothing was happening.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Randy is beside himself, pointing between you two with a look of horror. Stu nearly collapses in a fit of laughter, and Tatum stands with her arms crossed, trying to hide her smile. 

"Movie's over, freaks. Let's go home." She cocks her head to the side, signaling for you to get up so you can catch your ride back. Thank god for Tatum, whether it’s intentional or not she is helping you avoid further humiliation.

Billy remains quiet, and you almost look to him for some kind of help. What were either of you supposed to say? 

You clear your throat and adjust your shirt, avoiding giving him a second glance, and do the short walk of shame out of the bedroom. Randy is speaking nonsensically—a string of questions and words that don't make any sense. What you don't see is Billy hiding a smile of his own, even coughing to try and remain as stoic as possible. You hustle down the stairs, flushed with embarrassment, and follow Tatum outside to her car. 

Your seatbelts are on, and the radio is off. Now that you're out of that room, the reality of what just happened settles on you. Tatum is looking at you from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge if she should say anything or wait until tomorrow. You look at her, and a few more seconds of silence pass between both of you, and you burst into laughter. 

The third time was most definitely a charm. 

[gouraminnow]

If it's okay can I request a yandere sir crocodile x single mother reader. I've been thinking about what would happen if the reader had a baby, like would they take the reader and leave the baby or take the reader and the baby. If they did take the baby what would happen, would they be mean to the baby, nice to the baby, or just distance. Would they become a platonic yandere. I'm so sorry if I already sent this in, I can't remember if I did or not.

Yeah I got the first one, but dw about it lol tumblr can get weird with asks anyway.

Rambling under the cut! Not sure if you meant literal baby, child is of ambiguous age but can talk.

Hoo boy you've handed me a rough one, huh? I don't think Croc is a kids guy. But I don't think he'd be outright horrible to a small, unthreatening child- if not because of standards, but because it just isn't worth his time or energy to direct actual hatred toward. Yes, he was willing to destroy a whole country and hundreds of lives which no doubt included children, but I think that degree of faceless separation is very different from looking at a kid directly and going "Yeah I'm gonna kill this. Personally. With my hands." Vivi was 16 and Luffy was 17 iirc but one is an important opposing political figure with crucial information on his misdeeds, and Luffy... is Luffy. Idk. What I'm saying is at the very least I don't see him being abusive or disposing of the child- he does like you, and that's a pretty surefire way to destroy you and any reason you have to cooperate.

It could be a "cooperate and your child remains happy/unharmed" situation but tbh I don't wanna write that. Child abuse is a topic I'm willing to touch on in specific circumstances, mostly backstory but I don't really want to write about canon characters doing it. So I simply won't lol. Reader inserts can be held against their will and mistreated but I don't want to involve a kid in that dynamic, so if I write something where the reader is caring for a kid (such as Galley on 4th) then the yandere in question does things through much softer more under-handed methods.

Honestly? The best way I see this working out is Pre-Alabasta arc where Crocodile is still seen as a hero by the masses. There's a good chance that, at least initially, his affections start and end with you. Is irritated if he finds out about the kid after he's decided that he likes you. But you- you're a little slice of domesticity, you fit into his life rather nicely, he thinks. Plus you and the brat help round out his image as a wholesome do-gooder, don't you? A protector of the people, and a loving husband and father to boot. The... dark parts of his business all swept under the rug and kept away from you both, of course.

His dates with you are no doubt extravagant, but he prefers your kid not accompany the two of you on these. Probably prefers to shower them in expensive gifts, rather than spend much one-on-one time with them. I think he could get attached but he'd be in denial about it for a bit. He's able to rationalize the lack of time spent with them to you, specifically in public- he's a notable figure, is he not? While he's a Warlord and could no doubt protect the both of you(his pride will NOT have you believe otherwise), he just doesn't want the risk. You're an adult with full comprehension of the possibility of being targeted, so it's different. He is a good actor, though. While he doesn't spend as much time with the kid, he's good enough that they don't feel actively disliked. A bit... put out, maybe. It's possible your kid just... thinks he's really cool, despite it. Mysterious, close yet distant, someone who makes mom happy and is the reason they both have all this nice stuff, now. Which can be annoying, but stroking the ego doesn't hurt the kid's case. Liking the bananawanis would score them a couple points too...

-

"Do you think I could, um, meet them sometime? Y'know, if you aren't busy..." Crocodile raises a brow, taking in the brat sitting in a chaise lounge chair. They're leaning forward, looking hopeful- swinging their little legs in anticipation. They look comically small compared to the chair. He chuckles, takes a drag of his cigar- turning his head away from the child to exhale. "...I'm not sure if I can do that without consulting your mother first," he muses, watching the kid visibly deflate. Even if he knows the bananawanis will listen to him, that they would pose no threat if he did not wish them to do so- he preferred you to be happy. Introducing your small child to the large, imposing reptiles used as guard-dogs behind your back would be unwise. "So I'm afraid you'll only be looking from a distance or through glass, unless we can get her approval. We could always ask though, hmm?" The kid grins at him- and Sir Crocodile feels a disquieting lack of disdain.

[worldunbent]

chapter notes - tanuma kaname

a compilation of all of midorikawa's chapter notes concerning tanuma (as of volume 29)

all are from the official viz releases, translated by lillian olsen.

Chapter 3 - Natsume vs Human I wanted a bit of a break, so l did this episode the way l wanted (one can only hope). A lot of stories about exterminating yokai exist, so I wanted to do a story about punishing humans. In chapters 1 and 2, Natsume spent more time with yokai than with humans, so having him make a friend was another one of my priorities. I wanted the reader, at the end of the episode, to be happy that he made a friend (Natsume would blush). So I hope it worked out. I hope I will be able to include stories like this sometimes.

Special Episode 4 - Natsume Observation Log 3 Tanuma hadn't shown up in a while, and I had thought that he and Natsume would have a good relationship by now. But when I started on the episode, I discovered that they were still pretty awkward with each other. I’m used to Natsume smiling and talking about neutral topics, but it was fun drawing Natsume getting flustered and making the wrong decision in a conversation. It's hard to work Tanuma into the plot since Natsume never goes to him when he's involved in yokai business. I cut his bangs to "expand his world view," but people said he looked better with longer hair (l rarely get requests from readers on how the characters look), so l grew them out.

For reference - Tanuma's first appearance:

Tanuma's second appearance:

Tanuma in this Special Episode:

[three panels cropped to show close-ups of tanuma's hair. in the first, his bangs fall over his eyes. in the second, they are significantly shorter. in the third, they are longer again, but no longer blocking his eyes quite as much.]

Chapters 28 - 29 - Reflections I kept missing opportunities to do an episode on Tanuma, because I was afraid I couldn't give him the time and attention he deserves. Then I was assigned a two-part episode, so l knew this was my chance. I feel that Natsume is embarrassed because he wants to get closer, but is just not used to that kind of thing. This time, he found out how it feels to be the one being avoided. These colleagues all know about the existence of yokai, but when he's with Mr. Natori, Natsume wants to take a step forward. With Tanuma and Taki, the difference is a desire to take a step back. I hope I can depict such subtlety. I also realized how fun it is to draw the interactions between students.

Chapters 42 - 43 - Sealed I’ve always wanted to draw the trio of Natsume, Tanuma and Taki hanging out. Before, Tanuma thought he might be a little crazy, but Natsume affirmed what used to be an unstable world for him. Natsume’s existence was basically his salvation, but he realizes that he can’t be much help to Natsume. It's a dilemma he’ll have to keep facing as his friend. On the other hand, I’ve discovered that Taki, who also can’t see but knows Natsume’s circumstances, is delighted at the things she discovers. It’s difficult but fun to draw these three together. I was also happy drawing Taki’s empty house, images of a white ghost flapping in the darkness, and small yokai hopping and frolicking about.

Chapters 49 - 51 - Beyond the Glass Tanuma wants to help and tries to help, but he can’t. The more he tries to take action, the more he comes up against this wall. Natsume gradually realizes that while he wants to talk to Tanuma, it also puts him in a dilemma. Seeing this, Natori wants to say, “I told you so,” but he hopes that Natsume will be able to succeed where he failed. I was also excited that I could draw Sensei/Natsume with expressions that he doesn’t usually make. Natsume is really not very expressive with his face.

Volume 14 (Sidebar Note) When the name and the face fit perfectly as I start working on a character, it usually develops from there as I expect. But Tanuma didn't easily become fast friends with Natsume as I planned. He seems endlessly nervous. He's actually quite calm, but when Natsume's around, he becomes nervous trying to become better friends with him, making Natsume also nervous in the process. He's difficult to figure out. But it's a new experience, so he's fun to draw.

Chapters 57 - 59 - Unchanging Form I came up with this story that would've been an ordinary day for Reiko. It might've been a big deal for Natsume or the yokai, but it was nothing special for her. Natsume started panicking that something precious to him would be taken. You can imagine what a person would pick, but the rules are different with yokai. The scope of possibilities is too big, making it difficult to predict. I had fun imagining what I would take if I were Yew Urn. The Fujiwaras are important to him even though he hasn't been able to tell them everything. Tanuma was the first person in this town he was able to talk to about being able to "see" things, who was able to understand without being able to "see" himself. I hope Natsume will be able to sort his feelings while telling him about the yokai.

