#how sad…. you don’t pass even anonymously

[theholypeanut]

♪ You Belong with Me ♪

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Isagi Yoichi, Kunigami Rensuke

Cw: stalking, fake dating or is it?, fluff and a tiny lil angst, mention of Barou not getting bitches (pov he goes to the same school as Isagi) , mention of Otoya being a horny perv (Otoya slander as always love u Eita)

Plot: Being a football star is not an easy task, being popular can really get on your nerves when someone goes too far. That’s why he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to make all of this unwanted attention to go away highschool au, fake dating trope, afab!reader, ~800 words each

Bachira Meguru

Bachira was never very popular with girls, so when he started getting anonymous love letters, he was excited. Someone is crushing on him? However, as time passed, it seemed like this person was more obsessed than in love - writing about how cute Megu looks under the shower (how do they know?) and thirsty messages about how amazing he smells - it got very uncomfortable, especially when you don’t know who is sending you all of this. So he asked you if you could pretend to be his partner, just so the stalker would leave him alone. 

Fake dating Bachira was actually a lot of fun. Since you were close friends, so you essentially did the same things, except his hand was wandering on your back a lot, around your waist, in your hair. He started to call you Bumblebee in front of others, making you blush with his affectionate behaviour. To be clear, he was clingy before, but now Bachira Meguru was just a menace. However, it didn’t take you long to get used to wearing his sweatshirt when it was cold, and holding hands around his teammates “because you’ll never know if the stalker is seeing or not, so we have to be like this all the time”. But as time went on Bachira started to be more bold. At first, he kissed your hand occasionally while you walked home, and eventually, he moved on to kissing your forehead goodbye. He didn’t care if it was around people or not anymore. You couldn’t control the butterflies in your stomach every time you felt his lips on your skin. 

Obviously the creepy stalker sent some nasty stuff to Bachira about being heartbroken, however after two weeks you got a familiar envelope in your shoe shelf. Scared that it might be some threat, you opened the letter with shaky hands.

“Take care of him well. I can see how much he loves you”

It caught you off guard, but without a second to think about it, you felt familiar hands around your waist. “Good morning baby” Bachira’s face was right next to your ear as he planted little kiss on your cheek. And just as you looked at him you thought: god, I really don’t want this to end.

He saw the envelope in your hands and got angry at the spot. “I really hope they don’t even try to mess with my-” you shook your head and showed him the letter. “It’s good. You are good” You stopped for a second with a sad look on your face. “I guess if it worked we don’t have to-” the bell starting classes stopped you from ending the sentence. But Bachira knew what you wanted to say and he hated it.

You spent morning classes thinking about Meguru way more than usual. The silence on his part was frightening you, because what if for him it was really just an act? What if he doesn’t mind to come back to things as they were?

On the lunch break you felt your phone vibrating.

Megu: Can we talk? Come behind the gym

Without answering you just stood up and went feeling anxiety taking over your body. When you arrived and saw a familiar silhouette, your heart skipped a bit. Meguru came closer and pushed you gently against the wall and put his forehead on the crook of your neck. Feeling his breathe so close to your skin make you shiver.

“You are right, you don’t have to pretend anymore” he said, and your throat got dry as you felt like tearing up any moment.

“But if we stop pretending, and do it for real, does that mean I can kiss your lips too?”

Isagi Yoichi

Isagi was your best friend since childhood, the best neighbour, an amazing companion to play board games with. And of course, you were always the loudest fan cheering on all of his matches.

Isagi got very popular when he became one of the best players in his high school and girls and boys finally saw the side of him you saw all along: a very athletic, nice and cute boy. And a very, very handsome one.

At first it flattered him that so many girls came to see him play; however, the louder they screamed, and they squeaked every time he looked in their direction, the more annoying it was to him and distracted him from the game. “Isagi, control your fun club” he heard from angry Barou.

But to be fair, he had no idea what he could do with this issue. He was simply too kind to snap at them, and too shy to stand up to them either.

“Maybe they’ll stop if you date someone?” Bachira mentioned in the locker room after practice. Then he whispered right to Yoichi’s ear: “You have someone who you want to date for some time already, right, Isagi?”

Isagi blushed. Of course there is only one person he would even consider to date: you. But how could he ask you to date him because of something so stupid? He couldn’t do that for years now, so how will he grow a pair now?

“Maybe just get a fake girlfriend” he heard Aiku speaking. “If you are such a virgin you can’t actually get one.”

So obviously, when he asked you, if you could pretend to be his partner to get rid of unwanted attention, how could you say no?

And that’s how you two ended in this situation: holding hands with your childhood friend while going back home together. His hands were so warm, and big, and for the entire route you felt hyper aware of his presence.

“So… how was the practice?” You asked to fill the silence. Normally you’d talk for hours and joke all the way home, but apparently Isagi is also not used to holding hands.

“It was very good… I think the fan club might get more and more discouraged” Yoichi barely could make a full sentence, that’s how much he focused on the way your hand felt. If he knew he could hold your hand everyday, he would ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend years ago.

Pretend. Yeah.

However is it still pretending if you are doing that on your way home with no one around?

“So… what are your plans for the weekend?” He asked trying to get himself together. His team didn’t have to play any matches this week, which was a rare occurrence. And gave him some time for himself.

“Well, I don’t have any particular plans” you started holding his hand tighter. He blushed. “I was thinking maybe I’d study some, watch a movie… on my own”

Oh?

“Do you maybe…” he started while looking away, so you won’t notice his embarrassment. “Want to watch it together? Or… or study together?”

You looked on the ground. Isagi started to regret his boldness - what if you don’t actually like him this way? What if you are actually embarrassed to hold hands with him and it makes you uncomfortable, and you only let it happen because you are a good friend? With growing silence he started overthinking everything and started taking his hand back, just to not make you feel more uncomfortable.

But you held it tighter and raised your brow.

“And what do you think you are doing, huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was very stupid” he started. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, you are already spending so much time with me because of this whole situation, just tell me and I’ll stop bothering you so much”

For a football star he was really insecure, but what could he say? He crumbled under the idea that you might be annoyed with his touch or by his presence. Even if he’d have to keep his feelings for you forever, he’ll do it if that mean he gets to keep you as his friend.

“Yoichi” you started quietly. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. You could never bother me, you know? I actually…” you felt the feelings stuck in your throat. “Missed you a lot, since you are so busy with your football career. I missed spending time with you. Just us”

Isagi felt adrenaline was rushing through his veins just like before he was about to shoot a goal. This was an occasion he was waiting for so long.

“Do you maybe want to go on a date together?” He said without hesitation. You blinked a little surprised.

“You mean like, a fake date?”

“No. A real date. Just us. We can go to cinema, or maybe for a picnic, or we can just study together too…” he held your hand so tightly his fingers turned white. You smiled.

“Yeah, I’d love that”

Kunigami Rensuke

Saying that you and Kunigami were very good friends would be an overstatement. You were a manager of his football team for a year now, and you had a massive crush on him, but you never really talked regularly.

Kunigami was always a very polite guy, thanking you for every towel, every water bottle, always helping you with tasks that require strength, but he wasn’t very talkative, so you just assumed he was doing it out of simple generosity - he was a truly decent person. No wonder so many girls were swooning whenever he was on the field, it was always like this. His physique, handsome face, manners - you sometimes felt jealous over girls who could just openly state their feelings for Kunigami, because in your position it would be inappropriate. So you kept it nice and hidden.

Until you regretted it deeply.

There was this one particular fangirl who was on every match, cheering the loudest, always bringing Kunigami food “with lots of protein just as you like”, made herself a shirt that looks just like his football jersey. She was indeed very annoying and most of the team would either find her unbearable, or, as Otoya, were always staring at her ass in this very short skirt she was wearing.

And then you heard one day as you just arrived to school, that Kunigami has a girlfriend. It was like time stopped for a second. Till now you never expected your crush to date someone else, so in split seconds your heart was aching. Was this that girl? Did she finally succeed in her obnoxious tries?

The whole day at school felt like a fever dream. “Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve” was all over your brain. Maybe you should’ve confessed? Be more aggressive in your tries for his heart? Could you even have any chances?

You took your lunch out and tried to find a quiet place to eat, so you can spiral into your teenage depression a little more. But while going around school you passed the girl’s bathroom, just to hear The Short Skirt crying to her friends. You stopped right behind the door.

“He said that he has a girlfriend… and that I should stop coming on the matches… because it’s not okay towards her…” she took breaks to sniffle.

“You shouldn’t cry about it, we know you are way better than this half-ass girlfriend! There’s no way he got someone better than you!” - her friends were seriously doing their best.

Your brain was working fast. So it wasn’t her? You never saw Kunigami talking to any girl outside of you and her. Does he have a girlfriend outside of the school? Actually, Kunigami gives this vibe “neighbours to lovers” or “childhood friends to lovers”, so it wouldn’t be that far off.

You went to think about it in silence to one of the quieter wings of the school, and was just about to eat your sashimi, when someone aggressively entered the room.

“Oh, good. I found you.” you could see Kunigami was running just seconds ago. He was breathing just as he just ended a marathon. Was he that desperate to tell you that your presence bothers his girlfriend too? “Can I sit with you?”

“Sure” you only let out. He took a place meter away from you and didn’t say anything for a while. It started to get a little awkward, so you brought your bento closer to him.

“Do you have any lunch? Want some sashimi?” you went into your manager mode. If your players don’t eat well, how can they play well? Kunigami considered your offer for a split second.

“No, thank you” As always, you thought, Man of few words.

“So…” he started, while looking at the wall. “I don’t know if you heard the rumours yet”

You tried your best to keep your composure. “Yeah. You have a girlfriend? Congratulations” probably the lack of enthusiasm sold you away. At worst you can always pretend that you are just worried that he will play worse if he’d date, right? Because he is a valuable player.

“Yeah this one. So I kinda wanted to talk to you first, before you hear it, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “Yeah I should have told you yesterday. Sorry”

Oh? You frowned your brows. It’s not like you are such good friends that you would be the first person he’d say that he dates someone? Again you barely talk outside of practice. “Yeah I don’t think you owe me anything. Again good for you, Kunigami-kun”

“No, I don’t think you understand what I mean” he said quickly, like he was afraid you’d leave. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” You felt a little lost now.

“Actually…” he started, still not looking directly at you. “When I told this cheerleader girl that I have a girlfriend, I did it just so she would stop acting like this. It’s not true”

Oooooh. You blinked. Well, now the day started to get a little brighter. “And you wanted to tell me that… why?”

If you sit closer, you’d see how Kunigami’s ears were bright red. “So Bachira said, that maybe I should ask you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a while, so we would be sure that it looks realistic” he paused and finally looked at you. You never saw him looking so vulnerable. “Of course you don’t have to do anything. I was thinking that maybe I would walk you home, and we would eat lunch together, and we should exchange phone numbers…” With every word he looked more and more red. Could he be any more adorable than in this moment?

You smiled, and then dramatically sighed.

“I don’t know, Kunigami-kun. That is a lot of heat I am taking on myself - you have quite an aggressive funclub” you could feel how he freezes in fear, afraid of where are you going with this. Just like a scared puppy. “I think lunch and walking home are not enough. You owe me at least one date per week, where we go to the cinema, or to the arcade…” you thought for a while. “Honestly if you will not after every goal look at me and obnoxiously scream THIS ONE IS FOR YOU BABY, I don’t know if this is worth it. If I’m gonna get murdered by this witches, at least I wanna know you embarrassed yourself enough to compete with Shidou’s cringe. ”

You could feel how all of the stress just disappeared from his shoulders. He really had all of his little speech prepared.

“Okay” he said smiling. “But I’m not saying anything sexual, some things Shidou screams during the matches are seriously nightmare’s material.”

“Ah shoot, no INTO THE WOMB?” You decided to tease him some more, as he is technically now your boyfriend.

“Please stop”

“Then we go to the arcade twice per week”

“If you skip the embarrassing screaming, I can even win you plushies on every outing”

And just like that, you kinda wished The Short Skirt will never be fully convinced about you two, so you can spend time like this for long enough, so it will just become real.

And so did Kunigami.

By slowlyholypeanut please give credit don’t translate and don’t steal love u

Bachira is the best wingman for both Isagi and Kunigami 🫶 (and for himself) what an icon

[knavesflames]

🚪 Hey you! 🫵 Yeah, I'm pointing at you!

I, anonymous de anon III, proclaim the need to have another chapter for the childhood friend fanfiction with Arlecchino. The ones with spider and geode, yeah, that one!

Ahem

Shall I have the audacity to reveal myself, naur.

Maybe, when I wake up. ⏰️

I'm just really riding the concept of an insect and geo hyperfixated couple with the angsty reconnection trope, that's so chef's kiss unique 💋 ✨️.

Maybe some smut with some deck 🤔

Well, up to you and your imagination 🌌

Hello! Thank you for liking them :] I didn’t think I’d write for that trope again but as you wish😌 sorry it took some time 💔

This is part one, and this is part two!

Contents: strap on, kissing, reader is very sad, Arlecchino just wants to love her:(

Word count: 3004

Nsft utc!

Your guard is still up. You are wary, and you’re unsure if it’ll ever pass. With you practically giving her no option but to make the first move with everything, whether that’s some sort of safety net that she won’t stand you up, or if it’s reassurance she’s not leaving you again, it’s difficult to tell, you still have yet to come out of your anxious shell. If you both plan to meet at the cafe across the street, you wait until you see her there before you make an appearance. If you both are studying in the library, you wait for her to make eye contact, only for your face to flush pink as you look down. It sows seeds of doubt in Arlecchino‘s mind, what if you don’t actually forgive her? What if you’re playing some cruel joke to make her feel the way she made you feel that day? But she knows your nature is too kind for that, she knows you’re scared, anxious to have a friend and not lose them. She sees you paying just a little too much attention to the way you act, almost making sure you act more ‘normal’. When you take hikes in the mountains to look at insects and rocks together, she sees the way you gaze at a rock you so want to pick up and inspect, the way you restrain your excitement when you see a possible fossil, or a new find to go in the drawer of your desk. She always sees, because she’s always watching you. How could she not? The woman is completely infatuated with you. If she could, if you’d let her, she’d kiss you in the cafe, with that silly chocolate moustache you always have when you drink your mochas. It’s “adult hot chocolate”, you say, to which she can’t help but nod, agreeing with her eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

Neither of you want to admit you’ve grown quite fond of each other. Nor do you want to admit you spend most of your time together. Neither of you say anything about what this is becoming, perhaps for fear of shattering what has only just been sculpted. You often watch her murmur to the spiders she catches for you in your dorm room before putting them outside (because, of course, you had to be given the room that every insect loves. You say they’re tormenting you because you’re too weird to have human friends. Arlecchino says it’s a testament to your nature, that small, harmless creatures take cover in your room instead of anyone else’s. It makes you feel better, even if you don’t say it). Arlecchino says she only comes to your dorm because she gets to enjoy the company of the spiders, not you, but one look in her eyes and you’d know she’s lying through her teeth. You’re lying too. You learned to take the spiders away when she first showed you, but you let them stay until Arlecchino comes to take them. You like to watch the small smile grow on her usually stoic face before it fades once more. Seeing you cower away from the insects is the equivalent of seeing a kitten scared of a cucumber, she thinks. So silly, yet so adorable.

But your reconnection isn’t without struggle. You haven’t opened up fully, both of you wonder if you ever will. You clam up even more when her friends appear. Your brain is screaming at you to fix everything to seem more normal, not weird. Straighten your posture, don’t tuck your hair behind your ear, take your hands out of your pockets.. without the pebble. You adjust yourself so much that your intention to appear more normal fails completely. And when you turn to walk away, you grimace, muttering curses to yourself. Arlecchino wishes you would just let people see you for who you are. You are weird, but so is she. She just doesnt care enough to hide it. And now, you both sit on the floor in the middle of the forest, her building a little ant house, you inspecting rocks, mostly in silence, before she does speak up, softly, so she doesn’t disturb the ants.

“What happened today?”

“What?”

“You have been different. You were crying when you came out of your geology class.”

“I was not.”

“Do not start lying to me now.”

You sigh, annoyed at her observation. You didn’t want to speak about it, don’t want to speak about it, but the look in her eyes says you don’t have a choice. She’s concerned, her hand still in the air, holding a small twig as she waits for you to speak.

“It was just someone in my class. They’re friends with someone from school.”

“Okay. Why did that make you sad?”

“They called me weird.”

“Ah.”

There doesn’t need to be anything else said. She knows how her that word has affected you, to the point she knows you used to write it on your mirror, where you whisper it to yourself any time something went even remotely wrong. She found that out when she stayed over one night and went to the bathroom while you were sleeping. The messily, angrily scrawled word written with your favourite lip stick across the mirror shocked her, yet saddened her beyond words. Silently, she wiped it away, despite it being past midnight before padding her way to your desk, stealing a sticky note before sticking it to your mirror, her scrawly yet somehow elegant writing decorating the yellow paper: “Most people consider insects weird, but I’m equally as fascinated by them as I am you.” She said nothing of it until she left, letting you find it on your own. And you did, three hours after she left, your eyes red and glassy from crying once she did depart. You don’t know why you can’t just feel normal, and you even though you try, it just doesn’t seem to work. In your brain, her compassion isn’t warranted. You’re prepared to wake up one day for it all to be some new sick way of tormenting you. It seems to most people like you’re simply being sensitive, by reacting so strongly to that one word, but you’re not. She knows that, too.

So, when she receives a message at 11:48pm from you (you’ve said there’s a spider in your room. You are lying.) after you’ve had a particularly bad day, she’s out of the door before you can even read her response.

You lay under your favourite blanket, huddled in baggy clothes with red eyes and raw skin under your nose with the amount of sniffling you’ve been doing. You can hear her footsteps approach, her usual heels clacking against the wood before slowing, and finally stopping. She doesn’t knock yet, and you look at the door with hopeful eyes, just waiting for her to knock. When she doesn’t, when she stands there motionless outside of your door, your eyes lower, a pit in your stomach forming and an ache in your chest pinning you to your bed as you think the joke is finally coming to an end. Your teeth clench as you suck in a silent breath, your thoughts chanting, “no”, screaming at you to not cry while you can still see her shadow from under the door. Arlecchino, on the other hand, is completely nervous. Why, she doesn’t know, and she probably couldn’t find out. Her hand is raised in a fist, ready to knock, but she can’t bring herself to. She wonders if it’s because she likes you so much, and before she can come back to reality, five minutes have passed and she’s still stood there. She scolds herself mentally before bringing her fist to the door gently, once, then twice, in her signature pattern.

