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osamucide · 4 months ago

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BITCHBOY ⊹

ALL I WANT IN THIS WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS TO BE YOUR BITCHBOY . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: ~6.8k

cw: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. icky pervy stoner roommate!Dazai <333 also pathetic wet cat mess of a man Dazai, afab+gn!reader, established roommate relationship, no established romantic relationship, implied bi!Dazai if you squint, referenced whore!Dazai, weed smoking+intox/noncon (reader says "stop" once and he does not stop), dubcon (becomes 'consenual' but Dazai's coercive+they're high), noncon elements can be interpreted (esp at the end) to be roleplay with prior consent! dirty talk, shotgunning, fingering, squirting, kissing, penetration, creampie, insulting nicknames (Dazai receiving), biting, this is depraved and I will answer for it on judgement day

reid: he’s all i think about.

tags: @kalsplace

You’re grumbling under your breath when you’re about to cross the threshold to your apartment because, as if the rest of your day hadn’t been annoying enough, your stupid key decides to give you extra trouble—as of late, it’s not working unless you jam it in the lock at a very specific angle and jiggle violently until just before you’re sure the knob will fall off, all whilst cursing your landlord’s neglect of the crummy old building like some enchantment or spell that ties the whole rage-inducing, access-granting ritual together.

Couldn’t your good-for-nothing roommate hear you struggling with it?

“Hey, sorry,” he chirps too brightly for the evening hour, floating out of his room as you shut the door behind you with a sigh—ever the mind reader. You forego your eye-roll this time; you’re convinced that one of these days they’ll get stuck in your skull what with how much you do it. You hear Dazai sauntering toward you as you’re shrugging your jacket off, hanging it up, tossing your bag on the table. “Was busy.”

You’re ready to turn and scowl at him, but when you face him, he’s waggling the little pipe in your face—the green one with blue flecks in the glass, undoubtedly what he was busy with while you broke into your own home—and you won’t admit that you already feel your irritation start to melt away when it slides from his fingertips to yours. You clutch it, latch onto the mouthpiece, and watch as the brunette flicks the flame out and lights you up.

You exhale gratefully, take one more pull, and hand the glowing bowl back for him to catch the remainder of before he lights it again. “Thank you," you croak before short cough leaves you. “Was real close to bitching you out for not leaving the door unlocked.”

Dazai blows his smoke directly back in your face with a small grin. “Redeemed by my weed once again.”

You chuckle and wave it away, making a point of sliding by him and toward your room to change. You need to unwind a second before dealing with him for the rest of the night. “‘S’all that ever redeems you. Crack a window, will ya?”

It’s really not a bad arrangement to have a live-in pot dealer—that’s basically what Dazai is and has been as long as you’ve roomed with him. Sure, he's also a pain in your ass; the man can hardly cook, you had to show him how to use the washing machine in the common area when you first moved in, and only a bit ago, after almost half a year of sharing a living space, have you convinced him to keep his mess of discarded socks and food packaging contained within his bedroom. It took a lot of harsh reprimanding about how you're not his parent and he's not your teenage son for you to realize it'd be a little of his own medicine to get him to start taking you seriously. Leaving your empty takeout box on the coffee table right where he liked to eat his, tossing your sweatshirt over his spot on the couch and refusing to move it for days—he took the message, albeit smugly, after that, and hasn't given you trouble since.

Even despite being a pain in the ass, though, especially now that he at least cleans up after himself, you have to admit you don't hate his presence in your home and in your life. You chalk it up to how infuriatingly charming he can be—you know he's a detective, and he's certainly got talents for sniffing out your emotions, solving your day-to-day problems, and smooth-talking, but all of that falls under being nosy and weird when he tries to guilt you into praising him for it. If he was any less annoying, you'd maybe even admit to yourself that he's kind of attractive; only physically, of course, which you've known since the day you met him, but any other way he might be—retaining a heavy air of mystery in spite of how bubbly he is, occasionally inviting you out drinking (mostly so you can drag him home once he overdoes it), smoking you up without asking for money—is just so overshadowed by what a fucking weirdo he is. You can’t separate it.

He certainly keeps you on your toes.

That’s really the worst thing about him. You know you’ll exit your room to grab your leftovers from the fridge and he’ll be pestering you to watch some movie with him—probably one of his cringy rom-coms (the fact that he watches and unironically enjoys them serving only marginally to make him a little more of an interesting character) during which he'll sling his feet across your lap or curl up into you so he can pinch your side once or twice just for your reaction, leaving you red in the face and mildly irritated while he giggles condescendingly at you. But as you always do, you think as you sigh and lift the hem of your sweater to curl it over and off, you’ll concede.

Your head’s caught in your sleep shirt when you hear your door creak open.

“Um, privacy?” you half-yelp—something you’re still figuring your way around with him. You jump out of line of the door as you poke your head through the neckline to shoot him that glare you saved from moments earlier.

Dazai just snickers, eyes wide and innocent. You're naked from the waist down. “Could’ve locked it.”

“As if that would stop you,” you snap back, stretching the hem over your thighs and ass as you skitter awkwardly back over to the edge of your bed where a pair of comfy shorts lay. “Get out!”

“Will you hurry up and put your pants on? I got My Big Fat Greek Wedding locked and loaded.”

“Yes, yes, just get out.”

He’s still snickering when he disappears behind the door. He doesn’t shut it all the way, and you mutter freak beneath your breath, secretly hoping he hears you.

You tug your shorts on and meander back out as the intro rolls, set on your leftover homemade tonkatsu; as you settle cross-legged with your plate on the couch, Dazai reaches over and plucks a piece of cabbage off it.

You side eye him as you chew. He’s already occupying himself with packing another bowl—he must've finished the first one himself. You'd half-expect him to reach for one of the prerolls he keeps in the coffee table drawer so as not to have to go to the trouble again, but he does.

“You eat yet?” you ask carefully.

He shakes his head as he uses the butt of the lighter to press it down. Of course not. Even weed doesn’t make him eat. You’ve expressed concern over his eating habits before, but he always dismisses you with a hum and that smug smile.

You make a point of tearing the remainder of your cutlet in half with your utensils. When he reaches out to pass you the pipe, you reach back, chopsticks pinching a hefty piece of pork.

Dazai raises his eyebrows at you.

You raise yours in reply, as if to say, take it, or I’m not smoking anymore with you.

So he does, reluctance veiled thinly by amusement. You know him well enough by now; or, you think you do, at least. As he chews, he balances the chopsticks back on your plate and turns to you with the lighter, curling his own legs beneath himself.

Only satisfied when he swallows, you set your plate aside, face him, and press the pipe to your lips again, looking to him. To his pretty brown eyes that search you owlishly, that you swear sparkle with a little more vigor after even the smallest bit of sustenance enters his system. Maybe you should just leave him to starve, but then where would you get your weed? You’re an idiot, you’d say if you weren’t waiting on his flame.

But before he can light it for you, he pulls the lighter away, and you chase it with a soft hey—he’s grinning at you again, like a devil, like always.

“You always do that, you know?” he asks.

“Do what?” you mumble impatiently against the piece.

He gives in and dips the flame down into the bowl; you inhale deep, flower crackling softly as you do, and he only answers when the smoke’s halfway down your throat.

“Look up at me all cute like that every time I light it for you.” Those brown eyes bore into yours and you become aware all too quick of the fact that you do—you do indeed peer up at him through your lashes; your eyes water as smoke burns your throat and you blink away, trying not to cough out your hit at how he’s gazing at you, but he doesn’t stop there.

He would never stop there.

“Makes me think bad things.”

So you cough out your hit anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, choked, face red from more than just the sting of the weed. You busy yourself with pulling another hit while it’s still lit.

“Mhm,” he agrees. “Lots of ‘em.”

Your head swims now—you’ve built up a decent tolerance from living with him, but forgetting to breathe at his words and zeroing the huge puff you take next surely doesn’t help. You cough again, and nothing leaves your lungs this time as you debate whether to take his challenge.

Another thing you’ve learned about Dazai—he loves to fluster people. If living with him wasn't enough proof, you’ve seen him do it millions of times to pretty bartenders, or on the off-chance his partner from work joins you drinking; off-chance, truly, because Kunikida already has to put up with Dazai all day at the office, and anything more than what’s required of him might be better off called torture rather than fun. And beyond loving it, Dazai demonstrates it like a long-honed skill—the exploitation of people’s humiliation, the monopolization on people’s most sensitive spots. He had previous work in it, he’s said, but you can’t imagine what job could possibly entail all that. You think he just doesn’t know when to shut his mouth—no, he’s smart enough to know when to; he just doesn’t like to. He’s what most people would refer to as an asshole.

And yet, you find yourself torn between feeling disgusted and entertained by him all the same. Although you often find yourself the victim of his little mind games, you’re not above jabbing back at him. What does that make you, you wonder? The question briefly crosses your mind, but you shake it off as, in your buzz, you swat away the bait; decidedly, you’d rather watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding in peace, finish your tonkatsu, and then go to bed tonight.

“You’re gross.” The scoff you let out sounds more like a chuckle.

Dazai tilts his head, flicking the lighter for you again; he sparks the bowl as he watches you, as if in exceptional contemplation, and you make a point not to do it again—you inhale and gaze straight down at the flame.

“You don’t wanna hear what it makes me think about?” he asks cutely, unwilling to let you get away just yet.

You ignore the slight flush undoubtedly on your own face as you slip the bowl back to him; doubly so, you try not to watch the way his lips wrap around the mouthpiece.

But right now, you can’t seem to help that your bleary-eyed attention is on him. Just as he exhales, you remember you haven’t replied.

You’re not quick enough. He doesn’t take your silence as an invitation; it’s an opportunity. You see it in his smirk, just a second too late.

“Makes me think about how pretty you’d be looking up at me like that from your knees.”

He’s good at his games—he invents them, after all. But you’d be damned if he thought you wouldn’t shut him down when you weren’t in the mood.

“Yeah, no, don’t particularly wanna hear about it, thanks.”

This might be a new low, even for him, you think. Who the fuck just says shit like that?

When you think about it a second longer, though, he really hasn’t brought anyone home to fuck obnoxiously (a boundary you were quick to set with him) in at least a couple weeks, so maybe he’s just pent up. Either way, his comment makes you wrinkle your nose, furrow your brow—hopefully negating the pink inevitably tinting your cheeks. Fucking weirdo.

“N’ now you’re blushing all cute, too,” he observes; you scoff again, more pointedly this time. “Thinkin’ about it?”

As if, you want to say, but the words get stuck against the roof of your dry mouth, so you conjure up some of your spit, swallow it down, and hope he doesn’t notice—but it’s Dazai; he will—that your high's settling onto your shoulders swiftly. He’s pointing the bowl back at you, and as you grab it robotically, you’re still trying to speak—a sure sign you should both shut up and keep your places on opposite ends of the couch and watch the movie and finish the tonkatsu, but instead you just balk. No matter what you do, you play right into his hands—that’s how it happens all too often, and you certainly won’t learn now or anytime when his weed’s coursing up to your brain and back down to your thumping heart. Dazai lights your next hit for you, laughing like it’s all some big joke, and maybe it is—maybe you’ll blow your smoke in his face this time and pick up your tonkatsu and shut up and just watch the damn movie.

As if you’d ever be so lucky with his antics.

You’re shaking your head in near-awe when you pass it back to him once more.

“I mean, we basically kiss through this thing all the time,” he says like it’s relevant, waving the pipe about. “I don’t think it’d be so weird if we fucked. Or if you sucked me off, at least.”

“It—it would totally be weird, Osamu,” and when you speak his name so lightly, blinking at trying to muster up your own laughter as a defense mechanism, his sight flickers up to yours. “That doesn’t even—I’m not sucking your dick.”

“Shame,” he purrs. “‘Cause I know how pretty you’d look. Your lips all wet and pouted against my t—”

“Oh, my god, shut up.” Now you laugh, out of pure disbelief at how far he’s taking it. He pokes at the tail end of what’s left in the bowl and chuckles, too, seemingly ready to let it go now that he has you laughing. "You're horrible."

The more you let him talk about it, the more you entertain him, maybe you can let it peter out.

“What about me? Do I look pretty when I do it?” he asks, batting his lashes as he pulls another hit off the pipe.

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” you let your laughter idle as he doesn't tear his gaze away from you. He looks pretty. Whatever. You cross your arms as you feel the familiar tingle of your high behind your eyes.

“Would I look pretty on my knees?” he prods.

You could slap him—if nothing else, just to make his face burn half as much as you know yours is. When he sets the bowl and lighter aside and goes back to observing you, eyes low-lidded and red, chin rested on his hands, propped up by his elbows on his crossed legs, you have half a mind to shrink away from him—but you keep cool, even if the way you're at eye level with his searing stare feels a little too intimate.

You mirror his position. “Hmm, I don't know.” You steal his thoughtful tilt, too, and tack on, “Maybe if you were begging like a little bitch.”

You're prepared for him to laugh tauntingly again and then let this die where it stands because he got a reaction out of you, right? That’s always what he’s looking for, so it’s about time he goes back to his corner of the couch where you'll bully him into a few more bites of tonkatsu.

But he stays locked onto you, quietly.

And then he's shifting forward off the couch and down to the ground.

“Osamu—”

“Uh-uh,” he chides you softly, crawling to situate himself directly in front of your figure. Looking up at you all cute. “I’m gonna be the one begging, remember?”

Your disbelief swirls with refusal as he paws at the hem of your shorts as if to say, turn, please, and fuck—what can you do other than turn red as a rose as he grabs your ankles, unfurls your legs, and props his chin on the cushion between your thighs? You feel alarmingly higher, blearier when his fingers creep up beneath the fabric, slowly, looking at you as if for reassurance.

“We're not—you can quit fooling around, seriously.” You want to laugh again but it comes out deadpan, strict; you feel heavier with each landing of his fingertips against your skin, and he just keeps looking up at you. Cute. Pretty. Taking it too far.

“I want to,” he mumbles, retracting his hands only for them to find your hips, your waistband. “Come on. ‘Wanted you so bad for so long. I know you want me, too,” he speaks your name slyly, quietly, and it prompts your breath to quicken a little; he traces circles into your hipbones with his thumbs, toys with the elastic at your waist, snapping it softly, and you squirm. “Please?”

For so long? you think. How long?

“I—I'm not high enough for this, Osamu,” you try to joke, but he just twists around to the coffee table drawer for one of those prerolls and his lighter.

“I can get you higher,” he offers—tone still much too innocent, motives still haphazardly veiled by what a big jokester he is, and he sticks the joint between his lips and lights it.

Before you can coherently protest, he rises, supporting himself on your thigh with one hand and removing the joint from his mouth full of smoke; when he leans into you, you catch his wrist to keep him from ashing on the back of the couch, grab his face in a half-attempt to stop him in his tracks—but ultimately, when his mouth meets yours, you open for him.

The plume of smoke he shotguns into your mouth is thick; you breathe it in. His palm like a brand against your thigh.

And he doesn’t stop.

“Osamu,” you whine against his lips, still mushing his face away and hating how your dry throat roughens your voice. He just kisses you, kisses you, and your fingers find the pulse point in his wrist—he’s a decent kisser, you think, at the very least. You have half a mind to let your fingers slide to the mess of brown hair beyond the apples of his sharp cheekbones, and—

You backtrack in your mind. You’re actually probably too high for this.

You have to detest the way it feels so heavenly when he squeezes the fat of your thigh, dodges your lips, and works steadily in a line from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, all tongue and teeth in his pursuit. You have to detest it. Fucking weirdo, you repeat in your mind. The joint burns between his fingers. You snatch it from his grasp and pull your head back, raising your feet to kick him weakly in the abdomen, and he relents—your toes feel asleep when they hit the carpet again, and you hoard the joint between your fuzzy fingers when he reaches for it back.

“Osamu,” you say again, stern, eyes wide. The weed. You're high. You're both high, and this is weird. He’s just your weirdo roommate and you got home wanting to end your stressful day without complicating anything else in your life today.

