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adragonprinceswhore · 1 month

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Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room.

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep.

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce.

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show.

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you.

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name.

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained.

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No.

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued.

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower.

No hair.

No makeup.

Great.

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down.

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit.

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour.

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for.

Three interviews down, two to go.

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated.

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers.

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is.

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so”

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life.

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum,

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest.

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present.

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh.

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words.

Betrayal?

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath.

You will not cause a scene.

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you.

You will not give him what he wants.

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps.

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond?

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet.

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror.

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red.

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album.

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process.

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately.

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour.

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates.

Well, mostly with Aemond.

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now.

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close.

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name.

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak.

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body.

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it.

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can”

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses.

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches.

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition.

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained.

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan.

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin.

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories.

They hurt the most.

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be.

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own.

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time.

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving.

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap.

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you.

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over,

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented”

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking.

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks.

“Of course”, you reply shortly.

Why is he asking for permission?

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds,

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door,

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind.

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin.

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room.

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic.

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you?

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name.

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night.

“What would you do if I were there?”

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background.

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”.

Aemond groans.

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are.

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you.

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage.

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good.

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers.

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’.

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio.

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing,

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him.

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience.

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds.

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best.

Where you can contribute something to the world.

Make people happy.

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song.

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder.

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you.

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing,

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back.

Fuck that.

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell.

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down.

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you.

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching.

Why is he suddenly so intimidating?

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago.

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago.

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man.

You hear the crowd cheer.

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye.

The crowd cheers louder and louder.

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar.

Never looking down.

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #my fics #rumours #Spotify

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bedsyandco · 2 months

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❍⌇𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 — 𝐐𝐇𝟒𝟑 ‧₊˚ ꒱

pairing: fem!celeb!singer x quinn hughes

summary: in which a famous singer from vancouver has a little crush on her home team’s captain. there’s a Jayden mentioned in this (he is reader’s ex bf who is a professional football player. completely fictional!!)

genre: social media fic

fc: sabrina carpenter

note: I had so much fun creating this!! giving quinny the love he deserves!! as always I hope you like it and feedback is always appreciated and adored <3

YOUTUBE | COSMOPOLITAN POSTED !

-> some of the web’s most searched questions with Y/N L/N

1.7 M viewers | 52K likes | 3 dislikes | posted 2 weeks ago!

… (10K comments)

user56: OMG!? YN and hockey?? my two worlds colliding

user89: STOP. the way she’s blushing and giggling?? I mean same girl but-

user17: she’s so beautiful

user33: I NEED new music. like right now

⤷ user54: what do you think the new album is gonna be about?

⤷ user33: definitely Jayden. I can’t wait for the tea

user39: jumping from football to hockey💀

⤷ user61: don’t kid yourself YN has always been a hockey girl. she’s from Canada

user64: a win for the quinn girlies

⤷ user26: actually it’s not 😞

user99: guess I’m gonna have to watch hockey now

user23: she’s so real for being a quinn girl😌

⤷ user19: quinn is the hottest hughes brother confirmed

⤷ user11: he has brothers?? 🤭

nhl

liked by quinnhughes, trevorzegras and others.

nhl: canada’s very own pop star, Y/N L/N is confirmed to be one of the all-star celebrity captains. the singer will also be performing in between games on saturday!

view all comments

user53: do we know what team she’s the celeb captain of??

⤷ user65: if it’s not quinn’s…I will riot

⤷ nhl: Y/N is set to captain team hughes!

trevorzegras: might need to make another appearance at the all star game this year. you need a plus one? @.jackhughes

⤷ user55: trevor💀

⤷ user32: $50 he’s only doing this to piss quinn off😭

yourusername: so so excited! I can’t wait!

⤷ user95: shoot your shot queen

user76: oh I can’t wait for the YN and quinn content

⤷ user53: you think he’s gonna be practicing his smile in the mirror every day so he doesn’t look like a haunted cat when he meets her

⤷ eliaspettersson: 100%

#୭ 🗄️ ₊ ⌇ bedsyandco #୭ 📂₊ ⌇ bedsyandco > smau #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfiction #nhl x reader

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 8 months

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own my mind - san (m)

summary: part of the idol series. idol!san x producer!reader. san hates you, you're sure of it, and the feeling is pretty mutual. are these feelings true, or does he just need to spend some time getting to know you?

word count: 10.6k

warnings: smut. afab reader. oral (f and m receiving) unprotected sex w pull out method, don't do that. recording during sex, don't do that either.

masterlist

"so the practice rooms are down this hall," your new boss explains as he shows you around kq, "and over here are the boys' studios, but your's will be this way..."

you're trying to take it all in and simultaneously remember where all of the confusing hallways lead. kq may not look like much on the outside, but within it's basically a maze. you keep nodding and smiling as you follow your boss around, politely greeting anybody you encounter. he ends by bringing you into a conference room to finalize some paperwork, and after that you're on your own. you're officially the newest producer at kq, and...you have no idea what to do next.

you step out of the conference room and try your hardest to remember which direction leads back to the studios, but you also need coffee. you remember where the kitchen is, so you head that way as you text your friend jen. she recommended you for this job, and she promised she'd say hi on your first day. she's one of the make up artists for ateez, so she's always around, but her schedule is a little more frantic than yours. you understand if she doesn't answer right away, so you send the text and forget about it. you take a moment to yourself in the company kitchen as you try to figure out the coffee machine, letting your thoughts wander.

are you really cut out for this? it's your first day and you already feel overwhelmed. do they expect you to just go into your studio and start producing? what kind of tracks do they have planned for the next album? will the current producers even let you touch anything important, or will you have to prove yourself first? you're thinking about all this and more when someone bursts into the kitchen with a screech.

"Y/N!!!" jen yells as she scoops you into a hug. "you're here! it's finally happening!"

"this isn't very professional," you laugh as you hug her back. "you're helping me make a bad first impression."

"not possible, i've been talking about how great you are for months," she smiles. "they're gonna love you, seriously. i can't wait to hear what you make."

"what if i suck though?" you ask, but jen shakes her head.

"don't do that. no negativity on your first day."

"whatever."

"so what are you doing first?" she asks, taking the coffee you just brewed and having a sip for herself.

"dude, that was mine," you cry, and she hands it back to you with a half assed apology. "um, what am i doing first...well, i got confused on my welcome tour, so i guess i'll wander around until i figure out where my studio is."

"oh i can show you," jen brushes you off. "it's not that confusing, you just need to walk it all a few times. lots of doors, but you'll get the hang of it."

"do you want to make your own coffee, or can you show me around right now?" you ask as you finish doctoring up your mug.

"i can just have another sip of yours," she says as she reaches for it, but you hold it just out of reach as someone else walks in.

"hey jen," hongjoong greets her, his eyes falling to you next. "are you y/n? i've been summoned to help you get started."

"thank god," you sigh in relief. "i wasn't sure what to do, so i appreciate it. it's nice to meet you, finally."

"likewise," he smiles. "i'm a big fan of your work."

"really?" you feel yourself blush. "thank you. you were one of the reasons i started producing, so that means a lot."

"really?" now it's hongjoong's turn to blush. "well, that's...nice."

"great," jen claps her hands, easing over the awkward silence. "you can show y/n her studio and the two of you can keep gushing about how great you both are." she turns to you and puts her hands on your shoulders, giving you a playful shake. "you're gonna do great things here. be nice to yourself. and uhhh, go team!"

"thanks jen," you laugh as you wave goodbye, following a respectable distance behind hongjoong. he looks back to make sure he hasn't lost you and motions for you to come closer.

"no need to be shy," he tells you. "we'll need to be pretty comfortable with each other considering how close we'll be working together."

"how often will i be working with you?"

"mmm, every day maybe?" he thinks about it. "in the beginning at least. you'll shadow me for a few days to see how the studios run, and then you'll sort of report to me with whatever you're working on. hopefully we won't get tired of each other."

"i don't think that'll be an issue," you assure him. you catch the tips of his ears turning red and you smile to yourself. "so, what makes a good producer here?"

you watch in admiration as hongjoong explains the creativity and collaboration that makes kq work so well, and you kick yourself for getting distracted again. you were supposed to be watching your surroundings, keeping an eye out for where to go to find your studio, but you can't help it. in this moment, it hits you: you get to make music with one of your favorite producers for one of your favorite artists. you must be dreaming, right?

if this is a dream, you're knocked out of it abruptly. while you were watching hongjoong, you weren't watching where you were going, and you walked right into the human equivalent of a brick wall. you spill your coffee everywhere, but don't worry, most of it lands on the most handsome man you've ever seen in your entire life. you're currently staring at choi san, singer of ateez and one of your new coworkers. he's looking down at you, a little bit of shock in his eyes, and you rush to correct the situation.

"oh, shit, i'm sorry," you apologize. you look to hongjoong for help and he's running off to find napkins, leaving you with a very buff man in a soaking wet white t shirt. "i am so so sorry, really, here, let me try to-"

"don't worry about it," san takes a step back. he starts to walk away, but you follow behind him.

"at least let me-"

"i said don't worry about it," he tries again, his tone calm but his eyes tell a different story. he's glaring down at you, which makes your blood boil. he has a right to be mad at you for spilling coffee on him, but why's he pissed at you for trying to help clean him up?

"sure, go drip coffee all down the hallway then," you grumble as you brush past him. "i'll tell hongjoong to follow the trail when he comes back with your napkins."

"fine," san sighs, stopping where he stands. he throws his hands up and asks, "happy?"

"sure."

"who are you anyway?" he mumbles to himself, looking you up and down. you feel his eyes linger, and it makes goosebumps rise over your skin. you take that as a further sign that this guy is getting on your nerves.

"i'm y/n, i'm the new producer," you answer. "nice to meet you."

"you spill coffee on all of your coworkers, y/n?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"i said i was sorry-"

"here's hongjoong," san cuts you off. he reaches out for the napkins and smiles at his bandmate. "thanks man."

"so you've met y/n," hongjoong chuckles, trying to ease the tension. "she's really great, we're lucky to have her on the team." san doesn't reply, just nods and sends you a tightlipped smile as he dabs at his ruined t shirt. the fabric is basically translucent now, showing san's tan skin below and the definition of every single muscle. hongjoong clocks the way your eyes are trailing over san's torso and he clears his throat. "um, should we continue our tour?"

"yeah, sorry," you gesture for him to lead the way, and you hold san's gaze as you walk away. he's a dick, you think. that'll be fun.

"so is san always an asshole?" you yell over the loud music to jen as you follow her to a table. she insisted on taking you out for drinks to celebrate your first day, and after the morning you had, you need this.

"is he what?!" she shouts back.

"an asshole!"

"san?" she looks at you bewildered. "he's a sweetheart!"

"are we talking about the same guy?"

"are we?" jen questions as she finally pulls you to a table in the back. it's a little quieter back here, so you don't have to shout, but the music will still drown out your conversation so no one can eavesdrop. once you're both settled, she takes a sip of her drink and then, "spill."

"nothing to spill, i just think san is mean and i hate him," you say simply. "i spilled coffee on him, totally an accident, but he was a huge dick about it. wouldn't let me help him, didn't really introduce himself...it all felt off."

"to be fair, i would've been pissed if you had spilled coffee on me when we met," jen points out.

"yeah, but you would've been nicer in the aftermath," you shake your head. "it's whatever. i hopefully won't have to work that closely with him."

"and what about hongjoong?" jen wiggles her eyebrows. "i hear you two hit it off."

"he's nice," you smile shyly. "made my first day a lot easier. he was really patient with all my questions, which helped ease my nerves."

"he's really good at that," jen nods. she goes into a story about her first meeting with hongjoong, and it makes you laugh and endears you to the man more. she tells you stories of the other members, none of whom you met today, but now you're excited to get to know them. "they're all really nice, especially san and yunho. i feel like they're the ones that always check up on everybody-"

"san?"

"yes, your mortal enemy," she rolls her eyes. "he's a good guy, i promise. you just need to make up for the coffee thing and i think you'll be on his good side."

"i'll think about that," you mumble, taking a sip of your drink that almost drains the glass. "so who's this guy you're seeing?"

"whoa, looks like you need another one!" jen deflects. she grabs your glass and runs off to the bar to get another round, leaving you to sit and stew on your own. if san was such a nice guy, why was he only rude to you? it sounds like he isn't mean to other newbies, so it can't be some kind of hazing. whatever dislike he holds for you is personal, and that's making you even angrier. when jen comes back with your new drink she says, "you look mad. what did i miss?"

"can you find out why san hates me?" you ask, and you swear jen would punch you if she could reach across the table.

"he doesn't hate you!! you just made a bad impression! stop making him a villain," she begs you. "man, you're so obsessed with him. maybe someone has a crush?"

"please," you scoff. "just because he has muscles doesn't make up for his shit personality."

"so you like his muscles," jen smirks. "tell him that tomorrow, it'll boost his ego."

"i'm not listening to you anymore."

"but i have so much knowledge to share!" she whines, and you let jen tell you all the do's and don'ts of working at kq as the night goes on. maybe you'll take her advice and try to patch things up with san in the morning. could be worth a shot, right?

the next day, you're in one of the bigger studios to help hongjoong with a vocal arrangement. since the last album did so well with the unit songs, you and hongjoong wanted to experiment a little further. you excitedly told hongjoong about your hopes to compose and produce a harmony heavy vocal track, and he was all for it. you worked on the music for it last night, bringing about half of the song to hongjoong for you to play around with today. you both agreed it'd be good to have a guide version ready before you share it with the entire vocal line, so seonghwa offered to help out, too. he's in the booth now as you and hongjoong instruct him from your seats behind the soundboard. he finishes the final layer for the first harmony, and you wait as hongjoong lines it all up. he plays the snippet for you and seonghwa, and you notice both boys are waiting for your reaction.

"that was great, seonghwa," you encourage him. "i really liked it, but..."

"don't be shy," hongjoong nudges you, "he can take it."

"i can," seonghwa agrees. "give it to me straight. did it suck?"

"no, it was really beautiful actually," you assure him. "but for the melody, could you make it more...monotone? that might sound weird, but we're trying to play with the high and low harmony like they're the angel and devil sitting on your shoulder, and for those to stand out the melody needs to be less...captivating."

"you hear that? she thinks your voice is captivating," hongjoong smiles to seonghwa, and he beams at you.

"i get that," he nods. "can i try it another way?"

you help hongjoong reset, and then seonghwa tries another layer in a sadder voice. it's just as powerful, but will be the perfect conduit for the story you're trying to tell. when he finishes, they look to you again and find you smiling proudly.

"that was it," you nod. "great job."

"thanks boss," seonghwa says as he steps out of the booth. "who do you want me to bring in next?"

"you can call san, we'll get him to do the high part and then-"

"san?" you look at hongjoong. "i thought seonghwa was doing the guide vocals."

"well, usually we could do with just one voice, but this song would work best with three distinct voices," hongjoong explains. "i don't think the guys would get it if it's harder to distinguish the different levels, you know?"

"right," you agree, just a little dejected.

"so..." seonghwa trails off. "should i go get him?"

"yeah, tell him to meet us here in ten," hongjoong tells him. seonghwa says his goodbyes and then hoongjoong turns to you. "you alright?"

"i'm good," you reply. "feel a little in over my head, but good."

"you're doing great," hongjoong says, placing his hand over yours on the desk. "it's a lot to jump into, and i'm sorry if it seemed like i was-"

"no, i needed the insight-"

"because i value your opinion-"

"i know that-"

"and-" hongjoong is cut off from finishing his thought because the studio door opens to reveal san. he's wearing another skin tight t shirt, black this time, so even if you spilled another coffee on him it would be harder to notice. he's paired it with a beanie and baggy black pants, and if what you're seeing is correct, he's not wearing any underwear. he stands there staring at you both before his eyes fall to your hand still beneath hongjoong's, and the two of you separate like you've just been shocked.

"i'm not interrupting anything, am i?" san asks suspiciously, and you viciously shake your head as hongjoong tells san to get into the booth. he explains the idea to san and queues up seonghwa's melody as san struggles to put the headphones on over his hat, so you lean into the mic and suggest, "try taking the hat off, maybe?"

"thanks, big help," he says sarcastically. he listens anyway, tossing his beanie away like he's mad at it. "so what am i doing? copying hwa?"

"no," you say sternly. "you're singing the high harmony. we'll layer it over seonghwa's vocals, but your voice needs to be distinct. you can practice if you want-"

"i don't need to practice," san cuts you off, staring daggers at you. "just play it." he keeps his eyes on you as he listens, and you feel nervous. he's listening to your song, your lyrics, and you think you see the slightest flicker of emotion in his eyes as seonghwa's voice fades. he doesn't comment on it, just continues staring at you and says, "yeah, got it. you can record this."

"let's listen to it first, and then record the next one," you tell hongjoong, and he nods in agreement. you watch san get ready, and then you hear the most beautiful falsetto flowing over your track. it makes you emotional, and it's another instance of the coolness of your job hitting you. you're so mesmerized you miss san finishing on a bit of a creative note, so the boys are staring, waiting for your input.

"y/n?" hongjoong calls your name. "what'd you think?"

"that was," you clear your throat, "that was perfect, san."

"great," he nods, taking the headphones off, but you stop him.

"ah, we need to record it," you remind him, and you catch his groan through the mic.

"i thought i said to record that one?"

"you don't decide that," you reply, and hongjoong tries to diffuse.

"she has a specific vision for the song, so we wanted to hear you first and then decide if there were any notes before we record you."

"what's the vision?" san asks you, and he listens intently as you explain. when you're done, he takes a deep breath and says clearly into the mic, "that sounds stupid. but i'll do it again. make sure you're recording this time."

"whatever you say, asshole," you mumble, angrily getting the track ready for his bratty voice. you wish you could stay mad at him, but as soon as he starts to sing you're enchanted. again, you get distracted by his voice, the emotion in it and all over his face as he sings, and you think, if he says your idea was stupid, why was he putting so much heart into just a guide vocal? he finishes and you thank him, saving the track quickly before you turn to hongjoong and inform him you need a water break. he's left in the studio with san as he saunters out, but hongjoong meets him at the door.

"what's your problem?" he barks, livid at the way san was treating you during that session.

"uh, you're blocking my exit?" he asks, but that was the wrong thing to say. hongjoong dives into a lecture about respect, and san has to laugh. "oh, you want me to respect the girl who spilled coffee all over me yesterday? who thinks, on her second day, she can tell me how to do my job?"

"she's a producer, her job is to literally tell you what to do-"

"well i'm sorry i hurt your girlfriend's feelings," san spits. "but i did what you asked me to do, so please let me leave." hongjoong steps to the side, still fuming, and san walks out. you catch him in the hall as you return, and you want to stop him, to tell him how great he sounded, but when you lift your hand in greeting he turns the other way and disappears.

you get a break from work later that day and find jen making a coffee. she sees you coming and has a cup ready for you to make your own, and you catch up on your days as your coffee brews. you tell her about san's lovely time with you in the studio, and jen listens, but when you finish she asks, "and he was still like this after you said you liked his muscles?"

"i'm not telling him that," you mumble.

"telling who what?" wooyoung asks as he pops around the corner.

"mind your business?" jen replies. "have you met y/n yet? she's the new producer."

"no, but i've heard mixed reviews," wooyoung says as he dramatically shakes your hand. "can't wait to decide which side i'm on."

"there's sides?" you ask nervously.

"yep," he says with a pop on the p. "hongjoong and seonghwa worship the ground you walk on. san hates your guts, although i'm not sure why. you seem lovely."

"she is lovely," jen points out.

"hm," wooyoung squints playfully. "guess we'll have to wait and see."

"what about innocent until proven guilty?" you ask. "just assume you'll like me and then you will!"

"yeah, but san is a good judge of character," wooyoung shakes his head. "if he doesn't like you, then he's got a reason."

"is the reason because he's maleficent?"

"oo, maleficent, i like that," wooyoung coos. he turns to jen and asks, "why don't you use big words like that?"

"i'm afraid you wouldn't get them," she sighs.

"try me, i'm full of surprises baby," he winks at her before smacking her ass and walking away. you watch in confusion, and she waves it off.

"don't worry, he does that sometimes."

"to everybody?!"

"just to me," she shrugs, and then it clicks.

"he's your fling," you smile. "very nice."

"nuh uh."

"no, he totally is. that's elmo," you piece it together. "is that his nickname because of his laugh?"

"you were never supposed to meet him," jen defends herself.

"so getting me a job here wouldn't interfere with that?"

"i figured i could keep it a secret," she pouts.