Your eyes lift once again, and you swallow your shaky voice, clearing your throat before you speak. When you do, your voice is quiet, hoarse from the amount of quiet sobbing you’ve been doing into your pillow today.

“It’s open.”

When she steps into the dorm room, which is unusually dimly lit for your tastes, she’s noticed, her eyes scan around, looking for the spider you claim to be terrorising you. She can’t see it, but her eyes land on you, your frame curled into yourself with a puffy face, a couple of tissues by your bed, and your rocks.. on the floor.

“I see the spider has infiltrated your rock display?”

“Yes. Stupid spider.”

“Hey. They have feelings, too. Where is the little guy?”

“I think he ran off.”

You glance back and forth from her face and the rock display, or rather, what’s left of it. It was fine four hours ago, different geodes and fossils placed perfectly with neatly written labels underneath describing what they are and where you found them. Now, the labels are ripped up, scattered on the floor next to the pile of rocks you’ve thrown. Arlecchino’s eyebrow twitches up as she observes the scene around her. Then, it hits her. There was no spider. Something has happened and the only person you could think, or want to tell, was her. Her face softens, even if just a little as she moves to perch on the edge of your bed.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The spider was running everywhere.”

“Spiders can’t rip up paper. Talk to me.”

Your eyes grow misty once more and your voice shakes this time when you speak. One word spills, then more, until you’re rambling about what happened today, your voice hitching as you try to take breaths without breaking out into a sob. How the girls in your one geology class shamed you once more for being so interested in a certain formation that you began excitedly speaking about it at the end of class. How it ended with you being ridiculed and told to shut up and get a life, that nobody will ever want you, and to stop being so weird. You keep rambling and breathing so fast you begin hyperventilating and sobbing at the same time. Your hands are trembling, and in turn, Arlecchino’s eyes narrow, her lips twisting into a sad, sympathetic frown. And when she realises you’re working yourself up too much, she realises that she has to calm you down. Calling your name doesn’t help, her hand squeezing yours doesn’t help, so, in a moment of slight panic, she gently holds your face between her thumb and forefinger, bringing your lips to hers the way she does every so often.

Your lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss as her thumb moves softly across your cheek. Your breath is stopped for only a second, but it’s long enough for your lungs to regulate the intake of oxygen and stop your hyperventilation. When your lips part, your foreheads touch, her other hand coming up to caress your other cheek as she whispers softly to you, calming you the way it seems only she can.

“Be quiet. None of that is true.”

“It is, you know it is, everyone at this college knows, everyone in school knew, it’s true, nobody does want me—“

“I want you. I like you.”

Your lips meet again, your move this time. It’s become obvious over the months, or year, by this point, that you like each other, with the constant spending time together, the occasional kissing and even the occasional sex that you both think about for days afterwards. Your hands move over her charred ones, your fingers curling over her palms as your lips slowly move, your breath still hitching occasionally, though less so, your breath more even. Your right hand card through her hair, moving into the base of her ponytail, your long nails scratching gently into her scalp the way you know she loves. In turn, her lips move from your lips across your jaw, towards your neck, lips moving slowly, then quickly, then slowly again as she listens to your breath, how it quickens with every touch of her lips against your skin. Her fingers slowly slip under your sweater, tracing the soft skin of your stomach and your ribs as she murmurs against your collarbone.

“I don’t understand why you wear these baggy clothes. You have such a nice body.”

With your sweater raised to your stomach, her hand ever so gently pushes you down onto your bed until your head is on the pillow, your hair splayed out around you. Her lips move to your stomach, kissing over your navel and upwards, lips tracing over each bone of your rib cage, moving upwards until she nips gently, playfully, at your chest. Your grip on her hair pulls her up towards your lips instead, whispering as you close your eyes in embarrassment.

“Why do you always kiss my chest? I hate it.”

“It’s beautiful. I adore it.”

“There’s nothing there, Arlecchino.”

“So you say. I don’t recall saying that I cared about the size of it. I said it’s beautiful, so let me.”

You know if you really didn’t want to, she’d stop, but the way your grip loosens slightly and your head tilts back is a silent confirmation that she can continue, so she does. Her tongue darts out to harden the buds on your chest, smiling into your skin when a sound almost like a moan escapes you, much to your dismay. You sit up, flipping the positions as you repeat her motions, listening to her sped up breath as you suck on the skin of her breasts, leaving small love bites. She would never admit it, but she adores staring at them when she’s alone again, memories of your lips there flashing through her mind. Her back arches, pushing her breasts further into your mouth before she lifts you, moving you back onto the bed before she whispers once more.

“I left it here last time. Did you throw it away or did you keep it?”

“I kept it. It’s under my sweaters in the drawer.”

You don’t need to speak again because she’s already off the bed, rummaging through before she quickly comes back holding a strap on, one of her favourites, actually, and she hasn’t said, but she left it here so she could use it with you again. It isn’t big, but it fits you perfectly, makes you feel good in the best way, and she loves to see your face when you cum on it. You watch hungrily as she attaches it to herself, your previous mood forgotten, the rocks on the floor gone from your mind completely.

“Lift your hips, pretty girl.”

She guides your hips into lifting up just enough so she can slide your panties, now almost transparent from just how soaked you’ve become, down your legs, letting them land quietly on the floor. Her hands pry your thighs open just a little, encouraging you because you always seem to get shy, no matter how much you enjoy it. The silicone, dark red and black, moves between your legs, the tip of it knocking against your clit, causing you to gasp, your hands moving, one clutching her bicep, the other around the back of her neck. She grinds the strap on your clit for a little while, getting you used to the material, getting you excited and wanting more. And she can tell when you’re ready, when you bite your lip and wiggle your hips in a way that tries so hard to get her to slide into you. Her forehead rests on yours, eyes closing as she moves her hips the same time you move yours, your pussy sucking her in like lungs needing air. Both of you groan quietly, and after a few seconds, her hips start slowly pumping into you. Your voice comes out in small, broken moans, your eyes squeezed shut as you nod in approval every so often.

“It’s good?”

“So good.”

“You’re taking it well, sweet girl.”

“God, you’re amazing.”

Usually Arlecchino finds pleasure in teasing you, slowing down just before your orgasm to draw it out, to keep her hand gently squeezed around your throat or to make you cum more than once just to hear your overstimulated whines. Tonight, she will not. Tonight, she will love you silently and give you what you need, make you forget about all the negative things in your brain. Her hands move to the rough patch on your thigh, feeling each scarred bump, silently counting to make sure you haven’t added another to the horrid, horrid collection you’ve acquired. Satisfied, her hand weave into your hair, occasionally tugging to keep you going. Her other hand moves down to your pelvis, her thumb ghosting over your clit in small circles, helping you along as your small moans become louder whimpers.

“Arlecchino, I think—“

“Do it, then. You deserve it. Cum for me, beautiful.”

It’s all the ammunition you need, your back arching, your hips bucking up as she angles the strap perfectly to hit the spongy spot inside of you again and again before you gasp once more, a long, drawn out moan as your body trembles, Arlecchino’s voice whispering lovingly.

“Good girl. Good, that’s good. You did so well.”

Your eyes finally open, your body finally relaxing as she slows to a stop, then pulls out, both of you scoffing with a laugh as the silicone makes a popping sound when it comes out of you. The pillow sinks slightly as her head moves to rest on it next to you, her fingernails gently tracing your arm. She can’t help but notice your eyes moving towards your (now ruined) rock display, and she speaks.

“Shall I help you make a new one?”

“You dont have to.”

“I want to. I was going to ask you, too, there’s a new science museum in the next town over. They have a feature on different bugs and their habitats, and they have a feature on geodes. Would you—“

“Yes.”

[sinsirellaxx]

Loving your toxic Slytherin boys series, I was wondering if you could do their reaction to the reader leaving them for someone else and how they would attempt to get the reader back. (Btw your talent is unmatched, I could never<3)

Slytherin Boys – What would they do to get you back if you left them for someone else

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words – they are greatly appreciated! ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy what I've come up with! 🫶🏻

Warning: Toxic boys alert 🚨

Mattheo …

… would be shocked because how dare you leave him? The initial shock would very quickly turn into anger, his thoughts clouded by dark thoughts as he went into denial. He had rolled his eyes when you told him you were breaking up with him because of someone else. Who could you possibly be in love with if not with him? The smug grin never left his face when you stormed out of his room, thinking you’d be back in his arms by tomorrow. You weren’t, though. His eyes darkened as he spotted you giggling with none other than Fred Weasley.

All hell broke loose in Mattheo’s head – you had truly left him. His fingers twitched to reach for his wand. Everything in him screamed for him to hex the Weasley right in front of everyone but he knew that would ruin his chances with you. He would have to be more … discreet about getting rid of the Gryffindor male – but he would get rid of him. If he can’t have you, no one can.

Theodore …

…  instead of attacking your boyfriend he would try to win you back – he knew you still had a soft spot for him. He’ll text you occasionally and sneak in love-notes into the box with your stuff before giving it to you. He’d even spray his cologne on everything and hide a few of your favorite pictures of you together with memories and dates written on the back of said pictures. The day you come to pick up the box, his fingers will linger on yours as he passes you your things with a sad smile on his face. He knew the effect that smile had on you.

Slowly he’ll creep back into your life, planting his seed in your head until you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

On what-would-have-been-your-anniversary, he sent you your favorite love song with a short ‘happy anniversary’ attached to it. He was lying on his bed when you came barging into his room after five minutes with teary eyes, wearing the hoodie he had sprayed his cologne on. You fell right into his arms, clinging onto his sweatshirt as you sobbed into his neck. Theodore quickly wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands stroking your back soothingly. “I missed you too, bella.” He muttered, cupping your cheek with his right hand as you lifted your head to look at him. He took note of the way your eyes lingered on his lips, waiting in anticipation as you drew closer. Finally – finally – you gave into your urges and pressed your trembling lips on his.

Too bad your boyfriend walked into his room with the potions notes that he had borrowed from Theodore the day before.

Lorenzo …

… will send your new boyfriend anonymous letters and notes with threats to his life. If those don’t work, he will be more aggressive: he’d boycott your dates, sneaking laxatives into your boyfriend’s drink or fumbling with his broom before quidditch practice to ensure he’d fall and break something. And if that still doesn’t work – because you somehow grow even closer after all the unfortunate accidents your boyfriend has – he’ll drag him to a secluded hallway and push him against the wall with his hands gripping onto his shoulders. Lorenzo threatens him and tells him to break it off with you before kneeing him in his stomach several times, drawing pained groans from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend as he falls to the ground. Before he leaves, he will step on your boyfriend’s head with his hands in his pocket.

“I assume you got the message and I really hope we won’t have to talk again, because I assure you – you won’t be liking it at all.” He snickered as he pushed himself away from the whimpering heap on the floor.

He was Bellatrix’ son after all.

Draco …

… would straight out have your new boyfriend expelled from Hogwarts – but he had to be smart about it. He knew he couldn’t just go to Dumbledore and expect him to expel your new boyfriend without a good reason – not that Dumbledore would be easy to deceive.

But he’d make sure to sneak into the restricted section of the library and steal a few scripts to hide them in your boyfriend’s bag.

The next day very rare ingredients disappeared from Snape’s collection – ingredients that were needed to brew a very dangerous potion. When the Professors found the missing scripts and ingredients in your boyfriend’s room, they grew suspicious of him.

And if that wasn’t enough your boyfriend’s father was sent to Azkaban, accused of being closely connected to Voldemort – which was the last straw for Dumbledore as the professors finally agreed to expel him from Hogwarts.

Now, the only thing Draco had to do was sit back and console you while you cried – shocked by the truth as regret settled deep within you. How could you have ruined what you had with Draco for someone like him?

Blaise …

… would pay one of the girls to seduce your boyfriend at a party in the Slytherin common room.

He watched, with a drink in his hand, as your boyfriend disappeared in the bathroom with the girl he had bribed, just a few minutes after you had walked in.

He tapped his foot nervously as he waited for everything to unfold: After another two minutes the room to the bathroom was thrown open and you came rushing out with your hand over your mouth as tears ran down your cheeks – leaving black traces of mascara in their wake.

Standing up from the loveseat, Blaise put his glass on one of the tables before he walked after you.

It was his time to shine now.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

For you

(part 2 to waiting)

Anonymous asked: please please do a pt 2 of waiting it’s a needddd 

Anonymous asked: Can we PLEASE get a part two for waiting?? I like, NEED it! And thank you for your amazing writing 💖💖

and, its here!!! a lot of you sent me asks and messages, so i decided to post it!! the last time i did, i got a lot of negative feedback, so, please, forgive me if this was not up to your expectations.

word count: 1k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

warnings: angst, swearing.

. . .

Throwing the phone away as soon as you cut the call, you broke down all over again. Wails and sobs filled the room, as you cried your heart out. You did not want to talk like that with him, it hurt your heart in the deepest ways. The way he sounded so…broken and defeated, made you regret saying everything you already had. 

With swollen eyes, you got up to use the washroom. As soon as you went inside, the condition made you retch, but where else would you go? It definitely needed cleaning if you were planning on moving back. 

You washed your face too, and came out to look for a towel. That’s when you heard it.

The doorbell.

Nobody knew you, or anyone was living here. Unless…

Getting a peek through the door viewer, your suspicions were confirmed. 

It was Harry.

“Harry?” 

His condition was…miserable. Bags under his eyes, all reddened up and showing hints of tears, suggesting he might’ve cried on the way here. He couldn’t even stand properly. You grabbed him when he began to stumble, and pulled him inside, locking the door.

“Oh fuck!” he cursed, as you pulled him down on the floor- “Y/n! Am I actually seeing you? Did you forgive me? Or am I dreaming? Where am I?”

“Harry…”

Was all you could say, even though there was an ocean of words wanting to make their way past your lips.

“Oh, you look so beautiful! Your skin is glowy” he said, squishing your cheeks together in his palms “You look so ethereal. But seriously? Am I dreaming? Because if I am, then I need to wake up because that would mean either I passed out or am sleeping, but I don’t remember sleeping. I just remember driving. Or did I get in an accident and–” You put your hand immediately on his mouth, to stop him from saying anything else. Those were the words you never wanted to hear, even in your worst nightmares.

“Shh,” you pulled him into you, resting yourself against the door so he could put his head on your lap. “I’m here, Harry, and I am real. You aren’t dreaming. You were driving and I was mad at you, and then you asked me where I wan, then cut the call—how did you figure out I was here?”

“I just–you know–just figured it out. You wouldn’t have gone to a friend’s because that was too much work, explaining everything, and I figured you were tired. And besides our house, this is the only place left for you to be alone.”

“Mmm”

“So, you forgive me? Or you don’t? Love, why are you crying?” he said, sheepishly wiping off a few tears that had escaped, wiping them into his unbuttoned shirt.

“I just…feel bad. For talking to you like that. What if something actually happened to you? I would never have forgiven myself. I yelled at you for no reason, and you were already drunk and you sounded sad. And I swear, I was just too angry at that moment. I never want anything bad–anything bad, happening to you” tears flew down your cheeks, and fell on his neck. He didn’t bother wiping them. Just looked up at you as you broke down.

“It’s not your fault. I was a proper dick today, wasn’t I? Could’ve atleast texted you that I…was, I-I would be late.”

“Why were you late? Did you not want to come?”

“No! No, I did. I even was planning on buying flowers for you. So so many. And then-and-and then kissing you and hugging you. And never leaving your side.” A tear fell from the side of his eye.

“No, baby, don’t cry. It’s-It’s alright.” you wiped the tears from the side of his eye, and he continued.

“I’m so fucking sorry for today. I know that it’s really early, but I love you. Lots and lots of love. And I was just-just get scared that I don’t deserve you. You do so much for our relationship. And I don’t put that much effort. I never have.I just get so caught up with work and my career, that I don’t realize that my life is so much bigger than just that. My life is you. Even today, I was enjoying with the guys, and the alarm I had put for our date rang. I didn’t realize it was that, and I-I ended it. About one hour later, when-when one of them brought up your name, I remembered.” 

You took a deep breath. You were really not expecting that. You just thought that he was enjoying with the guys, and would rather do that than go out with you. But, you were wrong.This was your H. He would never do that.

“It’s okay, H.It really is. And I understand, alright? I know we are not like a trivial couple, our relationship is different. Special. Your job demands more of you than others, and you have to give in that extra. Music is your life, and I don’t ever want to take any of that away from you, okay? Next time, maybe we will plan our date on a day when you’re free. It maybe the next week, or month, whatever. Okay? And I love you too. Lots and lots and lots” you gave him a kiss on his forehead. “And don’t worry about me. We are together. We will be together, for as long as you like. I am not going anywhere. Never away from you. And I am also so fucking sorry for treating you badly.”

“Don’t apologize. I deserved it.”

“No, you don’t. You deserve love. Lots of love. Come here.”

He climbed up, hugging you tighter, and resting his face on your neck. You hugged him back, never wanting to let go.

. . .

a/n: sorry if this sucked! feedback is really appreciated! you can send requests/feedback/or just talk to me here!! i am here for you lovelies!

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@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @panicattheuc

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[twice-inamillion]

Ambush

Angst (Anguish,Fear, Embarrassment, Hate, Sadness)

Chapter 218

2935 Words 

( A post Sana made might be more serious that it seems to be.)

“I was born in the Heisei era, so I am sad to see it end. I would say ‘good job’ to Heisei. Toward the first day of the new Reiwa era, I will spend the last day of Heisei with a fresh mind.”

—————

“Better write that in her own diary.” - Anon

"It was rude of her to post that.” - Anon 

"They have an official Japanese Instagram account too. She should've posted it there. Not liking this at all.” -Anon 

"TWICE didn't post anything on Korea's Independence Day. Why is she posting that there in all Japanese?" - Anon

“Why is she posting that if she’s working in Korea as an idol? Didn’t she have a little bit of decency?” -Anon 

“If she likes Japan so much, why doesn’t she go back?” -Anon

“This comes to show that idols don’t have a brain. Doesn’t she know what she is doing? JYP really needs to have a leash on her.” -Anon

“It’s always the Japanese idols. Why don’t they go back to their own country.” -Anon

“You can tell that Sana doesn’t have any idea about Korean history even if she works in Korea. I bet she just has fun and lets herself be used by male idols. -Anon 

-“Haha yeah, I bet she gets passed around by the male idols in JYP.” -Anon 

-“You’re probably right. She has nothing in that brain, just sex. I bet even JYP uses her himself”- Anon. 

