#the first time I saw him was when the ep dropped and it was a tiny little bar

[barbie-nightmare-house]

I saw Hozier for the 5th time and I am in excruciating pain but god damn that white boy does a hell of a job

[watchmegetobsessed]

EVEN IF IT TAKES FOREVER

A/N: aaaah im so excited for yall to read this!!! im kinda ashamed to admit this whole idea came from something i heard in an ep of milf manor but lets just move past that lol

WORD COUNT: 9k

WARNING: sexual content, toxic and verbally abusive relationship, cheating (not from Harry or Y/N)

SUMMARY: Harry Styles is used to get any woman he wants, everyone knows that. But when his interest shifts towards you, everything changes and he is ready to wait for you for as long as it takes, even when he finds out you're engaged to your asshole boyfriend. Not even that ring on your finger stops him from pining after you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You don’t have to look up from the drink you’re making to know who just walked into the bar. It’s like the atmosphere of the whole place shifts instantly whenever Harry Styles appears, a sixth sense always triggers a siren in your head before your eyes could spot him crossing the space between the entrance and the bar. 

You’d be lying if you said you felt no excitement every time he shows up, the way your heart starts hammering in your chest is a great tell that he is anything but neutral to you, but you’ve been trying your absolute best to keep yourself under control. For one, he is known to be a flirt. Every woman in town knows that Harry loves three things, attention, pretty women and the combination of the previous two. You’ve seen him around with different partners every time, but never with the same twice. You heard the stories, the gossips and the whispers, how he shakes every woman’s world and then leaves, never giving the chance for anyone to even try to tie him down. This is not what you want or deserve.

And for two… You’re taken. Engaged, to be precise. 

When you spot Harry you instantly hide your hand behind your back, hoping the diamond ring won’t catch his eyes, because you know he would flip. 

Apparently, his latest fixation has been none other than you. He came into the bar about two months ago for the first time. He sat by the bar and clearly tried to flirt with you all evening, ignoring all the women who were brave enough to go up to him. He remained focused on you and as the evening carried on he became more and more blunt about his intentions with you. 

“So, are you coming home with me?” he asked when you walked out at the end of your shift. He was waiting by the back, leaning against his motorcycle. You were never blind, you saw how attractive he was then and you still see it now, but you just shook your head no.

“I’m taken.”

“You got a boyfriend?” He arched an eyebrow and you nodded. You expected him to give up, but instead, a devilish smirk took over his expression. “It’ll be even sweeter when I win you over, Angel.”

You were taken aback by his confidence and you were surprised when he showed up the next day, but got used to his presence quite fast. 

It became a sort of usual, have him walk in not long after your shift starts, he sits by the bar so he can talk to you, he drinks one or two beers and then asks if he could take you home once you’re done. You decline and then it starts all over again. 

An unexpected feature of his never dying attempts is that you’ve actually got to know each other during those long hours when he sat by the bar and entertained you while you worked and when he drops the cheeky act he is actually someone not just bearable but rather pleasant. You’d never admit it to him, but you kind of think of him as a friend, you’ve shared some things with him about yourself not many know. 

Like how you found out your boyfriend cheated on you. 

“You look stunning, as always, Angel,” he greets you as he takes his usual spot and you’re already pouring his drink.

“And you’re being flirty, as always,” you give him a knowing look, but he just smirks. You give him his beer and then move over to another man by the bar. 

When you return you notice the change in him and you know he saw the ring. As if you could still hide it from him, you cover it with your other hand, even though you did nothing wrong. 

“What’s that?” he asks, though it’s obvious he knows it’s an engagement ring. 

“Harry…”

“He proposed to you?” he asks, eyes snapping up to meet your gaze. 

“Yes, he did.”

“And you said yes?” He is clearly growing angrier by the second and you worry, because he tends to lose his temper easily. You don’t think he would ever hurt you, but he might take his anger out on something or someone else.

“Yes, that’s why I’m wearing the ring,” you say and try to keep yourself busy, moving the clean glasses in front of you around. 

“Y/N what the fuck?! You can’t be fucking serious.”

“I am and it’s none of your business,” you snap at him.

“The guy cheated on you!”

“Would you stop airing my private life for everyone?” you hiss at him, looking around to see if anyone has heard him. 

“Then explain to me how you are so stupid that you want to marry a man who doesn’t love you?!”

You’ve had enough. Checking if there is anyone waiting to be served you find no one so you walk out from behind the bar and grab Harry’s wrist, pulling him out through the back door to the empty parking lot behind the building. 

“Who do you think you are? You have no right to talk about me or my relationship like that!”

“Y/N, you are making a huge fucking mistake!”

“A mistake would be trusting someone about dating who has never stayed with a woman for longer than a couple of hours! What the fuck do you know about love or marriage when you can’t even stay until the morning when you fuck someone?”

It might be petty, bringing up his reputation against him just to invalidate his words, but he brought the worst out of you. 

“Because I don’t fucking lie to women about what I want! Your man lied right into your face and then only admitted to cheating when he was busted. You think he wouldn’t do it again? You think he is not doing it now? Cheaters don’t change, Y/N. He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

“And you do?” you snap at him as your anger takes over your body. Maybe it’s because he brought up what Jeremy did or maybe it’s because he is lecturing you about something he has no right to stick his nose into. “Let me guess, I should ditch Jeremy and run to you? We fuck, have one great night and then leave me like you leave everyone, is that what I should go for? Is that what I deserve?”

He seems to be at a loss of words and that’s new. He probably wasn’t expecting you to call him out so explicitly, but it’s been building up for a while. 

“Do me a favor and stop trying to orchestrate my life. I’m more than capable of making my own decisions. Go and chat up another woman, fuck her so you stop trying to stick your dick inside me.”

You walk past him and straight inside, your rage doesn’t die down for a couple of long minutes. You take a few orders and then slowly get back to the workflow and manage to forget about Harry for a bit. When you glance towards his spot you see that his beer is still there, but he never returned. For a second you get uncertain, have you gone too far? 

No. He deserved it and everything you said was valid. It’s not your fault he can’t take the truth. 

Two days pass by and you see no trace of Harry. You find yourself looking at his usual seat from time to time and you mistake a few tall brunette guys with him, but he never actually shows up. You tell yourself you should be happy he is out of your hair, but somewhere deep inside you there’s still some disappointment that you try to push down every time it threatens to bubble up. 

Sunday comes and it doesn’t start off the best. Jeremy is in a mood all morning and he just practically picks a fight over anything you do. It’s whether what you cook, where you put the scissors or how you forget to lock the backdoor, he overreacts everything and by the time you’re leaving for work you’re a mess from all the fighting you’ve had. 

Being away from him is actually a bit of a relief, but your peace only lasts until he starts texting you and somehow you end up fighting again, this time about the outfit you wore to work. A simple black skirt with a white t-shirt, you’ve worn this before and he didn’t even notice, but today it seems like the skirt is too short for his taste and the shirt is too see-through. 

JEREMY: Enjoy the attention of every fucking men in the bar.

JEREMY: Congrats on being a slut.

You’re angry at him, but you’re also too tired to run around in circles. When he sets his mind on something nothing can change it, so there’s no use trying to convince him you’re not doing it to get other men’s attention.

You put your phone aside and ignore it for a while, but apparently, that wasn’t the right decision. Because the next time you check it you see a bunch of missed calls from Jeremy and another thread of texts.

JEREMY: Answer the fucking phone Y/N.

JEREMY: Are you fucking someone in the toilet? 

JEREMY: If I find out you fucked someone you’re dead I swear.

There’s only twenty minutes left until closing and the bar is almost entirely empty, so you step out to the back and call him. 

“Are you done fucking?” That’s what he says when he finally picks up. 

“Are you done being an asshole? I’m not fucking anyone!”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! I know you’re sucking dicks for tips, don’t even try to lie to my fucking face!”

He is vivid, shouting on the other end of the line and it’s making your head throb. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with his unreasonable jealousy right now. All you want to do is go to sleep, but you know if you go home you’ll just continue from here. 

“I’m not lying, you’re delusional!”

“Stop with the fucking lies! Don’t fucking come home until you can’t admit the shit you’re doing! I will not have a woman lie into my face!”

“What the hell are you talking about? You can’t tell me not to go home, that’s my place too!”

“I’m sure you can find a place to sleep if you suck another dick.”

And with that the call ends. You’re staring at the screen in disbelief for several moments before the tears start rolling down your face. You lean against the brick wall and slide down as you let the sobs bubble from your throat. You try to call him again, but it doesn’t even ring. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you bury your face in your hands. 

You always kept telling yourself Jeremy has a temper and that he doesn’t mean it when he says these nasty things, but every time it happens again it gets harder and harder to believe that you could put up with it. You get that it roots in his jealousy, but he shouldn’t act like this with you, you know it’s not normal and yet… you still haven’t been able to do anything against it. 

You’re so buried under your pain that you don’t even notice the motorcycle that rolls into the parking lot and stops just a couple of feet away from you. Harry’s voice is what snaps you out of your spiral.

“Y/N? What are you doin–Hey, what happened?”

He rushes over and kneels in front of you, one hand on your back as the other lifts your head by your chin. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, as if he couldn’t see your tear soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes. 

