#thank u to the person who mentioned this in the notes! i remember seeing that and then got interrupted partway through processing this one

[pikkish]

So I was rereading How To Process a Soul (because it's one of my faves) and I just happened to look at who the author was and had a moment of like... no way... Pikkish the cool artist is also a cool author... so I just had to come over here so I could compliment you :3

Wait wait are you telling me that you found my tumblr and my ao3 independent of each other and didn't realize until now that they're the same person? Because that's hilarious.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[jiminrings]

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

.

.

.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice,  a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.” 

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him. 

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ ) 

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent. 

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again. 

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time. 

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found. 

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

.

.

.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in. 

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that���s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ ) 

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat. 

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?” 

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

[bweeeb]

"GIRLFRIEND"

Carmen Berzatto x Reader (you)

( @softmullet : i want me some tender love from carmy 😩 ) Notes: I believe that if things had gone well in the last episode of the second season, it could easily have gone something like this, I hope this story is enough for you, and i hope u like it. Thank's for the request

Summary: When Carmen's "girlfriend" comes up at the opening of The Bear, at the end of the night they both realize something

It was family and friends night at the restaurant, the first service at The Bear, and Carmen couldn't be more anxious about it. He wanted everything to go well, to serve good service, good food, a good place, he wanted it to be perfect. You went with your friends, Melissa and Isis, to the opening of The Bear. Although Carmen was aware that you might be there, since he was the one who invited you, he hadn't thought you would actually go.

— Cousin, your girlfriend is at table 29.

Richie, who was in charge of the dining area, approached Carmen working in his station. — She's your girlfriend already, right cousin?

— She's here? Carmen asked, not stopping his food preparation.

— Damn, man, figure it out and make her your girlfriend quick. That's what Richie said before leaving the kitchen, leaving Carmen thoughtful

You and Carmen started going out frequently four months ago. Your confidence in what you did, your smile, and the unusual comfort you transmitted to Carmen made anxiety spread through his body. But for the first time, it wasn't the bad kind of anxiety—it felt good to be near you.

Sitting at table twenty-one, you smiled towards Richie, who approached the table with a bottle of wine and a smile on his lips.

— Y/n. Richie said your name as he stopped beside you before continuing; — Excuse me, girls, would you like some wine? I know it's what you like.

— Hi, Richie. You greeted him and your friends smiled.

— Yeah, I’d love that. Isis smiled at Richie following Melissa’s confirmation beside her.

— How sweet, thank you.

— Thanks. — you thanked politely as you saw him filling your glass. — Things are really good around here, dude. Carm didn't tell me it was all so fancy.

— What do you mean, cousin didn't show off with those fancy cutlery?

Richie teased Carmen, causing laughter from your lips and two mischievous smiles directed at you by your friends.

— Yeah, I don't know, I guess he didn't want to involve me in this. You said shrugging your shoulders as you took a sip of your wine.

— I think he wants to involve you in everything, Y/n Bear. He’s just not good at it... — the older man nodded and started stepping back — Now I’ll let you enjoy the night, if you need anything, I’ll be at your disposal. He said before disappearing into the dining area.

— Oh no, stay. Isis murmured watching Richie leave while biting her thumb distractedly.

— He's too old for you. You said laughing out loud and snapping Isis out of her daydreams.

— Regardless, sister. Your boyfriend’s friend is hot.

— Carmen is not my boyfriend. You huffed looking at the glass in your hand.

— Oh really, you’re still at this? You sleep at each other's houses, fuck like rabbits, and I feel like the loneliest person in the world when I see you two. What are you? Friends? No way. Melissa said rolling her eyes before laughing and drinking her wine.

— We’ve never talked about it. He didn't grow up with a good image of relationships, I don't want to force anything, sometimes he just wants a fling.

— Right, a fling of a hundred and twenty-one days. Wake up, baby, you heard the hottie, he wants to involve you in everything. Isis said sighing.

— But what if he doesn't want to... he probably didn't even want me here. You said laughing nasally, remembering Carmen’s vague mention a week ago, saying you could come if you wanted to.

— Believe me, Y/n, you have enough personality for him to want you! — Melissa smiled leaning back in the chair — I bet twenty bucks he’ll come here just to bring your dish because he’s totally in love with you.

— As if he had time, this is a restaurant and it’s full, Mel...— You said laughing again.

— I think he’ll come, I mean, would he really not? Isis shrugged drinking her wine again.

— Alright, let’s see...

Not long after, the conversation that you three had started was interrupted by the huge smile on Melissa’s face. The dishes were placed in front of you and Carmen's eyes fell on you like a magnet.

— Hi.

— Hi, everything is really good, Carm. Congrats.

— Thanks. Uhm, yeah...— Carmen said and at that moment he was grateful not to have anything special to present on your plate because you were too beautiful for him to focus on anything other than you at that table. — You look beautiful and I hope you all have a good time. Enjoy! He said stepping away from the table with a glance before disappearing back into the kitchen.

— He’s obviously busy and still came to say hi to you. Melissa smiled and groaned while throwing her head back.

— You look beautiful, that’s the compliment I’ve heard the most on all my dates and this was the first truly sincere one I’ve heard, my god. Isis said smiling while looking at you, smiling at your plate.

— hmm, yeah, he’s sweet.

— I want my money. Melissa said before starting to eat like you and Isis.

°°°

The end of the night had come, the place was less noisy, the last customers were leaving, the kitchen was starting to be cleaned and that meant Carmen was less hectic if everything had gone well.

You had left Isis and Melissa behind in the dining area with Niel and Richie while you looked for Carmen.

Passing by Sydney who was leaning on the counter, you stopped to look at her for a while.

— Hey, Syd. Are you alright? You asked and received a nod from the girl who seemed tired.

— Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just...you know...all of this was crazy and it was my first night working like this for real, so... it’s a lot. She vented and you sighed agreeing.

— I could say I understand but in reality, I don’t understand the pressure you guys have in the kitchen, but I can guarantee you did a great job, everything I ate, the service, everything was great. You said and Sydney smiled at you, understanding why Carmen liked you, it was simple.

— Thanks, Y/n. I think you should tell him that, he’s a bit worried.

— Where is he? You asked, twisting your lips.

— Office. Sydney gestured with her hands, showing you the way and with a grateful smile, you went after Carmen who was found by you sitting in the office, now Natalie’s, with his hands on his head.

— Hey, Chef. You said, standing at the office door waiting for him to let you in.

— Hi. Carmen responded, adjusting his posture and freeing his lap for you to sit on his thighs. There was the confirmation you needed.

— What’s wrong? You asked, sitting on him and wrapping your hands around his neck.

— I think I could have done better. He murmured

— You can always do better, Carmy, but what you guys did here today was great. The girls were delighted even with the damn glasses on the table. You murmured and saw Carmen close his eyes, closing his arms around your waist. — You know I wouldn’t lie to you if I had any complaints about this place, and I can assure you that things, at least out there, were great. How were they here?

Your voice was calming for Carmen who forced himself to open his eyes and look at the beautiful thing in his arms. — We should be more organized.

— Hm, things like that always happen, you guys will get the hang of it, this was the first service, my love.

And there was the nickname that made Carmen feel like a prematurely lovestruck teenager.

— I’m really happy you liked it, beautiful. Carmen murmured, bringing a hand to your left cheek.

— You. Should. Relax. — With each pause, you planted a peck on Berzatto’s lips. Once you felt him still tense.

— Why are you so perfect, fuck. Carmen whispered, sucking on your neck and pulling you in for a longer, more heated kiss. — Did you like the wine you drank? He asked, pulling your body closer to his.

— It was you who chose it. Now it makes sense. You laughed softly, playing with the curls of the man below you. — I loved it, thanks.

— I'm happy that you came, I thought you wouldn’t. Carmen admitted, which made you make a confused face.

— I almost thought you didn’t want me to come. You murmured, embarrassed, and Carmen frowned, pulling your face to look at him.

— I love when you’re near me, please, stay close. He asked with conviction in his words.

— Okay, I will.

— Listen, I-I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/n. But I want to do this right...— Carmen started and before he could finish you stopped him, agreeing.

— I love you, Carmy. You asking me to be your girlfriend or not, it’s okay, we don’t need to do this like it’s a race. You agreed softly, looking into his eyes until the mood was broken by Richie shouting from the other side of the kitchen:

— Allright, cousin, enough of the mushiness. We need to close this restaurant. The older man appeared in the doorway and looked at you two with a bored face. — Didn’t know we could have sex at work.

— Shut up. Carmen said while you got up from his lap and Richie disappeared from your sight.

— Hey, want to sleep over? I’ll finish quickly. Carmen offered and you smiled, nodding your head gently.

— Sure. You said watching him leave the office and come back in a second.

— And hey, I love you too.

---

Requests are open ✨

[writa-anon]

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

[arminsumi]

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[chaepink]

Hi i really loved ur content about submissive Kenma. Can u write a fic about kenma again🥺🥺 like the reader was so jealous because some ramdom girl is flirting with kenma. Thats why she ended up fucking him all night u knaurr

jealousy, jealousy | sub!kenma kozume

wc: 1k+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, pegging, possessiveness/jealously, begging, jealous sex, aftercare is mentioned though its not written, established relationship, slight crying

note : oh my god thank you! 😳

and im sorry but i forgot to write how the reader kept fucking him all night :,)

"Oh hello~ you're rather cute, aren't you?" You ignore the voice, thinking it was just a girl hitting on a random person. That's until you hear the high pitched voice again asking the person for their number, except it was closer this time and a familiar voice answers afterwards.

"N-No thanks... I'm not i-interested.."

You stray your attention from the item in your hand to the familiar voice and furrow your eyebrows when you see the scene.

Kenma, who's your boyfriend to make it clear, being flirted on by this clueless girl who, though he denied her advances once already, thinks she still has a shot and keeps on trying to talk to him. She's getting rather close to him too, making him have to take small steps backward in order to keep the distance between them comfortable, a slight blush on his cheeks.

You feel anger bubble up inside your body as you furrow your eyebrows, glaring at the girl. You know the emotion you're currently feeling loud and clear: jealously.

Knowing how Kenma hates being social and would rather stay inside and play video games over anything else, your boyfriend is probably hating all the attention that he is currently getting from her. Hell, judging by the facial expression he has on it seems that he would rather be anywhere else than at that very spot.

Having dated him for a while now, you know the poor boy won't find it in him to be able to find the words to shut her down directly. That's where you come in.

Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself down before you mindlessly do something you would regret. Walking towards the two, Kenma sees you and his eyes immediately light up, begging you to help him out of the situation.

