#..I don't want to talk about how long this took to make

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 3

Later on, the rest of that day went about as smoothly as it could go. During the recording, the boys did become a bit more touchy but Natasha simply chalked it up to nerves. She fought the urge to smirk everytime one of them tried to allude to something sexual. She was perfect at playing dumb. As if she couldn't smell their wanton arousal. She knew she triggered something and had perfect and total control. So much for their loyalty to Gwi-Ma.

She bet that if she asked them to, they would give up all alliance with the so-called king. Watching as the boys got through their last lines, Natasha had food brought in so they could eat something after singing for so long. Abby and Baby were the first to attack the food but after minor scolding, made sure to leave some for the other three. “You boys sounded great in there.” Natasha complimented as she fixed a plate for Mystery who practically became attached to her hip. “Thank you Ms. Natasha. We're one step closer to our goal in taking down the hunters.” Jinu replied after taking a few bites of his food.

“Jinu lean forward.” Natasha responded. As he did so, his eyes widened as Natasha took a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth clean. “There we go. Oh? What's up Mystery?” Natasha asked, turning her attention back to the other idol. “Hey um miss manager? When do we get what Romance got this morning huh?” Abby asked, huffing a bit. “I think we all behaved ourselves today. Don't we deserve a little reward too? How come you touched him?” Baby added. “I don't have to explain myself to you and if you keep asking about it, you won't get it. Eat. You have a photoshoot later.” Natasha replied unbothered.

That evening as the boys wrapped up the last of their photos, Mystery watched as Natasha typed away on her phone with a serious expression. She was talking to someone about something important for them. He loved that about her. She was always working. She always looked so busy. Like she completely had her shit together. He adored that about her. However, he also wished she would take a break every now and then.

“Alright boys. Time to go! Max, I expect those photos by Friday!” Natasha spoke while ushering the band out the doors and into their van. “I call shotgun!” Abby shouted as he practically launched himself into the passenger seat. “You had it on the way over here Abs, let someone else get the seat.” “Ugh fine!” He huffed as he moved to the back and Jinu climbed in the front. The drive home was silent save for the silent music playing in the background.

After arriving home, while everyone scrambled to get in Natasha's bed, still, she asked to speak to Abby alone in the living room. “I know you didn't want to give up your seat but you still did because I asked. I like when you boys listen to me.” She smiled as she led him to the couch and sat him down. “It makes me happy knowing that you respect me that much.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

Almost instantly, his arms were around her and bringing her down to his lap. “Do I get some lovin this time?” Natasha giggled slightly before nodding. “Yes you get one thing of your choice tonight.” The man wasted no time in choosing his reward. “I want your mouth on my cock. I need it Mistress… please~” He whined as he began to free his cock from the confines of his jeans. Looking down, Natasha smirked before pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

“You’re a big boy aren't you?” She then moved off his lap and settled on the floor in between his legs. “Nervous?” Abby chuckled. “Oh please. I've had bigger sweetheart.” Natasha sighed before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of the large cock waiting to take sanctuary in her mouth. That was a lie. Natasha had her fair share of fun sure, but none of her past exploits were ever this well endowed. Taking the tip into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, her ears perked up at the heavy breaths Abby was starting to take.

Slowly but surely, she started to bob her head on the erection. Taking more and more of the cock until it almost filled her mouth completely. Save for a few inches at the base. “Oh f-fuck… you look so hot…” Now, at this point she would have smirked and made a comment about how desperate he sounded, but doing anything but trying to fit the rest of the cock down her throat was impossible. “Mm… oh yea… keep going…” Abby moaned as he watched Natasha suck his cock.

Although he was definitely enjoying himself, he was also physically fighting the urge to take the older demoness by her hair and fuck her throat. Not because he was worried about her, oh no. He knew she could handle it. It was his own safety he was worried for. Getting on her bad side was something that was not on his list for that evening. Suddenly, he began to moan louder and his grip on the couch tightened as his eyes watched Natasha quicken her movements.

Humming around his cock, creating vibrations that added to the pleasure. “Shit! Y-yes! Please! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Unable to resist anymore, Abby grabbed a fistful of Natasha's hair and began to fuck her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch causing her to deep throat him. “Fuck!! Mistress! Your throat feels so good! Your mouth! Mm! Mm! Fuck! So good!” The sounds of her wet mouth fueling his desire and urge to paint her throat white.

“Cumming! Oh shit! I'm cumming!! Yes! Yes! Mistress!! I'm cumming!” Looking up at the man, the moment Natasha's eyes met those of Abby's he immediately came down her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch once more. “Mistress!!! Mm! Fuck!!!” It didn't take long for the man to come down from his high after Natasha pulled away from his cock. “You alright? I-i didn't mean to get that crazy.”

Natasha only laughed and smiled before standing from her position and kissed his forehead. “I'm fine hun. Are you ok? I didn't think you could sound so…whiny.” She laughed as she watched the man groan before standing as well. “Put that away and get ready for bed. I'll join you shortly.” Natasha smiled before grabbing her phone and walking into the elevator. She then dialed a number, while the elevator descended.

“Natasha. I am pleased to hear from you. How are the boys settling in?” Gwi-Ma asked. “Fine. That's the only update you're getting from me, asshole. Don't contact me anymore.”

@prettygirlkiki

@rivainimermaid

Chapter 4

[cheriladycl01]

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 8

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

A/N: I've brought Luisia into things because of the timeline and it being 2021. Don't hate on her, or the fact that i've brought her into my writing please!

Because there was a break you decided it would be best to stay away from social media and take some time for yourself. You promised your trainer you'd keep up with the healthy diet and exercises and but just wanted to get away from normality.

So you got to Heathrow with an large backpack and took the first flight leaving to Colomia. You spent the week climbing mountains in the Andes with a trusted tour guide you'd found while you were out there. Just the two of you as you didn't feel up for the big group excursions.

The man who'd walked the volcano peak with you had known who you were but kept it to himself talking about his life and what Colombia was like, which you enjoyed as you got to learn about his life and what he did.

You spent the week away from the harsh media fully diving into the South American culture and making connections all over Bogota. It was refreshing being away for an extended period of time and you felt more than ready to go back to racing.

You'd flown back home, saying a quick hello and goodbye to your parents before getting in your McLaren and driving to dover, you'd wanted to spend time getting to Hungry and drive yourself which a lot of the drivers would find incredibly bizarre as you'd be doing 6+ hours over the course of three days. Which to the average driver would seem easy but with how hot the car got and how hard it was to drive an F1 car compared to a normal car all mattered.

You’d made your way into France getting a picture on the bonnet of your car outside a random small town cafe.

Instagram Story Caption:

It’s been a while huh? 🤔 Gotta love a long drive to my next location 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿-> 🇭🇺

People were going crazy that you were back (fans more than anyone) and that night in your hotel room that was above the same bar you posted a photo dump from your time in Colombia.

y/user

Liked by charleslecerc, landonorris and others

y/user: Colombia 🇨🇴 you have been beautiful. From the beaches, to the walks up the mountains to the locals that expressed their love and showed me their cultures and invited me into their homes … I will be revisiting! One of my favourite places in the world! 🌍🧡

View all Comments:

fan1: omg I’m from Colombia! How didn’t I know you were there!

landonorris: so you’ve been on holidays? 🫨

-> y/user: whilst training of course! Don’t worry I’ll get you this weekend brother ����🧐

fan2: I love that she’s taken time for herself she looks so healthy in that photo on her story!

-> fan3: so real she’s gonna slay in Hungary 🇭🇺 roll on Qually.

-> fan4: I have a good feeling about this weekend!

luisinhaoliveira99: Ola Y/N! Pretty Pretty!

-> y/user: Ah my favrioute girl!

charlesleclerc: Driving to Hungary? Wanna divert and give me a lift.

You seen Charles comment almost instantly and everyone else had too. You messaged him as you couldn't tell if he was being genuine or not. You were more than happy to make the detour to the Meditteranean side of France. It was one of your favrioute places to drive along.

He'd messaged you back not too long after and you couldn't help the smile that came across your face when you saw the message.

Your detour took you down through France driving through Nice and straight into Monaco where you drove around the roads that you'd driven in F1 for the first time not to long ago. The thought of going back round it next year was exciting. Once you pulled up outside the casino Charles gracefully waltzed over.

"Is that all?" you also looking at the small bag he had brought with him.

"Well... you're driving a sports car darling. Despite us touring Europe in a McLaren i cannot pack my entire wardrobe!" he smiles and takes a seat next to you.

"So what route are we taking" he asks turning his face to look at you and for a second you are stuck in the moment of looking at his eyes, and how soft they are, noticing the crows feet on the sides as he smiles reminding you what a happy soul he always seems to be.

You drove off, gulping down the ache in your heart knowing it wasn't right to rush anything based on what happened in the past, but also there was something drawing you to Charles and the more he weened his way into your life the harder he became to ignore.

The route you took was interesting. You passed Monaco into Italy and continued up to Milan, across to Venice up into Austria where you headed to Vienna and then down to Budapest ready for the GP, in total with all the stops it became a 4 day drive. You'd stopped in random cities finding hotel rooms at 11 pm when either of you were too tired to drive and small restaurants in the countryside when you both got hungry. It was enjoyable, more than enjoyable really.

Spending time just the two of you away from the media was exactly what you both needed. You guys just talked without the pressure of people around and it was nice. You both had a lot to stay but strangely by the end of it, it felt like not everything had been said.

Maybe the weekend at the GP would let that string unravel a little more.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[saudianna]

💥 love is papaya orange ᝰ.ᐟ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : word count : 1669 👅 ੈ✩‧₊˚ : synopsis : after oscar's first championship win, his ego clashes with you- lando's lifelong best friend—when they're forced to work closely at McLaren. what starts as hate turns into secret tension, messy feelings, and a tangled love triangle that neither oscar nor lando saw coming… until it explodes into something no one can control!! ੈ✩‧₊˚ : featuring : oscar x engineer!reader x lando ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : ahh okay pt 4!! pt 5 soon aka final n um this is set in 2026 ੈ✩‧₊˚ : genre : smut, smut and more smut!! theres some fluff and angst in the midst of it all ੈ✩‧₊˚ : tws : just love triangle in this chap </3 also alot of teasing n oscar being as complete ASS !!!!

part 4. falling into place 🦊

The following day, you didn't really see each other much, but when you did, you could tell the cloud of dislike had lifted off.

"Hi," he said, smiling for the first time, instead of stupid smirks.

"Hey." you responded, a faint smile

"I was thinking about how to pay you back.." he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down by the chair in front of your desk, manspreading and looking away nervously.

"Yeah?" you said confused, looking up from your laptop,

"I.. could take you for dinner..? he choked out.

"Oh um- Oscar i dont kno-" you were cut off by a loud cough-

"Platonically! Of course.. or professionally, whichever you prefer.." he looked at you and furrowed his brows as you looked a bit incompetent.

"Ah.. In that case sure, but shouldn't we invite Lando? You know, to make sure the paparazzi don't say we are dating?" you said,

"Oh- i hadn't really though about that. But i wouldn't worry about that.. I can book a very private dinner?" he said nervously, using his signature face, one sided smirk and looking to the side.

"Mmm... Alright. Is Thursday good?" and he nodded,

"Yup," the p popping off his tongue, "Perfect. I can pick you up at 8? Or would you rather me order you an uber?" he offered.

"Uh.. id rather uber myself. Thanks." You cleared your throat. 4 days till your dinner. You didn't really expecting your view of him to change all that much after this dinner, but you were willing to try anyway.

"Oh- Alright," he spoke, "Well I'll see you tomorrow, its home time for me." he turned away.

"Bye," you said clearly.

"Bye."

Over the past couple days, your view did change. He was nicer, politer, you finally saw the version of Oscar everyone raved about. His 'polite cat energy' and honestly even the 'boyfriend material' his fangirls always talked about.

On the day of the dinner, you didn't want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you were going to a very fancy restaurant one reserved by only famous people. Insured that paparazzi would not sneak their way around.

So you ultimately threw on a long black silk dress that hugged your curves, not too tight but didn't exactly leave much to the imagination.

Hair curled and fluffy, eyeliner snatching your eyelids, and lips a dark red.

Your uber was nice enough, comfy and a talkative driver, although a bit inexperienced.

But when you got to the restaurant, you were kind of embarrassed to be riding in an uber, you hoped that people just thought it was fancy, your own personal driver.

As you walked in, searching for the familiar face, but he spotted you before you could spot him, walking over to you and smiling

"Hi, thought you weren't coming for a second there." he laughed

"Yeah... My uber didn't really know his way around, sorry about that." You giggled a bit and he smiled

He looked you up and down, "O-oh and you look really beautiful by the way." he said smiling.

You blushed a bit and laughed nervously. "Ah- thank you.. you look really handsome." he smiled really big and took your arm, "Cmon' our tables over here."

You guys sat down and chatted for a bit before the waiter came to take your drink orders.

"Buonasera, have you made a choice on the drinks?" (good evening)

"I'll have a glass of Amarone please."

"Good choice sir, and for your pretty girlfriend?" the waiter said calmly and Piastri nearly spat out his water.

"Ah- She's not my girlfriend.." he muttered and the waiter looked surpised

"My dearest apologies, i just figured from the way you look at her mister, terribly sorry." and the waiter hung his head for a second.

You coughed, "Ahem um... I'll just get the uhh, ahem.. the Chianti.. please.." you said quietly..

The waiter nodded and said softly to you, but loud enough for the very flustered Australian to hear, "He'll ask one day madam."

Oscar coughed very loudly as he saw you very red in the face, "Please will you just go get our drinks..!"

The waiter walked away and the two of you made eye contact

"I'm sorry about that..." he muttered

"Ah.. its okay osc." he blushed at the nickname.

Over the course of dinner, you got to know each other more, you told him how you knew Lando, and he told you how he got into racing.

When you had finished your meals, you realised he really wasnt that bad. I mean, you really liked him. He was sweet, handsome.. but you couldnt get over the fact he was such a prick when you first met.

At the end of the night as you were laid in bed. He dropped you off instead of ubering, and you gave him a hug before you went inside, his touch lingering a bit too much around your waist, and you leaned into it too much.

But fuck, what were you supposed to do?

And now both McLaren drivers looked at you with a glint in their eye, and both for the same-ish reason, love.

I mean, you weren't sure if either of them were in love, i mean, Lando clearly thought you were hot and wanted you, but you didnt know if he felt the same way, as if you wanted to date, but didn't at the same time, in fear of ruining your 20+ year friendship.

And Oscar, i mean you have spent basically more than half of your time knowing him, hating him. And that wasn't particularly a good start.

But, i mean you liked both, what Oscar lacked in confidence, Lando had. And what Lando lacked in gentleman-ness, Oscar had.

And like... why not both?

The next day felt like static in your brain — fuzzy, unpredictable, uncomfortable. You couldn’t keep stringing Lando along, not when Oscar had actually made you feel something... real. Even if it was barely developing. Even if it was new.

So you told him,

You caught Lando just before the briefing that afternoon, cornered in the hallway with his cap on backwards and his classic cocky smirk — the one you used to love.

"Hey... got a sec?"

"Always," he said, leaning against the wall. That look in his eye again.

You inhaled. “Lando, I need to talk to you seriously.” His smirk faltered.

“This... whatever we’ve been doing—”

“You mean fucking?” he joked, but it was tight, like he already knew.

“Yeah. That. I don’t think we should keep it up. Not anymore.”

His brows furrowed. “Wait, what?”

You swallowed. “I like Oscar.”

The silence hit like a punch in the gut. His eyes flicked away for a second before landing back on you, a little colder.

“You like him?” he said, like it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to.. But I do. And it wouldn’t be fair to you if I pretended I didn’t.”

He scoffed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Right, okay.” You reached out, but he stepped away. “I just— I thought you and me—”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you deserve more than half of me.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just nodded once, sharp and stiff, before walking away.

Later that evening, Oscar found Lando alone in the driver's lounge, staring at a monitor that wasn’t even turned on.

“Hey,” Oscar said cautiously. “You good?”

“Just fine.” Lando said sarcastically, still not looking at him.

Oscar hesitated, then sat beside him. “She told you?”

Lando’s jaw tensed. “Yeah. She told me.”

Oscar nodded slowly. “I didn’t mean for it to get complicated. I just— I like her. Like really like her.”

Lando scoffed. “Of course you do.”

Oscar frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lando looked at him, fire building in his throat. “It means I’ve been messing around with her for years man. Friends-with-benefits type shit. And now suddenly you get all soft-spoken and polite and she falls for you?”

Oscar blinked. “Wait. You and her—?”

Lando nodded once. “Yeah. We were something. Or at least... it felt like something. Until you came along.”

Oscar’s face fell, stunned silent for a second. “I didn’t know.”

“No shit.”

But then Oscar cleared his throat and looked away, red blooming up his neck. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think I just like her.”

Lando blinked. “The hell does that mean?”

Oscar looked at him — really looked at him. “You. You’ve been in my head too. And I hate it. And I don’t understand it. But it’s there.”

Silence.

Lando stared, like Oscar had just admitted to murder. His breathing slowed. He licked his lips, nervous. “Dude… are you saying you like me?”

Oscar swallowed. “I think I do.”

And then — blame the tension, the jealousy, the months of denial — Lando surged forward and kissed him.

Hard.

Oscar kissed back. They both breathed through it, hands grabbing shirt collars, lips parting, heat rushing in places they hadn’t even acknowledged until now.

It was messy. Rough. A collision of all the confusion and lust they’d buried.

But it didn’t last long.

They pulled away, panting, wide-eyed. And then, in perfect timing—

You walked in.

You froze.

They froze.

You blinked once. Twice. “Okay... what the fuck is happening?”

Oscar jumped up. “Wait, it’s not—”

“I mean, it is,” Lando interrupted, wiping his mouth. “But also… not what it looks like?”

You stared at them, dumbfounded, heart pounding. “So let me get this straight: I regretfully dump you and say that I like him, someone apolgized to someone and then you two decide to just make out instead?”

Neither of them had an answer.

“I— I don’t even know what to say,” you whispered.

Lando looked away. Oscar ran a hand through his hair.

It was silent for way too long.

Then you just burst out laughing. A short, hysterical laugh. “This is so fucking complicated.”

Oscar laughs, "We'll figure it out."

<- previous | part 4 | forwards ->

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : um so i had my first college exams guys, (im taking mechatronics enginerring!) and i did so well i think, so sorry this took so long, since its holidays for me soon ill be more active. and omg i think this fic is only gonna be 5 chaps.. i wanted in to be 10 but anyway. send me inbox's pls!! i alr finished my first, gonna release it ltr tdy but pls send more xx

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere Male Chef X G/N Actor Reader

This is my first request for a Yan online! YIPPEE :D I don't think I'd respond to questions again because damn it ruined my engagement last time. This took me way longer then expected to get done(⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)Guys I need you to understand how long it took me to figure out how this guy was gonna lose his mind(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) - Jay

Trigger Warnings! Putting people in harms way, Unhealthy Protectiveness, Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, Tricked into Cannibalism, This Fic gets a little darker then my normal stuff! This is all fictional I don't condone toxic behaviour or crimes irl!

🔪Yandere Chef who worked at his families restaurant till he was 17. He was taught to cook with love and care! He then got the opportunity to learn professionally were he spent years working with the best of the best! It's wasn't about fun anymore it was about perfection.

🔪Yandere Chef didn't like people by the end of his training and worked out private work was so much more isolating then high class restaurants. He would come in for romantic dinners, parties, whatever, whenever. He didn't care.

That's where he met you. Wade learnt what to expect from certain clients. Influences usually want small appetizers for parties, athletes want meals they can heat up but you. Actor's usually want a show piece for events, you just wanted your favourite meal alone on your birthday. How bizarre?

🔪Yandere Chef knocked at your penthouse. You opened the door. "Hiya! You're here!" Wade isn't used to people talking so excitedly around him. It reminds him of his childhood before yelling negatively was what ingrained into him. He didn't really like having these feelings brought up in him.

🔪Yandere Chef was lead to your kitchen where you had all the ingredients neatly laid out, cute. What surprised him more was when you sat opposite him elbows on the counter. "You don't need to be about. I won't burn your kitchen down." "Oh! I know! I just wanted to keep you company! If I'm allowed?"

🔪Yandere Chef was taken aback. "Who am I to deny you on your birthday?" He was so curious about you that for the first time he questioned a client. "Why are you alone on your birthday?" "Oh! I prefer being on my own!" "Amen to that." He mumbles while focusing on the meal.

He plated your meal and to his surprise you ate all of it. If it's one thing he's learnt from celebrities is that they never eat everything. Something about being "humble" or not being "greedy", whatever it's insulting to see the food he spends hours cooking get only half ate.

"This is so good! You're so talented!" You were so excited over his food it threw him off guard.

🔪Yandere Chef felt a little embarrassed. He's not had so much praise since he was a child. He was more thrown of guard when you tried tipping him on your birthday. "You don't need to do that." He tried resisting but you wouldn't let it happen. "Please, I really, really want to! I haven't had such a delicious meal in a while!"

Wade went home looking going through the cash you gave him. Most of the time celebrities pre pay, completely ignore him and send him on his way. On a bad day he'll actively hear people negatively talk about his food. You were so happy it was such a harsh contrast.

🔪Yandere Chef was hired for a house warming party. Some rich actor wanting show off his mansion. He was there hours early making appetizers because none wants a real meal anymore. He had everything set up and was about to leave and till his client stood in his pathway.

"Listen it's totally optional but you're hard to get and I think if you showed your face it'd be pretty cool. I mean you're notoriously hard to get and I did give you a generous tip."

That's how Wade ended up with swirling red wine around in a glass, sat on an expensive sofa debating if he should stain it. He had people come up to him mainly trying to hire him or trying to get gossip on his prior clients. He was going to leave when he hears someone from the other side of the room. "Oh my! Wade! Hiya!" You come rushing over. "I thought you made the food, it's so delicious!" Then like a proud parent you dragged him around telling everyone how good the food is and how they should try it. It was so embarrassing!

🔪Yandere Chef was leaning on a wall watching you talk to others. Why does he always feels so embarrassed around you? That's when your laugh brought a realisation within him. You're so pure in such a vile industry. You remind him of his family restaurant, where there was hard work but joy in his creations.

Wade noticed the way some of the others side eyed you. He felt a scoff come from his throat, they were so stuck up, it irritates him.

🔪Yandere Chef takes his hands in yours. "Would you want me to make you another meal? This one's on me." The host's visitors were all shocked. Behaviour like this wasn't common! He noticed the eyes on you made you embarrassed. "I don't mind..." You mumble.

🔪Yandere Chef was making something for you in your kitchen. He was actually trying to engage with you this time. "So." Wade said cutting up vegetables. "You're an actor but you get nervous at parties, why?" He watches you trace circles in your counter. "I don't know...I was a child actor so I suppose it's all I've known." His face hardens.

🔪Yandere Chef thinks you deserve better. I mean you're a good actor but you're better then acting in his eyes. "How many movies have you been in then?" "Didn't you look me up?" "No?" Everything went silent. You had lunged forward over the counter and hugged him. "You're the first person not to goggle me in a while..." You mumbled into his shoulder.

Now the two of you had a sort of alliance or whatever. You called it a friendship.

🔪Yandere Chef was cooking for some rich couple while they were watching TV in the living room. He didn't mind, the women was sweet but the man was cold. He's glad they left him alone. He could faintly hear the TV when your voice was on the screen. Must of been a show or movie you were in.

Wade felt himself smile when he can hear your faint voice from the screen. That's when he can hear his client being rude about your appearance.How dare they!?

🔪Yandere Chef was following a recipe from the husbands descendants. The ink was smudged already in some places so what if he smudged the part on how much spice he was suppose to put in the meal?

It was too spicy. The couple started yelling at him. But he simply pointed at the recipe he followed. By the end the couple was apologising to him completely unaware Wade was in fact to blame.

🔪Yandere Chef didn't like people who were rude to his friends. And you were his friend now. You said so.

🔪Yandere Chef started hanging out with you more and realised maybe he didn't hate all rich people. (Acting like he isn't yk...rich)You were so down to earth. Wade had you round his house watching movies when and advert for your show came on.

You cringed leaning on wades chest to hide your face. "Mute it! Mute it!" You cried. "Seriously you don't need to act." He rubbed the side of your arm. "I just don't want to feel useless.." That's when it hit him, the best idea he ever had in his entire life.

🔪Yandere Chef opened a restaurant! The famous private chef opening up a small restaurant in a busy part of the city. He had the help from his business friend (Yandere Ex Wife cough cough) to insure it.

🔪Yandere Chef needed your help. Well need is a strong word. It gave you a reason not to act, helping your friend! The more you helped, the closer you two got, the closer you two got, the stronger he's feelings for you grew. Manifesting into someone more sinister.

Who complemented him it never meant anything compared to you. You would come in to help the chef's to clean the kitchen after the shifts sometimes too! Aren't you a cutie?