So why, when he looks at you like you’re a caged animal that’s just as afraid of him and he is of you and works the joint from your fingers to take another drag, do you let him cup your face and exhale more smoke down your throat?

Why do you chase his lips when he blissfully, needily, sinks to his knees once again and starts to traverse beneath your shorts?

With the right focus of mind, like staring at your hand when you’re spinning and convincing yourself that the world around you is actually moving and you’re staying still, you can almost pretend he’s a stranger—some sexy, enchanting stranger that you met on the train home after your shit day, meant to relate to you with docile nods and hums as you air your grievances about work or school or whatever, meant to kiss it off you like it’s just a little bit of dirt.

Getting out of your shorts is like getting out of second skin. You're taking another hit, unwise or not, because it's back in your hand and you don't know what else to do; you watch him in your haze with a mix of anticipation and distrust, but right now, anticipation is winning by a small margin. You’re high, you tell yourself—twitching already, in that way that has nothing to do with desire but rather just means you've smoked a little too much too quickly, and the idea that Dazai might still fake you out and send you to bed feeling half-hot and bothered, half-violated, with no pants on and a near-empty stomach bobs around in your inhibited brain—again, you expect him to laugh, say you’re fried, clap you on the shoulder and tell you it's a joke but he doesn’t, he cranes for a hit from the joint and you hold it to his lips shakily and he touches you on the exhale, the pads of two of his fingers nestling carefully between your folds over your underwear and when he brushes your clit it’s—

Fuck, it’s electric.

“Osamu, stop,” you say, hoarse and abrupt, grabbing his wrist. "I'm—"

“What?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone. Beneath your hand his thumb comes up to replace his fingers, to loop circles around you, and you're shuddering, back bowing, and he's grinning at you wickedly.

“I—I'm high,” you admit, voice feeling thick, soupy as it leaves your throat.

“So? Me too.” He blinks at you, slow like a cat, in a way that you're pretty sure he's still mocking the way you apparently always flutter your gaze at him when he lights you up. “‘S the best way to do it.”

“Yeah, but—”

He doesn't interrupt you with but what?

And yet, you still don't finish your sentence.

You glance down to where he’s rubbing you gently, where you hold him at bay—where you could yank his arm and twist it uncomfortably if you really did want him to stop but the longer he circles over the fabric that’s growing increasingly, alarmingly wetter, the more you melt away from yourself and you think, fuck, he really is gorgeous as he’s resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

“Scoot forward f’me, please?” he almost whines; his voice changes, stricter when he says, “And stop letting that burn. Smoke it.”

And you comply, shuffling your hips forward and placing the filter between your teeth.

Dazai looks up at you. All cute. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. Hungry.

And you look back, apprehension sparking but then fading with each drove of smoke you inhale. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. All cute.

“Let me taste you, please,” he almost whispers. You almost find yourself a little endeared by his pointed pleases.

“This is fucking absurd,” you croak, but your resolve is leaving you. He’s a little blurry. “You’re such a sicko.”

His smile widens against the word. Sicko. Almost like he’s pleased to hear it leave your mouth. “Surprised it took you this long to figure out, baby.”

His touch is impatient and restless and crawling as your underwear goes, too—and you don’t appreciate how good it felt when his thumb was on your clit until it’s back again and you’re slipping the joint out of your mouth to let you jaw fall slack; you tangle a hand up in that messy hair that is much softer than you could’ve imagined and all but yank him back toward your cunt.

“Please,” you echo him, finally. “It felt so good—do it again.”

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages you in your whimpering, fingers prodding at your hole and tongue landing a feather-light lick to your wetness. “I know you want it.”

The sounds are lewd. Disgusting, really—fitting for how he’s acting. Dazai swirls his tongue in circles around your clit as he works his middle and ring fingers into you; cracked gasps leave you at the intrusion, and you can’t keep your eyes open when he curls them upward ever so slightly as he makes out with your clit. If you were sober you’d, of course, be embarrassed at how you’re already gushing for him, but all your mushy brain can think about right now is the sparks bolting to your otherwise-numb fingers and toes with each suction of his pretty pink lips against you—isn’t this wrong? Shouldn’t you feel weird? Yeah, probably—but you’re forgetting why, and you’re forgetting to care.

He hums against you and it sends a shockwave throughout your already-vibrating body; the moan you release into the air is like song, even to yourself. Is he really good at this, you wonder, or is it the weed?

Oh right, the weed. The weed, the weed, the weed.

You pull his mouth off you, almost dropping the joint that’s not much of a joint anymore—only the filter remains.

“I don’t think this is—”

Fuck, you keep going back and forth. You keep breaching the surface just for him to tug you beneath the water again and convince you the drowning feels nice. And it does, for a few seconds—until it starts burning your lungs to a crisp again, at which point you tear away from him kick up, and in the moments you spend sucking in air you don’t get how he stays beneath for so long, like it’s nothing, how he doesn’t stop—he doesn’t stop, his fingers still curling inside of you, and you’re going under again to the sound of his voice.

You feel suffocated. More delirious by the second. It’s nice.

“You already told me it feels good,” he mumbles against you, lapping at you, and you’re letting up on his hair, letting him become a weight again where you should float.

And the lack of oxygen must be getting to your brain because, even though you still don’t think you want to drown, you cease your kicking. For the last time.

“Osamu,” you cry. It sounds like a moan. It might be.

“I know, I’m such a sicko.” There’s no remorse in his words; there can’t be, not when he’s still curling up into your g-spot in just the way that makes you croon his name again—undoubtedly a moan this time—but when he comes into focus again, he looks so apologetic. “You can say it again, baby. It’s okay.”

“S—sicko,” you mutter disapprovingly, but rolling your hips all the same.

He smiles. Soft, kind, apologetic.

You’re scared to move. You know if you do, you’ll both be able to see the wet stain collecting beneath you on the cushion. You feel it.

So you barrage him with more.

“You—you’re a fucking pervert. You’re disgusting.” You feel wetness on your face, too. You deduce that it’s from how perfect his fingers feel inside you, goading that warm slick out of you and into his palm, onto the couch; regardless, you don't stop berating him, your tone harshly contrasting your wriggling hips. “You disgust me.”

“I think you like it.” He presses up, hard, and you gush, gasping. A short, clear spurt narrowly misses his face; he leans back down to lick it off, off the cushion, off your thighs, off your crying cunt. “I think you like how nasty I am.”

“Disgusting,” you whisper. “Disgusting. You're disgusting.” It’s a little chant you hold onto as he rises again to kiss you, messily—a means to replace his lips with his wet fingers, shoving them past your lips and against your tongue where you lap at them instinctually, like you’ve been waiting for it. It’s so wrong to be tasting yourself on his fingers, but your eyes roll back anyway, just to lurch forward as his hand retracts and you find him grinning once more as he slips his sweatpants and boxers down in one swipe. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Dazai mocks, giggling. “You just tasted how fucking wet you are.”

“Osamu,” you whine as he kicks his garments aside; you begin to draw your feet up, your knees to your chin, but his hands, stronger than you anticipate, pry you open and flip you to your back and he grins, biting into his bottom lip all the while. Why, you wonder, when the dim living room light glints off his teeth as he situates himself between your legs and leans down to cage you in between his arms, do your hips hitch toward his? Why are you so adamant to deny him?

“You gonna say it again? C’mon, I love hearing my name,” he breathes, ducking down to lick across your jawline. “But I love when you call me those words. Say it again. Tell me how nasty I am.”

“You’re the worst,” you groan, but it sounds comical, even to your own ears, because you’re scratching at his shoulders in a way that draws him closer to you rather than further away.

“More, baby,” Dazai hums into your neck, reaching down to swirl his tip against your wetness. When you feel him, you jump.

It feels good. It feels even better than his thumb and you don’t know if you’re still on your way up but you feel higher and higher by the second and the instinct to push him off is slipping further beyond your grasp. When he pulls back to watch your mouth fall open as he rubs himself into you, you almost let the word pretty slip past your lips—he looks so pretty, tongue flicking, eyes dark, and you catch yourself with your lower lip between your teeth, reflecting the desperation he conceals in everything but his words.

Pretty isn’t what he wants right now, though—and suddenly you feel compelled to give him what he wants, if only it means he’ll keep touching you like this.

“S’fucking nasty—degenerate fucking freak—” you eek out; you don’t know much longer you can tiptoe the line between repulsion and sheer need, but you’re tilting further and further with each circle of his dick and you can tell he’s getting off on the way you’re lurching into him now, running toward his touch instead of away from it.

You think you need him to fuck you, now, or you’ll cry.

“Osamu, please,” you continue, sounding on the verge of tears now—where you should’ve been before, when you genuinely wanted him off you, yes. You wanted him off of you before. Didn’t you? There was a time, a mere few minutes ago, when his fingers in your skin and his animalistic gaze were revolting. Right?

“What’re you beggin’ me for?” Dazai asks like he doesn’t know. He knows. He knows what you don’t want to admit to yourself and he’s going to dangle it over your head, he’s going to rub it in your face, he’s going to make you answer through your hazy high that he never should’ve come onto you through to begin with, and you’re going to give him what he wants—you always give him what he wants, even if you don’t mean to, even if you don’t want to, but now you think you want to. You want to, because it feels so good, and he’s slowing down, he’s stopping and when he takes his hand away to swipe his thumb across your chin, pull your lip from between your teeth and work your mouth open with his fingers again, the loss almost hurts. You want it. You want to.

It’s going to hurt even more to say it, but you want it. And before you can even get it out, before the words even hit what little air is between your lips and his, Dazai looks thrilled at what you say next.

“Please, fuck me,” you whisper.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely—” He reaches back down, but the smugness doesn’t waver; his tip catches on your entrance—emitting a lewd squelch that should make you cringe but instead prompts your lip to fly between your teeth again—and you hook your tingling feet behind his back, legs astride his waist as you're pushing his bangs from his face all in one motion. “I guess I’ll fuck you, pretty baby.”

"Yes," the dreaded word falls from your lips when he finally works his way into you, past that tight ring of muscle, to nestle snugly inside you until the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

The noise you draw from him—something between a sigh and a moan—is heavenly. His nose nuzzles the trail he licked across your jaw before and you find your hands linked behind his neck, urging him down, onto you, into you—and when he recoils his hips to thrust back in again, quick and short, you keen against him, pathetically, in a way your past self—the one from four or five touches ago—would hate you for.

You should hate how gross this is. How gross he is for this.

But you don't, and you're not going to torture yourself with asking why anymore.

The friction inside you doesn't feel comparable to anything; for the first time in a second, you feel grateful for the weed pulsing through you. You let your eyes roll back and flutter shut without consequence.

Dazai moves against you like water. Water you're content to drown in this time; his touch doesn't crawl anymore as much as it seems to soothe and as he picks up his pace, brings a hand to your cheek to wake you back up, pull you back above the surface.

"You sound s'fuckin cute," he sighs; those eyes, predatory before, are now just brown and melty, honey-colored backgrounded with red fog, not so searching as much as they seem attentive, not making you feel so uncomfortably vulnerable as they do softly seen. He thinks you sound cute. You giggle through the unrivaled pleasure, giggling through your own moans which hit your ears and do sound cute—sound especially cute woven through his.

"Y'sound... so," you start, "so fucking—unh, Osamu, don't stop!"

He chuckles now, low and breathy, and you push his hair back from his face again; his eyes roll back when you do it, and you just do it over, over, over, drawing clipped groans out of him, stealing the words from his throat as he steals yours and you tug, you tug on his hair and the moan he lets out, broken between thrusts, is so raw and laced with need that you moan in reply, clenching around him because, fuck, he sounds so cute, too. "Wanted this for so long, baby. Pussy feels s—so much fuckin' better than I could've imagined."

"How long?" you finally poke back—you want to know. You want to know how long he's been holed up in the mess of his room, jerking off to the thought of his cute little roommate finally falling between his fingers—you want to know how bad he's wanted this, and if getting you high out of your mind just to get it was worth it. You focus your voice to ask him. "How long you wanted this, 'Samu?"

"So long—since—" he gasps, fucking into you harder, faster, deeper; you tug his hair again, exposing his neck, and yank him down to sink your teeth into his neck. You need the reprieve as he starts hammering against the deepest parts of you, eliciting wet smack! after smack! from between your writhing bodies. You jostle beneath him as he finds his breath; "Since I fuckin' met you. Always wanted you."

"Yeah?" You mean it to be a teasing little rhetorical question but it comes out more like encouragement amidst the bliss radiating from your cunt throughout your whole body, but you find it in you to continue— "You been—you been thinkin' of me under you like this? Like the sicko you are?"

Unbelievably faster and harder. You choke on a scream; Dazai's grunting above you, and it hits you that those names really do spur him on. You're far from offending him—you're bringing him closer and closer to filling you up with each and every insult and jab you throw his way and if you were any less cockdrunk you'd be hurling even more barbs at him about how that makes him so much worse, so much more gross but it just spurs you on, too, right now—and you realize, when he looks at you with those fucking eyes again how bad you want him, how bad you've wanted him, too, for so long; you couldn't—wouldn't admit it because he's just your weirdo roommate but really, maybe that's what you love about him. You certainly love the way he makes your toes curl when he reaches down to play with your clit again. You cry out against him.

"Osamu, fuck!"

"Say it again," he begs you, pretty brown eyes glassy as they fall shut, as the tip of his nose touches yours. "Say it again, please, baby."

You know what he wants.

"F—fucking pervert," you huff, doing everything you can to hold onto the rope that's uncoiling rapidly inside you, coming further and further undone with each slam of his hips into your ass. "Ah—you're disgusting. Disgusting."

You fall back on your mantra and it has his thumb moving faster, harder, just like his thrusts, just like his voice, even if it sounds unconvincing through the shockwaves of pleasure; you feel it, the unraveling, it's washing up on you so quickly, so much quicker than it should be at the hands of your weirdo roommate.

"Don't stop," he pleads like he's not the one fucking you to orgasm; you see white, you feel as light as air—god, has cumming always felt like this? Shouldn't you hate it? Shouldn't you hate that it might never feel like this again?

You do, you do—you hate weed and you hate sex and you hate your weirdo roommate Osamu Dazai for coaxing the most mind-blowing climax you've ever felt out of you, but you don't hate any of those things, not really; you hate that it's never felt like this before, and that it can again if only you can push your pride down for a few more moments and call him a—

"Freak—gonna—gonna cum in me?" you goad, breathless, lucky for speech as he fucks you through the otherworldly high, as you clamp down on him and screw your eyes shut until you can keep going. "Gonna fill me up like the nasty motherfucker you are?"

"Ngh—yeah, yeah, yeah...!"

Dazai, in all his depraved beauty, fucks his fat load into you mercilessly; you twitch, shake beneath him, driving strained sobs from his chest and talking him through with soft yeahs, want y'r cum, filthy fucking sicko freak, you disgust me. He loves it. He falls apart, and you tug on his hair once more as he slows, as he spills out of you, as he looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes.

"You—" Dazai's breathless, heaving. "You're amazing."

You giggle again, wiggling a bit and trapping him further close to you, fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. Soft. You don't feel any less high; just blissed out. "You're cute."

"Knew you thought so," he sighs, lopsided smile coming back; you don't know where in the pleasure he'd lost it, but its return has you tilting your chin up to kiss him once more. Soft. Gentle, sweet, no tongue; not gross, not hungry, just sweet. Satisfied.

"But you're still weird," you tease against his lips. Sly.

When Dazai pulls back, the hunger in those eyes sparks again.

"Want me to show you how weird I can get?" he threatens.

"I dare you," you taunt back.

And he grins, fully and wickedly, once more; you can count on it. He'll show you, alright.

#i want to first thank italics. id be nowhere without italics #dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #nnnsfw.ᐟ #mdni #with love—reid

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roebeanstalk · 9 months ago

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6/2 Update: Security deposit has been paid!! Thank you so much to everyone for the help 💚 I still have to pull together all of June rent for my current place which is $675. Thank you everyone for all of the help so far 💚

I’m asking for help with June rent, which is $675 and needs to be paid ASAP.

