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psylocke142 · 3 months ago

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Nightmares

Sana x fem!reader

synopsis: Sana keeps having nightmares, recurring and always the same. Sana can’t help but think that it’s something important. There’s a message she’s missing. Something feels familiar about her dream.

w/c: 4.3k

warnings: death; accident; angst(?); trauma

a/n: i wrote this as a sana x fem!reader fic but it’s more of a sana centric fic. some roommate misana. this was a draft of a “book” i wanted to write in high school. i was proud of the concept of this fic back then. still am. not too sure how i feel about the final product…but it’ll do.

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It’s a brisky night as Sana is walking down the street. A cold gust of wind blows in Sana’s direction, making her hands seek refuge in the pockets of her jacket. She looks up into the sky as she languidly treads to cross the street. No specific destination in mind yet. She begins to get lost in the starless sky, wishing she could live in some place where the stars are more visible.

Sana lives in Seoul, a big city with towering buildings and a vibrant nightlife. It’s a charming city filled with much to give. To Sana’s disappointment, the light pollution from all the buildings just so happens to block the starlight away.

A heavy sigh is released from her chest as she continues her stroll. Her body is starting to feel heavy and in need of some rest. Something Sana knows she needs but never looks forward to.

She had gone out for a night walk downtown, which was a short distance walk away from her apartment. The honey-haired girl had dreaded going home after work, so she headed to the heart of the city to walk around and waste time. Prolonging the needed rest and increasing her exhaustion.

There was nothing for her to do at home either. Sana had a small cafe she built from the ground up, making enough to pay her half of the rent. Her family is in Japan and her friends seem to be strangers. Being drifted away by busy work schedules and other circumstances. Sana didn’t care much, at least she pretended not to. Her duties at the cafe gave her enough work hours to not think too deeply about it. She has Mina. The younger girl is Sana’s roommate, who currently seemed to be the only person in her life. Maybe, that was all she needed.

Mina is the quiet type. They had met after high school, looking for someone to lessen the load of responsibilities in apartment rent and college tuition. They’ve been inseparable ever since. Mina has always been respectful and would never poke her nose in places it didn’t belong. She still cared about Sana though. Which is why Sana’s phone vibrated from the pocket of her worn-out denim jeans.

Mina: are you almost home?

Sana: went for a quick walk, be there soon.

Mina: ok. be safe.

Sana: will do.

Sana pocketed her phone and began to head to her apartment, obeying Mina’s unspoken order to come home. She always did. On occasion Sana would lose track of time during her night walks and receive a similar text from Mina telling her it’s getting late. Sana always replied and would head home, she had no reason to ignore Mina’s request.

The two women aren’t very communicative with each other. However, they had grown to care for one another throughout the years of living together. Text messages being one of the ways they showed their fondness for each other. Sana would often bring leftover goods from the cafe, sharing them with Mina. In turn Mina would look out for Sana, more so recently, by making sure she never came home too late and stayed safe.

The streets became more familiar the closer she got home. Sana passes by the convenience store that’s next to the park. Said park being across her apartment complex. Originally, she had planned to occupy an empty bench to sit. There is no one there since it is already dark outside. The basketball court always filled throughout the day with old men chasing after a ball. Couples spread across blankets. Mid-age women jogging in groups as they gossiped about the neighborhood drama. Children running, their sneakers scuffing the gravel of the playground. Laughter and screams echoing in the air. A complete contrast to the park’s atmosphere once the sun subsides.

Her plans would have to wait for another night.

Sana reaches the end of the park and finds her apartment complex in view from across the street. As she is crossing, she begins to drift off in her head. Wondering whether Mina will be waiting for her, maybe reading in the living room. Her mind brings up old memories. She thinks of her future. Her failures. She ends up wandering to a beautiful silhouette in her head. One she can’t put a name or face to.

Strayed in a haze of thoughts Sana crosses the street to her apartment. As Sana steps onto the curb of the other side, she hears the loud screeching of tires and a piercing honk. Sana turns rapidly, the sight before her paralyzing, blood in her body running cold in an instant. The fight or flight response muffles her senses, deafening her momentarily. She squints to the pickup truck with beaming headlights. Then to the person laying prone on the floor. Sana is frozen in place, stunned by the truck’s collision. Before she can gather her bearings, the vehicle reverses and flashes away from the scene in front.

Sana runs to the person, finally coming out of her paralytic state, with each step her heartrate begins to double. Worry and fear going up by the millisecond. Approaching the unknown person, Sana crouches to their level with arms reaching out. Flipping the person into her arms, her eyes widen and her heart stops. Feeling all the oxygen escape her lungs in shock. Sana wanted to back away instantly but was once again paralyzed.

The person she had placed into her arms was — herself.

This mortified Sana and she couldn’t tear her gaze from what seemed to be impossible. She remained there watching the life fade from her eyes.

Sana shoots up from her bed, panic ridden in her eyes while she lets out uneven breaths. She observes her surroundings in order to ground herself to reality. A thin coat of sweat layers her body. She’s in her bedroom. Her duvet covers the lower portion of her body, lightly sticking to her legs. The blinds of her window allow small rays of the moonlight to filter into the room. She eyes the soft patterns of light and shadows cast onto her walls. Finally, she glances over at the digital clock on her nightstand.

3:14AM, it read. She lets out a heavy sigh.

Ten minutes had passed, and Sana managed to calm down, but the image from her nightmare was still fresh in her mind. She swiftly gets out of bed and heads to her desk. Fishing for her headphones in one of the drawers. As she plugs them into her phone and hits shuffle on her playlist she reflects, “That’s three times this week.”

Sana has been having the same nightmare for a while now, and although she doesn’t get it every night it torments her daily. The look of her lifeless eyes etched into her brain.

An alarm blares on Sana’s nightstand, jolting her awake from her short slumber. Headphones landing on the floor. She gets up groggily wiping the drowsiness from her eyes, reaching over to silence the persistent noise. 6:00AM her phone highlighted as she discarded the alarm. Focusing on the still dark view of her window, sun unrisen, she stretches her limbs. Trying to shake off the exhaustion deep in her bones. Sana makes her way to the bathroom to freshen up. Another day of work ahead of her.

As Sana makes her way to the kitchen, she catches sight of Mina pouring herself a cup of coffee. Sana reaches into one of the cupboards for her mug and takes a seat on a stool in front of the kitchen island. Mina nears her offering some of the warm, bitter beverage.

“How’d you sleep?” the younger of the two questions.

Sana aimlessly stares at her now filled mug. No real interest in the cup of coffee, “mmm…the same as always” she mumbles.

Mina studies her roommate, aware of the night terrors that haunted her. Observing the dark circles and paling complexion that appear to be worsening as the weeks pass. Her eyebrows furrow in concern but she maintains her tone steady, “I see.”

As much as Mina wanted to pry and ask about the subject of her nightmares, she didn’t want to push Sana to share. She’d wait until Sana was ready to talk about it. So, she retreats from her spot in the kitchen and gathers her things to head out.

“Take it easy at work Sana,” is all the raven-haired girl can manage to express her concerns. Not waiting for the eldest’s response before heading out the door.

Sana brings her mug to the sink. Emptying the remains of her coffee. She stands there, arms leaning against the sink mentally preparing herself for the day. Willing the thousands of thoughts and images away to the back of her mind for now.

It’s a slow day. Her least favorite type of day, regular customers entering the well-known shop for their usual orders. She had no helper today to make matters worse. She had let her part-timer, Dahyun, take the day off. Aside from the regulars not many patrons enter. Leaving Sana vulnerable to the silence of the small, dim-lit cafe. Alone with her thoughts.

Sana busied herself throughout the day; cleaning every single crevice of the cafe, organizing the storage room, restocking the coffee, and serving whoever came through. To say she was tired would be an understatement. However, it did the job. It was now time to close the shop. After shutting off the lights and making sure everything was locked up, Sana headed out. Too worn out to go for a walk, the honey-haired girl apprehensively decided to go home right away.

As the weeks continue on, so do Sana’s nightmares. However, with the progressing weeks her dream is minutely changing. In her dream everything always plays out the same from the beginning. When she runs towards the body in the middle of the street, Sana is still petrified by the sight of her own image reflecting on the ground. What has changed is that her duplicate has become distorted. Her features almost appear to be clouded by an unseen force or shadow. Her eyes were the only part visible. Nonetheless, Sana jerks awake in fear.

There is familiarity in the shadows that now distort her nightmares. It reminds her of the silhouette that has crossed her mind. Sana realizes that what used to be her duplicate is now morphed into the clouded silhouette that resides in the back of her thoughts. What racked Sana’s mind was who this shadow person was and why they were appearing.

While the image of watching life vanish from her own eyes haunts her, the image of the shadow lingers. The once-clear reflection of herself has transformed into an indistinct figure. The only thing Sana can make out of this new shift is it’s a female. Her eyes, though barely visible, leave Sana feeling a paradox of emotions. Unsettled but comforted holding her in her arms. Familiar but unrecognizable as she stares into their eyes.

After mulling over her thoughts, the honey-haired girl can’t help but wonder if there’s a deeper meaning to her nightmares. Every night Sana wakes up, drenched in a layer of sweat and gasping for breath, the shadowed female lingers in her mind. She felt the figure was someone important. Almost as if the shadow holds a piece of her. Maybe her past. Sana wonders if there’s a message she needed to decipher from this. There was something crucial that she’s forgetting. Lately, the questions gnaw at her mind, affecting her day by day.

Mina observes her roommate. The aforementioned girl sat in the dining room, a now soggy bowl of cereal in front being left untouched for too long. Sana is constantly lost in her head whenever she’s at home, paying Mina no thought. This raises concern in Mina. So, she begins to keep a close eye on Sana. The raven head becomes anxious, thinking Sana is finally putting the pieces together. Closer to figuring out what she doesn’t remember. Mina needs to prepare for the day it hits Sana.

It would be easy for Mina to lay it out for her friend and tell her, but Mina wants Sana to solve it out on her own. Her own memory will decide when she’s ready.

One night while Sana heads home, a strange feeling courses through her. It’s an inkling feeling that begins as she crosses the street from the park to her apartment complex. Something was itching her brain to remember. Sana didn’t realize she had stopped walking to focus on what she was feeling. Stagnant in the middle of the street. Seemingly from nowhere, she heard loud honking and tires skidding in an attempt to halt. The beaming headlights along with the rush of nerves putting her body on alert gave Sana a sense of Deja vu. She barely manages to move to the side as the car swerves around her.

Sana is able to guide herself home afterwards. She shuffles inside and exhales to release the tension from the previous incident. Quiet footsteps approach her. “You’re home — already,” it was her roommate.

Mina stands by their apartment entrance, eyeing Sana who was slipping off her shoes. Her hair was covering her face as she was slightly bent downwards. When the honey-haired girl looked up, Mina could see the sullen look on her face. Sorrow filled her sunken eyes. The younger girl couldn’t handle seeing her roommate like this anymore.

“Sana, is everything ok?”

This was all it took for the dam to break. Too overwhelmed by her troubles, Sana couldn’t help the tears welling at the corner of her eyes. Mina led her to their couch.

Finally voicing out her dream and the torment it’s brought her, with her head in her hands, Sana expresses her concerns and want to get to the bottom of things. Burdened by the unresolved.

She has a lengthy conversation with Mina, taking most of the night. Her roommate listens attentively, confirming her worries. However, she puts them to the side. Focusing on the words being hushed out from the older girl. Sana goes deep into detail about how she feels an inexplicable connection to the figure of her dreams.

That with each passing night, the feminine silhouette became more defined. The presence of this person feels like a key to unlocking a part of herself that was buried. “This can’t just be something from my imagination, Mina…” Sana huff out and pauses. “It can’t be. It feels too real.”

Sana looks at her friend, tired. Eyes desperate and in search of answers. For the last missing piece. Continuing to vent out, Sana can no longer hold back all her thoughts or feelings. She knew that she would have to confront this. To find what she is looking for, she would have to delve into the depths of her mind where she will uncover the truth. Something Mina is aware of. She knows what the missing piece in Sana’s nightmare is. Mina bites her tongue; she holds the last piece to Sana’s puzzle.

It wasn’t going to be easy for Sana. The raven head finds a glint of determination in Sana’s eyes. She just hoped it would be enough to get her through whatever lies ahead. Through the unraveling of the darkest corners of her psyche.

After a couple of days passed, Sana is at work again, eyeing the calendar at the cafe with the intention of looking at next week’s schedule. She finds a certain date calling to her. Sana fidgets with the hem of her rough leathered work apron. Gaze set on the calendar but was miles away in her mind.

“Hey boss,” a small pale girl appears next to her “have something coming up?”

Sana pondered, did she? The date was calling out to her, similar to the other night’s incident, a call to remember. She abruptly decided, “would you mind handling the shop on your own?” as she pointed to the date. The smaller women glanced at the calendar, mentally confirming if her schedule aligned. “Sure, no problem,” she gleams.

Sana remained silent, not that she didn’t trust Dahyun, but she rarely took days off.

It seemed as if her employee had read Sana’s mind.

“You know — we’re all entitled a day off once in a while.”

“Having a break won’t hurt,” and Sana couldn’t agree more but for different reasons. She wished she could get a breather from the nightmares and the baggage of turmoil it entailed. Weighing heavily on her shoulders. She wanted a break from all her unresolved questions and emotions. Sana wanted a moment of clarity, a small respite from the chaos in her mind.

Ever since their late-night talk, Mina and Sana have become closer. Their conversation became a turning point in their relationship. That night Sana came home and poured her heart out, Mina listened and supported her unwaveringly. This created a deeper bond between the two. One more open. It was as if the restrictions to showing their care were lifted. Mina wouldn’t withhold herself anymore and checked on Sana more often. She ensured that Sana was coping — as best as she could — with her nightmares. Sana found herself content with this new development.

Later that same day Mina visited the cafe. This was part of the new development in their friendship. On days that Mina finished her work early, she would stop by the cafe to indulge in savory sweets and rich flavored coffee to balance it out. She would occasionally stay until Sana closed. Walking home together to make sure she didn’t stay out too long and have a repeat of the other night.

As Mina was taking a bite of the sweets she had ordered, her ears perked at the conversation a couple of feet away. Dahyun was conversing with Sana. From what Mina was able to hear, she found that Dahyun would be taking care of the small shop by herself. This piqued her interest. If Dahyun is going to be by herself at the cafe, that means Sana would be taking a day off. Aware of the upcoming date Mina stood up with her empty plate and mug. She headed to the register, where the cafe workers stood. Dahyun greeted her with a smile, “Thanks Mina, I would’ve collected them you didn’t have to bring them yourself.” “It was no trouble,” Mina countered as she offered a small smile. She quickly glanced at the calendar behind the two girls.

There it was. It was marked on the cafe’s schedule in bright red: Sana’s day off. Sana was indeed getting closer to figuring things out. Mina thought to herself for a moment. She needed to take action. She said her goodbyes to Dahyun and looked at Sana, checking for any unusual signs. She told Sana she would see her later and excused herself to run some “errands.”

Mina arrived to the apartment she shared with Sana, swiftly parking into the underground garage. Jogging up the stairwell she held her phone against her ear. Listening to the ringing as she waited for the call to connect. The younger girl was calling her boss. After her discovery at the cafe, she felt that she had to take a day off. The same day as Sana.

After settling things at work the younger girl began to rummage through her closet. With little to no struggle Mina found what she was looking for, there in the back corner of her closet was a dusty and messily taped up box. This is Sana’s box that was given to Mina years ago. However, Mina is sure that Sana has no recollection of doing this. Mina swipes at the dusty box with an old rag. Uncovering a name that had not been spoken or crossed in the mind of her roommate. A name that would certainly bring back a flood of memories and emotions that Sana had tried to bury deep within her consciousness. She had entailed this to Mina long ago and despite her best efforts to confine the box, the answers to her questions had been a room away — in Mina’s closet.

Mina stared at the name on the old box. She asked herself whether Sana would be ready for this. Placing the answers to Sana’s nightmare in the back of her trunk, she concluded that it was time. Her friend deserved clarity.

The following days passed by in a blur for the two roommates. Both filled with nerves for their day off, one in fear and one in uncertainty. That morning Sana woke up in her patterned panic, result of her nightmare. With no work scheduled, Sana had wanted to sleep in. Her own personal but cruel alarm couldn’t let that slide.

Sana dragged her feet into the kitchen until she stopped at the view of her roommate. The same roommate who should be at work by now. Mina meets Sana’s eyes and simply states, “I have the day free.” Giving it no other thought, Sana continues through her morning.

“Hey, I have a small errand I have to run. Do you mind joining me?”

Sana looks towards her friend from her spot on the couch. Eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I don’t feel like going alone. Some company would be nice…” the raven head explains. Hoping this will be enough to convince her. Luckily, Sana stood up a few seconds after and agreed.

Throughout the car drive, Mina holds onto the steering wheel with a death grip so tight. Her anxiety locking her fingers in place. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sana. She chose to ignore it for the time being; her eyes focused on the road for any clues to their destination.

A short drive later, they have finally arrived. Sana glances out the window and a cemetery comes into view. Mina was quick to observe Sana’s reactions, but only found confusion take over her features. Putting the car in park, Mina exits the car. The older girl watches, confusion deepening the furrowing of her eyebrows, as her roommate gathers a bouquet of flowers she hadn’t noticed.

“Why are we here?” Sana asks, her voice tinged with uneasiness. Her gut sending her a feeling of foreboding and apprehension.

Mina didn’t utter a single word in response. She secures a small bag on her shoulder and motions for Sana to follow. After a moment’s hesitation Sana steps out, taking in her surroundings as her feet hit the gravel concrete. There were rows of graves, and the air was filled with a thick scent of earth and floral tones. The atmosphere of the cemetery quiet and somber, quite what one would expect. To Sana however, it brought a chill to her bones. Walking in silence, the gravel crunches under the weight of their steps. Sana’s mind is racing in an attempt to piece together why Mina has brought her here.

