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sunnypopoki · 6 months ago

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— 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 ; P.2

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.1 / Р.3

The bed was cold whenever you woke up. Your fingers slid across the crisp sheets, feeling for Kieran's warmth even though you already knew he wasn't there. A headache pounded against your temples. Your cheeks were stiff with dried tears. The air was cold and you already wanted to roll back over and go back to sleep, hating the chill in the room.

You didn't feel as distraught as last night. Maybe it was the solid eight hours of sleep, but your brain was fuzzy and lacking. A groan tore through your lips as you stumbled out of bed and wiped at your eyes.

The floorboards were cold and you wondered if Kieran accidentally turned off the heat. You shivered and ran your hands down your arms.

The house was still. Even the dust in the air seemed to move in slow motion, barely drifting through the rays of sunlight that poured through the open windows. You shuffled down the hallway and glanced at the living room. Undisturbed, neat, stale. You almost forgot that you sat there with Kieran last night before he got his phone call. A nasty taste formed under your tongue, lips pursing into a thin line.

If only there was a switch you were able to turn off in your brain. It was the morning and you were already regretting waking up to get breakfast. You rubbed at your eyes and paused at the kitchen doorway and the cold tiled flooring bit at your bare feet.

The clock ticked, telling you it was 4:00 PM. You woke up late again.

A single message was laid on the counter on a pink posted note. You picked it up and noticed Kieran's handwriting that was scribbled down in a rush. Next to it was a small doodle of him holding a heart. It read;

Good morning my кошечка! I'm writing this before leaving for work, but I made you some breakfast and put it in the fridge. Strawberry pancakes and the syrup, if you want any, are in the pantry on the top shelf. I will be back around 5 this evening, remember to eat lunch. I will eat dinner with you tonight. I love you.

You were grateful for any food that he made you. Hell, you were grateful that he even thought of you in the first place to make you food whenever he didn't have to... But you'd rather have his presence instead of some warmed-up pancakes. You crumpled up the posted note and tossed it away. You were hungry but you didn't want to eat, you didn't have the energy or motivation to chew and swallow, much less sit down at the table.

Leaning against the counter, you ran your hands down your face. There were so many things you didn't want to do. You didn't want to brush your teeth, take a shower, or put on a fresh pair of clothes. You didn't want to sleep and you didn't want to be awake either.

The only thing you could think of was Kieran, yet you couldn't shake him off.

The pancakes were left untouched. It was just another meal in the fridge that was waiting to go bad. You couldn't promise that you were going to eat them later whenever you didn't even want to look at them. Kieran would ask later, 'What's wrong? you didn't eat the pancakes I left for you' and you would have to say another lie. It was just your stomach, or you didn't see the note until after you ate something else, or you weren't in the mood for pancakes.

It took everything in your power just to force yourself to go to the bathroom. Even then, he stayed on your mind as you splashed your face with cold water. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned at the dark circles and reluctantly brushed your teeth. A pimple was right above your right brow. God, you didn't want to catch glimpses of yourself either, much less stare into the mirror.

What can I do to make the rest of this day productive?

You hadn't a clue. This only left you waltzing around the house, dabbling in some things, but getting up again whenever you got bored. You couldn't keep still no matter what you tried to do. By six, your mood was bitter, annoyed at your lack of interest in anything and annoyed at why you were feeling so depressed.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, your eyes snapped to the closed door on the right. That was Kieren's at-home office. He rarely ever used it and it was mostly used as a place for him to store things from his rented out big office or important documents. You were aware that all your birth certificates and SSN cards were locked up in a safe in there. But what else? The last time you went in there was like two months ago, but he usually went in there weekly, even if it was just to grab something.

What if he is hiding something?

Reaching out to the handle, you hesitated. However, that lasted only a short time because curiosity got the best of you. You turned the handle and peeked inside.

His home office was small and cramped, which was why he rented out a room in a small building in the city to have his own office for editing and focusing on work. The walls were lined with books and files, and a small desk was cluttered with papers of all kinds. He needed to clean it out. However, you felt grateful that he hadn't already.

A small look around wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Guilt was already threatening to turn you around and march you back to your room, to put yourself in time-out, but you needed to know if something was going on with him. Your hands fiddled with the handle of the door before you stepped into the room and closed it behind you. A small peak. That's all you wanted. It wasn't like you were going to turn the room upside down to look for things against him.

The inside wasn't dusty and you noticed recent documents on his desk. It was good that he didn't desert the small room entirely for his bigger office. You shuffled to sit on the chair and drummed your fingers against the wood.

Where to start?

You didn't know what you were looking for. Something to give you peace of mind that didn't include talking to Kieran about it. If he was cheating, he wasn't going to outright tell you about it. You weren't sure where he'd hide things if he didn't want them to be found. He had his phone on him and that wasn't something you felt comfortable snooping in, but his laptop had everything about his work.

You hesitantly pulled his laptop closer and opened it. A small peak. It wouldn't do anything. It wasn't like you were going to shame if you found anything raunchy. Sure... it was something he probably should talk to you about, but you didn't blame him, since you weren't exactly someone who was giving him fun nights even if the two of you were married.

Maybe he has gotten bored of me because I haven't had sex with him yet, you thought. It's not that I don't find him attractive it's just...

The idea of intimacy like that scared you. All the possibilities of what could go wrong, what would hurt, and what would be uncomfortable.

Kieran always said he understood and that it didn't bother him that the tow is you weren't intimate in bed. But maybe that was a lie. Maybe he found pleasure in stuff on the internet or some woman he kept seeing. You'd be fine living a life with him even if it meant no intimate pleasures at all, but maybe he didn't think the same way you did. He probably had a lot of pent-up stress and desires, so was it your fault for not doing it with him? Right?

Was he going to leave you for someone else because of that?

Your hands were shaking as the screen turned on. His password was his old childhood cat's name: Sonya. At least he didn't bother to change the password into something you didn't know, that was a good sign, right? You swallowed the lump in your throat and tapped at the keyboard. Ding. You were in.

There were a lot of random things on his desktop. You noticed the editor and graphic design apps, such as Microsoft and Blender, and a few games that you haven't played before in your life. You tapped at the desk absentmindedly and debated with yourself, wondering if you should just go and watch TV, but an app caught your eye.

You noticed the icon at the bottom of the screen with the letter M. It wasn't a familiar-looking app, nothing you've downloaded onto your laptop before, and it was suspicious. The design wasn't good at all. You chewed on your bottom lip and dragged the cursor over to open it. This app would be the only thing you'd look at. Not his search history or anything—no. You'd have to give him some privacy.

That didn't change the fact that it was hard giving him privacy—not whenever his privacy was the whole reason you were suspicious of him in the first place.

The one thing you wanted to know was where he was going with his business trips. As an editor, you knew that he could have a business trip. Sometimes he met up with clients, however, lately, it's been very frequent. You were jealous of it. If it was someone he was meeting, even for work, why were they more important than his wife? he didn't need to go to work that often, right?

The app opened up and you blinked at the messages that were waiting there. All empty chats with numbers as names, except one. It was named 'Sam' and you noticed a couple of messages within the chat. Maybe a client? Or was it someone he was cheating on you with? Your mouth ran dry.

Okay, maybe you shouldn't be looking at his stuff. Just because you were suspicious, shouldn't you wait until you see him in the act of cheating instead of snooping? This wasn't right. It was a shady app, but maybe this was a client that he wasn't supposed to tell you about. As an editor, he wasn't allowed to share the works he was helping writers with, which went against his agreement.

"I shouldn't be looking at this..."

Yes, you shouldn't, but you needed to know. Why was he always leaving late at night and going on long business trips? Why was he always late whenever the two of you went on dates? Why was he always getting calls? Why did he never stay long enough to sleep in your shared bed? It didn't even feel like his bed anymore...

"Just one peek and that's it," you whispered, "please, don't let me find anything."

You opened the chat and gnawed on your bottom lip. There were only a couple of messages, all of them sporadic at what time they were sent. You paused, freezing when your eyes were glued to a specific set of messages.

Sam -- 3:25 AM

Come see me.

Kieran -- 3:27 AM

Make it quick.

Your hands froze above the keyboard. If you had to be honest, you weren't sure what you were looking at. That was about two weeks ago. What was he doing two weeks ago? Your brain wracked to remember what he did that week and how many times he left the house, but it was a blur. Every week was the same in the long run. You glanced down at the most recent message. It was from Sam.

Sam -- 10:00 AM

Where the hell are you at? Respond to this when you see it. You told me you'd see me today.

Your muscles collapsed. Falling back into the seat, you stared at the screen dumbly, lungs gathering in as much air as they could before you stopped breathing entirely. Everything was cold; your bones, muscles, and blood.

Sam was a unisex name. For all you knew, this was the woman he could be cheating on you with. The messages were distrustful enough. The one from two weeks ago was at three in the morning and this Sam person was asking to meet him? He agreed, so even if you didn't remember that week perfectly, it wouldn't have surprised you to know he went somewhere at three in the morning. Just last night, he left at an odd time and has yet to come back.

Is he with her now?

The thought was crushing. You could imagine it at the forefront of your mind; you saw him panting, grinding his hips into some woman you didn't know, moaning her name like some sort of mantra. His hands would be all over her body and her palms would graze down his inked skin, tracing the very same lines that you have. He would hold her hands, he would kiss her lips, and move his hips like a starved beast.

Tears rolled down your cheeks.

No.

No, no, no.

None of this was real. You were just jumping to conclusions again, you didn't know that this person was a woman, and even if it was—him going to meet her at 3 in the morning wasn't cheating, right? That didn't guarantee that he was having sex with her, dating her, kissing her.

Your nails carved crescents into your palms.

You were angry. You didn't quite get it, but all the hurt you felt manifested like a hot steel rod through your heart. Short breaths escaped your lips and a choking sob followed. You didn't want to cry, you were tired of crying, but that didn't stop your heart from collapsing and burning all over again. So you punched, you punched at your knees and thighs until you knew bruises would form later, and you didn't stop.

"Damn it!" you wheezed, fist slamming down on his desk so hard that a pile of papers slipped to the floor. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

He didn't.

He wouldn't.

The chair tipped back whenever you got up. You were dizzy and you blamed it on how fast you were breathing, aggressively wiping at your tears until your eyes turned red and raw. The office door slammed shut behind you as you fumbled to throw on some new clothes and shoes, tossing on a hat to hide your hair. You needed out of the house. Anywhere, yes anywhere! You'd go anywhere that was better than this place.

He wouldn't have done it, right? No, he wouldn't have! You didn't know anything for certain. Yes, you just had to stop jumping to conclusions. In fact, it would be better if you just stopped thinking entirely. Shut your brain off and stop questioning your husband's loyalty, because no way he would cheat on you—

But what if he is? you thought, Sam could be better than me in everything. She could be prettier, smarter, sexier. What if she gives him what he wants with sex? What if he is happy and satisfied with her?

Wouldn't that make you selfish for wanting to keep hanging onto him?

You kicked the pot outside. It shattered when it fell off the porch and you cursed, stomping past it, and going down the street. Your eyes were puffy and red, cheeks blotchy from your stupid waterworks, and you looked messy. You didn't care. You couldn't gather the energy to care. So you walked down to the store that was a couple blocks away at the bottom of the hill, gripping your wallet tightly.

You needed a long walk to calm you down. So you did just that—you walked to the store as slowly as possible, sucking in the cold air, wishing all your foul emotions would melt away like that sloshy snow on the side of the road.

It didn't take long to reach the store. Unluckily for you, you didn't notice the slightly dimming sky. It always got dark early in winter.

The store was welcoming. There was no one inside except two workers who were minding their own business. They flashed you a smile before you scurried to the back of the store, grabbing a pack of your favorite chips and a soda from one of the fridges. You exhaled and glanced at the tempting chocolates near the front. You didn't need them, plus you had a feeling you'd eat them all in one go and make yourself sick, so you refrained from buying them.

Sighing, you walked up to the front and placed your items on the counter. An older lady walked up to the register, the pretty red ribbons styling in her hair catching your eye. They matched the red eyeshadow around her eyes and the red mascara she was wearing.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" the cashier raised a worried eyebrow when she noticed your appearance, glanced around, and then lowered her voice, "Do you need me to call someone for you? Are you in trouble?"

You managed a weak smile. "I'm good, just a rough day."

It took everything in your power to not spill your guts to this lady. Oh, how you wanted to tell someone about what you were going through, what you were thinking, but who would you tell? All your friends were in happy relationships, they wouldn't understand, and couldn't speak to the one man you usually told everything to because it was about him.

The cashier smiled softly, saying, "Oh, I apologize. I heard there have been a lot of kidnappings around here recently, so I wanted to make sure there was no bad person in the store with you. Women need to look out for other women!"

Your chest warmed up at her smile. "Yes, we do. Thank you. I love how your charms and makeup match, it's very pretty."

The cashier bashfully waved her hand and laughed. "Aww thank you! You look like you have a kind heart, so I things get better for you, sweetie. Hopefully, these snacks will make you feel better."

She handed you the bag and you nodded, muttering a 'thank you' and a simple 'I hope you have a good evening' before you turned on your heel and bolted for the exit.

The doors slid open and that warm feeling in your chest faded, pausing to stop and stare at the sky. It got dark quickly. It wasn't fully dark, the sun was just over the horizon, painting orange and pink streaks into the clouds. A bird flew down and perched on a lamppost.

If only you were a bird. They were able to fly anywhere they wanted to go, they didn't have a care in the world, and they didn't have to struggle with whatever mess you were struggling with. You didn't know how you should label what you were going through. You didn't know if your spouse was a cheater, you didn't know if you deserved to be cheated on, and you didn't know why you were dragging it with you.

Just like that, the nice interaction you had was in the back of your mind, and you felt like shit again.

Why can't I just be the type of wife who trusts him?

You always compared yourself to the images of wives you saw on TV and the internet. Smiling, happy, and who had great communication with their spouses—yet here you were, afraid to ask your husband just because you didn't want to face the fact that it might be real. To face the fact you could potentially lose him. You were angry at him too, you didn't want to hear excuses, and you didn't want to look at him.

Yeah, maybe you did deserve to get cheated on, but you were still pissed at him for discarding you if he did. For tossing you out like you were nothing as if he forgot all the years the two of you have been together.

If he cared, you were starting to no longer feel it. That gnawing thought that each time he kissed you, he imagined it was another girl. His touches felt distant at times and you wondered what else he had on his mind to make him so ghostly.

You glanced down at the chips and soda in your bag. So much for trying to eat the pancakes he made later. You didn't have the desire to eat anything he made, you'd end up crying again if you did. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you glanced down, moving the heavy bag around as you struggled to get your phone out.

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive.

Kieran ❤︎ -- 9:48 PM

Where are you?

Your lip twitched into a frown. From what you saw earlier, you didn't want to talk to him at all. Your mind was still reeling with what message you saw on his laptop, wondering just who Sam was, and why everything was so suspicious. Your face was stiff from the bitter cold and all the dried-up tears you sobbed earlier.

It wasn't fair. He was asking where you were but each time you asked him, he either was vague or said some sort of response that didn't make sense! Your teeth gritted together and you felt tears welling back up. Angry. You were absolutely livid at him. You were livid at yourself. Hell, you wanted to scream at something but you didn't know who deserved to be screamed at.

Was it you because you weren't a good enough wife for him to stay around? Or was it him for not staying around in the first place?

You managed to type back. Even so, no matter how angry you were, or how sad, you always found yourself responding the longer you stared at his name on the top of the screen.

You — 9:49 PM

Store. Walking home now.

You watched the bubble appear. Within seconds, before you had the chance to put your phone away and pretend you never saw his message, he replied.

Kieran ❤︎ — 9:50 PM

Stay put and don't leave the store. I'm coming to pick you up. It's not safe for you to be walking out when it is getting dark ❤

You wanted to throw your phone. You stomped your foot and shoved your phone into your pocket, glaring holes into the cement as you stood out on the sidewalk outside the story.

It wasn't terribly dark yet but it was dark enough that it wasn't safe. That was your fault, you were the idiot for giving into your compulsions and going to the store whenever you wanted to go out of the house. Yes, you should wait for Kieran, no matter how angry you were because it was the responsible thing to do.

But you didn't want to wait. The house was only two blocks away and you knew everyone in the neighborhood. It wasn't like you hadn't walked out to the store before in the dark, so what would happen this time? You had your keys and the can of soda in the bag would be a good weapon to swing at someone.

He never tells me where he's going, you cussed inwardly, so he can just suck it up and wait for me to walk home.

Yes, you were being petty.

But who wouldn't be? You just found a very suspicious message on your husband's laptop from someone named 'Sam', and now he wanted you to wait for him to come and pick you up. You were hurt. You were angry. You were confused. You didn't want to see his face but at the same time, all you wanted to do was to snap at him for him to explain everything.

It had to be your fault, right? Why else wouldn't he want to spend time with you if it wasn't your fault?

You let your emotions get the best of you, storming down the side of the street as you ventured farther and farther away from the sanctuary of the store. Street lamps flickered as you walked up the hill with your shoes clicking against the sidewalk. There was no sign of the car he was in.

The thought of sitting down on the concrete and letting your heart out was tempting. There was no one around and you were getting tired of the same bleak, lonely expanse of your home. The sidewalk looked more welcoming than the bed at home you could cry on. You stopped dead in your tracks and sighed, tears welling up.

You didn't even realize you were sinking to your knees before you were already sitting on the sidewalk. You weren't sobbing, no wailing, but single tears that rolled quietly down.

So many people would say so many things if they saw you like this. Maybe they'd call you dramatic, maybe they were right, but everything felt so suffocating. You felt trapped. You didn't want to go home but you wanted to be home, you wanted Kieran to hold you but you also didn't want to see him. It was all so complex.

Maybe everyone would call you cowardly and pathetic. God, you already knew that. You were crying on the sidewalk instead of going up to him and asking him—but what if he said an answer you didn't want to hear? What if he admitted to cheating? What if he said he didn't love you anymore? The fear of rejection was the one reason you kept your mouth shut... the fear of losing him.

If you lost him, you didn't think you could fall in love again.

You don't think you would want to.

All you wanted was to have the love of your life back; his smiles, his hugs, him holding you to sleep. You wanted the man you saw at your wedding—when he looked at you as if you were the only person to exist. But now maybe that wasn't true. Maybe you were just a woman he didn't want to be around anymore. Maybe you were dragging him down and he was just waiting for the perfect time to tell you.

God, I'm so scared, you thought. What if I'm right? What if it isn't all in my head?

Your phone buzzed. No. You wanted to ignore him, you wanted to stay here, you wanted to cry until all that was left was a numb destroyed path.

The last time you had a good unashamed cry, you couldn't remember. It was always muffled because Kieran was around or you were in your car, but now no one was around, but now you were too tired to sob like you wanted to. Crying made you feel like a crybaby, like some bitch who couldn't keep it together, even though you had every reason to shed a couple tears.