“No, you’re not. What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Seemingly he is trying to find wounds on you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s just… I-I don’t…” You can’t get the words out, it’s like your mind is blocked. 

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

He helps you up and you don’t protest when his arms curl around you and he keeps you close to his chest as he walks you inside. He pulls you to the stool he usually takes and makes you sit before walking behind the bar and pouring you a glass of water. 

“I need to close,” you croak and try to get off the stool, but he stops you.

“I’ll take care of it.”

You faintly hear him making the last few people in the bar leave and then the lock turns on the door before he returns and sits beside you. 

“Now tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you breathe out as you close your eyes. When you open them again, Harry is still there looking at you patiently. 

Then he stands and walks back behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the shelf along with two shot glasses.

“Alright. Then let’s drink the pain away.” He pours the liquor into the glasses and then pushes one over to you, holding up the other one. For a second you just blink at him, a warning going off somewhere in the back of your head, but you’re quick to turn it off. 

Drinking the pain away actually sounds nice right now, since you can’t go home until Jeremy is having his episode. 

So you finally take the shot and you catch a tiny smile from Harry before you both chug down the alcohol. And soon more follows, at least on your side. 

About thirty minutes and three more shots later you’re definitely drunk. But at least you stopped crying and can actually laugh now, practically on anything Harry says. 

“Oh my God, stop!” you cackle, slapping your hand onto the bartop.

“No, I swear! I climbed out the window and fell straight into the jacuzzi!”

“Did her father see you?”

“No, I would be dead by now if he did?” he chuckles.

“I can’t believe you were such a playboy even as a teenager!” you keep laughing. 

“What, are you surprised?” he cheekily asks.

“Honestly, not that much,” you snort and reach for the tequila bottle, but Harry pulls it away from you. “Hey!”

“Maybe let’s slow down a bit, yeah?” You pout at him, but he just grabs a normal glass from behind the bar, fills it with water and hands it over to you instead. 

“What, you’re not up for a bit of fun?” you grin into the glass, but take a few sips anyway. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I do want to have fun with you, Y/N. But I’m also concerned at how fast you downed those shots,” he admits smirking. 

“Ah, how sweet of you, as if you don’t just want to take me to bed,” you scoff, but you didn’t mean it in a bitter way this time, like before. “Isn’t it tiring?”

“What is?”

“Ah, don’t make me say it!”

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

“Angel!” you groan and then let out a sigh. “Aren’t you tired of running after me? I mean, you’re used to getting your way with women. Honestly, I thought you’d stop by now.”

Harry just stares back at you and it gets intimidating, especially when a smirk curls the corners of his mouth up. Your cheeks already feel quite hot, but now they are burning. You always hated how bothered he could get you despite all your effort to reject him in every possible way. 

Just when you think he’d ignore what you said forever, he finally speaks up. 

“Would you believe me if I said it’s because you’re different?”

“Oh no, don’t give me this bullshit!” you scoff and then just laugh it off. You change position on the stool and try to cover up just how much his words affect you. 

Because it might have been the corniest thing you’ve heard from him, but you’re also just a girl who’s a hopeless romantic and this is exactly the stuff that can turn you into a giggly mess in a heartbeat. 

“Why is it your first instinct that I’m just bullshitting you, Y/N?” he asks, but he is not at all accusing, more like curious. You purse your lip, but decide not to say anything, just sip on your water. Harry walks out from behind the bar and takes the stool next to yours. “I think you don’t know your real worth, Y/N.”

“And you do?” you roll your eyes at him teasingly. 

“I would love to, but as long as you don’t let me get closer to you, I can only work with what I see. I know you probably think I’m just lying to get into your pants, but if there’s one thing you should know about me is that I’m always telling the truth. I’d been lied to before, many times and I know what it does to you, so I would never do the same to you or anyone.”

“Is this your way of buttering me up?” you smirk, but narrow your eyes at him. Your wording makes him laugh. 

“Of course.”

“Ah, you are so smooth, I hate that about you! And I hate how handsome you are.”

Oops. That’s definitely the alcohol talking, you’d have never admitted that to him sober. You catch the surprised smirk on his face and you immediately regret opening your mouth. 

“So you think I’m handsome, huh?”

“Oh shut up! I can see your head getting big!” You point at him, but he grabs your hand in the air and tugs at you gently, just enough to make you hop off your stool and fall towards him. He catches you by the waist as you end up between his legs, your hands end up on his chest as you try to find your balance. 

“I would love to hear you say how handsome you find me, but just know, that you’re playing with my self restraint.”

Even despite the shots, you can feel the switch, your breathing becomes shallow and you make the mistake of letting your eyes move down to his lips for a moment. His fingers dig into your waist and though you know you should move your hands, you love how you can feel his warmth under your palms. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened earlier? Why were you crying?”

“Jeremy,” you say in a whisper. 

“Did he hurt you?”

“Just… with his words.”

“That’s still not okay, don’t downplay it. What did he say?”

A small voice in you is telling you not to tell him more, but his undivided attention and care towards you feels so good, it’s something you haven’t experienced in a while. Jeremy is different, he is not the soft type and though you’ve been telling yourself it’s fine, you can’t deny how much you’ve been craving this kind of connection with someone. 

“He accused me of cheating, that I… I suck people off for money.”

Harry’s hands stiffen on your waist, but he stays silent and gives you the chance to talk. You can feel your throat closing up again and your instinct is to close up, but you want to take this weight off your chest in any way possible, so you don’t hold yourself back. 

“It wasn’t the first time he flipped, sometimes he just… loses his mind and takes his frustration out, often on me.”

“Has he ever hit you?” Harry asks in a somewhat cool tone, but you can tell he is holding a lot back. 

“No,” you shake your head. “But his words… He called me a slut tonight.”

Harry exhales sharply and you see his jaw jumping. Your reasonable self is pounding down the door of the room you shut it into, but you blatantly ignore it as you push closer to him. It’s your first time being this close to him physically and you want to hate it, you really do, but truth is you feel yourself being pulled towards him and you’re just too tired and weak to fight it. 

When one of his hands moves to cup your cheek you’re ready to give in. You part your lips and give him an unmistakable look and you expect him to take advantage of the moment, but he surprises you by turning his head to the side with a heavy sigh.

“Is it not what you want?” you ask quietly, trying your best to ignore just how rejected you’re feeling all of a sudden. 

“You know it is,” he replies, turning back to face you. “I want you more than anything.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He shakes his head and your stomach sinks. You try to pull away, but he keeps you caged against him. 

“Hey, look at me.” His hand captures your chin to make you look at him, but you keep your gaze away from him. “Y/N, look at me,” he pleads again and you give in at last. 

His thumb slowly runs across your bottom lip, making it tremble from the intimacy of his touch. 

“This is all I’ve wanted since I first saw you and it’s taking everything in me not to take it. But I know you and I know that you would regret it. I would never put you in a situation that could hurt you.”

You hate how right he is, how well he knows you. 

“So considerate, respecting the… bro code and everything,” you huff, hoping to break this weird mood that’s lingering around the two of you now. Harry’s head falls back as he laughs. Then he grabs your hand that has your engagement ring on and with a confident move he takes it off, throwing it over his shoulder and you just watch with your mouth hanging open.

“I give zero fucks about the bro code, especially if it’s about that asshole you call your fiancé.”

“Did you just–”

“What I do care about is,” he continues, “you. And how you feel.”

Your mind is racing but also blank at the same time. You just stare back at him, eyes drooping as the alcohol is starting to wear you out. 

“So what, you’re just gonna wait around, hoping I will wake up one day and leave Jeremy for you?” you ask jokingly, but his answer comes in a serious manner.

“Exactly.”

There are a couple of seconds when the two of you are just staring back at each other and you swear you can see the universe in his green eyes, the past, the present and a future together and as much as it scares you, it also starts a fire somewhere deep in your chest. 

“Can you–um, can you give me a ride to my sister’s place?” Clearing your throat you pull away and this time he lets you. 

“Sure.”

You sit on his motorcycle behind him, arms wrapped around his torso tight as you watch the night lights pass by, blinking lazily, his scent filling your nose every time you press your cheek against his back. When he stops in front of your sister’s apartment’s building you almost ask him to just drive for a bit more, but you force yourself to let go of him and climb off the motorcycle. 

“Thanks for… everything, I guess,” you awkwardly say while he is still sitting on the bike. 

“Take an Advil before you go to bed.”

“Okay, stop babying me,” you laugh and he finally breaks into a smirk. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

It’s a simple question, but the obvious hidden question is right there, out in the open. It’s your way of asking if he’ll be returning to the bar despite the fight you had a few days ago. 

“Of course. Keep my seat open.”

Nodding you’re about to turn around and walk inside, but he calls after you.

“Y/N?” You look over your shoulder, waiting for him to continue. He opens his mouth, then closes before actually speaking up. “You don’t have to believe that my interest in you is genuine. I will gladly prove it to you any way possible, but… Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.”

You have no idea what to say so you just nod and then keep walking until you’re inside the building, but you stay leaning against the door until you hear his motorcycle roar up and fade into the night. 

You’d love to say that after the night with Harry at the bar everything changed, but that’s not true. The next day you went back home, Jeremy calmed down by then, you had a fight nonetheless, which ended up with some makeup sex, but your head was somewhere else.