“If I were to see her in person, I would give her a piece of mind. Korea is better than Japan.”-Anon 

,-“If I see her, I would spit on her face.” -Anon

-“Instead, she would let us fuck her as an apology for being an ignorant fuck.” -Anon

“I’m with you. How about we all get together and pass her around? She’s already getting passed down by the; why male idols, why not us?” -Anon 

—————-

Some of these comments were seen on the Twice Instagram post from Sana, one of Twice’s Japanese members. It spread like wildfire over the internet, with hundreds of posts from anonymous commentators.  

————

“Oppa is asking if you want him to pick you two up,” as Sana reads the text from Nayeon early in the morning before flying back to Korea with Dahyun.

“No, it's okay.” 

“How about the managers?”

“We’re fine. We didn’t bring a lot of stuff with us.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Dahyun says it's okay, too.”

“Okay. See you back in the company then. Just message us when you get here.”

“Okay, see you in a few,” she said, turning off her phone before boarding the plane. She looked at Dahyun, who was in the window seat and had put on her mask to get some sleep before arriving in Korea since she had been up late the previous night. 

A few hours pass, the two of them arrive at the airport. They grab their bags and head to the exit to catch a taxi.

“Want to go to the shopping center?” asks Sana. 

“I don’t mind going.” 

“Okay, I’ll order the taxi to take us there,” as she waves for the taxi. 

The taxi arrives, and the driver asks,” Where to?” “To the shopping city that’s downtown.” 

“Got it.” 

The two of them enjoy a twenty-minute ride to the shopping center and pay the driver once they arrive. “Thank you for the ride.” 

The first place they go to is a local restaurant that serves brunch. They enjoy their meal in a booth and talk about their upcoming events. 

“I can’t wait to go to the States,” says Sana.

“You said you wanted to go to Los Angeles and New York, right?”

“Yeah, I do. I want to go and eat the food over there with Momo. She made a list of places where to eat. How about you, Dahyun?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. I want to bring Daeun, but I don’t think she will be able to handle all that traveling.”

“Jihyo and Chaeyoung’s mom said they can watch her doing it during the tour.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but still…”

The two of them continue to talk about their worries as they eat their food. They both decide to go to a couple of shops and buy something for all the members. 

They pay their bill, exit the restaurant, and do a bit of window shopping. As they walk around, they see a couple of ajummas staring at them. They keep on walking and stop at an ice cream shop. Once they exit, they see the same group of ajummas sitting across one of the benches. The two of them sit at one of the many tables and enjoy their ice cream. 

One of the ajummas walks towards them and asks, “Are you the Japanese idol Sana?” 

Sana, with a warm smile, responds, “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you.”

Out of nowhere, the ajumma with the cup in her hand splashes her with water. “If you like Japan so much, you should go back to where you came from. This is Korea!”

Sana, frozen from what just happened, doesn’t know how to respond. Dahyun, shocked, tries to wipe Sana off with some napkins as the group of ajummas laughs with a satisfying grin. 

The rest of the other women laugh and repeat what the first ajumma said and point at the soaked Sana. 

“I don’t know what's going on, but let’s go, unnie,” she says as she tries to help Sana stand up. “Yeah… let’s go.” The two of them stand up and walk toward the entrance of the shopping center. The ajummas follow and harass Sana as they walk behind her, attracting a crowd of people.

“Yah! Don’t you have manners, girl? Why are you talking about Japan when this is Korea?”

“We’re not done with you!”

Sana and Dahyun don’t understand what’s going on. Why are these ajummas so upset? They get to the street and see a taxi from across the street. As they try to look both ways, one of the ajummas tries to grab Sana by the arm, but Dahyun pulls her away before she can. They ran and crossed the street in panic, but just before making it to the taxi, Sana tripped on one of the sidewalk cracks. The ajummas laugh, making Sana turn red of embarrassment before Dahyun helps her stand up.

They get into the taxi and ask the driver to head to the JYP building out of instinct. Dahyun looks at Sana who is covering her face with her hands and asks, “Are you okay, unnie?”

Sana doesn’t respond but remains with her face covered. She can hear Sana’s muffled crying and tries to comfort her, only to see her bleeding knee from the fall that just happened earlier. “Ohh no, unnie you’re bleeding.” Dahyun opened her purse, took out some sanitary wipes to clean the blood, dried it, and put on a bandaid. 

Not knowing what else to do, she searches for her phone and pulls it out, only to notice that it’s still off. She turns it on and sees the amount of missed calls and messages from the members and manager unnie. She calls Nayeon, who immediately asks where they were. “Sorry unnie, we landed a while ago and just remembered to turn my phone on. Why are you all messaging us? Did something happen?”

“Wait… you don’t know?”

“No, what’s going on?”

“Is Sana with you?”

“Yeah, she’s right here with me, but she doesn’t feel good right now.”

“Oh… where are you to right now?”

“We went to a shopping center, but something happened, and now we are going to the JYP building. We are about two minutes away. Maybe.”

“Wait… don’t come here; it’s not good right now.”

“Why?”

“Actually, tell the driver to come through the back instead.”

“Okay, but what’s going on?”

“Hmm… just keep your heads down when you pass by; Jihyo and I are going to meet you at the back entrance.”

“Okay, we are turning the street right now.”

“Okay, hold on. We are going inside the elevator…”

The call cuts off, and Dahyun sees some reporters with cameras and a couple of people with signs. She looks and reads the signs and is upset with what she sees. She grabs Sana’s hand and places Sana’s head on her chest to prevent her from looking. 

The driver pulls up to the back of the parking lot where Nayeon, Jihyo, and manager unnie are waiting. They help Sana out of the car as manager unnie brings up their belongs and pays for the fare. 

“What’s going on?” asks Dahyun.

“We’ll talk about it when we get to the practice room,” says Jihyo.

They make their way to the practice room, where the rest of the members are waiting. Some of them, like Momo, notice the scrape on Sana’s knee and ask what happened. Sana immediately begins to cry, remembering the event from earlier. Dahyun recalls what happened, from the nasty ajumma who threw water at her for no reason, getting followed by the elderly group, and her falling and scraping her knee while everyone was looking. 

The members look upset about Sana’s experience and try to comfort her, and Nayeon and Jihyo pull Dahyun to the side. 

They explain that last night, Sana uploaded a post welcoming the new Reiwa era on the Twice Official page, and some people were offended and posted hateful comments. Nayeon shows Dahyun her phone, showing the comments from the hateful people. Dahyun can’t help but feel upset that she couldn’t do anything to protect her earlier. The members try to comfort and get her mind off the situation. They play a couple of games and watch videos in the practice room before heading home.

———- 

The members arrive home and get together to make Sana her favorite dishes. Jeongyeon, Momo, and Tzuyu work in the kitchen as the rest of the members hang out in the living room. They try to keep Sana off her phone and entertained as much as possible. Once dinner is ready, they call everyone to the table and show off their cooking skills, which have been improving.

Once they are done, some of them stay at the table while the rest go to the living room and watch the kids play. Sana can’t help but think about the incident earlier today and starts to space out, but she is interrupted when Ari comes waddling to Sana and throws herself at her. 

“Awww, Ari, I love you very much! Thank you for cheering me up!”

With a smile, Ari pats Sana’s head and places herself between Sana’s legs. They watch Jisoo running around the carpet and throwing herself at the rest of the members. It is only when the kids begin to yawn that they all decide to head back to their rooms and get ready for bed. 

“Bye Bye,” waves to Ari to Sana as she walks towards Mina’s bedroom. She kneels down and waves goodbye, “Bye-bye. Good night.”

Ari smiles and waddles to Sana, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Surprised, Sana picks her up, gives her a kiss on the cheek, and hugs her tightly.

After leaving her room, she gets ready for bed and takes a hot shower to relax after a terrible day. She still remembers the event from the afternoon and asks herself why it happened. Stepping out of the shower, she sat on her bed before drying her hair and pulling up her phone. Sana notices that her phone has been off the whole time and turns it on after not having used it for the whole day. As she turns it on and watches a couple of YouTube videos on perfumes and baby clothing before watching a movie. After a couple of hours of being on her phone, she decides to go to sleep, but not before going on Twitter and seeing if anything is interesting. She apps the app notices the newest trends and sees that her name is ranked high. She clicks on it and sees people commenting on her most recent post on Instagram. 

Sana scrolled down and read every post; little by little, she began to tear up by the hateful comments. She can’t seem to understand how people can be so mean and hurtful to someone. She didn’t think uploading a Reiwa-era post would get negative attention. 

“Why are they so mean?”

“If I knew people were going to get mad, I wouldn’t have posted it.”

The more she reads, the more emotional she gets until she can’t help but cry herself to sleep.

The next day, Sana wakes up at noon and sees new articles talking about her post, attracting more attention. This time, she sees the post on the Twice Instagram page with Once and anons arguing with each other. “Please don’t fight with each other,” she begs as she tries not to comment on the post and make it worse. 

She gets called down for breakfast by the members and notices the bags under her eyes from her crying as she makes her way to the table. They try to comfort her as much as possible, but once she takes a bite of the food, she stands up with her hand covering her mouth and runs to the bathroom. Some of the members follow her to the bathroom and see her gagging and throwing up in the toilet. Momo holds her hair and pats her back as Sana throws up. “It’s okay, Sana, we’re here for you.” Sana turns around, looks up at them, and begins to cry. 

Jihyo and Momo help her get up and wipe the leftover residue off her lips. Jihyo notices Sana’s blushed cheeks, touches her forehead, and sees how hot she is. “Sana, you’re burning up!”

They help her to her room and tuck her back in. Dahyun stays behind and tries to make her as comfortable as possible while Jihyo comes back with some items to make her fever go down. Jihyo and Dahyun stay with her for a while. She falls asleep, and they check up on her every so often to change the towel on her forehead.

————

Sana wakes up a bit after midnight, hurting after being asleep for half a day. She makes her way from her bed and wakes towards the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror with pale skin. She washes her face and complains about how awful she looks. Sana sits on the toilet and tries to pee, only for her to feel a slight pain in her pelvic area. She touches her pelvis and applies a slight pressure, only to feel a bit of pain. 

Sana finishes, stands up, and immediately feels dizzy. She leads on the sink, closes her eyes, and tries to relax. After her dizziness slowly faded, she washed her hands and returned to bed. She covers herself with her blankets, stares at the ceiling to clear her mind, and falls asleep. 

Only being asleep for about two hours, Sana wakes up in pain, crying. Her heart is beating fast, and her pelvic area is hurting much more than before. 

“Ouch, it hurts.” she has her hands around her stomach in pain. Sana tries to get up from her bed, but the pain gets stronger as she lifts herself, “Owww!”

She tries multiple times to get up from her bed, but every time she tries, the pain comes. Wanting to use the restroom, she looks for her phone and searches around her bed. She finds her phone and texts Momo, but she doesn’t respond. Sana calls Nayeon, who picks up her phone, “Sana, what’s up? It’s two in the morning.”

“Unnie, help me. I’m trying to use the restroom, but I can’t get up.” 

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Nayeon hung up the phone and turned on the lamp across her bed to search for her slippers. Jeongyeon turns over and slowly opens her eyes to the light, “Nayeon, what time is it?”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Hmm… okay. You going to the bathroom?”

“No, Sana called me and said that she’s having a hard time getting up and wants to use the restroom, so she called me and asked if I could help her.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll come with you then. Jihyo said she had a fever, so she might need some help.”

“Thanks.”

The two of them make their way to Sana’s room and hear a crying Sana. “Sana, what’s wrong?”

“My tummy hurts, and I really need to pee.”

Nayeon walks into the dark room towards Sana and extends her arm. With the light from the hallway, Sana grabs Nayeon’s hand and helps her stand up. Sana moans in pain, but with the assistance of Nayeon, she’s able to get up. 

Sana and Nayeon walk slowly to the restroom before Sana asks, “Jeongyeon, would you mind getting my scrunchie? It should be somewhere on my bed.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jeongyeon enters the room, turns on the light, walks to Sana’s bed, and looks on top of the blanket but sees nothing. She turns over the heavy blanket and covers her mouth at the sight of her bed, completely wet.

Suddenly, Jeongyeon hears Sana scream from the bathroom and rushes towards the two of them, “What happened?”

“There’s blood” as Sana looks at the Nayeon and Jeongyeon with a terrified expression.

[y0ur-loca1-lyr3]

A/N; So there was an anonymous person who had requested a my hero academia x a rude reader who opens up overtime, but unfortunately my dumbass accidentally posted it while it wasn’t ready so anon whoever you are I hope you find this and I hope you like it! Since they didn’t specify I decided to do a little bit for every character I write! (Except for Eri since I only write platonic fics for her)

My Hero Academia x reader who’s rude at first, but opens up later on

Izuku

He kinda interacts with you how he would with Bakugo at first

Is also probably scared half to death by you

Avoids you at all costs at first

Honestly he thinks you hate him until you clear up that you don’t

After that, when you begin to open up, he genuinely likes talking with you

If he can get the courage, he’ll probably ask if you wanna hang out somewhere to get to know each other, and hell, maybe the two of you can get closer than you thought you would <3

Bakugo

He likes your spunk

Honestly, he actually really likes that you’ve got the balls to talk back to him

Would probably wanna spar with you a lot if your also a hero in training

It’s easier for him to make friends with you because of the fact that you guys are so similar

When you open up, so does he

And when that happens it’s just sorta a rare vulnerable moment for the both of you

He trusts you a lot. Don’t break that trust.

Todoroki

At first he didn’t like you

You remind him too much of Bakugo

Too negative, too cynical

He generally doesn’t speak to you

Until you accidentally hurt Uraraka’s feelings on accident

He asks you what the hell’s your problem, which is followed by a lecture about how you’ve gotta fix your attitude

When you apologize to Uraraka and explain you really didn’t actually mean to hurt anyone, he calms down

He does his best to understand why you might not open up so easy, for whatever reason

From then on, you, Todoroki, and Uraraka are a pretty close friend group

Yes, Uraraka ships the two of you

Aizawa

He gets it

He’s had tough students before, and even if you aren’t his student, you’re no different

When the two of you go on a mission together, he explains that you two need to work together, which means trusting each other

He asks if you would at the very least trust him to save you to which you say yes

When the villains in cuffs, he compliments you on your skills, and then walks off

From then on there was just some sort of close unspoken bond

What that bond is? Who knows?

Dabi

Again, nothing new.

He has to deal with Shigaraki, you think you’re a hassle?

Beside that though, he actually likes you

You’re humor matches his, and he gets not wanting to appear weak in front of others

Once you two grow close enough, he’ll subtly check up on you when your sad, keep note of what your favorite food or drink is, and especially your eye color

The little things, you know? <3

Shigaraki

Exact opposite of Dabi

Has a temper tantrum the first time you talk back

Yes, he did infact try to obliterate you

He failed, and then he cried

After that little outburst he calms down

He still doesn’t like you

And yet there’s still that odd lingering tension in the air?…

Uraraka

Similar to Izuku, she thinks you hate her

Rather than cowering like Izuku does, though, she confronts you about it

Once everything is cleared up, she’ll talk to you in passing the halls

At some point she’ll start inviting you to the mall

And no she doesn’t care what gender you are, you’re being glamorized, and yes, Mina is going to be joining in on it

Overall a very fun person to hang out with, and a now close friend (maybe more???)

Denki

Poor boy can’t take an insult at all

He’ll act like it’s whatever and then pout about it in his room

Why we’re you so damn mean? Did you just not wanna be friends?

Well now he’s determined to be friends with you

Gifts, outings, compliments, you name it

Once you actually tell him you consider him a friend, he’s so excited

Will not stop smiling the rest of the day, and can’t get rid of that weird flutter in his stomach

Kirishima

He’s used to Bakugo being like this, so he’s used to you being like this

If you choose to insult him, he’s learned how to filter real vs fake insults, so he’ll laugh it off, and continue talking with you

He doesn’t mind carrying the conversation, as long as you’re not bored, he’ll rant his little heart out

He’ll happily spar with you to relieve some stress if you ask

He’ll also give sparring tips while sparring with you/ if you ask

Would absolutely love a gym buddy to hang with <3

Jirou

Meh.

She just doesn’t really care for you at first

She’ll talk to you if necessary and laugh at your sarcastic jokes, but other than that she doesn’t really socialize with you much

Until she realizes you and her like the same band that it feels like no one knows

Will talk about music for hours

Eventually she’ll grow close to you, and you guys become good friends

Maybe if you ask she’ll even teach you guitar

Unfortunately, I’ll have to do a part 2, but that will be out in only a matter of time! Stay tuned!

With love and kisses,

- y0urloca1lyr3

[sluttyten]

Eros & Psyche

Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist

Day Eleven: Anonymous Sex w/ Taeyong

Word Count: 9,568

Summary: you don’t know his name, you never see his face. he’s a perfect hook-up, absolutely no strings attached when you meet up for just sex. but how long can the anonymity truly last, and is it a cure-all for catching feelings?

The first time was a drunken mistake.

A careless night out at a club in LA. It was dark except when the lights flashed in quick bursts, and he was wearing a mask. Not like a normal face mask, but a Jason mask from the Friday the 13th movies. It was mid-October, and this club was doing Fright Nights with a costume contest every Saturday night this month, so the mask wasn’t out of place.

At first when he approached you, you were creeped out, but you were tipsy and horny and sad, reeling from the end of two relationships, due to a cheating bastard and a betrayed friendship, so you were just looking for something, for anything to numb the pain. The club, the drinks, and this Jason-mask wearing guy were exactly what you needed.

You didn’t care who he was or what he looked like, all you knew was how it felt when you pulled him into a messy stall in the women’s restroom, hiked up the skirt of your already very short dress, and when he slid up behind you. You barely even spoke to each other, no more than was necessary, but what little he did speak came with an accent from somewhere you couldn’t identify.

By the time you woke the next morning, you barely remembered the encounter, only a vague memory of getting fucked in a filthy bathroom by Jason Voorhees. But you felt better, odd as it may sound.

The second time you were still a bit drunk, and it was still probably a mistake.

You were being mature about your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend having an affair, so you were running away from your problems, seeking a life where you weren’t tied down to the city where they were.

New York was as good a place as any, you figured, and a week after that lapse in judgement at the club in LA, you found yourself in another club in New York City.

This was another Halloween-themed night, though only about half of the patrons seemed to be wearing what could pass as costumes. Much like the last time, you weren’t wearing a costume, you were just dressed in something tight (“something that screams ’fuck me’” a friend you’d brought along on this adventure told you).