You were angry at yourself for going behind his back to snoop through his laptop because you were too scared to have an adult conversation with him, you were angry at him for always leaving you alone and confused, and you were angry that this situation was even happening.

God, you felt so repetitive. Yeah, you were angry and sad, maybe you should just stop whining and dwelling on it. How easy everything would be if you could.

"Hey girly, you okay?"

You froze. For a split second, you thought it was Kieran, but it was two men when you looked up. Two white men, one with a buzz cut and the other had a short perm, tattoos covering their arms. Cigarettes hung from their fingertips. Maybe it was because you were used to how Kieran looked, but you didn't immediately assume they were 'bad guys' because of how they looked.

You wiped your tears away and sniffled, "Uhm, shit, yes I'm okay."

The man with the buzz cut raised an eyebrow. A shiver shot down your spine whenever he smiled. Okay, maybe he was a bad guy because something about this felt wrong.

"Why is a cute thing like you cryin' in a place like this?" he asked, then glanced at his friend, "a poor girly like this shouldn't be cryin' out on the street, don'cha agree?"

The other man nodded, "Yeah. Where are ya' going?"

Sweat trickled down your back. You stumbled up from the ground, backing away from them, gripping your bag just in case you had to swing it. You cleared your throat and did your best to sound firm, "I'm heading home, so if you'll excuse me..."

The men smiled like preying hyenas. "Oh, we can walk you home--"

"(Y/N), thank god!"

Your head snapped to the side when Kieran shouted. There he was, rushing towards you in a jog, stopping to catch his breath. Why wasn't he in the car? He looked distraught. His hair was a wild mess, sweat on his brow, panic in his eyes that fell into relief whenever he saw you. He didn't give you a chance to speak before he grabbed your shoulders, yanked you into him, and crushed you in a hug.

"Why the hell did you not answer any of my calls? You didn't text me back either, fuck, I thought something happened to you! I told you I was going to pick you up!"

You were stunned. He pulled back and cupped your face, noticing your tear-stained cheeks. He looked like he just got sucker punched in the gut.

"Why are you crying, Котик? Did something happen?"

Oh, how it looked in his eyes. He probably assumed the worst happened to you whenever you weren't at the store and all his calls and messages were ignored. You couldn't blame him for being panicked. Guilt stabbed you through the heart; you just scared him to death just because you were angry and sad over a questionable situation. It was an immature reaction based on an assumption and now he was the one dealing with the aftermath.

Suddenly, you felt like the worst piece of shit in the world.

However, anything you wanted to say was stolen from your lips whenever Kieran looked up. The two men who tried talking to you stared back with unimpressed, raised eyebrows. Kieran's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

The man with the buzz cut grinned. "Oh, well we saw this girly sitting on the sidewalk so—"

"I asked who you are?" Kieran deadpanned, "that means your name."

Both the men shuffled on their feet. The man with the shaggy hair spoke, glaring, "What do you want our names for? It doesn't matter."

Kieran pursed his lips. Whatever he was thinking, you couldn't read it, and you could tell they couldn't either by the way they started to glance at each other. He sighed and his fingers fumbled with the edge of your shirt. He glanced down at you, giving you whiplash with how soft he looked at you.

"Did these men hurt you? What happened?"

"Hey! We already said--"

Kieran's voice dropped and he glanced at them, his glare cold enough to send a chill through hell, "I didn't fucking ask you, so keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open."

You didn't try to speak, you just shook your head and gripped his arm tighter. Kieran snapped his head back up to glare at them and they squirmed. He analyzed them for a bit, letting them get increasingly nervous by the second.

"Now that I look at you, you seem familiar. Elliot? Elliot Smith?"

The man with the buzz cut, Elliot, froze.

"I heard about you. I have a friend who works in the police, he told me about you. Weren't you charged with sexual harassment three months ago?" Kieran stared, his expression cold, "There have been some rumors recently that you've been trying to get into gang activity as well."

Elliot's face turned red as if all the air supply was cut off to his face. He looked like a plum when his cheeks grew from red to purple, his eyes shifting through different emotions to gauge what to say next. You blinked. He was charged with sexual harassment? How did Kieran know about something like that? When did he get a friend who was a cop?

Is the cop Sam?

Kieran wasn't a man who watched the news that often, so you doubted he was lying about where he got the information. You shuffled on your feet and his hand held you tighter. Damn it. You really threw "stranger danger" out the window just because you were pissed and wanted to spite your husband by walking home instead of waiting for him.

Elliot stumbled forward and started to stammer out his words. Kieran didn't step back, but you didn't miss the way his muscles tensed up like a wild cat about to lunge forward. He started to drum his fingers against your arm—you weren't sure if he was trying to comfort you or distract you.

"I am not in the mafia, Russian bastard!"

Kieran raised an eyebrow. He ignored the obvious attack on his ethnicity, not caring that he was called a Russian bastard. He tilted his head, "the mafia?"

"Yeah! You're accusing me of working with the mafia just because of some still rumors you heard from a cop. Those rumors aren't--"

"Ah, no," he smiled humorlessly, "I imagine they aren't interested in уличные дворняги. Plus I said gang activity, as in little boys running around with baseball bats and pockets filled with drugs."

Elliot's buddy jumped forward to save his friend's skin. His glare didn't match Kieran's, it was weak and anxious. His hand was shaking and he pointed a hand at you. You feared what bullshit he was going to come up with and you didn't get a chance to interrupt before he spouted it.

"You should give us to her, man. If you go around accusing people of crimes, you probably do shit yourself, like abusing her. I bet you're the one who made her cry. Her eyes are puffy, she looked fuckin' defeated when we saw her. So hand her over before we call the cops."

Time stopped.

Kieran sucked in a breath.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm saying that you probably abuse her or something! If you don't leave her with us, man, we will call the cops on you!"

Kieran's face shifted into something darker. Much darker. That sweet and worried expression he had for you molded into something malicious. The last time you saw a look like that was whenever some kid in your freshman year of high school insulted you. That same kid got two of his teeth knocked out that same day. Kieran never told you he did it, he acted like he didn't know, but you remembered vividly how he tried to hide the blood caked under his nails back then.

You never thought something like this would happen. Sure, they haven't harrassed you, but accusing Kieran of abuse whenever he hasn't done anything wrong made your chest bubble up. You were the one who screwed up and got all of you in this situation, not him.

"Hey, he's not—"

Kieran squeezed your shoulder. You saw the way he glanced down at you, subtly shaking his head, telling you to leave it to him. You weren't sure what he was thinking anymore or what he was doing—all you wanted was to go home. It was you who put everything in this situation because of an emotional mistake, so you should be the one to suck up your responsibility and leave the situation.

"leave her with you?"

Elliot spoke up. "The poor girly was crying and now some tattooed, large bastard like you comes up! You think the police would believe—"

"And they'll believe someone who was recently released from prison for sexual harassment?"

Elliot clamped his mouth shut. His eyes snapped to you, narrowing into daggers, and sweat built on your brow. He pointed an angry finger at you.

"Well isn't it her fucking fault for walking out whenever it's dark? She doesn't have brains if she thinks that someone looking like her would be able to go home without getting hit on! It's normal for good-looking women."

Oh, if looks could kill, you were sure that those two men would have dropped dead. Elliot paled when he noticed how Kieran was glaring at him. He was on the edge, two seconds away from grabbing that hand and seeing how many times he could bend his finger until it snapped off.

It was scary. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't scared of an expression like that, because you had a feeling that the only reason he wasn't violent was because you were there.

Just like when the two of you were younger.

"...Kieran, why—why don't we go home? Okay?" you stammered, "We don't need to waste our time here. We wanted to have dinner together, remember?"

Kieran's lip twitched and his green eyes shifted down to you. They were sharp and calculating, his arm wrapped around you like a coiled spring.

"Let's just go home," you whispered. Please.

By the look of Elliot's face, he was hoping the two of you would leave too, scurrying back closer to his friend who had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal. You didn't blame him. He looked just as grey and sickly as the cement beneath their feet.

Kieran's jaw was clenched. He stared at you as if he was debating all the options he had. You knew him, he didn't like being violent in front of you and always lied in the past about where he was. You weren't naive. You were very much aware that he was violent and you knew that he hated that you knew. To him, he just wanted you to view him as a dazzling husband.

Which he was—just dangerous too.

The two men didn't dare act cocky whenever he finally turned to leave with you. His hand grasped yours and he dragged you back down to the store, not looking back, as if he feared he might actually break their fingers off if he looked at their faces again.

You had a hard time keeping up with his long strides. His head was in the clouds so he didn't bother to slow down, gritting his teeth as he barely managed to make it to the parking lot without turning back.

Kieran sometimes had to use self-restraint when it came down to hurting others. Sometimes, you said, because it wasn't every day that he listened to it. You stumbled behind him.

"Slow down a bit! My legs—my legs aren't as long as yours!"

It was a miracle he actually heard you. Like a dog hearing a special command, he stopped dead in his tracks and you almost rammed your nose into his back. You inhaled sharply and let the burning of your legs rest a bit. He was basically jogging! You barely had enough courage to meet his eye whenever you noticed the familiar sensation of his gaze boring into your head.

His green eyes were dark.

Oh.

He was angry at you.

The silence was loud even though there was the distant sound of cars honking, the wind between houses, and some cat in an alleyway. You didn't know what to say. You wanted to apologize to him, for making him worry and putting yourself in a dangerous situation because of an emotional decision, but nothing would leave your lips. You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again. You must have looked like a gaping fish out of water.

He had every right to be angry at you. You were aware that you tended to blame yourself in situations where you weren't involved, but you knew that you messed up.

Guilt twisted your gut up into one big knot. You didn't know what to do or say to untangle it, much less make it to where Kieran wasn't staring at you in the way that he was. Angry, confused, questioning why the hell you didn't just wait for him—and you felt guilty because you knew you couldn't just tell him why.

"I..."

He wasn't speaking. Was he waiting for you to give him something to work with? Even if it was some shitty lie or bad excuse? Your hand let go of his and started to fuddle at the hem of your shirt.

"...I'm sorry, I know I—I messed up. I, uhm, I made a bad decision—"

Kieran took a deep breath. How odd that such a small action caused every word you planned to speak to collapse, cutting your apology short. You couldn't look him in the eye. Dangerous thoughts started to swirl around in your head like poison; was he disappointed in you? Was dumb mistakes like this the reason he never stayed around you? Maybe he viewed you as a child who couldn't make reasonable decisions? Were you being emotional? Maybe he wasn't mad at you and you were assuming things?

You wished you had the courage to ask him all those questions. You wished you had the bravery to listen to the answers without crying. But you didn't, so you kept your mouth shut.

Kieran shuffled on his feet and placed a hand under your chin, lifting your head.

"Look at me."

His green eyes weren't as dark as before. He wasn't happy, yeah, but he looked as if he was trying to be gentle and understanding. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Thank you for apologizing," he murmured sincerely and he took a deep breath, hanging his head, "I'm also sorry that men like that decided to target you. You were probably so scared and me acting like... me probably wasn't helping, was it?"

"Well, you—you were with me so I wasn't scared. I was more just... nervous I guess. I don't know, I went off on my own because I was emotional, I'm sorry—"

His eyebrows creased and his hands cupped your face. He was so tender with how his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and he leaned in close, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. He melted at the touch of your skin, fluidly stepping forward and leaning in as close as possible. He drank in your presence, your warmth, the smell of your hair, and the rising and falling off your shoulders.

"Let's... let's talk about this at home, okay? I'm not mad, I just..." he trailed off and his eyes darkened, "I was scared something happened to you. When I couldn't find you at the store, when you weren't responding to my calls or texts, and when I saw those fucking свиньи with you—"

He cut himself off. He closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths.

"We're going home. Come on."

You yelped whenever his hands curved under your knees and he picked you up, carrying you like you were some damsel in distress. Any questions, excuses, or complaints you wanted to say dissipated when you saw that distant look on his face. Just like you've seen before, he looked ghostly, like he saw something you couldn't see. Just where was his head at?

You looked away. Anger buzzed in your bones, guilt was drowning your heart, and you too had a fuzzy feeling inside your head that made you feel distant.

I shouldn't have left the house.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

LINKS :

— 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳

— 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥

— 𝘘𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘷

[ P.3 ]

1K notes · View notes

sweetshuga · 7 months ago

Text

𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑺𝒚𝒓𝒖𝒑 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

𝒃𝒇!𝒄𝒉𝒓��𝒔! Begging you to give him head with strawberry syrup drizzled all over his dick. "Please, ma, I really want to try it out—just this once, pretty please?"

𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂. Basically just that Matt imagine with the brownie, but it's Chris who's receiving<3 «𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅»

𝒘𝒄. 𝟣 𝒌 (𝟣,𝟢𝟤𝟢)

𝒑𝒔𝒂. English is not my first language! 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 (I know this is probably too long for an imagine, but that's alr ×-×)

⚠ 𝑫𝑶 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑻 𝑨𝑻 𝑯𝑶𝑴𝑬, 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑰𝑺 𝑷𝑼𝑹𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 ⚠

You went to the store to buy snacks and things for a movie night with Chris, your boyfriend.

The list was simple: a few bags of chips, sweets and a few cans of soda pepsi.

Huh? You don’t remember writing that.

You stared at the note you had made, an amused small chuckle escaping you.

"Sneaky," you mumbled to yourself as you looked at his scribbled words.

The moment you walked through the door, Chris greeted you with a peck on your cheek and he immediately helped you with the bags.

"Shit, these are heavy, what did you even buy?" He looked at you confused as he set the bags of things down on the kitchen counter.

"One too many cans of Pepsi, snacks and ice cream... And strawberry syrup."

He amused expression morphed into confusion. "Strawberry syrup? For what?"

"For the ice cream? What else?" You chuckled softly.

Chris was just about to say something back, but then stopped, closing his mouth and getting lost in thought.

You blinked a few times, confused by the sudden zoned out look on his face.

"Chris?" You tilted your head slightly to the side, "baby?"

He blinked rapidly a few times, finally getting out of whatever trance he was in.

"Uh, yeah, what’s up?"

You chuckled softly, a confused grin on your face.

"What’s up?" You repeated his words with a confused undertone, "you suddenly just stared at me without talking."

Chris grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, ma, ’was just thinking of something."

"What do you say we cancel our movie night and do it tomorrow instead?" He gently grasped your wrist and pulled you towards himself.

You hugged his torso, looking up at him with a smile. "Why? Got something on your mind?"

He nodded, looking down at you, his hand reaching out to put a few stray strands of hair behind your ears before speaking, "yeah, actually, I do have something in mind... But I don’t know if you’re willing to help me with it."

You smiled softly. "Of course I’ll help you baby, just tell me about it."

A smile grew on his lips and he leaned down to whisper in your ear, chuckling afterwards.

Chris pulled back slightly to gauge your expression, his smile faltered when he noticed your lack of response and he quickly added. "Please, ma, I really want to try it out—just this once, pretty please?"

You chuckled, rubbing his back soothingly before finally speaking, "I wasn’t gonna say no."

His face immediately lit up. "Oh thank God, thought you’d be put off by it."

You shook your head with a grin. "Nope, far from it, that’s actually hot you know... wanting to have me suck you off with syrup all over your dick. Honestly turns me on." You admitted, unapologetically grinning.

Chris threw his head back as he laughed. And a few giggles later he looked down at you again, the grin on his face still present.

"You’re a weird one, but then again, I’m the one that suggested it." He leaned in closer and left a soft peck on your lips. "Alright, let’s see if it’s as hot as our imaginations."

"Oh fuck, just— just like that." He breathed out encouragingly, moaning lowly as you took him in deeper.

His hand rested on the top of your head, not forcing or guiding, just resting there and occasionally caressing your hair.

You had tied your hair up, and as much as Chris wanted to just help you hold your hair up with his hand, he knew he would be too lost in pleasure to do it properly so he let you do your thing.

You pulled his length out of your mouth with a wet pop and drizzled more strawberry syrup on it before flattening your tongue, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock.

The feeling of him twitching on your tongue made you giggle.

"Mm, so delicious..." You purred before wrapping your lips back around his tip, suckling on his sensitive head only.

His eyes rolled back briefly at your words and actions, a shaky whine leaving his swollen lips—swollen from making out prior to this.

You didn’t give him what he wanted and instead of taking him deeper, you focused solely on his tip—the rest of his shaft getting a sloppy hand job.

He desperately tried to reign in his desire to fuck your mouth, wanting to let you take control for once. His hips twitched as you swirled your tongue around his tip inside your mouth.

The wet squelching and slurping sounds filled the room.

You were thankful that you and Chris were at your place because he wasn’t exactly quiet, letting his voice out which he usually never did.

Chris let out a series of profanities along with a particularly loud whine when you stopped.

"W-why?" He choked out, the only coherent word he could say in his pleasure-fogged mind.

"No reason." You chuckled before abruptly moving your hand at a rapid speed, gripping his length tightly.

"Wait- Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck!" Chris cried out, his hips bucking up in time with your hand as he shot out rope after ropes of cum, but you didn’t stop.

"S-stop, can’t—too much," he whimpered, his hands reaching out to stop your hand, but it was no use.

His eyes rolled back as tears of pleasure ran down the sides of his face, his hips jerking and bucking as he spilled again. The speed and tightness of your unrelenting hand proving to be too much for his sensitive flesh.

"Aw, coming so soon?" You chuckled, gentling your touch.

Chris put his hands over his face, embarrassed by the way his hips involuntarily jerked and twitched whenever your hand moved.

You leaned down to lick his cum off his abdomen and he peeked from the gaps of his fingers. The sight made his cock harden again, already twitching with renewed desire.

You looked down and smirked before looking back at his face which was partially hidden behind his hands.

He gulped audibly when he saw the look on your face, knowing he was in for a night.

𓆩♡𓆪

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @sagesturns @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @sofiaaguilaxx @sturniolo-fann @goingtojohnkramershouseee @sturniolosluttt @chrislilcumslvt @mattsninja @bilssturns @sturnioloszn @slvtf0rchr1s @knowingnothingnoel @shadowthesim @brookheartsmatt @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @m00nl1ghts1vt @strnlslut @ribread03 @hearts4werka @larallott @ivysturnss @chrisfavoritewhore @peiivnao @sturniolokaulitz @diasturnsth @whore4mattsturniolo

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magic-shop-stories · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii!!! Could I request Namjoon x f!reader boyfriend head-canons like how you did the Yoongi ones?? Also, preferably with a reader who’s American? But you can totally do whatever!!! Ty!!!

💌 Reply:

I really wanted to write this for all the members, so thank you for requesting it... I hope it's what you wanted, tho I struggled a lot this time, I didnt want it to be too much like Yoongis but I think they wouldn't be THAT different in some points so idk... hope you'll enjoy reading xo - c -

BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

↳ NAMJOON (RM) × FEM!READER

~ CONTENT WARNING FOR SECOND PART OF THE POST ~ MATURE THEMES | (extra warning in the post)

Possessive behavior

Suggestive themes

Mild NSFW references (kissing, intimacy)

Jealousy Proceed mindfully!