Suddenly Mina stops and begins to kneel down. Setting aside the bouquet and placing the small bag alongside. It wasn’t a lie when Mina said she had an errand to run. Mina knelt down in front of a single, well-tended grave. Her roommate begins to clean around the area with practiced ease and precision. Her movements are deliberate and respectful. Unknown to Sana, the raven head would frequent the grave in front of them. Maintaining the site before them, a gesture Sana would later appreciate.

Finally taking a glance at the name engraved on the headstone, Sana’s knees buckled. It was a name Sana hadn’t thought of in years. Succumbing to the flood of memories and emotions she fell to her knees, unable to hold back her sobs as tears began to stream along her face.

The memories hit Sana like turbulent waves. Each memory crashed into her; a feeling that made Sana feel like she was drowning. Each one is more painful than the last. It was Deja vu all over again. Except now it dawned on Sana that her nightmares were a mirroring image of your accident. It became too much for her. She felt her heart clench tightly in her chest and erupting into pieces. The all too familiar feeling of her body paralyzing in shock hit her once again. She had lost you.

Realization dawned on Sana. It all made sense now; the nightmare, the shadowy figure, the sense of Deja vu. It was a reflection of that tragic day. You were the silhouette. The shadowed figure — the one who died.

She remembered that day clearly now, how you had tried to surprise her after work but had arrived a bit too late. Sana had closed the cafe early, the same idea as you in mind. She remembered turning around just in time to see you running, set on catching up to her. Unaware of the incoming car. The all too familiar honk, tires screeching, and beaming headlights replayed in her flashback. The image of the truck not being able to stop in time. The scene played out exactly the same as her nightmare. Except when she turned the body around it was you in her arms.

She held you in her arms as she panicked. Your hands gripped tightly onto Sana’s sweater fear evident in your face. Sana stared into your eyes, your gaze furthering away. There was not enough time for help to arrive, even so, Sana called Mina out of desperation. By the time Mina and the help she called for would get there, it would be far too late.

Instead of watching the life drain from own eyes, she watched the life drain from her lover’s eye. The love of her life. Despite it being herself in her nightmare, Sana felt there was no difference whether it was you or her. You were her life. Her everything. The memories she had tried to bury, a trauma response to the loss, had finally resurfaced.

A gentle breeze swept through the cemetery, hitting the two girls. The wind being soft but strong enough to wipe away some of Sana’s tears. Sana looks at your headstone, a defeated smile crossing her pale face. She felt you there with her, as if you had sent the small breeze. Sana knew that she would never forget you, not anymore.

Mina was now at her side. She places a comforting hand onto Sana’s back, offering her silent support. The two of them sit there for a long time, sharing in the sorrow and bittersweet memories of you. In that moment, Sana felt the burden on her shoulders lift and a strange sense of closure.

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yenqa · 9 months ago

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ADVANTAGES

in which…

on jay’s live, fans point out a stuffed animal on his bed, one that seems to be the other piece to your notorious missing pair. as imaginary pieces start to connect for fans, the viewers beg for some kind of interaction. and though you and jay have never met before, why not use this situation to your advantage?

warnings : crying, panic attacks, depression is depicted but isnt really said, lots of bad self talk, food/eating, having no appetite, just lots of bad mental health talk and depictions, hurt/comfort, god this chapter is PACKED

wc: 1829

i’m sorry that i couldnt be your teenage dream.

not proofread!

☆

It had been a week and a half since you had seen anyone.

Well other than the cashiers at the local grocery store but that made you look even more pathetic.

You haven’t been well, at all.

It was a horrible sight, honestly you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror without cringy. You had no productivity and had planned to do nothing for as long as possible.

You were surprised your body hasn't exploded yet, since all you had ate was instant ramen or the three meals you could cook total.

Today was one of the worse-r days. Three hours into the new day but your mind couldn’t seem to sleep one bit.

You had zero appetite, your room was a mess, it was worse that you couldn’t even sleep away the days even though you were so tired. Your eyes were glued shut at night but your body couldn’t stop fighting the feeling of sleep.

So here you were, eye bags almost able to give the color purple a run for its money, and so puffy it felt like a balloon was stuck in there. But your eyes hadn’t shed any tears, instead you felt like nothing. Like you were just floating around with no purpose or any feeling at all.

The empty feeling in your head made you unable to do anything but scroll on your phone, letting hours after hours pass by rewatching your favorite show at least a billion times. It seemed like the world had gone gray, like the world was ending and you were the only one feeling it.

A part of you screamed at yourself to get a grip, to stop being so dramatic and realize there are still good things in life.

You tried to get better, you really did. You had researched on how to get over this drought but you never could. So every night you would lay in your bed, trying to figure out what was wrong with you.

Mornings have always been your least favorite part of the day. But it seemed to get worse with every second that passed.

Realizing you still had a whole day ahead of you seemed utterly impossible to finish, but still you would reach your hand out to the finish line, only to miss every time.

You had six hours until it was the appropriate time to wake up. You couldn’t call anyone for help, you couldn’t text anyone in the middle of the night. It was your burden, so you had to keep it to yourself and hope and pray it washes away over time.

Your phone has been your only sense of livelihood during your dull days. If you had been wasting hours after hours at least you had been doing something.

Before you could think of the consequences, you had thought of searching yourself on the internet, just for fun. You clicked on the first source, hoping that someone would see your side of the story.

No it was not fun–you wish you could warn yourself because the title of the article read; “All you need to know about Y/niora and why she’s trending”

We’ve all seen the names “Y/n” or “Y/niora” trending on X, who is she? Some might wonder. In this article I’ll be going over everything she’s done wrong, and why fans hate her for it.

Y/n is a popular streamer on twitch, known for her funny commentary and her boyfriend Jay, but recently she’s shown a darker side to her.

Her boyfriend, Jay, is also a twitch streamer, a much more popular one at that. He’s known for his good looks and his random reactions that have us crying with laughter, but why would he date a nobody like her?

If you’ve seen Y/niora’s X account, you can see that she posts provocative photos of herself, things that only lead to temptations of male fans. Fans speculate this is the reason they met, saying that she seduced him and used him for money, fame, and views.

If you know anything about streaming, you know BlueJay and his friends. Who stole the internet's hearts with their looks and cute personalities. But things start picking up between Jay and Y/n when she posts their matching stuffed animals, officially presenting their relationship to the world.

This seems to be a bad move on Y/n’s part, as her facade starts slipping through and we get to see her for the calloused person she is.

She continuously shows her disinterest in anything he’s saying. Making him repeat everything he’s said to her. This strikes up the question, does she really care about him or her fans?

Arguments of this exact topic have been trending among fans, some saying

You closed your phone before you could read anything else. Flipping your body over you could feel tears start to form in your eyes, your vision goes blurry and your breath starts hiccuping.

Wiping your wet cheeks, you start to panic when you feel like your throat is closing up, placing your hand on your chest to try to calm yourself down.

That clearly doesn’t work. As you swear you can feel the walls closing in beside you. In a last effort to stop your ugly sobs, you open your phone once more, your breath quickens when you open the phone app, calling the person that you need the most right now.

The ringing on your phone shakes you more, “Please answer, please answer, please answer.” You croak out desperately, glancing at your window to realize it’s the middle of the night, and he’s probably getting the nice sleep he deserves.

Unlike you who only makes things worse, and can’t even get a wink of sleep at night.

You sob harder after the fifth ring, realizing that he’s not going to answer. And you have to do this on your own–

“Y/n? Are you okay?” His voice brings relief to your ears, that’s until you realize the state you’re in.

“Jay I’m so–so so sorry for calling you this late.” You rasp out, “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t stop shaking and crying, I just–fuck” Bringing your hand up, you grab a fist of your hair, not knowing what to do or say.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You choke through, words barely coherent.

“I’m coming. Stay there, okay?”

“Okay.”

His tone is so soft it scares you. How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing the mess you made? How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing that you are burdening him at such a late hour?

Your throat tries its best to keep your hammering heart inside your chest, but it closes up, your breath is so uneven you're not even sure you’re breathing at all.

That is until you let out a soft apology into your phone, but it’s covered by your staggered breathing, and the sound of you stuffing up your snot back into your nose.

The silence coming from him is apparently meant to drive you insane. Because the nausea of it all starts to get to you, your condition is crippling so you can’t even move from your curled up position on your bed.

You can hear your door slam open, eliciting a strong flinch from you.

Your heart seems to be racing too fast for your liking, almost like it’s fighting to get out of your chest. “Jay?” You mutter, as you can see his dark silhouette standing through the doorway.

Before you can actually decipher if the man is actually Jay or just some random burglar who found your spare key, you feel his arms wrap around your body, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

You conclude that it’s Jay’s warmth you’re feeling right now.

For a second you feel safe, for a second you feel like he’s just hugging you, not because you are literally having a panic attack.

That snaps you back into reality. God were you really having a panic attack over an article? That you chose to read?

Feeling your chest tighten and your eyes water up, you tuck your head impossibly deeper, letting your tears and snot get all over his shirt.

It’s grossing you out how you can physically feel his shirt dampen with your tears, but you’re too focused on figuring out how to breathe rather than the mess you made on his shirt.

“You can let it out, or you can just cry, I don’t mind.”

You sob even harder than you were before.

He’s so warm. He’s so warm. And you have no idea why it’s the perfect descriptor for him.

“Jay,” You mutter, being muffled by his shoulder, “I’ve ruined everything.”

His arm rubs your back gently, “You haven’t ruined anything, pretty.” He whispers, talking like if he speaks any louder you’ll crack into hundreds of pieces (you actually might but that’s not the point).

“I have! You can’t even deny it without lying,” You hiccup, “I mean—I’m trying so hard, but I can’t do anything right.” You pull your head back to look up at him.

He stays silent, letting his hand cup your face, wiping away any tears that fall down.

“And I’m so tired. I’m so tired of doing everything I can but still being hated for not doing enough. I mean who wouldn’t? I can’t even cook a proper meal, it just goes to show how hopeless I am.”

“Y/n you can’t possibly think about yourself.”

“I can because it’s the truth.”

He tucks your head back into his shoulder, “Y/n, not being able to cook a proper meal is okay. Some people never learn how to cook an egg.”

Your breathing calms down slightly, you let out a small chuckle, trying to stay forever in his warmth.

“I’m sorry for calling you here so late, I know you’re tired from streaming or something.”

“I could never stay away from you for too long, even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

Letting out a breathy smile, you look back at his face, a small smile spreads through his face looking at you.

Your eyes were tired, for the first time in a week your body was tired. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you, Jay, seriously.”

He gets up from your position, you feel the absence of his warmth even though he just got up, he’s about to walk out the door when you build up the courage to ask, “Can you stay? Just for tonight?”

Looking back, there's a smile on his face as he replies “Always.”

Walking back to you, he lays himself under your blanket, tucking you in before wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest.

And for the first time in what felt like forever. You fall asleep, in Jay’s arms.

☆

back masterlist next

yenqa > um title is reference to teenage dream by olivia rodrigo! umm hope u enjoyed while i ripped my heart out and put it in my writing… thanks!

taglist (CLOSED): @yeokii @hanniluvi @euncsace @jongsiemain @mrchweeee @fakeuwus @ashy1um @rikisly @filmofhybe @nwjws @yizhoutv @soov @tocupid @tzke1ta @yannew @manooffline @mars101 @haechansbbg @enhaz1 @teddywonss @en-happiness @kim2005bomi @be0mlvr @luvswonyoung @flwoie @lilriswife4life @nicholasluvbot @ikeusol @lylovw @alwayswook @astrae4 @choi-beomgyulvr @aishigrey @infpistj @jiawji @planethyuka @mari-oclock @222brainrot @jakevascaino @rory-cant-sleep @hyehae @vixensss @hearts4hanni @kgneptun @tongtongie @www-jungwon @lovejunz @fluerz @jiyeons-closet @nyuzip @leehanist @heerinnie @eneiyri

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

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dearharriet · 8 months ago

Note

"you're really red right now." with george weasley? and congrats on 150! 🥳

thank you sm for the request! <3 (wc: 851)

Swinging under the restricted access rope, you climb the stairs to the twins’ annex two at a time. Behind you, the store is mostly quiet, except for Fred’s loud singing as he feeds the pygmy puffs.

The banister is creaky when you lean on it, so you’re sure George can hear you coming. His door is open, so you let yourself in, announcing yourself with a rap on the stained pine trim.

“Fred says you’re hiding, but I can’t imagine what from,” you say instead of hello. “Certainly not me, I hope?”

George glances away from his books, halfway through a bite of takeaway. His mouth stills its chewing as he blinks owlishly at you. His hair is all askew, likely from tugging at it in concentration, and he has a tiny speck of sauce on his chin. You’d probably find it embarrassing if you didn’t like him so much.

“Sorry, hello,” you amend, realizing you caught him unawares. He remains frozen, though his jaw starts working to rid itself of the food that’s keeping him silent.

“Hi,” he ekes out, “on your break, are you?”

You hum affirmatively, coming around his desk to converse more privately with him.

“Yeah, and I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this idea I have for a product we could release near Christmas,” you ramble, leaning a hip against his desk and crossing your arms. George is staring up at you like you’re a star he’s never seen before. “A red-hot cocoa. We could infuse dragon peppers into the mix—to make it really spicy, yknow?”

George doesn’t look too convinced. If anything, he looks like he hasn’t heard you at all.

“I know it’s sort of similar to flaming fudge, but I thought the effect of making it themselves might add intrigue for customers,” you continue, starting to feel a little bit embarrassed.

Silence stretches just long enough to be uncomfortable, emphasized by an especially loud zzzzzziiiiiip from downstairs.

Biting your lip, you wince. “George?”

He blinks, seeming to come alive again, somewhat.

“Did you do something to your hair?” he asks out of the blue.

You frown. “You didn’t hear what I said, did you?”

To his credit, George looks terribly guilty in the face of your accusation. He takes it in stride, too, despite being every color of wrong.

“Is that what you were telling me about?” he asks.

Sighing, you take his loosened tie and shake it around in teasing frustration. There was a time when doing something as familiar as that would make you feel unprofessional, but you know better now.

“No. I was telling you about my idea for a new product.”

George’s mouth opens and closes silently, searching for words. He looks hot around the collar, from embarrassment or flustering or both. You like to tease him like this, because upon meeting him, he didn’t seem the type to be fazed by flirting at all.

Feeling maniacal, you take the opportunity to wipe away the food still on his chin, letting your touch linger a hair longer than necessary. The color in George’s neck shoots up to his pale cheeks, giving him the hue of a ripe strawberry.

“Merlin, George,” you muster through a grin, “you’re really red right now.”

He ducks his head then, ardently avoiding any inch of you he can. Cursing, he presses the backs of his hands to his cheeks to cool them.

“Sorry.” He steals a glance at you, his brows furrowed in what might be confusion. “Remind me what your idea was?”

You accommodate him, running the idea past him again, with more confidence this time. You don’t mind wasting your break away talking, at least not with George.

“Hot cocoa,” he repeats, rubbing his chin. You weren’t expecting a promotion or anything, but his mild response worries you. “We could workshop it together, yeah?”

“Sure,” you say, nerves winding tight in your chest. “If you’re not too busy.”

“Honestly, I haven’t done any work since an hour ago,” he admits. “Is it busy downstairs?”

You strain to listen past George’s office, down the stairs in the popular shop. It’s easy to make out the fizzing lightning effects and the siren-like sounds that engulf the love potion display, but any real crowd bustle is absent.

“Hardly,” you say.

George pushes up from his chair, making for his door. “Good,” he says, “we can start now.”

He closes the heavy door, and then retrieves a cauldron and hauls it over to his desk. Before he sets it down, though, he holds it up in front of your face.

“In case you were wondering why I thought you did something to your hair,” he explains, “it’s because someone did something to your hair.”

In the warped reflection on the brass cauldron you can see yourself—and your flaming pink hair.

“Merlin, I look like Tonks.”

George laughs at that, dropping the heavy basin onto the rich mahogany table. He doubles back to his shelves again to collect some ingredients.

“Any idea who did it?” he prompts.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah. He looks a lot like you.”

thank you for reading! xx

masterlist

join the celebration!

#harriet’s 150 celebration #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem #george weasley drabble #george weasley imagine #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #request #the weasleys

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!! I love your Toji so much you write him so well 🙏🏼 I was wondering if you could write something smutty about motorcyclist toji or like something to do with a car 🙊

Tysm, noonieeeeee~♡ ;w; Not ppl actually liking how I write for this sly bastard!! And oooooo a motorcyclist!?? Lol, never thought I'd write something with this idea, but here we are!! Please enjoy~~~ Also!! Just announced a series that I'll be writing for the summer, so check it out if you're interested!

Cw: Toji x fem!reader - explicit content so minors DNI - oral (f!receiving) - the reader is in college studying for finals - Daddy kink - motorcyclist! Toji - sexual acts in a public space (at a park in the night) - pet names (baby, angel, pumpkin, sweetie) - pussy drunk! Toji - clitoral play (plus light bites to the clit) - fingering - overstimulation - it ends on a cute note bc I'm feeling soft. Wc: 1.7k

The time is 10:45 p.m. when you look up at your laptop. You look around to see the work-study employee come in your direction, and you smile with recognition since you know they're about to tell you it's time to go. They smile back, turn back to where they came from, and you stand up to gather up your things.

It was the beginning of finals week, and it's been downright abysmal. Not only do you have three papers to write (one being a minimum of eight pages), but you also have a group presentation and two in-person exams three hours long each. You and your roommates barely get enough time to hang out, especially when you're practically cooped up in the library all day like today. When library hours are over, you walk to another building where you spend more hours studying and writing. And by the time you get to your dorm, you go straight to sleep and repeat the process.

It doesn't take rocket science to know that you — and everyone on the campus — have absolutely abhorred exams. However, for the sake of your grades, you endure it and do what you can. As long as you have a proper place to study and stop by your campus café for some quick grub, so be it.