Or with somebody else.

Then it all went back to the same usual. Harry was there at the bar the next time you were working and luckily he didn’t bring up anything that happened that night. Not what you said about Jeremy, not that you practically admitted being attracted to him and not that you gave him the green light which he rejected. It’s all locked up in a box and put aside. 

However you can feel a slight change in yourself. Harry’s words did stick with you and have been on repeat ever since. 

Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.

You and Jeremy have been together for over three years and moved in together a year ago. You can’t really remember a time you haven’t been with him. You do know that he is not perfect and the shit he pulls sometimes… 

You’ve thought of leaving him before. It did occur to you that maybe you’d be better off without him when he flipped in the past and turned crazy out of the blue. But every time it happened, he went back to his sweet old self, the one you fell in love with. 

But are you still in love with him?

One day, about a week later Harry waltzes into the bar, but he is not looking his usual, confident self. 

“Okay, hear me out before you say no,” he starts as he takes his spot while you’re drying off some glasses. “I know you might find it hard to believe, but I have friends.”

“We are off to a great start,” you chuckle.

“My best mate, Mitch, he lives two hours away so we don’t meet that often, but he is in town this weekend.”

“Good for him,” you smile, curious about what will come out of it.

“And we were talking about what we should do and all that and I made a mistake. He suggested this club we could check out and said we should meet there at nine but I asked him to make it ten thirty, because on thursdays you finish work at ten.”

Your hand stops mid-motion and you put the glass down, giving him a curious look as you tilt your head to the side. 

“Obviously he wanted to know who you were and I swear I told him we have nothing going on, but he is just so stubborn, he didn’t let it go until I promised I would ask if you wanted to come with us. So here I am, I asked, you can just ignore it and tell me to fuck off. I know you probably wouldn’t want to spend the night in a random club with me and my friend and his wife, so if you just–”

“I’ll go with you.”

Your reply surprises him the most of course, but yourself as well, though you don’t let it show. You spoke before you could think it through and not that it was said out loud and you can’t take it back… You don’t really mind it at all, to be honest. 

“Are you trying to mess with me right now?” he asks, leaning closer, examining you with a narrow-eyed look. 

“No. I haven’t gone out in forever actually, so I would love to.”

He stares back at you for a long moment, looking for any sign that might tell him you’re just joking, but when he sees none, he decides it’s better to just accept it. 

“Okay. Okay, then… I’ll, umm… I’ll pick you up after work?”

“Sure.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you say after him, feeling entertained that you could surprise the always so confident Harry Styles. “So tell me about this friend of yours. Is he hotter than you?”

His expression changes in an instant, the cockiness returns and there is the man you know and…

“He wishes,” Harry laughs. “I met him through work.”

The apartment is silent when you arrive home that night. Jeremy is working the night shift so you have the place for yourself until he comes home at around four in the morning. The bed is unmade in the bedroom, the plates he used during the day are in the sink and the hamper is full of his clothes. It’s all waiting for you to get everything done even though you work just as much as he does. It wasn’t always like this, you remember the honeymoon phase when he would cook for you and then clean up after, when he would bring you flowers for no particular reason.

When he would actually act like someone who loves you. 

With a heavy sigh you get to work even though you just finished. When the dishes are done and the washing machine is loaded you finally sink into the couch and just sit in silence for a bit. Right until a buzzing sound interrupts your peace. Only then you notice that Jeremy left his phone on the coffee table. 

Grabbing it you check the screen and see that one of his buddies is calling. The name flashes and you wait for it to stop. When he does, you just keep holding the phone, staring at your own reflection in the black screen. 

Jeremy never lets his phone out of his hands, he takes it with him into the bathroom and he is always on it. Tapping on the screen the device comes to life and asks for a password. He never felt comfortable using  face ID or his finger print, so he only uses a password to lock it. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve seen him type it out so many times that you actually figured out what it is. 

No, it’s not your name or the date you met. It’s his favorite line of his favorite movie. 

I am Ironman.

Before you could think twice, you type it in, no space, capital I in Ironman and then the phone unlocks. A rush of excitement washes over you as you open the messages in an instant and start scrolling through them. 

Texts from his dad, from his boss, from his friends and texts from…

Andrea.

And Penelope.

And Bella.

And Riley.

Unmistakable messages, photos and even voice memos. It’s all there and you just keep scrolling and reading and it feels like it never ends. When you get to the end of one thread you find another. It’s not just one woman, but about a dozen. Not even you can turn a blind eye over it this time.

But surprisingly, you don’t feel like you want to scream or cry or punch the wall. Instead, you just put the phone back where it was, walk into the bedroom, grab a bag and start packing some stuff you’ll need for the next few days. When you’re done you walk into the kitchen, grab a paper and leave him a note. 

You have two days to move out. Take your shit and move to Andrea or Penelope or Bella or any of your bitches. Goodbye. 

Then you take the ring off your finger, place it next to the paper and walk out.

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he arrived to pick you up after your shift. He thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he has ever seen even when you’re wearing a stained shirt after a long day, so it really doesn’t matter to him what you wear.

But when you step out through the back door in your skin tight black dress that’s top sheer enough to tease him with a peek of your black bra underneath. 

“Are you gonna just stand there and stare or are we gonna get going?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then he just shakes his head with a laugh as you finally reach him by his bike. 

“Let’s get going.”

You hit it off with Mitch and his wife Sarah instantly. It’s like you’ve always known each other and you can’t tell if it pisses Harry off or he just likes to be the victim every time the three of you make a joke at his expense. 

Even though it’s a Thursday night, the club is pretty busy, but not the kind that makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because someone is always touching you wherever you go. Harry however stays close to you no matter what, like a guard dog, watching your every move. 

It’s giving you butterflies. Especially because he is doing all this even though he doesn’t know about your little secret you will share with him, but you’re waiting for the perfect moment. 

You start off in a booth, having a few drinks, talking and having fun and when the DJ starts playing songs that are just too irresistible you and Sarah drag the men to the dance floor. They try to protest, but it doesn’t last long. As gruff as Mitch can look, it’s obvious he is whipped for his wife and would do anything Sarah asks him. 

And Harry… Well, the moment he sees you moving to the beat he practically glues himself to you. Though dancing is not your biggest strength, you can definitely follow the rhythm and move your body in a way that’s appealing to the male gaze. 

You can tell Harry is trying to keep his cool, but the more he holds himself back, the more you push his buttons. Touching him while dancing, moving in a way that obviously makes him struggle, pressing up against him and then you pull out the big guns when you start grinding on him, when you have your backside pushed against his front. His hand on your stomach twitches when your ass meets his crotch in a not-at-all innocent way and you hear his groan even over the loud music. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” he speaks into your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your spine. You turn your head and your lips almost brush against his as you look at him innocently.

“Not having fun, Harry?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Do you not like it?” You turn around to face him easier, but press your front against his to keep the physical contact on the same level. 

“Y/N, you’re… taking it too far,” he warns you, but it just urges you to keep pushing his boundaries. You’re enjoying this way more than you probably should but you are giving yourself the satisfaction this one time. You’re not afraid of asking for his forgiveness later, because you have a feeling he will gladly give it. 

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, but I might if you don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?”

“Acting like… you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I can’t do that? Why?” It finally brings him to the point where you wanted him to be.

“Because you’re engaged and I’m–” he snaps, but you don’t let him finish.

“Except I’m not.”

You both have stopped moving in the middle of the dancing crowd and Harry is staring at you as if he just saw a ghost. Slowly, you raise up your hand and show him your naked fingers. Reaching up he grabs your hand as if he had to physically touch your ring finger to make sure the ring is not there anymore. 

“I ended things with Jeremy and he moved out. I’m single.”

His gaze keeps flicking back and forth between your eyes as he just keeps staring at you, it seems like you broke him and he forgot how to function, but then his expression changes and you read it perfectly. 

It’s not enough for him that you and Jeremy broke up. He wants you to give him the green light.

You look down at his lips and think of all the times you fantasized about kissing them and the guilt you felt every time, but now it’s nowhere, pure desire took its place and you’re ready to give in. 

You move a hand to the back of his neck and push yourself up, making that first move, but Harry is quick to take over from there. He moves fast as his lips crash down on yours, finally kissing you with the heat of his months long pining and never dying persistence. 

You’ve had your fair share of passionate moments in your life before, but nothing compares to the way Harry practically devours you, he’s demanding, dominant and rough, but the more he takes from you the more you’re willing to give until he has everything in you. His hands are holding your face firmly, tilting your head in the perfect angle for him to greedily kiss you until your lips are numb and you’re gasping for air. And when you can’t keep up with his hunger his mouth moves down to your neck, kissing, biting and sucking shamelessly as if you weren’t on a dancefloor at a club. He has one hand move from the back of your neck into your hair, giving it a gentle tug while his other hand makes its way down your body, your ribs, your waist and then it stops on your ass, squeezing it without remorse, earning a moan from you that just riles him up even more. 

For a split second you’re convinced he is about to fuck you right then and there in front of all those people. But to your surprise he pulls back, his hand wraps around your wrist and he starts pulling you out of the crowd. At the side he finds Mitch and Sarah dancing and he leans close to his ear. You don’t hear what he says, but judging from the smirk and the way Mitch nods, he didn’t try to sugarcoat anything. 