"you did! for a whopping 36 hours, good job!"

"don't patronize me," she complains. "i could call san and have him here in seconds-"

"oh man, i need to go record something," you frown, "maybe you two could talk though? figure out why he's got an all burning hatred for me, an angel?"

"i'll get to the bottom of it," jen says, and you realize the error you've just made.

"wait, no, don't talk to him, please," you beg.

"too late, you've asked for my help, so i'll help," jen concedes easily. "he'll either love you or simply tolerate you by the end of the week, i promise."

"great, thanks..."

you've made it through your first week, yippee! you really like it here, you fit in well with the members, and the producers seem to really like your ideas. the only problem is san. you enter a room that he's in and it goes quiet. he passes you in the hall, and you're fuming for the rest of the day. everyone knows about your little rivalry at this point, but no one understands where it came from. even jen, who was determined to make you and san best friends, has lost hope.

you're able to make it a couple days without any more san run ins, and for that you are grateful. you and hongjoong have made a lot of progress on the vocal line track, and he's invited you to a few writing sessions with mingi for the rap line track. you're feeling invincible after one of those sessions, walking back to your studio, when you get the scare of your life. you enter the code to your studio, guard completely down, and jump out of your skin when you see someone sitting at your desk.

"what the fuck?!" you shriek, using the door as a shield. you peek around it and see that it's not an intruder. well, at least not one that wants to hurt you. maybe. it's san, so this interaction could go in any direction.

"hello," he says simply. "nice way to greet your guest."

"how'd you get into my studio?" you ask as you close the door. you wonder if you should keep it cracked open, just in case you and san get into it and you need a witness that he probably started it.

"i needed to ask you a question," san responds instead, and you cock your head in confusion. "i can't do that?"

"i don't know, can you?"

"your song. the vocal one. how's it going?"

you're surprised this is what he wanted to talk about but, honestly, what else were you expecting? this is a normal work interaction, you think. you're just not used to having those with san. since san is sitting in your desk chair, you pull your stool over to the desk pathetically and perch on top of it as you shoot san a glare.

"can you move over? i need to get to my keyboard."

"aw, can't reach over my muscles?" san teases, and you feel your blood run cold.

"what?"

"my muscles? little birdie told me you liked them."

"what are you doing in my studio, san."

"i wanted to hear your song," he shrugs. you wait for him to move out of the way, but apparently that's not happening. you grumble as you lean over him and type, pulling the project file up on your screen. you check the volume before you hit play and look back to see san watching you intently. he's close, your arms brushing and his head only a few inches from yours. you hold his gaze for a second and then hit play, sitting back as you watch him listen. you can't read his expression as the song plays, but you don't care what he has to say. you love this song, and you think it's turning out great. whatever he has to say isn't important to you-

"wow," he whistles. "i get it now."

"get what?"

"why you're so pretentious about your work," san smirks as he side eyes you.

"is that supposed to be an insult?" you ask, trying to gauge his reaction.

"not really," he shakes his head.

"well it's not a compliment," you tell him.

"i'll work on that," he says as he stands. he puts his hands on your desk to support himself as he rises, and you swear to god, he's flexing his arms a ridiculous amount. nobody needs that much upper body strength just to get out of a rolley chair.

"hey!" you call as he walks away. "what the hell?"

"do you have to curse all the time?" san asks with look of distaste. "it's not very polite."

"nor are you."

"nice," he nods. "well, i'll be around-"

"no, wait, why'd you come in here?" you ask as you follow him out of your studio. "you just wanted to listen to the song?"

"yeah?" he shrugs, turning to face you in the hallway. he's standing so close you have to lean back to look at him properly, and you frown.

"i don't believe you."

"why not?" san smirks. "you wanted me in your studio for another reason?"

"no-"

"you're not the only one who likes to stare, doll," he says quietly, leaning down so his ears are just barely brushing your ear. he straightens back up before you can melt into a puddle on the floor, and then he smiles what might be his first genuine smile in your presence. "so maybe i didn't just come here for the song. but now i've heard it, and i know don't hate it, so i think we're done here."

and with that very confusing information, san walks away.

san is tired. he's been practicing for their seoul concert since the early hours of the morning, and he needs a break. it's almost an acceptable time to eat lunch, so he grabs his things and starts the short walk to his favorite convenience store. he likes this one because it's got a seating area in the back where he can eat, giving him some time to himself. it's secluded enough he doesn't have to worry about being bothered, but it has a good view of the street outside so he can people watch. it's the perfect spot for him to rest and enjoy his food, so he leaves the company with a pep in his step.

he grabs all of his favorites, moving on autopilot, and pays for them quickly. he takes everything back to his usual table and prepares his feast. now that he's stopped working, he feels the tiredness in his bones and realizes how hungry he actually was. when did he eat last? was it dinner? that was more than twelve hours ago, so maybe he can get away with eating another ramen before he goes...

san is considering whether or not he should get up and grab more food as he stares through the store window. there's people rushing to work, couples going to lunch, families wrangling kids. he watches with a smile as one family, a mother and father, try to handle what looks like a girl and two twins. that job is way harder than anything he's doing as an idol, he thinks. he watches fondly as they walk away, and when he turns back, his smile falls.

you and hongjoong are crossing the street, engaged in some conversation that's making you both laugh. you make a joke that sends a laugh crashing up from within hongjoong's chest, and san scoffs as he watches you stare in admiration. hongjoong rushes forward and opens the door to the convenience store for you, and san hears the end of your sentence as you enter.

"-didn't have to do that," san catches, and he hears hongjoong make a dismissive sound in response. "wow, there's a lot of food here."

"you see why we like this place so much," hongjoong responds. san can't see you, but your voices are getting closer. "there's something for everyone."

"there's so much, i don't know what to pick..." you trail off.

"get whatever you want," hongjoong says. "it's on me."

"what? no-"

"ah ah, no arguments. consider it a welcome gift."

"well thank you," san hears you squeak, and he can just imagine the way you must be blushing, looking at hongjoong so shyly, pretending to be coy-

"oh, hey san," hongjoong greets. you come to a stop behind him, bumping into his back, and san has to laugh. "didn't know you were here."

"didn't tell anyone i was leaving," san shrugs. he leans over, trying to catch your eye, and waves. "hi y/n."

"hi san."

"are you eating here?" san asks, and hongjoong shakes his head.

"ah, no, we were just taking a break," he replies. "i was going to buy us lunch and then we're gonna head back."

"got it," san nods, still looking at you. "carry on then."

"thanks for your permission," you mumble, holding onto the back of hongjoong's shirt as he turns you down another aisle. he starts looking for a snack he wants you try, but he can't see it. he looks up, eyes flitting around the store, and his face lights up.

"oh! it's over there! be right back!" he runs off, and you continue scanning the shelves. you're not that hungry, but you know you won't have time to leave again, so you need to get enough food for lunch and dinner probably. you're reading the ingredients on one of the prepackaged meals when you feel a presence behind you. turning, you see san looming above, and you jump.

"shit," you hiss. "wear a bell."

"need help pronouncing the big words?" he asks.

"yeah, come closer and let me show you."

"you having fun?" san sneers, and your confused expression makes him clarify, "with your boyfriend."

"what?"

"oh come on, letting him buy your lunch, holding onto him like that...you're eating it up, aren't you?"

"i don't know what you mean," you say as you step around san, but your face is red. he's getting to you.

"it's cute, really," he says, beating you to the end of the aisle. he puts his arm out, effectively blocking your way, and he continues staring down at you in that frustrating way of his. like he wants to swallow you whole. "how long do you think it'll last?"

"if you're asking about my patience i'm afraid that ship sailed a while ago," you try to fight back, but san just laughs.

"you're cute, you know? you try to be so tough, but it doesn't work. i see right through you."

"and what do you see?" you ask as you cross your arms. san bares his teeth, ready to quip back, but his eyes catch on something behind you. you look over your shoulder and see hongjoong holding up a bag, a confused look in his eyes.

"found the sweet potatoes," he says as he approaches. "what are you doing?"

"getting to know our coworker," san says nonchalantly, removing himself from your personal space. "i'll let you go. my food's getting cold."

"sure," hongjoong says skeptically, reaching for you. he tries to guide you away with his hand at your back, but you can feel san's eyes still on you. you turn and his hand politely falls away, but san's eyes follow you through the rest of the store. he gets an idea when you go back to the drink coolers, so san finishes his food quickly and heads to the front.

when you and hongjoong are finally ready to pay, you go to the register and hongjoong reaches for his wallet. the woman behind the counter shakes her head, showing a stack of bills to tell you it's been taken care of. you look around and find san halfway out the door, a wicked smile on his face. he waves at you teasingly before the door dings closed, and hongoong happily takes the food, babbling about how nice san is as you leave.

later that day, the boys are getting fitted for their tour outfits. each practice room has been converted into a walk in closet + vanity combo, so you peek your head in to see how it's going. jen spots you and waves you over to her station, and you duck through the racks of clothes to say hi to your friend. you're taken aback when you see who she's working on, but jen laughs and assures you it's ok.

"he won't bite, he's asleep," she says about the pouting san she's working on currently. "he was here all night, apparently. he knocked out before i could even say hi."

"are you sure he's asleep and not faking it?" you ask as you tentatively sit in the chair next to him. it's enough distance away that you're not concerned by the proximity, but you keep an eye on him as you talk. "maybe he doesn't want to talk."

"hey, san likes me, so i know he's not faking it," jen tells you. "he and i get along really well."

"congratulations," you mumble as you reach for a makeup brush to play with. "so how was your day?"

you and jen catch up as she works on san, periodically asking for your opinion on the look she's created for him. you know she's trying to get you to say something nice about him, to slip up and call him handsome or sexy, but you won't budge. all the compliments you give are very makeup forward, but she won't let up. she's also not being gentle in her application, so you really are afraid san is awake and listening. she's almost done with him when wooyoung walks up, greeting you happily.

"hey y/n!" he chirps. "nice to see you! you're in my seat."

"oh, my bad," you scramble to get up. you got comfortable, your feet propped on one of the giant makeup cases before you. jen puts a hand out to stop you, turning to wooyoung with a trying-to-be-stern look in her eyes.

"my friend and i are not done talking."

"well your boss told me to come over here and get my makeup done, so unless you want me to stand..." wooyoung trails off as jen finishes with san's face. she turns to him and nods.

"standing is fine," she says, quickly getting to work on wooyoung's base layer. "i'll work fast so you don't have to stand long."

"but then i don't get to bug you as long," wooyoung whines.

"life's cruel like that, huh?"

"come on, i know i'm your favorite part of this job," wooyoung teases, and you share a silent laugh with him as jen blushes profusely. once wooyoung catches your eye, his attention turns to you, and he asks, "what about you, y/n? now that you've been here a few days, what's your favorite part of this job?"

"san's abs," jen answers for you, and you try your best to kick her. you accidentally nudge san's chair and freeze, but he doesn't stir.

"oh yeah? let's tell him-"

"no!" you shout, and if he wasn't awake now he definitely is. he still doesn't move, but you continue in a softer voice, "um, no. don't do that. uhh, my favorite part of the job...i don't wanna be a kiss ass, but it's probably working with hongjoong."

"of course it is," san mumbles, and even though he spoke quietly it makes you jump. he opens his eyes and your skin sets fire as soon as he looks at you. "you're in wooyoung's chair."

"he's having jen time," you counter. "let him enjoy it."

"yeah, let me enjoy it!" wooyoung agrees.

"san, what do you think of the eye makeup i did? tried something new," jen says as she focuses on wooyoung's eyes now. san sits up and looks in the mirror, but he's not looking at himself. he's watching you pretend like a strand on your sweater is the most interesting thing in the world, so he decides to call your attention.

"y/n? what do you think?" san asks, and you meet his gaze through the mirror. you're shocked to realize he's checking you out, blatantly, your cardigan falling off your shoulder to reveal your bra underneath. you were in a rush this morning and thought that would be enough. surely no one would notice you weren't wearing a tank, since this bra could pass as long as your sweater stayed up. but right now it's not, so san can see an entire cup, and he's almost drooling. instead of answering his question you look over at jen and repeat your earlier compliments as you pull your sweater tight around your torso.

"yeah, it looks good," you say again. "now that he's awake and you can see his eyes, you did a good job, uh, highlighting them."

"eloquent," san chides, and this time you intentionally kick his chair. he grabs your ankle before you can pull back, and tugs, bringing you closer.

"big word," wooyoung whispers, and you can hear jen smack him as you lift your eyes to san's. he's looking at you with that hungry gaze you're coming to get used to, and he rewords his question.

"what do you like about it specifically?" he tries as he leans in, and you hold your breath as you stare. this is closer than you've ever been, and you can smell hints of cologne that have your head spinning. alarms are going off in your head to run, but with san's hand still on your leg, you're trapped.

"you drool in your sleep, you know that?" you decide to say, ignoring his question completely. he's surprised enough that his grip on you loosens and you're able to bolt from the chair, grabbing your things as you say a quick goodbye to jen and wooyoung. they're watching on, amused with your little show, and when you're fully out of the room san collapses back into the chair with a groan.

"she's right," jen says. "i had to get napkins to mop up your spit."

"sorry," san grumbles.

"when are you gonna tell her?" wooyoung asks, and san makes a confused sound to encourage him to explain. "y/n. when are you gonna say that you're into her?"

"i'm not into her," san rolls his eyes.

"yeah, right," wooyoung laughs. "and me and jen aren't fucking."

"hey!" and another smack. they continue bickering as san stares at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes falling to the chair you just occupied.

the next few days, you spend a lot of time in your studio. too much maybe, but you need to get this vocal track finished. all the boys have recorded their parts, and now it's down to you to get the final mix to the other producers by monday. it's friday now, and you know you can't pull any all nighters this weekend - the boys want you to come to their shows, so you'd like to be finished with the track before you leave today.

it's weird, being here so late at night. you think you're the last one left, hongjoong left with the rest of the members and the producers started trickling out about two hours ago. you don't mind being here on your own, you know the security is fine, but it's still eerie. when you got another coffee just now, you caught yourself jumping at the slightest sounds. you could've sworn you heard footsteps following you, but after investigating you realized it was the sound of your own that scared you. you hunker down for another spell in your studio, and you get a lot closer to the product you want. hongjoong kept telling you it didn't need to be perfect, it still had to go through critiques so it would probably change a lot, but you can't let your first project here be a mess. it at least needs to meet your standards, so you keep working.

you're not sure how much later it is, but you wake yourself when your head falls off your propped up arm. you fell asleep listening to the final track, wanting to check for any mistakes, so you don't know how long it's been looping while you slept. you listen through one last time, almost satisfied, but you hear something that sounds off. you try another listen, and realize it's not coming from your speakers, it's coming from somewhere else.

heart racing, you press your ear to the door of your studio and curse the sound proofing. you can make out a noise, but not enough to figure out what it is from the safety of this room. you look around for a weapon, something to protect you, and all you see are stray wires. you find one long enough and wrap it around your fists, pulling the wire taught between them. worst case scenario you garrote the intruder and then call for help, but you're being dramatic. whatever is out there can't be a threat, can it?

you open your studio door and follow the sound. in your tired state, you recognize a song, but you can't place it or where it's coming from. you tiptoe down the hall toward the practice rooms, and spy light coming from a door at the end of the hall. so it must be one of the members, you think. or maybe the bb trippin guys came early to prep for the show. whatever it is, you keep walking, aware now that the song you heard is wake up, one of your favorites. the boys were cryptic about the setlist, wanting it to be a surprise for you this weekend, but you get excited at the thought of what kind of mystical performance they could do for this song. when you reach the door, you stop cold, seeing maybe the last person you expected it to be.

san is dancing, quite sexually, to the music bumping through the speakers. he's in baggy sweats and a tank top that shows off his figure and his ridiculously chiseled muscles, and you can't help it. you stare, watching in awe as he drops it low and grinds around to a song you never expected to be portrayed like this. as he's on the ground, a tie hanging from his teeth, his eyes flick to yours through the mirror. you gasp, and he smirks, somehow able to catch the sound of your breath hitching over the loud music. he feels proud of himself, knowing he's got you so shocked, but when he finishes the portion he's working on, he looks to the mirror and you're gone.

you're rushing down the hall back to your studio. what the fuck was that. you had a physical reaction to san, and not a good one. and he saw you! that's humiliating, you'll never be able to look at him again-

"where ya goin doll?" his deep voice asks. he's right behind you, and before you can sprint off to your studio, he grabs your shoulders and pushes you against the nearest door. when you come face to face, he's breathing heavy, and you assume that's because of the intense choreography he just worked through. little do you know, being this close to you, smelling that annoying perfume that follows you around, touching you, all of this is taking his breath away. his hands trail down your shoulders to your hands, and he looks at you quizzically when he finds the wire wrapped tightly in your fists. "what's this?"

"i, uh, i thought i was the only one here? so when i heard something i looked for uh. i wanted something to protect myself with," you explain, embarrassed by how dramatic that sounds.

"you're a badass," san chuckles, lifting your hands by the wire hanging between them.

"i thought cursing wasn't polite," you remind him of his own words, and he laughs again.

"i just said that to piss you off."

"you're insufferable," you groan, trying to twist away from the man in front of you.

"and you're in a bit of a pickle, aren't you?" he smiles at you evilly. "can't get away, little kitten?"

"let go of me, san," you say steadily, but he just keeps smiling.

"why would i? i've finally got you right where i want you."

"what?" you breathe out.

"you couldn't tell? i've wanted you since i laid eyes on you."

"wanted me?" you scoff. "i'm not a steak."

"but you went and spilled that coffee on me, and then you were so delightful during our recording session, i just kept falling harder and harder for you," he teases.

"you're shit at showing how you feel."

"and you're shit at hiding how you feel," he smirks. "i know you want me, doll. that's why i acted the way i did. it was fun messing with you, letting you think i hated you. wanted to see how far i could push it."

"that's so middle school of you san," you complain, pushing your finger into his chest. "if you were a real man you would've done something about this already instead of playing a bunch of games."

"if i was a real man?" he chuckles lowly, and he's so close you feel it in your stomach. "baby, you haven't been with a real man til you've been with me."

"prove it," you whisper, but your breath gets caught as san pulls your hands above your head by the wire still wrapped around them. he holds your wrists in place as his other hand squeezes your waist, and he watches you squirm with glee in his eyes.

"prove it? you sure you can handle me doll?"

"do your your worst," you smirk, and then he's crashing his lips to yours. the kiss is fierce, all teeth and tongue, and you gasp as his hand travels up your waist and beneath your shirt. he traces the skin beneath your hoodie, smirking into your lips when he discovers you're not wearing a bra.

"i like it when you make things easy for me," he breathes out against your neck, his lips making their way across your skin and leaving little marks as he pleases. his hand beneath your shirt traces beneath each breast before leaving a featherlight trail to your nipple, and he surprises you with a quick pinch. you gasp again, giving him a chance to return his lips to your mouth and press his tongue past your lips. he kisses you one last time before pulling from your lips, asking, "should we take this inside?"

"wha?" you murmur, twisting to look at the door behind you. "but, san, this isn't my studio-"

"i know, it's hongjoong's," he says as he punches the code in. "he won't mind."

"i do!" you squeak out as san opens the door and pushes you inside. "san, seriously, we're not having sex in here!"

"we're having sex?" san teases, and you use your newly released hands to beat against his chest. "take that stupid wire off, baby. you're gonna need your hands."

"for what?" you grumble, listening to him anyway. when your hands are free, you notice the little indents left from the wire, and san surprises you by taking your hands into his softly. his thumb rubs over the raw skin, and he stares darkly at you as he lifts your hands to his lips. he kisses over the sore spots and up your wrists, whining cutely when he hits the fabric of your shirt.

"take this off," he tugs on your sleeve, and you shake your head.

"only if you take your shirt off too," you counter, and he easily lets go of you to remove his tank top. you hate the way you're staring, but you can't help it. he's beautiful, and you're mesmerized. he calls your name, the first time he's said it all night, and you find his eyes staring at you softly. "right, sorry," you mumble, pulling your hoodie off, not so accidentally catching it on your tits so they release with a bounce. san groans as he watches on, and then his hands are on you again, cupping your tits and teasing your nipples. you moan softly, reaching for his head to pull him into another kiss. your hands wrap around to his neck, one sweeping down to feel his soft, sweaty skin. you trace over the muscles in his chest, the lines of his abs, and end at his waistband. his hand reaches down to stop you before you can continue, and he pulls back to ask, "do you trust me?"

"do i trust you? not completely," you answer honestly. "maybe you don't hate me as much as you made me believe, but i still think you're despicable."

