#that yes actually your loved ones will be better off without you in the picture you complicate things

[poisonousquinzel]

they deserved better idc 😐

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[felixknow]

Hannie's 🍒 fixation

Han/f!reader, friends who do something sexual...by accident...? nah, Han is a boob guy and wants to put his mouth to good use

ADULTS ONLY, MDNI, I don't want teenagers reading my NSFW posts

Since meeting Han, your friendship has been touchy-feely.

Maybe it’s because you’re both introverts who like quality time rather than chatting. Maybe it’s because your love languages are both physical touch.

Either way, a night in at your place watching anime is completely normal. Laying side by side in your bed, both scrolling on your phones, not even paying attention to the plot of the show you’ve both seen a dozen times.

No one has spoken in, like, an hour but it’s honestly so nice you don’t even care.

Han giggles and lays his phone against his chest, covering his bare face as it turns red.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, nudging him.

“Ahhhh, I need this,” he says, turning his phone toward you. It’s a picture of a blonde girl wearing a crop top that reads "Had a bad day? You can play with my boobs."

"This would make literally everything better," he chuckles, looking at you expectantly-- in his head he’s waiting for a giggle or a funny reaction, not for what you actually say.

"Good thing I have a perfectly good pair of tits right here," you blurt without thinking.

"Really?!" he asks excitedly, dropping his phone as he rotates toward you, now laying on his side facing you instead of on his back. His eyes are so bright and excited, and his hand is already sliding up your torso-- how could you say no?

"Yeah," you say softly, shrugging. "I don't mind. We're friends,” you add on, becoming less sure as you talk. “I trust you."

"This is the best day of my life," he says as one of his hands cups one of your breasts and squeezes gently. "Oh-- is this your nipple?" he asks, walking his fingers back a couple of inches until two press down over your half-hard bud.

"Yes," you confirm, laughing softly. Your face warms up, all the way down your chest. You hope he doesn’t notice given that his eyes are so entranced on your chest.

"It's so cute," he coos, pressing your shirt down flat so your nipple pokes against it. Before you can formulate a thought, he's reaching over to your other boob, squeezing and feeling carefully until he finds your other nipple. It perks up in interest as he touches it, and your breath hitches in your throat when he starts very purposefully flicking his finger back and forth, trying to perk it up. 

"Aw, come on," he mumbles to himself. "It was hard and then it got soft again."

Probably because I'm starting to get flustered and trying to be calm, you think but don't tell him.

He pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers and rolls harshly, sending a very intense and quick shock through you. You bite your lip to stop a noise from escaping. Your heart rate is increasing and your skin is becoming much more sensitive to his touch. And he smells so good…

I'm so pathetic. He's barely been touching me a minute and it's making me horny.

"Ahh, there we go," he says happily now that your nipple is distinct through your t-shirt. You watch as a thought crosses his mind, making his eyebrows furrow slightly as his bottom lip pouts. 

Then he leans down, swiftly sucking your nipple through your shirt.

"Ahhhh," you moan, finally unable to hold it in. You grab fistfuls of your blankets in an effort to keep your hands to yourself. Somehow touching him, even just playing with his hair, would make this far more real than it already is.

"I was wondering when you'd make noise," he says, looking up at you with the most innocent eyes. Then he goes back, sucking you through your shirt while he gets his other hand up and onto your other tit as he turns and half lays on you, working his way until his legs and hips are between your thighs.

He kneads and squishes one boob while sucking the other nipple. Half of this is what you expected him to do-- maybe touch and hold your boobs for a minute or so and then laugh it off. You didn’t expect this. Not him soaking a wet patch through the front of your shirt.

Not one of his hands sneaking under your blanket to find the bottom hem.

Not him yanking your shirt up to your collarbones, breathing a soft "wow" while his sparkly eyes take in the sight of your naked chest.

"Hannie," you say with an unsure tone, but he either doesn't hear you or ignores it. Instead he leans in once more and kisses your nipple. He drags his soft lips against your bare skin and breathes in the smell of you. You're so warm against his cheek and he feels completely lost in the selfish pleasure of playing with you.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, twisting both of your nipples between his fingers. He pouts as he waits for your response, clearly wanting you to say yes.

You nod shyly and pull the collar of your shirt up to hide the bottom part of your face.

He beams up at you, then laughs and pulls your shirt back down.

“Hey, don’t hide from me. I want to see you.” He licks a circle around your burningly sensitive nipple. “And hear you,” he adds, sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You moan softly, cautiously reaching one hand up to rest on his back. He hums and flicks his tongue then releases your nipple with a pop.

“This really is the best,” he says, giving your other nipple equal treatment. He once again lets go with a dramatic pop.

“This is my favorite thing we’ve ever done.”

He switches back again but goes faster, sucks harder, making himself out of breath as he ravenously indulges in your chest.

“Fuck, your tits are so hot, baby.”

“Mmm,” you whine softly, turning your head away and covering your face slightly.

“Hey, I said don’t hide. What, you don’t think your tits are hot or something?”

“They’re not. They’re big but they sag. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s fucking hot,” he insists, crawling a little higher so he can see you better. You can’t help but to gasp when you feel his hard-on slide against your crotch. “Do you know how many guys like big tits? I don’t care if they’re hanging down to your fucking stomach.” He smirks. “They’re easier to get in my mouth that way.”

“Oh my god, Hannie,” you laugh, playfully pushing on his cheek to move his head away from you.

“I’m so serious,” he says, though he laughs. “I can’t believe you’re letting me play with them. I’m on cloud nine.”

“I can kind of tell,” you say softly, shifting just enough so he feels the movement against his crotch and knows you’ve noticed his boner.

“Oh yeah,” he says, face blushing even deeper than yours. “You know what would be even better than playing with your tits?”

“What?”

“Eating you out.”

masterlist | Click here for part 2

[luvjunie]

earth 42 miles reaction to reader hanging up the phone on his face mid argument?

— facetime

pairing: e-42!miles (aged up) x fem!reader

contains: arguing, minimal cursing, slightly toxic behavior lol

summary: you love miles, but his overbearing nature is beginning to irritate you. the two of you get into an argument over it on facetime, and you snap at him and hang up the phone. wc: 1,537

a/n: ik the pic might not make sense regarding who hung up on who, but i like it so we finna pretend it does lol. miles/reader are only aged up for plot

“look mami, you not hearin’ me. i’m not tryna control you, i’m just saying maybe it would be best if-“

“that is literally you trying to control me.”

you cut miles off from another one of his mini tangents as you stared at him through the facetime call on your screen, so far beyond the point of caring to hear the same thing he’d told you a million times.

you loved your boyfriend with everything in you. honestly, you did. but in the last few months he’d grown to be so much more controlling than he was in the beginning, a result of his ridiculous need to protect you and it’s got your head spinning on your shoulders. you couldn’t do anything without him looming over you, and you’re fed up. it was suffocating, and you needed him to know that you could handle yourself.

you heard his voice come in again from your phone’s speakers.

“aight fine, if that’s what you wanna think, then that’s cool. but i don’t want you going out that late, chiquita, simple. ain’t no discussion.”

“alright, bro.” you sighed, and he tutted at you.

“i’m not your ‘bro’. don’t do that.”

while you knew your boyfriend only wanted the best for you, you didn’t really understand the extent to all these rules he’d given you. like no going to the corner store at night, having to keep your location on at all times, or having to send a picture of yourself when you’d gotten back into the house— so he could really make sure it was actually you texting him from your phone.

since then, you’d deemed it safe to assume that he most likely had immense trust issues, and that was why he acted so strangely, because any other reason for this kind of behavior seemed ludicrous to you.

miles had yet to tell you he was the prowler, that certain people had bounties on his head, which included anyone who may be involved with him, anyone he holds close to him. he saw everything that went on in this city— when night had fallen and the streets became far too dangerous of a place for a defenseless girl like you to be out in them. you had no idea the kind of people he dealt with, the things he’d seen, the things he had to do. he just didn’t want you to get hurt, but he wasn’t the best at expressing the sincerity of his words, and they often came out too rough, too harsh. it was the best he could do, he was trying to communicate effectively, he really was. but time and time again you’d failed to try and understand his pleas past the words spoken to you; to actually listen to them, and comprehend them, and not just listen to respond.

so, being you, you retorted like the stubborn girl you always were. the stubborn girl he’d fallen so helplessly in love with and was only trying to protect with his entire being.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him in disbelief. “look, you can’t tell me what to do, miles. i can do what i want.”

he didn’t hear anything that came from your mouth, because the expression on your face had completely distracted him from the conversation at hand.

“hol’ on, did you just roll your eyes at me?” his brow raised, daring you to answer that question with anything but a ‘no’.

what you responded with wasn’t necessarily a ‘yes’ per sé, but it definitely wasn’t any better.

“oh, so you wanna control my face now, too? dictating what i do with my life or the shit i say isn’t enough for you?” you challenged.

his head dipped back as he laughed, a deep, provoked laugh— though the both of you knew nothing was funny, and that this was always how he reacted before he actually got angry. laughing it off was a means for him to screw his head back on right, as if a warning to you to not push him too far, because anybody who spoke to him with this kind of gall just had to be joking.

he exhaled heavily, a hand scrubbing down his face.

“can’t lie, you talkin’ mad crazy right now, ma. i think you need to cool it with that.” he warned, corners of his lips turned into a forewarning leer. “ima let that lil’ shit you just said slide, cause i love you, and ion wanna hurt your feelings, but we done talking about this.” he decided, leaning forward to prop his phone back up on his desk before scooping his playstation controller back up into his hands.

“and watch your mouth.”

chin retreating towards your chest, you were taken aback at how quickly he decided for the both of you that the conversation was over, as if you had to agree with him, as if things were decided simply because he’d said so. and somehow, you found it in all your unbridled nerve to make things worse.

“yeah, you’re right. we are.”

thumb pressing to the red X, you hung up the phone, leaving miles to gape at the black of his screen with shock etched into his features. he waited for you to call back and tell him it was an accident, and sat there for a minute, leg bouncing to maintain what little patience he’d managed to cling onto during this entire ordeal. he swallowed his pride and called you back, only for the screen to read ‘facetime unavailable’ after just two rings. you declined it. squaring his jaw, he calmly nodded to himself, phone snatched up, jacket thrown on and controller tossed onto his bed— game forgotten about.

“bet.”

____

you were fuming after you’d hung up the phone, steam probably would’ve been puffing from your ears if something like that were possible outside of the cartoons. there was a tiny part—no, a huge part of you that knew you shouldn’t have hung up on him like that; that regretted it. a part that knew miles’ was genuinely trying his best to speak to you calmly in the way he’d learned how, specifically for you, when calm was something he rarely ever felt. but you couldn’t help your anger either, and figured a break from the conversation, and a shower to calm you down would do the both of you some good.

you sauntered out your bathroom after about twenty minutes, a towel tightly wrapped round your damp torso and a heavy, depleted exhale departing from your lungs.

you felt relaxed. the heat of the water had washed away most, if not all of your anger towards the situation and you sighed to yourself, ready to come back to the discussion with a level head, and to apologize to your boyfriend for snapping at him and ending the call so abruptly. it was rude of you, and honestly you hadn’t thought it through until you had already—

“you know, ion usually fuck with cats like that, cause y’all kinda freak me out. but you cool.”

the inner dialogue of your thoughts were cut off by a familiar voice, muffled through the shut door of your bedroom.

“what the fuck—“ you hurriedly started towards the door, hand barely remaining on the doorknob for a second as you flung it open, to see none other than your boyfriend, miles, sat in your desk chair with your cat, bella, in his lap.

he was leaned back, his large green puffer jacket still on, legs spread in his grey sweats. he looked very comfortable for someone who had just broken into a home.

“how the hell did you get into my house, miles?”

you stared at him unbelievingly, quickly shutting the door behind you. he was in no rush to lift his head to address you directly as he scratched the underside of bella’s chin with his pointer finger.

“window. you should really lock that.”

“even if i had, you would’ve picked it.” you argued.

“true.”

his eyes eventually met yours, and they gave you a drawn out once over, gaze following the drops of water that rolled down your skin. there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, and he almost forgot what he came here for. almost.

you felt your face heat up, grip tightening over your bath towel as you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling flustered from the boldness of his gaze. so he looked away.

“let’s hope that shower gave your mama some of her sense back, huh?” he dipped his head down to address your cat in a sweet voice, before gently lifting her off his lap and placing her back onto the floor, only for her to drag her head and body along his calf with a purr. traitor.

he leaned back once more, hands patiently clasped between his open legs and head cocked to the side, twin braids swishing behind him when he did so.

“so wassup? you wanna try that conversation again?” with a brow raised he studied your features, as if he were silently challenging you to talk that same shit you did over the phone to his face.

“do you know what boundaries are?”

“nah, not really.” he admitted.

you swallowed, gesturing towards the open room for a reason you didn’t know why.

“can i at least get dressed first?” you cringed at how your voice sounded when you spoke, but the way he was looking at you had your mind reeling and you could only focus on one thing at a time— the argument long forgotten. to be honest, you don’t even recall what you had a problem with.

he shrugged. “sure, if that’s what you’d like.” arms crossing over his chest he spun around in your swivel chair, now facing the same window he’d come in through. “lemme know when i can turn around.”

you sighed.

this boy was going to be the death of you.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[monstersholygrail]

Do Hybrid!Readers count?

I’m thinking of a monster Reader being kept for research purposes and catching the attention of the newest hire. Cheeky, beastly Reader with an awkward, nerdy scientist who unsuccessfully tries to hide his infatuation. He stares for too long, finds pathetic excuses to work overtime, and pretends to be deeply interested in whatever topic involves Reader. Lately, he’s been spotted reading a book about Reader’s kind, particularly mating habits. For, uh, science, mind you.

Alternatively, it can be a human Reader in a monster lab. I just found the dynamic funny. :)

Aaaah, yes yes! It definitely counts, I love this sorta dynamic. It can be really hilarious and a ton of fun ^_^

None of the Scientists in the lab could really figure you out. You were a giant beast who appeared naturally incredibly threatening. So all the scientists had been a bit hesitant to get in close and really figure out what kind of Hybrid you were exactly.

But they just had to. Because for some reason, some idiot had accidently leaked to the press that they had you in custody. Before they knew it there were countless pictures and articles plastered all over the internet about you. People wanted answers and they sadly had to be the ones to get them. So they brought in a specialist.

The young Scientist stared up at you in awe the first time he met you. He couldn’t actually believe he was meeting you up close. He didn’t know how to react. In fact, he didn’t know anything at all when it came to you. You see, he wasn’t actually a hybrid specialist. He was a scientist, that part was true! Everything else may have been a slight exaggeration on his application.