🔪Yandere Chef was opening up early in the morning. Putting his keys into the door but before turning he hears your voice. "Wade! I'm on my way to a magazine shoot but I made you something!" You show a box of homemade sweet treats. "Don't eat them Infront of me...I don't want to know what a renowned chef thinks of my online recipes!" He watches you run off. He hates that your still in the public eye. So casually complacent with your discomfort because what if the change is worse than the norm?

🔪Yandere Chef sat in an empty booth of his restaurant before his employees came in. He opened the box and to see cookies, brownies and sorts. He bites into one. It was so average but tasted so good. Thick tears run down his face, splattering against the table. He's never been the one served food before. Since he was a child he always cooked his food and dinner. Unprovoked act of kindness was something that hit him in a sensitive spot.

🔪Yandere Chef kept working and till he heard you had came to visit. As much as he complains about you being in the public eye but you haven't done any acting since he opened his restaurant, I suppose Wade's plan sort of worked.

Wade walked through. He was going to ask you round his, he as many times before but this time it romantic. He wants you, He needs you to be his. He see's your gorgeous face but before he can talk to you, A waiter has got your attention to try and flirt with you. This angered him. You don't deserve some dirt like that, the world doesn't deserve you. Nobody deserves you.

🔪Yandere Chef had staff stay back to help him clean. Purposely giving the guy trying to flirt with you a hard job so he stays back longer. "Boss, I'm done. I'm going to clock out for the day,Okay?" He turned his back not being able to see Wade pick up a meat tenderizer and smash it on the back of his head.

The lifeless body lays on the white kitchen floor. Wade had already turned the cameras off. The cameras needed to be reset anyway so nobody knows who came in and never came out. The servers head was caved at the back, a slight dent filled with dark red blood before overflowing onto the floor. "Disgusting pig." He said while spitting on the corpse. Wade took out his own personal cooking utensils from a tool box. Taking out a meat cleaver he slides it along the body's corpse angling it away from the corpse and pushes down in a sliding motion skinning the flesh of the bone. It reminds Wade of how his father taught him to handle meat while preparing a dish.

You were in bed, it was quarter to midnight and you were snuggled in your bed thinking about your day. You hope Wade likes the food you made. He was very supportive! Acting was something you felt like you grew out of and he understood that. You've been trying to stay out of the public eye since but it's all you've ever known. Maybe you could ask Wade for a job? Is that scummy? I mean he was so caring! While you were debating the ethics of asking your friend for a job, you hear a knock on your door.

You were scared a little. Checking your doorbell camera, you see Wade waiting there. "What are you doing here?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. "Midnight snack?" He ruffles your hair. Usually you wouldn't eat so late at night but Wades such a good Chef. It was a meat you've never tried before goat, horses? It was strange.

Little did you know Yandere Chef had feed you the man who tried to flirt with you.You didn't know is this is a morbid start to a brutal end.

[pt2change]

landing softly — kim taehyung

pairing: singledad!taehyung x reader

genre: takes place months after, nari loves y/n, tae being vulnerable for a sec, they’re already a family without knowing it :’)

word count: 1,914

a/n: the long awaited part 2 hahah i’m sorry it took so long!!!! i hope it does it justice i woke up in the middle of the night to finish this instead of going back to bed and letting it collect even more dust

↣ bts masterlist

or read part 1 here

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

it had been a couple of months since you met taehyung and nari on the flight.

you and taehyung had exchanged phone numbers at the airport once the flight reached its destination.

you thought nothing of it really, at first the whole situation was just a funny story you would tell your friends.

but then he texted you one day, it was a picture of nari with the plushie she had tried giving to you on that flight, she wants to let you borrow it again, the text read

from that moment, it turned into weekly texts, spontaneous park meetups, and exchanged voice memos about awful work days. then there were “nari wants to see you and say hi” facetime calls that turned into long conversations that would continue deep into the night after nari would run away after about 3 minutes.

somewhere in between, there was having dinner together, the 3 of you. it had become its own tradition.

tonight was dinner at taehyung’s place. sometimes you cooked, and sometimes taehyung did. sometimes it was just “i accidentally ordered too much take out, why don't you come over?”

you knocked on the door three times, and from the other side you hear rapid tiny footsteps running across the hardwood floor, “nari! slow down” you could hear taehyung call out to his daughter from the other side of the door.

the door swings wide up, and nari smiles up at you, already wearing her pink pajama set that you had given to her the last time you saw her.

the smell of cleaning products hits your nose suddenly. it makes sense, after all taehyung had spent the entire day cleaning, he scrubbed every inch down, the counters on the kitchen, the bathroom shined bright, and taehyung vacuumed as much as he could.

nari was only tasked with picking up her toys (which did not get done)

“y/n!” nari exclaims, wrapping her arms around your legs. . “hey, nari,” you place your hands on her tiny back to keep her steady, “oh, i brought that chocolate cake you guys like”

nari yells in excitement, “you need to have dinner first, nari” taehyung says, walking over, and he gives you a quick hug, before taking the cake out of your hands.

you walk in further into taehyung's all too familiar apartment, and start removing your purse and shoes, putting them in their designated places. nari stays close to you, talking about a new show she has started watching.

as you remove your shoes, her little hands grab them and place them onto the shoe rack.

back when you all first started sharing meals, there was a moment of concern from nari because there was no space for your shoes on the shoe rack or that there wasn't a place for you to put your purse. so taehyung and nari spent one afternoon together clearing out the rack, making enough space for your belongings.

“come on, i want you to play with me!” nari says, holding onto your hand, tugging you towards her small bedroom. as you let nari drag you to her bedroom, you pass taehyung and mouth to him a quick “sorry”

when time passes by, taehyung begins to set the table, plates and silverware clinking together, filling the apartment with noise. taehyung hears nari talking and your funny responses get closer to the kitchen as your footsteps fill the small hallway.

“let’s help your dad set up, huh?” he hears you say, to which nari replies a quick “okay”

“ooo, it smells good in here” you think out loud, taehyung faces you to see you holding nari’s hand in one and a pink bunny plushie, one of nari’s favorites, in the other. taehyung can't help but notice how you grab it with such delicacy, both nari’s small hand and her bunny. it’s a sight that makes him smile.

nari then makes her way over to the table, sitting in the chair, placing her doll on the table. “it’s spaghetti,” taehyung says, beginning to serve in a small hello kitty bowl, “i also made garlic bread.”

you grab the served bowl from taehyung, placing a small fork in it, and place it in front of nari.

it’s a routine, taehyung finishes serving your plates and you place them both on the table, both of you at nari’s sides. taehyung grabs the basket of garlic bread and places it in the middle. you grab 2 wine glasses and a green cup with frogs on it, taehyung grab the wine and apple juice from the fridge.

you both sit down, and the 3 of you start eating. the conversation flows great, it’s easy and full of laughter, as it always does. you talked about the different things you have done since the last time you saw each other, work, nari’s current obsession with her barbie playhouse, what she’s learned at school. after dinner, you bring out the chocolate cake, watching nari’s eyes sparkle. you cut each of them, and yourself, a slice.

the conversation continues, and you stay at the table, enjoying each others company.

eventually, nari starts to nod off in her chair. everytime taehyung says something, she sits right back up, saying she’s not sleepy at all. after about the 5th time, taehyung goes around and lifts her out of the chair, lifting her into his arms.

“it’s time for bed” he says, rubbing her back softly. “i don’t want to” she mumbles into his shoulder, yawning seconds later. taehyung pats her back softly, “you can see y/n another day”

you get up from your chair, placing your hand on the small of nari’s back, “let’s get you to bed nari” you whisper.

taehyung turns his head slightly over his shoulder, “you want to help?”

you nod in response, in a way that says “of course i want to help,” and you follow him down the hallway into nari’s bedroom. she’s already half asleep when he lays her down, her small body falling against the sheets and pillows.

you move quickly to her side, pulling her blanket and tucking her in gently. “i’ll come see you again soon, okay nari?” you whisper, and her eyes open just slightly, she nods. just before you walk away, you hear her voice, “y/n?”

you get down to her eye level, “yeah?” you feel her tiny hand reach out to yours, she squeezes it slightly. “i wish you could stay” her voice is soft and serious.

your heart flutters, “s-stay?”

nari nods softly, “like stay forever” she responds, just barely above a whisper, “i wish you lived her…. or we lived with you” her words slowed as her eyes fluttered “i like you alot, y/n” she mumbles.

you brush her hair back, “i like you alot too nari” you whisper. and nari falls back into her sleep, her soft breathing fills the room.

all the while taehyung watched stood at the door, watching in silence. his stomach fills with anxiety.

it’s been him and nari for so long, and now you’re here. you stole nari’s heart, and in a way you stole his too. but he knows you, he knows you have a future full of opportunities. you don't need someone like him infiltrating your life and taking it all away.

you leave nari’s bedside, and walk over to taehyung, placing your hand on his bicep, giving it a light squeeze before walking back over to the kitchen. taehyung takes a deep breath, before shutting nari’s door.

taehyung walks towards kitchen, seeing you stack the plates together and walking over to place them in the sink. “don’t worry about it, y/n”

“it’s okay, i’ll help”

“y/n,” taehyung follows you helplessly, “it’s okay really.”

you start the water, “it’s the least i can do since you cooked for us tonight.”

he stands next to you, your shoulders bumping slightly, “you wash, i’ll dry them”

taehyung grabs a washcloth and waits as you scrub the first bowl. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air as you wash the dishes. you finish the dishes, and taehyung dries them, putting them all away where they belong.

you lean against the counter. after putting away the last dish, taehyung clears his throat, “she’s comfortable with you” he says softly.

you hand him a bowl, “i’m comfortable with her too” you reply, your voice just as soft. and there’s a silence, “and you taehyung”

you look over at him, handing him the last fork. and he’s smiling. you tilt your head slightly, “what?” you chuckle

taehyung walks closer to you, “i just never expected any of this you know?” you nod in response before he continues, “that day at the airport, i was just so tired, and i thought all i need to do is get on this flight and go home. that was gonna be it”

you nod, “but then nari tried to climb over the airplane seat” you tease

he laughed in response. his eyes lingered on you for a moment, before he looked away. “nari’s mom isn’t around” he says quietly. “she left not long after nari was born. it’s been hard, for the both of us”

you don't say anything, letting the silence sit between the two of you. “nari doesn't ask much about her.” he says, “but when she does, i don't know if im saying the right thing. i don't want her to feel like she's missing something.”

you reach your hand out to grab his, rubbing your thumb so delicately over his knuckles. “i don't think she does. she is so full of joy and curiosity. and she is so deeply loved, taehyung. that’s all you”

his eyes meet yours again, and he takes a deep breath. “she’s so lucky to have you”

in an even quieter voice, “i think i’m lucky too, to have you both in my life” you add.

taehyung’s eyes linger on you, and tension fills the air. you pull taehyung closer by dragging him by his belt loops until your noses are touching. taehyung closes the distance between you two.

you kiss him open-mouthed, the dragging of your tongues slow. your hands slip under the hem of taehyung’s shirt, training his soft skin. taehyung kisses you with more desperation, his hands cupping your face

when you break apart, you're both panting. you rest your forehead against taehyungs, as you try to catch your breath, running your hand down his back

“thanks for tonight,” you whisper, your noses brushing against each other, “it was nice”

taehyung kisses your cheek softly, “i’m glad you came”

you pull away from taehyung, regret visible on your face, “i should probably go, i have work early tomorrow” taehyung nods, and leads you to the door, grabbing your purse as you slip your shoes back on. taehyung places the bag on your shoulder, enjoying the way your cheeks blush.

“I’ll stay” you whisper, and taehyung blinks slowly. “I’ll stay if you ask me to,” you say, bolder this time, “forever, like nari said.” there’s a pause, “or for as long as you’ll have me”

he lets out a quiet breath, “i’m asking”

you can barely holding in the smile that looms across your face, “okay, then i’ll stay”

taehyung doesn’t say anything after that. he didn't have to.

he steps closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

and down the hall is a small girl who is completely unaware that her wish was coming true.

[pacthesis]

im not kidding applebees all you can eat nearly killed me

had a great time

absolutely would do it again

PSA: if ur throwing up don't chug water and gatorade cause ur scared of dehydration (suck on ice cubes instead)

im SO lucky to be alive and ok

i've written a long detailed diary entry mostly cause i want to comprehend what happened and never forget this:

first of all its not applebees fault

so friday the 13th lol (6/13/2025) me and pizza man do the all you can eat

my expectations were low but i really enjoyed it

except i tried the pecan blondie brownie dessert- shockingly terrible: dry and tasteless blondie, maple cream cheese sauce was actually gross imo (i don't think im picky especially when it comes to sweets) ice cream and nuts were fine though

but anyway i ate too much lmao

i like to challenge myself sometimes- i was mostly curious: "if i could still do it" (it was kinda my party trick in college)

i had fries, coleslaw, 2 portions of popcorn shrimp, 2 portions of riblets, 1 portion of chicken tenders- then the whole pecan blondie brownie (pizza man didn't try it cause he thought it smelled icky lol)

thought i was gonna puke (didn't happen though) i was SO full

***

next day saturday (6/14/2025) i felt fine but didn't eat all day and just had a slice of pizza, egg and hash browns with ketchup for dinner cause i wasn't really hungry

earlier that day we went to a church sale and half price books and hung out with pizza man's childhood friend: we were talking about how when we cook we don't add salt cause usually it just tastes fine while we think its funny how pizza man loves things to taste very salty...

that night he apparently has a dream where pizza man is eating straight up salt to "balance out his levels" or whatever

***

sunday (6/15/2025) father's day: i wake up feeling normal and ask pizza man if he wants to go to target cause i wanna get this bow hair clip:

he says sure but after he does his typical morning run with his mom

then i have this headache as im washing dishes- i think its caffeine withdrawal- i have my morning coffee and take 2 ibuprofen

but it gets worse- i throw up a couple of times- i don't feel well enough to go to target (or anywhere)

pizza man offers to go get the bow hair clip for me and returns with it within the hour

i was so nauseous i couldn't eat all day or move much

maybe it was a migraine but it was a first

i felt sensitive to light and noise and wore sunglasses and earplugs but wasn't sure if it was just in my head from googling my symptoms (pizza man's mom thought it was so funny he was out ignorantly grinding a cast iron pan while i was inside cringing lol)- i was miserable with or without the noise and light tbh

i read on reddit that people have "migraine hangovers" afterwards and often craved mcdonalds and i was like "aw man i can't wait until i feel well enough to crave mcdonalds again!" lmao

im using a foot bath cause i read it can bring some relief to my misery- it actually kinda works

pizza man asks if its ok if he leaves to have father's day dinner with his family and i tell him its ok but he returns quickly because he's worried about me

when he returns i ask him to make me some oatmeal (with water- im worried milk will upset my gut) and to bring me raisins with honey then i took an excedrin cause i was scared of having a stroke or heart attack (but immediately puked anyway)

i throw up into the foot bath, pizza man brings our (emptied) recycling bin over and i throw up into that too- im throwing up so much- so im chugging water, gatorade, pediatric (dose makes the poison)

pizza man actually kept these bottles because he thought some documentation would be helpful for the doctors:

(it was these 2 along with a few cups of water we believe)

there wasn't diarrhea and i knew it wasn't food poisoning but i've had it a few times in the past and dehydration scared me

i was like "im being smart- this is a close call- im gonna avoid going to the ER- im gonna show up for work tomorrow" then i time warped to wednesday in the hospital

i don't remember monday and tuesday

***

past midnight early into monday morning (6/16/2025) pizza man and his dad take me to the hospital cause im confused and can't talk right

i don't remember leaving the house

i don't even remember standing up from the end of the bed

apparently i walk- holding onto pizza man

he says i started drooling in the waiting room and that just seemed bad

they put me and pizza man alone in a room to wait for doctors and stuff- but then i vomit more and start foaming at the mouth and convulsing

im having a seizure- pizza man starts screaming for help and presses the call help button- obviously very traumatic for him to witness and watch

i have 4 seizures at the ER/ICU apparently

i had some predictions about my life and knew life was unpredictable in general but didn't expect at the age of 31 to be quote "the sickest person in the hospital"

they do a lumbar puncture into my spine to test for meningitis- it was negative

they insert the PICC line that goes to my heart (pizza man says "a really big guy" came and did it), IV and begin raising my sodium levels

they overcorrect at one point and ease down on it

before pizza man even contacted my parents my mom said she actually felt "things weren't right" that night somehow

doctor told my mom he was scared cause i was "healthy and young" and there was 7 things he could do for me

pizza man was heartbroken cause he wasn't sure if i would "come back"

he said it was very hard to leave the hospital without me (he didn't expect that- it felt wrong for him)

my mom said the hardest question for her was "is she full code?" (should we do every possible measure in order to save the patient's life?)

my mom said yes

i read through my long list of care notes and tests and i can see why the doctors were scared:

kidneys and organs were fine

no medications

no alcohol/drugs

no health conditions

no history or family history of epilepsy seizures migraines

before my parents leave a doctor says "im taking amy away to do the stent on her heart" and my mom was like "i thought nothing was happening tonight??" but doc leaves and goes "i cannot discuss that with you"

then a nurse comes to apologize to my parents and tells em "the doctor feels stupid- the stent is for the patient in the next room"

my mom woulda preferred if he came to apologize for himself of course

there was a band with a barcode on my wrist and we believe there is a system to confirm and keep people from getting mixed up but it was still spooky for my family to experience that

pizza man says at one point they asked him and my parents to leave the room so they could ask me some things- later when im released he asked if i remember what the questions were (i confirm i don’t remember monday or tuesday- not that i mind)

***

tuesday (6/17/2025) they hooked all these wires up to my head to check for brain activity but afterwards my mom said i was greasy and kinda "gross" looking lol

so she and my dad spent an hour and a half washing my hair

then i opened my eyes and the doctors got excited- they tried sticking me in an MRI machine but i tried to crawl out cause they put me on ativan

the neurologist kept asking me stuff like "how many nickels are in a dollar?", "what is this called? (pointing to watch face or watch band)" and "where are you right now?" (i kept saying "hopkins" for whatever reason- doc asked "why is she saying that? what is hopkins? did she go to hopkins high school? and my parents were like no! pizza man was like "aw man if amy lives through this she will just think this is so funny")

pizza man thinks "hopkins" just kind of sounds like "hospital"

but the neurologist said it was hard to tell if i got brain damage or if it was the ativan lol

my mom kept asking me "who is this??" and pointing to family members that visited:

i knew my mom and dad

for pizza man i said his name sweetly (we just celebrated our 10 year anniversary last month may 2025)

for my father-in-law i answered with his name but seriously (that made pizza man think "oh maybe amy is still in there") lol

i kept asking for coffee also lmao but my mom said that brought her some comfort because to her “thats a sign amy is still there”

pizza man brought the bow hair clip he got for me on sunday to see if i would remember it

and he brought this stuffed seal a childhood friend since middle school got for me a while back and asked "whats his name?" because he couldn't remember and i correctly told him "tory" (short for “tornado torpedo”)

i closed my eyes and puckered my lips for pizza man and my dad was like "she wants a kiss"

pizza man gave me a nice little kiss but wasn't sure if it was appropriate at the time but he thought it was sweet still

pizza man and visitors also enjoyed this giant monster rabbit that could be seen outside my window too i guess (the rabbit is my zodiac animal “secret friend” but they're really common to spot in the wild tbh)

there was a 1:1 nurse with me monday and tuesday night cause they didn't want me trying to get up by myself or yanking on my stuff

***

by wednesday (6/18/2025) i "wake up"- i remember wednesday

im covered in wires and tubes: who knows what on my chest, IV in my right arm, PICC line in my left arm, hooked up to a catheter, finger oxygen sensor, bright yellow wristband that reads "FALL RISK"

initially i was like "oh god the financial cost of this" but quickly i was like "eh whatever- doesn't matter"

i actually upgraded my health insurance when i turned 30 just cause i thought "eh its time for better insurance"

doctors and nurses seemed surprised i made it

they were pumping me with sodium and potassium but at one point it dropped anyway but eventually my body just fixed itself and they kinda shrugged and were like "cool i'll take it!"

they send a dietitian student in and he asks me what i eat and he goes "huh- you eat healthy"

the neurologist visits and i loudly go “i remember you!” but im confused- he just has one of those looks

“neurologist” is also too complicated of a word for me to retain today so i keep saying ���brain guy”

he says something interesting: “throwing up shouldn’t cause low sodium” (as i currently understand: low sodium can cause vomiting but not the other way around i guess idk)

when we pressed with other questions he professionally answers that he can only talk about the brain- i kinda liked that

my parents and a lot of pizza man's family came to visit me throughout the day

pizza man said that day i was "more quirky" but he was ok with that- maybe even kinda liked it lol

he also said the doctors and nurses said i was "very nice" even when i was out of it and that i should put that on my resume (maybe a somewhat weird thing to say imo but whatever they mean well i guess)

he kept telling me he was so so happy i "came back"

another childhood friend since middle school (who didn't know this was going on) actually randomly texted me a trauma center game meme but i didn't have access to my phone until a few days later (it was a game i enjoyed when i was in high school and i was actually thinking about it when i was conscious in the hospital)

my parents and pizza man kept asking me if i would like pizza man to bring me the bow hair clip he got for me on sunday

i was like "bah nah that doesn't matter" but throughout the day they started seeing my memory was improving on its own

so while i was dying pizza man appeared on an episode of america's funniest home videos on tv and the host for whatever reason said "believe it or not, ladies- he's single"

pizza man knew i'd find it funny if i lived but at the time he didn't like that of course lol

he said he was thinking if i did die he was happy we at least had a nice last date at applebeees lmao

he said he wasn't ready for that though- he would've probably quit his job and stuff

i know i got extremely lucky but this actual experience wasn't that bad! i didn't have any suffering thanks to the doctors/nurses and my family and pizza man

the thought of going to the hospital was much much worse

and hospital food was pretty good actually!

a nurse helped tie my hair back to keep it out of the way

also when a nurse helped me go #2 she was like "the catheter must be so uncomfortable :(" and i was like "actually- its not that bad!" like whenever i'd see a commercial for one on tv i was like "oh god that looks awful" lol

i walk around a bit in the hallways with pizza man as he held my catheter- my legs felt very weak

i don't have a 1:1 nurse watching me this night and i fall asleep around 1:30am

***

thursday (6/19/2025) we have off from work- its the juneteenth holiday

on monday pizza man contacted my employer and they used 4 PTO days for the week for me

im a little naughty- i get up by myself and wash my hair in the sink

i knew it was a liability thing and i wasn't supposed to get up by myself- but i was curious (the curiosity of "if i could still do it"- maybe that drive might take me out one day lol) but i thought it wouldn't hurt anyone

my mom was a little annoyed/mad yet relieved when she found out lol

my father-in-law brings coffee and donuts both wednesday and thursday morning (cause i was always asking for coffee lol)

a nurse comes in and asks the visitors to step out- we both wear face masks as she removes the PICC line from my arm

she goes "i'll show you it when im done" (doesn't ask if im squeamish- but maybe she could tell i was interested in that kind of stuff)

its very long- i tell her thats very cool- this is when i find out that was connected to my heart

later another doctor and nurse come rip off the stuff on my chest, the IV, finger oxygen sensor- and remove the catheter also

i take a couple of tylenol every few hours to ease my headache

i worry and ask the doctors about it- i don't want to become dependent on it- they tell me its safe and my worries ease because i no longer feel like i need anymore that night

so far the known issue was low sodium and severe hyponatremia

the doctors are humans and have differing opinions so some thoughts contradict but so far the one belief that makes sense to me is "it was just the perfect storm"

in the evening im released from the hospital and pizza man brings me home

my mom is surprised- she thought i'd be well enough to go home the next day friday

but i didn't feel like i was currently dying- i thought it was time for me to leave and for the doctors and nurses to save someone else now

my parents and pizza man’s family drop off a lot of food and a gift basket

and my employer sent me flowers

i was maybe a bit surprised- been there for over 10 years but thought "eh maybe they'll think about letting me go" lol

***

friday (6/20/2025) the first full day of being home im pretty much normal with some slight memory issues (like forgetting where the tea goes, the name of pizza man's oldest aunt, not making my yogurt the "most efficient way", etc) and im using a walker as a precaution- im slightly wobbly

pizza man kept telling me it was so awesome to hear me around the home and that i “came back”

imo he was already kinda obsessed and very in love with me but he keeps saying the experience somehow made him “fall deeply in love” with me lol

he keeps checking my head for a fever and he watches over me carefully for the first couple of days at home- im sure he has PTSD honestly and i was worried about him but he’s doing great now actually

we’re really lucky the house has handle bars by some of the entrances and in the bathroom and its generally accessible because this used to be grandpa’s house

i was also looking at a fashion catalog and didn't feel horny but felt more "heterosexual" somehow

but by saturday (6/21/2025) and sunday (6/22/2025) my memory is "very good" again, im not using a walker anymore and i looked at the catalog again and my sexuality feels queer as usual lol

before all this pizza man sometimes told me he was gonna be sad when my memory starts going because its just so good

but he told me he likes me however- and he would always take care of me- im still kind of processing that tbh

then also i had an excuse to invite my friends over to hang out- that was nice

***

i don't mind being a cautionary tale

because the cause of my hyponatremia seems to be possibly caused by my funky eating schedule and chugging liquids: so far the dr notes and advice to prevent me from having it again basically say "drink/eat sodium (2,300 mg/day) and don't drink more than 2 liters of liquids a day"

its funny cause some doctors also said i should be drinking gatorade when i do my squats and push-ups

always thought it was a marketing gimmick or for extreme athletes in hot weather

but as far as i understand it sounds like i'll also be fine if i just eat some chips or whatever

last time i saw a doctor was august 2024: did blood tests- he said i was "extremely healthy" and to see him again in 3 years unless something comes up

i used to see a primary care physician but it felt like a waste of time cause i was like 20 and nothing was ever going on

guess i got a good reason to see one again

for whatever reason i was never mad or upset during this: i was trying to be patient, honest and accepting of whatever i felt or was going through

i've been thinking about how i've been putting an effort towards working out and gained 4-5 lbs since january this year and i've thought "would this have ended up very different if i didn't gain that extra weight?"

spooky crazy

anyway i’ve never been to hopkins so im planning to go there soon just for shits and giggles

[copperbadge]

SAM!