The costumes here ranged from lazy to frightening to Marie Antoinette (Sexy Version). There were sexy cops, sexy nurses, sexy anything you can imagine.

Your friend was swept away by a person of an indeterminate gender who was dressed in a floor-length lacy black gown and long black hair a la Morticia Addams, but with a nicely trimmed beard. And just like that you were left to seek your own fun. You were standing at the bar, watching the bartender make your drink when a man dressed in a fitted black button down and black jeans wearing a skull mask leans against the bar beside you.

“Are you following me?” He says, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s speaking to you. But he’s looking directly at you, there’s no one on the other side of you, and you decide, if this is some kind of pick-up line, it’s not a very good one.

“Excuse me?” You laugh, accepting your drink from the bartender as he hands it over.

The skeleton man looks at you, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“Sorry if I’m wrong,” he says the words slowly, and you detect that he’s searching for the right words. “But you were in LA last week?”

You feel strongly tempted to tell this guy no, to lie about having ever been to LA, but then he leans takes a step back, giving you some space.

“I’m wrong, maybe.” He lingers. “I was, uh, Jason at a club last week in LA, I thought maybe you were the girl I met there.”

And just like that your memory is sparked. You get flickers of his breath against your neck, hands on your thighs, your breath rasping out of your lungs as he’d fucked you against the wall of the stall like a nightmare-fueled fantasy.

“Oh!” You cover your mouth. “Yeah, that was me. I— Are you following me?” You ask, putting on a teasing tone, but you’re also a little bit serious. It’s weird. You meet in a random club across the country last week, and this week he finds you in New York? A voice that sounds a lot like the voice of reason whispers in the back of your mind that he could be a stalker.

He laughs, and for the first time you realize that his skeleton mask ends beneath his cheekbones, the rest is just very detailed paint. “I’m here for work,” he tells you, leaning closer again so you can hear him over the music. “I travel a lot, but I’m trying to have fun too.”

Now you can hear the familiar tones to his voice, that accent that you still haven’t placed.

“Where are you from?” You ask, leaning in as well. You’re close enough that when the lights strobe, you can see his eyes through the holes in the mask. Gorgeous eyes, large and dark.

“Uh, Korea,” he says after a moment. And then, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You won’t turn down a free drink, although some of your friends cite that as a problem, but tonight you’re celebrating freedom rather than mourning jt as you had been last week, so you take the drink gladly. He orders two shots of something, and you each throw one back.

You don’t know this guy. He’s a stranger that you’ve fucked, just some guy who travels a lot from Korea. Jason the Skeleton Man.

Your voice of reason grows quieter with each shot, until you find yourself stumbling out of the club with this Skeleton Man. He’s equally as tipsy as you, if not more so. His hair is bleached to a perfect, silvery shade of white that gleams beneath the streetlights as he tugs you away from the club, both of you tripping over your feet.

You’re not really sure where you’re going. He’d taken you out to dance together, bodies pressed hot and sweaty together in the mass of all the other partiers, and at some point he’d touched his lips to your ear to ask you if you wanted him to fuck you again. His hands had been on your body for the better part of the last thirty minutes, his cock grinding against your ass.

The sound of that word from his lips—fuck—had sounded so tempting when paired with the drinks and his touch, so you’d said yes. What did you have to lose?

Your friend was nowhere to be seen, so you shot off a quick text, a shared location, and you’d let the Skeleton Man lead you out of the club. Reckless and potentially quite dangerous, you weren’t thinking with your head but with your pussy.

It was a hotel he brought you too, just several blocks away through the city. It took longer to walk those blocks than it should’ve, possibly because you kept stopping him to pull him against you, kissing him until the skull makeup around his lips was smudging into gray.

By the time you reached the hotel, his hand was tight in yours, and he led you quickly by a group of young women who lingered outside on the curb, giggling over their phones. He all but dragged you through the lobby, and the moment you were alone in the elevator, he pressed you against the wall.

You were a mess of giggles, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt as you kissed him. The edge of his mask dug into your cheek a little uncomfortably, but not enough that you really minded.

There wasn’t much of anything you cared about then. You were feeling the confidence and carelessness of someone who’s had several shots, of someone who just wants to get dicked down by a man who you know knows what he’s doing. All you cared about was getting your hands inside of his pants the moment that his hotel room door opened.

The door wasn’t even swinging shut before you had him back up against the wall beside the door, your hand diving down the front of his pants, your lips on his. He moaned against your kiss, nipping at your lip as you pulled back, chasing after you with his lips. He lets you jerk him off like that, hard and rough, a little dry, but he seems to like that.

His long fingers pulled at your dress, tugging the straps down over your shoulders, the top down over your breasts. Your skeleton man has you naked in seconds, walking you backwards into the room while your fingers work down the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest, revealing a piece of a tattoo on his hip, but you don’t get much of a chance to get a better look at it.

When he spins you around and presses your chest up against the window of the hotel room, your whole body lights up like a storm, caught between the cool glass and the heat building inside you.

He fucks you just like that. Up against the window with the busy city street down below you, the world laid out in front of you. He cums first, spilling into a condom as he grinds into you, trying to make the most of your tight heat around him.

Your orgasm he gifts to you on a silver platter. He drops to his knees, and fills you with his fingers, soothing the throbbing need with his tongue on your clit. He moans and slurps loudly, so noisy, but you kind of love it. Especially when he pulls away from your pussy to moan something in Korean when you’d tugged on his bleached white hair.

You can feel the coolness of the rings that decorate his fingers as he thrusts them knuckle-deep inside you, and feel the sharp and cool sting of the rings as he brings a hand up to your ass, squeezing massaging, pulling his hand back a little just to slap it back down as he sucks at your clit and crooks his fingers just right inside you to prod against that spot inside you that sets your world on fire.

He slurps up you wetness, the unavoidable gush of cum as you orgasm. You’re basically sitting on his face as he kneels behind you, and he lets you rock against his face, just licking you out as you chase the endless high.

Afterwards, when you just have to stumble away from him, pressing your cheek and hands and tits once more against the cool glass, you swear and pour out praises for his skills. You glance back over your shoulder at him just in time to see your very sexy skeleton man rock back on his heels and rise up onto his feet.

“Thank you,” he says as he wipes at his mouth and chin, smearing his makeup and even wiping it away in some places. “You’re really, really good too,” he tells you, and then he’s fumbling with his phone as he pulls it out of his pocket. You catch a glimpse of the time, quarter past two in the morning.

You should leave. Go back to the club or to the Airbnb you and your friend were renting for the weekend. You should definitely not stay here and sleepover tonight.

As much as you like sexy Skeleton Jason guy, you also really like the anonymity of this. You like not knowing what he looks like, not knowing his name, not knowing if fate is going to push you together again, maybe next time just passing in the street of some other city without you even knowing.

“I’d better go.” You peel yourself away from the window, skirting around him on your way back towards your abandoned dress on the floor. “But it was nice fucking you again.”

He laughs, and the sound makes you halfway turn around. “It was nice fucking you again, too,” he says. “Maybe we’ll get the chance again in the future?”

You’d like that.

“How long are you going to be in the city?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

“Ah,” he lifts a hand to rub the back of his head. The skeleton mask slips forward on his forehead a little bit. “Not too much longer. Back to Korea in two? Three days, maybe?”

That gives you at least another two days to chance running into him again.

You pull your dress back up, tugging the straps into place on your shoulders. “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

“Maybe. But you might not know I’m me.” He grins as he says it. “You know, if you’re ever in Korea, in Seoul, let me know.”

“How?” You slip your feet back into your heels. “I don’t have your number or your name?” And you would kind of like to keep it that way. The anonymity is half of what makes this so hot.

“Give me your phone.” He holds his hand out, and you find yourself passing your phone over without a second thought. “This is my contact for, uh, kakaotalk. It’s an app we use instead of, like texting or, like, calling. If you’re in Seoul, use it.”

When he passes your phone back to you, you lock it without looking. “I will,” you promise. “But you have to promise that when I do, you’ll remember me. Okay?”

He smiles and nods, a slightly ominous sight with the skull mask. “I promise.”

You leave a few minutes later, and it’s only when you’re in the elevator, descending to the lobby, that you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the doors. Your mouth and cheeks and chin are smeared with dark gray makeup. You look like you’ve been making out with a piece of charcoal. You wipe at it until it comes off.

You hurry out through the lobby, back out onto the street as you pull up a map. To your surprise, your Airbnb is only two blocks back towards the club and then three blocks north, an easy enough walk, but it’s chilly and too late to be walking alone, so you order an Uber instead. It’s once you’re sitting in the backseat of the Uber, clearing out your open apps, that you see your contacts open.

He created a new contact, and the page is still open to it. There’s what you suppose must be his username on that kakaotalk app, and at the top of the screen, for his name, he put only two letters:

TY

and beside it, a small emoji of a rose.

Fate was a tricky bitch, presenting you with tricks and treats and twists of fate.

It was Halloween morning, a Monday of all days, when your boss approached you at work in the office. She was offering you a promotion.

In the weeks since discovering the affair between your boyfriend and your best friend, your life had felt quite messy and topsy-turvy, and basically every single day you woke up wishing for a fresh start. New York had been a fun break, but that was a couple weeks in the past now, and in the days since then you’d been approached by your ex-friend begging for forgiveness, seen them out together in public, and had to deal with the fallout in explaining to friends and acquaintances and family that you were no longer together with the cheating asshole.

So a fresh start, a promotion, that was exactly what you needed. And you accepted her offer only half an hour after she first presented it to you.

“The position will require you to uproot yourself,” your boss warned you. “You’re going to have to move wherever the company decides to place you. Are you sure you don’t need more time to think about this?”

No, you absolutely did not need more time. It was exactly what you needed.

Within days you were making preparations, by the end of the week your higher-ups in the company had contacted you to let you know they weren’t just moving you to another city, but another country.

When you received the email with the news, when you read your office location as Seoul, South Korea, you laughed out loud, dissolving into a fit of laughter that had you literally rolling off the bed onto your apartment floor. Your roommate had to come check on you.

Fate, the tricky bitch, she was up to something, you could feel it. It was only too convenient for your life that the mystery TY had fallen into your lap, given you some of the best random stranger sex you’d ever received, and your company was now moving you across the world to be perfectly positioned to be able to run into him again at your convenience.

It was closer to December when you were finally able to make the move. Your passport and work visa, your transfer of information within the company, and your housing in Seoul all had to be organized and confirmed, so by the time that you were finally stepping foot on the foreign soil to start your life anew, you were beyond ready for it.

Settling in took a bit longer than you might have liked, but your apartment was nice, just a fifteen minute walk from the office. There was another girl in the office who had actually transferred from your original office at home about two or three years before, so she was a big help in getting you settled, showing you around, helping you with the language as you found yourself immersed in a culture and language you’d only begun learning about a month ago.

When you finally had a moment to look at your recently downloaded kakaotalk app, you realized, although you had TY’s user ID, you had no way to identify yourself to him. Just as you didn’t really know his name, you’d never told him your name either. And what would you say to him anyway? Surprise! I just moved to Seoul! Now you’re the one that would sound like a stalker.

But then came a night after work, following an evening of after-work drinks with your coworkers, you were feeling confident enough to message him.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but you promised you would. I’m in Seoul for work now.” That was the basic gist of the message, but with several typos (your fingers felt a bit more drunk than you thought they should) and with a winky-face attached on the end.

You passed out before a response came, but in the morning when you woke with a hangover, you found a response waiting on your phone.

“I remember!”

It was a booty call like you’d never done before. Arranging it was difficult because he seemed to be quite busy here at the end of the year, but to be fair you found your schedule growing rather full as well. You kept trying to arrange times to meet, but it would interfere with something he had to do, even after normal work hours, he was always busy, and you were getting to the point where you wondered if he was just trying to get you to leave him alone.

But then he messages you to say, “I feel like it would be so much easier if we just met somewhere in the city, had sex, and went on our ways. I don’t have time for much of anything else, definitely not a relationship of any kind.” And then shortly after that, “and if we could keep it anonymous, that would be good too.”

You weren’t looking for a relationship either. Keeping it anonymous worked for you too. After the debacle with your ex-boyfriend, you still weren’t ready for a relationship because you didn’t think you could trust anyone enough. TY staying anonymous, as just basically a booty call, that made it so much easier, giving you no chance of developing feelings if he was little more than just a dick for you to use.

The first time in Seoul, you meet up during your lunch hour at a coffee shop. Or rather, behind the coffee shop. You can’t make out any of TY’s features as he approaches, and you turn to face the alley wall as he comes closer.

“We’ll be quick,” he tells you, coming up behind you as you pull down the waistband of your pants.

He’s wearing a hat and sunglasses and a mask, obscuring every part of his face. Not that you care. He fucks you fast against the alley wall, covering your mouth with one hand, the other on your clit, and as soon as you’ve both cum, you each pull you pants up and walk away.

The second time he sends you an address with specific instructions and a time. It’s a park, and you’re sitting on a patch bench with a scarf tied around your eyes.

You hear approaching footsteps, hear his voice as he says, “Open your mouth,” and you obey, letting TY fuck your mouth.

The thrill you get from not seeing his face, not knowing his name or his job, not having any idea what his favorite food or color or movie or hobby is, you love it. You love knowing nothing about him, the whole meaninglessness of your sex.

When you meet him in a public restroom, on your hands and knees on the floor so he can fuck you under the gap in the stalls. When you meet on a dark street or in a parking garage or on a back stairwell, anywhere neither of you can see clearly. You love it. You fuck and leave, only speaking when you first arrive.

He always speaks first, letting you know in some way that it’s him and not some random stranger that means you harm. He always fucks you from behind or blindfolds you in some way. He normally asks you to meet him late at night, while you normally ask for earlier in the day.

It’s all fun and sexy, thrilling and risky.

But after about a month of this, you get tired of just quickies. You want something more. You want the foreplay, the slow burn of taking each other apart, you want multiple orgasms, consecutive rounds. You want…. Well, not a relationship, but something a little more solid than what you’re doing now.

The next time you meet up after you come to that realization, you do something a little different.

You’re on a walking bridge through a park. It’s surprisingly not well-lit, but you can still see as TY approaches.

You can usually tell it’s him now just by seeing him approach, though his face is always hidden. You can tell by the way he walks, by his clothes with their certain style, by this fuzzy bucket hat that you think must be his favorite because he either wears that or a beanie pulled down below his eyebrows.

Tonight he’s wearing the bucket hat, the brim of it shading his eyes. He’s wearing a facemask too, black to match the rest of his outfit, and it covers his entire face from his jaw to just beneath his eyes. But you can see a little of his hair peeking out beneath the hat. Over the time you’ve known him his hair has cycled through a couple colors—bleached silvery white when you first met, bright red when you first saw him in Seoul, fading to pink over the last month, but tonight it’s a new color, a soft lavender color.

Your heart pounds in your chest at his approach. An odd feeling like nervous anticipation. The feeling trickles down into your belly, stirring up a fluttery feeling.

He comes to stand right behind you, his body curving against yours with a sense of familiarity, hands braced on either side of you, pinning you up against the rail.

“Can I admit something?” He asks.

You roll your ass back against him, humming your consent.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says. “Touching you. Feeling you against me, around me. It was so cold this morning when I woke up alone in my bed, and I jerked off before I had to work, thinking of you. You’re so soft and warm inside. And all day working, I, uh, there’s this woman, her perfume must be the same as yours.”

TY dips his head forward, and you can feel him nosing against your neck, his mask still in place. You sigh, leaning back against his chest, into the nest of his arms tightening around you.

“Every time she walked by me, I could smell you.” He grinds forward again, hard against your ass.

You reach back, a hand grasping at his hip, your head tipping back on his shoulder.

“Can I admit something?” You ask, your voice catching, gasping out when he slips a hand around your belly, fingertips tugging your shirt free of your waistband, exploring over your warm skin beneath. TY hums, his lips pressed against your throat through his mask. This close, all you can see of him is the rim of his fuzzy hat, a hint of his purple hair. You can smell his cologne and the underlying taint of sweat.

“What is it?” He asks, his voice rumbling against your back and your throat. His fingers brush higher under your top until he reaches your breasts.

“I wouldn’t mind keeping your bed warm. You fuck me well, but sometimes I want more.” You sigh, and your breath clouds in front of your face in the cool night air. “Not love. I’m not asking for that. I want more sex. For a longer time. Not just you behind me, making quick work of getting us both off.”

He freezes against you. His hand slips down away from your breasts. He lifts his head from your neck.

You’re not expecting it when he forcefully turns you around to face him.

“Why do you want that?” He asks, and although you can’t really see his eyes, you can feel his gaze burning against you.

“Why shouldn’t I want it?” You reply. “Weren’t you just telling me that you thought of me this morning, warming you up on a cold morning? Why can’t I want the same thing?”

He makes a semi-frustrated sound behind the mask. “I thought you liked meeting up like this? Keeping me a secret, not knowing who I am?” He’s right. You knew you shouldn’t have told him that, but he seemed to like it as much as you. “How could we keep it like this if I take you to my home?”

“We can go to mine.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I just, I feel like the best time we’ve had was the hotel in New York. When we had privacy, the time to do more than just fuck like we’re strangers bumping against each other in the street.”

That draws a small laugh from him. “Is this how you usually bump into strangers?”

You reach out to push at his chest lightly. “You know what I mean.”

He grabs your hand as you pull back from your light hit to his chest. “I can still wear a mask, or you can be wearing a, uh, what’s it called?” He gestures to covering his face with something.

“A blindfold?” You ask.

He nods. “Yes. We can keep that part the same.”

You agree. TY agrees.

“But are we still doing this here tonight?” He asks, reaching back for your hips.

Of course you are. You’ve been thinking about this all day, just like he has. You let him get you back into the same position as before, his arms caging you in against the railing. You tug the long skirt up above your ass, TY drags your tights down underneath, and he fucks you against the rail, until your knees quiver and your skin is covered in goosebumps, until you’ve both cum.

TY pulls your tights back up with a playful pat to your ass, and then he lets your skirt fall again.

“I think we should still do this sometimes,” he tells you. “It’s fun.”

You have to agree. Having quickies in places you definitely shouldn’t is a good chunk of the fun in doing this, in addition to the anonymity.

That night as you get home, you think about how neither you or TY really knows anything real about each other. You know how to get each other off, but you don’t know each other’s names. You don’t know what he looks like. You don’t even know how old he is, you realize, but you can only assume that he’s somewhere around your age, possibly a few years older, maybe a couple younger. But even after about a month of doing this, he’s still a stranger.