Chapters 66 - 67 - Far-off Festival Lights Natsume and Tanuma both want to spend time together simply as normal friends, but the difference in their ability to see is unavoidable. Natsume shared his secret with Tanuma, but Nishimura and Kitamoto still don't know. Tanuma sees that he can't have that relaxed relationship anymore that they can have with Natsume. And Natsume, seeing Tanuma turn pale with every little occurrence, is probably less inclined to ever tell the others. I wanted to see what would happen if they were all hanging out together. I was also happy to finally include the story about Tanuma and Mrs. Ito, but I wish I could've made it longer.

Chapter 74 - The Two Terrors I wanted to do an episode where Natsume takes a different tone of voice than usual, so I picked Shibata, since I consider him to be a semi-regular cast member. There are a lot of stories I want to do, or characters I want to revisit, but this is my first time working on such a long series, so I have no idea how to reintroduce characters and story lines or how to time it. So there are many ideas gathering dust, but I'd like to see how it goes and do another one like this. I also want to draw more of Tanuma, but it's important for Natsume to not go to see Tanuma when there are yokai involved, so it's quite a dilemma. But I'd like to include the idea that they loaf around on those mundane days that can't be included in a manga. It was fun drawing Shibata in a panic.

Chapter 78 - Tsukihigui I wanted Natsume to have different reactions that usual, so I picked a story not in the past or in the present, but a weird in-between. I debated a lot whether to have little Natsume be taken care of by the Yatsuhara yokai or the humans Tanuma and Taki. But upon further reflection, since Nyanko sensei is yokai, Tanuma and Taki would have a different approach to the situation and be more fun. It would've been interesting to go to Natori and have all three of them stare at each other with furrowed brows, but I discovered that whereas Natori would have a difficult time adapting to a situation like this, the students would display steadier nerves.

Chapters 85 - 86 - The Front Noren I wanted to use the premise that the front and back of an object can have different meanings. Such a simple but unshakable fact could be very interesting. I wanted Natsume and Sensei to hang out more with Tanuma and Taki, but once yokai get involved, there's the dilemma that only those who can see yokai should be the ones taking action, so I had to carve up the story a lot. I even wondered if I should depict them relaxing in the hot springs, or whether that kind of thing was appropriate for the occasion. I thought I could get through the scenario quickly while I wrote out the plot with prose, but once I started drawing, I wondered if I could get through it without questioning everything. Natsume has started to get nerves of steel against yokai, but I still want him to be careful when it comes to his dear friends having close encounters with yokai.

Chapter 87 - Natsume in the Moonlight This one was 30 pages, so it was compact, but I wanted to make something that was a little creepy. You know how it's exciting to see a friend late at night, in a different light? This story couldn't be done with Tanuma, who knows Natsume's circumstances. It was only possible with Nishimura, who wouldn't question who the person in front of him was. If Natsume went to visit Kitamoto at night, he'd panic, scold him and send him home. And Tanuma would notice that something was off and cross-examine him. It would get even more out of hand with Natori, causing a domino effect. Though all of them would be fun and exciting. I only realized after the fact that someone who knows about Natsume's circumstances would make things more complicated in this type of story.

Chapters 97 - 98 - A Suspicious Visitor Tanuma, who stands by Natsume, may not be able to see yokai like his friend, but he has his own special abilities that other people do not possess. At the same time, there are things that can never be the same. When I draw Tanuma, I feel like Natsume is trying to close the distance between them for a change. You'd think they'd be great buddies by now, but there's still a bit of awkwardness. It's strange to blame it on Tanuma, but there it is. I'm just happy I got to work on this story, since I've had the idea ever since I drew the illustration for the afterword of the volume where he made his first appearance.

Afterword illustration from volume 1:

[a black-and-white illustration of misuzu in their usual horse-like form and tanuma]

Chapters 103 - 104 - Where Vessels Lie in Slumber* I was so happy to work on a longer story for once. My head starts filling up with what to do next while I'm still working on the current episode when I'm in one-shot mode. But being able to linger on a story arc reminded me of the excitement I felt back when I first wanted to be a manga artist. I still have a lot of storylines I'd prefer not to cut short, so I hope I get more opportunities like this. I've wanted to do this particular story for a long time, but. I feel like it could only be done now because of how Natsume's currently feeling. I hope you can pick up on how Natori and Matoba's relationship changes subtly depending on the situation, and that you get a feel for their solidarity as exorcist peers. It was so fun drawing everything I wanted to include: Natsume's faith in his friends; Natori's belief that he can still offer help even as an exorcist; Matoba, who's sometimes prevented from action because he knows and sees too much; Tanuma, who's surely able to help, but is unable to accompany Natsume; the cats protecting their secret; Nyanko Sensei. And of course there were even more things I wanted to expand on, so I'll take my time working them out.

*The first three chapters of this arc are in the previous volume and there's not enough in the other note for me to include.

Chapter 112 - The Three Pictures and the Peculiar Afternoon Tea You can have the desire to help people you care about, but I think it takes a lot of courage to take that first step to offer it. I can see Tanuma and Natsume fumbling about in this regard, but I feel that Taki would have an easy time confiding in Natsume when she's in trouble. The premise was to have someone appear just as Natsume and friends had a spread of pictures on their table at a cafe. The content changes drastically depending on who shows up, so I simulated a lot of scenarios. It was a good opportunity to think about all sorts of situations.

Chapters 117 - 118 - By Invitation of the Queen "Ghosts in a mansion" is one of my favorite tropes. I feel this chapter made sense because of the usual preexisting flow of the story. I wanted to stuff in more things, like Natsume being intimidated by the room full of women but not getting distracted because Tanuma was by his side. Even in a simple story unrelated to the main plot, having two focus characters meant there were things that only Natsume or Tanuma noticed. It was fun and difficult to work on.

[aihoshiino]

chapter 161 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 18

Aqua Hoshigan Status: For the future

Never has an OnK chapter gone from It's Hoshinover to We Are Oshi no Back quite as hard and fast as this one. I have issues with this chapter in terms of what it implies about the story's overall structure and the fact that it sort of ruins 153-4 by association but this chapter's back half is so fucking good and the chapter itself works so well in isolation that much like 153-4, I kind of uhhh don't care about the structural issues because the story's heart is, for the most part, not just intact but beating harder and more passionately than it has in a long time.

To get what I don't like out of the way, the story seems to have settled on Super Evil Serial Killer Mastermind Kamiki as his final form characterization with some helpful Tsukuyomi exposition to just straightforwardly Tell Us things the manga probably should have spent some of the last 70something chapters Showing Us about Hikaru. The basic idea of Hikaru being some sort of serial killer so dedicated to upholding Ai's legacy that he kills women with the potential to surpass her was more or less always where I expected his character to land and this settling of his character does at least preserve what I think is the most important thing: that he genuinely loved Ai and his bent towards villainy only came after her death.

What I don't love as much is that this chapter seems to continue leaning into Uber God Manipulator Mastermind Kamiki like last chapter. I already talked at length about my issues with this framing in my previous chapter review so all I'll reiterate here is that the story's attempt to frame Hikaru as being equally or even more culpable for the actions of Nino and Ryosuke fall entirely flat to me, especially when the manga itself does such a pisspoor job of actually explaining how or why Kamiki was able to control and/or predict their actions to the extent that he supposedly did. And ESPECIALLY especially given that Nino and Ryosuke seem to have already been dangerously obsessed with Ai by the time they approached him.

In general, Hikaru's character is honestly just so inconsistent at this point that making any sense of his actions feels fruitless. If I really dig into what's going on, I can infer that maybe he fell into the same trap as Aqua by overcompensating for his trauma-induced helplessness by becoming overly controlling and guess that his fucked up trauma response to Ai's death combined with those terrible words Kindaichi gave him at Airi's funeral lead him down he road he's traveling now. I can even extrapolate that Aqua showing him the DVD message in 153-4 pushed Hikaru to this extreme and now that he has nothing to lose, he's lashing out at his children too - though, it should be noted, that the manga still hasn't actually established what Hikaru's culpability is in Nino's attempt on Ruby's life, outside of Aqua saying "well you didn't use your psychic powers to perfectly predict nino's actions so it's on you".

But like - this is all stuff I'm having to infer and extrapolate and guess, reverse engineering logic from our end point in an attempt to create a stable foundation for this characterization. The manga has done such a poor job of properly establishing Hikaru both as an antagonistic force and as a consistent character that I feel like I'm trying to assemble a coherent image from two different puzzle sets with all the fucking corner pieces missing and that's with Crow Girl looking into the camera and Explaining Him to me.

And listen, I am a bitch who LOVES to infer things. One of my absolute favourite pieces of fiction of all time ever is Umineko no Naku Koro Ni, a mystery story that literally does not contain any straightforwardly explicit, textual confirmation of the culprit's identity or motives because it believes so strongly that you, the reader, are smart enough and empathetic enough to put in the time and effort necessary to understand it regardless and it deeply, deeply values being able to give you that experience. But OnK feels less like it's intentionally encouraging me to think hard and enjoy the process of putting my head and my heart to work - it feels like it's leaving its homework unfinished and letting the reader do the actual hard work of sewing up the internal logic.

I probably won't talk much more about Kamiki this chapter cos I'd just be saying all this shit over and over but I really just am struggling to understand from a perspective of authorial intent what the vibe is even supposed to be. Like I mentioned in a previous ask, if this is where Kamiki's arc is reaching its conclusion then it means that the Movie Arc was essentially a whole-ass waste of time in and out of universe. Blech. Hate that.