I love the Chicken Salad War, but it's been a bit of a week so I have not commented. But it is very good. Which is funny, because I don't actually like chicken salad itself... Anyway, I have two(ish) questions about the Shivadh-verse! Back in one of the earlier books, you mentioned Gregory hung out (or at least knew) Princess Mia of Genovia. So are we talking about the Disney version of the Princess Diaries, with the awesone Grandmere? Or the book version, where Grandmere was pretty awful? My headcanon is that it's the Disney version, since (IRRC, as I said, long week, family emergencies, hospitals and all that) the Shivadh-verse started as Hallmark Channel Romance type movie script. So the happier version of the PD would make sense. Okay, second thing... When there is an election, is it basically "first across the finish line" style voting? Or is it ranked choice voting, where the votes for the non winning persons are redistributed ? (I know that's a massive over-simplification, but I'm sending an ask, not a theoretical essay.) I am assuming there's none of this stupid electoral college nonsense going on. (I am USian and I hate the electoral college system. But that's a rant for another day!)

I honestly love when people ask world building questions about the Shivadhverse, and I'm so glad you're enjoying the latest one!

I wasn't even aware the Princess Diaries HAD a book version. I won't lie, I've enjoyed the movie both times I've seen it but neither was like, intentional, I didn't seek it out. I'm not very well-versed in the canon, so yeah if the movies are happier lets go with those!

As for voting, that's an interesting question. I looked up how old ranked choice is as a methodology, and I think probably for royal elections in the Ask it's majority rule, but I have some really detailed reasoning as to why :D

Mainly, it seems that ranked-choice was generally known, but also not very popular, around the time Gregory II was democratizing the country in the early 20th century. That being the case he probably went with majority rule, which mostly matters because a lot hinges on how he chose to structure the elections.

There have, at least at this point in canon, been only five elections since the country went to democracy: Gregory II, Nathan IV, Jason I, Michaelis I, and Gregory III. I might write Jason or Michaelis facing a recall vote at some point but I don't have plans to right now. I find politics stressful :D Anyway, the history goes like this:

Gregory II was a birthright king and took the country to a democracy but then was elected king, which I think probably dismayed him a little but what can you do? He died in office, so parliament ran the next election, and they wouldn't have changed the still very new system.

Nathan IV was both incompetent and dictatorial so he was the first real test of the elected royalty system, where there are no term limits, simply the ability to call an election if people didn't like what the king was doing. A recall election would have been a really ugly time to change the system. Plus the whole thing was engineered by Jason, so he would only have allowed it to change if it benefitted him against Nathan. In theory it would have, since if you're voting for someone running against Nathan your vote would probably go to Jason next, because this was mostly about "get Nathan out of office", but Jason also knew he could win without it and he had to consider optics.

Likewise, Jason wanted his son Michaelis to be king. It's not so much that he wanted power for its own sake, but more that he felt that his family were the right people for the job (Jason was a competent ruler but he was arrogant and also not someone who let ethics get in his way). So again he would only have changed the system if he felt it would benefit Michaelis, who was so clearly going to win that he didn't need the help. That election had a number of people running, but nobody was giving Michaelis a real challenge.

Michaelis would have been willing to change to ranked-choice if the people wanted it, especially since he thinks it's a fairer system. Despite his dad, Michaelis is concerned with ethics and he wants to make sure everyone has the same power in the ballot box. So it's possible he held a referendum about it, perhaps well before he was thinking of retiring. If he had just decided to push it through parliament, there were again optics to consider, like whether he was doing it because it would benefit Gregory, so he put it to a public poll. But while Shivadh are generally very liberal they can also be a little set in their ways, and I think if he did hold a referendum they'd vote to keep things as they are. The system elected them three good kings and only one bad one, and those are decent odds.

And Gregory is open to the idea of changing the voting system, but unless there's a push for it from the voters, he's not going to bother, he has bigger fish to fry. He is concerned about the fact that three generations of his family have held office and now it's looking like they're bucking for a fourth, even if Joan is new to the family, so he's more focused on making sure that other young people who are interested in politics get opportunities similar to Joan's. Both because they deserve it, and so that it doesn't seem like Joan's getting undue favoritism.

I might write a political-themed Shivadh novel one day -- we know very little about Michaelis's election and nothing about Gregory's. I have distant plans for the election after Gregory announces his retirement -- Joan obviously is going to run, but I think Serafina will too, and they won't be the only ones. :D But we'll see. There's enough scary politics in the world right now that it won't be for a while in any case.

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

Disclaimer: okay … this will be long. If you want to read a emocional rambling with personal details about my life (because i apparently like to over share) then stay with me.

• So for starters, i was craving for something like this for two weeks or more. To be simple, i miss namjoon a lot and i miss some depth too. I really enjoy smut of course, but i loooove this: the build up, the yearning, the emocional depth and some layers. Like a really well cooked meal that makes you think “damn… this tastes really nice”.

• I have to repeat myself as i say this for the million time but it is very hard to find fanfics with namjoon. Like i’ve been looking for weeks… (i have some saved to read, but i mean new ones) and there’s nothing. The difference between other members are absurd, the attention is different inside the own fandom. So there’s that…. but when i find something like this…. i just can’t let go yk? it keeps reverberating in my soul.

• The writing deserves an exclusive topic cause what is this? I’m talking about real quality content, well written, thoughtful and raw. This goes beyond fanfic, for me this represents something more. Because someone can explain to me how @cigarettesuga knows all those details about the breakup i had when i was just 19. I had to stop the reading a few times just to look to nowhere and repeat to myself “damn, that’s exactly how i felt or that’s exactly how it sounded”. So i will quote some parts cause i mean… you’re a real poet or something. But i genuinely feel the need to dig inside an authors mind to know exactly how that person perceives reality. Like, people are just living their lives meanwhile there’s someone noticing everything!!!! the shifts in the air, the micro expressions and unspoken feelings… i just want to sit with that person and talk for hours about anything and everything. Before my quotes, let me praise your writing baby cause i’m really admiring you right now, as a writer and as a human being. The flow… you took me by the hands, my breathing was so heavy, my eyebrows furrowed… i mean is this what you wanted from me? I felt EVERYTHING. The yearning, the bass, the loud music and sweaty bodies… i was there. I know it’s easy to connect when there’s similarities but it’s more than that.

——- QUOTES!!!!!!

“she'd dyed her hair, moved apartments, started journaling again like she was a teenager with a heartbreak playlist” — ✋😔 that’s embarrassing stop exposing me fr give me the credits

“like it hadn't ended in the kind of silence that made her doubt the entire thing ever happened” — 🫥 no comments

“just another reminder that he was still good at walking away” — this one is actually nice to comment KKKKKKK so this song i linked here is one of my favorites and i listened A LOT when i broke up and let me quote the lyrics real quick:

“Tell me what I got to prove

I don't mean nothing to you (I hope you're hurting)

You ain't got nothing to say (while I was working)

You're too good at walking away (I hope you're hurting)”

😳😁 so yeah…. my life is made of connections all around.

"you were vulnerable. that's brave. and it doesn't make you desperate, it makes you human. but let's also not pretend that this isn't who he's always been

—someone who disappears when you hand him something fragile."

“amara continued, voice gentler now. "you don't have to chase someone who doesn't know what to do with your heart. it's not your job to teach him how to hold it."

LIKE WHAT THE HELL YOU GUYS CANT TALK SHIT ABOUT FANFICTION IN FRONT OF ME OKAY?

but men….this was needed it. My friend told me something similar this week, so again… connections. I need Amara, like please make her real and put her on a plane to Brazil.

"this feeling. the ache. the shame. you won't always be this girl who sent the text and got ignored." - this is too personal i have to delete this review kkk

“you're allowed to have things that used to belong to both of you” - stop reading my journal please that’s call privacy invasion. That part stuck with me cause i’m obsessed with music and yes indeed i introduced him to a singer and he got to the concert without me with other girl (which was my best friend that now is his girlfriend BUT ANYWAY) i guess you realize i can relate to the feeling…….

——————

• that ALL being said, the smut part was awesome too, like crying during sex cause i missed you SO BAD dear god merge our souls together.

• another disclaimer: i don’t miss my ex and i don’t want him back i promise! this is just a big lore in my life, a piece of my personal museum and i just like to over share to strangers. for no reason.

•My apologies to @cigarettesuga because i’m sure that they’re not expecting this bible and you don’t have to read it if you don’t want 😭 i just HAD to express my feelings

——— The end, if you got until here i don’t know leave some 💜 below KKKKKKKKKKKKKK i’m joking thank you 🫶🏻🌹💌

(forgive any grammar mistakes i’m too tired to fix anything)

꒰꒰⠀⠀⠀text me when you get lonely⠀✸⠀(⠀⠀knj⠀⠀)

pairing: non-celeb!ex!namjoon x f!ex!reader

genre: exes-to-lovers, angst, bit of romance, slow-burn, smut

warnings: explicit consensual sex, graphic oral sex (fem receiving), face ridding implied, overstimulation, rough sex, hair pulling, fingering, slight breath control (hand on throat, not choking), cum on body, praise & degradation mix (if you squit your eyes), possessive behavior, size kink, deep penetration, leg on shoulder position, wet/messy sex, begging, post-orgasm sensitivity, soft dom!namjoon, desperation and emotional vulnerability during sex, unprotected sex , aggressive kissing, marking (bites), mild semi-public sexual tension, emphasis in mutual pleasure and yearning (let me know if i'm forgetting something)

word count: 14.3 k

summary: after a night out stirs old feelings, a late-night text opens a door (y/n) swore she’d locked for good. when fate brings them face-to-face at a packed underground gig, sparks fly, wounds reopen, and the line between anger and desire blurs. one reckless night later, they confront what’s left between them—no promises, just raw truth and the fragile hope of second chances.

lu's note: this is officially my longest one-shot ever—and i loved every messy, tender, smut-filled second of writing it. 🖤

i’ll be shifting focus to finish chapter 3 of opposites don’t attract, they destroy (finally, i know lmao) so if content slows down a little, that’s why!! thank you for always being patient with me and letting me take my time with these chaotic little love stories

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ masterlist⠀ | ⠀taglist⠀ | ⠀more to read

the music was loud, someone had spilled beer on the floor, and (y/n) was clutching a half-warm drink like it was her lifeline. she was supposed to be having fun. that had been the plan—get dressed up, laugh too hard, maybe flirt with someone cute and harmless just to feel something again.

but then steph, all glitter lids and tipsy honesty, leaned over and tilted her head like a curious cat.

“hey... didn’t you used to come here with namjoon?”

and just like that, it was over.

it wasn’t the question itself—it was the way the energy shifted. the air changed. the people around them—friends, old classmates, acquaintances that still followed her on instagram out of habit—went quiet in that careful way. like everyone expected her to shatter.

(y/n) smiled. it wasn’t fake, exactly. just... practiced.

“we’re not together anymore,” she said, tipping her cup back. the alcohol went down rough. “it’s been a while.”

steph’s eyes widened. “shit, sorry—i didn’t mean to—”

“it’s fine,” (y/n) cut in, voice light. too light. “i mean, you didn’t know.”

there was a beat of silence. one of her friends, amara, looked like she wanted to say something comforting, but thought better of it. someone else cleared their throat. the music kept playing but it felt like it had gotten quieter.

no one asked anything else.

the hallway outside the bar was dim, lit only by a flickering exit sign and the vague hum of someone’s vape cloud still hanging in the air. (y/n) leaned back against the peeling brick wall, cold seeping into her spine through her thin shirt, and took a slow breath in.

not to cry.

just to breathe.

the night buzzed behind her—voices, basslines, laughter. it all felt far away now, like she was watching it from underwater. her buzz had dulled. or maybe soured. she couldn't tell anymore.

she hated that a name—just a name—could still change the temperature of her blood.

a year. it had been a year. she’d dyed her hair, moved apartments, started journaling again like she was a teenager with a heartbreak playlist. she’d told everyone she was fine. and she was. mostly. enough.

but the way steph had said his name…

namjoon. like he was still hers. like it hadn’t ended in the kind of silence that made her doubt the entire thing ever happened.

“fuck,” she muttered under her breath, rubbing at her arms. the night was cooler than she expected. or maybe that was just what regret felt like.

she checked her phone—reflex. no messages.

she shouldn’t text him. not now. not like this.

her fingers hovered. it was so stupid. she knew it was stupid. but the truth was—

she did miss having him around.

not just the sex, not the shared playlists or the stupid way he folded her laundry like a librarian shelving books. she missed the quiet. the safety. the way he’d always known when she needed to be held without being asked.

and before she could talk herself out of it, her thumbs were moving.

i miss having you around.

she stares at her phone just a moment before locking the screen. “this is so stupid” mumbling under her breath.

the bass was still pounding when she walked back in, like nothing had happened. like her stomach wasn’t twisted and her throat didn’t feel like it had been scraped raw from the inside. someone handed her another drink—she didn’t even catch who. she nodded her thanks, forced another smile, and knocked it back too fast.

the warmth never hit her chest. it just sank.

she hovered at the edge of the circle, letting her friends’ chatter wash over her like static. the laughter felt too loud. the neon lights too bright. she wasn’t in it anymore—just floating above, watching herself nod, sip, grin. a ghost in her own skin.

steph tried to meet her eyes once or twice. (y/n) didn’t let her.

after another drink, she checked the time. 3:08 a.m. perfect excuse.

“hey,” she said, interrupting a story she wasn’t listening to, “i’ve got things to do in the morning, so… i’m gonna head out.”

a couple of her friends blinked. amara pouted. someone offered her a ride.

“nah,” she smiled. “i’m good. thanks.”

steph didn’t say anything. just looked at her like she knew.

(y/n) ignored it, squeezed a few arms goodbye, and slipped out before anyone could stop her.

the night air hit her like a slap—cold, sharp, honest.

she pulled her phone out of her coat pocket. her unsent message was still open on the screen.

i miss having you around.

still there. still blinking.

she didn’t delete it.

but she didn’t send it either.

by the time she stepped into her apartment, the quiet almost made her flinch. no voices, no music, no bass crawling under her skin. just the soft hum of the fridge and the dull echo of her own steps against the floor. 

she toed off her shoes in the dark, letting them fall sideways by the door. her makeup still clung to her skin, smudged slightly under one eye, and her jacket was slipping off her shoulder, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. everything felt too heavy. her arms. her chest. even her thoughts.

she didn’t bother changing out of her clothes. didn’t brush her teeth. didn’t even check her phone again. she just dropped her bag somewhere near the couch and made the short, autopilot walk to her bed, collapsing onto the mattress like something hollowed out. the city buzzed faintly through the window, a distant lullaby of car horns and wind, and within seconds, sleep took her like a blackout.

when she opened her eyes again, the light was harsh.

her head ached in that familiar, dehydrated way. her throat was dry, and her limbs felt tangled in fabric she couldn’t remember putting on. the sun was too bright. the room smelled faintly like whatever perfume she’d sprayed hours before and the remnants of sweat and bar smoke.

she groaned, dragging her arm over her face. reached blindly for her phone.

6 unread messages. none from him.

she was halfway through a notification from a food delivery app when she noticed the chat still open behind it. his name. his thread.

and there it was.

the text she swore she didn’t send.

i miss having you around.

right beneath it:

read 4:17 am.

she blinked at it. once. twice. waiting for something—anything—to change. maybe a reply would pop up. maybe it had glitched. maybe this was a dream and she hadn’t hit send after all.

but no.

he’d read it.

and that was it.

no typing bubble. no three dots. no follow-up. no you too. not even a dry hope you’re good.

just silence.

the kind that wrapped around her like cold water.

her stomach twisted, hot with humiliation. god, had she really sent it? like that? no punctuation, no explanation, just—that? a drunk confession disguised as a throwaway text?

she dropped the phone onto her sheets and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. she wasn’t going to cry. this wasn’t something to cry about.

it was just a text.

just a ghost.

just another reminder that he was still good at walking away.

she didn’t even get out of bed until noon.

and even then, it wasn’t because she wanted to—it was because her bladder forced her to. the sun spilling through the curtains made her wince, and every part of her mouth felt like sandpaper. she moved like she was made of rust, each step slow, dragging, her thoughts heavier than her body.

she didn’t check her phone again.

not right away.

instead, she wandered to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and leaned against the counter in that hunched-over way she only ever did when she was hungover or emotionally bruised. this morning, she was both.

by the time she sat down at her desk and opened her laptop, her phone was right there next to it—staring at her. taunting her. the temptation was unbearable. not to look at his message—she already knew what was (and wasn’t) there—but to do something about it.

like text him again.

maybe something casual. ironic. a recovery joke.

lol sorry drunk me got sentimental ignore that, rough night lol forget it

but what was the point? he read it. read it. and said nothing.

what the hell else was she supposed to do? follow it up with an apology? beg him to talk to her? no—no, fuck that. she’d already handed him a piece of her vulnerability on a silver platter. she wasn’t about to keep spoon-feeding it to him.

still…

she thought about it.

the entire day, it circled her like a mosquito—tiny, buzzing, impossible to swat away. every time she opened another tab, washed another dish, tied her hair up, the thought came creeping back in: what if he’s waiting for me to say more?

what if he wants her to chase him?

what if he’s just being cautious?

what if he read it and regretted not answering, but didn’t know how?

what if.

what if.

what if.

she typed at least five different drafts of a follow-up. none of them made it past the keyboard. each one felt weaker than the last. some were angry. some were sarcastic. one was just a string of question marks she didn’t even remember typing.

eventually, she just set her phone screen-down and pushed it to the far corner of the table. opened a new document. tried to work. but even her words—normally her safe place, her breath—betrayed her.

every sentence reminded her of him. or worse, of herself with him.

she was halfway through pretending to write an email when the memory of the message hit her again like a slap: i miss having you around.

how pathetic. how raw.

and he hadn’t said a thing.

the knock came just after seven.

soft at first, then impatient. then followed by the sound of a key in the lock.

(y/n) didn’t move from the couch.

she was still in the same hoodie she threw on after her shower, the sleeves tugged over her hands, one leg curled beneath her and the other hanging off the edge like a question mark. a half-eaten banana and a cup of tea sat forgotten on the coffee table, next to her phone, which she hadn’t touched in hours. not since the last time she opened their thread. not since she stared at the word read until it blurred.

the door creaked open, and the scent of bulgogi and rice and something fried cut through the stale air of her apartment.

“i swear to god if you’re dead in here i’m going to bring you back just to slap you,” amara called out.

a beat.

then: “...oh.”

(y/n) didn’t look up. just mumbled, “hi.”

amara’s boots clicked across the floor, and then she was dropping two plastic bags onto the coffee table and kneeling in front of her like some kind of holy intervention.

“jesus christ, you look like a sad victorian ghost. have you even eaten?”

“kinda.”

amara narrowed her eyes. “do fridge grapes and ibuprofen count?”

(y/n) cracked the ghost of a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

amara sighed and sat beside her, her presence immediate and grounding. she unpacked the food with practiced ease, muttering something about “soy sauce therapy” and “emergency carbs.” they ate in silence for a few minutes, chopsticks scraping against containers, the only soundtrack a soft playlist humming from (y/n)’s laptop.

then amara said, casually, “so… how bad is it?”

(y/n) didn’t answer at first.

she took another bite of kimchi, chewed slowly. tried to pretend it didn’t taste like regret.

then, finally: “i texted him.”

amara didn’t blink. “namjoon?”

(y/n) nodded.

“when?”

“last night.”

“what’d you say?”

(y/n) swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. “i miss having you around.”

amara’s eyebrows shot up. “oh damn. straight to the throat, huh?”

“i didn’t mean to send it. i thought i didn’t. but i did.”

“...and?”

“he read it.” her voice cracked, just slightly. “and he didn’t reply.”

amara leaned back against the couch, exhaling through her nose. she didn’t look surprised. but she did look like she was calculating something in her head.

“bitch,” she finally said, “i love you, so i need to ask—what were you hoping he’d say?”

(y/n) blinked. “i don’t know.”

“yes, you do.”

“i didn’t expect anything, i just—”

amara gave her a look.

(y/n) sighed, letting her head fall against the couch cushion. “i guess… maybe i wanted him to say he missed me too. or that he’d been thinking about me. or that it sucked for him, too.”

amara nodded slowly, eyes soft but steady. “and instead, he gave you silence.”

a beat.

“again.”

that last word landed hard. (y/n) flinched, just a little. but she didn’t argue.

she hated how familiar this feeling was. the waiting. the not-knowing. the pretending not to care while dying inside.

amara nudged her with her foot. “you know this doesn’t mean you’re pathetic, right?”

“sure feels like it.”

“you were vulnerable. that’s brave. and it doesn’t make you desperate, it makes you human. but let’s also not pretend that this isn’t who he’s always been—someone who disappears when you hand him something fragile.”

(y/n)’s throat tightened.

amara continued, voice gentler now. “you don’t have to chase someone who doesn’t know what to do with your heart. it’s not your job to teach him how to hold it.”

that was when the tears finally came.

not loud. not many. just a couple that slipped down her cheeks quietly, like they’d been waiting all day for permission.

amara didn’t make a big deal out of it. she just scooted closer, wrapped an arm around (y/n)’s shoulders, and pulled her into her side like they’d done this a hundred times before.

and maybe they had.

you don’t have to chase someone who doesn’t know what to do with your heart.

the words hung in the air like incense smoke—sweet, heavy, lingering long after they were said. (y/n) didn’t answer. she couldn’t. her throat was too tight. so she just leaned into amara’s shoulder, blinking up at the ceiling like if she stared hard enough, the tears would slide back in.

amara let her sit there in silence for a moment, fingers tracing idle circles on (y/n)’s back.

then, gently: “you know this won’t be forever, right?”

(y/n) made a soft, scoffing noise. “what won’t?”

“this feeling. the ache. the shame. you won’t always be this girl who sent the text and got ignored.”

she didn’t believe that. not yet. but hearing someone say it out loud made it hurt a little less.

amara sat up a little straighter, nudging her side. “wanna hear something stupid?”

(y/n) wiped under her eyes. “always.”

“i’ve been holding onto this for three weeks.”

“holding onto what?”

amara reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out two crumpled, slightly bent paper tickets.

“you remember Still Moss?”

(y/n)’s head jerked up. “no fucking way.”

amara grinned. “they’re playing saturday. small set. underground venue in itaewon. i saw the flyer on some niche subreddit and snatched the tickets before they were even posted officially.”

(y/n) blinked. “amar—what the hell, why didn’t you tell me?”

“because you were doing better,” amara said, voice soft but honest. “you weren’t thinking about him every day. you were flirting with the guy at your gym. you were laughing again. and i didn’t want to pull you back into memories of the past just because one of our old favorites decided to crawl out of their indie cave.”

(y/n) took the ticket with both hands, staring at it like it might bite.

“but,” amara added, “now? i think you need something real. something alive. not a text thread. not a read receipt. not silence in a chat that used to be your whole world.”

(y/n)’s lips parted, but no words came out.

amara shrugged. “you don’t have to go for me. but you should go for you. for the part of you that wasn’t just his. the part of you that screamed lyrics and danced like a lunatic in your kitchen and wore that ugly green beanie just because they mentioned it in a b-side.”

“that beanie was iconic.”

“it was moldy avocado vomit and you loved it.”

(y/n) laughed. just once. and it cracked something open.

the grief didn’t vanish. but it shifted. made space for something else. not quite joy. not even hope. just a sliver of maybe.

“you really think it’ll help?” she whispered, still clutching the ticket.

“i think it’ll remind you that you’re more than what he didn’t say.”

(y/n) looked down at the printed text again. the date. the time. the name of a band that once meant everything.

she wasn’t sure if she could face it. but something in her chest fluttered anyway.