You don’t even get to say goodbye properly, Harry lets go of your wrist, but his arm is quick to curl around your waist as he leads you towards the exit. The cool night air feels refreshing after the heat inside the club, but you don’t get to enjoy the change, Harry is eagerly pulling you towards his motorbike and when you reach it he pushes you against it before kissing you hard again. Your ass is pressed against the seat and for a moment you think it’s about to fall over along with you, but it stays steady while Harry is having his way with you. Then he just simply pulls back and helps you up, making sure you’re holding onto him tightly. 

“This will be the longest ten minutes of my life,” he says, making you laugh as he starts the motor and moments later you’re speeding down the streets. 

It really is an excruciating ten minutes until you arrive at your place, especially because you keep squeezing your thighs against his, giving him a rather hard time and every time you have to stop at a red light, Harry’s hands are quick to find your naked legs, roaming them shamelessly until he has to hold the handles again and focus on the road. 

As soon as he parks in front of the building and you get off the bike, he is back to focusing all his attention on you, so it’s a challenge to even make it up to your apartment. His hands are mapping up every inch of your body and he takes every chance to kiss you on the lips, neck or shoulder, making it almost impossible for you to even open the front door, but at last you manage and he is quick to shut the door and then push you up against it. 

But he is not kissing you this time, instead he looks at you with such passion and tenderness at the same time, it makes your whole body shiver. 

“Tell me no at any point, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper as a sudden nervousness washes over you. You are not nearly as experienced as he is and sex with Jeremy had been more about his quick relief rather than something you both could enjoy the same amount. 

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight. Holding you is more than I even hoped for tonight,” he admits with a chuckle and he gives you a short, soft kiss. 

“I want to. I just… I’m afraid I won’t be… good enough.”

You’re nervously fidgeting with the neck of his shirt while his hands are plastered to the door behind you either side of you, keeping you caged in with his body. 

“Angel, you had me running after you for two months and the past weeks felt like the longest foreplay of my life,” he chuckles. “I should be the one being nervous about coming in ten seconds.”

You can’t help but crack a smile at his words and he did ease your nerves a bit, but you’re still worried. With one hand he caresses the side of your face so softly, you almost question if he is the same man who was groping your ass not long ago in a packed club. 

“I doubt you could ever not be good enough for anyone but especially for me.”

Your inside melts and there are no words that could describe the way he is making you feel. But instead of talking, you push yourself against him and kiss him, urging yourself to overcome your insecurities so he doesn’t regret choosing you. 

You manage to hype yourself up so well that when you reach your bedroom you pull away and make him stop at the edge of the bed as you stand just a few feet away from him. His eyes roam up and down your body with such hunger you have never seen from a man before and it gives you that last boost to step your game up. 

With slow, teasing movements you start to pull your dress up, revealing more and more from your legs, than your underwear and when the fabric is bunched up around your waist you cross your arms, grab the hem and pull it up and over your head before dropping to the floor, all while Harry is eating you up with his eyes, sitting there with the smuggest smirk on his face as he watches you like he is in a movie theater. 

“Fucking perfect. Come here,” he holds a hand out that you take and he pulls you between his legs, placing your hands to his shoulders as his palms slide to the back of your thighs. He places a few open mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts before his hands squeeze your thighs, urging you to move your legs and make you straddle him. As you climb to his lap he captures your lips in a toe curling kiss and he catches you by surprise when he flips the two of you over and throws you into the mattress. 

He straightens up but just enough to get rid of his shirt, revealing even more tattoos you haven’t seen and a toned chest with abs you’re already burning to touch, kiss or lick. Or all of these above. He comes back down on top of you, his lips return to yours while his hand easily slides underneath you, unclasping your bra and seconds later he is throwing it across the room before his mouth starts moving down your neck, collarbones and then to your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair as his tongue swirls around your nipple and you gasp when he gently bites and tugs on it, flashing you a cheeky smirk when he looks up at you before he keeps moving down on your body. When he reaches your underwear he takes the elastic between his teeth and tugs on it then lets it go so it snaps back against your skin, making you gasp and give him a protesting look, but it just makes him chuckle. 

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t wear it for me,” he mumbles against the lacy fabric, skimming it with his lips. 

“I did, but not to have you play with it,” you breathe out, however you quite like how playful he can get even in such a heated moment. This is a side of him you’ve gotten to get just a glimpse of but you’re getting the full ride now. 

“Alright. Next time then,” he shrugs and hooking his fingers into the elastic he tugs it down as you lift your hips up and soon it joins the rest of your clothes on the floor, leaving you fully naked in front of him. But before you could worry about your looks, his mouth is already on your throbbing clit, making you forget about your whole existence. 

He turns you into a whiny mess with his lips and tongue in just seconds and when he adds his fingers into the equation all you can do is repeat his name like a prayer to all powers above. You’ve never experienced anything like this, not that anyone you’d been with did it the way Harry is. Before you could even process what’s happening you’re coming on his face and he is licking up every drop of it in every possible sense. 

Your body already feels like jelly when he moves back up and he kisses you with your own taste still on his tongue, but he is not even nearly done with you. 

He kneels up and unbuttons his pants and then pushes them down along with his boxer briefs so now you’re looking at just how good enough he is finding you. You can’t take your eyes off his erection, it’s big, rock hard and the tip is glistening from the precum. It’s like the sight has turned on something inside you, because before you could have a second thought you’re moving until you’re on your knees as well, hands wrapping on his cock. Harry moans at your touch and a triumphant smile stretches across your lips as you lean down and don’t stop until your lips are wrapped around the head. 

He sits back onto his heels, eyes glued to you as you struggle to push further and further down his length every time your head bobs down. You’re far from taking his whole cock, but every time you go down again and again he keeps praising you. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.”

“Look at that mouth, taking my cock so well.”

“That’s it Angel, you make me feel so fucking good.”

You don’t stop until your jaw is sore and when you finally come up he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you hard, pushing you back onto the mattress as he lands on top of you again. 

Half blindly, you reach towards the nightstand and into the drawer, grabbing a condom and handing it over to him. You’d love to be the one to roll it onto his cock, but your hands are starting to shake from how much you want to feel him inside you already. 

Once the condom is on he lowers his hips between your legs and you feel his length wedge between your drenched folds. He moves his hips back and forth a few times, coating his length in your arousal before reaching down between your bodies and grabbing himself by the base. 

“As much as I want to take you in every possible pose, I meant that I might not last long,” he chuckles as the head is already teasing your center. “But I won’t stop until you come again. And I’ll have all my fantasies played out next time.”

Next time. These two words make your heart jump, knowing that he is planning to have a next time and you’re still thinking about that when he finally thrusts forward and into you, filling you up inch by inch until his whole length is buried inside you. 

He stills for a few seconds, maybe to let you get used to his size or maybe to regulate himself enough to last longer, you don’t know for sure. But then his lips capture yours again and he starts moving. His hips are rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm and when you hook your legs around his waist he picks his pace up and his thrusts become a bit rougher than before, but it’s just what you needed. 

Your second orgasm is already building up in the pit of your stomach and you claw at his back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his moans getting muffled by your heated skin. You feel his muscles flex on his back and you can tell he is close, but he is fighting to hold back for you.

He lifts his head and rests his forehead against yours, keeping his rhythm steady and you see the struggle in his eyes. 

“I’m close,” you breathe out and he nods with an almost torturous look. “Let it go, Harry, I want to feel you come.”

“Not until you—”

“That’s what I need,” you urge him and he moans before he thrusts forward harder than before, he stays still for a moment, gasping for air as he pulls back and slams into you again, riding out his own orgasm that quickly triggers yours. 

Seeing him fall apart because of you is all you needed. 

He keeps moving for a while, but his thrusts become sloppier until they come to a halt. His whole weight is pushing against your body as your hands are lazily dancing up and down his sweaty back. You feel his heart hammering against your chest and listen to how his breathing slowly steadies before he rolls off of you. Moving with him you curl up against him, your head resting on his chest. 

Then, out of the blue he lets out a soft chuckle. Curiously you lift your head to look at him questioningly. 

“I think I need an award for lasting that long,” he comments and you laugh with him until his hand cradles your face and he pulls you up for a soft, lazy kiss. 

A siren wakes you up that passes by the bedroom window. You grimace with your eyes still closed as you roll from one side to the other, your hand reaching out, searching for Harry’s body, like you did during the night, but this time all you find is the empty mattress beside you.

It instantly sets off a siren in your head as well. 

Sitting up you look at the rumpled sheets on the right side of the bed, but Harry is still not there. Your stomach drops as you crawl out of bed and grab a shirt and a pair of panties to put on quickly before walking out of the bedroom, hoping you might find him in the kitchen making breakfast, but when all you find is your own mess from the day before, panic takes over.

There won’t be next time. That was just an empty promise, he left you just like he left everyone else. How could you even think that you were different?

Tears are dwelling in your eyes as you wrap your arms around you, but then you hear the front door open and you turn around to find Harry walking in, balancing two coffees in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

“Hey, you’re up! I went to get us breakfast, because I didn’t find much in your fridge and—Y/N, are you crying?”