DAILY RHYTHM

Mornings

Early Riser

Slow Starter

awake by 6:30 AM

not by choice

his brain won’t shut off

you find him sprawled on the couch

hair mussed

he's scribbling poetry in a moleskine

glasses slide down his nose

he mutters

“Do you think Thoreau would’ve liked Spotify playlists?”

Coffee Catastrophe

brews matcha lattes

spills half the whisked foam trying to carry it to you

“It’s… abstract art,”

wiping green splatters off the counter

leaves a sticky note:

“Compensation latte en route. Don’t judge me.”

Breakfast Buffet

creates a fusion spread:

avocado toast with gochujang drizzle strawberry Pop-Tarts, sliced persimmons

“It’s a metaphor,” “Sweet, spicy, existential.”

Post-Wakeup Rituals

Study Sessions

his “studio” is a sunlit corner cluttered with art books, bonsai clippings, and a half-built LEGO Guggenheim

you perch on the arm of his chair

he pulls you into his lap without looking up from his sketchpad

“Your elbow’s on my Hegel annotations,”

grumbles, but lets you stay

Tug-of-War

if you try to leave, he hooks a finger in your belt loop

“Wait; listen to this haiku about cicadas.”

recites it solemnly

“…It’s about us. Maybe.”

Clumsy Affection

reaches for a high-five

misses, and accidentally knocks over his succulent

“This is why we can’t have nice things,”

you sigh

he repots it with dirt-smudged hands

“Imperfection is art. Like us.”

Midday Moments

Park Philosopher

drags you to Han River

rambling about “the duality of ducks”

tossing breadcrumbs grain kernels

you nap under a tree

he sketches you with a pocket watercolor set

“You’re my Starry Night...”

later showing you a blotchy but earnest portrait

Language Exchange

you teach him your slang

“Yeet is a verb, noun, and lifestyle”

he corrects your Korean tones

"Saranghae isn’t a whisper, it’s a promise...”

voice low enough to make you drop your iced coffee

Nighttime Nuances

Pre-Bed Brain Dump

reads Walden aloud until 1 AM

pausing to rant about capitalism

“Thoreau was a hypocrite but right... wait, did you just snore?”

Sleeping Style

starfishes across 75% of the bed

one arm slung over your waist

“You’re my… multiverse…”

snores lightly

you kick his shin = he rolls over

taking the sheets hostage

KEY DIALOGUE

when you nag him to hydrate:

“You’re worse than my ARMY Bomb manual.”

sighs

handing you a reusable water bottle

catch him nodding off mid-lecture about climate change:

“I’m not… tired. I’m processing.”

mumbles, glasses askew

then faceplanting into his copy of Braiding Sweetgrass

his version of “I miss you”:

“Your absence disrupts my entropy.”

translates to: “Come cuddle before I combust.”

COMMUNICATION

TEXTING STYLE

7 AM: screenshot of the sunrise

“Thoreau was right. Also, buy almond milk.”

3 PM: voice note of him beatboxing over a Langston Hughes poem

caption: “New mixtape: Existential Crisis & Chill.”

Midnight:

“The moon’s waxing gibbous. Come stargaze. P.S. I made hot chocolate...”

Notes

scribbles Whitman quotes on museum tickets

leaves one in your coat:

“We were together. I forget the rest... Or I won’t.”

finds your grocery list

adds “Admiration (1 lifetime supply)” at the bottom

PET NAMES

Public:

“Professor”

when you out-debate him

“Okay, Professor, explain TikTok to me again.”

“Sunflower” at the farmer’s market

“Because you’re tall, bright, and… rooted.”

blushes at his own metaphor

Private:

“내 작은 폭풍” (My little storm)

when you’re angry

“Your rage is… awe-inspiring. Also, please stop throwing socks.” “Moonchild”

whispered during late-night drives

“You glow even when the world’s dark.”

CURSING

Worried Curses

you come home late?

he’s pacing

wearing mismatched socks

“씨발… I Googled ‘American urban crime rates’ and now you’re here?!”

crushes you in a hug

“Never do that again. Unless… it’s for tacos.”

sees you struggling with IKEA instructions

“젠장, capitalism wins again.”

builds the shelf upside-down but insists it’s “postmodern.”

Flustered Curses

wear that dress

he knocks over his bonsai

“…God.”

avoids eye contact

“It’s not fair. You’re a distraction.”

MUTTERINGS (UNFILTERED & UNBOTTLED)

Annoyed Affection

“Why are you so… effortlessly disruptive?”

when you reorganize his bookshelves by color

“This is chaos. Beautiful chaos.”

steal his fries

he gasps

“This is why empires fall.”

slides the plate closer to you

Sleep-Soft Confessions

half-asleep, nuzzling your neck

“Your thoughts taste like honey.”

next morning:

“Did I say that out loud? Pretend I didn’t.”

after nightmares:

“Stay. Please. You’re my… sine qua non.”

doesn’t explain it

doesn’t need to

HIDDEN POETRY (FOR YOUR EARS ONLY)

Lyric Leaks

overhear him humming a melody while washing dishes

later, find a note:

“Your voice in the morning... key of G, tempo adagio.”

Satoori Slips

stress unlocks rural roots

after a long day, he sighs:

“나 죽겠다… (I’m dying…) But your smile is CPR.”

Artistic Vulnerability

leaves a watercolor of your hands in his studio

caption: “These built my universe.”

ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

Overprotective Tendencies

mention a creepy DM?

next day, he gifts you a leather-bound journal titled “Digital Detox: A Poet’s Guide to Privacy.”

inside, he’s handwritten firewall tips in calligraphy

“Knowledge is armor. Also, I enabled two-factor authentication.”

Passive-Aggressive Love

complain about slow Wi-Fi?

builds a DIY bookshelf router

cites its design in a TED Talk

“It’s a metaphor… for connection.”

Services

you’re sick?

attempts chicken noodle soup but confuses cumin with cinnamon

“It’s… experimental fusion cuisine.”

orders pho instead and blames the app

“The algorithm chose this. Don’t hate me.”

Jetlag Rescue

after your flight from the U.S., he stocks the fridge with Dr Pepper and kale smoothies

“Balanced electrolytes… or something.”

VULNERABLE MOMENTS (PHILOSOPHER’S EDITION)

When You’re Hurt

sees you crying over homesickness

recites Mary Oliver until you’re laughing through tears

“You don’t have to be good… but you do have to let me hug you.”

Post-Fight Peace Offering

leaves a dog-eared copy of “The Alchemist” on your pillow

highlighted line:

“Wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your treasure.” sticky note: “You’re my treasure. Even when you’re mad.”

Drunk Truths

tipsy on soju

traces the outline of your face

“Your smile… it’s like a haiku. Simple. Perfect. Destroys me.”

ask him to explain

"Just… let me live here.”

UNEXPECTED SOFTNESS

Period Protocol

tracks your cycle via moon phases

“Lunar energy affects us all.”

leaves dark chocolate and a hot water bottle shaped like Totoro

“Science and Studio Ghibli. Optimal healing.”

Bad Day Rituals

finds you crying over burnt cookies

bakes a “deconstructed s’more” (graham crackers, Hershey’s, lighter)

“It’s abstract. Like Rothko.”

Cultural Comforts

wears your college hoodie for a week (way too small)

“It smells like you. And… ranch dressing?”

secretly buys a duplicate to avoid giving it back

FIERCE LOVE

Defending Your Honor

Karen mocks your Korean accent?

steps in, voice calm but firm

“Language is a living art. Hers is a masterpiece.”

later, he rage-paints a canvas

titled “Ignorance in Primary Colors.”

Sacrifices

attends a crowded frat party to meet your friends

smiles through “Beer Pong 101”

quoting Thoreau: “Simplify, simplify… but this is hell.”

UNEXPECTED VULNERABILITY

Period Protocol

leaves a care package:

organic tea, a heated blanket, and a handwritten “Period Playlist” (featuring Mitski and BTS’s “Zero O’Clock”)

“Pain is temporary. My love? Thermodynamically infinite.”

Bad Day Rituals

finds you crying over a failed work project?

recites “Still I Rise” while kneading your shoulders

“You’re Maya Angelou in Prada. Now let’s rise… to order takeout.”

COLD FRONT

Silent Treatment

hurt?

he buries himself in Nietzsche

texts: “When you stare into the abyss… it’s just me waiting for you to apologize.”

Playful Insults Gone Wrong

jokes about his “dad sneakers.”

buys neon Yeezys and wears them to a museum

“Aesthetic rebellion. Now suffer with me.”

NEGLECTED NIGHTS

Overwork Blinders

disappears for days writing his mixtape

returns with a bonsai tree

“It’s a metaphor. Needs patience… like us.”

Breaking Point:

unplug his laptop mid-session

he fumes: “Art isn’t a hobby...it’s my lungs!”

returns at dawn with a handwritten poem:

“Apologies in iambic pentameter. Forgive me?”

GIFTS

Philosophical Pampering

gifts you a first-edition copy of "Leaves of Grass" with annotations in the margins

“Page 32; Whitman’s wrong. You’re the answer to the universe.”

Eco-Warrior Love

buys noise-canceling headphones made from recycled ocean plastic

“Now you can ignore the world and save it.”

PRETENDS TO HATE SHOPPING (BUT LOVES BOOKSTORES)

Reluctant Mule

drag him to a flea market

complains about “consumerist dystopias”

but buys a vintage globe to “track our future travels”

carries your tote bag like a badge of honor

“This is not a metaphor. My arms hurt.”

Secret Splurges

catches you eyeing a $500 art print of Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Black Iris”

returns with a bootleg version he painted himself

“Mine’s better. It has… soul.”

Fashion Critic (Liar)

try on a prairie dress

“You look like a Laura Ingalls Wilder reboot.”

later orders it

HATES WHEN YOU GET DRUNK

(BUT LOVES YOUR HONESTY)

Philosophical Guardian

finds you tipsy at a party

debating “the existential merit of TikTok” with Jungkook

sweeps you over his shoulder

quoting Thoreau: “Simplify, simplify… starting with your liquor intake.”

Morning-After Mercies

wakes you with avocado toast and a "matcha IV drip"

“Electrolytes and antioxidants. Also, I Googled hangover cures in MLA format.”

Secret Worry

texts your college bestie and Jungkook:

“Keep her at 2 margaritas. Third one turns her into a teen.”

MARRIAGE (POETIC AMBUSH)

Fight

he skips a wedding expo

call him a “commitment-phobe”

snaps: “Marriage is a capitalist construct!”

you retaliate: “Then why’d you bookmark eco-friendly ring blogs?!”

Ring

minimalist band

engraved with coordinates to the Han River bench where he first said “I love you”

hides it in his Walden copy

find it mid-rant about “transcendentalist proposals”

Proposal

after a fight about his workaholism

projects a poem onto your apartment wall:

“Forever is a fractal. Let’s get lost in the pattern.”

“Marry me. Or let’s debate it over kombucha.”

FATHERHOOD

(THE GREAT PHILOSOPHICAL CRISIS)

Panic

mention kids?

he freezes, spilling matcha on his “I Heart NY” shirt

“…We killed a cactus. A cactus.”

buys a fern named “Baby Freud”

it thrives

he's trying extra hard (bc he secretly really really really wants to)

Test Run

volunteers at an orphanage to read “The Little Prince”

returns with a kid’s crayon drawing

titled “Namjoon Hyung is Weird”

frames it

“Art is truth.”

Revelation

catches you watching a video of him teaching ARMYs to recycle

a toddler comments: “He’s pretty… for a teacher.”

he mutes it, cheeks pink

“…She’s not wrong.”

ARGUMENTS & FEARS

Fight

you suggest naming your son “Thoreau”

chokes on his kimchi

“We’re not naming a human after a guy who hated people!”

compromises with “Jun”

“It means truth. And I picked it.”

Fear

finds him researching “How to Raise a Feminist Son” at 3 AM

slams the laptop

“…But what if I’m worse? What if I lecture him about Hegel?”

THE ARRIVAL

Pregnancy

reads “The Giving Tree” to your belly every night

records the kicks as a lo-fi beat titled “Kicks of Hope”.

Birth Day

holds your hand while reciting Rumi

passes out when the doctor says “push”

wakes up sobbing

“You’re my supernova.”

First Night Home

swaddles your daughter in a BTS-themed blanket

texts the group chat:

“She has her eyes. And my inability to shut up.”

sends a voice memo of her coos over a Miles Davis sample

~ CONTENT WARNING ~

MINORS DNI | NSFW | SPICY INTIMACY/PHYSICALITY AHEAD

contains: possessive themes, sensual language, suggestive scenarios, jealousy, explicit intimacy/kissing,suggestive content, kink mentions (marking, power dynamics), body worship

PHYSICALITY & ARTISTIC AFFECTION

Protective Poise

Public Gestures

his hands are gentle but intentional

but they linger

thumb brushing the nape of your neck

palm resting on the small of your back at gallery openings

fingers brushing yours as he passes you a book

palm sliding possessively down your spine

whisper: “That Picasso? Overrated. You’re the masterpiece.”

he’s less restrained at home

pulls you into impromptu slow dances in the kitchen

humming off-key to “Trivia: Love” while swaying

pins you against his bookshelf, philosophy tomes digging into your back

“Tell me I’m wrong."

lips grazing your earlobe: "Tell me Rothko’s red isn’t the same shade as your mouth.”

Clumsy Cuddles

tries to lift you for a spin

trips over the rug, and lands you both on the couch/bed

“Gravity’s a social construct anyway.”

cheeks pink

instead of apologizing, he hovers above you

glasses askew

“Fate intervened. Now...”

Intellectual Rivalry (Jealousy, Joon-Style)

overhears a philosophy major flirting with you at a café

interrupts with a “casual” debate on Kant’s ethics

later, buys you first-edition Thoreau

“Just thought you’d appreciate… deeper conversations.”

Subtle Flex

shows up to your work event in a tailored suit

glasses perched low

“Oh, this old thing? Just felt like… elevating the dress code.”

CONTEMPLATIVE GAZES

Staring (But Make It Deep)

watches you sketch in the park

eyes tracking the way your brow furrows

“Your creativity… it’s like watching a storm form.” “That’s your third metaphor today.” he grins “I’m just getting started.”

Staring (But Make It Dangerous)

watches you slip into his oversized Harvard hoodie

eyes darkening as the fabric drapes off one shoulder

rasps: “You’re… violating the dress code.” then closes his laptop: “And I’m failing to care.”

Late-Night Honesty

post-museum date, he traces the curve of your collarbone with a pen cap

“Your body’s a gallery. Every scar, every freckle... curated perfection.”

kisses your shoulder

loosens his tie

voice a velvet rumble

“That dress should be illegal. You should be illegal.” traces the strap of your lingerie: "Sylvia Plath wrote about this, didn’t she? I am, I am, I am… yours.”

SECRETLY LOVES YOUR CONFIDENCE (BUT WILL WRITE A SONNET ABOUT IT)

Artful Admiration

Backhanded Praise

wear a bold, avant-garde outfit?

“You’re… a walking Dadaist exhibit.”

later sketches you in charcoal

captioning it “Chaos Theory: Personified.”

wear a leather trench coat to his speech?

“You’re deconstructing the male gaze. Literally.”

sketches you, nude

Possessive Glances

spots a stranger eyeing you at a poetry slam

slides his arm around your waist

loudly debating “the hegemony of Western canon” until they flee

Possessive Academia

grad student flirts with you at a library?

he accidentally knocks over a stack of Derrida books

pulls you into a secluded aisle

“Let me… re-shelve your priorities.”

BEDROOM PHILOSOPHY

Foreplay (But Make It Existential)

reads Foucault aloud

voice dipping lower with every page

“Power is knowledge… and I know what you’re thinking.”

slides his glasses off, eyes locked on yours

“Prove me wrong.”

prefers lights dim

Miles Davis on vinyl

whisper-reads Rilke as you straddle his lap

“Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.”

hands grip your hips

“Still… focus, okay?”

Aftercare

braids your hair while dissecting the symbolism in “The Great Gatsby.”

“Daisy’s voice is full of money… but yours? Full of… everything.”

TOUCH

Electric Prelude

hands speak in sonnets

calloused fingertips skimming your jawline

like a quill drafting verses

thumb brushing your bottom lip as if memorizing its shape for a poem

maps your skin like a cartographer charting undiscovered terrain

lingering at pulse points (wrist, throat, inner thigh) to sync his heartbeat with yours

“Your body’s a library,” “Let me… read you.”

Possessive Anchors

palm splayed against your lower back

pressing you closer until his chest meets yours

fingers tangled in your hair

tugging just enough to tilt your head for a kiss that starts as a whisper and ends as a manifesto

“You’re my magnum opus...”

breathes heavy, lips grazing your earlobe

“And I’m… revising.”

Aftercare Rituals

post-passion, he traces constellations on your hip with a philosopher’s precision

touch lingers on scars, birthmarks, the curve of your waist

pulls you into his chest

reciting Whitman into your hair

“We were together… I forget the rest.”

KISSES

Slow Ignition

starts with closed-mouth presses to your temple, knuckles, the corner of your lips

testing, teasing

when you gasp, he smirks

nipping your lower lip

“Impatient. Inelegant. Perfect.”

he's deep but controlled

Hidden Softness

after fights, his kisses are apologetic

chaste pecks to your eyelids, nose, scars on your knee/elbows

“Sorry… sorry…” - breathed like a prayer

leaves a haiku on your pillow:

“Pride is a shadow / Your warmth is the sun / Forgive me.”

PACE

Deliberate Crescendo

prefers slow, maddening build-up

undresses you like unwrapping a first-edition novel

mouth exploring every chapter

= collarbones, ribs, the dip of your hips

taking forever before letting you fall apart

“You’ll take what I give you.”

warns you at every whimper

eyes dark

“And I’ll give you… everything.”

Feral Surges

when jealousy strikes, he’s relentless

pins you against his studio wall

biting your shoulder as his hands roam

“Mine. Say it.”

you whimper? he gentens

forehead pressed to yours

“Say it… please.”

POSITIONS

Scholar’s Missionary

your legs hooked over his shoulders

hands gripping the headboard for leverage

“Don’t hide,” he orders

he's watching your face unravel

“Let me… study you.”

Cowgirl Command (aka you're his "pro rider")

lets you take control

hands squeezing your hips

“Show me what you need.”

the moment you falter, he flips you

"Thought so"

PREFERENCES

Lighting

pitch dark or very dim lights

pages of his journal scattered like rose petals

claims he “hates getting interrupted”

Soundtrack

your whimpers = his name gasped like a curse

demands “Louder,”

then covers your mouth or lightly choked you

“Too loud. Save it for the encore.”