“okay,” she said. “i’ll go.”

amara raised her brow. “with me?”

“obviously with you.”

amara grinned and tossed a napkin at her. “cool. you’ve got two days to get your shit together, wash your hair, and remember who the fuck you are.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered this time.

-----

she stared at her closet like it had offended her.

clothes were already strewn across the bed—black mesh tops, a beat-up denim jacket with a fading patch on the back, her favorite pants that somehow always made her feel like she was too much and not enough all at once. she had half a mind to cancel. text amara and say she got sick. or had work. or—fuck it—just ghost the entire thing.

because this was his band.

not officially, obviously. not legally. but still—he was the one who found them. the one who burned their first EP onto a cheap CD and played it in his car at full volume while they drove through the city with the windows down and their hands out like wings. he was the one who paused every other song to say “listen to this part, wait, right here—this is the line that wrecked me.”

they used to talk about seeing Still Moss live like it was some bucket list item. one day. someday. a future tense wrapped in shared laughter and tangled limbs.

and now she was going without him.

(y/n) sank down onto the bed, the air suddenly thick, her fingers trembling as they pulled at the edge of her comforter.

what was she doing?

what the fuck was she trying to do? prove something? distract herself? reclaim something that maybe never really belonged to her alone?

she reached for her phone, scrolled back to his name—again. the message still sat there like a bruise on the screen.

i miss having you around.

read. still no reply.

and now she was going to the show they used to dream about, pretending it didn’t mean anything?

who was she kidding?

she dropped the phone face-down on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

it felt like treason. like stepping into that venue without him was rewriting history, erasing the version of herself that once existed in his arms. she’d be surrounded by music they once called theirs, lyrics that felt like inside jokes, moments only they knew how to hold. what if they played that song? the one he always hummed when he kissed her shoulder half-asleep?

how could she stand in that crowd and not feel his absence like a blade?

still.

not going would mean something, too. it would mean he still owned that part of her.

and maybe—just maybe—going would be her way of saying: you don’t get to have it all.

her reflection caught in the mirror across the room. she looked tired. haunted. but underneath the exhaustion was something steadier. the shadow of resolve.

she stood up.

grabbed the mesh top.

and started getting ready.

the street outside the venue was already humming with life—groups of twenty-somethings crowding the sidewalk, passing around half-smoked cigarettes and cheap convenience store beers, the faint thrum of bass leaking through the brick walls like the night had a pulse.

(y/n) tugged her jacket tighter around her body, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

no sign of amara yet.

she checked her phone for the third time in five minutes. 7:48 p.m. she’d said they’d meet a little before eight, but amara was always early. always waiting on the curb with snacks shoved in her bag and a too-loud story to fill the silence.

and then her phone buzzed.

a text.

[amara :] babe i’m so sorry. something came up. i can’t make it tonight. pls don’t kill me ily :(

(y/n) stared at the message.

read it again.

then once more, just to make sure she hadn’t misread it. but there it was. soft. apologetic. and devastating in its own casual way.

for a second, everything felt like static. the noise around her, the lights, the laughter—it all flattened into white.

she looked up at the venue entrance.

the line was shorter now. people were already filtering inside. the music inside was getting louder, familiar bass lines testing the sound system. Still Moss. she could already picture the setlist in her head.

she hesitated.

every cell in her body told her to leave. to turn around. take the train home. crawl into bed and pretend none of this ever happened.

because now it wasn’t just a gig. it was a battlefield.

but the thing was—she’d already fought this fight with herself earlier.

in the mirror, while deciding on her top. while wiping mascara smudges from under her eyes. while whispering to her reflection, you’re allowed to have things that used to belong to both of you.

and now, standing in front of the venue alone, she realized something else: leaving would feel too much like surrender.

to namjoon.

to the past.

to the version of herself that thought rejection meant she had to disappear.

no fucking way.

she took a breath.

pushed her phone back into her bag.

and stepped into the venue.

it was dim and loud and crowded, the floor sticky under her boots and the air thick with anticipation. the lights were still up. people milling around, drinks in hand, conversations half-shouted. she squeezed through the crowd toward a spot near the back—not close enough to feel suffocated, but just enough to see the stage, to feel the throb of the speakers in her chest.

and despite everything—the anxiety still clawing at her ribs, the faint echo of read 4:17 am playing on a loop in her head—she felt it.

a flicker of excitement.

this was her night.

and she wasn’t going to let the ghost of a man who couldn’t even text her back take that from her.

the venue had that familiar, half-feral energy only places like this could hold—dim ceiling lights hanging from exposed pipes, old show flyers layered on the walls like bark, the faint hum of something spilled and sticky in the air. voices rose and fell around her, half-drunk excitement wrapped around slurred words and laughter. no one here knew her. no one looked twice.

it helped.

for a second, it helped.

(y/n) found a spot near a worn pillar toward the left side of the room, far enough from the stage to breathe, close enough to see the instruments already arranged—drum set lit in soft red, mic stands waiting like they knew secrets. she crossed her arms and let herself sink into the pulse of the crowd. the subtle rhythm of people shuffling, talking, sipping, swaying.

Still Moss would go on soon.

she could feel it.

and beneath her nerves—below the tension stitched into her shoulders, below the phantom sting of rejection still lodged in her chest—there was something else. something familiar.

want.

not for him. not for the past.

for the music. for this night. for this version of herself that had always existed under the hurt.

someone brushed past her and muttered an apology. she nodded. took a slow sip of her drink. let the noise rush around her like static. the pre-show playlist crackled overhead, layered with old demos and deep cuts, and when the familiar intro of one of their early tracks started up—their song, the one from their first EP—her throat tightened.

but she stayed.

she didn’t flinch.

the lights overhead flickered once. twice.

and then they dimmed.

a hush spread through the crowd—not silence, but reverence. anticipation. the kind that hit you low in the gut.

she smiled.

just a little.

and for a moment, she forgot about the message. the rejection. the ache.

for a moment, she was just a girl in a crowd, heart beating in sync with the rest of them.

the stage lights snapped on—white-hot and gold—and the band filed out one by one to the kind of roar that felt earned. the guitarist adjusted his strap. the drummer spun his sticks once, twice, like ritual. the lead singer stepped up to the mic, tugged his cap low, and said—

“you guys ready for a loud fucking night or what?”

the room answered with a scream.

(y/n) screamed with them.

and for those first few songs, she let go.

she danced. not like she used to—not wild and fearless—but she moved. she let the bass hit her ribs and the guitar wrap around her neck and the lyrics pull her mouth into half-remembered shapes. her hands were in the air by the second chorus. her voice raw by the third.

she was alive.

she was alive.

and that’s exactly when it happened.

a shift in the air. not dramatic. not cinematic. just something off. like the static changed frequencies.

she turned her head.

and there he was.

namjoon.

standing maybe twenty feet away, half in shadow, eyes already locked on her like he hadn’t stopped looking since she walked in.

her pulse stuttered.

she didn’t look again. wouldn’t. she turned back to the stage with the kind of sharp, practiced movement that screamed I didn’t see you and I don’t care, even though her lungs had forgotten how to work and her drink suddenly tasted like regret.

the crowd surged forward with the start of another song, and she let herself be pulled along, like if she just moved fast enough, she could outrun the sudden roar of thoughts in her head. she focused on the band—on the flicker of stage lights slicing through fog, on the way the lead singer’s voice cracked in the chorus like a prayer, on the guy next to her who was already elbowing into her space trying to get closer. she focused on anything but him.

but she could feel it.

his stare.

like heat at the back of her neck, heavy and deliberate, digging in like he was trying to memorize the way she stood now. the way she danced without him. the way she still came, still claimed this night as her own. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t tender. it was invasive. unbearable.

she swallowed hard and lifted her hands, let herself sway with the rhythm, kept her body in motion just to give her mind something to anchor to. the crowd was louder now, rougher—people pushing forward, eager, half-drunk on adrenaline and cheap whiskey. someone brushed up against her, a hand catching too low at her waist before slipping off. another person stumbled into her back, barely catching themselves with a muttered apology and a laugh that didn’t reach their eyes.

the unintended groping, the crush of sweat and sound and strangers—it was a lot. too much. normally she’d lean into it, lose herself. but now every brush of skin felt like static. like him. like memory bleeding into muscle.

she didn’t dare look back.

but she knew.

he was still watching.

maybe trying to figure out if it was really her. maybe trying to decide if he should come over. maybe just… feeling it. the pull. the hurt. the consequence of silence.

her heart beat against her ribs like it was trying to break out.

stay cool. that’s what she kept telling herself. over and over, like a mantra between lyrics. stay cool. stay cool. he doesn’t get to ruin this for you. not again.

and god, she almost believed it.

almost.

but beneath it all, there was still that other voice—small, traitorous, terrified—asking: why is he here? did he know you’d come? is this some kind of joke? or is it fate, sick and stupid, dragging you both back together just to watch you fall apart again?

the lights flashed. the bass hit. the song climbed to its peak.

and she danced.

not for him.

but in spite of him.

she didn’t notice how thick the crowd had gotten until she tried to move.

one song bled into another, and suddenly the bodies pressing in around her weren’t dancing—they were shoving. climbing. surging toward the stage like it was salvation. someone behind her yelled something she couldn’t make out, and the girl to her left kept pushing her elbow into (y/n)’s ribs, eyes locked on the front like she’d sooner break bone than give up her view.

she tried to shift, just enough to step back, maybe slide toward the edge of the crowd—but there was nowhere to go. her foot caught on someone’s bag, someone else’s arm tangled with hers, and in the chaos she realized—fuck—she was stuck.

her breath hitched.

it wasn’t panic. not yet. but it was close.

the air was getting tighter, hotter. the music roared in her chest like thunder, no longer comforting, just loud. she ducked her head, tried to wedge her way sideways—but the wave of bodies moved again, and this time it nearly knocked her off balance. her shoulder clipped someone’s back. her hands went up instinctively, useless.

and then—

a hand.

fingers wrapping around her wrist—firm, familiar, undeniable.

she froze.

looked up.

and there he was.

namjoon.

right in front of her now, eyes wide, mouth tight, brows drawn in that exact expression she remembered from every argument they never really finished—worry twisted into anger. or maybe it was the other way around. either way, it hit her like a punch to the ribs.

his hand was warm.

his grip steady.

and his face—

god, his face.

he didn’t look surprised. not exactly. more like—rattled. like seeing her here was something he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head, but the reality of it still threw him off balance. his jaw clenched. his eyes scanned her face like he was checking for damage, like he expected her to be bruised and broken just from being here.

she didn’t know what to say.

she couldn’t say anything.

the crowd pushed again, and this time he pulled her toward him—closer, instinctively protective, his body shielding hers like it was second nature. and maybe it was.

he leaned in, voice low but urgent in her ear. “you okay?”

she didn’t answer.

she couldn’t.

because all she could think was: you left. and I still wanted to marry you.

and now here he was, dragging her out of the storm like nothing had ever broken between them.

the crowd didn’t care who they were or what cracked, fragile history hung between them—it just kept pressing in, louder, harder, all elbows and shouted lyrics and spilled drinks. someone bumped into her back, hard enough to make her stumble, and she felt namjoon’s grip tighten around her wrist immediately. not rough, not possessive—just instinctive. like his body was answering a question before his brain could form the words.

he pulled her closer, chest brushing against her shoulder now, his other hand moving to the small of her back without thinking, guiding her through the tide like muscle memory. even after all this time, he still moved like someone who wanted to shield her from the world, still held her like she was precious and breakable—even if he had been the one to shatter her last.

“we should move,” he said, close enough that she felt the shape of the words more than heard them. his voice was low, almost calm, but the tension in his jaw told a different story. his eyes—those warm, unreadable eyes—searched her face in the flickering stage light, darting over her skin like he was looking for bruises, for signs that she’d been hurt. not just by the crowd.

by anything.

and she hated that it still made her want to cry.

she nodded, or maybe she didn’t. maybe her body just leaned into the pull of him, because the next thing she knew he was gently—gently—pressing her ahead of him through the crush of people, using his frame to carve a path through the chaos. every time someone got too close, he shifted, stepping between her and the noise, that quiet, seething frustration radiating off him like heat—not at her. never at her. just the situation. the pushing. the closeness. the way she’d been caught in all of it, small and alone and so vulnerable.

and she could feel it—how hard he was trying not to let it show. the anger simmering under his skin. the fear, maybe, buried somewhere beneath it. but it was there, plain as breath: he cared. he still fucking cared.

and that—more than the hands or the eyes or the words—was the most dangerous thing of all.

the bathroom corridor was narrow and dim, lined with peeling posters and flickering overhead lights that buzzed like flies. the smell of stale beer clung to the walls, and the occasional echo of the concert leaked through the cracked door down the hall, muffled now. distant. the adrenaline from the crowd hadn’t faded, not fully, but out here, in the quiet, everything felt sharper. more dangerous.

namjoon turned to face her the second they stepped into the space. he didn’t let go of her wrist until he was sure she was steady on her feet, and even then, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than they should have. like he didn’t want to. like maybe part of him still remembered what it felt like to hold her like this for no reason at all.

he stepped back then, ran a hand through his hair, and started in before she could even catch her breath.

“you shouldn’t have been in there alone,” he said, voice low but tight, like he was trying not to snap. “you know how packed these places get. it’s not safe, not when you’re by yourself. what if I hadn’t been there? you could’ve gotten hurt, trampled, or—”

she blinked, still catching up, heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

namjoon’s eyes stayed locked on hers, jaw clenched like he was still trying to hold the anger in his mouth, but it was starting to fracture—splinters showing through the edges. the fluorescent light above them flickered once, casting shadows across his face, and she hated how familiar he still looked in this lighting. like every too-late night in their old apartment, like every fight that ended with her curled up in his hoodie and his hands in her hair whispering, we’re okay, aren’t we? we’re okay.

but they weren’t okay now.

they hadn’t been in a long time.

“i wasn’t alone by choice,” she said, arms folded tight across her chest. “amara was supposed to come with me.”

namjoon’s mouth parted slightly.

she didn’t wait for him to speak.

“she bought the tickets. said i needed to get out of my head for once. i was going to cancel when she bailed but—” she swallowed hard. “i told myself i’d be fine.”

his expression shifted. not dramatically. not in that open-book way most people’s faces moved. but in the subtle ways she still remembered—his brows pulling in just enough, the set of his mouth softening like it suddenly hurt to keep it closed.

“seriously, what were you thinking? you don’t even like crowds like that. and if amara was supposed to be with you, why didn’t you just leave when she bailed? jesus, you could’ve—”

“you’re such an asshole,” she muttered.

the words slipped out before she could stop them. not loud. but loud enough to cut through him.

he froze.

the silence between them was immediate, electric.

she shook her head, chest tight, throat burning. “you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you’re worried about me when you left me on read.”

he stared at her, jaw tight, but he didn’t interrupt.

“you don’t get to act like it’s still your job to take care of me,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to piss her off. “i sent you one fucking message. one. and you couldn’t even be bothered to answer. and now you’re here lecturing me like you give a shit?”

his eyes darkened. “what was I supposed to say, huh?” he snapped, stepping forward. “you text me in the middle of the night after we haven’t spoken in over a year. what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

her mouth opened. then closed.

namjoon kept going, voice rising like he was finally letting himself feel the thing he’d been pushing down. “you think that didn’t mess with my head? you think I haven’t spent the last few nights wondering if I should’ve said something? if I was allowed to say something? because for a second I thought—fuck, I thought you were drunk, or lonely, or both, and if I said the wrong thing, I’d make it worse.”

she laughed, bitter and breathless. “so you decided saying nothing was the better choice.”

“it was a dick move, on both ends” he said, quieter now. not denying it. just... laying it out.

they stared at each other.

her back against the wall. his shoulders drawn tight like he was holding something back with both hands. and the air between them? thick with everything they didn’t say after they broke up. everything they still don’t know how to explain.

the silence after his last words stretched taut between them, like the air was waiting for one of them to break it. (y/n) felt her breath coming fast, too fast, chest rising and falling like she’d just run a mile. her heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons—rage, confusion, grief. want. all tangled together so tightly she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

namjoon was standing barely a foot away, his jaw clenched, arms stiff at his sides like if he moved even a little he’d reach for her, and he didn’t trust himself to do it.

and fuck, she hated how familiar he still felt.

the heat between them was unbearable. it had nothing to do with the venue. nothing to do with the crowd they’d escaped. it was just them, trapped in this too-small hallway, skin prickling, hearts racing, eyes locked.

his gaze flicked down—her lips. then back up.

hers did the same.

and it was like time held its breath.

her mouth parted just slightly, and he leaned in a fraction of an inch, like he couldn’t help it, like something in him needed to be closer. and for a second—one long, shattering second—it felt inevitable. like their mouths were going to meet, and this whole night would collapse into something hot and reckless and full of everything they’d been avoiding.

but they didn’t kiss.

neither of them moved.

and the restraint hurt worse than any breakup ever could.

namjoon exhaled shakily, his voice suddenly quiet. “i should walk you home.”

just like that, the fire between them shifted. cooled at the edges. but didn’t go out.

she blinked, throat thick. “what?”

he met her eyes. no anger there now. just something raw. something so tender it made her chest ache.

“it’s late,” he said. “and i don’t want you going alone.”

her lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say.

because she should say no.

she should tell him to go to hell. to let her be. to stop doing these stupid, soft things that made it so hard to hate him.

but the part of her that sent that text? the part that never really stopped missing him? that part wanted to say yes.

god, it wanted to say yes.

the walk back to her place unfolded like a dream they weren’t sure they were awake for—quiet, disorienting, charged with too much everything. neither of them said a word, not at first. not when they left the venue. not when they crossed the street or turned down the familiar blocks of her neighborhood, shadows stretching long under the streetlights, the faint pulse of the city flickering somewhere behind them.

they didn’t have to speak to feel it.

every step buzzed with unsaid things. every brush of his arm near hers felt like an accident that wasn’t. she could feel his body heat like a second skin. like he was walking too close, not quite touching her, but there—solid, steady, present in a way he hadn’t been in over a year.

and she hated how natural it felt.

hated that her body still remembered the rhythm of him. the pace. the weight. the subtle, invisible pull like gravity still worked differently when he was near.

she didn’t know how they got to her building so fast. one second she was replaying their argument in her head like a song stuck on loop, and the next—she was unlocking the front door, his hand hovering behind her like it used to when she fumbled for her keys, like he still had the instinct to catch her if she dropped anything at all.

they stepped inside.

dim hallway. elevator out of service. and then the climb—three floors of quiet tension, every footfall like punctuation. they didn’t speak, not even as she led him to her door, not even as she stood there with the key halfway into the lock, heartbeat thudding in her throat.

and when she turned to face him again, everything came rushing back.

the fight.

the guilt.

the aching, unbearable want.

“you’re still mad,” he said quietly, eyes locked on hers like he couldn’t bear to look away.

she scoffed, soft and tired. “of course i’m mad.”

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“yeah?” she said, voice tight, bitter. “then why did you act like i didn’t exist?”

his face twitched, jaw clenching. “because i didn’t know how to handle it, okay? you don’t get to show up in my messages like that and expect me to be fine.”

“i didn’t expect you to be fine,” she shot back, stepping toward him now, all the space between them collapsing. “i didn’t expect anything, namjoon. i was drunk and stupid and—god, i just missed you. i wasn’t trying to trap you or make some kind of fucking dramatic statement—i just… i don’t know. i didn’t think. but you did. you saw it. and you chose nothing.”

he was breathing harder now. so was she. neither of them looked away.

“do you know how much it hurt?” she whispered, voice breaking. “after everything? to be left on read by the one person i thought would at least… at least say something?”

his mouth parted. something crumpled behind his eyes. but he didn’t speak.

they were so close now that she could feel the edge of his breath against her cheek, smell the faintest trace of something warm and familiar clinging to his collar. the scent of him broke her more than anything he could’ve said.

she wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they were standing toe to toe, barely a breath apart, the keys in her hand forgotten, her back nearly brushing the door. his hands clenched at his sides like he wanted to reach for her but didn’t trust himself. her fingers curled around the hem of her jacket like they were the only thing keeping her grounded.

the silence between them? it wasn’t empty.

it was full. heavy. breaking at the seams.

they weren’t done.

not even close.

namjoon’s eyes searched hers like he was looking for an opening, like if he could just name the thing between them, maybe it would make sense. but it didn’t. it never had. and now, standing inches from her door, with his chest rising and falling like he’d just run here barefoot, all he could manage was, “i didn’t want to make it worse.”

she blinked. slow. disbelieving.

“worse?” she echoed, voice low and razor-sharp. “you think ignoring me made it better?”

he flinched, just a little. his gaze dropped to the floor, like the tile pattern suddenly held the answers. “i thought if i said something, it would… reopen everything. and i didn’t think you wanted that.”

“so instead you just pretended i didn’t exist?” her voice cracked, raw now, too open. “you were the one person who knew how hard that year was for me and you—god, you didn’t even ask if i was okay. you just watched me bleed.”

he took a step back, not far, just enough to pace, to get his bearings—but even that small distance made her feel cold.

“you think it was easy for me?” he said, louder now, no longer calm. “you think i’ve just been—what—fine? do you know how many times i almost called you? how many fucking nights i picked up the phone just to hear your voice and had to put it back down because i didn’t trust myself not to fuck everything up even more?”

“then why didn’t you?” she snapped, stepping toward him again. “why didn’t you call? or text? or do anything?”

“because i loved you too much to hurt you again!” he said it like it burned coming out, like it wasn’t meant to be said at all, not now, not here. but it was out there now. between them. sizzling like an exposed wire.

her breath hitched.

he stared at her, wild-eyed and wrecked. “i still fucking love you, okay? even when i shouldn’t. even when it’s a terrible idea. even when i know you deserve someone who doesn’t keep you waiting at two a.m. for a message that never comes.”

her hand went to the doorknob, like she needed something to hold on to. like if she didn’t, she might collapse under the weight of his words.

“you don’t get to say that now,” she said, barely above a whisper. “you don’t get to stand here and tell me you still love me when you spent the last year pretending i was nothing.”

“i never pretended you were nothing,” he said, voice breaking, “i’ve been pretending you were everything, and that i could live without it.”

and just like that—the thread snapped.

they didn’t move toward each other so much as fall into the space between them, mouths colliding not with grace but with desperation. her back hit the door with a soft thud, his hands finally finding her waist like they were made for it, her fingers tangling in his hair like no time had passed at all. it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t sweet. it was feral—the kind of kiss that tasted like every word they didn’t say, every night spent apart, every second of missing wrapped up in heat and teeth and breathless curses.

there was no going back now.

not after this.

his mouth tasted like all her worst decisions and all her best memories.

they didn’t stop kissing when they left the hallway. they didn’t even pretend to. his hands stayed glued to her hips, dragging her closer with every step like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go. and she couldn’t let go, not when every inch of him felt like muscle memory, not when her hands had minds of their own, sliding under his jacket, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt like she needed to feel the warmth of him to believe this was real.

her keys fumbled in the lock, hands shaking too much to find the hole, her mouth still locked on his, lips bruising against his, his teeth catching her bottom lip just enough to make her gasp and drop the keys entirely.

“fuck,” she breathed, laughing against his mouth, frustrated and drunk on him.

he reached around her, growling low under his breath, picked up the keys, found the lock like it was his apartment and not hers, and shoved the door open.

they stumbled in, mouths never parting. she kicked off her shoes without looking, dragging him inside by the collar. his jacket hit the floor with a dull thud, followed by hers. the air in the room was warmer than it should’ve been. or maybe it was just them. heat radiating from every inch of skin, every frantic touch, every groan pressed into a mouth too busy to stop.

they didn’t bother turning on the lights. didn’t need them.

his hands were everywhere—fisting the fabric at her sides, sliding up her ribs, down her back, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. like he was still angry, still caught in the argument, and this was the only way to speak now. she didn’t mind. she wanted it. wanted to be touched like this. wanted him like this—desperate and undone, like he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her either.

they reached the bedroom door, breath ragged, foreheads touching, lips still grazing each other’s in frantic, broken passes. her hand was on his chest, nails dragging lightly down muscle, his fingers pressing bruises into her waist like punctuation marks.

“this is a stupid idea,” he whispered, voice strained, wrecked, like the words hurt to say.

she grabbed his face, pulled him in again, kissed him like she could erase the thought.