“No,” you shake your head, but then a sob bubbles from your throat. Harry places the cups and the bag to the side table and rushes over to you in panic. 

“What happened? Talk to me,” he pleads, but you just shake your head, embarrassed that you instantly assumed the worst of him. 

It takes only a couple of seconds for Harry to put the puzzle pieces together as well.

“You thought I left,” he says. 

“I got scared for a moment when I didn’t find you.”

He doesn’t try to play it off or play the victim. He pulls you into a tight hug and gently sways until you calm down. When he pulls back and looks you in the eyes all you see in his gaze is determination. 

“Remember what I told you the night when I dropped you off at your sister’s place?”

“That I should look at Jeremy with criticism.”

“Before that.” You remain silent because you can’t recall what else was said that night. “I said that I will gladly prove to you that my interest in you is genuine.”

Oh, yeah. You remember that.

“The proving starts now. I will do anything to earn your trust.”

“Even if it takes a long time?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip. He smiles warmly at you.

“Even if it takes forever.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[xrcs]

sub gyutaro + dom reader

author’s note – i like deadass forgot about demon slayer until the new ep came out yesterday 🤦🏾‍♂️.. but here i am writing for it

content warnings – talk of insecurities. mirror sex. handjob. uncut gyu. nipple play. self harm. soft porn again. L word used???

Mirrors. Gyutaro despises his reflection, breaking each one he sees. Why? Why did he have to be made like this? Were the gods furious at him? Gyutaro wanted to shatter every bone that protruded from his frame. You always see how he treats himself. It was almost as if he was immune to self-care.

You wish you could understand what was going on in his mind. Watching as he scratched his skin off every time he got mad at himself over little things. Warm crimson blood oozed out of the cuts he made from his continuous scratching.

“Jesus Christ, Gyutaro! Stop that, please,” you wince, his tired yellow eyes glancing at you. Gyutaro’s hand hovers over his wounded neck, chest feeling heavy.

“And why do you care?” he scoffs. Gyutaro turns his back on you and walks into another room. Why is it that he hates himself? You follow his footsteps slowly, trying your best not to anger him. But it’s also infuriating seeing Gyutaro degrade himself and his worth.

You sigh as you notice him breaking down. He’s facing the wall, gripping his hair tightly. It’s saddening. His behavior makes you want to cry for him. Gyutaro’s sniffles and sobs become increasingly louder. You approach him and hug him. Your loving embrace soothes him. His tense shoulders drop while he turns to look at you.

Your lips hover over the shell of his ear, “Gyutaro. I want to understand you. Please, let me know what’s goin’ on,” He doesn’t respond to your concern. You’re just going to have to make him feel better. Your soft and plush hands snake down his torso. Fingertips grazing his bony flesh. Gyutaro’s lips let out a small gasp as he feels himself heating up from the contact.

He was never used to being treated well. Even being protected was a taboo thing to him. Gyutaro loathes everyone except you. You’re different. You’ve never judged him for looking a certain way. That’s why he loves you. You’re kind, loving, caring, and so much more. Gyutaro loses himself in your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“Get up,” you whisper. Gyutaro follows your request and stands up. You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him to the vanity mirror. The first emotion that washes over Gyutaro is disgust. His repugnance only grew once he saw how skeletal he was. All of his self-hating thoughts came back again.

You observe his body language. That same sickened expression was on his face. You let your hands explore his body this time. The left teases his pec area while the right goes to other places. Gyutaro’s heart rate increases as you touch him so lewdly. He can feel the tent growing in his sweatpants.

His chest feels light when you touch him.

“Look at yourself. I want you to realize how handsome you are,” you utter. You slowly take off Gyutaro’s sweats, his semi-hard cock springing out. Another small gasp comes from his lips, his member twitching in anticipation. You press light kisses onto his nape, nibbling occasionally.

You rub your palm on his bulbous tip, rolling your wrist. A series of moans slip past Gyutaro’s mouth. Pre-cum starts to leak out from his tip. You stroke his whole length, lubricating his cock with the sticky substance. His eyes close while trying to take in all the pleasure.

You abruptly stop and firmly say, “Look into the mirror. Now,” Gyutaro whimpers as he opens his eyes, watching himself getting pleasured. Your other hand pinches his nipple, rolling it between your thumb and pointer.

“Haah, fuck! W-Why do you want me.. ngh- to look at myself in the m-mirror?” Gyutaro questions, arching his back as your touches become more intense. That question will be answered later when he figures it out. Your hand slowly fondles his cock. With every stroke you give, his foreskin covers his tip. The delicious brush of the skin on his tip makes his head spin.

He can’t help but look away. Does he really deserve the pleasure you’re giving him? As he turns his head to the side, your hand assertively keeps it in place. Your eyes burn into his face while you do so. You flick his dark grey nipple, making him yelp. All this touching is making his mind all muddly.

You stop stroking his dick, leaving your hand in the same position. He starts to buck his hips into your fist. God, this is your favorite sight to see. Him fucking your fist like an animal, chasing his own pleasure. You continue to pinch his nipple, creating a more blissful experience from Gyutaro. Waves of satisfaction ripple through his body.

“Look at you, Gyu. So pretty becoming undone. You’re perfect,” you state, smiling as you watch his eyes roll back into his head. He’s getting close. You move your hand around his cock at a fast pace, forcing him to look at himself.

Tears fall down his face from your compliments. You really think he’s pretty? Perfect? More pretty moans and whimpers come from Gyutaro. The coil in his stomach is about to snap. The roll of your wrist as you stroke his cock makes his mouth water. His eyes feel heavy, eyelashes clumping together from the tears.

“F-fuck! ‘M gonna cum.. cum! Lemme cum, pleasepleaseplease,” Gyutaro moans, voice cracking as drool slips past his lips. You smirk as you feel his body twitch as you play with his nipples.

“You’re so handsome, so perfect for me,” you mutter. Gyutaro feels like he’s going to break. The pleasure keeps on building up and it’s getting stronger by the second. Your praise is just too much!

“I love you, Gyutaro,”

His cock twitches as you mumble those words in his ear. Thick, hot, white ropes spurt out his cock. His eyes roll back as his head falls onto your shoulder. Your left hand comes up to pat his head, soothing him as he comes down from his high. God, what has he done to deserve you? You always make him feel so secure. Even with himself.

You wait patienly for his breathing to slow down. Humming and playing with his hair as you do.

Once he does, he sits up. His head between your thighs.

“You have no flaws, Gyu. Say or do some stupid shit again and you’ll see what happens,” you vocalize, giving him a small kiss. He nods and turns around to look at you.

“I appreciate you. I.. love you too,”

XRCS 2023

[vintageshanny]

For the First Time

Content: 18+ This is a one-shot about Elvis losing his virginity. I do not claim to be an expert on the details of this. I have heard different rumors, and this is, to me, one possibility of how things might have happened. There is smut in this, but I’m more focused on how he might have been feeling at this time. As always, my tender little heart bleeds with love for him and everything he went through in his life. I would very much appreciate any feedback. ❤️

Thank you @lookingforrainbows for talking me through ideas on this and letting me know it didn’t sound ridiculous. You are a beautiful soul. ❤️ 😘

Fall 1954

Elvis ran his fingers over the outline of the condom package that Scotty had slipped into his pocket at the beginning of the tour. “I know ya got a girl, EP, but put it in your wallet man, just in case. Ya don’t wanna come back with more people than ya left with,” he’d added with a wink. Somehow rubbing his fingers over the rough edges calmed Elvis’ ragged nerves a little bit.

His mind drifted to Dixie and the promises they’d made to each other. To wait. To wait until they were married to consummate their relationship. Sure, they were affectionate with each other, always hugging and kissing, but whenever Elvis tried to sneak his hand up under her skirt or unbutton a couple buttons on her dress, she’d firmly push him away and say, “That’s for our wedding night, silly.” Sometimes when they were kissing, she’d let him grind against her through their clothes, and he’d get so worked up that he needed to make an excuse to go to the bathroom so he could relieve the amount of passion coursing through his entire body.

The promise to wait had seemed so much easier six months ago when they talked about it. Now, it was damn near impossible. He saw the way these girls looked at him after the shows. He was dying to know what it felt like to explore every part of a woman. He thought maybe if he just got this out of his system, the waiting with Dixie wouldn’t be so hard. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was a man after all, and she didn’t need to know about this. He could experience this on the road and be good for her at home. He just needed to find a way to make sure everyone was happy and taken care of, like he’d always tried to do.

Dropping the condom onto the rumpled bedspread, he rose from the edge of the bed and started pacing the hotel room, the voices floating up from the courtyard below making his heart thud in his chest.

“Maria! You came!” Scotty’s reedy voice rang out.

“That’s the idea,” Bill added, only slightly under his breath.

“You should head right up! Elvis should be waitin’ for ya. He’s been waitin’ a looong time.”

Elvis cringed at Scotty’s words as he looked out the window and saw the two of them clink beer bottles and laugh.

Maria paused and turned to look at them, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “What’s that supposed ta mean?”

Elvis held his breath, willing Scotty not to divulge too much. He’d never come right out and told the guys he was a virgin, but he saw the way they nudged each other and smirked whenever he was talking to a girl after the show. He slowly exhaled as Scotty responded.