"if i'm so despicable why are you letting me use you like a toy?" he jokes, pushing you down into hongjoong's desk chair. "if you trust me, i want you to do something for me. if you don't, tell me to shut up, and we'll go back to having sex. but it'll be more boring that way."

"can i get that in writing, you saying that sex with you is boring?" you tease, and san growls as he captures your lips in another kiss. he's caging you in, and when he releases your lips, he leans his forehead against yours as he speaks.

"start a new file on his computer," san says lowly. "and hit record when i say."

"you're kidding."

"like i said, do it if you trust me," he shrugs, his hands moving from the armrests to your waist. he starts tugging your pants down as he continues. "if you don't trust me, then we just fuck like normal and go on with our lives."

"san, i-"

"are you gonna make the file?" he asks, kneeling in front of you. you open and close your mouth like a fish, but then you're moving without thinking. you twist in his hold, punching in hongjoong's password and finding the mixing app. you start a new project, label it inconspicuously, and then settle back in the chair. san is looking at you proudly, and he praises you, "good girl."

"what now?" you ask quietly, and san separates your legs further. he starts kissing up your leg, starting at your knee, and when he gets to your panties, he whispers, "i make you come."

he pulls yours panties down then, hissing as he watches your arousal cling to the fabric, and he smiles. "oh, she's pretty."

"i didn't know you were capable of giving me a compliment," you quip, and san bites your thigh to shut you up.

"wasn't talking to you," he says against your skin, leaving kisses along the inside of your thigh until he reaches your core. he brings his hands up to spread you open for him, and he stares in admiration at how wet you are, just for him. he leans in and you wait to feel his lips, his tongue, something, but instead you feel something wet land on your clit. san spit on your pussy, and he brings his hand up to rub the sensitive spot as he blows on your entrance.

"i thought you said you were gonna make me come," you whine, and he nods.

"i will. when i want to."

"san-" you whimper, lifting your hips as he continues playing with your clit and neglecting the rest of you.

"you want more doll?" he asks, his eyes staring at you darkly. you look down at him and nod, but he pinches your thigh in response. "words, baby."

"want more, san," you groan. "need your tongue."

"hit record and i'll give you what you want," he smirks below you, and you're so horny you can't even think about fighting back. you turn around and press record, san's lips finding your clit immediately. he licks over the bundle of nerves, prodding a finger at your entrance as he listens to your sweet moans. he fucks his finger into you once, twice, then adds another. you whine above him, your hands catching on his hair as you try to push him closer. he licks up every drop of you, fucking you on his fingers, and moans into your pussy for good measure. the vibration seends you reeling, and you whisper out, "fuck, san."

"who?"

"san, fuck! feels so good."

"yeah? you wanna come?" he asks, leaning his head on your thigh as he stares at you writhing above him. you're watching him with hooded eyes as he adds another finger, fucking you open for him. you lift your hips again, trying to make him move faster. "d'you still hate me, doll?"

"no," you whisper shyly, and he smiles.

"say it louder."

"i don't hate you," you moan out, his fingers scissoring you open as his lips return to your clit. he sucks harshly, and you let out a whine that turns into a frustrated scream. "faster."

"hm?"

"faster, please," you beg, "please, please, fuck. 'm gonna come."

"let me hear you, baby," he mumbles into your core. "who's making you feel so good?"

"san, you, fuck-" your voice tapers off as you hold your breath and crash into your release. you're clenching around san so deliciously, he groans into your clit and does his best to help you ride out your high. you're trying to catch your breath as. san cleans you up, slurping obscenely, and in your post-nut clarity you realize what you've done. you turn around, frantically trying to stop the recording, but san stands above you and catches your hands again.

"what are you doing?" he growls, and you blubber out a response.

"he can't, we can't, i have to delete it, i'm not-"

"not what? not enjoying yourself?" san asks. "because i'm looking at a dripping pussy that tells a different story."

"we need to go somewhere else," you hiss, and san shakes his head.

"i think we're doing fine right here," he smirks, kissing you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue. you bite his bottom lip as he tries to pull away, and he groans.

"is it my turn now?" you ask, and you watch fire spark across san's eyes.

"your turn to what, baby?"

"drive you insane?" you ask innocently, pushing san away so you can stand. you keep pushing him until he hits the wall, and you drop to your knees. you waste no time pulling his pants down, revealing his lack of underwear. you look up at him and ask, "you makin things easy for me, babe?"

"no," he smirks down at you. "bet you can't even fit it in your mouth."

"you're full of yourself," you point out as you spit into your hand. you bring it to his cock, stroking over his soft skin. "you liked eating me out this much?"

"it wasn't bad," san nods. "wouldn't mind doing it again."

"maybe later," you mumble, bringing his tip to your lips. you spit again, watching as it dribbles down his shaft, you stroke him a few more times, flicking your tongue over his tip teasingly. he's trying so hard not to lose it above you, and the way he's biting his lip to keep quiet pisses you off. without warning, you swallow him whole, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you try to fit him all in your mouth. he cries out above you, his hands tangling in your hair. he pulls you off of him completely, gasping for breath above you. "hey. i wasn't done."

"not gonna last," he says shyly, and you feel your ego grow ten sizes. "need to fuck you."

"eh, i'm getting tired-"

"shut up," he growls, pulling you up by your hair and slamming his lips into yours again. "go bend over his desk."

"you're sick," you tell him, obeying anyway.

"you're into it," san says cockily, adjusting your hips as he comes up behind you. "make sure you're right up to the mic, doll. wanna hear this." you hate yourself for it, but you find the mic in front of you and pull it closer. you feel his hands on your ass, pulling you apart as he stares at your pussy again. "so pretty for me," he sighs, removing a hand to bring his cock to your entrance. he teases your hole a few times, laughing when you jerk back and try to catch his tip. "impatient girl."

"just fuck me," you say clearly, and he responds by giving you exactly what you want. he thrusts into you, splitting you open, and you moan so loud it's embarrassing. san stays still, giving you a minute to adjust, but you start fucking back into him, and he gets the hint. he grabs onto your ass again, and then he's fucking into with no control. your mouth hangs open as he fucks you hard and fast, and san frowns. he smacks your ass and feels you clench around him as he barks, "lemme hear you." so you moan, and whine, and altogether let go. you're a babbling mess, mumbling incoherently about how good it feels, how he fucks you just right, how his cock is perfect, you can't stop. san is eating it up, fucking into you so deep you can feel him in your gut.

too soon, he's pulling out, and you let out a pathetic cry. san pulls you up by your hips, his hands smoothing over your skin, as he explains, "wanna watch you when you come." he helps you sit on hongjoong's desk, lifting your legs up so you're completely exposed to him. he holds your thighs open and tries to fuck back into you, but you have to help him, taking his wet cock and guiding it back to your entrance. he thrusts into you, slotting his hips against yours, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. he should've fucked you like this the whole time, he thinks, because he can't stop staring. you look so perfect, so blissed out, and it spurs him on. he holds one thigh down as his other hand wraps around your waist, holding you in place as he fucks you.

"i'm gonna come, baby," he warns. "where do you want it?"

"my stomach," you gasp out. "wanna see it."

"fuck, you're insane."

"don't slow down," you whine, holding onto san's broad shoulders like your life depends on it. you let him fuck you senseless, clenching around him as you get closer. he brings his hand around to rub his thumb over your clit, and you jerk away in sensitivity. "can't take it, san, gonna come-"

"then come for me," he begs. "need you to come first."

"fuck, san, fuck," you gasp, digging into his shoulders as you hold him in place. you clench around him until he can't take it anymore, and he pulls out, his forehead against yours as you watch him stroke himself. he comes quickly, painting your skin, and you moan breathlessly as you watch him empty himself over you. "fuck, that's hot."

"we should do that again," san smirks at you, and you playfully push against his chest. you leave your hands on him as you respond, "not now. i'm exhausted."

"how long have you been here?" san asks, sudden concern in his voice.

"too long," you sigh, noticing how raw your throat feels. you cough, your back bumping into the mic behind you. "oh shit. i need to turn this off." you look at san as you crouch down, saving the file and sending it to yourself. "what the hell am i supposed to do with this?"

"listen to it when you get lonely?" san jokes, and you push him. "use it in a song, maybe?"

"that would get me fired," you inform him, making sure you've deleted all traces of it from hongjoong's computer. satisfied, you turn to san and cross your arms over your chest. "was this your plan all along? you get me to record a salacious audio and then blackmail me with it?"

"you still think i hate you?" he asks, brushing your hair behind your ear. "bummer. thought we'd moved past that after your first orgasm."

"i'm just saying, if this was an elaborate plan to get me to leave, i commend the effort-"

"y/n," he says softly, and you meet his eyes. they're serious for once, which is odd. "i don't hate you, and i don't want to get you fired."

"good to know," you squeak. his gaze is too intense for you, so you start looking for your clothes and then remember the mess on your stomach. "oh, yuck-"

"here, let me clean you up," san says, searching for tissues. he holds onto you carefully as he wipes up his release, pulling a few extra tissues to clean the mess between your legs.

"see, if you'd just let me help you like this on my first day, we wouldn't have been mortal enemies for so long," you joke.

"yeah, but we wouldn't have fucked like that if i had been nice to you from the start."

"so what now?" you ask as you get dressed. "you said you wanna do that again?"

"don't you?" san asks, his pants halfway up his legs. you unashamedly stare at his cock before you respond, but he's got his answer.

"i mean, if you want-"

"i do," he interjects. "whenever you want me. i'll be there."

"is this what everyone means, when they say you're so nice?" you ask genuinely. san comes over to you, wrapping his hands around your waist before he kisses you.

"guess you'll have to find out, huh?"

#san #ateez #choi san #ateez smut #ateez one shot #ateez imagine #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #san x reader #san fic #san smut #san one shot #san imagine #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san imagine #choi san one shot

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mswritergirl02 · 6 months

Text

38 Missed calls and Tequila

In which Harry and y/n fight causing her to storm out

-> Reader advisory: mentions of alcohol and explicit language, proceed with caution.

A/N : Taking requests (:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N paced back and forth in the living room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I can’t believe you, Harry! You always do this, you never listen to me!”

Harry’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “And what about you, huh? Do you think you’re always right? You’re so damn stubborn!”

“Well, maybe if you cared about my opinion for once—”

“Care about your opinion? I bend over backwards for you, Y/N! But it’s never enough, is it? You always find something else to complain about!”

“Oh, so now this is all my fault, is it? Typical!”

Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “For fucks sake I never said that!

Y/N’s voice trembled with anger and hurt as she launched her accusation.

“You know what, Harry? I bet you’re cheating on me, aren’t you? That’s why you’re always so secretive about your phone, always disappearing at odd hours!”

Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious, Y/N? I’ve told you a million times, that I’m not cheating on you! You’re just making things up because you can’t stand losing a fucking argument!”

Y/N’s voice rose at his accusation. “Oh, please! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this! I see the way you look at other girls, Harry! You can’t fool me!”

Harry’s patience snapped, his frustration evident in his tone. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up again! You’re always jumping to conclusions, always looking for a bloody reason to doubt me! Maybe it’s your own insecurities that are driving us apart!”

Y/N’s anger faltered, replaced by a pang of hurt. “I’m not insecure, Harry! I just want to know that I can trust you!”

“Well, maybe if you gave me a chance to prove it instead of constantly accusing me of things I didn’t do!”

“I’ve been nothing but loyal to your crazy ass for four fucking years,” Harry declared, his voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

The tension in the room was thick, each word a painful reminder of the growing rift between them. Y/N’s heart ached with the weight of their words, knowing deep down that her accusations were absurd, Harry loved her. Still she was unable to stop herself from lashing out in a desperate attempt to regain control of the argument.

Y/N's lips curled into a sneer as she spat out, "Go fuck yourself, Harry!"

With that, she snatched her keys off the coffee table and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Harry stared at the closed door, his chest tight with frustration. "You're fucking crazy," he yelled, knowing she couldn't hear him and was long gone. He cursed out loud and sank onto the couch, running his hand over his face.

“A bloody fucking carpet," he muttered to himself, the absurdity of their argument hitting him like a ton of bricks. They had been fighting over a bloody carpet, of all things. It was ridiculous, and yet somehow it had escalated to Y/N storming out in anger.

They hadn't been in the best place lately. Y/N was constantly stressed out at the office, working long hours, barely having time for herself, let alone for him. And Harry, always buried in his work, was rarely home to see her, too caught up in his next album to notice the distance growing between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12am

38 outgoing calls

Harry’s nerves were on edge. He had called Y/N 38 times since she stormed out, each call going straight to voicemail. It wasn’t like her to stay out this late, and the thought of not knowing where she was made his stomach churn with anxiety.

Pacing back and forth in their empty apartment, Harry’s mind raced with worry. He had grown accustomed to Y/N’s silent treatments during their arguments, but this was different. This silence felt suffocating.

12:30 am

“Answer your phone, Y/N,” Harry muttered under his breath, frustration and fear mingling in his voice. He reached for his phone once again, fingers trembling as he clicked on her contact for the 39th time. But this time, instead of the familiar voicemail greeting, a stranger’s voice answered Y/N’s phone.

As Harry heard the unfamiliar male voice answer Y/N’s phone, his heart raced with a surge of protectiveness. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his tone sharp with urgency. “Why the hell do you have Y/N’s phone? Where is she?”

Before Harry could ask any more questions or receive a response, the phone call ended abruptly.

12:45am

It was around 12:45am when It clicked in Harry’s mind, Y/N had insisted they shared their locations when they first started dating. Harry quickly opened the app on his phone and zoomed in on her location.

Maggies Bar & Grill.

Confusion washed over him when he saw that Y/N was at a bar. Drinking was something she rarely did, especially alone at this hour. Harry’s heart raced with worry, imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys, and got behind the wheel. He knew he had to reach Y/N as fast as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Y/N found herself in fits of laughter, seated on a bar stool behind the counter of Maggies. With tears of joy rolling down her cheeks, she swiftly grabbed her phone back from the male bartender’s grasp. Giggling, she teasingly whispered, “Don’t tell Harry,” and playfully pressed a finger to her lips.

Earlier, Y/N had confided in the sympathetic bartender about her rocky relationship with Harry. Each heartfelt confession she made was chased down with another shot of tequila, the weight of the world was momentarily lifted by the warmth of the alcohol. What she didn't know was that the bartender discreetly slipped her keys into his pocket when her attention wandered, silently determined to prevent her from making any rash decisions in her inebriated state.

“Y/N, I’m cutting you off,” the bartender said for what felt like the tenth time that night, his tone gentle yet firm. “All you’re getting is water from now on.”

Y/N pouted, shoving the glass of water away. “But I’m having fun!” she protested, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol. “I can handle a few more drinks, I promise.”

The bartender shook his head, a hint of concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t risk serving you any more alcohol. It’s for your own safety.” With that, he gently pushed the glass of water back towards her, silently urging her to hydrate and sober up.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Y/N slurred, her tone growing more aggressive as she leaned in towards the bartender, her eyes narrowed.

The bartender stood his ground, not going back on his decision. “I’m not serving you any more drinks tonight,” he stated once again.

Y/N’s frustration bubbled over, and she clenched her fists slamming them on the counter. “You can’t cut me off!” she snapped.

Just as Y/N opened her mouth to make a scene once more , Harry entered the bar, his eyes immediately locking onto her. With purpose in his stride, he made his way over to where she sat, his gaze briefly flickering to the bartender.

Harry’s expression was a mix of relief and concern as he approached. “Is everything okay here?” he asked.

The bartender met Harry’s gaze, his expression serious. “Harry I'm assuming? Yeah, everything’s fine now,” he replied, gesturing towards Y/N. “I had to cut her off a while ago. She’s had enough for tonight.” Recognizing Harry by Y/n's lock screen on her phone and his contact name.

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But then who called me from her phone?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for answers.

The bartender hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out Y/N’s keys. “It was me,” he admitted, handing them over to Harry. “I knew she shouldn’t be driving in her condition.”

Relief flooded Harry’s features as he accepted the keys. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, grateful for the bartender’s quick thinking.

Y/N’s drunken aggression flared as Harry turned towards her. “What are you doing here?” she slurred, her tone sharp with irritation.

“I don’t need you babysitting me.”

Of course she's drinking tequila the one thing that brings out her temper even more

Harry cut her off with a stern glare, “Your breath reeks of fucking tequila and you’re in no condition to drive,”.

Y/N turned towards the bartender, “You're a fucking snitch” she accused him loudly causing heads to turn in their direction. Harry’s annoyance grew as he watched her escalate the situation.

“Y/N, you’re causing a fucking scene,” Harry muttered, frustrated to which she scoffed, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.

She held out her hand. “Give them back. I’m driving myself home, I don’t want to look at you.”

Harry’s heart sank at her words, but he knew he couldn’t let her make such a reckless decision. “I can’t do that, Y/N,” he said gently, stepping closer to her. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. Let me take you home.”

Y/N shook her head stubbornly, her anger fueling her determination. “No!” she insisted, her voice rising.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Just give me my keys!”

He was over her drunk antics.

Stepping uncomfortably close to her, he took the time to observe the way her hair fell over her ear. With a firm yet gentle touch, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering for a moment before trailing down her cheek.

Leaning in, Harry's voice dropped to a low and dangerous tone. “Y/N you better listen to me.”

“Drop the fucking attitude,” he snapped his breath sending a shiver down her spine as it brushed against her skin.

Now fully gaining her attention Harry continued speaking. “You're gonna lower your voice and follow me to the car like the good girl I know you are."

Y/n began to feel as if her legs were putty with each word she processed.

“Don't make me embarrass you here love,” he said while running his finger over her bottom lip.

“Because I can and I will.”

Harry's words hung in the air, commanding and unwavering leaving no room for argument.

Masterlist

Lights Out

#harry styles x reader #harry x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #harry styles #dom harry styles #harry styles angst #harry x y/n

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raribella · 8 months

Text

Love is Embarrassing | JJ Maybank

summary: although JJ had promised your brother he wouldn’t ever hurt you, you saw him kissing Kie while you were on a break.

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader

genre: emotionally heavy anst, fluff in the end

contains: reader being a real bitch, mentions of Luke and parental abuse, inspired by some songs in the album “GUTS” by Olivia Rodrigo, kinda shitty ending but let me know.

word count: 2,7k

author’s note: alright I know I’ve been MIA and a bitch and I haven’t posted anything in months (worse if you see how much stuff is on my “upcoming works” section), but I’ve just had a lot of ideas, little time and little confidence to write. one of my best friends just showed me obx and I’m in love with this blonde and I got (I think) a spoiler about him and Kie and I just had to do something with my feelings.

This is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters of Outer Banks nor any characteristic of the show. I am writing this story solely for my own entertainment and the marvel or comfort of any readers.

“If I fuck up with her that might as well be the last thing I do in my life, John B! I mean it!”

the words that JJ heatedly uttered to your twin brother the day he found out about the two of you were repeating over and over in your head right now. You remembered it all too well; John B was seething, absolutely pissed, seeing red. You and JJ Maybank knew each other for as long as he and your brother were best friends, when you turned 14, he declared to all the Pogues that you were off limits, and about two months ago, you and JJ started seeing each other. One month into it and JB discovered you, which was easy considering JJ already spent most of his time with both of you at the Chateau. JJ promised his best friend that he wouldn’t fuck up with you because two things mattered the most for him in this life; their friendship, and yourself.

But as of lately, he was having some problems with Luke and he asked for some time “out” so he could figure his shit out without involving or hurting you and you disagreed but you’d do pretty much anything in this world for this man so you decided to say yes.

To his bullshit.

Bullshit, you figured out about half an hour ago, when you heard a confusing conversation between him and Kiara – the perfect one – and when you went outside to track the noise, you saw them kissing.

You were fifteen minutes late to leave for the weekly kegger and you forced yourself to lock yourself in the bathroom and call in sick – because that you were, and you wouldn’t handle being out partying and pretending like seeing the kooks, and seeing them two wouldn’t make you feel the same type of nausea at this moment.

Sarah was the third person to try and make you get out of the bathroom. The first being your brother and the second, Pope. Although you were thankful neither JJ nor Kie had tried to talk to you, when you heard your best friend’s voice, you were actually starting to feel sick, you were having a migraine from holding tears up, and you were sweating.

“Y/n, come on! You were so excited to come not even an hour ago, we’re already late and I don’t see why wouldn’t you want to come”

Your vision was blurry as you palmed the door and laid your forehead on it. Sarah realized that you really weren’t coming when she heard your voice crack.