But now, you've been studying non-stop without wasting time on distractions. It's time to go; you'll probably call it a night and head for bad. Your productivity finally dwindled down to exhaustion. I'll jump onto Discord to chat with some friends and see what they've been up to. They're probably doing better than what I'm going through...And if he's still awake, I should definitely call—

As you put your bag on your shoulder, the sound of an engine catches your attention. A motorbike engine. At first, you figured it was coming from the main street until it started getting closer. Is someone ordering Doordash or something? Curiosity has you as you walk down the stairs to exit through the entrance, waving goodbye to the receptionist who's also getting ready to leave.

When you enter the chilly outside air, the owner of said noise is parked in front of the entrance, the vehicle stationed for him to lean back and briefly look at his phone before putting it away. They're wearing a dark denim jacket covering a black shirt and some jeans. And a jet-black helmet that shields them with their tinted visor. Their dark appearance fits the dreary, foggy atmosphere, the lampposts only making them visible to the eye.

You freeze for a second when the mysterious person turns to face you, and you offer an awkward smile and nod as a quick greeting before heading your way. But then the person removes their helmet to reveal themselves to you, and your eyes widen.

With slightly messy raven hair and green eyes that capture your figure, the man flashes a grin that pulls his scarred lip upwards. Toji Fushiguro, your boyfriend you haven't seen since Easter break, was here.

"Hey, baby." It feels like forever since you've heard his gruff voice, and it has you smiling hard in seconds.

"Toji!" You run up to him for a hug which is returned, sinking into his strong arms and warm chest while his cologne fills your nostrils. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I could come down here and surprise my lil' angel," he sways you in his arms, relishing having you in his embrace. "I texted you that I was gonna pull up."

You withdraw from the hug and look at him with mild confusion. "You did?" You quickly grab your phone from your pocket and go to your messages, only to see that he, in fact, texted you earlier. Two hours ago. "You did...Sorry, must've left my phone when I was heading out to grab something to eat."

He shrugs and slides his hands down your waist to pull you close again. "How're your exams goin'?"

"Terrible." He chuckles when you give him a faux pout. "I got one paper out the way, but the others...at least I've started on them."

"Mmm, I bet." He responds with a hand on your cheek and your forehead. "Gonna head home to study some more?"

His big warm palm nestles perfectly against your cheek as you lean to his touch. "Nah, I'm too exhausted, and I'm too stressed to think anymore. That's for tomorrow."

Toji hums with a smile. "Well, think y'r too stressed to hang with me for a while? Maybe I can relieve some tension."

You raise a brow at him and his smug grin. "Oh yeah? How're you gonna do that?"

"Hop on so you can find out." The man removes his hands from you to open the trunk of his motorcycle, handing you a helmet — your helmet as it's your favorite color.

You give your boyfriend a look. "This better not be like last time when you took me to some random ramen place where we ate super spicy ramen to the point of boogers running down from my nose."

He laughs. "No, it's not gonna be like that. Now get your cute ass on so we can go, pumpkin."You still study his face, yet don't try to argue while putting on your helmet and take your spot behind him after putting your bag in the trunk.

When he knows you're appropriately sitting in the passenger seat with your arms linked around his waist, he starts the engine and revs the vehicle before moving. The two of you drive away from the school premise. You can only wonder where the man is taking you, but your trust in him has no bounds. And you just watch the lights and people of the vicinity fly past as you rest against him.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The two of you pulled up to a parking lot of a quiet park. No sign of children playing on the playground as it's way past their bedtimes, and not a single person on the basketball court playing a late game. Just the still park paired with the comforting silence and humid, cool air.

Nothing but quiet, minus your whimpers leaving evading your lips. "Haaaah—Ahhh! Daddy...'S too much, feel so—Hmmm!"

You're now lying on Toji's motorcycle, your back on the seats and your hands gripping the handlebars. Your lower half was completely exposed, with your bottoms and panties discarded around your leg. Your boyfriend was busy burying his face between your legs on his shoulders, his firm hands on your waist to keep you steady and close.

With the flick of his tongue on your clit, you bite your lip to repress a whine. But Toji wanted your cries. "Mmmm, don't do that, sweetie. No one's around, so lemme hear you."

His tongue goes back between your slick-coated vulva, sucking and lapping around the folds to have your essence in his mouth. His nose brushes up against your clitoris, resulting in a lovely moan from your swollen lips.

It's been about 10 minutes of just him ravishing your body outside this public park. You've already come three times, yet the man is relentless in having you again. He's so stubborn, so selfish. But God, it feels so good.

"Nnnmph! Hoooo—Ohhh! D-Daddy, please, your tongue, it's tew muuuch!" Your words are slurred, brain too foggy to properly speak with his tongue "Can't cumm anymore...Aaaahhhh!!"

Unbeknownst to you, Toji sneaks a hand down to your clitoris and swipes up and down with the sensitive button. Your body jerks upward from the surprise, but Toji's other hand keeps you grounded on the stationed vehicle so you and the motorbike don't go kissing the ground. "C'mon, sweetie. One more fr' me."

Before you could protest further, his tongue laves your clit again, sucking on the poor bud and lightly brushing it against his teeth. Eyes roll to the back of your head as your hips jolt to the abuse of your poor bud, and his free hand switches places to finger your leaky chasm with your fluids coating his digits.

Your release hits you hard for the fourth time that night, and your legs quake with a sharp shiver down your spine. Your cunt spasms around his fingers while the euphoric aftershocks send your body trembling.

Toji removes his face from you and looks down at your dazed expression from capitulating to your high. He whistles. "Damn, you're lookin' good lying on my bike all fucked out like this, angel."

Even in a haze, you send the man a glare. "I hope you brought a towel to clean me up."

"To clean my bike, actually." Your glare hardens, and it makes the older man snicker. "Relax, I got another one just for you."

It takes a few minutes for you to dry yourself up and for the bike to be clean of your essence and sweat. Once you pull up your bottoms, Toji has his eyes on you. "Did that help with y'r stress?"

"Mmmm, yeah, I think so." You give him a peck on the scar on his lips. "Thanks, Toji."

"No problem, kid." He pulls you by the waist to bring you close so he can rest his chin on your head. "Wanna spend the night at my place?"

"......Is that why you drove me like fifteen minutes away from my school?"

He doesn't answer.

"And I'm pretty sure we've been here before because isn't this the same park that Megumi and Tsumiki play at?"

"......"

You peer up to face the silent man. "Toji—"

The older man leans down to kiss your plump lips softly, silencing your words. With a heavy sigh, he puts his forehead atop yours. "I missed ya, kid."

The tiny confession takes you aback for a moment, but your smile appears for him to see. "Awww, did my big Toji miss having me all to himself~?"

"Shut up." He playfully bites your cheek, prompting giggles that sound like sweet music to his ears.

"I missed you too, Toji." You say with loving eyes. "Once I'm done with finals, take me on a nice long ride on your motorcycle, 'kay?"

He hums to your request and kisses you once more. "Sounds like a plan."

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roseofhybrids · 5 days ago

Text

there's something I've been thinking about recently, and tonight seems like a good enough occasion to talk about it

back when I was in therapy, every session my therapist would ask the same question

"What is something you're looking forward to this week"

The first time she asked that, I just figured it was a part of getting to know me as a new patient. Building rapport and trust and such. But when she repeated it every time I spoke to her, it made me wonder why she'd ask that specific question every time

Well, after thinking it over for a while, I think the reason she asked that is because it's really important to have something to look forward to regularly in life. Even if it's something small, as long as it's something you can find a little joy in See, nearly every time she asked me that, my answer would be that I was looking forward to my weekly DND game. It wasn't something too grand, just me and a few others messing around for 2 hours on roll20. But I felt happy when DMing for them, it wasn't much, but it still something that brought a little bit of fun every week

I feel like that's a critical part about staying alive on the day to day. Your life doesn't have to be filled with every day excitement like you're living a wealthy influencer lifestyle in order for you to carve out a bit of happiness for yourself

Like I said, it can be something small. Maybe it's DND games, maybe it's seeing the new episode of a show you like air, maybe once a week you let yourself order a pizza or eat out, maybe you and some friends get together to a watch a movie. Could even be that you just set aside a few hours where you can do something you like, literally anything as long as it brings you some enjoyment. Just a bit of time when you don't have to be productive and working and worrying about everything

I know the idea of doing something just for yourself can feel selfish, like you're wasting precious time. Especially with everything that's going on in the world, it can make you feel guilty for letting yourself find joy when some many others are suffering and in danger

Take it from someone who spent the latter half of their schooling dealing with dysthymia, self harm, and constant panic and anxiety attacks. Feeling nothing but misery 24/7/365 will help nothing. Depriving yourself of any positive emotion day in and out will fix nothing. All it will do is land you in either the grave or a mental hospital, and you certainly won't be able to help anyone from either of those places

If you want to help others, you'll have to be able to support yourself first. And that means not letting the stress of being alive build up to the point of crushing you under its weight. Take an hour or two every few days to let yourself truly breathe and relax. Think of it as fortifying your self for what's to come. You'll need some way to maintain your strength through the storm if you ever want to see the other side of it I'm not saying to ignore the bad parts of life, just don't ignore the good parts either. Even if you have to make those good parts with your own hands Eventually, the world will get better. But that will take time, so you will need to work to ensure you are around long enough to see it

This week, I'm looking forward to the new Dandadan episode, and going to get my new dog his name tag This month, I'm looking forward to making Thanksgiving dinner and getting to have some turkey and pumpkin pie Next year, I'm looking forward to starting a project that I've been thinking about for months

What is something you are looking forward to?

you don't gotta tell me it if you don't want to, just make sure you have one

#sometimes you gotta give yourself a reason not to game end yourself #and sometimes that's watching animation and letting yourself talk at length about an indie show about robots #“if you die you can't see how that TV show ends” might be a petty reason #but if it works it works #you don't need a grand or profound reason to stay alive #just one that keeps you alive

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abbacchiosbelt · 11 months ago

Text

spoiled

Pairing: Kamisato Ayato x F!Reader

Notes: Inspired by @cinnamonest's Kamisato Ayato/Teacher modern AU. Please read her lovely piece beforehand for further context!

This is a commissioned SEQUEL to will you, won't you.

CW: Age gap [ Ayato is 18, reader is 20+ ], not sfw, student/teacher with the student initiating, dubious consent, implied blackmail, PIV, manipulation, crying, overstimulation.

WC: 6.3k

Tag List: @magicalbats

It’s not without effort that you finally give up and lie down, your nerves shot and your body sore. You were worn from the night itself and the last few hours you’d spent trying to escape the room Ayato had locked you in, desperate to do something.

[ You’d stood before the door that Ayato had locked for several long minutes, vainly hoping that this whole night had just been some sort of twisted joke. He never came back, though. Not even when you banged your fists against the door and cried out for help, nor when you made a racket trying to break the door down. Tears had rolled down your face as you collapsed against the floor, unable to believe that this was really happening. Your life as you knew it was over. Even if you could escape, Ayato had made sure that you wouldn’t truly be free - not when he had the threat of a video that would ruin your career and reputation in his hands. ]

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the images of Ayato running through your mind, your mind refusing to focus on anything else. At this point, you had nothing left to give. All your tears had been shed, and your throat ached from how long you’d cried for help. Instead of fighting it any longer, you simply get up from bed and enter the en suite bathroom, numbly prepared to do your bedtime routine. Finding something normal about the situation was the only thing that brought you a small modicum of comfort, and going through your nightly routine was better than just lying down in turmoil.

Ayato had left everything you could possibly need. You noted, with shaking hands, that he’d even supplied you with the products you kept in your home - all brand new, of course. Some of your things had been replaced with luxury products, complete with a note from Ayato that read: ‘These are better for your health. Try them out, I know you’ll like them. - Ayato’

You crumple up the note in annoyance, picking up the luxury products and dumping them into the trash. Wasting such expensive items hurt, but since they were from Ayato, you refused to use them. To do so would be letting go of your remaining dignity - you’d just have to go without them.

You numbly wash your face and brush your teeth, though going through the motions of your normal routine doesn’t settle your mind as much as you’d hoped it would. You exit the bathroom and lay back down on the bed, resigning yourself to sleep. Perhaps you’d be able to think straighter with a night of rest in your system. You’d take anything that could help you get out of Ayato’s grasp.

Your sheer exhaustion beats out the racing of your mind, and eventually, you fall asleep.

Across the manor, Ayato is wide awake, unable to stop thinking about you. If only you’d settle in quicker - he longs for being able to treat you like his wife, and you to treat him as a husband. Other people would think he was moving too fast, but you’d already belonged to him in his mind for months. He wants to go to sleep with you curled around him. And more than anything, he wants your face to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning. Soon enough, that would be a reality. First, though, he’d have to make sure you understood your new position as his girlfriend, and as his eventual wife. It was something Ayato was looking forward to. You were already perfect in so many ways, but he would make sure he molded you into his definition of perfection. The challenge of taming someone as intelligent as you only added to Ayato’s excitement.

All of Ayato’s careful planning would come to fruition, and there was nothing you could do to change things. That thought - that you were finally under Ayato’s thumb where you belonged, safe from the outside world - eventually lulls him to sleep.

You awake with a start, the unfamiliar bed and room alarming to your senses. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, your heart leaping into your throat at the realization.

It wasn’t all some bad dream you’d had after drinking too much at the graduation party. What had happened between you and Ayato was real, and so was the fact that you were still in his home. It was inappropriate - even unimaginable for a teacher like yourself to spend the night at a student’s place. You feel sick at the thought, and you clench your fists into the silk sheets.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Ayato wasn’t going to let you return to teaching. Even if you had found a way out of the house, Ayato had made sure that every route you might attempt to take was blocked. You curse internally - at yourself, for being so stupid, and Ayato for doing this to you.

Why…? You couldn’t be that special, yet Ayato looked at you like you hung the moon and stars themselves. His reverence wasn’t free from condensation, though, something you noted with particular annoyance. He treated you as if you were fragile - like you didn’t know the world's ways. It was infuriating. Ayato was only eighteen himself, but he acted as if he had an ancient soul.

Your thoughts trail off until a beam of sunlight peeks through the curtains. You didn’t want to dwell on your current situation any longer than you already had. You decide to leave bed and poke around the room with a fresh mind, your thoughts no longer clouded by a haze of alcohol and confusion.

Nothing much catches your eye except for the bookshelf, and you peruse the selection that was no doubt curated by Ayato. A few classics, a couple of trashy romance novels, a few books you’d assigned in class (filled with neatly placed post-its - some with your handwriting), and a few dated books on lady’s etiquette. You scoff, but you aren’t surprised. Putting those books there had no doubt made him chuckle, but they were also a genuine suggestion. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of finding one in your hands.

Instead, you pick out one of the classics and retreat to your bed to read. You weren’t sure when Ayato would come knocking, so you’d enjoy all the solitude you could get before then.

From the moment he wakes up, Ayato is thinking about you. The night before had been more than he ever could have asked for. You’d walked so easily into the trap he’d set for you - a gilded cage that he’d planned every minute detail of.

What’s more pressing at the moment, though, is his cock already stiff beneath the soft fabric of his pajamas. Where he had to resort to his fantasies of you in the past, he could now find reprieve just down the hall from you.

Ayato doesn’t hurry to you, though. He wouldn’t have been able to pull off any of this plan if he didn’t have the impeccable self-control that he did. Instead, he begins his normal morning routine, willing his morning wood to go down until he can properly see you.

He’s purposeful with his routine, not rushing any step. It didn’t hurt to make you wait - the anticipation of when he would arrive would be good for you, he thought.

When the time finally comes for him to see you again, he spares no time heading to your room. He’d been patient long enough.

Ayato knocks once before he enters your room, darting in so fast that you wouldn’t have a chance to even think about trying to push past him. He’s mildly surprised to see you’re simply sitting on the bed and reading - he’d expected a little more fight from you, but perhaps… Perhaps you’d come around to his ideas during the time he’d left you alone.

“Good morning,” he calls, approaching the bed. He could faintly smell your usual body wash lingering in the air - one of the few things he hadn’t swapped out for a luxury product, finding himself quite fond of the scent. He’d have to ask you if you liked the new products later. He watches you for a moment, but you don’t put your book down. Oh, it looks like you hadn’t lost your stubborn streak after all. Ayato sits on the bed and watches as you grimace, your eyes peeking over the top of the book to shoot him a small glare.

Cute, but not becoming of someone who would be his future wife.

Ayato tsks, leaning forward and plucking the book from your hands, ignoring your protests. In a brief moment of kindness, he folds the ear of the page you were on so you can find your place later. You cringe at the gesture, though, years of telling students not to destroy your books flooding your mind. If he notices, he ignores it.

“How was your night?” Ayato smiles and glosses over the situation like it was any other day. If he acted like things were normal, he thought, you’d eventually be forced to also.

Silence fills the air. You purse your lips, petulant, and keep your gaze trained on the window. (Locked, of course.) Ayato sighs and scoots closer to you on the bed so that he’s pressed against you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders before you can squirm away, his heart suddenly beating fast. Even a simple touch sent his heart racing when it came to you - he did well to keep his composure, lest you exploit it. Ayato needed to be in control, after all. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“How do you think it was?” Your reply is curt. The sooner you replied, the sooner he’d leave. You should have known that giving Ayato an in by acknowledging him was a mistake.

“I see you enjoyed your new beauty products, and that you enjoyed your choice of literature.” Ayato pats the book that he’d taken from you. Of course you liked it… You were perfect for him.

“I threw all that new stuff away.” At the very least, you could take pleasure in denying his gifts.

“That’s a shame,” Ayato replies, betraying no emotion. “When you’re better behaved, I can take you with me to pick some new things out.” He gets a thrill out of the annoyed expression on your face. Clearly, you’d expected him to be upset, but the products were mere pocket change to him. Eventually, you’d accept his gifts and come to understand how much he understood you. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the book, at least.”