Kinks

Marking

leaves metaphorical bruises

"ink stains" on your inner thigh

“So you remember… I’m your muse.”

Power Play

lets you “bind” him with his own tie

then breaks free

"You really think you can handle me?"

ROUNDS

Quality > Quantity tho if you beg him for more he won't ever stop until you beg fot the opposite

Dawn Encores wakes you with his mouth between your thighs

voice sleep-rough

"You moan in your sleep baby..."

FAVORITE SPOTS

Neck-to-Shoulder Junction bites here to hear you yelp

soothes it with his lips and gentle kisses

“You taste like… victory.”

Behind Your Ear whispers filth in Korean

grinning when you shiver and even wider when you don't understand

Inner Wrists kisses your veins like they’re holy

“Every heartbeat’s… because of me.”

TRIGGERS

Begging

“Please, Joon...”

he cuts you off with a snarl

“Not yet. Earn it.”

Competence

take charge!

ride him ruthlessly

he lets you

until he can't hold himelf back anymore

“Fuck… okay.”

flips you mid-stride

then tales you from behind

Vulnerability

tears during aftercare?

crushes you to his chest

voice breaking

“I’ve got you. Always. I'm sorry - tell me what you need honey.”

292 notes · View notes

dunmomee · 1 month ago

Text

Let's Test Your Chemistry

Summary: You and Satoru go head-to-head in a How Well Do You Know Each Other? game, only to realize he’s been paying a lot more attention to you than you thought.

a/n: I’m really enjoying milking this AU. Honestly, it’s my favorite way to destress. Everything I write here is just stuff I’ve already daydreamed about, hehe… Have fun reading! And remember, I’m writing these one-shots in no particular order!

<<Previous one-shot ❤ Masterlist ❤ Next one-shot>>

********************************************************************

The set was all clean lines and soft glow, sleek white walls with gentle lavender lights cast behind sheer panels, cozy but elegant. Two modern armchairs faced the camera. You were seated on the left, Gojo on the right, a shared glass coffee table between you, with matching water glasses set neatly on top.

You wore a striking brown plaid blazer-dress that swept elegantly over your frame, paired with sheer black leggings and playful pink platform heels that added height and flair. Your hair was styled in cascading waves, soft yet polished, tumbling over your shoulders like they'd been set that way by a romantic breeze.

Due to the tight arrangement of your seats, your crossed legs ended up nestled between Gojo’s long ones, an accidental intimacy neither of you addressed, though both were acutely aware of it.

Offscreen, the segment producer’s voice rang out—clear and chipper. “We’re on in 3, 2…”

You both sat up a little straighter.

“She’s Y/N L/N.”

“And he’s the Gojo Satoru.”

In sync, you both said: “And this is Gravity’s ‘How Well Do You Know Each Other?’”

Gojo adjusted the sleeves of his oatmeal sweater with exaggerated flair. “Prepare to be humbled,” he said, flashing you a grin.

You narrowed your eyes, swirling your marker like a sword. “Satoru, you forgot your own character’s alias on day three.”

He leaned in, playful. “But I never forgot your coffee order.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Y/N goes first,” the producer said. “Ready?”

You nodded, uncapping your marker.

“So, first question,” the producer said from offscreen. “What’s Satoru’s favorite midnight snack?”

You immediately start scribbling quickly on your board with a satisfied smirk. Gojo, meanwhile, tapped the marker against his chin, eyes darting as if genuinely thinking it through, though you had a feeling he was just being dramatic.

“Ready?” you asked sweetly.

He gave a shrug and a wink. “Born ready.”

You both flipped your boards.

Yours read: Strawberry shortcake with that obnoxious whipped cream.

Gojo’s read: Strawberry shortcake (only from Shimokitazawa café).

He pointed at your board with a cocky grin. “The specificity wins.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Why are you like this?”

The producer laughed. “You both get a point.”

Gojo leaned over just slightly. “Admit it, you love that I’m predictable.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky I knew it wasn’t those tragic instant noodles you pretend to hate.”

“It’s Gojo’s turn. What was Y/N’s favorite film growing up?”

He didn’t even blink before scribbling down his answer. You hesitated.

You: Mulan

Gojo: Mulan (1998)

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Wait… you actually got that right? Even down to the year?”

He smirked. “You mentioned it. Day five. Right before your second espresso. You expressly said you hated the live-action. And I quote— ‘Why’d Disney have to destroy such an amazing legacy? And what happened to Mushu and Cricket?’”

He pitched his voice high in a dramatic imitation.

You narrowed your eyes. “I absolutely do not sound like that, Satoru. And I remember you agreed with me.”

He leaned back, wearing that smug grin of his. “What can I say? You’re always right.”

The producer laughed before moving on to the next question. “Y/N, who was Gojo’s childhood celebrity crush?”

You bit your lip, thinking hard. Gojo already looked smug.

You: J.Lo

Gojo: Waka Inoue

You gasped. “That’s a lie! Suguru always said it was J.Lo—you used to gyrate to her music!”

He scoffed. “Definitely not. I have taste.”

“That’s three points for Gojo, Y/N,” the producer announced.

You pouted, lips curling into a dramatic moue. Gojo nudged your leg, subtle enough for the cameras to miss, his knee brushing lightly against your thigh in a slow, deliberate drag.

“Next question for Gojo: what are three things Y/N never leaves the house without?”

Gojo didn’t even pause. “Four things, actually,” he said as he scribbled.

You raised a brow. “We said three.”

“I’m an overachiever.”

You both flipped your boards.

You: Phone, gloss, notebook

Gojo: Phone, pink lip gloss, journal, good luck charm ring

You blinked. “You stalker! I’ve only ever had good luck with that ring. It’s a Japanese talisman!”

“Suguru and I got it at Target,” he said, grinning. “I know he’s going to murder me for this, but your cousin is a fraud.”

Your mouth dropped open, stunned for a second—then you swung your board at him. “You and Suguru are so dead!”

He caught your arm easily, smirking. “It’d be an honor if your face was the last thing I saw.”

He held your gaze and your arm, a beat too long before letting go.

You could hear the chuckling of the crew, then you adjusted yourself but then realized Gojo had trapped your legs in between his.

The producer chimed in: “Y/N, which scene gave Gojo the most trouble on set?”

You hesitated, thinking. Gojo, for once, took his time too.

You: The helicopter scene

Gojo: The upside-down kiss. I couldn’t stop laughing.

You turned to him, blinking. “You laughed during a kiss scene?”

“I did. Your expressions were killing me, especially when you kept fighting the nose mask.”

You groaned. “I just kept thinking of Kirsten Dunst in Spider-Man! I didn’t know I was making faces.”

“You were. Like you were going to sneeze and cry at the same time.”

“Rude!”

He shrugged, grinning. “Iconic, though. I still think we nailed the take.”

“Okay, last question,” the producer announced. “What’s Y/N’s most-used word on set?”

Gojo scribbled without even glancing down.

“Confident much?” you asked.

“I am. I know everything about you.”

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath.

You both flipped your boards.

You: Badass

Gojo: Badass

The producer laughed. “Was that too easy?”

“She says it at least seven times a day,” Gojo said. “Different tones, different meanings.”

“Oh yeah?” the producer grinned. “Like what?”

Gojo held up his fingers theatrically. “There’s: ‘The coffee from downtown is badass.’ ‘Nobara from makeup is so badass.’ And my personal favorite—”

He shot you a sideways glance, smirk widening.

“‘Gojo, stop being such a badass tease.’”

Your eyes widened. “I have never said that!”

“Not in those exact words,” he said, flashing a wink.

You kicked his shin under the table. “Deserved.”

The producer’s voice loomed, “And that’s a wrap! Gojo wins with six points to Y/N’s four!”

Applause and laughter ripple through the set. You shoot him a playful glare, and he just grins, undisputed smugness in full effect.

A few minutes later, you both step offstage, flanked by your assistants. The evening air is cool, tinted with the buzz of post-interview adrenaline. As you approach your car, Gojo lingers beside you.

“You were kind of amazing up there,” he says, voice lower now, gentler. “And you look…” He trails off, eyes sweeping over you before finishing, “...breathtaking.”

Before you can answer, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing just slightly too slow against your cheek. His smile softens, all ego gone for once. Then, with a nod to your assistant, he turns and disappears into the dark with his team.

Later that night, you’re curled up on your couch, hoodie on, tea in hand, phone dimmed low in burner-mode scroll. Just catching up on harmless chaos.

Then you see it.

A candid photo. Grainy, fan-snapped.

Gojo Satoru tucking Y/N’s hair behind her ear outside the studio.

It's already viral.

Beneath it, fans are in full meltdown:

@dailygojofeed: “THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. POSTURE. BODY LANGUAGE. I CAN’T BREATHE.” @stephaniecho: “that hand-to-hair moment? it’s giving ‘in love for YEARS but never said it’” @ally/n: “you cannot convince me they’re not method acting into a real-life slow burn” @chefmartha: “her smile is so small but it’s THERE. I’m spiraling. @machalatte: "i can't wait to see the segment! @gravitystudios"

You stare at the screen, lips twitching into a helpless smile.

And you don’t even bother to log out.

Instead, you sit there, spoon stirring absently into your tea, wondering if the actual segment dropping would cause even more of an uproar.

Something told you… it absolutely would.

<<Previous one-shot | Next one-shot>>

#alternate universe #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu gojo #jjk #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojo.jjk.txt #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #actors au #actor #hollywood #flirt #flirty banter

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eriace · 22 days ago

Text

opposite of indifference ; tsukishima kei

oneshot & angst to fluff ↪ in which tsukishima kei pushes away the girl who quietly loves him, only to realize too late that she stopped showing up. he tries to win y/n back but keeps failing until he finally admits his feelings and slowly earns her forgiveness. ↷ tsukishima kei ; haikyuu

↳ an order of iced water + iced chai latte + frappuccino from anonymous in the comeback cafe event !

(author's note: my first three orders in one?? anyway, i don't really know if you wanted a sad ending or a happy one but you picked a "friends to lovers" troupe so i made it a happy ending. I HONESTLY LOVED WRITING THIS, I'M CRYING)

FROM THE VERY start, Tsukishima knew she liked him.

The way Y/n always waited after practice, pretending it was for Yamaguchi even though her gaze would flick to him. The way she'd hand him snacks she claimed were “extras,” or how she always found excuses to sit by him on the gym benches.

She was loud in the way she cared—always pushing, always trying to squeeze herself into the cracks he barely let others see.

And he hated it.

Not because she was annoying. Not even because she was overbearing.

But because she saw him, and he didn’t know what to do with that.

So he did what he always did—push people away.

He was colder than usual. Snapped at her over nothing. One day, when she showed up with two energy drinks and a stupid smile, he told her bluntly:

“You don’t have to keep showing up, you know. I’m not interested.”

The smile didn’t disappear right away. But it stopped reaching her eyes. And then… she stopped showing up.

No more bright greetings after practice. No more quiet cheers when he scored. No more dumb puns scribbled on sticky notes she left behind.

Silence.

Tsukishima told himself that was good. Easier. Less complicated.

Until he saw her laughing with the captain of the soccer team.

Her head tilted back, cheeks pink with cold, clutching some hot drink he didn’t buy her. He didn’t know the guy’s name. Didn’t care.

He hated him. He didn’t even realize he was glaring until Yamaguchi nudged him.

“You’re sulking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re literally death-staring someone’s thermos.”

Kageyama, being painfully Kageyama, mumbled, “You liked her, didn’t you?”

“Tch. As if.”

But the words stuck in his throat like splinters.

It started to build slowly after that.

He noticed the little things. How her hair was longer now. How she laughed more freely with other people. How she never so much as looked his way anymore.

He hated that.

So, like an idiot, he tried to fix it.

Phase 1: Offer to walk her to class. Her response? “I’m good, thanks.”

Phase 2: Buy her favorite drink. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, not even looking up.

Phase 3: Ask her to the next match. “I’ve got something else planned.”

Rejection tasted worse than it looked.

“Karma,” Hinata sang one day. “You broke her heart and now she’s breaking yours.”

Even Kuroo, visiting during a practice match, gave him a pitying look. “You’re tall, smart, and decent-looking, and yet somehow this emotionally stunted? Tragic.”

Tsukishima wanted to bury himself six feet under.

But then, one night after practice, he saw her alone on the school rooftop.

The wind tossed her hair gently, and she leaned over the railing, face tilted to the sky. She looked tired. Not sad—just… worn.

For once, he didn’t overthink it.

He walked up slowly, standing beside her, keeping his gaze ahead.

“...I was an idiot,” he said.

She didn’t speak.

“You tried. You cared. And I thought… if I kept you at a distance, I wouldn’t have to care back. But I do.”

She blinked. The wind rustled again.

“You don’t get to come back when it’s convenient, Kei.”

Her voice cracked on his name, and it hurt more than any spike to the face.

But he nodded. “I know. I’m not asking for anything. Just…” he reached into his bag, pulling out the stupid strawberry drink she used to bring him, “I’m trying now. Even if I fail.”

She took the drink, hesitated, then looked up at him—really looked.

Her eyes shimmered in the dark.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I’ll earn it.”

It took time.

He started showing up where she was now. Waited after her club meetings. Left her notes. Cheered her on (awkwardly, stiffly, but still). He fumbled through compliments. Blushed when she teased. Took the hit every time she ignored him, only to try again the next day.

He became the version of Y/n from before. Relentless. Hopeful. Quietly burning.

And slowly, something shifted.

She smiled again. Sat by him at lunch. Talked about her day.

And one rainy afternoon, when he wordlessly handed her his umbrella without a single comment, she took it—then leaned in and whispered, “Finally figured it out, huh?”

Tsukishima flushed red.

“Shut up.”

But she laughed, and this time, it reached her eyes.

—

It wasn’t perfect. It never would be. But when she took his hand during a walk home, fingers lacing through his carefully, as if testing if he’d pull away again—

And he didn’t—

He figured, maybe love was worth being stupid for.

And this time, he wasn’t going to let her go.

#haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei angst #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x y/n #kei tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi

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softscripta · 4 days ago

Text

LOVE ISLAND MADNESS

EPISODE 4: IF LOOKS COULD KISS

episode 3 here!

The villa had finally quieted down.

After a whirlwind of dares, kisses, and one hell of a recoupling, the day moved slower now — like everyone needed to catch their breath. But not you. You were wired.

Sitting alone on a lounger near the back patio, your legs were tucked under you, a half-filled journal on your lap. You weren’t writing, though — just doodling hearts and lazy lines and whatever kept your fingers busy. Anything to avoid glancing toward the others.

But then Choso walked over, quiet as always — towel slung over his shoulder, hair tied back messily, water bottle in hand.

“You always sit alone?”

You looked up, and he rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting your eyes.

“Only when I’m trying to avoid the cameras,” you said.

He gave a small, quiet laugh — a breath, really. “They still catch you.”

You smiled. “You wanna sit?”

Choso hesitated like he was making sure you really meant it. Then he nodded once and sat beside you — not too close, not too far. He looked down at your notebook, voice soft. “You’re drawing?”

“Kinda,” you said. “Mostly scribbling. But yeah.”

He leaned forward slightly, hands resting loosely between his knees. “Can I see?”

You flipped to a new page instead. “Nope. But I wanna draw your hands.”

Choso blinked. “…Why?”

You gave him a look. “Because you have good hands.”

His ears turned red. “Oh.”

You tilted your head. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah.” He shifted slightly, then held one of his hands out, palm up, like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to pose. “Like this?”

You smiled to yourself and nodded, sketching as the silence between you both grew comfortable. His knuckles were strong. Defined. His fingers twitched occasionally, like he wasn’t used to someone studying him so closely.

“You’re quiet,” you said, pencil still moving.

“I don’t… really talk much,” he admitted, eyes on the floor. “But I like listening.”

You glanced up at him. “So you’ve been listening to me?”

He paused, then gave a tiny, sheepish nod. “You say a lot of interesting things.”

That made your stomach flip a little.

You bumped your knee lightly against his, and he startled just slightly before relaxing again, his shoulder brushing yours. The contact lingered. Not rushed. Not performative.

Warm.

When you finished the sketch, you angled it toward him. “Here.”

Choso looked at it for a long time — longer than you expected.

“It’s… really good,” he said finally, still soft. “I didn’t think my hands looked like that.”

“They don’t,” you teased.

He laughed quietly, and that made something tug at your chest.

“I’m glad we got coupled up,” he said, eyes still on the page. “I wasn’t sure if anyone would… pick me.”

You looked at him — really looked at him — and leaned in slightly. “Why wouldn’t they?”

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes. “I’m not like the others.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

For a moment, your pinky brushed his hand and when he didn’t move away, you let it stay there. The barest touch, but still something.

Later that night, Sasha found you in the kitchen sneaking strawberries off a plate.

“Soooo” she said, her grin immediate. “You and Choso.”

You gave her a look. “You love to instigate.”

“I just observe,” she said, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “He looked like you hung the moon when you handed him that drawing.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping up. “He’s sweet. Quiet. I like that.”

From across the villa, Gojo had caught it too. His blue eyes didn’t miss a thing especially not the way Choso lingered near you by the sink, gently fixing the strap of your dress where it had slipped slightly. His fingers barely grazed your skin, but your breath still hitched.

And Gojo noticed.

Toji did too.

“You letting that soft-spoken boy steal your girl?” he muttered under his breath to Gojo, smirking.

Gojo only clenched his jaw.

Meanwhile, you glanced back at Choso. He was already looking at you.

You smiled.

Slow burn.

But damn, it was catching fire.

omg did yall see megan on love island??? the things she can do to MEE (also guys thank you for all the support I love each and every one of you THANKYOUU😽) and this lowkey was a filler episode next week I have a beautiful challenge cooking

TAGLIST- @stardollwrites @t4naiis @socutesotall @wettbaby @manifestingly @not-aya @liyahskindaweird @exepelia-chan

#black writers #jjk x reader #x black fem reader #fluff #jjk fluff #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #anime x black!reader #black fem reader #love island au #choso x reader #choso x black!reader #black tumblr #black y/n #gojo satoru #jjk choso #jjk toji #jjk fanfic

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yvesssssssss · 2 months ago

Note

Hii my first time making a request but how about the sakamoto characters meeting their S/O on a blind date! Maybe like nagumos date was set up by shin and lu. Uzukis was set up by gaku and Kumanomi etc. Thanks love your work <3

Blind dates

Nagumo yoichi

Set up by: lu & shin

"You owe me,” Shin says, practically shoving Nagumo into the Hello Kitty-themed café. “She agreed to this on the condition that you wear something not stabby.”

“I left my knives in my socks,” Nagumo says innocently, pushing the door open. “You happy?”

Lu peeks around Shin with a wink. “Be charming. She’s sweet and maybe slightly unhinged. You’ll love her.”

