#u are right. there will certainly be more in the future

[erwinsvow]

GOT WHAT YOU WANTED

summary: you're rafe's best friend—kelce and top's too, but there's always been something more between the two of you. neither of you will do anything about it. clearly, the solution is to become friends with benefits.

now spinning: too many nights by metro & future

word count: 11.5k

warning/tags: kook trio reader, using jj to make rafe jealous, mentions of drugs/partying, jealous/possessive rafe and reader, smut !, rafe deals coke. tysm to @zyafics for beta’ing & helping me so muchh & @inimamea for being so lovely and supportive. tysm to all the lovely anons who have been supporting and loving this concept from the start, i hope u all love this ♡ (but sorry in advance if u don’t)

truth be told, you didn’t like making rafe angry. 

it wasn’t fun for you, like other things were—watching your boys play golf while you lounged in the cart with the cold drinks, picking out a pretty outfit for the day, crashing on the couch at tannyhill with your head in rafe’s lap and feet over kelce’s legs. 

those were fun things. what you were doing now, with jj, was something borne of necessity. you’re not a mean girl. you find it tough to be mean to anyone except rafe, actually, and only because he dishes it back and you know his feelings aren’t really hurt, but right now you were being mean.

to jj that is. 

you smile at the blond boy seated next to you, the golden glow of the bonfire casting its warmth onto both of you. you laugh at another joke he makes, but only half-hearted, taking another sip of the beer he’d gotten you from the keg.

jj’s funny, he’s sweet too. it’s not his fault you wish you were seated next to your best friend instead of him, drinking a strawberry seltzer from the case that rafe keeps in the back of his truck specially for you. 

“so?” jj asks, and you turn from staring at your shoes to look up at him. he’s looking at you with a smile, a very charming smile that you could have a lot of fun with, except you’re starting to feel bad about toying with him like this. 

“so?” you repeat back, softly. he leans in a little to hear you. you feel a little warm at the action, but it could just as easily be from the fire. 

jj’s nice—and you’ve always liked nice, preferred it to almost anything. every boy you had ever introduced to your trio had been nice, though rafe hadn’t ever cared. he’d hated them from the moment he’d laid eyes on them. you wonder now when you let him seep into your mind like this, with every other thought about rafe rafe rafe. somewhere in between accepting jj’s invitation to come to the bonfire with him and getting jealous over the fact that rafe was seeing some random girl.

“you didn’t tell your other boy about this, did’ya?” you look up at jj with eyebrows knitted, puzzled.

“other.. boy?”

“cameron.” now you really flush—you certainly don’t want jj to think rafe is your other anything.

“no, no. we’re not dating. we’re just friends.”

“right, okay. you tell him about tonight?”

“no. it didn’t come up.”

“ah. got it.”

“why?” you ask, and before you can look around, jj stares into the distance, gesturing with his eyes to a blurry figure.

“nothin’. he’s just been starin’ at us since we sat down, so i figured, but-” you stand up, looking into the distance where rafe was. you can feel yourself turning green with envy, red with rage, watching him stand next to the same girl he’s been with, her looking at rafe while rafe looks at you.

you sit back down on the log, wrapping a hand around jj’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside you. from this angle, rafe can’t make out anything but your backs, and maybe the lack of any real distance between you and jj.

“sorry,” you say, sweetly, almost having regained your wrath the second you saw the two of them standing together. “he’s crazy.”

“s’okay. not news to me, princess.” jj takes a pause, and you chew your cheek, trying to decide how far you were willing to take this. “you okay?”

“yes. why wouldn’t i be?”

“well, uh, it doesn’t take a genius. even though, y’know, i am one, to know somethin’s up.” “no, jj, i promise, we’re ju-” “just friends, yeah, i got it. i mean, i don’t know what type of friends exactly, but uh, i like you. and i’ll like you even if he has a problem with it. so up to you, really.” you glance up at jj, who is being nicer to you right now than you deserve. 

and you hate it, hate every second of it. you hate how rafe makes you feel, how angry and jealous you get, the fact that you even started talking to jj when in the back of your mind you knew it was because rafe would get upset over it.

but you also hate what rafe’s doing, the girl he’s with and the way he’s with her, the fact that he brought her here and still won’t stop shooting daggers into jj’s head. in short, you hate all of it. 

you lean in, resting your head against jj’s shoulder. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s going on with him. but, he’s here with a girl.”

“and you’re here with me.” jj wraps an arm around you. 

“yes, but not because-well, i don’t know.” it feels stupid coming out, but if jj thinks that, he doesn’t show any signs of it.

“s’okay. don’t always have to know.” you keep your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth he brings. “by the way, he’s still watching.” you smile, though you can’t tell which boy elicited it. “i mean, not gonna complain if i get to be your boy toy for a little but, nice to know you care-” you giggle, pulling away to put your drink on the sandy ground.

“you’re telling me you don’t want a sugar mama?” he laughs at your words and you relish in it. 

it could be picture perfect—waves crashing in the back, the fire flickering in front of you, stars sparkling above. jj keeps his hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss, and you find yourself leaning too, when the voice of your best friend breaks the silence. you pull away from jj to look up at rafe standing behind you.

“hey. we’re goin’. c’mon.”

“rafe-” you start, but you get interrupted. jj stands, facing rafe.

“hey buddy, we’re a little busy. but uh, i’ll make sure she gets home safe-”

“guys-”

“wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, pogue-”

“tuck her into bed, and everything. don’t worry your little head ‘bout it-”

“m’gonna knock your little head out if you don’t get the fuck away from-” having heard enough, you drag rafe away by his arm, your pretty nails digging in harshly.

“what the fuck was that, rafe?” you ask, though you feel the bitterness coursing through your veins. how’s that fair—that he parades his girlfriend around you, at the club and here at the bonfire, but you can’t so much as spend a moment alone with jj. 

whatever reservations you had just held about using jj to make rafe jealous seem to have gone far away. instead you’re just angry—he wants his own girlfriend and he wants you without a boyfriend too. you turn to look back at the boy you left behind at the fire. jj gives you a thumbs up.

“how many times do i have to fuckin’ tell you to-to stay away from that pogue-”

“he has a name,” you counter, so defensive because jj was being nice to you even when he didn’t have to be, helping you even with no gain for himself. “and you can’t order me around, okay? you brought a girl here but i can’t talk to jayj? how does that make any sense?”

“stop yellin’,” he barks, grabbing you by the arm now, and guiding you away.

“why? afraid someone might hear us? like your little girlfriend? where’d she go, by the way, i bet she’s missing you right about now-”

“shut up. shut it.” you don’t realize how far rafe’s dragged you until you shake out of his tight grip, standing next to his truck on the street.

“i’m sick of this rafe.” it comes out quieter than you intend, tears prickling up. you hate crying, especially infront of the boys but even more so infront of rafe. “i’m not stopping my life and boys that i wanna see, and relationships i want to have because you’re not okay with it. not when you have your own girlfriend. it’s not fair.” 

“i don’t. i don’t have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes, he watches it happen with a tight fist, jaw clenching.

“yes, you do.”

“no, i don’t.”

“you don’t?” you question, unbelieving. “you just.. walk around with the same girl for weeks. take her everywhere. but she’s not your girlfriend?” you’re snarky like always—you still don’t know if he likes it or not.

“no, she’s not.” 

“bullshit. at least get your fucking story straight, rafe. that girl’s probably half in love with you-” “m’not dating her. and if it bothered you so much how come you didn’t say something, huh? you pull this shit with fuckin’ maybank instead?”

“i’m not pulling anything with jj.” you lie through your teeth, hoping rafe bites. “i-i like him.”

“no you fuckin’ don’t.”

“who are you to tell me-”

“you don’t like him. what you like is makin’ me fuckin’ angry. well, it worked. stay the fuck away from him. and get in the goddamn truck.”

you groan loudly, the noise almost a scream and filling the quiet street. but you comply, getting into the passenger seat and letting rafe drive you home—to your house, not tannyhill like every other night. when he pulls up to your house, you resist the urge to get out without saying anything at all.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” you sigh, looking back up at rafe.

“that’s it? you’ll see me tomorrow?”

“what else do you want me to say, huh?”

“are you just gonna ignore all of that? what the hell was that?”

“m’not ignoring anything-”

“so, i can’t see jj anymore. are you still seeing her? who am i allowed to date then? kelce? top? do you have a pre-approved list for me?”

“shut up.”

“rafe,” you sound serious, as serious as he’s ever heard you, shifting in your seat to look right at him. he looks back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel at the mention of you dating kelce or top or anyone. “i’m not gonna stay single forever. i know your alpha-male tendencies don’t agree with it, but girls have needs too. i want-”

“what? what do you want?”

“the possibility of getting laid without you screaming at every boy i talk to would be nice.”

“don’t talk like that.”

“rafe.” 

exasperated, you unlock the door and climb out, not turning back to say goodnight. the last twelve hours seem like a blur, between texting jj and actually seeing him and rafe’s reaction to it. you’re not sure what kind of reaction you really wanted out of him, but you’re not happy with the one you got. you don’t know what, if anything, would have pleased you. 

that night, you go to bed angry and wake up sad. jj texted you something but you can’t find the heart to look at his message yet. 

you’re sure the boys have something planned for today, like they always do, but the idea of opening the groupchat to look at what they decided on makes you feel sick. so you stay home instead, showering off yesterday’s anger and wondering why rafe thinks you don’t deserve to have a boy in your life to fool around with, to date, to do anything with. 

the answer, sharp and painful like the jagged end of a piece of glass, hovers in your mind. you try to push it away.

rafe’s wrong—like always. you really don’t like making him angry, like it even less that your routine is disrupted and that for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to see your best friends today. brushing your hair, the sound of your bedroom door opening snaps you out of your thoughts.

“c’mon kid. get dressed. top’s got tee time at two and we booked lunch before.” you turn to look at rafe but don’t budge. he takes a look at you—dressed in one of his old frat shirts and plaid shorts that barely peak out. 

you look pretty all the time but it feels the worst, the hardest to deal with, when it’s just the two of you alone like this, none of the shit that you do for other people, for outside the house—the makeup, the hair, the nice clothes. when you’re pretty like this it’s just for him, since no one else gets to see you, no one but him. you probably didn’t even notice you were wearing one of his shirts—something that leaves him feeling more pleased than he should be. but like always, he’s not gonna tell you any of that.

“are you adding deaf to stupid?” he asks, and you roll your eyes, letting out an irritated huff.

“i’m not coming. go away.” you turn around on your vanity chair to face your mirror, continuing brushing your hair. rafe walks up behind you, staring at you in the mirror.

“c’mon. lunch is at the place you like. i’ll even talk to you when kelce and top are up.”

“is that your way of apologizing?”

“it’s not an apology.”

“of course it’s not. why would you say sorry? you probably don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“i didn’t.”

“mm-hm. when does rafe cameron ever do anything wrong?” you keep brushing your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror instead of at him. “psycho.”

rafe yanks the brush from your hand, spinning your chair around to face him. he boxes you in, his hands resting on the armrests. he’s too close to you, it makes his head spin. you wish he’d stop, you know he’s not going to. you watch with bated breath, wondering what’s coming next.

“i… didn’t mean to make you upset.” you keep staring up at rafe, blinking fast. “and i didn’t see it from your side. so, m’sorry. about that part. nothin’ else.” you can’t help the slow smile that grows on your face—rafe, apologizing, and to you of all people. you thought you’d never see the day.

“thanks rafe.”

“alright. get ready. truck’s still runnin’.” he pulls himself upright, freeing you of the restraint. you can hear the bass of the music in his car, the future song audible from your open window. 

“that’s bad for the environment. and i didn’t say i forgave you.” snatching the hairbrush back, you resume your motions. you hear rafe groan and it’s hard to hold back the smile. maybe you did like making him angry.

“kid.” 

“what? i heard your apology, and i don’t accept it. hope you girls have fun at golf-” rafe leans back in, holding your jaw shut between his fingers.

“do you ever shut up?” you shake your head from your position, though you can’t really move. “what’s it gonna take, huh? you want my permission to fuck ‘round? sleep with some, some fuckin’ nobody? some pogue? tough shit. you’re not gettin’ it.” he lets you go, and you rub your jaw tenderly.

“but you get to do it?” 

“that’s different-”

“no it’s not! you’re just a dick. and sexist. who am i supposed to sleep with, then?” you shoot back.

“i don’t fuckin’ know, kid. me, i guess. at this point-”

“ha-ha funny. you’re an-” when you finally get up and look at him, he’s staring at you. “what?”

“yeah. that’s fine.” he shrugs, like he’s just decided something trivial, like what to order at lunch or which iron to use. “you can sleep with me.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. yeah, it’s a good solution. that way you can stay the fuck away from maybank and any other asshole.”

“rafe. shut up.”

“think about it,” he says, and you fall silent to listen, though this is the worst idea  you’ve ever heard in your life. “you get what you want. i get what i want. it works out.”

“how is being your pity-fuck remotely close to what i want?”

“sheesh, kid m’tryna help you right now. offerin’ you a solution-”

“rafe?” “yeah?”

“get out.” you walk over the door, swining it open and waiting for him to step out.

“just think ‘bout it,” rafe says, standing by the door but not leaving just yet. “alright?”

“goodbye, rafe.” 

you listen to the sounds—him walking down the staircase, the front door closing, his truck taking off. after you’re sure he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding inside.

sleeping with rafe had been nothing more than a drunken thought that occasionally slipped into your mind when he’d be nice to you after some party. curling up next to him at tannyhill every other night certainly didn’t help, but that’s all it was—a thought, not reality. 

then you wonder if it’s really such a bad idea. maybe if you just got out all of this pent up energy with rafe, and then worked on finding someone he actually approved of, it would be easier for both of you. 

key word: maybe.

the idea that he’s still seeing that girl, the one he keeps denying is his girlfriend, makes you want to puke. he’d have to stop that, that would be part of your agreement. 

maybe rafe’s right, maybe you both get what you want out of this, as messed up as it seems. it can’t be the worst idea in the world—kelce and top always joke the two of you are half a couple already.

you go to your closet to pick out an outfit for golf, hoping you weren’t about to ruin your friendship with your best friend.

.☘︎ ݁˖

rafe’s leaning against the bar at the club when you find him. you think he’s got a weird sixth sense, he always knows when you’re around, and he looks up before you’re even near him. 

“i knew you wouldn’t pass on lunch. top owes me five bucks.”

“yeah. sure.” you put a hand on the counter to steady yourself—this is harder than you thought it would be. rafe takes a sip of his drink. you want to chastise him, tell him it’s only twelve-thirty and too early for drinking, but nothing comes out. your mouth feels dry and you almost want to chug the rest of his scotch. surprisingly, you refrain.

“what?” rafe asks, and you glance up at him, eyes locked.

“i thought about what you said this morning. what you offered.”

“and?” the bastard looks so smug. you should the slap the smirk off his face but you know what he’s thinking—proud of coming up with the idea himself, thinking he’s doing such a service.

“and.. better the devil you know and all that.” you wait for the other shoe to drop for a moment, for rafe to admit it was all a big prank and you fell for it, and now the boys owe him money or something.

“good. i agree. so should we get outta here, or what?”

“right now?” you question, eyes widening. “what about tee time?”

“you’re the only who’s so horny you’re on the verge of jumping pogues. m’just tryna help you-”

“shut up!”your face heats, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “by the way, between the two of us you’re the only one jumping pogues.”

“yeah, yeah. so not now, then?”

“a gentlemen as always, rafe. no, really, thank you, for showing me chivalry’s not dead.” you roll your eyes again, staring ahead at the bottles behind the bar. you don’t want to turn and look at rafe again, but you do.

“at this rate m’gonna have to show you what friends with benefits means too.”

“shut up.” it comes out like a hiss this time, narrowed eyes focusing in on your best friend and apparently, new fuck buddy.

“yeah, yeah. they’re at the table near the window.” 

“thanks.” you walk in that direction, catching a glimpse of top and kelce, but your feet pause for a moment. you stay still, but glance back at rafe.

he’s not leaning against the bar anymore—he’s facing you, staring at you. blue eyes rake over your skin top to bottom, focusing on the pretty sandals and polished white toes, smooth lotioned skin, your short white skirt and tight golf shirt, with one too many buttons popped. 

when you’re talking without ever shutting up, it’s hard for him to focus on anything but your glossy lips or long eyelashes fluttering when you roll your eyes. but now he’s taking it in—how easily you agreed to this little idea, how you talk a big game but you don’t seem as hesitant or upset as you were this morning. 

you turn back and keep walking towards the table—rafe can tell you’re flushed. he’s fine with it, prefers it this way. anything’s better than you going on dates with strangers, showing them looks and emotions and other things that belong to him.

if you’re horny, all you had to do was tell him. downing the rest of his drink, he goes back to the table and like always, sits next to you. 

kelce and top talk about the same old shit, until they focus their attention on you. you’re being quiet, not nearly as talkative or snippy as usual, and you haven’t said a word to rafe the whole time.

“and where’d you two go off to last night?” kelce asks, pointedly looking at rafe while he asks you the question.

“you guys know you left us stranded, right? we all came together. i mean i’m not saying self-absorbed but-” topper adds, but you cut him off.

“you’re really not one to talk about self-absorbed, are you top?” you shoot back, and kelce chokes on his water. 

“easy,” rafe says, and normally you’d fire away something at him too, but this time you don’t. “we had somethin’ to take care of. but you got home didn’t you?”

“yes, but-” topper says, but rafe cuts him off again. you hold back a laugh.

“then shut up ‘bout it.”

“kelce’s mom had to pick us up. it was humiliating.” you snort into your lemonade, all four of you bursting into laughter. you turn to ask kelce a follow up question, and rafe’s staring at you while you laugh. something low in your stomach twists, like a butterfly trying to fly out and away.

when kelce and rafe start talking about the course today, topper leans in to say something to you.

“you’re getting mean. y’know that means you’re spending too much time with him.” you transfer your gaze from top to rafe, staring at the boy next to you. 

the idea of what you would normally say floats through your head—something funny and earnest but still making top feel better, not saying sorry but making him laugh instead. nothing comes to mind.

“yeah. i guess i am.”

you sit through golf, reading your book in the cart while the boys play nine holes. your phone rings with a call from your parents about an hour in, and when you step away to take it, rafe follows you. the boys protest from the distance—it must have been his turn.

“you goin’ home?” rafe questions, and you jolt at the sound, not realizing he was right behind you.

“god. you scared me.” he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring down at you. “yes, uh, mom wants me home for something.”

“you need a ride?”

“no, i drove here, remember?” 

“oh. yeah. am i gonna see you tonight?” the words make you flush—stupidly, no matter how hard you try to fight it, knowing that they shouldn’t. the two of you are going to be terrible at this. “kid?”

“careful, rafe. you’re starting to sound like a boyfriend.” “yeah. and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

sucking in a breath, tearing your gaze away with pretty blue eyes that are looking at you like maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, you’re at a loss for words again. before all of this drama, you could count the amount of times you had been rendered speechless by rafe with no hands—since it had never happened. still with nothing to say, you turn around and start to walk away. foot steps follow you.

“hey, hey. m’joking, it’s just.. a joke. how about i come over later? and we’ll talk about it.” you spin on your heels to face him.

“talk about it? talk about what?”

“our.. arrangement. y’know talk about it..” he tilts his head stupidly and you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him. “..fuck about it.”

“okay! that’s it. bye, rafe.” storming away, you almost wish you hadn’t heard what he called out after you.

“bye, kid. i’ll see you later.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

at ten pm that night, freshly showered and somehow in another one of rafe’s shirts, you were back to where you were this morning—brushing your hair. rafe doesn’t knock on your door, just barges in.

“oh my god-”

“hello to you too.” he steps in, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on your bed. you spin on your chair to face him.

“how the hell do you keep getting in here?”

“what? your mom let me in.”

“you didn’t even text-”

“i told you at the club. you have selective memory, kid.” he looks you over again. “nice shirt.”

“oh shut up.” you turn away for a moment, setting the hairbrush down, biting your cheek. “so?”

“so?” he repeats. he’s smiling, you can just tell.

“aren’t we gonna talk about our arrangement? that’s what you told me at the club-” you finish in a mocking voice.

“what else is there to talk about? you wanna get laid, i don’t wanna see you with random guys.”

“i still don’t understand what’s wrong with the guys that i-” rafe cuts you off, and he sounds angry.

“of course you don’t understand. you don’t have’t think about this shit, because i think about it for you. what’d you gonna do when some guy starts sleepin’ with you ‘cause me and top pissed him off once? or one of those pogues, huh? to get back at us? take some video of you and send it to everyone? brag and show it off to everyone?”

“oh.”

“exactly. so m’lookin’ out for you. this is better, trust me.” the thing rafe’s saying are making sense. you were on board anyways, but you feel better that there’s a real reason behind it.

“but what about that girl-” you ask, though you don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting. rafe sighs.

“what about that girl?”

“are-are you gonna sleep with other people too?”

“no. m’too busy anyways. works out for both of us.”

“oh. okay. promise?”

“when have i ever lied to you?” you sigh, about to protest, when he finishes his sentence. “promise.” you feel strangely reassured, like this is a good idea.

“okay. thanks.” you dodge his gaze, playing with your manicured nails, pink this time.

“alright. get on the bed.”

“rafe-”

“what? i just said-”

“you’re not even gonna, like, take me out for dinner first?”

“who the hell d’you think paid for your lunch?”

“i don’t know.. kelce? he got lunch last week. should i go sleep with him next?”

“ha-ha. get on the bed.”

“ugh. you’re so crass. i don’t even know how you get any girls-”

“yeah, yeah. are you gonna shut up now or what?”

you can’t think of anything to say, so you finally follow his instructions, crawling into your bed and sitting up against your pillows to look at rafe. 

you’ve see him naked before. he’s seen you naked before. with all the time you spent together on the druthers or at the beach, you should be used to seeing him like this. he yanks off his shirt, pulling it off with a fist in the back over his head. 

the first sign that this idea wasn’t going to go as planned should have been now—feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight in front of you. your best friend shirtless, getting closer to your bed. your eyes rake over tan, muscled skin and the silver chain glimmering around his neck. you don’t realize you moved, body sliding down and back flat against your mattress while rafe starts to lean across the bed, his hand planted next to your head.

rafe’s hovering over you. your breathing shakes for a moment, wondering if it would be this easy for him to do this with any other girl. you dismiss the thought when rafe leans in to kiss you, but it almost seems too wrong to let it happen.

“wait-” you move your head a little so your lips are away from rafe’s. “are you sure? you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”

“stop bugging out, kid.” he says it low and quiet, and your entire body quivers from the sound.

“answer the question, asshole.” rafe laughs, his hot breath fanning across your cheek. you can’t help it, you laugh too, turning to look at him. you think he’ll be grinning like something’s funny, but your smile dies the second you lock eyes.

he’s not smiling, he looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. he licks his lips, moving his eyes over your body, his shirt and your bare legs.

“you wearin’ anything under this?” 

he moves one of his hands from your knee to your thigh, stroking the soft skin. you curl your leg automatically, head lifting to watch his hands and your entire body trembling under his touch—it’s hot and electric, making your heart beat faster and the hairs on your arm stand up. he looks up from your legs to your face, watches you shake your head to answer no. 

“good girl.” 

your head falls back onto the pillow when the words leave his mouth. a chuckle leaves his mouth, but still he’s not smiling, it’s more just a noise of pleasure than anything else. rafe sits up between your legs, hands grabbing onto both of your legs and stroking again. he makes his way all the way to your hips, fingers dancing over the waistband of your panties. 

you think he’ll stop, maybe at least answer your earlier question, though you can’t remember what you had even asked him. he doesn’t, fingers swiftly hooking around the fabric and pulling them down your legs. you suck in another breath, angling your foot so they fall onto the bed while you keep your eyes locked on him.

“y’ready?” he asks, and you nod, though you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. his hands go back to your thighs, pushing his t-shirt up to expose more skin. you tense up, but he keeps a palm on your knee. “relax.”

before you can anticipate anything else, he strokes your pussy, which is shamefully wet already, with two fingers, prodding the sensitive skin and gathering wetness. he does that laugh again, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, and you try to shut your trembling thighs in embarassment, but rafe holds them open.

“rafe-” but before you can finish your sentence, two thick fingers plunge inside you, “oh my god—!” 

“hah. good.” when he pushes his fingers out, just to slam them back in, your eyes roll all the way back, another loud moan emitting from your mouth, sounds he’s thought about a hundred times before but still can’t compare to the real thing. but of course, you don’t need to know any of that. “don’t get too loud. y’folks are downstairs, remember?”

you don’t seem to remember. when he picks up the pace, really just wanting to test you and see how much you could take, you start moaning even louder, sweet breathy sounds filling the room. they’re just for him, and normally he’d want you screaming, but he can’t arouse too much suspicious, or your parents won’t ever let him back in the house. his other hand, the one holding your legs open, moves to your mouth, clamping his palm over your lips to keep your noises quiet.

you must like it, you clench around his fingers and your walls flutter when he locks eyes with you, almost hunched over you to keep you quiet while still fucking his fingers—now three, though he didn’t realize when he’d added another—into you. 

rafe’s hard, and he can’t remember the last time he was patient enough to wait to get his dick wet, but he likes you like this, not just shutting up for once, but eyes shut and face twisted with pleasure, whimpering into his hand, legs shaking in his grip while you’re wet around his fingers. 

“rafe-” you mumble, the sound all muffled. “m’gonna, ohh-” he picks up the pace, shushing you while battering into your pussy, listening to the gasps and whimpers through his palm while you cum all over his hand. 

limbs like jelly and throat dry, you lay there, catching your breath. your skin’s hot and flushed, and you stare at rafe while he stares at you.

“what?” you question, and it comes out quiet, soft, like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. he’s thinking a couple of things, some of which have no business being in his head at all. do you always get this wet? who else has seen you like this? who’s gonna get to hear you moan the way you just did for him some day?

“nothin’.” 

“oh. okay.” you sit up against your headboard, pulling your—his—shirt down to cover up a little. “well, thank you.”