“Aw nothin’, honey, I just hope you two have fun on your date.”

Maria rolled her eyes and headed for the stairs, carefully ascending them in her white kitten heels. She took a deep breath, smoothed out her pale yellow sundress, and tried to brace herself for what was on the other side of that door. She had been with a handful of other men, but this was a bona fide star. He probably invited a different girl up every night. Maybe that’s what the other guys had been joking about. She hoped she would live up to his expectations, especially after her bold proclamation earlier. The conversation replayed in her head as she lifted her hand to knock on the door.

“Hey baby, I could see ya dancin’ from up on that stage. Looks like ya really enjoyed the show.”

“I sure did. Maybe I can return the favor with a show of my own.” A sense of satisfaction had consumed her when he unexpectedly blushed at her advances.

Maria’s mind snapped back to the present as Elvis flung open the door. He was wearing black dress pants with a pink jacket open to the naval. As he rested one hand slightly below his hip, she took note of his long slender fingers, nails chewed down to the nub, and the fuzzy little trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Up close, and in the fluorescent lighting of the hotel, she could see he had a pimple on his chin and another close to his collarbone. The entire scene was absolutely intoxicating.

“Maria, I was startin’ ta think ya were gonna stand me up, baby.” Elvis flashed a crooked little grin and stepped aside to let her in the room. He quickly kicked a stray sock under the bed where he’d hidden the rest of his dirty clothes. After sniffing each pair of socks, he had decided it was best to just stay barefoot after his shower. His toes scrunched up at the feel of the rough carpet under his feet.

“No, of course not,” Maria giggled nervously. “I suppose I just took too long tryin’ ta look nice for ya.”

“Well ya sure do look nice, honey,” Elvis whispered lowly as he closed the door and grabbed her by the waist, feeling the soft flesh of her hips. He leaned in and smushed his lips into hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth when she let out a little gasp.

“Wow, you don’t waste no time gettin’ to the action, hmm?” she laughed a little bit when he finally pulled back for some air, his eyes closed. His hands had moved up a little bit, his thumb gently rubbing at the side of her breast.

“I-I-I thought that’s what ya wanted, baby,” Elvis stammered out, trying to read her expression. “If you’d rather just sit and talk, that’s okay.” He led her over toward the bed, and they both spotted the condom at the same moment. Elvis’ face turned bright red as he snatched it up. “Oh, I-I-I’m sorry baby, I d-d-didn’t mean ta leave that there like that. We really ain’t gotta do nothin’, I-I-I mean-”

Maria just laughed and pushed him gently backward until he was sitting on the bed. “It’s okay, Elvis.” She unbuttoned his jacket the rest of the way and slipped it off his shoulders. “I always make good on my promises.”

Elvis stared in awe as she reached behind herself and unzipped the yellow dress, letting it fall to the ground, revealing a silky pink bra and panties. Elvis gulped nervously as he stared at her body. The material was so thin and sheer, he could see the outline of her nipples and the little mound of hair down below. He stifled a groan as he could feel his cock growing hard, straining against the briefs that he now wished he’d forgone.

“You’re really gonna make me put on a show for ya, huh?” Maria teased as Elvis just sat there studying her. “I thought ya might join in.” She reached back and unclasped her bra, her perky breasts now on full display for him.

“I-I-I’m sorry honey, ya jus’ got me a little speechless here. I’ll join in,” Elvis murmured as he pulled her closer to him. He tentatively leaned in and took one of her nipples in his mouth, caressing it with his warm tongue.

“Mmm, that’s more like it,” she whispered. “You can touch me anywhere, Elvis.” As she grabbed his hand to guide it toward her panties, she realized he was literally shaking with nerves. “Elvis? Are ya okay?” As she looked at him with concern, the meaning of Scotty’s “He’s been waitin’ a long time” suddenly hit her. “Are you, I mean, is this your, um, first time?” she asked softly.

“Wh-wh-what?” Elvis exclaimed, jerking his trembling hand away. “N-n-no baby, I-I-I’ve been with plenty of girls. I-I-I jus’, um, I mean, n-n-none as beautiful as you, that’s all,” he stammered out, trying to distract her with a compliment.

Maria wanted to tell him it was okay, that she was flattered, that he didn’t need to be nervous, but she decided it was best to just drop it and help him relax. She smiled and nodded. “You’re sweet, Elvis. I wanna see if ya taste sweet too.” She dropped down to her knees and unbuttoned his pants.

“Wh-wh-what are ya doin’ honey? Ya ain’t gotta do all that.” Elvis heard the words come out of his mouth, but somehow his body’s desire betrayed him by lifting slightly off the bed so Maria could pull off his pants. His heart raced anxiously as she reached inside of his briefs. He knew from being in the locker rooms back in school that not everyone had a sheath of foreskin covering their dick, and he hoped she wouldn’t mock him the way some of his classmates had.

Maria could feel her panties getting wetter by the second as she wrapped her hand around something thick and warm inside Elvis’ briefs. “We should just get these outta the way,” she murmured, pulling them down his legs and watching as he sprang free from the confinement. Her eyes widened with surprise when she realized he was not…well, not like the other guys she’d been with. There was something extra wrapped around him. She liked the way it felt as she pumped it with her hand.

Elvis squinched his eyes shut, too afraid he’d see a look of disgust before she jumped up and ran off. Instead, he felt something warm and wet wrap around his hard dick. He opened his eyes to see Maria taking him deep in her mouth, and the moan he let out made him kick himself for not closing the window tight. The whole hotel must know what’s going on in here. Her tongue traced its way around his shaft before taking special care of his sensitive tip. Elvis thought he might explode right on the spot as she sucked on him.

“You do taste good y’know,” Maria said with a little wink as she pulled off him and stood up again. She slid her dampened panties down and stepped out of them, so they were both totally naked. “Do you wanna check if I’m ready for ya?” Elvis nodded and this time let her guide his hand between her legs.

“Baby, it’s so wet down there,” he murmured as Maria started moaning. He found her entrance and slipped a finger inside of her, moving it in a way that felt natural. She felt so soft and silky, he thought he could just play with her pussy for hours. But Maria wanted more than a finger.

“You should slide right in then,” she whispered as she moved his hand and laid down on the bed next to him. He grabbed the condom again and opened it, rolling it onto himself, hoping Maria couldn’t tell he’d never done this before. Maria smiled at the awkward way he put on the condom, and noticed that she could feel him trembling again. “I want it so bad, Elvis,” she reassured him, pulling him on top of her.

“Me too, baby, me too.” Elvis reached down and guided his dick toward her slick opening. Once he’d gently pushed in a couple inches, he thrusted in the rest of the way, her wet pussy consuming his entire length. “Oh, goddamn,” he moaned out, unprepared for the feeling of something so tight and wet wrapped around him, clenching at him. He tried to take it slow, tried to make it last, but the pleasure was overpowering. He thrust a few times before his orgasm completely took over, leaving him panting on top of Maria, his sweaty hair dripping down onto her forehead.

“Oh wow, baby, you are amazing.” Elvis slowly pulled out and rolled to his side. He carefully peeled off the condom and tossed it into the trash can by the bed. “I-I-I’m sorry, I usually l-l-last longer, I jus’, uh, got so excited,” he tried to explain, his face turning red from the lies and the exertion.

Maria just smiled and patted his chest. “That’s okay, I thought your excitement was very sweet.” She hesitated, then added, “Do ya think you could, um, help me get there though? Your fingers felt magical inside me,” she admitted with a blush.

“Really?” Elvis perked up at the compliment. “I mean, of course baby.” He reached over between her legs and started playing with her pussy again, taking mental note of what seemed to work the best. She moaned deeply when he put a finger inside her, but he noticed that her toes curled up and she could barely even function when he rubbed at her little button. I wonder what both at once would do. He kneeled next to her and put two fingers from one hand inside of her while his thumb on the other hand worked that little nub.

“Oh, God!” she cried out in ecstasy, her legs shaking, her arousal leaking out onto his fingers. “Oh Elvis, I c-c-can’t take it,” she moaned, begging him to stop. Elvis removed his fingers and smiled, very pleased with his ability as he leaned down to kiss her soft lips.

“Was that magical enough?” he whispered in her ear.

“Pure magic.” Maria pulled him in for another passionate kiss.

“C-c-can I ask ya somethin’, honey?” Elvis gently stroked Maria’s arm with his fingertips. “After talkin’ to ya, ya seem like such a nice sweet girl. Wh-wh-why did ya do this with me?”

Maria tried to sort out the thoughts in her head, wondering how much she should share. “You seem like a nice sweet guy. Why did you do it?” she finally asked.

“W-w-well, that’s different, I mean, I…I wanted ta feel good I guess,” Elvis stumbled over his explanation, unable to really articulate what he was feeling at that exact moment.

“So did I,” Maria responded. “Elvis, I’ve been through some really bad experiences. I suppose at heart I’m just lonely and this is a way to feel close to someone, to feel connected and cared for, even if just for a little while. Ya know what I mean?”

Elvis swallowed a lump in his throat. It was like she had put his exact thoughts into words. “I know exactly what ya mean, honey. Does it work? Ta make ya feel close ta someone, I mean?”