“i don’t care,” she whispered against his lips. “stay. just tonight.”

the way she said it—soft, cracked, a little too close to pleading—broke something in him.

he didn’t answer. didn’t have to.

his mouth was back on hers before she could take another breath, rough, needy, starving, like he was trying to carve his name into her all over again. their bodies collided in the doorway, hands fighting with layers of clothing, mouths locking again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last.

they were already past the point of no return.

and neither of them gave a damn.

they didn’t make it to the bed right away.

he had her pinned to the wall just outside the doorway, their mouths crashing again like every kiss was a bite, a battle. namjoon’s hands gripped her hips hard, dragging her against him, and the low groan he let out when their bodies collided was guttural, like something primal had been knocked loose.

his lips broke from hers only to move down her jaw, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. “fuck—do you know what you did to me?” he muttered, voice rough, gravel-thick. “a year, and you text me like that... then just disappear again?”

her fingers scrambled at the hem of his shirt, yanking it upward, her breath hot against his throat. “you think i didn’t suffer too?” she snapped, dragging the shirt over his head. “you think it didn’t kill me to say nothing when you didn’t reply?”

he stepped forward, forcing her back again, until her shoulder blades hit the hallway wall. his bare chest pressed against hers, skin to skin, and he didn’t pause—just dipped down and pulled her shirt up with both hands, ripping it off in one quick, frustrated motion. his palms roamed her sides, rough and urgent, fingers curling around the waistband of her jeans like he couldn’t stand one more second of fabric between them.

“then why’d you do it?” he growled, mouth crashing to hers again. “why’d you send that message if you didn’t want me to come back?”

she gasped into the kiss, nails dragging down his spine, her jeans already half undone by his fingers, tugging hard, yanking them past her hips. “i didn’t know what i wanted,” she breathed, teeth grazing his bottom lip, “i just—i missed you.”

something in him snapped at that.

his hands locked under her thighs, lifting her with an easy, angry grip. she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, clinging to his shoulders as he carried her into the bedroom. their mouths never parted—just shifted, hungrier, rougher, teeth clashing in the dark. he dropped her on the bed like he couldn’t stand not having her underneath him any longer, following her down with a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and fuck, finally.

her bra was gone next, pulled off with a practiced twist, his hands covering her like he was making up for lost time. he kissed down her neck, over her chest, marking her with lips and teeth, every touch bruising, claiming. her moans were breathy and desperate, her body arching into him like it remembered every time he’d touched her before.

“you should hate me,” he murmured against her skin, voice strained, like the words were choking him.

“maybe i do,” she whispered, dragging his belt open with shaking fingers, “but not tonight.”

he kissed her again, harder this time—his hips grinding against hers, both of them still half-dressed, bodies slick with heat and hunger.

“then don’t stop me,” he whispered, teeth on her jaw, one hand gripping her thigh so tight it made her gasp. “because i don’t think i can.”

his mouth found her neck first—hot, open kisses dragged along her skin like he was starving for it, tongue tasting, teeth grazing. she tilted her head back with a breathy gasp, giving him more, and he took it like a man possessed. he sucked hard just under her jaw, the kind of kiss meant to leave a mark, and she arched beneath him, hands threading into his hair, tugging as if that would tether her to the moment.

he groaned low in his throat, one hand already sliding between their bodies, palming her over her underwear—rough, slow circles of pressure that made her gasp again, hips twitching up against his touch. the fabric was already damp, and he swore under his breath like that fact physically wrecked him.

“fuck, you’re soaked already,” he muttered against her throat, voice dark and hoarse, almost angry about it. “you miss me that bad, huh?”

her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting skin. she didn’t answer—not with words. just a moan that caught in her throat, a roll of her hips into his palm that said everything.

his mouth trailed lower, dragging over her collarbones, down the center of her chest, pausing only to breathe her in like she was the last clean thing in a filthy world. and then he was on her breast, hot mouth closing around her nipple with an obscene sound, tongue flicking before he sucked hard, making her back arch off the mattress. her breath hitched. her thighs tightened around his hips.

his other hand gripped the other breast, rough fingers toying with the sensitive peak, thumb brushing, pinching lightly, just enough to make her whine. he switched sides without warning, lips wrapping around the other nipple like he’d been starving for it, groaning into her skin as if he could get drunk off the taste alone.

his mouth never stopped moving—sucking, kissing, biting gently—while his hand between her legs kept working her over the thin cotton barrier, dragging slow, cruel circles over her clit that made her legs tremble.

he pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes half-lidded, mouth slick, chest heaving.

“you think about me when you touch yourself?” he rasped, fingers curling against her cunt through her panties. “you still moan my name when it gets too much?”

her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting with a shuddered breath, and god—he wanted to hear her say yes. wanted her to admit that she’d been ruined for anyone else.

and he hadn’t even gotten his mouth between her legs yet.

his mouth trailed lower, leaving a hot, open path down the center of her stomach. her skin jumped under his tongue, her body twitching as he nipped along her waist, his hands spreading her thighs wider, slower, like he wanted to savor the shape of her more than the act itself. like being between her legs again was holy ground—and he was a man at the altar, worshiping through gritted teeth.

he looked up, caught the way she was already squirming beneath him, her chest heaving, lips parted as if every breath was costing her something. and fuck, she was beautiful like this—undone and trying so hard to hold it together.

then he got to her underwear.

he pressed a kiss just above the fabric, then let his eyes drop to the soft elastic hugging her hips. he hooked one finger under the band, tugged it lightly—just enough to make her feel the tension of it. a quiet, predatory smile played on his lips as he murmured, “you look so pretty in these.”

his voice was low, dark, velvet-drenched and filthy. he snapped the band gently against her skin, then ran his thumb along the curve of her pelvis, dipping dangerously close to where she was already soaking through the cotton. he let his mouth follow, mouthing her through the thin fabric, slow, wet drags of his tongue that made her hips buck up off the mattress.

and then—rip.

one swift motion. the fabric gave with a sharp tear, and her gasp echoed off the walls, eyes snapping open just in time to see him toss the ruined panties aside like he didn’t give a damn what they cost.

“i’ll buy you new ones,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. “but fuck, i couldn’t wait. not with how wet you are.”

and then he was between her legs.

not teasing. not easing in.

devouring.

his tongue licked a long, slow stripe from the bottom of her slit all the way to her clit, ending with a soft suck that made her choke on a moan. his hands gripped her thighs hard, thumbs digging into her skin, keeping her spread open as he buried his face in her like a man possessed.

he groaned into her, the sound low and almost pained, like tasting her again physically undid him.

“missed this,” he growled between licks, one hand sliding under her ass to pull her closer, his mouth working her over like it was his job. “missed how you taste. fuck.”

her hands found his hair, tugging, anchoring herself. her hips rolled, helpless, chasing the pressure of his tongue as he sucked her clit into his mouth again, harder this time, relentless now. his tongue moved fast, slick, filthy strokes while he moaned into her like he was getting off on the sound of her falling apart.

“joon—” she whimpered, voice cracked, fingers curling tight in his hair.

he didn’t stop.

if anything, he smiled against her cunt.

and then—two fingers slid inside her. slow at first. deliberate. crooking up, finding that spot that made her eyes roll back as his mouth never left her clit, his tongue flicking faster, filthy, precise, focused. like he was making up for every second they’d lost.

she was close. so close. and he knew it. he could feel it in the way her thighs trembled, the way her moans got higher, tighter, more desperate. he pressed his hand against her stomach with his free hand, holding her down like he wanted to feel her break from the inside out.

“cum for me,” he murmured against her, voice dark and hungry, “right on my fucking mouth, baby. let me taste you fall apart.”

her orgasm hit hard, sharp and fast, like her body had been waiting for his mouth for too damn long. her back arched, her thighs clamped around his head, and a broken, high-pitched moan tore out of her throat as his fingers kept moving inside her and his tongue never stopped. he held her through it, firm hands pressing her down like he needed to feel her shake apart against his mouth, like he didn’t trust her to stay grounded otherwise.

she whimpered his name like a prayer, like a curse, like she didn’t know what else to hold onto—and still, still, his mouth was on her, tongue dragging through her, catching every twitch, every pulse, like he wanted to memorize the shape of her climax.

only when her body gave out, slumping into the mattress with a wrecked, gasping breath, did he pull back—slow, deliberate.

he licked his lips once.

his chin was glistening. soaked in her.

his mouth was swollen, cheeks flushed, and there was a wild, wrecked look in his eyes as he hovered over her—something between pride and hunger, like tasting her had only made him more desperate, not less.

“fuck,” she breathed, staring at him like he was a hallucination.

and then she dragged him down.

no hesitation. no time to breathe.

her hands curled into his hair, and she kissed him—hard, filthy, open-mouthed, tongue tasting herself on him, moaning into his mouth like she was trying to suck the soul back out of him. his weight pressed down on her, solid and heavy, but it wasn’t enough. she needed more.

“please,” she whispered into the kiss, nails digging into his back, hips lifting up against the weight of his still-clothed cock pressing into her thigh. “joon—please. keep going. i need you inside me. now.”

he groaned into her mouth, like her begging physically hurt him. his hands fumbled at his pants, pulling them down far enough to free himself, the sound of his zipper and her ragged breath the only thing between them. her hands went to her own thighs, spreading them wide beneath him in an offering, desperate, ready—wrecked.

“you sure?” he panted against her lips, forehead pressed to hers, cock in hand, lining himself up with a grip that looked almost painful. “you say the word, i’ll stop.”

she looked him in the eye, voice shaking but certain.

“don’t you fucking dare.”

he slammed into her in one deep, brutal thrust.

his hips slammed into her with one long, deep thrust that knocked the air clean out of her lungs. the stretch burned so good she cried out, legs shaking around his waist, hands fisting the sheets as her head dropped back in utter shock.

“fuck—joon,” she gasped, voice raw, almost stunned at how full she felt, at how much she’d missed this. missed him.

he groaned like the sound of her voice broke something in him. his hands grabbed her thighs, yanked her even closer, then pulled out almost all the way just to slam back in again—harder, sharper, each snap of his hips making the bed creak under the weight of it all. her body jolted with every thrust, his cock thick and heavy inside her, dragging against every spot that made her legs tremble and her breath hitch in real time.

“you feel so fucking good,” he growled, leaning over her, teeth gritted as he fucked her like he meant it. “so fucking tight. fuck—i forgot how tight you get when you’re losing it.”

his hand reached up, tangled into her hair, pulled just enough to tilt her head back. she moaned for it—loved it—the little edge of pain sharp enough to drive her crazier, her back arching up into his chest. his mouth was on hers again before she could speak, all tongue and teeth and gasping moans, swallowing every breath like he couldn’t stand the space between them.

their mouths clashed, messy and open and hungry, like kissing had turned into its own kind of fight.

she clawed at his back, dragging nails down muscle, digging in every time his hips snapped forward and buried himself to the hilt inside her again. each thrust hit so deep she swore she saw stars, his pace fast, merciless, like he was punishing both of them for every second of distance they’d ever had.

“you missed this?” he panted into her mouth, voice low, almost mocking, like he knew. “missed getting fucked like this? stretched out on my cock like you were made for it?”

she choked on a moan, nails raking down his spine. “yes—yes, joon—fuck—don’t stop.”

“wasn’t gonna,” he growled, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand. “not until you’re screaming.”

and then he really let go.

hips slamming into her, deep and fast, skin slapping skin, her whole body sliding up the mattress from the force of it. his free hand went to her waist, holding her down, keeping her steady as he wrecked her, thrust after thrust after thrust—her mouth open, no sounds coming out at all for a second, just wrecked gasps and the kind of expression that would stay burned in his memory forever.

he dropped his forehead to hers again, breathing heavy, fucking her so deep and so hard that tears prickled at the corners of her eyes—not from pain, but from relief. from the way everything in her finally broke under the weight of him.

he pulled out just long enough to manhandle her into a new position—grabbing her thigh, lifting one of her legs and pressing it high onto his shoulder, folding her open for him like a fucking gift. the angle changed everything. he slid back in slow just to feel it, to watch the way her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled back the moment he bottomed out again, deeper now, better.

her moan broke open the silence like a scream, one hand gripping the sheets, the other clawing at his forearm as he started fucking into her again—hard, relentless, that new angle making her feel everything more. every thrust hit home, punching a whimper from her lips, her cunt wet and hot and clenching around him so tight he nearly lost control.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, leaning over her just enough to bring his hand to her jaw, gripping it, thumb pressed under her chin to tilt her head back so she looked at him. “you look so fucking good like this. making a mess on my cock. soaked all the way down my thighs—shit.”

she couldn’t answer. not really. just breathless, broken sounds, tears threatening to fall because it was too much—not just the sex, but the feeling of it. the heat of his skin, the grip of his hand, the filthy way he was watching her like she was something he’d been dying to touch again.

he leaned in, close enough that their faces almost touched, still pounding into her like he needed to fuck the memory of her into the walls.

“you missed this?” he whispered, voice rough, dark, mean. “missed me splitting you open like this? filling you like no one else can?”

her hands grabbed his wrist, her nails digging into his skin, nodding frantically, eyes wild and desperate. “yes—fuck, yes, namjoon—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop.”

he growled, pure animal, his grip tightening on her jaw as he kissed her again—messy, filthy, tongue and teeth and moans—his other hand sliding down to where they were joined, fingers finding her clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles while he thrust into her like he was chasing a high he couldn’t come down from.

“gonna cum again for me?” he murmured against her mouth, thrusting harder now, faster, body slamming into hers like he meant to break the bed. “you gonna make a mess all over me, baby?”

she was already there. legs shaking. body locking up. her breath caught in her throat and she whimpered, choking on his name like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to earth.

“cum for me,” he growled again, voice raw, mouth at her ear now. “fuck—cum on my cock. i missed this so fucking much—missed you.”

and then she shattered.

again.

her body convulsed beneath him, legs trembling, thighs twitching around his hips as she came again—louder this time, back arched, mouth open in a soundless gasp that broke into a moan when he kept thrusting through it. her nails raked down his back, her whole body pulling him in, tighter, deeper, like she wanted to keep him buried inside her forever.

he couldn’t hold it anymore.

the way she clenched around him, the heat, the mess of her under him, the way she looked when she came—completely ruined, all soft and raw and his—it tore the last thread of restraint out of him.

“fuck, i’m—shit, i’m gonna—” his voice cracked, low and hoarse and wrecked, his thrusts stuttering as his body locked up.

he pulled out fast, just in time, his hand wrapped around himself once, twice, and then he came with a broken, strangled whimper right into her ear, forehead pressed to hers, breath hot and fast. thick ropes of his cum landed across her stomach, slick and warm, and he let out a shaky breath as he collapsed halfway over her, chest heaving, fingers still gripping her thigh like he couldn’t let go.

for a moment, neither of them moved. just the sound of their breathing—heavy, ragged, in sync.

but then—he kissed her again.

soft this time.

just under her jaw, then across her throat, right where her pulse still fluttered like a drum. his hand smoothed down her side, his lips slow and deliberate as he pressed them into the soft spot under her ear—the place that used to make her shiver when he loved her gently.

and then—he slid back in.

slow.

gentle.

soothing the ache he’d left behind.

his cock was still hard, still thick, but now every roll of his hips was tender, like he was apologizing with his body. like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her just yet. he buried his face in her neck, groaning quietly as her walls fluttered around him, warm and slick and still so damn tight.

“could stay like this all night,” he whispered, voice barely a breath. “just like this. fuck, you feel so good. like you were made for me.”

her fingers found his hair again, gentler now too, stroking through the sweat-damp strands, her own breath shaky but steadying.

“then don’t go,” she murmured, barely audible.

and he kissed her again.

not fast. not hard.

just full of everything they’d said without words.

the shift was almost too much. like the weight of it all finally sank in once the sweat cooled and the urgency dulled into something deeper. something unbearably tender.

he was still inside her—moving, slow and careful, like he wanted her to feel every inch, like he was afraid to lose the warmth of her if he stopped. their bodies rocked together, hips moving in soft, deliberate rolls, his hands planted beside her head, his chest pressed to hers, their foreheads touching.

he kissed her again, slow and deep, tongues brushing with the kind of hunger that had turned gentle, reverent. her arms wrapped around his shoulders, clutching him close like she was scared he’d vanish. she moaned softly into his mouth, breath hot and broken, each little sound spilling into his throat like a secret.

“you feel so good,” she whispered, voice tight, shaking, almost tearful.

and he felt it. every syllable. the way her voice cracked, the way her body clung to his like she couldn’t let go.

he kissed her harder, but not rough. not anymore.

his hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw as he pulled back just enough to look at her. his eyes were heavy, glazed with lust and something aching behind it—something close to regret, or maybe grief, for everything they’d lost between then and now.

“i missed this,” he murmured, his forehead pressed to hers, the rhythm of his hips slow and steady, still buried deep inside her. “missed you.”

her breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed as her legs tightened around his waist. she didn’t say anything for a moment, couldn’t—not when her throat was closing up, not when every slow thrust made her feel everything she’d spent the last year pretending didn’t still live under her skin.

“me too,” she finally whispered, brushing her nose against his. “so much.”

he kissed her again. deeper. longer. her lips trembled against his, but she didn’t cry—not yet. just held him tighter, her soft moans landing in his ear like confessions, her hands running down his back, memorizing every ridge of him like he might slip away again.

he moved inside her like they had all the time in the world.

and for a moment, they did.

he was still buried inside her, hips moving in those slow, shallow rolls like he never wanted to stop. but the urgency had passed. the storm had calmed. and when she brushed her fingers gently along the nape of his neck, murmuring his name soft and low, he sighed against her mouth, like her touch was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

he pulled out with a soft groan, breath catching as he left her warmth. but before the space between them could feel too wide, she reached down and wrapped her hand around him—slow, smooth, and intentional.

he hissed, his body jolting from the sudden touch, already so close from everything they’d done that he twitched in her palm, leaking for her.

“shh,” she whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “just let me take care of you.”

her hand moved slow at first, slick and steady, her thumb brushing the tip every so often in a way that made his hips jerk and his breath come harder. her other hand rested on his hip, anchoring him as she stroked him with a rhythm that was both loving and filthy. his eyes fluttered shut, forehead falling to her shoulder, chest rising and falling fast as she murmured to him—sweet nothings and soft gasps of filth.

“you’re so fucking perfect like this,” she breathed, kissing his temple, “so hard for me still. you liked fucking me that much, huh?”

he groaned—whimpered—a quiet, broken sound that made her clench around nothing. she could feel him tensing, his muscles twitching under her hand, his moans getting tighter, shorter, more desperate.

“gonna cum for me, baby?” she whispered, lips dragging along his jaw now, her pace quickening just a little. “all over my hand? let me feel you lose it, joon.”

his hips stuttered once—twice—and then he did, cumming hard, hot, thick spurts painting her hand and her stomach again, his mouth open in a soft, wrecked sound that died against her throat. he trembled, completely spent, and she held him close, kissing the corner of his mouth as he shuddered through the aftershock.

he collapsed on top of her a moment later, body heavy and boneless, his breath loud in the quiet room, mouth still parted against her skin.

she didn’t mind the weight. not one bit.

her clean hand slid into his hair, damp with sweat, fingers gently massaging his scalp, nails lightly grazing as she whispered soothing little circles into his crown. he hummed against her chest, nuzzling in deeper, her heartbeat loud and steady beneath his cheek.

neither of them spoke for a long while.

but in that silence, her hand never left his hair. and he never moved from the curve of her body.

he stayed on her chest for a moment longer, breathing deep, eyes closed like he could hold back the tide if he just didn’t look up. but even with her fingers carding through his hair, even with her heartbeat steady beneath his ear, the weight in his chest kept growing.

he lifted his head slowly, and even that felt like too much. the air shifted. the warmth between them cooled by a breath.

“what are we doing, (y/n)?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his voice already frayed. his eyes searched hers—deep, dark, desperate. looking for something. for regret, maybe. a sign that she wanted to take it back, that this had just been a moment of weakness, a one-night undoing they’d sweep under the rug come morning.

but there wasn’t any.

not in her eyes. not in her touch.

she blinked, then gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach all the way. “well,” she said, breathless, trying for lightness, “you  fucked the shit out of me just now. so… i’d say we’re about four orgasms past asking that question.”

he let out a short, breathy laugh—but it didn’t last. not really.

his eyes didn’t leave hers. and hers… started to falter.

because she could see it. that flicker behind his gaze. the one that said he was trying not to feel too much, not to fall too hard all over again when the edge of her skin still felt like home.

and god—she could feel herself starting to unravel.

“joon,” she whispered, softer now. her clean hand cupped the side of his face, thumb brushing along the line of his cheekbone. “it’s okay.”

“is it?” he asked, the words sharp but the tone anything but. it wasn’t anger. it was fear. “because it doesn’t feel like it should be. it feels like I just—like we just opened a wound we spent a year trying to close.”

she bit her bottom lip. looked up at the ceiling for a second like she was searching for the courage not to let the sting in her eyes turn into tears.

“i’m not sorry,” she said eventually. quietly. “not for a second.”

he looked at her for a long time, as if her answer both soothed and destroyed him.

his hand found her waist under the sheets, gentle now, grounding. like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold her—but he couldn’t not.

“me either,” he said.

and yet… the silence said everything else.

“we should probably clean up,” she murmured, voice husky but gentle as she traced lazy fingers down the line of his spine. “we’re both covered in sweat and cum.”

he let out a low, sleepy laugh, forehead still resting against her collarbone. “mmm, that we are.”

it took them a minute to untangle. not because they were too tired, but because every time they shifted, one of them stole another kiss—slow, unhurried, more lips than tongue now. soft breaths, forehead touches, the kind of kisses that meant stay without ever needing to say it.

they padded to the bathroom in silence, limbs heavy, hands brushing. and once inside, under the dim overhead light, the intimacy only deepened.

he turned on the shower and stepped in first, then held out his hand for her without a word. she followed, the water pouring down over both of them, steam curling around their skin as he reached for the shampoo like it was the most natural thing in the world.

he moved slowly, fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp with gentle care. her eyes fluttered shut, arms resting around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest. and when it was her turn, she did the same—dragged her fingers through his hair with a touch that made his knees weak, washed his shoulders and his neck with the pads of her fingers like she was memorizing him all over again.

there was no hunger in it. no spark of lust.

just something closer.

every few moments, one of them would lean in to kiss the other—wet, slow kisses that tasted like water and exhaustion. a kiss to the shoulder. one to the temple. one on the mouth that lingered longer than it should’ve.

they dried off together, standing close, sharing a towel, her eyes following the slope of his back like she was afraid it’d disappear.

he pulled on the shirt she handed him. it was one of his, left behind long ago—somehow still folded in the back of her dresser drawer. she didn’t say anything when he smiled at it. didn’t have to.

and when they were standing in her bedroom again, the air thick with the scent of clean skin and old memory, he moved toward the door almost instinctively—like he should go.

like this had been enough.

“you don’t have to leave,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a thread pulled loose.

he turned slowly, met her eyes.

and god, she looked so bare. not just physically—wrapped in nothing but a towel and damp hair—but emotionally. open. honest. a little afraid.

“stay,” she added, quieter this time. “please.”

his throat worked. like the word caught there.

and then, finally—he nodded.

not dramatic. not with a speech. just a quiet, yes written into the way he came back to her, climbed into her bed, and pulled her into his arms like she belonged there.

because maybe she still did.

they slipped under the sheets like they’d done it a thousand times before—because they had. the weight of the covers settled over them like a secret, like something sacred. her head tucked under his chin, one of his arms curved tightly around her waist, the other splayed across her ribs, his thumb brushing gentle lines over her skin like he had to keep reminding himself she was real.

his breathing was steady against her hair, his legs tangled with hers, the kind of closeness that was impossible to fake. and for the first time in over a year, they weren’t bracing for the next blow. no accusations. no fear.

just truth. in its rawest, sleepiest form.

“i thought you hated me,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

his hand tightened around her waist, just a little. “never,” he said, almost immediately. “i just… didn’t know how to stop missing you without falling apart.”

she closed her eyes, felt that break something in her. a soft exhale left her mouth. “i never stopped missing you,” she admitted. “even when i said i was fine. even when i laughed with my friends and told them i was over it.”

he didn’t answer right away. just pressed his lips to her forehead, long and warm. like he was apologizing for the space that had stretched between them.

“every time i passed that coffee place you loved,” he said, voice low, “i had to walk the other way.”

she blinked hard, tears threatening. “i deleted your number like three times. memorized it anyway.”

he let out a soft laugh through his nose. not happy, not sad. just knowing.

the silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was full. full of everything they’d carried in their chests for twelve long months. full of what-ifs and why-nots. full of the ache of having loved each other and the even deeper ache of still loving each other now.

she turned in his arms, nose brushing his, their eyes meeting in the dark. “i didn’t mean to send that message,” she said. “not really. i was drunk, and sad, and tired of pretending i didn’t still—”

“i’m glad you did,” he interrupted softly. “i’ve read it at least a dozen times. didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t ruin us all over again.”

she reached up, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “you didn’t ruin anything, joon. we just… broke. but we never stopped meaning something.”

he kissed her then.

slow. deep. different.

like he heard her.

when they pulled apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together, their breath tangled, hearts pounding in quiet sync.

“can we stay like this?” he murmured, not quite a question, not quite a plea.

“for as long as we want,” she whispered back.

and they stayed.

no promises.

just warmth, and weight, and the hope that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end.

he stayed quiet for a moment longer, just watching her, the way her eyes blinked slowly up at him in the dark. the way her breath steadied when he touched her like that—gently, reverently, like touching something breakable but beloved. his thumb traced her cheekbone, her jaw, the curve of her lip, and when she kissed the pad of it—just a light brush, soft and sure—something inside him settled.