He just wanted to see you so so bad. He had to. The moment he saw those pictures of you he knew the two of you were meant to be. You were the reason he had never totally clicked with humans, couldn’t keep a partner, and had never fallen in love. His heart was waiting for you.

And now that he was with you, he needed to know everything about you. Not only to sate his own desire but also, ya know, to keep his job. Or else some foolish human might try and separate him from you again. It left him fawning over you constantly, watching you all day everyday, always staying late just so he could be alone with you for a couple hours, and butting in whenever someone tried to talk about you. Because of course he knew you best.

His growing knowledge of you left him convinced you were nearing your heat. Your restless behavior. The way you kept banging against the glass trying to get to him. Over the weeks you had noticed his interest and his care and yours had grown just as much. You had chosen him as your mate and he wanted to be there for you.

The only thing he could think to do was read books on mating behaviors. Of just about every single Hybrid species you could possible be.

Stacks of books surround him in the lab. His interest of you hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. Not by a long shot. But they brushed off his strange behavior if jt kept him closer to you and them farther away. They avoid him now too, looking at him like the absolute freak he is as they realize what he’s reading.

Their worry doesn’t decrease when he later explains how you need to mate soon in order to keep you in check. They look at him like he’s truly gone insane and maybe he has. The wild look in his eye has only grown more intense the more he’s been around you without truly being with you.

He convinces them with the idea that you’ll be better after you’ve mated. Easier to handle. More open to having experiments done on you while your body is sated and exhausted after being fucked for hours on end. While in reality, from what he’s studied, the opposite is true.

He doesn’t plan on letting them go anywhere within a mile of you. Not with injections, chemicals, and especially not with their grubby little hands. No, only he can touch you. Only he deserves to be near your beauty and grace.

After you mate with him you’re going to be even more wild and destructive, your instincts inflamed and ready to fight. He’s gonna use that to get you two out of that lab if it’s the last thing he does.

Meanwhile the other scientists don’t suspect a thing as they stand a safe distance away from the cage as it opens to let the young scientist inside. The metal door snaps shut once he’s inside and he feels like he can finally breathe now that there’s nothing keeping you two a part.

Mirroring smirks grow on your faces, your expressions speaking of a secret just between the two of you. And as you both finally meet each other in a passionate embrace, you know this will be a wild night that will end with your freedom and a mate by your side.

[eternalsunrise]

study date

lsu! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 1.7k

tags! established relationship, make out sesh, no actual smut, jus a couple of horny college kids in love with each other, vomit inducing fluff

notes! brainrot so bad i had to start writing fics. hope the joe burrow community finds this well 🧘‍♀️ expect more for joe coming! xoxo

letters on a keyboard clicking and a pencil scrawling across paper are the only sounds that reverberate around the room. you started off sitting up straight, but as time progressed you’re basically lying down, laptop perched on your lap.

the pillows are plush underneath you, and your boyfriend’s scent is enveloping you. there’s something about joe’s bed that always feels 10 times more comfortable than your own.

if you closed your eyes you could probably doze off for a mid afternoon nap.

you hear the sound of someone shifting above the covers, but you don’t turn your head to look, too preoccupied with your essay that’s due in the morning.

you feel a kiss press against your cheek, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “hi joey. you doing okay?”

another kiss against your cheek, followed by an overdramatic sigh, “yeah, just really hard to focus on statistics with something so distracting in my bed.”

joe’s closer now, a hand playing with your hair as he peppers kisses down your jawline.

you roll your eyes at his antics, knowing exactly how this was going to go. “oh i’m the distracting one?” you question, your tone sarcastic.

he moves his hand to your cheek, tilting your head to the left to face him. his blue eyes bore into yours and you realize why you’d avoided looking at him. it’s much easier to stay on task without his handsome face in view.

joe leans down to place a slow peck on your lips, “a very.” peck. “very.” peck. “pretty distraction.”

he pulls away from you entirely, smirking when you try and chase his lips. this is exactly why you wanted to study alone. as much as you loved your boyfriend, how are you expected to get anything done with a gorgeous quarterback all over you? but the two of you have barely seen each other these past few weeks, and joe insisted on you both doing schoolwork together before his practice later that day.

“joe. baby. we’re supposed to be studying.” your voice is pleading, begging for any sort of mercy. he caresses your cheek bone with his thumb, a smirk sitting on the side of his mouth. “i am studying.” he uses a tone that tells you he wants you to ask what his punchline is. you bite.

“and what are you studying exactly, joseph?”

he trails his hand down your body until it rests on your waist, just above where your hands and laptop sit. he lets his eyes trail down and back up, bright blues staring at you while he licks his lips, “anatomy.”

you let out a laugh for his sake, grabbing his wrist and removing his hand from your body, “you’re impossible!” you place a quick kiss on his lips, standing up and taking your laptop.

joe groans loudly, falling back against the pillows on his bed, “where are you going?”

you carry your work to his wooden, student-issued desk, setting your laptop down and taking a seat. “you’re going to stay there. and i’m going to stay here. we both need to get work done and it’s hard to do that when you’re being…well you!” you try to sound frustrated, but you both know better.

joe being the cocky bastard he is, just gives you a knowing smile. the effect he has on you just strokes his ego (as if anyone else needed to). he decides to leave you be for the time being. he picks his pencil back up and holds his hands up in faux innocence, “yes ma’am. whatever you need.”

you turn back to your essay, typing your third page, smiling when the framed picture of you two displayed on his desk appears in your peripheral vision. if you looked around, your presence is covering this room. his whole apartment in fact. sure, you may be putty in his hands. but you have joe burrow pretty much wrapped around your finger.

after about 20 minutes of both of you working diligently in silence, you hear joe clear his throat.

“hey pretty?”

“mhm?” you reply, clicking back and forth between your class notes and your paper.

“didn’t you say you took this class last year?” joe asks, deep voice like velvet when it hits your ears.

you pause your task and turn around in your chair, “yeah i did for a semester, why?” he looks absolutely delicious. he’s sporting a cozy lsu hoodie and nike gym shorts that reach barely mid thigh, his trademark array of bracelets decorate his wrists. the way one of this legs is raised make his shorts ride up, giving you a peek at his black briefs. you suddenly wonder if the essay is even that important.

“wanna come check this for me? make sure i did it right?” he taps his pencil a couple of times and holds out his notebook toward you. there’s no flirtation intent behind joe’s question, he just values your insight. and for some reason, that just turns you on even more. he’s won. he’s getting what he wanted without even trying.

you stand up from your seat and make your way over to him, taking the notebook from his hand. he looks up at you in silence, waiting for you to check his work. but instead you toss the notebook to the side. it makes a slight thud when it hits the hardwood.

joe opens his mouth to question your actions but you’re on the bed with him in a matter of seconds. you swing your leg over his hip and straddle his lap, legs resting on either side of him. his hands are on you immediately, per instinct, large hands engulfing your thighs. it takes him a moment to process your actions but he sobers up quickly, cocky and confident, “aw, who knew stats could get you so worked up?”

you want to knock that stupid smirk off of his face. you also never want it to go away.

“shut up.” followed by a feverish kiss full of want and desire. the lack of each other for weeks has stretched the rubber band of tension to a hilt, and you finally let it snap. your fingers thread through his wavy hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just a bit. he’s due for a haircut soon. a noise rattles up from his throat, your reaction immediate. your hips grind down, begging for some friction. he gladly provides, guiding your waist back and forth.

the next moments are full of tongue kisses and heavy breathing. “next time we—“ gasp. “study together, we’re doing it in public–ow!” joe bites your lip, an apology vibrates against your lip, you know he doesn’t mean it. “like the library.” joe grips your hips and flips the two of you over with ease. you yelp in surprise, now looking up at him.

joe scoffs at your words, “like that’s ever stopped us before.” he reconnects your lips, a new sense of urgency found in this kiss. he props himself up with an elbow next to your head. your leg finds itself hooking around his waist, forcing him impossibly closer to you. he breaks away for air, hand dragging up and down your lifted thigh. he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

he looks down between your bodies and watches as your hips lift to meet his own, adam’s apple bobbing. his eyes flick back to yours, a familiar darkness clouding the ocean. his kisses follow a trail down your jaw, “god baby, you drive me crazy.” he purrs in your ear, lips attacking your neck. you aren’t sure how he can say that, when you’re the one that feels dizzy under his touch. your hand finds his hair again, letting out fits of giggles when his mouth grazes your most sensitive spots.

you tilt your head to the side, catching sight of the time on your phone screen as it lit up on the nightstand. you let out a gasp, partly because of joe shifting his hand between your thighs, but mostly because it was almost time for, “joe. practice.”

he returns his attention to your lips, “5 more minutes, all i need.” he murmurs, capturing you in a kiss that’s hard to turn away from. you feel his hand slip under the waist band of your pants, and as much as you dread this ending; you know what you need to do.

“joey. babe, hey.” you use your grip on his hair to pull him away. the love drunk look on his face makes this even harder. “listen. as much as i want to, we can’t. you love to be unreasonably early, and coach o will track me down himself if i’m the reason his star isn’t there for pre, pre warmups.”

joe chuckles and nods his head, reluctantly removing his hands from you entirely; it’s as if you’re magnets, if he isn’t across the room you’ll gravitate back together. he stands and starts to get ready for the one thing you’re forced to share the title of joe’s first love with, football.

you start to stand to get ready to go home, but joe quickly faces you and shakes his head, black backpack and cleats in his hands.

“no no no stay. here.” he throws his backpack over his shoulder and uses his free hand to dig in his pocket. he pulls out his purple lanyard, plucking his apartment key from the carabiner.

joe places it in your hand and folds your fingers over it.

“here, i’m gonna have you one made anyway. go back to your dorm, grab some stuff. you can order dinner, finish your homework here. i’ll be back in a couple hours and i’ll take you to that froyo shop down the street and then we can…finish what we started.” joe says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. he punctuates his words with a sweet kiss on your lips, another on your forehead, “bye pretty. love you.”

you stare at him in awe, “love you. have fun!”

he winks at you before he walks out of the front door.

you sit there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the shiny key in your palm. you’re shocked at how he can make such a big relationship step seem so nonchalant. he’d obviously been thinking about this for a while, you being around more. in his space.

you flop down on your back, kicking your feet with a giddy smile. if you weren’t alone you’d be embarrassed.

looks like you’ll be studying here a lot more often.

[noceurous]

get you back

summary: You hated that you loved Bucky Barnes, and he loved that you could not hate him.

warnings: mention of alcohol consumption, semi-drunkenness, carsex (18+), fingering, oral, swearing, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it), fuckbuddy!bucky, dbf!bucky, implied age gap, mention of bad boyfriends (not bucky), using nicknames (princess, bunny) , slight degradation - nothing physical, some mention of food

minors dni

a/n: yes I AM BACK. please leave some comments/reblogs. thanks!!

A loud snap of fingers made you turn your head to him. “Are you even listening to me?” You sighed, pressing fingers on your temples to look like you were trying to remember.

No, you weren’t listening. You were thinking how that hot guy was about to give you his number, before James Buchanan Barnes a.k.a the actual devil, snatched you away. Leading you to his car without giving you a chance to say goodbye to the best body you have ever seen.

You. Hated. James. Bucky. Barnes.

“Something about… bunnies?” You shrugged as you turned your head back towards the road. Even though it was almost pitch black, you fought your urge to look at his profile under car’s lights. Even though he was angry and sleepless he looked better than all the guys you’ve ever known.

“Really? You are not even trying kid.” He said as he emphasized on the last word. He knew how much you hated the nickname.

“Stop calling me a kid. I’m not that young.”

“I will stop calling you a kid, when you stop acting like one. What were you thinking? What was the point of all that drinking? Get my attention or liver failure?”

The point was to get over your ex boyfriend finding someone before you did. You didn’t want to be the one who was stuck in an ended relationship.

You weren’t even prepared to the idea that he would start dating in a few months. His post just popped on your phone while you were scrolling through pictures on Instagram. Selfie with her, cheek to cheek and smiling like a true dumbass he is.

Getting ass drunk would be a nice way to forget. But you shouldn’t been too drunk to start texting and calling other people.

Especially calling the guy you hated the most. Because he would show up just in time, and yank you away from the guy you were flirting with.

You really shouldn’t have drunk texted your on-again-off-again hookup. Neighbour of your parents, a close friend of your dad.

It started just a few days after your heartbreak. You weren’t sure of how it started, but you remembered how it ended. In his bed, literally begging him for letting you cum as he pounded into you like an animal.

When you weren’t fucking, all you did was argue. Arguments about when to meet up or where to meet up… You hated meeting up in his place, so close to your parents. And he hated meeting only for an hour max.

You started fighting and decided to not meet up again. Either of you got tired of all the lies and secrets. It was you more than it was him. Bucky was always sure you would come back to him one way or another.

“Remind me not to call you again.” You huffed, resting your head on the window. Sun was about to shine in a few hours and all you wanted was to get into your bed. All you needed was forget the day and move on.

“Sure your parents would be thrilled to know their daughter would end up in jail for DUI.” You turned your neck so fast that it hurt.

“I wasn’t going to drive the car!”

“You getting into car of a drunk idiot is stupid enough too!”

“Stop acting like you are my dad! He was fucking hot, and he told me his place was really close.”

“What made you believe in him? I know what that kind of guy thinks. It is only getting you to the bed. You would be considered lucky if he bothered to call you the next day.”

“So? What made you think I am not okay with it?” You saw all the blood rushing to his cheeks, decorating them with a soft pink hue.

“Okay...” He said trying to not go any further with that discussion.

You dropped your shoulders, when you saw how his grasp on wheel tightened and his jaw clenched. If you didn’t know him that well, you would say he was offended.

Whether it was because of anger towards him or how tired you were. You didn’t say anything back but leant your seat back to at least sleep for the rest of the ride.

“Oh no princess, you are definitely not sleeping.” He said just before he slapped your thigh. Small ‘Hey!’ fell from your lips. It was fair to expect him to snap and say you crossed a line.

You yanked your leg away from his grasp. He shut you up before you could say anything back. “You made me get all this way three in the morning. Ofcourse there would be consequences.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You said as you rubbed your thigh.

“You sent me a picture of you lifting your skirt and texted all those things you want to do with me. But when I come to pick you up, I saw you on the lap of some dickhead.”

“I was horny. We’ve decided to stop with fooling around. Life moves on James.” As you finished the sentence, his foot stepped on the pedal so quick that he had to use his arm to stop you from falling forward.