“Sarah please, just, go on out without me this one time, I need not to be there right now and I also need to be alone please don’t ask me questions I can’t handle to answer you this moment I promise-“

As you rambled, she frowned from the other side of the door. Making sure to get everyone to leave for the Kegger, to try and remember asking you about this later on, and to reassure John B that you were actually okay.

You’ve been successfully avoiding JJ for about two weeks now. It started with enough discretion, allegedly going to the bathroom every time he entered a room, or offering everyone any snacks you would spend too much time preparing in the kitchen. For him, it started getting obvious when you looked the other way when he looked at you at the beach, or when you refused to surf and, as of recently, started slamming the doors on him. JJ was getting pissed at this rate. He started by simply frowning and brushing it off, but you couldn’t just keep slamming doors and not even looking at him, and if everyone else noticed, they just wouldn’t budge! The worst part is that he didn’t know what had happened nor if he could fix it. You understood him when he told you he needed time to figure out some stuff with Luke, but the truth was he was still very much freaked out about that. He still loved you, and he couldn’t afford to see you like this anymore, especially when such behavior was being directed at him. JJ missed you. Even if he couldn’t really figure his shit out, he missed you screaming at the top of your lungs as you entered the sea, he missed your smile, your laidback grin that he was the only receiver of, he missed your colorful bikinis, and how they embraced your features as you would jump onto every wooden swing near the shore, your curly hair flying everywhere filled with salt spray. He just missed you, the real you. And he had to talk to you to see if there was even a chance that he could get you back.

You, on the other hand, kept avoiding the questioning looks the pogues would send you every time you were harsh or avoidant at JJ, your brother even attempted to talk to you, silently, just with glances, and figure out if his best friend had hurt you. But even if he did, it only hurt because you loved him too much, and you decided it was best to protect him from John B’s wrath. You felt embarrassed whenever Kiara questioned you with her eyes as well; you felt embarrassed to be near her. You kept crucifying yourself and both her and JJ because of everything, often zoning out of the conversation and just bitterly reminiscing about the times you consoled your boyfriend as he cried late at night in your room, being gentle with his bruises. – thinking how could you be so stupid? giving up everything, betting on him against your brother’s better judgment. You kept paying attention to Kie and how, since that day, she looked like the sweetest thing of the Cut, the fucking hell-side of the island. Her perfume lingered in the air even at the beach and made you feel sick; you saw her everywhere now, even when you looked at him. You saw the scene of them kissing. Feeling every word she would utter toward you in conversation like bullets on your skin. As it was torture how she was the greatest thing to ever exist – how everyone loved her, how she was so much better than you; poisoning everything that you do and still being the sweetest friend, making you despise how rotten your mind was; how jealous your eyes were.

You were bottled up to the brim.

It started out simple enough. JJ had noticed everyone was doing their own thing at the Chateau; John B was absent for the time being, and you were alone on the couch, fidgeting, focused on whatever. It seemed like the perfect window to try and have an actual conversation about what’s been happening. He just didn’t expect it all to escalate so quickly. He didn’t expect you to have seen a part of his conversation with Kiara about his dad – but not everything, not the ending. – He hadn’t expected a conversation with you of all people to become a bomb with a short fuse that would explode into feelings tainted crimson. watching you bleed, making him bleed all over for you.

"Pogues don't mack on pogues, y/n! this shit freaked me out, your brother finding out freaked me out, yeah, even if he’s my best friend and I was afraid that-”

“Oh, so you go ‘round and fucking get with Kiara?! this is fucking bullshit, JJ! bullshit-

“Y/n, listen to me!”

You both were screaming, Kie’s eyes went wide as she tried calling your name as well but you had already started crying and couldn’t pay attention to anyone but him. At this point, as John B arrived at the Chateau and followed the noise, the people around you calming you down couldn’t be sure if they were afraid of his arrival or actually relieved. You kept interrupting each other. JJ pulled his hair and you pointed at yourself and to your side – as if Kiara was still there – strength marking red fingertips above your chest.

“‘Cause she’s not even a real pogue, right?! that’s why you got so confident about it, huh?”

it was almost as if the room went silent. Kiara decided to step outside to give you space; to take a moment to breathe in and take notice that you didn’t mean that. She was sure you didn’t. The rest of the group started to move aside as well although they could obviously still hear the commotion. Only you, John B, and JJ were in the living room. Your brother grabbed your shoulders from behind trying to ground you in any way he could, JJ growing nervous at the rate of the conversation and his friend’s presence.

You looked into his eyes and it was as if the blue in them was slowly fading, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth twisted in a clearly upset frown. As tears stained your cheeks, pride still overpowering your shame and feelings pent up, you started with more meaningless empty jabs, which, said angrily enough, would only make JJ bleed more as he fell silent himself.

“I really loved you, you know? You gotta laugh at the stupidity.. right? Come on you were going around doing that shit and I swear JJ I used to think was really smart… I was just a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked-up little thrill for you, tho… best friend’s little twin… ridiculous.”

At that, John B diverted his attention toward his friend with stern questioning eyes. JJ gulped.

“Look, man I just really need to talk to her and explain myself, ‘aight? I didn’t do what- Things are really not what they seem right now and I need her to-“

“Fuck, JJ, that’s bullshit! How can you not even flinch when you fucking lie like that! Things are just like what they seem you never even fucking loved me! You can’t love anyone, ‘cause that would mean you had a heart, right? But you’re a fucking Maybank! And I really tried to help you out all this time but now I know that I can’t!”

You were calming down, but exploded again, as the words left your mouth though, you started regretting them, the most deeply someone could ever regret anything maybe, worsening by the second as you saw the man you still loved muttering a small “no”, cracking at your words and shedding a tear. As Kiara heard what you said from the outside, she didn’t even think before bursting into the house again, turning every head in her direction.

“Y/n you’re spiraling and you’re saying things you’ll fucking regret! I kissed him, alright?! This is my fault. He stopped me, he loves you and he wouldn’t do that, okay?”

Though the words she was muttering were calming you down, she was calling you out, she was absolutely mad at what you said about JJ’s father because she had context and it was really fucked up. You felt small.

“Kiss?!” John B asked, his eyebrows shooting up. It wasn’t his intention to aggravate the situation but it was his little sister involved. JJ tried to start talking and explain the situation – which Kiara had left him to, but he could really only think about one thing.

“I- uh… did you mean it? What you said.”

JJ rarely expressed any sign of vulnerability, so as his voice broke, you felt like your heart did too, rushing to explain yourself now, and trying to get closer to him.

“I didn’t mean it, J, I really didn’t! God, I don’t even know how you can still even look at me right now I’m so sorry I was just so fucking broken at the idea of you che- of losing you, and I- I thought you had found someone else and I damn near started world war III right now and it’s just because I love you so much and I know you don’t deserve another fucked up demonstration of love, you deserve to feel so good, Jay, and I’m really sorry, I love you so so much, and I will understand if you never-“

You were interrupted by the shock of his own body against yours. The both of you were panting, crying, completely tired sighs leaving each mouth as if this was all going on for days and you were so hurt, yet needing each other so much. John B and Kiara were ‘okay’ enough with the newfound situation to leave you both to your own devices again, and you just clung to one another, sitting on the floor for what felt like hours until he decided to speak again.

“Y/n… I asked for us to take some time because it was becoming too real, y’know? What we felt for each other.. it was, touchable- it is. And when everyone else found out, and then John B… You know I don’t talk about this usually, not with anyone but you, but I didn’t want my dad to find out about us, to find out about you. I don’t want him knowing what you are for me I don’t want him knowing that laying a single finger on you can be worse than any punch he could throw my way. And I wanted to figure this out without you knowing about it because you’d say it’s fine, and I-“

As your mind processes his words, you start to think how in the world you got a man whose the first concern about a monster of a father would be you. How could you deserve it, especially after what you had insinuated about him. “It is! It’s fine, honey, we can-“

“No, y/n it’s not fine because I don’t ever want you to even worry your pretty little head about a situation like that, y’know? And It’s not fine because the pogues are my family and the love I feel for you, if anything would happen to you because of him I’ll be damned, damned, and in jail for murder, you can trust me I will.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. All you could do was keep the hold you had on each other, slightly caressing his head.

“Since I didn’t want you to know about it, I went to Kie, that night of the Kegger, and she tried to help me and she said she loved me and I did too but then she kissed me and I assume it’s what you saw but I did step back, I promise! I told her off… Y/n I told your brother that if I intentionally hurt you, if I fucked up with you like this then that might as well be the last thing I did in my life and I mean it. I love you so much, little Routledge, and I’m all in now. We can figure shit out as we go but as long as we have each other, okay?”

As JJ spoke, he held your hands, reassuring you at the end. Hours had passed ever since you started talking, so when the pogues felt everything was calmer they decided to go back in the house slowly – figure out how you were, what were the plans for the night.

“Do you really forgive me for what I said? I will understand, J, I’m so, so sorry, I love you so much” You touched your forehead with his, and JJ sighed, shaking his head slightly. “I love you. I love you, y/n… can’t be without you.”

And as you both kissed each other as if you were making up for ages lost, Sarah smiled at the corner of the room, John B interrupting the show. “Come on with the PDA, love birds… What are we doing tonight, then?” He half-heartedly scolded as you got up, hand glued to the blonde's. You let out a big sigh again, before brushing them off with an honest, but half-assed excuse, already making the way to your room.

“I mean, you could go to Heyward’s… I think we’ll just lie down a bit.. ‘twas kinda draining…” you saw a bunch of side smiles as the group left through the door, Sarah grinned, letting out a puff of air through her nose, and when Pope went to close the door, he screamed back in the direction of your room, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” which earned a scream back from an already lying down JJ, “might as well not do anything!” and for the first time in a while, you laughed, making your way to lie on top of him, his embrace being all you needed.

“You know… we could go out to surf tomorrow,” he offered, still missing the sight of a happy you, your bikini, and the ocean.

“First thing in the morning.” You answered.

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eternity-death · 5 months

Text

Has anyone considered or even thought about Sunday texting. Like we’ve seen him receive letters, which probably means he also writes some himself— but what about texting???

He probably has two phones (one for personal uses and one for work). He uses proper grammar and punctuation even when he texts. Almost never uses abbreviations/initalisms.

Eg.

[Y/N]

Look!

(A moment later, an attachment pops up. Sunday taps it to open it up full-screen, and he’s met with a photo of a periwinkle and white origami bird.)

[Y/N]

Doesn’t this one look like you?

[Sunday]

Ahahaha

Once he used ‘Lol’. You thought his phone got stolen.

Doesn’t strike me as the type to use many emoji’s. Maybe ☺️ or 🙂 every now and then. And he’ll send a ❤️ in response to any selfies or at the end of his messages.

[Sunday]

❤️

[Sunday]

You look lovely.

Or…

[Sunday]

Good morning, dear.

I brewed a kettle of tea before I left. It should be cooled off on the stove and ready for you to drink. It’s a chamomile and ginger blend which will help with your headache.

Keep yourself hydrated and get some rest. Please text or call if you need anything. ❤️

Only a select bunch have his personal number (Robin, you, The Dreammaster, The Family Heads). He doesn’t have anything in his photo gallery on his work phone. No apps. Just the ones needed for contact.

On his personal phone, his photo gallery is not as barren. There are quite a few pictures of you. Selfies you’ve sent, pictures of you together, etc. He has a bunch with Robin as well. Some were taken together during her visits, and some were taken by herself (images of the places she'd been or cool things she'd encountered during her journey) and sent to him via message.

And of course you’ll find the random odd pictures. Maybe a quick snap of the spine/title of a book he wants to look into. Or a screenshot of an interesting quote or fact from an article he was reading.

His photo gallery is also neatly divided into albums.

He doesn’t play any mobile games. He probably downloaded Doodle Jump or Temple Run back when he first got his phone, but he hasn’t touched either in ages. The only reason he hasn’t deleted the app is because you go on his phone to play it sometimes.

Sunday will text your during his free time. He’ll ask how your day’s been going and share a bit about his own, discuss lunch/dinner plans, and if he’s sure there aren’t any other guests scheduled to meet, then he’ll ask you to come to Dewlight Pavillion so that he can see you.

#hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #He thinks of u a lot

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pascals-doll · 2 months

Text

B.A.S

⋆ ˚ . * ·analysis— In which you were bound to a man you don’t desire or love by your parents. An entire relationship built on resentment and treaty-like. Abby Anderson, you’re neighbor whom lived happily with her girlfriend next door. Unruly cravings and wreckful thoughts take over between the both of you, assuring a succulent dalliance. Guess you Both Aint Shit.

abby anderson x reader

₊˚ପ MEGANS NEW ALBUM GOT ME ON MY TOESS 💋

˚ପ i cant believe ive had this lil plot thought out written somewhat since march and i never had time to finish it and im happy i finally did!

₊˚ପ description: MODERN AU! READER IS FEMININE PRESENTING (only desc of reader), MUTUAL CHEATING!, reader is kinda in the closet because of prejudice parents, mentions of heavy religious parents, reader is in arranged marriage with a man!, mutal jealousy, homewrecking, SMUT NAAASTYSMUT, dom!abby, sub!reader, oral sex (r receiving), reader is unexpirenced!, brief size kink, praise kink, heavy making out, fingering (r receiving), lots of pussyeating, no use of y/n,( ___) is blank for partners names, use of pet names (doll, beautiful, baby)

A lavish life was the experience of finding love on your own, letting it grow on you, and completing whelm your entire being. It was the process of getting to know each other to first kiss, to the ask out, to the relationship, and if your lucky; you build life together.

The stage of growth and love; where you plan as you’re just overfilled with emotion. That trigger to jump with joy at the fact that you’re building a whole life path with your special someone.

Years spent learning about each other, sharing parts of yourselves, and taking that time to progress hand in hand; harmoniously. Something, everyone should have the unlawful pleasure of doing.

It something you’ve always dreamed off, feeling it so close as you watch through your curtains. A secret craven in peeking into the silhouettes of the house next door.

You had seen them together for the past year since they moved in. Their happiness almost tangible as they enjoyed each other's company in the pool or on the patio, sipping cocktails and laughing.

You were hardly ever envious in the years you’ve been on earth—but it’s almost taunting like, the way they have so much to give. Truly in paradise with their passion for each other. Although, something didn’t always seem quite right.

Your life never stopped being stifling. You were bound to a man you could never love. An unfair business arrangement orchestrated by your parents alongside constant trips-pointless trips; taken by your close to nonexistent husband.

Abby's girlfriend was also often away on business, and you suspected that she was lonely. Going throughout your day and then coming home to see her in all alone, all day, in that big house.

The entire marriage was a sham, a rule-set of convenience. You couldn’t help yourself any longer once Abby moved in.

Often finding your eyes drifting to her, imagining what it would be like to kiss her peached lips, engulfed within those muscular arms. Such thoughts made you blush, and ignite a feeling in your stomach.

You couldn’t do anything except push your own crawling agenda away, only to have them return with greater intensity.

Abby Anderson was a phenomenal women. She was lead cordinator at a business with the pleasure to provide and work from home. She deserves someone who can take care of all that hard work.

Her girlfriend clearly couldn’t.

‘If you live a life you don’t love, make best of what you want.’

You had never been with a women before. Only close you’ve ever gotten to exploring was dabbling in lesbian porn when your husband wasn’t around. It didn’t take long to dawn on you—that you had never orgasmed, especially not in the way these women in adult videos do and definitely not with your husband.

It was pitiful, really. The fact you couldn’t enjoy such a liberty. Your own sexuality.

A faraway dream of self-discovery and not the norms fed to you by religious beliefs that you couldn’t claim as yours. Dragged on by your parents whom taught you, it was ‘all in good faith’ and ‘Lord knows whats best’.

The only explaination for your abomination of life. Merely neglectful to your candied desires. Wrong, yet right in every way. You were loosing sleep as nights pass, tossing, and turning restless.

Rolling out of your silk sheets groggily. You stepped into your house slippers before walking down your stairs to your living room where your pack of cigarettes are. You grabbed the pack of your dining table, heading out to your front porch.

It was midnight, blurred gray clouds into the black-violet sky as you lit your cigarette and dazing away. You could feel the stagnant air surround your exposed skin, your lacy satin nightgown—a slip of fabric only covering you.

Unbothered and insomatic, taking drags from your malboro as you sat next to your ashtray that displayed on your side table. If you were to turn your head; facing towards and into all your temptations.

From just the corner of your eye, you could see the lights were still on at such an hour. Impulsively giving into your curiosity, turning your chair; peering into her window across the street.

Puffing till your ash thins into the orange-tip. Your attention drowned out until you heard rustling coming from the bushes at the corner of the street and your home. You whip your head around, blunting your cigarette out onto your ashtray and walking towards the barricade of your porch.

Abby was taking out the trash. She dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. She looked relaxed, her long golden hair falling casually around her face. Eventually catching you, offering a friendly wave and came closer to the fence of your porch.

"Hey there!" Abby greets, cool-toned and intrigued. "Can't sleep either, huh?"

Your heart hammered in your chest. "Sure is, just came out for a smoke…uh-hm! How have you been?" You stammered your question, unsure of what to say.

Abby couldn’t help her gaze drop to your nightgown, her eyes glinting under the streetlights. "Just been cooped up alone, taking care of Bear and ____ is away on another business trip.” She exudes, smiling at the mention of her precious furry friend.

You listened intently, a small smile tugged on your lips “____ been gone since the week before. Preoccupying myself by enjoying my magazines alongside my tea,” You let out a small giggle which was returned.

Abby’s presence tensed you, goosebumping your skin as if you were cold all of a sudden.

A small moment of silence was a momentum of chance.

“Would you like to come in for a glass of wine or water? I’d be a horrible neighbor if i left you hangin’” You offer, stepping aside with a soft smile.

She took you in once more, head to toe and an adrenaline pumped throughout her body before spreaking, “It’d be my pleasure”.

4 words 1 sentence. A saying so simple is all it took, to have you clawing at your sanity.

Two cups of Wine turned into more and lighthearted conversations transformed sentimentally with each cup.

You bonded over the fact your partners often left for work, leaving you both lonely in such a big house. Eventually divulging your marital fraud, your desolation worn on your sleeve like an accessory.

“That’s truly not necessary—” you were cut off.

“Accept nothing but the truth, he doesn’t recognize how lucky he’s got it.” You picked up on how her voice turned stern, straightening up as she reassured you. You just stood there frozen.

You gulped, wrapping your arms around yourself as you suddenly felt exposed. You scrambled to think of something to say, your delusions wanting to take this in every way it wasn’t.

Abby suddenly closes the gap between the both of you, leaning onto your counter and into you. You could smell her perfume, the scent of fresh orcid and essential oils tickling your nostrils.

Maybe It was.

“Do you love him?” A very solidifying question.

“I dont know what love is and I definitely don’t love him, more like my parents did.” You grimaced, sarcastic and plainly disinterested in such a discussion. You truly have nothing to compare your marriage too.

“I hate fucking him too. Don’t feel a thing.”

Abby’s eyes widened, her hand reaching over to grasp yours. “Have you—do you like women?” She quirked, a soft giggle falling from her lips.

“Again. Wouldn’t know, sweetheart.” The nickname seemed so naturally. Like, you had been calling her that forever. Your eyes met with Abby’s; face to face with only so much space.

Then suddenly, she settles her strong hands upon both of your arms “And If i showed you?” She was so gentle with your demeanor, treading lightly.

She wanted it just as bad, just like you.

Her breath fanning your lips causing you to hitch. A trembling hand reached out, your hand brushing Abby's cheek, her hands pulling you from your waist. A passionate kiss spun.

It was electric, your lips molding together, tongues dancing in a frantic exploration. Abby moaned into your mouth, your hands roaming loosely down to grip your neighbor's slender hips. You responded by pressing yourself against Abby, feeling the firmness of her breasts through both your clothes.

Kissing desperately, hungrily, as if starved for each other's touch. Breaking the kiss, Abby nibbled on your ear, a weak whisper falls from your lips, “I need you….” Muttering in between kisses.

“Bedroom’s upstairs.” You finish. Abby taps on the cheek of your ass, signaling you to jump into her embrace.

Stumbles and giggles to make your way upstairs and down the hall to your master bedroom. Abby pulled away from you, looking around the room, seeing the mixture of objects from your husband and your own.

In some way, the infidelity. It made it rapturous.

"Lie down," she ordered you, her voice suddenly husky and full of authority.

you obliged to her command happily, body thrumming with excitement. You watch her climb onto the bed, hovering above you and eyes pouring into your own; a mixture of lust and tenderness.