You haven’t had the guts to tell anyone you know about him. None of your coworker friends here, none of your friends back home. Even the friend you’d been with in New York, you hadn’t told them about this. They just knew that you’d hooked up with a guy from the club that night, but not that it was still going on, or that it had happened before that night.

You know what people would tell you if they did know. That you need to know who he is. You need more than just a TY to know him by. He could be anyone. He could be a psychopath, a murderer. He could be a known criminal. Everyone would go to the dark side of things, you’re sure, imagining the worst out of this man.

But your gut instinct tells you that he’s nothing like that. You don’t know him, but you do know him. It’s a difficult thing to describe.

And you truly don’t think you want to know. You like the anonymity, the blank slate that he is. You can fantasize, imagine him as anyone in the world that you want to. You can pretend that he’s your ex (on your dark days of missing the man you spent so much time loving). You can pretend he’s a celebrity. He could be a CEO or a convenience store clerk. TY could be anyone.

It’s strange having him in your apartment. This is your space. It’s the least anonymous, the most vulnerable you’ve ever been with him.

He’s wearing a balaclava, the kind that only reveals his eyes and his mouth. It’s very reminiscent of your first two times with him; a little creepy, a little hot. TY just looks around your apartment for a moment, standing there in the doorway when you let him inside.

It’s not a lot. Just a very simple place, underdecorated since you’ve only lived here for a little over a month. The walls are bare, the kitchen is just a tiny corner. You have a sofa shoved up against one wall, a small TV, a cluttered coffee table that doubles as a desk, your twin-sized bed. A rack of clothes and a chest of drawers.

While he’s looking around, you look at him.

He looks comfortable, wearing a pair of shorts despite the chill, a long sleeve shirt beneath a long coat. He stands there inside your apartment, his socked toes wiggling on the floor, his shoes abandoned by the door. A small chunk of his lavender hair peeks through one of the eyeholes of the balaclava, but you like it. You like all of it, these tiny things that humanize him, that make him seem a little more real, less like a random man.

Not that it really matters, because this isn’t anything. It’s not anything real. This is just fucking, just using each other without any of the strings attached.

TY fucks you in your little bed. He spreads you across his lap and he plays with your pussy, teasing your clit, giving your bottom little smacks that grow progressively rougher until you’re dripping down his fingers and he fills you with his cock instead while you bounce yourself back into his lap. He pulls out and flips you onto your back, he fucks you in the missionary position, kissing you although the mouth opening in the balaclava is a bit insufficient for that, and you both end up spitting out little pieces of fuzz, laughing about it.

When he cums, TY pulls out, lowering himself down between your legs to eat you out. You clutch at your bedsheets, writhing against his face and moaning, grinding your pussy against his tongue.

And then it’s your turn. You get him on his back in your bed, and you start at his hips, lifting his shirt to kiss his abdomen, pushing it higher.

He moans, his hands covering yours in his shirt, pushing it back down before you can lift it even above his navel. But even with it lifted just that high, you see the tattoo on his hip, a cartoon of astroboy as you can see now.

He jerks his shirt back down. “No,” he tells you.

You back away. You’re not here to cross any boundaries. You can fuck him again with his shirt still on, you don’t care.

He does let you sit yourself in his lap, kissing him, touching his cock until he’s hard again in your hand. You ride him this time, your hands at his shoulders, his lips on your chest while he pulls you down into him by your hips.

You cum again while kissing him, moaning against TY’s lips, riding out your orgasm rolling and circling your hips, until he’s moaning too, biting down on your bottom lip as he fills the condom inside you.

That night isn’t the last night it happens. He comes over sometimes, either when you message or sometimes just when he wants you. Sometimes you wear a blindfold, sometimes he wears a balaclava, a costume mask, or the classic hat pulled low and a facemask. But it happens again and again, TY satisfying you in bed, only to leave immediately after. He never stays, not that you blame him. That keeps it as casual as it can be.

The only issue arises one early spring morning, about three and a half months into your new life in Seoul.

You’re rolling out of bed, feeling the sweet ache in your muscles of having been fucked well the night before, when your foot bumps against something. It’s his, that’s something you realize immediately. A necklace he always wears, but it must’ve fallen off last night when you were clinging to his neck as he bent you backwards off the bed, laughing against your neck as you moaned and cried and laughed that he was gonna break your bed.

For safekeeping, you put the necklace on, liking the way it falls against your chest. It’s a thin gold chain with a charm shaped like a dog’s head. It’s precious, and you can’t help wondering if TY has a dog, or what this necklace means that he wears it so much.

You think nothing else of it as you get ready for work, nor as your day begins at work. It’s not until one of your coworkers approaches you to ask you a question, as you lean forward to look at a document she’s showing you that you even remember you’re wearing the necklace. It swings forward from the front of your blouse, the gold charm catching the light.

“Oh?” The other woman says, looking at it. “I didn’t know you’re an NCTzen, unnie!” She smiles brightly.

To be frank, you don’t know why that is. “What are you talking about?”

She laughs. “Your necklace. My best friend is Yongie biased, and she’s got a necklace just like this.”

Now, in the months you’ve been living in Seoul, learning the culture and the language, you’ve picked up a few things about K-pop music, the groups, the idols. It would be impossible not to when you see the handsome and beautiful faces of idols watching you from ads all over the city. So you understand when she talks about a bias she’s talking about her friend’s favorite member of a group, but you don’t know which group, and you don’t truly understand the relevance at the moment.

TY probably just bought this necklace from the same brand as your coworker’s friend, which apparently has something to do with an idol named Yongie or Yonghee or maybe even Younghee, you’re still not the best at differentiating similar sounding syllables.

Again, you forget about the necklace and your coworker’s reaction until later that afternoon as you’re leaving work for the day. You stop in a cafe on your walk home, just wanting a quick drink, maybe one of the pretty cakes in the display case. But while you’re in there, there’s a couple teen girls sitting at a table, giggling over their phones. While you stand in line, you pick up enough from their excited conversation to know that they’re talking about a male idol updating on Instagram.

Reminded of the necklace, you pull out your phone to search first all the iterations of Yongie/Yonghee/Younghee that you can think of. You get a few results, but nothing that really helps solve your mystery. But when you search that along with NCTzen, you find a result.

You look at the first picture that comes up, grabbed from a news article posted online earlier today about an upcoming album release for NCT, a boy group. There’s a pretty handsome man standing on-stage in the middle of performing, his heavily made up eyes sparkle, and you get the appeal. When you look at him your belly does a silly swoop that you only ever feel when you have a crush.

You swipe backwards, returning to the search results, and you type in ‘dog necklace’ alongside the name and what is apparently the fandom name. This yields more results. A close up picture of a neck and chest, a necklace almost if not exactly identical to the one around your neck.

You click on the image, and when the article it’s been pulled from loads, you see second photo beside the first. A small tattoo that matches the charm on the necklace. Curious, you scroll further down in the article, wondering if it’ll mention the brand name of this necklace anywhere. But as you scroll down past a chunk of text you don’t want to read, you see another picture of a tattoo, this one of a bunny. And then another, a whale. You scroll past a few more, and then you see one that makes you go still.

You don’t even hear the barista call out you name the first two times. You’re too busy staring at your phone in confusion and slight shock at the sight of a tattoo of astroboy.

Everything about it from the color to the placement to the exact shape of it is too familiar to be a coincidence. Over the last several weeks of getting TY in your bed, various stages of undress, though he usually wears his shirt, you’ve gotten a couple glimpses of the tattoo at his hip. And it looks the same as the one in this picture.

The barista calls your name one more time, and you finally hear him, thanking him and apologizing as you take your to-go order from him.

You leave the cafe with your mind reeling, trying to find a way to quickly translate this article. Maybe it’s just talking about tattoos all done by a certain artist, although they don’t all seem to be done in the same style. Maybe it’s something, you don’t know what, but something that means anything other than that you’ve been anonymously fucking an idol.

You can’t find a translation of the article, so you search instead. You get back to your apartment, plop yourself on the sofa, and start searching.

You learn several things very quickly.

NCT has a member, the leader of the group actually, named Lee Taeyong. He has a few nicknames, one of which is TY. He has a necklace with a little golden dog head charm that one of the members had custom-made for him after Taeyong’s dog Ruby passed away. He has a tattoo of the dog. He has several tattoos, including Astroboy on his hip. Also he recently dyed his hair lavender for the upcoming album release. The fans love it, as do you. Though at the present moment, you feel a little bit like ripping your own hair out.

What the fuck?

How did you just accidentally discover the identity of TY? Your mysterious, anonymous lover had clearly been so careful to avoid this exact thing. He did his best to hide his tattoos, he hid his face. He didn’t even let you see his hair color normally, you only caught it in glimpses. But everything makes sense now. Why he’d been so easy to convince to keep this anonymous. Why he’d been so busy some days at such odd hours. It made sense too why he’d been in LA and New York.

Everything just clicks into place, and you wonder if maybe you should’ve been able to figure this out a long time ago.

Going along with the theme of you forgetting things all day, you’d forgotten that the night before you’d agreed to TY—Taeyong, your mind helpfully reminds you—coming over this evening. You forgot too that you’d given him the code to your door when last week you wanted him to surprise you with the balaclava on, roleplay a little robber and helpless victim.

So when you hear the sudden beeping of the door code being entered, your heart leaps into panicked overdrive.

You drop your phone, somehow kick it as well, and it goes flying all the way across the floor. Skidding and spinning, it comes to a stop right at the feet of your unmasked masked lover.

He closes the door, looking down at your phone. Specifically, looking down at his own face staring back up at him.

When he doesn’t look up for a long stretch of seconds that expand into a minute threatening two minutes, you clear your throat.

“Are you an idol?”

It almost sounds silly to ask aloud. What if you’re wrong? You’re going to look ridiculous.

But there’s all the evidence too. You can’t be wrong.

“Is there any point in me telling you no?” He asks.

He stoops down at last, picking up your phone before he stands back up. He doesn’t move any closer than just inside the door. He only tosses your phone over to you, looking right at you.

“How did you find out?” His voice is low, a mix of sad and disappointed, disgruntled and concerned.

“You left this here,” you say, already reaching up to unclasp the necklace. “I put it on just so I wouldn’t lose it again before I could give it back to you. One of my coworkers, she saw it, and she said her friend is a fan of, um, I guess a fan of yours. I was just curious what she was talking about, I didn’t think she meant you. Well, my version of you, anyway. But I looked it up, I saw a search result that showed your tattoos. The one on your hip.”

TY— Taeyong sighs.

You watch as he lifts a hand, reaching for the beanie he’s wearing today. Faded purple locks appear as he tosses the beanie over onto the small table beside your door. He runs his fingers through his hair a little, and then he moves his hand down to his facemask.

When he pulls it off, sending it over to join his beanie, you look at your mystery man’s face for the first time after these several months.

He avoids eye contact as you look at him, as you drink in his handsome face, his familiar eyes, the lips you’ve kissed so many times.

“Taeyong,” you murmur his name.

His gaze snaps up to yours. There’s heat in his eyes.

“Do you hate me for figuring it out?” You ask.

“Do you hate me for not telling you?” He fidgets, shaking the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands, then he folds his arms over his chest. “Is this gonna be over now? Now that you know, that takes all the fun out of it for you, doesn’t it?”

As if you were only fucking him for the fun of not knowing who he was. You scoff. “Are you fucking serious? I like you, asshole. You’re great in bed, you’re good to me. I know we don’t really know each other. That was the whole premise of this, but I like you. I don’t know who Taeyong is, but I have an idea of who TY is, and I like that guy. So I’m sure if I merge the two of you together, I’ll still like you. I’ll still want to have sex with you. As long as your stage persona isn’t bad in bed, I don’t see a problem.”

That draws a laugh from him at last.

“And now,” you say, “I also get to look at your pretty face. You’ve had the pleasure all along of seeing mine, so now it’s my turn.” You stand up from the sofa, approaching him.

He doesn’t balk, doesn’t look like he wants you to stop. In fact he settles, sinking into a comfortable standing pose, shifting so when you come to stand in front of him, the pair of you fit together.

“Also, now I can do this,” you cup Taeyong’s sharp jaw with your hand as you say, “without getting fuzz from that mask in the way.”

You kiss him, pressing your mouth to his. Taeyong opens up, meeting your kiss eagerly, hungrily. He’s wrapping himself around you—an arm around your waist, one curling behind your shoulder as his hand lifts to the back of your head to angle your lips against his.

It’s nice having that fucking balaclava out of the way. Beside the fuzzy bits that snuck into your mouth during kisses, the material of it often rubbed your cheeks, itchy and uncomfortable at times. Now it’s just Taeyong’s warm, smooth cheeks.

You want to touch him everywhere. Your fingers leave his jaw, tickling against his earrings before you press your fingers through his purple hair. He smiles when you pull a bit at it, biting your bottom lip in response.

“Can you take your clothes off,” you ask, murmuring the question against his lips, unwilling to give up kissing him just yet. “I really want to see you without your shirt on.”

He moans deep in his throat, the sound half a laugh. “Didn’t you see those pictures online in your research?”

You break the kiss, pouting a little at him. Taeyong only smiles wider, leaning back in to nudge his nose against yours. “I wanna see it in person,” you whine.

He doesn’t disappoint you.

It’s still early evening, the sky outside not quite dark yet. The sun is setting over the city, and the last rays of sunlight burnish the clouds, fiery bronze against the dusky blue of the settling night sky.

That same rich orange light glows against Taeyong’s skin as he finally peels his shirt over his head. The shirt falls, a dozen tattoos revealed, and you want to taste all of them on your tongue.

You want to kiss his stomach and his hips, want to leave your mark on him, touch his nipples without the barrier of his shirt because you’ve known his nipples are sensitive when you’d touched them over the shirt while you sucked his cock.

His pants go next, and there he stands in front of you in only his underwear, bulge straining the front of the fabric.

Taeyong moans in delight when you press yourself against him once more. You kiss him again, unable to stay away for long, and your hands slide his underwear down over his hips, leaving him fully naked for the first time with you.

You’re wet already, just from kissing him, but when he slides his hand between your thighs, skimming his fingers up your bare thigh to beneath the skirt you wore to work today, you can feel yourself instantly growing wetter. His fingers rise up, meeting your slit through your panties, rubbing his finger there teasingly until you’re moaning into the kiss, reaching for his wrist to hold onto.

Taeyong pulls his hand away, bringing both up to your blouse, drawing it out from where it was tucked into the skirt. His fingers fumble with the bottom buttons, trying to work his way up, but now that he’s touched you, you’re feeling impatient.

“Just tear it. Rip it,” you tell him. “I’ll just buy a new one.”

He grips both sides of your shirt, pressing his lips harshly against yours as he gives a hard tug. You hear the fabric rip, hear the buttons pop, a few bouncing across the floor, rolling under furniture. Not that you care. You shake the remnants of your blouse off your shoulders, Taeyong’s lips scatter hot kisses along your jaw, your hands sink to his erection, the hot weight of it pressing against the front of your skirt, against your thigh.

He murmurs something you can’t quite catch in Korean. His cheek skimming along your jaw, lips ghosting a sensitive spot high on your throat.

“Hmm?” You hum inquisitively, but you don’t listen for his answer, now when Taeyong’s fingers curl in your skirt, pulling it down just as roughly as he’d just torn your blouse. You step out of the skirt, pressing yourself forward against him, stroking your hands upward on his cock in a way that makes Taeyong’s ears turn pink, a needy sound escaping his throat.

“Wait,” he sighs, his tongue tracing a section of your jaw before his lips take over again. “Turn around for me.”

You do just that. Circling around so your back is to him. His fingers tuck in the band of your panties, disposing of them only slightly more gently than he’d done your skirt.

“Pretty,” he tells you, lowering his mouth to your shoulder and neck, he steps around beside you, his chest against your right arm while he scatters kisses over the top of your shoulder, up your throat. “So pretty for me.”

He trails a finger down your spine, from the base of your neck all the way to the base of your tailbone, right above your ass.

“Taeyong,” you moan softly, a shiver pulled from you. You swear you can feel your pussy dripping, leaking down your thigh. “I need you.“

“Say it again,” he says, his voice a hum against your shoulder.

“I need you,” you repeat first, and then, “Taeyong.”

His hand comes down against your ass, a good, solid smack that brings a loud moan from your lips. You’re definitely dripping, you can feel how sticky you are between your thighs, and to your utter delight, Taeyong slips his fingers down from your plump ass, down lower until his fingers tease against your pussy.

Taeyong stuffs you with two of his fingers right away, your wetness squishing between his fingers, the sound audible in your apartment as he fucks you on his fingers, his lips busy leaving a mark on your shoulders in the same spot as a tattoo that he has. He scissors his fingers inside you, curling them, and still you grow wetter, resting back against his chest as your legs shake.

And when Taeyong slides his other hand down in front of you, stimulating your clit from the front, you can’t contain your whimpers and cries any longer.

You buck your hips, riding his fingers, desperate cries of pleasure tie in with his name pouring from your tongue as if you’re so familiar with it.

His fingers glisten with your juice, slick and sticky as he pulls his fingers away from your needy, clenching entrance. Instead you watch over your shoulder as he wraps those fingers around his cock, jerking himself off. You twist around, his face taken between both hands, you crush your lips against his.

Taeyong moans, reaching for your thigh with his free hand, lifting it to his hip.

You use protection, you always do, and right now as he’s about to fuck you right here in the middle of the apartment, you realize there are no condoms within reach, but you really don’t want to move. Not as Taeyong ruts his cock against your inner thigh. Not as he glides through your wetness.

“Fuck it. Just this once,” you think. You’re on birth control, you just normally prefer using two methods.

You wrap your arms around Taeyong as he does you, your leg high on his hip as he sinks right inside you.

It’s different right now. Somehow.

Maybe it’s because you can see his face clearly. You can look in his eyes unhindered as he moans at the soft warmth of you wrapped around him. Maybe it’s that there’s an all new open layer of vulnerability here between you two, one that seems like it’s changing everything while keeping things the same, just better.

You’re not claiming Taeyong. Not telling him that he has to be anything to you. This can all still be a secret. He can still just be your hook-up, your fuckbuddy. No strings necessary.

But you can’t deny that you’ve got that fluttery feeling in your belly. The crush feeling. An attraction based in something deeper than just physical appearance.

When Taeyong pulls your other thigh up to his hip on the other side, seating his cock deep inside you while holding you up, you think that you don’t care what changes as long as you still get this.