Maria let out a little sigh. “Sometimes. Sometimes not so much. But we all just try the best we can, I suppose.”

Elvis nodded as Maria stood up to get dressed. “I should get home. My mama will worry and wonder where I’ve been.”

“What will you tell her?” Elvis asked as he pulled his clothes back on.

“That I was having a deep conversation with a friend,” Maria laughed. “Y’know, not really a lie, but not the whole truth. Not everyone needs ta know everything.”

“Will I, uh, will I see ya again at another show?”

Maria smiled and hugged him tight. “Maybe. But maybe we were just the connection the other needed in this moment.”

Maria paused at the door and looked back. “Elvis?”

“Yeah, honey?” Elvis’ mind was a muddle of confused emotions right now.

“You are very sweet and very special. Never let anyone make ya feel like that ain’t enough.” That crooked little smile would be burned into her mind forever.

Twenty minutes later, Elvis descended the steps to the courtyard, wondering what the guys were up to. Scotty and Bill were playing cards when they saw him approaching and started a round of applause. “There he is!” Scotty yelled out. “I told ya that condom would come in handy.”

“Aw quit it,” Elvis snapped, but he couldn’t deny feeling a tiny surge of pride at being considered “one of the guys” for the first time in his life. He couldn’t see it now, but over the years ahead, he’d sacrifice so much for the desire to fit in, to connect with people, to wish they could understand him. What he’d give for just one person to really understand what he was going through. To understand his heart.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114 @atleastpleasetelephone

[thephantomtheory]

That Funny Feeling | Levi Ackerman x Reader

summary: on the boat to odiha, you and levi finally get a moment of privacy after being apart for so long as you deal with all the emotions of almost losing him in the explosion | 1.4k words

notes: this has been sitting in my wip's since the lastest ep aired and i finally finished it, so here's a lil smthn.

cw: general canon-typical angst, mild descriptions of levi's wounds

-

The ship sways as you walk toward Levi’s room, and so your palm grazes the handrail to guide you, to keep you steady, the world tilting beneath your feet.

It’s a feeling that has not left you since the Walls crumbled before your eyes and Eren’s skeletal frame rose, overwhelming, into the sky; the weight of his rage shaking the earth, the thunderous footsteps echoing the hammer of your heart. It lurched within you when Hange tapped on your window and told you Levi had been severely injured; that when they found him, he was on the precipice of death, and you had to hide the wave of nausea that surged in your stomach. Then again last night, when you finally arrived at the forest and saw Levi, his body broken and his spirit marred, and the feeling rolled through your chest, settling like a rock in your throat. Your eyes were locked on his frame as you dropped from your horse. Your feet hit the ground and you waited for the wave of relief to wash through you (he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive); instead, your world tipped on its axis, and the motion seeped into your head while static pressure built behind your eyes. Then once more, when you disappeared into the trees under the pretense of finding firewood, where the feeling choked you until you spit it all up, letting it spill out of you in salty tears, an anguished ocean pouring out from within.

Your grip tightens around the handrail. In the doorway, you find Levi sitting on the edge of the bed, his left thumb gently pressing at the knuckles of his two missing fingers.

“Are you just going to watch me like a creep?” His voice is rough and raw with a lilt of defeat, and you force yourself to hide the way it chisels at your heart.

You two have barely had time to speak since you reunited the previous night. It had been a month since you’d last seen each other, no contact; not even you were allowed to know Levi’s exact whereabouts with Zeke. But now, the distance between Paradis and Odiha has granted you a few moments of peace while the rest of humanity is crushed beneath the feet of hate. The distance between peace and destruction, then, is the space between one harbor and another.

“You should be resting,” you say, feeling the weight of air on your tongue.

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“It’s true.”

“Sounds like a shitty excuse to get rid of me.”

Levi still hasn’t looked at you; instead, his gaze remains on his hands, folded in his lap. You go to him, lowering yourself to the floor at his feet.

His steel-blue eyes meet yours. Many who’ve encountered him would describe Levi as a stoic, expressionless man. But if they paid any attention, they would know that his eyes are the epicenter of his emotion, and they betray him every time. And so, his eyes meet yours in the first private moment you’ve had in weeks, and they look tired. You feel the ship rock under your knees.

He looks at you and, tenderly brings his right hand forward to trace his two remaining fingers across the line of your collarbones. He touches you, but he seems far away and near all at once. You want to pull him into you. His fingers find the curve of your neck, and you let him, you let him find you, his fingertips roaming over your skin. The ship rocks within the breadth of this intimacy, and his hand is on your shoulder, squeezing. He closes his eyes and lets you keep him steady.

You look at him and, softly, bring your hand to his bandaged one, the same hand that has been re-learning the shape of its lover. You stroke your thumb down the lines of his palm his eyes flicker open.

“It must still hurt,” you say, voice just above a whisper.

You notice Levi’s jaw tighten. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want you to worry even though he knows you already are. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows the pain. It goes somewhere deep in his belly, you think; he stores it all right in the center of himself so that way he never goes hungry.

“Will you let me change your bandages?” you ask, noticing the sticky blood soaking through the wounds by his knuckles.

He nods, knowing better than to give you a hard time about it. He doesn’t want to give you a reason to walk away, he just needs you to stay. So, he lets you help him.

You stand and gently coax him to lean back against the wall at the head of the bed. Grabbing some supplies, you settle with a knee on either side of his waist, careful not to put your weight on him.

The cabin moves in tandem with your breath. Levi’s gaze stays on you while you work, his eyes tracing over the curve of your nose and the shape of your lips. He drinks in the color of your eyes, parched after going so long without it, and the attention you hold in them as you diligently work.

You hesitate over the bandages covering his eye. It’s then that Levi’s fingers find their way to your outer thigh, and you feel them grazing loosely over the fabric. He touches you like this, in this familiarity, like he’s telling you it’s okay. You almost laugh at the irony of it, Levi comforting you.

He really does look so tired.

You unwrap the bandages like you’re peeling back the layers to open him up at the core, and it’s there where the damage is done. The sutured wound runs the length of his face into his lips, still raw, the stitches clearly rushed. And although his eye is still intact, his vision clearly is not.

It’s startling to see him so weak, so broken, after all those years of knowing him as the opposite. He looks so human. And you felt it again, the panic rising into your throat from the reminder that you had almost lost him, that you might still, the fragility of his life heavier than it had ever been before.

In a way, this is grief. What were you grieving? He’s here, living, breathing in front of you, and yet you cannot help but feel the profound loss of his former self, dead and left somewhere on that island.

The feeling hollows you out.

You loved him and you love him still, you’ll love him even when your heart stops beating.

You bring your fingers to his wrist. You’ll love him even when there’s no longer a pulse.

He says your name and you’re pulled from your daze. You know he can see the tears welling up in your eyes, despite your efforts hide it.

“Am I that ugly?”

You shake your head no, as he brings his thumb to catch a fallen tear on your cheek. He frowns.

“Do I look scary?”

Levi feels the boat shift over the waves. What if the all the ugliness he feels inside has been blown outwards, reflected in the open wound of his face, seared into his skin? What if all this time, you simply had not seen it, and now, it was impossible to ignore? It was only a matter of time, he thinks, until you saw him for what he truly is.

 “Never scary,” you shake your head again, “You’ve never scared me. You didn’t then and you don’t now.”

All at once, Levi feels guilty for ever doubting you. How lucky he is, to have you, to be seen by you and loved by you. But, oh. How terrified he is of losing you. He can’t imagine how you must be feeling, after almost losing him. He hates himself for putting you through it.

You take a few breaths to ease the slight tremor in your hands and manage clean and rebandage the rest of his wounds. When you’ve finished, you gently lean into him, wrapping your arms over his shoulders and burrowing your face in his neck. You feel his arms bringing you closer still. For now, at least, you’re both here, here, here.

The two of you stay like that, and while white noise envelops you in this moment of reprieve, the boat sails smoothly. The floor is steady. And for a while, the world is still.

©2023 thephantomtheory | do not repost my work anywhere, and do not plagiarize

[maryhadalittlehobby]

Recap of IWTV Screening and Conversation at 92stY

(Please dont repost/reupload my pics or vids from here or IG anywhere else. Sharing/linkinh is ok. Thanks!)

I started the day with a fang gang meetup hosted by Black Girl Talks Fangs. The restaurant was cute and the food great. I'm not a big wine drinker but got a blood red Chateau in honor of the occasion. After, we headed over to the event space.

In my experience attending different events there, the actors typically come in just before the event starts or a few minutes into the screening.

In this case- it was both.

Eric strolled up super casual and had a convo with myself and a few other fans asking if we had read the books and what we were looking forward to. He gave a parting message that the season is amazing and he is not just saying that because he is part of it. I believe him. He was super personable and down to earth.

Delainey arrived next and again kind and generous with her time. She has a very chill energy. Her outfit was more casual this day but I thought chic and the face card never declines. Her makeup artist does her right! And can we talk about that sleek ass ponytail

She complimented my cosplay and said she thinks my beret might be the screen accurate one!

She asked to touch it and said mine was softer!

She also said Carol Cutshall gifted her the beret so she owns Claudia's.

I put this cosplay together in 3 weeks which is barely enough time. Thankfully I had the idea knocking around since October when we first saw this fit in the trailer that dropped at NYCC 23.