Cashapp https://cash.app/clawshot

venmo https://venmo.com/rmck89

ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/roebeanstalk

Any help at all is super appreciated. Every dollar adds up, and shares are so helpful too. I know that I’ve received so much help from people in the past and I can’t thank you all enough. I hope that this is the last of these that I have to do.

Needs:

June rent: $23/$675

Security Deposit: $495/495 Paid 💚

Bonus:

July rent (First month at new place): $495

Movers + Uhaul: $300-350

More info on my situation under the cut!

Thank you so, so so much.

I have a history of mental health issues, and as a result I have a very difficult time getting and maintaining employment. My mental health also impacts my ability to keep up with and complete freelance/commission work in a timely manner. While I have made some incredible steps forward lately thanks to the right combo of therapy, medication, and a support system, I am still not at a point where I am self-sufficient yet. I am getting there – and I am committed to keep trying no matter what.

Original post blurb, taken out of main post since deposit has been paid:

My landlord has decided not to move forward with me as a tenant due to my history with payment/mental health. While this is frustrating as heck, it’s allowed me to find a better, more affordable housing situation. I have signed a lease at a new place and move in July 1st!Once the deposit is paid, my space on the lease is officially secured and I am good to go. This is the main thing that I am looking for help with.

Why I need help:

This new housing situation is incredible for me – it’s a room in a quiet house with two other queer folk, and the rent is very affordable compared to my current situation. The new place is $485/month, the current place is $675/month. Even with utilities, my total overhead for shelter will cost less than rent at my current place. If I can secure my spot in this house and move forward, I see such a clear path forward for me in terms of self-improvement and self-sufficiency.

For the first time in 15 years, I feel like I can tackle the things ahead of me. If you’re able to help out I would really, really appreciate it.

What I’m doing:

I am job hunting for something that works well for my situation. With the cost of rent, I think that a part time job will be able to cover it. The process of getting a job is difficult for me, but I am committed to continuing to work at it.

On the art front, I have occasional comic coloring jobs that help me out. I also have commissions – I have finally been moving forward at a good rate and have been really happy with my work. In time, this will be able to be a more standard income route. I also have a Patreon that brings in about $65/month.

Cashapp https://cash.app/clawshot / venmo https://venmo.com/rmck89 / ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/roebeanstalk

Thank you so much for reading over all of this. Thank you to everyone who has helped with donations or kind words or reblogs. Thank you so much to every commissioner and customer who has been patient as hell with me on artwork, communication, and stickers. Thank you thank you thank you. Thanks to every single one of you I have been able to keep pushing myself forward, and I'm so happy to keep doing it and make good on everything. And eventually, give back to my community. I love you all so much, even though i don't know any of you that well. Thank youuuu. <3

#trans #mutual aid #moving #trans mutual aid #help moving

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 month ago

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I started reading The Titans (1999) recently and this is my understanding of the team's vibes based on the first 14 issues

Roy would kiss Dick or Garth in a heartbeat but Dick doesn't notice because he's a single mom who works three jobs and Garth doesn't care because Roy thinks that doing Atlantean microaggressions is cute

also now Garth has a wife and newborn or something, I don't know I draw the line at reading Aquaman

canonically Donna told Roy she might only be interested in hooking up with him because she's in her turmoil era and he said that's actually fine with him so now they're just having sex sometimes and none of their housemates care. which is just what being in your 20s is like, to be fair.

also canonically Roy isn't exactly in love with Cheshire but is definitely still devoted to her to a degree that is unwell, baby boy go to therapy

Dick and Kory are trying to be chill about it but their failed engagement is a huge gaping wound between them that they're just Not Talking About and now you can't leave them alone together because if they run out of surface level small talk they'll start yelling and throwing furniture

Kory and Donna could lez out if they wanted to but inexplicably don't

Toni has a crush on Grant and Grant has a crush on her back but he's also battling his demons and the demons are bisexuality and he keeps imagining really elaborate scenarios that somehow end with him kissing Roy

Dick is touchy feely with Donna to the point that a layman would assume she's touched his penis but they're genuinely platonic and just Like That. he could put in a tampon for her and it wouldn't be that weird.

Dick is touchy feely with Wally to the point that a layman would assume they've touched each other's penises and they'd be right but they haven't been fuckbuddies in a while

Vic and Gar are so married that they should have a crusty little white dog or two that they can dote on, but their relationship is also casually open

Jesse and Wally get along like cousins which is fitting because all speedsters are basically family anyway. to me.

Jesse regards everyone else as a valued but overly familiar coworker, except for Dick who she is attracted to. Dick is aware of this but pretending he isn't because he doesn't reciprocate and is already busy juggling messy situationships with Barbara, Helena, and his own landlord

#titans blogging

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elsecrytt · 3 months ago

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you fucking hate your job.

unfortunately, you also need it.

some old money family hires you to play housekeeper for their weird ass son. satoru gojo, you think.

he's handsome. just looking at him is a treat; stark white hair, bright blue eyes, a face like an actual idol.

and then he opens his mouth. illusion ruined.

whatever. you don't care that much about his "wow! you really didn't dress up for work, huh?" and "so, let me guess... no boyfriend?" you’ve dealt with worse.

you'd been excited when you got this job. you're broke. the pay is great. you're ready to do anything to not get fired.

you keep the apartment completely spotless, despite how many candy wrappers and packages he leaves around, the disaster that is his stupid fancy bathroom.

seriously, who leaves soap and shampoo everywhere like that? who jerks off in the shower that often? throws towels around and knocks bottles and toothbrushes over? it's like he's trying to leave a mess.

you do his laundry, which he just leaves on the floor like a goddamn animal. there's some clothes with gross, crusty white on them.

one time, you'd caught him staring at you while you picked it up, smirking all the while.

this is the guy you’re being paid to look after. and you’re fucking trying! god, do you ever try!

you cook meals from scratch, hours-long, intensive processes. you check his fridge, shamelessly dig through his garbage to see what he likes and try to make things he'll enjoy.

he leaves empty boxes of takeout on the counter, your homemade dinner in the trash, untouched.

it's in your contract. you can't not cook for him. and you can't eat anything, either, not when you're terrified of getting fired and he obviously likes to make you miserable.

and your landlord just informed you last month - rent will be going up. and not by a small amount.

you'd just finished digging yourself out of one hole and life kicks you right back down.

you don't know how you're going to make rent this month. fuck, you don't even know what you're going to have for dinner. if you can afford dinner. if you can even afford to put the heat on tonight.

it's not even a question. obviously the answer is no.

sitting on the plush, luxury couch in gojo’s apartment, you bury your head in your hands, and cry.

maybe you can get another job? but there's only so many hours in the day. you're so fucking sick of working all the time. you already do.

is it too much to ask for life to cut you a fucking break?

"what's wrong?" your least favorite voice interrupts - and a hand on your shoulder, shaking you, none-too-gently.

"don't tell me..." there's that smugness, "are you cryin'?"

"sorry, i just need a minute." you say, swallowing your anger to look him in the eyes. "i just got some bad news. my landlord is raising the rent next month."

"oh?" his tone is only getting worse, "so what? just move out. or get some roommates, or whatever you poor people do."

god, the fucking mouth on this man.

"soooo? sounds like poor planning on your part," satoru says, casually leaning onto the edge of the couch, "i just don't get why you're crying about it. like, that's kinda pathetic, you know?" he snickers -

SLAP

dead silence. a sting on your hand. satoru's face bent to the side. you don't even regret it. not right now, as angry as you are.

"you-" a rant is just about to spring from your lips, and then -

satoru grabs your hands, pulling them into his, right in front of his face.

his cheeks are dusted red. pretty eyes wide and dilated, fixed on you. mouth twisted in a grin.

you glance down to the front of his pants, where a noticeable bulge has formed.

"do it again."

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #it's not exactly smut but it's not really sfw #god he's such a jerk. he loves being a jerk #and the moment you slap him for it he will fall over and bare his belly like the dog he is #i have more content like this. reader is VERY upset about the homemade cooking being thrown away #something something making him eat it off the floor #just. hngh. gojo lying prone on the floor. maybe on his stomach #i love making him punchable and then having him get off on being punched #he's exactly the sort of awful gorgeous man who would piss you off bc he's hoping you'll beat him up for it

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lizzy06 · 7 months ago

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Sero Hanta x Reader Fic Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

all in a day's quirk/tumblr link ✨✨by @andypantsx3/ andypantsx3 (oneshot, friends to lovers, fluff, smut<18+>)Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!”. [COMPLETED]

Trash Polka-- A Sero Hanta X FemReader/ Tattoo Parlor AU ✨✨ (neighbours, fluff, humor)Today is move day, and unbeknownst to you, you actually rented an apartment right above a tattoo parlor with an exceptionally cute owner, who is now your new landlord. .. But you don't particularly mind… and, the owner seems sweet, so who are you to complain ?[COMPLETED]

Infiltration Complete! ✨✨by animepseud (multipurposeroom)(fake dating, fluff, humor)The adventures of Sero (codename Hunter), you (his pretend wife), and your attempts at investigating a murder while trying not to fall madly in love with each other by the end of it (mission impossible).[COMPLETED]

he was like the Sun ✨by @rainybubbles (oneshot, fluff) Maybe it was your childish obsession with stars that led you to him. After all, if you took a closer look, he was like the Sun.[COMPLETED]

skintight✨ by @saturnsorbits (oneshot, suggestive, fluff) Sero's got an embarrassing problem.[COMPLETED]

it’s a date ✨by @shinaus (oneshot, fake datings, friends to lovers)The invitation was to a party this coming weekend, which they have insisted within it that you had to bring your boyfriend too.[COMPLETED]

do re mi by @mythiccheroacademia (oneshot, angst, toxic relationship, cheating) Sero loved you. He loved you with everything he had. But he thinks he hates you just the same.[COMPLETED]

Fall In Love With Me. by Itsjustadrian(neighbours, friends to lovers, fluff) You have had the misfortune of being neighbors with the pro-hero cellophane. It wouldn’t be bad if you didn’t embarrass yourself the first encounter you had with him.[COMPLETED]

Daddy’s Little Hero ✨by Madysenpai(oneshot, parent! sero and reader, domestic fluff, family feels) Pro hero Cellophane tends to stay busy with his hero work, but on his day off he forces you to get out of the house while he spends the day with your daughter.[COMPLETED]

your initials paint my skin ✨by whatisreggieshortfor (oneshot, soulmate au, angst with happy ending)You just want to be a hero. You don’t want a soulmate, don’t want the bond. But… you’re kind of stuck to him. Pun intended.[COMPLETED]

always have, always will by Kumi(oneshot, childhood friends, angst) Sero Hanta doesn’t know a life without you by his side. For as long as he can remember, you’ve always been there. You’ve always been his person—always have, always will. Or so he thought.[COMPLETED]

Love (Sero Hanta x Reader) by dirtyoatmeall(oneshot, fluff, insecure! reader, comfort)In which you are insecure and believe Sero couldn't love you back. In which you are so utterly wrong.[COMPLETED]

Why Kaminari Is Not Allowed To Do Grocery Shopping✨ by jumix (oneshot, fluff, humor) It started, as many things in Sero’s life apparently do, with Kaminari wanting Oreos. aka 5 times Sero goes to the grocery store + 1 time he left with more than just the groceries.[COMPLETED]

Like Father Like Daughter ✨by Jessimatsu_girl(oneshot, fluff, just parenthood guys) Your sweet little girl is worried that she'll gets a quirk like her Papa.[COMPLETED]

Spider-Man✨ by animepseud (multipurposeroom)(oneshot, fluff)Sero is a pro hero and an adult who struggles with being a pro hero and an adult. You are (kind of) a Cellophane fan. Though things get cute nothing really gets resolved but sometimes it doesn't really matter.[COMPLETED]

It Started With A Postcard by NyxDeLaNuit (oneshot, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut) Sero loves his friends, but he's desperate to talk to someone who doesn't know who he is…[COMPLETED]

Me & You Together by kingexpl0sionmurder(oneshot, fluff, secret admirer) “What? Who sent me flowers?”[COMPLETED]

It’s worth it. by Madysenpai (friends with benefits, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, smut)Sero and you are friends with benefits, you wanted more but knew you couldn’t have it. Sero knows your relationship with him only goes so far, so why is he so jealous of Todoroki?

The Things That Bind Us by lunadoesntexist(fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pinning) You were alone… and then he showed up.[COMPLETED]

Blankets & Banter by Stumbleduck(oneshot, fluff) It’s the Bakusquad’s not so weekly sleepover of shenanigans, video games and hopefully no fires. But after getting very little sleep the night before you start to doze off on a certain tape user’s shoulder…[COMPLETED]

BREADTH: Sero Hanta by KaigaraX (oneshot, fluff)Someone You Loved - Featuring: The Hero & Exactly As You Saw.[COMPLETED]

A Sign of Love✨ by @dira333/ Fogfire (oneshot, soulmate au) Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their body. Well, everyone but Sero.[COMPLETED]

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thehauntedetheral · 7 months ago

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Can I request Yandere doctor x patient???

Yandere Doctor

Requests are open!

• The world should just end. It was the only thing you were manifesting right now as you were walking down the street.

• Why? Because well when you were mourning at home on your parents death anniversary your boyfriend of years was cheating on you with some random girl. And also your landlord has given you the notice to leave the house in 2 weeks all of a sudden. The only thing you have now is your job.

• You were going to meet a broker to find a new house when your stomach ache started again. You have been feeling this way for quite some days but you ignored it as you haven't got much time between finding a new house and your love life's drama. And on top of that this stomach ache. Just great. Please god just kill me you thought when out of nowhere you felt fainting. No. No god I just thought that figuratively not literary Please don't kill me you thought before black took you over.

• You woke up and found your self on an hospital bed. An IV attached to your hand.

• An handsome doctor came in giving you a polite smile. "Glad you woke up. You fainted on street a kind stranger got you here. You fainted due to appendicitis. It was infected so we took out via surgery. The staff called your emergency contact which is your friend I guess. she signed all the surgery and consent paper while you were unconscious. We have to keep you here for two days under observation just in case nothing serious." The handsome doctor said. Well that explains everything how I ended here you thought.

• After the doctor went your friend came in. Fussing all over you.

• Your friend stayed with you most of the time during the 2 days. You both thought that the doctor was so polite, good looking and handsome. Especially more handsome in his scrubs

• During the two days you were in the hospital. Yan Doctor would stop at your room a lot unnecessarily.

• He would check up on you a lot saying "doctor duties" when it was not at all necessary but who is gonna tell you anyways.

• Would try to chit chat with you and your friends during his break.

• Switched his shift with his colleague just to be around you went it was his day off.

• When he heard you were looking for a house. He told you a house beside his is empty and affordable so if you want you can move there.

• After getting discharged you went to get a look at the house. It was so spacious and beautiful yet it's price was too low according to its infrastructure you thought when it should cost a lot. Nevermind the owners loss you thought and moved into that house.

• You and yan doctor were neighbours now.

• He would often invite you for meals at his house. Under the facade of "I again made too much".

• Helps you in shifting and settling down. Saying "I am just being a good Neighbour".

• Well in reality the owner of that house is none other than yan doctor. He knew that this house's rent value is a lot but he told you less because he wanted you closer to him. In fact he wanted to give you this house to live at free but that would cause a lot of suspicion so he told you a very low price.

• Has been obsessed with you since he saw you unconscious on the stretcher brought into hospital looking beautiful as angel. He thought you looked beautiful while unconscious. But when he talked to you saw you smile, heard your voice he thought you were out worldly. Just Divine.

• This man is madly in love with you.

• Kills your ex with a overdose of drug making it look like an accident just because he was jealous and mad that he hurt you emotionally. How could someone cheat on such a perfect human? He thought.

• Tries his best to become close to you and become your friend and more.

• Gives you health advice all of the time.

• You fell sick? This man becomes your personal doctor, nurse everything.