“yeah. no problem.” for a second he hestiates—briefly concerned you want him to leave now. “well? come on.” you’re trying to sound like you always do, a little irritated at him, a little snarky. he can see through it this time.

“what?” 

“get the condom. you’re the one who said we’re doing it today.” rafe watches for a second, wondering if he should laugh or yell at you, when you pull off his shirt. he stares at you, not moving, wondering why he thought this would be a good idea. 

he’s seen you naked before, changing in the same room or when you two lost all boundaries and started walking into bathrooms while the other’s showering, but this seems different. propped against your headboard naked, with your cum on his fingers, asking him to get a condom. now that he’s seen you like this, he has a new life mission of making sure no one else ever gets to. 

“god, you’re such a boy.”

“shut up.” 

“you shut up. you talked such a big game and now you’re just staring at my boobs-” he moves quickly, fingers on your jaw, actually shutting you up.

“lie down.” biting your lip, you comply, sliding down so rafe was on top of you. “spread your legs.” you move to do so, but rafe uses his hands on your thighs to pull them apart before you can. you can’t look at his face, it almost feels too weird, so you decide to stare at his dick instead, watching him roll the condom on with a puzzled face.

“what?” he’s been looking at your face the whole time.

“nothing. if i had known you were this big i would’ve asked a while ago-” rafe starts laughing, a real one this time, and you burst into giggles too.

“stop-” and he gets closer to you, lining himself up with your wet cunt, “-making me laugh. shut up.”

“you’ve said shut up like thirty times but you won’t stop talking eithe-oh!” he pushes in all at once, and all the breath leaves your lungs. you gasp instead, toes curling, feeling incredibly full, the disbelief that you’re full of rafe quickly fading away. 

you should have known he’d be good at this, good enough to actually get you to shut up. he starts a slow pace, thrusting in and out and you look up to see your best friend’s face contorted with pleasure, heavy breaths in your ears and the scent of his cologne overwhelming everything. his chain dangles on your neck, tickling you, and you try to permanently engrain the feeling into your memory.

you attempt to stay quiet, though the slam of the headboard against the wall is a dead giveaway. rafe pushes all the way out and then all the way back in with another slam, and there’s nothing you can do but take it, clamping your hand over your mouth now.

he manhandles your legs into place, pressing them to your chest while he continues the exhausting pace. you can’t discern anything but rafe’s quiet groans and heavy breaths. you’ve just cum but it doesn’t take long for that hot feeling to wind up again in your stomach, toes curling and eyes getting watery. your moans are still muffled, but the way rafe’s looking at you is only making them get louder. 

your bottom lip must be bleeding from the way your teeth have been abusing it. rafe moves your hand out of the way and leans in for a hot kiss, his tongue in your mouth and swallowing all of your noises.

with a final oh god, oh god, oh god, moaned into rafe’s mouth, you cum hard around his dick, eyes pressing shut and stray tears falling down, rafe’s lips not leaving yours. 

you don’t know why—but you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping the kiss going. rafe pulls away for a moment to breathe and you open your eyes, staring up at him through wet lashes, licking your swollen lips, while he looks back down at you.

he leans in for a final kiss, groaning into your mouth while he spills into the condom, still thrusting in and out of your sore pussy. 

rafe rolls off of you, resting on your sheets beside you. you try to catch your breath.

“you didn’t last very long.” 

“and how long did it take ya to cum all over my fingers?”

“oh, whatever. where’s my shirt?”

“it’s my shirt,” rafe says back, finding the discarded clothing on the ground and tossing it on your chest. you sit up, sliding his shirt back on. rafe’s standing, pulling on his shorts.

“are you leaving?” you ask, and you regret it the second it comes out, quiet and soft like you want him to stay. 

you do want him to stay, but you don’t want him to know that you do. it all feels very complicated and your thighs are aching, your throat dry. 

“no.” he sits back down next to you, swinging an arm over your shoulder like he always does. you lean into his chest. 

“you kissed me,” you say quietly. you’re glad your face is pressed into his side, you don’t think you could handle looking at his face right now. “and you were quiet. i didn’t expect that.”

“your parents are downstairs, remember?”

“oh. i forgot.” you realize after that you don’t want him to know he fucked you so hard you forgot where you were and who was home.

“is kissing off limits?” rafe asks, and you almost choke processing the sentence. things you never thought rafe would say to you.”

“no.. it was nice.” you pause, listening to the silence of the room and the thud of rafe’s chest in your ear. you’re no expert—though you fear you’re about to become one—but it seems faster than normal. “you want ice cream? or cookies? i made some yesterday.”

“no, kid. it’s fine.” you chew your cheek nervously. you want rafe to want to stay, not just because you asked.

“you can go.. if you need to.” you look up at him and then look back down when he meets your eyes. 

“why? got nowhere else to be.”

“oh. okay.”

“turn the tv on. we’ll watch your stupid movie”

“really?” your face lights up, grabbing the remote on your nightstand. you open up the blanket at the foot of the bed, covering both of you while you try to find you’ve got mail. you go back to your position and lean against rafe’s warm body, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s not unusual, he’s done it before, but you don’t miss the fact that he’s decided to do it now. you try to push away the warm feeling blooming in your chest.

“don’t ever make a joke about sleeping with kelce or top again.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

your tired muscles wake up to the sun pouring into your bedroom. the light shines on rafe’s still-asleep figure, but you knew it wouldn’t wake him up, nothing ever does. you don’t remember falling asleep, barely remember anything after rafe showing up.

and the part where you slept with your best friend.

a guilt-trip dangles on the edge, about to take over, when you push it away and focus on the text messages on your phone instead.

top: rafe can’t believe u bailed on cod. u better be dead in a ditch somewhere

kelce: maybe princess finally killed him

top: stop hanging out without us

kelce: top lets just pull up next time

you laugh, and rafe stirs at the sound. you give his arm a shove.

“you ditched playing video games for me? i’m so flattered, rafey.” 

“shut up.” he grumbles. “go back to bed. s’too early for this shit.”

“it’s nine in the morning. and i have pilates in an hour.”

rafe turns over, and you can’t deny it’s nice to have him in your bed for once—it seems like you’re always sleeping at tannyhill.

“didn’t get enough exercise last night? you need more?”

you fake a yawn, covering your mouth.

“exercise? what exercise? i don’t remember that. you mean the boring sex?”

rafe sits up, facing you. you choke back a laugh.

“you wanna say that again?”

“uhh-”

“in fact, why don’t you try and get up? ten bucks says you can’t even walk to the door.”

“i can’t believe the two of us even fit on this bed with your gigantic ego-”

“don’t see you walking. m’waiting.” you toss one of your throw pillows at him.

“get out!”

“alright. i’ll say good morning to your parents on my way-”

“okay! wait, stay.”

“s’what i thought.”

“some way to say good morning,” you mumble, scrolling through your other messages—a text from your other friends about a party tomorrow and a reminder for your pilates class.

“you woke me up.” 

“oh whatever. i was just surprised you skipped a video game for this. but i guess most boys would.”

“there’s not much i wouldn’t skip for you.” you smile at rafe, misunderstanding him.

“that’s so nice. are you saying i’m a great lay?” he rolls his eyes.

“i’m trying to- shut up. what’d they say?” he picks up his phone. 

about twenty minutes later, after checking the hallway (and that too on wobbly legs, just like the smug idiot had predicted) rafe leaves. like always, he says he’ll see you later.

you fall on your bed and dwell on the fact that rafe kissed you last night. it’s hard to focus on anything else, and with every passing second, you think this whole thing was a worse and worse idea.

but he doesn’t seem to think that way. he seemed fine. he’s better at the no-strings-attached thing than you, and you don’t think he would have suggested it if he didn’t think you could handle it. 

with that thought lingering, you get dressed for pilates and hope it’s easier to walk before you see the boys again. you find out that it’s really not. 

after your class, you check your phone, finding messages from top and kelce. game night and pizza at kelce’s house. you’re invited, of course, but you shoot them a message saying you’re staying home with your parents instead. 

the second you press send, rafe’s contact photo lights up your screen.

“rafe?” you answer it without even waiting.

“what, not comin’ tonight? you always come.”

“oh, um-” you pace around your room, trying to think of a lie on your feet. “mom and dad wanted to stay in. you know. game night.” the words feel stupid, though you hope he’ll believe it.

“okay. you gonna swing ‘round after?”

“no, probably not. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow. have fun, kid.”

“you too. tell them i say hi.”

the rest of your day flies by and it’s not long before you’re curling up in bed with a tub of ice cream. your parents went out to dinner with some friends, while you contemplated what the hell you were doing with your own friends.

you four always had a standing date on saturday mornings in the summer—snacks and a spin on the boat. if you don’t go, it’s going to be incredibly obvious something was going on with you. 

you call topper while you pack your boat bag—grabbing the necessities the boys always completely forget about; spray sunscreen, an extra baseball cap, a book for you when you inevitably get bored of listening to them talk.

“what’s up?” top says, and you’ve made your way into the kitchen, pulling out fruit to wash and cut.

“what time are we going on the boat? and i’m bringing strawberries and mangoes, is that fine?” topper is the pickiest when it comes to the fruit—kelce and rafe will eat whatever you bring.

“uh, i think noon. call rafe, we’re taking the druthers today.” crap. that’s what you were trying to avoid. it feels crazy the second you think it—trying to avoid rafe. you need to get it together. acting like some love sick girl over your best friend feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to do. he must bring it out in you. “do you have any of those oranges? the little ones?”

“i’ll bring ‘em. listen, i need to get ready, do you know the time? i’ll just meet you there.” your self-realization is going to have to wait for another day.

“noon, yeah. i’ll text it.”

“thanks top.” 

you start an internal monologue on repeat—stop being weird about it. he’s still your best friend. be normal. he is not your boyfriend. you repeat it, but still pick out the prettiest bikini you own, yellow gingham and held together entirely by straps you’ve tied into pretty bows. you throw on one of the boys’ button-ups that’s ended up in your closet somehow on top. 

walking onto the pier, you hesitate in front of the druthers. you don’t hear any of the boys, and though nothing’s stopped you from getting on and making yourself comfortable, you wait for a second.

it’s like he knows. rafe steps out from the bridge, and takes one look at you, eyes flicking up and down your body and taking in the yellow fabric that’s barely covering anything, before offering you his hand to get on. 

“hey.”

“hey.” you look around. “nice weather.”

“yeah.”

“kelce and top running late? he told me noon.”

“those two are always late.” he’s staring at you, and this time it becomes clear, that he’s looking at you the way a boy who has been inside of you looks at you.

“i packed mangoes. you liked them last time.”

“yeah, i did.”

“i just hope they’re sweet.”

“yeah. they probably are. sweet.” rafe keeps looking, and you turn around to set your bag down. “listen, kid-”

“it’s a great day. good weather.” 

“you already said that.”

“oh.”

“would you stop and look at me?”

“no, um,” you start, emptying out your bag onto one of the seats. “sorry, i’m busy.” you feel rafe grab your shoulder, turning you around. he’s not as rough as he could be, like he usually is.

“you okay?” he asks, and you feel stupid.

“i’m fine.. are you okay?”

“yeah. but you’re actin’ weird.”

“well yeah, rafe. we slept together. it’s weird.”

“you were on board-”

“i was. i am,” you clarify. surprising even to yourself, you think you still are. “doesn’t make it not weird. imagine if you and kelce slept together. wouldn’t it be weird?” rafe’s face twists into a mixture of disgust and concern. “okay. bad example. sorry.”

“yeah. m’just saying, i wanna make sure you’re okay. but i don’t regret it if that’s what you’re afraid of. and nothin’ has to change.” hearing him say it makes you feel better. you repeat the words, tasting the feel of it on your tongue.

“right. nothing’s changed. you’re still rafe. i’m still me.”

“it doesn’t have to happen again, if you don’t want it to.” you stare up at him with crossed arms.

“why are you being so nice about it?”

“jeez, kid. what, you-you want me to be a dick ‘bout it? sounds like you’d prefer that.”

“no, just. it’s weird when you’re nice.” you look at him for a second before the two of you start laughing. “y’know what i mean.”

“alright. i’ll stop being nice.”

“thank you. now where are these two? i wanna read my book.”

“probably still sleepin’. played until-” rafe keeps talking, but you realize you’re only half paying attention. he takes his shirt off, and at the very sight of his chain sparkling in the sun, you realize you’re no better than the girls who chase after him. “what?”

“hm?” a little dazed, you look up from his abs to his face.

“you’re starin’.”

“oh. you think we have enough time before they show up?”

“time for what?” rafe stares at you while you stare at him. “oh.”

turns out he thought you did have enough time. you end up with your cheek pressed against the tan sofa in the cabin, body folded with your head down and ass up. rafe’s slamming into you from behind, and though it’s only the second time with him, you think there’s no pleasure in the world comparable.

from this angle he feels even bigger than yesterday. you feel tighter, or maybe it’s just the way your cunt is sucking him in, he thinks, thrusting in and out with his hands grabbing the fat of your ass, watching it bounce with every one of his motions. he has an urge to untie your bikini top, just so he can look at the expanse of the bare skin of your back, but he knows you’ll fuss if he does. he settles for shoving the thin yellow fabric of your bottoms to the side, yanking it so hard that you’re scared it’ll rip.

“be—oh—careful,” you get out in between moans, louder than the first time and louder still than he thought you’d be. he likes it more than he should. you already came once, but he wants to see if he can get another out of you.

“shut up,” rafe groans, eyes fixated on your perky ass, the one he’s stared at in hundreds of short dresses and tiny skirts, bikinis that he shouldn’t let you wear and panties he gets an eyeful of when you’re asleep in his bed. “jus’ take it-”

you keep moaning against the couch, head shoved in to muffle what you can, but it’s when you look back at him, turning your head to watch rafe slam into you with wet, lustful eyes, tired from how hard he had just made you cum, that he really can’t take it, finishing hard and fast while you let out pretty mewls that are still ringing in his ear. 

he pulls out, adjusting your bikini bottoms to cover you up, though there’s visible wetness staining them. your inner thighs are shiny where your juices glisten. rafe has to tear his eyes away, you keep your legs clamped shut.

“you okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. you don’t speak, just nod. “c’mon.” rafe offers you a hand, again, and you accept, following him outside and into the sun, even though you’re so tired you could fall asleep where you were.

“thanks.” you say, wiping your neck of the sweat that has collected there. he watches you do it. “sorry, i don’t have a tip or anything. how about some fruit instead? call it even?” “shut up, kid. m’not a hooker, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

“no, of course not,” you gasp, like you’d never suggest such a thing. “the correct term is escort, rafe. it’s all very american gigolo.”

“you watch too many movies.” but you still hear him laugh when the two of you step onto the deck. 

“what’s so funny?” you hear top’s voice, freezing up. you catch rafe’s eye, before looking away

“nothin’, man-” rafe starts, but you start talking over him.

“just debatin’ how long it would take you idiots to get ready. got enough gel there, top?” rafe and kelce laugh while topper narrows his eyes at you.

your days are on the boat are always fun—the boys steer while you enjoy the breeze and the sun. you pass the fruit around and read your book—another romance beach read, of course. this one’s about two best friends falling in love. you can’t find the will to keep reading.

you tune in a conversation about a party tonight.

“are we going?” you ask, looking expectantly at the three boys in front of you.

“yeah. why wouldn’t we?” kelce says. you shift your gaze to rafe, who gestures to your thighs with his eyes. you clamp your legs shut, flushing.

“fun. what time?”

.☘︎ ݁˖

finding a little hard to walk straight after your little tryst on the boat, you switch your heeled sandals for a pair of sneakers for tonight. you smooth out your pretty blue dress in the back of top’s jeep. him and kelce are in the front, you and rafe in the back, pulling up to whichever family that was off-island’s mansion for the evening. the music was blaring, audible from even down the street, with two boys carring a keg into the house while top parked.

“are they celebrating something?” you question, staring at the crowds of people inside.

“yeah. the fact that it’s saturday night,” kelce answers, and you shove the back of his head from the backseat. 

you hear rafe and top talking about something, though you can’t make it out. yesterday you thought, dreading when the boys swung by your house to get you, that it would be awkward to sit next to rafe and act like nothing had happened. surprisingly after the conversation this morning, you find that it’s not. he leaned over to open the door for you to get in, asked you how your class was, did the things he always did.

topper’s an idiot for boosting his wheels, and you’d told him as much when he showed you guys for the first time. getting down is a nightmare, even more in your sore state (which you are attributing to the pilates and not the boy sitting next to you right now). 

you turn to look at rafe again but he’s not there, and instead you see him in your window, opening the door and offering you a hand to get down. rafe’s probably helped you down a dozen times. this feels different, you admit to yourself, holding onto his hand to get down and keenly aware of his other hand hovering around your waist.

inside, the party is in full swing, one corner by the windows with billows of smoke and a group of boys in another corner mixing drinks. 

the four of you end up like always—divided into half on opposite ends of a painted pong table from someone’s old frat house. some girl top’s been talking to makes her way over, hanging off his arm before long. rafe watches you toss the white ball, your nose scrunching up in concentration. you cheer when it goes in, turning to hug kelce. you’ve only had two cups but you’re getting tipsy already, he can tell.

“top. top!” rafe shouts over the music, but he’s too busy talking to the girl to notice.

“man, he’s clearly busy,” kelce says with a laugh.

“i agree. looks like that one’s for you, rafe.” you look at him with a giddy smile, leaning forward on the table, palms pressed flat. he wishes you wouldn’t—he can see down the front of your dress from this angle. you cheer when rafe chugs the cup of cheap beer.

he should make the next one just to get back at you, but he doesn’t want you to get too drunk. instead he misses, the ball falling right into kelce’s hands. 

if you were sober, you’d roll your eyes—you’d recognize that rafe missed on purpose. he’s better at this than all of you combined.

“give me five,” rafe says to top, casting one more glance back at you and kelce before walking towards a group of people on the couches and fishing something out of his pocket.

he’s gone, at most, ten minutes, and returns to find kelce missing. his place is taken by some brunette boy, who is currently trying to show you the best way to toss the ball. he’s standing awful close, a hand on your shoulder, his gaze on your exposed skin while you stare at the red cups.

“who the fuck is this?” rafe barks, though with the music blasting, only topper can hear him.

“i dunno, kelce ran off with that chick he’s been hooking up with-” the white ping pong ball lands in the red cup closest to rafe. he hopes he doesn’t look up to see something that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s dashed in seconds—you hugging the stranger in glee that you made another shot. 

he swings around the table, shooting a glare at the boy while putting himself in between the two of you. he faces the boy first.

“get lost.” the boy tries to say something, but rafe interrupts before he can get a word out. “get. lost.” you watch him scramble away, rafe turning to face you.

“c’mon. we’re done with pong.”

“but i made the last one!”

“i said we’re done. y’lucky i don’t take your ass home.”

“we just got here. why would you take me home?” you question.

for all the big talk, all the jokes and banter and emotions you’re trying to bury, you still don’t understand the simple truth known to everyone that’s ever met you and rafe—he’s never going to be happy seeing you with any boy besides himself.

“what’s wrong?” you question softly, looking up at him with big, confused, drunk eyes, not snarky like he thought you might be.

“no. just.. stop talkin’ to strangers, s’all.”

“but he was nice!” you yell over the music, picking up another cup from the table and taking a sip. you hate beer, but they took top’s jeep and not rafe’s truck, so there’s no spiked seltzer here for you. 

“no he wasn’t.” he takes the cup from your hand, pouring half the beer out into another cup before shoving it back in your hand.

“yeah he was! don’t you want that? the sooner i find a nice guy we can stop all of this, right?” you look at him earnestly, before chugging the rest of your beer. 

“alright, you’re cut off.”

the rest of the night goes by the same as all the others—kelce and top into a competition to see who can get more drunk, you tipsy enough to talk loudly about anything that comes to mind and rafe scaring away any guy who stares at you for too long. you stare at rafe’s back when he goes to sell, watching a pretty girl touch his arm when he’s counting the cash she’s handed him. 

you look away since you feel the beer coming back up, anger bubbling. you focus on topper, trying to follow along with his nonsensical conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“don’t worry,” kelce says, and you turn your gaze on him, confused. “he didn’t even look at her.”

“what?” but his eyes aren’t on you, glancing behind you. you turn, though you shouldn’t, looking at rafe, two girls laughing at something while he opens the little white packet for them. glancing at kelce, and then at top, who is keeled over on the sofa, nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila just by himself, you walk over to where rafe is.

“wait, don’t-” kelce calls out after you, but you don’t listen.

“rafe, i think top’s ready to go. are you?” you interrupt his conversation with the two girls, and though you despise the fact that you’re doing this, you realize kelce was right. he wasn’t even looking at them. you gesture at your two other best friends on the couch, kelce trying to yank the bottle from top’s grip.

“yeah, kid. c’mon, this place is dead anyways.” you smile, though you shouldn’t let rafe see it. no, your smile is for the girls. you feel an unparalled joy when rafe swings his arm around you, guiding you back to the couch. 

you shouldn’t look back, but you do. the girls look mad and you feel happy.

this is fucked—the very thought sobers you. you shouldn’t be happy that those girls think there’s something between you and rafe, but you are. 

rafe manhandles topper into standing up, while kelce turns to talk to you. he’s drunk, and it comes out like a laugh. you smile, thinking he’s going to make some joke about top and tequila.

“you’re just as toxic as he is. hah. and i thought rafe was bad-”

“what?” you ask, but rafe cuts you off before you can figure out what kelce means.

“kelce, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t puke in the back.”

“man, why am i always on top watch-”

in the car, you pick the music while rafe drives. you notice he keeps an eye out in the backseat, with top’s head half out the window and kelce texting on his phone.

“did you sell a lot?” you ask. you’ve never really mentioned it before, so rafe didn’t expect it tonight.

kelce’s words linger in your head. if you weren’t sober before he said that, you certainly are now. 

“enough. why?”

“just wondering. i saw you before we left, that’s all.” you look at the road ahead, listening to the quiet tune of the bryson tiller song you’d put on.

“you saw me?”

“with the pretty girl throwing herself at you? hard not to see.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth—you sound bitter and angry, two things you truly are, but you don’t want rafe to know already.

“what, you jealous, kid?”

“why would i be jealous? you’re not my boyfriend.” it comes out louder than you expected, trying to talk over top and kelce’s voices in the backseat.

“no, m’not.” 

you bite your cheek and stare out the window. 

“not to interrupt, or anything, but i think top’s gonna puke-” you jolt when rafe slams on the brakes.

tannyhill is fifteen minutes from where the party was, but it takes fifty minutes to get back. rafe pulled over twice to let topper puke on the side of the road, so it’s three am before the four of you get back.

you want to go home—the alcohol in your system and unfinished conversation with rafe have left you feeling queasy too, but it’s three in the morning. top and kelce are too drunk to drive you, and you don’t want to ask rafe.

you decide that you don’t want to be alone with rafe either, changing into one of the shirts you’d brought from home and stupidly looking down realizing it’s one of rafe’s. did you own a single t-shirt that wasn’t from his closet? where had all of your clothes gone?

grumpy that you’re in his clothes, upset that he had pretty much admitted he wasn’t your boyfriend, and riddled with the assumption that he meant he would never be your boyfriend, you collect a pillow and one of the blankets from his bed, walking out the door when you hear rafe’s voice saying your name.

“where the hell are you goin’?” facing him, you stare at your feet.

“the couch.”

“when have you ever slept on the couch here?”

“i’m starting something new.”

“get in bed before i drag you there.” you groan, thumping both feet on the ground before stalking into the room. rafe exhales loudly, loud enough that you hear it, before muttering something under his breath and following you inside, closing the door.

you sit on the bed, but before you can think about what you’ve done, you bunch up a pillow in your hand.

“you-” you throw the pillow at rafe, which misses him completely. “suck!” the second thuds against his chest, before falling on the ground. you huff from your position on the bed.

rafe picks up both pillows, dropping them on the bed.

“what the hell was that?”

“this whole thing was a mistake.”

“it’s been two days.”

“well i’m an emotional fuck!”

“yeah, i can tell.” you pick up the pillow again, whacking rafe’s side with it.

“ugh! you can’t just-” your hands falter, dropping next to you while you look up at rafe through wet eyes. “-just say that us sleeping together is a good idea because you don’t want me with any other guys. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?” 

“i don’t know! you’re the fuckin’ clueless one. what’d you think that means?”

“stop! just tell me! stop making me think, i’m so drunk and everything is mental gymastics with you-”

“well stop throwin’ my own pillows at me!”

“you suck, rafe. all of this and you can’t just tell me whether you like me or not?” 

in hindsight, you don’t know where the question came from. maybe a small part of you that wasn’t willfully ignorant suspected a long time ago that the way rafe acts towards you is more than just overprotective friendship. you had buried the thought the second it emerged—rafe cameron doesn’t have girlfriends, doesn’t do relationships. the rafe that’s been your best friend was your best friend for that very reason, because you weren’t in love with him.

or at least you thought you weren’t in love with him. and at least, he thought you weren’t in love with him.

the truth, you’re beginning to realize, watching rafe grab the pillow you’re about to hit him with out of your hands and set it down, is that rafe only acts the way he does with you, and no one else. the drinks you like in the back of his car, his shirts in your closet, the bed you share and all the time you two spend alone. you thought it was a great friendship, and maybe it was. but all along there’s been something bubbling underneath the surface, the feeling in the pit of your stomach when he started talking to that girl, how angry you get when you see him with any girl that’s not you. 

you thought rafe’s a dick for giving you such a hard time about any boy you try to talk to. he is a dick, but you’re the bitch that can’t stand seeing him with another girl.

and as the thoughts rush through your head, rafe looks at you in his bed, in his shirt, and realizes the answer to your question is that there’s no one in the world he likes more than you.

“you should have told me ‘bout the emotional fuck part.”

“you should have just confessed.”

“nah, not really my thing.” he sits down on the bed next to you, and you stare up at blue eyes that are looking at you, a smile on his lips. “this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“it’s been two days,” you mock.