Taeyong moves, surprising you with his strength as he carries you back over to the sofa. He lowers you down into the edge of the sofa, kneeling down as well so he never has to pull out, and you just pull his mouth against yours, wanting to kiss him breathless.

He pulls your hips right to the edge of the sofa, making needy sounds as he kisses you back, as he starts thrusting into you. Taeyong hips snap forward again and again, both of you gasping against each other’s mouths. It’s frenzied and desperate, the way you move against and with each other in those moments.

“Baby,” Taeyong moans. “Baby, I wanna wake up with you. God, you’re so warm, I want to stay here.” He pressed in deep, grinding against you as if he can possibly get any deeper.

“Stay, Taeyong,” you sigh, dragging your nails over his back. “You can cum. Then stay.”

You’re not sure if he means it. He’s never stayed before, never waited long enough after cumming for it to even be an accidental possibility. But tonight things are different. Tonight Taeyong presses up into you, pushing off the floor, tipping you back deeper into the sofa, pushing your legs towards your chest, his lips against yours, and he groans deep in his throat as he cums inside you.

And he stays. His hips planted against yours, rocking in tiny motions, grinding in little circles that rub right against your clit and that spot inside you, and this time your orgasm is like snapping a wire. Your body goes taut in the initial wave, head thrown back, his name cascading from your lips as your nails rake down his back.

You swear he cums a little more from the pain of your nails digging into skin, but you’re a little too far gone to be certain.

Taeyong doesn’t pull out of you, he just rests his cheek against your shoulder, trying to catch his breath from the intensity of it. He asks carefully, “Did you mean it? Me staying tonight?”

You’re still buzzing with the white heat of your orgasm, your pussy still throbbing around his cock going soft inside you. Yeah you were serious. You don’t want him going anywhere. “As long as you meant it,” you reply, turning your face to the side, burying your nose in his hair. “My bed is yours for the night. Though I don’t see either of us moving any time soon.”

Taeyong chuckles in agreement. Then there’s a momentary pause. “So, this is as good a time as any,” Taeyong pants, shifting his sweaty cheek on your shoulder, lifting his head, and asking, “But what’s your name?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you can help it. All of this, and you’ve forgotten that you’ve never told him your name. You lean in, tucking your laughter against Taeyong’s shoulder for a moment before you lift your head. You relinquish the last little bit of anonymity as you whisper your name against his lips.

a/n: I apologize for any typos/major grammar errors, I didn’t really edit this before posting it, but I will go back and check it over soon!! Thank you for reading!!

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {9}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Queue the fireworks...and the drama.

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Wife,

I am writing to inform you that I am prolonging my absence. I will write again when I know of my return date. It will be a fortnight at minimum. 

Sincerely,

Tomas Mandray

<.>.<.> Cassian <.>.<.>

Three days have passed since the ball and she’s all I’ve been able to think about. 

I feel foolish, utterly enraptured by this woman who can never be mine. Yet, I cannot seem to stay away, which is how I have found myself standing at her front door.

The sun has nearly vanished and the city of Velaris is painted in pink and orange. You would think that such a beautiful display of nature would calm me, but the serenity only has my nerves worsening. 

I knock before I can back out.

The head butler greets me although there’s nothing pleasant in his expression.

“Good evening, my lord,” he says, his voice low with a hint of confusion. “Lord Mandray is still in the north, I’m afraid.”

I try to put on my best disheartened expression. “I see. Is Lady Mandray home? It’s urgent.”

The butler hesitates but ultimately succumbs. “Yes, my lord. Let me show you to the drawing room.”

Hiding my relief, I follow him into the house and down the hall to the drawing room. He leaves me alone to fetch his mistress and I find my way to the floor length windows, staring out at the gardens that Nesta and I got lost in only days ago. Mere minutes pass before I hear her voice.

“That will be all, Alfred, thank you.”

As I turn around, the doors close softly behind her and we are alone. The room falls into silence and we stare at one another expectantly. I’m scared to say a word, afraid that the help is still standing outside the door, waiting to collect their gossip.

“Lord Cassian,” she says, at last.

“Lady Nesta,” I reply, with a nod of my head. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

“It is no intrusion,” she says, her voice louder than usual. I assume she is thinking of the nosey help, too. “Have you news for me to pass along to my husband?”

The word husband surges through me with a spike of jealousy, but I play her game. “Indeed. Shall we sit?”

“Please.” Instead of making our way to separate seats, we meet at the settee, sitting together. When she speaks again, it’s quieter. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I had to see you,” I say, unable to hide it, unable to deny a damn thing, knowing we don’t have much time. “The other night felt…”

“I’m sorry I had to run off,” she whispers.

“Do not apologize,” I counter, longing to reach for her hand but refraining. “You did what you must.”

Nesta’s quiet for a moment, staring at her hands that are clasped together on her lap, on top of her pale blue skirts. When she does speak, she repeats, “Why are you here, Cassian?”

“I’ve already told you—”

“No,” she says, and when she looks at me, her eyes are blurry. There is regret there. Regret, and longing, and an undying sadness. “You are here to suppress me.” 

I blink, not understanding. “Pardon?”

“You are here to make me feel want, jealousy, for something that can never be.” A tear falls down her cheek and she angrily wipes it away. “And that is cruel.”

“I am not trying to be cruel—”

“Then what are you trying to accomplish?” she breathes a laugh that holds no humor. “The other night…” She shakes her head but her eyes remain on mine, dejected and yearning for something that is imaginative. “It was lovely. Our moment in the garden, with you, made me feel alive and for that I am grateful. However, it is good that we were interrupted. If we were to kiss, Cassian, there would be no going back. Not for me. And that is something that I cannot risk.” 

I am speechless. Foolish, too. I had no idea what I was thinking coming here, or what I had hoped to accomplish. I was only thinking of myself and not her. I was thinking of how she had been affecting me, and not how I would affect her by my presence here.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and when a tear slides down her face once more, I reach up to wipe it away.

She does not push me away. Instead, another tear falls at my touch. 

“I will leave you alone,” I say, and I mean it, but I will not go quietly. “I am sorry if I have made you feel any distress, but you have no idea what you have done to me. Since that first day we crossed paths, you have consumed me. Not a waking moment goes by when my thoughts do not drift to you, and I cannot sleep without you infiltrating my dreams. You are, without a doubt, the most intriguing woman I have ever met. You are stunningly witty and intelligent, and your beauty…” She swallows as I speak, hanging onto my every word. “You make me laugh. And you infuriate me at the same time. And I hate that I cannot kiss you, that I cannot hold you in my arms and make you feel as loved and appreciated and wanted as you should feel.” 

“Cassian—”

“I am irrevocably in love with you.” The words pour out of me before I can stop them, and the moment they leave my mouth her silent tears have turned into a downpour. “Even if you will never be able to return that love, I thought you should know that someone loves you as you deserve to be loved. Unconditionally. Without fault. Wholly.”

“We hardly know each other,” she protests, wiping at her eyes. Her words lack strength, as if she’s trying to convince herself just as much as me. 

“I know you well enough to know how I feel,” I promise, “and I know myself well enough to know that I have never felt this way about a woman, nor will I ever feel this way again.” I reach for her hands and she lets me. I cradle them in my own, brush my thumbs over her smooth skin. “Forgive my selfishness. I know my feelings make no difference, but I had to tell you. I had to let you know that you are loved, Nesta, and always will be.”

I wipe her tears away and my confessions turn into silence that she does not respond to. I do not expect her to. She is married. Yet, we sit there unable to keep our hands off of one another. My thumbs brush along her cheeks, her hands grip my wrists. I can feel the warmth of her body. 

I don’t know how much time passes, but I know that we are running out of that precious time. I force myself to stand up from the settee, force myself to look away from her tearful gaze. I force my feet to move, one foot in front of the other, until I reach the door.

I force myself to reach for the handle, but one word stops me.

My name.

“Cassian.”

By the time I turn around, she’s already in front of me, and before I can catch my breath, she’s throwing herself into my arms and her mouth is landing on mine.

For a moment, I’m stunned, lost in this moment that could never be replicated, but then I’m melting into her. My arms wrap around her waist and I draw her against me, as close as she can get, until I feel every inch of her body against mine. Our tongues brush and I am lost in the sweet taste of her. The help outside fades away, as does the fact that we are in her home that she runs alongside her husband. 

The second her lips leave mine, I feel empty. She escapes my embrace and takes two steps back, then three, then she’s so far away that I cannot touch her. We are staring at one another as if something monumental has just happened, something that cannot happen, something that should not have happened, something that changed everything. 

I want her. I want to take her away from here just as much as I want to lay her down on the table, strip her bare, and ravish her. Her eyes fall from mine and land on my heaving chest just before they land on my groin and the blatant display of my passion. 

Her lips are swollen. Her hair is falling from its pins. Her cheeks are rosy.

I have never seen her so beautiful. 

“You must leave,” she says, and although I knew it was coming I still feel like I’ve been blindsided. “We must never speak of this again.”

“Nesta—”

“Please,” she begs, eyes shining. “I am begging you, my lord. Leave.”

I nod, accepting our fate. I know she is going against her wishes, know that she is defying her heart. Nonetheless, I must listen. I have created enough inconveniences already. 

I swallow as I straighten my jacket and run a hand through my hair. “Goodbye, Nesta.”

“Goodbye, Cassian,” she says, and her voice breaks, tearing my heart out of my chest and leaving it irreparable. 

With nothing left to say, I open the door and let myself out. The hallway is empty as I make my way down it and to the front door where I rush past the butler and into the open night air. 

It’s peaceful outside.

But even the famous Velaris starlight cannot make me feel whole again. 

[mandu-17]

Sad puppy | Kim Yoohyeon x fem! reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: hey hey!!! i love ur writings :) will you be willing to write yoohyeon x reader where yoohyeon wants reader's attention so she starts kissing readers neck and teasing her? tysm <3

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Wordcount: ~ 1,676

A/N: always a pleasure writing for my fiancée, enjoy this little cutie

The stinging in your eyes was slowly making its' way to your acknowledgement. You blinked a couple of times in hope of wetting them before readjusting your position on the couch. You turned around so that now you were laying on your stomach. Sudden movement made Pie look up at you curiously before she also changed her position and settled down on the small of your back.

With the shower running in the background and a new source of heat pleasantly warming up your sore back, you were perfectly able to focus on the phone in your hands. This new game that Yoohyeon showed you three days earlier turned your whole world upside down. You truly admired the graphics and the plot while totally enjoying every moment of playing. This game was addicting, an excellent way to make the time pass faster.

It was easy to just get lost in that fictional world and spend long minutes, if not sometimes hours, on improving your character's skills. The fact that the game was connected to the series of your favorite movies did not help.

It was actually the reason Yoohyeon showed you that game. She was aware of how much you might like it and the thought of you two playing it together or maybe even getting matching characters immediately made her heart swell. Your girlfriend felt flattered that thanks to her you discovered something you could enjoy. Perhaps, she outdid herself and instead gave you a whole new hobby.

Shower stopped, you paid no mind to it really. The only thing you could hear now was soft humming coming out of the bathroom and the sound of Yoohyeon shuffling around, probably doing her skin care routine. After some more time, she opened the door since it was getting harder to deal with all that hot steamed air in the room. Yoohyeon began brushing her hair carefully, the damage after having it dyed for so long was still something she had to take good care of.

Pie’s head shot up. Her shiny eyes were turned to the sudden streak of light entering the hall. Then, she decided that it was way too long since she’d last seen Yoohyeon and that she’d missed her already.

“Betrayer.” You pouted when Pie jumped off the couch and ran to see her owner, her tail wiggling behind.

“Pie-ya, hi!” Not even three seconds passed, “No, don’t eat the sponge!

How adorable.

With an amused smile, you glanced up at the slightly opened door - unfortunately you weren’t able to see the scene properly. So you focused on the game again.

It was only a matter of few more minutes for your favorite girls to join you in the living room. Yoohyeon let out an exaggeratedly loud sigh before sitting legs crossed on the ground right next to the couch. Pie immediately climbed to her lap, greedy for some cuddles.

“Showering is way too tiring.” Your girlfriend complained, while caressing her pet’s belly. Pie laid down fully on Yoohyeon’s lap, but her head was falling off, almost on the floor. Yooheon giggled lovingly, she poked your side to get you to look at Pie as well, “Just look at her! She’s such a dork.”

You chuckled at the heartwarming view, nevertheless the vibration of your phone made you quickly look away. A new notification came up, claiming that you were now able to start another mission. Eagerly, you pressed play. You’d had to wait two long hours to have it unlocked for free.

At first, it was peaceful like that. Yoohyeon kept herself busy while playing with Pie, she scrolled through her phone for a bit too. The yellow light of one of the night lamps illuminated the room cozily. Rush hour was slowly coming to an end. One glance outside the window and Yoohyeon realized how lucky she was to find herself in such a warm room, with the love of her life by her side and- well, you.

Just kidding, as much as she loved Pie, her furry friend couldn’t talk to her or hug her the way you did. Truly, you had her wrapped around your finger. Just a little peek at you had the corners of her lips turning up irritatingly fast. Way too fast for her own liking, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her heart was beating for you.

Yoohyeon sighed, locking her phone. Pie left her lap with a new mission on her mind - finding her favorite toy. There was no one keeping Yoohyeon warm now, this simply had to change. She had a mission of her own - to get your attention.

“Baby.” Almost shyly, she poked your rib again.

She got no reaction except for a quiet hum. It certainly was not satisfying.

“You know, you’ve been playing for so long.” Yoohyeon turned her body, while getting on her knees so she was facing the couch properly. She tilted her head slightly, hoping that her soft voice would at least make you look at her.

“Yes, this game you showed me is incredible.” You were so obvious, with your eyes still glued to the screen.

Yoohyeon rolled her eyes in a fondly manner, you could be very stubborn at times. Even if you called it ‘passion’, this feature of yours often made Yoohyeoon want to laugh.

“And I can show you something even more incredible.” She raised a bit on her knees, her fingers gently pulling your hair over your shoulder. The scent of Yoohyeon’s shampoo embraced you, bringing a pleasant, fresh vibe.

Next thing you knew was her lips on your neck. It was a light peck, followed by your girlfriend nuzzling her nose into your skin. With her eyes closed, she felt the happiest while being this close to you.

You also smiled at her sudden approach, nevertheless remained focused on the game. Few more clicks and you’d get bonus stars!

“I’m almost done, I promise.”

“But I want you now.” Even with a simple sentence, you could feel your cheeks heating up. Yoohyeon pouted against your neck, her fingertips started drawing lazy circles on your back. After a moment of comfortable silence, she rested her head higher, against yours and rubbed you like a cat few times. Giggling, you tilted your head and reciprocated the gesture. Her eyes caught a glint of the screen, Yoohyeon’s eyebrows raised as she deadpanned, “Wow, you suck at this.”

“No, I don’t. I’m already on a higher level than you!” You huffed, acknowledging your girlfriend’s attempt at teasing you.

“Yah! I’m leaving for tour soon and all you want to do is play phone games?” She whined loudly, but you knew it was her way to hide the laughter.

Your heart skipped a beat when you turned to meet her eyes. Dressed in a baby blue sweatpants and hoodie set that was way too big, hair still slightly wet and no make up on. She had these cute crinkles by her eyes - you appreciated the sight of them because whenever they’d pop up, it’d mean that your favorite person was smiling. You felt like the happiest girl in the world, convinced that there was an actual masterpiece in front of you. Who else would look so attractive while totally bare faced, in simple and cozy clothes?

“Okay, what would you like to do?” You rolled your eyes playfully, before asking. Your tone laced with innocence, as you watched her expectantly.

“I’ve got few things in mind.” Yoohyeon smirked.

On the inside she was jumping out of joy. Although, on the outside, she hurriedly joined you on the couch seeing you lock your phone and put it aside. You backed up against the couch as much as possible, your arms opened wide, as Yoohyeon tried to squeeze herself besides you. One of her legs ended up across your hip so she wouldn’t fall off the edge.

“This will do.” Yooh hummed contently, burying her face in your shoulder. “For now.”

“For now?” You giggled, surprised, automatically, you started caressing her hair, as well as massaging her scalp. Yoohyeon angled her head from time to time to get you to scratch her favorite places.

“You know, the night is still young. We can have a lot of fun in our bedroom later.” Eyes shut, your girlfriend cherished your touch.

“What about Pie?” As if on cue, Pie peeked at you - her front paws resting on the couch. She watched you interested, sensing that you were talking about her.

“She’ll understand.” Yoohyeon turned slightly in order to see the pet, as well. Pie and her shared a quick staring contest. “You get it, right? Y/N and I need some time alone. Mom will be gone soon, working hard to buy you a lot of delicious food, Pie-ya.”

It was impossible to watch their interaction with a straight face. With a foolish grin, you patted Yoohyeon’s thigh showing Pie to jump in between you. She squealed excitedly and climbed up. With her tail wiggling, she licked both of your faces.

“Of course she’ll understand. Our baby girl is so smart.” You toyed with Pie’s ear using your left hand. “What will you buy for me, though?”

“Anything you desire, darling.” Yoohyeon watched you and Pie fondly, her head resting on her elbow.

You looked up at her and leaned in to kiss her. Whenever she gave you that look, you could physically feel your insides melting. Gladly, Yooh moved her lips against yours. Her whole body was burning with love for you. You were like a lighter, igniting the endless fire and passion in her. She didn’t even know she could feel this way until she met you. The moment would last way longer if it weren’t for the soft smile forming on her face.

“Good thing I only desire you.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over hers. Yoohyeon gripped the hem of your shirt firmly and closed the distance again.

“Prove it.” Her smile was long gone now, as her eyes darkened with lust.

There was nothing else you’d rather do.

[somerandommess]

Maxiel au.

Almost 2000 words

Inspired by something I had quite the laugh about ‘help I accidentally called my potential sperm donor sobbing and now he doesn’t want to do that anymore. What do I do’

content warning: mention of mpreg

As it neared the end of Daniels 30th birthday, he found himself sitting on the floor of his kitchen with his back to the cupboard. Micheal and Blake were there too, passing a bottle of scotch between them. Daniel stopped drinking a while ago but still had that level of drunkenness where his tongue was loose .

“Do you guys ever think about having kids?”

Blake, who was bringing the bottle to his lips paused and watched him dead on. Micheal did the same.

He felt uncomfortable under their gaze and shifted, trying to play it off as the cupboard handle digging into his back.

Blake put the bottle down, “What?”