“okay,” he said at last, the word nearly swallowed by the stillness.

her brows furrowed, and he saw the flicker of uncertainty before he caught her chin between his fingers and smiled, just a little.

“we can try,” he said, clearer this time. “if you want to… really try. no more running. no more pretending we’re fine when we’re not.”

her lips parted—surprised, maybe—but she nodded almost immediately. like she’d been waiting to hear that exact thing from the moment he walked into that bathroom corridor and looked at her like she still mattered.

“i do,” she said. no hesitation. “i want to.”

he exhaled then, not shakily, but with the kind of relief that made his whole chest sink into hers.

“me too,” he murmured. “so much.”

they kissed again. slower now, but full. full of things they hadn’t said. full of the ache and the years and the breathless kind of hope that blooms when you stop lying to yourself.

his arms wrapped tighter around her. hers curled beneath his. their legs tangled like they’d never been untangled in the first place.

and this time, when the silence settled around them, it wasn’t heavy.

it was safe.

the kind of quiet you only get when the worst part is over, and something better is starting.

they’d hurt. they’d healed. they’d found their way back through the noise and the hurt and the time.

and now—together, in the dark, skin warm, bodies still humming with memory—they were choosing it.

again.

and this time, they meant it.

quietly always, cigarettesuga.

taglist Ꮺ @aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @h6rtf9lt @wynterlove

[iluvcookiez]

Picnic Date Confession

Suguru Geto x Reader

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The weather was beautiful. Despite it being summer, the sun didn't feel extremely hot. It was gentle and warm. You sat at a park bench with a tray of food and a basket of snacks. You were waiting for your best friend, Suguru, to show up. You had planned a picnic date a week before, and thankfully he agreed to come.

Suguru wasn't the type to mess around in relationships or even prioritize finding one, so you had been skeptical about asking him out on a date. Even though you had your small doubts about your feelings being returned, you knew that telling him how you feel would be a rare oppurtunity. You needed a good time and place. A scheduled date was ideal. Also, you knew that it would kill you to hide your feelings until he made the first move.

Whenever you were alone with Suguru, you felt a pleasing sense of comfort, like you could talk to him about anything. He always listened carefully to what you had to say, even if you were rambling about the same topic over and over. You both had similar humor, so you guys were often seen laughing side by side. There were also moments of silence during the times you walked together, but the moments were never awkward. Having Suguru in your presence just felt natural. He was truly your best friend.

You were happy to be close to Suguru, but in the past year you began developing feelings. You knew you wanted more than friendship. Your daydreams consisted of a future with him as your partner. Dates, cuddling, and travel, these thoughts flowed into your head daily.

You began feeling anxious about the possible outcomes of the date. You hadn't told Suguru about your feelings, just that you wanted to go out. You mentioned the word "date" but you were worried that he might've interpreted it differently, like a casual hangout. He didn't seem phased when you said "date." He just smiled and said "alright, see you there," before waving good bye.

You firmly placed your hand on the top of your head, trying not to think about the worst-case scenarios. You've developed emotional strength through past experiences, so you knew that you would end up okay no matter what happened. But of course, you hoped for the best.

"Y/n?" Suguru's voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Oh hey Suguru."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the sound of his voice. Nervousness was slowly building up into your body.

"Sorry for being late," he sighed. "I was originally going to ride my bike here but the front tire was flat. I had to get a ride from Ijichi, and he kind of took his time. You weren't waiting out here too long, were you?"

"No it's fine," you replied. "I was only waiting for ten minutes. You didn't want to ask Satoru for a ride?"

"Yeah, no. He gets side-tracked easily. He would've stopped by every store on the way here."

You laughed at his comment about Satoru. The white haired boy was known for being spotaneous. You noticed the blanket Suguru held in his arms. It was a tan color with a plaid pattern. "Do you want to sit now?" you asked.

"Mhm." Suguru nodded his head and walked over to a flat area of grass nearby. He unfolded the blanket and layed it down almost perfectly.

You set down your tray and basket as he straightened out the corners of the blanket. Suguru's eyes darted back and forth between you and the food. "Ooo what did you bring?" he asked in an excited tone.

He came to sit next to you, eyeing the tray. His right shoulder brushed against your left as he leaned forward to look. Your heart began to beat faster.

"I made some chicken katsu," you said as you lifted the lid of the tray. "It's my first time making it myself, so don't expect it to taste like a five-star meal. I also put the sauce, vegetables, and the rice on the side."

"Mmmm it smells good," Suguru said with a wide smile. "What's in the basket?"

"Snacks and drinks. The plates and utensils are also in there. Can you get some for both of us?"

"Yeah, sure."

Suguru reached for the basket. He took out a plate and fork for the both of you. He placed them down and reached for the drinks. "Do you want peach tea, soda, or water?"

"Peach tea please," you answered.

"Do you want a snack too?"

"No thanks. I'll eat some after I eat the main dish."

You tried your best to feel calm. You never felt this nervous around Suguru. Every small interaction was making your heart throb. He placed your plate on top of your leg, his hand slightly touched the top of your thigh. Your body felt tense as he handed you your tea. His fingertips touched yours as you took the can. You locked eyes for a quick second with Suguru, returning his small grin. You weren't sure if the contact was intentional but he didn't seem bothered and continued smiling.

"I feel bad for not bringing anything to eat," Suguru said as he scooped a big portion of food onto his plate. "I know you told me not to, but it looks bad. I just brought a blanket."

"It's fine," you laughed. "I already planned on cooking and there's only two of us eating. I don't want a bunch of leftovers."

"These leftovers would be good though," Suguru's voice was muffled through the sound of chewing. "The katsu tastes really good for your first time. It's delicous."

"Thank you."

You couldn't stop a smile from spreading across your face. You stared at your best friend as he ate. He looked extremely pleased by the taste of your food. He smiled from ear to ear as chewed. He nodded his head as he swallowed another bite. He noticed your gaze after a minute and he tried to hold his laugh in. "What!??" Suguru exclaimed with his mouth full.

You answered him with pure laughter. You covered your mouth shyly and continued to giggle at the sight of his face. "You look- HAHAHA"

"What!?? WHAT!??"

You continued to laugh as he tried to keep his mouth closed. He covered his mouth, trying to contain his laugh as he ate.

"You look like a chipmunk hahaha," you giggled.

"WHAT!? No I don't!" Suguru exclaimed with laughter.

"Stop talking with your mouth full. The food's going to fly out!"

You and Suguru continued to smile and laugh together as half an hour passed by. Suguru told you stories about Satoru as you ate. He mentioned how Satoru never rode his own bike and always insisted on hitching a ride on the back of Suguru's. Suguru didn't sound like he was complaining though, you knew he loved spending time with Satoru and didn't mind giving him a free ride anywhere. Then you began talking about school. All the good and bad teachers, the classmates you both found annoying, and how bad you struggled in the math classes. Suguru listened to you closely as you went on your little rant. You noticed his eyes observing you as he listened.

"It sounds like you just hate math," he said.

"Yeah I do," you replied with an angry expression. "Nevermind. I know you understand everything in that class."

"I do," he said teasingly. He stuck his tongue out at you. "Maybe you're just stupid."

"SHUTUP!" you yelled in a playful tone. With little force, you threw your empty tea can at the side of his face.

"HEY! I was just kidding!"

"I know you were." You teased him back.

He chuckled to himself before sitting up straight beside you.

"Hey Y/n," Suguru said softly.

Your heart jumped. You didn't know exactly why, but you liked when Suguru said your name. His sudden change of tone made your heart flutter.

"We should do something like this again," he muttered.

He turned his head to look at you. You stared into his eyes trying to hide the nervousness in your expression. "Yeah we can," You said quietly.

"So...why did you want to go on a date all of a sudden?" Suguru looked at you curiously. The feared question made your heart stop. However, his tone wasn't pressuring at all. He talked and smiled so softly in a way that made your nerves feel at ease.

You took a deep breath. You could feel your heart racing beneath your skin. You turned your gaze to the ground. Suguru had asked the question that would inevitably lead to your confession. So he did know it was that kind of date. Right? He's saying it in that way?

You weren't really sure how to start. But you knew that you had to tell Suguru how you felt. There was no doubt you were scared. What if we grow apart? He watched you as you sat silently for a few seconds. He leaned over to look you in the face. Your eyes met with his and you could see his concern.

"Y/n?" he asked with worry. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder. "Sorry, was that a weird thing to ask?"

"N-No no no it's not that," you replied. You could hear your voice trembling.

"Then what -

"I just really..." You began. "I really like you Suguru."

Suguru continued to look at you as you talked. He kept his hand on your shoulder and gave his full attention to whatever words you spoke.

"I was afraid to tell you," You explained. "I don't know if you feel the same way. I'm sorry to put this on you but I like you so much. I love being around you and having you as my best friend. I like having you by my side and I want to be more than friends with you. And I'm sorry... I have to tell you how I feel."

You felt a lump in your throat beginning to form and tears swelling up in your eyes. You weren't sure if you were crying out of pure emotion or the horrible thoughts of how he may react.

Suguru's hand rubbed your shoulder affectionately. He used his other hand to wipe a tear that had fallen from your face. "Why did you say sorry so many times?"

"Y/n," he said softly once again. "Your feelings aren't a burden to me, you don't need to apologize. And there was no need to be scared."

Suguru rubbed your back gently and leaned you close. Your head now rested on his shoulder as he continued talking.

"I...like you too Y/n," he said.

Your eyes widened. Any trace of anxiety was slowly turning into butterflies. This was the first time you caught a hint of nervousness in his voice. You looked up to meet his eyes once again. He gave you a loving smile.

"I love seeing you and being close to you," Suguru continued. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever met and I feel like you just get me. I want to build something more with you too. I've had these feelings for a while...and honestly...I'm so happy that you feel the same. I was unsure about how you felt about me and I'm sorry if I made you doubt yourself."

"I'm so glad Suguru," you sniffled. "And it's okay." You stretched your hand to his face, moving his front strands of hair to the side and cupping your hand on his cheek. "I shouldn't have been so dramatic."

"It's fine." Suguru blushed at the touch of your hand. "You don't need to worry like that. Things will always be okay between us, and we'll always figure it out."

"Yeah, okay."

You rested your head deeper into his shoulder as you continued to admire him. His face was so handsome and the way he smiled at you filled your heart with so much joy.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?"

Suguru placed his hand over yours, interlocking your fingers. He guided your hand to his shoulder. You looked at him dumbfounded. The butterflies in your stomach felt as if they doubled in numbers. He put his other hand on your waist and pulled you forward onto his lap.

The sudden move caught you by surprise. He noticed your shock and let out a small laugh. "What are you doing?" You giggled, already knowing the answer.

"It's fine. There's no one here. I promise."

You scanned the park around you, making sure there was no one in sight. Seeing that the area was clear, you looked back down to face Suguru.

"Can I?" he asked in his sweet husky voice. His eyes were full of love and yearn.

"Of course Suguru," You said with a heartfelt smile.

He leaned forward. Both of his arms were now wrapped around your waist. With both hands on his shoulders, you inched your face closer to his. Your lips touched and you were both swept into a loving kiss.

Suguru kissed you passionately. His lips were soft and he was gentle. He lowered his hands to your hips, pressing you against him and causing a new sensuation within your body.

"Mmmm~." The sensual sound of your voice made Suguru blush more.

You continued to kiss him until you both pulled away for air. He kissed down your neck as you caught your breath. You looked down into his yearning eyes. He was admiring every inch of your face and the passion in his eyes made your heart race with excitement. He buried his face into your chest and hugged you tightly.

"Y/n," Suguru whispered softly. "You're so cute."

-----------------------------------------------------

this is my first fic. hoped you enjoyed!! :D

- 🍪🤍

[wrestlersownmyheart]

"Yeet Of Fate" Chapter 15 (Jey Uso X Female Reader)

Title: Yeet Of Fate Pairing: Jey Uso X Reader Summary: When you, an aspiring author, decide to take your skills to the world of wrestling, you decide to shadow and tag along with a couple of wrestlers to learn more about the sport for your upcoming book debut. None other than the Royal Rumble winner, Jey Uso, is the male wrestler you will be working with, and needless to say, that makes you nervous. You tell yourself, things will stay platonic. You tell yourself that…

Jey Uso is at the top of his game, the last thing he needs is a fan trailing around after him and fan girling all over the place. He wants to do his job, bask in the glory of it and call it a day. Not have to answer questions all day long from a wannabe writer. That's how he feels, until he meets Y/N face to face. She isn't what he expected. And he doesn't like to be wrong. As beautiful as she is… He will keep things platonic. He tells himself that…

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination. Content/Trigger Warnings: None

NOTE: I'll add a gif as soon as I can find one that fits the chapter!

*Credit to Gif owner--Not my gif*

Chapter 15

Jey followed Jimmy the whole drive, all the way to Y/N's house.

No pitstops.

Nothing.

They had the six hour drive made in a little less than five hours.

Just when Jey thought Jimmy was leading him into the boondocks, he pulled up in front of a large, two-story house with a white Jeep Rubicon in the driveway. He pulled up behind Jimmy and killed his rental. Then he was getting out of the car just as Jimmy was getting out of his.

They walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell.

In just a moment's notice, Naomi came to the door in her pajamas, complaining and saying, "How did I just know it was going to be you two? Why did you have to ring the doorbell? Do you know how long it took Y/N to fall asleep? She's only been asleep for an hour," she hissed at them. "I don't know how she does it in her condition-"

Behind Jey, Jimmy was frantically slashing across his throat with his hand, wordlessly telling Naomi to shut it. It finally dawned on her why, when Jey asked, "What condition? She's okay, yeah?"

"Oh, uh, well… she's just been really stressed and worrying about Gunther. She's not sleeping or eating much," Naomi answered.

Jey rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe you two should get going. She and I have a lot to talk about."

"If you think I'm leaving without saying goodbye to her, you're cra- Mmm!"

Jimmy clapped his hand over her mouth to shut her up, and then proceeded to lift her caveman style over his shoulder. He carried her out of the house and gave Jey a "You owe me" look while rolling Naomi's suitcase out behind them. All through this, Naomi was kicking and griping her head off.

As soon as they left, Jey locked the front door, and then looked up at the ceiling. Sensing that Y/N was mere feet above him in one of the rooms upstairs.

But he took his time. He wanted to get to know her better, so he looked through the lower rooms to see anything and everything that would tell him more about her.

He started with the living room and looked through all the photos she had mounted on the walls. She had school photos–he saw her senior photo and smiled at the innocence of it. She also had photos of family–he needed to ask her about her family, come to think of it.

He moved along the room and spotted the Bible on her coffee table. He appreciated that she had Faith. That was important to him as well. He took note of the decorating details: the curtains, knick knacks, and porcelain figurines she had displayed on various tables and shelves. Then he went to the kitchen and looked at the kind of food she ate. All healthy stuff, he thought as he looked around. He opened the fridge and saw almond milk, various cheeses, orange juice, and various other healthy items. She believes in taking care of herself, he added to himself. He was glad of that.

Finally, he walked to the stairs and made his way up them silently. He came to what looked like the master bedroom a couple doors down from the landing of the stairs, and looked inside the ajar door. The bed was empty but unmade and so he assumed this is where she was.

He stepped inside, and walked over to the bed–placed his hand on the mattress. It was still warm. She was here. He noticed a pink YEET shirt laying next to the pillow. He picked it up and smelled it, having a suspicion that it had been a shirt he wore. Sure enough he smelled not only his cologne on the shirt, but her fragrance as well mingled with it.

Realization dawned then.

She still loves me. Otherwise, why would she sleep with my shirt? And then he thought, after everything I said–did–to her…

Suddenly, he heard a toilet flush. He looked around and saw a closed door where the sound was coming from–an ensuite bathroom. He froze.

The door opened, and Y/N emerged, instantly spotting Jey by her bed, holding the shirt that was so dear to her heart. "J-Jey?..."

His eyes roved over her, and stopped at her stomach.

"You're pregnant?!"

The blood drained from her face, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell in a dead faint. Jey darted forward and caught her, keeping her from hitting the floor. He caught her up in his arms and cradled her to his chest as he carried her to the bed, gently laying her on the mattress.

"Come on, Mama…" he said softly. "Come back." He placed the back of his hand to her cheek, and noted that she felt a bit warm. He hurried into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, wet it down at the lavatory and then came back to her, placing the cloth on her forehead. She moaned softly, shifting her head on the pillow.

"That's it, baby. Come back to me." He kissed the back of her hand, and waited patiently for her to awaken.

Her eyes fluttered and slowly opened. Instantly, her gaze fell on him, and she gasped.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

Something woke you up. You weren't sure what though. You just came awake, and felt the unsettling urge to go pee. So, you got out of bed groggily, and walked into your bathroom and took care of your business, then washed your hands at the lavatory.

You stepped out of the ensuite bathroom, and immediately spotted Jey at your bedside, his YEET shirt in his hands.

Jey.

"J-Jey?"

You saw his gaze roam over your body, and stop at your stomach.

He looked beyond shocked. "You're pregnant?!"

You felt yourself falling, but couldn't stop yourself. Everything went black.

You vaguely were aware of Jey's voice, and the feeling of him carrying you.

"Come on, Mama… Come back."

You faded out again briefly, and then came to once more, feeling a cool wet cloth on your forehead. It felt amazing with the hot flush you were having. A soft moan passed your lips and you turned your head slightly.

You heard Jey say, "That's it, baby. Come back to me."

A kiss to your hand.

You opened your eyes, and instantly spotted Jey sitting on the edge of your bed, holding your hand.

You tried to sit up in the bed but Jey kept you laying down by caging you in with his muscled arms.

"How-?... What are you doing here? Where's Naomi?"

Jey brought his finger to your lips and silenced you.

"I'm here because Jimmy told me that Gunther is after you again."

You rolled your eyes. You should have known Jimmy would find a way to get Jey to come to you.

"Well, it's not your problem. I'm handling it just fine without your help," you lied.

"It is my problem," Jey said, taking the cloth from your head and pressing it into the hot skin of your neck. You closed your eyes in the ecstasy of the cold, wet cloth cooling you down. "You and this baby are mine. I'm not going to stand by and let him hurt you. Either of you."

"What do you care? You left me in the hospital, Jey. You left me, without a goodbye or anything." You took a breath preparing to unload on him. "I've been so scared this whole time, because I'm going to be a single mother. Do you know how frightening that is?" Before you even realized it, tears were streaming down your face. Jey seemed to realize you needed to let everything out, so he allowed you to do that.

But now, with everything you were feeling, you couldn't manufacture a single word. You simply sobbed and cried. Finally, you were able to speak. "What did I do that was so wrong? Why didn't you want me–love me? Why did you tell me you did, and then so coldly turn your back on me when I needed you most?"

"Jey, stroked your arm as you cried and that just seemed to make the tears come harder.

"You didn't do anything wrong, baby. I did and do love you. I lied to you that night in the hospital. I lied to protect you. I thought you'd be safer here, than with me. I have a huge target on my back right now. And that puts a target on you too."

"I have needed you so badly, Jey."

"I know. And if you give me the chance, I'll spend my life making it up to you."

"I don't know, Jey. I'm so confused now. I have a lot to think about." You yawned and then groaned as a contraction hit you.

"What's wrong," Jey demanded, his hand going to your belly. He could feel the contractions hitting you hard.

"Just leave, Jey." You cried out. "It's only Braxton Hicks. They'll stop if you leave and let me calm down."

"I don't want to leave you."

"You have to!" You sobbed. "This can bring on actual labor, and it's too soon for the babies to arrive."

"Babies!?"

"Yes, I'm having twins. Now go! Please!"

"I'm not going far." Jey said, easing up off the bed. He slowly walked out of the room and left the door ajar.

You settled yourself against the pillows and willed the contractions to stop.

You had so much on your mind now. So much.

What were you going to do?

Would you let Jey back in? Or were you better off without him?

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[reverieblondie]

Tiefling man (or men—if you feel like writing multiple) of your choice pinning you to a wall and biting/nipping your throat.

Sorry this took so long! I was kinda taking an unofficial break from request, But now I am back to doing them! So excited! I am very proud of this one I rewrote it from what I originally had so I hope you like it! Also I couldn't think of anything for Dammon so I used @sinkuna / @dark-and-kawaii OC Kieran. I love him so so much!

(Rolan, Cal, Zevlor, and Kieran)

18+ MDNI! Fem Reader, SMUT!

Rolan

Is he… trying to intimate you or eye fucking you? 

As you look over to Rolan, you see him staring at where you are leaning over the front counter, waiting for Cal to get you the scroll you ordered. You are not unaware of Rolans staring problem, but you're never one to back down from a staring contest. So, game on Archmage. 

When you start staring, you notice how Rolan at first seems a bit surprised with how his eyes widen the size of saucers and his skin flushes a bit darker; you think for a second he's going to look away, but then when you smile he seemed to look less tense… 

The longer the silent game went on, the more smug he became; you watched him get comfortable as he leaned against the wall of books with his arms folded and an arrogant smirk on his lips. Then he walked over, never once leaving your gaze. Closer now you watched as his eyes wander over you, his body coming so close to yours, and right as his lips part. He breaks the gaze by looking down at his feet. And you erupt in glee. 

"Ha! Too bad, Rolan, you lose." 

You should have guessed it from the look on his face; he looked so confused and kinda hurt…

Before you could say anything else or even ask, Cal interrupted with a chipper smile and your scroll. Rolan took that moment to move away without a word. You watched as he made his way to the stairs, but before he left, he turned to look over at you one last time, his brow furrowed, his broad shoulders now slumped, and his lips in a prevalent frown. Rolan let out a quick scoff before quickly disappearing up the stairs, leaving you with more questions than answers. 

You wanted to follow after him, but if he was angry, you didn't want to push it. 

"What's the matter with Rolan? Did I interrupt something?" Cal asks, concerned. 

You continue to stare off, baffled, before turning to Cal, "I have… no idea. We were staring-" 

"Oh! You finally noticed?" -huh?  

You turn to him and lift your brow at him to elaborate, "You finally noticed how he looks at you, right?" 

"Um, I thought it was a staring contest… What do you mean how he looks at me?" 

Cal shakes his head with a sympathetic smile, "You have to figure it out; I'm not explaining it. He wouldn't want me to." 

So, you left… but, of course, as you got home, you began to think, and your mind immediately went to Rolan. He was the one staring at you with those keen, bright eyes first. Why did he have to get so angry with you? It had been going so well…

Ugh! This is so frustrating. If he has a problem, why doesn't he just talk to you? He has never had an issue with it before, nagging at you with that… soothing, sexy voice. 

You roll your eyes; this is ridiculous… Maybe you should go talk to him? No! If he has a problem, he has to come to you! And that's exactly why you're going back to sundries to make him have to come to you! 

Sure, it's hours later, and they will be closing the store soon… but Cal still told you where Rolan was hiding for the rest of the night while he dragged Lia out to the tavern for the rest of the night. You're not exactly sure what he had in mind, but you're not complaining about it. 

You walked through the quiet halls of the tower, looking through the endless bookshelves, hoping to run into him. Finally, turning a corner, you see him reading at his desk, his profile so sharp and striking, and his nose. You don't know whether to bop it or ride it. 

Rolan finally peers up from his book, meeting your eyes, and you watch as he jumps, muttering something in a deep infernal. He fixes his posture before walking over to you with a sneer. 

"What are you doing here?" 

You scrunch your face into a matching scowl of your own, "I came to see what your problem is?" 

Rolan looks at you confused, as if you have sprouted a second head before moving back to one of irritation. "My problem? You're the one coming in here unannounced!"

"You're acting weird, I thought we were playing a game." 

Irritatingly, he tilts his head adorably." Game? What are you talking about?" 

You feel a sharp sting in your chest, "Yes… you know, the one you started with your staring." 

Rolans face turns a bright red, "I… I do not stare." 

Rolling your eyes, you're becoming increasingly annoyed with this denial thing. "You stare like you've got a problem." 

You watch as he grits his teeth; you're about to continue making your point in the argument, but you're quickly cut off as he marches over to stare you down. You look up, and it's that same look in his eyes from earlier… but now that he's closer… It looks different. 

"My problem is that you think everything is a game…" He places his hand on your cheek as the other rests against the large shelf behind you, "And when I look at you, I have this… feral urge to make you mine every day." He leans in closer to whisper, "And that's not a game." 

To say you're shocked is an understatement… You feel your pulse race, and your stomach flutter. He places his forehead against yours, "Please say something…"  

Your blood rushes through your body to your lower stomach, and as he moves to lean into your neck, tracing your pulse with his hose and his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

"Do it…" You say as you touch his chest, feeling his heart racing, and move your hands up to cup his jaw, looking into his golden eyes and his firm lips. "I want to be yours, feel this 'feral urge'" 

You almost want to laugh at that last part; imagining Rolan, someone so composed, going feral, seems like an impossibility. Then you feel his lips against your neck, followed by the feeling of the points on his teeth. The feeling has your body's temperature rise as you cling to his shirt, your thighs tightening the deeper he bites. 