• Has so much money that always showers you with your favourite coffees, meals and tickets to movies or concert. His reason? "Well I was just passing by and saw this I know you like it so I bought it for you". When in reality this man specifically goes to that place just for getting it for you.

• He sees your one smile and feel like he won in life. This man is whipped for you.

• If you ask this man for his heart he would literally tear his chest and pull his heart out for you. Nothing matters to him except you. You are his everything.

• When you get an invite to a wedding. You thought who should I take with me as a date?

• Yan Doctor keeps throwing hints at you all week indicating that he wants to be your wedding date. This man is so desperate for you.

• When you finally ask him to be your wedding date. This man is the most happiest person in world. You might think you just asked him to marry you by looking at his happy expressions.

• Well don't worry darling because he is damn sure you are gonna marry him one day.

• With you being conscious or high with drug. Choice is yours darling. After all he is a good doctor and knows how to use them well.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

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ghouldump · 8 months ago

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Your lestat x louis x claudia fic EATSSSSSSSS

If your are up to it could you do something with my pretty husband armand and his manipulative ways?

Beautiful Deception | Armand x Reader

ෆ moving to paris, the last thing you expected was to come across the ancient vampire.

lol thank youuu so much, i hope you like this 💕 sometimes i take a while to post because i rewrite my work over and over until i think it’s good. this was a great idea and i don’t mind taking more.

“How long will you continue to claim that you are a vampire?” The interviewer, Daniel Malloy asked. Crossing your leg over the other, you smiled.

“It is merely one of many truths, but I will let you and the readers decide if it should be accepted,” you said.

It had been nearly a year since you turned 100. Since you made the blog, originally to share stories from your past. Despite all events being true, and the website becoming a success, it was all seen as fiction. You were seen as a character, an upcoming writer dedicated to your role, but it would be coming to an end. Daniel, someone you’d been studying for some time now, needed a story, something fresh. He was getting the raw unspoken truth, things you hadn’t shared before, publishing it along with an interview.

“Why now?”

“Why not now, Daniel? We live in a new age, where we people of the night should be known,” you smirked.

Just then, the door opened, and Armand, your partner of over 80 years entered. The sleek black turtle neck was perfect against his glowing brown skin. Turning to him, you looked up in admiration, as he placed a soft kiss on your lips, before sitting next to you.

“I hope you don't mind, my husband, Armand, joining us”

“Armand the vampire? You said some concerning things about him,” Daniel said, trying to get under both of your skin.

“We’ve moved past those times,” you said, as Armand intertwined your fingers.

“Alright, whatever that’s supposed to mean, shall we start?”

“Yes, let’s,” you smiled, nodding.

“Let’s start here…”

Run, run, don’t stop, keep running.

Your heart pounded, as you ran through the streets, gasping for air as you grew more tired. Afraid to look back, you kept going, you were sure you’d drop dead in fear seeing him behind you. Turning on nearly every corner, relief washed over, seeing a store owner closing his shop.

“Sir,” you called out, as you jogged to him.

“No, no, I’m closing,” he pointed at the sign.

“Please help me, he’s going to get me,” you cried, as the man finally turned to face you, genuinely concerned.

“Come in,” he said, letting you into the store. As you came in, he locked the door behind you. With the adrenaline coming down, you could feel pain in your foot from stepping in glass.

“We have to hide,” you told the man, tugging at his sleeve.

“You go,” he pointed to the back, before he went behind the counter, pulling a shotgun out.

Limping to the back of the store, looking back one more time, you screamed as the door burst open, the shop owner being killed instantly. As the elderly man fell to the floor, you cried out, before he appeared in front of you.

“Y/n,” his eyes softened seeing your tear stained face, all of your makeup running down, mixed with the tears.

“Please….”

“You’re moving ahead of yourself, Daniel, we have to start from the beginning, I had just moved to France-

“So Armand didn’t kill the shop owner and was about to kill you next?” He asked, as Armand clenched his jaw, glaring at the man.

“Daniel, you only get one session, you have to get this right, just let the story seduce you as it had done to me,” you said as he begrudgingly nodded, finally ready to listen.

"Here are your keys, rent is due on the third of each month," your new landlord, Henri said, handing the keys to your husband, Phillip.

“Thank you, sir,” he muttered, while you giggled, your eyes exploring the place. Neither of you was the best at French, at least speaking it. Despite the previous months of studying and reciting, your articulation was still overwhelmingly, American.

He didn't say anything, giving you both a questionable stare, before leaving the small apartment. Compacted in size, and already cluttered with furniture, but it was your new home, and that's all that mattered. Shutting the front door, you walked over to the full-sized bed. This was the fresh start you needed.

“What do you think?” Philip asked.

“I love it,” you told him, jumping into his arms.

Living all of your life in the States, you were the youngest of two children. Your father, you never knew, not that it mattered too much to you. It was your mother who came from a wealthy family in France. Before she decided to move to its child, New Orleans.

She didn't talk about her time there much, only telling short stories about your grandparents or her early life in Paris. She was lonely as a child, and her parents were oftentimes neglectful, as a result of having her at an old age.

Having her own children, you and your twin brother, Elijah, from a hookup with an attractive soldier, she vowed to dedicate herself to both of you. She made sure neither of you ever went without, providing the best of your desires.

Around 9, you were certain you wanted to be a performer. It didn't matter how or what you did, the idea of being adored, captivating the crowd, your juvenile mind was set. Your mother soon paid for all sorts of lessons, dancing, singing, and instruments, she was just as determined that you would achieve your dreams.

While you were striving for your goals, your brother, Elijah, struggled with living in your shadow. You took up most of your mother's time, which is how she didn't notice the bullying. He had always been introverted, harmless as a butterfly, nose deep in a book. While you were holding onto hopes and dreams, your brother was guaranteed a successful life with how smart he’d always been.

However, there was a problem, jealousy. She was a demon, stronger than most, willing to compel whoever that would allow, to do whatever their deepest desires were. This is why, on that Saturday evening, on your 14th birthday, you and your mother left for the market, intending on baking a cake for the two of you, she attacked.

Bullies from his class saw him as he was taking out the trash. They never liked the boy, coveting the lifestyle he had been fortunately given. Attacking him, they only meant to roughen him up a bit, until he fought back. Then, filled with that ancient spirit of jealousy, one of them picked up a rock.

Thankfully, one of the neighbors heard the commotion and came running to save him, but the damage had been done. From that point on, your brother was different, as was your mother.

The life that he was once guaranteed to have was gone and your mother spent all of her time focused on caring for him. She still paid for your classes, but you were no longer a priority.

At 18, you met and eventually married Philip, a 22-year-old, journalist. He was very handsome with the most alluring brown eyes and soft wavy hair. He didn't have much money, but once he settled somewhere and established his career, he promised to give you the world.

Your mother disapproved of the marriage, how could you carelessly marry a poor man trusting his empty promises, she screamed at you. Which is why, out of spite, you told her you’d be moving to Paris. You watched as the hardened expression dropped, and sad memories flashed through her eyes. Throwing her hands up, she gave up with her argument, letting you leave, sending a parting gift of a few thousand dollars, before you were out of the country.

Now in the beautiful city, Phillip’s future seemed to be already looking up to be just as bright, as he had already been hired by a popular news corporation. Securing the apartment was simply the final step in your new life, at least that's what you thought.

Immediately, Philip worked day and night, hoping to begin to provide you with the life you deserved. Dates weren't as frequent as they once were in the States, but intimacy was just as regular as before, if not more.

Meanwhile, you oftentimes left home, looking for work. Not many places would hire women and the people who did expected their workers to work twice as much as they were paid. Until The Grand Cabaret, Edward, the head director of the restaurant/theatre was in dire need of new performances.

He'd stopped you on your way home from the store, captivated by your looks, giving you his card. Telling Phillip about the man, he agreed that it could be a good idea. Perhaps even a step towards becoming the big star you always wanted to be.

The next night you went, Philip was going to be out a little later than usual, finishing work. Anxiously, you made your way to the address on the card. Stopping in front of the building, you were surprised by the lack of guests. The establishment was nice, a few people were seated eating, and slow music was playing, but people continued to walk past.

“Ah, mademoiselle,” Edward smiled, as he stepped out.

“Not a busy night?” you asked him.

“People are more willing to eat with an equally lovely performance,” he said sheepishly, his eyes shifting to his left.

Following his eyes, you stared at the theater, Théâtre des Vampires. You could see the line of customers, excited to get into the theater. Although, the workers looked extremely rude and intimidating, dressed in the vampire costumes.

“I’m sure you just need the right act,” you told him, making eye contact with security, catching his brash expression.

“Do you sing or dance…?” He asked, waiting to hear your name.

“Y/n, and yes, I’ve been trained in both, I will admit, I am still not the greatest singer,” you laughed, as you accepted his hand.

“Please allow me to offer you a job here, as one of our employees. I trust your word, I am desperate, you’ll be paid weekly-

“I-when would I start?”

“Tonight…I mean, if it is possible,” he said.

“I can only stay for a while, my husband isn’t aware that I am away”

“Yes, of course, come right this way,” he said, leading you to the dressing room, allowing you to set your things down.

The cast members were all kind, introducing themselves as you glanced at yourself, checking your makeup.

“We have our newest act of the evening, the lovely and beautiful, Y/n,” Edward said, introducing you, before leaving the stage. He could already see the attention shifting to you, excitedly he opened the door, along with the windows, allowing potential guests to see.

“Just follow my lead,” you spoke to the small orchestra before you began singing a song you’d heard back when you lived with your mother. As the audience grew more interested, you felt your confidence rising by the second, as you danced freely, shutting your eyes, thrilled to finally be performing.

That night, for the first time, The Grand Cabaret was a full house. Everyone who passed wanted to see and hear more of your talent. As everyone clapped for you, and you could see now, you would be a star.

“What is the meaning of this?” Santiago frowned at Sam, wondering why he hadn’t been notified about any signaling of the play starting.

“Well…” Sam faced their leader, who stood, waiting for an answer.

“They’ve all gone to that stupid cabaret,” Estelle crossed her arms.

“Cabaret?”

“Apparently there is a new girl, American, she’s bringing them a bit of attention with her…performances,” Celeste told him.

Not saying a word, Armand furrowed his eyebrows, leaving the theater. His steps held a steady stride as he approached the building. Never since the theater had been opened had the place been empty. He had to see with his own eyes, this person, what had you done to take all of the loyal guests.

As he approached the entrance, the first thing he noticed was everyone wearing all black. The Dance of the Dead, starring the beautiful lead, Y/n,” his eyes skimmed the sign.

“Excuse me,” you said, brushing past Armand, and nearly running to the dressing room.

It had been a little over a month since you began working and although at first anxious, you were more than grateful for the opportunity. Edward was incredibly generous, wanting to keep his main act satisfied. You began to recommend themes, scenery, and new music, the guest needed to be able to visualize the show further than what you were giving.

The Dance of the Dead was a mockery of the vampire theater but with your own twist. A few people you'd grown familiar with had gone, telling you about how real everything seemed. How they’d managed to pull off some sort of screenplay, like movies. You never took the time to visit yourself, but saw the action as simply a little fun competition.

As the lights dimmed, Armand sat down, unintentionally gulping as you sauntered onto the stage. Immediately, the music started, along with your dancing. Armand watched as everyone focused, hypnotized as you were oozing in sex appeal. He nearly second-guessed himself about you, it shouldn't be possible for a mortal to captivate so many people in such a way, Armand thought to himself.

Going to your knees, as your head went back, he couldn’t help but think of how supernatural your beauty was, how luring your essence was. Going further to the floor, you faced the audience, your eyes meeting his. He smirked slightly, nodding at you, while you bit your lips.

As the song came to an end, you stood up, bowing your head. The audience cheered loudly, clapping and whistling.

‘Beautiful’ you heard, your eyes going to Armand, as he stood up.

“Thank you,” you blew kisses at the crowd, before going backstage.

He watched in amazement as they still cheered for you, the way that you moved ingrained into his thoughts. Coming from the dressing room, you looked almost different, blending in with the audience. He walked to the door, as you talked with your boss, accepting the envelope, along with a quick hug.

Moving outside, he stayed not too far behind you. Seeing that no one was around, he sped up, intentionally bumping into you.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, as his hand brushed against your waist.

“No, it is my apologies, I may be mistaken, but do you work at the Cabaret?”

“Yes, I do,” he watched as your eyes twinkled with joy.

“I’m Armand, I am the director of Théâtre des Vampires,” he held out his hand.

“Y/n,” you went to shake his hand but froze as he lifted your hand, placing a soft kiss near your knuckles.

“I…I have to get home, my husband is waiting,” you told him, emphasizing the title, as he stared into your eyes. You couldn't deny the mysterious man was quite the sight.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he offered.

“Oh no, I wouldn't want to take up your time-

“Nonsense, a woman of your caliber should be escorted, perhaps we could talk business,” he said, making you smile.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Ladies first,” he motioned for you to lead the way.

Armand was unnaturally enchanting in every aspect, a forbidden fruit your heart told you to stay away from, but your flesh tingled in his presence. It was an unspoken understanding that you could only see him at night at these shows. You anticipated seeing his youthful face, every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. He'd sit within the audience, watching your every move. Then backstage, approaching you, he'd always have a fresh bouquet. You would give him a look and he’d say something along the lines of how a star deserves flowers.

“Knock knock,” Armand said, catching your attention, turning from the vanity.

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up, and closing your robe.

“For you, the beautiful star of the show,” he said, handing you the bouquet.

“Thank you, Armand,” you told him.

“You never have to thank me,” he shook his head, reaching for your hand, and placing a soft kiss on top. Pulling away, as your heart leaped, you shifted your eyes.

“I have to get home soon,” you said.

“Right, your husband…it is a shame he doesn't come out to support you,” Armand said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“He works a lot”

“Unfortunate, I mean for him, because I get to have you to myself,” he said, smirking.

“Are you walking me home?” you asked, your face burning at his shameless joke.

“I'm ready when you are, angel”

You admired Armand, greatly, how confident, bold, intelligent, handsome-wait. Being around Armand, you oftentimes had to remind yourself you were married, as well as him. He had no problem blatantly flirting and laughing as you froze up in embarrassment. The two of you were growing closer than you should have been, while, it seemed like your marriage was crumbling.

“I don't want you working there anymore,” Philip told you, as you replaced the water in the vase, setting it near the window.

“Why? The extra money is helping…” you said, still staring at the flowers, Armand crossing your mind.

“My colleagues have been talking about the place nonstop, they think you’re some exotic whore,” he grumbled.

“Okay? There opinions aren’t paying us,” you told him.

“I don’t need them having you as a subject in the paper, you’re quitting,” he began to raise his voice.

“Philip, the money is great”

“I told you, I would provide the life you deserve-

“When? We’ve been out here for nearly a year and you have no signs of a pay increase. Am I supposed to sit around and hope? My mother was right about you,” you spat.

“What did you say?” He stalked towards you, your hands went up defensively as he walked towards you, as if you were prey. Raising his hand, he held it high, ready to strike you. You’d shut your eyes, waiting for the blow, but it never came.

Opening your eyes, you watched as he stood still, realizing what he was about to do, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he began to repeat, reaching for you before you ran out of the building. As you made it down the flight of stairs, you mentally cursed yourself, realizing you forgot to grab your coat, but were too afraid to go back.

Instead you walked the streets, stopping in your tracks, seeing the familiar faces. The cast members dressed as creatures of the night. You were about to walk towards them when a hand lightly pulled you backward. Gasping, your face relaxed as you bumped into Armand.

“Hi,” you said, breathlessly.

“What are you doing out here, in the middle of the night?” He tilted his head at you. You could ask the same thing, they were all here, a good distance from the theater.

“Just walking around, clearing my mind,” you said, shrugging.

“Something happened?” He asked, a concerned expression on his face.

“I’ll be fine, it’s nothing,” you shook your head. Armand was the last person you wanted to burden your problems with.