Also, before I move on, I don't want to leave this just implied - making Kamiki explicitly a CSA victim and then ending his arc on Aqua (and implicitly the narrative) dismissing him as being too broken/corrupted to be saved is a really major misstep that I think represents a huge black mark on OnK's handling of CSA as a topic. The idea of an eternal defilement or an unfixable core wrongness in the self is already something real life CSA victims struggle with in the process of unpacking their trauma and having our likable and supposedly morally superior protagonist espouse this unchallenged in a work as prominent and relevant as Oshi no Ko is irresponsible bordering on dangerous. It's incredibly disappointing that after all the care Aka and Mengo seemingly took in handling this topic that it was whiffed so badly at the last second.

ANYWAY!!! Now all the beef's been dealt with, we can cleanse our palettes and move onto everything else I liked which was… basically everything else in this chapter!

Admittedly, Aqua's overall arc is still suffering from us being kicked out of his head from like 123 onwards for no real apparent reason and while 150 was a welcome refresher on where he's at in this part of the story, it still feels a bit like the story is prioritizing preserving the surprise factor of its twists over making these surprises feel earned. Compare it to volume 1 - you are basically told exactly what is going to happen to Ai, especially in the manga when Saitou and Gotanda outright say as much - but her death is still incredibly impactful and upsetting. I think this chapter is very effective, but could've been a lot moreso if we'd spent more time in Aqua's head leading up to it.

THAT SAID… If the intention of keeping us out of his head was to recontextualize Aqua's behaviour across the past ten or so chapters in this new light, I don't hate it as much as I might have. I initially took issue with what felt like the story off-screening and not addressing the resolution to Aqua's suicidal ideation so whipping back around to prove that it was still very much present puts some particular Aqua moments over this past volume into a very different light. As some people pointed out, Aqua missing Kana's pitch - literally dropping the ball in responding to her feelings - and his wide-eyed look of alarm in 151 seemed very ominous omens for the success of her confession and that beat of him covering his face when Kana approves of his dream… very incheresting knowing Aqua was still struggling with 'love or revenge' at this point.

Most interesting of all to reconsider is Aqua breaking down in tears in Miyako's arms in 155 when she addresses him as her son for the first time. At the time it read like catharsis but now I can't help but wonder if this was Aqua grieving for something he desperately wants but thinks is out of his reach.

i do have to say though. i get the general vibe of this plan and think it works fine as the apex of aqua's self-sacrificial protectiveness for the people he loves but how is being the daughter of a serial killer somehow any less scandalous for her career than being the sister of someone who killed one dude. does aqua think they just won't notice that kamiki happens to be their biodad or something. wasn't that the whole point of the movie. goofy ass plan.

What really saves this whole scenario is the emotions at play, though. This really does feel like Aqua at his most Aqua in a really long while and this chapter has so much love and respect for his life as Aqua and the bonds he has formed as a result. The dreams Aqua lays out are so agonizingly simple, too - he wants to pursue the career he finds rewarding. He wants to date the girl he likes. He wants to accept Miyako as his mom and Himekawa as his brother and to make things right with Akane after hurting and using her. He wants to see Ruby achieve her dream and be there to support her when she does.

But Aqua's always considered his dreams impossible, hasn't he?

I fully admit; I got spoiled with the full page spread of Aqua stabbing himself way in advance of the chapter and initially hated it as a twist. But with the full chapter as context and the sheer weight of Aqua's longing to just fucking live and find joy, it's not just effective but absolutely gutwrenching. It is the synthesis of Aqua's series-long battle to choose love or revenge and it resonates perfectly because it has never been one or the other for him - Aqua's revenge has always been rooted in the fact that he loves others so wholly and completely and hates himself so utterly that he thinks sacrificing himself to preserve their futures is the only path for him to take. It's the culmination and final release of the suicidal ideation Aqua has been dealing with since he was four years old and like Ai's tragedy before him, there's a horrible sense that maybe there really was no other way this could've gone.

Aqua being the character who actually takes the knife also firmly cements him as Ai's narrative echo in the text which has me barkin and howlin because it's what I've been saying all this time. Not just that, but so many of Aqua's expressions in this chapter pointedly and deliberately echo Ai's after she was stabbed. Not just that, but Aqua's achingly simple dreams echo Ai's own heartrendingly simple regrets - all the two of them ever wanted was to be happy with the people they love.

This also reframes the story's prior establishment of Ruby as paralleling Ai and seems to place the twins in the position of echoing not Ai in her entirety but Ruby as 'Ai of B-Komachi' and Aqua as 'Ai Hoshino'. This was actually something I outlined in one of my very first meta posts on the series, but I think making it more specific to 'Ruby as Ai the idol' and 'Aqua as Ai the human', this actually gives Ruby's arc in relation to Ai a bit of breathing room. Don't get me wrong, everything I've said about her post-BH writing being underbaked and inconsistent is still the case, especially when it comes to how confused the story is on whether Ruby is her own idol or New And Improved Ai 2.0 but giving it less ground to cover helps in terms of her writing no longer being spread quite as thin.

Speaking of Ruby, that beat of her seeming to react or sense something is up the moment Aqua takes the stab. 'Something happened to my loved one far away and I just Feel It' is a trope I'm always a sucker for and I really dig it here.

"The public don't care about the truth, so let's tell them a lie" is such a crazy hard sentiment to go out on too. Holy fuck.

There go our boys…!!! Quite a few people predicted they might go over the edge when Aqua showed up in his Mephisto fit (Mefitsto) and I'm interested to see if we get any parallels to the ED's imagery in the next few chapters. Overall, though, I'm really excited for where things are going - I don't think Aqua will die, but I do have some theories about what might happen. I can't think of a more traditional misogi purification experience than the middle of the ocean in late December, after all…

No break next week! Woohoo! While the delay of episode 12 means we won't be getting them on the same day, that is the same week S2 of the anime will be concluding and Aka does like lining up his bombshells with the anime. So who knows what we'll see.

seriously tho aqua. everyone already knows kamiki is you and ruby's biodad. HOW IS THIS ANY BETTER THAN HER BEING THE DAUGHTER OF A SERIAL KILLER AS IT ALREADY STANDS

[thebookworm0001]

Fun Sized - Banter Update

Rating: T for innuendo

Summary: Ellana is short. Really short. So of course her companions have to tease her about it.

Link: AO3

Sera: You’re short. Like. Really short.

Ellana: What? I had no idea. I’d spent this whole time thinking everyone else was just exceptionally tall. 

Sera: [Giggles] That would be a trip, wouldn’t it. Wonder if that’s why dwarves are all… like that.

Ellana: The taller the ladder you need to reach your own cabinets, the grumpier you are. It’s just a fact.

(cont. under the cut)

Sera: But you’re not grumpy. Most of the times, at least. 

[if The Iron Bull is in the party]

Bull: That’s because she’s got a good view.

Ellana: I can promise you, that has nothing to do with it. 

Bull: Hey, you can enjoy the painting without wanting to eat the bowl of fruit.

Ellana: Funny, I don’t see any works of art around here. 

Bull: There’s some kitchen servants who might disagree with you. 

[Otherwise]

Ellana: [Laughs] You should say that to my sister. I’m sure she’d have some stories to tell that say otherwise.

Varric: Anyone ever ask you if one of your parents was a dwarf?

Ellana: Oh, very original. Never heard that one before. Are you going to ask if I stunted my growth by sitting in my aravel for too long next? Got kicked in the head by a Halla?

Varric: It’s a serious question. Usually the people I see eye-to-eye with have more than a passing affiliation with the Merchants Guild. 

Varric: With the right contacts and some clever paperwork, you could make some serious coin.

Ellana: Are you… asking if I want to con the Merchant’s Guild?

Varric: No, no, not at all.

Varric: Just saying, when all this is over, you have options.

Ellana: I’m sure my vallaslin won’t cause any problems in this plan of yours.

Varric: Evidence of a forbidden romance. People love a good tragedy - even better if you can scrape out a happy end despite it. 

Varric: They’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.

Vivienne: I was speaking with our Lady Ambassador earlier, and she informed me you had rather firmly rejected her suggestion of incorporating heels into your ensemble.

Ellana: I did. 

Vivienne: Might I inquire as to why?

Ellana: Is it not enough that I simply do not want to wear heels?

Vivienne: Desire is reason enough to do anything, my dear. That does not make it wise.

Vivienne: You are an image for all of Thedas to aspire too, and your battle for legitimacy is not one that will be easily won.

Vivienne: It might help ease the process if those you wish to impress do not have to literally look down their noses at you. 

Ellana: Perhaps. Though I doubt anyone who already dislikes me will have their minds changed by a pair of fancy footwear.

Ellana: Anyway, any respect I gained would be quickly lost the minute I tripped and fell on my ass in front of a room full of dignitaries. 

Ellana: Or even better, I caught my new armor on fire. That would give everyone something to talk about.

Vivienne: Yes, well. Perhaps you are right. Some clever tailoring, then. And posture lessons.

Vivienne: One does not need to be imposing to command a room. 

Bull: Hey Kitten, you ever get lost, just look for the horns. Can’t miss ‘em.

Ellana: And where do you think I’ll be getting so lost that I’ll need to use you as a landmark?

Bull: Oh I don’t know. The crowds in Val Royeaux can get pretty nasty. Then there’s the ramparts, wrecked towns, corn mazes, overgrown fields. Really, just about anywhere.