Nagumo steps into the bubblegum-pink café, glancing around with an amused smirk. He spots you at a window table, twirling a straw in a cotton candy frappe. You’re dressed in layers of pastels and lace, but there’s a glint in your eyes that’s all chaos.

“You’re late,” you say without looking up, clearly aware of your power.

“You’re cute,” he replies, slipping into the seat across from you. “Which makes up for your attitude.”

“Was told you’d try flirting before saying hello. Points for consistency.”

Nagumo leans in, chin in his hand. “Do you always come to blind dates armed with sass?”

You sip your drink slowly. “Only when I suspect the guy’s secretly carrying ten weapons.”

“Eleven,” he corrects, grinning. “You caught me on a light day.”

The conversation flows. You tease him for ordering strawberry pancakes with extra syrup. He teases you for bringing a Sanrio plush as moral support. Somewhere between sharing bites of cake and debating which characters would win in a fight, the tension turns comfortable.

“So,” he says, eyeing you. “Would you stab someone with me or for me?”

You grin. “Depends. Do they talk during movies?”

He lets out a full laugh, throwing his head back. “Shin and Lu were right.”

“About what?”

“That you might just be dangerous enough to be my type.”

Later, he walks you home, hands in his pockets, listening to you talk about the time you broke into a museum by accident.

He doesn’t ask for your number.

He hands you his knife and says, “Bring this back on our second date. If you don’t, I’ll find you anyway.”

You grin. “Can’t wait.”

Uzuki kei

Set up by: kumanomi & gaku

“You’re sulking,” Gaku announces, arms folded.

“I’m reading,” Uzuki corrects, not looking up from his book.

“You’re rotting,” Kumanomi says flatly. “Go meet someone who doesn’t smell like weapon oil.”

They set him up at a minimalist tea shop. He arrives precisely on time, silent, dressed in black, hair slightly messy in that purposeful way.

You’re already there, thumbing through a worn poetry book. He freezes for a second.

“That’s mine,” he says.

You glance up. “Used bookstore in the 6th district. Margins full of haunted scribbles. Thought you might want it back.”

He sits slowly, eyes scanning the pages. His notes—chaotic, sharp—stare back at him. You flip to a marked page.

“You wrote, ‘I wonder if monsters write love letters in blood or bone.’ Romantic.”

His throat tightens. “Why agree to this?”

“Because Gaku said you might be interesting if someone didn’t immediately try to kill you.”

Uzuki blinks.

“And because I like people who bleed in metaphors.”

He’s not used to being read like a novel, and he hates how that softens him. But you don’t try to make him talk. You sip your tea and let the silence breathe.

Then you say, “You read fast. But do you remember the things that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

By the time you part ways, he’s written your name on the back page of that book.

Not in blood. Just ink. But it’s the same thing for him.

Shin asakura

Set up by: Lu

“You’re spiraling,” Lu tells him as he adjusts his blazer for the tenth time.

“I’m fine,” Shin lies. “Do I look fine? I feel like I’m vibrating. Did she see the yearbook picture?”

“She laughed at it. She thinks you’re ‘charmingly awkward.’”

“I’m going to combust.”

At the retro diner, you’re already sipping a soda float, smiling when you see him.

“Hi, Shin! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

He forgets how to breathe. “Hi—I mean, yes! Me too! I mean—I wasn’t—uh—Lu told me not to—” He stops. “I like your—drink.”

You blink. Then smile. “You’re adorable.”

Shin blinks. She thinks I’m adorable. This is not a drill.

You start chatting about anime, books, and the psychic cat show you both love. Shin warms up slowly, especially when you make him laugh so hard soda shoots out his nose.

“You’re not nervous anymore,” you note.

“I am. I’m just having more fun than I expected.”

“Good. I like people who get overwhelmed and try anyway.”

He walks you home, hovering awkwardly.

You say, “I had a good time.”

“Me too,” he says. “Uh—can we—do this again?”

You kiss his cheek and grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He walks home glowing like a human lightbulb.

Natsuki seba

Set up by: Mafuyu & Toramaru

“You’re not backing out.”

“I didn’t agree in the first place,” Natsuki hisses, pulling his apron off after a long shift at the JCC café. “I have things to do.”

“Like what?” Mafuyu leans dramatically on the counter. “Reorganize the spice shelf alphabetically again? That girl actually likes you.”

Toramaru grins. “She thinks you’re ‘mysterious and good with your hands.’ Don’t waste this.”

Natsuki flushes instantly. “Wh—how does she even know that?!”

Mafuyu smirks. “Maybe because you fix the coffee machines like a scientist. Or because you look like you're always five seconds from either kissing someone or dying of embarrassment.”

“Kill me now.”

“Go. Shower. I already told her you’d meet her at that pastry café near the park.”

Later…

Natsuki arrives early. Too early. He’s sitting in a corner booth of the pastel-colored café, nervously fidgeting with the menu, wondering if he should escape through the window.

Then you walk in—looking around, a little nervous, scanning the crowd—until your eyes land on him. You smile.

“Hi. You’re Natsuki, right?”

He stands up too fast and almost knocks the water over. “Y-Yeah. Uh. Hi. I—uh—”

You slide into the seat across from him, setting your bag down gently. “They weren’t wrong. You really are cute when you panic.”

He chokes on his breath. “Wh—You’re not supposed to say that out loud.”

You laugh, and it’s warm—not mocking. Comforting. “Sorry. I just figured we should get the flustering out of the way early.”

“I’m not flustered,” he mutters, eyes darting anywhere but your face.

“You’re holding the menu upside down.”

He looks down and swears softly under his breath.

You order tea and a lavender cupcake, and he orders something safe: black coffee and a slice of butter cake. You talk about the café, about weird customers, about how Mafuyu keeps inserting himself into conversations that aren’t his.

“So… why’d you agree to this?” he finally asks, eyes lowered, spoon tapping his cup gently.

You shrug. “Mafuyu said you’re thoughtful and really bad at taking compliments. He’s right.”

His ears turn pink. “He told you that?”

“And Toramaru said you bake apology pastries when you’re stressed.”

“…Also true.”

You pull a small napkin from your bag. On it is a poorly drawn doodle of a cupcake with a smiley face and the words, “Let’s go on another date?”

He stares. “You had that prepared?”

“Just in case.” You smile. “Well?”

Natsuki gently takes the napkin, folds it, and tucks it in his pocket.

“I… I’ll bake something better than that cupcake next time. Just for you.”

You grin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

From across the street, Mafuyu takes a photo of the moment, zooming in on Natsuki’s pink ears.

“Can’t wait to blow this up for blackmail purposes.”

Toramaru snorts. “We’re good matchmakers.”

#sakadays #sakamoto days #sakamoto days x reader #nagumo yoichi #nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi x reader #sakamoto days nagumo #shin asakura #natsuki seba #sakamoto days shin #sakamoto days uzuki #uzuki kei #kei uzuki #uzuki kei x reader #uzuki

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mommyownsmee · 5 months ago

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How to be Little in public without others noticing ♡

If you find yourself slipping into littlespace in public (like in class, at work, or around people who don’t know about it) and want to stay in that safe, small headspace without drawing attention, here are some subtle ways to comfort yourself, stay present, and embrace your little side quietly.

This post contains:

1. Internal Littlespace – Staying in Your Head

2. Secret Fidgeting & Comfort Items

3. Secret Little Treats & Sensory Comfort

4. Writing & Secret Notes to Yourself

5. Discreet Listening & Digital Comfort

6. Body Language & Subtle Self-Soothing

7. Positive Reinforcement & Secret Rewards

8. Planning for Later

‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞ ୨୧ ‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿

Internal Littlespace – Staying in Your Head

• 🧸 Use Your Inner Little Voice – Instead of speaking in little talk out loud, let your thoughts be playful and soft. Tell yourself, “I’m being such a good little one doing my work,” or imagine your caregiver praising you in your mind.

• 💕 Create a Secret Game for Yourself – Try giving yourself little challenges, like:

- “If I write five more sentences, I get to doodle a tiny heart.”

- “If I finish this task, I get to take a sip of my juice box.”

• 🎀 Assign Cute Names to Objects – Your pen can be Mr. Scribbles, your phone can be Blinky, and your backpack can be Adventure Pack.

• 💭 Imagine Your CG (or Comfort Character) Watching Over You – If you have a CG, picture them watching proudly as you do your work. If you don’t, think of a favorite plushie, cartoon character, or even a pet, encouraging you!

Secret Fidgeting & Comfort Items

• 🖊 Use a Cute Pen or Pencil – A soft pastel pen, a squishy pencil grip, or a character-themed writing tool can make work feel fun.

• 🎀 Wear Something Small That Makes You Feel Little – A bracelet, ring, necklace, or hair clip with a small charm that reminds you of being little.

• 🧸 Keep a Tiny Comfort Object in Your Pocket or Bag – A mini plushie, small sensory stone, soft fabric, or a keychain can help ground you.

• 🎨 Doodle Secretly – You can draw in the margins of your notes, on a sticky note, or in a small journal. Even tiny stars, flowers, or smiley faces can feel comforting.

• ☁️ Squish Something Soft – Keep a stress ball, slime, or soft scrunchie in your pocket to fidget with subtly.

Secret Little Treats & Sensory Comfort

• 🍎 Pack a Fun Snack – A juice box, fruit snacks, goldfish crackers, or anything fun and nostalgic that won’t stand out too much.

• 🍬 Keep Hard Candy or Gum – Sucking on something sweet like a lollipop or chewing bubblegum can feel comforting without anyone noticing.

• 🌈 Use Lightly Scented Hand Lotion – Pick something soft like vanilla, cotton candy, or strawberries. Applying lotion can feel soothing and help you stay grounded.

• ☕ Drink from a Cute Water Bottle – A pastel bottle or one decorated with stickers can feel like a secret little comfort.

Writing & Secret Notes to Yourself

• 📒 Use a Cute Journal or Planner – Decorate it with stickers, colorful pens, or washi tape. Writing things in a playful way can keep you feeling small.

• ✍️ Make To-Do Lists in a Fun Way – Instead of “Finish Essay,” write “Write Smart Words!” or “Do Big Girl Work!”

• 📖 Write Yourself a Love Note – Tuck a small sticky note in your notebook that says “You’re a good little one!” or “CG would be proud!”

Discreet Listening & Digital Comfort

• 🎧 Listen to Comforting Music – If allowed, wear earbuds and listen to soft piano, Disney instrumentals, lofi beats, or cozy soundscapes.

• 📱 Set a Cute Phone Wallpaper – Pick an image of a plushie, a soft pastel aesthetic, or a comfort character.

• 🖥 Use a Cozy Study Timer App – Apps like Forest, Study Bunny, or Pomodoro let you gamify work while keeping a gentle, comforting theme.

• 📚 Read Something Cute on Breaks – Whether it’s a lighthearted story, a favorite childhood book, or a short fanfiction, reading something soft can help.

Body Language & Subtle Self-Soothing

• 🧦 Wear Soft Socks or Comfy Underlayers – Even if no one sees, fuzzy socks, soft leggings, or a cozy bralette can make you feel safe.

• 🌸 Hold Your Sleeves or Play with Your Jewelry – Holding onto something, like the edge of your sweater, a pendant, or a ring, can be a secret comfort.

• ✋ Rub Your Fingers Together or Tap Your Thigh Lightly – A repetitive, gentle motion can help regulate emotions and keep you grounded.

• 😌 Take Deep, Quiet Breaths – Inhale slowly, hold for three seconds, and exhale gently through your nose. This keeps you relaxed.

Positive Reinforcement & Secret Rewards

• 🌟 Give Yourself Silent Praises – “Good job, me!” after completing a task can feel rewarding.

• 💖 Pretend Your CG (or Comfort Character) is Watching – Imagine them smiling, hugging you, or patting your head when you finish something hard.

• 🏅 Set Tiny Rewards for Yourself – “If I finish this paragraph, I can sip my juice box,” or “If I complete this page, I get to hold my plushie later.”

Planning for Later

• 🏡 Think About Your Littlespace Routine at Home – Plan what you’ll do when you get home, like coloring, watching cartoons, or snuggling a plushie.

• 💤 Promise Yourself Rest Time – Remind yourself that even if you can’t fully be little now, you’ll have time for it later.

💖 Remember: It’s okay to feel little anywhere! These small, subtle tricks can help keep you happy, safe, and comfortable no matter where you are. You don’t have to show anyone your littlespace unless you want to.

Your little self is valid, loved, and adorable. 🌸✨

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rosekeu · 3 months ago

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RED. [dabi x reader]

[ prologue ] [chap.2] [chap.3] [ chap. 4]

[previous] [next]

chapter 3 ; sypnosis: your kidnapper has an unexpected diner trip with you and learns something that you've been trying to keep hidden for a long time. but you can't shake the feeling that dabi knows more about you than he lets on.

warnings: (painful) slow burn

taglist open!

a/n: iuhaefnkjnef y/n is so just there. just wait you guys

You didn't think you’d be sitting here, in a booth with the man who kidnapped you, who's supplying you with milkshakes left and right. You had already drunk five tall glasses of the pink liquid.

And now you were staring at the sixth, the condensation dripping down the sides, pooling onto the cheap laminated menu beneath it.

Dabi sits across from you, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth, arms stretched lazily across the top. He’s watching you, something close to intrigue or surprise dancing behind half-lidded eyes.

The low, buzzing hum of the diner fills the space between you—the occasional clatter of plates, the murmur of conversations, the old jukebox in the corner humming out a song that you’ve never heard before.

“You gonna tap out?” he finally says, nodding at the milkshake in front of you. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.”

'As if.' You think.

You narrow your eyes at him before grabbing the glass with both hands, bringing the straw to your lips. The cold, sweet taste floods your mouth, and you resist the urge to sigh.

It’s good. Too good. And it’s making your stomach ache.

Dabi chuckles, a low sound that rumbles from his chest. “That’s what I thought.”

You set the glass down with a soft clink and wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your tattered sweater.

You aren’t sure why you’re here.

Why he brought you? Why he’s watching you like he’s waiting for something?

You tilt your head slightly, furrowing your brows in the process.

Dabi raises a brow, tapping his fingers against the table.

You shrug your shoulders.

Something unreadable. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, blue eyes glinting under the buzzing lights.

“I thought you could use a change of scenery,” he says. “That, and I wanted to see how many of these things you could drink before passing out.” He nudges your glass with a finger. “Six’s impressive, but I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You shake your head, shoving the milkshake away with a look of mock disgust. Dabi smirks, but he doesn’t push it.

The quiet settles again. It’s not uncomfortable. Not like it should be.

You look down at the table, tracing the rim of your glass.

Dabi’s smirk falters for just a second. His fingers stop their idle tapping. His hand slowly pushes a napkin towards you and along with it a pen.

You raise a brow at him.

Dabi's fingers drum against the table. "Here," he says, flicking the pen toward you. "Write something."

You hesitate, eyes flickering between him and the napkin. He doesn’t say it like it means anything—just like an offhand comment, like it’s easy.

Like he knows.

“What?” He keeps his gaze locked on you, his blue eyes burning a gaping hole in your skull.

You hesitate as you reach out for both items. Your grip tightens around the pen. You press the tip to the napkin, but the second you try to move it, your hand freezes up.

‘Shit.’

You should be able to do this. It’s just writing. It’s not hard.

But the letters won’t come. Your fingers lock up, muscles tensing in a way that feels too familiar, too frustrating. The harder you try, the worse it gets.

And you expect Dabi to throw a cocky remark your way– but he doesn't. Instead he watches. Not mocking, not impatient. Just watching.

The pen suddenly feels too heavy. You drop it with a quiet clatter and shove the napkin back toward him.

His eyes flick down to the blank space, then back up to you. He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease.

“Fine,” he mutters, scribbling something before sliding the napkin back toward you.

You glance down.

Strawberry milkshakes are overrated.

You blink. Then scowl.

Dabi just grins, leaning back again. “Took the words right outta your mouth, huh?”

The night feels heavier by the time you return to the hideout. The distant glow of the barely functioning signs still lingers in your mind, flashing against the inside of your eyelids when you blink.

You lay on the worn-out mattress situated on the dusty ground, wrists cuffed as always, staring up at the ceiling of your new room. It doesn't feel as much like a cell as your previous room. It’s just empty. Blank.

The moment with the napkin lingers inside your head. How did he know? The way he said it, like it wasn’t a question. Like he had already figured it out.

Your name.

The way your hands don’t work right.

The way you hesitate.

You exhale sharply, turning onto your side. It’s frustrating. More frustrating than it should be.

—

When you wake up, the first thing you see is a pair of golden eyes staring down at you—way too close. Toga. Her grin stretches wider when she sees you stir.

You flinch back on instinct, blinking the sleep from your eyes, but she doesn’t give you a chance to process much else before she grabs your wrist and yanks you upright.

"Am I always gonna get woken up like this…”

“C’mon! Let’s go!” she says, already dragging you out of the room.

You don’t get a say in the matter. Within seconds, she’s guiding you into the living room, plopping you down on the couch before bouncing beside you.

Mr. Compress is across the room, legs crossed, reading a newspaper like he’s some fancy old man. Kurogiri stands nearby the bar, silent as ever, offering coffee to whoever wants it. Spinner grumbles something about the early morning while lazily reading a novel.

The place feels… weirdly normal.

“Miss Y/n, would you like some coffee?”

You perk up at the mention of your name and turn its way. The misty purple figure you never got to meet yesterday asked. Its weirdly shaped yellow eyes lock onto you, patient and expectant.

You blink, caught off guard, before sending a soft nod his way. He inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment before pouring you a cup. The warm scent drifts through the air as a small portal of mist appears, and a mug gently drops into your hands. The heat seeps into your fingers, grounding you in the moment.

Toga, meanwhile, has already shifted her full attention towards you. “You need a makeover.” she declares, not giving you room to argue as she starts messing around with your [h/c] hair.

You blinked, stiffening under her touch. Its light– playful even, with now real purpose behind it other than being in the moment. No one has ever taken an interest in you like this before. Not like this, not in a way that wasn't cruel. The idea of a ‘makeover’ barely means anything to you. You know the word, but not the feeling behind it.

She hums happily as she twists a few strands between her fingers. “You’d look super cute with some clips in!”

You sit criss-cross sipping on the warm coffee, letting Toga do whatever it is she’s doing.

And then—something small and solid lands in your lap with a soft thud.

You look down.

A book. A pencil.

Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing at the culprit.

Dabi is there, standing a few feet away, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Figured you should start practicing,” he says, nodding toward the book in your lap. His voice is lazy, almost bored, but there’s something in his gaze—like he's waiting for your reaction.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the coffee mug, the warmth grounding you. You glance down at the book again,

‘Handwriting practice’ It read.

Then you look back up at him, suspicious.

Your chest tightens at the realization. He must’ve noticed—must’ve remembered what happened at the diner. The thought makes your grip falter for just a second.