“yeah, well, we tried it.”

“do you regret it?” you hold your breath for the moment of truth.

“c’mon kid. yeah, i do. ‘cause i’m not letting you out of my sight after this. you’re dating me or no one at all.”

“so if we break up-”

“straight to the convent for you. don’t worry, i’ll send you a care package. strawberry seltzer and those porno books-”

“shut up.”

“you shut up. and get the fuck into bed. it’s late.”

“you don’t want one last emotional fuck? on your last day as a single man?” you tease, crawling under the sheets. “learn how to read a clock. it’s past midnight.”

“oh. whatever, you know what i mean.”

“i guess i can be convinced-” he leans in for a kiss, and you hold your breath waiting for it, when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“guys. sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but i think top needs to get his stomach pumped.”

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be. 

[girlygguk]

DREAM OF YOU | JJK (Prologue)

summary bunnies had always been your favorite; their soft and gentle nature a comfort in a world that could be anything but. this one, however, is not very soft. and he certainly isn’t gentle.

pairing bunny hybrid!jk x human vet!(f)reader

word count 3k

chapter rating sfw

genre hybridverse, s2l, angsty (future fluff & smut)

content jk 24 | yn 25, grumpy bunny hybrid jk, spirited human veterinarian oc, jk doesn't trust humans, his love interest is a human..., brief mentions of fighting, blood & body wounds, cursing, hybrid bangtan, park jimin is an angel cat

updated a/n this was supposed to just be a draft dump, but upon unexpected love for the fic from a few of u absolute sweetheartss, i shall be turning this into a series! haven’t decided onna release date for pt 2 atm, but it’s next on my list for updates!! love you and thank youu x <3

masterlist | join the taglist | banner credit

now playing: camila cabello—dream of you

09 MAY 2022 | 10:31 PM Seo-Dong Animal & Hybrid 24/7 Veterinary Clinic.

You’d gotten used to these quiet hours, where time seemed to stretch and your thoughts kept you company more than the occasional late-night emergency. Stocking supplies and counting inventory had become a routine—one of the many tasks that kept your mind and hands busy in the lull between patients.

That is until the silence was shattered by the sound of the clinic door slamming open, the loud thud of it hitting the wall echoing through the empty space. Startled, you stood up from your crouched position, your eyes immediately darting to the entrance.

The sight that greeted you was a sharp contrast to the quiet evening you’d been having. A blonde boy, his eyes sharp and his features very feline, was half-dragging, half-supporting a taller male into the clinic. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the scene—especially the sight of the second male, whose long, fluffy ears drooped low in a clear sign of distress.

Your hand automatically reached out to close the cabinet you had been rummaging through, and without another thought, you were moving toward the pair, mind racing to assess the situation as you walked. The bunny hybrid—as you determined based on his undeniable features—was clearly in pain. His eyes were shut tight, his jaw clenched, muscles taut with tension. Bunnies had always been your favorite; their soft and gentle nature a comfort in a world that could be anything but. Seeing one in such a state of discomfort made your chest tighten.

“Hi there, I’m Y/N. What’s wrong? How can I help?” you asked, your voice gentle despite the urgency you felt.

The cat hybrid—also self-determined by you—was quick to respond, his voice laced with worry as he glanced at his friend. “Hello, Y/N! I’m Jimin, and this is my friend Jungkook. He’s injured, and if you could please—”

You were already nodding, taking another step closer to Jungkook to try and assess his wound. But before you could get too close, Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, and he took a sharp, defensive step backward, pulling Jimin with him. His dark eyes narrowed as they met yours.

“No,” he grunted, his voice rough with pain and something else—distrust. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the all too familiar scent. Human. You could almost see the thoughts running through his mind. “She’s not a hybrid. Let’s go, Jimin-ah.”

The words hit you slightly harder than you expected, and your extended hand abruptly dropped to your side. It wasn’t the first time you’d faced prejudice in your line of work, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Humans didn’t have the best reputation among hybrids, and for good reason. The history between your species was filled with pain, fear, and oppression. Even now, with the world having come a long way in terms of hybrid rights, there were still deep scars left by past injustices.

You understood his reaction, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t sting. You were just trying to help.

As much as you wanted to let him walk out and take his assumptions with him, you couldn’t ignore the clear signs of pain and discomfort in the way he held himself.

“Okay,” you said, forcing your voice to remain even. “Did you need directions to the nearest open hybrid clinic? It’s about an hour's drive eastbound. Or, my koala hybrid colleague will be starting the overnight shift at 12. You can come back then?”

The words were polite, but there was a frustrated edge to them, one you couldn’t control. You weren’t some inexperienced intern, and you certainly weren’t going to let this bunny hybrid dismiss you so easily.

Jungkook caught the undertone, and his expression darkened further. He gave you a tight nod, clearly not appreciating your condescending offer, and turned to leave, unhooking his arm from Jimin’s supportive grip.

“Jungkookie, please!” Jimin pleaded, his voice rising in desperation. He grabbed the back of Jungkook’s torn t-shirt, pulling him back with more force than you expected from someone with such a lithe frame. Jungkook grunted in pain, the sound low and rough, as the movement aggravated whatever injury he was carrying.

“I’m sorry, Kookie, but you will die if we wait!” Jimin’s words were dramatic, but the concern in his eyes was very real. “Just please, please let her tend to you. I’m sure she’s more than qualified! Why else would she be working here, right?” The cat turned to you, his eyes wide and pleading. “Right?”

You allowed a small, wry smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “Sure,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Though, I’m not actually a qualified veterinarian - I just sanitize the equipment and clean out the overnight chambers. But our night vet called in sick, so… I guess I could try?”

Jimin’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his head shaking nervously as he took a step back. “Oh… I-uh, never mind! Uh—I think we’ll actually go to—”

“Aish, Jimin-ah. She’s joking,” Jungkook muttered, his voice laced with irritation at his gullible best friend.

The bunny’s dark eyes flicked to the name badge on your white lab coat that covered your forest green scrubs. Small doodles in thin black marker decorated the corners of the badge—hearts, flowers, and funnily enough, a tiny little bunny rabbit. Below your name, in bold letters, was your title: Senior Animal and Hybrid Veterinary Specialist.

“Oh!” Jimin gasped, relief washing over his features as some of the color drained from his cheeks. “Well, that’s great then! May you please help my friend? He’s a bunny hybrid, 24 years old, and he has a really big bite wound on his lower abdomen! It’s not bleeding badly, but it’s HUGE. It was from this big, ugly Pitbull hybrid! He’s terrifying and from the South side—well, we are too—but he deals drugs and all sorts of illegal things, so who knows what was in his mouth before he bit Jungkook?! But don’t worry, Y/N-ssi, Jungkookie doesn’t back down! You should’ve seen what that no-good mutt came out looking like—”

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at his best friend’s tendency to ramble and over share.

“Right, sorry, Jungkookie…” Jimin said quickly, his ears flattening slightly in embarrassment before he turned back to you. “Anyways, it happened about ten minu—”

You nodded along as Jimin continued his detailed description while you walked to the counter with the hybrids following suit, one much more begrudgingly than the other.

Your pen flew over the clipboard as you jotted down everything you needed to know. All the while, you could feel Jungkook’s gaze burning into the side of your face. 

It wasn’t the kind of look you were used to from other hybrids—the possessive, predatory stares that made your skin crawl. This was different. His eyes were sharp, assessing, like he was trying to figure out if he could trust you. 

Two minutes passed as you filled out the necessary sections on the new patient slip, the cat being the one to provide all the details, everything right down to the weight of the bunny. They’re obviously very close, possibly lovers, and you thought it was adorable. A classic grumpy x sunshine trope right in front of your eyes.

You were almost finished when, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook’s knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the counter, his balance faltering. His stance had shifted from defensive to exhausted, his body finally starting to give in to the pain and the adrenaline that had been keeping him upright.

“Catch him, Jimin,” you ordered, your voice firm and directed at the cat hybrid, but your eyes were on the bunny.

“Oh, shit!” Jimin cursed, his eyes widening in panic as he darted forward to catch his friend. Jungkook’s knees buckled, his eyes rolling back as his body went limp. He was almost twice the size of Jimin, and the smaller hybrid struggled under the sudden weight.

You were around the counter in seconds, slipping under Jungkook’s other arm to help hold him up. “Help me bring him into the medical suite, please,” you asked, but your tone left little room for argument. Together, you and Jimin managed to half-carry, half-drag the unconscious bunny hybrid into the next room.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

“Y/N-ssi,” Jimin’s voice was curious as he twirled in your spinny chair, watching as you worked on his best friend who lay unconscious on the cushioned med table.

“Hmm?” you responded quietly, focused on pulling another thread through Jungkook’s stitch.

It had been almost forty minutes since you guys had heaved the bunny onto the table, allowing you to finally get a good look at the wound. Jimin had been right — it wasn’t profusely bleeding. However, the edges of the bite were now a dark purplish color, and it took quite a few minutes and resources to rid him of whatever remnants of toxic substance the attacker had laced on his teeth.

The cat hybrid was more than eager to help, and while you insisted it was okay, he all but got on his knees and bowed before you, begging to assist. You ended up giving in, knowing that helping might calm his overwhelming nerves for his companion. You made him glove and gown up before letting him hold the bucket while you flushed out Jungkook’s wound.

It took approximately ten seconds and a bit of discolored pus draining into the container before Jimin dry heaved and looked like he was about to faint. Not wanting to double your current patient count, you bit back a laugh and made the cat put the bucket on the ground and sit down while you finished.

“Are you really a senior veterinarian?”

“I am,” you confirmed, snipping the end of your final stitch with scissors before reaching for the sanitized gauze. “Have I done something to make you question my position?”

“No!” Jimin exclaimed, pulling to an abrupt halt in his spinning on your chair. “You’re fantastic! Really! I don’t exactly know the standards for hybrid medical aid…” You smiled as the cat trailed off, wiping over Jungkook’s now neatly sealed wound. “But I bet you exceed them!”

“You’re very kind, Jimin-ssi.” You gave him a quick glance over your shoulder, and he returned your smile. “Then why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just…” Jimin trailed off again, a habit of his that you found slightly comical considering his tendency to ramble and over-explain things. Shifting on your stool next to the sleeping bunny hybrid, you gave him your full attention. When the cat looked up and saw your head tilted in curiosity, he continued. “You just look very, uh, young? I’m sorry if that’s offensive. I know you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age—”

“That’s okay, Jimin-ssi. I don’t mind. I’m twenty-five.”

Your response seemed to put him at ease. “Wow, that’s still young to be a senior vet, no?”

“Mm,” you nodded in agreement as you began tidying up the area. “After completing my bachelor’s degree, I started here as a Veterinary Assistant. I was promoted to technician shortly after that, and specialist even quicker... Guess they saw some potential in me, or maybe we were just severely understaffed,” you joked, disposing of the used supplies and taking everything that needed to be cleaned to the sanitization station.

He gave you a Cheshire grin. “Ah, so modest, Y/N-ssi… From what I’ve seen, you deserve all of that and more! And I would know best. I’m older than you, after all.”

You gave the cat an amused hum, dumping the utensils into the sink for washup later. “‘95?”

“Wha—” You didn’t have to look at him to sense the way he perked up in his seat. “How did you know?!”

“The tattoo on your finger,” you replied with a light chuckle as you walked to the storage cupboard.

Jimin’s gaze dropped to the small ‘95’ tattoo encased in a heart on the side of his right ring finger. “Oh,” he mumbled sheepishly. The fact that you had managed to notice such a slight detail about him, though, made the cat inside him purr.

“What size shirt is Jungkook?”

Jimin looked up from his hand to see you now digging around in a large container of what looked to be folded clothing. His brows pinched curiously. “Medium.”

You nodded, your hand already hovering over a black tee in medium, having guessed correctly. When you pulled the shirt from the pile, your foot nudged the container back into the cupboard before you made your way over to Jimin. He gave you a confused look as you walked right past his best friend, who lay shirtless on the table, and held the shirt out to him.

“Um—”

“It may make him a bit more comfortable to be wearing something with a familiar scent when he wakes up.” You explained, wiggling the fabric in your hand, urging him to take it. Jimin let out a noise of realization and took it from you with a nod.

“The anesthesia should be wearing off shortly. His stats are good, so it won’t be long now,” you said with a reassuring smile as you took the t-shirt back from Jimin after he had thoroughly scented the fabric.

Jimin watched silently, a small smile on his face, as you carefully pulled the shirt onto the unconscious hybrid. A frown crossed your features when you noticed his skin was cold to the touch. Concerned, you checked his heart rate on the monitor next to the bed and were relieved to find the stats still within a healthy range. After recording the data, you headed to the medical supply cupboard and gathered everything you needed in a large ziplock bag. You handed it to Jimin, along with a manual on aftercare for stitched wounds.

“I’m just going to finish up the last of the paperwork for the night before my colleague arrives to take over,” you told him. Jimin nodded with a smile, and you returned it, making sure to lower the air conditioning as you left the room.

About 20 minutes later, Jungkook woke up and walked out of the medical bay with Jimin. He was moving better now, but you could tell he was still groggy. The sound of their approaching footsteps caught your attention, and you looked up from your desk.

Jimin’s face was split into a wide grin. “What do we owe you for your magic, Y/N-ssi?”

You smiled as you handed him the invoice, then turned to Jungkook. “Do you have Hybrid Healthcare?” you asked gently.

Jungkook didn’t respond verbally, just shook his head and reached for his wallet in his back pocket, shuffling through some cash.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay all at once. If you’re good for it, we offer payment plans—”

“Are you assuming I can’t pay it all at once?” Jungkook interjected with a glare.

His sharp tone caught you off guard, and your expression shifted from soft to slightly offended. You suppressed the urge to snap back, keeping your voice steady. “No, I offer that to every patient who doesn’t have healthcare—”

Jimin looked up from the file in his hand, his confusion cutting off your explanation. “Y/N-ssi, is this the completed bill?”

You frowned. “Yes, is there something wrong?”

“Well, I saw you use two syringes, not one. And you were stitching for over 30 minutes, not fifteen like recorded. I don’t understand…”

Your heart sank. If Jungkook hadn’t thought you were pitying him before, he definitely did now.

Jungkook snatched the paper from Jimin, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the document.

“Well, I just—” you began, but Jungkook cut you off.

“You didn’t even charge me for the anesthesia,” he scoffed, practically slamming the paper on the counter before reaching for a wad of cash. “I’m not a fucking charity case, but thanks, though.” He pulled out double the amount listed on the bill and slapped it on top of the paperwork.

You were quiet as he did so, your face expressionless as you looked down at the money. Jimin gave you a guilty look, but Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you. “Is that enough? How much was it originally?”

You blinked at him, then nodded wordlessly, taking the bills and turning to the register. Your fingers tapped at the screen before the till popped open and you shoved the cash into the register, closing it a little harder than necessary. When the receipt printed, you ripped it off and handed it to Jungkook without a word.

Jungkook took the receipt in silence, his jaw clenched as he watched you.

“Y/N-ssi—” Jimin started, guilt evident in his tone.

“I gave Jimin your aftercare bag,” you said, your voice robotic as you addressed Jungkook. “Sanitize the injured area twice a day—once in the morning, once at night. Avoid swimming in pools with chlorine and stay away from salt water too. Stitches need to be removed in two weeks; you can book an appointment with my colleague, Namjoonie. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

With that, you nodded politely at the two men before turning on your heel and heading toward the staff office. The door closed behind you with a sharp click, leaving the hybrids in a heavy silence.

Jimin let out a sigh. “Aish, Jungkookie—”

“Shut up.”

[coucouatoi]

now you're in my life... | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: sexual tension, slutshaming, women being viewed as wives and baby makers only (not by Harry), fluff, Harry being a gentleman, implied age gap, smut

A/N: Bridgerton fic incoming!! I'm late to the Bridgerton party but I've finally rewatched it all... also didn't reread a 7th time so if u find any errors, sorry <3

Summary:

Dearest Gentle Readers, remember that a Bridgerton Courting season is never complete without some juicy drama. Here's some tips to stay... out of trouble:

1- Don't attempt to stand out

2- Don't even try to become the Diamond

3- Don't get caught with Londons most sought after bachelor in a compromising position

Good luck readers!

Lady Whistledown

Travel is exhausting. It always is.

Travelling with the end goal being dancing, presenting yourself, being courted and then wed is excruciating.

Your mother, bless her, is more excited than you've ever seen her. The carriage is already quite cramped with you, her and your younger brother squeezed tightly against each other. Her legs bounce constantly, her fan is flapping like she wants it to break in half and the lessons. Oh god, the lessons. A second of silence is too long. You have to be bombarded with rules and tips to make you the perfect debutante this new season.

Your brother, however, is barely spoken to. He is not going to be presented to the ton until a few more years have passed. The conversations seem to bore him. Bore him so much that he has seemingly slept through the entire trip... or at least pretended to.

Your trip to London is quite long. You have taken a boat and ridden so many carriages your behind has most likely become flatter. Today is the last day of travel thankfully. You'll be arriving at your family's English estate soon enough, your father is probably already waiting in the steps most likely impatiently tapping his foot.

He and your mother are still obsessively in love with each other. Married three weeks after courting during their first-ever year as debutants. First child, you, nine months later... after that things slowed down. It took them twelve years to have another child and now, six years later, she's gotten pregnant again. Their grand finale as they keep calling it.

You can only wish that you'll be able to find someone who makes you feel even just a smidge as happy as your parents make each other. That there's someone here, in London, who will make a worthy husband and an even more worthy father.

Your mother's squeal startles you out of your thoughts as you turn into the estate. She must have spotted your father.

The time has come, you must now be the best future bride possible for all the men in the Bridgerton ton to run after.

-

You feel absolutely ridiculous. Who allowed this to be the standard for debutantes?? A feather tucked into your neatly styled hair but not just any kind of feather it's not small or dainty, no. It's tall. Taller than most things in the room. On your tiptoes, you could reach some of the lower ceilings with it. The dress is fine, the gloves are only a little itchy and the shoes are actually quite pretty. But that damn feather...

"Are you sure I can't just accidentally set it on fire?" you grumble to your mother who is your sponsor for your official debut this season.

"That would certainly bring attention to you... I'll entertain the thought" she quips with a small smile.

"I look ridiculous with it! What's the point of looking like an ostrich? Is that what English men find desirable?" you're incredibly confused. This can't possibly be something that attracts suitors...

"The Queen demands it, my dear", she rubs your arm reassuringly, "We don't want to upset her"

You shrug in defeat. Your mother is right, no one would dare go against the queen. Especially when you are to be presented in her court.

The two women in front of you are escorted into the ballroom as their names are called. The doors close as the debutante bows to the Queen.

This is it. You're next. You're going to walk in front of the entire ton as fresh meat. Someone they don't know.

Your father owns an estate here but you've only been to London twice before this. Never enough time to make friends or make any kind of impression. Hopefully, they don't eat you alive.

Your mother fusses over the sleeves of your dress. Then she tugs your gloves up, making them pull uncomfortably at the webbing between each of your fingers. You let her fix anything that she deems askew or not perfect enough. It's the nerves making her twitchy. As the doors open in front of you she pushes the feathers you wear deeper into your up-do.

"Y/N L/N and her mother Lady L/N" Your mother locks your elbow with hers as you walk forward.

The room is littered with people, London's finest and richest gathered to see what fresh meat this courting season brings.

The other debutantes are lined next to each other facing the door, their mothers or older sisters behind them peering over shoulders.

Once your eyes lay on the queen you suck in the breath you were about to take. She sits on her throne like she was born to be on it. Her head held high but her eyes inquisitive. She eyes you up and down, more than once, it makes you stand up straighter. You want her to like you, get her and the rest of the ton curious.

Your mother lets go of you as you get closer to the Queen. The last steps you take are the most nerve-wracking ones you've ever taken. All eyes are on you; men, women, debutantes, the queen's harem, potential prospects.... Everyone.

You bow to her, deeply. Your right leg goes behind your left, you bend your knees and your head tucks down towards your chest. You stay like that, it's only polite to stay low as long as you can but when your foot starts feeling numb you stand back up.

She's in front of you. Eyes locked on your face, she examines it as a smirk forms on her face. The Queen approves of you.

"My diamond, make me proud" She taps your cheek once, twice, thrice before kissing your forehead and nodding her head as she makes her way back to her throne.

What does she mean by Diamond?

-

As soon as you enter the Bridgerton ball with your family you're swarmed. It's as if you're the newly set dessert table.

Potential suitors waving pens in your face begging for a spot on your dance card.

Is this what being the Diamond is all about?

Being chased around like you're nothing more than a cheap prize to these men? That's probably what you are to them...

You fill out two dance spots at random before managing to wiggle your way through the crowd and into the actual festivities.

The ballroom is enchanting, with flowers of every kind scattered all around the room. You feel like you've stepped into an indoor garden, everywhere you look there's at least one blooming plant. It's gorgeous. You want to stay in this room forever.

The dance floor is currently occupied by couples, waltzing around each other, the choreography running through their veins as if they were born knowing them.

It's all so hypnotizing. The dances, music, seeing the ton gossip so proudly, the men trying to woo this season's debutantes and the women batting their lashes waiting for someone to walk up. It's a game, all of it and you love being a witness. Well, a player now...

"They have a buffet!" Your little brother exclaims as he runs through the crown and straight for a table littered with a large array of foods. He's going to be distracted there for at least 2 whole dances. You have the next dance clear for now so you take the time to wander around, head held high as you take everything in. Your mother had fused incessantly over how you should act tonight and over your chosen outfit. It had to be:

- Fit for a diamond (whatever that may be)

- Have flowers, by order of the Queen

- Unique enough to attract attention

- Modest but not prudish

Complicated demands under the time restraints you had but she made it work. Calling upon her best modiste contacts and personally seeing to the design of them. You have to admit she has done quite the selection for you this evening.

Your gown is a light green, sage might it be? There's a thin layer of darker tule over the bottom half and your sleeves, giving it dimension. The area that goes around your bust and upper back is lighter and full of gemstones shaped like different flowers. It looks like the modiste managed to sew an entire bouquet into the fabric. The gloves are sage as well, going past your elbows and trimmed with the same darker tule. Your mother had a spare ribbon of the sage silky fabric saved for your hair. It's styled into the updo, weaving itself perfectly between the colours of your neatly styled hair. Smaller gemstones have also been placed precariously to make sure you shine as bright as any diamond should.

They've done an excellent job at making you look like a walking dream. Tempting, gorgeous and almost unattainable.

The song that is playing is about to end, which means you're about to have your first dance of the evening. You can't even recall with whom you had simply grabbed a random pen and wrote the colour of his jacket. Too many names had been screamed at you for you to decipher which was his. Hopefully, whoever occupies your first spot manages to find you and whisk you away to the dance floor.

As the couples either leave the dance floor or get ready for the next song, you look around somewhat panicked. Is your first slot not even going to find you? That would be slightly humiliating...

"Lady L/N" you turn swiftly toward the voice behind you. "I'm Lord Talag, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance" Lord Talag takes your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. His suit is blue with silver stitching, your very first slot. He leads you to the dance floor and you both take the first positions for the waltz. The violins start first and you're instantly moving.

Arms gracefully twirling over your head as you spin backwards. As you turn you can't focus on Lord Talag but you know he's doing the same thing. When you stop your turns and face your partner, you see that he's fallen. On his ass, on the floor, in front of everyone. The other couples around you stop abruptly to not trip over him.

"My Lord! Are you alright?" you gasp reaching out to help him stand. However, he ignores your attempts to aid him back on his feet and dusts himself off.

"Good evening, Lady L/N," he says and rushes out of the room. He resembles a kitten running to beg their owner for a treat: legs kicking quickly, bum shimming from side to side, a determined expression...

You're left standing in the middle of the dance floor as everyone looks at you with a confused expression. Your own must look quite similar to theirs. Your first dance partner for the evening has walked out on you. All because he fell on his ass. Men, am I right??

Taking a breather after the embarrassing moment Lord Talag put you through is essential. You can't possibly face the ton as they gossip about it. His chances of finding a bride now are squashed, he's the laughingstock of this courting season. Well, for now at least...

The midnight air is crisp. The cold air prickles at your skin causing goosebumps but you enjoy it, your skin had heated up under everyone's stares. There's no wind, no sound (besides the muffled voices inside) and only a slight orange hue glows around you on the balcony. There are some oranges perched around you and over your head. They aren't quite ripe yet but they do look particularly inviting.

You turn to rest your bum against the marble railing, lifting your head towards the sky. The stars are bright. Brighter than you would have imagined to see in the city. They reflect over the artificial pond under you, seemingly dancing on the ripples. It's all so peaceful.

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be out here without a coat?" the deep voice has you jumping out of your skin. You turn around abruptly to see who's sharing the balcony with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was already here" you bow politely already stepping towards the door. You're not about to have two incredibly embarrassing moments in one evening. Would the Queen be tempted to take away your 'Diamond' status?

"There's no need to leave!" He rushes towards you, his right arm extended towards the door and body facing you. You back up quickly not wanting to make any accidental contact. You're unchaperoned in a private setting with a man... Please let no one come outside!

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I just realized you were holding onto yourself quite tightly... as if trying to heat up" he adds moving away from you as he stands up straight again. He must have realized how compromising this could seem.

"Oh! No, I'm actually comfortable... I'm just overthinking" you clarify for the mysterious, albeit handsome, man. You don't want him offering his jacket or anything of the sort. That would look even worse.

"Ah, I see. These types of events always bring out the worst in people" he laughs dryly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's recalling a specific memory. "I'm Harry, Duke Styles if you want specifics"

DUKE??? Your nighttime patio buddy is a DUKE?? This could not look any worse. You have to leave the secluded area now! Before anyone joins you and screams indecency.

Your panic must not be very well concealed as Har- Duke Styles, gets closer to you again with his hands raised.

"I'm not going to bite you, please don't panic" his hands are waiving slowly in front of your face. He's trying to demonstrate that he means no harm but all it does is make you jump back. Your mother would berate you if she knew what was happening right now. "What's your name?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Um, I'm... I'm Lady L/N" You somehow manage to speak in a slow and stuttering manner but it worked.