Ellana: I- I’m not going to disappear into the grass like a lost girl in a child’s story. 

Ellana: What, should I leave a trail of bread behind me? Find a dog to guard me from the Dread Wolf?

Bull: I hear those Ferelden dogs come in pretty handy, actually. But no.

Bull: We might want to put a bell on you though, just in case.

Ellana: Think it’ll rain today?

Bull: Depends.

Ellana: On?

Bull: If you’re aiming at my height or my bad ankle.

Ellana: I could just be making small talk. Plenty of people talk about the weather.

Bull: Yeah, but most people aren’t wringing their fingers for an hour trying to come up with a clever way to ask about it. 

Ellana: My sister was always better at jokes than I was. 

Bull: That’s alright. You’ve got your own strengths.

Bull: For example, I think you’d make a very talented armrest.

Ellana: You know I can set you on fire, right?

Bull: Don’t worry, Kitten, you’re very scary.  

Inspired by @shift-shaping 

Bull: Solas, did you hurt yourself in our last fight?

Solas: I do not believe so. Why?

Bull: You’ve been rubbing at your neck more than usual. Thought you might’ve tweaked it after that one move. I’ve got some tips that could help if it’s sore.

Solas: I thank you for the concern. Your advice would be appreciated. 

Bull: Well, first off, you’ve got to start lifting with your knees. The Inquisitor’s tiny, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hurt yourself picking her up. 

Solas: Excuse me?

Bull: Oh, and you should probably invest in some cushions, maybe those feathery ones the Orlesians have. It’ll help you stay on your knees longer.

Solas: That is none of your concern.

Bull: It is when I get between you and the next templar that takes advantage of your stiff back. 

Bull: Those charging bastards hurt, you know.

Ellana: What information do I have to pass along to the Qun to get you to stop?

Bull: What? It’s friendly advice. If he keeps bending over, he’s going to get stuck that way. 

Bull: I’m just saying, It’s easier if he comes down to your level. 

Ellana: Please just tell me who Josephine needs to blackmail for this to end.

Bull: [Laughs] Now where’s the fun in that?    

    

Blackwall: So, you and the Lady Inquisitor, how does that work?

Solas: Much like any other relationship, presumably. 

Blackwall: Most relationships don’t have one party towering over the other. 

Solas: Really? That is your concern?

Blackwall: Not a concern. Just curious, is all. 

Blackwall: I mean, it can’t be easy. It looks like she’d need to climb scaffolding for anything to line up properly.

[If Cole is in the party] 

Cole: She is precious, held wholly in the palm of my hands. Sweet, small like the frilly cakes she brings me from the kitchens. 

Cole: He likes how small she is. He thinks it’s cute.

Blackwall: Well wasn’t that just adorable.

[Otherwise]

Ellana: Oh is that a dragon I see overhead? No? Pity. I would have appreciated being eaten right about now.

Blackwall: I’m sure Solas would be happy to oblige, my Lady.

Ellana: [Groans] Kill me now.

[zippidi-dooda]

Thwack,

Kachack,

Whack!

The sounds came one after another, followed by each of your peers falling down from a single blow.

Everyone was breathing heavily, clutching their aching sides.

Yet the match hadn't even lasted more than a second.

And the swordsman training you hadn't even broken a sweat.

For weeks you had been at it, gaining a stoic look and cold words in return. Your peers had just about given up hope, wanting someone to step up and tell the Hashira that the training was too hard, that he should be more considerate of your ranks.

But no one was brave enough.

Though the routine was rough, a small part of you couldn't help wishing to be stuck here longer.

Others may have called you crazy, but you couldn't help it with your budding attraction to the hashira in front of you.

He was cool, calm, and collected, each swing of his bokken hitting it's mark and with barely traceable speed. You could only imagine what seeing him fight a real demon was like.

You were awestruck.

Maybe you were just wasting your time, afterall, he hardly spoke a word to you outside of sparing and all he said then was,

"You're slow ... you would've been dead three times over now ... a demon won't give you time like that ... try harder ..."

It was a little discouraging to be honest, but that flutter of your heart each time his mint green eyes met yours was incredible.

Who knows when you'd next get a chance to meet him, you had to make the most of it.

Every day, you'd spend extra time training with him and every night you spent time wondering where he runs off to. It was difficult to not want to follow him, though if he decided to run you knew you'd lose him quickly, so you stuck to staying back and dreaming of him.

You thought you were content with that, but then, a new pupil came in.

Kamado Tanjiro.

There had been a buzz about him among the slayers for some time now, but you never thought that you'd get to meet him either.

He was sweet and especially skilled, you enjoyed getting to train alongside him.

But that wasn't the only reason you were glad he had come.

See, things changed when he was here. It was the first time you had seen the hashira smile.

And such a beautiful one at that.

You could hardly focus on anything from then on, too busy committing the image to memory. You could spend all day gazing at him like that.

But, that smile vanished the second his attention returned to the rest of you.

Since that observation, you were determined to figure out every way to make him smile.

At some point, your group was able to convince training to end early.

Tired and spent, but you wasted no time catching your breath and tailed the young man out the door.

"Muichiro! W-wait up!" You called out.

He turned to you, face expressionless as ever, "hm? Do you need something?"

Steadying your breathing, you smiled at him, "just wanted to say it was nice training today. I think we're gonna get some real improvement moving forward."

"You all were scared stiff." He stated blunty.

You flinched, but waved it off, beginning to walk beside him, "w-well, you did bring real swords in for the first time. And you're really good at this, it's normal for people like us to get nervous."

"Mmm, I suppose so. That being said, you guys are not doing as bad as you think. Not moving in recklessly is a good start."

The two of you walked aimlessly, following the other assuming they had taken the lead.

"Thanks! It means a lot coming from a guy like you, you're so cool and-"

"Not giving it your all, like you do, is a stupid mistake."

You paused your steps. "Huh?"

"You stopped trying." Muichiro turned to fully face you now, hand on the hilt of his sword, "A while ago actually. Tell me, why is that? Do I bore you? Or do you want to get eaten? Why after all the extra time you put in, more than the others, are you still not able to advance? Is there something wrong with you? Am I wasting my time?"

Panicked, you quickly shook your head. "No! That's not it at all!"

He stepped forward. "It's alright to not want this path, but you need to make that decision quick before wasting anyone's time," he adjusted his grip on his sword, "A lackadaisical attitude in battle will get you and many others killed. You can't waste time. So tell me now, why do you keep slacking off?"

With each step closer, you took one back, hands raised defensively. "Now, hold on Muichiro, let's not jump the gun here-"

"Speak. Or else I'll have to make the decision to end your training here completely." He drew his sword.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on the shining blue blade. He wouldn't actually attack you while you were unarmed, would he?

"Muichiro ...?"

"Fine. This is your last chance to prove yourself."

And with those brief words, he was gone.

Left, right, up, down, where was he? If he did plan to fight you here, you could only assume he'd mimick the moves he made during training.

You needed to dodge. Quickly!

"Too slow." His soft voice whispered by your ear before you were kicked forward and sent rolling in the dust.

"Same as usual. I could conclude this early-mm?"

You were quick to activate your breathing, darting towards him with the only plan being to knock him down or block him at the very least.

The tips of your fingers had nearly ghosted over his billowy uniform, but he was quickly behind you again, knocking you down with the hilt of his sword.

"A demon could pick up on your intentions easily. You're too open."

He vanished again as you rolled onto your back and swiped at his legs. Then his blade struck the dirt beside your face narrowly missing you as you turned away.

"You're a bit faster. Are you sensing the danger now? Was a blade the only incentive you needed?"

Swp!

Clang!

You jumped and dodged, trying to trip him up, but to no avail. Each attack came faster than the last and bloody nicks began to litter your skin.

You couldn't touch him and without a weapon of your own there were few ways to counter his attacks, you were down on options.

What did you do? You didn't want end your Corp training here, nor did you want to lose any hope of seeing this guy again. Do you run for it?

As you racked your mind for ideas, Muichiro attack you from the front, blade drawn up by his cheek, and you were met with a beautiful sight.

His light eyes were narrowed with focus, thin lips set in a firm line, long dark hair flowing like a river around him, the turquoise tips complimenting the blue of his blade.

If this was what the demons got to see in their final moments, they must have been as greatful as you were.

You sighed deeply, subconsciously raising a hand to block his strike.

The sharp sting of the sword cutting into your palm broke you out of your reverie.

You grit your teeth, gripping the blade tighter to prevent him getting away and lunged forward, quick to butt you head against his.

Your stunt had stunned him slightly and you had a brief opening to disarm him.

The impromptu match ended with Muichiro rubbing his head and you holding onto his blade.

A nervous smile grew on your face as you clenched your bleeding palm. "Haha ow ...."

"You disarmed me." The boy murmured stepping closer to you. "Looks like you'll be able to continue your training."

You exhaled with relief, handing back his sword. "Ah, thank goodness. I wasn't ready to leave quite yet."

"You will be leaving. You're ready to train with the next Hashira." He swiped the blood off his sword. "And you should bandage that wound up."

The beating of your heart picked up. You didn't want to leave yet.

"Wait-"

"If you remember there are no chances to hold back, you'll be fine. Don't quit trying halfway through."

He continued walking, ready to head out to wherever he usually disappears to. You wouldn't see him till tomorrow if he got out the door.

It was now or never.

"Muichiro ...," with a gulp, you ran up to him once more, gripping his sleeve.