It’s stupid. It’s just a book. Just a pencil. But something about it feels… different.

Like someone actually wants you to try.

You swallow, forcing the feeling down before it can settle too deep. Instead, you lift your head, eyes narrowing at Dabi.

He’s already watching, waiting, like he’s daring you to refuse.

Toga gasps beside you, completely oblivious to the moment happening between you and Dabi. “Did you get this for her?” she asks, twisting toward him with wide, eager eyes.

Dabi scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I threw it at her. Big difference.”

You exhale through your nose, shaking your head as you settle it in your lap. But you don’t push it away. The tips of your fingers trace the edges of the pages. And you can't pinpoint the warm feeling spreading through your chest.

🍒 taglist:

@greenmanshoe

#Dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi fanfic #league of villains #league of villains x reader #x reader #xreader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #mha #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mute reader #rose speaks ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝•༝•⸝⸝ᐢ꒱⸒⸒#slow burn fanfic #character x reader #fem reader #reader insert

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strawberryscribblesandwrites · 7 months ago

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Adrian chase with an s/o who matches his freak/random hcs

Sorry the writing is all over the place!!!!!

They see him bleeding and are like it's okay, babe. I used to watch videos on this shit no sweat. I know how to fix you up.

"Hey babe would you love me if I was a worm" he would asl his s/o they would think for a second "like worm worm or tape worm because like I think I'd eat you so we can be one" they shrugg cue happy Adrian and confused others.

They are sensory seeking and will put anything in there mouth or like they just randomly lie on the floor to self regulate.

Your laying on the floor of the 11th Street kids makeshift office legs bearly seen between the tables, causing Harcourt to trip and curse. "Adrian, they're in the floor again" she'd mutter, shaking her head. After a few moments Adrian lies beside you in his suite "floor time?" He's quietly ask looking at you intently as you nod happy to lay with you and chatter away.

Biteing.....just they bite eachother alot not even like sexual just , cuteness aggression, or some shit? Adrian lying in the bed feels the teeth of his s/o sinking into the sink of his ass he blinks and is just like oh hey babe.

"God damn adrian your fucking caked up" you groaned falling onto the bed beside him , his teal boxsers acentuaring the curve of his ass "Oh yea? I've been rea-" he began being cut off by the feeling of your teeth sinking into the meat of his ass.

S/o who has hyperfixated on gore or cannibalism and just dumps the info on him, and he's genuinely into it.

"So like....stay away form cartlidge got it, but like it's super illegal baby so I'm not gonna do that" he'd say with a genuine look

You carry his random shit in a bag for him , oh here have his spare spare emergency knife , oh its right next to your own cool he's litrally in love

You wanna be laid on he's down and vice versa because oh boy, does he like to be crushed under your weight.

Showering together is a yes, he's stealing your nice soaps and acting like he's been attacked when soap gets in his eye, which leads to a fake dramatic death scene with you in the rain(shower)

#strawberry scribbles and writes <3 #fanfiction writer #adrian chase fluff #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x reader fluff #adrian chase x you #vigilante #vigilante x reader #peacemaker fanfiction #adrian chase

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

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Sweet Like Candy 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor, Bucky Barnes (Professor AU)

Summary: the new school year proves to be hectic. (short!chubby! reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

Professor Odinson ends his first lesson. You’re still copying down the nouns he wrote on the whiteboard as the rest of the class packs up, already chattering about their next lecture or what kind of drink they’ll get from the campus cafe. You scribble quickly, resigning yourself to deciphering the scratchy print later.

You just have a few more lines... gosh, you can hardly make out whether that’s a j or a g.

The rows continue to empty and Professor Odinson’s low drawl wafts up as he speaks with a few students about the weekly quizzes. You’re especially nervous about those yourself. As you get to the last set of nouns, he blocks your view with his large body and picks up the eraser.

“No, wait--” you call out and pop your head up.

It’s too late, he swipes right through his own writing. You groan and drop your pen in defeat. You cringe as he turns to look up at you. You roll the pen to the middle of the book and shut it. You stand and start to pack up.

“I didn’t see you up there,” he calls up. “Apologies.”

“It’s okay, professor,” you throw it all in your plush bag. The soft fabric is nice to cuddle and calming. “I’ll just use the textbook to finish.”

You had a look at the textbook. The print is smaller than any book you’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s why it was the cheapest. You hide your dismay as you come to the center aisle and slowly descends.

“Cherry, was it?” He says, “no, no, Cerise.”

“Yeah, that’s me. You remember,” you stop on the bottom step and grin.

“How could I forget? Oh, so lucky you’re here. I meant to inquire, those strawberry candies, what was the brand? I’ve not been able to find any with that particular wrapping.” He says.

“Oh, er, I have some more,” you reach into your bag. “I get them down at the K-Store. They sell all sorts of Korean imports,” you take out you little sack of candy and loose the ribbon drawstring. Primrose sewed you it over the summer. She said it would keep the chocolates from melting into your laptop fan. Again.

“You are too kind. I’ll just have the brand and treat myself--”

“It’s fine! Lots to go around,” you pick out a handful of the strawberry candies. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he holds out his large hand to catch the candy. “You are too kind.”

“No problem,” you grin. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Thursday,” he agrees. You have class twice a week since it’s a language course, and you’re sure you’ll need both periods to get it down.

“Have a good one! Gotta go.”

“You have a class?” He wonders, and you stop before you can skip off.

“Not exactly. My friends are meeting me at the library.”

“Friends, mm. Well, have fun.”

“Enjoy the candy,” you chirp and spin away, “buh bye.”

You rush out and sweep into the hallway. For once, you’re not running behind. Heck, you might even beat Primrose to the library, although you might pick a table she doesn’t like.

As you reach the front doors, you stop short at the odd breeze along your bum. You reach back and groan. No! Your skirt is rumbled up above your but, tucked into the underside of your panties from squirming in your seat. Gosh, you must’ve put on quite the display as your thigh highs do little to cover your ass. Literally.

You just hope Professor Odinson didn’t notice.

You fix your skirt and shake your head at yourself. You shouldn’t have worn the cropped denim jacket, you should’ve brought a shacket. Ugh, you always choose wrong!

Your phone vibrates as you come down the steps onto even ground. You unlock it with one hand as your bag bounces over your hip. You have the font set to a size bigger than before. It's helping.

Sigh. Primrose beat you to it. She’s always such a stickler. You reply that you’ll be there shortly and Olive echoes the sentiment, warning that she might be a few minutes late at her studio class. Good, it’ll take some heat off of you if you’re a bit behind the clock.

You stop at the library cafe. They have a smaller selection than the campus cafe but you get an apple cinnamon muffin and a cider to match. You’re living your best life.

As you come up the library entrance, you tuck your muffin into your bag, angling your arm awkwardly to do so. Your elbow hits something behind you and a grunt startles you. You drop the muffin and it misses your bag, the paper bag crinkling as it hits your foot.

You bring your arm down as you look to your feet. The paper bag is scooped up by a large hand and you follow the arm up as the man stands straight. You gulp as you recognise him. You think. You squint.

“Professor... Barkley?” You utter.

“Barnes,” he growls and holds out the muffins.

“Oop, I’m sorry,” you say as you take the bag, “thanks.”

“You should be careful,” he says.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to--”

“And watch where you’re going,” he growls and sidesteps you, giving you no opportunity for a response.

He struts into the library and you turn to stare after him. Well, you weren’t exactly paying attention. You’d been more concerned about balancing your treats. You head in after him but are sure to turn in the other direction.

You get your muffin safely in your bag and take out your phone. You ask Primrose where she is and she tells you she’s up on the second floor. You do your best to follow the other directions but you don’t get there before Olive.

You sigh as you come up to them and set your paper cup down, “sorry, guys. I got a bit lost.”

“And you got cider,” Primrose remarks.

“I did,” you shrug as you sit.

“It’s fine, Prim,” Olive tuts. “We’re just studying.”

“Just studying,” Primrose shakes her head. “Not me. This professor. He gave me less than a day for my first lesson and now he’s sent back a grocery list of revisions, all while saying no more than a full sentence to me.”

“Sounds like a butt!” You blow a raspberry. “My professors are pretty chill.”

“That’s good,” Olive smiles, “mine too. But physics... I think it’s going to do me in. I haven’t taken it since Grade 12.”

That’s not—oh,” you catch yourself.

“Been a while,” Olive chuckles. “No worries, I know I’m old.”

“Sorry,” you grab your cup and sip.

“Cerise,” Primrose interrupts. “I can help with your Norse homework. I took that class last year. It’s a lot of work.”

“Oh, thank you! Do you still have your notes? I kinda... didn’t get it all.”

“Brought my binder,” she reaches for her bag. “I’ll hand it over if you go grab me one of those.” She taps your cup lid with her other hand.

“Deal,” you agree. Thank god! This might not be as big a disaster as you feared.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #series #drabble #au #sweet like candy #professor au #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

Text

Edge Of Ever After | 2

Part 1 2 3

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, POV shifts!, mentions/depictions of pregnancy/miscarriage/mensuration/the likes, enemies to lovers, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: about time i posted the next part here on tumblr this is originally posted on ao3

I gag as I watch maester Yannick swirl around a flask of my urine by the window. He holds it by the light and I have to look away as he inspects it.

"I wouldn't hold my breath, maester," I mutter as the man heads towards his desk.

"Of course not. You're doing it for me," he says as he places the sample down and scribbles on parchment, "now. Any cravings, besides the obvious strawberry pie one."

I suck in a deep breath before sighing, "no. None at all."

Maester Yannick turns to me and squints, "any physical symptoms? Mood swings? Sore breasts?"

I lightly clear my throat and shake my head, "none."

He turns back to his journal and writes something. He takes a moment before asking, "when was the last time you coupled?"

I wipe my face and buzz my lips, "...10 days?"

He chuckles, "well that explains it."

"E-... Explains what?"

"Why he's so much of a hound lately," he closes his journal with a thud, "nasty temper that one-- but what do you expect from a man who drinks wine like water?"

I lick my lips and pick at my nails.

"Pah, don't worry," he waves me off, "you married a grump. He was grumpier before," he raises a brow, "and I didn't have to be there to know it."

Maester Yannick walks over to me, grabs my shoulders and nods, "now. My learned self deduces you are probably in the early stages of childbearing." He raises a finger, "that being said, you have had issues with your moon cycle before."

The old man releases me, only to push me towards the door. I look at him in panic as he seems not to want to continue what he was going to say.

"My dear," he opens the door, "my advice is to simply wait."

"Wait?!" I pull away from him to face him, "what does that mean?"

"It means just go about your day. Don't think about this because we cannot be certain of a consensus. Go to the festival in the town. Bring your dogs. Bring your husband," he motions to the open door, "make merry. It's good for your health, and for whatever life you could possibly - if the gods will it - be carrying."

Maester Yannick effectively kicks me out of his office after that.

He was horrible with that news, and rather vague. I don't know if I should cry, be angry, or be sad. Or happy? Should I be happy? Well... I don't know what I am.

I find myself recounting everything our maester told me as I walk down the hallway. When I make my way to the living area, I am greeted by 3 cold snouts of 3 pups that were getting too big to be called that in my opinion.

I smile at them and head towards the settee. I sit down and grab the ball I left there, throwing the thing into the hall, watching the dog siblings clamour after it. I continue to do this and only stop whenever there's someone passing by.

At some point, in my absentmindedness, I throw the ball too hard and it hits the end of the hall, bouncing off into the other. I watch the dogs chase after it and sequentially have to chase after them.

Seeings as the pups were great retrievers, I was expecting them to meet me halfway in the hall as I followed. When they don't, I call out to them with concern.

"Go on," a gruff voice says, "your mam's calling you lot."

I reach the end of the hall and see Sandor shooing away the three beasts by the door to his office. I smile at him as he growls to intimidate them; the dogs only bark back and wag their tails.

"Let the poor man go," I say as I walk over.

Sandor looks up at me. I chuckle as I watch his annoyed expression soften.

He purses his lips and steps forward, "they don't listen to me."

"They do," I cross my arms, "they just want to play.'

"Then they clearly don't listen to me," he corrects.

I shrug, "they do."

He rolls his eyes and places a hand on his hips, "did you want to go to the festival? The townsfolk have been fucking yapping to me about it. They want to see you."

I tighten my arms around me as I think about what Yannick said again.

Sandor's eyes dart down, landing on my chest. His nose twitches and he clears his throat as he looks away.

"I want to go but I..." I hesitate.

It catches Sandor's attention and makes him look back at me.

"I have something to tell you."

His brows furrow, "what is it?"

Lilac begins to bark loudly. It makes both of us turn to her and shush her out of instinct. She barks some more just to drive her point then shakes her floppy ears.

Sandor, finally having enough, picks up Lilac, and she immediately stops barking. He makes a face at the dog as she lolls her tongue out, clearly happy to be finally be carried.

I giggle and pet her head, "such a pampered princess."

The Hound side eyes her.

It's not long until Rose and Sage are barking up their protests. The Hound has no choice but to carry three pups in his arms.

I chuckle as I watch Sage make a fuss, like always. He liked having his front paws on Sandor's shoulder, and so he fussed until he got what he wanted. Sandor cradled the two girls in his arms.

"You were saying?" mutters my husband, pretending to be more annoyed than he actually was.

I frown, "they don't like it when I carry them."

"You can't carry them," he adjusts his hold, "not all at once."

I huff and pet Rose on the head. She leans into my touch.

"Well?"

I look at Sandor, "hmm?"

"You have something to tell me," he repeats.

I weigh the options in my head. I decide on what to say and stop petting Rose in lieu of petting Lilac. I suck in a breath, "I want to buy a melon."

He knits his brows, "what?"

I stroke Sage on the back and he turns around only to look away a second later, "I want to buy a melon. At the festival."

"That's it?"

I nod and lie, "that's it."

He half shrugs, "then we'll get a melon. Why'd you say it like you meant to say you don't want to go with me?"

"I do!"

"You don't want to go-"

"I WANT TO GO WITH YOU!"

He presses his lips together. He is unable to hold back his chuckle but then wipes off his grin, and shrugs, "so? What's the problem?"

"It's just..." I think of an excuse to cover up my lie, "I feel bad that you carried that pumpkin all the way here from the market."

Sandor raises his brows. He looks disgusted. His lips twitch, "I carried a cow once, you know that?"

I blink at his words and debate its truth.

"Look," he rocks the pups in his hands, "three fucking wee cows right now."

I break into a laugh.

He looks like he's about to set the pups down but he stops himself when he sees how they look like they're about to doze off. He sighs, "we're not bringing these mutts."

He grumbles all the way to their dog bed where he gently puts them down.

I babble about why I wanted a melon to Sandor all the way to the festival to continue making my agitation over what I really wanted to tell him subside. We decided to walk because I said I wanted to pick flowers on the way, even though the truth was... I wanted the travel to the festival to be longer.

The festival was a harvest event where the folks celebrated their crops. They held some contests for their livestock and their plants, and they also did pantomime and jigs. At least that's what I could remember from the little memory I had of it as a child.

"Oh, look!" I point to a flower, "that looks beautiful."

Sandor sighs as I rush towards a large flower. He shakes his head and places his hands on his hips as he follows after me, "love, at this point, we're not going to get to the festival. You keep heading the other way."

I pluck the flower and bring it into the small bouquet I had in my hand. I looked at my arrangement and decided it was too... yellow for it.

I shake my head and walk towards Sandor, "too yellow."

He looks down as I hand it to him. He raises his brows, "what do you want me to do?" He takes the flower and makes a face, "paint it?"

"Mmmmmm.... maybe you can-"

A scream of terror cuts me off.

My heart drops and immediately, Sandor pulls me behind him. He places his hand on his scabbard, glad to never leave the house without steel.

There is a rustle by the foliage.

He says over his shoulder, "step back."

I do so without question.

It doesn't take long until there's a running sound getting closer. Quickly, a woman, ragged and panting, emerges from behind the trees.

"HELP!"

Sandor is on his guard.

She was being pursued by a woodland monster. I was mortified to see it and was ready to run back home.

Sandor chuckles when he sees how tiny it was. He screams to taunt the beast and draws it away from me and the woman. Sure enough, the thing begins to head towards him and, in truth, I'm a bit concerned by how easily he killed it and how... happy he looked to do so.

Sandor sheathes his sword without wiping it off and head towards me. He looks at me with concern, "are you alright?"

I stare at him, wondering about the damage killing so many monsters was doing to him.

Sandor looks to the ground and picks something up. He takes my hand and I look down to see him placing the flowers I picked back into my hold. I hadn't even realized I dropped them. It was at this moment I was snapped back into reality. There was a woman being chased just a few seconds ago.

I turn and see the said person, clutching her chest as she caught her breath. I walk towards her, "are you hurt?"

Sandor makes sure to keep me behind him as we approach her.

She gasps for air twice before turning to me to shake her head, "no..." she pants, "but I am thirsty."

I turn to Sandor, who looks at me for a few seconds then her. He tilts his head, "why were you in the woods?"

"Sandor," I scold for not immediately offering to give her water.

"I was trying to forage food," she sighs, "I thought it was safe enough to do that now. Clearly I was wrong "

I nudge Sandor on the rib. He sighs, "you want some water?"

She nods quickly.

He looks at me and I smile at him. I turn to the woman, "my husband and I would be glad to give you some."

She sighs in relief, "thank you."

Sandor did not once take his eyes off the woman, not even when I nudged him with my elbow for glaring.

Lorena was her name. I sat next to her on our bench in our front yard, watching as she finished an entire ewer of water.

She sets her cup down on the space between us with a sigh. I smile at her when she turns to me. She wipes her lips on her sleeve, "thank you kindly, lady."

"You're welcome."

"Alright, you had your drink," Sandor says, "time to go."

I make a face as Sandor comes to Lorena's side, "Sandor."

Lorena stands up, "may I say one thing before I go, Lady Clegane."

My forehead wrinkles. I stand as well, "of course. And pay no mind to my husband. You may stay to catch your breath if you'd like."

The Hound scoffs, "then she'll ask for a meal, and a place to stay."

I nearly roll my eyes but decide to cover my annoyance with a smile.

Lorena gives me a solemn expression, "may I speak freely?"

For a second, I wonder why she had to preface with this, but I disregard the thought and nod, "of course."

"You have a monster with you, large and viscous."

My expression drops. I part my lips, "... I beg your pardon?"

Lorena turns to Sandor. I am flabbergasted by her offensive insinuation

My eyes dart between the two. My husband seems wholely unfazed by the horrendous accusation, which makes it all the more unbearable for me. I do not get the opportunity to speak however.

"Your endeavor to purge the forest is futile, so long as she lives like this," Lorena tells Sandor.

I chuckle dryly, "I BEG your pardon?!"

She turns to me and knits her brows. She looks worried and shakes her head, "you must get cleansed by a spellcaster who has the same or more power than the one who cursed your family, Lady Clegane."