"You're so beautiful," Abby’s voice was low as her eyes ran up and down, running her hands down your body. Each streak feathered on from her fingers tickled your skin, squirming as you legs lock together.

You felt a fluttering in you stomach at the compliment. "So are you," You meeked shyly, a pink hue on your flustered in face. You were breathless as Abby began to kiss at your neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin.

Abby continued her slow exploration, trailing kisses down your body, pausing to nuzzle your breasts through your top. "I want to see all of you," she whispered, her hot breath fanning over your tempered skin.

Heart was pounding in your chest as you nodded. The feeling of her gentle but eager hands as she threw off your clothes, baring you inch by delicious inch.

She paused to appreciate each reveal. The swell of your perked breasts, the curves that dipped your body, and to the drag of your soaked panty down your legs.

Completely naked and to her taking, Abby took a moment to admire you. Her eyes ran down over every inch of your exposed-self, salivating at your glistening arousal. "Better than my dreams," she murmured, voice full of wonder.

Insatiably on the same side of a coin. You reached for Abby's top, eager to return the favor. You peeled the fabric away, revealing her lush breasts, nipples eager with the cool breeze with excitement. She metled into your touch as she kicked off her shorts.

It was your turn to admire everything you’ve awaited. Her body glistened under the dim lighting of your room. The way eyes smoldered with desire tranced you as she positioned herself between your thighs. Your needy slick center coarsed Abby’s head; hovering above and planting pecks on your thighs.

Abby leaned into you. The feeling of her mouth searing kisses on your delicate pussy and her thumb teasing the taut peak of your tits. Your back arched arched into her touch, moaning softly as you reveled in the sensation of finally being touched by another woman. By her.

You notice the way she took her time with you. She was observant with each twig and jolt that came from your body, savoring you. She sweetly elicited a series of delighted gasps and whimpers from you as she continued her descent, twirling her tongue around your clit and teasing you down to your folds.

You choked out a cry of shock, “Fuck-ah!" you seethed, your hands gripping your bed sheets. You could feel Abby chuckle softly as she relishing sucked on your puffy clit. You felt like you were on a cloud, feeling completely elevated.

“Gaah! Ab—Abby!” Your thighs tremble in her grasp, feet kicking into her back slightly at the new found pleasure. The jolt that coursed through you felt ferious with the feeling of her moist tongue. She made her way inside your folds, teasing your whet entrance.

Suddenly, you feel the tip of her tongue plunge inside you, “Abby! fuckk Abby!” You let out a throat-curling shriek. Each lick inside you was a push of boundaries.

Legs trembling, mouth fully-agape, back arched, tits begging to be touched, nails clawing into your sheets, and grinding into her face completely high off ecstasy. Everything was new to you. The sex, passion, and connection. A seventh heaven.

Just as quick as the erotic came; it left. She pulled away from your eager pussy and anticipated body causing your back to drop and pant breathlessly.

"Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your sensitive folds.

She continued her slow exploration, indulging her tongue as her fingers dance along the skin of your blimped thighs. Your breath hitched as you were dying of anticipation for her touch, her tongue.

Finally, fucking two fingers into you as she paid attention to your clit. Your deplore was sensuous, another train of cries and whines falling from your drooled lips.

Everything Abby did made you feel absolutely desired. Another thing, your husband could never do.

"You're so wet," Abby praises through her slurps and swallows of your leaking lithe. Abby’s fingers thrust forward, pushing in every inch of herself.

Her eyes darken as they watch themselves get squeezed in by your soppy fuzzed beneath. "So beautiful," she marvels, not getting enough of you.

"Don’t stop! please!”

Her thick fingers curl upward, she stroked your walls with her tips. She enjoys every moment of your writhing. Abby could live in this moment forever.

She smiled as your hips bucked up, chasing after every sensation. "So responsive," she purred, before adding a third thick finger inside you. she stretched you out completely, feeling every bit as your hands tugged onto her blonde hair.

She pulled her fingers out alight from so deep, dragging her tongue down once more your slick folds and lapping up your essence.

"Oh god!" Your moan gutteral and body thrashing against her and your bed. The tip of her fingers swirled inside softly, pressing onto your soft sex-gush.

An electrifying chilled jostled down to cramped hips as your stomach twisted blissfully. "Cum for me," she praises, working through your overwhelming orgasm.

Lewd spewls and ravenous chill flowed out and through you. Completely mind-fucked as you cream all over the tip of her fingers and tongue. Your body tightened like a coil, coating her with your sticky release with a final cry, "Oh, Abby!" As she cupped your leaking cum around her three fingers.

She brought them up to her lips, sucking them clean, releasing with a pop, and groan in delight. “You’re so fucking heavenly, taste it too.” She coos, crawling her way to meet your glowed and fucked out-self.

“Don’t tap out now, doll, I’m only getting started.”

Both of your integrity’s thrown out the door.

“This isn’t….” A pointless mumble left your lips, somewhat dawning the fact; You just cheated on your husband.

“They aren’t even here, right baby?”

a/n: ugh my slut ass probably gonna make another part 🤞🏼🐇

dolls-taglist̗̀:➛ @marsworlddd @cosmopolitanaut @elliewilliamsgirl3 @elliewilliamgfooc @graviewaviee @yourelliewillms @elliesgf1244 @deliriousrn @yondaimekazzy @moonyvs4 @tearouthearts @ride4els @colecassidysfav @theoraekenslover @localorphanage @starmoon333 @bready101

#𝐌𝐮ñ𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚’𝐬 ✒️#abby anderson #the last of us 2 #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #abby tlou2 #tlou2 x reader #abby anderson smut #the last of us fanfiction #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n

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zoropookie · 2 months

Text

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter eight — i don't care abt the homeless 🎂

You unlocked the key to your home after returning that night, presence in the air riddled with the absence of your brother.

The door creaked open, being greeted by the familiar scent of old books and a hint of maple in the air, meeting with the faint trace of the cinnamon scented candle you keep buying just because he did.

The silence was oppressing you, especially with how rough the reception was for you. You took slow steps through the corridor, your steps echoing slowly on the floorboards, creaking at every turn. Rancor poured into your eyes like a glass, the main room of the home left exactly how it was for years.

Every article of clothing on the floor, every knickknack and miscellaneous object wasn't moved. You hardly found the strength to go in there yourself, knowing that you wanted it to be a snapshot in time. The blanket you both snuggled into was laying there on the floor, in a halfhearted attempt beforehand to be folded neatly by your brother.

You sighed deeply after taking it in again, feeling your shoulders wrack in defeat, the tears pooling relentlessly. Enveloped in grief, you took a sharp breath in and shook your head, immediately heading towards your room to find the letter.

You panicked to find the letter again, going through every box and every single faded out picture that you could find. Nothing ever worked as well as it did with that letter, a flicker of warmth crashing on your body as anxiety made it's way to your lungs, forcing you to manually breathe.

"Where... where??" You murmured to yourself, almost in whimpers.

In haste, you pulled open drawers, scattered old postcards, flipped through dusty photo albums, taking in a lot of things that just made your heart ache more, but you couldn't stop looking for it. You needed that letter, the only thing you knew could momentarily connect to his thoughts.

Your breathing grew more labored once you trashed your entire floor with the past, each inhalation feeling like a struggle against you. Like there was 8 tons pressing down on your chest, the tears ruthlessly burning against the ducts of your eyes. "Where is it...?" You sobbed out, voice cracking with desperation.

You fell asleep that night, failing to soothe the raw edges of your pain. You were now left with both the painful night you've been through, and a lack of drive for your own profession. You couldn't say which one of those were benefitting you.

It was time for Mona to go herself, if your employees weren't going to bring it up.

She learned a long time ago that if anything was going to be done on her terms, she was going to have it do it herself. The bitter thought of your employees betraying you like this in terms of a business proposal is tragic to her.

She gazed whimsically at the cute setup that the bakery had been decorated with — fairy lights to wrap neatly around the hedge bush for the strays that were left on the floor after taking care of the surrounding foliage. Their soft glow accompanied with the first light of dawn.

Mona sat there in her car with newfound resolve, getting out after taking procedure to hide her face. She opened the doors to the bakery, the golden lights of the early morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long and wide shadows across every seating.

As she noticed two of the workers bustling behind the counter talking about something she had no knowledge about, one of them was arranging a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. The other was decorating a cake.

One of them, with beaming golden eyes, looked up at Mona as he wiped his hands on his apron. "Can I help you?"

She immediately cleared her throat, offering a gentle smile as she candidly lowered the mask below her lips to hover forward. "If you could tell me where (Y/N) (L/N) is, that would be lovely."

At first, the two seemed ready to comply. Until the one with the lighter blue hair raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms to his chest skeptically. "What do you need them for?" He asked, his tone cautious.

Her smile didn't waver. "I have an oncoming appointment with them that hasn't yet been finalized. I figure I come here myself and make sure everything's taken care of. Oh," She looked in between the two, holding a hand out, "I'm sorry for not introducing myself. Mona."

Suddenly, the golden-eyed worker's eyes squinted as if he knew who she was. He was quiet, inspecting her with little intention on pressing her further. "Like from the girl group?"

After a confirming nod from her, he hummed and nodded himself slowly. "Get me an autograph from Xiangling, and I'll tell you government secrets too."

"Deal."

The other's eyes narrowed. "You're such a sellout, Gaming. They're... just prepping banana bread right now."

Gaming's expression softened up, and he nodded. It looked like there were almost hearts in his eyes, easily swayed by yet another temptress. "Sorry for the precaution, Miss Mona~ We'll get our boss right away."

As he left to go fetch you, the other smiled apologetically at Mona. "Sorry...we have to be careful now. Last time we went to go get them for a customer, they started throwing things in their face and shouting for a refund. I told that guy not to get the peanut brittle because of his peanut allergy."

"No worries." She nodded, a small chuckle coming from her lips. "I understand, you guys do great work it seems."

Moments later, you came out from the kitchen, curiosity striking you as you made eye contact with the soon to be client. "What's going on?" You asked softly, eyebrows furrowing. "Were the cupcakes too dense yesterday? I knew they were a little off, but I sold them anyway...I'm so sorry—"

"No!" Mona shot her hands up, "No, no. It's not that. I have some business to do with you. I wanted to come here to discuss it with you, since that's one of the only ways I can get ahold of you directly."

"Oh..." You perked up again, smiling. "Of course...follow me!"

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

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@feikyuu @tamikahoshiko @kissingkzuha @bbysatoruuu @rvoulte

@kinvasions @kukikoooo @adriannauodi @pumpkincitrus

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eetherealgoddess · 7 months

Note

Hey, I just had a really good idea for u to write. A yandere bonten and a singer/ famous reader. I really love your writing style, and I get sooo excited when I see u post something 🫶🤭

Thank youu!! I get excited for good requests :)

ꨄMelodic Ruinꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Famous Singer Au

❦You’re an artist who caught Bonten’s attention❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

(Mostly Mikey but you’ll see what I mean)

❣︎I know in real life the manager doesn’t “own” the singer, but in this story, the reader will have signed all of their artistic rights to the manager so that the plot will make sense❣︎

Not fully proofread

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Melodic Ruin

Claps could be heard echoing throughout the concert hall as you stood on the surface with a sweet smile, thanking the audience before walking off the stage, the lights shutting off behind you as the crowd began to make their leave. The long dress you wore hugging your figure as the train of the fabric followed behind. You had just completed the last performance for your concert, your hands rubbing along your sides as you released a breath of relief. Of course you don’t get as much anxiety as you did when you first started singing in front of thousands of people, you just really cared about your craft. A perfectionist you could say. This particular performance was important as well considering the extra onlookers your manager warned you about, you having noticed a few of the “important” people in the VIP seats when you were on the stage.

You are ranked as a famous singer in your country, not having been worldwide just yet besides the few videos of you singing at home or in the studio that went viral, as well as your first album that was released recently. You’re a new industry baby, but you’re still trying to keep your own personality in your work without getting controlled by any record deal which is why you’re an independent artist. You take pride in your art, creative by heart and ambitious by nature. It took you quite a few years of releasing singles and singing social media videos to finally get noticed for your talent. You’re proud of yourself which is something that doesn’t happen often enough. You’re not exactly at the top yet but you’re not mad with where you’re at.

“Good job, Y/n! You’ve caught quite the attention!” Your manager greets you just as you made it backstage, offering you the business card in her hand. You look down and take the paper on your own, eyeing the print. Your eyes widened.

“I got invited to perform in JAPAN?!” You exclaim. Never have you ever gotten an opportunity to go out of the country, only touring around local concerts although still popular by demand.

“A private, high classed lounge owned by club owners Haitani Ran and Haitani Rin! Isn’t this great news?” She beams as she holds her hands up. You look at her with your eyes glistening, a wide smile on your face as you feel so grateful for the opportunity. And to be personally invited to perform at this specific lounge is a huge deal for you. You’ll have more of a chance at getting acquainted with bigger connections. It’s intimidating, yet you couldn’t help the excitement that your hard work is finally paying off even bigger than it has.

“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow so get your bags packed because it’s gonna be a long trip!” Your manager says before giving your arms a tight squeeze. “You deserve this, Y/n. Bask in it now because before you know it, you’ll be attracting even bigger opportunities.” She walks off, leaving you with the business card as you read the print once more.

You immediately change before packing your bags when you make it home, excitement making it hard to fall asleep although eager for the next day to come. It was early in the morning when you and your manager met at the airport holding your private jet. Checking your consistent notifications as well as scrolling through social media. Sitting on the plane was full of thought while you listened to the music blasting from your headphones, thinking about the venue you’d be performing at. How intimate it’ll be to sing amongst all of those people who will be judging you, observing your creativity to see if it’s worth the profit.

An empty estate was offered to you and your manager, coming upon a penthouse once your driver dropped you off. Your manager basked in the luxury as she unpacked, talking your ear off as if she’s more excited than you. You chuckle at the thought before heading to your own bedroom to unpack, an eyebrow raising at the name tagged on the door. When you opened the door, you were met with a modernized luxury bedroom. The body sized window gives you a beautiful view of the city from above. You stood there a moment before turning around to get your outfit ready for the night, already having notified your manager to not call the stylist since you already had an idea of what you were going to wear.

When evening finally struck you had just climbed into the vehicle, your driver helping you in before shutting the door behind you, along with your two security guards who traveled with you. Your manager sat in the passenger seat, the black suv moving along as you eye through the tinted window. Your nerves are struck, having never performed in a country other than your own. Especially with the presence of numerous important individuals, you couldn’t afford to make any rookie mistakes.

When you arrived, you were helped out of the car, different locals being held back by guards already posted for the lounge, keeping the crowd behind the ropes as you walked along the red carpet. You waved and smiled as people screamed your name and song lyrics, cameras flashing as well as paparazzi ready for the next best shot. Finally making it inside, you were greeted with a beautiful melody, red covering the walls with a marble floor. Gold decor plastered along as well as the large chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.

A red rug sat in the middle of the floor along with cushioned chairs and glass tables, a bar across from the stage as well as many people conversing with champagne and other alcoholic beverages. A woman holds a microphone on the stage, entertaining the audience with beautiful harmony. Everyone wears all black formal attire, causing you to look down at your shimmery, golden gown with a grimace. You turn to your manager as you both walk down the hall in the opposite direction, heading for the dressing room.

“I thought I was supposed to wear gold.” You say softly. She smirks.

“You are. Don’t forget, Y/n. This is your special night.”

My special night, right.

You take a deep breath before one of your security guards opens the dressing room.

Your eyes perk at the man standing inside. He turns his head back before walking towards you with a smile. You eye his purple orbs before examining the suit accenting his broad figure. His neck tattoo displays a symbol you’ve never seen before, though it fit him well. Fingers run through his short, dyed hair as he gets closer.

“Welcome, Y/n. Haitani, Ran.” He states, holding a hand out. You smile politely, ignoring your anxiety as you shake his hand. You couldn’t help but notice how soft his skin felt against yours.

“Hello, Mr. Haitani. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” You beam, subconsciously rubbing your palms against the fabric of your dress, refraining from picking at the dress.

“Please, call me Ran. The pleasure is all mine. We are grateful to have you here.” He says, before connecting his lips with the back of your hand, gaze still holding yours. You felt your face warm, having never been handled so gently by a man considering the type of males that live in your hometown. Your manager walks up, both of them greeting each other, though her body is slightly tense when she gives him a tight smile. You fail to notice the display of tension, too focused on the tingling sensation lingering from the contact with your hand.

“I see that gold fits you very well. Best choice I’ve ever made.” He chuckled. So he recommended it to your manager?

That brings you comfort knowing you hadn’t made a mistake, after all it never felt good to be the odd one out because of misinformation.

“Indeed it is. Y/n, let’s get you ready to perform!” Your manager eased her arm around your shoulder before pulling you off, Ran waving bye as he exited the room while you shifted your gaze at her with confusion.

“What was that about?” You question her as she fixes her own makeup in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way you just interr…”

“Y/n.” She breathes out. “Let’s focus on your music, yeah?” She says as she touches up your face. You nod your head right before an employee comes in to queue you. You exhale before heading down the hall behind the stage.

“Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Y/n!”

Straightening your back, you stepped onto the stage, revealing yourself to the audience who claps and cheers, giving you the welcome you deserve. You gaze at the beautiful view of the crowd, noticing a familiar suit sitting with eight other interesting looking men. You greet the crowd right before the music begins, beginning your performance as everyone quiets down, along with the light over the audience dimming.

During your performance, you allow yourself to get lost in the music. Closing your eyes as your hand moves along, flowing with the melody as your beautiful voice harmonizes well with the piano. Your head tilts as you release a stronger note that comes from the base of your voice, tightening your grip on the microphone as you walk along the stage. The slit of your gown opens slightly, exposing your thigh as you move across the stage. Your gaze shifts to different sides of the lounge, making eye contact with a few of the audience members as some of them sway their upper bodies with your song.

The frequency of your voice brings a sense of calmness to the crowd, some with their palm holding their cheek up as they wear a smile, pleasantly losing themselves with you as they seem to be in a trance that locks them in to only you. Some lean into your presence as they gaze at your figure, nodding their heads occasionally to the flow as well as admiring your overall appearance.

Your manager stands behind the stage, out of the sight of everyone as she chews her nails, shifting her gaze to the eight males that sit upstairs with the best view of the stage. Her eyebrows furrow while her arms tremble slightly, unable to focus on anything else but the intimidating gazes stuck on you. The platform of her shoe taps against the ground as she exhales.

The music goes out just as your voice lingers the last note, eyes fluttering back open as a grin grows on your expression, all the while one of your arms lie out to the side. You set the microphone back on the stand after you bow with a “thank you,” as everyone claps. You accidentally catch Ran’s gaze as well as the other men just as you wave ‘goodbye’ to the audience. You meet your manager behind the stage as she gives you a smile and pulls you into a hug.

“Great job, Y/n! Now let’s celebrate.”

The night was spent drinking as well as having conversations with various people, discussing their businesses and hobbies as well as asking you numerous facts about yourself. Your manager seemed to have disappeared a while ago, leaving you to sit by yourself on a lounge chair, the dress hugging your legs as if you were a mermaid. You eye your phone’s screen while taking a sip of your champagne, eyeing the recent post of your own performance until the shadow of a person steals your attention.

“We need to go, now!” Your manager says before snatching your wrist, pulling you along as drops of liquid splash out of the glass.

“M/n? What the hell?” You gasp as you’re caught off guard, almost tripping over your own dress while she forces you to rush to the dressing room.

You yank your arm out of her grip before glaring at her.

“M/n! What is going on? Why have you been so on edge tonight?” She quickly gathers all of your stuff as you stare at her with disbelief. She pauses, failing to look at you.

“L-look. I’ll explain everything later. We just need to get out of Japan right now.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we were staying for a few days.” Your tone shifted to concern. “What’s wrong, M/n? Did something happen?” She drops the makeup supplies before turning to you and gripping your arms.

“I told you, Y/n! I will explain everything later, but right now we don’t have much time! We need to leave, now!” You gaze at her with shock along with fear as you become nervous by her own look of terror. Sweat sliding along the lining of her forehead along with her eyeliner slightly smeared with red eyes.

What the fuck is going on?

“Oh? What’s the rush? The party was just getting started.” A smooth voice says with amusement behind you. You watch as your manager’s eyes widened before you turned to meet your gaze with three men. Your eyes met a familiar purple though the rest of the features were slightly different, the purple mullet being the most prominent as well as the matching tattoo you saw on the male earlier. You guessed this man to be the other owner of the club, Haitani Rin.