Grabbing his hand more harsher than you meant, you immediately begin walking towards the cashier section while completely ignoring the girl right there.

"C'mon, babe. I'm done getting everything."

Kenma blushes at the venom in your tone. He could feel the jealousy radiating off you and honestly? It's rather hot.

But he can't help but be nervous about what's going to happen to him.

---

"P-Please! i'm s-sorry!" He lets out another sob as you hit all the right spots in him with your strap. Due to the sheer size of it, it fills him up almost too perfectly, making him whine and whimper underneath you as you continue to pound his insides.

Tears brim his eyes as you brutally fuck him stupid. All he can do is lay there as pleasure courses through his body in waves making him unable to do anything without being shocked with pleasure seconds later. He's a pillow princess, really, but oh do you love it.

Mere minutes if not seconds after you entered the shared apartment between you two do you already have him trapped on the bed underneath you, one of your biggest straps entering and exiting him easily and quickly due to prep. His top half is still covered by a hoodie as you were too focused on revealing his bottom half.

"Oh don't worry, baby." You clench your teeth. Your thighs are absolutely burning but you don't dare stopping for even a second. You remember how touchy the girl was being with Kenma and you speed up your thrusts even more, jealously fueling your adrenaline. "I know you're sorry. Just gotta make sure that the next time that girl sees you-," you start to say. "Well the next time anyone has their eye on you, they'll see the hickeys on your neck and decide to leave what what's mine alone."

A shiver runs down Kenma's spine as your possessiveness makes blood run far down his body. His hands make its way into your back, latching on and digging his nails into your skin, making you hiss from the slight pain it causes. The grip you have on his hips is hard enough to leave a mark but it allows you to easily fuck in and out of him and be able to control the pace.

"You're mine, yeah? No one else's. Mine."

He whimpers as a particular thrust of your strap has him arching his back and letting out a almost pornographic moan. Fuck, he looks absolutely breathtaking right now.

"Y-Yes- fuck! I'm y-yours."

You latch your teeth onto his neck and bite down, making Kenma mewl out from the slight pain. Making sure to leave a few more bite marks and love bites, you lick a few to soothe the pain. You don't care if they only stay for a few days, knowing you would leave more in the near future.

"Fuck- i'm close!"

With that information, you switch from quick, hard thrusts to slower, deeper ones that make Kenma's toes curl and eyes roll from the sheer pleasure he's feeling. He lets out another moan.

"Go on, baby. Cum for me, alright?"

And with that, Kenma lets loose. Whines, moans, and whimpers fill the room as your boyfriend stains the bed and his hoodie with cum. You continue slowly fucking him to ease him down from his high and Kenma whines from sensitivity when you pull out, leaving him to clench around nothing.

"Good boy," you say, kissing his cheek. He blushes red from the praise, almost as if you weren't fucking his brains out mere seconds ago. "You did so good for me." You're about to leave to clean him up until he grabs your arm, stopping you. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Um... w-what about you though?" It takes a moment for you to process his question but once you do, you can't help but smile.

"Aw sweetie," you coo, making him blush even harder at the new pet name. "Don't worry about me, I'm just glad you enjoyed it."

As you go and get a wet towel to clean him up, he reaches to his neck and gently touches the hickeys and bite marks you've left there. Though it hurts as he slowly presses down on a bruise and he has to stop himself from letting out a whimper, he can't help but smile, a dark blush adorning his cheeks.

He's yours.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR! [TEASER]

PAIRING — kim mingyu x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.4k (full fic will be 20k+)

RELEASE DATE — TBA, will probably take a while!

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, dark comedy if u ask me, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst

♪ aquartos - crystal city,, verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. enjoy :D

i. TWO WEEKS SINCE THE MURDER

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, sometime around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police received a call from you, saying your father’s hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector whose name you did not bother remembering before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that is the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with other miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

you can only sigh. “i was his daughter by blood only. that’s all.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

“he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.”

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair. you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu’s eyes remain on you until you move past the corner. he only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

if you’d like to be tagged in this once it’s released, leave a comment! <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[coralinnii]

Hello! If u dont remember me I'm the person that requested the villainess au Trey x reader from a long time ago, just wanna drop in and say I really look forward to your works and hope you have a great day/night/time! Sorry for bothering you if this message ends up being a bother

‧₊˚✧ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

feat: Trey

genre: slow burn, coworkers-to-something more

note: no pronouns were used for reader, reader is implied to be old enough to work, mentions of poisoning and assassination attempts, reader is somewhat emotionally constipated.

extra note: While Trey is not quite in-character as I would like, he is supposed to be younger than his canon version, so I wanted him to be more unsure and inexperienced than his future self.

I did it, I finally got this done. Praise me (don't)

Being Reincarnated as the Bad Guy aka Villain/ess AU masterlist

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense. No, you seriously don’t.

One minute you were finally getting off a particularly bad shift at work, only to be in this strange world you don’t recognize…as a low-ranking servant to the bloody royal family!

The rules, the standards, the pretentious nobles you have to smile in fear of having your neck sliced…where’s OSHA when you need them?

At least your coworkers were decent and you’re not in charge of anything too major like waiting on the Queen or her son, unlike that young aide-in-training you see running up and down the palace…poor Sir Clover.

Not your problem, though

…Until a couple of greedy noblemen forced a vial of poison into your hands, promising you a grand reward of money and status for your compliance. They wanted you to spike the drink of the crown prince’s closest aide-in-training so they could plant their own men by his side.

With your best service smile on, you handed back the vial back.

“No ❤️”

When they try to threaten you, you kindly remind them that if they plan to drag you in the mud, you’re not above pulling them along with you.

“If I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone with me.”

Once that was over, you wanted to cleanse yourself from this ugly conspiracy. You were way too busy worrying about your own neck, and you assumed that Sir Clover was cautious over his own safety that you, a mere worker bee, have nothing to contribute.

However, you do notice that the young green-haired man seems to prioritize others over himself, and the lights to his room are often still lit until late into the night. An honest young man burdened with responsibilities; his defenses may not always be on guard…

Ugghh, what a pain in the-

“Um, excuse me?” You looked to the tall nobleman trying to capture your attention.

“Yes, Sir Clover?”

“Were you originally scheduled to work today?”

You held your urge to click your tongue. Of course, Trey would be aware of at least who was scheduled to wait on Prince Riddle and him. What an annoyingly conscientious man.

“My colleague was feeling unwell so I offered to take her place for today. I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” You bowed politely which made the bespectacled man a little flustered.

“No, I’m grateful she could take a rest. Thank you for taking up the role but please let us know next time so we can offer some medical help if needed.”

That wouldn’t be necessary, you thought as you nodded regardless. Your coworker wasn’t really sick in any way but she was more than happy to switch schedules with you.

Many of the servants are under the impression that you harbored a crush on the admittedly cute aide-in-training since you were caught glancing at his direction more often than usual. It wouldn't be surprising if your “crush” in question is also aware of the gossip, which leads to his tenseness around you. Be it kindness or hesitance, Sir Clover chose not to reprimand you for doing as you please.

“What a pain, but I guess it works in my favor anyway.”

A knock rang through the room and with Riddle’s permission, an anxious maid came in with a tray carrying a tea set, confusing everyone in the room.

It’s not time for afternoon tea yet.

“What is the meaning of this?” For someone so young, Riddle’s sharp tone ran a deadly chill down everyone’s back. “Afternoon tea is not for another 13 minutes.”

The maid stuttered in fear, the tea set clattering slightly in her hands. “T-The servants thought that His Highness and Sir C-Clover have been working tirelessly today and perhaps some tea could help.”

You had too much of a survival instinct to dare look at the prince but the silence and building heat in the air was evidence enough that the thought was not appreciative.

Trey was quick to clear the tension with an awkward cough and a smile. “Thank you, I could use some.”

At his words, you dutifully proceeded to reach for the set when the maid hastily pulled it away from you.

Strange

“I-I can do it. Please excuse me” Without sparing a glance towards you, the maid quickly set the tray down on a nearby table and worked to pour a cup.

You’ve seen this maid only a few times. She was a new addition to the roster, too new to approach the royal family but here she was. She hadn't even learned how to properly hold the pot which was noticeable to everyone but was ignored (at the behest of Trey’s wordless plea) due to assumed inexperience.

“She’s so nervous but here she is, so adamant about serving some damn tea…”

A suffocating feeling rising in your throat, you watched with trepidation as the maid walked towards Trey while holding the teacup almost too preciously.

“Eek!” The maid shrieked when your hand squeezed her wrist in an unforgiving grip. She turned to question you but your glare kept her silent.

Trey looked at you with confusion, but your attention kept on the shaking maid and the teacup. With your other hand, you reach for your silver brooch given as part of your uniform to symbolize you as a person of the royal family.

The confusion in Trey’s eyes turned to disbelief when he watched your silver brooch become a damning color as you dipped the silver into the tea.

The broken maid would have crumbled completely onto the pristine floor if not for your hand still on her wrist. While she seemed to be a bumbling mess begging for her life, you couldn’t risk her making a run for it.

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.

”So, it was a plan to replace me…permanently.”

You stood silently in front of the solemn man in his office. After arresting her, it was easy to extract information from the maid and prince Riddle is gathering evidence for their act of treason, including your own interrogation.

“You are the trusted aide-to-be of the prince that cannot be bribed. You’re considered an obstacle.” You bowed your head. “I apologize for not speaking out sooner but if it were just my words without evidence, I could have my tongue removed for accusing nobility.”

If it was just you, then you wouldn’t be as confident. But to think that those corrupted nobles managed to convince someone else to do their dirty work. They were desperate and now that there was an attempt, the higher authorities have to take action.

“I shouldn’t feel bad for that maid…why should I for the choice she made…” you could still feel the sensation of that woman’s shaking body in the hand that held her. You don’t like it.

“Ha, you really don’t sugarcoat your words.” Trey’s voice pulled you back as he tried to laugh but his young body felt too heavy to put his whole heart into it.

But it’s finally over. The poisoning failed and those stupid noble scums were on Prince Riddle’s hit-list. That feeling of guilt that ate at your heart could finally rest in peace…right?

Even when he was the victim of all this, Trey was still sitting in his office in charge of investigating his own assassination attempt, on top of his usual duties in assisting the Royal family.

“Thank you for your time,” he even dares to smile kindly at you with dark circles under his warm eyes. “If you could, please call over the head staff to plan on interrogating the rest of the servants.”

“No.”

“N-No?”