“Then allow me to join you, we can clear our minds together,” he intertwined his arm with yours.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to-

“Shall we go to the park? It’s quiet around this time,” he thought, leading you in the other direction.

“What are you all doing out here, in the middle of the night?” You asked him.

“Finding…inspiration,” he smirked.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course”

“Do you think it is wrong to regret big decisions you’ve made?”

“I think there are no coincidences, your mistake can lead you to your biggest culmination, regret is unnecessary, stress about something from your past, but tell me, what is it, you wish could have been done differently?”

“Maybe stayed home, pursued my dreams there, found a husband who was a man of his word, who supported my ambitions despite if others thought negatively of me,” you said, you hadn't realized you were crying until you felt Armand's finger brushing the tears away.

“This is nothing to be ashamed of, your dreams are coming to reality and I am a man of my word, I couldn’t care what anyone has to say when you’re on stage,” he smirked as you started laughing.

“And why is that?” You stopped walking.

“Because my eyes are blessed to see an angel and I don’t want to miss any parts of your beauty,” he said, as he gazed into your glossy eyes. Stepping closer, he pressed his lips against your own, and your arms guilelessly went around his neck.

“Where have you been, all my life?” you peered into his eyes.

“Waiting for you,” he said, kissing your lips, once more.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you giggled as the kiss broke.

“You’ve been worth the wait, come, it is getting late, I’m sure there are still some hotels opened-

“I can go home”

“Y/n-

“Trust me, I’ll be fine at home,” you smiled, as he redirected the walk to your apartment.

“Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?” Armand asked, as you both stood outside your door.

“Knowing Philip, he left,” you reassured him.

“Come to my theater tomorrow night”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“See you then,” he grinned, pecking your lips, before turning away.

“Edward, I don’t understand?” You frowned, trying to fathom what he was saying.

“I think it’s better this way, I’ve been more than grateful for the business you’ve brought to us, but we can’t risk having the article released, it will do more damage than anything,” he explained, his eyes full of pity.

You had extra time on your hands, stopping at your job, when Edward gave you the news. He was firing you, not because you had done anything wrong, but because he had received an anonymous tip about the cabaret soon to be in the media, and not for anything positive - going as far as being compared to a brothel.

All coverage wasn't good coverage in Edwards's eyes and he knew the target audience would turn away from the establishment in an instant.

“I'm sorry, Y/n,” he said, as you sighed, before putting on your best smile. You wouldn't cry now, sometimes this happened to big stars, you told yourself.

“It is alright, I wish you nothing but the best, goodbye,” you told him, leaving the cabaret.

You never looked back, keeping your eyes forward as you approached the ticket collector. His eyes snapped to you as he slightly frowned.

“There is a line,” he told you matter-factly.

“Is Armand here?”

“You can find out after you get in line just like everyone else-

“Y/n,” Armand walked outside, giving him a look. You watched as he lowered his gaze, almost in submission.

“Come,” he motioned, reaching out. Smiling, you accepted his hand, letting him lead you to his booth.

“Is there a reason you look like you’re on the verge of tears?”

“Just trying to figure out why everything is going wrong in my life,” you said, with a chuckle.

“Perhaps your culmination is closer than you realize”

“I hope you’re right”

“I’m in love with you,” your eyes widened at his words as you spoke at the same time.

“Armand, I-

“Since the moment you graced my eyes, I’ve been bewitched by your presence and…and I don’t want to leave it. I can give you the life you deserve, a stage to perform, love unlike any other, and pleasure beyond comprehension, choose me,” he told you, his eyes went to your lips, before he turned, watching as the lights dimmed.

Throughout the play, you could hardly focus, as your finger interlocked with Armand’s. His thumb caressed your warm flesh, bringing your hand to his lips. You could agree with your former colleagues, the play seemed real, almost too real. If it wasn’t for Armand’s swooning, you would be panicking.

You watched as the girl screamed, begging to be saved, but death came to collect. Surrounding her, her shrieking faded away as the curtains closed.

“That was…intense,” you gulped, as Armand laughed.

“It is all apart of the show,” he reminded you.

“Yes, doesn’t change that it was a little scary”

“You would look ravishing on that stage, whatever you'd like, singing, dance, it's yours,” he told you.

“I have to go,” you bit back your smiled, flattered by his bold promises.

“Stay, for tonight”

“I can't, it has been on my heart to write to my mother, so I want to get a head start,” you told him.

“Then will I see you tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night,” you nodded, accepting his kiss, before you left, making your way home.

Thinking of the steady decline of your marriage, you worried for your future, if you were headed towards a divorce. Your mother was the smartest woman you knew and although she was disappointed, you knew she would never turn her back completely. Like the prodigal son, you’d return home if it meant better circumstances, and your mother like the father, would accept you with open arms. Your heart wanted to believe Armand, but you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for more empty promises.

Settling back into the apartment, you sat at Philip’s desk. You wouldn't consider yourself nearly as good as a writer as he was, but he had taught you a few things to better your craft. Grabbing a pen, you started a bit formal, it had been a while since you'd seen your mother after all.

As your writing progressed, you poured your emotions out into the paper. Dealing with the suppressed feeling of being the reason for your brother's condition, your failed attempts at marriage, and your career, since leaving home. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you raised your eyebrows at the time. Had it already been two hours of writing? Albeit, there was a pile of crumbled papers.

Suddenly the door burst open, Philip rushed in, terror covering his face. Locking the door, he immediately went to the small kitchen, pushing the stove in front of the door.

“Philip?”

Hearing his name, his head jerked around as he met your gaze. Rushing over to you, he stopped, seeing you back away nervously.

“Y/n, please, I won’t…just let me explain,” he said, opening the manila folder.

“It started when you wanted to work at the Cabaret, I was so excited for you, I started an article, you were going to have an entire page. But…but then my brain began to get distorted and fuzzy, I could hardly think. Before I knew it, the article was on fire. I came to your show and I noticed someone”

“You came to my show before?”

“Always, after the first time, you came home gushing, I promised to try to make it,” he said, pulling out the stack of photos he continued.

“This man, he came to every show, front row, bringing you flowers,” he showed a series of pictures of Armand, some of the photos you were in. His arms around you, his lips pressed against your own.

“Philip-

“Just listen,” he shook his head, stopping you.

“I went to his theater, to confront him, to win my wife back, but then I found this, in his office,” he pulled out more photos.

“He has been watching you since we came here, from the time we arrived, there are photos of you taken. Then, I looked around, and what I saw, they aren't human, none of them. Those aren't plays, they're actual murderings,” he cried, showing the hardly developed pictures of the coffins and corpses in a box full of rats.

“I think he has been getting in my head, since I began to suspect him, I’ve felt like another person is living inside of me,” he said, wiping his tears.

“I waited until they all settled in for rest and I set the hell house on fire, we have to leave, now, we can go home, start fresh, leave all of this behind us,” he stressed.

Moving to your shared closet, he began to rip all of your clothing from the hangers, throwing them on the bed. You stood with your hand on your stomach, trying to process the photos. Indeed, there were photos of you from the moment you stepped off the boat. You didn't want to believe any of these bizarre claims, but here was the proof right in your face.

Unexpectedly, the stove was pushed out of the way, as the door burst open. Armand walked in, his hair slightly disheveled, the scariest glare set on Philip.

“Armand?” you called his name, hesitantly.

“Y/n, run,” Philip told you, as you jumped away from the table, the paper catching ablaze.

“Philip-

“Run, now,” he shoved you, right as Armand grabbed him. His hands around his throat, lifting him off the ground. Philip struggled, trying to free himself, gasping as fangs came out. Armand seemed to be growling at him, before sinking his teeth into him, determined to drain every ounce of blood from him.

“Run,” Philip strained, as you covered your mouth, rushing out the door.

Run, run, don't stop, keep running.

Your heart pounded, as you ran through the streets, gasping for air as you grew more tired. Afraid to look back, you kept going, you were sure you'd drop dead in fear seeing him behind you. Turning on nearly every corner, relief washed over, seeing a store owner closing his shop.

"Sir," you called out, as you jogged to him.

"No, no, I'm closing," he pointed at the sign.

"Please help me, he's going to get me," you cried, as the man finally turned to face you, genuinely concerned.

"Come in," he said, letting you into the store. As you came in, he locked the door behind you. With the adrenaline coming down, you could feel pain in your foot from stepping into the glass.

"We have to hide," you told the man, tugging at his sleeve.

"You go," he pointed to the back, before he went behind the counter, pulling a shotgun out.

"Y/n," his eyes softened seeing your tear-stained face, all of your makeup running down, mixed with the tears.

"Please, don't kill me,” you cried, shaking your head.

“Shh, shh, there is no need to cry,” he consoled you, forcing your head into his chest.

“Why did you kill him?”

“Because he married you,” he admitted.

“What are you?”

“A vampire,” he shifted his eyes as you looked at his face.

“They weren’t acting,” you shook your head, trying to shove him away.

“Not at the end, no,” he confessed. Wrapping his arms you, he walked you out of the store. You continued to try to fight him, but he was much stronger, holding you effortlessly.

Lifting into the air, you gasped, realizing he was floating, no flying! Wrapping your arms around him, you shoved your face deeper into his soft coat. He smiled as one of his hands held your head.

“We were out hunting, when I noticed you, stepping off of the boat. I could hear your precious thoughts, you were sure you'd be the next big star. You had dreams but weren't putting yourself out there, so I sent Edward to you, and I made sure he paid you like the star you are,” Armand said, as his feet landed on top of the museum.

“I showered you with praise and gifts of all kinds, and yet you left every night, going back to him, what is it that he could possibly have that I couldn't give you?” he asked, a gloomy look in his eyes.

“He was my husband, he didn’t have much, but I loved him,” you cried.

“He wouldn’t have given you the opportunities you can have. He would work himself to death, not without cheating on you to fill the void within himself because he knew he could never give you the life he promised”

“You killed him,” you continued to cry. Rolling his eyes, he felt himself growing frustrated with you.

“Because I love you, I can love you better than his wretched human mind could ever think to fathom. I could give you the eternal gift, lavishing you, treasuring you, why can’t you see, has your love for me left that quickly?” he asked, as he grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes.

Glamouring you, he hoped to find the truth, that your heart had turned cold at the sight of him. Wiping your eyes softly, his hand trailed to your lips, brushing against them softly.

“No,” you said, breathlessly.

“Then choose me, you have no need to fear me, we will be companions, equals, I, your maker, and you, my angel,” he said, a bloody tear slipping out of his eye. As he looked away, you snapped out of the trance, your heart ached to see Armand this way.

“I don't think I can forgive anytime soon, but I love you and I want you,” you told him, as you began to cry all over. Reaching towards his face, you wiped the blood away, before cupping his face in your hand. Searching your face for reassurance, you nodded.

“This will hurt for a short moment, but our eternity together will make up for it,” he told you, softly pecking your lips. Swiftly dipping you, you held onto him, as his fangs sank into your neck.

“Then what happened?” Daniel raised his voice, leaning towards you.

“I drank from him, and became his fledgling. I would say the rest is history, but it’s on the blog,” you laughed.

“You forgave him, just like that, after what he had done to Philip?”

“She actually took nearly a decade before I didn’t hear anything anymore,” Armand said, lifting your hand to his lips.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to a few things,” Daniel said, writing on his notebook.

“Okay, let’s hear it”

“Philip said that he came to your shows, nearly every single one, up until you were fired. But, during your time with Armand, he always seemed to working”

“He was saying a lot of things that night, him showing up to my shows was the least important thing to me at the time, but it was like 80 years ago, I don’t remember it like it was yesterday,” you laughed.

“I understand, Philip and Edward both spoke about an article, did this said article ever come about?”

“No-

“The fire was talked about, it took any attention from Y/n,” Armand interrupted.

“And what of the Cabaret? The Vampire Theater?”

“As far as we know, no one made it,” Armand said.

“The Cabaret went out of business a few years into my new life, I hear it’s a bakery now, you should visit,” you told him.

“If I’m not busy, I will think about it. What about your mother and brother?”

“I checked on them a few times, but the bloodline has ended with me,” you said, your smile faltering.

“I see,” he nodded, writing a note down.

“I trust you will do well with my story Daniel, reflecting on my past, I was a child, I didn’t have a real grasp of love and what it meant. I cared for Philip, he is who influenced my writing, but I can finally understand how much I didn’t actually love him,” you told him before he stopped the audio recording.

“Well, that’s it,” he sighed, saving the contents, before closing the computer.

“Lovely, would you like to stay for dinner?” you asked, as Daniel rubbed his head.

“No, I already made plans,” he said, his head feeling distorted and fuzzy.

“Awe, too bad, let me at least walk you to the door,” you stood, leading him to the front door of the spacious penthouse.

Sitting alone, Armand clenched his jaw, his eyes sharply piercing the air. Years upon years, nearly reversed in a single session. He could tell by the way Daniel was asking these questions, he wanted you to remember the obvious, but the truth was far too blurred for you to ever remember things how things were.

From the moment he saw you, he wanted you, filled with jealousy seeing you kiss him. He immediately began to find information about the two of you, watching from a distance. He did hear your thoughts, about how you wanted to be a star, which is why he sent Edward to you. The Cabaret had been nearby for some time now and hardly got any attention, you could work there for a while until you were ready for his stage.

Philip had been to nearly every show, but Armand was too far into your mind for you to ever notice him. Dancing and singing for the vampire alone, he had changed your memory too many times for you to even recount your performances. His breaking point was after stalking you, approaching your apartment, his heart shattered hearing you moan for him. The man he despised.

Lastly, he wished him turning you was as romantic as you made it out to be. After you told him you didn’t love him anymore, he promised that you would learn to love him again, before draining you. The thought of the fire infuriated him, his hate growing towards him. Philip ruined his plans and for that, he paid with his death. You were supposed to be turned, in the most beautiful way, becoming the lead actress at his theater. All of his plans, plans for you, the both of you, went to waste, because of him.

Armand knew some would come to this conclusion, and begin to question why. The answer was simple, so simple that many would hate him for his actions. He was jealous, seeing someone have what he wanted, so he took it. He had lived too long to care about his decisions hurting others and he held no regrets.

“Hey, are you coming to get ready for bed?” You asked, coming back to the entrance of the living room. Standing up, in an instant, he stood in front of me.

“Am I forgiven for my choices, my angel?” he asked, rubbing his face against your hands as you held his cheeks.

“You don't have to ask, don't let this story get to you, it's in our past,” you told him, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“I love you,” he smiled, kissing your lips.

“I love you too,” you told him, kissing him once more.

“I'll join you soon,” he said, watching as you turned, walking away.

Armand would never admit how prideful and monstrous his nature could be. Selfishly, he has taken you away from any and everything you knew, keeping you all to himself. However, none of these things mattered, he had won, in the end. You were a star, only meant to perform on his stage.

#interview with the vampire #armand x reader #amc iwtv #amc armand #armand the vampire

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the-kr8tor · 25 days ago

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Almost Valentine's day

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader x Ekko

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Just a regular night with your favourite people.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Nudity mention, SFW, Poly relationship, CW food mention, established relationship, arcane and spiderverse crossover, Fluff!

A/N: Just a quick fic because I miss writing for Hobie and before I lock in for Valentine's requests! @yumeaoka-chan and @pleaktale come get your food!!

Navigation

“We need a bigger tub.” Your voice bounces off the tiled walls and floors, making the two men with you turn their sleepy gazes towards an equally tired you.

The water is perfectly warm around you, bubbles hiding your bodies under the water, hair damp and skin glistening. The bathroom smells of apple pie and lavender from the scented candles you lit and from the bubble bath Hobie practically emptied out into the tub. The atmosphere just screams Valentine's day, it only needs some rose petals and some homemade chocolates and it's complete. It's technically not Valentine's day yet, but with Ekko and Hobie being lovey dovey almost every day and night, it's as if heart's day is everyday for you. But in truth, it's a regular Friday with them as you flutter your lashes and stare at them with heart eyes. They feel the same way after you wine and dine them with their favourite comfort foods right in the shared home.