"The diamond?!" Oh god. He didn't even know. "How do you have time for a breather? Isn't your dance card full?" he sounds completely shocked.

You shake your head rapidly. It's the only answer you're able to give him before the patio door bursts open as a couple attached at the lips tumbles outside. They walk straight into Lord Styles, making his knees give out and then falling straight into you. His hands grasp your waist and arm seemingly trying to get himself straight up on his feet again. He fails. He keeps falling unfortunately dragging you down with him. His left hand, the one holding your arm, quickly moves to the back of your head before it makes contact with the stone floor. The other at your waist stays there but his grip tightens, you can feel it firmly through your corset.

The couple has separated from one another and they are now looking at you both in shock. They were most likely not expecting anyone outside. They are speaking, well you think so. Their lips and arms move erratically but there's only a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The hand on the back of your head tilts it away from them, your eyes meet Lord Styles. They are wide, worried, panicked. You're not sure why.

He's talking too but he must be whispering as the ringing is still the only thing you hear. It's getting annoying; you want to know what he's saying to you. It seems important.

Your vision blurs right before it darkens completely. You've passed out not even knowing of the commotion you've caused.

-

Tule, satin, silk, needles, charcoal drawings on the walls, books scattered on various surfaces... Where have you found yourself now? You seem to be in a study of some sort that also serves as a studio. You manage to sit up slowly, the pounding in your head spiking for a second before it settles.

"Mother?" you call out in a weak voice. How did you get here? Or better yet, who put you in here? No one answers your call so, at a snail's pace, you manage to get into a standing position. Your legs are stronger than you thought they would be, aiding you in your quest to figure out where in the Queen's name you are.

As soon as you leave the study your eyes burn because of the bright sunlight streaming in the hallway you now find yourself in. Blinking a few times makes your eyes adjust quicker making you able to tune into your other senses.

You hear mumbling, a few different voices leak out of the room right next to where you had been sleeping. You try to make out what they saying but nothing makes sense in your mind. You can't even hear them enough to confirm if you know any of the voices.

Not even considering that some may think it rude or even improper you open the door and make your way inside.

Lord Styles is the first on his feet; almost seems like a knee-jerk reaction. His posture is tight, and uncomfortable he is standing straight as a ruler as he looks at you with a terrified expression.

"My darling!" your mother rushes to you as fast as she can with her swollen feet and round stomach slowing her usual pace.

She brushes your hair out of your face before embracing you. She holds you tight but carefully as if to not break you.

"How do you feel?" she asks you once she pulls away.

"Fine, I think. My head hurts quite a bit but it's bearable" You smile at her reassuring as your gaze drifts back to the man still statuesque in the middle of the room. You don't find words to say but you do walk towards him. You don't like seeing him this uncomfortable... especially in what seems to be his estate.

"This is yours? The house?" you ask him gently. His eyes meet yours and the tension seems to bleed out a little. He's a bit more at ease seeing that you are polite and cordial with him.

"Yes, we thought it was best to bring you back here... less scandalous" He gestures to your father and he only nods back as an answer.

"Less scandalous?" you look around the room, at the three people surrounding you with different expressions on their faces. Your mother; excited, your father; thoughtful, Lord Style's; embarrassed?

"Why is your estate less scandalous, Lord Styles?" you meet his eyes, hoping to somehow be able to read his mind. Figure out why he's so closed off now. He did seem pretty willing to talk to you on the pat-

The patio. Oh my. The patio!

"Why am I here Father?" your headache spikes when you turn your head rapidly towards him. His expression tells you all

that you need to know. You're now engaged. There's no scandal because you're going to wed Duke Harry Styles.

"An outdoor wedding would be gorgeous this time of year, don't you think so Y/N?" your father smiles at you kindly. He's happy with the man you've managed to "score", even if it isn't a love match like him and your mother.

You only nod at him before looking back at Lord Styles, whom you find to be already looking in your direction. He meets your gaze and bows his head in a polite gesture, welcoming you. Welcoming you in your new home, into your new life as a Duchess.

The wedding is set to happen in 9 days. The first wedding of this year's courting season. Your mother has been on top of everything, she's practically planning the whole thing. You and Lord Styles, your fiancée, let her do it... after all this was a surprise to both of you.

Today you're choosing your wedding dress. The last dress that you'll wear as the incredibly eligible and sought-after diamond. The dress you'll become a bride and then a wife in. You'll become a duchess, Duchess Styles...

"What do you think of this one, dear?" your mother is holding a white gown with delicate baby pink embroidered flowers all over it. You nod approvingly making your way back behind the changing partition as she brings it over to you. It's only the second one you're trying on so your spirits are still high. Madame Delacroix, the modiste, was much too eager to have you wear one of her gowns on your big day. Said it was "Perfect marketing!" and she led you to her newest collection that was apparently straight from France.

You manage to slide it on with no issues and as you're about to ask the modiste for some help with the clasp in the back you hear a voice you don't recognize say your name. You stay quiet hoping to hear what they are saying.

"You haven't read Lady Whistledown yet?! This one is so juicy, she talks about Duke Styles and the Diamond"

"Please tell me you have a copy of it on you! I need to know how that happened"

Are people really this eager to know how you got engaged?

After the first girl presumably pulls out a copy of whatever they were talking about they start reading it aloud.

"But how could I forget to mention the most surprising moment of the courting season yet? London's own most wanted bachelor, Duke Harry Styles, has found a worthy bride. He does shoot for the stars, doesn't he? Or rather in the mines... as the newest Duchess soon joining the ton is Lady L/N, the Diamond.

However, the choice seems to have been made by herself and herself only. Who wouldn't throw themselves at him just to be caught in a compromising position? I certainly would! Her parents must be so proud to have such a stellar whore seductress presented this season.

The hopefully happy couple already share a house, how warm is the Duke's bed? Has Lady Y/N done what so many other noble women have wanted to do?

Congratulations to the happy couple... See you at the wedding!

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown"

Your blood runs cold, you're frozen in place after hearing what was written about you. You don't even know who these two girls are, who the writer is or where this paper comes from. Is that really what people think of you? That you whored yourself to Duke Styles to secure a wealthy and powerful man? You haven't made a single friend yet and now this is what people are saying about you, how are you meant to live amongst them now?

You quickly undress yourself of the wedding gown and get back into your dress, you somehow manage to clasp it yourself. Before running out of the boutique you hand the dress back to your mother and take a quick look at the girls that were just gossiping.

They are already looking at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Well, at least that's what you think their reaction is to seeing you practically trip out of the shop.

You don't hear what your mother calls out to you, too concerned with the humiliation pumping throw your veins. You need to get back to the Dukes manor as soon as you possibly can. You're grateful to have ridden here separately from your mother so you don't have to leave her stranded with no carriage and very pregnant. The ride back feels never-ending... How can you ever face the ton again?

The bath water is almost boiling, perfect to wash away the shame you felt. Your mind is all over the place. Nothing you can come up with will fix this, you're stuck labelled as some desperate whore. Does your betrothed know who this woman is? What those papers are? If anyone and everyone reads what she writes about other people? The lies she creates to make things interesting... You didn't even manage to find a gown you liked for the wedding... You might now not even be able to face the public, would the Queen allow a private wedding for her diamond? Probably not.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't know you were back" For the second time today your blood runs cold. The scorching hot water feels icy against your skin as you look up to meet Duke Styles's gaze.

He is also stuck where he is. His feet seemingly glued to the floor, one hand holding the door handle and the other stopped halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes leave your face and trail down your nude body under the water. No man has ever looked at these parts of you, he isn't supposed to see them until your wedding night.

He swallows when his gaze snaps back to yours, probably just registering what he was doing.

"I'll let you bathe, sorry for interrupting" he turns around quickly but before he can close the door you call out to him.

"Who's Lady Whistledown?" your voice cracks halfway, desperate to get an answer that no worker has answered. Not the chariot driver, not the gardener, not even the maids that helped prepare the bath everyone avoided your question. "Why did she write about me, my lord? About us?"

He takes a few seconds to walk back into the room but eventually comes in and shuts the door.

He sees there is a small stool in the corner of the room, the maid has used it to undo your hairdo when you got in the bath. He grabs it and places it next to the tub, close to where your face is. He sits facing you with one of his arms resting on the edge, trying to look nonchalant.

"Call me Harry, no need for formalities between us" is the first thing he says, you nod as your answer.

Before speaking again he takes in a deep breath and wipes down his face, looking for a way to explain this.

"You read it?" your voice is meek, he saw that she called you a whore. He read that you threw yourself at him to trap him.

"I did. Only because the men at the club told me to" he answers honestly. "I told them that what she wrote was wrong. That yes our marriage was unexpected but not an entrapment"

"Did they believe you?"

"Yes, after I told that I am very satisfied with my future wife. How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous lady share my house, such a smart lady in my life. They wouldn't dare question me or us" his words shock you. You didn't know if he was satisfied with you or your engagement. There hadn't been a conversation about it but you're happy to hear he doesn't resent you.

Harry seems to read your mind and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder after.

"She called me a whore, a seductress. I've never even let a suitor hug me... Much less seduced one" his eyes bore into you. They are enchanting and so inviting. You want him to look at you this way always like you're the only thing he could ever look at so attentively.

"That's what she does... Last season she almost destroyed Lady Eloise Bridgerton... You haven't met her yet but she didn't leave her manor for the rest of the season" his hand is rubbing from shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger grazing the very top of your breasts at each movement. You don't move or break the eye contact it feels good.

"The ton eats her words up but don't waste time thinking about what she thinks, she is a coward saying all of this nonsense anonymously" he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"So there is no Lady Whistledown in the ton? Is it an alias?" your questions stays unanswered but it is obvious that is what he was saying. No one knows who she is or rather who they are.

Harry's hand has travelled lower without you even noticing he's gone past the water and travels from your chest to your stomach. It seems casual and natural like you've done this a million times before.

Silence stretches as you take in the small amount of information about this person who spreads false claims about you and the man currently exploring your body.

He is now going up and down your legs switching legs once in a while. You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it but it feels so intimate... so good that you don't stop him, you don't want him to.

You will bear his heirs and pleasure him when he wants you to but what he is doing now seems to actually pleasure you. His fingers graze your core and you gasp as the sensation takes you by surprise. This breaks the trance he had been in as he rips his hand away from your body and out of the water then out of the room before you can even get a single word out.

You finished your bath shortly after with your skin still tingling from where Harry had touched you. The ghost of his fingertips exploring places no one has touched not even yourself. You wanted to see how far he'd go, what he would do to you, how he would keep exploring your naked body. Seeking him out feels desperate but you have to know how far he was willing to take you. Was he just as affected by the intimacy? You knock at his chamber door softly praying that he doesn't reject you. "Come in" you hear him speak through the thick wooden door.

You quickly smooth out your sleeping gown before making your way into his chambers. This is the first time you've been in them, the amount of fabric, mannequins and art around the room surprises you. You had previously seen his work room where he designs and creates many different clothes but you had no idea he had more where he rests. You find Lord Styles lying on his large bed with one arm covering his eyes. He hasn't realized that's it you that's walked in yet so you take some time to look over his designs. You see some suits, daywear, and gowns of all kinds but then you stumble upon one that is called "My Bride". You pull it out from under some other sketches. The gown he's drawn is breathtaking, tight bodice detailed with what you think must be lace and gemstones, there's many layers of lace going downwards towards the bottom of the dress giving the impression of a flower that has not yet bloomed. He's added a simple shawl to the sketch which just adds to the elegance of the look.

"Would you make this dress for me?" your voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry startles on the bed, clearly not expecting you, sitting up quickly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking at the paper you are holding.

"I can, if you want me to make it for you I will" he nods looking back up, studying your face.

"I'd like that" you smile "I'm much too ashamed to go back to the modistes anyway..." you put the drawing back down on his desk. At this point, you are only pretending to be looking around his space. Your goal is to make your way to his bed... try to get him to touch you again.

"There's no need for you to be ashamed. They should be ashamed, the ton is over-critical of newcomers" he leans back on his hands the now completely unbuttoned shirt falls off of his torso, revealing it.

"I suppose so... it's still disheartening to think that people think like that about me" you sigh walking towards him again. His eyes don't leave you he seems to be analyzing you, your actions, your body, everything.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he tilts his head in thought, "Threaten anyone who looks at you wrongly? Find this Lady Whistledown and burn her out of existence?"

"You..." Okay, deep breaths, this is when you'll make your move, "You can touch me again... Keep doing what you were doing?" the pitch of your voice is much higher than usual as you finish your suggestion. You avoid meeting his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his reaction.

What you hear isn't an answer but the sound of him moving on his bed, towards you? God, you hope so. You still don't totally understand what his touch made you feel or why it has you craving for more. You don't even really know what "more" means.

"I wouldn't want to ruin you as some say" he guides your head towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes, so intense and inviting.

"Well, they already think you have... I just want you to make me feel good" You don't back down keep your eyes on his.

"Have you ever made yourself feel good?" Harry's voice is deeper than you've ever heard, it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head as an answer, the ability to speak lost when he placed his hands on your hips. He tugs you forward, bringing you so much closer to him it makes you flush. He hums in understanding, still debating if he should do this or not... but the look on your face, the curiosity and the neediness makes his decision very easy.

He gently pulls you to lay down on his luxurious bed, the silky sheets and soft mattress feel glorious. You could stay in his bed all day long.

"Don't you resent me? I cut your first courting season quite short" he gently pecks your cheek before gliding across your lips to do the same to the other. You unconsciously follow his lips trying to have them meet yours again, you're already in a mental fog of pleasure and he's barely touched you.

"Can't answer, doll? Mh... don't worry I'll make you feel good" That's when he kisses you. Properly.

You let him take complete control as you've never kissed anyone. You don't want to make it unenjoyable for him or yourself so you follow his lead. His hands slowly bunch your nightgown up revealing more and more skin, skin that he is now seeing for the second time. He separates from your lips to look down at you, to admire your figure. Goosebumps spread all over as he delicately rubs his hands up and down your thighs spreading them apart adding him in lying down between them.

His face is inches away from your most private parts. Parts that have never been seen by anyone but your aids when getting dressed or cleaned. To aid him you didn't put any underclothing on, hoping he would accept your request. So, he's staring directly at you, making you flush from embarrassment.

"You want me to do this, gorgeous, you're sure?" your eyes meet his. His expression is unreadable, you've never had someone look at you like that. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"Please Duke Styles" you answer in a soft voice, he smirks at your answer and immediately gets to work.

What you're feeling is something completely new, foreign, unbelievably good; The curl of your toes as his mouth meets the skin you've never even explored yourself, the arch your body does and the loud gasp that slips past your lips. Who knew you could feel this way? Why did no one tell you that you could feel so unbelievably good?

Your hands grab onto the edges of the pillow you're lying on and you try to meet his gaze or maybe just to see what he's doing looks like.

Harry's eyes are already on you, your gazes meet easily, his pupils are dilated and his brows furrowed. He's so concentrated...

His tongue circles your clit sucking at it before letting his free hand join. His middle finger teases your entrance, not wanting to take your purity, he'll be somewhat of a gentleman and keep that for the wedding night.

"Ah! Harry" you moan desperately, desperate for something you don't even know, begging for him to keep going. You have an urge to shut your legs together but Harry's pushes onto your left one, keeping it pinned to the mattress.

The hand that was teasing your hole slowly goes up your nightgown, touching your skin delicately as he works his way up to grab your breast. His hand is warm on your chest, grabbing and massaging the skin he reaches.

He uses your slight distraction to prod his tongue inside of you exploring the few inches he's able to reach. Maybe exploring your inside isn't so bad... You'll be married no matter what happens...

His hand leaves your chest and makes its way back down, circling your bud. He can feel how close you are so he zeroes in. Lost in your pleasure and on his quest to make you feel good. Make you forget about the judgement the ton regards you with. He pinches your clit making your body lock up and your breath hitch but Harry doesn't stop. He keeps going until your whole body is spasming against his mattress until you're unable to make a sound with your mouth agape in pleasure.

You don't feel anything besides the tingling going from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes and the ends of your hair. Your heartbeat slowly stops being so erratic and your breathing calms down. As you start wondering where Harry has gone you feel a damp cloth rubbing against your intimates. You shiver at the feeling, obviously still sensitive, flinching when he gets close to your sensitive bud.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Harry's voice is soft and tender. Probably trying to preserve the warm atmosphere around both of you.

You hum positively as an answer, words lost as you meet his intense gaze.

"Cats got your tongue?" his tone is teasing. He throws the cloth away and joins you on the bed. You shake your head with a smile.

"I'm lost in thought" is the first thing you say to him, "I will be for a while after that" you sigh dreamily as you get comfortable in his sheets.

"Mh, maybe we should rush the wedding, get the Queens blessing for her diamond to wed in a rush... you won't speak a week after what I'll do to you" You just might have to march into the royal palace first thing in the morning.

[jakesangel]

jake as your boyfriend headcanons <3

loser boyfriend

⁃ jake's loves for physics is something you have always been fond for but u certainly wasn't ready w the amount of content he watches and MAKES you watche as well. he is a cutie n will make you a playlist to catch up on him or to watch together. he will be shy about it at first, but once he will feel secure enough or that ull give him enough reassurance, he will share it w u n hopes ull talk to him about it.

"omg y/n!! did you know that einstein has been proven wrong ?? apparently the speed of light isn't the fastest in the universe ??" he told you, buzzing of excitement. he is so excited you could see an imaginary tail waving n his puffy ears perking up. "omg what is it then ?", u ask smiling. "it's the quantum entanglement !!" he then went on and on about what quantum entanglement as if you could understand anything. but your boyfie is a cutie so you kiss him n let him be.

⁃ second thing jakes loves. legos. and it's his favorite kind of dates w you. either in his bedroom or in urs or even during ur picnics, u guys will alwasy make legos together. when he is on tour in the usa, he will go to the manufacturer and replicate the both of you in legos, your future ideal house and even add your pets :( you'll be making it together once he is back to your arms.

clingy boyfriend

⁃ he needs to see his pretty baby EVERYDAY, if not he will be calling u wayyy more or he will send u lots of voice messages n selfies.

⁃ he also needs his kisses n his hugs :( daily does of you or he can NOT fonction

⁃ when you guys are together his hands are alwasy on your waist or in the back jeans in the pocket because he is romantic like this ᵎ when u both are sitting, his hands can be on your lower back or your thigh. either way, he will be strocking the area lovingly

⁃ cuddles are also a must ! in the morning when you wake up together or at night before sleeping. but also when watching movies or eating. anytime n anywhere. even in front of the members. he loves u n he isn't shy to show off his pretty girl.

"let's eat on the couch baby, i want ur legs on you my lap ", he said taking his and your plates on his way to the living room. settles on couch, he takes ur legs to out them on his lap, kisses your temple and finally out his plate on ur leg so he can eat. "there we go, were lunch better like, no baby ?ᩚ "

⁃ he loves laying on ur chest, your hands in his hair or subbing his back. he would often fall asleep like this. he also likes laying his head on ur lap for the exact same reasons.

⁃ he would add kisses on u guys routine. like when brush ur teeth together he would kiss ur nose. or when u make breakfast ,he would come behind u and kiss ur shoulder and ur neck. kissing ur hand when eating together. kissing the top of your hair when u guys hugs, etc.

- talking about kisses, kisses w him are always different, you never know what to expect. they can be very passionate or full of love or teasing or filled w giggles.

scorpio boyfriend

⁃ as munch as he loves u wearing mini skirt, he can not let u go outside wearing this if he is not here. even his meme we ar won't allowed to this his heaven like gf. he can fight tho so he will let u go outside like that but by urself no.

- he isn't a controlling boyfriend but he won't like you going out w one guy, nor talking too much w them. he trust you but not men.

- because of that he can get a bit jealous, so if you both are in public and someone hits on you, trust me he will be making out right in front of the man.

down bad boyfriend

⁃ jake will be ur supporter #1, if he can he would be going out w ur face on his t-shirt. he also would want to participate in every event u have. your graduation, ur first day at work literally ANYTHING, he wants to be there for his baby.

⁃ evertime u would send a pic he would go feral, on text or irl, his friends are worried about you.

⁃ he will buy u everything u want n would go bankrupt for u. your eyes would linger on something for not even one second, it WILL be in ur hand few minutes later.

how to love jake VS how jake loves you hc

notes : it's my first time doing headcanons, please lemme kno what you think about and what other kind of boyfriend jake is ><

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @heeseungswifefr @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring

[mikashisus]

PRIDE OF THE SUN

SYNOPSIS: being a child of apollo was a great honor... until you have a vision about a certain ginger that flips your entire world on its head.

PAIRING: ares kid!tartaglia x apollo kid!fem!reader

warnings: blood, angst

wc: 5.9k

notes: if u couldn't tell, this is a percy jackson au... anyw this whole fic took me the entire day yesterday to write- like no joke i spent 12 hrs on this shit... NEVER AGAIN *looks at drafts* nvm i might have to do this again in the future... u guys will see why soon enough. wink wink.

You hated this. Hated him. 

There you sat, on your ass on the hard ground with Ajax’s spear pointed to your throat. You sneered up at him. 

One wrong move and that spear would go straight through your neck. You glanced down at the sharp tip and the way it gleamed under the light of the afternoon sun. That only made it all the more menacing. 

Truthfully, you were a bit scared he might finish the job and shove the spear right through you. He didn’t… for obvious reasons. 

But you swore you saw him move just a tiny bit closer. You swallowed the fear you harbored in your heart, ignoring the way the organ thumped impossibly fast against your ribcage. You would never show weakness in front of him. You would never let him know you were scared. 

Revealing your weakness to him was like a rabbit leaping right into a wolf’s jaws. 

You refused to be the rabbit. 

As he was busy gloating over his victory, you sought an opening. With one swift kick, you knocked him down onto the ground. His spear struck your cheek, leaving a clean cut through the flesh. You barely felt it happen until a stinging rose from the area. 

Touching your cheek, you frowned. Blood coated your fingers. Eh, you’d live. It was just a scratch. 

You stood up and grabbed his spear, smirking at him as he looked up at you with a fire burning in his eyes. You loved beating down the Ares kids. They were nothing but arrogant bastards, and here you had the best one in camp on the ground with his own weapon pointed at his face. 

“Looks like I win, brute.” 

Your little distasteful nickname for him made a scowl appear on his face as he slowly stood up and spit blood out of his mouth. He stared at you, brows furrowed and eyes devoid of any life. That was what you hated most about him: his ability to look so fucking terrifying when he wanted to. Or maybe it was without even trying. 

He wiped the blood from his lip, the trail staining the side of his chin and his cheek. The earring that hung from his ear sparkled in the light of the sun, and you had the urge to ask where he had gotten it from. It certainly wasn’t from his father… or was it? 

You knew his double-edged spear came from his father, but you were skeptical on where he had gotten the earring. Did he even have that a few days ago? 

The scary look on his face made you falter for just a second when you whisked yourself back to reality. His breathing was hard, his chest heaving as if he was angry. Suddenly, you felt small and weak under his gaze. 

He wasn’t called the strongest child of Ares for nothing. 

“That was a dirty trick…” for a second, you thought he was serious, until, “I like your style, sunshine!” 

You scoffed, throwing his spear onto the ground and shoving past him. He quickly reached for it and scrambled after you, yapping in your ear all the way. You were beginning to get a headache from his voice. 

This wasn’t the first time he chased you around camp while you ignored him, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you two fought. According to the other campers, you “had a history” with each other. That made it sound as if you were once in a relationship, which couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You’d never date someone like him– someone so bloodthirsty for power and warfare that it drove them to the brink of insanity. 

Okay… so maybe he wasn’t insane (though, you firmly believed he was from that crazed look in his eyes) but he was certainly a warmonger. 

Like father, like son. 

It was true you had a history, but it wasn’t in the relationship type of way. It was the “I’ll kill you because you insulted me when we were kids” type of way. 

When you first arrived at camp, you were eleven years old. Back then, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with anyone or anything. Your own mother casted you out of the house, calling you spawn of the devil for being a half-blood, even though you knew she gloated when it came to the fact that she had a child with a god. You never understood her hatred for you when all she did was brag to her friends about your father. 

Out on the streets, with nowhere to go, you learned how to fend for yourself. With nothing on your person but the necklace your father had supposedly given your mother, you did what you could to survive. Your ballads and ugly crying garnered the attention of passerby, and with the little kindness they had in their hearts, they gave you money. You used that money for necessities, like food and water. But you also used it for things you wanted; like, that shiny guitar you saw in the downtown area’s music store. 

You saved up enough money to buy it within half a year, luring in passerby with your gift of song. Like a siren’s call, you drew them in, and you quickly learned how to utilize your demigod abilities to get what you wanted. When you bought the guitar and strummed the first chords to a song your mother always absentmindedly sang, that’s when your father appeared before you for the very first time. 

And that was how you wound up in camp a few days later. You were guided to the Apollo cabin by your own father, who was way more flamboyant than you expected, and after that, you were left to settle in. 

You watched your father disappear into a flurry of golden flames and a soft hum of a heavenly choir. When you turned to your bed, a drawing of a sun was etched into the fine wood of your guitar. Over time, there would grow to be more and more drawings left on your guitar, one for each time your father visited you. 

Settling into camp was hard. You were shy, and quiet, and the other kids in your cabin were a bit too outgoing for your liking, a true testament to your father’s personality. At first, it seemed as if you were the black sheep among your siblings. That was quickly proven wrong when a boy who was a year younger than you showed up at your cabin one day, staring at you with a menacing fire burning in his eyes as you played your guitar. 

You didn’t notice him right away, as you were too lost in the music and the homey atmosphere of the cabin to even pay attention to what was going on around you. That’s what it was like for you with music: you lost all sense of the material world as you plucked at the strings of your guitar, mentally transporting yourself to a different plane of existence. This was how you– most of the time, connected yourself with your father. 