“Get in the back of the car.”

“James, I’m tired.”

“Get in the back, or I will make you bunny.” You didn’t said anything back. Bucky never called you bunny, if he didn’t have something on his mind. You knew better than to take the risk of getting him angrier.

You rolled your eyes before unfastening your seatbelt. He caught the sight of your underwear as you bent over to move through the gap between the seats. Even though Bucky saw your pink thong, you acted like you had the upper hand.

“Take off your skirt.” He said before coming next to you. He almost yanked off the door before squishing you on the backseat.

He pulled you by your legs, making you lie down. The cold leather of the seats caused goosebumps on your skin. That and you knew what he was capable of when he was angry.

And he was pissed.

“Not so tired ha, bunny?” His large hands wandered along your legs, moving slowly towards your hips.

A loud noise of your gulp echoed in your brain. You could get used to that view. You legs hooked to his shoulders. His charming face inches over your lucky thong.

“Tell me again bunny.” He said as his eyes locked on your figure under his, trying not to smirk at the wet patch on your thong.

“Tell you what?” You asked. Blinking at him with nothing else on your mind.

“Tell me again the last thing you told me before breaking up with me. So I would not have my way with you.”

“Uhm...” He started kissing on the top of your thighs. Index finger was tracing your slit over the thong.

“We can’t keep doing this and not expect one of us getting hurt. Ah-“ He bit inside of your thigh, sucking a gentle bruise. “James.”

He didn’t listen to you. If he ever did that was not it definitely.

“I’m listening. Continue.” Kisses, soft bites started decorating your body.

His hands placed next to your waist. His teeth brushed along the band of your thong. You wanted to raise your hips. But the way he looked up at you, the darkness in his eyes, made you stop.

You licked your lips, closing your eyes to concentrate. “We continue lying to our close ones and soon enough the lies would get out of—“ You stopped as he curled his finger like a hook to pull down your thong.

He mumbled something that you were sure was Russian as he got close to your heat. His eyes looked into your eyes. You knew he was daring you to stop.

If you stop I’ll stop too bunny.

He didn’t need to speak for you to understand.

“—hands. Lies get out of our hands. It is too risky and it does not worth it. We both know that this affair does not take LONG!”

He licked a stripe over your slit. As his cold fingers separated your folds. He loved to torture you like this.

“I don’t want any of us to get hurt.” You manage to finish your speech as you felt the familiar tingles build up.

The tip of his tongue flicked your clit and you had to hold on to something, his hair, to stop your thighs to close around his head.

“See this is where you are wrong, bunny. There isn’t any chance where you can hurt me...” He said as his fingers collected some of your juices, raising them to his lips. “Unless you try to neglect me of your sweet nectar.” He sucked his fingers clean, you heard a tiny ‘hmm’ as his fingers touched his tongue.

He raised his head to look at you when he was circling around your weeping hole. “Answer this, do you want to hurt me bunny?” He wanted to make you weep as much as your pussy.

“N-no. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then why you try to break things off?” The tip of his finger slowly pushed into your whole. He pulled it back before you could enjoy this. “Are you going to try and break things off again?” Another question he didn’t need to hear its answer to. He could read it from your tearful eyes and slight pout. “Oh bunny.” He whispered to himself, pride filling his chest.

His finger went back to circling around your hole as he used another one to toy with your clit. You could not stop yourself from curling your toes and try to pull him closer.

That arrogonat smirk on his face made a comeback. “Are you going to flirt with other guys who I’m sure does not even know what a clit is?” You shook head your again and he pressed his thumb.

“Fuck.” You said as you squirmed under his touch.

“Not the answer I am looking for. Do you want to try again bunny?”

“I—I’m not going to flirt with other guy a—and ohgod!” He pushed one inch of his finger inside curling the tip so it would reach your spot. You didn’t stop so he wouldn’t either. “I’m not going break things o—off.”

One more inch and you knew you would start to drip onto seats. Before you knew it, his mouth got back onto your clit. “James!” You said again as you pulled onto his locks.

“Shit! It’s only been a week but your pussy is crying out f’ me.” He said as he stood back up.

Your legs started shaking by the time. You whimpered at the lost contact of his fingers and lips. You also missed seeing him with your thighs wrapped around his head.

You knew if you touched yourself he would bite your fingers and deny you any sort of release. He quickly unfastened his belt and lowered his pants and boxers just low enough to take out his cock.

The tip was swollen red it was starting to leak some precum as he pressed it on your clit. “You are an attention whore bunny. It’s been only a week and I find you cosy with another guy. This deserves punishment don’t you think?”

“Please! I’ve been just trying to get your attention.” He smiled at your confession as he aligned his tip.

“Tell me you are mine and mine only. If you tell me that, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I’m yours James. I’m only yours, I do not belong to anybody else.” He started slowly push into you.

He leaned over you to fix the hair got on your face. His lips brushed along yours when you moaned as he found the spot. Your legs started to got down but he held them back. Pushing your bent knee to your chest as he started moving.

His hips started rutting into you slowly. “So pretty like this bunny. All spread out for me.” His tongue darted out from his lips to giving you a longing kiss. All teeth and tongue, full of lust and desire.

His large hands pulled down your strapless top, letting your tits out. His tongue clicked on top of mouth. “And thinking I would be sharing them with some dickhead.” He pushed into you hardly, making you jump into his arms.

“I don’t share bunny. Never.” You knew he meant more with those words.

Air inside the car was getting thick because of your panting. His fingers started playing with your nipples to get them erect as he held your tits together and started licking and sucking both of them.

“Not the teeth ah!” You tried to protest but he had already sunk his teeth into your extra-sensitive flesh. Sweet melody of your cries caused him to increase speed. He wanted more.

You yelped as you tried to find something to hold onto, best thing you found was the back of his shoulder as you pressed your nails against his skin. Bruises and scratches would be greeting both of you as first thing in the morning but it didn’t bother you as long as it came with pleasure.

“FuckFuckFuck!” Familiar coil started to form under your belly button, and you threw your head back. “James, please please…”

“Wanna cum bunny? Is that it? Mumblin’ because you are too close?” He said after detaching from your nipples with a pop. The little numb was all swollen and covered in saliva.

“Y-yes oh.” He slammed his hips onto yours with more force and stayed pressed into you. “Cum for me bunny. Cream all over my cock, fuck, you filthy girl, so eager for a release.” He said as he stopped your wriggling hips against is. “Humpin’ me like a cute lil’ bunny.”

Your hips started moving involuntarily, chasing after your release. He helped you with continuing the pound into you. You were chanting his name unable to form more coherent words or sentences.

“That’s it bunny. Cum for me come on! I’ve got you.” Just after he was finished your release hit you like a wave, causing you to lose all the control of your mind and body.

But he didn’t stop, he increased his pace. Chasing his own release using your numb body. “‘So pretty like this bunny. Makes me want to keep you all to myself.”

“I’m all yours.” You whispered, truly meant it. As you became used to the swell on your chest each time you look at him.

You were really his.

“Yeah? Are you going to take my cum? Let me breed you? I’m sure you would love that don’t you bunny? All swollen with my cum, looking at me with those pretty eyes. Fuck!”

“Yes, yes yes give it to me please.”

“Fucking take it. You little cumslut.” You felt the wetness and warmth of his release shoot right inside of you.

He stood there with your legs wrapped around his waist. Looking at your tired and ruined figure. Taking the sight in just before he slowly pulled out.

“We—“ You tried to speak up, trying not to show him how much you missed his cock inside you already.

As he was putting his clothes back on you once were aware of this situation.

There was no We, you two were just fucking whenever one of you needed some release. No matter what you do to get his attention, all you would get was his dick pounding into you. It won’t be his heart.

Sound of glove compartment’s being closed made you raise on your elbows to look at him.

You saw him take out some tissues to wipe off his leaking cum. “Are you on the pill?” You shook your head, you knew how those were messing up with you. “I’m not ovulating, it’s fine.” He shook his head, “Still gotta get you some plan B. We shouldn’t be risking it.”

“Sure.” You tried to swallow the ache in your throat, and your pride.

You fixed your top and found your thong on the ground, raising it to put it on. Tension between the two of you was so thick that a saw could not even cut it.

He got back on his seat and started the engine. “The sun is about to rise, I can drive to a diner and got us some breakfast. There is a place I know makes your favourite. They are also good at making it.” He couldn’t hide his smile when he saw your smile at the mention of the food. He loved making you smile like that.

Sleep was the last thing on your mind, since he fucked your brains out. Since it had been more than 10 hours since you last ate something; growling sounds from your stomach was about to come. “Sounds good but I want to wear my skirt first.”

“Sure bunny.” He said as he tossed your skirt back to you.

And it was a second, just a second, that he felt like he could get used to it.

He could get used to having breakfast with you. He could get used to your face being the first thing he saw as he started his day. He could get used to having sex with only one person, someone really means something to him.

But when your phone buzzed, and he saw your dad’s name on the screen he got back into reality.

You sent it to voicemail, and leaned closer to him over the table. He saw the same smile again on your lips and the familiar spark on your eyes.

“So what do you say? Your place or mine?”

He smiled back at you, leaning over you. “Which one do you prefer, bunny?” He knew he could go on as long as you looked at him like that.

As long as you looked at him with love. Even if you were just realizing, he was already an addict for it.

[sanaexus]

social's as chigiri's girlfriend

-liked kuniisuke, nagi.seishiro and 155.6k others

yourusername: he lets me touch his hair i win losers

tagged: chigi.who

kuniisuke: yeah but i'm the one who he kicks balls with ↳hiyori: MATE. NO. ↳yourusername: yeah and i'm the one playing with his balls ↳karasu_tabito: okay what the fuck ↳chigi.who: not true please don't trust her ↳eita.otoya: you sure ab that princess? ↳yourusername: ew don't you have enough bitches already?

nikkoki: he looks so tired of you in the second picture ↳yourusername: YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE HIM WHAT ↳nikkoki: exactly. his annoyance radiates off the picture ↳yourusername: go back to crying like a lil wuss or something

user1: i love your eyelashes ↳yourusername: i love you ↳chigi.who: no you don't ↳yourusername: i'm a free independent woman with my own free will ↳chigi.who: icecream if you shut up ↳yourusername: ok ↳karasu_tabito: so you just buy her silence? ↳chigi.who: yes ↳yourusername: HE LETS ME TOUCH HIS HAIR TOO SO HONESTLY I'M WINNING ↳karasu_tabito: valid

kenyu.yukimiya: what the fuck is he doing in the first picture? ↳chigi.who: can't you see? ↳chigi.who: oh wait no nevermind he actually can't ↳yourusername: THAT'S SO RUDE?? SAY SORRY ↳chigi.who: i'm sorry that you're blind as a bat i guess ↳kenyu.yukimiya: fuck you

mikka.kaiser: why is everyone fucking everyone in this comment section ↳alexis.ness: could be us? ↳isaichii: no one's fucking

-liked by megubachi, reo.miikage and 163.9k others

yourusername: in a world full of boys he's a gentleman (the last image is me n him)

tagged: chigi.who

chigi.who: no that is not us what the fuck. ↳yourusername: aww hyo don't be shy ↳chigi.who: you like playing w my hair right? ↳yourusername: no i'm sorry+ i love you+ don't remove my hair touching privilege + i'm js a girl + don't be a hater

megubachi: the last image is canon (i was the chair) ↳yourusername: my real one fr ↳isaichii: bavjura i didrn except tjis frmo yoi ↳rin.itoshi: what ↳yourusername: "bachira i didn't expect this from you" ↳megubachi: you're still my number one ↳isaichii: sorry guys kaiser was chasing me around like a mad maniac ↳mikka.kaiser: come to papa ↳reo.miikage: what the fuck

nikkoki: was the last picture really necessary? ↳yourusername: are you really necessary ↳isaichii: throwback to the time when someone asked chigiri if his haircare was necessary and without any hesitation he went "are you really necessary" ↳shiidoryu: dk ab that but i can throw a back ↳chigi.who: did it once and i'll do it again

user2: you should date me instead i'll let you touch my hair ↳yourusername: oh emm gee let's go on a date to the park and we'll terrorize kids tgt !! ↳user2: ofc bae ↳chigi.who: i am that kid because what the fuck . ↳yourusername: 🙁 ↳chigi.who: ew ↳yourusername: BEO YOU BETTER FUCKING SLEEP WITH A EYE OPEB I'M GONNA FUCKING CHOP OFF YOU'RE HAIR STEAL YOUR SISTER AND THAN LIKE DRAW IN YOUR FACE ↳mikka.kaiser: bro* an* open* your* then* on* ↳shiidoryu: SHUT UP CAN YOU NOT ENJOY THE DRAMA W/O BEING AN GEEK FOR 2 MINUTES ↳alexis.ness: it's a geek and don't talk to kaiser like that you good for nothing zesty butt loving horny demon ↳itoshi_sae: please help he keeps touching my butt ↳shiidoryu: you're into that bae 😘

-liked by julian.loki, oliver.aiku and 211.5k others

chigi.who: i actually act like a normal boyfriend

tagged: yourusername

julian.loki: just how broad is normal in this situation? ↳yourusername: broader than yo mom ↳julian.loki: .. ↳julian.loki: ok i kinda maybe sorta might have laughed ↳yourusername: normal can mean pushing me off a swing or fighting w a 7 year old who was rude to me btw ↳oliver.aiku: bro got bullied by a 7 year old ↳yourusername: you got cooked by a guy who does puzzles btw ↳oliver.aiku: bye

yourusername: i'm spiderman (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT 3AM CHALLENGE GONE WRONG 🙀🙀😱😱💯💯) ↳rin.itoshi: weren't you batman? ↳yourusername: shhhh that's a secret ↳megubachi: I'M BATMAN??? ↳yourusername: no but you can be hello kitty ↳megubachi: deal

nagi.seishiro: how much we betting y/n fell of the roof on her ass ↳yourusername: RUDE !! I HOPE CHOKI DIES ↳nagi.seishiro: not cool dude :x ↳chigi.who: she did in fact actually fall on her ass ↳yourusername: ihy ↳chigi.who: not what you were saying last night ↳yourusername: I'M STILL A MINORR ↳eita.otoya: TRYNA STRIKE A CORD AND IT'S PROLLY A MINORRR ↳mikka.kaiser: drake fr got cooked ↳yourusername: so did you ↳karasu_tabito: drake x kaiser

yourusername: no but i fr love you ↳chigi.who: i know you do ↳yourusername: WOULD IT KILL TO TELL ME YOU LOVE ME BACK?? ↳chigi.who: i'm js a girl ↳kuniisuke: I FUCKING CALLED IT HE WAS TOO 💅💅 TO BE A SWEATY MAN WHO KICKED BALLS ↳reo.miikage: what ↳megubachi: wajt ↳isaichii: huh ↳hiyori: the fuck ↳mikka.kaiser: why ↳alexis.ness: what ↳eita.otoya: 💀 ↳karasu_tabito: w h a t . ↳rin.itoshi: what the actual fuck ↳shiidoryu: I FUCKING KNOW RIGHT ↳itosh_sae: no ↳barou.shoei: get help and sleep because it's 2 fucking am ↳chigi.who: :p

chigi.who: you're pretty ↳yourusername: i know

wellll that was mid asf i don't know how to write chigiri exactly if you can see but it's fine

[enwoso]

Could you do a leah x child!reader?