Standing to his right is a man with golden eyes, blonde strands falling over his face along with his black hair pulled into a neat ponytail. His expression was light, holding a smile that you could mistake for politeness. He placed his hands in his pockets after shutting the door behind them. To the Haitani’s left is a man with narrowed blue eyes that seem to pierce into your soul, his pink mullet shaped perfectly around his beautiful features. Your gaze shifts to the scars placed at the corners of his mouth, furrowing your brows before you take in the situation at hand.

“What’s going on, M/n?” You side eye her as you watch her eyes widen. Her lips slightly apart as she tries to think of something to say.

“That was a beautiful performance, Y/n. Fitting for such a gorgeous woman.” The blonde says as he approaches, holding a hand out. The tiger in black ink on his neck added to the intimidating aura that contrasts with the expression on his face. He mimics Ran, bringing your limp hand to his lips while gazing into your eyes. A look of such intensity that you had to look away.

“Thank you…” You pause in expectance.

“Kazutora.” You nod with a polite smile before shifting your gaze to the others.

The tension in the room has yet to disappear. You couldn’t really focus on anything else but how scared your manager looks right now.

“M/n. It’d be in your best interest to follow us. The King wants to speak to you.” The pink haired one says, a look of satisfaction crossed his face when he states ‘the King,’ which causes you a little confusion by the title.

Kazutora takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pulling you along as you look behind to glance at your manager with a questioning look. You all walk out of the dressing room and through the hall. The only sounds being your heels clicking and their speech, nothing you could decipher because of the differing language.

“Surprised she’d be Mikey’s type.” Rin says to the other men.

“No kidding. Who knew a famous babe from Y/c would catch his eye?” Kazutora says while glancing at you.

“There’s a lot you two don’t know about Mikey.” The pink haired man replies.

“Hm, I guess you’re right Sanzu. Wonder how long it’ll take before blood sheds tonight.” Kazutora rubs his chin.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Sanzu smirks.

You turn back to glance at your manager who looks as though the color on her face has disappeared.

I hope I find out what’s going on with her.

You all arrive upstairs, walking down a hall before being met with an office. When you walked in, you noticed the other men who sat on the balcony with Ran, standing around the desk facing the entrance. Ran also in position though sitting in a chair next to the desk in the spacious room. A man with pale hair sits behind the desk with a sweater hanging off of his shoulders, dark eyes gazing into yours as Kazutora removes his arm and leads you to your seat. Your manager sits beside you on another chair, along with Rin standing by her side and Kazutora standing by yours, everyone facing the platinum haired male. Sanzu takes position beside the short man, standing by his chair with his hand holding the other.

You felt on edge, seven pairs of eyes focused on you, all the while silence filled the room. You turn in your seat to look at the blocked entrance, some other broad men blocking the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as the room seemed to get colder, turning back in your seat as you faced the mystery man.

“Speak.” His narrowed eyes meet your manager’s.

She hesitates as you watch her shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her chest rises as she takes a shaky breath in before exhaling.

“U-um, I…” She stammers, fingers trembling against the arm of the chair. You stay quiet, concerned with her behavior as your own body glistens with sweat from stress. You shift in your seat, straightening your back as you cross your ankles, your legs fidgeting as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

“You tried to leave? And so soon?” He questions, his expression stoic as his eyes bore into your manager’s. Her hands move to her lap as her foot taps against the ground.

“U-uh, no. No I didn’t.” She breathes out.

“I think you did. Didn’t she?” They all responded with “Yes Boss.” Before silence falls once more.

“Why?” M/n’s mouth shuts as she tries to think of something. You could only guess that she was nervous because of whatever business title the men hold so you decide to speak up for her.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity, really. It’s just been a long night.” You explain, only causing some of the men to chuckle at the naivety. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Okay, what the hell is really going on?”

M/n looks at you with wide eyes before holding her hands up and shaking her head.

“Y-Y/n, I’ll explain later, just give me some ti…”

“No, tell me right now why everyone is acting so weird. Stop wasting time.” You growl, sick of the antics and the vague conversations.

The man looks at you for a moment before nodding to Rin. To your surprise he pulls out a gun just as M/n hops out of her seat causing the chair to fall backwards. She runs to the entrance only for him to hold the weapon up, shooting the gun. The bullet penetrates her back, causing her to fall over, a shriek leaving her lips as the throbbing pain fills her senses. You jump out of your seat in shock, eyes staring at the blood staining her attire while she lays her head on the floor.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim, heading to the bleeding girl only to get pulled against a chest, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your feet off the ground.

“You said to stop wasting time!” Kazutora laughs as the rest look on in amusement to the woman losing consciousness.

“Y/n! I-I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I had no choice! I had no choice!” She weeps, hand smacking against the floor as she covers her head with her arm. “I’m so sorry.” She whimpers.

“What are you talking…! Let me fucking go! She needs to go to the hospital!” You yell, beating Kazutora’s arms as you try to pry them off, kicking your feet.

Sanzu walks to the woman lying on the ground. Setting a foot to the wound before pressing down, causing a strangled gasp to come out of her mouth. You struggle harder as you watch him point a gun to her head from above.

“Explain yourself.” He growls, smiling wide with crazed eyes.

“I-I sold you! I s-sold… you! It’s… *gasp* all in their…*pant* hands!” She weeps, “I h-ha… *grunt* had no choice!” Her own nails pierce her palms as she turns her hands to fists, squeezing in pain as he continues to press his weight down.

You could only stare in silence as you paused your struggling.

“T-they’re a… a gang! A *pant* criminal….organization! Th-they…*grunt* threaten…!” She screams out in agony once Sanzu pulls his leg up and slams his foot down on her wound. You wince as you begin to struggle again.

“Let her go!” You were angry with her, yes. However, if the truth is that they threatened her, you couldn’t help but empathize despite your lingering resentment. Your only focus was to get both of you out of here alive. You wondered where your guards were.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sanzu smiles before moving his foot off of her and cocking the gun, pulling the trigger. The bullet blasts half of her skull open. The sickening sound of blood splattering the floor causes you to gasp before you yell out, tears falling out of your eyes at the traumatic display.

“Hey, save those vocals for the bedroom, yeah?” Ran jokes before lighting a cigarette, some of the other men chuckling at his response.

“Let me go! Let me go, goddamnit!” You growl angrily, crying as Kazutora forces you to sit down.

He cocks his gun, bringing the barrel to your head while putting a finger over his lips. You eye him with a look of horror.

“Shh.” He starts. “Boss isn’t done talking.”

You pant as you hold your chest, staring back at their ‘boss’ who eyes you quietly. The room calms down once more as everyone takes their original positions, a gun still pressed to your head. He slides a form over for you to read. You lean in your seat and look over the sheet that confirmed your manager’s signature, signing you over to Bonten, a criminal organization residing in Japan.

“The contract doesn’t lie. During this term and all others, you are now the property of Bonten.”

You shook your head while whispering, “No.”

“I own you, Y/n. You can either fall in line willingly or by force. I don’t care. You’re mine.” He says before standing from his seat.

“Mikey.” He says to you before shifting his attention to the others. “Take her to Bonten’s headquarters.”

Kazutora hides his gun and grabs your arm as you struggle against his hold. Just as Mikey and Sanzu, along with some of the other men, head to the doorway, he says, “Knock her out if you have to.”

A breathy laugh is released from Kazutora before he pulls back a fist.

“Sorry, doll.”

Darkness immediately engulfs your vision.

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cobaltperun · 8 months

Note

i have a request if possible ? for a tara carpenter x reader , or any jo character as you see fit , but in my head , it’s always been tara and no gf au-

so basically , if you’re familiar with 5 seconds of summer , every time i listen to them (their self titled album, specifically heartbreak girl) i always come up with like scenarios of r, mindy, amber and wes being 5sos basically and having r write that song about tara and how she’s always calling/texting r about the problems she’s having with chad without realizing that r is in love with her

which ofc leads r to go to amber, mindy and wes to write that song together and having them preform at a local bar/club or something because they’re locally known and tara, sam, chad and the rest of the friend group is in the crowd, being supportive- but once they hear the song , they immediately know who it’s about and just look at tara awkwardly , and- that’s as far as i’ve gotten

Heartbreak Girl

Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader (Request)

First of all, thank you for the request, it kind of just flowed out and here it is. I went with gender-neutral Reader since you didn't specify the gender. I hope you'll enjoy reading this.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.7k

"I know I should have seen it coming, but it still hurts, you know? I still love Chad, I just can't get over him," she sobbed, and you stopped pacing around your room to lean back and rest your head against the wall. You knew the story, you heard it from Tara countless times, and you may have heard it from Mindy even before Tara told you, mostly because Mindy got a bit pissed that Chad would end his relationship with Tara like that. Tara and Chad were in a relationship, they worked the summer job together and met Liv. Chad fell in love and broke up with Tara. The rest was history, and Tara, sharing Chad's circle of friends, and still being in love with him, couldn't move on.

One time Tara told you she figured it would be easier if he cheated on her. He didn't. He just sat down with her one day and said how he felt. Two weeks later Chad and Liv went on their first date and the circumstances kept Tara and Chad as somewhat friends.

"I'm sorry for being a bother, Y/N," she must have noticed your silence.

"You're not being a bother, Tara, I just don't know what to say that I already didn't tell you before," you bit your bottom lip, knowing full well you were lying. You knew what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her you loved her, that in her heartbreak she kept breaking your heart too. Another sob made you speak before you could think things through. "Let's go out, just the two of us," you suggest, realizing too late what you were saying. "As friends, of course, just to get your mind off of everything," you quickly backtracked, hoping the explanation was sufficient enough, hoping she couldn't hear the nervous tapping of your foot against the floor, or the crack in your voice when you said 'friends' or anything else that could give you away.

Because, as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you didn't want to push her into another relationship when she was vulnerable and still heartbroken. You also didn't want to be her way of getting over Chad and nothing more. And you absolutely didn’t want to take advantage of her emotional turmoil.

"I'd love to, Y/N," it sounded like she stopped crying, thought she still sniffled a bit. "Thanks for being my friend and always being there to cheer me up," her words, even if you just encouraged them yourself, still hurt you.

"Don't mention it, I'm here for you," you brushed it off, subconsciously hoping maybe, just maybe, she'd realize how you feel on her own. You had no idea how mixed the signals you were sending her looked every now and then. In less than a minute you went from proclaiming friendly hanging out to promising to be there for her. "When do you want to meet up?"

Tara paused for a moment. "I'll call you tomorrow at ten to figure that out. Is that okay?"

You nodded and then frowned when you realized a moment later you were on the phone with her. "Of course."

And so you said your goodbyes, and you just slumped into the chair and dropped your head down to the table. A bit recklessly you tossed the phone to the bed on your side and silently expressed gratitude that it didn't hit the wall or drop to the floor. You sighed and placed your hands over your head, feeling like you were stuck in a never-ending cycle with Tara Carpenter.

Against your better judgment, you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began writing.

~X~

The friend date went well, better than you imagined it would and you and Tara hung out an hour longer than either of you anticipated. It was a nice change of pace and for a moment you actually convinced yourself you didn't feel anything romantic for her. For a moment, you were reminded of simpler times, when Tara really was just a friend in your eyes. That time was a long time ago, but sometimes you wished you could go back to that, at the very least everything was much simpler back then.

The paper waiting for you at your table broke that illusion and you grabbed your guitar, maybe you had something here after all. As you sat down to try different tunes you sent a message to the band, Mindy, Wes, and Amber, asking to meet up tomorrow for an additional practice.

~X~

The four of you met up in your garage where you kept your instruments, the guitars, and drums, anything else you needed you would just rent out for a couple of days. You were still a local band, so renting still saved you money.

"Let me see if I got everything right. You," Amber pointed at you, almost accusingly. "wrote this song about Tara and you don't want to confess how you feel?" she asked incredulously.

"Come on, it's not that obvious," you defended yourself and pointed at a line in the song. "See? Chad didn't exactly treat her bad, he just broke up with her."

"Yeah, sure, one line is going to convince everyone it isn't about Tara," Mindy added sarcastically and threw her arms up. "It's there for the dramatic effect, Y/N! Remember?" well, yeah, but still, were you really that obvious?

"She got you there," Wes wasn't helping.

You picked up your guitar and began playing the tune you thought would work well with the song. "Listen, I think we got something good here," you tried to focus on the song itself. "Regardless of who it was written for," you muttered.

"You're kidding, right? A sad tune? You're making this a ballad? No way," Mindy went to her drums. "This needs more energy," judging by the tone of her voice she wasn't budging on this. Well, at least she was on board.

"We are totally adding 'Thanks for being a friend' to the lyrics," Amber teased and you just groaned and buried your face in your hands.

"Don't forget being a sucker for anything Tara does," Wes joined in, causing all three of them to laugh at you.

"You're the worst," you muttered, too embarrassed to look at them. As it was the song that maybe could have passed as, you know, not absolutely obvious, might as well be named ‘Tara’ with how specific it was turning out to be.

~X~

Over the next month and a half, you and Tara fell into a bit of a habit. The first two weeks she continued sobbing, and you'd ask her to hang out. The week after that she just complained and you still asked her to hang out. The past few weeks she rarely even mentioned Chad during your calls, but she still insisted you were friends.

Honestly, just the fact that she seemed to be moving on as weeks went by mended your own heart. Somewhere along the line, you found out you were fine with the way things were. In a relationship or as friends, you wanted Tara in your life.

You walked her to her house, the backs of your hands occasionally brushing as you walked. The accidental touches became something both of you were comfortable with, as neither of you moved away from each other.

"You'll be performing tomorrow night, right?" Tara asked out of the blue.

You glanced at her and your eyes met. "Yeah. Are you going to come?" it wouldn't be the first time Tara would be in the crowd. Tara, Sam, Chad, Danny, Anika, and Liv were all supportive of your band, so they regularly came to your performances.

"You're not really asking that, are you? Of course, I'm going to come," she lightly jabbed your arm. "Besides, Mindy might have told me you guys have a new song you'll be performing for the first time in front of a crowd."

That little traitor. You cleared your throat to buy yourself a few extra seconds to get it together.

With the way things were going between you and Tara, you were almost tempted to scrap the song, but the other three voted against it. "No pressure then, it's not like we haven't had a new song in almost four months now," what could you say, it was a bit of a drought period as far as creativity went.

Tara laughed and just for a moment you thought you saw something else in her eyes, something similar to the way you would so often look at her. "You'll do great," she offered a much-needed encouragement as the two of you stopped in front of her house.

"Guess this is it for tonight," you smiled at her.

"Mhm, I'm glad I was the one to ask you out tonight, as friends, of course," she took a step closer and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. And then you froze when she got on her tiptoes and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, for always being there for me," somehow, this time she omitted the friend part.

"I," you cleared your throat once more. "did say I'd be here for you, didn't I?" you tried to brush it off as you usually did for months now.

The intensity of Tara's gaze captured all of your attention and for a moment you even considered leaning in. You didn't though, you weren't sure she felt the same, or that she actually moved on.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" she asked, lowering her gaze to your lips before quickly looking away.

You noticed it, and you wondered if Tara could hear how loud your heart was drumming in your chest. "Y-yeah," you finally stepped back from her, and the tension you were trying so hard to ignore began fading.

~X~

Tara pretty much threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. What was wrong with her? Falling in love with you so quickly and almost out of nowhere. Especially when you so explicitly insisted on hanging out as friends. Perhaps you were insisting too hard to cover your own feelings? A girl could hope, right?

She turned her playlist on, hoping to find some peace in music. As if to spite her, the first song that played was Brian Fallon's You Have Stolen My Heart and she nearly chucked her phone into a wall. Groaning she turned around and tucked herself into a blanket. It was entirely your fault. With your charming smile and clumsy mixed signals, she could never get a good read on them.

~X~

You were amazing on that improvised stage, just mesmerizing to watch and listen to and Tara found herself falling even harder. She also found herself ignoring Sam's teasing smile.

"Thank you, thank you! You are too kind! We'll wrap up the night with a premiere of our new song!" Wes yelled, hyping up the crowd.

"Let's hear an applause for Heartbreak Girl!" Mindy demanded, encouraging the crowd to interact with the four of you.

Tara was pulled to her feet by Anika and they both cheered. The name of the song, however, made Tara's heart skip a beat. Or was it the way you looked at her from the stage?

"You call me up, it's like a broken record, saying that your heart hurts. That you'll never get over him getting over you, and you end up crying. And I end up lying, 'cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do," you sang, your eyes never leaving Tara's. It felt like there was no one else in the club but the two of you. But you weren't alone, and Tara felt the awkward stares directed at the back of her head.

Did you actually write a song for her?

"And when the phone call finally ends, you say "Thanks for being a friend" and I'm going in circles again and again," now she had no doubt, that the song really was about her. She stopped cheering and just stood there, taking the lyrics in.

She saw you hesitating, probably since you noticed her reaction, and she just smiled. You smiled back and continued.

"I dedicate this song to you, the one who never sees the truth, that I can take away you hurt, Heartbreak girl. Hold you tight straight through the daylight, I'm right here, when you gonna realize that I'm your cure, Heartbreak girl?" did you...? Were you saying what she thought you were saying?

She wasn't reading this wrong, was she?

"I bite my tongue, but I wanna scream out, you could be with me now. But I end up telling you what you wanna hear, but you're not ready. And it's so frustrating, he treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair," her heart skips a beat as you continue, quoting the promise to call you tomorrow at ten and once again singing the chorus.

"I know someday it's gonna happen, and you'll finally forget the day you met him. Sometimes I'm so close to confession, I gotta get it through your head, that you belong with me instead," the look in your eyes, the eyes that told her 'This is it, I can't take it back now' it vanquished any doubt she may have had about how you felt.

She just wondered how long you felt that way about her without saying anything? Definitely before you first asked her to hang out as friends, but how long before that? And she felt like apologizing, for not noticing how you felt, for leaning on you for support even if it hurt you as well. And at the same time she fell even harder, because you were there for her even with everything you were feeling you were giving her all the time she needed.

~X~

The moment you ended the song and without any idea where the sudden boldness was coming from you jumped down from the stage and went over to Tara. You took a few deep breaths as you closed the distance and offered her your hand, the guitar still in your other hand.

Yeah, you didn't quite think that through.

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly looking at the guitar, but then shrugged and took your hand.

"Uh, what now?" you asked sheepishly.

"Isn't that something you were supposed to figure out? Before you jumped down and came over?" she gave you a cheeky, teasing smile.

"I didn't think I'd get this far," you admitted, causing Tara to laugh.

"Just go behind the stage dumbass!" Mindy yelled, with the microphone still on. "And leave the guitar there while you're at it!"

You lowered your head and winced, trying to hide the embarrassment clearly visible on your face. Tara wasn't doing much better as she quickly pulled you behind the stage to escape the teasing.

You packed the guitar as both of you took time to compose yourself and catch a breath. "I really didn't think this through, did I?" you asked.

"No," Tara sat down on the chair near you. "You really didn't," she was fiddling with the loose thread on her shirt.

"I meant it, the song. Well, at least when I wrote it a month and a half ago," you decided to just be honest with her.

Tara raised her head to look at you, you could see hopefulness and uncertainty in her gaze. "What changed?"

You approached and sat down next to her. "I don't think you are still heartbroken," you took her hand.

Tara smiled. "I'm not. I'm in love with a clumsy musician that sucks at flirting," she leaned closer to you.

"Hey, it worked," you closed the distance, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "Mhm, how about we go on a proper date then?" she asked when the kiss ended and you couldn't think of any better idea.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x gn!reader #scream #no ghostface au #band au #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x gn reader #perunrequests

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christinebloodwrittings · 5 months

Text

To hunt or be hunted #11

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Drinks with Alastor turned the heat up! Warnings: Gore, blood, Smut.

Thank you so much to the amazing @hazelfoureyes she's the author of the smut here! She was an amazing help for this, so go to her profile and give her lots of love!! Her masterlist

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz @looking1016

“Alastor, it’s me” An Alastor with a seemingly white tie ensemble only with red and black colors, opened the door to his studio. Red evening tailcoat, It’s not closed entirely, double breasted black dress shirt, high pants held up by suspenders, winged collar and butterfly bow tie, he looked amazing. That was, at your time, the highest and most formal wear for men.

“Y/n dearest, I thought you had forgotten of me” he offered his hand to you, pretending to be hurt, “Never, sorry for the delay, the comedian that arrived a while ago was a blast, made me laugh to tears” as you walked up the stairs he eyed the dress you wore, feeling disgust as he knew who had tailored for you.

With a click of his fingers, his green magic made a flash on your body, flapper’s dress red and black materialized. It had tons of black beads and shiny flowers. Your hands were covered by laced long gloves. Golden medium high heels that matched the golden headband.