“I won’t be doing that. I could ask the head staff to leave his schedule open if needed or if he could handle it with the guards since that’s his f*cking job,” You stared right into Trey’s eyes which widened in surprise. “For now, I humbly suggest Sir Clover to take a rest in his room or to work on something other than your assassination case.”

You didn’t wait for your stunned employer to reply as you bowed politely once more. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

You moved away, making your way to the door before pausing. You glanced back at the young man in such a large office and your consciousness felt heavy. Your body was physically no older than Trey or Riddle but the weight on their shoulders was immeasurable, too much for either of them to handle on their own.

“Sir Clover,” you refused to look him in the eyes, “if you ever need anything…I’m willing to assist however I can.”

Immediately regretting your embarrassing words, you quickly added “but during work hours only!” before hastily leaving the office.

A shame really, since you missed the way Trey let out a genuine laugh after so long.

[cyyfics]

I LOVED your Simon headcannons!!! Could I request gender neutral reader giving Simon a Blowjob? I just generally imagine him all whiny and needy. Like he gets an involuntary erection and the reader helps him out <33

—————

Accidents Happen

Pairing: !Simon Petrikov x GN! reader

C! Warning(s): NSFW!, blowjobs, overstimulation, hair pulling, something else idk how to describe??? Like ur like idk, sort of spit/saliva kink, gagging, throat fucking sort of, sort of choking tbh

Synopsis: you and your best friend Simon were just lounging around on the couch on a hot summers day, who knew it would end like this?

Pronoun stuff: ur genitals aren’t mentioned like at all except for maybe one line and it’s pretty gender neutral

Note: ur the one being more dominant and harsh to him in this story, just letting u guys know Cus like ik some ppl don’t like top! readers ???

Also sorry for the Wattpad words 😨

————————

Your day started out like normal, you were simply lying in bed with your leg draped off the side lazily; that was until you got a knock on your door. Planning to stay lazy, you stayed in bed for a little longer not planning to get up. ‘If it’s really that important, they’ll find a way to get to me..’ you thought to yourself as you neglected the person at the door.

“Y/n!” You perked up as you heard your name being called, the sound of a familiar voice ringing through your head “shit, it’s Simon!” You scrambled to get up from your cozy bed to go help him at the door. Your footsteps were heard from outside the house at how fast you were running down the hallway, Simon stared at your front door with a bead of sweat upon his eyebrow as he heard you coming.

Finally, you had opened up the door for him. He was standing there with one of his arms sheepishly rubbing at his elbow, “Simon! What’re you doing here? Not that I mind, but I thought you would’ve texted first..” you crossed your arms and squinted at him. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I was in the area and thought about seeing you.” Simon apologised, the sentence actually sounding pretty sweet to you. “You’re drenched in sweat, did you run here or something?” You chuckled to yourself a little as you looked him up and down.

“No. Just walked. The heat is horrible out there.” Simon huffed and leaned against the wall, you cocked an eyebrow at him “You sure you’re not just exaggerating? I know your body temperature hasn’t been the same since ic-“ Simon cuts you off. He doesn’t wanna hear the name, doesn’t wanna remember any of that. “No. It really is hot out there. I saw a candy girl and she was literally melting!” Simon exclaimed.

You found it kinda cute, but not in a weird way, you told yourself. “You can sit in front of the fan if you want, just turn it on over there.” You pointed towards the fan that was set up in the corner of your living room “..Why do you have a fan out here?” Simon irked at you “..Because it gets hot in the living room? Duh.” You furrowed your eyebrows at him and gave a weird look. “..Right then.” Simon switched the fan on and immediately started to lay down on your couch.

“Oh, and now you’re just stealing my couch. How thoughtful.” You walked over to join him and found that he had left you little room to sit down, “Yes I am actually quite thoughtful- thank you for seeing that prince/ss” Simon chuckled to himself before moving a bit on the couch. “That’s still not leaving me a lot of room, Simon.” You deadpanned at him “Come lay on me then, I don’t mind.” He invited you over to him. It wouldn’t be weird, you told yourself, you and him had cuddled or laid with each other before, it’s what best friends do.

You hesitantly crawled up to him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder awkwardly. “Isn’t this only gonna make you feel more hot?” You asked him “Probably.” Simon didn’t really care though since he had the fan turned on him. As you laid there on top of him, Simon moved one of his arms to wrap around you- to make sure you don’t suddenly fall off the couch or something, obviously..

The TV was switched on and before long the two of you were watching bad movies and junk. It was like any other day, that’s how it started. The two of you would always just be hanging out doing random things, sometimes it’d be things even like just standing in the same room together. You two just enjoyed each other’s presence. “Oh, this is a boring movie. I preferred the book much better.” Simon giggled into his hand, you couldn’t help smiling and giggling back at him.

Just as the two of you became engulfed in whatever garbage you were watching, you suddenly felt the air in the room go stagnant. Something was off, and you didn’t exactly know what yet. That was until you felt something ‘weird’ and ‘foreign’ pressing up against your lower back, you weren’t sure what it was at first but you got an idea when you moved your hips back a little and felt Simon tense up. You stayed still for a bit, seeing if he was going to say anything, possibly something like ‘Y/n don’t do that that’s my crotch’ or ‘I’m sorry that I’ve accidentally got a boner let’s just ignore it’

He said nothing, and neither did you. But you were ever so curious to find out if he would eventually say something, to confirm your theory you had to test it. You ground your hips back against his front, making the man involuntarily twitch for just a moment. You didn’t miss it, with the way his arm around you tensed up. “Something wrong?” You turned over your shoulder to ask him, looking up at his now slightly flustered face “N-No, why would something be wrong? Nothings wrong.” Simon stammered out.

“Oh, okay then.” You turn your head away to focus back on the TV but just as you do you feel his hand that was holding your side slightly grip you a little tighter, sending this tingling sensation down your body. You still didn’t dare say anything, wondering where this may be leading to. Simon pulled you a little closer to him, you were flush against him, he tried to do it slowly in hopes maybe you wouldn’t notice but you did. “Simon.” You spoke “Hm?” He tried to act as if he had no idea that you knew what he was doing.

“Why did you-“ he cuts you off “Why did I what?” You furrow your eyebrows at him “pull me closer.” You finish “I didn’t do that.” He lies to you, and yet his fingers grasp onto the fabric of your shirt to hold you a little tighter. You roll your eyes at him, simply deciding to mess with him now at this point. You shifted in your place a bit, your ass now rubbing right against his hard on. It’s a little more obvious now what you’re doing, and Simon ends up realising that just as he releases a soft moan.

The sound reaches your ears, making your cheeks flush. You weren’t expecting a moan, nor one this cute. You tease up a little, turning your head to look up at his face- which was already looking down at you with a slight annoyance. Yet, he had the most adorable flustered looking face you’d ever seen. “Y/n!” Simon exclaims “yeeeeesssss?” You draw it out, you weren’t worried about him being upset with you since you knew the man and that he wasn’t actually mad or upset. “Are you doing that on purpose?” He narrows his eyes at you “doing what?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

“You know what.” Simon spits flusteredly, his cheeks a bright red colour. “Do I?” You turn your head back around, moving your hips against him again. “So you are!” Simon squeals in embarrassment “you are doing this on purpose!” Simon huffs “No clue what you’re talking about Simon.” You pretend to yawn “Right. So you aren’t rubbing your butt up against me on purpose?” Simon deadpanned at you “Where would you get such an idea?” You asked him trying not to laugh.

“From this.” He gently moves you off of him a little and shows you the growing erection showing through his pants, from what you could see he already looked pretty big actually. You looked down at him with widened eyes, licking your lips that had suddenly become dry, still trying to tell yourself that you only see this man as a friend. “Christ, Looks painful.” You swore under your breath, feeling suddenly sorry for this poor man.

“It is.” His cock was strained against his tightened pants, begging to be freed. “And you’re telling me, I did that?” Your tone switched up at the end there which told him that you weren’t innocent at all, not that he thought you were. “.. yes, I guess you did!” Simon turned his head away from you in annoyance. You didn’t say a word, only turning over to face him now. Your hand slowly slid down to find its way to his clothed erection, stroking him gently with your fingertips.

“Y-Y/n!” Simon gasped softly as you touched him, your hand brushing up against his aching cock. “Yeah? What’s up, Simon? What’s wrong?” You asked him ‘innocently’ even as your hand kept stroking at his clothed dick “you’re touching my-“ he gulped nervously. “This okay?” You cut him off to ask him “yes.” Simon replied a little quickly. Simon was panting under your touch now, trying to fight his urges as his hips slowly grind themselves up against your hand.

“Get it out for me, please.”

Simon didn’t hesitate as he started to undo his belt, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor. He then unbuttoned his pants, zipped them down, and tugged them down to his thighs. He then slid his underwear down enough to reveal his length “fuck..” you muttered out quietly as you eyed his erection in its full glory. He was actually surprisingly long, and he was curved. “What’re you gonn-“ Simon bit back his words as he felt you suddenly move your head down to kiss at his tip.

Simon loved it, he couldn’t lie. His eyes were watching you with such content and desire, he could watch you sit and kiss his cock all day. (Not really, if you did that he’d probably get super overstimulated and cum all over your lips and face.) You slowly parted your lips, letting your tongue drag along his slit before moving your head and licking a long line down his shaft. “A-ah..” Simon whined out as you started to lick at him, teasing him before you got to the main bit.

In all honesty Simon could’ve came right then and there, because just seeing you like that in a lewd state made his mind start reeling. Simon whined impatiently, covering his mouth with a hand, his hips jerking up against your touch. You took that as a sign and opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around him as you took him down your throat. There was a slight sting as you felt him take up the room down your throat, making it hard for you to breathe at all. You still tried your best though, moving your head up and down along his cock.

Simon couldn’t stop his greedy self, his hips grinding up against your face, one of his hands grabbing at your hair gently. He wasn’t pulling you or anything, only tangling his fingers in your hair as you sucked him dry. Your mouth was filling up with saliva as you took him down your throat, You don’t stop sucking him off though, instead letting a bit of saliva dribble down your chin. Simon was covered in your spit too, a bit of it starting to cover his thighs. It was a hot sight to see actually.

Simon moaned loudly, his hand that was tangled in your hair now grabbing it slightly tighter. You kept going, your tongue resting against the bottom of your mouth as he basically face fucked you. His hips were grinding against your face and his hand in your hair was slightly pushing you down against him too. It wasn’t long before he ended up cumming, hot bitter liquid pooling down your throat.