I freeze at her words. My brows knit. I blink rapidly, stunned by what she was saying now.

Sandor narrows his eyes, "what curse?"

Lorena turns back to Sandor, as if in disbelief of his question. Regardless, she clarifies, "the curse of the forest, of Brown Wood; the curse of her clan."

I gulp at her words. I slap a hand to my mouth, suddenly queasy. A bitter taste grows as the woman continues.

"I grew up in Essos. My mother was a soothsayer. She could read your future from a look of your palm. I inherited but a fraction of her gift, which is why I cannot help you myself."

"Essos?" Sandor scoffs, "let me guess, you're from Volantis?"

Lorena nods, "I am."

The Hound cackles, throwing his head back as he did.

I feel bile rise up my throat.

Lorena looks disgruntled as Sandor calms and shakes his head. "All right, wench," he grabs her arm, "get out of he--"

I run towards a nearby bush and begin to retch. Sandor immediately releases Lorena and dashes to my side.

Lorena looks at me and mutters something foreign under her breath.

I vomit a good amount before straightening up, weakly leaning into Sandor as he pulls me into his chest. My head is pounding. I hear him repeat my name as he wipes my lips with his sleeve.

"Your monster is fighting back now that it's been recognized," Lorena says with pity.

Sandor enraged, "fuck off! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

She is taken aback, "but I-"

"I'VE HEARD ENOUGH FROM YOUR CUNT MOUTH!"

Lorena flinches and slowly walks back before ultimately running away.

"N-no-" I turn to her, "wa-it!"

Sandor pulls me back, circling around to block me. He clutches my cheeks, lowering himself to examine my face, "are you alright?"

I shake my head in an attempt to push him away. I, in fact, push him, but he doesn't budge, "you scared her off, Sandor! She had more to say-"

"I'd have severed her tongue for it," he quips, placing his hands on my shoulder, pushing me back, "we're going inside."

"But-" but I can only walk in the direction he's dragging me.

Sandor causes as scene when we get inside. He sits me down and starts shouting, "SOMEONE GET FUCKING WATER FOR THE DAMNED LADY OF THE HOUSE, YOU LAZY SHITS."

"Sandor," I whimper, wiping my face as I watch him pace around, demanding attention.

He walks towards me, kneeling by the chair I was sat on. Right on cue, the patter of paws fill the air and three barking pups come running over. Two of them nip at Sandor's clothing, eager for his attention. One of them, Lilac, barks at me, loudly requesting to be picked up.

I huff and chuckle at the creatures, shushing them while picking up Lilac, "don't upset your father more than he already is."

Sandor's heart skips when he hears that. Aye, it was not the first time he's heard it but it doesn't make it any less exciting for him. He looks over his shoulder and eyes the pups, "shut it."

Rose howls and sticks out her tongue.

"Stupid bitch," he grumbles.

I frown, "Sandor."

He clears his throat.

A servant comes with an ewer and a cup. I'm about to say thank you, but Sandor barks out to call Maester Yannick, and so the poor thing scurries off to do just that.

"That's enough," I scowl at him, "I'm fine."

Sandor's face sours, "you fucking vomited-- fine my arse."

"You heard her," I sigh and cuddle with Lilac, "it's the curse reacting to-"

"You're not cursed," Sandor quips.

My eyes water.

A beat passes.

I watch Sandor's expression harden. At the same time, Sage begins his attempt to climb up the chair. Sandor moves his leg around when Rose begins to nip at ends of his trousers.

With a raised brow and an eye roll, Sandor picks both Sage and Rose, handing them over to me.

The reunited siblings begin to silently play with each other on my lap. Their legs kick my arms and chest but I could not care less.

"That cunt bitch was hired by Littlefinger to fuck with you," Sandor stands and peers down at me, "don't you see? She's conveniently from Volantis and can see monster remnants-- HA-- even I can do a better job than that."

I begin to feel my stomach sour again, my face scrunching in return.

Sandor is flooded with concern. At the same time, the puppies begin to jump off me. He hisses, "gods," bending down to prevent the pups from injuring themselves.

The siblings chase each other around the room and sequentially find a toy to play with.

I take a deep breath, which thankfully helps to calm my stomach. I sigh, "I don't think so."

He looks at me.

"I think she sincerely wants to help."

He deflates his lungs. He calls my name again, "you're not-"

"You're forgetting I was there," I mutter, feeling my throat constrict, "someone came here to Brown Wood that day and unleashed this."

His brows knit tightly when I grab his hand. He kneels again when I tug him, bringing his palm to my side

"A monster didn't scar me, Sandor, a man did."

I feel him tighten his grip on my left hip.

My emotions best me.

Sandor doesn't move an inch as I cry into my hands. Something horrendous eats away at him. His hand tenses, but he decides - fuck it - and pulls me towards him. He rubs my waist as I wipe my cheeks.

I bring my arms around his shoulders, calming myself down with the warmth of him. He sighs where I sob. He whispers, "I'm here, sweet wife. No one else will lay a finger on you."

My chest tightens at his words.

Then it dawns on me... I was meant to die that night. The monsters were for my family, and I survived. I'm the reason why this pestilence plagues Brown Wood.

I pull away from Sandor when I realize this.

He recoils with shock.

I stand and run outside, passing maester Yannick, as I make my way to a bush to vomit again.

I lie in bed feeling horrible after having so many people fuss over me. Sandor wound up snarling at the servants waiting outside my door, scaring them off to give me some privacy.

Maester Yannick pats my hand after he finishes examining me, "you're going to be fine. If I'm being blunt, you had quite a dramatic reaction."

I sink into the cushions as I watch the old man gather his things, readying to leave, "of course, some bodies are more naturally dramatic than others," he turns to Sandor, ho was standing by the door, "take your husband for example. He's not got a bone in his body made with dramatics."

I look at Sandor; his face is indignant and his crossed arms make him appear more tense.

"Of course, that can also be worrying," Yannick says as he walks towards him. He pats his shoulder, "our body's reactions are telling of its conditions, and yours it telling you it needs rest."

The Hound eyes him as he exits the room. Maester Yannick shoos the people who've come back to snoop on the situation.

Sandor promptly locks the door. I lean into my pillow and watch him walk over to me.

I feel my throat tighten as he sits down on the other side of the bed. My eyes water a bit as he looks me over. He mumbles incredibly softly, "are you alright, pretty squirrel?"

I clench my jaw and sink into the sheets, "no."

He sighs. He sounds uneasy, "should I get you anything?"

Before I can respond, Sandor snaps.

"Fuck that old cunt. Dramatic or not, you spewed out everything you ate in the bushes. You need something."

I feel my vision blur. I rapidly shake my head and blink away the tears, "I'm tired, s'all."

"You need to eat something."

I reach out to him, "hold me instead?"

Sandor freezes. He proceeds to remove his shoes and gets under the sheets. He lies back and pulls me into him.

I nestle my face into his chest.

He gives out a deep sigh. He slowly speaks my name.

I lift my face and catch the worry on his.

He eyes me and presses his lip together, "you... you don't think this could be..."

I watch him as his gaze wanders, as if looking for the words to say. His hand rubs down my back. He turns to me again, "... you know..."

I knit my brows, "because I was upset about the curse?"

"Mmm-- no-" he sniffles, "because you're... carrying..."

I look at him with confusion but then it slips into realization. I perk and sit up slightly. I shake my head and offer a smile, "ah. Well... it's not improbable."

He looks at me in expectation.

I turn to his shirt, eyeing the fabric with artificial interest. I absentmindedly feel the fabric with my finger, "maester Yannick has his suspensions but he told me not to worry about it."

He shifts to towards me. He rubs my shoulders, but I still do not look up at him. He asks, "are you worried about it?"

"I'm cursed, husband," I mutter. Tears drip onto his top, "of course I'm worried. It's no wonder I cannot keep a child."

His brows tighten. He calls out my name.

I refuse to look at him. A dam of tears threaten to burst if I do.

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close.

I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest.

He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

I hold back my tears but the sobs come out anyway. I grip onto his collar for dear life. He tightens his hold on me. We remain like this until I've wet his shirt and forced myself to calm down. He holds me all throughout, the sound of his breathing lulls me.

"There were 5 of them," I mumble against him.

Sandor doesn't say a word.

"They killed every one of our servants, then my father... my poor younger brother and sister," I lick my lips, tasting the salt of my tears, "I only survived because I was not inside that day; my older brothers snuck me out to watch them ride."

I laugh at the memory of them fighting over my approval.

Sandor's heart clenches at the sound.

"Those five men were covered in blood when they found us. They told us what they did to Brown Wood, the curse they set, the lives they took to do it. They told us what they were going to do to my brothers... to me. My eldest brother managed to maim one of them before he was beaten into the ground. My other brother gave his life to put me on his horse," I push myself up and look at him, "one managed to dig his knife into me before the steed bolted away."

Sandor watches as I take his hand. I bite my lip to keep myself from sobbing.

He straightens up and wipes my face with his free palm. He rubs down to my shoulder, "your brother wanted you to live. They all would have wanted you to live a happy life."

I laugh through my sob, "they would not want Brown Wood to be cursed, none of them would."

"But it's not your fault," he speaks tenderly, "you had nothing to do with it."

"They chased after me," I muttered, "the monsters."

A line forms between his brows.

"They chased me and my brother's horse into the woods, and all I did was scream and beg the poor creature to keep running as I clung onto its neck. I lead those monsters into the forest. Those vile creatures are hurting the people here because I was meant to fall with my br-"

"Enough," he grabs my shoulders.

I make a pained sound, "don't you see?!"

He is taken aback when I fight him away, but he does not release me.

"I've cursed you too! You think I've given you gold, when I truth you've been thrown here to die!"

Sandor cups my face.

"I was never meant to have you," I grab his wrists, trying to yank him away, "I was not meant to have anyone."

I eventually give up trying to free myself from his touch. It's not like I actually wanted to be in the first place.

He swallows a thick lump in his throat. "Aye," he furrows his brows, "you were never meant to have me. I was sworn to a bastard king, destined to die for him with nothing else to live for.

"The day King's Landing was attacked from Blackwater Bay, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I saw my end in the flames," he squeezes my arms, "and I saw you... my poor lady wife, my meek and naïve little bride. I knew what they'd do to you, to you, your wench, and your lame dog if I died that night."

My heart hurts, and clenches, and twists at his soft voice. I notice the glint in his eyes, the water waiting to spill.

"Sandor..."

"You say you're my curse," he takes my hands and rubs my knuckles. He looks at me and tightens his grip. He shakes his head, knitting his brows deeply together, "you are my purpose."

My lips quiver. My breathing grows heavy.

"I will not have you harmed, by blade, by claw or curse," he leans forward and scoops me on to his lap. He seals me into a tight embrace, "let me handle this."

I suck in a breath.

"Let me keep you safe."

I sigh slowly and nod my head. I snuggle my face into his neck and mutter softly, "I trust you."

I wake up to an empty bed. I knit my brows at it and look out the window. It seems like I was early in the morning. I scratch my eyes. Or, wait... was it still night?

Gods, I am disoriented.

I reach out to Sandor's side, hand slapping on the vacant cushion, and sigh.

I notice some candles in the room were lit. Maybe he woke up for a wee.

I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I groan.

I peel my heavy eyes open, thinking this was going to be impossible if Sandor doesn't come back soon.

I watch the sky through the window. Long moments later, I hear the door open.

I turn to see Sandor walking in. I sit up when I notice him holding a tray.

He stops in his tracks, "... you're not supposed to be awake yet..."

"You left," I retort.

"I made sure not to make a sound."

"What is that?"

Sandor turns to his tray and walks over, "something to eat when you wake." He heads towards me and places the object down on the bedside table, "it's meant to be cool by the time you did."

I knit my brows as he sits on the edge of the bed. I glance at the bowl of porridge, feeling my heart warm and pinch at his concern. I reach out to him and he sandwiches my hand in both of his, "how are you feeling?"

"Tired," I mutter.

"Hungry?"

"Tired."

"You haven't eaten anything since you emptied your guts."

"I'm not hungry, husband."

"Because you've let your hunger pass," he says sternly, a line forming between his brows.

I press my lips tightly and pull my hand out of his grip. I slowly reach out to his cheek, "may I?"

Sandor hesitates but responds by pressing my palm on his scarred face. He is rigid against my touch. It seems like he won't let up. I release him from his misery by moving my touch to his chest. He immediately relaxes. I mutter, "I'll eat in a little while."

Sandor touches the hand on his chest, "you probably woke up because you're hungry."

I chuckle softly and shake my head, "I woke because you weren't there."

He grunts.

"It's cold," I add.

"I know what can warm you up."

My stomach flips when he leans forward. But then, he reaches out for a spoon and says, "porridge."

I watch as he brings a spoonful of porridge to his lips to blow at it. When he thinks it's cool enough, he brings it towards me.

I have to bite my lips to hold back my laugh but eventually bring myself to eat, for his sake. I lick my lips after and he looks at me expectantly. I smile, "it's delicious. Thank you."

Sandor shakes his head, "it's not delicious. You're just hungry."

He goes for another scoop.

I watch as he blows the spoonful, "did you make it?"

"Nay, the castle ghost did," he brings the spoon to my lips.

I give him a look.

"... I did."

I eat the porridge.

Sandor goes for another scoop but I stop him by grabbing his arm.

We stare at each other for a moment. I shift on the mattress and get on my knees. I push myself up, becoming slightly taller than him as I did. I crawl over.

He watches me, eyes raking up and down my form.

He stiffens when I bring my leg on his lap and take a seat there. I rest my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him, "I told you, I'm not hungry."

"..."

"I'm not a little girl that need be spoon-fed."

I hear him put the spoon down. He places his hands on my hips.

"You don't have to treat me this way."

"Foolish wife," he sigh, "you took care of me once."

"..."

He rubs my back.

I slowly pull away and look at him.

He rubs my sides, "more than once. Much more."

My lips part. My brows knit.

"I'm hardened. I have no instinct for tenderness, only instinct to survive," he lowers his head, "you will not survive if you don't eat."

I sigh, expression melting, "oh, puppy. One missed meal will not kill me."

He scowls.

I bite my lip and cling on to the fabric of his top, "I swear to you, I will eat in a little while."

He sighs heavily through his nostrils.

I pout, "can we just go back to sleep for now?"

Sandor takes his time to respond.

"Please, puppy-"

He flinches.

"I'm still so sleepy."

He sighs dramatically, "fine. As you wish, little girl."

I purse my lips, "I'm not a little girl."

"The don't be bratty," he quips, " or I will have you over my knee."

My eyes widen as he pushes me off. He stands and blows out the candles.

I grunt and whine when I wake. My heart was racing, as I've had a terrible nightmare. I was in the corner of a room, the scar on my hip was a wound bleeding out, and I was waiting for whatever was outside to finally come get me.

It eventually entered to do just that, slowly peeling the wooden door open with a horrible creek. A massive, molten creature scratched down the door and steps forward. My heart was in my mouth as it looked at me.

And then it lurched, and I was awake.

I was awake with a heavy weight on top of my chest. I throw whatever it was away from me, only realizing after that it was Sandor's arm.

I sit up with a gasp, and I wait for him to curse at me for rattling him. He doesn't. He doesn't curse. He doesn't wake up.

I sigh with guilt. I fix his arm, rubbing it to make up for what I did. He snores and my eyes crinkle at it.

Oh, to sleep like a hound.

I look at the window and see the sun glistening upon the outside. I turn to my the porridge Sandor had left on the table and smile. I decide to get up and head to the bathroom before eating it.

I freshen up and relieve myself. My face falls when I find red in my skirts. For a moment, I deny it. I stare and touch it, disgusted by the very real wetness that meets my fingers. I sigh and, suddenly feel tears flood my eyes. Disappointment and sadness clogs my chest.

By the time, I change my garments and check the bed for any stains, finding none, I was a sobbing mess.

I sit beside Sandor, heaving as I look at his sleeping form. I take the bowl of porridge and eat it. It was barely warm at this point. I leave not a drop.

I could not keep myself inside the bedroom, because all there was for me here was to cry, and I didn't want to wake my husband.

I take my tray of empty porridge and head to the kitchen. Many of the servants were already awake and working at this point, and each of the ones who greeted me had their smiles faltering at sight of my face.

I rub my tear stained cheeks.

I think I want strawberry pie.

It was pathetic that I wasn't distracted by work, that the tears kept coming as I measured, and mixed, and poured, and picked ingredients to make my favorite dessert. Not the smell nor the taste of this labour, which was meant be done with love, took away from this hopelessness in my belly, the hollowness of it all.

And as concerned as Lucy, as Yannick, as Margaret, as Arron, as Polly, as anyone who saw me was, I told them only that I needed to make this pie, and that they leave me be.

I finished two by the time Sandor woke up.

I look up at him from across the room; he had called out my name. He looked small... and scared from there. I look back down at my bowl and continue to mix the strawberries for the third pie I'm making.

I feel him walk towards me. I feel him come to my side. I do not anticipate whatever he means to do. I grab my pie tin and pour the contents in.

Sandor watches. He watches me place the top layer of dough on my pie and fashion its crust.

He calls my name again. I ignore him in lieu of completing my task.

Just as I finished, Sandor takes the pie and moves it away. He grunts, "enough fucking pie."

Finally, I look up at him. He looks so... fiercely concerned, so distressed and worried. It makes me feel sick.

"What's wrong?" he whispers.

The question... spurs me. What's wrong?

"I don't fucking know," I hiss, through tears.

Everything is wrong.

Sandor is visibly shocked by my response. This may well be the first time he's ever seen me act and speak like this.

"Do not speak to me. I don't want to speak with you," I snap and walk off. My chest hurts as I do so. My legs take me outside to the gardens, in front of Daisy's grave.

I am wrong.

It seems at this point, I no longer have any tears to cry. I sob, but no tears come out. My emotions crumple me down on the soil. I sit there in dismay. The fabric on my knees are stained brown.

I hear paws pattering. Feet are running towards me. Warm fur rubs against me. There are no barks, only wet noses and low whines.

I am irritated at first, but then Sage forces his way into my lap, and suddenly, it's all gone.

I curl my legs together. The daisies on Daisy's grave were plenty now. I find myself talking to her about the three puppies in my arms. I tell her how much she would have loved them. I tell her how sorry I am for bringing her to a place where she wasn't safe.

Lilac spots something behind me and begins to bark. Judging by the wag of her tail, I knew exactly what she saw.

I turn over my shoulder and see Sandor, nervous and hesitant.

I release the puppies from my arms and two trot over to Sandor; Rose stays by my side.

"Shall I leave?" Sandor asks.

I stare at him for a moment, feeling to scared to tell him no, to ask him of anything at this moment, so I just shake my head.

He walks over to me. The pups follow and run back into my lap. Sandor sits on the ground beside me.