"Hm? What is it?"

Your gut churned nervously as you began to answer. "Muichiro ... I-I like you. I don't want this to be the last time I see you."

"..."

He blinked owlishly at you.

Your hands began to shake and your mouth felt dry. "Um ... y-you're really cool and I admire you as a hashira. But ... I also think you're cute and I want to keep in touch ... it's kinda why I've been holding back and stuff."

There was a moment of deathly awkward silence and you were ready to just run away and pretend this never happened.

But then, it happened.

The stoic boy began to laugh. Maybe it should have been embarrassing, he could be laughing at you for saying something so childish. But instead you felt giddy, smiling with him as you watched his grin rosey up his cheeks.

"That's why you've been here so long? How silly. You shouldn't hinder yourself for such reasons. I don't know what to make of you now."

You shuffled nervously. "Is that good or bad?"

He shrugged, laughter subsiding, but smile still glowing. "I'm not sure. I feel strange. I haven't felt this way before. But still, you should focus on your training and getting stronger."

"Okay ...," Hoping you were reading the clues correctly, you stepped closer. "That was the plan. But ... does this mean I can send you letters now?"

He hummed before nodding. "I wouldn't mind."

You sighed, smiling more confidently. "Alright then, Murichiro. Let's keep in touch."

He nodded politely, watching as you turned to start packing your stuff.

As you paused and turned back to him, he tilted his head to the side.

Thinking it was all or nothing, you ran up to him, pausing momentarily before pressing a kiss to the soft plush of his cheek.

Face burning, you wave goodbye and run to get your things, too embarrassed to look back and see as the stunned boy cupped his warm cheek, and the steady smile that graced his lips as he watched after you.

[totowlff]

your newest tweet gave me a few ideas.. what about a oneshot where reader gets called into toto's office bc she was often seen getting way too comfy with another team's worker and then toto gets mad and tells her that's not good for mercedes's image etc but actually hes just jealous.... what do you say?

i guess this makes you his...

prisioner

Walking towards meeting room number two, you still felt the effect of jet lag on your body. Readjusting to the Brackley’s time zone was always a challenge, even more so after races in Asia and the fact that you were at the factory the day after you returned wasn't much help. However, it wasn't like you could refuse to go, especially with the bold letters in the email that had arrived during your flight.

And you knew your boss wouldn't take no for an answer.

— He could have scheduled it for later — you muttered to yourself, as you passed by an employee who was holding a tray with a cup of coffee, which would be very welcome after the meeting, the subject of which you still didn't know.

It was strange to your boss not to tell you what would be discussed, but you could already imagine what he would prattle on about to you and the rest of the team. “He must think he was sorely missed in Suzuka”, you thought, as you opened the door to the meeting room.

The space was practically empty, except for his boss, who was sitting at one end of the table. His dark eyes were fixed on the phone screen, his fingers typing some important email.

— You're late — he said, without looking up.

— Not everyone has a helicopter to get to work, Mr. Wolff.

Looking up at you, there was a certain skepticism in his expression.

— I don't use a helicopter, Y/N, I just value punctuality.

— Neither do I — you replied, as you walked towards the chair right next to his — But, fortunately, I don't risk losing my passport if I arrive two minutes late, unlike you, Toto.

He stared at you in silence, his eyes trying to figure out if that had been an elaborate attack or just another one of your sarcasm-filled phrases. Giving a small smile, you gave your boss the answer you were looking for in his expression.

— Well, now that you're here, I think we can start — he said, placing his cell phone on the table.

You glanced at the unoccupied chairs at the table before turning to him.

— But aren't we going to wait for the others?

— There are no others — your boss said, dryly.

— So…

— It's a matter between you and me, Y/N.

Your heartbeat was heavy in his chest.

—And what would it be about, Toto?

Grabbing the controller from the table, Toto pressed a button. On the wall opposite you, an image flashed on the television screen and, almost involuntarily, you let out a laugh.

— Do you want to talk about Jerôme? — you asked, smiling.

— I want to talk about your behavior this weekend. Especially in relation to Jerôme.

Your smile faded as you realized he wasn't joking. And the part that worried you the most was that you were sure you had done nothing other than what you had been instructed. “Accompany Jerôme and offer the help he needs during the weekend”, you remembered the email that had arrived in Singapore, along with the confirmation that Toto would not travel with the team to Japan.

— Did Jerôme report anything to you? — you asked, fearing the answer.

— No. I'm reporting right now — he replied, with his dark eyes fixed on yours — Your behavior was completely unacceptable, Y/N.

— But, I didn't do anything — you stuttered, confused.

— You did —Toto interrupted you — I saw it with my eyes, Y/N, no one needed to tell me.

—And what did I do? — you asked.

Your boss snorted, running a tense hand through his hair.

— You spent the weekend practically on top of him, laughing at his jokes, smiling at him and — he shouted — Being an adorable and fantastic woman and, damn...

The realization hit you like a punch.

— Did you call me here to say you are jealous? — you asked, still in disbelief at the simple possibility of him having done that simply because his ego was hurt. And Toto's expression was the confirmation you needed to be sure of that.

— Jealous — he laughed, to disguise his own discomfort — I'm not jealous.

— Yes, you are. You're jealous because I was an exemplary employee and helped him as you asked me to! — you exclaimed — I only did what you asked me to do.

— I don't remember asking you to be glued on him...

— You asked me to help him.

— If I had known you were going to do this, I would have canceled the fucking surgery.

— I could have done it during the summer break — you murmured.

— I already had plans, I couldn't cancel them.

You raised your eyebrow.

— Is fucking me on your yacht what you call a plan?

Toto looked at you, seriously. His jealousy wasn't completely unfounded, as you had crossed all lines of a professional relationship a long time ago, during one of the company's end-of-year parties. It only took a few mojitos and a suggestive comment about your cleavage for the two of you to end up in the bathroom, your knuckles white as Toto thrusted inside you.

— It was important — he murmured.

— The surgery was important too — you countered.

— And leave you there, doing whatever you want?

— As far as I know, I'm a free woman — you said, without blinking. It wasn't a lie, you were in fact free and officially single. What you had with Toto was just an affair, something without commitment, you weren’t dumb or innocent.

However, something in his eyes changed when he heard those words.

— What did you say?

— I'm a free woman, Toto — you repeated, as he got up from the chair, his expression almost dark — I'm single, I can easily flirt with whoever I want. And, to be honest, I don’t know why the hell I’m still here…

His voice trailed off as he realized he had stopped right behind your chair. And then, you felt his hand slide down your neck gently.

— You're not free, Y/N — Toto whispered in your ear — You stopped being free the day you stepped into my office for the first time.

Then, you felt him squeeze your neck, causing a wave of heat to spread through your body. There was no gentleness in his touch anymore. Just desire.

— You are mine. Just mine.

[askinkiskarma]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝟙 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀: 𝔹𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕒𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕐𝕖𝕤 𝕀𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕠𝕗 ℕ𝕠

pairing: Neteyam x f!Human/Avatar Reader

warnings: angst, tragic love trope, the one that got away trope, some fluff, all the feels

wc: 5k words

a/n: surprise??? today's actually the 3 months anniversary of cruel summer being finished, so i thought, what better occasion to drop the sequel than this?? i hope you enjoy besties, i'm so happy to write for neteyam and vol again, they own my whole heart now and always. i'm not sure if people who were tagged in cruel summer want to be tagged for this, so i'm only tagging the people that specifically asked for this series x

to clarify: this series will be following oceans and engines mostly, but both endings will make and appearance and play a part in this story x smooches x

♥ series masterlist ♥ cruel summer ♥ series playlist ♥ masterlist

“I can’t believe you’re mine. And I’m yours, Vol. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours. I’ll always be yours.” 

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "yes" instead of "no" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

“Is everyone ready?” Neteyam was violently pulled out of a memory that he couldn’t shake, that still haunts him every night, watching as his father fretted in their once-shared marui, that he hasn’t spent that much time in recently. He sighed as he looked outside and saw his beautiful ikran that he has neglected in the past year, that was now waiting dutifully for him to bond with her so they can leave, that was another bitter reminder of a life so far removed, it didn’t feel like his own anymore.

He missed Seze, and the feeling of freedom that was so exhilarating, it felt almost wrong for a mere mortal to be able to feel, the feeling that only came with flying far away from the ground, from his problems and worries, from his responsibilities and all the sacrifices they entitled. He tried to ignore how his heart was in his throat, and the layer of sweat that accompanied the anxiety that has settled in his chest weeks ago, as soon as his father announced that they were to temporarily return to the forest, to be there for a special number of ceremonies. Norm and Max let him know that, after a few months of rigorous training, the both of them, as well as Spider... and you... were ready to take your Iknimaya and Uniltaron and become part of the Omaticaya.

It hurt, just like everything about it did, how life moved on despite it all, that it went on and on, and everything changed. It hurt that there he was, having to go back, back to everything he left behind… to everyone he left behind, to witness the life he could have had, a life that felt like a fever dream sometimes, especially now, with the pregnant mate he just kissed goodbye a few hours ago.