Unbeknownst to you, you were also plucking at Ajax’s heartstrings. Ajax, the boy who was standing in the doorway, completely enraptured by your performance. His eyes lit up with an excitement no one had ever seen in him before. Then, he spoke, his words tumbling fast and loud out of his mouth like a roaring lion. 

You jumped, and you were forcefully pulled out of your meditation. The more he rambled on, the more you grew annoyed. You put the pieces together. He was loud; boisterous, bellicose, arrogant, and every step he took made the earth rumble beneath his feet. There was a fire that burned brightly in his eyes, one that screamed ‘Come at me if you dare, I’ll show you what I’m made of.’ 

There was no doubt in your mind: he was a child of Ares. 

Was every child of Ares this full of themselves? He even claimed he was better at the arts than you! How dare he! 

That was the first time you cursed him to speak in rhyming couplets for a week straight. You didn’t even know you could do that. When you asked your cabin leader about it, all they said was that you had a lot to learn about what it meant to be a child of Apollo. 

And ever since that day, you swore you’d knock Ajax off of his high horse. And boy were you determined to do so. 

There were quite a few things you could do that he couldn’t, and one of them was wielding a bow. 

You were the most skilled archer at camp. The first time you picked up a bow, you felt the wind rush past you and caress your form. You felt relaxed, at ease, as if you’ve been wielding a bow your whole life– as if you came out of the womb with it clutched tightly in your hands. 

Wielding a bow was Ajax’s weakness. It was the one weapon he could never master. You held it over his head like a vice. 

All your insults never deterred his advances, and you found your hatred for him growing with each passing day. But you never once gave up trying to prove him wrong. You would prove to him that you were more than what his siblings called you: a siren. You’d prove you were a worthy opponent, and that your skills were worth it in not only his eyes, but the entire camp’s. 

It was not just because you hated him, but because he utterly humiliated you on more occasions than you could count on both hands. 

As soon as you managed to get out of his reach for today, you let out a sigh of relief and decided to take a nice, warm bath. It was very much needed after a long day of combat training. 

You bid hello to your half siblings and made a beeline for the bath as soon as you set your bow down on your bed. When you sunk into the hot water of the bath, you felt as if you were ascending to the heavens. The water felt heavenly against your muscles that were previously screaming. Now, they ached as you gently massaged your calves. Your nose scrunched up from the soreness. 

You were on your feet for almost the entire day. It was no wonder your feet felt a little numb from all of the exercise. 

Leaning back against the tub, you allowed your whole body to breathe and relax. A knock sounded on the door, and your eye twitched. Just when you thought you had some alone time…

The voice of your half brother, Kaeya, sounded from the other side of the door. 

“Hey, sis, you in there? I heard there’s gonna be fireworks tomorrow to celebrate Diluc’s return.”

Diluc was Kaeya’s adoptive brother and a son of Athena. They weren’t on the best terms, but they still considered each other brothers. At least, that’s what you assumed. They’d probably drop dead before ever admitting it out loud. 

Regardless of how well they got along, you were also dragged into their little family. Kaeya was a few months older than you, and although that wasn’t much of an age gap, he still liked to call you his little sister. 

The first time he introduced you to Diluc, you were scared out of your mind. Diluc was intimidating and he towered over you. It took quite a while for you to be able to talk to him without being terrified of him. Once you saw how much of a big softie he was, the fear was quickly replaced with admiration. 

You admired how strong he was and how much he cared for his family.

You jumped up at Kaeya’s words. “What!? That’s tomorrow?” 

You heard him chuckle. “Yes, dummy. His pet arrived today with news of his homecoming, so Jean decided to hold a party. There’ll be fireworks!” 

Your love of fireworks was well known throughout camp. Although you weren’t a fan of loud noises, you had a deep love for fireworks and their ability to light up the night sky with their beauty. 

You wished you could shine as bright as they did. They shone like the sun, and you were a lover of the sun. 

Scrambling out of the tub and leaving your warm bath behind, you dried yourself off and threw on a new pair of clothes before exiting the bathroom. Kaeya stood outside, a knowing smirk on his face. Suddenly, you had a bad feeling about going to that party. 

Kaeya and that look was never a good omen. It always led to something bad. 

“What’s with the face?” He asked, following you to your bed. His was right below yours. 

“What face?” 

He crossed his arms over his chest. “That one. The one you’re making right now.” 

“You have something hidden up your sleeve, don’t you?” You squinted. “Whatever it is, I want no part of it!” 

He only snickered, which did nothing to help your suspicions. He climbed onto your bed, ignoring your protests to get off. You threw one of your stuffed animals in his face. 

“Get away from me!” You laughed, attempting to fend him off but it was no use. 

“I just want a hug from my baby sister!” 

You kicked him in the ribs, causing him to double over in pain. He slapped your foot, resulting in a loud ‘OW’ from you. 

The next day was the day Diluc was coming home. You asked Jean if you could help prepare, but upon seeing how much she already had done, you realized that she probably didn’t even need your help. Or anyone’s, with the way she was yelling at people to let her do all the work. 

“So, your brother’s coming back today, huh?” 

You sighed heavily. Of course, Ajax was here to bother you yet again. When would you ever be able to catch a break? 

“Yes,” you replied curtly. 

He frowned at your cold response. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for you, but just once he wished you’d talk to him like you talked to your friends. 

He tried again. “I never asked how the two of you are related. Or do the two of you just refer to yourselves as siblings because you’re close?” 

“It’s none of your business.”

A sigh left your lips, and you grabbed your bow from beside you. Instead of answering his question, you walked off to go practice shooting. Ajax stared after you longingly, the pout on his lips resembling that of a kicked puppy. 

He wouldn’t give up in his pursuit. 

You couldn’t count how many arrows you ripped through targets in the last hour, but you sure were more aggravated today than you were the day before. Ajax continued to push your buttons, and you were running out of ways to calm yourself down each time. 

Meditation with music no longer worked unless you were completely alone, and now you couldn’t even focus entirely on the targets without thinking of his annoying face. One thing that helped was imagining the target was him and that your fire arrows were ripping right through his head. 

Kaeya asked you about your hatred for him once, and to his question, you replied, “All he ever does is humiliate me. All he does is shove his skills in my face and boast when I can’t do things that he can. I feel powerless when I’m standing next to him.”

You pulled your arm back again, ready to fire another arrow, when suddenly your vision went white. Not now! You thought, cursing out your own precognition as you watched future events play out. 

You assumed it would be the same old, same old of someone getting hurt and needing to be healed by one of your siblings, or a mellow talk between you and Kaeya, but it was nothing of the sort. You even assumed it would be a vision of Diluc returning home, or something that would happen at the party tonight, but it was neither. It wasn’t anything dangerous, either. 

Instead, what you saw was Ajax sitting down in front of you on the training grounds. It was dark outside, and the only light sources came from the lanterns hanging in the trees. You were staring up at him with the same scowl you always gave him, but the smile he always wore was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a frown, and in his eyes, the fire that always made itself home there has completely fizzled out. 

He reached a hand out to you, the side of his face dripping with crimson red blood. He looked about ready to pass out right then and there. Hesitantly, you took hold of his hand. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your form. 

You weakly fought against his hold, grabbing onto his shirt tightly. Instead of pushing him away like you thought you’d do, you pulled him closer, until your lips were mere inches apart. He muttered something then, something that was indecipherable to you. 

After that, you looked into his eyes with a look you never thought you’d give anyone. Then, his lips met yours, and the vision faded into nothing. You gasped for air, clutching tightly to your chest as a figure in front of you held you by the shoulders. Their voice was frantic, distorted, as the ringing in your ears blocked out everything. 

When your vision cleared, you looked up, expecting to see the comfort of Kaeya’s periwinkle colored fluffy jacket, only to see the red of a certain someone’s scarf. The ringing stopped, and you were finally able to hear the voice you loathed. 

“Are you okay, sunshine!?” He asked, his eyes filled with worry. “I found you on the ground and you weren’t responding, so I called Chiron. He’ll be here soo–” 

You shoved him away from you. “Just stop!” You yelled, overwhelmed from the vision you just witnessed. Your body felt warm and sweat trickled down the back of your neck. You were shaking uncontrollably. 

He frowned. “I was just trying to help! You looked–” 

“I don’t need your help!” you retorted, your chest heaving as you finally let all your anger loose. “I never have and I never will! Why would I ever need help from the likes of you, anyway? All you do is belittle me!” 

His brows furrowed. “What? No, I never meant to–” 

“Just go away!” You shoved past him, leaving your broken bow on the ground. 

Diluc was happy to be back, but as he scanned the crowd of people at the party, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He could’ve sworn Kaeya said you were here. 

He tossed a glare in his brother’s direction, only to see Kaeya just as disappointed at your absence as he was. That was when Mona, one of your half siblings, approached them with a panicked expression on her face. She was breathless from running, and judging by her urgency, there was something wrong. 

Kaeya, already having a feeling it was something to do with you, stepped forward. “What happened?” 

“It’s (Name)!” Mona panted, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow before continuing. “She had a vision. Ajax said he found her passed out on the ground after leaving the target area. She’s in the infirmary now–” 

Kaeya pushed her aside, setting off into a sprint towards the infirmary. Without a second thought, Diluc followed, leaving the party behind. 

When you came to, you were in the infirmary. You didn’t know how you got here, but all you could remember was the vision you had hours prior. Your head was pounding– a side effect of precognition, and your whole body felt hot. Did you have a fever? 

You sat up, wincing as the sunlight filtering through the curtains hit you right in the face. It did nothing but add to your awful migraine. Where were you? You took a look around, your vision a little blurry from just waking up. 

“Well good morning, sleepy head,” a smooth voice said, placing a hand to your forehead, “I was starting to get a little worried you wouldn’t wake up!” 

As soon as your vision cleared, you saw none other than your father sitting next to you, a wide smile on his face as he stared down at you. He retracted his hand and placed it in his lap. 

“Dad!? What are you doing here?” You questioned, your voice hoarse. 

You reached for the cup of water on the table next to the infirmary bed. You gulped it all down in seconds flat and let out a sigh of relief. 

Apollo crossed one leg over the other and placed his chin in his palm. “Why do you think I’m here, sunshine?” 

That nickname– that dreadful nickname. You used to like when he called you that, but not after Ajax started using it too. It sounded like he was mocking you whenever he addressed you as such. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you threw the blanket over your head and curled into a ball, “so go back to Olympus, or whatever.” 

Your father chuckled. “You have to tell me everything you saw, sunshine. Otherwise, I won’t leave. And I think we both know that I am a very patient man.” 

A tense silence passed. You could still feel his presence in the room even though it was completely silent, devoid of a sound. For a few minutes, you were silent, biting your lip out of nervousness.  

Truthfully, you were embarrassed to tell him what you saw. It wasn’t something you wanted to share with your father of all people. And knowing him, he’d tease you to hell and back for it. You wouldn’t say anything, you decided. 

“Fine. If you’re going to be stubborn like that boyfriend of yours, then why don’t I tell him what you saw?” 

You jumped up, a terrified look in your eyes as your father laughed raucously. You glared at him. He was so vexing sometimes. You never understood a thing he said or did. Then again, you never understood a single thing any of the gods did. You probably never would. 

With a heavy sigh, you sat against the wall and explained your vision to him, avoiding his gaze the entire time. It was embarrassing enough you had to tell him, but it would’ve been worse if you were looking at him when you did so. 

After you finished, he hummed thoughtfully. “I see,” he muttered, “well, if I had to guess, my dear beloved daughter has a crush on this child of Ares.” 

“I do not! And I never will!” You immediately sputtered, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

He snickered. “I think you do. After all, that vision spoke for itself.” 

You shook your head, adamant that you didn’t harbor any sort of feelings for the ginger you claimed to hate all these years. There was no way you liked that crazed, warmongering lunatic. Your father was off his rocker. Officially. 

“It’s false. There’s no way I like that wackjob.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “All he does is fight people. He never stops. It’s so annoying. And don’t get me started on the way he smiles when he gets hurt, like he enjoys it! Who in their right mind is happy when they’re practically bleeding out!?” 

Your rambling took your father by surprise, but he was amused nonetheless. This was the first time you got so riled up like this, and all because of a boy. He couldn’t help but find teenage love so, so amusing– especially when you were the one experiencing it. 

“I think someone has a crush!” He said again, only for it to be shot down by you once again. 

“As if! I’d rather take a swan dive into the bottomless pit where Kronos resides than fall for that warmongering brute!” 

He sighed. “The prophecy always comes true, sunshine.” 

You shook your head. “Not this time.” 

Apollo stood up, placing his sunglasses back over his eyes before handing you something. He ruffled your hair. “You can’t escape fate, my dear. I think you’ll be in for a rude awakening.” 

With that, he disappeared into a flurry of golden flames, leaving you alone in the infirmary. On your lap sat a golden lyre, another gift that you would add to your collection of instruments and weapons. This one seemed particularly special, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. But your father’s words echoed in your head, even weeks after his visit. 

You avoided Ajax like the plague, ignoring him on most occasions, and making sure you didn’t have to interact with him on others. Until one night, you found yourself training with Kaeya. You excelled with bows, but you were also a swordmaster. Reestablishing a firm grip on your sun blade (gifted to you by your father), you swung your sword at your brother once more, clicking your tongue when you just barely grazed his arm. 

Your swords clashed, and with one final push, you knocked him onto his ass. His sword flung out of his hands, landing somewhere in the distance. You let out a small laugh, standing over him with your hand outstretched. He took it without a second thought, and you pulled him to his feet. 

“You’ve gotten stronger,” he told you, pride evident in his voice, “how much have you been practicing on your own?” 

“A hell of a lot,” you answered, giving him a lopsided smile, “Jean’s been sparring with me. She’s a formidable foe.” 

Kaeya laughed, retrieving his sword. “Indeed, she is. Though, it’s rare for you to take her on. Have you been missing your usual victim?” Of course he threw in a tease. He always did. 

You sighed. “I’ll admit it’s been a bit boring.” 

He raised a brow. “That’s it?” 

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say? You know I hate his guts.” 

He shrugged, though you knew he was hiding something. “I just thought, after your talk with father, you had a change of heart.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you froze. “Dad talked to you?” 

“Briefly. He told me about your vision. I must say, that vision sure is revealing the desires hidden in your heart–” 

“Dad told you!?” You screeched, fear bubbling up inside of you. 

If your father told Kaeya, there was a chance he might’ve spilled the beans to Ajax as well. You didn’t know how you could ever face him again. If he knew, you’d have to launch yourself into the nearest pit of vipers and hope you never come back out alive. 

Your pride– and your dignity, were ruined. 

Kaeya patted your head. “Not the specifics,” he reassured, “just that it included a certain someone. And no, before you ask, he didn’t say anything to said individual. He only told me… and maybe Diluc.” 

You groaned before you let out a whine. The next time you saw your father, you were going to kill him. Well, you’d try to. 

“I better get back to the cabin,” Kaeya sighed, “I’d like to shower before bed. You coming back with me?” 

He hoped you’d say no, but only because he had a little plan hidden up his sleeve. 

You shook your head, much to his relief. “I’m gonna stay out here a bit longer. I wanna practice with more dummies.” 

He smiled at you, genuinely this time, and pulled you into a tight hug. “Alright. Just don’t wear yourself out. If you aren’t back in an hour, I’ll come and drag you back to the cabin myself.” 

You laughed and pushed him away from you playfully. “Yes, mom.” 

He laughed softly in return, messing up your hair again as you protested and swatted his hand away, before he set off back to the cabins. 

Your smile slowly faded as he got farther away, and you looked down at your sun blade. In the darkness, it looked like just any old scrap of metal, but in the sunlight, it glowed a magnificent gold. It was a sword many children of Apollo had used before you. That’s what your father told you when he had given it to you. 

Only the best warriors born from your father were given this sword. And upon their death, it would stop glowing and your father would take it back into his possession before giving it to the next child. When the sword was given to a new owner after the former owner’s death, it would glow brightly again, filled with the life force of whoever wielded it. 

You gripped the sword tightly in your hands. You could feel a small thrum run through your fingers. That was the sword. It was talking to you, bonding with your life force. Although it lost many wielders in its life, the sword always glowed again. Just like the sun, it always came back. 

The sound of footsteps drew you out of your stupor, and you saw the figure of your arch nemesis approaching you. You let out a sigh. What did he want? And at this time of night, too. 

He raised his spear wordlessly. A small, almost invisible smile pulled at his lips. He wanted a fight… again. But this time felt different, as if he had come to some sort of realization. It wouldn’t hurt to allow him this one fight, especially when he wasn’t opening his mouth. 

So, you raised your sword and positioned yourself into a fighting stance. A few seconds passed. The air was silent. Then, in a flash, the two of you dashed forward. The sound of clashing metal was loud in your ears, but you were focused– more focused and attuned to your opponent’s attacks than you’ve ever been. 

He grazed your arm, you hissed. You slashed his side, he let out a small sound of pain. Back and forth you went, minimally hurting each other and side-stepping and clashing. Finally, you let out a frustrated yell and swung your sword. You didn’t care where it landed, as long as you beat him at his own game. 

It happened too fast for you to notice. One moment, you were filled to the brim with adrenaline, and the next, you watched as he collapsed onto the ground, holding the side of his head. It all happened so fast… 

You panted breathlessly, your chest heaving as you stared at him in complete and utter shock. The adrenaline was wearing off, and you could finally move your body. You rushed forward, throwing your sword to the ground to kneel beside him, pulling his hand away from the deep gash on the side of his face.

Did you do that? 

“Let me see.” You said worriedly. You were experienced with wounds, as most of your siblings were healers. 

Before you could get a closer look, he knocked you back. The wind got knocked out of your lungs, and you could feel your head throbbing. You raised a shaky hand to your head and slowly sat up, groaning at the pain. 

Ajax stood in front of you, his face devoid of the smile he always wore, and the side of his head covered in crimson blood. Your vision cleared, and when you looked up, your eyes widened. You knew how the next events played out, you saw them for yourself. You gulped, your shock turning into anger as you glared at him. 

“I win.” He said flatly. 

You huffed, looking away from him. He knelt down in front of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wouldn’t let this play out like it did in your vision. 

You wouldn’t. 

“There. We’re even,” Ajax muttered, “You pulled a dirty trick on me. I returned the favor.” 

You shoved him away, though he barely budged. “That’s just like you. Selfish, prideful. You always have to have the last say, the last laugh.” You spat. 

Ajax was quiet for a moment, studying you. You began to feel anxious under his scrutinizing gaze. You fiddled with the grass beneath your fingers. 

He held his hand out, and you stared at it. The fire in his eyes was gone, and he looked just about ready to pass out, but you could tell that he was fighting off the urge to close his eyes. You had the chance to get up and leave. You didn’t have to take his hand. 

Yet, you found yourself drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame. And so, you grabbed his hand. He held tightly onto yours, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his other arm around the small of your back. You still had the chance to push him away. To let him pass out here on the grass. 

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t move a single muscle. You gripped tightly to his shirt as he pulled you closer. Your brows furrowed as he opened his mouth. 

“Sunshine, I.. I’m sorry.” 

You certainly weren’t expecting that. “For what?” 

“For making you feel weak. Your brother told me…” 

You were 100% going to punch Kaeya in the face when you got back. 

“You’re not weak,” he told you, his voice firm, “I don’t have weak opponents. I have strong ones. Ones who I want to test my strength against because I know they’re gonna send me packing, but I still come back anyways. Because the only way I can get stronger is if I fight those who are stronger than me.” 

“I don’t need your–” 

“Would you just shut up and listen for once!?” He snapped, holding you tighter. 

That made you shut up instantly. 

He sighed heavily. “I’m not pitying you. I’m being sincere. I only ever fight against you because you’re strong, and I want to learn from you. My master taught me that every battle is worth it, that every person I fight is someone I can learn from. You’re one of those people. So shut up and realize your own strength. Your own worth.” 

You stared at him with wonder in your eyes. He held your gaze. 

“You’re the pride of Apollo’s children. Even your father has recognized your strength. Please, just see it yourself. See yourself the way I do.” 

“I…” You couldn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond, so you did the only way you knew how. 

You pulled him closer, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss. His lips were chapped, and you could taste the metal of the blood from the cut on his upper lip. His kisses were messy but gentle, as if you were fragile and he was handling you with the utmost care. 

When you pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours. A smile erupted onto his face, so dazzling you felt as if Cupid had struck an arrow through your heart at that very moment. He let out a content sigh. 

“Do you see now?” 

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, “maybe if you kiss me again, I will.” 

He chuckled, his warm breath hitting your face. You smiled, caressing his face with your thumb. “And I thought I was slick.” 

You hugged him tightly, scared of letting him go now that you had him in your embrace. 

“(Name)... I feel dizzy…” 

“Oh shit!” 

You spent that night in the infirmary, nursing his wounds.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[misojunnie]

DELICATE ─ psh. ☆ (teaser)

does love ever cross the line?

# genre: rich kid!enemy!sunghoon x fem!reader, forbidden love, enemies to lovers, slow burn, family feud, non idol au

# warnings: substances, lots of pining/angst, cursing, insults, mature jokes, implied sex, I have no idea how businesses work plz don’t roast me

# featuring: sunghoon & enha! + le sserafim

# playlist: delicate by taylor swift, take care by beach house, love by kendrick lamar, babydoll by dominic fike, hurts so good by astrid s

# a/n: hi y’all! I got this request a long time ago and only recently got to it, so I hope y’all like! lmk if u want to be added to the taglist! pls enjoy <3

# word count: 13.2k

# taglist: @lovialy @minniejenseo @powerpuffstuts @mnxnii @idkdykilr @ionlyreadforfanfics @heelovesmeknot @100520s @simjyunnie @scrumptiousloser @eneiyri @pinkkami @milkycloudtyg @enhypenlovre @pinkkami @m3chigo @saythenameseventeen178 @desistay @capri-cuntz.@taerifin open!

# unable to tag: @hohohobo

this was written upon anon request; check it out here!

when your father’s company cratered after a faulty business deal, a vendetta was formed between your family and the biggest export company in south korea. but that rivalry begins to falter when you fall in love with the ceo’s son.

[more under the cut!]

˗ˋ☆ˊ˗

Awards banquets were Sunghoon’s least favorite part of being in business. Forget the ruthlessness and backstabbing, dressing up in a suit and pretending to be successful blew all that warfare out of the water.

“It’s too tight.”

“It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Just stop complaining.”

“I’m not kidding, Jake. Loosen it or I’ll kill you.” Jake sighed, tugging on the navy blue tie until it was hanging loosely around Sunghoon’s neck, a stark and messy contrast to his crisp black suit and neat button up.

“Jesus Christ. After fifteen years, you’d think you’d know how to tie a tie.” Jake said, shaking his head as his best friend checked his hair in the mirror.

“Are you sure we have to go to this thing tonight?” Sunghoon huffed, brushing a stray piece of hair into place.

“Don’t be stupid. You’ve been going to these galas since you were six, and dragging me along with you.” Jake scoffed, pushing Sunghoon’s head from behind and ruining his hairstyle yet again, the latter glaring.

“You love it.” Sunghoon teased, tearing his eyes away from the mirror after checking his hair a last time. “God, I can’t believe we’re still having these idiotic galas. Everyone just knows they’re a coverup for big corporations to distract from the fact that they’re abusing their poor workers.”

“Nobody cares these days. Put a bow on anything and the media will eat it up.” Jake said, adjusting his tie before slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Ready to ruin some lives? Destroy some young futures?”

“Not funny.” Sunghoon warned, pointing his finger at Jake while trying to tug on his shoes with the other hand. “You know how much I hate the company.”

“Say that as much as you want, but you’re still wearing shoes bought with your daddy’s blood money.” Sunghoon huffed.

“Hm...I suppose you’re right.” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the ball, Prince Charming.” Jake dragged Sunghoon out of the room by the wrist, locking it behind him, Sunghoon in tow.

Sunghoon sighed. God, how he hated his life. A legacy built on deception, and nothing he could do about it. Him and Jake made their way to the elevators, his dull eyes disappearing behind the closing doors.

He didn’t belong anywhere. Certainly not here.

˗ˋ☆ˊ˗

On the other side of the city, you were having an entirely different conversation.

“Take that off, Chae.” you said, biting into an apple. Your red lipstick bled into the fruit as you stared judgingly at Chaewon’s enormous diamond necklace.

“But it’s so pretty.” she crossed her arms, but you gave her a stern glance and she turned around to change with a roll of her eyes. “And you, put that out.” you swatted at Jay’s hand, a lit cigarette perched between his two fingers, roiling smoke spilling from the top. “You’re gonna make my new dress smell like smoke.”

“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Jay asked, putting out his cigarette on the corner of the coffee table, which made you frown. “No need to stress. You’ve done this business routine a million times over.”

“I’m just nervous, I guess.” you said, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“I thought you didn’t care what the Parks thought about you.”

“I don’t.” you said firmly, tongue poking into the flesh of your left cheek. “I just want things to go smoothly, that’s all.”

“So you’re not gonna stand up to those fuckers that ruined your life? No protest?” Jay asked, resting his chin on his hand. “You always wanted to take them down.”

“Of course I do. But tonight’s not the night.” you sighed, rubbing your forehead, smudging your foundation and cursing when you realized what you had done. “I just want to be put together, just for one night.”

“Well you certainly look the part, honey.” he said, eyes trailing over your floor length red gown. “You’re a proper businesswoman.”

“I hope so.” you laughed.

“You’re gonna kill it. I know it for a fact.” Jay said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before standing. “Now let’s get you to this ball.” You grinned up at him, getting to your feet and brushing the dust off your skirt with determination.

“Let’s show these people who our company is.”

˗ˋ☆ˊ˗

[sixosix]

HOLD ON TO THE MEMORIES, AND I WILL HOLD ONTO YOU | LYNEY

notes happy last chapter!! hope u enjoy<33 and tune in for another post in appreciation for the last chapter yeahhh

previous chapter | masterlist

It took two months in Sumeru, three in Liyue, and one month in Snezhnaya to take you down. Childe admitted that you held up longer than he expected—training unrelentingly in an unfamiliar environment would shake anyone’s confidence. But you’d been pushing through with excitement at the prospect of traveling to another region and training to become stronger. The adrenaline is quick to disappear when Rosalie has to go back home, and her absence makes the cold loneliness prominent.