The book… Of course. You had been enjoying it, until Ayato’s remark. The way he knew every facet of your personality made your skin crawl. “It’s fine.”

Ayato laughs at your cold response. If you wanted to get under his skin, you’d have to try much harder - he’d memorized your reactions and tells ages ago. It was easy for him to read you. As much as he was enjoying the one-sided banter, there were other pressing matters at hand.

Namely, how hard his cock was just from sitting next to you for a few minutes. It’d be shameful if he didn’t consider it a testament to how much he loved you. Your familiar scent and the warm skin that was pressed against his had sent his body into overdrive, almost as if it was making up for lost time. So much of his time had been taken up by school and responsibilities, but finally getting to touch you last night had awoken something new in him. Of course, he’d been taking care of himself to the thought of you for months, but getting to experience your body was a completely different game. It was addicting.

If he was a lesser man with no self-control, he would have fucked you well into the night. He hadn’t planned on pushing you to fuck him again just yet, but perhaps he could indulge in some other things. There was so much he wanted to try, after all.

Ayato slides the hand that was wrapped around your shoulder to gently press against your neck, letting his long fingers ghost against your pulse point. He hears you inhale suddenly, and the noise goes straight to his cock. (He wanted to devour you. He wanted to lock you up and fuck you senseless. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted… But it’s not what you needed, nor what you deserved. Ayato loved you. Such primal needs could be sated later when you eagerly responded to him - he had imagined so many times that you’d come to crave him as he craved you.)

“Ayato,” you warn, your voice low. “What are you doing?” You push Ayato’s hand away, and he lets you. You’d learn in time not to reject him, but Ayato had to walk a delicate line until then. He sighs, nonchalant, and lets his hand skirt down your arm instead. You grumble but don’t bother pushing him away.

“Do you really have to ask?” Ayato’s hand continues its path down your arm until he reaches the place where your hands are firmly pressed against your thighs. He sighs out your name. “You don’t have to be so worried about things like this. You are my girlfriend, after all.”

“Girlfriend?” You blurt, whipping your head to the side to stare at him. Ayato’s lips lift into that infuriating, smug smile that all his fellow students had giggled and blushed over. All it did to you was make your stomach curl. “That’s—” You’re startled into silence when Ayato slips his hand under the hem of your shirt, his fingers splaying across the bare skin.

The tips of his fingers are cold, and the sensation sends a chill up your spine. Your mouth hangs open dumbly as he explores the soft skin of your stomach. A strangled yelp leaves your throat when he runs his fingers over a ticklish spot.

“D-don’t,” you huff, the drift of his fingers over the ticklish spot again making you stumble on your words. “I don’t think we should do this.” He laughs, amused by your reaction. Anything he could get from you right now was fine - all he wanted was your complete attention, positive or negative.

“If you don’t like me touching you here, why do you react like this?” Ayato had mistaken the noise he’d drawn from you for arousal, his voice dripping with condescension as if the problem here is that you just don’t understand your own body and not that you’re being held against your will.

Before you can stop him, Ayato’s hand drags upward to your chest and he cups your breast in his hand. He plays with the weight of your breast, jiggling it. It reminds you of fooling around when you were younger, the unintentional awkwardness and non-pleasure of it making you grimace. Ayato doesn’t seem to notice, though. He sighs as he fondles you, entranced by the soft flesh of your tit that he’d been kneading.

You could almost drift away for a moment, pretend you were still asleep—

And then Ayato tweaks your nipple, hard, and your mouth falls open, a pained whimper rising to the surface. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, his gaze remaining on your shocked expression as he licked deeper into your mouth. It was all-consuming and violating – not like a kiss at all.

Whatever trance you had fallen under was quickly broken. Ayato is sloppy as he kisses you, his hand sliding down your stomach to fumble with the hem of your pants. It’d be endearing if it was anyone else - and yet some part of you doesn’t have the will to try and stop him. He’d already proven he’d do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

You don’t jerk away when his hand finally slips into your underwear, long middle finger immediately searching out your clit. It’s clear he’s struggling with kissing you and trying to finger you at the same time. You break apart from the kiss and he whines, chasing after your lips.

“Ayato…” You struggle to find your words, not daring to lift your gaze to his. You should stop him, you really should. You don’t, though. You were still so tired from last night. If you only gave in this one time, you’d have more time to think. You breathe out hard through your nose and finally speak. “One thing at a time.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding sheepish. “I’ll do better.” It’s an admission you hadn’t expected from him, but it was apparent that he was vulnerable in this state when it came down to things. If you were a worse person - if you were like him - you would have taken advantage of it. Turned the situation around on itself. But you weren’t like him, so instead, you remain silent when he dips his middle finger through your folds, letting the wetness that had accumulated gather on his digit.

Ayato hums when he feels proof of your arousal on his finger. He knew that all you ever needed was a reminder of how good things would be for you if you let him do as he saw fit. He would be a proper husband for you in all ways, and his duty of pleasuring you was one he wanted to emphasize despite his inexperience.

Ayato is aware that he shouldn’t rush things, but his eagerness to consume you whole pushes him to dip his finger inside of your cunt. His finger slips in easily, aided by the lubrication your body had produced despite your will.

“See?” Ayato arches the finger inside of you, stroking against your warm walls. “Your body doesn’t lie.” You shudder, half-pleasure half-discomfort as he adds another finger. He arches his fingers up again, searching. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure of helping guide him toward the spot inside of you that always sent your body reeling. You ignore his words, the arrogance coupled with his inexperience guiding your lips into a petulant pout. You just had to endure this a little bit longer.

It only takes a second for Ayato to notice your new expression.

Ayato didn’t want to spoil you, as much as he loved that fiery side of you. Sometimes you needed your flames dampened, and who better than him who did it out of love? He pulls his fingers from inside you and instead starts to focus on your clit, pulling a surprised moan from your throat. His technique is sloppy, but it’s not so bad that you couldn’t come from it.

His silence as he touches you makes you wary - so far, he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut. It’s barely a thought, though, not when your arousal is about to reach a fever pitch.

And then, without warning, Ayato pulls his fingers away from your clit— You whimper in frustration as your arousal fades back to a low burn. You twist your head up to look at him for an explanation and only find a serene look on his face. It immediately sends hackles up your spine, and you reflexively pull away from him. Ayato lets you this time.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Ayato says, accusatory. Your eyebrows knit in annoyance. He tilts his head, looking at you like he expected something. “Your attitude,” he starts. “You can’t enjoy what I’m giving you and act like a brat.”

“A brat?” You sputter, insulted more by his choice of words than the sentiment itself. You had adjusted rapidly to Ayato’s malaligned attitude about his feelings for you, but this talk like you were just misbehaving was too much. You were a grown adult, for gods’ sake. “I didn’t ask you for any of this.”

“Didn’t you, though?” Ayato leans in, taking up your space. “All those times when you let me talk to you at lunch. You were so kind. And all those times you spoke to me after the school day even though I wasn’t in your class.” Before you can give him a rebuttal, he continues, almost manic. “I knew you were perfect the second I met you. Last night was just a precautionary measure. We were always going to be together.”

You’re unable to reply at his unashamed admission. While you reel from his words, Ayato stands from the bed. He brings the fingers that were inside of you to his mouth and sighs before he presses them to his mouth, sucking your juices from them. You watch in muted disgust.

“I’m going to let you rest for a bit. I’ll bring you brunch shortly. I think you need some more time to think about what I’m doing for you.” Ayato smiles as he produces the key to your room from his pajama shirt’s pocket. “You’re smart enough to know this, but you’ll be staying in this room until your behavior improves.”

When you don’t respond, Ayato shrugs. “It’s your choice. I’ll see you soon.”

Ayato, true to his word, returns with brunch around an hour later. He leaves you to your devices after, dutifully returning every meal time to bring you food but not lingering. It remains like this for two days, with you stubbornly refusing to acknowledge him and Ayato seemingly unbothered.

You’d used your time to think of something, anything, to put a hold on Ayato’s plans. On the third day, you finally speak to him again.

“Ayato? Can we talk?”

He turns immediately, his facade of nonchalance betrayed by how eager he looked. “Of course.” He hurries to sit across from you on a matching lounge chair to the chaise you’d been sitting on. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

You ignore him, and press on. “I have a proposal. I know you want to take care of me, but I think I should keep teaching, so I came up with a compromise.” You expect him to protest, but he just stares at you with a placid smile on your face. Unnerved, you press on. “What if I taught private lessons online?” You didn’t like saying the next part, but you had to try to placate him. “I would stay at home, of course. And you could vet any potential students. I’ve been working for years, Ayato. It’d feel wrong to just quit.”

“I see.” Ayato says, terse. You can already tell he doesn’t like the idea.

A pregnant pause hangs in the air.

“No.” Ayato stands, and you scramble up after him. You grab his arm, surprised by your own actions but unable to control your panic. “My plans- our plans, are final.”

“Please, there has to be something. We can’t do this, any of this…” You’re almost breathless as you speak.

“Let’s sit down.” Ayato leads you to the bed, but you hardly realize it. You let him maneuver you onto the bed. Your mind races for another excuse to try and bring up, but there’s nothing. Ayato strokes your hand. “Is that it?”

His tacit tone, as if you had just been throwing a tantrum, ignites whatever fuel you have left to argue with him.

“D-damn it,” You start, fumbling with your words. Ayato gives you a patronizing look that makes you want to rip his head off. You take a deep breath and try again. “You haven’t thought of all the repercussions. What will your family say? What will Ayaka say?” If anything could garner a shred of sympathy from Ayato, it had to be Ayaka. Perhaps with enough mention of his younger sibling, his plans would start to crack.

“What will Ayaka think?” Ayato echoes, raising his eyebrow. “She’ll think it’s wonderful that her older brother has found someone so responsible and mature.” He catches your eyes, and his gaze turns serious. “Ayaka is very innocent, you know. You wouldn’t want to hurt her by telling her the truth, would you? Even if you gained her sympathy… Ayaka is loyal to her family first.” Ayato’s tone is one of finality - any argument you had would be useless against him. It was like he lived inside your head, plucking out every seed of hope one by one and crushing them.

You can’t give up, though. “Your family, then. They won’t accept this. They have to realize how wrong this is. They… they have to!” Your voice breaks. Even if they did find it wrong, Ayato wouldn’t take the blame - you would. Ayato watches as the gears in your head turn, the faux sympathetic look back on his face.

“You already know my answer to that, dear. Did you think I was unprepared for our relationship? I’ve been planning every detail of how things would go for months. You know the Kamisato family’s reputation. I’m no exception to it.” Ayato takes your hand and soothes his thumb across the top.

You’re too numb to stop him.

You knew the family’s reputation well. The Kamisato family was meticulous. They were perfectionists to a T. Their legacy was long-standing, in both the private academy and the city you lived in. And most of all, they were known to be ruthless to anyone who crossed their family. Their ruthlessness was hidden under business deals gone bad, companies suddenly failing, another family’s secrets exposed - it was covert and deadly. To be in their line of fire was to have your life effectively over. You couldn’t do it. You were one person.

In a last-ditch effort, you pitch another idea. “Then… Then…” You stumble over your words. Ayato tips his head to the side - condescending smile and lidded eyes, a look that you’d quickly become used to - urging you to go on. Your throat suddenly feels very dry, but you know that if you ask for water, Ayato will steer the subject in a completely different direction. You warily raise your gaze to meet his. “If you’re so sure your family will accept this, then… What if we wait a little longer to move things forward?”

Ayato hums, thoughtful. He’s not really considering your offer, but he might as well pretend to be so he can see where you’re at. “And how long would that be?”

“I was thinking a year or so,” you begin. “You would be established at college by then, and I—”

Ayato’s finger comes to rest on your lips, interrupting you. He shakes his head before he pulls away, chuckling to himself at the expression on your face. “I’ll save you the explanation. I’m sure it’s a nice plan, but it won’t work.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!” You protest. Ayato ignores your outburst and wraps his arms around your waist, suddenly pulling you into his lap. Try as you might, you can’t squirm free from his tight grip. Your stomach tightens, anxiety pulling at it. He’s too close, and it’s too much - you feel trapped.

“Are you done now?” Ayato’s question sends anger running through your veins. How could someone turn from a respectful student to a condescending young man in such a short amount of time? He had never treated you with anything less than respect when you were his teacher, but now, it was like that part of your relationship had never existed. Ayato must sense your displeasure, as he loosens his grip and sighs. “You know that I appreciate your intelligence. Picking you as my wife wasn’t something I did without my due diligence.”

The thought that he’d been planning this for even longer than you’d imagined makes bile rise in your throat. You’re so distracted by the thought that you forgo trying to escape his grip and instead curl limply into him. Ayato is nearly giddy that you’re leaning into him, completely ignoring the stricken look on your face.

Another argument pops into your mind as you ruminate on the time it had taken for Ayato to plan things out. Time divided the two of you - Ayato young, and you a well-established adult. If you perhaps talked up Ayato’s youth and the rich life he had ahead of him, it might put a seed of doubt in his mind that would grow over time. You’d have to talk down about yourself like you were used goods, but if it worked, it would be worth it. It wasn’t an immediate solution, but it was something.

“I’m not done, actually.” Ayato tsks but doesn’t stop you. You swallow and peer up at him from his lap, preparing to disparage yourself simply to argue against him. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone your own age? Someone who will… Who will look good alongside you? Who can grow with you at the same pace?”

Ayato’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, genuine surprise painted on his face. He regains his composure a moment later, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really think I’m that type of man?” He turns your own words back against you - like your self-depreciation had been an affront to him. He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “Your beauty is timeless. I would never tire of you.” Ayato sounds soft, for a moment, but then he twists his lips into a cruel smile. “But if I did grow tired, I wouldn’t have trouble finding fun elsewhere. Many husbands do, you know.”

His cruelty was thrown so easily in between his kindness. You merely stare at him, mouth open. Ayato laughs and leans down to press his forehead against yours. The sweet gesture sickens you, but you know pulling away will only make him do something more invasive.

“Don’t worry. Like I said, I’m not that kind of man.”

Ayato had cornered you on the bed during the conversation, and you’re hit with the realization that you’re in no position to get out from under him. He’d broken down every wall you had.

“I’ll give you everything you could ever need or want. I’d be happy to give you another reminder.” Ayato leans down and captures your lips in a messy kiss, pressing forward until your reluctance gave way to kissing him back. He finally pulls up for air when you’re nearly out of breath, his lips slick with saliva. “Your body hasn’t lied to me yet.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you hated it. Deep down, in a place you didn’t want to admit existed, his attention felt good. It disgusted you, but your ability to deny it was betrayed by your body again and again. You could say it was a natural reaction as much as you wanted, but Ayato could see right through you.

You don’t stop him when he begins to undress you, hastily pulling your pants down and simply shoving your shirt up and your bra down until your tits were pushing over the top. He tweaks your nipples until they’re standing taut, playing with them with far more intent than he had earlier. His hands eventually slide down your stomach, and then they stop.

You glance at him. He smiles, the twinkle in his eye making you feel uneasy. “Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t have you getting spoiled? Go on, tell me what you want. I can’t just give it to you.”

You couldn’t. Doing so would be admitting that you were truly out of options. You turn your head, and Ayato tuts. His fingers ghost over your skin until he reaches your clit, so close that you can feel the heat of his skin against it. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“I can wait.” Ayato smiles, and remains still. His touch is so close yet so far, and the sensation of needing to be touched is starting to flood your veins.

How had you fallen so far in just a few days that you were seriously considering begging your captor to touch you? Had you really ever been opposed to his idea? No, of course you had - but your mind was already getting muddled, the brief isolation and emotional turmoil proving all too much.

Touching was simple. It felt good.

You give in. “Fine,” you mumble. “Touch me…”

Ayato tilts his head. You grit your teeth. “Please.”

“Good girl.”

Ayato’s words send a shock of arousal you weren’t expecting at the same moment his fingers begin their minstrations against your clit, and you keen forward, hissing. Everything from the littlest touch had been heightened by your increased emotional state, and this area of your body fared no differently.

Ayato’s fingers work diligently until your clit is swollen and needy, yet he seemingly slowed down every time you came close to orgasm. You let out a frustrated whine at every near peak that fades back into building arousal, the previous momentum completely lost. How many times had it been now…? You weren’t sure.

“You know what to ask.” Ayato’s fingers continue rubbing circles into your puffy clit, the bud aching with need. It’s not enough to get you off, though, and he knows it. The disappointment of the denied orgasm earlier that week pushes itself to the forefront of your mind, though, your body eager to get the pleasure it was denied. It was all too much and not enough at once. Ayato slows down his ministrations and forces your head up with his free hand. His fingers squish your cheeks together. “Well?”

You whine through your squished cheeks, and Ayato’s touch relents enough so that you can talk. “P-please,” you mumble. “I wanna come.” It felt wrong - but you didn’t think you could take the denial of pleasure again, your body nearly begging for it. If you had told him to stop, he undoubtedly would have prevented you from finishing yourself off. Ayato hums at your response, and his fingers begin to rub tight circles around your clit with purpose. You refused to vocalize it, but you could tell he was already getting better at touching you.

It only takes a few more strokes until you’re coming, your lower half jerking off the bed in time with the waves of your orgasm. Ayato doesn’t let up his fingers and soon it becomes near unbearable. You squirm, and drag your hips away. His fingers finally draw away from your puffy clit and he groans out your name, enthralled by the sight of you.

“Can’t wait to get inside of you,” he huffs, hurriedly undoing the belt on his clothes. His cock is out before you even realize it, pretty pink head leaking precome from the tip. Ayato moves over you and presses the head of his cock into your clit, watching eagerly as the little bud twitches from overstimulation.

“Nooo,” you whine, “it’s too much still—”

Ayato’s cock jumps in place, your words going straight to his member. Seeing you so vulnerable made him feel like he could come any moment. Before he can embarrass himself again by coming too soon, he pulls back, letting himself cool off for a moment.