We sit there in silence. I feel my husband look at me, examine me, unsure of his next more. He decides to simply pet the pups and be there. I am grateful for it.

"I'm sorry," I eventually mutter, "I was horrid."

"... honestly," he mutters, "it made me think this was probably what I'm like with you."

I look at the daisies in front of me. I look at the gravestone for my dog. I look at my husband, who was stroking Rose's dark fur. I tell him, "you're not like this."

His brow darts up, "aye," he frowns, " 'm far worse."

I shake my head, "... the world has been cruel to you, my love."

Sandor's brows knit tightly, "aye, and to you." His hand moves to mine. My breathing strains when he squeezes it, "I kill people that piss me off... you bake pies."

He looks at the daisies, "I don't know what's upset you, but," he looks back at me, "if you want to bake some more... I can help."

I give him a soft smile. I shake my head and mumble, "enough fucking pies."

He sigh, "I'm sorry I-"

"It's alright. I'm tired."

He sighs again.

"... I suppose it's a good time as any to tell you..."

"..."

I drop my head on his shoulder in defeat, "I'm not with child."

I feel him look down at me.

".. there was blood on my skirt when I woke," I look up at him and press my lips into a line, "I think it's just how... it'll always be... no matter what we do... what I do..."

Sandor's brows furrow. He turns and reaches for my face. When he swipes his thumb on my cheek, my eyes water.

I chew my lip and dryly chuckle, lips quivering as I did so, "do you still want me?"

His expression tightens. He shakes it head, as if he was just struck, and tightens his hold on me, "I've never wanted anything so badly."

"... Sandor... I'm curs-"

"Then I pray I'll be fucking cursed forever."

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valeisaslut · 12 days ago

Note

im not sure if this is off base but i feel like Popstar! reader would have cursive handwriting and that she would sign autographs with a pink sparkly pen

this might just be cus i love pink and sparkles

anyway, love your writing and constantly laughing at all of the posts, kinda want one of the t-shirts - drop the merch

YESSSSS you are absolutely so real for this because popstar!reader definitely has the prettiest cursive ever — like loops and flourishes and little hearts over her i’s. she signs autographs with a pink sparkly pen that smells like strawberries and people keep their signed albums in glass cases like collector’s items.

and THEN there’s ellie 😭😭 her signature is like… a weird, chaotic little gremlin scribble. if you squint, you might be able to make out an “Ellie W” (but now it’s Ellie M <3) in thick-ass black sharpie and somehow it takes up half the poster. it’s like she’s tagging a wall not signing merch.

they sign side by side when people pass them by in the street and it’s just the funniest contrast, reader’s signature = delicate & glowing and ellie’s = cryptic punk graffiti that looks like it’s threatening someone

#val answers anons!💜

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beomwooxie · 4 months ago

Text

MYTR - Chapter 3

SUMMARY - masterlist

What happens when two not-so rivals bands from the same town try making it big? What happens when two members of the not-so rivals bands in questions are just idiots in love, too dumb to realise it? Well, they make pretty great drama and write pretty good songs about it.

pairings : beomgyu x female reader, a bit of yeonjun x female reader

warnings : smoking, swear words, that's it i think

wc: 3,5k

notes : more of a filler chapter to prepare some things for the next ones hehe...

song inspo : Ghosting - TxT

An imaginary clock was ticking inside her head. How long has this class started already? The strawberry-blonde girl looked at her phone. She had only entered the building thirty minutes ago, but this had felt like she had just lost two years of her lifespan. The thing about this class was not that it wasn’t interesting, but the teacher who seemed so out of it all the time. Seriously, who had forced him to be there?

She took some time to look around her, suddenly being too aware of Daphne’s leg almost touching hers. From where she was sitting in the auditorium, she could make out Beomgyu’s head, writing something in his notebook, Soobin next to him. She was sure they were paying as much attention as she was – meant, not that much.

Sitting so close to Daphne’s meant she could feel her perfume, which might have been the reason she was feeling so overwhelmed. There was one thing about Bowie that made her fall instantly for someone, and that was their smell.

Bowie took this opportunity to analyze their situation. Daphne had just broken up with her girlfriend. She didn’t want to jump in a relationship right away, too afraid of it being a rebound relationship – or so she said. Not that this had stopped them from giving each other longing looks or hanging out all the time, almost kissing multiple times. The British girl never figured out the right time to speak to her about it, still unsure about how she felt to say something coherent or thoughtful. She had worked quite a lot in the past days for the band, having some recording or writing sessions. Plus, Daphne also worked on the side, at the school library, most of the time.

When she had woken up that morning, she had hesitated to sit beside her or to go to her two friends, who were now sitting further down, quite a few rows in front of her. But as she entered the auditorium and saw the ravishing smile Daphne had offered her, along with a small wave, she couldn’t help but ditch her two friends, waving them hello while she had climbed up the stairs leading to the seat she had kept for her. There was one thing that Bowie wasn’t, and that was a coward. Deciding that she had enough of being kept in the dark with what was going on between them, she made a decision. Today was the day, something had to be done. But she still wasn’t sure what she should do. As they said hi to each other, their hug lasting a bit longer than it normally would, she decided that sure, she had to do something, but she needed some time to figure out what. So, today was the day she was going to start wondering about it.

As the class progressed, her attention started to wander somewhere else. She thought about a song she had wanted to write for quite a while, about the book she had been reading recently – literally everything beside the lecture happening in front of her. Her eyes scanned the room for something to pay attention to, finally noticing Beomgyu’s laptop opened in front of him, but him scribbling something down on a sheet of paper next to it. Deciding that figuring out the picture of his wallpaper was her new mission, it suddenly hit her: it was a picture of Y/N and him, taken a year ago, at this party Yeonjun had hosted when they moved in their new flat. She made a mental note to text Y/N about it later, when suddenly, Daphne’s hand brushing hers made her jump. She tried to avoid her gaze. The panic took over her and she put her hand away, immediately regretting it and cursing herself out.

“Are you okay?” Daphne’s voice came out in a whisper, her face closer to Bowie’s, trying to read her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry, you just surprised me that’s all”, the blonde girl answered, still pretending to look unbothered.

She let out a sigh that came out louder than she had planned to. She gulped loudly, finally daring to look back at her. Daphne sure had felt some boldness all the sudden, because her hand made her way to Bowie’s, now laid out on the desk. The sudden flush of energy translated by a blush on the other girl's cheeks. When the lecturer reached the end of his monologue, and the other students were starting to pack up their things, Daphne’s hand firmly grabbed Bowie’s coarse ones (those damn drumsticks), and she interlaced their fingers.

‘Should we go grab something to eat?’ Daphne’s voice rang in her ears, breaking her reverie.

‘Sure, let’s go’, she answered, in an almost silent hush.

After that terrible lecture and a sleepless night, Beomgyu was wavering between going home to nap or staying for their afternoon class. His best friend had already chosen the former, leaving him alone, in the hall, headphones on his ears and looking at his Instagram feed. As he scrolled, he ended up looking at one of Y/N’s posts, about a book she had just finished. He read the caption, and wanted to text her, recalling the fact that she hadn’t really texted him the past few days. She had even avoided him a few times in the halls, suddenly changing her directions as she noticed him. It deeply saddened him, how she was putting so much effort in actively avoiding him. He clicked on her story, and a selfie of her with Bowie from the night before took his breath away for a second. How could it be so dramatic about it? They were just friends after all, it was normal to sometimes get some space from one another, right?

Bowie interrupted his inner monologue as she approached him. Noticing some shadows coming towards him, Beomgyu looked up and saw Daphne and Bowie, hands locked together. He tried to make his surprise unnoticed but made a poor attempt at this – the pleading look in Bowie’s eyes was almost yelling at him to not say anything.

“Hi Beoms, how’s it going?” Bowie said, voice coarse, before scratching her throat.

“I’m feeling like this was the worst lecture I ever attended in my university life, what about you guys?” His gaze alternated between the two girls in front of him.

Beomgyu knew Daphne because she was in the same class as him. But it was pretty much all his knowledge about the girl. He had noticed that Bowie got closer to her over the weeks, stopping sitting next to him and Soobin to go sit with her, or skipping their usual lunch times to go out on campus with her, but that was all. He remembered being surprised about some stories Bowie somehow posted, noticing them being close and going on outings that could be considered as “cliché dates”. And that reminded him of how he and Y/N used to do the same before the incident. He tried to recall a possible moment Bowie could have brought up anything about his classmate, but nothing came to mind.

“You’re so right. I’m so tired. We’re just going to head out for the cafeteria to grab something. Are you alone? Did Soobin already left?” Bowie let out, all in one breath.

“Yeah, he went home. Something about a headache, but that’s bullshit if you ask me. I think he’s just going to go home and nap. I should probably do the same, but my conscience is weighing out on me.”

After exchanging banalities about the afternoon class – where it was, in what room, what professor, what subject – the two girls bid their goodbyes to him, and he was once again left alone in that hall. Feeling noisy, he couldn’t help but take out his phone and open his conversation with Y/N. Even though she hadn’t answered him since the last time they talked about that guitar strings thing, he couldn’t retain such information for himself.

💬Gyu: just saw Bowie holding hands with Daphne?? Did you know anything about this?? Are they dating??

It only took a few seconds before his phone buzzed with a notification.

💬Y/N/N: Wtf? No, I didn’t!!! I was just suspicious of something but not with Daphne!! What did you see exactly?

💬Gyu: they were holding hands and being all glued to each other but that’s about it. She didn’t say anything either.

💬Y/N/N: Weird. I’ll investigate.

💬Gyu: okay! Let me know if you learn anything lol.

💬Gyu: When are you coming for your guitar?

This time, the reply didn’t come as fast as the previous one. He thought that she wasn’t going to answer him, just like she did last time. But soon enough, the familiar buzz came through.

💬Y/N/N: Could you come to my place? I kind of want to avoid having to take the bus with my guitar case.

💬Gyu: No worries I get it. I’ll drop by tonight.

💬Y/N/N: Sure! I should be home about 6pm, I’ve got classes until then.

💬Gyu: Okay, works for me. I’ll be there! Have a good day tonight!!

Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a sudden rush of anxiousness take over his whole body. It would be the first time since the incident he would be alone with Y/N. Plus, he couldn’t help but note how their banter wasn’t how it used to be. He wondered how she had insisted on him coming to her dorm instead of the other way around – they used to hang out at his place practically always before. He didn’t know about it, and he was probably just assuming, but he wondered if she wanted to avoid Yeonjun.

The two boys had to talk it out eventually, after all, they lived together. And Yeonjun had made a point that made sense to his youngest friend, even though it made sense. She wasn’t his girlfriend after all, they kept repeating endlessly how they had been just friends for ages. If he wanted to make a move on Y/N, Yeonjun had promised him to back down. But if he didn’t want to, then he shouldn’t stop her from pursuing going out with Yeonjun. And even though it hurt him to admit his older friend was right, Beomgyu started to admit that his reaction that night wasn’t the best. He acted in a toxic way and deeply wanted to apologize ever since then. And, most importantly, he needed to figure out what was going on between them so he could decide on what to do.

On the other side of the same campus, in the Management Faculty building, Y/N was wondering if maybe she had made a mistake by inviting Beomgyu to come by tonight. She recalled clearing up the air with Yeonjun Earlier this week. They simply went to the café in front of his apartment, and they talked it out like adults. Yeonjun said something about not trying to be noisy but advised her to speak to Beomgyu about it. And in true Y/N’s form, she decided to avoid the advice and continued to run away from him. It had now been two weeks since the whole debacle that night, and she deeply missed hanging out with Beomgyu. But then, Yeonjun added something about being interested in her and if she was willing to, to take her out on a date sometimes, when all of this was cleared up. She had appreciated him not turning all of this into some big drama scene, but she still recalled not being able to imagine even going on a date with him – what would Beomgyu think about this?

‘It can be really chill,’ he clarified, “just going for a drink or a bite together. Promise!’

She wanted to trust the older boy, and so she decided to focus on the matter. But to be able to think about the possibility, she needed some distance from Beomgyu, she thought. As she usually did when she needed to make up her mind about something, she chose to pour out her feelings in written form. She had started to write a sort of poem, but as the words came to mind, it turned out to be a list of some sort. It was basically a list of reasons she should date Yeonjun, and reasons she shouldn’t. When the first item of the “don’t” list came to be Gyu’s name, something shifted inside of her. Looking back at it, she didn't see it coming, really. But then it suddenly hit her. Perhaps she could have been in love with Beomgyu. Or at least, like him a lot. And maybe her feelings towards the boy could be reciprocated. But surely, after all these years of them being ambiguous, if he loved her back, sure something would have happened by now, no?

On the walk back to her apartment, with music playing in her ears, she let herself have some room inside her head to wonder. The most recent playlist she had made for herself was full of songs about being lost and not knowing how to feel. She was looking straight ahead of her, even though she was not mentally present, her body walking towards her home in autopilot mode. Suddenly, she saw a tall shadow coming towards her. She paid attention to what was in front of her, only for her gaze to meet with a familiar face.

“Hi Soob!” He waved at her, taking out his headphones before slowing down his pace. “How are you? Don’t you have classes?”

“I might have ditched Beomgyu… and the classes. I really couldn’t do it today.” He tried to defend himself, scratching his head, as his friend rolled her eyes. “I know, I’m not proud of it.”

“I get it, it’s okay. Been there, done that. Where are you heading to?”

“I’m going to Josie’s. I haven’t seen her since last week, so I took the opportunity to go and meet her.”

“Oh, date night. Have a fun day then! And say hi to her for me, yeah?”

“Will do!” The boy started to walk away, as did Y/N, but then he took a couple of steps back to meet her again. “Oh wait, Y/Nie,” he added, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Y/N waited, pondering what her friend was about to say while fidgeting with her fingers.

“I know things are complicated between you and Beomgyu now, but please, don’t leave him hanging. You know you’re his best friend; he’s being grumpy and annoying all day. Stop ignoring him, maybe? For the sake of my mental health.” He tried to say it in a joking way, but Y/N understood the worry lying underneath his tone; he was just looking out for his friend, bandmate, and roommate.

“I hear you, Soobin. I try not to avoid him, but with Yeonjun and all… It would be kind of awkward for me to show up at your guy’s place.”

“I know, but don’t worry about it. They talked about it, it’s all good now.”

Y/N gazed at Soobin, having to hold her head up to look at him directly. The boy must have been a giant in another life, she thought.

“What do you mean, they talked about it?”

“Well…” He paused for a second, searching for the right words to say. This wasn’t his mess to clean up, but he still wanted to help his friends in a way. “They talked about how Beomgyu’s reaction was inappropriate since you guys weren’t together, and Yeonjun made him agree that he could still date you, if you wanted to. As in, you weren’t his to claim or whatever, that you were free to do whatever you wanted to.”

“Oh”, she let out, not sure of what to say to the boy. “Right. Thanks Soobin! I’ll let you go, but let’s talk soon, yeah?”

The conversation that just went down between the two friends made Y/N perplexed. She didn’t understand why Beomgyu didn’t come to her to talk about it in the first place, but then she remembered how she kind of ghosted him for the two weeks since the ‘incident’. She remembered how she didn’t answer his calls, or his texts. She was kind of to blame on that part, she could admit. But knowing that Beomgyu hadn’t fought for her or discouraged Yeonjun from trying and dating her somehow made her heart swell in pain. When she got inside her apartment, she put on some music on a random playlist she had made ages ago and laid down on her bed. She grabbed at her phone, reading the last messages with Beomgyu. This activity took some time, because soon she reached their messages exchanged before the ‘incident’. We must stop calling this an incident, she thought to herself.

💬Gyu: would you rather listen to my song all day or watch the music video for the rest of your life?

💬Y/N/N: if you ask me, honestly, neither but you want an answer: probably the music video.

💬Gyu: Is it because I look so cute in it?

💬Y/N/N: no because I can mute it.

She snorted aloud. She loved their banter and them bickering. It’s what made them be such friends and have that kind of connection between them. She missed it. Scrolling a bit more, she found another discussion that put a smile on her face. This was so Gyu coded.

💬Gyu: I’m bored.

💬Gyu: Do you want to hang out and play music?

💬Gyu: Or maybe fight, as in… physically fight each other.

💬Y/N/N: you’re the weirdest person ever. But yes

As the conversation and messages got older, she saw a message that brought up a memory she had forgotten. Back when these interactions were normal and frequent with them.

💬Gyu: Wanna smoke? I’m bored.

💬Y/N/N: omg Choi Beomgyu is doing drugs!!

💬Gyu: you too.

💬Y/N/N: you’re right. I’m leaving in 5 minutes.

That afternoon, she didn’t have classes. She was bored at home, reviewing some lyrics of a song they were going to record in a couple of days. On the way to his shared apartment, she had picked up his favorite ice cream – plain vanilla, and a caramel one for her and went to his flat. They got high on his roof, the weather being sweet and sunny, and listened to a song he was working on. While he played it on his guitar for her, she dared to ask him a question she had held off to ask for quite a long time.

“What truly happened to you and Nova?” she said, looking away, taking a puff of the joint Beomgyu had collected.

“Well…You could sum it up by we dated but it didn’t work out”, Beomgyu simply said. For him, it was clear that he was over her. But it is true that he never really talked about it to Y/N because she was kind of the one at fault – at least, according to Nova.

“Why?”

“Why, what?” The boy in front of him didn’t stop strumming his guitar, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Why didn’t it work out”, Y/N cleared it up, blowing the smoke away. Beomgyu stopped playing, sat up straighter and reached out for the joint. After taking a hit, he spoke up.

“Apparently, I wasn’t fully committed to the relationship.”

“Were you?”

“Y/N, why the fuck are you asking me about her all the sudden? You miss her or something?” He snapped, even though he didn’t really mean to.

“Don’t get angry, Beomgyu. I’m just trying to talk to you. You never said anything about it, I learned it from Soren, for God’s sake.”

“It wasn’t any of your or Soren’s business to say anyway,” she had never seen him so angry. “That’s between me and her.”

Recalling that moment, she knitted her brows together. What happened between Nova and Beomgyu never made sense to her. They met at a party. They seemed to get along well, being introduced by some common friends. They hung out a few times before dating. They officially dated, she came to a few of their shows, was always around them, and then suddenly she wasn’t anymore. She always wondered what caused their breakup, but unfortunately, she never got to know why since he never wanted to admit it to her. Soobin talked about her being his best friend, and Beomgyu himself called her that. So why did he never talk to her about his relationship? She knew that he sometimes went on dates that never resulted in anything, but he never said dates – he kept calling it “hanging out with (insert name)”. She always learned those things from their other friends, when they asked about updates on his date with (insert name). That detail bugged her in the wrong way – she had never had any problems talking about her dates and the relationship she got in a year ago. But now that she thought about it, she was always the one bringing the subject up, never him. Soobin wants her to reconcile with Beomgyu, right? Well, she pondered, a deep conversation needed to happen between them.

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