You had to swallow it, not sure you could even spit it up with the way it naturally sunk down your throat. Simon pulled out slowly, your tongue sticking out a little still covered in a bit of his cum. You put your tongue back into your mouth and swallowed it, the sight was a real pretty thing to see. Simon now felt a bit exhausted, panting as he laid back on the couch. You giggled at his cute mannerisms, before leaning back down and kissing at the head of his dick to overstimulate him.

It was just to tease him though, wanting to see more of his cute faces. Simon clenched his eyes and used a hand over his mouth to muffle a loud moan that had escaped him. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” You gave him mercy and sat up, allowing him to put himself away. “T-That felt really.. good” Simon admitted.

“I liked it too.”

[nkplanet]

WHICH TROPE ARE YOU?

PAIRING: enhypen x gn!reader SUMMARY: what trope do you and the enhypen members share? WARNINGS: a smidge of angst in jungwon + heeseung’s, all set in high school apart from jay + heeseung’s, implied toxic parents in jungwon’s, written on my phone so the formatting might be weird

NOTE: thank u sm for all the love on my last post and 155 followers!! i rlly appreciate you guys 🫶🫶 also i’m definitely gonna rewrite some of these as actual fics bc i love them (looking at u jungwon and niki)

— HEESEUNG 희승 — second chance romance personally i’m not a big fan of this trope but it just fits heeseung so well like ??? hello yes i would give u a second chance. there’s no doubt in my mind that cheating would not be involved, instead it was something that happened when you two were young and immature, but when you meet again you’ve grown and can continue to do so together

it had ended awfully the first time. neither of you were particularly mature, and a heated argument had caused your entire relationship had come crashing down. sixteen year old you would always regret the way you gave heeseung the cold shoulder for a reason you couldn’t even remember, and the way you had both yelled and screamed at each other. you hadn’t spoken for years when, all of a sudden, you bumped into him in a cafe. then at work. in the park. after six years of no contact, he was everywhere. it was like the universe was telling you to give him another chance. eventually, your walls crumbled, and heeseung made his way back into your heart. the two of you had never been happier.

others under the cut!

— JAY 제이 — fake dating jay is perfect for this trope imo, especially when it comes to fake dating at a wedding. put me in a psych ward bc whenever i think abt him in a suit i go insane. also your whole family would love him because he’s such a gentleman. he’s so perfect

it was your aunts wedding, and all of your siblings were bringing their significant others as plus ones. your brother had joked about how you’d be the only single one in the wedding party and, rather than face the humiliation, you lied and told him you did in fact have a boyfriend. it was a lie you forgot about until two weeks before the wedding, when your aunt mentioned being excited to meet the mysterious man. you panicked, running to tell jay about your issue. while you were contemplating telling your family that the mysterious man had broken up with you, jay said “why don’t i pretend to be your boyfriend? just for the day?” except, his fake boyfriend touches didn’t feel very fake. your aunt remarked that the two of you reminded her of herself and your new uncle when they were young. by the end of the night, you and jay were sharing kisses outside the reception. yeah, fake boyfriend my ass.

— JAKE 제이크 — you fell first, he fell harder jake seems like such a loser (affectionately) that he’d be the one to fall first, but just imagine that he doesn’t realise his feelings are romantic. he just thinks everyone sees their best friends that way and when he finds out otherwise? oh he’s head over heels in love with you. such a loser. i love him

the way you and jake interact is far from platonic. you had developed a crush on him when you were just fifteen, and since then you'd been trying to drop hints. when he started reciprocating your admittedly flirtatious gestures, you thought you had a chance, but he never made a move. in fact, jake never realised that he shared those feelings until one of his friends pointed out that the two of you were incredibly flirty with each other. he thought everyone saw their best friends as gorgeous, as an angel sent from above, as someone who they'd willingly spend the rest of their life with. after that it was hard for him to see you in any light other than romantic. when you asked him out he practically screamed yes. he is absolutely head over heels in love

— SUNGHOON 성훈 — opposites attract i was gonna pick grumpy x sunshine for him but he’s not exactly grumpy so opposites attract it is!! he’s reserved and only really lets loose around those he considers close, whereas you’re loud and bubbly with lots of friends. one of my fav tropes for a reason

sunghoon’s attention was brought to you via your laughter. it was loud and bright, and he’d never heard anything like it. since then, he’d yearned for the sound. though he lacked the confidence to actually ask you out, he began seeking your company. he’d study with you in the library, would offer to walk you home. things that friends do. you, on the other hand, were absolutely smitten. sunghoon was quiet and a little mysterious. you could never read him, and yet you were absolutely entranced by him. you thought he was absolutely gorgeous, perhaps one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. one day, while sunghoon was walking you home in the rain, you’d stopped and turned to face him. “what are we?” you’d asked. sunghoon remembers blanking immediately, not knowing how to reply. instead of words, he answered you with a kiss.

— SUNOO 선우 — best friend’s brother okay but imagine: you go over to ur best friends house and end up gossiping with their brother and all of a sudden,, he’s soooo attractive? and then he starts developing this crush but he can’t date you because you’re his siblings best friend. there’s probably be some secret dating involved (which i’m also a sucker for tbh)

you'd been harbouring a crush on sunoo for a while now, never acting on it because he was your best friend's brother. you looked forward to the weekly gossip sessions that the two of you shared when your friend left you together arguably more than you looked forward to seeing your friend (but don't tell her that). little did you know, sunoo felt the same. fleeting glances and not-so-platonic touches began growing between you two. eventually, sunoo asked you out. you wanted to say yes so badly but couldn't betray your friend like that. instead, you began dating in secret. it was only two months of sneaking around, 'jokingly' flirting, and kissing in places where she wouldn't see before she finally exploded, yelling that you two were gross but had her blessing. going public only increased the pda by tenfold, and people quickly grew sick of your sappy conversations. not that either of you cared, of course.

— JUNGWON 정원 — academic rivals turned lovers [full fic!] ACADEMIC RIVALS TURNED LOVERS!!!!! i love this trope sm and i think it fits won so well. i was gonna originally give this to niki but he wasn’t rlly in school. so. jungwon it is!! i can see you two as the top two in your year and always competing when one day it all comes crashing down for you. jungwon is suddenly? nice? and we go from there 🤭🤭

yang jungwon had never been the nicest person to you. sure, he was never really mean per-se, but the two of you were so competitive that nothing said was particularly nice. you and jungwon seemed to constantly be on par with each other academically, consistently being the top two students in your year. in english and sciences, you usually pulled ahead, while jungwon excelled in maths and other subjects. the rivalry between you was so tense that even the teachers tried to calm it down but to no avail. the reason behind your competitiveness was your parents. the pressure they put on you was immense, and one day you just broke. you’d had a fight with them, and the next day flunked a biology test. your grades began slipping from then on, and jungwon began to take notice. he stopped making quips, instead resorting to leaving some snacks or study tips on your desk when he thought you weren’t looking. he began giving you sympathetic looks until you eventually confronted him, telling him you didn’t want his pity. it wasn’t pity, though, it was worry. your relationship changed after that, no longer rivals but a little more than friends.

— NI-KI 니키 — childhood friends to lovers/first love OKAY HEAR ME OUT. u were childhood friends. niki realises his feelings and he’s all like oh no i can’t feel this way abt my bff :( and tried to pull away from u but ur like ??? yes tf and that’s how u become lovers

niki had been your closest friend for longer than you could remember. in both of your houses there sat baby pictures of the two of you together. you’d grown up together, going to all the same schools and most of the same clubs. in highschool, you were known as inseparable - if someone wanted one of you, they got both. but one day, niki started pulling away. it was fine, you told yourself, he was just growing up. you both were. but when he stopped answering your calls and texts and started actively avoiding you, you were hurt. you’d been by each others sides for so long that you didn’t really know how to live without him. the truth was, he’d discovered feelings that he’d never felt about anyone before. he knew he shouldn’t feel like this about his best friend, but he couldn’t help it. he was miserable without you, so much so that his friends were telling him to just ask you out. they told him that you definitely felt the same, so he took the leap. and thank god he did. you’re his first love, his everything.

[blossoms-phan]

✨philm club✨ rewatch - october 19th, 2015

liveshow - notes/thought yaps under the cut!

i love how they’re explaining how they do their individual liveshows to each other like im not saying they were just sat in the other room twice a week watching the other persons liveshow but like surely you have some idea of how it usually goes lmao

“im quite mellow today we’ve been in a car for a while” phil does seem like he has more mellow/chill energy in this one i imagine they were tired but also so go go go at this point resting for a second would only slow them down more

6 year friendiversary and dinof anniversary! It's so insane to me that it was only 6 years atp like this dnp was not too long after i became obsessed with them and i blinked and now its 15 years

dan “reassess your lives” and phil “i think you should be thanking them”- i think this is fascinating and ties into how today dan still automatically goes “im so sorry” when people say i've been watching you for x years and it makes us all want to shake him by the shoulders and say don't apologize silly man!!!!!!!!! take the compliment we mean it with love!!!!!!

dan exposing his ass to audience in leeds and years later during wad great stuff 

phil smacking his head on stage wow some things really don't change 

“calm down” in a silly voice from dan always reminds me of the cLaM dOWN airplane northern voice live clip 

i haven’t rewatched a liveshow in so long so much hair adjusting 

they sound so british sometimes 

“dan do you know what yaoi is” this is so funny to me you are asking the poster boy for yaoi day in 2024

looking at pics of p!atd on tumblr COME BACK TO ME TUMBLRINAA they r right btw i love pretty odd 

“dan choke me with your legs” why r u reading that. whore. see in 2015 knowing that a literal child probably said this its kinda cringe but also me with sister daniel and like all the Thigh in general these days so who am i to speak

“i like being remembered because that doesnt happen often with the celebrity folks”  :( this is sweet i know this time was A Lot and in general the radio stuff wasn't for them in the end and they appreciate that it was cool and fun but dan also mentioned how it was annoying to just be brushed off or being in a position where you're just forced to chase after all these big named people that dgaf about you but its just nice to see they noticed when they were remembered and the 1975 mention i could write an essay about 2018 dan and the album abiior

phil stopped the bus for fish and chips hehe i literally had fish and chips today this is cray. i hope they actually had them for dinner this day i would love to have a parasocial fish and chip night with them

you are pal creators :’) 

editing tips mention they are so unserious 

i am so emotionally attached to the london apartment but referring to it as “the house” when they have an actual House now is really getting to me 

aww talking about tabinof :’( i cant remember if i've talked about this before but there was hugee “drama” back in the day when it was first announced of people accusing them of selling out or some dumb shit when this wasn't another copycat youtuber ghostwritten book they poured their hearts into it as silly and fun as it was and the way dan talks about it really shows that i hope they were proud of it and still are

dan you don't really have the same hair but ok 

talking about the australian today show and they were just on it last month!! why does that make me so emo 

bitten right on the florida

bakeee offfff mention this is why i loved liveshows like just yapping about the shows they watch and cry over together

dan self aware get over it crashing out “so what he enjoys a themed drink” he is so silly dfjfkdfksfkj i love this part

can i live in that autumn moment?