He pulls away before he can break the skin, kissing the dull, deliose pain away as his hands slide down your body to hold onto your hips. You Can't resist yourself as you wrap your legs around his hips and feel his straining length pressing against your sex. The feel of him makes you gasp, and Rolan is quick to catch your lips in a searing kiss swallowing down your moans as he teases your clit through the thin fabric restraining you two. 

The more he ruts against you, the wetter you get, and you can tell from how he begins to whine in his throat he can feel you seeping through the fabric. It doesn't deter him, and he wraps his tail around you and buries himself into your neck. You're begging for him to stop teasing and to split you open on his cock as you reach up to grab one of his horns. 

That's all he needed to hear before he ripped off your soaked panties and bit down on the curve of your neck, letting the trickle of iron fall on his fevered tongue, and his cock teased your quivering entrance, taunting you to beg for more.

Cal

It's another night spending the hours playing drinking games and sharing stories of your recent adventures with your fellow patrons, just waiting for him to walk through the door… You two had been writing letters back and forth since the day you had left, and now, as you make your way back to the city, you're hoping to see him again. 

Your fingers anxiously tap as the noise around you becomes a dull drone of sound, and your eyes stay fixed on the door. Then he walks through; Cal walks in with that friendly smile as he surveys the room. Then his eyes meet yours, and you see how his grin gets a bit brighter, and your heart races a bit quicker. It's hard not to be smitten with him; you have been pining for a while now… but no matter what you do, that dork just can't seem to take the hint. 

Cal weaves through the crowd, and you're quick to stand on your feet to meet him in the middle; as soon as you're in reach, he's lifting you up in a sweeping hug. Yeah, when others do this same embrace, you are quick to dodge, not wanting to be touched, but something about feeling Cal's muscles coil in his arms and feeling the strength of his hands as he slightly squeezes your back, tickling you with the points of his claws. Well, it's just so much better… 

After your little twirl leaves you feeling weightless, Cal is quick to take you to the bar, "I want to hear everything you have gotten into!" 

"You know if you want adventure, you should join me on my next trip. Think Rolan can spare you for one?" 

Cal smiles, tilting his mug around to play with the golden fizz inside, "Well, I would love that, but I'm not much of an adventurer… Maybe I could be the camp guard and help make your meals!" 

Oh, someone needs to wife him up…  -That person could be you if you stop dragging your feet!

You quickly grab his hand and squeeze it, "I think that sounds like a grand idea." 

Time and everything else just seems to disappear when Cals is around; you two get lost in sharing stories and lame jokes. He truly is the best part of this city…  And it turns out you're not the only one who knows this…

Though everything around you sounds just like endless yammering, you hear a sentence that makes your ears twitch. 

"Isn't that the archmages, brother?" 

"Yes, isn't he cute? He's apparently really nice and can practically lift a crate of books with one hand." 

"Think he could throw me around then?"  

No! That's your plan! You throw a glare at the two sudden rivals in the room while also trying not to be noticed by Cal. Lucky for you, he doesn't, but the two staring solely at him don't really notice you either. You need to show that you're his, and there will be no cutting in. While you're racking your brain for an idea, you feel a hand nug your chin up, making you meet Cal's bright eyes. 

"Hey, you look like you're zoning out. Are you ready to leave?" 

You're quick to mutter out a string of nos as you grab onto his arm. Cal tilts his head, confused, but you just go with the first thing you can think of, "I'm sorry… I'm just… cold?" 

"Cold? But the fire is right there?" Cal points to the roaring fireplace stationed nearby, and you're kicking yourself for your lack of awareness, but you will not be deterred! 

"Well… I'm still cold… Could I hold your hands?" You mutter as sweetly as possible. Cal, being the gentleman, doesn't even question it before he grabs your hands with a big smile. Please, gods, don't let your hands get sweaty. 

You feel his thumbs rub slowly over your hands, and you just have to take the plunge, "I wish I had this all the time." 

His thumbs stop before you hear him chuckle loudly. -Okay, not what you were expecting. 

"Yeah, it is pretty nice; I don't have to worry about getting cold as easily." 

That's not what you meant… 

You hang your head down to stare at your boots; why did you have to fall for such a loveable airhead. You thought that was the perfect approach, direct and sweet. But… maybe that's not clear enough. Maybe it's going to have to be you showing him and everyone in here. You're already doing your fair share of public affection by holding his hand, what's a little more. 

So you just go for it and lean into him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. You know your face is beat red by the sheer amount of heat you feel radiating off of you. Building up your nerve, you peer up and see Cal looking surprised, but at least know he finally understands…

Cal just smiles at you with earnest eyes, "You're so sweet, you know that?"

You let go of his hands and slumped against the table, "I'm not trying to be sweet... I'm trying to be alluring... Show you how I feel... to see how you feel..." 

"Re-really?" He sounds surprised, and it only makes your heart squeeze more the damn ditz. "Well, if you want to know how I feel… we should probably go somewhere private." 

Your head pops up, and you see his cheeks a shade of dark red, and he bashfully rubs his neck. 

"Wait, are you saying you like me too?" 

He holds his hand out to you, "Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want me to show you?" 

The choice was clear… 

You retake hold of his hand and let him lead you through the crowd, wearing the proudest smirk on your face. Once alone, Cal gently pins your body to the nearest wall while his tail coils around your thigh as his lips slip against yours. He angles your mouth to open where he lips in his tongue past your lips to tease yours. 

A soft whine slips from your throat as his grip only tightens on you; he parts from your lips and traces your neck with his tongue. "You know how long I have been dreaming of tasting you?" 

"H-how do I taste?" 

Cal pulls back to meet your eyes; he gives you a quick kiss before he drives his fingers underneath the hem of your trousers, "So far? Like the heavens, but I need more to really know." 

With a nod of your head, Cal is sinking to his knees, pulling your pants down over your hips and past your thighs. They are not even to your ankles yet before he is driving his forked tongue over your slick folds and growling into you. You throw your hands up to brace yourself as he sinks his claws into the flesh of your thighs and parts you open on his hot tongue. 

"Just what I thought, definitely sweet…" 

Zevlor

You know what you're doing; you've been doing it for hours just to get him bothered... and much to Zevlors chagrin, it's working. 

It started this morning when he woke up to you wearing his favorite shirt… One of the few that are tattered with rips and holes. Zevlor watched as you pranced around him all morning in that shirt, giving him coffee and making him eggs, but when he would reach for you, you would step away with a smirk. You watched as his face twisted in worry, but you made sure to just shrug it off with a sweet smile. 

"Sorry, Commander, I have errands to run."

Zevlors' brow lifted at the name; he was used to 'darling' or 'my sun,' but 'Commander' was a new one that was definitely making him feel a bit flushed. He could tell you were up to something, and he couldn't help but take the bait. 

"Would you like company, my dear?" 

You let out a long hum like you were actually considering it before you agreed to let him "tag along." By the time you two had made it to the city, he had figured out you were playing a game and acting like a true brat. Walking in front of him and demanding your way? Pouting and huffing at anything that might suggest you wouldn't get your way. He racked his mind, wondering if he might have upset you, but nothing came to mind. What was your deal? 

Well, your deal was simple… Get Zevlor riled up so that he will take care of this newfound brat attitude of yours. It was an idea Shadowheart had given you, and you were excited to see if the famed zero-tolerance hellrider would come out… but he needed a bit of a push. 

You stopped abruptly in his way, making him run into you as your ass pressed against his groin, "I have something for me in there." 

Zevlor watched your pointed finger as you pointed to a fairly unassuming shop, but walking in was a different story… He had never seen such tiny and sheer clothes in one place. Feeling like he would be out of place in a shop clearly not meant for him, he offered to wait outside. But that wasn't going to fly with your plan. 

"Aw? Shy? Come on, I thought you Hellriders were an unbothered brave bunch?" You stepped closer, tracing your finger over his chest. "I got something custom made, you know… I wanted to show you…" 

So there he sat, waiting for you on the other side of the curtain; you, of course, made him wait till you heard his throat clearing, a tic of his to show he was uncomfortable. Once that was heard, you were throwing the curtain back and giving him a preview. A tight corset number that pushed your breast up to be practically spilling out the top and the rest of the outfit? Practically non-existent. A small triangle of cloth covered your mound, and when you turned, your ass was completely exposed. 

"A thong." you simply said with a smile.

It took everything in himself to not dig his nails into you and bend you over. But you two were in public, so he told himself not to wait until he got home, but you were making it hard…

"It's lovely. Are we taking it home today?" you could hear the hope in his voice. 

"No, it's still being worked on," you said matter-of-factly, and it took you everything not to squeal when his face furrowed. 

"Did… you just do this to tease me?" 

You played with your hair as you watched him from the mirror, "I don't know? Is it working?" 

Your fate was sealed. As you two left the shop, you both knew the game that was being played. It was just a manner of seeing when the other would crack. Zevlor was determined to make it home while you were just waiting for the snap.  

As Zevlor watched you stroll through the city, he noted how everything you did seemed to be laced with temptation. Your hips swaying, your eyes lingering, and your lips always in a glossed smirk, practically toying with him. But Zevlor is a gentleman, and though his eyes are currently leering on your ass, he won't just bend you over the nearest cart. You deserve better than that. 

You didn't want better than that. 

As you walk, you realize that your plan isn't working, and it's causing your teeth to grind. There has to be something to get him to scold you or show you any kind of unfiltered desire… Then, a thought flicks into your mind. With a whisper and a flick of your hand, you summon a simple spell, just a random wind gust. Just enough to get some action going…

The sudden gust of wind forces your skirt to fly up as you turn... and there he sees you, completely bare for him... Zevlor can no longer hold himself together.

You watch his face twist from shock to a stern stare before he marches over, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of sight. 

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he growls from under his breath, making your skin tingle. 

You would be lying if you said you weren't excited about your scolding from the ex-hellrider, but what happened was something you didn't see coming. He led you through the alley to the shadows. Zevlor is quick to press you to the nearest wall with his body pinning you in place. His full lips so close and his glowing eyes furrowed, you parted your lips to continue to taunt, but the words were cut from your throat as you were spun to face the wall and not your Commander. 

"I've had enough of your teasing..." his rich voice husked into your ear as his hands frantically lifted the back of your dress. 

You whimper as the cool air breezes across your exposed ass, "Teasing? I don't know what you could possibly-" 

A hot slap strikes across your ass, making you gasp into the stone wall. 

Zevlors hand caresses your flushed flesh, "Please continue to lie if you want to bend over my knee. You have been teasing me, haven't you?" 

You nod, and it's another slap to your ass that makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull, "Your words, please." he demands. 

"Yes, I- I wanted my commander's attention…" 

The weight on your back eases, and you turn to look at him over your shoulder; you see him with a smile that makes your knees weak. Then a flicking over your clit as you're keening and curling forward at the intensity.  

Zevlors hands spread across your ass, digging his hands into your flesh … "If you want my attention, you shall have it." 

His hand joins his tail, parting your slick folds and teasing your entrance, while the other works at the laces on his trousers, "Now, what should I do with such a brat?" 

"The spanking was doing something…" 

His trousers drop, and you feel his lips on your skin as he brushes aside your hair and his index and middle fingers push into your quivering hole with a painful, slow cadence. He is going to make you beg by the end of this, isn't he? 

"You're lucky I don't have my belt today." He curls his fingers in you, finding the spot that has your toes curling and your breaths picking up. "But I can figure out other ways to make you listen." 

Needless to say, your plan worked perfectly.

Kieran

Your nails dig into your palms as you press yourself further against the tavern's dark wall. You're a room away from everyone else, just like he planned…

Kieran's sharp teeth shine even in the darkness, and he watches your nerves take over your body. He traces his finger over your racing pulse, "How come every time I see you, you get all shy? You think I'm going to hurt you?" 

It's true since you met him, you have always claimed up in his presence. Maybe it's because of his striking beauty… or his reputation… The other servers warned you of his cruel tendencies. So you tried to keep a distance, but that must have made him want to seek you out more. Taunting and toying at you, and now he's got you alone and pinned.

 “Well… I…” 

He steps closer, bringing his arms to cage you against the wall. You look up to see him smiling, and his eyes glow. Gods, why is he so handsome? He could be the man of your dreams if he didn't have such a reputation. 

"Well, now you're trapped, so answer my question? Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" 

Your body shakes, and your thighs tighten, "Yes…" 

He brings his lips to your ear, "Yeah? You might be right…" 

Then you feel his teeth sink into your neck. You squirm in his hold at first, terrified, but as he bites down, he leans further into you, soothing you with his body heat and the feeling of his hands sliding from your chest down to your ass, pulling up your dress. The pain dulls into a bliss that has your body feeling like you're floating. You don't even notice how your panties are moved to the side by your own hand, touching yourself. Kieran parts from your neck to watch you with a grin. His tail coils around your ankle as you move your hand faster and faster against your sex. 

You don't know if it's a spell or if it's your desire… but you can't stop yourself from wanting him. Before you can reach your bliss, he moves your hand away, looking at the slick coating of your fingers. He laughs at you at first, making your chest cramp up in shame, and then you watch as he licks your fingers clean. 

"Spread your cunt for me, shy girl…" He lifts your body off the ground with your legs spread open wide. You hold tightly onto his neck, digging your nails into his skin, fearful he will drop you. 

Your skirt is trapped up your hips, and your stockings are ripped from his hands, scratching your sensitive skin. Then you feel something thick and hot slap against your quivering cunt. It has you getting slicked and holding on tighter. 

"W- Wait, what if someone hears?" 

He chuckles as he slaps his cock against you again, "Don't be loud, and we won't have a problem…" He licks the shell of your ear as he slowly splits you on his length, "But I bet I can make you scream." 

[cercess]

Beneath New Skies - Chapter III

Death's Door

𖤓 Tags: Depictions of violence, mentions of death, depictions of injury, depictions of blood, angst 𖤓 Rating: Explicit 𖤓 Word Count: 3.3k 𖤓 Notes: hey all! Sorry or the time it took to get this out, I really struggled writing some parts. I want to add a trigger warning for this chapter: it depicts scenes of the city being attacked, as well as descriptions of a wound on a character's arm. If these make you uncomfortable in any way, please skip this chapter. When I upload chapter four, I will include a summary so you don't miss any critical information moving forward. I'm hoping to get chapter four out either tonight or tomorrow, because I know this one took me a long time. This chapter isn't my favourite writing-wise, but it was important for events that will come later. Please excuse any clunky parts, as this is not the type of story I typically tell; I'm much more of a slice of life/romance author. Thank you all for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy the chapter! 𖤓 Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 𖤓 Read on AO3

The day started like any other, with you working the counter at the apothecary. Kyros, the restaurant owner, was browsing the wall of dried herbs, while your father helped Akmonides with some ailment in the back room. 

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Kyros asked as he smelled a vial of crushed ginger.

“Is gossiping about the gossip-monger really a good idea? He’ll find out eventually.”

Kyros laughed, as he added the ginger to his basket, “not unless you say anything.”

“That depends on how much coin he offers.” 

It was just a cough. You knew because your father had grabbed eucalyptus on his way back. In your business, the answers to people’s suspicions were often much more boring than what they’d imagined. One day, you planned on taking over your father’s position and treating patients yourself. But, seeing as the man was still as spry as ever, there was still time before that happened. Sometimes he’d test you pool by simply stating the ailment. It was then your job to figure out what ingredients needed to be used. After doing it your whole life, mixing the proper tonics and ointments came as naturally as breathing. Peppermint for colds, feverfew for fevers, valerian for insomnia, ginger for mild pain, and poppies for severe pain. Those were the common afflictions you saw, but every once in a while, there would be a curveball, and you’d have to consult your journal. 

“These are pretty,” Kyros held up a blue flower, “maybe I could use those as a garnish.

“Those are flaxseed flowers, and we use them as laxatives. Probably not something you want your customers eating.” You grin as you fiddle with the necklace Phainon had given you.

He would have found that funny. 

It had been a few days since he’d left for the ruins of Janusopolis, and you’d spent most of your time yearning for his return. It was almost sickening how much you longed for him; like a lovesick teenager who had to be glued to their partner’s side at all times. 

The door behind you opened, and out walked Akmonides and your father. The former held a vial of what you assumed to be a tonic for his cold. The other telltale sign of his affliction was his nose, which had been rubbed raw from wiping mucus away.

“Could you run to Demetria’s?” Your father asked, placing a hand on your shoulder as he slipped behind the counter. “We need oranges.” 

You nodded and hopped off your stool, taking the opportunity to emphatically stretch your arms and legs. He sometimes sent you on errands throughout the day, knowing that you appreciated a break from the mundanity. 

As overwhelming as Marmoreal Market could be, you could never shake your love for it. You had lived your whole life with the bustling stalls right at your doorstep. The sound of customers haggling echoed in the back of nearly all your childhood memories. 

The walk to Demetria’s was short, and when you arrived, the grocer was quick to welcome you with a hug. 

“Have you grown since I last saw you?” She asked. 

“Maybe,” you say brightly, knowing full well you stopped growing years ago. 

When you placed the oranges in your basket, she took a long pause, before adding a bundle of grapes. “That doesn’t quite seem heavy enough, here. A treat from me.” 

“Thank you,” arguing with the old woman was futile. She was too kind for her own good. 

Before returning to the apothecary, you made a detour to find an old friend. She was usually easy to find, as she spent her days running along the streets. 

“Serena,” you called down a row of plant-adorned homes. It wasn’t long before she poked her head out from behind a pot. You waved, beckoning her closer. 

She scanned the street before running over to you with a smile on her face.

Gaining the girl’s trust had taken considerable effort. The first time you met her, she robbed you blind. After returning home from The Grove, you were unfamiliar with certain changes, namely the orphaned children that used the market as their hunting ground. When you told your father, he merely laughed; apparently everyone had fallen prey to her antics. At the time, you were angry, and spent two days searching for the thief. After clamouring over the rooftops, you eventually found her hideout on a balcony overlooking the market. Your anger immediately subsided when you saw her huddled in the corner, surrounded by empty boxes and various stolen mementos. A sudden appreciation for your stable childhood had blossomed since then, especially as more desperate children arrived from Castrum Kremnos.

Serena was from Icatus, and had no means of supporting herself. She insisted her parents would return, but the disillusionment of maturity told you otherwise. Since then, you made an effort to leave her food whenever you could. When you and your father had leftovers, you’d set them outside the shop for her, and in the morning there would be a flower on your windowsill. 

“Were you looking for me?” She asked, trying to get a better look at the gift you held behind your back. 

You laughed, and showed her the bundle of fresh grapes. “I thought you could use a treat on a hot day like this.” 

The little girl’s eyes widened with excitement, and she snatched the fruit from your grasp. She looked at the gift like it was a rare gem, “this is all for me?”

“Of course, I-”

An earth-shattering scream cut through the gentle moment like a knife. Instinctively, you pulled Serena behind you, her hand tightly grasping yours. “What was that?”

“Stay close, and don’t run ahead,” you instructed in a harsh whisper. 

Keeping your back against the wall, you carefully shuffled to the end of the building to peer down the main street. The lone scream had multiplied into an overwhelming rumble of panic. Ahead, people were fleeing a towering figure clad in blue and white. You’d learned of the Titankin through Phainon, but had never laid eyes on one. It’s marbled skin was exactly as he had described, and the golden dagger it brandished was far from an inviting image. 

“What’s happening?” Serena tugged at your arm. 

Primal fear overtook you when the Titankin turned its head in your direction, it’s stiff, inhuman movements only adding to your terror. Had it seen you? Was it coming your way?

“We need to run,” you pulled the girl further down the street, away from your possible assailant. 

“To where?” She asked shakily as she struggled to match your pace. 

You slowed down slightly, needing a moment to think. What you needed was to get to your father. For all you knew, he was alone in the shop. He was not a trained fighter; neither of you were. A feeling of hopelessness began to gnaw at your confidence as you realized the dire nature of the situation. 

“We need to get to my father,” your attempt to keep your voice steady failed. Getting to your father meant returning to one of the main roads on opposite ends of the street. The southern road was blocked by Titankin, and the other route would still be a gamble, especially with Serena in tow. Still, you refused to abandon the child. 

“We can get there from the roof!” Serena pointed to a set of stairs leading up to a nearby balcony. 

A low groan sounded from around the corner you had previously checked, and it became abundantly clear that you had to make a choice; risk finding more Titankin on the main road, or follow Serena’s plan. While you had about a hundred logistical questions about Serena’s route, you decided that a petty thief probably knew all the cutie’s secret passages better than you. 

“Up the stairs then, and don’t look back.” 

She nodded, and led you up the nearby building. From above, you could see the extent of the chaos. It turned out following Serena’s idea was for the best, as a particularly burly Titankin stood guard on the northern road. 

“What are those things?” The little girl was trembling, so you knelt down to meet her eye. 

“Those are Nikador’s Titankin. They are very dangerous, and want to hurt us. If one gets close, you run. Do you understand?” You hated how grave your voice sounded, knowing it would only make her more afraid. But fear no longer mattered; survival was your only priority. “Can you still get us to my father?”

To your surprise, she didn’t cry. Instead, Serena furrowed her brow and led you across a nearby canopy. You rushed after her, eager for your feet to once again stand on a solid building. 

“We can climb down here,” she gestured to the ledge below. 

You realized that she was pointing at the protrusion under your bedroom window. The route you had taken must have been how Serena left flowers for you. 

The girl scrambled down the side of the building, using the uneven stone as foot grips. Given you were larger than a child, the drop was a nonissue. You thanked yourself for leaving your window open, and slid inside your bedroom after Serena. 

“Let’s find my father,” you instructed as your anxiety became almost unbearable. You had no idea what you would find, and prayed that the worst case scenario had not yet occurred. 

The two of you crept down the stairs to the shop, the sound of your racing heartbeat thundering in your ears. Everything was painfully normal; the herbs neatly arranged, the phials on the alchemy bench perfectly in order. The only thing out of place was your father, who was nowhere to be found in the main area. 

Serena trailed you, her eyes widening as she took in the shop. If it were any other time, you might have felt a bit of pride at her reaction. Alas, posturing was hardly appropriate during an attack. 

“I need you to stay ducked behind the counter, I’m going to check the exam room.” 

She nodded and did as she was told, curling into a ball. You took a breath, and opened the door. Inside, your father sat at the desk, hunched over a book. 

“Father! What are you doing?” You asked, equal parts relieved and dumbfounded.

“I didn’t think it would take you so long to get back, I-“

“Do you not realize what’s happening? The city is under attack by Titankin.” 

He adjusted his glasses, “if this is some kind of joke, I do not find it funny.” 

Exasperation threatened to overtake you, but the urgency of the moment far outweighed your irritation. “No, it’s not a joke. We need to run now.” 

Your father rose from his chair, and followed you out into the shop where Serena remained under the counter. “You’ve found a child.” 

“Father, this is Serena. I was visiting her when the attack started. She got us here safely.” 

“Then I owe you my thanks.” He smiled warmly at the girl.

“Where do we go now?” 

Before your could respond, your father jumped in, “I suspect they've started evacuating the market. We need to get out while the guards still have a foothold. Otherwise, we’re trapped waiting for the Titankin to find us.” 

You were relieved to have the pressure of responsibility lifted from your shoulders. It was something your father always bore well, and you trusted his intelligence wholeheartedly. 

“Stay in between us,” he guided Serena to stand in the middle of himself and you. Then, your father addressed you, “did you notice where the Titan were gathering? 

“There's one on both the south and north road. We almost had a run in with the southern one.” You shuddered at the thought of that encounter going any other way. “It was farther up, though, so if we make a run for it then we may reach the guards quicker.”

“Good idea,” he nodded, “it’s also closer to the gates. Follow me.” 

The two of you trailed your father as he exited the shop. “Leave the door open. We don’t want to make any more noise than necessary.” 

He crept forward, checking around the corner as you had earlier. The angle of the building made it difficult to see the rest of the street, but you noticed him straining to see past the restaurant. 

“Now,” your father instructed, grabbing Serena’s hand. They took off down the street with you floating close behind.  

As you ran, you found yourself clutching your necklace, your grip so firm that it left star-shaped indents in your palm. If Phainon were here, you’d all be safe. If you can hear me, please come home. I need you. 

The sudden realization of your own mortality was frightening. You thought of everything you had left unsaid, to your father, and to Phainon. He’d never know just how proud of him you were; how lucky you felt to call him yours. All of the little things you were too afraid to say would die along with you.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted by your companions coming to a stop. By the time you slowed down, the cause for their interruption was clear. A Titankin, larger than the other two, blocked your way with its massive sword. 

Serena trembled behind your father, her shaky hand clenched around his pant leg. 

As for the man himself, he slowly raised a hand, “we mean you no harm! Just let us pass.” 