“What do you mean, love? We fit perfectly ‘ere.” Hobie says whilst he's lounging on the other end of the tub, arms spread next to him as he's sitting adjacent to you and Ekko, whose arm is draped across your back. The punk's legs are folded in the water to give you and Ekko some space, foamy bubbles clinging to his skin while candle light illuminates his handsome face and piercings.

Ekko chuckles, a soapy hand running up and down your arm. “Says the man who's folded in half.”

Hobie splashes him with warm water, suds sticking to the platinum twists. “‘m bein’ polite, Ekko. Givin’ you and our lovie some space while you hog her to yourself.” Hobie nudges your thigh under the water as you laugh at their banter.

“You were here in my place yesterday, man.” He points to your side, lips curling into a smile. “It's my turn, tomorrow it's trouble’s turn to have that side all to herself.”

“Or we could get a bigger tub and you two can sit right next to me.” You're completely joking of course, especially when the flat's only bathroom can barely even fit the three of you getting ready in the morning.

Ekko places his head on your shoulder, pads of his fingertips drawing circles on your bare and damp skin, while his index points at your temple. “I think that's the hot water getting in your head.” You side eye him, taking his finger and trying to bite it but of course with his quick reflexes, he moves his hand away with a teasing look.

“We'll get a bigger flat one day, love.” Hobie softly says as the scented candle light flickers in the dim bathroom. You smile as he takes your legs to hold on his lap. “Right, Ekko?”

“We'll get you all the fixings. A big kitchen for Hobie's appetite,” Ekko agrees as Hobie chortles, rolling his eyes, “a huge backyard to run around in. And a large bathtub big enough for the three of us, yeah?”

Your heart warms up at the sight of the two men gazing at you fondly. “To run around in? We don't even have a dog.” Hobie opens his mouth, “or a cat.” He clamps shut.

“Not yet.” Hobie drops your legs gently into the water as he twists in place and scooches closer to the middle of the tub to change position. Water sloshes to the side, drenching the tiled floors. “Fuckin' landlord hates pets.”

Ekko folds his legs to give him space, watching the water lap around him as he moves. “Yeah, can't believe he let you in, Hobs.”

Hobie laughs, an obvious fake one as he perched his lanky legs on the edge of the tub, hanging over it as he takes Ekko's leg to rest upon his chest and yours atop his lap— anchoring himself down into the water further as he dips down and lets the water fill his clavicle. “He figured that he let you in before so he might as well let me in, right?”

Ekko snickers, digging his ankle into Hobie's chest playfully. Hobie catches his foot and threatens to bite down, making the white haired man fight for custody of his foot. Water sloshes around from the play wrestling, bubbles popping around them. You're sure that the whole bathroom is flooded now.

You laugh wholeheartedly at the scene before you, the sound catching both of their attention. Hobie grasps your ankle gently, squeezing it once and giving Ekko a firm one. He hums, relaxed at Hobie's so called massaging. Hobie makes a smug face, wordlessly saying that he won this time around.

“I don't need all that,” They both look at you, brows furrowed and eyes shining with warm light from the candles. “I mean, the big house with a fireplace and a walk-in closet.”

“We didn't say anything about a fireplace and a walk-in closet.” Ekko smiles, each hand dancing along your side and Hobie's shoulder as if you're both helping him float above water.

“It's fun to imagine, especially with all the bloody leather you two have.” They chuckle, gazing at each other before staring lovingly at you in sync. Taking Ekko's hand and reaching in front of you to grab Hobie's waiting hand, you grasp at their calloused hands together, placing a kiss on each of their knuckles. “As long as we're together, sitting in this tiny tub with you two is perfect enough.”

Hobie tilts his head, smiling softly at you then to Ekko, who's glancing at him and you with a longing smile as if he still couldn't believe that he's sitting right there and loving the two of you together. “Don't know, love, I think I can nick us an inflatable tub.”

You giggle as Ekko flicks some water at Hobie's face. “Where are we gonna place that, hm?”

“Living room,” he says so surely and with a straight face that if you truly don't know him you'd think he wasn't joking. “If we take out your telly we can make it fit.”

“Not the telly!” You exclaim, playing along as you lean forward while water waves slightly from the movement. Ekko's hand rubs along your shoulders, glued onto your skin as the warm water relaxes him further into the tub. “Surely we can take out Ekko's workbench—”

“No, not my shit.” He sits up, poking the two of you on the chest accusingly. Hobie snickers at his shock. “Or we take Hobie's guitar out of the way—”

His face falls dramatically. “Not my guitar!”

You move towards Ekko, whispering in his ears like you're gossiping and planning something against Hobie. But in truth you're just telling him the grocery lists that the three of you need to buy for tomorrow. Ekko nods along, adding to Hobie's feigned offense.

“‘Right, that's enough, move and make way for me!” Hobie's laughter echoes around the bathroom as you and Ekko screech whilst he makes his way towards the two of you quickly. Parting the way with warm hands while water sloshes to the side as he shimmies his way in between you and Ekko.

“Hobie, we don't fit!” Ekko protests but he makes way for him as he lifts his arms up to help the certain punk squeeze himself in.

“We all fit in a double bed, we can fit ‘ere!”

“This is not the same!”

Once he settles down, squished in between as you instinctively place your head on his shoulder, and while Ekko surrenders and sighs against Hobie's temple— Hobie places both arms around your back and Ekko's waist, smiling as if he's the happiest man in the whole world.

“You two come ‘ere often?”

You're sure that your guffaw would've had the neighbours calling in for a noise complaint as Hobie manages to place himself under you to make you more comfortable as he holds your waist and Ekko's. Your home might be small, but with them both, it's paradise and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Please consider reblogging if you liked it!

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wordsofyore · 16 days ago

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Yandere Neighbor! Konig x Fem. Reader

You are used to cooking for your whole family, but now that you live alone, you find yourself inexplicably cooking more food than you need, and given the limited space in your second-hand fridge, you decide to just share the extra bites with your giant, quiet neighbor.

He's... intimidating, what with his height (seriously, you don't think you've seen anyone this tall), and the weird dark hood covering his face. But those eyes, those sad, baby blue eyes does something to you. He goes from this titan-who-can-singlehandedly-crush-your-skull image to an oversized, unloved stray dog in your mind, once you actually get to interact with him.

The poor guy seems like he's struggling to come up with a reply when you shove a whole box of freshly cooked spaghetti to his face with an apologetic smile, explaining the situation. You see his eyes widen before hesitantly accepting the dish, his calloused hand accidentally brushing against yours in the process. You can't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the contact. Clearing your throat, you take the chance to finally introduce yourself properly. He murmurs your name under his breath, and you don't question the rather strange name he gives you in return. You're curious, but decide it's best to not get too deep into someone else's business. It's good enough for you to not feel the awkwardness when you pass by each other in the hallways, exchanging nods and smiles (at least you do, anyways).

There's this one time you can't open a jar of pickles, and just as you start missing the way you could rely on your dad for things like this, you suddenly remember Konig. It's a little embarrassing, but you decide it was well worth the effort, just for the sake of satisfying your cravings. So you pad over to his door, knock twice on his door, and he's right before you, looking down at you with what you discern is a mix of curiosity and confusion. You explain your predicament, and he's immediately reaching out for the jar and opens it with a single try. You blush under his now amused gaze, thanking him under your breath before you head back to your apartment with your tail tucked between your legs (you end up sharing some food out of goodwill just a bit later).

Neighbor Konig is useful to have around, to say the very least. He fixes your leaking pipes, and kills bugs for you when you're too freaked out to go near one. You feel some reassurance knowing he's nearby, especially when you realize someone's stalking you, breaking into your apartment, and sifting through your clothes (you were sure you were missing a pair of panties or two).

It's especially scary when you wake up and find your window open all the way when you were sure you had it closed tight the night before. Your landlord merely shrugs helplessly when you ask for extra security, and they're still just as useless when some pipe bursts in your unit, leaving the place flooded and the little worldly possessions you have water-damaged. But that's when your personal hero shows up, your giant, blue-eyed neighbor, offering you a place to tuck your head in while your place gets fixed up. You can't help but hug the guy as you feel yourself break down under all the stress. In return, he says something in German as he gently pats your back.

It's... nice, to have someone around you as you settle into a temporary routine. You both cook side by side in the kitchen, share meals and stories, and watch TV or play board games in the evenings. All is well and good until you sort out the shared laundry and find the missing underwear. At least, you think it's the one you owned... but Konig was a pleasant guy, surely he wouldn't... Sure, you don't ever hear him mentioning any girlfriends or anything of the sort, but maybe, just maybe, it was something someone left behind at his place. Yeah, that could very well be the case, you shouldn't assume the worst, especially when the guy was looking out for you like this...

To Konig, you are a little ray of sunshine. A beacon of hope and light and all things sweet and fragile in his bleak existence. He had more or less accepted that he would live out the rest of his life as an outcast, ignored and feared and ridiculed. To have been noticed by a sweet, shy thing like you was already more than he deserved. To get a taste of what it'd be like to have a little wife, he should say it was enough, but... it wasn't. No, rather, it opened the gates to a chasm inside of him that wanted to devour you whole and not leave a crumb behind for anyone else.

So, please forgive him for all the things he's doing to catch you in his net. Sure, he was a dirty old colonel who kills people for money, but he sure as hell can take care of a pretty little thing like you, give you the life you deserve, free from worries about bills and shitty bosses. Free from having to deal with boys who won't treat you nice. You wouldn't mind him putting a few bullets through their heads, would you?

#yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #konig cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig call of duty #yancore #yandere cod

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sweetiechenle · 1 month ago

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liability ᕱ⑅ᕱ jeno

pairing: non-idol!jeno x afab!bunnyhybrid!reader

summary: no matter how badly you wanted to deny it, jeno was your home

warnings: slight prostitution in the beginning (don't do that???), you get beat up but its not that descriptive (sorry), cursing, reader is stubborn and jeno is kinda obsessed w you (in a good way) like its love at first sight, its serious for him, found family, little soulmate au, strangers to lovers, strangers to roommates(?), talks about class status, if i forgot anything i'm sorry, fiction ≠ reality

it was as if you could feel the air move right through you, it sent a shiver down your spine, yet you stood tall on the side of the road. a couple more girls were with you, some had already found their ‘date’ for tonight. you had seen some clients earlier in the night, but now it was up to random people to come and seek you out. you were dying to get back to your hotel, but your inner demon had won the fight earlier to stay out a little longer to make more money since your hotel room was only up until the morning, you needed it for a couple more days before going elsewhere. it was straightforward for now, but life for a poor, family-less hybrid never was easy, decade after decade, it never got better, so it was up to you and other poor hybrids to fend for themselves.

your mother and father died when you were younger and their guardians didn’t want to be the only ones to have to take care of you. so they left you to rot in shelters and pounds, you barely remember them at all now that you’re older. hybrids don’t really own houses because they usually would have a guardian, while renting apartments was debatable. only if a landlord would allow it, most of the time it wasn’t worth it. hybrids, most of the time didn’t get jobs either, so employers didn’t really hire, so there was no real way for you to make money other than sleeping around for it. it wasn’t fun or ideal but it was better than being starving and ‘homeless’ (or not living from hotel to hotel). you looked around in the dark, only the street lamp illuminating the faces of the other girls near you, telling one, who was a tabby cat hybrid, that you’d be walking down the street looking for potential clients. ‘be safe’ she said before you disappeared into the night, you had said the same.

no matter how many years you’ve been doing this, dark alleys and corners always freaked you out, it was better to stay in groups, but you needed the money. you scratched behind your long ears, picking up sounds in the night, as cars drove past you. one stopped a block away from you, the window was rolled down and that only meant one thing. You took a deep breath and braced yourself, walking towards the car. crouching down to the window, you leaned in.

‘get in’ the random stranger said, you sighed while opening up the car door, it was like clockwork and you were used to the rudeness of strangers. ‘what breed are you?’ the question was normal, some hybrid breeds were more desirable than others, thankfully you being an english lop was more enticing than others.

the stranger drove off with you in the passenger seat, he stopped in an alley which was normal for the most part. you braced yourself, this part was always the worst, it was always awkward trying to set the atmosphere, especially with someone like him who wasn’t much of a talker. you started to take off your shirt, it wasn’t until you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. closing your eyes in pain you groaned and you looked down and all you could see was red and you felt a throbbing pain shoot up and down. looking around, you noticed the open space outside, reaching for the door handle, it opened as you pulled weakly. falling to the ground, your knees hit the concrete hard, but all you cared about was getting out alive. you heard of shit like this happening, poor, homeless hybrids you knew going missing, and you silently cursed yourself for not being more careful.

not knowing where to go, you shuffled on the ground, crawling to wherever you could. you touched your stomach and wiped your tears, terrified that you’d end up as another nameless hybrid; dead. you saw shoes and looked up at the stranger towering over you, ‘please’ you cried. there was no way of convincing him anymore as he kicked your torso, you fell to the ground on your side, groaning and trying to roll up in a ball, crying as you felt heavy punches coming down. your head kept hitting the concrete with every punch, and you gagged on the taste of your blood and tears.

your eyes eventually grew heavy and there were no more tears left in you, only fatigue as the concrete below you cooled your body down. after what seemed like hours you hear murmurs around you, causing your body to jerk awake. panicked that the stranger was back to finish the job, you tried to move away with all of the strength you had left. before you could get away you could feel yourself getting lifted off of the ground, and put into a vehicle. Once the stranger set you down gently on the seat you lost consciousness again.

as you came closer to your senses, you could hear people talking and the beeping of random machines, everything was cloudy and you couldn’t see very well even though your eyes were open wide. with a shot of adrenaline, trying to get up you huffed and pulled at the cables that connected you to the machines. in a frenzy, random people stormed at you with concerning looks saying things like ‘no’, ‘don't do that’, and ‘lay back down’. you tried to push them away, scared of the unknown situation you got yourself into, the doctors eventually got you back down on the bed. a lady sat in front of you, explaining everything, you tried to grasp the conversation and to piece everything that happened together, someone had picked you up and taken you to the alley and beat you. then someone found you and took you to the hospital, of course, no cops were going to be involved, you were just a poor hybrid. she informed you that the person who picked you up would be willing to let you stay with him since you were not chipped. you nodded, knowing you didn’t have a guardian to go back to.

after the sudden adrenaline wore off, you could now feel the pain that was inflicted the night before, the nurse told you that you had broken your wrist, cuts along your body, and major bruising and swelling, but that you should be making a full recovery soon. you sighed, scared of what will happen to you now. after a couple of minutes, a nurse and a man entered your room, you stopped watching the tv and looked at them, the nurse started, ‘y/n, this is jeno, he was the one who picked you up last night and brought you here, he decided that you can stay with him until you fully recover.’ you nodded, ‘he already signed you out, so you can leave whenever, if you feel any worse, come back and see us and we can take care of you again.’ you were surprised at how kindly they were treating you, he must be very important to be able to give you treatment here in a human hospital…

you had no choice but to trust this man, it was either go with him or go back outside and fend for yourself waiting for your attacker to come find you at any moment. you sighed and followed him outside, moving slowly due to your injuries, you took notice of how he waited for you whenever you fell behind. he took you to his car in the parking lot, opening the passenger door up for you, you glanced at him, and he motioned for you to get in, and you eventually did. jeno was beautiful, he had a boyish look but somehow still looked mature, he wore a suit that looked expensive, and he always had a permanent smile with kind eyes, he looked like someone you could trust. you hoped to god he was someone to trust. you kept staring at him until he glanced over at you, his mouth slightly upturning in amusement.

‘got any family?’ he asked you. you shook your head as if he was watching (he wasn’t).

‘no’ you answered meekly

‘got any friends?’ he asked again.

same answer ‘no… unless you count other prostitutes’ you said lowly, almost embarrassed.

he hummed in response, ‘is that what you were doing last night?’ another question and you were growing tired, leaning your head on the window, watching the trees go past.

you stayed silent for a minute, letting the question marinate in your head before finally answering him, ‘gotta make money somehow’.