rare what phil has been listening to! movie soundtracks ok king

dan being a little pretentious talking about their differing tv show opinions and phil just mocking his hand movements and giving a 2 word review their dynamic is so dear to me

Is this an unpopular opinion idk i can’t stand 3d movies  

black and blue as always

phil’s laugh and look and dan going “you cheeky little bugger” at him putting “phil and dan” on the chair page<3

hearing them talk about tour in the tatinof days when it was their first go and things like how its amazing hearing people sing to the preshow playlist in the context of like right now is soooooo as a longtime fan who yearned to attend tatinof while it was happening but couldn’t and finally actually experienced them and the magic of a dan and phil show and things like singing hot to go with phannies just a few months ago god im going to miss this era sm

the apocalypse/ai/technology tangent is scarily relevant right now and from nearly 10 years ago wow hashtag we’re all doomed

susan boyle after the amazingdan reaction video lmaoo

they were really doing the most during this era like omg so many promises of things coming soon among the tour and spooky week and book and they were literally just home for one day after being in a car for hours earlier that day like they seem in good spirits in this one and i know its just chill chatting for an hour but boys! take a breather! 

overall i enjoyed this one! i don't rewatch old liveshows a lot but this is a fun way for us all to commit to rewatching and discussing one a week bc there's always so many fun little forgotten details and i think it would be fun to continue even post break! i was very tired while watching this and somehow still wrote out this very long yappy list of notes which are really just a stream of consciousness which no one will read probably but i humbly present them anyways <3

[bradshawed]

the holiday — pick the setting/location && the person and i’ll write you a blurb!

how about christmas morning with pope or jj (or both)!! u can pick the pairing but I feel like they’d both give really thoughtful gifts even if they didn’t cost much x

Something old, something new..

warnings — fem!reader, use of y/n, one pet name, fluff, slightly jealous!jj, jj pining for u, simp!jj, slight obx inaccuracies, parental death, links to top gun

note — went for both (with jj pining for you hehe). hope you like it! mwah ily mal x

drew's christmas celly x

...

Cleo's knife spun on the wooden floor of the Chateau, finally coming to a stop on Pope. JJ groaned, dramatically throwing his hands up in the air with a huff as the sweet boy handed you a perfectly wrapped box, much to JJ's annoyance.

Tradition states that on Christmas morning, following a sunrise surf, presents are to be opened around the questionable glass beer bottle tree (insert something or other about sustainability). Normally, a bottle would be spun to determine who opened their presents first (see the Christmas fiasco of 2012) but seeing as all the bottles were used up, spin the knife seemed like the safest option.

"Oh wow- Pope I- I don't know what to say." The boy in question shrugged off the compliment with a smile, urging you to take it out of the sunshine yellow wrapping paper you'd been so careful to avoid ripping. JJ's head snapped up out of curiosity, leaning over your shoulder to see your mother's Ricoh FF90 Super film camera fixed, with a roll of 35mm film. The three of you had found that old thing one day when you'd bribed them to help you clean out your attic in exchange for free food. JJ had said he knew a guy, but Pope mentioned having some film lying around and well, you can figure out the rest. Now the scrapbook journal Cleo had gifted you with (along with the self-defence lessons) made more sense. You pulled them into a hug, grateful to have something that connected you to your mum. "Thank you, this means a lot to me."

"Okayyy, it's getting way too emotional, who's left?" JJ, ever the empath.

"That would be you J."

"Oh."

He tried to give you the classic JJ smile, "you don't have to open it pretty girl, it's fine, really, it's not much and-" he stopped at the sight of your smile, handing over the present he'd poorly attempted to hide behind his back, he never could hide anything from you.

It wasn't neatly wrapped by any means, with duct tape haphazardly covering the faded green Christmas trees, but it had a certain JJ charm to it that had you placing a gentle kiss to his cheek to calm down his fidgeting fingers. John B let out a snort at the blush covering the blonde's cheeks (one that you missed trying to delicately unwrap the paper).

Plop. Something small fell onto your lap as JJ sucked in a nervous breath.

"Had to ask the girls for some help but I um made it for you."

You ran your fingers over the material of the handmade bracelet, feeling a familiarity you couldn't quite place. Until all of a sudden, it clicked, "the shirt, you-". JJ nodded in confirmation, the anxiety leaving his body at your visible excitement as you tackled him into a hug.

Your father had passed away when you and your brother were young, and your mother had done her best to keep his memory alive until she passed away from cancer a few years ago. You didn't have much to remember them by, except for the passion for photography you shared with your mother, and your father's collection of Hawaiian shirts which your brother had taken to.

You recently ripped one, badly, managing to save some scraps, a few of which you gave to JJ upon his request. Now you see why he'd asked. The bracelet had been made from your father's shirt interwoven with small charms. The perfect mix of old and new.

And a Christmas you won't ever forget.

[betterinvienna]

Hello, I don't know if you are taking requests but I was wondering if you could make a female reader x Aki Hayakawa where they are both a couple (they have been dating for a while) and she moves in with him so she helps him deal with his roommates (including Nayuta because she is very cute) I don't know if I explained myself well, do what you want hahaha I only ask that it be fun and fluffy

pink cheeks and hot coffee - aki hayakawa ⋆⁺₊❅.

overview: 8 months ago, in the cold Tokyo snow, you met him. Time-skip, and you're moving in with him, and meeting the people closest to him. Aki Hayakawa truly is a rom-com dream.

word count: 2848

tags: aki x gen!reader (except reader is called pretty) maybe ooc(?), mentioned power, nayuta, denji, and aki, aki likes to flirt, fluff, request, established relationship, canon divergence, aki is not some emotionless freak

warnings: none

author's note: uuuugh this took me a month to complete im so sorry to who requested this i've been infinitely busy :( changed some stuff up & left some key aspects of the request out, so let me know if you want me to continue this story rather than stop here. + not sure if this is ooc or not. fujimoto took my babies away from me so i havent seen their personality in forever dont beat me up pls

thank u 4 reading ^_^

8 months ago, you met Aki Hayakawa in the café a block from your apartment. Having just moved to Tokyo, you needed something familiar – thankfully, cafés are essentially the same everywhere. He ordered his coffee black – and you only remembered because that’s weird, ew – and shot you two fleeting glances before awkwardly returning to staring out the window. 

Ten minutes later, you saw him leave a nice sum of yen on the table, exiting the café with a ding as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. Naturally, cigarettes repel you – secondhand smoke, ew again – but you shrugged and slid out of your booth, leaving the money necessary to cover your meal and then some, your shoes crunching the snow as you left the warm café. To be fair, you just wanted to test your luck – he’s cute and you like to talk. The worst he could do is start running in the opposite direction.

“Hi.” You breathed, cold fog punctuating your words.

He gave you a quizzical look, almost annoyed, even, and you chewed down on your bottom lip, regretting your bold choice already. He returned his gaze to his cigarette, flicking on the lighter and directing it to the end of the stick.

“Hello. Can I help you?” 

“Right. Sorry. I noticed you –” You drew a blank. What’d you notice? Quick! Lie – he’s too cute. “Had the new Onitsukas. I like the, um, colorway. Black and grey. Suits your vibe.” You gesture to his black and grey Onitsuka Tigers, laced with matching black threads. 

“Oh.” Confusion settled deeper into the man’s face, but a fresh pink tint decorated his cheeks. “Right.” He looked down, kicking some snow around and checking out his Tigers as if he forgot they were there. “Thank you.”

“I’m a big shoe fan myself, you know.” What a lie. You gave him a meek smile and kicked your Isabel Marants into the air for him to see. “The viral ones. Sold out everywhere. Couldn’t get them anywhere – well, except for one place. I stood in the rain for these.” Another lie. You ordered these online on a whim, because your best friend, Lou, said they’d look good on you and you were desperate for some new fashion options.

“Uh… okay,” His ears were red by now. Are you annoying him? Why did you think he cared about shoes? Get this guy’s number and get out of here. “That’s cool.”

You scratch your neck, running out of things to say. Ugh. Whatever. “I’m kind of new here. I was hoping I could get a friend or two, so, um…” you press your lips together, digging your phone out of your jacket’s pocket. His lips curled faintly upward when he saw your Sonny Angel glued to the back of your stickered phone case, but you handed him the overly decorated phone and pulled up the keypad screen anyway, hoping he got the gist.

Thankfully, he did. Aki snuffed the cigarette out under his shoe and sniffed through his frost-nipped, red nose. “Uh, I’m Aki. Aki Hayakawa.” He finally gave you a lopsided, awkward grin as he turned your phone back to you – with his number typed in it. Score! Cute guy’s number in your phone on just week 2 in Tokyo. Seems the ¥1.7k spent on YesStyle for this new-and-hip lip tint didn’t go to waste.

You nodded, smiling as you stared at the white numbers. By now, passersby were starting to notice your awkward exchange, but when have you ever been able to keep your mouth shut? “Thank you – I’ll text you. Also, why do you order your coffee black?” 

—

aki my baby: I’m going to stop by the corner store before I come over to help you pack. Do you want anything?

You roll over on your bed and pick up your phone, checking out the notification. Behind it, a picture of you and your boyfriend, Aki, on a Ferris wheel. Aki is pictured with a downwards smile and a comically large corndog in hand, while you grin ear to ear, holding up a peace sign. It’s a beautiful picture, with all the night city lights in the back and your hair blowing just right in the high wind. You stare at your room, boxes vacant of any item when today is your move-in day. You should probably stop reminiscing and get on that.

You: no ty

aki my baby: ??? Are you sure?

aki my baby: [1 Attachment]

A picture of your favorite gummy bears. Okay, it looks like you forgot that. Aki: 1. You: 0.

You: omg

You: wait

You: yes those ones

You: thank u. i love u… ( ͒  ́ඉ .̫ ඉ ̀  ͒)...

aki my baby: I love you too. See you in a bit.

It’s been maybe two and a half years into your relationship with Aki Hayakawa, and you already have a vision board in your closet for the wedding. Well, no, not really, but now that the idea has come up… you’re seriously considering it. 