The Titankin’s growl seemed to encapsulate the area in cool air, freezing everyone in their place. At its feet were discarded weapons; a warning for any who wished to challenge its mighty authority. 

Your eye was drawn to a spear that laid a few feet away, its blade shining in the midday sun. It called to you like a weapon of legend, beckoning you to be the hero your father and Serena needed. 

If I die today, I will make him proud. 

You lunged for the spear, albeit not as gracefully as you would have hoped. Still, when you regained your footing, the spear sat in your hands, sharp blade pointed towards the looming Titankin. 

It shifted its attention to you, sword prepared to strike. 

“What are you-“

“Run!” You interrupted your father as the monster lifted its sword high in the air. 

You shut your eyes, bracing for the impact against your defensively positioned spear. The weight that bore down on you was unbearable. Upon impact, you were sent stumbling backwards, but your spear remained raised. 

The Titankin grunted, and shifted more of his weight to the sword. You could hear the wood of the spear splintering under the force, and you focused on moving out of the way of the opposing blade. 

Behind the beast, your father shouted your name. His desperate tone almost brought tears to your eyes. You wanted to tell him you loved him, but the Titankin had successfully broken through your spear, causing you to lose your balance. 

The weapon’s two halves stared up at you sadly, and you almost felt the need to apologize for reducing the beautifully crafted weapon into such a sorry-state. However, there was no time for that, as the Titankin had raised its sword once again. 

You scrambled backwards, holding your arms in front of your face. The pain that exploded through your left forearm as the blade cut through your skin was unbearable. A pained cry escaped you as your vision blurred. Had you been hit elsewhere? You dropped to the ground, cradling your injury close to your chest. 

“Don’t touch them!” Your father cried, before a loud thump echoed through the streets. You wanted to go to him, to see if he was alright, but your legs wouldn’t work. 

Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the end to come. I love you father. I’m sorry I failed to protect you. I hope I made you proud Phainon. I’m sorry I never told you-

An awful sound, like nails on a chalkboard, overwhelmed your senses, but the impact never came. You blinked open your eyes to see a blade sticking out of the Titankin’s chest. It stumbled as that sound filled the air once again, and collapsed into a pile of dust. 

For a moment, the debris shrouded your saviour in mystery, but when they ran forward and took you in their arms, you knew your prayers had somehow been answered.

“What are you doing? Your arm, it’s…” Phainon’s voice trailed off as he observed the gash in your skin. You wanted to wrap your arms around his shoulders and never let go, but decided upon remembering your bleeding injury and his white coat. 

“Phainon?” His name fell pathetically from your lips as tears clouded your vision. Your whole body numbed, until the pain in your arm was nothing but a dull ache. 

“I’m here,” he cupped your face in his hands, “I should have gotten here sooner, I’m-“

“Ahem,” an unfamiliar voice chimed in, interrupting your tender moment. 

Behind Phainon stood a beautiful woman with golden eyes. She held some sort of stick in her hand, its shiny material covered in the same dust-like material the Titankin had been reduced to. Her short skirt and accessories were unlike anything you’d ever seen in Okhema.

“Are you going to introduce your friend?” She grinned down at you and Phainon, slugging her weapon over her shoulder. 

“Leave them alone, Stelle.” An equally exotically dressed man called as he helped your father to his feet. You noticed he had a small scar under his right eye, although it did nothing to detract from his handsome features.

“You’re no fun,” the woman huffed, nudging his shoulder.

You turned your attention back to Phainon, who was watching the duo with as much confusion as you. “Who are they?” 

Before Phainon can speak, the grey woman responded: “we’re visitors from beyond the sky, come to rescue you in your hour of need.” 

Once again, the man tried to real-in his companion. “You can’t tell everyone that,” he hissed, which was met with the woman—Stelle—rolling her eyes. 

“Is she being serious?” You asked Phainon, as he and your father hoisted you off the ground. 

“Yes… Kind of,” Phainon answered once your feet were securely on the ground. “They really are from beyond the sky. And they helped me get to you.” 

You and your father exchanged confused looks as he examined your arm. “It’s nothing major, but we need to get this stitched up.” His hand lingered on yours. 

“The path ahead is cleared, find the guards, and get yourselves to safety.” Phainon orders, having adopted his “hero” persona.

“What about you?” 

A mere touch momentarily shatters his mask. “I’ll come back to you, I promise. We need to clear out the rest of the city and get to Nikador.”

“Nikador is here?” Your father suddenly seemed uneasy. 

The man from beyond the sky ushered Serena to the exit, “leave the Titan to us, sir. Get your children to safety.” 

“You’re facing Nikador? Now?” Your voice wavered with emotion. 

“The Chrysos Heirs will defend the city from this threat,” Phainon’s words were rehearsed, his mask slipping back into place. 

“They’re right,” your father placed a calming hand on your back. “We need to get to safety. Let the Chrysos Heirs do the fighting.” 

Phainon patted your hand reassuringly, “we’ll be okay. I promise.” 

There was much more you wanted to say, but the pain in your arm had returned. Your head was starting to feel fuzzy, and from the trail you left behind while walking, it was clear you were losing too much blood. 

“Good luck,” you told Phainon as your father led you from the market. As you left, the city’s mortician passed, but said nothing. 

Death had come to Okhema, and all you could do was pray that Phainon remained on its good side. 

[writingwisterias]

hewwo hewwo

in case it hasn't been asked yet, id love to see your take on each leon era reacting to their partner who's also a fellow agent and also his pseudo captain on the field since they have a little bit more experience and level head compared to him

all your hcs are such joys to read <3333

HIII, This was so interesting to think about! I'm glad you enjoy my hc I'm sorry I took so long its been a really busy couple of months <3

Warnings: None

RE2: I think Re2 Leon would prefer someone with more experience in this Era. He has to sort of make a lot of choices himself and perhaps he could lean on someone to make more of them. It might ease the pressure he probably felt during the entire time. You can see how he reacts to Ada, he follows her instructions because there little else to do, so maybe it would have turned out slightly differently with someone else to talk in those situations.

RE4R: He seems a lot independent in this game so perhaps he would prefer if despite your increased experience it was more of a joint effort, maybe prompting an open discussion. With his head space and he's very protective I think he would also take control or make brash choices before he's really thought them through/ spoken to you about it. Infinite Darkness: Again I think he would accidentally ignore you advice as he gains more experience himself. I feel like Leon's battle strategy is to ensure people remain as safe as they can be. Which could result in him arguing with you about certain situations, mostly follows your lead though in terms of conversations and the general approach to a scenario but will overtake during an actual fight. Damnation: There no point in trying with him. He not going to listen to anything you say that could be a logical response to a situation. The mission requires really fast paced decision making and I feel like he would just take control. If you confront him about it there's no point he'll ignore you and pulling rank doesn't matter or affect him because as far as he concerned it doesn't matter in battle. I think maybe towards the end where he's sort of running on fumes and spite he might listen to you a little bit more, stopping his charging horse approach. RE6: The situation in the game is an interesting one tbh, I think at the start in Tall Oaks he might lean back and encourage you to deal with Helena and just work on being your support during the situation. However, in China I think his behaviour would switch to listening to you and himself depending on what point you are at in the game. I think he would ignore you the most when Ada is involved and he has the opportunity to prevent anything from happening to her. Maybe the encounter with Chris n Piers could strike up some arguments or angst between the two of you. Since he is laying his feelings on the table in the moments, depending on your relationship with him that could hurt. Vendetta: With how he interacts with Chris, I think he would prefer to take orders from you. Towards the start of the film he doesn't really seem interested in listening so it could be interesting if Chris used you as a way to get Leon to listen. Maybe he ran off instead of talking to you or something (Most likely)… I think he would just prefer to take the heat of decision making away for a change since he lost an entire team under his watch. Depending on if you were helping Chris for a while or not then I think he would also play it off as you having more knowledge on a situation. You can defiantly guarantee some stupid joke about listening to what the wife wants or some bs Death Island: I feel like he would prefer a shared opinion on the situation, talking out strategy's etc but I don't think he would argue if you took the lead, make some half-assed Whitty joke about it. instead? The entire mission is weird and there's a lot of opportunity's for you and him to get separated etc so I think it would just be a mutual if you make a call I follow it instead of actual argument's.

[theamberparadise]

I want to make a reaquest again, please ( if you don't mind )

Jeff the killer ( Why am I so obsessed with this guy? 😭) and ticci Toby ( because i love him ) x Jessica Rabbit s/o When they were on date Then there was someone catcalling their s/o ( separately) please

TICCI TOBY AND JEFF THE KILLER X JESSICA RABBIT-LIKE READER PART 2 | READER GETS CATCALLED!! (SFW)

SYPNOSIS; how would Jeff and Toby react to a Jessica Rabbit - like reader get catcalled while on a date? 

TW; catcalling obv, curse words, brutal ways of murdering, drinking

A/N; does this count as a part two I hope this counts as a part two somebody tell me it's a part two

part 1

TICCI TOBY

The lights are dim. The plates are clicking. Jazz is playing. 

You're at a high-end restaurant that Toby managed to reserve a seat at after bribing BEN to do some password magic on his computer. 

He knew you and him didn't need to pay because BEN managed to make it appear that the reservation and meal was paid. 

You were sitting in a cushy chair in front of a velvet covered table across from Toby. To look decent he snagged on a suit and covered his gash with a thick gauze that took over his face. 

The date is… fruitful. At first he tried to be “fancy” by ordering oysters but the waiter quietly reminded him that you were in a steakhouse and oysters weren't even on the menu. Then, he spilled a glass of water off your table. Then accidentally called the waiter a “bitch” because of his tic, but fortunately the waiter just dismissed it. 

But despite all that has happened, you're still enjoying the date since he was considerate enough to not mutilate all the other people here just to have the whole place to yourselves like he did last time at a run-down diner. 

You both were sitting next to a big window. And so he wasn't doing a good job sitting still at multiple civilians who were passing by gawking at you.

Of course he understood why, a beautiful goddess like you would obviously gain stares from people. 

He was holding your hand across the table, breathing a little too heavy for your liking while he talked about work and other shenanigans he rambled out too fast when a knock emanated from the window beside both of you. 

You turn your head, flipping a chunk of your hair away to get a better view. 

There, two teenagers were grinning at you, paying no attention to your date, who significantly gripped your hand tighter than before. 

One of the teenagers cupped his mouth around the sides and pressed against the glass

“Yo, baby! You ever been with a real man?” his voice was muffled through the clear material. 

You could practically hear Toby growl. 

Your thumb circled the back of his hand, a silent way of coaxing him to stay I'm his seat and not do anything. 

“Show me somethin’, sexy! Maybe I'll be the one to pay for your dinner!” Toby tensed. The last comment didn't sit with him well because of his masculinity being mocked. 

You shake your head and try to look away, trying to continue your conversation with Toby but his chair is long gone.

Tears filled your eyes at the thought of him might have had enough and left you because you didn't do much to stop the teenagers outside your window. 

You glance at the window once again, just to find nobody there. You cock an eyebrow, looking left and right through the cool pane.

Then, a huge splatter of blood shoots against the window, followed by muffled screaming coming from a male before the younger looking teenager’s body slammed on the glass, making a big thump.

The people behind you who were eating are obviously terrified, with a crowd already up from their seats and backing away into the wall, trying to get as far from the windows as possible.

However, Toby makes his final appearance through the window. His bare eyes which were usually hidden behind an orange tint, were now staring at the mortified customers like they’re next.

In Toby’s hand, a broken piece of wood which seems to be from the same chair he sat on. His suit, formerly in pristine and clean condition, now splattered in a disgustingly wet, dripping red.

Everyone’s screams filled the room. But the constant thumping of your heart? Enough to silence them off if ever it had a voice.

You curl up a faint smile before he trudges inside the door again, earning gasps and half-finished screams from the crowd of servers and customers as he snaps his fingers to get your (very frozen) waiter.

“I wa-want a take out b-box,” he mutters. The waiter gains sonic speed as he scrambles around, bringing back a stack of folded glossy paper boxes for food.

Without a word, Toby grabs the boxes with twitching hands, the faint sound of somebody calling 911 speeding him up, filling the boxes with A-grade wagyu steak like greasy non-authentic chinese food.

Toby grabs your arm tenderly, like a calm in the midst of chaos with haphazardly-packed food in his hand before he hushes you to his car and speeding off, the constant wailing of the sirens not fazing him.

As soon as Toby hears or sees a threat– especially when on a special day with his beloved elegant vixen, he doesn’t spare an ounce of empathy or critical thinking.

Because he’s spent so many years being rejected by pretty girls, there is absolutely no way he’s letting a bum steal what he was deprived of all these years.

Even though he’s a bum himself, Toby knew there was something you see in him, and he isn’t about to waste that something on anybody.

Toby has spent so much time making sure he was on par with you. Fancy ties his father used to wear, itchy polo shirts that make his skin twitch, tight dress pants that make him look like a looney. He’s even picked up on etiquette habits, like holding a wine glass properly, learning seven types of forks…

So if he notices that someone is trying to coax you to give them your attention, he immediately sees it as a challenge and that person is now a huge threat to him. 

And threats, like what he’s been taught all his years as a proxy, are immediately eliminated.

There’s not a moment that he doesn’t enjoy it though. He sees it as a way to prove that he’s not spineless, not something to underestimate and disregard.

And if it’s in front of people? He’s showing off. 

Look at me I just beheaded a twinky little fuck who tried to steal my hot ass girlfriend!! Look!!! - his mentality

Toby wouldn’t drag you into the bloodshed though, he’d hate for your look to be ruined because of him:(

But when he does get a splatter of blood on you, he legit stops midway into beating the guy into a bloody pulp to pull out a hankie from his pocket and frantically try to wipe the stain away before going back and finishing the business.

“Oh, n-no baby I’m s-so sorry… here, l-let me c-clean it up for yo-you.”

And when the job is done and the guy is at least hung on a post somewhere to prove a point, he proceeds to take you on the most romantic car ride you have ever been in or the most mundane and cuddly walk of your life. You honestly don’t know what’s up with that, maybe it’s because you’re fucked up in the head too or he’s just magical like that.

Toby does ask many questions after, though. He needs assurance that it’s only him you want and that you’d never be freaked out at such a freak like him. And when those words spill from your lipstick-coated lips with those sleepy eyes he loves so much? He’s shivering and rests his forehead on your shoulder, breathing in your scent.

If you tell him it's okay and that you're there to comfort him while scratching at his scalp, he's already contemplating on killing 500 more people for you.

He barely even lets you look someone else’s way, why would he let anyone invade yours?

JEFF THE KILLER

The clean taste of vodka washes over your tongue while your eyes seem to dim under the yellow bar lights. 

Jeffrey was crudely telling you a plethora of fucked-up jokes about how his recent victims look like when he was “done” with them. You laugh at him, not at his jokes, but at how stupidly beamed up his eerily pale face is. He suggested getting a drink at a bar he and Habit usually go to and calling it a date. You agree, since you were quite bored and was in a mood to play hard-to-get with him.

The scene was quite noisy. Drunk, underpaid construction workers clinking their overflowing mugs of beer. The cranky bartender slamming down overly-sweet drinks. Shitty country music blaring over the broken speakers.

It was a perfect killing night for you. Desperate, incel men with families needing to get their dick stepped on, bastards salivating behind your back, and in the far left corner, muggers who think unassuming girls are the best targets.

You continue to entertain Jeff, who was now on the topic of him mutilating his victims in about twenty ways; when the bar entrance door swings open and rings the bell overhead, producing a broken jingle followed by a long whistle and a hackle of guffaws.

You turn, the red, shiny dress on your body twinkling in the light with your hair cascading down. Your eyes surveyed the scene and saw what looks to be a small-time mobster with a few of his minions. Maybe four, maybe five. Jeff knew what was going on, and he also knew what was about to happen and was ready to pounce.

The mobster leader fished out his phone, flipping it up like a treat he was feeding to a stray.

“Nice dress, sugar! You look good in red.” he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing over his beard was enough to make you grimace. “You oughta just leave this freak here and stay with me tonight,” before you could say no, Jeff stands up, ripping the surgical mask off his face and stepping up to the greasy man.

“Watch it,” he growls, “This is my toy.” you grinch at the nickname before a flash of silver catches your eye. It was already long after Jeff had pulled out his knife from his pocket. A smirk tugs on your cheeks.

“Aw,” the mobster chuckled. “Little joker wannabe here wants a bit of trouble.” he looks up, his gleaming eyes settling on you, giving you a disgusting wink. “Say, whaddabout I kick this bitch of a date of yours and we kick it off at my pla–” he was interrupted by Jeff stuffing his blade upside the mobster’s guts before he cruelly yanks it out, raising a hand to grip his greasy hair and bang the leader’s head repeatedly on the corner of the bar table.

By the time Jeff was done the mobster was laying lifeless on the floor, shards of his bloody skull littering the bloody puddle.

And when you look back at where his minions were standing, the entrance sits empty. The rest of the crowd either also left via the backdoor or weren’t looking at all. Some even had their wallets spread out on their tables, giving up whatever they might be mugged for.

Jeff turns to you once again. He lifts your hand up with his cold fingers, then leaning down to press a kiss right on your knuckles.

He then notices the stains on your stockings, feeling proud of what he did.

“He wasn’t wrong. Y’always look good in red, baby.”

Contrary to Toby, Jeff likes it when you end up as an affected factor of his mess. Seeing you covered in the blood he spilled boosts his ego in the wrong, twisted ways.

Jeff actually prefers to do the killing in private, then stay hidden in the scene with you, watching the horror on somebody’s face upon discovering the body, giggling at how they scramble to call the police on their phone.

However he does try to blare it out as much as possible. Jeff is chaotic, it’s the reason why he’s on so many news articles. So he tries to make the scene as brutal as possible so it’s worthy enough to appear on the front page. 

He then cuts out the column and slips it under your door a week later after the incident, with a note scribbled on the back with red messy ink, saying “You always wanted a love letter, right? Well, surprise! - Jeff” (he thinks it’s better than ACTUAL love letters)

Jeff likes outwardly kissing you in front of the crowd if there ever was one during his kill. It’s his way of saying “this is who I killed for and if you try some shit like that as well you’re fucked”. He does it with his eyes open, side-eyeing them while he does it.

He hates when people steal something that’s his. He practically got everything ripped away from him before he went crazy. His ego, his dignity, his family. Once Jeff has something he values once again and especially as somebody as pretty as you? He’s building a barbed wire of warning before he lets go of himself.

And when the cops arrive, he takes your heels and your hand while you both run to his truck, then drives you to a run-down gas station so you two could “really relax”. Even though he was the one who ruined the peace in the first place.

Thing is, once Jeff hears something even remotely perverted and directed towards you he comes stomping over and tells the person to “back the fuck off” and then comes crawling back like a dog.

He actually believes he’s just as jaw-dropping as you are. So when somebody tries to disturb the “dynamic” he claims you two have, he's extremely offended. 

Jeff doesn’t ask questions like Toby does because he’s such an egotistical asshole that he expects you to thank him for causing the intended murder.

But when you scold him for it? He’ll start thinking that you actually wanted the guy and starts listing off on why you shouldn’t feel bad for him when you really don’t.

He’s all for staring, hell he can stare at you for hours without saying anything– but when another person does it to you suddenly he’s wondering why they’re doing that and interrogates them immediately.

Same with touching. He’s willing to grope your ass in public but when somebody even slightly comments on your ass he’s on theirs.

You tell him "thank you" with that creamy voice of yours while tracing his slits? He will lick your heels.

When you don’t notice the penetrator trying to hit on you Jeff sends them a glare and flashes his knife before grinning inhumanely wide. So far, that’s the best technique he’s used, but for the stubborn ones? 

He already knows what to do with them. And for you? A nice, cushy seat with front row view of his performance.

[m-jelly]

Hi Jelly, I have funny scenario that lived in my head for days xD. How about the whole Scout are having a dinner feast? And suddenly the reader said "Can you pass the salt Daddy" Then Erwin, Levi, and Mike they went to reach the salt (you decide their reaction and the silence the whole room) hehe

(This all Hange's idea lol) The rest is up to you, It could be fluff or smut ending lol.

"Can you pass the salt, Daddy?"

It was Hange's evil idea to see how the gents would react to your question. She had some ideas, so did you, but you didn't expect the actual outcome to be awkward, confusing and high sexual tension. As soon as you asked, all three men reached for the salt and realised what was happening. The stares were a mixture. Mike had a smirk, Levi seemed irritated, and Erwin was confused.

"Tch, the fuck are you two doing?" Levi slightly snapped. "Well?"

Erwin looked between the men. "She asked for the salt. I'm getting the salt."

Mike snorted. "She said, Can you pass the salt, Daddy?"

Erwin blushed hard. "Oh." He pulled his hand back. "I'm not your father."

"She meant it in a couple way."

"What?" It clicked for him. "Oh! Well...umm..."

"Oi, Mike," Levi called. "If you know, then why did you answer?"

Mike raised a brow. "I could say the same to you."

"I asked you first."

"Maybe I liked it. What about you?"

Levi blushed; even the tops of his ears were pink. "She asked for the salt and I...uh...I..." He clenched his fist. "I like her and have feelings for her..."

The table got quiet. Hange had the biggest grin when her friend finally confessed his feelings. Erwin felt awkward because he knew how Levi felt about you and knew that this was too public for Levi. Mike was not expecting a confession, but he was enjoying himself.

Levi shot up to his feet, grabbed your hand and dragged you away. "We need to talk."

You hurried behind him. "Sure, but slow down, you're fast!" He came to a stop, making you slam against his back. "A-Ah."

He turned around to face you. "Sorry." He reached up and caressed your cheek. "I didn't mean." He looked up to see some young scouts. "Tch, shit."

You took his hand and pulled him along to your office. "Is this okay?"

"Yes." He released a long sigh. "I didn't intend for it to...for...uh..."

"Levi? Do you like me?"

He lowered his head. "Yeah."

"I like you too."

He locked eyes with you as his cheeks burned. "You do?"

You nodded and cupped his face. "May I kiss you?"

"Please."

You tilted your head and kissed him. It was light and delicate initially, but then it became passionate and deep. He gripped you tightly, yanked you against his body and pushed his tongue into your mouth. Levi moved towards you and caused you to back up towards the wall. Your back bumped against the wall, making you gasp.

Levi pulled back and felt a blush consume his body. "A-Ah, sorry. I got a bit excited."

You ran your hands up his chest and giggled. "I like it. I like you. It was Hange's idea, by the way. Just a silly prank. I'm kind of glad now I did it because I got to be with you."

He leaned closer and kissed you again. "I'm glad too. I don't want to stop kissing you."

"Then don't stop."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[day-azevir]

Woag it's slab system time!!

Some basic info; we all know Etho (he/him) whose been around the longest, Logo (it/its) who joined during season 2 a bit after Etho did, and Patho (they/them) who joined during season 6 while still trapped in the jungle

People who know about the slab system: Xisuma, Bdubs, Beef, Doc, Impulse

People who have a hunch: Cub, Ren, Gem, Tango, Hypno

People who don't know: Those not listed. Etho. Patho.

Xisuma found out during a code check after Etho was retrieved from the jungle. Bdubs, Beef, and Doc all gradually figured it out over time (mostly encountering Patho), but chose not to bring it up as Etho seems to get uncomfortable about it. Impulse realized somewhere between season 3 and 4 when Etho wouldn’t remember their interactions half the time (he had been meeting with Logo). He was the first to learn about the system, but because he hadn’t known Etho that long, he wasn’t sure if it would be rude to bring it up and was under the impression that the admins already knew.

Similar to Impulse, Hypno often encounters Logo, but hasn't put everything together himself because “Humans are just so goddam weird.” He knows something’s there, just not quite what (or I should say who). Cub found Etho ‘sleepwalking’ (ie Logo taking a midnight stroll) and took it back to base, to which Logo commented on his situation with the skulk in a totally non-threatening manner before giving the front back to Etho. Etho, who had no recollection of how he got into Cubs base, was unable to give any explanation and left. Cub was not able to sleep for several nights after. Gem and Tango both met Patho when they woke up and ‘tried to escape the jungle’ and nearly ran off the server. The two ended up having to fight them for a bit, but eventually Etho started to wake up and Patho was forced to back off. Tango has been around long enough to believe that there might be a system, but doesn't want to assume. Gem took notice of the different fighting techniques between Etho and Patho, so she made a mental note to look into it later.

Etho has no idea. He usually doesn’t remember when the others front, and when he does just shrugs and brushes it off. ‘Well that was weird and out of character… Time to make tnt :)’ Genuinely oblivious. Things are very similar with Patho in that regard. They don’t front often and so things are often fuzzy and memories feel more like dreams and vice versa - they honestly still think they're in the jungle most of the time and nothing is real. Logo, on the other hand, is very aware of the others. It doesn’t talk much and is a big fan of Minding Its Own Business, but does enjoy hanging out with the voidlings.

But while 2/3 don't know about the others, they still have very fun effects on each other;

As always, open for asks about slab system!