‘where were you staying? i can go pick up your things’ he offered and you took your head off of the window to look at him.

‘you’d do that for me? It’s not a lot of stuff…’ you didn’t want to sound like a burden, first, he saved your life, taking you in until you fully healed, and now he wants to go out of his way to help you get back what little you had. ‘honestly, the hotel probably threw it all away by now’ you looked down and played with the ends of the sweater the hospital put on you, the only outfit you had right now.

he sighed and you could tell he was already frustrated, ‘well if that’s the case, i’ll just get you more things, as of right now you are my responsibility.’ he answered and you decided to leave it at that for the rest of the trip.

‘okay he is rich’, you concluded as he pulled up to his apartment in the middle of seoul, you don’t even think you’ve ever seen this part of the city before. he parked the car and went around to open up your door and help you out, he left you to stand there as he handed his keys to someone else who took the car to god knows where. ‘come on’, he guided you to the front of the door, opening it with a key card and taking you to the elevator, the security guard glaring at you as you walked past him behind jeno.

the elevator ride was silent until jeno spoke up first, ‘i apologize, my apartment is kind of a mess… i didn’t expect any guests.’ he laughed a little bit to lighten up the mood.

you gave him a little smile, trying to make light of the situation, ‘it’s fine i didn’t expect to end up in a hospital’. he didn’t say anything else.

you waited as he unlocked the door, opening it for you, which further confirmed your thought that he’s rich… thanking the heavens that you weren’t picked up by anyone else. the living room was spacious with an open-concept kitchen and appliances that cost more money than what you would see in your entire life, he started to show you around, and you followed him. ‘this is the living room’ obviously, you thought to yourself but didn’t want to ruin the show, so all you did was nod as you walked from room to room. he showed you his room, where the bathroom was that you could use, and then he opened the door to another bedroom stating, ‘this can be your room! i’m sorry it looks really boring…’ he looked down at his feet, almost shy to face you, ‘to be honest, i’ve never really had any interactions with any other bunny hybrids, one of my close friends, haechan, has a bunny hybrid named jaemin though, i’m not sure what breed… i plan on calling him and seeing what i should do… he’s really nice, you should meet him sometime, like a playdate or something…’ he was trailing off and you giggled lowly as he voiced his train of thought, he looked up at you and excused himself to go call his friend, telling you to ‘make yourself feel at home in the meantime’, you weren’t sure what he intended, never really having a ‘home’... you decided to take a look around, taking in the scent of the man who is housing you so you can become familiar with it. he was in the kitchen, taking out pots and pans and glancing at his phone ever so often, ‘what are you doing?’ you asked him.

‘making us dinner, i called haechan, he can come by next week with jaemin if you’d like to meet him, he’s a rabbit hybrid just like you.’

you felt uneasy, you wanted to please him, but the thought of being around a lot of strangers overwhelmed you, he took notice of your silence and the way you began to fiddle with your sleeve, ‘just think about it for right now’ he said giving you a reassuring smile, ‘you should go lay down and i’ll let you know when dinner is ready.’ you nodded and left him to it.

you don’t remember when you fell asleep but you gasped when someone shook you awake, almost giving you a heart attack, but it was only jeno looming over you beside your bed. you stared at him with wide eyes, as if asking ‘why would you do that!?’. he gave you a sheepish smile, ‘dinner is ready… i have a surprise for you!’ you got up and followed him to the kitchen. he pulled out your chair and you sat down without another word, he brought you a hot, steaming bowl that smelled like carrots, maybe a bit too much on the nose, which made you silently laugh. he put something else down for you, ‘that’s for you,’ it was an old iphone, ‘i can’t,’ you refused to take it, there was no way you could pay him back for it, ‘don’t worry its an old phone, you need to have a way to contact me while i’m at work in case you need anything.’ he was trying really hard to get you to take it and it was kind of annoying. ‘you don’t even know me’ you said, pushing it away, he had already sat down across from you, eating his own meal. He decided to ignore your stubbornness, ‘eat your food before it gets cold,’ you had no choice but to oblige.

after dinner, you offered to help clean up, but he refused, telling you to go sit on the couch and find something for them to watch, you sighed and sat down on the leather couch, getting comfortable, as you were channel surfing it dawned on you that you shouldn’t be getting too comfortable, this was all temporary anyways. glancing down at your bandaged wrist, when it was the day to take it off, when your bruises faded, when your cuts healed; that was the time you knew you had to leave, saying goodbye to your savior and his warm house he invited you to. you thought to yourself that it was probably out of pity and to save his ego, now he’ll be able to tell people ‘well i saved someone from dying, what did you do last night?’ you felt shame, that you were just using him, and that you were burdening him, it was embarrassing and you looked to the front door debating if you should just save him the trouble and leave tomorrow to go back to your old hotel and beg for a room and your stuff back. you looked up when you felt the other side of the couch dip, you looked up at him, he had changed out of his suit and he was now in sweats and a white t-shirt that didn’t look as expensive. before he could say anything you decided to speak, ‘why?’ was all you could say, it was all you wanted to know, like you stated before, he didn’t know you and you didn’t know him, so why did he care so much? why did he want to help you so badly? he cleared his throat and sighed, collecting his thoughts of what to say, ‘i was working late, i never work that late, but i had a project i’d been working on with my team. the stress was eating me alive so i wanted to finish it as soon as possible,’ you nodded, wanting him to keep going, ‘after i finally finished, i called my friend who was at a bar near where you were… so i went and had a drink, and when i was leaving… that's when i saw you.’ he closed his eyes and sighed, not wanting to upset you by bringing up what happened, ‘i couldn’t just leave you, you would’ve died.’ you hummed, knowing that much was true.

‘i don’t know, i guess it might've been the buzz of alcohol or something else compelling me to take you to the hospital. when they told me you needed to have emergency surgery for some of your injuries i couldn’t just leave until i knew you were okay… then they told me you weren’t chipped and probably didn’t have a home, so they told me they couldn’t perform surgery without a guardian, and i was at a real crossroad…’ you went wide-eyed as he recounted the night, ‘you didn’t…’ you whispered to him. he sighed and looked up at you, he was guilty and you couldn’t believe it… all for a stranger. ‘i signed some papers and you were sent off for surgery, they didn’t tell you, but he had stabbed you with a blunt object in your stomach, it wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t good either… you would’ve died.’ you were baffled, you couldn’t even form a thought of what to say to him, instead you got up and walked to your room, slamming the door and crawling into bed, leaving your new ‘guardian’ sitting on the couch.

the light coming in through the blinds woke you up, and it hurt, your bones screaming for some kind of relief as you recovered from what had happened a couple of days before. you thanked yourself for being so exhausted that you didn’t even have time to have any nightmares about what happened, you guessed you’d gotten used to the trauma by being alone your whole life.

you groaned as you got up, taking as long as possible to go outside of your room, scared you’d see jeno. you peeked your head out and looked around the apartment, you could see that his bedroom door was left ajar and that the living room and kitchen were empty. You left your room and made your way to the kitchen table, noticing a note for you and the phone you refused to take last night right next to it. the note was from jeno obviously and you rolled your eyes at how it started with an apology for what happened last night, that he would be home later after work and to call him if you needed anything, and that lunch was in the fridge for you. you ate the lunch he prepared for you while playing on your ‘new’ phone. it was still early in the morning and you didn’t know when he would be back so you lounged around the apartment, taking a nap here and there until you heard the door open.

it was like a routine now, you would wake up, jeno would be gone, you’d eat lunch and wait for him to get back to do things with you, sometimes taking you out on a walk or watching tv when you felt too tired or sore to do anything else. it had already been a week with jeno and it was finally the weekend, a couple of days ago he asked if you wanted to meet haechan and jaemin, and you reluctantly agreed, if jeno trusted them then you would too.

jeno was making dinner for the four of you and you sat at the table, watching him go back and forth around the kitchen. ‘so, jaemin is a little hyper and can be touchy at times, don’t let him scare you, and don’t be afraid to push him off, he won’t get offended.’ you nodded, taking mental notes, ‘haechan is funny, if you like my jokes, you’ll laugh at his.’ you gave him a look and he stopped to look at you too, ‘i don’t laugh at your jokes.’ you told him, half messing with him and half telling the hard truth. he playfully rolled his eyes and went back to cooking without a single word.

jeno was putting on the finishing touches for dinner when the buzzer for the intercom rang, ‘oh that's them!’ he was running around the kitchen in a stripped apron with his black hair a mess, he put down the pot and ran to the door to buzz them in, in his white socks he slides on the wood floor and you stifle a laugh, ‘when they come to the door can you let them in?’ he asked. you agreed and got up to stand by the door and before you knew it, there was a knock, you opened it and was greeted with a very strong scent of another bunny hybrid, you didn’t even realize it had been almost a week and a half since you’ve seen another hybrid.

before anyone could be greeted a taller man pushed past the other one in front, who you assumed was haechan, and he grabbed you by the shoulders, which startled you a little bit. right from the get-go you knew this was jaemin. he was tall and undoubtedly handsome, the dirty blonde tinted hair matched his gray ears that stood up on his head. you had no choice but to stare into his big, dark eyes as he continued to hold a death grip on your shoulders. he took a deep breath, obviously taking in your scents, you tried to ignore the fact that jeno was staring at you. ‘i’ve heard so much about you’ the other bunny said. you smiled awkwardly and haechan came up to take jaemin away from you, muttering a ‘sorry about him’.

you helped jeno set the table, while talking with haechan and jaemin, trying to get to know them better, and continuing to talk throughout dinner. jeno was right, jaemin was very enthusiastic and hyper, and it took a lot to keep up with him in conversations. you learned that haechan had been ‘gifted’ jaemin when he was young, so they had known each other their whole lives. you tried not to feel jealous, wondering what that was like, to not have to worry about anything since the day you were born, to always have someone to watch over you. you looked back at jeno, who was talking with haechan, it reminded you of when he stated ‘you are my responsibility’ but yet you knew that what you yearned for was not with him, it scared you, knowing that any minute by the time you are fully healed, he’d give up liability and send you to the nearest shelter. you couldn’t have anything permanent like what jaemin and heachan had.

haechan and jaemin eventually left (not before exchanging phone numbers), leaving you and jeno to clean up, it was silent until jeno got your attention. ‘so i made you a doctors appointment, just to check on how you’re healing.’ you felt a sharp pain at your chest, you knew he meant well, but it scared you due to the fact that would mean you’re leaving sooner than you thought. ‘oh, thank you.’ was all you could say, ‘its in a week so make sure to be ready to leave before, i’ll remind you in a couple of days.’ you nodded, looking down at the table, wiping it clean.

the night before your appointment (after watching reruns of trivia shows with jeno), you got into bed and took out your phone, searching up homeless shelters in the area for hybrids, looking over a few you saved their addresses to write down later incase jeno wouldn’t let you keep the phone when you eventually left. after a while your eyes grew heavy, and you fell asleep, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares but those were far and a few inbetween, you remember a couple nights ago when it got so bad you woke up thinking someone was trying to break in. it was really embarrassing since you even woke up jeno, who got up to go check the door, promising you that no one was there, he even let you sleep in his bed with him, reassuring you he wouldn’t let anyone get inside the apartment. thats when you felt your most safest, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him anymore, so you tried to deal with them on your own.

by the time morning came around you scrambled to get up out of bed in time for your appointment, it seemed like jeno was running late too since he was no where to be found. before you knew it, it was time to leave and jeno had called you, stating that he was outside and that he had run somewhere before your appointment. you left the apartment and met him outside, you got in his car and he asked you how you slept, you said ‘fine’ and he didn’t push any further. the car ride was silent and so was the doctors appointment, the nurse performed a physical and looked over your previous wounds to see how you were healing, jeno stayed in the waiting room until it was time to give an answer on what to do next.

jeno entered the room and the nurse informed him that you’d been healing fine and that the cast on your wrist could come off now and you were nervous, it made you feel even worse when jeno asked her ‘we can do that here? now, right?’ she nodded and told you both to wait as she went to go get the doctor to do it. you didn’t bother to look at him when he sat down in the small room, you noticed how it was a human hospital like before. ‘i bet you’re excited to get the cast off’ he stated, you hummed in response, refusing to look up at him. he continued, ‘i also bet you’re hungry, im sorry i wasnt there to make you breakfast this morning, i had a work emergency…’

before you could say anything, the doctor and the nurse had arrived to take off your cast. silently mourning the loss of the seal that bounded you and jeno together, you didn’t want to say good bye, but like all things you’ve experienced, nothing good ever lasts. after, jeno checked you out and despite not even telling him you were hungry, he still stopped by somewhere to pick you up food.

later that day it was silent around the apartment, the air was heavy and it felt like the both of you wanted to say something but neither of you would go first. until jeno finally decided to break the ice, and you braced yourself for the confrontation. he had called after you from your room, and you anxiously made your way to the kitchen, taking small steps as you scratched the back of your ears. he showed you something on his phone, it was your search history from last night, ‘whats this?’ he asked. you were at a loss for words, you really didn’t know what to say ‘ummm’ you looked anywhere but at him, ‘i just thought…’ you trailed off, waiting for him to say it. ‘that i wanted you to leave?’ he whispered, you could hear the hurt in his voice. you sighed, ‘i just thought… that once i got better, you didn’t want me here anymore.’ you confessed, still refusing to look at him. He sighed and brought is hand to rub his temple, trying to stay calm, ‘do you not trust me?’ he asked. in a small voice you answered, ‘you don’t even know me.’

he slammed his fist on the kitchen table making you jump. ‘y/n, you can’t be serious, i know we haven’t known each other for as long as say, heachan and jaemin, but i think i know you enough that i want you to stay… you yell at the tv when someone doesn’t get a trivia question right, you know all of the answers despite not going to school, only because you used to go to the library as a kid and read all the books you could. you cried when we watched titantic together even though you’ve told me you’ve seen it before. your ears twitch whenever the music is too loud in the car, and that you like when they are scratched late at night,’ he moved around the table and grabbed you by the shoulders, bringing you closer to him, ‘whenever i make you your favorite food you tap your foot on the floor,’ he was staring intensely into your eyes, trying to find any confirmation that you were wrong, ‘y/n… you told me that you don’t have a family but, the thing is, i don’t either. i don’t understand everything you’ve been through, but i want to, i need you to believe that you deserve love, a family.’ your eyes welled up with tears and you couldn’t see him anymore, it was all blurry, your chest rose and fell rapidly, ‘i know we haven’t known each other for a while, but ever since i met you, ive had more reasons to be here than i’ve had in years, all i do is work, come home, eat and sleep, and i repeat that, i- i don’t have anyone here to watch titanic with me, or to read me a book while i cook and do laundry.’

hot tears rolled down your face as you remember the book you started reading and then eventually to him after he had asked too many questions about it, it was almost over, too. so many thoughts were running around in your head, this had never happened to you, and like most good things, it almost had always seemed too good to be true, all the times you were almost adopted as a young child but nothing was ever permanent, you didnt want to be fooled, like this would be any different. you knew better. he shook your shoulders slightly as you hesitiated, ‘bunny, please say something… it feels as though we were supposed to meet’ he whispered.

in his embrace the room felt way too small and way too hot, without even thinking twice, you broke away from him and ran towards the door. opening it you slammed the oak shut, the noise echoed through the hallway, definitely alerted some of the neighbors. forgetting about the elevator the stairs would be faster, you could hear jeno call after you as you hopped down the staircase, trying to leave the building as fast as possible. the regular security guard gave you a concerned look and tried to ask if you were okay, but you rushed right past him and out of the front door, into the busy streets of seoul. moving with the crowd you had no clue where you were going and at this point, you didn’t care. you looked back to make sure you’d lost jeno in the crowd, he was the last person you wanted to see right now, certainly he was lying, all everyone did was use you, and how was this any different? you walked around seoul until you got too tired, you had already turned on airplane mode so jeno couldn’t track you or call, you stared at the time and then a picture of him as your wallpaper, one you took without him looking at the camera, you knew you’d have to face him sometime, only to tell him goodbye and give back the phone.