Aki is like a dream-come-true, rom-com movie kind of boyfriend – that boy next door, best friend’s older brother vibe. He’s almost fake. Your life right now is what 13-year-old you watched through a screen, and you love that – and him. He knows your favorite flowers, favorite TV show, favorite movie, favorite book, all 20 of your favorite songs, which lyrics you like most out of each of them, and how many times you cried over losing your favorite hoodie – which he promptly found 2 hours later because he was there, front and center, to count all of the times you cried – making him the perfect boyfriend. To top off this quintessential boyfriend act, he – reluctantly – offered you a spot at his place, since you got tired of everything breaking down at yours. However, there is one thing missing.

Aki had previously refused to let you meet his three friends – roommates? Siblings? Children? Whatever. All that you know of them is that they cause a ton of trouble for him. 

You just brushed it off. I mean, who are you to request for even more of his personal life than however much you know right now? But… you’ve always been just a little curious. Anyone would want to show off their girlfriend, right? 

They sound interesting enough from the tales Aki tells you. He only spoke of them in passing: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the bathtub, sleeping on the toilet, roleplaying as a “queen” and her lowly subordinates, and an overwhelming number of dogs. You have to meet them. It’s a risible concept really – how’d he end up with them if he’s so… reserved? Then again, how’d he end up with you?

Di-i-uhh—thunk!

Oh. Right. The doorbell is broken too.

“I’m coming!” Two and a half years ago, the doorbell made the same, ugly “thunk” sound when Aki came to pick you up for the date – or hangout, whatever you wanna call it – that made you official, so you supposed it was alright to leave it broken. For memories. 

It was on the rooftop of your apartment building, so you didn’t think anything special of it – until he started dropping indirect, heavy hints like “You’re so pretty… uh, you always have been,” followed up by “You’d be even prettier as my girlfriend.” Well, the latter was mumbled under his breath, and you had to fill in the blanks, so you’re not 100% sure if you’re quoting it verbatim. Regardless, it was cute, he was – is – cute, and his personality is cute – which checks all of your boxes. So, you said yes. And in the end, the doorbell never got fixed. He asked you about it a couple of months ago, and instead of telling him the whole story, you just told him it was important that it was kept that way. He didn’t question you any further, because you started shoving this new recipe you found on Instagram into his mouth.

“Hi, baby,” This long, yet your stomach still flips at his every word.

“Hi,” By now, you’re practically cheesing. He steps aside and invites himself into the apartment he practically shares – well, now shared – with you.

“You haven’t packed?” Oh. Too busy eating chips and watching random re-runs of your favorite TV shows, but you won’t tell him that.

“What?” You look around, feigning innocence, and throw your hands up with a smile. “Sooooorry. I’ll get on it now. With you here, it’ll be super fast.” At this, Aki just smiled and shook his head, putting his house slippers on (I told you, he practically shared this apartment with you) and shuffled into your kitchen, leaning on the island.

“I talked to my, uh, roommates today.” He said, scratching the side of his neck.

Your eyes widen. “You’re just now telling them I’m moving in?” 

Aki slid his tongue over his teeth and loosened his grip on the counter behind him, watching you. “Yeah. You know Denji – well, no, you don’t, not yet – but he’s been dying to meet you for a while now, and if I told him too early, he’d never shut up about you moving in until you did.” 

You smiled at him, shoving some stuff into the boxes in your living room. “Denji sounds like more fun than you are,” you joked. “Are you gonna come and help me pack, or are you here to watch me do it?”

He sighed, walking over to the empty box adjacent to yours. “This is unpaid labor. Definitely illegal.”

“You came here, willingly.” You pointed out, then leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “There. I paid you. Totally legal.”

Aki points to his lips. “That’s minimum wage. I deserve a bonus, since I’m working last minute, don’t I?”

—

“That’s the last one.” Aki huffed and smoothed out his incredible slick back and stick-up ponytail, looking over at you in shorts, the huge t-shirt you stole from him, and slippers that are definitely overdue a replacement.

“I told you we should’ve hired movers.” You sneered and rolled your eyes, sweat lining your eyebrows as the hot sun poured onto the two of you. You hopped into the van's passenger seat, immediately pulling down the sunshade and basking in the coolness.

“You have every home decor item from every home decor store in every city in Japan and probably beyond in your house. I wasn’t anticipating that.” Aki reached down to put the car in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “Plus, I did most of the heavy work.”

You rested your tilted head on your propped arm on the center console of the car, fighting back a giggle – not gonna give him the satisfaction of a joke that actually landed for once. “You’re so sassy.”

“You like it.”

“...Whatever.”

—

Before entering the complex, Aki gave you a stringent set of rules and a rather cohesive oral rundown of how your meeting with Denji and the others is going to go. The former was on a piece of paper, written in oddly legible chicken scratch. On the top, there was a directory of sorts of all 3 of his roommates, paired with rough doodles of their images. It read as follows:

NO screaming with Denji, Power, or Nayuta.

Do NOT ask Nayuta about the dog’s personalities, names, ages, or any of the sort.

Do NOT ask Power or Denji any questions.

NO play-fighting, no sparring, no physical contact with ANY of the idiots roommates.

Do NOT talk too much with them.

Yeah, sure. You’ll follow them, but sometimes… rules are suggestions. You’ve known Aki for over 3 years; anyone who keeps him company is your friend. Any friend of yours is treated with wholehearted love. So, it’ll be justified when you break the physical contact rule. A hug should be fine, right? 

Walking up the stairs with Aki, he reminds you of the makeshift contract. “You don’t want to deal with Power especially. Trust me. It’s all in your best interest to adhere to it.”

You brushed him off with a wave of the hand. “Sure. I bet they’re the coolest ever and you’re just a huge grump.” He turned the knob for you, pushed the door open, and rolled his eyes, ushering you into the apartment where the three were gathered around the chabudai, playing cards. 

“YES!” The red-horned one started screaming, slamming the cards down as the blonde started to grumble in discontent, mumbling something about cheating, fluidly mixed with an impressive string of profanities. It was obvious they had not recognized your presence, but the black-haired child did, neck craned, eyes burning a hole in your skull. Dogs surrounded her figure seated by the chabudai as she fed each one a bone-shaped treat. Surprisingly, they’re oddly well-behaved for such a numerous bunch. Wow. The prophecies are true.

You stood there awkwardly, looking up at Aki for help; however, he let go of your hand and shrugged, making his way to the kitchen to wash dishes that had a substance burned and caked onto them beyond repair.

“Hello,” your voice, although naturally loud, barely overpowered the even louder atmosphere, courtesy of the red-horned and the blonde – which, by the drawings on the paper, you presume are Power and Denji – prompting the black-haired child – Nayuta? – to roll her eyes and hit her hand on the low table to get their attention, gesturing to you. “She’s here.”

The blonde – sorry – Denji’s jaw drops. Aki tugs an apron on, puts something in the oven, and completely ignores the event as if it happens daily. Does it happen every day? Power immediately jumps up from the table and hops over to you. “You’re Aki’s girlfriend?” She says, mildly judgemental. 

You nod, beaming. Forget the rules, she’s adorable! “You’re literally so cute! Are your horns real?” You reach to touch them, and she slightly maneuvers her head to make it easier for you.

“Yeah. But don’t get any ideas,” she says, seemingly sizing you up. “Just ‘cause you’re moving in doesn’t mean you get to call the shots. I still do.” Power says, pushing her proud chest out.

You laugh, feeling tears prickle your waterline… from fear, or is she just funny? Okay, this one is the queen in that “queen and her lowly subordinates” game. You hear Aki reprimand her from the kitchen, and she answers with an annoyed “What?”

Denji sighed, pushing Power aside with one arm, prompting a grunt and a sudden dive of her head, mouth open and clearly aimed to snatch off the skin of Denji’s forearm. However, the fiasco is immediately stopped by a stern “Hey!” from Aki. 

“Sorry about her,” Denji sighs. “She doesn’t know how to act.” He rolls his eyes and then sticks out a hand for you to shake. What a gentleman! Aki must’ve been exaggerating in those horror stories about him. You take his hand, nodding and saying hello.

It’s sticky.

His hand is… tacky. You blink once, twice, and one more time before tightening all of your facial features and retracting your hand with extraordinary quickness, clenching your hand in your t-shirt. “Your hand,” you breathe out. “It’s, um,”

“Oh. Sticky? No big deal.” Denji laughs from his stomach. “But uhh, I don’t know where from. Probably like, from cleaning up after Nayuta’s dogs.”

You look over at Aki once again. He’s got oven mitts on and sharp flour on the part of his apron that meets the counter. 

He shrugs.

—

You flop down on the bed, exhausted with a raw hand – from scrubbing off every trace of … whatever … that could’ve been left on your hand. 

“Are you okay?” Aki walks in, wet-haired and with a towel wrapped around his waist. He eyes your figure splayed out across the bed, with a telling look that screams “I told you so”. He gets dressed, climbs into the bed, and lets you rest your head on his chest. “Well,” he starts, but you shoot him an annoyed look, so he pushes his lower lip up in a cartoonish frown and stays silent.

“I like them,” you finally say, after 10 minutes of deafening silence, punctuated by a snore coming from a neighboring room. It seems the others are asleep. “They’re cool. Fun.” Okay – optimistic much? Your cup is half full, not half empty. 

Aki laughs at you, kissing you on the head and pulling the covers up. “Okay,” is all he says, but you could tell he still wanted to declare himself right. “You’re staying?” He asks, an eyebrow up under his wet bangs. 

Today, you indirectly touched dried dog urine – question mark? –, got threatened by a loud, red-horned girl, and walked into what is practically a dog shelter. 

You nod, sighing. “Yes, I’m staying.” You look up at him, a smile on his face, one he was very obviously trying to fight earlier. “Quit smiling. It takes a lot to deter me, so I’ll stay. I like them.”

“I’ll stop smiling if you kiss me.”

“Go to sleep.”

[elliespeach]

no chances part four | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"you still wanna ask me those questions?" ´ˎ˗

pairing: ellie williams x afab reader synopsis: you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and after letting your competitive nature get the better of both of you, tensions are high on and off the court. warnings: 18+ we made it yall it's smut time. mentions of weed, foul language, explicit sexual descriptions, r! receiving fingering/head, thigh riding, scissoring, slight choking kink, fight then fuck kinda deal wordcount: 3.1k author note: hi hi lets pretend that the car ride actually took an hour they do it in minutes but lets just pretend ok? ok. i have been in a slump this week my brain is attacking me so i hope this is well enough for yall i didn't wanna leave u hanging!! i have plans i cannot share w you guys ab this series n i am hype asffff but anyway enjoy

when her car left the parking lot it was silent. the radio played softly but you or ellie didn’t utter a word. suddenly the reality of what she had offered sunk in, you two had an hour drive together. ellie focused on driving while you stared out into the window at the dark road. she had almost kissed you again and for the first time it didn’t raise any alarm bells in your head. everything was calm in those moments inches from her face, as if the world had been swept away from underneath the two of you. hearing the song on the radio dim out, your head turned to face her. ellie’s eyes were fixed on the road, one arm at the top of the wheel with the other resting on the gear knob. she caught you in her peripheral and her head turned slightly. 