“Hey, this is lovely” he smiled proud of his work, “Figured it was better than the ensemble you were wearing” You didn't ignore his bitter tone, but you didn't want to rub it in, instead you rolled your eyes and smiled as he prompt you to sit on a chair near his radio panel.

“I have a surprise for you” he pulled up an album, in between the pages were pieces of newspapers all about the Axe-man of Louisiana, “How did you brought this down here?” he put in your hands, allowing you to pass on the pages. “I have my ways” he was proud, even more so when you started showing signs of homesickness.

“I don’t regret a single one of this encounters, except the crazy as fuck letter that I wrote” which was in one of the pages, a subtle 'oh' from you made Alastor laugh, "Do you know that I read that letter on the radio? I don't know how I didn't laugh while I was doing so, but as soon as it was off the air I couldn't stop” you hit him on the shoulder playfully.

“That was my last murder, I wasn’t in my right mind, the cut was sloppy and I didn’t even reached the brain, it was a mess” he was invested in the story, you could tell by the way his smile looked more relaxed.

“The wife saw me but didn’t said anything, instead she wanted me to confirm that he was dead, as soon as I did she thanked me” part of you was pissed she didn’t felt fear, the other was at peace with that, “It made me sick to see her wounds, but I guess it didn't make sense to think that a bad man could be a good husband” your eye roll and sarcasm put an amused grin on his face.

“I’m not a good man, but I know I can be a good husband” he took your hand, knowing your point but still making his own on top, “Because you don’t abuse little girls Alastor, that’s the line between a bad man and a monster” and he was proud his mom taught him better, “You eliminated all those vermin, how you’re not in heaven?” in his mind no one so well thought as yourself should be in hell just for taking out a contaminator, “Because a life is a life I guess, not matter how worthless” not enough, he needed to make the puzzle you were less of a mystery.

“How did you died?” to him it didn’t made sense, your appearance, “The Axe-man did it” but he wasn’t satisfied, he needed to take the bodies from the closet, “Is this your real face?” taking a better posture on the chair you sternly made him explain, “What do you mean?”.

“You used a mask when you got here, even in life you were famous because you were never identified” he was truly informed, a fan of your ways , “What was my modus operandi?” you asked, eyeing a photograph of the bayou in between the pages, “Axe through the head” he answered, “Face” you corrected him.

“I did the same with me, what I came to know later was that there was a fire caused by a misplaced candle, took years of deep care to my body to be this soft, but I had no face” that information was new, “I don’t care how much I like you Alastor, but if you try to say this to anyone else my coming back victim will be the radio demon” to be fair, that thought turned him on, just the feeling of your fangs on him again was enough to rile him up.

“Charlie gave me a face, this one-” he placed his hand on your cheek, appreciating the feeling, “For your information, dying by your hand, would be my upmost pleasure” a crack of his chair was heard before he placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“What made you do a contract with her?” he had thought that question for a while, Charlie didn’t exactly gave him an answer when he approached her, “What will you give me in exchange?” he swayed his hand in the air, the wall turning onto itself.

“The pleasure of seeing me kill him” sat in a chair was your ex-husband, almost unrecognizable in all the bruises and cuts everywhere.

You were speechless, he did that for you? Alastor turned the man that hurt you in his own punching bag, just for you. “I was angry, she wanted to help, I wanted her to die” you admitted, watching closely all the wounds on his body, “The princess will die at the end of this?!” he rose from his chair, green hue surrounding him.

With a smirk you out yourself at his level, “You sound a tad too preoccupied for someone that made her sign a blank contract” his ears pinned down his head, “I have my reasons” he added, bitterly so, “Too bad she can’t help you with that leash” your fingers grabbed the invisible pull around his neck making him growl, “You’re despicable” he spit, his eyes turning colors, black and red dials, “And you a manipulative narcissist, hungry for power, cannibalistic fool” a growl of your own made him shiver in place instinctively.

Pulling on your hair he took your lips on a kiss, your hands flying to his neck, hugging his shoulders yearning for his touch. His tongue pushed his way into your mouth, an audible yelp got swallowed from your mouth my his.

“You two are crazy” your ex cried from his seat, calling yours and his attention. “My darling, this is one of your birthday gifts” he pointed to all the black ties around his body and the chair, “Car cables, how many watts?” his hands circled your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, wickedly smiling when he uttered “39.9” with a purr, “That’s twice the electric chair, your idea of foreplay is splendid” you kissed his cheek earning a sigh from him.

Your eyes darted towards your ex, “The mobster’s wife drowned our daughter in the river, just so you know” while he started crying his guilt out you walked up to the switch, “Start recording, I want all of hell to hear him later” he pushed a button on his panel “Of course mon cœur”.

As soon as you flipped the switch, the radio electricity that Alastor provided overloaded your ex-husband's body and made it blow into a thousand pieces, staining your dress and some of the walls. “The dress is ruined” you shook some of the blood off, before you were pulled to Alastor’s lap, “You’re a tease” you smiled, “And a manipulative narcissist” he used your own words against you, but with a laugh.

“She can’t help?” he referred to Charlie and his deal with her, “The only one that can has a short sense of humor towards you” you booped his nose, “You’re hilarious” his eye roll made you laugh, “And you…prideful-ah!” he bit you on the neck, “But you like me either way” he knew you liked him at least a little bit, “Guilty as charged” however, he knew he wasn’t the only one.

“But you like him as well” he made your heart beat painfully in your chest, “I went from nothing to have two sources of affection, I became an addict” he pressed his cheek to yours, “I…mmh” he bit his tongue, “I don’t know what I can do, whatever I choose will hurt me, and one of you” he pulled you closer while you spoke, your knees straddling his hips.

“How about both?” he thought out loud, “I didn’t take you for a sharer” ‘If that can overrule the deal, make you stay and arrange it so we won’t lose you, then’ he thought, “I can swallow my pride that far” then his confession seemed so surreal, “Is that my second gift?” he smiled trying to mask his embarrassment.

“I hope it can suffice” he whispered, his hand petting your hair, “I don’t want to seem greedy” could you really date both? “Oh you are, darling, but I bet the king and I adore you either way” head pressed against his chest, felt right, just as much as having Lucifer curl up with you at night.

“Thank you” he hummed in response, “That won’t do” you thought it for a second, “Want me to take the lead?” maybe he wanted a reward for being so good to you, “I already gave you my answer a while ago” ‘Devour me’ you remembered his words, while adjusting yourself on his lap, you could feel his erection, “All this for little old me? How flattering” the clothed friction electrified his senses.

“You know what I found out?” Your breath ghosted along his neck, little bite marks already reddening as your hands found their way to his pants. “You love being in control, but even more so…” you bit gently on his neck, “When I control you” he let a shaky breath escape his throat, making it looked like he had been holding it for a minute now.

“Hands behind your back” you took off his belt, twisting it around his wrists, tightly but not so much, “I want to thank you for the amount of trust you give me” Zipper down, you grabbed either side with your hands and pulled them down with a swift yank.

“I’ll tear you apart if you…-” tell anyone? No, you were going to have him all to yourself, “Tempting, but I would never” you stopped your movements when you caught a magnetic scent, “Is this a new cologne?” he hummed a yes, “You like it?” you nodded excitedly, “Yes, and though the white tie dressing is sexy, is horribly tedious to undo” the red and black suit was too gorgeous to ruin, but he had that in mind.

“Claw your way through it” he furrowed his brow, “I don’t want to ruin it” the fabric was far too exquisite, “You’ll make me beg for it?” his words made your tail slightly wag, “How far can you swallow your pride?” he laughed in response, “Chérie, please claw your way through it” It was the show of strength that took him by surprise, not that it wasn’t adding to the strain of his cock against his underwear. You ripped the pant legs off in tandem, slowing down as you brought your hand to the curved bulge now open for you to enjoy. Finally, a moment to pause.

His hands wouldn’t be stopping you now, but the way his was cutting into his lip as he bit down in anticipation made it clear you were not unwanted.

A slow drag down his clothed erection, small wet spot forming at the head. “Now this, this is all for me. No denying that, no questioning.” His hips bucked up instinctively, chasing your finger for more friction. A little giggle from you, realizing how much fun you were about to have.

Leaning down between his legs, you let your nose slid up his length. Hot breath ghosting over his head, that wet spot growing as he twitched.

“Y/N…,” he growled, “Enough.”

You shook your head and hooked your fingers under his waistband and peeling them off. A hiss as the air hit his precum slicked cockhead. Heavy and hot, you took him in your hands. No stroking, no squeezing. Your eyes looked into his, attempting to look as innocent and confused as you could to counter the small rage overwhelmed by arousal.

“Should I stop then?” A squeeze at his base. Another raise of his hips.

His head drooped down, a nearly imperceivable shake of his head. “Good boy” Your hand rose up slowly, then back down. Each stroke you rose further and further until your hand was rolling over his head with every pass. Clear and sticky, his precum slowly made a lovely wet sound fill the space between you two. As his breath began to hitch, shoulders tightening and drawing in you, you stilled your hand. A whimper was your reward.

Letting a beat come, feeling that pulse slowdown in the heat in your hands, you only then began again. Taking pleasure in biting at his inner thighs when you noticed his body tensing up with the next attempt to cum, the pain breaking him just enough to let you regain the control.

You brought him closer and closer each time, managing a third before you finally gave in and let him meet his climax and paint your knuckles and his station floor. “Sloppy” you mocked, letting your finger rub at his slit. Alastor’s knees drew up, hands tugging at his restraints.

“It’s too sensitive. Up”

“Why are you still so hard then?” Your hand twisted over his head and shaft. His legs were hitting at your ribs, body trying to escape your hand but with nowhere to go.

“You’re pushing your luck, chérie”

You liked pushing your luck. Watching him hiss and convulse was bringing out the sadist in you. With a second to consider it, you nodded to yourself and swiped your tongue up the bottom of his cock. Salty, bitter, hot. Focused, your tongue edged along the neck of his glans.

As he squirmed, he realized you hadn’t been made to squirm yet… nor last time. Motivation found; his smirk finally returned in full.

The sound of the leather ripping as his arms pulled them apart reached your ears too late. You knew he could have gotten free at any time but you hadn’t expected him to actually do it. You knew despite his act; he enjoyed letting you be the one pulling his reins.

A hand in your hair pulled you off his lap, another took hold of your waist. The wind was knocked out of you as he tossed you to the floor between the chair and his table.

Alastor had had enough. You had your fun, you teased, you took control of the dynamic. He warned you, and now he would reclaim the power.

“Allow me to return the favor. I have a debt to you, after all.”

You hissed a warning that he ignored, ripping through your dress with ease. Unfair, you thought. You hadn’t been quite as quick when you undressed him. Had you known it was a competition you’d have made a quicker order of his pants earlier.

A clawed hand slid down your pelvic mound, two fingers spreading open your lips on the way down to your entrance. “You’re already dripping. You acted so tough earlier, but you were melting.”

“Can it.”

He hummed, both fingers bending and slipping into you with a slight resistance. Though you both enjoyed a little sadomasochism, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. So preparation was a necessity. Not that you minded, hips rutting into his palm to bring his digits deeper. Your hands came to your chest, feeling yourself while his own hands were occupied.

You hadn’t minded not finding your own release last time, but the promise of Alastor drawing an orgasm out of you made your pussy clench around his fingers.

“Not enough?” The radio static of his normal voice grew as a direct reflections of his faltering control.

Your hands came between your leg and pull his hand away, “I want you.” Hooking your legs around his waist you dragged his lap to your core and rubbed your slick smeared folds up and down his growing length. “Enough foreplay” you growled, wild and feral expression darkening your eyes.

Happy to oblige though not eager to show it, he took his time drawing back his hips. Already so hard he didn’t need his hands to enter you, Alastor let his claws grip the flesh of your thighs as he pressed into your heat, moving your tail to the side, tempted to grab hold of it, but he ignored it.

A brief moment passed over his face when his smile faltered, the pleasure of getting back into you breaking his focused facade. He took a breath and that smile widened again, eyes opening to lock on your face as he started immediately into a steady rhythm. He knew what you needed to cum, something from within told him exactly how to work your body on his cock to make your vision white out. A consistent and determined thrusting, the sounds of his hips and balls smacking into your body getting louder as the sweat and arousal was shared skin to skin.

The noises of your bodies hitting together punctuating the restrained moans you were biting back made his ears twitch. Debauched, a moment you let yourself be bested. Rarely did you surrender but for his dick you lied on back for him. Or on all fours. Or… his head fell forward. Hanging there he could hide his uneven smile behind his curtain of hair. He could see himself disappearing into your body. Effortlessly you were sucking him in and gripping with every withdrawal.

The buildup of your orgasm was stalled, your hand coming to your clit to push yourself over the climax. As soon as your handed started strumming at your little bud, your walls spasmed and squeezed Alastor.

“Y/N, Are you close?”.

You nodded, eyes clenched shut. Your stomach muscles tightened and threatened to cramp your arching back.

When was the last time you felt good about this? Wanted? Loved even? Was this it, at last you found someone that could match your unique self?

“Me too.” Alastor groaned it out, body straightening. Onto your shoulders were touching the floor of his station now, back bent with the chase of your orgasm and Alastor lifting your ass so he could fuck up into you.

It was a fact your knees would bruise his sides as you finally came, legs wrapping around him and pulling him as deep as you could get him. It wasn’t enough, you whined with the rare display of desperation to have more of him.

As if he felt that draw as well, he let your body back down. His body rested on top of yours, the air slightly pushed out of your lungs. With a weak and broken moan into the side of your head, he pressed your body into the floor as he came buried as deeply as he could physically manage.

“I’ll talk to Mr. vertically challenged” he breathed out, “Are you sure?” you saw spots of colors, regaining as little strength as you could, feeling your body being pulled backwards. Soon enough you were in his lap again, curled up against his chest, “You go out tomorrow, I think I can convince him” he looked down to you, with the softest look he could provide.

“Deal” you kissed his chin, he felt how your tail tangled around his waist, it was soft and warm, “Just don’t get killed” he took your lips in a kiss, “I won’t” you gave him an unamused stare, “I’m serious” he kissed you again, as if he could erase your worries like that.

“Now, let’s get cleaned up, cuddle the king so he doesn’t suspect anything” you made a pout which he found adorable, “I thought we could sleep together” he made you and him appear in his bathroom, where his shadow already made a warm bath for you two.

“I’m going to compensate for the other day, but I feel…weird” he was overstimulated, so you understood and rather enjoyed the bath and his delicate way to spread the soap across your skin, rather than object him.

After a good night kiss, you went back to Lucifer’s room, finding him in the same position you left him in. “Luce, Luci” you slid in between the covers, calling him softly to get him to cuddle, in which as soon as he heard you, regained a bit of senses, enough to fit his head in your chest and his arms around your waist.

---------------------------------------------

Stay tuned ;3

part 12

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wlntrsldler · 6 months

Text

poisoned mercury | long way home

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over :( but i will be adding small blurbs in between chapters and adding post-chb five star and luke to the masterlist because i'm not ready to say bye to them just yet. enjoy pm's sophomore album cover, optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you). also no tags for this one because tumblr has been super weird and the tags haven't been working for everyone.

x. long way home by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“thank you all for your participation this summer at camp half blood,” mr. d said into the microphone. he was finishing up his end-of-the-year speech and there was no dry eye in the house. all the campers were sniffling as they reminisced on all the memories they made this summer. your dad cleared his throat, “if any of you tell anyone that i cried, i will never forgive you.”

annabeth giggled, rubbing the tears from her eyes, “your dad makes that joke every year, i swear.”

“oh, i’m sure,” you replied, laughing along with her. “above all, he is a dad and that means he recycles the same jokes over and over again.”

“and they’re never funny,” percy added, though he was laughing at what mr. d was saying. “but i feel like i gotta laugh or else i won’t be accepted next year.”

“you have my permission to not laugh, perce,” you nudged him. “he gotta get some new material.”

“hey,” clarisse said from beside you. you turned to her, letting annabeth, percy, and grover fall into their own conversation. she was no longer adorned in her camp counselor outfit, opting to wear something from her own closet now that her duties for the summer were finished. “thanks for getting me this job, y/n. kinda changed my life with this one.”

your eyes darted between clarisse and chris, who was waiting by the wings of the stage ready for his cue to close out the farewell celebration. you placed a hand on clarisse’s knee, giving it a squeeze, “thanks for always having my back, clar.”

“always,” she nodded, “you’re my sister.”

you were feeling a lot of things at once. there were a lot of emotions coursing through your veins. you always knew that there were people who cared about you. your parents had a funny way of showing it sometimes, but you never doubted that they loved you. your friends, clarisse, silena, charlie, were always there for you, even during the most stressful times of your life. the poisoned mercury boys who welcomed you with open arms like you were a part of their dysfunctional family the whole time.

and luke.

where do you even start with luke? luke castellan was the boy you had promised yourself never to fall for again. the heartbreaker, the player, the musician, and yet, here you were, completely eating your words. everything you thought you knew about him was wrong and since you let your guard down, your world was turned on its axis. he was so much more than what people made him out to be. he was so much more than you expected him to be.

and you were lucky enough to have him. who knew a summer in montauk would lead to this?

“to close out our incredible summer, welcome poisoned mercury!” your dad said, clapping wildly as the boys entered the stage. he placed the mic back on the stand, giving short hugs to the band as they walked up to him. luke was the last to hug your dad and their interaction lasted longer than the rest of the boys’. when they pulled away from their embrace, luke had a slight blush on his face and a goofy grin as his eyes scanned the crowd to find you.

he sent you a shy wave from the stage as he adjusted the mic to his level. you blew him a kiss, which he returned and that made the crowd go wild. to them, luke was blowing a kiss into the ether, a message with no recipient, but you knew it was meant for you. something about it made your heart constrict in your chest. it was still hard to believe he chose you, but luke spent every waking moment making sure you believed it.

“camp half blood,” luke said, eyes twinkling under the lights. travis picked up his drumsticks from the floor, giving the left one a twirl, as he got situated on his stool. connor and chris played their guitars experimentally, tweaking the strings to get the right key. “man, i don’t even think we can explain just how thankful we are to have spent the summer with you all.”

luke turned around to face the boys who all nodded in agreement.luke faced the crowd again, sighing, “i learned a lot of things here. one being, there are a lot of talented people out there in the world. getting to work with y’all was such an amazing experience. many of you guys are aspiring musicians, and i’m here to tell you to keep going. i know it seems like sometimes your dreams aren’t worth chasing, but i promise you they are.”

“some of you kids are so talented,” luke said, shaking his head in disbelief. “little beth, i’m talking about you when i say this. you’re brilliant and i know i’m gonna be seeing your name in the charts in a few years. you got more talent in your pinky finger than we four up here have combined.”

the rest of the boys laughed, but agreed. luke narrowed his eyes, searching for a few more faces to give a shoutout to, “oh! and our boys percy and grover! we love you guys. keep in touch. you guys have to join us in the studio one day.”

“did luke castellan just give us a shoutout?” grover asked, turning to percy with his eyes as wide as saucers.

you laughed, patting him on the back, “i believe he did.”

“holy shit,” percy mumbled.

“language.”

“come on, counselor clarisse,” the blond boy groaned, “camp is over.”

clarisse huffed, smiling teasingly, “fine. i’ll give you a pass this one time.”

“not many people know this, but i went to camp half blood when i was younger,” luke continued, looking down at his feet. “it was my favorite place in the world. some of my best memories involved me sitting right where many of you are sitting right now, but then life happened and things went sideways for me for a while. it took me a while to pick up a guitar again, but man, i’m so glad i did.”

“if it wasn’t for music, i wouldn’t be here in front of you guys today,” he smiled, locking eyes with you, “and i wouldn’t have had the best summer of my life.”

“holy shit,” clarisse said, mimicking percy. she turned to you with a wide grin, “castellan is talking about you up there.”

“he is not.”

as if he read your mind, luke leaned into the mic, “thanks, five star.”

your heart swelled as memories of this summer flooded your mind; the smoke sessions in your secret spot that soon became luke’s as much as it was yours. hours sitting on the creaky bench as you both got lost in the fog of vices and genuine conversations. the bench where you learned about luke and he learned about you, something more than just introductions and superficial answers; the countless impromptu jam sessions in your cabin that started with you playing records on your speaker and ended with the boys playing their instruments as they screamed out lyrics to their favorite songs with you and clarisse. constant noise complaints from neighboring cabins because you were being too loud so late at night with melodies and laughter escaping through your open window. luke pulling you into his lap as he whispered cheesy love songs into your ear as you giggled; the days in your room, locked away with luke, enjoying his company. his lips always finding their way back to yours like a promise that he’ll always be around. luke. luke luke.

you were glad the lights were focused on the stage so nobody could see your red cheeks. the boys cheered from behind luke, unabashedly voicing their approval of your relationship. the crowd cheered along, even if none of them knew what the situation was. luke rolled his eyes at his friends for the commotion they started, “the song we’re playing for you today is not yet released, but we decided that it’s the perfect song to end the perfect summer. this song is called long way home, we hope you like it.”