When Childe strikes at you with a sword, your calves burn, and your thighs quiver—that split second costs you the match. Childe calls for you to get up. Fight back. But for some reason, all you can think of is how the ice has melted in your boots in a puddle and how the flowers sprinkled sporadically in the snow are the same ones back at home.

Childe senses it, the sudden drop of mood. He studies whatever expression you’re making and smiles.

“Alright. I think it’s about time.”

“I’m sorry.”

Childe pulls you up and throws your arm over his shoulder. “What’re you sorry for?”

You take one heavy step at a time, watching and hating as your feet sink into the soft snow. It’s too cold. “You’re doing so much for me, but I’m too weak to follow through.”

“Nonsense.” He clicks his tongue. “I think of this as one of my duties.”

“But it’s not one of your duties,” you argue weakly. “I’m a burden to your actual duties. My colleagues are already suspicious of this special treatment.”

“They aren’t really your colleagues,” Childe points out. “Just as you aren’t actually working under me. You’re my mentee. There’s a world of difference.”

You sigh, unconvinced. Childe is doing so much to prevent the other Harbingers and even the Tsaritsa herself from snooping in your business. A part of you thinks the Tsaritsa already knows, but it’s about time she does something about it, right?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Childe remarks. When you turn to him, he’s staring ahead. “Don’t worry, okay? You’ve got three Harbingers vouching for you.”

“Three?”

Childe grins. “That boyfriend of yours is about to be one, isn’t he?”

Excitement thrums in each bone of your body as the familiar view of the continent-sized fountain comes to view. You nearly fall over into the ocean from tipping forward.

“Fontaine’s not going anywhere,” Childe yells out from the other side of the Fatui-issued ship.

The wind whips through your hair. The recognizable scent of the sea breeze makes you laugh in delight. Maybe you missed your home more than you realized. 

“I wouldn’t let it, anyway,” you answer back.

Once the ship has reached the dock, you bound over to Childe, who looks over curiously.

“Thank you,” you say, and you really, really mean it. For the past few months, for this and possibly for more in the future.

Childe ruffles your hair. It would’ve made you glare at him on usual days, but you’re bursting with happiness so you let him until he says, “No problem, Y/N. We’re friends now.”

Childe nudges you forward. “Now, go hurry. I’m about one messenger bird away from losing my patience with Lyney.”

Despite that, you meet with Rosalie first.

The sun has barely risen, just peeking from rolling hills. The shop is still closed. But this is your home, so you push the key in, pull the door open, and catch sight of Rosalie fixing the displays on the shelf behind the counter.

“Maman, why are you up so early?”

Rosalie’s head whips around, then her limbs lock up in place. She’d been with you for the first two weeks of Sumeru, admiring their flora, then taking a lot of them home. You see them displayed on the shelves next to your first flower—the ones that are certainly for sale. Rosalie still hasn’t moved, frozen, gaping at you.

“Surprise,” you say, then she boots back to life and runs over to hug you.

“Oh, my darling,” Rosalie says reverently, as if speaking to the gods, thanking them. Her hands are stained with soil dirt and the smell of leaves, but you find that there is nothing else more fitting. You really are home. “Ma bébé! You’re back!”

You pluck a few petals off of her hair. “I am.”

Rosalie pulls back and grins up at you. “You’re home! You’re—” her face twists in realization, “Oh, you’re back. Oh, dear. You just missed Lyney. He came over earlier to help me settle everything before I opened up.”

“Wait, really?”

Rosalie nods, ushering you inside the counter, where the door leads to upstairs to the kitchen. “Yes, yes. Since I returned, Lyney has been coming over to visit and help me with the shop.”

Your heart skips a beat. “He does?”

“Mhm. At first, I assumed it was because he got used to visiting you, but he just does it every day now. ” Rosalie shakes her head fondly, smoothing down your hair. “That boy. I tell him that he should focus when he has shows to practice or prepare for, but he just buries his hands in the dirt as an answer.”

“I see you two have gotten closer while I was away.” The image of Lyney changing pots, getting his hands soiled, while he insists that Rosalie does the watering, makes you unbelievably fond.

“As stubborn as you,” Rosalie chides, smiling. “He knows how to handle them, though. Did you know, Lyney started to send out messenger birds when I told him I was missing you? That boy is more than head over heels, darling.”

“Maman,” you say, embarrassed. “I just came back. Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”

“I don’t need to. Lyney updates me anyway,” Rosalie says. “But I have missed you, so tell your maman about everything, okay?”

“I’ll tell you stories for as long as you want me to, maman.”

Rosalie’s eyes water, but she braves through it as she stares wordlessly at you. She wipes it off, then ruffles your hair. Do you have a sign on your head or something? 

“I’m proud to call you my daughter. I’ll always want you to.”

Freminet is the first out of the siblings to hear from you. It’s not on purpose. You’re on your way to surprise Lyney and Lynette when you hear a soft voice call out after you. Your head snaps side to side, frantically looking for the source, then grin wide when Freminet waves at you feverishly.

“Y/N!” he exclaims breathlessly.

“Freminet!” you yell back, falling towards a hug that he tightly reciprocates. 

“I didn’t know you were back?” He says incredulously, which might just be the most passionate emotion you’ve ever felt from him. He looks torn between disbelief and joy.

“Just this morning. I wanted to surprise all of you.” To gain a sense of satisfaction, you bury your hand in his hair first, knocking his beret aside when you ruffle and mess with his hair. “Your hair’s gotten longer than usual.”

“Yeah. You missed too much,” Freminet mumbles. But he doesn’t look depressed about it. He beams up at you, reminding you of a particularly pleased puppy.  “You have a lot to catch up on.”

“I know, I know.”

“But wait.” Freminet’s brows scrunch together. “How long are you allowed to stay here?”

“Two weeks, at most. But I can always come back whenever I want.”

Freminet laughs. “Are you going to max out your two weeks before you talk to Lyney?”

“Shut up.” You elbow his ribs, but Freminet just laughs harder. “I was on my way to your house before I saw you.”

Freminet hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting off to somewhere far. “I don’t think Lyney’s home right now.”

“Really?” You follow his gaze, but see nothing. Only kids running around, throwing cards around and sounding explosions with their mouths. You smile. Were they imitating Lyney? It seems that even if you try to avoid him, you’ll find traces of his footsteps anywhere. “Huh. Where could he be then?”

“Ever since you left, Lyney goes to this one spot a lot,” Freminet says, turning back to you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Ma mère’s shop?”

“No, no. A different one. He says you two sparred there, and he goes there when he misses you. He goes every day.”

Rosalie, then now Freminet… You feel giddy, fondness bursting in your chest at the thought of Lyney missing you as much as you missed him. Not that you’d admit it to him straight up—because then he’d never let it go. But even then, the thought of that has you smiling to yourself like a madman.

Freminet notices it, too. “I’ll tell Lynette you said hi.”

True to his word, you find Lyney in the same spot he asked you to spar with him after years without it. You face his back, but you keep your steps light and measured, moving closer and closer until you see that he’s picking flowers. For his show, maybe?

Lyney looks vulnerable, hunched over a patch of flowers and gently unrooting them from the grass.

You spread your palm and let ice materialize above it in the shape of a heart. It’s smooth and clean after months and months of perfecting it. Then you throw it towards him. You have exceptional aim—you barely miss his ear on purpose. But Lyney straightens up in a snap and catches the heart with a gloved hand.

He looks at the heart in confusion, then rapidly whips around to you.

You grin and wave, unsure of what to say. What do you even greet him with? It’s nice to see you again? I missed you?

You haven’t had much time to think about it as Lyney sprints to you and tackles you down into a hug, blowing the air out of your chest as you both fall on the grass. You laugh as Lyney rubs his head on your neck like those affectionate cats back at Sumeru, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder.

Lyney pulls away, pupils blown wide.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” you whisper in return. Maybe the right thing to say is, “Lyney.”

“You’re back. You—you’re back in Fontaine—you made me a heart!”

“I did,” you say shyly. “I’m home.”

Sumeru had been wonderful; with trees that stretched and went on for forever, dewy grass that tickled your calves, and the heat of the sand that you longed for when you reached Snezhnaya. Liyue had been beautiful; spread with the aroma of spices and the orange glow of their sunset, then the mountains that allowed you to soar from one to another. Snezhnaya had been enchanting; the view of their sky was unmatched, the flowers that were unique to the cold climate were beautiful, their snow sent you a thrill that you knew you couldn’t feel anywhere else, and you were able to refine your Vision in the place where it belonged.

But the warmth that Lyney emanated—that he gave you—was the kind you missed in every place you went to. This is where you belong.

thank you so much for reading. i'll save all the things i want to say in the next post, so please, tune in!

[weirdsht]

What es up 👾

What if totcf with transmigrated!reader that barely says anything about themselves but they know so much about the others, they think it's kinda unfair how easy they are to read to reader (reader has read the novel so they're like a piece of cake to reader) and then one time everyone was drinking, some were drunk, some were dead on the floor or couch, then reader says "I miss my husband..." With such a solemn expression and everyone is shocked because wdym u have a fockin husband????

Rosalyn: *sees reader crying their eyes out* you... You have a husband?

Reader: yes, Rosa sob I miss him, my kids, too!

The gang: Kid? Wait, kids? Plural...? How come we never knew of this????????????

Reader was actually referring to their fictional boyfriend and characters they grew to love that they knew about from Earth, but reader is like, crying like it's the saddest thing as if their spouse went to war

…Seriously? - LoTCF & Reader

a/n: a/n: not me sneaking my lads obsession in here, also I had to choose 1 LI so the gig isn't out of the bag so soon but I don't have a bias there... so i used the usual roulette lol, find out who won as you read the story

tags: earth timeline doesn't make sense. transmigrator reader, love and deepspace mentions, platonic, fluss

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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[Name] was an enigma to Cale’s group. They know that she’s not from their world. Know that she can predict the future to a certain extent. However, beyond that information, they don’t know much about the transmigrator. 

They barely know anything personal about [Name].

Which is a bit unfair if one thinks about it deeply. [Name] knows everyone like the back of her hand, but they don’t even know if the name she has given her is her real one.

But it doesn’t matter much. Cale’s group is not one to pry information that could possibly be sensitive out of a comrade. They all have their secrets after all, maybe [Name] was uncomfortable talking about her previous life.

Well, that was until Rosalyn saw her crying one day.

It was a normal day, a good one even. For the first time in a while, there’s absolutely nothing to do. Even Rosalyn’s research has been put on hold. And so she decided to find [Name] so they could try to newly opened cafe in town, and have a girl’s day.

“[Name] are you busy–”

The mage stopped in her tracks as she heard the transmigrator sob from the other side of the door. [Name]’s cries were quiet but it caused a loud concern to ring in Rosalyn’s heart.

“Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

Rosalyn opened the door, panic spread through her body as [Name] is known to never cry.

“Ro-rosa..?”

[Name] looked up as the door opened. Her knees touched her chest, her head resting on top of it. Tear stains could be seen on her clothes, it looked like she had been crying for a while now.

“I’m fine, don’t worry nothing happened.”

She reassured Rosalyn as she wiped her eyes with her sleeves. Her voice was wobbly, not helping her case and certainly not making the ex-royal believe her.

Rosalyn took [Name]’s hands on her left hand and wiped the transmigrator’s tears with the handkerchief she bought with her right hand. Concern is etched on her face as she gives [Name]’s hands comforting strokes.

“Tell this unnie what’s wrong.”

Both have forgotten about the door being wide open. Making everyone, the three kids and Lock, hear everything they are talking about.

“It’s a silly thing… I just realized it’s been so long since I saw my husband…”

Rosalyn fought the urge to overreact at the news that one of her friends had a husband she didn’t know about.

“From your previous world?”

“...Yeah, it’s been so long since I saw him. It doesn’t help that when I last saw him it looked like he was going on a very dangerous mission.”

[Name] was crestfallen as she spoke. It was clear just how much she missed him.

“My children too, I only saw my twins for a short while!”

The whiplash Rosalyn is getting from these shocking pieces of information is too much.

Good thing another redhead arrived to save the day.

“Why are you four hiding over there?”

Cale asked the four children and only then did the two women realise how the door was open. Rosalyn shot [Name] an apologetic look. She didn’t mean for her personal life to be broadcasted like that.

“No need to be sorry, it wasn’t really a secret. There wasn’t just a chance to bring it up.”

[Name] assured the mage as she gestured over to the five outside her door. Beckoning them to go inside.

As Cale and the children walked towards the transmigrator, they updated Cale as to what they heard.

“So you had a husband before coming here?”

“Yes, my husband Sylus… I didn’t even get his limited card before I could… huek!”

The transmigrator teared up once more and every one pitied her despite their confusion. Just what card is she talking about? Maybe it’s an earth thing they don’t know about.

“[Name]-nim are you talking about a credit card?”

Choi Han peeked from outside. He was just passing by when he heard the children updating Cae about his fellow transmigrator’s life.

“Huh? Oh no, I mean he did have a black card but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Now Choi Han was part of the confused crowd. If she didn’t mean a savings card what could she be talking about then?

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Cale squinted his eyes. That man knows for a fact that [Name] hasn’t even had her first kiss yet. What are all these lies about a husband? 

…Plus the name she said sounded very familiar.

“Could you tell us more about him?”

“Yeah tell us please nya!”

Raon and Hong encouraged [Name] to talk more, interested in the slightest information about their mysterious friend’s personal life.

“Well, his very tall. Around 187cm I think? He kind of looks like a vampire with his white hair and red eyes. I can confidently say that his one of the most handsome guys out there.”

Everyone became even more intrigued. Just how great was this husband of hers? [Name] sounded very in love with him. He also sounded well-off based on Choi Han’s explanation of how a black card is like the equivalent of a golden plaque.

“Oh, he also has this thing called Evol. Basically he has powers, his power in particular is controlling energy. His super strong, he can even heal wounds.”

From the corner of the room, Cale suppressed a sigh as he placed the pieces together. Instead, he opted to silently facepalm.

The conversation about [Name]’s supposed “husband” lasted for a few more minutes before everyone filed out of her room. Leaving only her and Cale behind.

“What was your affinity level before you got here?”

“Affinity 60… But omg, you play love and deespace too!?”

[Name] looked at the redhead man who was finally letting out that deep, imparted sigh he had been holding in since earlier.

“No, I just saw forum leaks about your husband Sylus.”

“Ohhhh, I was wondering how you knew when he was barely out when I transmigrated…”

An awkward silence lingered around the two. Both of them don’t know how to proceed with the new information. In fact, [Name] didn’t know that game existed on Cale’s earth.

Wait was it possible that they were from the same earth?

But he had powers…

[Name] decided to not think about it.

“Next time, refrain from speaking about your fictional husbands as if they’re real… I think you nearly gave Rosalyn a heart attack?”

“Wait really!?”

[Name] looked at Cale who was on his way to go back to his room. She didn’t know the repercussions of casually speaking about her otome game. The redhead only looked at her as if she was a lost cause. 

“Yes, really.“

incase you were curious about the roulette lol dont mind me using the jp names im just more used to that

[forlix]

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫・h.h.

— an impromptu drive to the airport at five in the morning rekindles conversations and feelings alike.

words・2.5k pairing・ex-boyfriend!hyunjin x gn!reader genres・angst, mutual pining, hurt w/no resolution, established (former) relationship, Airport Scene™ warnings・implied toxicity, strong language, Not a Happy Read

a/n・dear anon who asked where this went after i posted and deleted it a few months ago & dear other anon who requested mentioned hyune angst: this is for u, my loves

“I’m outside,” was how you were greeted over the phone earlier, in a tone so callous and cold that you barely recognized the speaker. Barely.

“Sorry, you’re what?”

“You have a flight today, right? I said I’d take you to the airport.”

One second, you were at a complete loss; the next, you thought you were going to erupt with how much you felt and how much you wanted to say, the weight of the situation hitting you with full force. Your ex-boyfriend, to whom you hadn’t spoken in nearly three weeks, had just materialized outside your home with no warning at the ass crack of dawn and suggested you get into a car alone with him for an hour.

As if that wasn’t the very last thing you wanted to do.

Briefly, you reflected on how you parted ways; you wouldn’t say the breakup was malicious, but it certainly wasn’t amicable, either. The longer your relationship went on, the more questions you raised—important and unavoidable considerations of your future together, none of which Hyunjin could give you substantial answers to. Whether it was because he couldn’t or because he simply didn’t care to try, you didn’t know. But the fact that you had to ask yourself that at all was enough for you to take a step back.

Distance morphed into passive aggression. That, in turn, precipitated constant conflict. The starlight that you saw in Hyunjin fizzled further with every biting word and slammed door. The resulting supernova was far from the beautiful spectacle you’d been promised in your astronomy textbooks.

Standing on the sidewalk outside your apartment was your fallen star in the flesh.

“Let me do this, Y/N."

You’d gone silent for what felt like whole minutes before Hyunjin spoke again.

"Please," he added. You perceived how the word weakened towards the end, some of the frost in his voice displaced by quiet exasperation.

It was these observations, plus the time displayed on the clock hanging above your bathroom door, that prompted you to take your luggage in hand and leave your apartment. You were going to miss your flight if you stood there, glowering silently, for any longer.

When you emerged into the frigid morning, you spotted Hyunjin’s silhouette immediately, and something inside you came undone, as though a knot had been doing itself over and over since you and him parted ways. Your eyes locked together, your gaze contemplative, his a little surprised, as if he didn’t actually expect you to accept his offer.

The first word that came to your mind was exhausted. You could tell that the shadows on his face weren’t just products of the lone streetlight above his head; he had his back curved in a slouch that made him look a few inches shorter than he was. You were reminded of a balloon with an indiscernible opening somewhere on its surface, gradually and inevitably deflating.

Much to your irritation, the second word to surface in your mind was beautiful. Hyunjin’s normally sharp features, from what you could see beneath his hood, were bare and smooth from fatigue; thick strands of dark hair, longer than you remembered, fell effortlessly over his forehead and his cheekbones; his figure somehow looked even broader, leaner when fitted in the loose material of a hoodie and sweatpants.

He was the spitting image of a man you used to know, who looked just like this whenever he wandered into your bedroom at the end of the day, whenever he wrapped you into his arms and littered kisses over your skin until sleep overcame the both of you like a warm, clear tide, whenever he greeted you with a smile that shone like the tropical sun the next morning.

You were standing in front of a ghost.

You broke eye contact first, averting your eyes to your luggage instead. Just in time to see and feel his hand brush against yours when he took your suitcases from you and loaded them into the trunk, all without saying a word.

Now, twenty minutes have passed since Hyunjin started driving, and forty remain before you reach the airport. The vehicle is deathly silent save for the drone of wheels against pavement and wind whistling against dusty windows. You haven’t looked at Hyunjin since you met him outside your place. Instead, your eyes are fixated on the lights of Seoul and the way they flicker out of sight one by one as you drive further away.

And you remember.

The different memories you have of this car blow through your mind like you’re skimming a flipbook. That time you burst into tears mid-drive and Hyunjin pulled over on the side of the highway, giving you his undivided attention as you ranted about the terrible day you’d had. That time you noticed a paparazzi van stationed around the corner and the two of you sank so low in your seats that you had to later unfold yourselves from beneath the glove compartments. The assorted dog-shaped air fresheners you bought for him, a new one hanging from the rear-view every month (except the one that resembled Kkami, which stuck around for almost a year). The caffeine-flavored kisses shared over the cupholders between the seats, one person tipping over the drinks precariously, the other moving to catch them with a soft huff of laughter. The extra hoodie he kept in his backseat for if you ever accidentally underdressed when you went out together. The playlist you curated together, always playing quietly in the background.

You never gave this car a second thought when you and Hyunjin were together, but it is only now that you realize the place felt a little like an extension of home, of him.

The silence becomes fucking excruciating.

You are not sure if Hyunjin is interested in speaking to you. You’re less sure if you even have anything to say to him. But you open your mouth anyway.

“Thank you,” you say, hardly audible. “For doing this.”

A pregnant pause follows. Hyunjin probably wasn’t expecting you to start a conversation—neither were you, to be fair.

Little do you know that he has been trying and failing to string together a sentence since the moment he started the engine, and hearing your voice feels like clouds parting on a foggy day, a singular ray of sunshine settling on his cheek.

“It’s no trouble,” he returns. He’s quiet for a while after this, and you’re beginning to think the conversation is already over when he clears his throat.

“How are you feeling? About the trip, I mean.”

“Good. I think it’ll be nice to get away from Seoul for some time.”

Your choice of answer is intentional, and you can tell by Hyunjin’s lack of immediate response that he picks up on this.

“And you?” You return. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, thanks. The members and I went to the states a few days ago, finished up album promotions there.”

“Oh, right.” He’d told you about this; they’d been in Japan prior, if you remember correctly. “And everything went well?”

“Yeah. It was a lot of fun.”

“When did you get back?”

You don’t expect him to hesitate at such a simple question, but he does.

“Few hours ago,” he mumbles.

This takes you a few seconds to process. And then, so surprised at his answer that you can no longer help yourself, you finally lift your gaze to the side of Hyunjin’s face.

Your eyes comb over the fluorescent lights of the highway illuminating the slope of his nose; the weariness clouding his irises; his teeth latched gently around his lower lip, as if trying to prevent himself from saying another word.

Hyunjin turns his head to look at you, too, only for a few seconds and more out of anxiety than anything. But you have long mastered the art of reading the fine print of his facial expressions, and that brief interval is enough for you to catch what hadn’t been there the last time you’d looked him in the eye: the true reason why he’d hardly set his bags down on the dormitory floor before he was leaving again, piling into a car and going to you; the same entity that you know is etched all over your face, too.

Yearning.

He is the one who looks away first this time, with a soft snap of his head like he has to force himself to do it—but the damage has already been done.

“Idiot,” you mutter under your breath, and you mean it in every sense of the word.

And it’s so unexpected (and so damn true) that it wrests a laugh from Hyunjin’s lips, the sound every bit as light as it is dark. The bittersweet smile that it leaves behind on his face mirrors helplessly onto your own.

You don’t say another word to each other for the rest of the drive.

The sun has risen by the time Hyunjin pulls up to the curb of the international terminal, but there’s hardly anybody around at this time of day, so he doesn’t mask up before stepping out of the car. He places your suitcases in front of you, then holds up a finger as a silent gesture of wait right there—and he dashes up the curb, beelines towards the line of trolleys, and pulls one over. 

You feel a helpless warmth in your fingertips as you haul your suitcases onto the metal platform together. Even now, he’s taking care of you, as thoughtlessly and naturally as respiring.

“Is that everything?”

“I think so.”

And the two of you find yourselves two feet apart and facing each other, examining your counterparts as if the answer of what the fuck to say now lies in the curves of their cheeks, in the purse of their lips.

But all you obtain from looking at Hyunjin is a glimpse of that wicked entity again, yearning, now in the form of eyes softened by the sunrise and lips parted by forbidden words, sitting readily on the tip of his tongue.

You feel a deep, hollow sadness within you, derived from knowing and hating that no amount of yearning will change the reality that he’s not yours anymore.

“Have a great trip,” Hyunjin says at last. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will,” you answer. “Thank you again. Get some rest today.”

Your arms move to push your trolley, but not before they nearly twitch in his direction with how much you want to hug him goodbye. The last thing you see before turning around is his hand in the air, and then you enter the airport, wondering vaguely if you will ever see him again.

You're in a bit of a numb state as you check in your bags and step into the line for security. The last hour has left you feeling like your heart and mind have filled with static—the kind that shows up when there are too many television signals in the air, all of them unintelligible and amorphous.

But then there is a shout of your name behind you, so urgent that the familiar voice cracks over the last syllable, like bone breaking upon boulder. You turn around.

The white noise clears.

The soles of Hyunjin’s sneakers echo as he runs across the mostly-empty airport; his hood has been knocked down and his long hair set free, combed backward by the wind; there are other eyes on him, but he is only looking at you, something else burning in his gaze now, something certain and familiar. 

You move your suitcases aside and extend your arms, your pulse racing with anticipation—just in time for him to positively crash into you. He very well could have hurt you with how quickly he’s moved toward you, but the very instant his skin meets yours, he’s gathering you so tightly and securely in his arms that he cushions his own fall, costing you only of the breath in your lungs.

And the two of you fuse together like a cosmic collision, imperfect but quintessential. The moon’s craters themselves.

He knots one hand in your hair and cradles the back of your neck with the other; you form fists around the fabric of his hoodie, your face disappearing into the junction of his neck and shoulder. And you feel the tears come at last: tears of relief, of regret, of remembrance.

There are a billion things Hyunjin wants to say to you then. He wants to thank you for loving him. He wants to blame you for loving him. He wants to tell you that it was all worth it for him, so long as he was once the reason that you smiled. He wants to convince you—and himself—that nothing was meant to last forever, that the two of you were destined to burn out, the same way even the biggest and brightest of heavenly bodies have shelf lives too.

But there is one train of thought that overshadows the rest. It rings louder and truer than anything he has ever known and emerges straight from the chambers of his heart.

“I—” He sounds shattered when he speaks, his voice muffled where his lips touch your skin, his words a rasp that is only audible to you. “I still—”

“I know,” you whisper, squeezing your watering eyes. “Me too.”

And you think the shaky “fuck” that leaves his lips is an apt summary of the absolute mess that the two of you have found yourselves in: entirely and obtusely enamored with the person who has proven themselves to be incompatible with your love, time and time again.

You are only willing to pull away far enough from Hyunjin so that you can look at him, his cheeks now damp with saltwater and flushed with emotion, his dreary eyes swimming with adoration and sorrow. You cradle his face with both hands, and he drops his arms to circle around your waist. His fingers lace together against the small of your back.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you murmur. You wipe at his tears with your thumbs, touch your forehead to his. “We’re gonna be okay, Hyun.”

His reply is so sad and so small that your heart feels like it’s being carved out of your chest with a blunt pocket knife. “When?”