ADORE YOU — leah williamson x child!reader

navigation

your mummy for the past five months has had a big ouchie on her knee, meaning she had to have a big operation on her knee and has a big white bandage on it for months.

that had meant she couldn't do most of the things she did before her big ouchie. like she couldn't carry you for long periods of time, she couldn't sit down and play with your toys with you without putting her knee up on a bunch of pillows, she couldn't race you up the stairs when it was bath time or bed time and ultimately she couldn't do the one thing you both adored and that was play kick about.

you could still play but it wasn't the same when your mummy was watching from the side, clapping and shouting your praises and you could still watch it with her but it was never the same as actually playing football with your mummy.

the person you adored, and she adored you just a much if not more. it saddened leah when she did go down with her injury, thinking how she was going to come back from this but also how she was going to still be able to be the best possible mum to you.

your sad little smile of understanding replayed in leah’s mind daily — from the day when she told you it would be awhile before she was back playing football. you while clearly upset putting on a brave smile as you vowed to your mummy that you would help in any way you could to help make her big ouchie knee better.

and while there were things that had to be adjusted, like your small games of races up the stairs, or how she read your bedtime story. leah found herself missing the little bond you had both created over football.

it was obvious since the first day that you were going to be a football fan and an every bigger arsenal fan just like your mum, and from the day you first were pulling yourself up on the furniture leah had a ball at your feet.

teaching you everything you knew to this day, while she would love you to be a little footballer like her she also had to remind herself sometimes with the help of her own mum that one day you may not want to do football always letting you try others sports like gymnastics and swimming.

however nothing came close to playing in your back garden, your arsenal jersey with your name on the back, and your boots on passing the ball to your mum while throwing a few tricks in there.

both leah and you were longing for the day that you could play kick about with your mum again, and to you waiting had felt like a few years already.

however the day was closer than you thought.

"hi bug! did you have fun at nursery?" your mum asked as you ran in her arms a huge grin on her face, your backpack swinging from side to side as you held a piece of paper in your hand which was blowing in the wind.

"yes! i drew dis for you!" you smiled, holding up the picture to your mum as she took it off you admiring you little art work as you walked out of the school gates and following your mummy to wherever she had parked her car.

looking at the photo which she guessed was you and her the background coloured green and a football. some of the lines squiggly as you tried to stay within the lines. your name written at the top neatly most likely by one of the staff members in black marker.

"oh this is beautiful bug, i'll put it onto the fridge when we get home yeah?" leah smiled as you nodded waiting for your mum to open the car. her taking your backpack from you and placing it on the backseat before lifting you into your car seat.

"arms up!" your mum sung out as she leaned over to buckle you in, a small giggle coming from you as your mum kissed your temple. leah shutting your door before getting into the drivers seat, and beginning to drive.

you watching out the window at the surrounding, as you chatted away to your mummy about your day. from what you did the moment that leah had dropped you off this morning to moment that you were putting your coat on to leave.

the drive coming to a stop as you looked our the window, the surroundings very familiar as a puzzled look drew across your face. wondering why you were hear as you never came here after nursery.

"why we here?" you asked innocently, the arsenal training ground building standing tall as you looked at it out of your window. a place which you knew so familiarly.

"just got a couple of jobs to do bug, we'll not be here long" your mum smiled, as she got out of the drivers seat to get you. opening your door, your seatbelt was unbuckled as you jumped the small step from the car to the gravelled ground.

"is the girls here?" you asked finding your mums hand her car keys jingling in the other as you walked through the entrance.

“they should be”

walking in and hearing the familiar buzz of laughter and chat filling the hallway many staff members walking up and down, as well as few of your mummy’s teammates present as the two of you got closer to them.

“oh and we have ourselves williamson squared this afternoon!” beth joked as you giggled and leah rolled her eyes at her comment, as you waved at viv and lia who were a sat down a bit further away from where beth was.

“hi beffy” you grinned as the english girl bent down to hug you.

“how is my favourite little williamson?” beth beamed, making sure to exaggerate the favourite part, leah ignoring beth’s attempt to wind her up instead greeting viv and lia.

“good!” you smiled as beth began to ask you about your day at nursery, you telling her ind depth what you did, you little arms flying around as your told her. the english forward bringing you to the table where lia and viv were sat.

your mummy had been sat getting last minute treatment on her knee before the game at the weekend, talking over with physios about if she was able to play and if so how long she could play for.

you had sat content, you had your colouring book and pens which leah kept in her cubby for when she needed them to keep you entertained and when you weren’t colouring you sat cuddling or playing with winnie, beth coming to join in when she had a free couple of minutes.

“c’mon bug!” your mummy called out as she waited holding the door open which lead to the indoor astro, saying a quick bye to winnie, you left her with her toys as you ran towards where you mum was stood waiting.

going under her arm which was holding the door open with and into the indoor astro. “can you go and get me the football that’s over there?” she asked as you nodded rubbing over to fetch the ball as leah placed her keys and phone down at the side.

you running back towards the blonde with the ball at your feet, stopping just a few inches away from your mum. not really knowing what to do next or why you were even on the astro in the first place.

“pass it to me, please” leah smiled as you bent down to pick it up and pass it to her, “no bug, kick it to me”

you shot back up standing straight again, confusion taking over your small facial features, “but- but what about your knee-“ you stuttered a little, a bigger grin appearing on your mums face, your confused frown only deepening.

“it’s okay bug, just go easy on me, yeah?” your mum asked, your face lighting up as you nodded kicking the ball towards her. leah taking a touch or two before passing it back to you.

the process carrying on as you both moved around the astro, playing how you always would before your mummy got an ouchie on her knee. a grin never leaving your face as you played kick about with her. it warming leah’s heart watching your little smile grow with each touch of the ball back to her.

you were both back doing the one thing you adored. with the person you adored with your whole heart.

[heart4gyu]

wet dreamz pt.2 || jake x reader

[ part 1 here ]

note: it’s finally here !! i want to point out that jake is much softer (?) than i intended but i love him like this.. he’s my lover boy 🫂 anyway i rly hope you guys enjoy this because i had to scrap the original and start over omg it was a mess and work got in the way too TT but i definitely have some more jake coming soon that im so excited for !! leave ur thoughts & suggestions too plsss 🙏 [i haven’t proofread im so sleepyyyy bye]

after you sent jake that last text, inviting him over to your place, he didn’t respond. which was understandable considering jake never knew how to respond when you flirted with him, always blushing and stuttering out an awkward reply.

so as you got ready to meet up with some friends, putting on a small black dress and your favorite sparkly heels, you were surprised to hear a couple knocks at your door. even more surprised when you found jake standing there, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

“jake, what are you doing here?” you asked, feeling yourself blush, the flowers throwing you off your game a bit. no guy had ever turned up with flowers for you, especially without occasion. it was sweet.

“you- you invited me,” he says, his pretty eyes holding eye contact better than he usually does. you’d never felt this nervousness for a guy before. but you’d guess he was doing no better considering the way he was trying so hard not to look down at your low cut dress and exposed thighs.

“oh yeah… you just didn’t respond so i thought- um… do you wanna come in?” you cut yourself off, stepping aside to make room for him. he nodded as he stepped inside, looking around.

“sorry i didn’t respond… i was kinda nervous. i mean not that i’ve never- you know i just- well i don’t know why i didn’t respond actually. and you look just really pretty right now- well you always look pretty but-” he went on, stumbling cutely before you interrupted him with a laugh.

“it’s okay jakey. i was gonna go out but we could just stay here if you’d like,” you offered to which he nodded, eagerly. so you led him to your bedroom where you noticed that he didn’t look around as much. and it was cute how nervous he really did look.

“these are for you,” he said, finally handing you the bouquet. and you smiled as you thanked him, putting them on your bedside table.

“they’re beautiful... why don’t you sit on my bed so i can go change into something more comfortable,” you said, and he obeyed right away. you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you entered your bathroom because, yes, you’ve had plenty of guys in your room but something about jake was different.

you felt shy for him and he wasn’t as easy for you to get as all the others. you’d talked with him for months. you got to know him the entire semester. as with all the other guys, you didn’t really have to put in all that much work before having them in your bed.

the moment jake heard the lock of the bathroom door, he let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding in. he wasn’t completely inexperienced and he was never this nervous but he had been trying so hard to forget about his dream that it was hard to focus on anything else.

he looked around now, noting that your room was different than he’d pictured but still fit you so well. and it wasn’t just your pillows but the whole room smelled like you, he was engulfed in it and he loved it.

when you stepped back out in a small pajama set, he felt his heart skip a beat and a tightness in his stomach. and you loved the way he stared at you as you walked up to him. you stood right between his legs and looked down at him innocently.

“what are you thinking, jakey,” you said, placing your hands on his shoulders. he swallowed, dryly, as he looked up into your eyes. he felt like he couldn’t breathe and even though he desperately wanted to, he didn’t think to touch you yet.

“y/n… i really like you. but before anything happens, i wanna say that i don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he admitted, quietly, not breaking eye contact. you nodded, running a hand through his hair, making him close his eyes at your touch.

“trust me, i don’t want it to be one time either,” you said, your hand wrapping around to cup his cheek. he leaned in to your touch but shook his head after a second, looking up into your eyes more seriously this time.

“i mean, i want to take you on dates and i don’t want to see other people. i just wanna be yours… i want you to be just mine,” he said, his eyes nervously watching for your response. you nodded at him with a smile and he felt relieved.

“are you asking to be my boyfriend, sim jaeyun?” you asked, smiling so brightly his shoulders relaxed in response.

“yes i am, what do you say?” he said, a hopeful look in his eyes. you watched his hands messing with the material of his jeans as his leg anxiously bounced.

“hmm…” you started, reaching down to grab both of his hands in yours. he didn’t break eye contact even when you placed his hands on your hips. “i think it took you long enough.”

“is that a yes?” he asked, a smile on his lips as you placed a knee on either side of his thighs. you cupped his face, unable to keep the smile off of your own face.

“yes! now please kiss me already,” you said, more of a demand than a request. and he just smiled as you both leaned in.

your lips finally connecting after having waited for so long. and he was gone right away, you could tell with the way he sighed loudly as you tilted your head for a better angle.

the kiss was messy, probably from his lack of experience, but still heated and passionate from the very start. a desperate moan slipping from his lips when your tongue made its way into his mouth.

you bit at his bottom lip, making eye contact as you pulled it back. with your eyes now open you could see how his chest quickly rose and fell, and how he was begging for you with his eyes.

his hands that were frozen at your hips now moving around to squeeze at your ass. he lifted a hand up to leave a firm smack there, a satisfied smirk on his lips when you let out a small gasp.

“sit back there,” you said, standing up from his lap and pointing to your headboard with your chin. he obeyed quickly as you rummaged through your bedside table for a condom.

he watched you search for a while before, “i- i brought some,” he said, lifting his hips off the bed to take the row of condoms out of his front pocket. a blush dusting his cheeks at his words.

“oh! well i’m glad you came prepared… i was just gonna let you hit it raw,” you said, playfully, crawling back over to him. and he didn’t know how but he just got even harder in his jeans.

you sat back on your knees as you took off your shirt and then bottoms revealing a pretty pink matching set. his mouth felt dry, he licked his lips as he stared down at you. you tilted your head, expectantly, when his eyes finally made their way back up to yours.

he let out a small ‘oh’ when he finally got the hint, taking his shirt off and reaching down to unbutton his pants. you let yourself take a moment and admire his build; his strong shoulders, defined abs, his sculpted thighs flexed as he lifted himself to get his jeans off.

you didn’t know how a shy, nerdy guy like him could be hiding such a build but all you knew was you hit the jackpot. even more so when he sat back against your pillows and his bulge became even more apparent through his underwear. your face heating up now as he watched you eating him up with your eyes.

you situated yourself back over his lap still not sitting down just yet. you leaned down taking his lips in yours and he took the chance to drag his hands along your waist and hips, playing with the lace of your panties.

you could kiss him forever, with his plush lips you really didn’t mind. he seemed to be growing a bit impatient though, pulling your hips down onto his abruptly, causing a moan to rip from your throat as you felt his bulge come into contact with your clothed heat.

he quickly took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinding up into you repeatedly. you through your head back, letting the soft moans fall from your lips wanting to encourage him more.

“please i’ll do anything you want me to, just tell me,” he said, pressing you flush down onto his cock and holding you there. you dropped your head down onto his shoulder, shaking your head.

“i just wanna ride you, right now,” you said, and he probably gulped but you couldn’t really focus on how cute that was with how huge he felt still pressed up against you.

so as you reached over to rip a condom from the strip he worked on taking both of your bottoms off. still being very gentle with you as he slid them down your legs, admiring every inch of your skin.

as for you, you were right: he was huge. you slid the condom onto his length and he hissed at the contact. once it was on and you lined yourself up, he stopped you one last time to press a kiss to your lips. a sweet kiss that you couldn’t help melt into.

he pressed a kiss on your cheek, down your neck, your shoulder, your chest, your bra, and one last one right above your belly button. he sat back and looked up to give you a satisfied smile, letting you know that you could continue.

you gave his cock a couple strokes and finally slipped his tip right past your lips, causing you both to moan out. he sat up almost immediately and you placed your hands on his shoulders for the extra support.

inch by inch, you took him in until finally you were sat on his lap again. you let out a deep breath and his eyes were squeezed shut as he tried his best to hold back. but all he could think about was how much better this felt than his dream.