Daniel looked away, “I mean children. Little sticky hand, snot nosed kids.”

Micheal grabbed the bottle and passed it to him, “Where’s this coming from DR?”

Daniel picked at the label on the bottle.

“I don’t know, I mean I’m getting older. I know my mum wants more grandchildren and I just- I thought I’d be married with at least two kids by now”

Micheal and Blake said nothing, the silence made him uncomfortable.

He likes children, he knows that much. He loves being an uncle, but sometimes he thinks about having his own little child to laugh at when they fall down. He was in a relationship before and they talked about children. He and the guy had been together for four years but he left when Daniel brought up kids. Daniel was going to propose, so guess he dodged a bullet there.

Sometimes he dreams about curly haired children running wild in his mother’s backyard. In the dreams they look like him but in a weird distorted dream way. There’s also a guy there with them, tall and blond. His ex was blond so he thinks it was him. Ironic.

He always wakes up sad from those dreams.

“You could get a donor,” Blake says. Micheal finishes the bottle and nods his head aggressively.

Daniel watches them wide-eyed.

“What?”

“A sperm donor, there are clinics in Monaco that do that.”

Daniel laughed, “You’re joking,”

Blake fixed his stare on him, “I’m serious”

“Mate I’m not having some random guys baby just because I want kids. What if he’s a ginger?” He tries to joke but his heart is racing a mile a minute. All of a sudden he’s stone cold sober.

A sperm donor? Really? Actually, it’s not the craziest thing. He’s not drunk enough for this.

Micheal chimes in, “Maybe you could have a F1 drivers baby. I heard some of them have done it. Or a doctor,”

“What if he tries to, I don’t know, reach out? Isn’t the point to be anonymous?”

Blake fixes his glasses, “Actually, some places ask if you want to meet the person. Or if you want to be totally anonymous. It’s up to you.”

“How do you know so much about this shit?” Micheal asks.

Blake shifts and tries to stretch out his leg, “I just do.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing something.

Daniel watches him cautiously, “What are you doing?”

“Sending you clinic options for you to research or go to, incase this isn’t just a drunken confession and you actually want to do this,”

His phone pings and he sees that he sent him three clinics close to him to try. His heart pounds. He’s just a semi decent artist, whose work has been featured in museums. He can’t even make a proper omelette without burning the sides, and he’s thinking about children? Christ, what was he thinking?

Micheal seems to sense the mental battle that he’s having and places a hand on his knee. “Hey, we‘ll support you no matter the choice”

“Yeah. You don’t have to go or do anything,” Blake puts the phone away, “but if you do, you’ll have Micheal and I to help”

Daniel feels his eyes watering. “Thanks guys,”

They sit in silence for a while. He checks the clock on the wall, 12:10 am. His birthday is over.

“I think I’ll go,”

..

“I’ll obviously be the favorite uncle,”

“I think Scotty just shuddered at the thought of that actually, and he’s like halfway around the world right now”

————

Two weeks later he goes to one of the clinics. It had the best reviews out of the ones Blake sent.

He meant to go earlier but a museum called and asked to feature some of his work in an exhibition. He couldn’t say no. They also said they’d pay extra if he could procure a new piece so he spent many nights coming up with something perfect.

He walks in and goes to the counter. The receptionist is an old lady with…brightly colored hair. She smiles up at him and he explains why he’s here. He’s given some forms to fill out and he goes and sits in one of the chairs.

As he’s filling out the form, his stomach twists. He’s actually doing this. He considers just running out but he made up his mind. He wants the sleepless nights and the early mornings. He wants this. It doesn’t help that he and Michelle spent an entire two hour call just looking at baby clothes.

A nurse comes out from the back and calls him into one of the rooms. The receptionist, Gertrude as her name tag says, smiles at him as he goes inside.

When he enters the office, the doctor gets up from her chair to shake his hand.

“Good afternoon Daniel, I’m Doctor Felix but you can call me Janine if you’d like,”

He shakes her hand and greets her. She has a warm smile and kind eyes. He sits in the chair and relaxes immediately.

They start talking about why he’s here and other important stuff.

Financial and living situation, the procedure, and the donor process.

“Some donors actually leave their name and contact info just incase the recipient wants to meet or needs support,”

She types something on her keyboard,

“Though most just stay anonymous. Are you interested in keeping contact with your potential donor?”

He shrugs and looks off to the side. He hadn’t thought of it. He thinks he’s capable of raising a kid on his own. And it’s not like he’ll be completely alone, with his Mum and Dad, Michelle, Micheal, Blake, and Scotty.

Maybe he’ll keep the number, just incase.

When they’re done, she sends him off with some pamphlets and a date to come back.

He heads out and even though Gertrude is attending to another person, she waves him goodbye.

————

When he comes back, he ends up getting the contact number for his donor.

Max V.

He doesn’t plan on using it. He knows the clinic will notify him something along the lines of ‘Hey, this random guy is taking your sperm thx for your service’

So he doesn’t expect to contact him or be contacted.

His plan doesn’t completely work.

He’s been taking these supplements to do something. He can’t remember. Increase the chance of it sticking he guesses. It makes his hormones act up and sometimes, like tonight, makes him bawl hysterically.

He calls Micheal crying and doesn’t even give him the chance to speak before he’s rambling.

“Mikey I can’t do this. A child? What was I thinking! I can’t even cook! What am I meant to feed a baby?,”

He hears as if he’s about to say something but continues talking, “And don’t say that omelettes and oatmeal is cooking. It’s not! What about my art? I’m going to have to stop painting. The fumes Mikey!”

He pauses

“I’m going to have to go back to traditional!” He sobs some more.

“Or maybe photography. I always liked that,”

He collects himself. Micheal stays quiet. He takes a deep breath,

“Im just overthinking, the stupid hormones. It’s only going to get worse when i actually get pregnant. Let’s hope this Max guys sperm knows what it’s doing,”

Micheal is still silent.

“Micheal?”

He checks removes the phone from his ear checking to see if he’s muted. That would be embarrassing.

The phone screen lights up and-

This is not Micheal.

The name reads Max V.

“Shit.”

He blurts out a quick ‘sorry’ and hangs up.

“Fuuuck”

He opens WhatsApp and creates a chat with Max V.

Hey, I’m sorry about that. I thought you were my friend Micheal.

This is the guy who’s going to take your sperm btw.

Daniel

He cringes. So much for no contact. The message gets blue ticked and then Max V. Is typing.

Are you okay?

Mentally?

And. Ok, rude. Just because he had a crisis over the phone doesn’t mean he’s not ok.

He responds

Yes lol.

Max V. Is typing. But then it goes away.

Daniel locks his phone and runs a hand through his hair.

“Shit”

————

When he goes to follow up with Dr. Felix, she tells him that his original donor declined.

“What?”

“He says something happened recently and now he’s no longer a potential sperm donor… for you”

He blinks.

“Excuse me,”

He pulls out his phone and opens his chat with Max.

Did you really cancel my appointment just because I accidentally called you crying?

You called at 1 am, crying hysterically. Forgive me if I’m having second thoughts

Fuck you

He locks his phone.

————

“He really did that?”

“YES! So what if the hormones made me cry? That’s normal. Ugh. Asshole.”

Daniel shoved a piece burnt toast in his mouth. He chewed on the charred bread. He should really learn how to cook properly. But what do Babies know? They drink milk for like…ever! He has time to figure it out.

Blake watched him and cautiously drank his orange juice.

“I swear, if I ever meet him, I’ll give him a piece of my mind,”

Blake set the cup down and looked like he was going to speak before taking another sip.

Daniel narrowed his eyes, “What?”

Blake shook his head but mumbled something under his breath.

Daniel raised his eyebrow and kicked his shin under the table.

“Ow. I just- What if you…met him? Not to argue but to hear him out? Make him reconsider?”

Daniel pondered the idea. He took another bite of his burnt toast.

It’s not the craziest idea he’s had. No, that was moving to Monaco.

“Yeah, I could do that,”

Yes. He’ll meet Max and demand his sperm back.

Wait.

He’ll word it better.

He pulls out his phone and opens the chat.

————

probably many errors in here

Can you tell I know very little about this topic? lmao

Max is still an F1 driver, Daniel is an artist.

Maybe I’ll do a part 2 lol

[notjosieyouremy]

every edsheeran book ive ever read and what i thought

*reblog without tags please

update #1: i just finished reading Letting An@ Go by anonymous. the teenage drama and romance is gross and annoying. the protagonist has a lot of strong opinions about peoples weight, especially her mother’s, which is very triggering. plenty of m3an $pO if that’s your thing. rampant fatphobia. i give it 3 out of 5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️

5 star tier ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• hunger: a memoir of (my) body by roxane gay. one of the best edsheeran books ive read. it’s about sa, food addiction, boolimia, feminism, fatphobia, the struggles of just trying to exist black woman in a large body. would recommend

• i’m glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy. it’s so good. i think i finished it in a day. it’s about a lot more than edsheeran. highly recommend. go read it right now

• unbearable lightness: a story of loss and gain by portia de rossi. a gay actor’s struggles with edsheeran. one of the few i’ve read more than once. would recommend

• wasted: a memoir of an0rex!a and boolimia by marya hornbacher. really deserves to be in a class of its own. it’s the best written edsheeran book out there. it’s sad, hilarious, intelligent, perfectly captures the internal voice of mania. highly tr!ggering, so proceed with caution. after wasted was published she relapsed, which she speaks about in madness: a bipolar life. it’s also a very good book but edsheeran is not the focus

4 star tier ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• insatiable: a young mother’s struggle with an0rexia by erica rivera. if you wanna read about someone who takes fistfuls of bisacodyl and exercises intensely, you might like this book. it’s very good. would recommend

• dying to be th!n by nikki grahame. imagine being so severely malnourished as a child that you never go through puberty. thats how serious her illness was. she basically grew up in treatment facilities, managed to recover against all odds, went on big brother (the reality show), published a book, relapsed, and tragically passed away in 2021. the covid lockdowns were hard on her mental health. would recommend

• the girls at 17 swann street by yara zgheib. semi-autobiographical work of fiction. what sets this one apart is the protagonist isn’t a teenage girl. she’s, like, 28 i think? something like that. would definitely recommend if you get tired of reading about teens and preteens all the time

• elena vanishing by elena dunkle. at a certain point, all these books can be summarized in one sentence: she had to choose between recovery or death. it’s a very good memoir. would recommend

• born round: the secret history of a full-time eater by frank bruni. we love to see male representation in the edsheeran community. he was a chubby kid, turned to unhealthy means to achieve we!ght loss, eventually learns to heal his relationship with food and becomes restaurant critic for the new york times (ever heard of it?). would recommend

• sure, i’ll join your cult: a memoir of mental illness and the quest to belong anywhere by maria bamford. if you don’t know who maria bamford is, she’s one of the best stand up comics, period. that’s not even my opinion, it’s just an agreed upon fact within the stand up community. she’s brilliant. the book is about her mental illnesses and all the different self help groups she joins (so many!). she does go into her struggle with exercise boolimia, though that’s not the primary subject. it gets 5 stars as a book, but 4 stars as an edsheeran book because there just isn’t a lot of dis0rder talk

3 star and below ⭐️⭐️⭐️

• stick figure: a diary of my former self by lori gottlieb. good but i had trouble relating to the protagonist because was quite young and immature

• the art of st4rving by sam j. miller. some much needed male representation in edsheeran literature. and some lgbtq representation. it’s YA (young adult) fiction, not really my taste. would recommend for those who like YA. great cover art!

• wintergirls by laurie halse anderson. a lot of people love this book. i thought it was ok. it’s a work of fiction by an author who isn’t really part of the edsheeran or recovery community. it’s another YA book. i will always prefer memoirs and non-fiction

• fat chance by lesléa newman. this was the first edsheeran book i read. it was assigned reading for my high school health class. it’s a YA novel about a 13 year old girl who wants to lose we!ght. she re$tricts, she b;nges, she poorges, she becomes boolimic. i can trace my edsheeran back to this book. i started d;eting, b;ngeing, and abusing lax4tives as a direct result of reading this material. it did the exact opposite of its purpose, trying to steer young people away from toxic d!et culture. my take away was, i’m overweight, therefore i should be willing to do anything to get th!nner. it’s not very good tbh. maybe if you like YA you’d like it but otherwise, would not recommend

[rubberfuckey]

summary: After a worried phone call from Wheezie, you decide to come back to Kildare.

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

part eight part nine

wc: 1k

a/n: the grand finale! i'm so sad it's over, i hope y'all loved it as much as i do!!

masterlist

talk to me

You didn’t wake up the next day until 2 pm. After you went back down to the party, everything was a blur. You and Rafe went shot for shot, not the smartest thing you’ve ever done considering you were practically half that man’s height. You looked over at him, lying on his stomach, drooling on the pillow. You were both completely naked, you had hickeys on your stomach, your inner thighs, your chest, and bruises on your hips from where Rafe must’ve held you. You literally looked like you were attacked but you couldn’t be happier. You grabbed your phone to use the front camera to look at yourself. You cringed at the sight of the dark hickeys littered across both sides of your neck. Rafe stirred and groaned, reaching an arm out for you. 

“Rafe?” you whispered.

He cringed at the volume even though you were as quiet as possible, “Hmm?”

“What the hell happened last night?”

“I’m pretty sure it was the best night of my life,” he mumbled. 

You smiled, “What time did we fall asleep last night?” “Everything after like four o’clock is fuzzy.”

“Did I get in a fight with a damn wild animal?” “What?” He opened his eyes and picked his head off the pillow, immediately looking at the bruises all over your body.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve been more gentle. You just kept begging for me to be rougher and who was I to decline such a beautiful girl?”

“It’s okay, I’m happy.”

He had a sleepy smile on his face as his head hit the pillow again. You sat up from the bed, ready to get in the shower and wash the grime away. 

“Where are you going?”

“To shower, you coming?”

He jumped up, keeping his eyes closed on his way to the shower. 

“You feeling okay?” you laughed.

“Yeah, when there’s no light or noise, I’m great. How are you not dying right now?”

“Just luck, I guess.”

“Or you’re just annoyingly perfect,” he said.

“Or that.”

You pulled him into the shower with you, washing his hair as he leaned against the wall.

"I have something to tell you," he says.

"Uh oh,"

"That gets funnier every time," he said sarcastically.

"You're so sassy," you laughed but he shot you a look and you stopped real quick, holding in your laughter.

"What I was saying was, yesterday when I was inside making phone calls, I also signed up for an online, anonymous anger management class," he looked so proud of himself you could've cried right then. "And I looked for a therapist, I don't know, maybe you could help me out with that one?"

"Of course I will, I'm so proud of you."

"Good, I'm doing all of this for you."

You opened your mouth to scold him for his reasoning but he cut you off, "I know, I know", he threw his hands up in defense.

You smiled and hugged him, letting the water run over the both of you.

You got dressed after your shower and walked down the stairs, grabbing two Tylenol for each of you, washing them down with some Gatorade. You grabbed his sunglasses out of the key dish in the foyer for him, and he put them on before you opened the front door to inspect the damage. You walked over to some guy passed out in a lounge chair, shaking him awake and telling him he has to go home. He stumbled off, confused, as you laughed. You grabbed a trash bag from the shed and started collecting cups and other trash people left everywhere. 

“Babe, don’t worry about it. I’ll pay someone to come clean everything up.”

You laughed at him and shook your head, continuing what you were doing. He fell asleep with his head in his hands at the outdoor table. His tolerance must be significantly lower now that he’s clean off the hard stuff. You finished bagging all the trash and grabbed the hose to water Rose’s flowers when you heard someone yell your name from the driveway. 

“Wheezie? What are you doing home?”

“I got bored at Samantha’s,” she shrugged.

She took in the scene around her, bags of cups and Rafe asleep on the table, “You guys did have a party. And I missed it?” She scoffed in offense. 

“Trust me, Wheeze, you did not want to be around for last night. Too loud, too many people.”

“Yeah, I can tell you two had a good time, what the hell happened to your neck?” 

She poked at the hickeys on your neck as you tried to cover them with your hands.

“Nothing, Jeez Wheez. What happened to Rafe’s little sister?”

“So are you two back together yet or what? Because I’m calling it now, I’m being the maid of honor at your wedding.”

You laughed and shook your head, “I don’t know, I guess we are? We haven’t really talked about it being official.”

“Yeah, not much talking going on with you two, huh?”

You whacked her with your arm as you gasped. 

Rafe woke up at the sound of your gasp, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Your sister is too grown, that’s what’s wrong!”

“Whatever, I’m going to shower,” she laughed.

You walked over to Rafe and plopped down in his lap.

“Hi,” you whispered with a smile.

“Hi,” he replied, grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss on it.

“Rafe, what are we?”

“What?” he laughed.

“I mean, what are we?” you repeated.

“Man, you move a girl back to town, give her back her promise ring, and make sweet, sweet love to her all night, and all the sudden she expects a title out of it.”

You rolled your eyes as you giggled.

“Y/N, will you please be my girlfriend again?”

You bit your lip with a smile, nodding.

“I would like that.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Rafe.”

He kissed you, cupping your face in his hands. 

“That’s cute,” Wheezie deadpanned, making you jump.

“What happened to getting in the shower Wheeze? You stink,” Rafe teased.

“I should be getting a thank you right now, maybe a ‘Wheezie you’re the best sister in the world and I’ll drive you anywhere you need to go for the next two years’. Y/N wouldn’t be back here if I didn’t call her.”

You shrugged looking over to Rafe, “She’s kinda right, you know.”

Rafe sighed, “Thank you Wheeze,” he mumbled, knowing he wasn’t going to win that argument against the two of you.

“When you’re done being disgusting with my brother, come upstairs, it’s time to wedding plan,” Wheezie said before walking back into the house.

“What?!” Rafe exclaimed as you laughed.

tag list: @user3737338292 @koalalafications @mutual-mendes @allthesefanfics @f4ll-for-you @colbysbrocks @writtenwordslover @bibliophilewednesday @tahliac11 @five-seconds-flat @palmwinemami @m-indkiller

[creat0r-cat]

Markiplier x Teen!Daughter!Reader - Not the Same

Requested by: Anonymous

—------

“Dad! The doll is right there! What are you doing??” Laughed (Y/n) as her father almost left his hiding space. “I have to get the mold thing up there!” He exclaimed, moving Rose out from beneath the table and trying to run passed the enemy. His attempt was unsuccessful as it started laughing like a maniac and he started losing HP. “I tried to tell you earlier, there’s another way there, you just have to go the other way!” 