You don’t know the answer.

You don’t know the answer when you finally go through security, the final boarding call for your flight booming through the intercom, Hyunjin’s face buried in his shaking sleeves.

You don’t know the answer when you return to Seoul a few months later, and Hyunjin is not there to give you a lift this time.

You don’t know the answer when your birthday passes and you still receive texts from Hyunjin’s parents, wishing you well, reminding you to take care of yourself. Nor do you know the answer on the birthday after that, or the birthday after that, which is when the texts stop coming.

You won’t know the answer for a very long time—so much so that you spend years of your life doubting there’s an answer at all. But you find it one day when you least expect it, and it congeals in your mind like expired milk, numbs your mouth like the strongest of anesthetics. 

You have your answer then, but you don’t want it.

You never have.

🔖・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[the-broken-pen]

Hi! I just watched Mulan and I think it was AMAZING (which inspired me to send this ask) and I love your writings too! If youre not too busy, can you write a male villain x female hero who disguises as a man but one day in their fight, the villain finds out! You can continue how you'd like the next part to be

Thank u, have a nice day <3

“Well,” the villain said, swallowing hard. “This certainly makes things regarding my sexuality a bit more confusing.”

Out of all the things she had expected him to say, it certainly hadn’t been that.

She dropped her hands down from where they had been protecting her face.

“I’m sorry?”

The villain waved a hand at her, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, you know, this complicates some stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff,” the villain agreed.

She rubbed a hand over her brow.

“So you’re not…mad?”

At first, it had been an accident. She had been undercover, and her disguise had apparently been better than she thought, because the villain had taken one look at her and decided she was a guy. Which she didn’t have a problem with. It for sure made her worry less about her secret identity. But at some point it had been too long for her to correct the villain, so he called her a him and she did her best to drop her voice an octave and failed so spectacularly she was surprised that hadn’t tipped him off in the first place.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know,” she said, voice wavering. “I’ve been lying to you? Apparently, this is causing a major upheaval in your understanding of your identity? There’s a lot of reasons!”

“Would you…” his brow furrowed. “Like me to be mad at you? Because I can do that if that’s something you need to get through this situation. I’ve been told I’m a good actor. Tree number four in my school play when I was six and all that. Talent you can’t teach, you know?”

She stared, slightly dumbfounded, because this was not what she had expected. This wasn’t even in the same realm, same dimension, as anything she had expected.

“You are being remarkably chill about this.”

The villain laughed, then gestured to himself.

“Oh, no. There’s a fair bit of internalized screaming going on at the moment. Like. Quite a lot to be honest.”

“Screaming,” she said faintly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, loads of it. Which is not your fault at all,” he blurted out, like he truly was incredibly worried about her taking it the wrong way. “I’m just. Grappling with the fact that I don’t like you any less as a woman than when I did when you were—well, when I thought you were—�� he amended, “a man.”

“Oh,” she said intelligently.

And if they were being honest in this acid trip of a conversation, she had a fair bit of internal screaming going on too.

He just stared at her with something like awe. “You’re just. So pretty. Like even as a guy you were pretty. You really can pull off masculinity. Or like. Androgyny. Just for future reference if you’re wondering. Just like. Damn.”

She furrowed her brow.

“Should I be feeling objectified right now?”

“I mean, I don’t think so, but I’m not really the one who should be telling you how you feel.”

He had a fair point with that.

“Okay,” she made a gesture that could have been interpreted as ‘spooked feral raccoon please don’t bite me’ but was mostly just to stop anything else from tumbling out of his mouth. “Can we just run this back before you say more stupid things in an effort to keep all your,” she gave him a dry look. “Internal screaming internalized?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Go for it.”

She sighed. “You liked me as a guy. Apparently quite a bit. And now you know I’m a woman—which by the way, sorry for not telling you, that’s my bad—and you still like me quite a bit. And that’s…helping you discover some things about yourself?”

He thought for a second.

“Pretty much hit the nail on the head, I think.”

“Okay,” she managed. “Okay. In all of my bouts of anxiety surrounding this, this was never any of the scenarios my brain conjured. I’m not even sure the chemicals in my brain would have come up with this. They certainly don’t know how to handle it.”

He frowned, and it was too reminiscent of a kicked puppy for her to look at it for too long. Or directly at it, for that matter.

“What did you think would happen?”

“Murder,” she replied. “Like, an immediate attempt on my life. Very gruesome.”

His eyes snapped to meet hers, filled with so much immediate, panicked concern that she almost choked on it.

“I literally bought you a sandwich last week.”

“And you also threw me into a wall. Lots of mixed signals there so I feel justified in my own insane scenarios.”

“Ok but like. The wall throwing was in a nefarious way.”

“And the sandwich wasn’t?”

“It could have been poisoned. You don’t know. I’m nefarious like that.”

“You’re overusing that word—“

“You ate a potentially poisoned sandwich without thinking about it, which I think we should talk about—“

“It had the good cheese on it, did you think I would turn that down? That stuff is expensive—“

“It’s like seven dollars from Fred Meyer. What cheese are you eating—“

She slapped a hand over his mouth, and his eyes widened to something almost comical.

She was surprised.

He was surprised.

The universe itself was probably surprised.

“We are getting very off topic.”

He nodded behind her hand, but made no move to contribute further to the conversation. Which again. Was probably for the best.

“So.” She glanced over his face. “You like me.”

He paused. Then nodded once.

She blew out a breath. “Okay. Alright. Well, that complicates things for me. I did not calculate for this—“

He snatched her hand from his mouth, but his grip stayed gentle. 

“Wait. Did you think I wouldn’t like you if I knew you were a girl.”

She swallowed. Hard.

“Ok. Well. We can very gladly put that fear to bed.”

She nodded once, and he returned her hand back over his mouth.

She snatched it back before he did something stupid. Like lick her.

She wouldn’t put it past him.

The silence between them was awkward in a way it never had been. 

She kicked at a rock.

“So,” she said.

“So.”

“Haven’t they made a movie about this kind of thing before?”

She shrugged one shoulder.

“What haven’t they made a movie about?”

“Dogs that play basketball.”

“No, I think they got that one.”

His eyes lit up. “Will you—“

“I will not watch it with you,” she said sternly. “I don’t do well with CGI dogs.”

He deflated, morose.

She sighed.

“So gender doesn’t bother you then.”

“I’m beginning to realize gender is a construct,” he said slowly. He stopped for a second. “Unless you like gender! Then it’s very real. I am supportive of Schrödinger’s gender.”

She squinted at him.

“I fear they should have studied you.”

“They did. Didn’t figure anything out though.”

It startled a laugh out of her, and he grinned like it was the best thing in the world.

“You’re not going to go easy on me because I’m a woman, right?”

He looked insulted.

“If I go easy on you, it’s because I’m in love with you,” he corrected. “But then it’s not really fun if there isn’t the underlying threat of serious bodily harm, so unfortunately you’re going to have to deal with more fighting,” he said, very seriously.

She bit her lip to stop the next laugh.

“Oh darn.”

“I know,” he agreed, and she could hear the amusement on his tongue. “What a bummer.”

“Not exactly the word I would have used, but—“

“I know. You use all the serious words in correct circumstances, and I use all the stupid ones at the right times and the smart ones at the wrong ones.”

“I mean. At least you’re aware.”

“At least I’m aware!” He said it proudly.

He looked at her with a sort of extreme fondness she had never been on the receiving end of.

In the distance, something exploded.

She jerked around to look at it, then whirled back to him.

“I should,” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and he merely stepped back.

“Off you go,” he said, sweeping his arms out like a butler welcoming her into their house.

“You’re not worried I won’t come back?”

He grinned, a boyish thing.

“Oh, you always come back to me.”

She flushed bright red, then took off over the tops of the buildings.

He was right, though.

She always, always, came back.

[songsofadelaide]

Hey!! just wanna say ive been obsessed w ur works and was wondering if u can do a hoshina drabble/ fic based on P1harmony’s Fall in Love Again (aaaaa pref if past/present can be soichiro & hoshina orrr narumi & hoshina) hust an idea that popped in my mind cause the song kept showing up in my fyp!! thank u so muchh!!

Anon you and your big brain! 🤩 I'll have you know I love the angst between the Hoshina brothers so I might as well! Since you've given me the idea. ✨

✧ Fall In Love Again - P1Harmony

candor — another side story to radiant point. | refulgence

There was a time when you thought of Soichiro as your first love. There was a time when you thought he would turn your way.

After being fed the fairy tale of true love time and again and having eaten of it until its flavours were bland in your mouth, you soon came to realise that all you were fed was false hope. Soichiro was his family's ultimate incarnation, while you were but a paltry offering by yours. Though paltry you were, you were all your family had. Your beauty was their pride and joy, but it certainly wasn't enough to win the heart of your supposed betrothed.

As you grew up alongside the Hoshina brothers, it became clearer to you that it would have made more sense to have been offered to the second son instead. Not only were you two closer in age, but you also shared a deeper friendship with him— the kind that made you forget all about the existence of his older brother, and what his existence meant for your own.

Soichiro did turn your way. Only you were too preoccupied to notice.

The older boy was evidently surprised at how you were able to hold yourself against him during one of your sparring sessions. It had only been a matter of months since you started swordsmanship training under your father but you had a mastery of the basics now and even had a certain flair for precision. But regardless of your exponential growth, you were still outclassed by him, and he toppled over you as easily as kicking a potted plant to the ground.

"Nice try, beggar princess. Let me tell ya somethin' while we're here," Soichiro stated as he turned his back on you. "You're leavin' yourself wide open in other areas, but other than that, your stance is perfect."

He didn't want to admit that there was a beauty in your ferocity, too. Not with his little brother watching you both so intently. He'll settle with berating you until you've had enough. It's not like you were going anywhere, anyway. As far as he knew, his family owned you now.

That time you thought of Soichiro as your first love was a joke.

It was only because you fed into your family's narrative that a daughter like you needed a husband like him. As you grew older, the prospects of him ever becoming a tolerable husband dimmed by the day. He acknowledged your skill now, but he was still an awful person at the end of the day. Awful in that he had no sense of delicacy at all, even when it came to you, who was supposed to be his wife in the future.

Now that you were sixteen, the fairy tale was over, or the curse had been lifted, and you finally decided for yourself that you wanted no part in Soichiro's plans for you in the future, whatever those may be.

So you did what he thought you would never have the courage to do.

"I thank you and your family for your kindness to me, and I apologise, oji-san, but I don't want to marry Soichiro-san," you stated as you prostrated yourself before the Hoshina patriarch. "As much as I would have loved to be part of your family, Soichiro-san's attitude leaves much to be desired."

Was he hearing things right? He was the one who had attitude problems?

Soichiro sat there in complete shock at your declaration, but Soshiro was even more surprised at it unfolding. Their father didn't look too nonplussed by your statement. He knew that his eldest son was a little devil who thrived in discouraging both you and his younger brother, only for you to show him results time and again.

He also knew that Soshiro challenged his older brother for your hand, not just once, but more times than he can remember. Perhaps he can turn you around once more by opening a simple possibility. "Is there nothing that can change your mind? Your family agreed to an engagement, after all."

"I..."

I want Soshiro.

But you couldn't say it. You were in no position to make any demands even if they were freely offered to you. And what would Soshiro say about that? He was more than happy to be your friend, but would he ever accept you as his bride?

No, you've done enough dreaming for the last ten years.

"I'm afraid not, oji-san."

It was only when you left their estate that the brothers spoke once more until it eventually evolved into another duel— like the wild beasts that they were.

"You should have said something back then!" Soichiro exclaimed between his slashes and parries. "Why didn't you ask her and tell her to stay? That you would have treated her better than I ever would? I mean, you already do, but—"

"Are you kidding?! You already ran her out of the family! She already made it clear that she wants nothing to do with us! What makes you think she'd want to stay here?!" Soshiro shot back at him, mirroring his speed and movements until they were all but a single blur of swords and wind.

This blockhead second son knew nothing, of course. Soichiro was annoyed beyond sense at how dense his little brother was. Was he the only one who saw the smile that lit your face every time Soshiro welcomed you to their estate? Was he the only one who noticed how sweet your laughter sounded when it was Soshiro at the other end of the joke? Or how you once said in confidence that you preferred Soshiro's presence over his own because he was unbearable to be with, even though it was all his doing?

Soichiro got his just deserts and it annoyed him to no end. Because once more, he faced the prospect of being second best to his little brother, who grew in strength and skill with each passing day and even managed to win your heart all the same.

"Hgk—!"

But it was his brother's blade on his neck now. Soshiro got the one-up against him without any handicaps this time. His usually boisterous little brother withdrew his sword and quietly stared down at him. Soshiro did not look at him with a sense of superiority, but that of revulsion. The very same emotion in your eyes when you bade him farewell that day.

"I'm going to ask for her in my own time. You better not get in my way when that happens."

Your promotion to Third Division Platoon Leader was met with quiet celebration. Many of your fellow team members rejoiced in the opportunity to work under you this time as their leader. You were known to give out measured and concise orders that allowed every single one of them to seamlessly weave through the field and get the job done with minimum risks and casualties.

When Captain Ashiro congratulated you and presented you with your badge in her office, she let you in on a little secret only she and a handful of other superior officers were aware of. "When you first took the exams, you received a commendation from Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division."

Huh. You heard her right once. "I did not know that."

Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division vouched for your skills. If this was his way of making amends for his terrible treatment of you in the past, it was a pretty gesture, but still far too late.

"In his recommendation, he detailed how your family was a close associate of theirs and how you learned swordsmanship alongside him and our Vice Captain."

"That's true, Captain. Much of my skill was honed under their roof."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you suddenly shift from Kendo to Fencing?"

Your Captain's question elicited a small laugh from your lips. "You might think it a petty reason, Captain, but I changed sword arms just so I could be better than them at something."

You gently touched the shiny new badge clipped to the collar of your formal regalia. "Soshiro... I mean Vice Captain Hoshina is someone I looked up to very much when we were children. If I may be so bold to say that he inspired me to take up swordsmanship."

"Hmm. I see," came Mina's short but understanding reply to you. "Just as Hoshina is important to me on the battlefield, I'll also be counting on you to carve open a path for me and everyone else."

"Of course, Captain, ma'am!" You said resolutely, followed by a crisp salute that matched the sharpness of your outfit today.

"Will you marry me?"

Soshiro asked you that question in the dead quiet of the night as he held you close in his arms. The silence of your quarters and the stillness of the rest of the base made it feel like you were the only two people in the world.

"Yes," you said with a small swallow of saliva to wet your mouth. "As long as you aren't gonna be like your brother."

"I'm nothin' like him now, am I?" He chuckled at your assumption. "If I wanted to be like him, I would've chased you out of our home the moment I saw ya."

"Mm. I suppose you're right about that," you nodded at him. You contentedly sank into his touch when he moved to cup your warm cheek in his hand. "You're nothing like him at all."

"Good to know. That's high praise comin' from you."

As another comfortable silence lingered over your tired figures, a memory of the past crossed your mind. "Do you remember that time I told your father I didn't want to marry your brother?"

That day was one he would never forget any time soon. "As clear as day."

"I nearly begged for you instead," you told him with a soft laugh.

"You should have. I would've been there beggin' right next to ya!"

"In the end, everything worked out for this beggar princess," you said with a small sigh. "Gosh, I still can't imagine myself as your brother's wife. It kinda gives me the creeps."

A bout of tender laughter left Soshiro's lips this time. He raised your hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss on your palms, near the range of calluses you had from gripping your sabre. "You don't have to imagine anything other than our future together."

You mirrored his actions and planted a similarly gentle kiss on his cold knuckles, your breath blooming warmth into his fingers. He weaved his fingers into yours, as though sharing that little glow with you "Of course. For as long as we're fighting for it."

✦ Thank you for requesting! Nothing makes me happier than writing a request I know I can work with. 🍹 You can read more about requesting here

[azrielsdove]

Hi! It has been years since i’ve written like this, but after becoming obsessed with the ACOTAR series I needed to write again. This is my first one in a long time so it may be a little rough. Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: 18+, Mature

Fake Dating: Azriel x Reader

Your eyes traveled down his face, his body, catching on the tattoos swirling his arms, letting out a soft sigh. From beside you came a small chuckle, “If you stare at him any harder you’re going to burn a hole through his skin.” You turned and glared at the Shadowsinger, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “Hush, Azriel.” You muttered before turning back to look at Rhysand.

You had met Azriel nearly 300 years ago now, right after they completed the blood rite. You were healing his injuries, chatting with him as you do all your patients. You learned all about his brothers, Cassian and Rhysand. When he was all patched up, he took you over to meet them. The first time your eyes locked onto the future High Lord, you knew you were fucked.

Once Rhysand became the official High Lord, Azriel came to offer you a job with them. You asked why, as you certainly weren’t bad at what you do, but there were definitely more talented healers to choose from. He said Rhys wanted you and only you, and you weren’t going to argue with that. That night you packed up the few things you had and Azriel brought you to Velaris.

Your feelings for Rhysand never faded, much to your dismay. You were tired of your heart wanting him, needing him. He never gave any hint he saw you in the same way, and you knew you had to give it up. Yet everytime you tried to look to another or brought a male to your bed, you would always end up thinking of him.

Azriel knew of your feelings and teased you endlessly about it. Usually you just rolled your eyes at him, but as time went on the more wound up you became. You felt him move closer to you on the sofa you were perched on, bowing his head to whisper in your ear.

“Have you thought about making him jealous?” He muttered, warm breath tickling your neck. You shook your head slightly, confused by what he meant. “Who’s to say he would even care?” You whispered back, casting a sad glance over to where Rhysand sat with Cassian. “It’s worth a try. You’ve done everything else. Maybe he needs to think you’ve lost interest.” He spoke as you looked at him. “How would I convince him of that?” you asked quietly, eyes searching Azriels. He leaned in close again, a sudden shiver reaching down your spine as his lips touched your ear.

“Pretend to date me.”

***

You played Azriels plan over and over in your head, pacing in your room. You two were the closest out of everyone, so it wouldn’t be much of a shock if you seemingly started to share affections. There was a good chance Rhysand wouldn’t even care, and where would that leave you and Azriel? When you brought this up, he laughed and said it wouldn’t be hard to pose an amicable “break up”. If it didn’t work, maybe it would be the realization you needed to take your attentions off Rhys. There were many beautiful males in Velaris, you were certain your heart could latch onto one if it would just accept that Rhys didn’t want you.

You slept terribly, tossing and turning as you went over the pros and the cons. In the end you decided it was worth trying. Either you get the man of your dreams, or you can finally move on from him. Azriel was your closest friend and you knew he would play his role perfectly and make you feel comfortable. When the morning came you caught Azriel before breakfast, telling him you agreed to his plan. You did not like the way his eyes lit up at that.

You entered the kitchen together, ready to grab some food after a long night. As you reached for a piece of toast, you felt a hand settle onto the small of your back. Azriel reached around you, grabbing some for himself as he ducked his head to whisper “The plan starts now,” before pressing the lightest kiss to your cheek. Your skin heats up on contact, not used to receiving affection like this. You give a small nod as you finish grabbing your food and go to sit. Azriel sits down next to you, as he usually does. However, he scoots his chair the tiniest bit closer to you, catching the eyes of Cassian. He refrains from saying anything, instead looking at the two of you curiously.

The rest of breakfast proceeds as normal and you start to get used to the game. At training Azriel allows his hands to linger on you longer than usual, stands closer than he normally does, and whispers his instructions in your ears. You allow soft smiles and slightly pink cheeks to show, leaning into his touch on more than one occasion. Enough for the others to be interested, but not enough for anyone to say anything. Yet.

The next few days pass much the same, and you know your friends are dying to hound you with questions. Out of respect for Azriel they seem to round themselves in, not wanting to ambush you guys quite yet. As the week ends it is decided to go out and spend some time together. It had been quite a while since all of you had a nice night.

You got dressed, thumbing through the dresses Mor tends to shower you with. You pull one out, a stunning midnight blue number. You loved the feeling of the material on your skin as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was in an elegant updo, your makeup perfectly done to highlight the best features of your face, and the dress….it was everything. It sat off the shoulder as it trailed down your body, every step making the fabric shimmer. There were two slits on both sides leading up to the tops of your thighs. You nearly looked the poster child for Night Court fashion.

When you met the others downstairs Mor looked over you appreciatively, grabbing the dress in her hands. “It’s perfect!!” she squealed, pulling you farther into the group. Cassian gave a whistle as you spun, throwing your head back with laughter. Suddenly warm hands appeared on your waist, squeezing lightly. You turn to Azriel, who has a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Beautiful.” Is all he says as you smile up at him. You look over his black attire and could say the same. You hear a small cough and look to see Rhys, staring at you with an unreadable expression. “I think we should go,” he says, perhaps a bit cooly. Azriel wraps you in his arms as you fly down to the glittering city below.

***

As nights with the Inner Circle tend to go, you ended up filing into Rita’s. You let the music wash over you as you take a shot from Mor, quickly downing it. Rhysand acted completely normal at dinner, and has already gone to find a female to entertain him here. You were a little dismayed, but you weren’t going to let that ruin your evening. You settled into the normal booth you all took as Azriel slid in next to you. Mor and Cassian left to get more shots, and Azriel quickly pulled you onto his lap. You let out a gasp at his actions, moving to get off. His hands tightened on you as he murmured , “We need to up it a little. He almost seemed jealous before he left, didn’t he?”. You nodded before settling more into Azriels grasp. Soon Mor and Cassian were back, with Rhys not far behind. They all looked at you before looking at each other, eyes glittering as they shared a common thought.

You took shot after shot, desperately wanting to forget everything. Rhysand kept ignoring you and too many beautiful females were coming to the table. Eventually he seemed to tire a little of this, and turned to the group. “A game?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Mor laughed and Cassian banged his hand on the table, always ready for some friendly competition. You couldn’t help but wish Amren was here, she was excellent at beating them in any sort of game.

“Truth or Drink!” Cassian yelled, ever the young boy you had first met. You rolled your eyes but nodded, noticing Azriels hand start tracing the skin on your calf. You thought nothing of it until you felt him place a light kiss to your shoulder, sending chills over your skin. You turn to him with a smile, muttering “What are you doing?” through your teeth. He leaned down and placed a kiss right under your ear, squeezing your waist with one hand as you gave a small gasp. “Making him jealous” he stated, bringing his hand up a little higher and adding another kiss to your shoulder. You turned your attention back to the others, trying to not react to Azriels touch.

Almost immediately Cassian and Mor got in an argument about his question to her, turning all attention to them. Azriels hands slid higher and higher as he softly caressed the middle of your thigh. He began pressing more kisses to your neck, the hand on your thigh drawing circles on your skin. His teeth drug across the soft skin of your neck as you let your head fall back. You were struggling to focus on the game or on your friends. You knew this wasn’t real, that you weren’t supposed to be feeling like this. You hoped Azriel thought you were just playing along and that he didn’t realize the heat radiating from you.

That is until his hand traveled high enough he could feel the slickness that had traveled down your thigh. Until he lightly sucked the skin under your ear and you gave him a small moan. He stopped everything he was doing, his hand gripping tight on your thigh. You pulled your head up to look at him with wide eyes, but he was looking elsewhere. You followed his gaze to…Rhysand. You locked eyes with Rhys, shocked by the anger and jealousy in them. You genuinely didn’t believe this plan would work, but it seems it is. “If you two are done fucking each other in front of us, we have a game to get to,” he spat out. Your face flushed red as you readjusted on Azriel. His hand stayed on your thigh as the night went on, but he didn’t move again.

***

The next morning you lay awake in your bed. You were thinking about how Rhys seemed jealous, and that maybe this plan wasn’t totally irrational. However you were also thinking about the feeling of Azriels hands and lips on your skin, a burning in your stomach as you remembered. You ran your hands over your eyes and tried to forget how good he felt touching you. You jumped into a cold bath, forcing all hot thoughts away from you. This was all a game to get Rhysands attention. Azriel did not even like you like that. You needed to get over the way he made you feel.

Over the next few days you and Azriel fell back into your plan, lingering touches and longing gazes. Nothing like that night at Rita’s though. You felt a gnawing in your gut as you realized that made you a little upset. You leaned against a cold wall in the hallway, trying to calm your racing mind.

You heard footsteps coming towards you and you shot your eyes open. You relaxed a little to see it was Azriel. That relaxed feeling quickly changed as he slid is body in front of yours and pressed you back into the wall. Your arms shot to his chest, moving to push him away. He locked his hands on your waist before dipping down and biting under your ear. Your mouth dropped open and he whispered “He’s coming this way. Play along.” You nodded before he began kissing and sucking on your neck, one hand sliding under your shirt. Your hands gripped onto his clothes as you moved your neck to give him more room. His lips were bruising on your skin and you felt that familiar heat rise in your core. His hand traveled across your stomach, tracing the soft skin there. He gave a particularly harsh suck on the spot where your neck met your collarbone and you arched into him. His hand started playing with your waistband, almost begging to go down.

“Azriel..” you breathed, body on fire from his touch. You felt him smile on your skin before his fingers dipped lower. Your heart rate quickened, unsure how far you would take this game. You were scared when you realized you didn’t want him to stop. His fingers found you over your underwear, pressing down onto that bundle of nerves. You arched into him again as you moaned out his name, forgetting where you are and why you are doing this. His head comes up to look at you, his eyes full of heat. He presses again to hear you make that delicious noise for him. He bends his head to hover his lips over yours, beginning to slide your underwear out of the way. Everything is on fire, you can’t handle this teasing, you don’t want to wait for him anymore-

“What is going on here?”

Azriel lets out a low growl of frustration as he pulls away from you, glaring at Rhysand. You straighten your shirt and glance over too, shocked by the anger in his eyes. “What does it matter to you?” Azriel asked coldly. Your eyes couldn’t decide which of the men to look at as you observed the situation in front of you. Rhys scoffed as he said “I’m just not interested in watching you whore yourself out around my home.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, mortified at what he had said. Azriel stiffened as he spoke, “That’s enough. We weren’t doing anything wrong. Do not act as though you are so much better, High Lord.” Rhysands hands clenched into fists as he stared Azriel down, his dark power beginning to fill the hall. You found yourself reaching out to grab onto Azriels arm as the darkness got closer. An action Rhys did not miss. “What would he have to offer that I do not?” he spat. You immediately noticed the hurt come across Azriel and the regret that passed through Rhysands face as he realized what was said. You didn’t want to hear this anymore. You pulled Azriel back down the hall, away from the ashamed shape of Rhysand.