“I think you can take a little more.” Ayato’s words are followed by his fingers on your clit once more, fingertips ghosting over the sensitive flesh. You wiggle at the sensation, his touch slowly becoming more pleasant as it breaks through the dull ache of being touched again so soon.

You shouldn’t have given in to him so easily. Not again - but you can scarcely think of that when Ayato is bringing you to your peak and then back again a second time, and then a third.

You’re teary by now, the pleasure-pain reaching a level you hadn’t experienced in a long while. You expect him to attempt a fourth orgasm, but instead feel him climb over you to line himself up with your entrance.

“I can’t, not again-” You warble, and Ayato leans down to capture your protests with a kiss. He uses the moment to press himself inside of you, finding no resistance as he pushes himself to the hilt. It felt just as heavenly as it did the first time.

Ayato’s pace stutters at first, struggling to coordinate the thrust of his hips and the rhythm of his fingers on your clit. He groans into your mouth while he fucks you, only pulling away to bury his head into your neck. The momentary stop and start of his fingers on your too-sensitive clit make you jerk under him, mind too far gone to do anything else.

Though you try to fight it, a fourth orgasm rips itself from your center. You clench down on Ayato and nearly shriek as it ripples through your body - Ayato follows you a few shaky pumps later, your name falling from his lips over and over as he comes inside of you.

It’s suddenly much too bright and much too hot and you thrash underneath Ayato, desperate to get out from underneath him. For once, he acquiesces to you and lets you roll to your own side of the bed.

You stare at the ceiling, suddenly all too aware of the sweat sticking to your skin. Your personal space is invaded when he drags your head onto his chest and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

You supposed it was his form of a compromise.

A month later, you’re sat at Ayato’s office desk with a thick piece of cardstock in front of you with the Kamisato family crest embossed on the top. The new clothes you were in still feel too expensive and stiff against the leather chair you were sitting in, and the luxury perfume Ayato had insisted you wear was suffocating. The sizeable ring on your finger feels dreadfully heavy as you stare at Ayato before looking down.

All these things to distract you from the impending message.

‘The Kamisato family is proud to announce the engagement of eldest son, Kamisato Ayato &…’

You don’t have to read further to guess that your name follows his.

“What do you think, dear? Do you like this color?”

A month wasn’t a long time, but it was long enough for you to know what Ayato wanted you to say and what you needed to say for your sanity.

“I love it.”

#my writing #not sfw #kamisato ayato x reader #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere kamisato ayato x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact.txt #age gap cw #dub con cw #dark content #yandere cw #gi kamisato ayato #gi ayato

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zombiedumbie · 1 year ago

Text

cooking!

summary: the reader is learning how to cook, but no one likes it.

content: fluff (not exactly fluff, but is kinda cute), no pronouns used, reader is a devil fruit user

pairing: law x gn!reader

word count: 1.336

an: haro everynyan. I can finally write something, so i'm writing about my hushband, tell me if you like it, please. by the way, this akuma no mi power I thought for an OC of mine! I want to write something for her (maybe a one-shot or even a few chapters of a fanfic, I don't know), let me know what you think!

Law left his office late at night. It was one of those days when he had spent too much time in his office, and his body was starting to crave even the slightest bit of attention. He walked into the kitchen, hoping there would be some leftovers from tonight's dinner; he could feel the pressure of the sea in his ears, making the place even quieter than it already was.

But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing; he appreciated these moments of silence, when all the crew members should already be asleep or quietly going about their activities. The clock and the silence were his only indications that night had arrived in a place where sunlight barely reached.

The silence was broken as he approached the kitchen; he could hear soft music playing and a sad humming. Light seeped out from under the door, indicating that someone was still outside the room.

With calm steps, he approached. Initially, his intention was to get something to eat, but now he wanted to find out who was singing. As he approached the door, Law could feel a gust of wind coming through the gaps. If he didn't know his crew, he would have been quite surprised when he opened the door and saw the plates floating in the air in an orderly synchronization. But he couldn't help but be enchanted by the way they moved through the kitchen, following a sequence to be cleaned, dried, and then put away.

"Hello, captain," you said, stopping your singing in tune with the music. He entered and closed the door behind him, containing the air flow that kept the plates in order, like a production line. He also noticed the little Den Den Mushi humming a melancholic tune.

"Y/N," he greeted you. You had the power to control the wind, which was quite useful in battles, especially due to your abilities and creativity in manipulating your power. But it was also useful in everyday situations like this, where you could simply wash the dishes while using your abilities to finish all the work.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked with his usual formality. You had recently joined the crew and had never really talked to him before, and you thought you never would. He was always locked in his office, focusing on things other than wasting time talking to a newcomer on his ship.

"Just… washing the dishes," there was a strange tone in your voice, as if there was a lump in your throat preventing you from speaking. Law noticed it.

"Are you sure?" It was impressive how he could notice subtle things. You were sure that beneath his stoic nature, there was a person who was attentive to everything happening around him. You admired that about him. "You don't have to speak if you don't want to." He walked through the kitchen, carefully avoiding the floating dishes. His eyes searched for food, anything that could quiet the rumbling in his stomach.

That's when he found a shy tray with three cupcakes, hidden next to a gigantic pile of plates. They seemed to have been decorated by a child, with crooked icing and colorful star-shaped sprinkles.

Law found it adorable.

"C-Captain!" you said, finally finishing washing the huge pile of plates. "Don't eat those."

"Oh," he shared a glance between you and the tray. "Are they already reserved?"

You sighed with his innocence. "No. But I'm going to throw them away."

"Why?" He picked one up. "They look good." He could see that the icing was poorly mixed, so there were still parts that were white instead of being colored with dye. "Have you tasted them?" Normally, he wouldn't insist or even ask about such things, but he couldn't see a reason to throw away food.

"I made them," your voice had a hint of sadness, as if you had been crying before he arrived. "No one wanted to eat them because of that."

"Why?" he asked again, sounding like a child with so many questions. However, his expression was curious, as if he wanted to know why you sounded so frustrated.

"I-I…" you held both hands in front of you, trying to gather the courage to tell your captain, as if you were ready to reveal a secret. "I'm trying to learn how to cook."

He raised an eyebrow, expecting you to continue your story, although he already had an idea of where it was going.

"When we saw the Straw Hats… I was impressed by Sanji's cooking skills," he raised his eyebrows at the mention of the cook. "It reminded me of an old desire to cook when I was younger. I loved cooking with my mother, but I didn't really do much myself." Law listened attentively to your story as he looked at the cupcake in his hand.

"I asked him to teach me a few things, but he could only teach me how to cook rice properly and make onigiri," Law looked up at you, his expression always calm. You sighed before continuing. "So, I tried to continue without his help, using a recipe book I bought on an island. And apparently, I'm terrible at cooking!" Law hid his look of pity.

"No one wants to try what I make because apparently everything turns out bad!" Law saw some frustrated tears rolling down your face. "This fucking cupcake didn't turn out bad! I tasted it! But no one wanted to even try it."

You watched Law delicately peel off the cupcake wrapper and then take a bite of the cake. A bit of icing stuck to his nose without him noticing. You found it adorable.

The cupcake wasn't anything special; in fact, it looked like just another regular cupcake, but it was tasty enough for him to want another one. He couldn't understand why someone wouldn't want to eat it.

"This is good, Y/N-ya," you sighed in relief, afraid that he would also complain. If he did, you would probably throw yourself into the sea at the first opportunity. "I don't understand why they refused."

You smiled, wondering if he was just being kind or if he genuinely meant it. You didn't know him intimately, but Law didn't seem like the type of person who would lie just to please someone. You thanked him with a heavy heart, deciding not to irritate him with such a question.

"Can I have another one?" he asked after finishing the one he had taken. You nodded, and he headed back to the tray. "You know, I can cook too," he commented, and you looked at him in surprise.

"I usually don't have much time for it," he sighed, taking another bite of the cupcake and once again smearing the tip of his nose. "But I cook sometimes for the crew, and sometimes for myself when everyone is asleep."

It was strange to see him like this, his tall figure slightly hunched over and his disheveled hair without the hat. He was wearing casual clothes and talking about mundane things like cooking, which contrasted with the serious and calculating figure he imposed on himself. "If you want, I can teach you what little I know," you returned his gaze to his eyes, wondering if you had heard correctly. "Apparently, we have some spare time until the next island."

"S-Sorry?" you asked as if your ears had deceived you.

"Um…" for some reason, his cheeks were tinged with a light blush. "I said I can teach you what little I know, you know�� about cooking?" He seemed embarrassed now.

"Oh, I would love that!" you accepted, with a gleam of excitement in your eyes. Law looked at you as if he was melting in your eyes.

You approached him, carefully wiping the icing off the tip of his nose. "It was dirty." You saw the man blush so intensely that it looked like he was going to change color at any moment. "Thank you, Captain," you smiled sweetly.

Law's face turned bright red, seeing how lovely you looked when you smiled. He began to regret it, mentally wondering if he could handle seeing such a kind smile from you frequently.

oh to have a Law pressing me against the kitchen counter

#zombiedumbie writing #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #law one piece #one piece x reader #law x you #one piece fluff #one piece fanfic #law fanfic #law fluff

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prettyoatmeal · 1 year ago

Text

General König Headcanons (x reader? Read AN)

Yeah, title is self explanatory, just some random headcanons I've thought of and need to get out of my head. There are some x reader headcanons. Even though it's not the majority, I've decided to include it in the title for the reason that there are some scattered within the mix. Take this as like a 'living with König' typa thing.

Content Warnings: None

Genre: All fluff, nothing explicit

Masterlist here!

***************

I feel like with his mental health history, he'd have some special way to calm himself down in stressful situations or just all the time.

Maybe a fidget toy? Like the small dimple ones.

Not too small since his hands are pretty above average in size, but yknow what I mean.

He'd need a way to release that nervousness or excitement he's feeling.

Though, his favourite things to fiddle with would probably be your hands. Running his fingertips along your middle finger down to your palm, gently stroking the skin, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours. Definitely comforting.

Would probably be a chronic nail biter and wears gloves outside his job to actually stop himself from tearing up his nail beds. Would have probably also used the bitter nail polish originally, but he probably found it too gross (behold, the function of the product). Found the gloves work way better. Out of sight, out of mind.

Since he has quite a large build, both in height and in muscle, he has trouble finding clothes his size in a lot of store. Trousers will fit his hips but the legs would be too short, or be too loose around his hips but legs are just right. He'd need to get them tailored to make sure they fit just right.

Would realise that taking so many pieces of clothing at once or over time to the seamstress would become expensive when repeated so many times, so he'd take on sewing as a hobby.

i.e. why he has his little DIY mask situation going on.

The mask had been made from a black shirt, so he'd be big on finding ways to save material and minimise the land waste.

Sewing would give him a nice distraction from the outside world, gives him time to do what he enjoys. It's a good way to kill time.

The needles would be so small compared to his fingers so he'd definitely need his gloves on for that just in case he were to accidentally prick himself.

Very big on keeping his home clean, gives him another distraction. Sweeping and mopping, generally tidying his desk and office, polishing furniture.

He finds himself very accomplished and happy with himself knowing he can keep his home looking pretty and spotless.

Speaking about something pretty,

Would have the prettiest puppy dog eyes ever.

Beautiful downturned eyes and heavy eyelids, probably green or blue, of course they give the prettiest eyes ever to the largest, most terrifying soldier.

During the time he's deployed, he'd be required to comply with KorTac's code of conduct and keep his hair cropped. Though when he has his time off, he likes growing it out and keeping it long. He finds it soothing to brush and comb through his locks, pinning his fringe out of his face with bobby pins as he curls the rest of his hair into a bun or a ponytail.

Uses special shampoos, conditioners and oils to keep his hair strong and healthy.

That being said, he loves when his S/O or a close friend plays with his hair.

Loves head scratches and massages, especially when it's someone else's hands.

If you listen really closely, you may just hear him purr as you work your fingertips along his scalp. Could definitely fall asleep to your massages.

That being said, when he's at home, he'd be a very heavy and very quiet sleeper. Maybe a few small hums is all you would be able to hear from him.

Waking him up would be a bit of a challenge as he'd be so exhausted from returning home that he'd be knocked out for a good 12+ hours.

Won't be all for braiding flowers into his hair, but if you do it for him then he's never taking them out.

Same with friendship bracelets or necklaces or rings. He wouldn't really be one to wear jewellery of any kind, but will forever wear whatever accessory you give him without any second thought.

Gives me big nose vibes (what Doja said), tooth gap, split lip, prominent, visible scarring along his lips and nose.

Due to how his sheer size already and he's prone to standing out in a crowd regardless of what he's wearing, I feel like he'd want to keep a mask on a lot of the time.

He's already way above average in his build, the last thing he'd want to do is draw anymore attention to himself.

That being said, he probably has the best skincare routine ever.

Cleanser, toner, serum, moisturiser, then sunscreen in the morning or a different cream at night.

In comparison to his rougher hands, you bet his cheeks are soft and plush. That being said, I reckon he'd keep his face shaven, maybe a little stubble.

WEARS READING GLASSES!!!!!!

Would wear those old man glasses with the thin metal frames and wide lenses.

Grandpa energy even though he's just in his early to mid thirties.

Will occasionally ask for help to define words for him if he reads or hears one which he doesn't know the meaning for.

"Engel, what does.. coi..tus.. 'coitus' mean? and why did the audience laugh after Sheldon had said it.. I don't understand American humour."

Since he enlisted in the military at age 17, barely an adult, he'd missed out on a lot of key moments in life like graduation at high school or a university, or finding himself a lover and marrying them, getting drunk or doing drugs with your best mates for the first time. He's lost a lot of time in the military, it makes him a little sad thinking how much he's devoted his life to becoming a mercenary. So when he's with you, he spends his time enjoying doing little things with you, such as when cooking or cleaning together.

Wouldn't prefer to go out and do anything out in public, but if you ask him really nicely, he'll go out with you to a park or a communal area for a sit down or to have an ice cream or whatever you're feeling.

Plays candy crush.

On level 1496.

Very talented with his thumbs.

***************

Yeah thats all :3 hope you enjoyed

Goodnight <3

#könig headcanons #cod mw2 #könig mw2 #könig cod #call of duty #konig cod #Konig mw2 #Konig x reader #König x reader #König fluff #König imagines #Konig imagines #mw2 x reader #Konig fluff

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

Text

Already Gone || MV1 {1}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: You ease yourself into Max's life for a job but find it harder to leave than planned. Warnings: criminal activities WC: 2.6k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two

Formula one wasn’t just an expensive sport to race in but it was first and foremost a lucrative business. With hundreds of millions of dollars being invested each year it was no surprise that your services were sought.

The hooded figure slid a file across the table, the crumbs and sticky residue of beer catching on the cover. “This is the target,” he whispered over the noise of the drunkards left in the bar at this late hour. “Everything we have on him is in there, use it to get close and get into their factory.”

“Why waste time with a relationship?” you questioned as you opened the file and saw the headshot of your target. Not someone you would call classically handsome but there was an appeal to him nonetheless. “Why don’t I just apply for an entry level job and this will be done in a week?”

“For my employer, this isn’t just about their technology, they want his spirit broken too.” He jabbed an angry finger at the portrait.

“Ah,” you chuckled as you closed the file and slipped it into your handbag before rising from the dark booth, “psychological warfare, that I can understand.”

“How do we reach you again?” the stranger asked as he made to follow but you held your hand out for him to stop.

“You don’t, our contact ends here. You know my fee, and you will know when the job is complete.”

“How?”

You rolled your eyes at the stupid the question. “Front page headline, of course.”

There was no denying Monaco was beautiful, but you missed your high rise apartment in New York. The birds eye view of Central Park had become home and it was where you spent most of your time. Corporate espionage was always in demand on Wall Street so it was convenient to live close by despite owning properties all over the world.

You had spent a week researching your target, reading every article and watching every interview. You knew his mannerisms and his values, what features his ex-girlfriends all shared and why they broke up. You knew his entire history, all so you could manipulate his future.

Once you had learned everything there was to know about him you had tracked him down to Monaco where he was spending a large portion of the winter season off. That was where the real work began.

Any wig was irritating, no matter how expensive it was, and this was no different as you suppressed the urge to touch the dried glue along the hairline. Up ahead, the target kept pausing on his walk to sign a few autographs and let children have a photo taken with him.

Unbeknownst to him, all the posters and adverts along the street had been subtly changed so the models held small semblances to you. He wouldn’t actively notice them, but his subconscious would. Over the next week, his brain would recognise your features selling products he was familiar with and trusted, something you were going to use to your advantage when you finally decided to cross paths with him.

As midnight passed you took a little stroll through the streets lined with mansions and pulled out a tin of cat food. The crinkling of the foil tearing open broke the relatively quiet night in the exclusive community and a few curious cats appeared through the perfectly trimmed hedges. You softly called two Bengals closer, nudging the others aside, before giving them a scratch behind their ears as you put the tin on the ground and earned their trust too.

“I have a little friend for you,” you whispered as they finished the food and rubbed against your leg, purring happily. You reached into the pouch of your oversized hoodie and carefully woke the kitten you had adopted. He released a small mew at being disturbed but when he noticed the company around him he started to nuzzle around them. “That’s it, get nice and acquainted.”

The lady at the animal shelter had promised that the little guy had come from a big litter and was very friendly around other cats so you were glad she was right as you picked up the rubbish and tossed it in a nearby bin. Giving the trio one last scratch, you lingered on the tabby with a whisper, “I’ll see you soon, Achilles.”

You left the neighbourhood after slotting a missing cat poster with your phone number into the mailboxes along the street and as the three animals disappeared into the hedge together you hoped it wouldn’t be too long before your phone rang. “Bye Sassy, bye Jimmy.”