–

“did you know you had a dimple on your back?” you asked, letting your finger linger in the crevice on luke’s skin. goosebumps raised on his tanned flesh as you lightly grazed his exposed back. “right here.”

“mhm,” he replied, off-handedly. he didn’t really know what you were saying. he was too dazed by the feeling of your touch on him. you two were on the grass on the hill by the lake, a reprieve, a plead for time to stop even just for a few minutes. tomorrow summer would officially be over. tomorrow the two of you would be leaving camp half blood. tomorrow you would no longer have empty hours to fill with each other.

luke didn’t want to think about it too much. he’d gotten too used to finding you lounging in your room or in the living room where he could join you to do nothing. to do everything. he didn’t know how he’d survive the next few months without you. your coach gave you the all-clear to resume practice once you were back on campus, which meant that visits during short breaks were no longer an option. luke was happy that things worked out for you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that you could no longer visit him during thanksgiving break.

droplets of water from your hair trickled down his back. he was face down with his head facing you, eyes fluttered shut as a sign of peace, while you leaned over him, tracing shapes on his back. you’d both just emerged from the water, checking off items on your “summer goodbye bucket list.” that’s what you’ve been up to this last week, revisiting memories and places that you weren’t ready to leave yet.

you chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss on luke’s spine. he smiled at the feeling of your lips, eyes hazily opening to meet yours. you took your place beside him, propping yourself up on an elbow as you watched luke come back to his senses, “are you even listening to me?”

“of course,” he lied, grinning at you in the boyish and charming way that always had your knees buckling. he squinted as you moved your head, the heat of the sun hitting his face, “‘m always listening to you, five star.”

“liar.”

he laughed then, letting the sound echo into the air, “i try my best, at least. but i’m no multitasker. i can’t concentrate when you’re sitting here all pretty in front of me and touching me like this.”

“you’re such a flirt,” you grimaced, though the smile on your face gave away your true feelings for the boy. luke looked pretty like this. there was no tension in his shoulders, like he was finally letting himself breathe. you wondered when you’d see him like this again. just last night after the celebration, you two had stayed up talking until deep into the night about how nervous he was to come back to the spotlight. he’d found solace in camp half blood, in not having to look over his shoulder every day in fear of the world. he didn’t know how the public would react to him being back again, especially since he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up his facade now that it’s all crumbled since he met you.

maybe it was his lack of sleep that was making him vulnerable and a little delirious, but he shared with you that he felt like he’s changed. the luke that walked into camp half blood who was too scared to be himself in fear of rejection and failure was no longer there. a few months ago, he wouldn’t be caught dead like this, all soft and gentle for a girl. he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to see a girl more than once. but with you, he couldn’t help it. the luke that he truly was became his default state when he was with you. all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and be with you for as long as you’d let him.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing, baby,” he grumbled, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “you don’t like it when i flirt with you?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, adjusting your head until you fully blocked the light from his face again. you laced your fingers with his, letting out a hum when he squeezed your hand. “i didn’t say that.”

“so, let me flirt with you,” luke said. “i like flirting with you. you blush every time i do it and i think it’s fucking adorable.”

“stop,” you whined knowing that the blush he was referring to was starting to show on your skin. maybe you could blame it on the heat, but you both knew that that would be a lie. it was because of him. it was always because of him. “you like teasing me, don’t you, castellan?”

“a little bit,” he admitted, scrunching his face up in a way that brought out the creases between his eyebrows. his lips curved into a lopsided smile. his arms reached out to snake around your waist, pulling you on his body as he laid on his back. he placed his hands along the expanse of your bare thighs as you situated yourself on his abdomen. your fingers played with the silver chain around his neck. luke massaged your thighs, sighing out, “i like knowing i have that effect on you.”

“me and half the female population,” you snorted, “as much as you act like you know just how amazing you are since you have a gigantic ego, i feel like you also don’t give yourself enough credit.”

luke quirked an eyebrow, “was that a compliment, five star?”

“don’t get used to it,” you smacked his shoulder lightly, making him let out a chuckle. his chest rumbled from under you as his hands made their way up your waist. luke’s hands were always warm. he had callouses on his fingers from playing guitar and bumps on his palms from lifting at the gym. there were characteristics about his hands that made you believe that you’d know his touch even if you were blindfolded. there was something different in the way he touched you, even in the most innocent ways, you knew when it was luke. there was a light in your brain that would go off every time he was around, like your body, mind, and heart knew when he was there.

“i’ll take what i can get,” he conceded.

“does it bother you that i don’t compliment you as much as you compliment me?”

“nah,” he replied, looking up at you. the sun was framing your face in a way that made his breath hitch. you looked ethereal like this. it was like you were a figment of his imagination. luke had to place his hand flat on your ribcage to feel you breathe just to convince himself that you were real. “makes these little moments even sweeter.”

“but you know, right?” you questioned, eyes not once leaving his own. a shadow of doubt flashed across your irises. “you know what i think of you?”

luke castellan had a way with words that left you speechless. perhaps it was because he was a songwriter, trained to string together words in a way that you could never achieve. he made a living by writing, by voicing how he felt, and turning it into art, into music. there were many moments where luke would say things so poetically that it made your head spin. he says things so casually, so easily like he didn’t just utter out the most romantic things you’ve ever heard in your life.

you envied him for it, a little bit. you wished you could tell him how you felt about him as easily as he said it with you, but anything you tried to say felt like it would pale in comparison. luke didn’t mind. you had your own way of showing him how you felt. it was in your touch, taking your time to admire his imperfections. it was in the way you kissed him, smiling so wide like you couldn’t help it whenever he would press his lips to yours. it was in the way you paid attention to him, the little things that he didn’t even realize he did.

“‘course, i do,” luke tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. he took his time bringing his hand back to your waist. he liked seeing you nuzzle your face into his palm as you kissed his wrist. “but i wouldn’t be opposed to hearing you say it, either.”

“i’m not good at saying how i feel,” you said, shoulder hunching as you spoke. it felt like you were letting him in on a secret that you’d never told anyone else. luke could feel his heartbeat in his chest. you dropped the poisoned mercury pendant back on his chest as you leaned down to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “i’m working on it, though. might just take me a while.”

luke smiled at you. his voice was earnest as he placed a kiss on the top of your head, “we got all the time in the world, five star. there’s no rush.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at his words, “we leave tomorrow, luke.”

“mhm,” he repeated, thumb running across your lower back. it made you shiver, the realization of his words hitting you. “like i said, we got all the time in the world.”

you pulled away from him, cradling his face in your hands as you placed a kiss on his lips, “yeah, we do.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

Note

How about some blue beetle romantic headcanons?

I might’ve gone on for a bit so I had to stop myself before I go overboard. 🦦

I don’t know much about Jaime but if there’s one thing I do know is that he’s got a big heart, a massive one at that, a heart that withholds a lot of love for the people he’s blessed to have in his life; which so happens to include yourself. ❤️

With you, Jaime is a puppy in love, he’s infatuated and sometimes he doesn’t even realise that he’s doing it unless someone mentions it, it might be because Jamie finds that admiring you comes naturally to him. So much so that it becomes almost second nature for him to just step outside of himself and admire you with a dopey/puppy look in those pretty eyes of his…that is until Khaji-Da’s voice echos within his mind- and interrupting his shameless ogling- to talk about how high his oxytocin and serotonin levels were.

To which he would jump at the sound of before then becoming increasingly warm with embarrassment, which would be something Khaji-Da would also comment on, much to Jaime’s dismay;

‘Jaime, you are flustered, perhaps, embarrassed even?’

‘Oh shut it.’ He would hiss.

‘I’m sorry?’ You’d ask, thinking he was taking to you, which only made Jaime feel even more uncomfortably warm beneath with his skin as he tried to make up for his accidental slip up.

His response would vary based on whether or not he had told you about the whole Blue Beetle thing.

If you didn’t know he was Blue Beetle: ‘Oh no, not you, never you, I was just…talking to myself.’

If you did know he was Blue Beetle; ‘that was towards Kahji-Da. Not you, never at you y/n. Now what we’re you talking about again?’ Jaime would urge you into continuing your conversation, all the while leaning against the wall as the adoring look upon his face reappeared.

Cuddle bug. Look me in the eyes and tell me he’s not because he fucking is!

You’d both be cuddled up on the couch with his head resting on your chest or yours on his chest, just being your lovely selves, when Milagro would often come into the room to tease her brother by dry heaving or telling you both to get a room. She loved her brother and that love often comes with teasing/taunting the fuck out of him like siblings always do.

Allows you to borrow his hoodies because he loves how you look in them, and totally would not try to discreetly snap a few pictures that you will sooner or later find out about after he uses them as his lock/ and or Home Screen. Where again he would trip over himself trying to find an excusable answer before you would have to ultimately stop him before he hurts himself by admitting to how cute and sweet of him that he would make you his home/Lock Screen.

Or even go as far as to dedicate an whole album to you that’s filled with pictures of you both doing mundane stuff but Jaime’s personal favourite pictures would have to be the ones where you’re with his family or stargazing up on the rooftop with him.

‘Of course I would, I mean why wouldn’t I?’ He grabs ahold of your hands in his own. ‘You’re my heart and soul, the light of my life, why wouldn’t I want to dedicate you in one way or another? I withhold no shame in showing you off because at the end of the day I’m remembered that you chose me, and that’s something I would never take for granted for you are my wish upon a star came true.’ He lifts up your hands so that he may presses a kiss to them before squeezing tightly. ‘So let me at the least reciprocate the love you’ve given me.’

Though let’s be honest Khaji-Da would assume that when Jaime lets you wear his clothes, it was under the pretence of a…territorial thing so that others that may pose a threat to your and Jaime’s relationship take note that you weren’t theirs to openly stare at. And to this Khaji-Da would simply say;

‘why don’t we just eliminate all threats, just so that there is no one left alive to challenge us?’

‘First of all, you’ve got it all wrong Khaji-Da, I don’t just give y/n my clothes because I feel territorial over them.’ Jaime would begin to explain. ‘I give them my clothes because I genuinely find them beautiful/handsome/cute/charming/amazing/stunning in them and most of all I want them to feel as though they’ve got a piece of me when I’m away Blue Beetling it up as my scent gives them a sense of peace and comfort. Does that make sense.’ He finishes.

… ‘we could still kill them.’ - Khaji-Da

‘Please stop.’ - Jaime Reyes

Words of affirmation, physical touch and quality time are Jaime’s bread and butter. (though that’s just my personal opinion.)

He’s got a whole book full of affirmations made specifically for you because he becomes like a never ending fountain of sweet, dorky yet beautiful words when it came to you; So much so that there wouldn’t be a day where you went without some affirming and words from your beloved Jaime Reyes. Words that never fail to make your heart melt, your smile grow and overall make you feel like you could move mountains because that’s how being with Jaime made you feel on a daily basis.

So in return, you smother him in kisses, affection and your own words of love because why should you receive all of his love without giving him all of your love back tenfold.

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jflemings · 7 months

Text

— birthday wishes

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: you make sure jessie has a good day for her first birthday in portland

warnings: a lil suggestive & not edited

a/n: a lil smth smth for the birthday girl (i don’t rlly like this ending but fuck it we ball)

contrary to popular belief, jessie actually really liked celebrating her birthday. she liked that her mum always baked her a cake when she was growing up, she liked that you made the effort to always give her flowers and she liked it when her and her sister designated a time to facetime. the thing that she liked most of all though, was being able to have all her favourite people in one place,

this year was different though. jessie’s mood had seemed to get deplete the closer her birthday got. she had been adjusting to the move well enough but she didn’t exactly have the time to get really settled before she was off win team canada for the gold cup, the semi final loss leaving her more restless then when she left.

still, you made the effort to at least attempt to make this birthday feel somewhat normal. you bought her a bouquet of pink tulips and baby’s breath from a florist you spotted one afternoon on your way home from work, a lego flower bouquet set that the two of you wanted to build together and a proper, high quality photo album so that all of her favourite photos she’s taken can be in one place.

you sneak back into your shared bedroom with her flowers in one hand and coffee in the other, placing them down on a flipped cardboard box that your girlfriend had been using as a makeshift bedside table, before pouncing on her. you practically jump onto her back and lay yourself down flat on top of her, placing your head on her shoulder as she awoke.

jessie, in all her sleepy-faced-bedheaded glory, flashes you a smile as you trace patterns on her back through her sleep shirt.

“good morning birthday girl” you whisper quietly to her “how does twenty six feel?”

“not any different than twenty five” she rasps out whilst beginning to roll over onto her back. you slide off her effortlessly before she pulls you into her, one arm wrapping around your shoulders whilst the other hoists you onto her chest. she wraps both arms around you protectively and tightly, leaning her head on your own as she lets out a content sigh.

you reach over her as best you can and grab the bouquet “your birthday flowers madam”

jessie gives you one of her famous soft smiles “thank you, they’re beautiful” she praises gratefully, sniffing them before taking them from you and placing them on the ground, grabbing your torso so she can guide you up the front of her body, kissing you sweetly and slowly.

you pull away from her and lift your arms so that they’re on either side of her head “only the best for my girl” you say before taking advantage of the position your arms are in and pulling yourself up so you’re straddling jessie’s hips.

“as much as i would love to lay around with you all morning, you” you emphasise by poking a finger into the canadian’s chest “have training and then lunch with the girls, and i have work that needs to be done.”

jessie rolls her eyes and trails her hands up your sides “just five more minutes” she exhales “i don’t feel like getting up yet”

you swing your leg over jessie and roll onto your side of the mattress, sitting and then standing in one swift motion. you then walk to the end of the bed frame-less mattress and grip the bottom of the duvet that jessie is comfortably under “if i let you lay here for five more minutes then i’m going to feel the need to lay down with you, which will then turn into morning sex, which means that when janine comes to get you in about an hour not only will she be interrupting us but she’ll also be late because you won’t be ready” you explain pointedly, finally ripping the blanket off your girlfriend.

jessie shivers slightly at the sudden loss of warmth before sitting herself up on her elbows and forearms “i’ll be quick, promise” she smirks amused, raising her eyebrows in an almost challenging way.

you’re almost half convinced, her position on the bed paired with the confident smirk she doesn’t wear often slowly drawing you in. you tilt your head in faux thought, slowly leaning down and propping your knee up near her feet, planting your hands flat on either side of her legs. you hover for a moment and open your mouth to say something before a blaring alarm sounds off through the room.

jessie rolls her eyes and picks her phone up, quickly turning the alarm off and tossing it to the side. by the time she’s done that you’re up and halfway out the door.

“y/n” she draws out frustratedly “five minutes!”

“your coffee is going cold jess”

——

jess huffs as janine pulls up to the curb in front of the home she shares with you. lunch had gone longer than expected and although she appreciated the fact that the team celebrated her birthday with her, she had begun to miss her ex teammates even more.

“you tired jeffery?” janine muses “wouldn’t wanna be, y/n’s probably gonna keep you up all hours of the night”

“ooookay!” jessie hastily says as she reaches for the door handle “thanks for organising lunch, i had a really good time”

janine nods and smiles before reaching behind her seat and handing jessie a cobalt blue gift bag “this is from me and sinc” she says just as jessie opens her mouth to protest “and don’t say that we didn’t have to because we know! we just wanted to give you a little something”

jessie takes the bag off her teammate carefully, opening the door at the same time and awkwardly sliding out. she gathers her training bag, phone and gift bag before shooting janine a wide, genuine smile and shutting the car door. as the midfielder walks to her front door she notices the warm light peaking through the windows.

it’s not dark outside but the sun has started to set, so she finds it odd that you’ve already turned on the lamp in the front room. she thinks nothing of it as she opens the door and steps in sideways before kicking it shut, slightly cringing at the loud slam. when you don’t scold her for slamming the front door, like you had always done, she becomes puzzled.

magenta light that she hadn’t seen from outside bounces off the walls and the smell of sandalwood slowly invaded her senses as she begins to creep into the main living area. you’re still no where to be found and she’s about to call out for you when she stops herself, her jaw going slack and eyes going wide.

next to the window on the furthest wall hangs her canada and chelsea jerseys that she received for reaching one hundred games, underneath multiple framed photos and trinkets sit on top of the buffet, a birthday banner and balloon numbers two and six find themselves near by. the magenta light is coming from a lamp that you had at your place back in london and next to it sits jessie’s burning sandalwood candle, other bits of decor like potted plants, a ceramic mug with miscellaneous pens and pencils, unread books and small collectables have all found homes in her home. her home that wasn’t like this when she reluctantly got up this morning.

she hears the bathroom door open and watches you round the corner, a towel messily drying your hair as you hum to yourself. you haven’t seen her so she places her things down next to the kitchen table, slightly startling you.

you just about jump out of your skin when you hear the unknown noise, dropping the towel and placing a hand over your racing heart “jessie fleming! you scared the absolute shit out of me” you exclaim half out of breath “you could’ve announced yourself when you walked in”

you pull a ladybug patterned gift bag out from under the dining table as you walk past and place it in front of her, nodding in the direction of the bag “open it” you say giddily, practically bouncing on your toes as you watch her reach into the bag.

she pulls out a plain white faux leather photo album that’s bound by brown leather strings and the lego flower bouquet set that the two of you had said you’d wanted to build together once you got settled. she opens the photo album to reveal a photo that was taken of her, niamh and zećira on her birthday last year.

the three of them were dressed nicely and standing in your old kitchen before everyone went out for dinner. you had taken the picture on a cheap disposable you’d had for ages so the film was a bit discoloured and jess and niamh were both laughing at zećira’s expense after she’d almost tripped over her own two feet, but it was one of you favourite photos of the three of them.

jessie looks to you with tears in her eyes, and she watches your mouth quickly turns into a frown. you reach for her without a second thought, already thinking the worst “are you okay? did something happen?” you ask concerned, pulling her into you and wrapping your arms securely around her body.

“no i’m good” she mumbled weakly, sniffling slightly “you did all this today?”

you nod “did the bathroom as well, thought it might de stress you a little bit” you explain softly “why are you crying jess?”

jessie shakes her head and detaches herself from you “i’m just so tired” the canadian mumbles “and i just love you so much.”

you run your hands up and down her biceps “too tired for cake?” you ask cheekily before moving to the fridge. jessie watches you pull out a white frosted cake with small red hearts littering the surface, placing it down and allowing her to see 26th piped on with black icing. you reach into a drawer and pull out a brand new pack of colourful birthday candles, quickly sticking the red one in and lighting it.

“make a wish birthday girl” you say whilst pushing the cake almost directly under jessie’s nose.

she quirks a brow “what? no birthday song?”

you shrug “i figured janine would’ve had the whole team singing it at lunch, thought you’d be content with hearing it once”

the footballer nods in agreement and closes her eyes, blowing the candle out in one go and waving her hand to disperse the smoke. you tilt your head curiously, leaning your forearms on the dark wood of the dining table “you didn’t even make a wish!” you exclaim.

jessie rolls her eyes and sits down, patting her lap so that you can sit on her “i did make a wish, thank you very much.” she defends as you oblige happily and throw your arms around her neck. once situated you swipe your pointer finger through the frosting and holding it up to her mouth. she licks the icing off your finger and snakes her hand up your back to hold your neck, pulling you down to her level so she can kiss you.

the kiss is sweet but hard as she holds you delicately whilst swiping her tongue on your bottom lip. you smile and open your mouth, adjusting yourself on her lap so that your body is facing more towards her.

it feels like the two of you sit there making out for almost an eternity before jess pulls away to come up for air, her lips pink and slightly swollen “wanna know what i wished for?”

your lips ghost over hers “if you tell me then it won’t come true”

the hand that was holding your neck slides down to cradle the small of your back whilst jessie’s other hand runs over your thighs aimlessly. she shrugs and the same smug smirk that she wore this morning returns to her face “i’ll just show you then”

in the blink of an eye she’s hoisting you up and standing quickly before racing off in the direction of your bedroom. you giggle loudly at jessie’s sudden burst of energy and quickly become grateful that the two of you don’t have a bed frame when she pins you to the mattress.

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