“you’re so tight,” he moaned, resting his head onto your shoulder, still managing to place a gentle kiss there. he was holding back so much, he felt so desperate for you. “baby, could you please move a bit?”

the petname falling from his lips so effortlessly, you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out of your mouth as you started to rock yourself back and forth on him. his hands squeezed at the skin of your waist as you let out a breathy ‘yes’, putting his head back on the headboard.

when you finally started to bounce on his cock, he was a whining mess. you thought his moans were pretty, well the whines that left his throat were addictive. you wanted to do whatever you could to keep hearing them.

you lifted yourself all the way to the tip and dropped all the way back down as quick as your legs could take you, grinding onto him in all directions. and he was so perfectly responsive, just what you wanted to hear; the ‘don’t stop’s and ‘feels too good’s leaving him were too encouraging.

you couldn’t bring yourself to stop even as your thighs started to shake because you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you and you wanted to make him cum so badly. but it seemed he had the same idea.

suddenly he lifted your hips off of him, pulling out slowly, a groan falling from both of your lips. he gently laid you back down onto your pillows, not forgetting to place a gentle kiss right at the center of your chest. “… i didn’t get to make you cum,” you said, a bit disappointed.

“i know, pretty,” he said, kissing your pout away, “but i said i’d take care of you.” you felt yourself blush at his words, luckily he was preoccupied with lining himself up again.

“wait,” you said, pushing him back a bit by his chest. you reached down, slowly pulling the condom off of his length and tossing it to the side.

before he could speak again you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your legs also lifting up to engulf his waist, pulling him closer. his forehead resting on yours as he eyed you curiously, “i want you to come in me,” you said, quietly.

he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning. he kissed you, rougher than all the other kisses before. “you can’t say those kind of things to me, angel, i won’t be able to hold back.”

“please don’t hold back jakey, do whatever you dream of,” you said, your eyes begging. jake swears his heart stopped for a second. he just couldn’t believe it, this was so different from his dream but also so much better.

he took a deep breath, his hand shaking as he lined himself back up at your entrance. when he pushed all the way back in at once, he swore he was in heaven. nothing could compare to how he felt so deep in you right now, so warm and tight. was he having deja vu?

he shook his head, he didn’t have to be reminded of that dream anymore cause this? nothing could beat this.

he thrusted into you hard and fast, immediately setting a brutal pace. and you loved it, not being able to do anything other than scream and moan out his name. he wasn’t much better moaning and muttering praises at your ear.

you scratched at his back helplessly as his thrust somehow got harder, his release definitely building up again. you pulled at his hair, bringing his face in front of yours and smashing your lips together once again. the kiss more intimate in this position, despite both of you being moaning messes.

he reached a hand down to rub circles at your clit, your hand following after to help guide him. he quickly found the rhythm you wanted and matched his thrust to it. you couldn’t believe how good he was already, and couldn’t imagine how this could get any better.

he kissed and sucked at your neck, searching for the spot you liked best, already wanting to familiarize himself with every part of your body. you moaned out his name as you felt the coil in your stomach come undone. finally releasing around him as he continued chasing his own high.

he came soon after as he felt your walls clench around him so tightly, filling you up so perfectly. he held himself up, not wanting to put his full weight on you and gently pulled out when both of your breathing regulated.

he laid down beside you, still in disbelief, his dazed expression making you laugh. he looked over at you with a smile, pulling your chin towards him to place a gentle kiss on your lips. he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of kissing you.

he kissed you again and again, not wanting to pull his lips off of yours. “wait! i need to clean you up,” he said abruptly, sitting up.

“oh yeah, um… there’s a little towel in my bathroom,” you said, rising up onto your elbows. you watched as his eyebows scrunched together and he just shook his head.

“no, i don’t need a towel,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his cute tone… well cute until he was getting comfortable between your legs again, laying down right in front of your leaking core. somehow a sweet, innocent look still on his face.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 7: The One Where the Queen Asked, “Did That Go the Way You Thought It Was Gonna Go?”

I’m probably one of the few people in this fandom who find Antonia entertaining.

Goddammit – put down your fucking pitchforks!

I didn’t say I liked her – I simply said I found her entertaining.

If Antonia’s existence bothers the fuck out of you, you’ll likely enjoy my commentary here.

*And, right about here is when I’ll slip in my disclaimer: this is my opinion only; merely speculation based on information that is out there in the public realm.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes, Antonia. I don’t find her entertaining because I think she’s a great dancer. Is she? You tell me. I mean, I have two left feet so just about anyone is better than me.

And, I have never seen a picture or video where she’s made me “like” her as a person. In fact, she comes off more like a villain, but not a brilliant villain (I might like her, then). She’s more like an Iago to, say, Deux Mois’ Jafar.

I just find her so fucking reckless, but in the most amusing way possible. If she were a movie, I’d give her 4/5 stars. The movie would be a low-budget comedy, of course.

In my opinion, she loves to troll the fandom and I’m convinced she must have notifications turned on for Nicola. The patterns started patterning early on during the World Tour (and probably before). The problem is, she’s just not great at trolling. Her attempts always fall flat, and she ends up making herself look like, well, a tryhard (hence why her movie only gets 4/5 stars).

I’m not sure what Antonia ever was to Luke but, at a minimum, I will (begrudgingly) say they dated. I know some people don’t want to hear that, but she was a player in this game for a reason. Rumor also suggests she, at the very least, squatted in Luke’s flat (and I don’t mean in THAT way).

That said, I believe she was officially taken out of the game at the end of July. However, that doesn’t mean she wasn’t still making noise from the sidelines.

One of the most humorous (in my opinion) “rah rahs” Antonia pulled was on September 28 when she posted some stories of herself at a theatre. I’m not sure if she could have been any more obvious when trying to show us her phone screen. The screen was lit up, her thumb pressed against it, and angled almost directly at the person taking the picture.  We get it, honey. You want us to see what’s on your screen. Not surprisingly, it appeared to be a blurry ass picture of Luke.

Big whoop, right? Well, actually it was because the Conscientiously Stupid took this as confirmation Luke and Antonia were together (again) and the Sincerely Ignorant swallowed their cyanide pills without water (again). And, the Fact Finders, while trying to resuscitate their dearly beloved Sincerely Ignorant friends foaming at their mouths, immediately called “bullshit” (again). The picture appeared to be old and, to be honest, it was too blurry to tell who was on the screen – although I will concede it could have been Luke. In fact, I tend to believe it was an old picture of Luke based on what happened next.

The problem with Antonia’s play style is that she doesn’t seem to catch on to the rules. She moves her pawn two spaces because she can, not because it advances her game. She has this nasty habit of ignoring, say, the opposing party’s pawn, which is in position to en passant her overly confident pawn.

Nicola had been living high on life throughout the month of September, which, in my opinion, is quite possibly the reason why Antonia seemed a bit unhinged by the end of the month (jealousy can make us do crazy shit). Among other things, Nicola had the Emmy’s (and the Wordle), the Gucci show, and, on October 1, she was presenting Simone with a Glamour Award. By this point, I believe Nicola had had enough of Antonia’s gameplay. The phone screen had struck a chord.

So, what does Nicola do?

She plays the game right back but not like she normally does with Scrabble boards, Dewy Skin Creams, and BTS wedding footage dropped at the perfect moment. This time, she does it with a power move that left her hands virtually spotless.

On October 3, Halley Brisker, Nicola’s frequent hairstylist, posted a set of four pictures to his Instagram grid, three of which showed Nicola casually posing for the camera and one showing Nicola in the process of having her hair done. It was the latter picture (#3/4 in the slide deck) that perked every Lukolas’ ears.

Low and behold sat a man, his face conveniently covered by a hairdresser’s arm, but his hands in full view. Hands that, at this point, we (embarrassingly) know too well. To date, no one has debunked the theory – more like, assertion – that the man in the picture is Luke.

Nicola liked this post by Halley, and even commented, “You legend [red heart emoji].” You’re welcome to read between the lines on that one.

I’ve always believed this Halley Brisker photo dump was Nicola’s very clever, albeit indirect, way of telling Antonia, “Checkmate, bitch.”

The point of this entry is not to convince you that Antonia is a red herring (she is), or that Luke is in the Halley Brisker photo dump (he is), or that Nicola plays the game better than most (she does). No, the point of this entry is to tell you Antonia’s game is over (because it is). Antonia lost.

So why does she remain on the roster?

Because, collectively, we as fans keep her there, sitting along the sidelines in her collapsable camp chair making noise with her cowbell. We pay attention to what she posts. We talk about what she posts. We argue over what she posts. We panic about what she posts. WE keep her in the game.

How about we don’t?

Why not start off this week with a positive change? And, not just for the USS Lukola, but for yourself as well.

If you’re following Antonia on social media (for sinister reasons) – stop. Meander over to Instagram, X, Tiktok, whatever, and unfollow her. Don’t look back. Stop checking her page. If you see or hear she has a new post, ignore it. Move on. The first day will be hard. But, the second day will be easier. You know where I’m going with this…

I mean, Luke can’t quietly unfollow her if we’re constantly looking in that direction, right?

P.S. If you need more convincing that Antonia’s shelf life has expired, I have a CliffsNotes response for that: https://www.tumblr.com/threeacttragedy/767137910999957504/great-blog-but-if-all-was-not-good-with-l-and-a?source=share.

P.P.S. Moving forward, I don’t give two boiled rabbits about what Antonia does. I will most certainly refer back to her in a historical sense (she does fill in bits and pieces of the Lukola timeline), but if she posts a crockpot tomorrow, don’t expect me to comment on what could be in it.

P.P.P.S. If you have any understanding of what the little chessboard I’ve dropped in to my picture means, I salute you.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. the fireworks festival.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing, character death (off screen, dw) wc. 6.3k author’s note. gege deserves to be charged for war crimes for what he's done, but besides that, thank u for reading once again. i really loved writing this story and agonizing about what it would be like to be with our dear satoru. he is, without doubt, a character that deserved so much better. but anyway, thank you again!!!! c u at the end of this xx

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

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CHAPTER 14: you know where to find me & i know where to look

you will not lie and tell yourself that being away from gojo isn’t strange and off-putting, even if you would like to. it’s different when either of you are on a mission, because, theoretically, now you know he’s just on the other side of the wall and you have chosen to not curl up beside him. you have slept alone for a long time, and it had never been an issue until now – there’s no one to be too warm against, no one to hog the sheets, no one to chew on your hair dreaming of something sweet.

the stockholm syndrome really got you, huh?

still, you sleep well. there’s enough space and you awake refreshed, with no limbs tingly or numb, but a bit lonely. the room is too big, and even if the view behind the curtain is nice enough to snap a picture, it’s not as charming without gojo pointing and saying, “heh, look, a bit more rain and it’s gonna be a landslide,” and you, naturally, nodding along, because he must be right.

you dress and douse yourself in a heavy, heavy cloud of the perfume he got you. gojo insisted on this one because he liked the way it smelled, and you are feeling better today and are willing to hear out another heartfelt apology. you are very nice and very merciful and deserve the very best for your endless efforts to steer this relationship into something at least vaguely harmonious.

maybe you can reconcile during a tasty breakfast with a cappuccino syruped with caramel and the foam resembling a cat. yes, you have put the pieces together – normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself a great strategist, but surprisingly, last night you had ran this situation through your head over and over and over again till every possible scenario and an equally possible outcome was engraved into the squiggly lines of your brain. you have never been more prepared for anything in your entirely life.

“i’ve learned my lesson,” are the very first words you hear when you open the door, met with a head hung low and an unhappy gojo satoru.

alright, this you did not anticipate. he looks a bit miserable. gojo always hated the silent treatment or the ignore policy the most, even when he was harassing you for his personal entertainment, but you didn’t think eight hours apart would make him like this. suppose he might not have slept at all; suppose you did leave on a sour note, a small good night and a strained smile he tried to mimic but failed, waiting till you shut the door before heading to his room.

you wonder how long he’s been antsy behind your door, waiting like a lost pet. you decide to assume he just got here instead of thinking of the more likely scenario that he sensed your cursed energy spike once you rolled out of bed and was at attention ever since.

“that’s nice,” you tell him. a soft kiss to his cheek seals the deal for both of you, and an ache you didn’t realize you were suffering from lifts seeing him instantly brighten.

“you smell nice,” he leans in, happily nosing the side of your neck, “and look nice. super nice. hello.”

“hi, good morning.”

“yes,” a toothy smile, and your fingers twining with his, “great, even, actually. didja miss me?”

you will not lie to yourself, but you will lie to him. you shake your head, as though disappointed by such an unfair and silly line of questioning, “it’s barely been a night. i was relieved, if anything.”

he wrinkles his nose, a look that borders on not so playful if taking in the arctic gleam of his eyes, “not funny,” the comedy will have to wait, it seems, he’s serious, “no jokes about that. or separation. ever. you and i are conjoined twins from now on. we could be permanently glues together by my infinity. now that’s an idea.”

a bit too frankensteinian for you, so you have to pass, “let’s leave the morally questionable experiments to shoko, please.”

“if you insist,”

well, now that the apology is out of the way and the awkwardness is cleared, you are prepared for a feast that he will pay for, “let’s go down to eat?”

if it weren’t for the slight downward twitch of the corners of his lips, you might’ve been fooled that all is fine and dandy. apparently, it is not. hesitation, from him, only comes when he’s preparing for something major and likely emotionally taxing. this, on an empty stomach, will not do, but drawing it out isn’t an option, either.

he squeezes your hand before you can come up with an excuse to avoid breakfast or this conversation, as this isn’t going at all like you have pedantically strung together. another squeeze, and you decide to never plan anything ever again, “…can we order room service instead?” he inquires, and you relax a little, glad you won’t have to have this conversation mid-hallway where any other guest could sneak up, “i, uh,” he won’t meet your eyes, “i’d like to talk a bit. first. if that’s okay?”

your insides are twisting into knots – not from the present anxiety but from the honesty in his quiet voice.

“sure,” you settle.

he nods and takes the lead, hand a little sweaty, face a little flustered – all very out of character, but very sweet. you let him drag you the whole of the next door down and you’re graciously let into the spotless, untouched space he had spent the night in. the curtains are open, the bed is pristine, and gojo is never this clean so it can only mean he hasn’t used it. you glance at him with a wordless question but he’s still avoiding your gaze.

has he really agonized over this the whole night? you have, too, a bit, but seemingly not nearly enough. maybe it’s his first time having a fight with someone; maybe it’s his first time being in the wrong and knowing that he is and actually doing something about it. too many maybes. you think he might be just as confused as you.

once the door is shut, he breathes out. perks up, finally, once you’re safely secured in his perimeter. he gestures toward the expanse of the bed, face morphing back into a rather placid expression that betrays nothing but an odd edge that doesn’t manage to leave his eyes entirely.

“after you,” he announces chivalrously. no ulterior motives there.