You were going out of your mind as you lounged around the house waiting. You checked your phone a handful of times per minute, even testing it was working with your burner phone once an hour. It was only as the sun began to set on the second day that the ringtone sang out over the news channel relaying the latest stock market figures.

You took a deep breath, falling into the character of your alias as you saw the unknown number on the caller ID. “Hello?” You had to hide your grin as you perfected the balance of worry and hope in your voice.

“Uh, hi, is this Madilyn?” a man asked, the Dutch accent one you were familiar with after all the videos you had watched of him. “Your kitten is missing?”

“That’s me, please tell me you have some good news,” you begged softly, pitifully.

He laughed quietly and you could hear purring close to the phone. “I think he found his way into my home somehow. He is very friendly.”

“I’m so sorry,” you grabbed your keys and helmet off the kitchen side, slamming the door loudly as you left. “We just moved here and I must have left a window open. Where are you so I can come and pick him up?”

He gave you his address and you rushed to thank him before ending the call and throwing your leg over the motorbike you had recently brought, all added to the bill of your latest employer. The roar of the engine drew the attention of the pedestrians out for an evening walk as you raced through the narrow streets and you arrived in his neighbourhood in under a minute.

The wrought iron gate was closed when you pulled up but the front curtain inside the mansion swayed as a dark figure peeked out before it started to swing open.

By the time you pulled your helmet off and hung it on the handlebars he had already opened the door and you skipped up the steps excited by the sight of Achilles tucked in the crook of his arm. Lights from inside the home spilled out onto the front porch as Jimmy and Sassy padded their way out, brushing up against your shins.

“He looks so cosy,” you said sheepishly as you went to reach for the sleeping Achilles only to pause and pull back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Max.” He offered his hand instead and you shook it weakly before crouching down to pet his cats. “They like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you said with a smile as you looked up at him and found him staring back intently. “Do I have helmet hair?”

You rushed to your feet, brushing down the strands that might have been messed up and windblown but he shook his head with a small smile. “You look familiar, have we met?”

You stepped closer with a small shake of your head and ran your fingers through Achilles fur, your arm brushing against Max innocently. His eyes followed your touch and you could see him taking the bait like a starving fish, not knowing how close he was to the hook.

“I would definitely remember meeting you,” you said as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away only for them to land on your motorbike. “Is that a Softail?”

“He has a good eye,” you praised as he recognised the same model Harley Davidson as the one he owned. “Do you ride?”

“Not as much as I would like. Unfortunately my one is back home in the Netherlands.”

“I owe you for finding Achilles.” You pulled the key from your leather jacket and dangled it in front of him with a grin, the silver keyring twinkling and catching his attention. He eyed up the figurine of the Trojian Horse, an inside joke you liked to use when on mission because the meaning always went over their heads. “Wanna take her for a spin?”

His hesitancy lasted only a split second since the conditioning of trust that had been instilled subconsciously all week quickly told him there was nothing to worry about.

He looked down at his casual shirt and shorts he wore, clothes definitely not suitable for riding a motorcycle, before stepping back inside. “Would you like to come in?”

Max didn’t know the mistake he just made or the real reason you smiled the way you did as you stepped over the threshold, your body brushing close to his.

He was already gone: hook, line and sinker, he was yours.

Four Months Later The coffee pot was almost empty and your eyes were bleary as you sat on the sofa watching the live feed on your laptop for the fourth straight hour. The video footage was being recorded as it played and you already had sent a thumb drive full of similar files with the parts and manufacturing plans you had stolen on your last visit with Max to the Red Bull factory in England. This next one should be ready to send in the morning.

It hadn’t been difficult to organise a ‘work’ trip to London during the time Max was going to test some new features they were working on and he practically begged you to visit him since it wasn’t far to Milton Keynes where they were based. You wanted to hate him for making it too easy, for being too trusting and too kind.

You wanted to hate him for making you feel guilty.

You lived for this job, playing mastermind and dancing the moral lines, and you were very good at it. The world was your stage while you got to write the play, direct the show and be whatever character you wanted to be. But more often than not you found yourself forgetting to be ‘Madilyn’ when you were with Max and realised at some point you were able to be yourself.

It was a problem, and one you didn’t know how to solve.

That was a lie. You could take the thumb drive down to the post shop and send it before disappearing into the night. Job done, problem solved.

But that would mean never seeing Max again and the truth was you weren’t ready for that.

Achilles padded into the living room and jumped onto your lap, purring as he nudged your hand for a pat. “Don’t get too comfortable, this is just a temporary arrangement,” you said as you scratched his neck. “You wouldn’t like New York anyway. The air smells, the people are rude and there’s no Sassy or Jimmy to play with.”

You were going to miss Monaco when it came time to leave. Everyone had been so friendly and welcoming to this stranger, if only they knew the havoc you had come to wreak on their city.

Your doorbell suddenly rang and you swiped your phone off the coffee table to open the app and saw Max on your front step. You had specifically told him that you were feeling sick so he didn’t come around. He had a race this week and shouldn’t have been taking the risk of going near anyone sick but there he was, a bag of takeaways in his hands.

You cursed to yourself as you closed your laptop and went to open the door just a crack. “Max? What are you doing here?” you asked with a rasping voice.

He pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, aiming to kiss you but you turned your head away so his lips landed on your cheek.

“I’m sick, you shouldn’t be here. You could catch it too.”

“I don’t care.” He placed the bag on the hall table so his hands were free to cup your face, holding you still as he greeted you with a proper kiss. It was impossible to resist him and your lips parted as you grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer.

He was far too responsible as he stopped you from unbuttoning his shirt, though he didn’t seem too pleased about stopping you from taking things further. “Eat first,” he ordered, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other grabbing the food.

Max’s season had been off to a terrible start with a third place podium the best he had been able to achieve behind the Ferrari’s who had come back strongly from last year's poor result. The journalists called it a miracle - that the Italian team were able to produce a car to rival Red Bull’s - but really it wasn’t quite that unexplainable. They had inside information thanks to you.

Despite the stress in his life and the pressure he was feeling from his father to push harder, he still found time for you and a part of you resented him for that, for making it harder to complete the job.

Your laptop on the coffee table kept drawing your attention as you sat down with the chicken noodle soup Max had brought. It was like a ticking time bomb that you couldn’t ignore and everytime Max’s hand passed over it to get a napkin or the remote you felt your heartbeat in your throat. If he opened the lid he would see something you couldn’t explain away so you needed to get him away from it for your own sanity.

“I’m really tired, babe,” you lied as you faked a yawn and Max checked his watch with a frown when he saw how early it was.

“Maybe we should see a doctor,” he suggested as he pressed his hand to your forehead and mistook the clammy heat as a fever, but it was purely from the stress you were under watching him reach over your laptop yet again for his can of Red Bull.

“A bit of rest is all I need. You don’t need to worry about me, you should be worrying about your race.” You shifted on the couch to face him and saw how relaxed he was with his arm draped across the back of your cushion and Achilles curled up on his lap. “How are you planning on beating Ferrari?”

He shrugged and focused on scratching the tabby between the shoulder blades. “I’ll get the most I can out of the car and it will either be enough to win or it won’t. I can only try my best and avoid making mistakes.”

You curled into his side, hiding your guilty face in his neck as his arm closed around you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered your confession.

“Why?” he laughed softly, “it’s not your fault.”

If only he knew.

But he could never know.

Click here for part two.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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thedisc0spider · 5 months ago

Note

can u write spencer introducing reader to star wars💕💕?? ive never seen it 😭

Star Wars

————————————————————————————————————

Summary: Spencer is really excited to introduce you to Star Wars.

Warnings: reader gets a little stressed out, cursing, pre established relationship, reader works at smosh, not proof read!

Fluff!!!!

Point of view: 2nd person

A/n: this request was so adorable and I had so much fun writing it! I took this prompt and ran (maybe a little to far) with it SO if this wasn’t what you wanted I’m so sorry!! Id be willing to rewrite it if so.

————————————————————————————————————

You can already tell today will be very interesting. Well, the next few weeks actually.

A few days ago you had revealed to Spencer that you’ve never seen a Star Wars movie. Of course, he was shocked as to how this was the first he was hearing of it.

“You’ve never seen a Star Wars movie? How?”

“I don’t know, when I was a kid I wasn’t allowed to watch it and by the time I was an adult there were way too many and starting just felt overwhelming.” You shrugged it off as if it was nothing.

To Spencer, it was not nothing.

So he convinced, nay, begged you to watch with him.

“Come on, it’s like my favorite thing! We always watch (y/f/s) together, baby. Pleaseeeeeee.”

What were you gonna do, say no? How could you? He was right, you always forced him to watch what you wanted, so it was only fair that you comply.

However, you were still a little exhausted just thinking about the idea of committing to an entire film series. You looked it up, it will take you 25 hours and 7 minutes to watch all the Star Wars movies. This, however, includes the nine movies from the Skywalker saga and the two anthology movies, Rogue One and Solo. Excluding the anthology movies, it will take you 20 hours and 39 minutes to watch and Spencer gave in and promised not to make you watch the anthology films.

‘Okay,’ you think, ‘if we watch one movie a night it will only take a little over a week. That’s not bad, right?’

You tried to convince yourself, but you’ve always had issues with things like this. You’re a hard worker, so taking this much time to watch movies always felt like a waste to you. You felt like you could much easily find a better use of your time, like you were missing out on what you could’ve been spending on more productive activities. In all honesty, it stressed you out.

The work day is now over, you have just finished filming your last video of the day and you’re walking to the games pod to find your boyfriend. There he is, working on something on his computer. You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you bury your head into his neck.

He lets out one of his signature stupid laughs and gently rubs your arm. “Im almost done, then we can go home.” You nod, and he leans his head onto yours, “are you excited?” He whispers.

You raise your head from his shoulder so your faces are level, “hmm… depends. Are there any hot guys in these movies?” You squint your eyes.

Spencer laughs, “oh, yeah, definitely. Just wait ‘til you see Han Solo.” He raises his eyebrows, “or Anakin, he’s more your type.”

“Okay, now I’m excited.” You laugh, before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Spencer closes his laptop and begins to put away his belongings for the day while you sit in his chair. “Hey,” he says, still putting things in his bag, causing you to look up at him, “I really appreciate you doing this with me…” he turns to look at you, “like, it really means a lot that you’re letting me share something with you that’s important to me. I know you’re not really into all this… space stuff, but..” he shrugs, stepping closer, “it makes me really happy that you’re doing this, that’s all.”

Your heart melts hearing this. ‘How is he so perfect? I can’t believe I was being so selfish, making this about me when it’s not. Its about him. Who cares if it’s not productive in a conventional sense of the word? it’s productive for our relationship. That’s what matters. Us. Who cares about all this superficial shit? The only thing that truly matters is doing what makes you happy, and I’m happy with Spencer.’ You stand, walking to him until you’re standing directly in front of him.

You place your hands on either side of his face, looking up into his eyes. “You’re so sweet, you know that?” His hands find your waist as you lean into him, hugging him tightly. “Im honored you’re sharing this with me, sweetheart.”

You pull away from the hug and Spencer smiles at you, before kissing your forehead briefly. “I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too.” The two of you kiss, lost in your own little world for a moment. Its deep, yet sweet. Not rough or hasty, but full of love and passion. “We need to leave if we want to have time to actually watch the first movie, Spence.” You say, after pulling apart.

He rolls his eyes, turning to grab his backpack. “Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

The two of you walk to the parking lot, hand in hand, saying bye to the various cast and crew members you see on your way.

As you get into the drivers seat and connect your phone to the auxiliary cord, Spencer suddenly speaks out, “oh, shit, I almost forgot. Do you want to watch the movies in chronological order or in release order?” He asks, looking over at you.

You look up from your phone, thinking to yourself for a second before you turn your head to meet his gaze, your eyebrows furrowed.

“They weren’t released in chronological order?”

#fanfiction #smosh cast #smosh spencer #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh x reader #smosh games #smosh #Spencer Agnew fanfiction

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milktei · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if your requests are still open, if so, could I maybe pwease have an Osamu OS with angst but comfort at the end? Like Samu is super busy with the restaurant to be with his partner, so his partner hangs out with Tsumu and it makes Osamu jealous? Thanks in advance!❤️

Jealousy and Love

Miya Osamu x gn!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Minor manga spoilers. not edited :P

Requests: Closed for now as i catch up on both requests and school

a/n: Hope this is to your liking! I feel as if the ending was a teeny bit fast for me but i couldn’t think of what else to write lmao. Writing in the twins and there accent is a big of a hurdle for me but i enjoyed writing it a lot :3

Waking up to an empty bed is something you had grown to get used to.

The opening of Osamu’s restaurant meant that he was extremely busy, he was there from opening to close, cooking, serving customers, watching his employees, budgeting, creating schedules.

The business was far from a well oiled machine at this point, but you couldn’t be more proud of your boyfriend for making his dreams become a reality.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel the sting of loneliness that creeped up on you whenever you saw his side of the bed empty.

It was the weekend, a day where you didn’t have work but your boyfriend did. A five day work week was just not possible with his restaurant.

You sighed as you turned over in bed again, having been up for over an hour at this point. Deciding to not let the rest of the day go to waste, you got up to in hopes to do something productive.

You had managed to start a load of laundry when you heard a knock at your door.

You looked at your front door in confusion at the sound, you hadn’t been expecting any company or deliveries that day. You stood there wondering who it could possibly be.

Another knock.

“Oi! Anyone home?”

Ah. That answered it.

You walked to the front door and opened it, revealing a mop of bleach blond hair that was all too familiar to you.

“Atsumu? What are you doing here?”

The man pouted at you, “whatever happened to “hi Atsumu! it’s good to see you.”?”

You stared at him blankly, “hi Atsumu, it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?”

He huffed “Well hello to you too. If you must know I’ve weirdly found myself with a lot of free time and thought that I would take that time to spend it with my dear brother and his partner. Now can I come in?”

You opened the door wider and moved aside to let him in, “so in other words. It’s off season and you’re so bored with all your free time that you decided that it was time to bother Osamu and I.” you paused, “don’t you have partner to bother instead?”

Atsumu scoffed as he took his shoes off “no need to rub my loneliness in y/n”

You sighed “No I think we’re in the same boat.”

He sat down at your dinning table and nodded in thanks when you put a glass of water down in front of him. “‘Samu’s not here? It’s the weekend.”

You sat in the chair front of him “No he’s been busy with the restaurant these past weeks.” It was your turn to pout “He’s really only off on Sunday’s and even then he’s usually exhausted.”

“So what you just sit here alone most days? when’s the last time you’ve gone out and done something fun?”

Your silence was enough of an answer to Atsumu.

“Well this is just unacceptable!” Atsumu suddenly stood up from his spot startling you with his outburst, he pointed at you “as the certified funner twin, I say that we go out to have a fun brother, partner-in-law day out!”

You looked up at his wide grin in shock “Your brother and I aren’t married-“

“So where do ya wanna go? I’ll pay.”

You opened your mouth to protest but stopped. It really had been a long time since you’ve gone out to do something fun as you were waiting for the day that Osamu would be free again.

But that seemed so far into the future. When would another opportunity like this present itself again?

“Well…” Your started, “there’s this cafe I’ve been wanting to go to, and down the street from it is the claw machine arcade that we haven’t been able to go to yet.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

Atsumu excitedly made his way to the door before you called out to him. “Atsumu wait!”

“Whattt? Don’t flake on me already.”

“At least let me get ready first.”

Atsumu looked at the state you were in. Still in pyjamas, hair a mess, and wearing your house slippers.

He silently made his way back to the dining table and slid back into his chair.

“I’ll wait here, take yer time.”

———

Your time with Atsumu had turned out to be a lot more fun than your would care to admit to the blond, in fear that his ego would grow bigger than you could handle.

The cafe you suggested had a calming atmosphere along with wonderful food and drinks. You could tell that Atsumu liked the place too with how many pictures he was taking of the place.

The claw machine arcade also showed just how stubborn the man was.

“Atsumu you’ve spent more at this machine than what the prize is worth. You could probably find it onli-“

“Ya don’t understand y/n! it’s the feeling of finally winning that matters. I’m so close I just know it.”

“…if you say so.”

In the end, Atsumu had won that prize, and combined with the prizes you had won, you were bringing home a multitude of things ranging from plush toys, to figures, and even snacks.

You insisted that Atsumu come back to your place for dinner, in a way trying to make up for how much he had spent during your time out in the city.

With Atsumu having found his spot on your couch with the tv remote, you were nearly finished cooking when you heard the familiar sound of a key unlocking your front door.

“I’m home.” You boyfriend called out as her took off his shoes.

“Welcome home.” You replied back.

There was a pause, “is someone here y/n?” Osamu asked from the entrance.

“Only Atsumu.”

“So no one important then.”

“Oi!”

Osamu appeared from the entrance and rolled his eyes at the sight of his brother lounging on the couch, walking to the kitchen he crept up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his kissed your cheek, you smiled softly.

Both of you ignored Atsumu’s fake gag.

“You’re home early.” you noted.

“Everything seemed to be going well, thought I could treat myself a little bit.”

“This is early?” Atsumu piped up from the couch

Osamu glared at the back of his brother’s head “Yes, the restaurant closes at nine, i’m trusting that my employees will be able to do it.” his eyebrows furrowed “why are ya in my house?”

Atsumu glared “First of all it’s yours and y/n’s house, second of all aren’t ya glad to see your only brother ‘Samu?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not volleyball season and he’s lonely.” You answered from your spot at the stove, ignoring Atsumu’s splutters of indignation.

You grabbed three plates and quickly set the table, inviting the boys to sit and enjoy an eventful dinner.

When you were finished, Osamu had grabbed the dirty dishes and began making his way to the sink when he finally noticed the large bag of prizes you and Atsumu had dumped on the living room floor.

“What’s all that from?”

“Oh!” you piped up in excitement, “those are from the claw machine arcade. Atsumu and I won a bunch of stuff, even snacks! you can look and grab some if you’d like.”