“Agh, dang it. Fine, we’ll do it your way.” Mark grumbled as he moved Rose away. Chaos ensued as after he got around the doll, the giant mannequin burst through the door. “AGH NO!!!” Cried the older YouTuber as he had the girl hide under a table.

(Y/n) was laughing, Mark jokingly telling her to be quiet. She only shook her head and decided to look at chat. There were a few people commenting how Rose reminded them a bit of (Y/n). The girl was confused but opted to ignore them, turning back to watch the game. 

Mark finally got out of the room, shouting at the dolls to stop their insulting yammering, and looked over at his daughter. “You okay?” She nodded her head, smiling reassuringly at him. “Yup, I’m fine, just thinking about something. Oh look! Michael’s back!” Indeed he was, writing glowing, worried words on the wall for Rose to read. 

As they walked through the house of memories, the two players started to put pieces together. “Okay, I’m pretty sure at this point that Michael is actually Ethan.” Commented Mark and (Y/n) nodded again. “I would be shocked if he wasn’t.” After defeating the crazy ghost girl, they fell even deeper into the world after being pushed away from harm by a male figure. 

Both father and daughter were shaking with excitement and the girl pointed at the screen. “THAT’S ETHAN!! WE CALLED IT!! THAT’S ETHAN!!” Mark, after calming down a bit, made his way through the familiar territory, (Y/n) once again looked at the chat. She frowned as there were multiple comments saying similar things to the previous one, but with a little more added on. 

“CraZGurl: Awww Mark and (Y/n) are so cute around each other! Their bond is like Rose and Ethan’s relationship!” 

“MuddBoi: @CraZGurl FR! They do give off those vibes, don't they?” 

“MyMain6Channel: It’s like watching real life versions of Rose and Ethan! <3”

“BuddiBuddy: Adorable (OwO)”

(Y/n) wondered what made them think that and spoke up. “Chat, as flattering as it is that you think Dad and I act cute around each other, I can guarantee that we aren’t like Rose and her dad in the game so stop saying that.” Mark didn’t really understand what she was talking about, but decided to keep quiet. 

As the coded father and daughter ran through a mold infested cavern and away from the final boss, the comments continued to grow with the same relative message. However, these words fell upon distracted ears as the real life duo were off in their own little worlds. Mark’s mind was in auto pilot during the big fight and he just let his mind wonder. 

“What would my life have been like if I never had a daughter?”

(Y/n) pointed out small details and provided some help while a question of her own floated around in her head. ‘What would my life be like if Dad just disappeared from my life? What if my story really was like Rose’s? Dad has been to the hospital many times for things, but what if something finally killed him? What would happen to me?’ She shook her head. ‘No, you idiot, don’t think that way. He’s tough, and even if something did happen to him, his friends have always been willing to help him out so I’d be fine.’

Mark and (Y/n) both watched as Miranda was defeated, and Rose held her dying father. It was a very emotional moment, and both Fischbachs were sad. “I’m so very proud of you. I love you, Rose.” spoke Ethan and (Y/n) felt her own dad’s arm wrap around her, bringing her closer into a partial hug. 

“I love you too, dad.”

(Y/n) subconsciously read those words out loud, her voice barely a whisper as the screen faded to white. She looked over to her right to see her dad was looking at her with a smile. He hugged her tight, and while sharing that moment with him, she looked over once again at the comment stream. With a sigh, she spoke loud enough to be heard while her face was basically pressed against Mark’s chest. 

“Don’t say that chat. I don’t want to think about losing my dad.” Mark, hearing this, looked over and read the messages. So that’s what she had been thinking about. He gave his daughter a protective squeeze and glared goofily at the camera. “Yeah, guys. As you can see I’m perfectly fine. Unless I’m not and I’m a ghost. Oooooohhhhh~” He rebukingly teased before tickling (Y/n) and smiling when she burst into laughter.

Mark knew that if something happened to him, his friends or his mom would take care of his daughter. Yes, his body was a little messed up at times, but it had been a while since anything major happened, so he wasn’t too worried about it. For the time being however, while he was still relatively healthy, he’d happily spend as much time with his little girl as possible. 

As the final cut scene played through and the credits rolled, the two Fischbachs talked about their favorite parts of the game. “I think there were a few aspects I would’ve liked to have been included in, but overall it was a good game.” Said Mark with a shrug and (Y/n) laughed.

“Yeah, you’re just disappointed that Big Waifu Lady Dimitrescu didn’t make an appearance and instead we were stuck with Smelly Mold Lady Miranda.” He playfully shoved her which made her giggle. “How dare you make such bold claims! I feel rather insulted!” 

The previous comments had been almost forgotten as the father and daughter messed around both on and then off stream. They managed to score a good story for themselves in the real world, unlike their compared counterparts in the game, and that made them happy. Sure, worried thoughts lingered in the back of their minds, but at that moment, they didn’t matter. Mark and (Y/n) were a happy family, and to them that was all they could really ask for.

[neteyamsoare]

Comfort.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Lo’ak Sully x Tsireya.

༉‧₊˚. Anonymous Request. oh ok!! i read over the request rules and am ready to send one now! could u write some fluffy hurt/comfort with tsireya and lo’ak, but where tsireya is the one who is upset and lo’ak is the comforting one? i just think this would be so sweet because tsireya is so pure and sweet and it breaks my heart when she cries in the movie. i also think lo’ak would be good in this situation cause even if he’s awkward he has sisters haha. a specific scene that comes to mind is when lo’ak looks at her and she’s crying while the rest of the clan wants to go to war for the tulkun and it just makes me think about how all this violence is super new for her and how someone who has such a big heart like her must’ve been so sad over the death of the tulkun :( but it doesn’t have to be for this scenario of course, i was just saying where my idea for the request came from!!

༉‧₊˚. Summary. Lo’ak comforts Tsireya as she suffers the loss of her mother’s spirit sister.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Angst and hurt with comfort.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Aged up! Lo'ak & Tsireya, mentions of war, mention of dead Tulkun and her baby, crying, and a fluff ending.

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 620.

༉‧₊˚. Index. Tulkun — [is a large, intelligent marine species native to the oceans of Pandora].

༉‧₊˚. Notes. Anon, I’m sorry I took long with your request but I hope you’re still here to read it, I hope I did justice on this and I hope you liked it.

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

Nothing hurt Lo'ak more than to see Tsireya crying while everyone else talked about whether to go to war or not. His gaze lingered on her, wanting to go over to her but as soon as he moved his feet in her direction, the meeting was over and people started leaving. Tsireya took that as her moment to run away from the crowd and he followed after her. 

 “Tsireya wait-,” he calls out for her but she doesn’t stop, he doesn’t give up and continues to follow her. They ran for a couple of minutes not caring about the wandering looks as they passed by. Tsireya slowed down after she reached the secluded part of the beach no one but she knew and it soon became their spot to sneak off to. 

“Tsireya…,” he softly spoke as she slowly sat and let out a sob she held in and Lo’ak heart broke at the sound, at the way she looked so defeated, so scared of what was to come. Lo’ak moves toward her and sits down next to her immediately pulling her into his embrace not saying anything just holding her tight. 

He knew what to do when it came to comfort, he had done it before with his sisters whenever they were sad so he knew what to do but he added a few things to it, he drew shapes softly at the lower of her back as he let her cry it out, waiting patiently for she to talk. “Th… They killed my mother’s spirit sister… and her baby…” she forced out between sobs and Lo’ak brows furrowed together at the cruelty sky people had, he hated how they had no respect for the planet and the beautiful creatures that were a part of it. 

“How can someone be so cruel to kill not only the mom… but her baby who just was born? They didn’t ask for this,” Tsireya sobbed more as Lo’ak contemplated what to say. “What if they come here?” Tsireya lifts her head off of his chest to look up at him, he breaks more at the sight of her puffy eyes and the tears that left a trail on her beautiful face, he cursed to himself never wanting to see such a beautiful girl like her cry, wanting to take away the pain as long as she stays happy. 

“What if they don’t stop there? What if they come here? What if they hurt my family, what if they hurt me…” Tears left her eye as she asked these questions that sounded jumbled as she got emotional even more, Lo’ak raises to wipe away the tears, she brings her hand to his removing it from her face and wrapping her entire hand onto his pinky as she looked into his eyes. “What if they hurt you?” As more tears glistened in her eyes, Lo’ak wrapped his other hand over hers, rubbing it softly.

“Hey, I won’t allow anything or anyone to hurt you, they would have to go through me first,” he smiles a bit trying to get a smile on her face but no luck. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he coos softly as he goes back to drawing shapes on her back. “How’d you know?” She questions softly and he just smiles, “Because you got me protecting you and I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe, and if they do come, I promise you they won’t win, I mean look at me, I’m strong enough to take them down,” he flexes his muscles with a smirk on his face and all Tsireya can do is laugh but deep down she couldn’t be happier that she found someone amazing like him.

🔖 @livelaughloak, @jakesully-sbabygirl, @kenzi-woycehoski, @fanboyluvr, @onlytays, @amart-e, @vxncxntt, @blep24, @blackheart-stuff, @almondmilk8, @love-chx, @uniltsatirey, @23victoria, @saeayanaa, @aash3, @neteyamsbaby, @0littlelucy0, @itszmedawn, @strawberryclouds22, @doulcha, @lixiesbrowniess, @liluvtojineteyam, @tinkerbelle05, @olivikiya, @neteyamyawne, @ratchetprime211, @cloudyl9, @mooniequeen, @kentfisherswifee6, @pandoragalora, @ami-s-k, @murderbirbdany, @anonymousailurophile.

© neteyamsoare 2023. | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[she-is-juniper]

The Silence of a Falling Star — Elvis Presley x Reader

[Credit to @shimmeringlights44 for the video and to @sassy-ahsoka-tano for the gif]

Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x Reader

Warnings: angst, angst, angst (u asked for it.....)

Prompt (from Anonymous): "Thank you for feeding us some 💥💥💳 content but now I feel like we need make everyone a bit sad :( so I would like to request us getting into a fight with Elvis or possibly us leaving him (like the scene in the movie where Pricilla leaves). The scene brought me to tears and hearing him ask her to stay cracked open my heart like an egg"

Word Count: 1K (short and sad)

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

Love isn’t supposed to be easy. You know that. You thought you were prepared for the hard days. But what were you supposed to do when there were only hard days? When you couldn’t even remember the last good day you’ve had with him? When you wake up one day and the realization of how much you’ve given and sacrificed for him, for so little in return, finally dawns on you? 

Elvis isn’t in bed when you wake up. You don’t know where he is. You used to worry when you didn’t know where he was, but like everything else with him, you’ve become jaded. 

You start packing a bag. Just one small bag in a house full of a fortunes that were never yours and that you never cared for in the first place. 

You’re about to leave through the front door when you see him, sitting on a piano bench in the music room, lost in thought. The crooning voice of Hank Williams fills the room from an old record on the turntable. 

Elvis looks up, surprised, his crystal eyes glancing between your face and your packed bag. “Where are you going?” he asks, his voice so incredibly quiet. 

How were you supposed to leave him now when he was looking at you like this? 

“Y/N?” the love of your life asks you again, standing up. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t realize you’d been crying—you’d probably been crying from the moment you started packing your bag. You never cried in front of him, never wanted to make him feel responsible for the way you felt—even if he was responsible. But you can't hold back the tears now.

“I can’t do this anymore, Elvis.”

A look of disbelief crosses his face. As a long moment of silence passes, the look turns into terror.

“Y/N, please…” He crosses the room to you in three big strides. He takes your shoulders in his hands. You can’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t belong here,” you say as a tear spills over onto your cheek. “I don’t belong in this house, in this life. I don’t belong…with you anymore.”

“You do belong with me,” Elvis asserts, but his voice is quavering. He tilts your chin up to look at him. “You’re my girl—”

“This is the first time you’ve touched me weeks!” you all but scream at him. You shove his chest, hard. “If this is my home, then why do I feel like a stranger in it?!” The pain rips through your heart. “If this is my life, why do I feel like it hasn’t been my own in years?!”

Elvis backs into the wall from the momentum of your shove. His mouth has fallen open in despair. “Please,” he rasps. “Y/N, please.”

You ignore him. “If I belong with you…” your voice cracks. “…then why do I feel like I’ve lost you already?”

He’s starting to comprehend what you are saying. “Y/N, please don’t…I'll be better. I promise. Just please don’t leave. Don’t leave me.” His eyes become glassy. His chest shakes. "Don't leave me."

“You’ve already left me, Elvis,” you say too harshly. “You’ve already been gone for a long time now. I’ve given so much of my life away for you. But when I leave you, your life will just stay the same.”

You suck in a breath, the sensation stinging your lungs, and you remind yourself to keep your voice soft, calm. “You're drowning. You need help, Elvis. You need to get help. But until you do, I can’t keep letting you pull me under to drown with you.”

But as you watch him sink to the floor, his face contorted in agony, his broken blue eyes never once leaving yours…the conviction of your words evaporates from your body.  

“I can’t lose you,” Elvis gasps out. He grasps his hands together in front of his face. And he begins to sob. “You’re my girl, my only girl. You’re the only good thing left in my life. Please, please don’t leave. Please…please.”

So broken, so lost, like a small child. You haven’t seen Elvis like this since he lost his Mama.

You immediately drop his bag and drop to your knees in front of him. You pry his hands apart and lean into his chest to hug him. He grasps onto your body so tightly it almost hurts. Like he wants to never let go of you.

He sobs into your shoulder, keening over and over, “Please, don’t leave, Y/N, please, please…”

And you cry with him. You don’t want to leave, you never wanted to leave. But you know you have to.

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll never be able to again,” you whisper.

You hold him until his shoulders stop shaking and he’s stopped whispering your name, until the only sound that’s left in the room is the old Hank Williams record playing in the corner…

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill,

He sounds too blue to fly.

The midnight train is whining low,

I'm so lonesome I could cry.

I've never seen a night so long

When time goes crawling by.

The moon just went behind a cloud

To hide its face and cry.

Did you ever see a robin weep,

When leaves began to die?

That means he's lost the will to live,

I'm so lonesome I could cry.

The silence of a falling star

Lights up a purple sky.

And as I wonder where you are

I'm so lonesome I could cry.

You pull away from him just enough to reach into your coat pocket and pull out an envelope. “This is for you,” you tell him. “I wrote it for you. And there’s a number you can call, baby. A place you can go for a while to heal, to get better.” You grab his hand and place the envelope in it. Wrap his fingers around it. And then you hold his face in your hands. “Please, Elvis. Please call them. Please get better, for me. For yourself. For all of your fans.”

"I love you, Y/N," he breathes, barely audible. His face…you’ll never be able to forget his face in this moment.

You lean in and kiss the salty tears off his cheeks, right as more tears of your own spill over again. You kiss his forehead, the corners of his eyes. His lips, at last.

You stand up. Elvis is still holding your hand tightly as if his life depends on it. 

It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do…but you pull your hand away.

Gathering your bag and walking to the front door of the house—this beautiful, grand, lonely estate—you try with all of your might to keep going. To keep walking away, to look forward. To keep from looking back at the only man you’d ever loved truly and fully. But your will is not stronger than the ties that bind you to Elvis Presley, and you find yourself looking back at him just before you walk out the door.

But he isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking at the envelope held tightly in his hands.

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Author's Note: I......greatly apologize for any emotional damages I may have inflicted with this one 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I'm dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it's simply a "Wow, I loved it!", a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

For fanfic, blurb, or headcanon requests about Elvis, Austin Butler, or Stranger Things, please let me know via my ask box!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

[aheathen-conceivably]

Anonymous OC question of the day!

If you could make a character real, which of your OCs would be:

your bestie

your spouse/partner

your secret lover!

your friendly rival

your enemy!

BONUS: do this for other people’s OCs too!

Pass the game along (anonymously or not)

Nonny! Bless you! This is is the nonsense I live for.

Okay okay we’re gunna assume they’re real but also like I’m selecting these independently, so you know when I pick my bestie’s husband as my partner I’m not causing drama…👀

Bestie

I mean come on, it’s gotta be Zelda, right? Like imma be real, maybe I would like it to be Jo, but at this point in my life ain’t no way I could keep up with her 😂

I just wanna vibe, talk about books and stories, maybe sit in silence sometimes, have some wine if I’m feeling wild. Plus I feel like Zelda has just enough of a proclivity toward the grand and the romantic that I would love to have a long winded conversation with her into the wee hours of the night.

Spouse/Partner

Welp. Sorry bestie. I’m picking your husband. It’s Antoine. Seriously, is anyone even the mildest bit surprised? I don’t think I’ve made any effort to hide that my ~type~ is the moody broken artist who you just can’t understand. Did I maybe give him some of my own IRL husband’s qualities? I plead the fifth….

But also on his positive qualities, the domestic, loyal side of Antoine is very important to me in a partner and his (newfound) emotional strength for Zelda is very attractive. Which speaking of, I mean his attractiveness is obviously a factor here too 👀

Secret Lover

Against Antoine? I have to pick a secret lover when I already have Antoine? How dare you 😭

Okay okay, honestly, I think imma have to go with Georgiana. What? I can do with some fancy gifts and maybe a few trips around the world if she’s feeling wild. Plus, she has the broken artist vibes too oops 🤣

Friendly Rival

Ya know, I think probably Rosella. I know y’all all love her, but she’s definitely got some qualities that would make me wanna be her friend but also probably shit talk and maybe even dislike her from time to time. Like I gave Rosella my love of fashion, but likewise also some of my vanity and vapidity that I’ve worked on curbing. So I think we would have a lot of similarities and enjoy a great friendship, but then also turn around and side eye the hell out of eachother sometimes.

Enemy

Low key, maybe Jo? I feel like if we crossed paths somewhere and shit went bad, it would go real bad. Like we are both stubborn as hell, sure of ourselves, and even a touch manipulative if we need to be. I also don’t think either of us really responds well to someone with similar qualities as us, so there would probably be a bit of bristling because of that too.

Can…can we make it enemies to lovers though? Or just ya know, enemies with a side of secret lovers? 🫣

-

Also, also….I can’t resist doing this for my babies the Plotts so with little to no explanation:

Best Friend: Chad (if he will have me) Partner: Ale (sad lasagna boys for life) Secret Lover: Can I deep cut pick Sade AND Chet when I'm an agent in the anachronistic 70s spy office? Yes, I pick yes. Friendly Rival: Hinoki (forever and always) Enemy: Poppy (please see the Jo energy above)

(psttt psttt @theplottdump for you my fellow potato brain)