“we don’t even know wh–” 

“i think you played–” 

you both spoke over each other, attempting to awkwardly break the silence that had enveloped you. ellie laughed lightly and it was probably the first time you had ever heard her laugh, “you go,” she said, turning the wheel to make a left and you caught a glimpse at her hands, gripped firmly around the wheel and a memory of them doing the same to your hips flashed in your mind before you cleared your throat to rid of it. 

“i was just gonna say we don’t even know who won the game,” you recalled, your hands placing themselves in your lap and pressing your legs together slightly. 

“oh, yeah–” she swiveled her head to catch a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. “my money’s on my team.” she said cockily, again turning the wheel with only one hand. 

“only cause i wasn’t playing, right?” you banter, remembering her somewhat of a confession from your walk. she rolled her eyes but a small smile crept on the sides of her lips as she did. 

“oh my god, that is not what i fuckin’ said,” she laughed again, another quick glance at you, who was smiling proudly earning another eye roll from her. 

“what were you gonna say?” you asked her, peeling off your knee pads from your legs as they started to itch. 

ellie glanced down at your movement, quickly pulling her eyes back up to the road, “oh uhm–” she readjusted her grip on the steering wheel. “just that, your coach was stupid to pull you, you were doing fine.” 

your head snapped towards her, a dramatic shocked expression on your face. “a compliment? how did you not just implode spontaneously?” 

ellie shifted in her seat, bringing her hand that was previously on the gear shift to the bottom of the wheel and leaning on the window with her now free arm. “just say thank you like a normal person?” her tone had a hint of annoyance but the sly smile on her face gave her away, and instead of prying it out of her you just accepted it. 

“thanks–” your eyes darted back out to the road, out of the seclusion that was the community center and into a more urban area with street lamps and business on either side of the road. your eyes caught the highway sign right as you passed it and you sat up, your head turning to see it fade back into darkness as her car kept moving. “that was the highway,” you turned to her, her head snapping back as if to see the sign herself but her eyes returned to the road in front of her within seconds. 

“fuck,” she uttered under her breath. the car started to slow down, taking a quick look around the road. “one sec,” she turned her car to the left, placing it as close to the curb as she could, then shifted the car into reverse. her arm swung around to the back of your headrest and her body moved with it. you couldn’t help but stare as she did, her eyes fixed on the road behind you. because of her positioning, you could see the outline of her muscle filled arm, as if she was flexing them. the movement of her upper body made her shirt ride up in the front, exposing some of her toned stomach and before any thoughts could come to mind you darted your eyes away. 

ellie could feel as you watched and when she turned her head to meet your eyes they were already gone and she swiftly put the car back in drive before pulling away. the radio was the only thing audible in the car as she turned on the highway, picking up speed as she did and her car revved over the radio. you waited until she was comfortably cruising in the fast lane before speaking again, hating the words that came out of your mouth but not being able to do anything to stop yourself, “so can we talk about the big fat elephant that's in the car?” 

ellie sighed while checking her rearview mirror then looking at you briefly, “if you want to,” 

“why wouldn’t i?” 

“i dunno,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the highway in front of her. it was quiet again but only for a moment before she continued. “i can’t give you an explanation, if that's what you want.” she almost sounded disappointed in herself. 

“why not?” 

ellie rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath in. “why don’t you give me an explanation?” 

“because you kissed me, you cuddled with me, you almost kissed me again.” you listed off your reasons, using your fingers to count them off and she looked annoyed. 

“i didn’t do it alone–” her tone was harsh, as if the conversation was treading on thin ice. 

“yeah, but you started it.” you returned her attitude, feeling a familiar fight coming on. 

“do you want me to sit here and tell you that i did it for a reason? there was no reason–” ellie used her hand that was resting on the gears to emphasize her words, feeling agitated that you brought this up when the ride was going smoothly. the high was wearing off between the two of you and with it went the calm that had settled too. 

“why are you being so cagey?” your voice raised slightly. ellie switched lanes, seeing the exit she had to take in the distance. 

“why are you asking so many fucking questions?” she returned your raised voice, turning the wheel to take the exit. the ramp was long and curved and she slowed to a stop at the red light at the end of it. taking the time to turn to you, a grimace on her face.

you groaned, crossing your arms and leaning your knees against the car door away from her. “just thought we could have a legit conversation, but that seems out of your capabilities.” 

ellie pressed on the gas when the light turned green, making a turn towards your campus. the drive had felt like the longest and the shortest in your life, and now you kind of wished you took the bus. she remained quiet as you did, noticing your position in her passenger seat. “jesus fuckin’ christ,” she breathed out as the welcome sign to your campus came into view. 

you started again, “i just think its funny becau–” 

the car came to a halt on the deserted road sending you forward and you looked at her in disbelief. she quickly put the car in park and as you looked at her face only illuminated by the orange dashboard in front of her, you couldn’t read her. “what the hell, ellie?” you questioned, looking around and you thought she wanted you to walk the rest of the way. 

her hands came up to your face, redirecting your focus to her. she cupped your cheeks and brought your lips to hers. although the anger for her in you was still firmly in your chest, you didn’t fight her instead leaning further into the kiss. her tongue found yours like it had in the bathroom weeks ago, slipping it’s way over your tongue harshly sending shivers throughout your body. butterflies danced in your stomach as her hand left your face, wandering down your body to explore. 

you wanted to be closer, the middle console blocking any other physical contact you two could share. while still letting her tongue roam your mouth, you moved over the console and placed yourself in her lap. it was uncomfortable, but her hands instantly wrapped around your hips and slid down to grab your ass. you rocked your body against hers, liking the feeling of her underneath you and she squeezed your ass tightly. your lips disconnected from hers and instead found her neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses all over it. ellie’s breathing was barely recovering and as you kissed her neck, incoherent mumbles and short quick breaths filled your ears. 

her hands that had been running up and down your back found their way in between you two, groping your tits firmly and you hummed against her neck at the feeling. the pressure formed between your legs all the faster as she massaged them, keeping one hand placed on your breast, squeezing as much as she could, she used her other hand and traced it up your chest to your neck, wrapping her fingers lightly around it. this pulled you back from her neck, making eye contact with her green eyes. though the green had vanished, replaced with dilated eyes glossed over with every touch you placed on her. 

she studied your face, her hand still around your neck. her head tilted, taking you all in while you straddled her lap and a sly smile formed on her wet lips, “you still wanna ask me those questions?” her voice raspy, hoarse even and she tightened her grip on your neck ever so slightly. way different than it was before and it took everything in you not to melt in her lap. 

“shut up,” you groaned, bringing your face back down to kiss her again, rolling your body against her. you could feel her smirk against the kiss, retreating her hands back down to your hips to move with them against her. the smirk didn’t diminish and this time it was you who snuck your hand up to her neck, gripping with the same firmness she had, you broke the kiss but hovered over her lips as her eyes opened to meet yours separated by only millimeters, “you are insufferable.” 

a light chuckle came from her, sinking her fingers into your hips, “and yet here you are,” her neck extending to allow your grip to remain. there was a beat of silence, both of your heavy breathing over powering the radio that still played lightly in the background. you let go of her neck, sliding your hand down her torso and feeling her tits through the layers of clothing. she attached her mouth to your neck as you had done, sucking a little too hard and you worried about hickeys but it felt too good in the moment to tell her to stop. but she did and her words bounced off of your now sensitive skin, “do you have a roommate?” 

that’s how you ended up barging into your dorm with her hands all over you, slamming the door shut behind her without ever breaking the kiss. she pushed you against the closest wall, gripping your skin in her hands before trailing kisses down your neck to your stomach, getting on her knees as she slid off your shorts to reveal the very small underwear you had on. she kissed your pussy through your underwear and you had to stop your knees from buckling at the feeling. a wet spot was very obviously noticeable on your panties and it only intensified ellie’s efforts. using her teeth she bit down on the top of your underwear, pulling it down as much as she could before your dripping cunt was in front of her. she used her fingers to move your panties down further, running her hands back up your legs as she looked up at you with lustful eyes. 

she lifted one of your legs, slinging it over her shoulder before plunging her tongue into your folds. you bit down on your lip to keep from moaning and your fingers laced themselves in her auburn hair, her tongue already better than anything you could do to yourself. it traced circles on your clit and as she shoved herself deeper into your pussy, you couldn’t help the moans that slipped out of your mouth. with hearing this, ellie was brought back to the bathroom and her brain went into overdrive. she removed her tongue only to then suck on your clit, feeling your leg shake on her shoulder and she brought a finger up to run through your slick. 

she looked at you as she did, her mouth a wet mess and you were in shambles above her. her finger teasingly ran up and down your exposed cunt, giving you just enough but not nearly anything close to the feeling over her tongue. your head leaned back against the wall and your eyes shut tight and she tsk’d, still moving her finger lightly, “eyes on me–” she breathed out, waiting for you to look back at her. when you did, a small smile formed on her lips and she brought her slender finger down your cunt. she slid her finger in, never taking her eyes off of you and watching as you crumble before her. when your chest started to heave as she thrust her finger in and out of you, she brought her mouth back to your clit. 

you were a mess. dripping on her face and bucking your hips as she went to work, the sensation feeling too good and you felt the familiar twinge below your belly button. you were saying her name between breaths and it only made ellie go harder, pumping her fingers as quickly as she could and revolving her tongue through your slick. without warning she retreated, kissing your stomach while she stood back up. your hands found her face to drag her into a long kiss, she pulled you off of the wall and backed you into your own bed. your elbows propped you up as you watched her tower over you, you used this time to yank off your shirt and sports bra, leaving your chest bare for her.

ellie slipped off her own shorts, her underwear with it before climbing on top of you, reconnecting her lips to yours. you tugged on her shirt and it was off in seconds thrown god knows where. she sat up, tracing her fingers along your body as you laid beneath her and it looked like she wanted to say something but refrained herself. instead, lifting up one of your legs and placing herself so her own drenched pussy was atop of yours. she rocked her hips back and forth, feeling the wetness from both of you spread. mumbles left her mouth as she held your leg in the air, covering her own moans by placing soft and sweet kisses on your leg. ellie steadied herself by clutching onto one of your breasts. her pace began to be ragged, feeling herself come nearly undone. she looked down at you, mouth open and eyes in a haze as you gazed back up at her and despite nearing her finish she leaned down so that her thigh was now pressed against your cunt. you whined into her mouth as she kissed you, the tipping sensation leaving as quickly as it came. 