Neteyam’s stopped himself thinking about you for so long, it’s become second nature, to push the intrusive thoughts aside, to rummage through his increasingly deteriorating will in order to not allow his mind to bring the images of you in the front of his eyes like a movie on a screen, showing him every moment you shared, culminating in that last day, that still managed to somehow knock the breath out of him and make him dizzy and disoriented. Your touch still lingered on his skin, marking it like the tattoos that now adorned his arm and thighs, except the memory of you and your fingers tracing the freckles on his skin hurt more than any tattoo ever could. Neteyam excelled at everything he did, and so he never thought about you. Except today, when you were all he could think about, when the thought that he would be there to witness your Iknimaya, your consciousness transfer, when the talk he had with Kiri was the catalyst for it and was now ringing in his head, like unceasing echoes. 

“Do you think they’ve moved on?” Kiri, much like her brother, shared so much with a human, so much more than could ever be said out loud or expressed into words, only to have it taken from her as she moved to Awa’atlu. Unlike Neteyam, though, Kiri wasn't willing to throw in the towel just yet, stubborn as she always was, especially now that the person she loved got an Avatar, now that he was working towards becoming Omaticaya, now that there seems like a second chance was bestowed on them by the grace of Eywa herself. Neteyam has always admired Kiri, and her joie-de-vivre, her ability to always speak her mind and do whatever she felt was right without infringing on their parents' rules, but also without sacrificing her own happiness, and her overall ability to thread the middle line between her two brothers, which were the two extremes of the same spectrum.

“Do I think who has moved on?” Neteyam knew very well who Kiri was referring to, but half-hoped if he acted oblivious she would just drop it. He should know his sister better than that.

“Stop. You know very well who.”

A sigh so deep it felt like it was exhaled from the pits of Neteyam’s soul escaped him, and he had to think about his answer, something he didn’t want to have to do. 

“I don’t know. I hope she did.” I hope she didn’t. 

“Do you?” 

“…No.” 

“Doesn’t it kill you? Knowing they have Avatars now? Because it kills me. it kills me to know I could have had all this time with him, if only I just waited, or fought harder. If only I tried a little more. If only I just went to mum and dad and just told them the truth. But maybe this means something, the timing. Maybe it means we had to leave and learn and see the world, to know that no matter what, for us, it will always be them. For me, it will always be him. Maybe this was the second chance at love I never even knew I could ever have.” 

The news of your new Avatars reached Awa’atlu months ago, while Neteyam was having dinner with his now extended family, including his father and mother in law, as well as his mate, and for the first time since the night after you left, Neteyam needed to excuse himself and leave, taking his ikran and flying away, flying for hours, coming so close to just leaving it all behind, just so he could at least catch one glimpse of you again, just so he could hug you and tell you how happy he is for you, how much he hopes this Avatar can finally give you the life you’ve always wanted, the life you were always meant for, so he could watch the tears gather in your eyes and drop down your face and know that that very image would be enough to confess harsher truths that he should never think to say out loud again, like how he’s still in love with you and always will be, how nobody would ever be able to replace you, how he wishes every day things would be different. 

In those months passed, Neteyam learnt to accept that much like he’s come to know in his life, and especially after you, some things just are not meant to be. That no matter how much love there is, how much desire to make it work, some things are beyond control, beyond any fight he still had in him. He believed in Eywa, and trusted her judgement and her will, and Eywa chose this for him. And he was happy, as happy as he could be, with his current life, with a mate that was strong, and intelligent, and kind and sweet, and incredibly beautiful, and the little baby that she was currently carrying in her womb, the little baby that would make Neteyam the happiest man in the world once they were born. Some things just weren’t meant to be. And your life together, the one you’ve left behind, the one he’s left behind, was one of those things. 

“Stop. I have a life now, Kiri. A different life. I have a mate. I can’t think about things like this anymore.” 

Kiri puffed and rolled her eyes, before getting up from her spot on the floor and leaving, but not before she said one last thing. 

“Just because you can’t think about it, doesn’t mean you don’t.” 

Neteyam couldn’t argue with his sister anymore, not when she was right, not when regardless how much his sheer force of will denied him visions of you, memories of you, at his most vulnerable, in his dreams, your smile was all he saw, your transcendent alien beauty his own personal sun, his own personal guide post and his light all in one. He couldn't deny you when, still to this day, the reminder of your eyes that shone like stars in the night sky, that were the mirror to your soul he could drown in and be thankful for the chance to be overcome in you and in the love that he used to know so intimately, in the laugh that still echoes in his ears, in the strength that informed his, in everything you were that he didn’t have anymore that still held power over him, was still able to empty his brain of every other thought that wasn't this, and wasn't you.

I hit the ground running each night I hit the Sunday matinée You know the greatest films of all time were never made

“Kid… are you ok?” 

A hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your focused rumination, a state you found yourself in more and more these last few days, as the mostly exciting and somewhat dreaded arrival of the Sullys approached, a state that culminated today, as you were only a few hours away from seeing them again, from seeing him again. Your head snapped to the man who talked to you, a man who sympathised with your pain more than anyone else. Norm tried his best. After finding out about you and Neteyam’s relationship, he has kept the updates about the Sully’s lives to as much as he felt you needed to know, and you were grateful.

Still, you couldn’t help hear some things, huge things, monumental things, things that shifted your world on its axis and emptied whatever was left of the contents of your ribcage. It’s not like you didn’t expect it to happen at some point, and yet, expectations meant nothing when your mind still tried to cling on to every single ounce of delusion it could in order to survive. In your mind, you were still 18 and Neteyam was still your best friend and the dreams that plagued you every night, of an alternate reality you couldn’t help but still yearn for, one in which he was still yours and you were still his, one in which he never let you go and you were overwhelmingly happy and sickeningly in love, didn’t stop when you woke.

But that’s all they were, just dreams. Because in reality, you had a different life - a good life, a life you couldn’t really complain about, one in which you had an Avatar and friends and loved ones, in which you could finally breathe the air that poisoned you for the majority of your life, one in which you were about to become one of the people, the way you’ve always wanted… one in which Neteyam’s mate was pregnant with his child, one in which every last delusion you had came crashing down into the ground, forcing you to leave the past behind once more and wake up to the world surrounding you, that despite his absence, hasn’t stop moving on and along. 

In the few months since you found out, you tried… you really tried, every day of your life, to take a page from the book of the rest of the world, and move on. You focused on training and on yourself, you threw the necklace Neteyam gave you that meant so much to you once, you put all the stuff that reminded you of him in a designated box that you never touched, that lay safe from sight beneath your desk, correctly labeled so as to not mistakenly pick it up and rummage through it. 

You spent most of your days in your new Avatar body, testing the limits to which it can be pushed, working harder than you ever had to belong, to learn, to see, to leave your human self behind and embrace this body which will soon, with Eywa's will, be your only one. Having this body came with a lot of advantages, too many to count, one of which you never really considered, but now were trying to embrace: dating. Being openly courted, and wanted, the possibility of spending your whole life with one person, that chooses you every day, the possibility of mating, of experiencing tsaheylu with someone else, of having a family, it was all new to you... all new and overwhelming and bittersweet. You've never allowed yourself to think about the future before, because you knew it would only lead to heartbreak. What was the point, when the only man you've ever loved was out of your reach, when your body wasn't made for this world, where the possibility of bringing a tiny human to life only to watch them suffer the same fate of struggling between two lives, neither of which you truly belonged in, terrified you.

But now, you had to think about it. You needed to think about it. Did you want it, all of it, any of it? A family, a mate? Did you want to feel love again, could any love feel the same way, as poignant or powerful or earth-shattering as the one you had? Could anyone's touch or smile or laugh, anyone's eyes or hands or tahni, anyone's voice or embrace or beauty ever elicit the same emotions in you? You wondered if they did for him, and his new mate. You wondered if he moved on after all. You hoped he did.

You hoped he didn't.

You watched as Spider gobbled down the food that was placed in front of him, with enough ferocity to really buy into a notion that he has, indeed, never seen food before in his life. You rolled your eyes as you pushed a paper napkin on his tray, laughing at the way he hurried to brush the stray crumbs off his mouth with the back of his hand instead. Spider was very excited about today. You couldn't help admire this boy you grew up with, that you had to watch turn into a man and mighty warrior, and the simplistic way he approached life. Life was black and white to him, and more and more, you were jealous of the shades of grey that always plagued you, making everything a lot more complicated than it ever needed to be.

To him, life was simple: when him and Kiri were together, they were together and it was love, and it was all he needed. When they left, he realised immediately that it was outside of their control and that there was no other way, and understood them and moved on. That simple. Now that they're coming back, and he has an Avatar, and he will soon be one of the people, life is once more simple in his eyes - all he has to do is just... go for it. And he will. And you knew there was enough stubbornness and impulsiveness in Kiri that she would drop everything and join him.

Life had never been simple in your eyes. Your relationship with Neteyam... never simple. It was wondrous, and magical and unique... and it was sad, beautiful and tragic. When he left the first time, when they left, they took everything with them. When you went to Awa'atlu, and he confessed, he gave everything back and more. And then all you could do is watch as it was cruelly plucked away from your grasp, before you even had a chance to hold it tightly against your chest, before needing to let it go... forever.

Life was never simple in his, either. There was so much, too much to do, to achieve... so much to strive for, so much to make up for... so much to sacrifice. And it didn't matter. The love didn't matter, because there were bigger worries and bigger responsibilities. And in the end... maybe he found it was for the best. He might have had to give up being Olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya, but Eywa rewarded his new life within the Metkayina with the privilege of leading a new tribe. Of being the father of the next Olo'eyktan, the first child born of a forest Na'vi and a reef Na'vi. It was a blessing. A miracle. Your nightmare. And one you'd have to face again, in a matter of hours.