“He’ll no he can’t! I spent my precious sanity winning all that stuff.” Atsumu protested

“Atsumu I won the most prizes out of the both of us.”

“Well I paid for it along with yer order at the cafe.”

“You were the one who insisted!”

Osamu paused as the two of you bickered, “Cafe?”

You stopped your teasing to look at your boyfriend “Yeah! the one with all the flowers I showed you like months ago. I told Atsumu about it and he insisted we go.”

“I got pictures! ‘Samu look at this.”

The sound of dishes clattering aggressively in the sink was followed by silence.

“I thought that we were going to go together?” Osamu asked bitterly, he glared at the picture Atsumu was showing him of you mid claw game, “and you went to the arcade too? Without me?”

You looked up at Osamu from your seat, fidgeting nervously as he crossed his arms over his chest, “I know we talked about it before but we’ve never really had the chance. You’ve been so busy lately.”

“So you decide to go without me and with my brother of all people?”

The silence that filled your house was deafening. Osamu’s anger seemed to grow by the second.

Atsumu coughed awkwardly. “Ya know what I think it’s time I go, I’m suddenly busy. Okay bye!”

In record time Atsumu had grabbed his things and fled your home, leaving you alone with Osamu.

The front door slammed shut and the tension in the room bore down on you. Osamu’s glare kept you frozen in your seat.

“Well?” Osamu urged, wanting an explanation.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Osamu.” You said, defending yourself, “Atsumu offered and I couldn’t refuse.”

“Except you could.”

You looked at him incredulously, “and then what? We sit here in the apartment doing nothing instead?”

“No! You kick him out! Tell him to leave!”

“That’s your brother Osamu, I can’t just shut him out!”

Osamu scoffed, “yes you can, and you should have. Instead of running off to god knows where.”

“Oh so that I could sit in this apartment by myself doing nothing again? Do you know just how bored i’ve been?”

“We could’ve gone-“

You threw your hands up in the air,,“When!? when Osamu? When could we have gone out together for an entire day? You’ve been so busy that I can’t remember the last time we’ve been able to go out on a date.”

“That not fair y/n, you know that the-“

“Restaurant? Yes I know damned well about the restaurant and how it’s important for you to be there, especially in the beginning stages. But can you blame me for not wanting to wait around every single day?”

“We agreed early on that this would take time to settle, that I would be working long hour and I wouldn’t be able to be around as often. You knew this well in advance y/n. So yes I’m sorry that you have to deal with what you agreed with, and I’m so sorry that for once, the world isn’t revolving around YOU!”

You froze where you sat. Osamu had never been once to raise his voice at you,

“Do you really think that I’m that full of myself? That I think that I deserve all the attention in the world or else I will wither away?” you stood from your spot “Do you know how lonely it’s been for me? Just how much I’m willing to let go because I know how busy you are?”

“y/n…”

“Have you ever stopped for just a moment to think about how living in an empty house may make me feel? I wake up to an empty bed nearly every day, I come home from work to an empty house.”

you shake your head sadly. “If I’ve had a bad day at work I can’t even bring myself to voice my feelings because I know just how exhausted you are the moment you walk through that door. It hurts every time you ignore the dinner I’ve prepared and head straight to bed without even saying hello.”

“Three days Osamu.”

He looked at you confused “Three days?”

You chucked sadly, “that’s the longest we’ve gone without speaking, three whole days of living with what felt like a stranger rather than a boyfriend.”

Tears started to flood your eyes and you had to force yourself to continue. “Believe me when I say that I know more than anyone, how important this is to you. It is why I haven’t said anything up until this point. So forgive me if I decide that I want to spend some time out with a friend.”

With that you turned on your heel and made your way to your bed room, slamming the door behind you. Your breath sped up as the darkness of the room enveloped you and you barely made it to the bed before you found yourself collapsing into a pool of tears.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, angry at him for being angry at you, sad because it felt like he would never understand, even more sad because you felt like you were losing him.

You knew that you had gone over what to expect when Osamu had started his business. You knew that it would be tough and taxing but you also knew that you could get through it.

At least you had hoped that you could get through it together rather than apart.

It was some time before the door creaked open. You buried your face into pillow in an attempt to hide your remaining sobs.

The bed dipped where he sat and there was a moment of quiet, filled only with your cries.

“I…” Osamu started. He sounded apprehensive, unsure of what to say in the moment. He sighed, “This isn’t the life that we talked about when we first started dating. I never wanted it to turn out this way, and for that I’m so sorry y/n.”

As he spoke, you willed yourself to sit up and sit in the edge of the bed beside him. Still refusing to look directly at him.

You missed the way he way he looked at you in remorse, too occupied with your own hands fiddling in your latp.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “That I took my anger out on you, you don’t deserve that either. I just got stuck with this idea that you would always be home waiting for me. I got too comfortable with that. When I heard you had gone out with Atsumu without me…“

Osamu looked away in shame, “I guess I was just…jealous”

His words caused you to finally look at him in surprise, “Of your brother?”

he scoffed “I would’ve been jealous regardless of who it was. It’s just…I know I haven’t been able to spend as much time with you as I much as I want to. I know you’ve been wanting to go to that cafe among other places for a while now and the fact that I wasn’t able to take you there, it just made me mad. You told me about it first, I should’ve been the one”

“Osamu…”

“I guess it just reminded me that you are alone here because of how busy I am, and I turned the anger I was feeling towards myself to you instead. You are allowed to go out—no you shouldn’t need my permission to go out and do all the things you find fun.”

There was a pause before you spoke, “I know that you’re busy Osamu, you’re achieving your dream! I could never blame you for that.” another pause, “it’s just that I hope that now you can understand that there’s only so much alone time a person can take, and that I have another life outside of what happens in this apartment.

he sighed “I know.”

“I miss you ‘Samu.”

He smiled sadly at you, “I know y/n, I miss you too. So much.”

Without saying anything else, you crawled up beside him and wrapped your arms around him. He took the chance to pull you fully in his lap and hug you even tighter. He rested a cheek against the top of your head and the pleased sigh that followed made you smile.

“We have a bit to work out regarding our expectations of each other.” you lamented as you rubbed a hand up and down one of his arms.

He hummed in agreement, “I’ll be home tomorrow so we can talk each others ears off all day.” you softly laughed at his tease.

he continued, “and how about I schedule myself some time off and we can spend the entirety of next weekend together doing whatever you want.”

“I would really like that ‘Samu.”

He smiled and pulled you impossibly closer, as if you would disappear if he were to let go.

“We have to apologize to Atsumu first though.”

“if you insist,” Osamu groaned, “But for now, how about those snacks you told me about earlier?”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya atsumu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! x reader

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illiterateaffairs · 1 year ago

Text

behind the scenes chapter one | i enjoyed our meet cute

masterlist | next

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 4,722

summary: you’ve been in richmond one day and you’re already having chance encounters with famous british football players, what are the odds?

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of my new jamie series, behind the scenes! fake dating is a god tier trope and i’ve always wanted to write something for it. it will also be very rom-com-y, just like ted would like. i really hope you enjoy the first chapter, i’m so excited to kick off this new story and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. also wanted to shout out @buckychristwrites who wrote an incredible fake dating jamie series called could this be and you should totally check it out if you haven’t already ♡

Your alarm goes off at 8AM on the dot but you’re already wide awake. You’ve been in London for 48 hours and instead of taking in the sights, you’ve been trying to reset your sleep schedule. After landing at 10AM Friday morning, you pretty much passed right out as soon as you arrived at your rented, two story brownstone.

See, London was eight hours ahead of Los Angeles - your home base. While you were used to traveling for work, you’d never had a job in another country before. And jet lag was a bitch.

You’re an actor. You have been since you were 15, when you got a recurring role on a kids show after an opening casting call. Some called it luck, but you called it busting your ass in theater classes as soon as your mom could afford them. You’d been a “drama queen” since you were in diapers and you begged her to sign you up for every class, camp and play in your small town and she did everything she could to support your dream. She’s your biggest fan.

By the time you were 20, you’d had a sitcom and several supporting roles in films that made you an underrated fan favorite. Your biggest break came, though, when you were 22 and were given the opportunity to star opposite A-list actors in the superhero film of the summer. After that you blew up, you did a few more action movies and a couple other dramas.

Now, freshly 25, with a lot of credits filling your IMDb page, there was one genre you still hadn’t tackled: romance. And that’s what brought you to London. You were filming your first romantic comedy in the beautiful town of Richmond. Usually when your job brought you to a new place, the first thing you wanted to do was explore it. However, spending the last couple days in and out of sleep was preventing you from doing so. Today was Sunday, your last day before production kicked off tomorrow, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get the chance to get out and do something before you were swamped with work.

You get ready quickly, eager to not waste another second inside. However, just as you swing your front door open, you come face to face with your assistant, who’s hand is poised to knock.

“Oh, good, you’re already up,” she chirps, brushing past you and into your temporary home as she taps away on her iPhone.

“Margot, I thought we agreed on no work this weekend,” you sigh, reluctantly following her into your living room.

“I agreed and you agreed, but Harry on the other hand,” she frowns holding up her phone, “He didn’t agree.”

You groan. Harry was your publicist. You’ve worked with him since getting the role in one of the Spiderman movies. He always had some crazy idea how to boost your public image, most of which you’ve shot down, but his most recent pitch he hasn’t been able to let go of.

“He’s still bugging you about that shit?” you question, flopping down in an armchair.

Margot perches on the arm of the sofa, “He’s only bugging me because you keep ignoring him. He still thinks it's a good idea.”

The good idea in question was agreeing to a fake relationship with another celebrity - or anyone really. Usually the goal of a PR relationship was to gain attention for one or both parties, or their upcoming projects. While that wouldn’t hurt, your publicist thought the benefit of having a fake boyfriend was that you’d appear more desirable.

In your previous roles, you’d been typecast as the funny best friend or snarky sidekick. Not only was this movie you were about to film your first as the leading lady, it was the first where you were playing a romantic lead. You also haven’t been known to be seen with many suitors in your personal life as well. Not that you hadn’t had any significant others since entering the spotlight, but they’d been short lived and you tried to keep those relationships under the radar, not necessarily wanting the public’s opinion on your dating life.

Of course, that didn’t stop journalists and people with Twitter accounts from speaking on it anyway. Since you got cast in this Rom-Com - Hopeless Romantics was the working title - you’d been subjected to criticism over how you couldn’t possibly be seen as a realistic love interest when you’ve yet to be painted as such both on and off the screen. Though, you’d love to point out that just because you hadn’t played a romantically driven character before didn’t mean you couldn’t now. You’ve learned to just ignore trolls like that.

That didn’t mean from time to time the odd comment didn’t get under your skin.

Still, you didn’t see the point in faking a relationship just to get these people off your back. You had the best fans in the world, who’d watch you do anything no matter the genre. And your co-star was Charlie Knox, who’d been pegged as this generation's Hugh Grant, so plenty of people would be buying tickets regardless. You could hardly argue, feeling flushed after your chemistry reed with the actor even though he was doing just that; acting. Harry had even previously suggested faking a relationship with him, which would be the perfect scenario according to him, but Charlie was of course already taken.

“He’s going to have to give up eventually,” you shake your head, “Because I’m not doing it.” Margot makes a weird face and you tilt your head, “Don’t tell me you think I should do it.”

“No, of course not. You should have the autonomy to make your own decisions about your love life, real or fake,” she insists, “I just wish Harry didn’t make such a big deal about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry he’s bugging you about it. I can talk to him again.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Margot sighs, “You should be enjoying your day off. Were you on your way out before? What were you thinking of doing?”

You shrug, not really having had a game plan, “I was thinking breakfast or something to start, and then seeing where the day takes me.”

She nods, once again tapping on her phone, “That sounds nice. Don’t be out too late, though. A car will be here to get you at 6AM for the read through.” As she stands up and starts walking to your door, she glances at you, “And wear a hat please. Last thing we need is you to be stampeded by fans like in The Lion King.”

“Margot, I love you, but there is no need to bring Mufasa into this,” you tease, “I promise I will be discreet, but only if you promise me you will also take time for yourself today.”

“I promise,” she says with a small smile, but before you know it, she's already back on the phone and out your door.

You can’t be too hard on her. You were also known to prioritize your work over everything else most days. But she was not only the best assistant you could ask for, she was also one of your closest friends, and she deserved some time off. You’d have to talk to Harry at some point tomorrow to get him off her back. And yours.

But first, food.

It had been one month - one fucking month - since Keeley had gotten back together with Roy. And it was the worst month of Jamie’s life.

Yes, he still has feelings for Keeley. Yes, it hurt him to see her choose Roy, even if it had nothing to do with him. And it was twice as bad that Roy and him had finally started becoming actual friends after all these years. But that wasn’t really the problem.

It was the way everyone has been looking at him since it happened.

It started with the apologetic look on Keeley’s face that greeted him when he answered the door one summer morning. Before she could get a word out, he knew what she was going to say. In fact, he’d seen it coming. Despite Keeley insisting she wasn’t choosing between him and the grumpy old fart who was now his head coach, the two had been spending more and more time together. Keeley was around the club more and Roy was less grumpy. That morning, Keeley told him she wanted him to hear it from her that they were thinking of starting things again. His stomach twisted, disappointed that he’d practically lost her for the second time. But, God, the look of sympathy she was giving him felt even worse.

That was nothing compared to the way Roy looked at him when he walked into the locker room later that day. Roy wasn’t one to talk about or express his feelings, but he still managed to somehow convey his guilt and apology through a single look. Jamie just shook his head, eager to not speak a single word about the topic and move on. For the first time he wished Roy would just yell at him like he usually did.

Then a week later, Roy and Keeley were publicly a couple again. The rest of the team and staff were elated, but the few who’d known Jamie had been pining for the bubbly blonde again looked on at him sympathetically, patting him on the back and muttering affirmations on the way to training. In the grand scheme of things, they were just being nice, but he fucking hated it.

He was Jamie Fucking Tartt. He could be with anyone he wanted. Sure, the only girl who’s liked him for him and the only one he’s truly loved would rather be with someone else; someone else who was one of his best friends now. So what? The last thing he wanted was everyone around him treating him like a wounded puppy. He was fine.

It didn’t help that he saw Keeley and Roy all the time. At work. At team celebrations. At friendly gatherings. They were everywhere. In fact, they went the extra mile to include him in things to make him feel better, though it had the opposite effect. He felt like a charity case. He didn’t need them babysitting him, like he couldn’t spend a single night alone without collapsing into a full mental breakdown.

To be fair, the last time he’d had a night to himself, he’d made the mistake of turning on The Notebook for the first time out of morbid curiosity and he wept for an hour. But it was The Notebook for fuck’s sake, what else was he going to do?

Things improved little by little as the weeks had gone by. Sam and Colin stopped giving him glances everytime Keeley visited the locker room to drop something off for Roy. Keeley stopped looking at him with guilt riddled eyes, but there was still a weird energy between them when they hung out. And with Roy things felt mostly normal.

At least he thought so, but this morning Jamie’s been wandering around his house aimlessly waiting for Roy to show up for their regular early morning training. He’d been ready at promptly 4AM but there was no sign of his coach. He waited thirty minutes before calling but no answer. So, he plopped on the couch and watched some cooking show for another hour or so before trying again. It wasn’t until 8AM - four hours later - he got a call back from Roy.

“Hey, I thought old people were usually up early,” Jamie teased upon answering, “Did you oversleep, grandad?”

Instead of Roy’s gravelly voice responding, he hears another familiar voice in the background, “Is that Jamie? Tell him I’m sorry.”

Keeley.

Jamie’s stomach twists. Of course.

“Uh, yeah,” Roy’s voice eventually says, “Keeley was here and I forgot to set an alarm. We were going to get breakfast but then we can meet at the park if you still want?”

Roy grunts as Keeley speaks up again, voice distant, “Oi, ask if he wants to join us.”

Roy sighs into the phone, “Yeah, unless you want to come to breakfast with us?”

Jamie closes his eyes. Another pity invite. “Um, thanks mate. That’s alright, though. Think I’ll get some running in on my own and maybe we can meet up later tonight.”

“Yeah, that works…” Roy says before tacking on, “Sorry, Jamie.”

Jamie chuckles humorlessly, “Not a problem. Talk to ya later.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone across the couch. Not only did Jamie not like feeling like a third wheel, he didn’t like being one because the other two felt guilty. Especially when he was still getting over his feelings for one of them. He groans, forcing himself off the couch, eager to stay true to his word. He needed to run off these feelings.

You’d been leisurely walking through the streets of Richmond for a little while, enjoying the early fall breeze and the sights as the leaves started to change color. You’ve been trying to keep an eye out for a place to grab breakfast or a snack, but you’ve been distracted by the shops and the people walking around you. For your part, you were donned in sunglasses with a ball cap tilted low on your head. So far no one has stopped you, which was nice. Not that you minded meeting the occasional fan. Most were sweet and you adored connecting with people face to face, but there was always the risk of someone just in search of an autograph or selfie despite not caring about you or your work, not to mention nosy paparazzi who pop out of nowhere to get a photo. So, you’re enjoying the semblance of normalcy while you can. You sense that once filming starts, those in the area will be eager to catch a glimpse of you and your costars any chance they get.

You’re a little too comfortable with flying under the radar, when as you’re turning a street corner someone runs right smack into you. You both fall to the ground, your sunglasses flying clear off your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, wondering if someone had done this on purpose, but the stranger next to you also appears to be scrambling.

“Fuck, sorry,” they mutter, grabbing your discarded sunglasses for you before pulling you both up. As he places the glasses back in your hands, his eyes meet yours for the first time, “Oh shit, are you…”

You smile sheepishly, his eyes alight with recognition. You’re still a little anxious from the encounter, as you try to get your breathing to return to normal. You vaguely wonder if this guy is going to ask for a picture or something, when you actually hear the familiar click of a camera and your blood runs cold.