***

It had been a month since that incident. Azriel left Velaris to train in the mountains and Rhys avoided you completely. Mor and Cassian tried their best to keep you occupied, but everyone could feel the tension. No one knew what had happened between you three and no one was brave enough to ask. Only Amren had rolled her eyes about it and muttered something about “incompetent men and their emotions”.

You were curled up in one of the chairs in the small library of the house when you felt eyes on you. You looked around to find Rhysand standing there. You noticed that the little skip your heart usually does was absent. “I have come to apologize.” He said softly, hands in his pockets. “I’ve noticed how you look at me over these years and I grew to accept it as fact. It was harder than I expected to find you with Az. I didn’t mean what I said. It was unfair to you. I am truly sorry.” He spared a glance up at you to gauge how you felt. You looked at him with tired eyes. “I longed after you for so many years, Rhys. I tried to pretend I didn’t want you and failed everytime. It wasn’t until Az that I began to realize there may be someone else for me. It didn’t start off real. All I ever wanted was to be enough for you.” Your words faltered on that last sentence. You caught Rhys’ surprised expression as he came closer and grabbed your hands. “You were always enough.” He whispered, sinking to his knees in front of you. “I am so sorry. I took advantage of your feelings. I liked how you quietly sought after me. I should never have let it go on so long.” He pressed a kiss to your hands before laying his head on them.

You pulled one hand out of his grasp to thread your fingers through his hair. “Rhys,” you sighed softly, “it is not just me who needs your apology. What you said to Azriel was very wrong and you know it. You need to find him and convince him to come home. Please.” He looked up at you, his eyes lined with tears. He nodded as he stood, releasing your hand. “You’re right. I will not be the one to destroy this family. Not over who you choose to love.” He began to walk away, preparing to find Azriel. “Rhys,” you called after him, “tell him to find me when he is back. We have much to discuss.”

***

A few days later you were relaxing in your bath when your door crashed open. You jumped and looked to see Azriel standing in the pieces of your bathroom door. You guessed Rhys and him got their emotions out, as he had bruises on his face and arms. Yet his eyes shone brightly. Especially as he realized the predicament you were in.

He walked over to you without hesitation and plucked you out of the bath. You squealed in protest but quickly hushed when he placed you on your vanity and stood between your legs. His eyes burned over your body. You felt that heat curl around you again as his hands gripped onto your thighs. “You told me to find you.” He spoke, eyes locking with yours. All you could do was nod, not quite having words to use at the moment. “What is it, my little bird? What do you need?” His words dropped to a deadly whisper as he leaned in close. Your eyes widened when his hand moved to cup your heat. “A-Az,” you stuttered out, mind going blank. “Tell me what you need.” He growled, letting his fingers gently explore you. You let out a frustrated moan and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear.

“Touch me Azriel.”

That was all it took for his fingers to plunge into you, causing your back to arch against the mirror behind you. His mouth caught yours, the action making you gasp. He took advantage of that to slide his tounge into yours and explore. He broke away to continue kissing down your neck, down your chest. His fingers curled in you, hitting that perfect spot that sent lighting down your back. Within seconds his mouth was on your thighs, working his way to you. He pulled you to the edge of the vanity and licked up your folds. You grabbed his hair and moaned his name, so close to your finish. The second his lips attached to your bud your eyes rolled back in your head, wave after wave of pleasure coating you. He devoured you through it, not stopping once the pleasure had subsided. He continued to increase everything he was doing until another orgasm washed over you with a scream. Only then did he pause, but only long enough to pull you down and turn you to face the mirror.

“I want you to watch how well you take me.” He says into your ear, pulling himself out. You tried to turn and look but he forced your head back towards the mirror, making you take in the sight before you. You looked at yourself, at the bruising marks leading down your body from his mouth, at the handprints on your thighs from his grip. You saw your flushed face and swollen lips, looking fucked out. You looked up to see Azriels reflection, his eyes a burning fire, his lips wet with you. A shudder passed through your body at the enticing sight of him. You felt him slide his tip through your wet folds, preparing to slide into you. Carefully he pushed in and you saw your mouth create a perfect “o” at the sensation. He was bigger than anyone you had ever taken before. Inch by inch he slid in until you were perfectly seated on him. He put his hands on yours on the tabletop, pressing them down. His lips met your neck, pressing harsh bites down. “Watch as I make you forget any other male exists.” He growls, thrusting in and out of you. You are so sensitive after two orgasms that the pleasure takes root instantly. Moan after moan slide past your lips as Azriel takes you as his. One hand slides up to find your most sensitive place again, rubbing small circles. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.” He commands as his actions speed up. You feel that all too familiar tightening in your belly as you squeeze down on him, tears flowing at the overstimulation. Azriel gives you a soft kiss on your cheek, never ceasing his thrusting. “Such a good girl for me. You can give me one more, my perfect girl. One more.” He whispers against your skin. You want to say you don’t think you have any more in you when he adjusts and hits the perfect spot inside of you. You scream again, fingernails digging into the table. You feel Azriel speed up and his fingers connect to you again. He bites down on your shoulder as he hits that perfect spot inside again and you let go for a fourth time. You yelling his name and squeezing around him has him finish deep, letting out a roar as he emptied himself in you.

The room is quiet aside from the sounds of your heavy breathing. You are certain if Azriel backs away you will collapse to the ground. He slowly pulls out and you let out a soft whine at the emptiness you feel. He gently scoops you up and runs a fresh bath. Within minutes he is fully undressed and in the bath with you, cradling your body to his. He washes your sore skin, paying close attention to the marks he left on you. You could fall asleep right there, with his hands massaging your body and your back against his chest. Az notices and takes great care pulling you out with him, bundling you in a warm towel. He carries you to your bed and slides under the covers with you. You curl up into his chest, feeling more calm and sated than you had in centuries.

***

You half expected it to be a dream. The first thing you notice when you wake up is Azriel still holding you tight. The second thing you notice is how deliciously sore your body is. Heat curls up through you again at the feeling, and Azriel stirs. His eyes open slowly and he looks down at you. He reaches up to push your hair out of your face before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Good morning my sweet girl.” he says, kissing you again. “Good morning Az.” you mumble back before grabbing his mouth again. You groan in frustration as he pulls away and laughs. “We have to talk about it.” He points out, and you’d rather him just take you again.

You roll onto your back and let out a breath before saying, “I know.” You turn to look at him again and pause to collect your thoughts. “I do not want this to be a game, Az. I do not care about Rhysand. The only male I can think of is you. It has been this way since this all started. You have been here the whole time and I was too busy pining after someone who would never want me to notice it. I want to be with you, Az. I want it to be you and me.” You start off confident, but your words lose the feeling as you go on. You look at him without breathing, afraid of what he may say. Instead, he pulls you close to him and says;

“Why do you think I came up with this plan in the first place?”

****

Thank you for reading! I’d love to know what you all think and please send any requests you have for other stories! <3

[beenbaanbuun]

BUNNY ?!

I need to hear your thoughts about yunho collaring you sooooooo bad

(if u wanna ofc)

if i wanna?!?!? OF COURSE I WANT TO!!! collaring?? with yunho?!?!? i’m literally so insane, that’s why this is so long 😭😭

————————————————

so, it all starts one day when the two of you visit a pet store together. something about you needing to buy fish food or something; yunho wasn’t entirely listening, but he gladly goes with you because he’s a good boyfriend.

but even though the two of you only went to grab fish food, you somehow end up exploring the entire pet store until eventually, the two of you end up on the dog collar aisle. it starts fairly innocent, the two of you talking about your future dog and which collar you’d get it, but then you make a comment that sends yunho’s head spinning.

‘what about your current one?’ you look at him with a smirk, head tilting like a curious puppy, ‘surely she should have a collar, right?’

yunho feels his mouth go bone dry at your comment, blood immediately rushing from his head to his cock. little fucking brat, he thinks as he watches you try to feign innocence. there’s nothing ‘innocent’ about the smug smile on your lips or the evil glint in your eye.

‘do you think she deserves a collar?’ he replies, stepping closer to you to assert his dominance. his height helps with that, his body towering above yours, physically reminding you that he is in charge here. annoyingly, you don’t seem to acknowledge that and he wishes the two of you were at home so he could knock that fucking look off your pretty little face.

‘maybe she doesn’t deserve it,’ you shrug, ‘but i think she needs it. after all, sir, what better way than to remind her of her place?’

fucking hell, he wants nothing more than force you to your knees and get you to beg for his cock. he’d give it to you as well, mainly to shut your loud mouth up. perhaps that would make you behave like a good girl again, stop you from acting out and turn you into the docile little puppy that you usually are.

‘i think you’re wrong,’ yunho says, turning to grab the navy blue collar that he’d been admiring and holding it against your neck. he watches your eyes dart around, looking for other people that may be able to see you; there’s no one there. ‘i think my puppy is a good girl who does deserve this. a few tantrums here and there don’t change the fact that she’s usually so willing to be my pretty little pet, right? especially when it’s so easy to knock her down a few pegs and put her back in her place.’

the dyed leather of the collar rubs up and down your neck in a way that sends you spiralling. he’s right; you’re his good little puppy, most of the time. a little bratting here and there certainly won’t change that fact, but it definitely will make you feel bad for acting out. maybe not now when adrenaline is running high and the thought of disobedience feels more like a fun game than anything, but certainly later. that adrenaline will drop, and you’ll be left feeling empty and guilty and just everything you don’t want to feel.

yunho is good at catching you before you fall though, and you’re not one for thinking too hard about the consequences of your actions. you bat his hand away and lean over to grab the pretty pink one you’d been admiring instead. yunho lifts a brow in amusement as you hold that one to your neck instead. it’s pretty, he has to agree, but you’re misbehaving and he’s not the type to just bend over backwards to give you what you want, especially not when you’re acting like this.

‘pretty, but no,’ he grabs it from your hand and puts it down again, ‘my puppy will wear what i want her to wear, and if i say i want the navy collar then she better be fucking grateful, got it?’

you sneer at him, but you know you won’t get anywhere good by disrespecting him any further. like a petulant child you fold your arms, looking to the floor before you give him a single nod of your head. he hums in disapproval, but nevertheless takes your behaviour in his stride. it’s nothing he can’t correct once the two of you are home.

besides, he’s too impatient to argue anymore; he wants to see his pretty puppy in her collar.

‘keys,’ he fishes them out of his pocket, slinging them into the palm of your hand, ‘i’ll pay for everything, you go and wait for me in the car; it’ll give you time to think about your behaviour. now shoo.’

you pass him the fish food, which he takes under his arm, before turning around to leave. mere milliseconds pass before you hear a smack ring through the air, followed shortly by a stinging on your left ass cheek. you spin your head to face your boyfriend; he gives you a smirk and gestures for you to leave. you do, but not without stomping your foot at him first.

cute…

with your back turned, he grabs the pink collar too. he knows you’ll behave sooner or later, and when you do, you can have the collar you want. he might not bend over backwards for you, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t absolutely adore spoiling you. he just makes you work a little harder for it, that’s all.

he makes his way to the register after doing another few laps of the store. it’ll give you time to reflect; to decide what game you want to play. the one where you’re a good puppy for him and—after a brief punishment, of course—you get treated like the princess you really are, or the one where you continue to push his buttons and get what you deserve. yunho doesn’t really mind, it’s fun for him either way, but he does have to admit that he was hoping you’d be on your best behaviour when he finally collars you. as he hands over his card to the cashier, he decides that your collar will be a bargaining chip for now; be good and it’ll be yours.

‘thank you,’ he grabs the bag from the cashier, once again hurling the huge sack of fish food under his arm before heading out of the store and towards his car. he places a mental bet as to whether you’ll have locked him out in your childish disobedience, but he guesses that it all depends on whether you’ve decided to be good for him or not. he approaches the car.

the boot opens; he puts the bags inside, slipping the navy collar into his hand before shutting the door and moving round the the drivers side. he swings it open, pleased to know you haven’t actually locked him out, and climbs inside. the door closes behind him and he turns to you…

the rough carpet of the floormat digs uncomfortably into your knees, but you don’t shift. not now he has his gaze on you, anyway. you want to show him you can be good, a silent apology for the bad behaviour in the store. the guilt had hit much sooner than you expected it to—maybe around the time you watched him pick up the pink collar instead of going out to the car like he’d asked. it just served as a reminder of how well he treats you… of how little he deserves your misbehaviour…

‘oh, puppy,’ he coos, voice softer than you expect. you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks, ‘come over here; sit on master’s lap.’

you push yourself up from the floor, wincing at the carpet peels away from the indents it’s left in your knees. the leather of your seat is a much nicer texture on them, but you’re not there for long before dragging yourself over the console to yunho’s side of the car. it’s difficult to arrange yourself so that you’re straddling him, but the hands that he places on your hips do a good job of stabilising you. with very little grace, you let yourself sit, immediately feeling his chubbed up cock rubbing at your core through your panties. if you were still being bad, perhaps you’d grind down on him to tease him a little. you’re not, though, so you don’t.

‘you want your collar?’ he asks, showing you the leather strap in his hand. you nod and his hands immediately go to unclasp it. the soft band comes into contact with your neck, and he adjusts the size before wrapping around. there’s a click, followed by an involuntary whimper. yunho just chuckles, ‘there’s my good puppy.’

[ahqkas]

♯ TO LIKE YOU OR LOVE YOU ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! theodore nott was known to be just like an eurasian magpie — drawn by nature to snatch up and fly off with shiny things. it was no surprise the two of you found yourself in possession of a time turner (which certainly showed you an interesting image) ( based on this rq.!! )

WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, time traveling, friends to lovers + lmk of more if found !!

WORD COUNT! 1.8k

NOTES! i love this prompt sm u have no idea how excited i was to find a request for it ☹️☹️ this is a repost bc tumblr wasn’t showing this in the tags. all the credits to the devider bellow belong to @/plutism !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

TIME WAS THE MOST INTERESTING THING A HUMAN RACE COULD HAVE STUMBLED UPON. It was woven with infinite threads of moments, decisions, and possibilities. Each thread held the potential to shape the fabric of the future in ways unimaginable. It was both a river, flowing inevitably forward, and a maze of paths that twisted and turned, leading to dramatic outcomes. The very idea that time could be manipulated, that one could step outside its relentless march, was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

And Theodore Nott managed to do just that.

The passage of time was like a dance between light and shadow, where the present moment was a balancing act on the razor's edge of now. Like the White Swan and the Black Swan. Memories of the past tugged at the heart, whispering tales of days gone by, while the future beckoned with a siren's call of unknown adventures and uncharted territories.

Time was both a friend and an enemy. It was a healer, softening the edges of pain and grief with its gentle touch, allowing wounds to scar over and hearts to mend. Yet, it was also a thief, stealthily stealing youth, opportunities, and moments that could never be reclaimed. It moved with a steady, unyielding pace, indifferent to the desires and pleas of those who wished to slow it down or speed it up.

And with a Time-Turner, one could do marvelous things. This delicate device, seemingly unassuming with its petite hourglass and golden frame, held within it the power to transcend the natural flow of time. It was a key to the past and the future, a tool for exploration, and a bridge to moments that had long since passed.

The Time-Turner allowed its bearer to step beyond the boundaries of the present, to revisit decisions and events with the wisdom of hindsight. It offered a chance to right wrongs, to experience lost opportunities anew, and to glimpse the world that was awaiting. Each turn of the hourglass was a dance with destiny.

But the true marvel of the Time-Turner lay not just in its ability to revisit the past, but in the taunting glimpse it offered into the future. To step beyond the present and witness what lay ahead was a privilege reserved for the brave and the curious. The future, with its infinite branches and pathways, was a place full of dreams and nightmares, where every possibility coexisted in a symphony of potential outcomes. Everything could be possible in the future.

The golden chain of the forbidden magical item hung in Theo's grasp as he presented it in front of you, showing you the new possession he managed to get his grasp on. You didn't know how and from where, and you were positive you didn't even want to know the details. The delicate hourglass within the frame shimmered with an almost ethereal glow, hinting at the ancient magic contained in its confines.

His eyes, a pretty shade of Italian skies and deep seas, gleamed with a mixture of mischief and carefulness as he looked at you through his eyelashes.

"I'm certain you're familiar with this, am I right?" he asked, the tone of his voice low and conspiratorial, as if he were sharing a treasured secret with you. And at some point, he truly was, because what the two of you were about to do was something forbidden.

You nodded slowly at his words, your gaze fixed on the delicate device between his fingers. Whispers of its powers had circulated through the halls of Hogwarts, tales of old wizards and witches who had bent time to their will, reliving moments or altering their paths. But seeing one in Theo's hands, real and touchable, was something entirely different. The Time-Turner pulsed with promising adventures beyond the ways of the present.

"How did you get one of these? They're forbidden."

"Let's just say I have my ways," a hint of smirk danced at the edge of his lips upon his answer. He was mysterious like that, the Slytherin. Working years on creating the perfect facade for his persona: the quiet and intelligent student to most of Hogwarts, the cunning and bold boy to his closest ones. You had to admit, he was really one of the smartest students in your year. No one would ever suspect him for the acts he had done. "It's about knowing the right people and being in the right place at the right time."

Raising an eyebrow at his poorly said explanation, clearly wanting to hear more, you gave him a pointed look, but Theo just chuckled softly and laced your fingers together in one, the Time-Turner now caged in your joined palms. "Don't worry about it. Just trust me."

His reassurance did little to satisfy your curiosity, but there was something about the confidence in his voice that made you want to believe him. Besides, the allure of the Time-Turner was far too great and enticing to resist.

"Okay," you breathed out in a nervous exhale. Theo swung the chain of the magical device around both your and his neck, bringing you even closer than before. His fingers set the hourglass into motion with a synchronized turn. The world around you shimmered and blurred, the magic of the Time-Turner whisking you away from the present. Your stomach ached a little at the sensation, and when the whirlwind of colours finally ceased, you found yourself standing on the exact same spot, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The warm summer air was still the same, the sun casting a golden hue over the grounds of Hogwarts. Before you could fully grasp where — or when — you were, you heard voices nearby. And they sounded all too familiar.

Instinctively, you and Theo ducked behind the huge batch of Hagrid's gigantic orange pumpkins, peeking out cautiously to see who it was. What you saw made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Just a few yards away, strolling casually along the path that led the Quidditch pitch to the castle, were two people you recognized immediately. But it wasn't just their faces that were familiar; it was everything about them.

It was you. And Theo.

Only, you both looked older — just by a year or two, but the difference was noticeable. Your older self walked slightly ahead, your hand loosely held by older Theo's as you seemed to chat so easily with each other from the distance. The sight was surreal, as if you were watching a scene from one of your friends' muggle movies full of romance and comedy.

Your older self laughed at something the older Theo had said, the sound ringing out in the stillness of the day. There was a lightness to your step, an ease in your movements that spoke of comfort and confidence. You looked happy — truly happy — in a way that filled you with a strange mix of emotions.

Older Theo, too, looked different. He seemed more relaxed, his usual guarded expression softened into something more open, more at peace. The way he looked at you — like you hung the stars on the night sky just for him — was something you'd never seen before, at least not from this Theo, your Theo, standing beside you now. The affection between your future selves was a sight to see, and you wondered in what universe was this really happening. Could it be your very own?

The two of them stopped walking near the entrance to the castle, close enough to feel the homely feeling Hogwarts provided and far enough to stray from any onlookers. Older Theo pulled the older you gently toward him until you were standing close, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, that it made your heart ache with a longing you hadn't fully acknowledged until now. Your older self leaned into his touch, smiling up at him in a way that made it clear how much you openly cared for him.

And then, in a moment that made you widen your eyes from the unexpected gesture, older Theo dipped his head and kissed the older you, his lips meeting yours in a tender, lingering kiss. Watching it was like seeing a secret version of your future — a future where you and Theo were more than just friends, where you were something much deeper, something lasting.

Beside you, the present-day Theo was silent, the look in your eyes matching yours as he took in the scene before him. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his hand gripped yours just a little too tightly. This was as much a revelation for him as it was for you — a glimpse into a future neither of you had dared to dream about.

When your older selves ended the kiss, your older self smiled softly at the boy, leaning into his touch when his lips met your forehead. They stood like that for a moment, wrapped up in their own little world, before older Theo spoke, his voice carrying on the wind just enough for you to hear.

"Did you see the look on Malfoy's face when he missed that last shot?" a smirk formed on your, apparently, boyfriend's face as he intertwined his fingers with yours and began to lead the way towards to castle yet again. "I thought he was going to hex his broom out of sheer frustration."

"I'm surprised he didn't. You know how he's with Quidditch — he treats every practice like it's the World Cup final."

The words echoed in the silence around you, sinking into your mind and heart like a promise — a promise of what could be, if you both were brave enough to act upon it.

Before either of you could process what you'd just witnessed, the familiar pull of the Time-Turner gripped you again, the world dissolving into a blur of colors and sounds. When you landed back in your own time, the warm summer day had been replaced by the cool shadows of the evening, and the grounds of Hogwarts were once again quiet.

Theo's hand was still in yours, his grip firm as if he feared letting go would make the memory of what you'd just seen slip away. You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his in a shared surprise. The future you'd just witnessed was no longer some distant, abstract concept — it was real, and it was possible. The only thing standing in the way was the courage to take that first step.

Theo's expression was a mixture of shock and something deeper, something more profound. He looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, really seeing you, and in that moment, you realized that the future wasn't just something that happened to you. It was something you created, moment by moment, choice by choice.

And in that instant, you knew that whatever came next, you wanted it to be with him.

[pathetickuroo]

fukutora hcs bc theyre funny

- fukunaga shohei #1 lover of badddd bad bad bad movies. terrible films. not good. we're talking sharknado snakes on a plane willys wonderland velocipastor that one thanksgiving slasher film that i cant remember the name of rn (dont think abt the mechanics of it being a thanksgiving movie too hard). generally not a movie enjoyer i think but most certainly clocking in for shit that is Not Good

- tora is baffled every time but definitely not opposed to it (this guy loves cuddling on the couch i think he hits the fake yawn arm around shoulders maneuver like. regularlyyyy and fukunaga doesnt even pretend to think its silly anymore)

- "shohei this movie doesnt even make any sense" "🤷"

- tora the hugger from behind of All Time he is finding any possible excuse. "u look cold" or "makin up for lost time" or "i have practice in an hour plsss plssssss just let me have this PLSSSSSSS" (he uses that one in particular a lot) (fukunaga wouldnt have said no in the first place) (he thinks its cute so he doesnt say anything abt it)

- repressed-as-hell hs tora did not quiteee know what to do w whatever tf he had goin on so he didnt get the guts (ha) to say anything until a couple years after graduation (which he then said over text bc yokohama -> tokyo = long distance)

- fukunaga conveys thoughts in as few words as possible (which is fucking awesome btw if fukunaga has no fans it means ive died) BUT in order to preserve the meaning it sometimes takes a second to respond

- tora did Not have a good time attempting to navigate this when he was trying to confess

- bro immediately started freaking out to yaku "DUDE WHY DID I DO THAT THAT WAS SO STUPID" "omfg its fukunaga give him a second. impatient ass" "I THINK IM DYING" "jfc"

- meanwhile in tokyo fukunaga was staring at "i rly like u dude" trying to figure out if tora meant like (homie) or like (w/gay intent)

- fukunaga only ever calls tora by his full government given name when he is Displeased. tora used the pan he needed for dinner tn so now he has to wash it? taketora. tora rearranges his living room w no warning? taketora. doesnt even say it in a mean/angry tone or anything j matter of fact as all hell. honestly i think if fukunaga was ever genuinely angry abt smth hell would probably freeze over

- tora does get extremely pouty abt it tho. "shoheiii what did i do :(" "the pan" ".......OH FUC—"

- when tora first moved to yokohama he got a cat bc of course he did he graduated from nekoma. tf else was he supposed to do, get a dog? (maybe in the future)

- very very fluffy very cute very sweet tuxedo girl. her name is "destroyer" (yes really) he calls her badass on the reg and she is sooo cuddly w him. fukunaga finds all of this extremely funny

- in fact when fukunaga starts visiting suddenly destroyer doesnt gaf abt tora anymore. worse than pain of death in his opinion it is So Not Fair. first thing fukunaga does after he meets the cat is send a pic to the old nekoma gc "top 10 cats that like me more than they like their owners" tora throws a pillow at him "i RAISED her from a BABY" "did u rly" ".....NO BUT IT AINT RIGHT"

- after theyve been together a few months toras thinkin abt how fukunaga used to Never Talk Ever and he makes a joke "ha i guess i learned how to speak BODY language am i right. right shohei. thats funny right"

- fukunaga calls him taketora for a week. tora retires that joke permanently and they never speak of it again

- tora morning person fukunaga not-exactly-a-night-owl-but-doesnt-love-being-awake-at-5:30 person. one time fukunagas in yokohama for the weekend he wakes up at 6 annoyed as hell (tora got up at 5 and left for a run) bc wtf his pillow literally got up and walked away. falls back asleep wakes up again at 10 tora made not only coffee but pancakes too AND heated them up for him hes immediately like ok nvm this is fine actually no complaints (<- still gets annoyed when his human teddy bear ditches him)

- TORA BABE SAYER. hey babe thanks babe i missed u babe. but it took him foreverrrrrr (forever) to get comfortable actually saying it instead of thinkin inside so there was also (and still is) a lot of dude (romantic) bro (romantic) man (romantic).

- fukunaga doesnt like saying pet names or anything (but to be fair does he like saying ANYTHING most of the time) but does not mind being called them at all (that's a lie he thinks it's awesome and so so so sweet but when tora asks if it's okay he says he doesn't mind)