It was strange, going through the village, seeing the grandiose garlands, fires and displays that were being put forward for the arrival of the Sullys. You weren't surprised, not at all, although it was easy to forget sometimes, when you remember the warmth and tight family unit, the intimate moments being buried in Neteyam's chest as he purred lightly as he drifted off, how in those moments, he wasn't the prodigy of the Omaticaya, nor the son of the greatest warriors on Pandora, but just Neteyam, your best friend, your confidant, your everything.

He was never yours to lose.

I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

"Ma Tawtute!"

The voice of Tarsem cut through all the commotion and perked your ears up, your newfound heightened senses still something you were getting used to slowly. You smiled at the sight of his smile, always wide and sincere when it looked at you. You were grateful for Tarsem. He somehow did for you and Spider what neither Jake, Neytiri or Mo'at ever did. He made you part of the people. Even before you got an Avatar. He showed you that the human proverb was indeed true - where there's a will, there's a way, and much to your infinite sorrow over the matter, more and more it seemed the Sullys had very little of either, when it came to the two human children abandoned here after the war.

But he did. Tarsem did. He took you both in, and trained you and allowed you to know a real family, a real sense of community. It was a bit surreal how quickly the other adapted after seeing how their new leader behaved. It was also surreal to think that you could have had this your whole life, and yet you didn't.

"Oel Ngati Kameie, ma Olo'eyktan!"

"Agh, I told you not to call me that. It's just Tarsem."

You watched carefully how his tail undulated wildly behind him, knocking into his thighs haphazardly. You were still trying to understand your own tail and decode the few patters you have noticed in others. Erratic tail meant excited... it meant happy. Was he happy to see you? Was the purple twinge in his cheeks just the result of the busy schedule he was forced to undertake in the past few weeks, the unrelenting duties of the chieftan that tired him? It had to be, because there's no way that-

A loud cacophony of war cries interrupted the moment, and right now, for just a second, you were almost glad. Only for a second, only until you remembered what the yells meant, and as you did, so did your mind start racing and your heart gallop in your chest, and you were glad, as you have been for a while, for the fact you no longer required a mask to breathe, because it would have been fogged blind by now, and you needed your senses - you needed to be acutely aware of your surroundings, of your own body, if you were going to come face to face with the family you once thought was your forever home, and the man you once couldn't imagine existing without.

You recognised their ikran immediately, the incandescent beauty and unmistakable colour patterns hard to forget, even if you didn't spend nights dreaming about them. Seze was last to land, and as soon as she did and he dismounted, you saw his gaze scanning the crowd awaiting him.

Your eyes meet and in a second, a sea of memories flooded your mind, flashing before your eyes like the stereoscope Norm and Max gave you on your last birthday. A thousand images, some that made you want to smile, others that made you want to wail in agony, all that tugged sharply at the string of your heart until it reminded you of all the loose stitches keeping it together.

As he approached, his eyes never leaving yours, you saw in them the same emotions you were going through, and it was easier than you thought it would be, being in his presence, and you realised you didn’t really want to die anymore, and the pain of his soul spilling all around you like endless rays of sunlight and all he meant to you had dulled slightly in time, but still, nothing changed, you realise sadly. Despite all the changes in his appearance, he was still Neteyam, still the man you loved and would always love, still not yours anymore. 

“You’re a lot… taller than I remember.” his smile was soft and tentative, and you were grateful that he talked first, so that you didn't have to. He's always known you, down to the darkest corners of your being, and while it was a hard pill to swallow now, you appreciated it in the moment, his intrinsic ability to know exactly what to do or say, in order to get you to relax.

“And you’re a lot shorter than I remember.” you laugh and just like that, the tension dissipates slightly.

“It’s good to see you... Vol.” 

Vol… the nickname electrified your every nerve, and you felt a whole year of progress slowly being undone, but unlike before, you knew how to put yourself back together again... you were forced to learn in time, and you were grateful for it now. 

You smiled a little, and you took him in, all the changes a year brought forth that you weren’t there to witness. He was leaner, all the swimming streamlining his body a lot more than being in the forest ever did. He had a big, intricate tattoo on his left arm, and one on his lower abdomen. His signature braids were gone, replaced by half braids that opened up into soft curls. He was handsome, so handsome, but you missed his braids, and his more muscular appearance. He looked a lot less Omaticaya now, which you knew he would, but it still filled you with a sense of sorrow, the departure from his roots, from his true home… from you.

“It’s good to see you too, Teyam. Seems like the reef agrees with you.” 

You let out a big exhale as he covered the ground between you and enveloped you in a hug, his head finding the crook of your neck, and you found tears haunting you at how well your new body fit in his, how you were the perfect height for the perfect hug, how your face almost moulded into his chest like the missing piece of the puzzle you’ve both tried to solve all your life, but will now never be able to. How unfair the universe, you found yourself asking again, to give you this avatar just a few weeks too late to matter, to change anything. 

You tightened your arms around him and you stood there, in the silence, just listening to his breath and your own, and trying to ignore the small drops falling down your back. They weren’t tears, you told yourself. Not his tears. And neither were the droplets falling down your face.. Not tears. Not your tears. 

Before either of you could say anything else, a sea of people, all who knew and loved Neteyam, all who wanted to greet him and talk to him and be around him, pulled you away from him and gave you a chance to greet your lost siblings. Lo'ak was taller, so much taller, and you were amazed to see his progress, not just physical, but mental - too. He looked confident, and happy. He looked like he found his home, his purpose, his people. Kiri, on the other hand, had eyes for no one other than one person, who, in time became the embodiment of this tribe you both loved so much - strong, valiant, forged in fire. Spider was as much Omaticaya as the people born here, and soon, he will be born again, a true man of the tribe, and gain his place amongst the Na'vi forever.

There were moments, infrequent and far apart these days, when you craved the intimacy: to be loved, to be revered, to be cherished once more. It hurt, right now, looking at Kiri and Spider, at the unspoken conversation they were having without a single word, that felt so intimate, it almost felt wrong for you to be able to witness it. You had that too, once. You wondered if anyone would ever look at you the same, ever again.

Neteyam felt overwhelmed, a feeling he didn't experience too often in life. He was being pulled away in all directions, by people he's known all his life, with wide smiles and words of congratulations and elation for the mateship, for the incredible new progress made with a powerful clan they've never been close to prior to this, for being the next Olo'eyktan, for news of his approaching fatherhood. So many opportunities, once greater than the other, he realised, and he was grateful - for the attention and the love, the care that never diminished even with his family's departure. He tried to listen and engage, but his eyes couldn't stop themselves from being drawn to one figure, and one alone.

It was surreal, looking at you, the you that didn't quite look like you, and yet, even twice as tall and a different colour... a different species altogether, even as you stood right now, back turned to him, talking to his family, you were still someone he would be able to recognise instantly, for the rest of his life. Your tail, a now clear window into your emotions, gave away the anxiety and alertness that mirrored his own. It was good to know this wasn't affecting only him, that much like your whole lives, as long as you had each other, neither of you ever had to go through anything completely by yourselves. He was sad, so sad, that he knew nothing about your life anymore, except for the small snippets he overheard or the few pieces of information he sought out in the few moments, far and few in between, when his heart didn't feel like it was crushed under the weight of your momentous memory, that was still too heavy to lift proudly, with a head held high.

Before his mind could wander in waters too deep and dangerous to safely swam in, the voice of the new Olo'eyktan pulled him out of his musings, and it was almost contagious, his celebratory demeanour.

"To celebrate the return of our Toruk Makto and his family, the brightest feathers in the bow that is the Omaticaya clan, and the upcoming Iknimaya and Uniltaron of our four Tawtute, I now declare the official start of the festivities. May the hunts of life forever bring you back home, Jakesulli, Neytiri, Neteyam, Kiri, Lo'ak, little Tuk. And to our little humans, may Eywa bless your endeavours and allow you to join us as part of the People, forever and for always."

He was good at this, Neteyam noted. Being a leader. Tarsem wasn't much older than Neteyam, but, right now, he felt like there were mountains separating them. He was poised and intrepid, he commanded everyone's attention in a way that only his father ever did, and he realised in that moment that, despite being heartbroken about it at the time, he had been right to choose him, instead of his own son.

The celebration was as exuberant and exhilarating as Neteyam remembered, and with the nerves plaguing him for weeks gently out of the way, he was able to enjoy himself and relax, catching up with his grandmother and his friends, all people he's missed dearly. The one he missed the most kept busy with his siblings, almost making a point to avoid him, which he couldn't blame you for, although the effort was not enough to prevent the way your eyes met regularly, subconsciously searching for each other, even now, after all this time. So many things have changed, monumental and forever-altering, and yet, somehow, he didn't think this ever will.

"He will need a mate soon. The Tsa'hik is tired, Jakesully."

It was way past eclipse when his grandmother's words pulled him out of the pleasant conversation he was having with an older friend, and he turned to her and watched as she smiled a sly smile, giving a pointed look to his mother. "And since my daughter decided to abandon me, I need a new Tsakarem. The clan, now more than most, needs stability, they need to know they will be in good hands."

"Ah, Mo'at... he's still young, give him time. He will find a mate soon enough. He's good looking, intelligent... a good warrior, a good leader. I wouldn't be surprised if women were throwing themselves at his feet."

"They are, but he doesn't have eyes for any of them. In fact, there's only one person he sees, and it's obvious to everyone but her."