you sighed, calling jaemin for some company and advice, you asked him to join you at this random cafe you found and not to tell anyone else. he reluctantly agreed, saying he’d be there soon. when it started getting dark, he finally showed up and silently walked to your table and sat across from you. ever since you met him, he became your closest friend (that wasn’t jeno), you two texted constantly and he would keep you updated on the latest ‘memes’ and ‘tiktoks’, so it was only natural to call him and talk about it. ‘y/n, are you okay? you sounded kind of panicked over the phone… where is jeno?’ jaemin looked around. he was wearing a hat, hiding his ears and hair, he had on a leather jacket and a hoodie, bundled up against the cold air outside. ‘well…’ you started, now picking at your nails nervously, ‘i don’t know, i left.’ at that he whipped his head around to look at you, bewildered, ‘dude, he’s probably worried sick!?’

you groaned and burried your head into your crossed arms, hiding from everything, ‘thats the thing, he shouldn’t be, i didn’t think he wanted me to stay, he just still feels bad about what happened, i know all i am is just a burden.’ you confessed. ‘im not meant to stay anywhere, jaemin, that kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me…’ he looked at you and sighed, grasping your hands in his, making you look at him. ‘but that stuff could happen to you. i’ve known jeno for a long time and he always believed that this type of stuff doesn’t happen to him either. i’m not on his side or anything, but i’m just saying, maybe staying wouldn’t be the worse thing y/n, you deserve love and to love… remember when i was sad about the stupidest thing and you still tried to send me a funny picture to cheer me up?’ you smiled at the memory, ‘no matter what you’ve been through, you still try to care, even if its just a little bit… maybe you should follow through with it and see where it could lead you.’ you looked down at your intertwined hands, and your vision blurred again with tears, ‘im just so scared jaemin,’ he nodded, ‘i just don’t want to get too attached to him, and then watch him leave me like everyone else.’ you admitted in a small voice, ‘i know, i know’ jeamin reassured you again, ‘but i know jeno, he follows through with his promises… you know,’ he scoffed and laughed at himself, ‘i was going to ask you to be my mate…’ you looked up at him in shock, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones, you retracted your hands from his, he waved his in front of you, not wanting to give you the wrong message, ‘but i couldnt, listen, i thought i had a crush on you, but you can’t be my mate, thats because jeno is.’ you groaned and hid your face again in your arms, forehead against the cool, metal table as you tried not to have a panic attack.

before you both could say anything, you noticed the cafe worker coming up to you, her read shoes now peeking in through your fingers, ‘um, miss? im sorry but haven’t ordered anything in almost an hour, if you aren’t going to get anything you need to leave.’ you lifted your head to look at her, she visibly cringed at the site, your hair was a mess and you had tears and snot everywhere, your eyes were probably bloodshot red and your sniffling nose matched the hue. jaemin stood up first, ‘we were just leaving’ he said sternly, grabbing your arm to get you to stand up and walk outside with him. the air was cold, you shivered, reminding you about the night you met the stranger who put you in the hospital, the fateful night when you would eventually meet jeno. You stayed close to jaemin, hyper aware of everything around you now, your ears picking up all kinds of sounds, your nose picking up all kinds of scents, some including jaemin, and you hated that you even tried to pick up jenos, but it wasn’t anywhere near you. you wondered if he was still looking for you, its been hours so he surely would’ve found you by now. you sighed in defeat, leaning your head against jaemins shoulders.

you watched him out of the corner of your eyes, getting out his phone and jumping slightly at the amount of missed calls from his own guardian, haechan. ‘hold on, i need to call him back. he called me like, so many times’ you moved away, giving him some personal space as he talked on the phone, the call lasted for a couple of minutes with jaemin mostly listening and only saying a couple words. He ended the call and sighed looking over at you, and you could tell what the call was about. you turned and walked away from him, trying again to get out of the situation, he grabbed you and pulled you by the hood of your hoodie, ‘not so fast rabbit!’ he pulled you closer, trying to get you to listen, ‘did anything i say earlier not mean anything? y/n, go back home. haechan told me that jeno is freaking out and… he might have called the cops to go out and find you…’ you sighed, not realizing the lengths jeno would go, ‘i would suggest we head there now, or you can arrive in the back of a cop car! your choice’ jaemin stated a matter of factly. ‘fuck. i hate that you’re right. kind of about everything.’ jaemin nodded, ‘i know it will be hard at first, but at least try and you’ll eventually get it, i promise.’ he gave you an encouraging smile and helped you get back home.

as you got closer and closer you could see the flashing lights from the two cop cars, you stopped on the broken side-walk which made the other rabbit stop too, ‘jaemin, i can’t go in there, this is so humiliating.’ you buried your face in your hands, face growing hot from the realization that you now have to face jeno and the cops of seoul, people who already didn’t like you that much because of your past job. jaemin grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the apartment building, ‘just ignore them, nothing will ever change with them so why does it matter?’ you groaned and let him do all the work, he stopped you from falling over when you were met with the familiar door to the tall building, ‘let me tell haechan to buzz us in.’ he stated as he typed furiously on his phone, the door was buzzed and opened within a matter of seconds, the elevator ride was silent as you grew more and more nervous to face the tall, dark haired man that you ran away from only hours before.

you both ignored the stares from the cops, the door to the apartment was open so jaemin just motioned for you to enter silently. you feared that everyone else could hear how loud your heart was beating, but probably only jaemin noticed. once you slipped inside, your eyes immediately landed on jeno at the kitchen table, biting his fingernail as he stared down at his phone, haechan nudged the older man causing him to look up at you standing in the doorway. he slowly rose from his seat, the legs scratching the floor making an ungodly sound as haechan walked past you and grabbed jaemin, and the front door closed, leaving just you and jeno. he walked to you slowly, trying not to scare you off again.

‘jeno…’ you started and looked down at your fidgeting hands, he gave you an eye smile that only existed on special occasions, despite leaving he was still happy to see you. ‘my bunny,’ he whispered and brought you in for a hug, you closed your eyes and finally embraced him back, giving him the silent confirmation that you wanted to stay, ‘i was so worried about you’ he murmured against your hair, and you could hear it perfectly. you took in his familiar scent, causing you to unknowingly rub your chin on his shoulder, in order to spread your scent on him. he didn’t seem to mind, only breaking away so you could finally talk to him, ‘you talk about cars even though i don't understand a thing, you love jelly candy, and you share your mint chocolate ice cream with me…’ his dark eyes stared back into yours, listening intently, ‘you hate math and you let me play your video games even though im really bad and i mess up your rankings, but you don’t care.’ he looked to the side and playfully remarked, ‘i only care a little bit’ you scoffed and played along, hitting his shoulder slightly as he laughed at your reaction.

the laughter died down and he continued to stare at you with such adoration and care, you thought about what jaemin said earlier, how he wasn’t your mate. jeno is. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other as jeno came closer again, gracing your cheek with his calloused hand. you could see the birthmark on his check much clearer, wanting to kiss it, instead you looked back into his eyes, through his dark bangs that tempted to cover them. he had almost the same idea as he brushed the hair from your face with his other hand, cupping your other cheek now. he leaned in and so did you, feeling less tense you melted into his touch, eventually your forehead was against his and you closed your eyes as you felt him hum. ‘my bunny…’ he was breathless and you were glad you were so close so jeno couldn’t see the major blushing that nickname had caused.

you left it alone, instead grabbing his cheeks in return, surprising him, you brought your nose up to his, and he smiled, remembering when jaemin explained what this gesture meant. you pulled away and giggled a little at how his blush now matched yours, ‘are you going to stay?’ he wanted to make sure this time, wanted to hear you say you wouldn’t leave, to promise him. ‘i thought about what you said earlier’ he nodded, ‘thank you for saving my life’. he beamed and leaned in, heart almost bursting out of his chest, you closed your eyes as he got closer, and eventually, your lips met his. your hands lightly cupping his face again while he moved his down to your waist to bring you closer. his lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he had bought you but kept using, it made you smile, only to make him smile in return. jeno backed up and looked at you, ‘thank you for saving mine.’

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alotofpockets · 10 months ago

Text

Roommates | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Gorry!Reader & Katrina Gorry x Sister!Reader

Where you start dating your sister's bestfriend after she becomes your roommate.

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.8k

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"You're still going to pick up Kyra from the airport and drive her to her introduction at the Arsenal training grounds, right?" Your sister has asked you this question at least ten times now. Her Matilda's teammates, and one of her closest friends Kyra Cooney-Cross was making the move from Australia to the UK, just like you had done two years ago, and your sister had asked you to look out for her there.

"Yes Mini, don't worry. I will pick up Kyra and drive her to London Colney. You can go to sleep and stop worrying, I promise I've got her."

Katrina seemed to finally relax a bit, "Okay, text me when she gets there? I told her to do that too, but she'll probably be too tired from the flight to remember.” Your sister loved Kyra like family, and it was sweet to see how similarly she cared for Kyra as she does for you.

“I will text you when I see her at the airport, now please go to sleep.” You laughed at the slightly annoyed sigh that escaped her mouth. “Thank you again, and goodnight.” You hung up the phone after wishing Katrina a good night as well.

You finish your workday, and run some errands, before you head home. You made a funny poster to welcome Kyra to London before you head to bed for an early wake up call to head to the airport.

When you saw Kyra walk down the gate hall, she looked exhausted from the long flight, a feeling you knew all too well yourself. She was wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie, combined with a messy bun. When she laid eyes on your poster her face lit up. Welcome to London, my favourite Tillie!

"Oh we're so showing Mini your sign." She greets you with a hug. “Yeah, let's send her a picture. I promised I'd text her when you landed.” The two of you pose together with the sign, while someone next to you takes your picture.

“Are you hungry?” You ask while you take half of her bags. “I ate on the plane, but am in desperate need of a coffee.” In the coffee shop you catch up for a bit over coffee, and breakfast for you, before Kyra gets a call. She walks out of the shop to take the call, while you scroll on your phone.

“What’s wrong?” The panicked look on her face as she walked back in immediately grabbing your attention. “That was the landlord of my apartment, he just let me know that he accidentally double signed. In other words, I don’t have a place to stay anymore.” Without a second thought you had a solution for her problem. “I’ve got a spare room that I never use. It’s yours if you want it.”

The following week you helped Kyra get settled and went with her for her introduction meeting at Arsenal. Initially you would just drop her off and pick her up later in the day, but she had insisted you’d join her. Together you got the Arsenal tour, and you sat to the side for all her video and picture moments. All in all, it ended up being a fun day.

The two of you had gotten close quickly over the days that passed, sure you had known each other already, but now living together brought you on a whole new level of friendship.

Tomorrow would be Kyra's first training session at Arsenal, as well as meeting the team for the first time. Besides her Aussie teammates Steph and Caitlin, she didn't know anyone more than a familiar face. You had known she was nervous, but you didn't realise just how much until she knocked on your bedroom door.

“Hey Ky, what's up?” The usual smile the girl was wearing was replaced by a frown. “Were you homesick when you first moved here?” You had been so adamant that she was just nervous, that you hadn't taken the move to another continent into consideration. “Yeah, I did. Come here.” Patting the spot on your bed besides you, you offered her a place to sit.

You talked for a while before you both fell asleep. The next day you drove Kyra to her first practice with Arsenal. You were just going to drop her off, but when you saw Caitlin get out of her car, you had to go say hi. You knew all of the Tillies from the many times you had met them in the family and friends hall after matches.

“Y/n, hi, what are you doing here?” She greeted you with a quick hug. You point back to your car where Kyra appeared from behind the trunk. “Ky has been staying with me.”

On queue Kyra appears beside you, and drops her bags to hug Caitlin tight. While the two of them embrace, another player walks up to greet you. You knew it was Katie, but as far as you remembered you had never properly met. “Hi, I'm Katie, nice to meet you.” She extends her hand. “Y/n, nice to meet you too.”

Katie inspects you, trying to figure out where she knew you from, until it finally clicked. “Oh you're Gorry’s little sister, aren’t you?” Kyra stepped out of her hug with Caitlin to defend you. “She's her own person you know.” It was really sweet, but you really didn't mind. “It's fine Ky, I am.” You rolled your eyes at her defensiveness, but behind that facade you secretly loved how she stuck up for you.

From then on Caitin and Katie picked up Kyra for practice, since you basically lived on the route to the training centre.

Kyra joined you in your room on more days than not over the next few weeks, and you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t enjoy the moments you spent together. You were quickly falling for her, and every part of you hoped that she felt the same way.

Then one morning you woke up with Kyra cuddled into your side, and her leg draped over yours. You lift your hand to gently play with her hair, she hums with enjoyment and cuddles further into your side. “Good morning to you too.” You were like a deer in headlights, caught by the fact that she had, unbeknownst to you already been awake. “Don’t stop.”

You release the breath you were holding and continue. You must have laid there for another hour before you got out of bed. “Can I maybe take you out for breakfast?” The way her eyes lit up at your question was enough for you to realise that she did indeed feel the same way. “I would love that.”

The two of you had been together ever since, just keeping it to yourselves to enjoy your time together away from prying eyes. Which is why you were stressed since your sister had called that she was coming to visit with her family, because she was meeting with the West Ham United team. You had offered your home as a place for them to stay while she had her meeting, and while her and Clara would be looking at homes for their family.

“Relax babe, we never changed my room back to a guest room, so they won’t notice a thing if we act like just friends for a couple days.” Kyra tried reassuring you. You had talked about telling her, but ultimately you decided that you weren’t ready to tell her yet, and Kyra was fine with that.

Kyra offered Mini and Clara her room, while she took the couch, and your niece Harper was overjoyed to be having a sleepover in your room for a couple of days. It was nice having your family around, and you were excited to have them closer after the move as well.

Mini and Clara were out house hunting while you and Kyra spent some time with Harper. Harper insisted on some painting, and you could not stop laughing when the girl had started painting Kyra instead of her paper. While Harper was dancing and singing her little heart out to Frozen, you cleaned Kyra’s face. When you were done you placed a quick kiss on her lips. “All done.”

Meanwhile a few blocks over Mini’s mind was on something besides house hunting. “I think they’re together.” She stated to Clare, who was busy inspecting the kitchen of the place they were currently in. “Who?”

“Y/n and Kyra.” This got Clara’s attention. “What makes you think that?” Mini went on and on about how Kyra’s room looked like it hadn’t been touched in weeks, that you looked so comfortable together, the glances she had noticed between the two of you, and just the general vibe when the two of you were in a shared space. “Well, if they are, what would you think of that?” Mini thought for a moment before ultimately deciding that she thought the two of you would be cute together and good for each other.

Mini had not expected to get answers to her question on if the two of you were together or not, but when she put Harper to bed, her little girl snitched on you right away. “Did you have fun today?” The girl nodded her head enthusiastically before telling her mom all about the things that you had done today and finished her story with, “Oh and Auntie and Kywa was kissing.” Mini smiled to herself. “Oh did they now, sweetheart? I am glad you had a good day. Sweet dreams.”

The next morning you head out to breakfast all together, before your sister and her family fly back for a couple more months. “This place is great, y/n. Where did you find it?” You’re glad that they are enjoying the food just as much as you do. “I took Kyra here when she was all settled in.” You were soaking in all the time with your little niece as much as you could, so you were helping her colour in her drawing while you were speaking to the adults at the table.

“Oh, did you go here for your first date?” Since you were so focussed on the colouring you didn’t think before speaking. “Yeah- oh.” Your head shot up at your older sister, though you relax when you see the proud smirk on her face. “You knew?”

Mini points to Harper, “We’ve got ourselves a little snitch on our hands, she saw you two kiss yesterday. I did also have a feeling already.” You felt relieved now that your sister knew, because she was the person you were most scared of telling, with Kyra being one of her best friends and all.

You drove Mini, Clara, and Harper to the airport with Kyra, where you said your temporary goodbye’s. Knowing that they would be back in two months to move to London. You couldn’t wait to have your family close again.

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