“Hey Jamie Tartt!” an accented man calls, “Who’s the girl, Jamie?

The man in front of you looks back at you with wide eyes and grabs your hand, “Shit, come with me.”

You can barely process what he’d said as he pulled you down the street, “What? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” he explains as you continue jogging alongside him, “Where there’s one paparazzi, ten will follow. But I’m sure you know that.”

You can’t argue with him. But you do wonder who the hell this guy is that he’s so familiar with paparazzi. You also briefly consider if following a guy you’ve never met through alleyways is a smart decision, but you hardly have the time to dwell on it.

After a few minutes, this mystery guy, who you can only presume is named Jamie if the paparazzi was right, leads you through an unassuming storefront that ends up being a charming and quaint little café. You look around curiously. It’s not completely vacant, but the patrons don’t bat an eye when the two of you enter. The middle aged barista behind the counter looks at your companion with a warm smile and greets him, once again, by Jamie.

After your heart rate returns to normal, you turn to the man beside you. He gives you a tiny shrug, “I come here when I don’t want to be bothered. Not many people know about this place but it has the best scones in Richmond.”

You squint at him in curiosity, “So, I’m guessing you’re…someone of note then, too? If that paparazzi was taking your picture and you have a secret hideout.”

He chuckles, looking a little bashful, which you have a feeling is out of character for this guy, “Uh, yeah, I’m Jamie Tartt? Premier League footballer for AFC Richmond?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Oh, uh, sorry, I’m not really familiar with…”

He cuts you off, “No need to apologize. Wouldn’t expect an actress from the states to know anything about English football.”

You chuckle, despite yourself, “Well, if it helps I don’t know much about American football either. Or any sport for that matter.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up again, “I know you, though. From that thing.”

You snort, “Well, I’ve done a couple of things.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, no, you’re in that one movie, what’s it called,” he snaps his fingers, “Meet Me in Melrose, that's the one!”

“Wow, that’s a deep cut,” you comment, the film being an indie you worked on years ago; one of your first bigger roles despite the lower budget project.

“Yeah, my old coach? It was one of his favorites, so the whole team became obsessed. We’ve watched a bunch of your stuff,” he explains.

“That’s cool,” you nod with a small smile.

He nods along with you before suddenly becoming very aware of his situation, “Uh, can I order you something? Or, shit, you probably had somewhere to be. I usually try to wait things out for a while here, but if you have to go…”

You once again consider the oddity of casually hanging out in a cafe with a man you just met, but he seems trustworthy enough. And even a bit intriguing.

So you respond, “No, I don’t. I was just out exploring before. I was actually looking for a place to eat so this is perfect. I’m happy to hang out here for a bit.”

“Okay, cool,” Jamie nods again, still feeling a bit unsure of what to do when a Hollywood movie star is suddenly in your midst, “Uh, do you like coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to buy anything for me.”

“Well, I was the one who crashed into you and abducted you here so it’s the least I can do.”

You giggle, “Okay fine, I’ll take a hot chocolate. Coffee makes me anxious and tea tastes like a worse version of water. No offense.”

Jamie laughs to himself before walking up to the counter to order for you both. He returns moments later with a hot chocolate for you and coffee for him, as well as two of those scones he mentioned, before leading you over to a small booth in the back of the cafe.

“So, uh, you must come here often if the staff knows your name,” you say as you blow on your drink for it to cool, “Unless they’re all soccer - sorry - football fans?”

“Actually, Olive, the owner of the café doesn’t know shit about football. It's part of the appeal,” he tells you, “I manage to avoid photographers most of the time, but even if they’re not hounding me, I still like to come here to get away from things.”

“That makes sense. I feel like it's hard to do that in LA. Even the small businesses are overrun with influencers trying to find the trendiest spot nowadays,” you muse.

“Is that where you live? LA?” he asks.

“Mhm. Have you been?”

“Nah. Been to New York before, but spent most of my time in some clubs,” he tells you, “Have you been to London before?”

“No, actually,” you admit, “I’ve always wanted to come but never got around to it. I’m actually here for a film.”

“Oh, yeah, a Rom-Com, right?” he asks and you nod, “It’s all anyone can talk about around the club these days. We’ve never had a big movie shoot in Richmond before.”

“Hmm, wait til everyone hears how you kidnapped one of the stars,” you joke, finally braving a sip of your drink.

Jamie laughs, “I think I’ll keep that one to myself. Plus, I don’t think they’d even believe me.”

You laugh along with him, thoroughly enjoying his company as well as the delicious cocoa. You also finally try the scone Jamie placed in front of you. Your eyes light up after the first bite.

“Is that blueberry?”

Jamie’s eyes widened, “Sorry, I should have asked…”

You furiously shake your head, “No, no, don’t apologize. I love blueberry.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up, “Me, too. It’s my favorite.”

You smile back, but it drops when you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see that you had a missed call from Harry along with a few text messages. Instead of responding, you roll your eyes and put it away, eager to forget that the man exists until tomorrow.

“Uh, everything okay?” Jamie asks tentatively.

“Oh, yeah,” you reassure, plastering another smile on your face. Then you find a part of yourself that desperately wants to vent about your situation to an unbiased party, “Actually, uh, I’m not sure how much pressure football players are under for their image, but have you ever been asked or been in a fake relationship for PR?”

Jamie leans back, processing the question, “Uh, no. I haven’t really had a problem finding my own girlfriends.”

You snort, “Of course.”

“But I’ve heard of it happening with other footballers,” Jamie adds, “And there was this whole reality dating show I did and none of that was real.”

You gasp, “You were on a dating show?”

Jamie nods reluctantly, “Yeah. It was called Lust Conquers All. It was a low point.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Wow, I’ll have to check it out.”

“Please don’t,” Jamie groans, rubbing a hand over his face, wondering what possessed him to even bring it up.

After your laughter quells, Jamie eyes you curiously, “Why do you ask? About PR relationships, I mean.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands in your lap as you answer, “My publicist wants me to do the whole fake relationship thing.”

Jamie’s eyebrows furrow, “Why?”

You shrug, not eager to admit but still wanting to know his take nonetheless, “Apparently, I don’t seem like a romantic person, because I haven’t done a romantic role or publicly dated someone before.”

Jamie continues to look confused, “So? Isn’t that what actors do? Play new roles even if they haven’t done it before?”

“Yes, thank you,” you agree, nodding furiously, “But since I’ve only played cynical or sarcastic characters, that’s how people see me. Apparently, I don’t seem like a good choice for a movie called Hopeless Romantics.”

“But you’re not like your other characters in real life right?” he asks, “You’re not completely cynical about romance.”

You falter, your eyes flitting away from his. Jamie scoffs.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re anti-romance.”

“I’m not,” you sputter, “I just think dating is a little more complicated than the movies make it seem.”

Jamie doesn’t listen, “Wow, I can see why your publicist thinks you need a fake boyfriend for this to be a little more realistic. You can’t be against love and in a movie about love.”

You gasp, lightly shoving him, “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m not against love. It’s just…hard to come by for me.” You sigh, trying to figure out what exactly you’re willing to admit, “The last few guys I’ve dated weren't so great. They either only wanted to date me for the exposure or connections or money.”

Jamie’s expression sobers, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “My last relationship, if you could even call it that, was so short lived. It ended because he stole this fancy vase thing from my house.”

“Wow,” Jamie whispers.

“And jokes on him, it was from pottery barn,” you huff, “But yeah, basically its not love I don’t believe in. It’s other people. So I’ve been pretty content to be on my own these days.”

“I get that,” Jamie says softly after a beat, “I’ve dated plenty of girls who only wanted me cause I’m a footballer. Or cause I’m great at sex,” you snort, shaking your head, but he continues, “Not that I really wanted a real relationship, but it still hurts when someone doesn’t want you for you.”

“Exactly,” you nod, picking off pieces of your scone, “I’ve never been with someone who felt genuine. Have you?”

Jamie sighs and you sense there’s a story there, “Once, but I fucked it up. Didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. Classic right?”

You huff lightly.

“The worst part is she was kind enough to stay my friend even after the way I treated her,” he continues, “So not only does she treat me with kindness that I definitely don’t deserve, but I have to sit by and watch her be with someone else.”

You frown, “That must make it hard to move on.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckles humorlessly.

“And you haven’t been with anyone else since?”

“A couple girls, but nothing serious. And no one recently. Haven’t really seen the point.”

“So I guess I’m not the only one who might be a little cynical then, huh?” you ask with a teasing smile.

He gives you a half smile. “Yeah, I guess I can’t be one to judge.”

You study him for a few more moments. After your introductions, you would have guessed Jamie Tartt was another classic playboy athlete, and after conversing with him that seemed to be his reputation. But now you weren’t so sure. He was…peculiar.

You continue chatting for a while longer. He tells you more about his football team and you tell him a few spoiler-free details about the movie you’re shooting. Before you know it, you’d been camped out in this cafe with Jamie for a full hour. Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself. You had to imagine the paparazzi had to have left the area by now. And while you weren’t in a hurry to cut your conversation short, your hot chocolate was no longer hot and your scone was long gone.

“Hey, this place is really nice by the way,” you comment, as you gather your trash, “I might have to come back here. That is, if you don’t mind sharing your secret hide away with me for the next three months?”

Jamie chuckles, following you back to the front of the café. “Feel free.”

You smile at him softly, as you walk out the door, “Maybe, I’ll uh, see you around?”

He shrugs his shoulder, “Yeah, I’ll be around. Maybe you could catch a football match while you’re in town.”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” you nod, “Well, thank you again for the rescue. I owe you one.”

“Nah, it was nothing. Get home safe, yeah?”

“You, too. Bye Jamie.”

He bids you farewell, before you two reluctantly turn and head in different directions. You wrinkle your nose, recapping your encounter in your head. What a random coincidence to run into an apparent famed football star on your first day in town. You wonder if you ever will run into him again, but you assume the odds of that are low.

Meanwhile, on his walk home, Jamie is questioning whether or not he should have asked for your number. In a strictly platonic sense, just to keep in touch or to be available in case you needed a friend while you were in town. But he brushes the thought away. Like a famous actress would want to willingly hang out with him if she wasn’t hiding from paparazzi. Yeah right. Odds are this was all a dream and the boys would laugh in his face if he brought it up tomorrow.

Real or not real, he’d remember your morning together fondly.

a/n: please let me know any and all those! again, so excited for this story and brand new journey for jamie x reader. also! i will be starting a fresh taglist for this story, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged. the distractions taglist will stay the same for any one shots i may continue to post in that universe. <3

taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @royalestrellas

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #mine #behind the scenes series

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anton-luvr · 1 year ago

Text

# WHAT'S THE TIME WHERE YOU ARE?

⚝ ceo!wonbin x ceo!reader | angst | right person wrong time au ⚝ note ; first part of my 'something to give each other' series! + feedback would be highly appreciated ^_^

Wonbin taps his feet against the tiled floor, arms folded.

Irritated, he takes a glance at the gleaming Rolex strapped to his wrist.

“We’ve been waiting for four minutes.” he scoffs, glaring at his assistant. “I hired you to prepare everything for me, didn’t I? Couldn’t you prepare the SIM card before this?”

Terrified, Wonbin’s assistant shakes his head and is quick to bow in apology. “My apologies, sir. I forgot about this, I’ll try to get it as fast as possible.”

Annoyed, Wonbin simply tuts and rolls his eyes.

For anyone who knew how busy Wonbin was as the CEO of one of Korea’s largest companies, they would think he had urgent calls and emails to attend to.

But deep down under those layers of annoyance, was desperation.

He had just landed in Tokyo for a three-day-long business conference and product launch, and what was supposed to be a fourteen hour flight from Milan to Tokyo had been delayed to a total of sixteen hours.

And that two hour window that had been stupidly wasted because of bad weather was the only time Wonbin knew you were going to be free this week before you flew to Paris for a shareholder’s meeting.

As the CEO of another successful company yourself, messaging each other was the only way for you to keep in touch. Endless meetings that took forever and getting on flights like these always got in the way, and Wonbin hated it.

There was nothing he wanted more than to spend more than an hour with you, even if it had to be over text.

He didn’t care for money or fame.

He just wanted you.

It’s been months since he last saw you, and the desperation was settling in even harder.

Your genuine smile amongst the crowd of fake ones at the national business conference was what that had caught his attention, and there was just something so attractive about the way you carried yourself.

Your laugh was the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he prides himself on the fact that it was thanks to a silly story he told you.

Confidence and charisma oozed from your aura, and yet there was so much love and humility in your voice while the both of you talked for hours on end that night.

And for the first time in almost forever, Wonbin felt alive again.

He could feel the connection between the both of you, and he knew you felt it too.

“Sir, your SIM card.” his assistant says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Without wasting another second, Wonbin swipes the card from his hands and is quick to slip it into his phone.

He power walks to the entrance while waiting for the SIM card to activate, sparing no time for his bodyguards and assistant to catch up.

Wonbin’s heart speeds up when he settles into his limousine, opening up his messaging app.

‘just landed in tokyo’ he texts, furiously typing away. ‘hbu?’

You reply almost immediately, and Wonbin can't help but smile.

‘boarding my flight to paris right now :(‘ your message read, and Wonbin’s smile drops.

He lets out a defeated sigh as he rests his head on the cold window, replying to you.

‘ahh i see’ he texts. 'have a safe flight! lmk when you land’

He can only sigh again when you reply with a 'yup! have fun in tokyo :p'

Now, no matter how strong the connection, Wonbin knew it wasn't going to last long if texting each other sporadically throughout the month was your only way of staying in contact.

He’d try to switch things up by sending gifts to you time to time, surprising you with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sent to your hotel doorstep when you were in Germany, or reminding you to take care of yourself with a selfcare set worth thousands sent straight to your office.

But there was nothing more he could do about it.

He sighs again, leaning back in the leather seat and closing his eyes.

Maybe that’s just the way love goes.

Wonbin can't remember the last time he's been to an afterparty this bad.

Sure, the DJ was playing great music, but the atmosphere of the entire party made him shift in discomfort.

Everyone was socializing, but only with the motive of landing a new business partner, name cards given out like propaganda five minutes into each insincere conversation.

He glanced at the small stack of name cards that he'd collected over the past hour he'd been here, and he frowned in disgust.

Making sure no one was watching, Wonbin chucks it all into the nearby dustbin.

He just wanted to get back to his hotel and sleep all his exhaustion away.

To make matters worse, his latest message of ‘how’s paris?’ to you from four days ago was still left on sent.

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, but in moments of longing like these, it made Wonbin’s heart ache just a bit more.

All of a sudden, his phone buzzes to life, and he squints at the screen.

His eyes run over the contact name, and he almost drops his phone as he scrambles to answer your call.

“Hello? You’re calling me?” he asks in disbelief, a smile on his face nonetheless.

“Yeah! I’m free right now, so I thought I’d call you and give you a little surprise." you giggle, and Wonbin's heart warms at the sound.

‘Well, I’m definitely surprised.” Wonbin chuckles. “How’s Paris? What’s the time right now?”

There’s a short pause from your side as you check your watch.

“It’s two in the afternoon here, so I’m gonna go out for lunch with my team in a bit. How about you?”

Wonbin leans against the wall, sighing as he glanced across the crowded hall. "It's almost eleven here and I'm stuck at an afterparty." he whines.

"Just talk to someone, you'll be fine." you suggest, laughing at how childlike Wonbin could be sometimes.

"But I don't want to! Everyone keeps wanting to talk to me, and I'm hiding alone in the corner right now." he complains.

"They just love you too much, hm?" you tease.

Wonbin sighs again, shaking his head even though you couldn't see him.

"I wish it was you talking to me here." he says softly, the energy of the call immediately shifting.

"Well, I am talking to you." you reason, thankful that he wasn't able to see the crimson blush on your cheeks at his words.

"But I wanna see you." Wonbin mumbles. "I miss you."

It's the first time he's ever told you that, and neither of you say anything for a moment.

"I wanna see you too, but we both know that's impossible." you whisper. "We're both so busy."

"And I don't mind waiting. I'm okay with waiting for you after all is said and done, promise." he says, determination in his voice.

It's your turn to let out a sigh as guilt creeps into your heart, and you close your eyes as you lie down on your hotel bed.

"I don't want you to do that. You'll have to wait for literal months just for us to squeeze in a call like this."

"I really don't mind." Wonbin insists.

"But I do. It's not fair to you." you groan.

Wonbin pokes his tongue into his cheek, anger starting to build in his chest.

"Come on," he reasons. "I already told you I don't mind. I really don't."

"But we’ll be so tired and so busy… won’t it get worse if we’re together?” you continue, starting to get upset too.

The terror of realising he was losing you made Wonbin's heart pound, his hands sweaty as he tries to convince you to stay - or at least give this a try.

"Hey, if we never try, we'll never know." he points out. "Please? Can't we just... try?"

His question is left hanging in the air as you stay quiet, a million thoughts rushing through your mind.

It just seemed so impossible and so impractical to you.

What's the point of being in a relationship when you'll never have the time to be with each other?

"'I don't know." you lie, feeling a headache set in. "I need to go now. I'll talk to you next time."

"Oh." Wonbin whispers, his voice choking up. "Okay."

"Bye." you say softly. "I'm sorry."

Your apology does nothing as the repeating echo of you ending the call rings in Wonbin's ears, his eyes filling with tears while raw pain tore at his heart.

He knows you want more.

No, he knows you need more.

He knows you need someone to offer their shoulder for you to cry on, someone to welcome you home with warm arms every night.

He knows he can't do that.

But couldn't you just give him a chance?

Wonbin can only slowly sink to the floor as tears start to flow down his cheeks, the loneliness and desperation burning into his shattered heart.

He'll never get to love you.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @junhuiste-ficrec @numberonetaleprince @chwenott @shawyle @yenart (tags in bold couldn't be tagged)

#riize #riize angst #riize fics #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize wonbin #wonbin #wonbin riize

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