“uh-huh,” you sound, toeing the slippers off and climbing in. you scoot back till you’re pressed against the pillows, leaving ample space for him to join. he chooses a spot by your thigh, warmth pickling against your skin, and you really do forgive him, you decide, and you would probably forgive him again even he pulled the same stunt at this very moment. no, that is terrible, how has this idiot managed to ensnare you so completely?

once he’s fidgeted enough, he moves onto his next agenda, “the menu,” he pulls out a booklet from the drawer, placing it on your bent knees like a little gift. this all feels vaguely rehearsed, “pick what you want.”

that was always the intention, but you see that he’s trying very hard to work up the courage to something he wants to say, so maybe some good old fashioned enthusiasm from you will help him relax, “alright,” a hum for added measure, “hmmm…. mhmmm…. ooh, pancakes sound nice. like, maybe a mountain of them.”

“yeah?” his chin finds its usual spot on your shoulder, “pick between the triple and a tower.”

the picture showing off the pancake tower does look very impressive, not to mention delicious. however, you aren’t entirely certain you would finish one, as the heading reads over one meter!, which is simply ridiculous. thankfully, you have a man with a black hole for a stomach right next to you, “i’d like a tower.”

“sure, whatever you want.”

“and a cappuccino,” you’re not skimming out on that, even if it’s unlikely the barista will make you cat-shaped foam. maybe you can press gojo to bully them into doing it, but pressing gojo into anything at this moment would likely lead to another disaster, “with a double shot. possibly triple. how many shots do they do?”

“think one’s plenty enough,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. they appear  bit chapped, but nothing you can’t fix, “…can i get a kiss?”

…so much for wanting to talk. this is already familiar. he’s trying to change the subject.

“for good behavior?” you venture coyly, peeling your gaze away from the breakfast details to gauge his expression.

it makes him smile, small and wicked, “yup. best behavior, actually. i said sorry, it counts. right? say yes.”

“mmm,” you manage, thinking up another scheme. you would like to keep this on track. it’s likely he won’t dare to say it again and the implication of it will hang between the two of you until another fight, and another, and it’ll keep stacking up and up and likely higher than the famed pancake tower. his pupils grow larger the longer he waits for your permission. a small sigh, and your nails scratch at the nape, “maybe let’s eat first?”

his gaze flickers for a second, and then he gives you a kind, patient smile, “alright,” because he meant it when he said whatever you want.

“so nice of you,” you praise. his grin shifts. you recognize i – it’s the one he dons when he’s winning.

a quick call to reception, gojo’s back to holding your hand again, softly as not to crowd you. his fingers really are much longer than yours, and he measures them idly, more than used to the sight but still somehow mesmerized by it.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” he starts, voice even, though low, “the rest i don’t really care about, but you,” he tugs on your finger, “you just, doesn’t…” he trails off, confidence shaken by something invisible.

“i don’t like fighting with you either,” you share, hoping it will ease him. it seems to work, but only a little, “it sucks.”

“yeah,” he huffs, “super major sucks,” he draws closer and the mattress shifts. he finds home beside you, head once again nestled into your shoulder, like it’s the safest place on planet earth.

gojo always seeks refuge in physical affection. it’s a way he can express himself without using words. suppose you can pull him into your embrace and calm him like that; suppose he’ll feel a bit braver without your eyes so deeply focused on him, even if there’s always a chance he’ll take the easy way out and refuse to speak at all.

but that’s not what happens, “i just wanted to find a spot where we could watch the stars together.”

“oh,” you utter, unsure what to make of this yet. you are glad he has finally told you, but that still doesn’t explain why he was acting, dare you say, nervous before the argument. there has to be more. there always is, but you will never pry, because it’s painful enough for him already.

“didn’t work out the way i had hoped it would, though,” and now he sounds genuinely sad. a horrible feeling surfaces in you, “but we can still watch them tonight. if you want.”

“i do,” you assure him, “but you have to talk about what’s bothering you. i can’t read your mind.”

“thank god you can’t,” a hollow chuckle follows, “it’s a secret anyway. none of your beeswax.”

impossible, like always, but you wouldn’t really have it any other way. you card your fingers through his hair and he relaxes further, warm breath tickling the side of your neck. a small sigh, this time from him. now that he’s said all that he has wanted to say – which still doesn’t really explain anything, but is more than enough – he can pretend to be an overgrown cat and bask in your affectionate gestures.

it’s going to be okay. you hope he doesn’t see your little smile. lucky.

*

“is this supposed to be a white tiger?” you inquire, holding up a glass phone charm for his inspection. another pale, blue-eyed thing that has caught your fancy. soon, your dorm room will also include a private zoo of all the cute plushies and ornaments you’ve managed to collect with gojo’s money.

“doesn’t have any stripes,” he hums, twisting and turning the vaguely animal-shaped object in his palm. dusk falls on his shoulders, tinting the edges of his hair a soft lilac, “maybe a polar bear?”

suppose it doesn’t really matter, since all charms displayed at this stall look the same, and it surely has nothing to do with the talent of the man that made them. he gazes over them proudly, each sat in a small leather box with a lavish seat, ready to be taken home and hung by the mirror or looped around a cellphone. the monkey ones could maybe resemble monkeys if you squinted and took a lot of creative liberties, and the rest are just shapes with four legs and a snout. oddly cute, in an incompetent, unexplainable way.

“you wanna…?” gojo raises a brow, shades blocking the double-check he no doubt sends you. you nod vigorously.

he has learned his lesson from last time and carries a concerning amount of cash in his wallet. your tiger-bear is placed in its box and then wrapped in a little bow before being hidden in a colorful plastic bag that eventually makes its way to you. you bow in thank you.

the matsuri continues. the winding streets are blocked from traffic yet crowd with too many patrons; gojo pinches your sleeve and tugs when a particularly large wave of people try to separate you. even when they manage, and you’re momentarily disoriented from the sounds and smells and sights, he always manages to spot you first. maybe he just knows where to look.

gojo has changed from his usual garbs into a baby blue yukata. blue really is his color, and he looks so infuriatingly handsome that you have to glare at a sizable amount of people to let them know he is not available to be admired now, or ever, really. you have contemplated buying him a kabuki mask, but even then, his height and broad shoulders – not to mention that unshakable gait and all-over enticing confidence! – would somehow reveal him, and people would still stare or try to grab his attention. perhaps the mystery of the mask would be even more alluring. your hairs stand on end at the thought.

“m?” gojo, never one to miss anything and still latched onto your sleeve, tilts his head, “are you hungry? i sensed murderous intent.”

you hide your lips behind your fan – an expensive trinket gojo insisted to get you since it would match your baby pink yukata. yes, you have come in matching bubble gum ice cream flavors. when your head moves even slightly, the hairpins clink. the sound is light and satisfying, or so he said. you can’t hear it over the noise.

“no, not really,” you say, though the dango stand does look delicious, and the twinkling lights are inviting. your displeased eyes do not leave the group of high school girls donning their flowery yukata and giggling into their kakigori bowls. it is truly a blessing you have been born with a useless amount of cursed energy, because you would definitely use it for evil.

maybe gojo knows, and he graciously steps forward, blocking your sight from the rest of the people. another tug, and you snap into motion.

around you, lanterns sway, alight and warm; they cast low over the sidewalks and shine bright against the cobblestone walkways. in the corners of your vision, the glow swirls into endless rainbow-colored ribbons.

“how good are you at shooting?” he asks.

all dolled up and pretty, you can only clap your lashes  few times at the absurd question, “really well, why?”

“like, a bow or  a gun?”

“does it matter? both require concentration and precision,” you explain, “still, are we planning a heist or something? i don’t have any cursed tools on me,” and while the prospect of danger and adventure is enticing, you really are having fun just being here with him and would rather stay.

“nah, just a bit of friendly competition,” he grins, glasses drooping just enough to catch the mischievous twinkle in his eye, “wanna go against the strongest? you’ll be the only one to that lived to tell the tale.”

wanna do this, wanna do that? want food, a plushie, something absurdly expensive? if you asked for the moon, you wonder if he’d try to retrieve it. perhaps calculate if a missing edge wouldn’t spin the planet out of orbit and bring it back to you as a souvenir.

“i’d like a soda,” you say.

“let’s get you a cola,” he switches directions so quickly you almost collide into an equally mushy couple enjoying their date.

only you and gojo are not a couple, and this is not a date, and each time he recalls an insignificant detail about you and goes out of his way to do something small for you only because he wants to do it, it becomes harder and harder to remember the fact. pretending is awful, and it burns strangely acidic in the back of your throat. but it’s so warm, too, and you want to cling to his arm and press your cheek against his yukata. hide there, in his sleeve, like he always does in the crook of your neck.

gojo wouldn’t mind. once he gets you your tasty drink, you paint a kiss mark on his cheekbone with your lips. it’s faint and pink, glossy against the rose that steadily rises onto his face, and he doesn’t wipe it off, only smiles sheepishly.

eventually, you make it to the shooting range. it’s a large stall decorated with sea creatures and varying shades of purple and blue. you’re handed a large water gun and told to hold till the targets – large jellyfish – fall over, officially earning you a point. depending on the amount of points one receives, one might win a prize, or so the man in a pirate costume explained.

“ready?” gojo asks, fixing his glasses. you’re not sure how serious you should take this. your pride may be on the line, but this game is likely extremely rigged. he’s already the strongest, and whatever he’d receive from the pirate would ultimately make it into your hold without you having to steal or resort to anything desperate, like politely asking.

still, you are a sorcerer. if a friend and colleague is requesting, you must put on a brave front. it is the morally righteous thing to do, after all.

you put your hand on your hip and nod.

the game begins. three seconds into it you realize that the water stream is much too weak for you to successfully take down a significant number in the modest time allocated for this quest. still, you keep going, and several jellyfish fall by your skillful hand and steadfast accuracy.

no matter the physical differences or innate abilities, there should not be a lead in this competition, and if there were to be one, it would be you and your clear head compared to gojo’s impatience and petulant whining. as a matter of fact, he is not whining, nor is he sulking in defeat or trying to sabotage your chances.

he is barely containing his cackle over tightly pressed lips and quivering shoulders, his grip on the plastic so tight the bright red grip cracks a little.

the jellyfish stood in his path to victory keep falling one by one so quickly you take a second glance to ensure he’s not using an actual gun to knock them over. cursed energy permeates in the air like static after a storm, and you sigh, lowering your water gun before the timer’s up.

he's cheating. somehow you didn’t expect this, even if it was obvious from the start. should you scold him and be disappointed, thus ruining the fun for everyone out of principle?

you feel like he’s been through enough. even a fake argument would leave him discontent, and you even more so. besides, you doubt either of you would have won even the most useless trinket if you played fair and square. this you judge from the absolutely aghast expression of the stall’s owner, who might snap his neck at any moment if he keeps swinging it from jellyfish to gojo and back.

the bells chime. the game ends. with trembling hands, the pirate picks up the stuffed animal gojo pointed at and hands it over.

 “there you go,” gojo thrusts the penguin in your arms, and you take it, all fluff and cold seams, “for you.”

“okay,” you concede, cradling the stupid looking bird. it's cute.

you do not miss the owner checking gojo's gun for a malfunction. he does not miss the sly look you send his way before departing.

“where to next?” you can't wait. you have had fizzy drinks, munched on so many yakitori skewers you've lost count, watched a truly horrendous standup comedian and stayed till the end of the performance out of pity, and exchanged three handmade charms for a total of two plushies. your penguin will be named yukihira because that was the name of gojo's pet koi fish.

pet, as in it was in the pond, and gojo liked looking at it the most, hence he named it. there were no pets allowed in the gojo household, or any fun, for that matter. you didn't understand, not entirely, but you wanted to. a lackluster childhood burdened with responsibility so vast and complex it's hardly comprehensible. he wouldn't elaborate further, simply bury his face into the bend of your neck and kiss until the memory had finally, and perfectly, faded from your mind, and you could breathe just a bit easier.

“to sit,” gojo says, indicating the lone bench beneath the awning across the stall, “exhausted. gotta recharge for the next conquest.”

“how dramatic,” you comment, but take his extended arm and accompany him.

together, you remain unbothered, a tiny island amidst a current of shifting yukata, cork shoes, and the occasional colorful sandal. fireflies wink around, chasing each other like sparklers.

gojo fishes out his phone and clicks his tongue, reading the message you know is there. most likely another important thing to deal with. you wish he wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again, but that sounds ridiculous even to you.

“what's up?” you lean your shoulder on his. the penguin sits on your lap, quietly reflecting your somber gaze. it's round, black eyes are welcoming, so you poke its nose.

“nothing,” he decides, waving the thought away, “it can wait, probably.”

you make a face, “that doesn't sound very assuring.”

“unlike some, i have a healthy respect for privacy,” he grins, not taking his eyes off the device even when his tone softens considerably, “i won't interrogate you if you don't want me to. so the same goes for me.”

you snort. that's a lie if you've ever heard one, because he has never shied away of reading your messages along with you or providing helpful responses. still, you won't push. you trust him. if he says it's nothing, it means it's nothing.

a short silence settles. the air feels balmy, and a phantom wind circles you. one of the lanterns has blown out, and a little trail of smoke floats to the sky.

“huh,” you blink, the information suddenly resurfacing in your brain, “the sister event is next week.”

“ugh,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket only so he could rub the disgust off of his face, “don't remind me.”

you grin, “heh, how come? we can just send you alone. we'll win anyway.”

“always gotta do all the work,” he groans, then leans his head back, fixing you with a knowing look from the corner of his eye, “aren't you going to hold my hand?”

“want me to?”

his throat bobs, the simple question alone making his breath stumble as if he was walking down a dark alley, and hearing your voice had given him goosebumps. his voice is steady when he answers, “yeah.”

with one arm securing your precious yukihara, you reach over and take his hand. his larger fingers slide over yours, catching.

“so spoiled,” you tease. he lifts your hand to press his lips to your skin. now it's your heart's turn to waver. his eyes are crinkled happily, the crescent of his smile lighting up in the growing shadows. there's something playful hiding there, too, something secretive that he wouldn't share until he was sure you'd like it, and that patience of his, newfound and endearing, spreads like sweet nectar down your throat and bubbles a giggle.

“yep,” he agrees, so delighted his nose scrunches adorably.

you could stay like this forever, watching and enjoying the thrum and beat of a summer festival. the atmosphere, the laughter and tittering, the low chatter as people find their way from one thing to another. live in this moment, like a firefly caught in a glass jar.

at one point, gojo's cheek rests on your head, and you soak in the warmth. perhaps this is his favorite part. the glow of the lanterns is just the right side of orange and highlights the angles and divots of his face, while his other hand stays coiled around yours, and his thumb rubs small, soothing patterns into your knuckles.