Neteyam followed his grandmother's gaze and felt his breath hitch in his throat at who it landed on.

As he dug into the food that he missed so much, that he loved with all his heart, that was so carefully prepared by the best hands in the clan, it all tasted spoiled and rotten in his mouth, as soon as his eyes locked on your figure on the other side of the fire, laughing wildly in an intimate display of affection, while Tarsem's hand was placed carelessly on your thigh.

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

taglist: rebeccao03 @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @eywaeveng @midnight1812 @fanboyluvr

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Knowing a change of scenery was what your mental health needed, you transferred to where your brother, Mark, goes to college. The good news is, he’s not too cool for his younger sister, so he lets you join his friend group immediately. The bad news is, Haechan is in that friend group, and a brief encounter four years ago was enough for you to understand he does NOT like you. Even worse news, he’s a lot hotter than he was four years ago…

Chapter Thirty-Two: pretty girl - ten images, 1.9k words -

“Y/n, come over here,” Haechan’s voice rings out from the opposite end of the room you were currently in.

Apart from Jaemin, your friend group all got there at about the same time, meeting up outside before starting your walk through the exhibition all together. However, because of the nature of it, the five of you were quickly separated, each at a different pace as you look at all the photos.

You turn your head towards his voice, a smile overtaking your features as Haechan nods his head fervently to get you to come over in his direction. You roll your eyes but let your feet lead you towards him anyways.

“What?” You start, wondering why it was suddenly necessary for you to be next to him. However, that’s when you turn to see what he was actually standing in front of. “Oh.”

The extended wall in front of you was filled with pictures from this past semester, and while it wasn’t a secret that Jaemin would take actual photos during your time hanging out with them, you weren’t expecting to see yourself in part of the exhibition. However, there you were, scattered across the entire wall.

“This might be the best section of the entire exhibition,” Haechan finally says. You pull your eyes away from the photos to instead face him, a familiar smirk painted across his lips contrasting the softness in his eyes.

You shake your head, elbowing him in the side and getting the both of you to laugh. “Shut up.”

As Haechan playfully rubs at where you elbowed him, he pulls his gaze away from you and back to the pictures. “I mean it,” he counters, almost absentmindedly as he takes in all the photos again.

You drop your gaze to the floor for a moment before joining him in scrutinizing the pictures. “God, I did a lot with Jeno and Jaemin this semester,” you say lightly, acknowledging just how many pictures there were of your numerous adventures together so far. It didn’t hit you until now how much time you spent with friends this semester, how happy you were in each captured moment.

Haechan nods his head slowly. “Yeah, you did a lot with them. So, did I...and Mark and Renjun,” he adds with a small grin.

You flick your gaze to him and shake your head with a laugh. “I think you had the least amount of hangouts with the entire group out of everyone,” you remark, turning Haechan’s attention back to you again. “You decide you’ve had enough of me and suddenly you refuse to hang out for a week,” you end with a small laugh but Haechan rolls his lips inward as he narrows his eyes at your figure.

“Mmmmm, you are lying…you know that, right?” He says with a teasing smirk, but you whip your head towards him in betrayal.

“I am not! You’ve missed a lot. The pajama party, the weekend my SM friends were here-”

He’s quick to cut you off. “Not talking about the hangouts I’ve missed. Talking about you claiming I skipped those because I’ve had enough of you…” You watch as his gaze traces over your figure, a small smile on his face as he shakes his head. “I’ll never get enough of you,” he finishes, bringing his gaze up to make eye contact with you, though you immediately turn your attention back to the wall, a choked cough accompanying your action.

“I’m uh- gonna go look around some more,” you say awkwardly, and Haechan just drops his gaze to the floor before nodding and telling you he’d meet you back by the exit.

However, your next run-in with Haechan was only in the next room over, when it was you this time excitedly calling him over to look at the photos displayed on one of the tables. “Haechan, look!”

He cringes on his walk over to you, only guessing at what you were about to point out to him. Then, as he finally sees what photo you were standing in front of, he lets out an embarrassed laugh, dropping his head. “Oh, god.”

It was an old picture of him in a bumper car, looking shocked to have his photo being taken. You shake your head as you look at it. “I didn’t know you’ve been friends with Jaemin that long. I assumed you met in college...but this is from four years ago, yeah?”

Haechan snaps his gaze up to you in surprise. “How could you tell?”

You look back at him as though it were obvious. “You look exactly like you did when we first met,” you reply casually, but Haechan furrows his brows as he studies your figure.

“You remember exactly what I looked like back then?”

You shrug your shoulders as if it were nothing. “How could I not?” You say, making his eyes go wide. “You hated me right from the start. That makes you memorable,” you say through a laugh, but Haechan turns slightly uncomfortable, sucking on his bottom lip as he shifts his gaze from you to the picture.

“I didn’t hate you,” he says lowly, and you look at him like he’s crazy.

“I can assure you, you did. It’s a toss up on if you still hate me now,” you tack on jokingly, but Haechan is serious as he responds.

“I never hated you, and I certainly don’t hate you now.” Sensing his change in demeanor, you falter a bit, your gaze pointed towards your feet as you throw out an embarrassed reply.

“But you wouldn’t talk to me. And when you did, it was…I don’t know, insults and stuff.”

In front of you, Haechan takes a deep breath resulting in a long sigh. “You suppose we’ve spent enough time dodging the truth, right? Like- I should probably just…tell you?” He asks, bringing your attention back up to him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Haechan shakes his head with a dismissive laugh, but he quickly falls back into seriousness. “Y/n, before I came over to your house that first day to hang out with Mark, he told me I wasn’t allowed to get involved with you or anything like that. And I understood, of course. I wasn’t planning on it, anyways - bro code and everything. The only problem was the fact that you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world. It was all I could do to be mean to you, or else I would’ve slipped up and asked to kiss you or something.” He lets out an exhale of laughter, trying to play off his words as something meaningless, but you don’t let him.

Instead, you visibly gulp, staring him dead in the face. “Well, you aren’t mean to me anymore…nor are you asking to kiss me.” You point out the obvious, leaving it up to him to explain the disconnect.

Surprising you, instead of laughing it off as something he got over in the years apart, he just shakes his head in disbelief at what he was about to admit, a smile overcoming his features despite it. “Believe me, the question’s at the back of my mind every waking moment.”

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t in the middle of Jaemin’s Narcissism exhibition. So instead, you play it coolly, smirking up at Haechan as you reply. “Maybe you should ask it, then. It’s not doing much good taking up space where all your computer sciency stuff should go,” you tease, and Haechan is quick to raise his eyebrows.

“Bolder than I thought you’d be,” he admits in something close to shock.

You shrug your shoulders, comfortable enough with the topic now to fully smile. “What can I say? The idea of kissing you sits at the back of my mind every waking moment. I’m kinda tired of just having to imagine it at this point.”

Haechan’s eyes widen for the smallest of moments, but soon enough a face-splitting grin paints its way across his features as he takes the one step closer to you, his gaze roaming over your entire face until landing decidedly on your lips. “Y/n, can I kiss you?” He asks, surprisingly soft for the amount of joy radiating off his body.

Your smirk falls into a shy smile as you look back at him. “I think that’d probably be for the best,” you reply, and Haechan wastes no time.

His right hand quickly found your cheek as he tilted your head for him to lean into. The second your lips connected, your world stopped. With his plush lips against yours, if you were any less aware of the fact that you were in public right now, you would’ve let yourself drown in his taste.

Your reminder that you can’t do that comes in the form of Jaemin’s voice. “You know people have to pass through here to get to the exit, right?” He states monotonously.

You and Haechan break away in an instant, jumping back about five feet apart from each other. You two turn to see your entire friend group standing there watching you both with raised eyebrows.

It’s completely quiet for a moment as you start accepting the fact that this was social suicide. That is, until Jaemin breaks out into laughter. “I’m just kidding. Do whatever you want. Thank GOD you both finally figured it out, I was getting tired,” he says playfully, and you watch as the rest of the guys nod along, smiles adorning each of their faces.

Haechan rolls his lips inward before letting a tight smile play against his features. He looks over at you and gently grabs your hand to pull you back closer to him as he kisses the top of your head.

You cover your face with your free hand, unable to accept the fact that this was currently happening. In front of you, the guys let out some more laughter. “Don’t worry, y/n, I’d be embarrassed if I was dating Haechan, too,” Renjun says playfully, but you shoot your gaze towards them in surprise, then turning to Haechan with wide eyes.

“Is that- are we-?” You can’t even form the question, much to your dismay, because it results in Haechan and the guys exclaiming about how cute you were.

Haechan makes sure to hold serious eye contact with you as he takes over your question. “Y/n, will you please be my girlfriend?” He asks, and all the murmuring silences as the boys await your answer.

You can’t help the smile from overtaking your features as you nod your head rapidly. “Yes- yeah, absolutely!” You reply, making the rest of the guys smile.

Haechan, however, looks back at you as though he’s seen a ghost, opening and closing his mouth multiple times before he’s able to get out words. “O- okay, just- just one second,” he says, making everyone look his way in confusion.

You watch as Haechan turns his back towards you, taking a full moment to squeal in excitement before immediately turning to face you again with a casual smile. “Yeah that’s uh- that’s chill with me,” he finally says, and as laughter rings out from the guys, all you can do is shake your head fondly and press another soft kiss to his lips.

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a/n: hehehe

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