she shuffled off of you, leaning her back to the wall and patted her lap. while you sat down on her lap, she removed her sports bra. her hands fell to your figure and she gazed at you, that unreadable expression still plastered on her face. she looked down at you on her lap and shook her head lightly, “like this–” she moved your body, lifting your leg to move her own out of the way so you were just sitting on her thigh. she tucked your knee in between her legs and her green eyes focused back on you. 

moving your hips on her thigh, ellie kneaded on your tits. she enveloped them in her hands while your knee rubbed against her cunt. your hands rested on her legs behind you, back arching and tits out. ellie wasn’t able to conceal her moans at the sight of you and the feeling deep in her stomach. her hands dug into your thighs, pulling them with every thrust of your hips. “h-holy fuck,” she tossed her head back. the sound of her voice was enough for you to start moving faster, and as you did ellie straightened her posture. she wrapped her arms around your back, pulling you closer while you rocked desperately against her thigh. 

your foreheads crashed, heavy and hot breath spread across each of your faces. with this, you unraveled. cursing coming out of your mouth along with her name in pants while you shook around her thigh, feeling on top of the world. ellie’s hands moved to your tits, watching you cum on her and feeling your tits in her hands she tipped over the edge as well. her breathing was ragged against you and her forehead left yours while she tipped her head back, eyes rolling. you fell on her chest, while both of you tried to return your breathing back to normal. 

she sat with you for a few minutes in silence, you had moved off of her thigh and laid beside her, arm draped over her stomach. her arm was on your back, rubbing small circles. after a bit more of quiet, which seemed to be one of your specialities, you sat up and her eyes followed you. and again, you both spoke over each other. 

“i should go to bed–” 

“i should probably go–” 

without much less, ellie pulled herself off the bed and collected her clothes that had been scattered. you pulled on your own shirt and the awkward silence was heavy in the room. after she had dressed she moved towards the door, hand on the handle. “i’ll see you at the next game?” her eyes scanned your face. 

“yeah, i’ll see you then,” you said painfully and without so much of a second glance she left, the door swinging shut behind her. 

part five

[amarmoria]

Sempiternal 111

Yao x Reader

Synopsis: 10 days in some spa center with your family wouldn't be too bad right...?

Notes: to the person who gave me an idea for the 3rd part, i luv u sm, i didn't reply to your ask since i didn't want to spoil it, ill probs answer it after I post this🤭

Previous | Next

Ugh fuck.

Fuck you and your imagination. This is why you stopped watching documentaries. You can't face him like this, no way, you should just jump off the balcony and run away, you ran your mouth over something so, so childish— you sound like one, now he probably thinks you're weird, if he heard you that is, no.. he def did, he def did..

You groaned and clenched your fists as your family neared the circular, brown hut. The staff had reminded the guests earlier when they arrived to rendezvous to the meeting place to officially start this experience, and familiarize yourselves with the other occupants which your mom didn't appreciate very much.

Though on the other hand, you yourself were really happy to commune with other people aside from your family, it felt suffocating around your parents, they're always bickering, blaming, the tension was always there even if you didn't hear it, so the mention of other people makes your tummy flutter in a good way.

Meeting new people was good, your family's therapist says, it's another way to cope with everything lately. You trudged your way as you hear chatter from inside, your eyes immediately centering on a curly haired woman, she shoots you a smile in which you return, the chatter kinda died down when you went in, now the atmosphere was awkward because everyone was looking at you, the walk to your family's circles felt like ages, you were thankful to the lady who resumed talking to the person beside her, you remember her from earlier when you guys went in, the first guest you met, you wonder if you've seen her somewhere, she looked so familiar.

You didn't pay attention to the adult's conversation, talking about how long this was going to start, or if this was reverse psychology in making the guests commune with each other to familiarize themselves with their fellow patients, you heard your mom complain once again although you didn't care enough to answer, the sun was already starting to die down, light orange hues traverse the hut when the blonde haired woman entered. Everyone was already quiet, your eyes landed on the person you thought you could escape.

"Welcome to Tranquillum House." She pauses, scanning the faces of her new subjects. "Right now, you're at the foot of a mountain."

Her voice blurs in your ears when your focus centers on Yao, gosh, I wonder what would happen if he were to catch you looking. You gulp a big fat saliva and accidentally let out a cough, fuck, you let your eyes wander to the floor when the hut stills, out of anywhere you really had to cough in here, are they looking at you? No maybe it's something else, no, they are, they're looking at you.

You clear your throat, adjusting your crooked top that you kept fiddling with earlier.

"— as I was saying.."

You let out a deep breath, quietly this time, one more event and you're out of here, this place has brought out everything within you than ever in all the years you've been living.

Your eyes fluttered forward once again, regaining the little bit of confidence you tried to muster, that's when you realized Yao was already looking at you.

You stilled, your breath stuck in your throat.

Why is he smirking..

He tilted his head slightly, seemingly teasing you, your eyebrows furrowed as you reciprocated, you mouth a small 'what', although you didn't get to see his response when Masha suddenly blocked your vision from him.

"Isn't that right, my little bee?"

You shook your head and focused on Masha, she was right in front of you, you can see your mom on your far left trying to move close to you but your dad quickly stops her.

"Huh, wha, I," and your back to fiddling with your top, you heard Masha chuckle, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. "W-what, what was the question..?"

"Silly bee, I didn't ask a question"

"Then what is, I mean, you—"

"You're a nervous little thing are you?"

"I-I'm not, it's.."

"Don't worry, I'm not here to lecture you," her laugh is warm, honey, like the place, she looks like the place, maybe you're biased because she does own it.

"I was a little girl,"

"And I was riding my bicycle"

"Reconnecting with joy," she finally lets go of you after staring into your soul, your eyes flicker back to the man, but his eyes were somewhere else, good, you hope you won't ever talk or be near him after this. "and innocence—"

"Excuse me!" Your mom takes a step forward. "This is not appropriate"

"I decide what is appropriate"

"You know our story"

"Mom—" you try and stop her, but she raises a finger at you, immediately shutting you up. "Death will not be your story"

You felt your sister freeze beside you, you looked back at her worriedly, her eyes were full, brimming of tears.

"Zo.."

"I'm sorry."

You watch her bump your shoulder as she runs outside the tent, you were about to run after her when the woman your mother had an argument during your arrival gently held your shoulder and nodded at you, you let her, maybe it's better for her to take a break from your god forsaken family for once.

The dispute behind you was deaf to your ears, it hasn't even been a day and your mom had already fucked up the first impressions, so great for wanting to heal then.

You feel your throat closing in, ugh not again. You bit your tongue and hurriedly left the tent, your ears were alarmingly ringing too loud than before, you wonder what caused it to react like this, you hastily try to fish for something in your pockets, please please please, you search your body, even tapping your butt if it was there.

Fuck, where did you put it?

The longer you try to find it, the more blurred your eyes were, the ringing was already more than deafening, ear-splitting is the right word, you took a big left earlier to avoid Zoe seeing you like this, you didn't want her to worry, she just has to think about herself, so your surrounded by tall bamboo trees in the middle of nowhere, great, but you don't know that, because you're hear tryna breath, see, hear, everything, tryna make everything normal again.

That's when you hear a crunch of leaves behind you.

"Miss Marconi..?"

Ugh, not him..

"Y-you left this.."

You don't turn around, only hiding your face, he holds out a white container you knew too well. Your eyes widen and quickly grab it, he stays behind as you try to pry the annoying cap off, why was this twice as harder to open than it is?!

One of your nails accidentally breaks from the pressure, though it didn't hurt because it was the long one, you didn't pay attention to it, just busy trying to open the goddamn medicine.

A hand suddenly shoots out to grab the container. "Let me."

It wasn't a question, the words in your mouth die on your tongue as he easily broke off the lid, handing you a couple, you wonder how he knew how many pills you took, you didn't add them to your registration in fear of your parents, but that was the least of your concerns, your threw them in your mouth like your life depended on it, it did.

A few seconds pass and you let out a deep breath, and inhaled a bigger one too, the ringing of your ears stopped, and your eyesight was back to normal, you would've sported a little smile after that, patting yourself on the back like a crazy person if not for the warm body still next to you.

That's when you realize he's still there, Yao, had he not been there, your parents would have gotten two reasons for coming here.

You gulp and fix your hair, your face heats up at the thought of him seeing you run around like a mental patient, but you assume he's already seen this many times, maybe that's why he knew how much to give you.

"I—"

"Are you—"

You pause, biting your lip, gosh how many more embarrassing things should you check off your list?

No one spoke for the next few seconds, but you could feel him staring you down. Oh so now you're branded as crazy, weirdo who just had an episode in the middle of nowhere during a retreat, you scratch your head at the thought.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm, it's.. I'm sorry," you pinch your arm, your eyes focusing on the dirt than looking at him.

"Don't be sorry, Bee" you frown at the nickname, why do they even call you that. "It's, you didn't have to, to see that I—"

"If i wasn't there would you have even opened this? Or even find it in the first place?"

You shut your mouth, he's right, you owe him your life, but you don't tell him, he might use it as leverage somewhere.

"I'm sorry," he quickly mumbled, fiddling with the container, the cap was now abandoned on the floor, the half empty pills exposed to the world.

"Will.." you pause, biting the inside of your cheek. "Will you tell my family? About, about what happened?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, maybe trying to read you.

"Do you want me to?"

You thought for a moment, you didn't want to burden him, but you also didn't want this as blackmail, anything can happen, but when you look up, eyes catching his, it's not filled with malice, or anything.. of sorts.

"No, don't, don't tell them.. please"

You don't see the twitch on the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," You frown at the lack of noise, then you see him reaching over to his small beige cloth bag, he pulls out a smaller drawstring pouch, color beige obvi, he dumps your pills in it, throwing the hospital colored container and handing you the new one.

"Here, an apology for breaking the old one"

"You didn't have to—"

"We do, we have to take care of our guests like family, so you don't have to worry about it."

You held onto the pouch and looked up at him, and like before, he was already looking at you. "Thank you, Yao"

"Anything for the guest"

The more chapters i make, the longer every chapter gets. ANYWAYS, two chapters posted this weeknd?! Miracle😧