“let's sit it out.”

“hm?”

“the sister exchange event. haibara-kun, nanami-kun, and suguru can participate for us,” you tell him, “we could hide in the clinic with shoko.”

he pulls back from his position, but only so he could survey you properly. his stare is less calculating than it is contemplative. behind his glasses, his eyes are burning quietly. at times, there's something almost solemn glazing over his expression, softening the sharp lines and allowing his features to relax. it makes him seem so much more mature and so unlike himself that you never know how to react.

“can't,” he says with a small sigh, finally coming to stand. he pulls on your hand and you scramble, grappling to keep yukihara from falling along with all of your things, “yaga would definitely beat my ass if i ever tried pulling something. but that doesn't mean i don't want to,” his smile widens, “thank you for the offer, though.”

“wow, a sincere and gracious rejection. thanks, satoru.”

“anytime,” he winks. you flick his forehead.

no pouting this time, though, no furrowed brows or crossed arms. instead, he bites his lower lip and seems to be wrestling with himself not to jump you. he is behaving extremely well by comparison, his touches never bordering on anything even remotely inappropriate for a public settling.

you appreciate the consideration. even despite the crowded space, he is focused solely on you, his finger grazing along your palm, tickling your wrist. if you smile any wider, your cheeks will start hurting. and if he continues looking at you like that over the rim of his sunglasses, your heart will start hurting instead.

“should we head to ashinoko?” you ask, keeping yukihara close, “or will there be too many people there?”

“probably, but it doesn't matter,” he reassures, “we'll find a spot. worst case scenario i'll let you sit on me. my shoulders, to be exact.”

how would you explain the sudden rush of blood to your head? “that won't be necessary...”

“why not? can't get much of a better view. and you get to play with my hair, too,” he tacks on, “or maybe i could hold your legs and give your-”

you take back everything you thought of good behavior and growth as a person, he is nothing but a lewd pest wanting to embarrass you in the middle of a romantic setting, the absolute traitor, and you have half a mind to stomp him to death right then and there. all the private tutors in the world couldn't teach him manners, and no stifling house rules could condition him out of his shit eating grin.

he is terrible, and you like him still, more and more each day. even now, when he looks on the verge of laughing, so pleased to have flustered you, while you try and fail not to panic.

“kidding,” he assures, “mostly. i would, if you asked.”

“satoru, pl-”

“wouldn't even question it.”

“sa-”

“got a list of places i could put my mouth. just say the word.”

you've lost. completely and irrecoverably. your shoulders slump, too tired to continue picking the pieces of your shattered dignity, “yes, yes, i get it. please stop talking.”

he shrugs, unbearably nonchalant considering he basically propositioned to make you cum between fireworks displays, “if you insist.”

unruffled by any objections, like he'd simply whisk you away to somewhere secluded should you demand him to, and it would be so easy. like he's itching for a chance, a sign, a simple smile. like he'd drop to his knees if you only said yes. you're almost appalled by his shamelessness, yet that, unfortunately, is part of his charm as well.

still, what a tease. you wish yukihara wouldn't have to hear such things. your dear penguin doesn't deserve to experience such trauma so early into your care. you are so very sorry.

“then...” you steer the topic back to where it's mostly harmless, not counting his smug look that would haunt you till the end of days, “let's go?”

“okie-dokie.”

you fall back into the crowd and lose all traces of rhythm. children push past you, twittering and shrieking, with their chaperones stumbling after them and rapidly bowing apologies left and right. the ground is smooth beneath your feet, stone flattened in ages by carts and soles alike. the two of you branch off and enter a lesser known forest path to avoid the onslaught of people rushing to see the performance at the hakone shrine before the fireworks.

the change in scenery is instantaneous. the suffocating density of bodies disappears, as well as the oppressive humidity. it's darker without the fairy lights and lampposts, the cicadas overlapping everything else. the air smells like fern, cut grass, and wet tree bark, oddly fresh and cool closer to the lake.

gojo stores his sunglasses into a discreet inner pocket. his eyes glint under a stretch of tree shadow, emitting a faint bluish glow, not bright enough to lighten his features yet remaining ever present. ever so beautiful. the woods seem to sigh around you, branches fluttering nervously above as he leans in, almost a specter.

“what's wrong?” your question brushes against the fringes of his hair.

“you're looking at me funny.”

“i am? sorry.”

“like you have so much you want to say.”

“oh,” you blink, then stare down at your shoes. a fallen maple leaf rustles when you step on it, giving a dry crunch, “not really.”

“yeah, well,” he scratches his cheek, “me too, kinda.”

a soft smile, this time, something private and indulging.

for a while you don't speak, not because you can't think of anything to say, but rather can't choose the right words. none of them seem enough, too sweet or too plain. the small trek through the damp forest path leaves your shoes a bit muddy and the hems of your yukata covered in dry flakes and pine needles, most having already blown away.

you hear it first – the deep, thunderous sounds of drums coming from the direction of the shrine. then, ways down the twisting tree line, you spot dancing lights. closer and closer, and the sounds become powerful enough to shake you, vibrating through the ground up to your legs. you hold on just a bit tighter, and gojo returns the gesture firmly.

he is quiet. his head is bowed, gaze focused ahead and somewhere else at the same time, like he's thinking about other things, which, knowing him, can be anything. he leads you off the path and you follow, passing between the foliage and low hanging branches. the weather grows colder. you're approaching the shore.

finally, the landscape clears. a thin border of black pines separates water from earth. wisteria vines drape over the whole scene like curtains on windows, billowing gently. the noise of the show is still loud and beats to the drum of your heart, each thud somehow too close and too obvious. from here, you can see the massive red torii gate stood in the shallows.

the water sloshes by your feet, and the sandy soil squishes pleasantly. far and wide, there are others waiting, too, all finding their own spots amongst the reeds and gravel. a few lanterns float in the moonlit surface of lake ashinoko, bright and orange, like the ones in the market district, and you watch, captivated, as their reflections spill over the shifting water. the chimes wind up to a symphony. it's beautiful.

gojo tilts his head to you, and his lips move, but you can't hear what he's saying.

“what?” you call, ticking a waiting ear in his direction.

the boom cuts through everything, the flash of gold drowning out his face, and you realize way too late what's happening. the crackle continues, and the air trembles, releasing another burst of fireworks. the light leaves fractals dancing over him, each one landing just so, as if aimed, cascading over his eyelashes.

he repeats the words, and something about his expression makes your heart stutter: longing and apprehension quickly replaced with shyness, almost endearing as he watches you expectantly. the sky glitters around, awash in blues and greens and whites, brilliant enough to blind. you can't look away from him.

he says it again, and again, and again, and you can't read the shape of his mouth because you're too afraid of what you will find there. the drums, the cheers, the changing lights, the words airy against your lips. he kisses you. you understand the phrase now, or you hope that you do, so you tell it back, quietly, so he couldn't hear you either:

“i like you.”

your hand finds purchase on the fabric at his chest. it's tight, and his grip is strong, cradling you with such care you can't help but shiver. each kiss is like that, little sips of air, barely enough to sustain either of you, and then he holds you and you let him, boneless, allowing yourself melt into the sure, enveloping warmth.

the light is dying, and you're dizzy. yukihara sits as a witness between your pounding hearts.

eventually, the display fades away into starlight. you want to say it again, but neither of you are brave enough to do it.

*

gojo: just waved nanamin and haibara bye bye on their mission 4:56pm

gojo: can’t believe you all left me w ijichi ( ⩌'︿'⩌) 4:57pm

you: where’s shoko? 4:57pm

gojo: clinic like a loser i dont wanna go down there lol might catch smth 4:59pm

gojo: when are u coming back 5:00pm

you: i just got here (˶˃⤙˂˶) but probably in a few hours, i won’t stay overnight 5:01pm

gojo: yeah u wont the hell 5:02pm

gojo: my girl gotta get back to me asap ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧waiting impatinetlyyyyyyy 5:03pm

you: omg lol just bumped into some salaryman and he almost knocked me over. i think he was frightened of my poorly concealed weapon and apologized heh 5:05pm

gojo: where is he? give him ur phone i wanna talk 5:05pm

you: he left already, it’s ok 5:05pm

gojo: teleporting rn 5:06pm

you: ? you can’t do long distances stupid 5:06pm

gojo: yeah and he better be grateful that i cant 5:07pm

gojo: r u done yet want u home 5:41pm

gojo: hello? no ‘yes my gorgeous blue eyed king'? rude 5:42pm

gojo: ok it has been an hour im gonna be serious, did you meet another boy or something? cant wait to murder him 6:33pm

gojo: dont tell me you got kidnapped. i will purple the planet 7:01pm

gojo: 10 mins until i start ripping at the seams and go psycho and rip the roof off the entire city. call me rn, and then, when youre done, i'm stealing you away for a month 7:15pm

gojo: ok in a bad mood now 7:46pm

gojo: we’re talking cthulu levels of bad 8:00pm

gojo: would it be dramatic if i were to jump over a cliff 8:10pm

gojo: hi this is principal yaga gojo has jumped to his death please text back and list everything you love and find sexy about him 8:12pm

gojo: ok ur freaking me the fuck out im coming to get u u can cry abt it later and yaga can scream and shit all he wants grade 3s shouldn’t take this long 8:25pm

gojo: gonna text u till you respond, u know that, right? 2:00am

*

MISSION REPORT: 15.08.2009

LEAD ASSIGNED OFFICIAL: YAGA MASAMICHI, 1ST GRADE

SORCERER: KAWAKAMI Y/N, 1ST GRADE

PROBLEM DESCRIPTIONS: 3RD CLASS CURSE CONFIRMED DISPELLING PROCESS (UNKNOWN – FIRST RESPONSE TEAMS)

REPORT REGARDING JOB ACCOMPLISHED: KAWAKAMI LOCATED CURSE SITE (CHICHIBU STATION UNDERGROUND) – SCAN FOR TARGET, CRITICAL INJURY; CURSED INHERITANCE-TYPE SPECIAL GRADE – ATTEMPT AT SEALING PROCESS FAILED, DISEASED APPENDAGES, LIMBS & 80% NECROTISED FLESH - UNKNOWN ANGULATION - TIME OF DEATH, 15.08.2009. 5.13PM.

CURSE CONFIRMED DESTROYED: 15.08.2009, 9.59PM, GOJO SATORU.

DEATH REPORTED: 15.08.2009, 11.03PM, GOJO SATORU. BODY RETRIEVED: 12.15AM, MEDICAL TEAM. FINAL EXAMINATION: 2:02AM, IEIRI SHOKO.

ACCELERATED FUNERAL CEREMONY IN EFFECT AS NEXT OF KIN; NONE.

JOB SOLVED: GOJO SATORU.

MISSION REPORT SUBMITTED: NANAMI KENTO, 18.08.2009.

CLOSED.

author's note:

1) so sorry it was planned from the start 2) i do wonder how long satoru would have really sat there in the ground levels of a train station when the fight was over. he did for an hour, but if he had the time, he would likely have spent more time saying goodbye 3) now u know why the cover image of the masterlist is the specific one where gojo wakes up w tears from a dream he had about his school days

before you lynch me, the technique of our dear reader really was in her lastname - kawakami. i'm a big fan of junji ito, and since there's already a ref in jjk of his manga (uzumaki), i though "huh, it would be sooo cool if the mc had a power like tomie!!!" so i wrote this. i wrote a lot of versions, some were a bit scary, so i scrapped them. tomie kawakami's power is essentially being able to clone and heal herself from a single strand of dna, along with a bunch of disturbing stuff, but that's one of the main components of her power.

so here, i present to you an endless amount of endings (2): a) reader has really died, getou has defected, more nice trauma b) reader has not died and returns at any point after the report is submitted, as per her cool powers. getou still defects im sorry some things are doomed by the narrative

either way, u can't get over something like this. megumi? satoru? suguru? shoko? they could never heal from this, no matter if reader came back or not xx

next time i promise to write something where no one dies and there is a happy ending. but for now, that's all, folks! i love u even tho u probably hate me. that's ok. i, too, am gracious and merciful.

tags (couldn't tag in bold!). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @alygator77 , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy , @mydearchoso , @plutoisaghoul , @byerno6 , @bqvz , @harryzcherry , @noira-l , @your-sleeparalysisdem0n , @satoryaa , @cccandynecklaces , @stuffeddeer , @cherriee-ee , @ducky1232

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Look Alike

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x3)

Warnings: eating disorder, mentions of depression, attempted murder, I didn’t copy the episode exactly so probably some mistakes

Synopsis: an angel is going around killing anyone who is suffering—but what happens when it goes after you?

A/N: this one is kinda heavy guys, so if this is a topic that will trigger you PLEASE do not read it. And please remember—I think you’re beautiful, and always remember to eat something, even if it’s just a snack, even if it’s not “good for you”; eating something just because you like how it tastes is better than not eating anything at all. Love you guys!

Your fingers fumbled as they retrieved your picture of Mary Winchester, tattered and faded at the edges. You looked from the picture to your own reflection, your heart plummeting.

Your mother had this…this look about her; she was slender and beautiful, but also strong. Strong enough to be a hunter.

You looked at your own reflection again before ducking your head, tucking Mary’s photo back into your wallet.

“Hey kid.” Dean’s voice in your doorway startled you, and you whipped your head around. “Lunch is ready, let’s go…what are you doing in here?”

“Oh, no-nothing,” you muttered, your hands fidgeting. “I’m not that hungry right now, maybe I’ll get something later.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Um—actually, maybe I will eat now.” you sidestepped his question and his body as you headed for the kitchen. Dean dropped the subject, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were going to have to be more careful about your eating habits—or lack thereof.

Of course Dean had made burgers again. You looked to Sam, hoping he’d made something else, but he was happily chowing down on a huge hamburger—apparently he didn’t mind them if they didn’t come from greasy diners.

You forced yourself not to huff; it was impossible to pretend to eat a burger, so you’d really have to eat this time.

“Here.” Dean pushed a plate at you, and you took it without protest.

You managed to choke down about two bites before Dean got a phone call. He spoke for a few minutes before hanging up and addressing his younger siblings.

“Cas has a case. I’m gonna go check it out.”

“A case?” You put down your burger. “I’ll go pack.”

“I can take this one alone,” Dean assured you.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m coming.” You started for the door, hoping he wouldn’t argue.

“You’re not gonna finish your food?” Sam asked.

“I had enough,” you assured him, and ran off before he could argue.

…

“So…he exploded.” Dean was staring around at the pink living room, a grimace on his face.

“Yeah. So completely that there’s not a bit of him left that’s bigger than a grain of sand,” a nearby officer said. Once the officer stepped away, Dean spoke to you. “I’m gonna go talk to Cas, see what he can tell me. You should stay at the motel, read up on some things.”

“Ok.” You shrugged. “Call me if you find anything out.”

“Deal.”

…

“Ephraim.”

“Gazuntite.”

“No, Dean. Ephraim was—is—an angel, his job on the battlefield was to end the suffering of dying angels.”

“End the suffering…let me guess, by blowing them up?” Dean said.

“Unfortunately, yes. It seems that he’s continuing his mission on earth.”

“Yeah, but these people aren’t dying, they just had a bad day.”

“Apparently Ephraim can’t tell the difference between emotional suffering and…”

“And dying?” Dean scoffed. “Cas, this is crazy. Everybody has bad days, this guy is gonna end up wiping out the world.”

“It’s more than just bad days,” Castiel argued. “These people were in serious emotional turmoil. But you’re right—you need to find him.”

“You’re not gonna help?” Dean challenged.

“Dean, I’m just human. There’s nothing I can do.”

…

You stared at the takeout container that Dean had got you before dropping you off. You couldn’t refuse, you knew he would start to notice if you refused too many meals, but you still didn’t want it.

Your stomach growled, and you cringed. Maybe part of you wanted it.

You pushed the container away, opting instead to don workout clothes—the motel had a gym. You’d never be able to be a hunter like Mary, you’d never be able to keep up with your brothers, if you didn’t workout more.

After an hour on the treadmill, you decided it was time to get back to work. You didn’t want to leave Dean in the lurch when it came to research, even if he hadn’t told you any more information. He got this way when he took you on hunts—determined to do it all alone, not clueing you in on anything.

It’s because you don’t look like a hunter yet.

You swallowed hard. You may not look like a hunter yet, but you would soon enough. You just had to skip a few more meals, go a few more days, and then—just maybe—you could be a good hunter. You would look like Mary did, strong and in shape, and your brothers would trust you more.

You slipped back into your room, going straight for your bag to get your picture of Mary. You held it up for the millionth time, looking from it to the mirror. Your heart sank—you weren’t Mary; maybe you never would be.

Your stomach growled again, and you huffed.

“No,” you told yourself. Your eyes flickered over to the takeout container. You snatched it off the table and threw it into the trash. “No!”

You couldn’t give up now—who cared if you were hungry? Sam and Dean gave up a lifetime of sleep to keep hunting, you could skip some meals to do the same. You had to.

You hadn’t even noticed that you were crying until a few tears dropped onto Mary’s smiling face in your hands.

“Mom,” you whimpered. “Why can’t I just be like you?”

“I can help you.” The voice behind you startled you, and you dropped Mary’s photo, whirling around and reaching for the gun at your waist and.

“Who are you?” You demanded, raising the weapon.

“That won’t do anything to me,” the man insisted. “And you don’t need it. I’m here to help you. You’re suffering, and I’m here to end it.”

“End it?” You took a step back. “You’re the guy we’re after. You’re the one who killed that man, and that teenager.”

“I ended their suffering,” the man continued, stepping towards you. “And I can end yours.”

“It’s not like that!” The gun was shaking in your hands. You didn’t bother to shoot, knowing it wouldn’t help. “I’m not dying!”

“You are,” he argued. “I can heal your hunger, but I cannot make you eat. But the end I will give you will be painless.”

“What are you?” You demanded, taking another step back. Your back hit the sharp edge of a splintered desk, halting your movements.

“I am an angel. My mission is to end suffering. Let me end yours.”

“An angel, huh.” You put your gun down on the desk as if in defeat. While Ephraim kept his attention on your face, you moved your hand down to the splintered edge of the table and slid it across, drawing blood. Dropping your hand out of sight behind the desk, you began to draw an angel banishing sigil.

Ephraim moved before you could blink, grabbing your wrist and twisting it away from the desk.

“Don’t fight it,” he said. “I can help you.” His free hand was suddenly above you, lowering towards your forehead like death’s scythe.

“Hey!” The grip on you was released at the sound of Dean’s voice in the doorway. “Leave her alone!” Dean had his angel blade out and pointed at Ephraim. “You don’t get to just kill people because they’re hurting.”

“That’s exactly what I was made for,” Ephraim argued. “You didn’t even know she was suffering, but I do! And I can fix it!”

“That’s now how you fix it!” Dean thundered. He lunged forward, stabbing at Ephraim with the blade, but the angel side stepped him and flung him into the wall with a single flick of his wrist. The angel blade clattered to the ground, and you once again found yourself face-to-face with the murderous angel.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Look, I know you think you’re doing good. But humans—they hurt sometimes. But we can do better—I can do better—we’re all just doing the best we can.”

“If this is the best that you can do.” Ephraim shook his head. “Then this is what you need.” He stretched out his hand, and your breath caught in your throat.

You jumped back in surprise when Ephraim’s eyes glowed brightly, his jaw hanging open before he slumped to the ground. Dean stood behind him, a bloody angel blade gripped in his hand.

“That’s not what she needs,” he growled almost to himself. Then his eyes were on you. “Are you ok?”

You nodded shakily, taking a deep breath.

“Ok.” Dean dropped the angel blade. “Now what was that about? Why did he think—“

“I-I don’t know.” You couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Well what—“ Dean’s voice caught, and you looked up to see him staring at the corner of the room. You followed his gaze, and your stomach dropped. He was staring at the tiny garbage can in the corner, the open and full takeout container fully visible.

“Kid.” Dean swallowed. “When was the last time you ate? And no, that one bite of your burger didn’t count.” Dean’s eyes were on you now, and he petrified you to the spot with his gaze. “I mean when was the last time you really ate?”

“I—um…” your lip quivered and your hands began to fidget. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Ok, hey.” Dean pulled you into his arms when you started to cry. “I’ve got you kid.” He pulled away, brushing your tears. “Why are you doing this kid?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wiping at your face. “Dean—“ your voice caught and you choked on a sob.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “It’s ok, let’s…let’s go back home, ok? We can talk about it later. Go and wait in the car, I’ll bring the stuff.”

You went to the car without argument, and after you left Dean called Sam.

“Hey,” Dean huffed while he gathered the guns and clothes and tossed them in his bag. “Do you remember the last time you saw Y/N eat? Like, like a full meal.”

“Um…” Sam’s voice came out surprised and hesitant. “No.” Realization hit him. “No, I don’t. Dean, what’s going on?”

“I don’t think she’s eating. Ephraim…Ephraim tried to kill her.”

“I thought you said he only killed people who were…” Sam swallowed. “Who were really broken up, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean stopped packing long enough to clench and unclench his fist. “Yeah. She’s suffering, Sam, and we didn’t even know it. She stopped eating and we didn’t see.”

“Dean…” Dean heard Sam’s deep breath through the phone. “I’m…I’m gonna do some research while you get here. Try and talk to her on the ride home, ok? Maybe…we’ve gotta help her, Dean.”

“I know. We’ll be back in a couple hours.” Dean hung up, taking a deep breath. “Ok,” he said to himself, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a picture in the middle of the floor. He stooped to pick it up—it was Mary, when she wasn’t much older than you. Dean tucked it into his back pocket. “Ok.”

…

“Hey kid,” Dean greeted as he tossed his bag in the back. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, and you didn’t acknowledge him.

Dean let silence reign as he started up the Impala and headed down the road—he couldn’t force you to talk.

“I just wanted to look like her,” you said suddenly, your head resting against your knees.

Dean turned his head to look at you. “What?”

“Mom. I don’t look like her. She was such a good hunter, and I just wanted to be like that.”

“Kiddo—“ Dean’s voice caught. “Kid, you don’t have to look like her to be a good hunter.”

“But I can’t keep up with you.” You sniffled. “I thought if I looked like her…I could keep up with you.”

“When we were your age, we couldn’t have kept up with us,” Dean argued. “Besides, this isn’t…you don’t become a better hunter by starving yourself, kid.”

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as your fingers clenched on your jeans, bunching up the fabric before you let it go. When you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Dean forced himself to breathe through the pain, taking a moment before offering you a strong smile.

“That’s what we’re here for, kid. Me and Sammy are gonna help you.”

…

“Hey.” Sam’s hug when you stepped into the bunker was surprising and long. You heard Dean’s huff from behind you, but Sam ignored him.

“Hi.” Your greeting was muffled against Sam’s jacket, and he finally pulled away.

“Ok, so um, I’ve been doing some research, so I’ll show you what I got.” Sam reached behind him, picking up printouts from the internet. “I have a list of foods that are supposed to help, and um, I also made up a schedule—that’s supposed to make it easier—and if there’s any specific food you want me to pick up when I go out you can tell me. Or hey, you can just come with me and pick stuff out and—“

“Hey, dude,” Dean cut in with another huff. “I told you not to freak her out about this.”

“I’m not freaking her out!” Sam’s eyes went back to you. “Wait, am I freaking you out?”

“Um…” you picked at your hands. “It…it’s a lot…”

“We’ll start out small,” Dean insisted. “You want some toast?”

“Bread is good,” Sam piped up, holding up one of the research pages.

“Toast sounds good.” Your lips twitched up even as your eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, ok.” Dean’s arms were around you suddenly. “You got this, ok? We’re right here to help you.”

“Ok,” you sniffled.

Dean pulled away. “Ok. Now let’s get you something to eat, and then Sam can freak you out about everything he read.”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I think I can do that,” you sniffled.

“I know you can.” Dean grinned. “Oh, hey—“ Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out your picture of Mary. “This is yours.” You took it with a shaky hand, and when you looked back up Dean was bending down to stare into your eyes. “Hey. You’re just as pretty as mom. And she…she would want you to take care of yourself, ok? And so would dad. And so do we. Kapeesh?”

You threw your arms around Dean.

“Kapeesh,” you told him.

“Ok.” Dean pulled away, reaching up and brushing a stray tear off your face. “Now let’s go get that toast.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

[chaoticace2005]

Reasons the Mothman should die, collectively written by the residents of the Hazbin Hotel:

Coding for Characters: Vaggie, Charlie, Pentious, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, pretty much everyone

TW: References to abuse

He’s holding back Angel’s progress. (Vaggie, is killing really necessary?) (I am concerned about going after a Vee)

I’m hungry (ALASTOR!)

Ms. Angel gets nervous when on the phone with him.

His coat is tacky.

He’s a bug! And bugs must be DESTROYED!

So Angel stops feeling like he has to be so damn fake. This is getting on my fucking nerves.

HE LICKED CHARLIE!!! (Vaggie, wait it’s okay.)

Color scheme sucks. Purple AND red?!

He makes Angel sad, NOBODY should make Angel sad.

Those obnoxious glasses just make him look stupid.

He’s a manipulative, abusive prick.

ANGEL DIDN'T KNOW BOUNDARIES WERE A THING?!?!?!?!?!? (Honestly that explains a lot.)

NOBODY deserves to be in an abusive relationship.

Too many arms. Nobody needs that many. (...Angel has that many?) (Well maybe he shouldn't.)

Ms. Angel keeps coming home all messy!!

He’s ruining hearts for everyone. Me and Angel already have enough. At least those are on our bodies, what’s his excuse?

Hearts should not even be ASSOCIATED with Valentino, THIS IS NOT LOVE.

I can do without all the sexual depravity. While I am in Hell this is NOT one of the reasons.

If I have to hear that ringtone one more damn time-

The Eggies found some of his films. They should never be exposed to such horrors. Now I have to explain what “a sex” is.

Makes picture shows that are a disgrace to the idea of “entertainment.”

He’s making a bad name for Uncle Ozzie. This is NOT “lust.”

So we don’t have to listen to another one of Angel’s pornos. (Agreed, it’s quite horrifying!!)

So Ms. Angel isn’t tired when she gets home and can save the kinky stuff for then :) (Niff, really?)

So the kid stops coming home with bruises and cuts that I fix up at 3 am. (Husk, what the fuck?)

Because what the FUCK Valentino?

He keeps forcing Angel to do drugs. (HE WHAT?! Like crack??) (That but also I’m pretty sure whatever comes out of him is an aphrodisiac.)

I want to use his antenna as a backscratcher

Has that whole red color thing going on. Only I am allowed to wear red :) (Al, your text isn’t even red.) (My what?)

What is up with his red spit and smoke? Seriously disgusting.

The red stuff from him may be what allows Velvette to create her “Love Potions” which funds Vax’s stupid endeavors (Do you mean Vox?) (Who?)

FOR MY COLLECTION :D (…yeah okay.)

Really is making a bad name for Overlords. And not in the fun way.

Angel’s shown trauma signs of abuse in our meetings. Im pretty sure it’s Valentino.

Make a doll out of his fur so I have a main villain for roach puppet shows!!!

His only purpose is to keep Veks occupied but considering Vixen’s inane attempts to catch my attention it isn’t working.

So Angel can have his soul and he and Husk can run off into the sunset together like in a fanfiction!!! (Ah, yes that would be nice.) (WE WHAT?!) (Oh Husker, denial doesn’t suit you.)

So Angel can get a good boyfriend THAT’S NOT ME to stop these bullshit allegations.

So Angel can admit his feelings to Husker because our cat surely isn’t going to be the first to do it. (ALASTOR I SWEAR TO GOD!)

Who knows how many other people he’s abusing.

Seems to give Vicks confidence. He has enough of that as is. It much more fun to destroy him.

He makes Angel sad which makes Cherri sad!

HE HIT ANGEL!!!

Called my dear Rosie an "old hag" NOBODY CALLS ROSIE AN OLD HAG.

Angel is a good friend and deserves so much better.

I’ve forgotten what moths taste like.

He keeps trying to get Angel to move out :(

Told the kid he had to lose weight. What the actual FUCK. (Ill kill him.)

He’s annoying and looks quite stupid. How has this not been added yet?!

He’s making a bad name for Spanish speakers everywhere. (Yeah it’s embarrassing.) (Wait… what?)

He’s making a bad name for pansexuals everywhere.

He’s making a bad name for wing-holders everywhere. (HE HAS FUCKING WINGS?!) (Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you?)

Too tall. This is ridiculous.

Won’t admit he’s blind so he’s become even more of a public safety hazard.

If I get one more transmission of him and Box commiting lascivious acts someone will be eaten. I don’t care who. What the purpose of these are I don’t know. Advertisement? (I think it’s to make you jealous boss.) (Ha! Jealous of what? Mediocre sex with a pathetic excuse for a businessman with a TV as a head?)

Because Angel deserves fucking better.