Myself and a few fans waited till about 15 minutes into the start of the screening before we gave up on waiting for Jam Reiderson.

While running to the screening I nearly literally ran into Rolin. I asked for a quick pic which he obliged.

The episode was amazing. Very much on par of season 1 so far. Can't wait to see the full thing. Delainey fit into Claudia seamlessly.

The panel itself was great as well. I have a few vids in my IWTV highlight on IG and a few others in an upcoming youtube video I will make AFTER the episode drops. There are some spoiler bits plus 92Y is dropping the full panel too after the ep airs.

Highlights include watching Jam Reiderson literally communicate telepathically- what was the fun on set story?!

Sam slapping Jacobs' lower inner thigh in front of god (Rolin) and everyone.

Working together is like putting on an old glove. An old sock?! Lol what. 'Is that dirty?'

Assad trauma dumping on main. "Armands lost...like me." "I'm intimidated by the cast" Sir please!

Assad also being spicy saying he thinks Armands memory of Lestat is pretty accurate. Drag him king😄

Delainey and Jacob gushing about how they immediately bonded and established their father/daughter/sibling vibes.

Eric calling Jam puppies and Jacob saying "I'm a grown man a parent"lol Sir you are a baby girl as evidenced by

Rolin saying that's a book and this is a show. To me that said was book lovers have the book and you always will but this is a new thing that respects the source but isn't tied down to every single detail.

Then Sam saying there are contradictions even within the series. Please lets talk about it.

And I love this new narrative everyone is spinning, even Sam, who seemed to be in the Lestat is right and Louis is lying boat last press go round. Now everyone is saying there is no right and wrong or truth and lies-the story is told by different people with different perspectives and that's all. Which yes! that's ALWAYS how I saw it! Just because Lestat became the main character and most favored doesn't mean he is infallible.

Jacob and that plushie. Who would have imagined he'd love it so much. Another fan was coming with their Lestat. I don't know if they had intentions of giving it to Sam but sadly they didn't make it.

After the panel I went back to the spot and aimed to get Jacobs signature on my Street of Immortality print which I managed.

I would have loved to get Sam's to but I also wanted to give other fans the chance to get photos and autos. I was already so lucky.

They signed for a loooong time. So long I thought our side wouldnt have a chance or only a few people would. Turns out fans were conducting mini interviews with them lol Someone needs to collect all the questions and answers.

Also they are the smallest cast you've ever seem. Pocketbsized. Everyone one of them is so unassuming.

Overall I had a super good time. The audience vibes were immaculate. The person beside me during the screening/panel was losing their shit then apologizing. But honestly I was here for it lol

Also you could 100% tell it was an audience full of the online fandom.

I ended the night checking out the Time Square ad. It was awesome to see our vamps represented. Hopefully we get a ton of new fans from all the amazing marketing this year.

[in-my-feels-probably]

I can’t remember fr 😭 but here’s maybe another idea? Carmenxreader where the reader works as a chef at the restaurant as well and one day when they’re specially stressed out carmy blows up on her face (kinda like how he does to Sydney on ep 7) and she straight up walks out as well, the difference here is that they live together and obviously they can’t exactly ignore each other at home OR as an alternative, he blows up in her face and she has that kinda silent anger that’s even scarier than when someone has a screaming match with you, so when she simply turns around and goes back to work, Carmy is afraid for his life because he can practically see the anger radiating off of her, either one is fine! And ending is up to you! (But make is happy pls because I am a baby and will cry at too much angst :’)) thank you!!

Crash and Burn

Request: Carmenxreader where the reader works as a chef at the restaurant as well and one day when they’re specially stressed out carmy blows up on her face (kinda like how he does to Sydney on ep 7) and she straight up walks out as well, the difference here is that they live together and obviously they can’t exactly ignore each other at home OR as an alternative, he blows up in her face and she has that kinda silent anger that’s even scarier than when someone has a screaming match with you, so when she simply turns around and goes back to work, Carmy is afraid for his life because he can practically see the anger radiating off of her, either one is fine!

Hi! I’m so sorry for the long wait, I’ve been so busy but I’ve got some time now. I’m still getting the hang of writing for Carmy, so bear with me if it’s a little bit rusty. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, shouting, slight angst, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Today was not your day. It wasn’t anyone’s day at the Beef’s, to be more specific. 

And to make it worse, you were prepping for a catering event Carmy couldn’t say no to. You needed the cash, and so it had to be done. But—of course—everything had to go wrong, one shitty situation after the other. 

First, the meat delivery man dropped off fifty pounds of the wrong kind of meat, which immediately put Carmy in a bad mood. Then, he accidentally scorched the bottom of a pan after he forgot to check it while he was whisked away doing other things, and he had to start his stock sauce over completely. Unfortunately for you, it was a new recipe, and he was the only one who knew how to make it. It set him back at least an hour, and now you were rushing to pick up the slack of his duties on top of yours while he continued his.

It seemed as if everyone was having a bad day. Marcus couldn’t get the consistency of his cake batter right. Richie left his cigarettes at home and was forced to work through his smoke break, loudly griping about it to you while he chopped vegetables. Tina was late to work because of an appointment she had to take her son to, and she refused to cancel it and make another. Not that you blamed her.

You could overhear the phone call she had with Carmy letting him know she was stuck on the L train. When he asked why she couldn’t have just rescheduled, her scolding could be heard even from outside his office door. 

“It took me three fucking weeks just to even get the place to answer the phone without putting me on hold, I’m not about to wait another month!”

Carmy sighed, wiping a hand down his face. “We’re really busy today, Tina, if you could just please hurry—”

“Yeah, I’ll tell the conductor to step on it. Give me a minute, kid, I’ll be there soon.”

She arrived shortly after her phone call, making herself scarce when she saw Carmy hunched over a pot, muttering fragmented sentences to himself that would make a sailor blush. You quickly hurried her over, telling her to grab a knife and help you chop. 

The icing on the fucking cake—metaphorical of course, since Marcus had yet to actually bake any cake—was the client calling Carmy in the middle of the lunch rush and demanding the event’s catering be pushed up half a day, or else they would cancel entirely and expect a refund. A refund you didn’t have, as you had already spent the moneyt, so you had no choice but to oblige them. Meaning that instead of the extra time in the morning everyone had to prep, they’d instead have to finish that evening. And as if that couldn’t get any worse, Richie was going to have to leave halfway through the dinner shift to go pick up his daughter, which was unmissable. 

It would be you, Carmy, Tina, Marcus, and Sydney after the restaurant closed, working overtime and scrambling until you finished. 

Although, it was hard to ponder the next few hours when you were up to your neck in to-go orders, wrapping up sandwich after sandwich that Richie was making and sending your way in between taking orders at the counter. In fact, everyone was up to their necks in duties, frantically working and bustling around the kitchen. 

“Sydney, I’ll sign the lease to my apartment over to you and my savings account for rent if you take that meat cleaver and hit me over the head with it. If I don’t die, at least I’ll get sent to the hospital and be able to get the fuck out of here,” you groaned, wrapping yet another sandwich and sliding it back to Richie at the counter. 

Carmy tsked, not looking up from the now four separate pots on the stove he was managing. “Considering I live there, too, I think you’re gonna have to tough this one out for me.”

“For fucks sake,” you whined, heading into the front of house to grab more wrappers. 

Richie patted your shoulder on your way back into the kitchen, chuckling when you glared up at him. In a rare moment of peace when there was a gap in customers, he headed back into the kitchen to help you with the online orders. 

“Hang in there, kid,” he said, reaching into his back pocket before he groaned. “Shit, do you have any smokes?” 

“Nope,” you replied, immediately souring his relatively calm mood. 

“Fuck!”

He then took to angrily assembling and wrapping orders, shooing you away from the to-go station. Not that you were complaining, you could practically feel the anger radiating off him as he worked. 

You chose to help Carmy, who looked like he was about ten seconds from a mental breakdown. You rested a hand on his back as you approached him, gently rubbing up and down. 

“Where do you need me, love? Can I help?”

He sighed in frustration, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ve got this. Can you help Tina in the walk-in? She’s been in there a while.”

“Yup,” you smiled, hooking an arm around his middle giving him a quick hug, before heading into the back where the freezer was. 

When you opened the door, Tina was standing on her tippy toes, trying to put a big container of sauce on the top shelf. You furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why she hadn’t asked someone a bit taller, like Marcus, to help her lift it up. She’d been gone from her station for what was probably twenty minutes now, and it was hard to imagine her standing like that instead of simply asking for help. 

You let the door close behind you, stepping in to help. “Tina, what are you doing?”

“I’ve got it, it’s fine. I’ll be right out,” she replied, taking a step up onto the bottom rank of the shelf. 

“Tina—” you gasped, eyes widening. 

She quickly turned towards you, one hand clinging to the shelf, the other supporting the container. “Y/N—”

Suddenly, her foot slipped down off the shelf, and she lost stability. The container came crashing down, splashing sauce all over the floor and across your shoes and the bottom of your pants. You quickly jumped over the puddle, offering your hands for Tina to take. 

“Come on, then. Get down, I’ll get us a few rags and we can clean this up,” you said, taking her hands in yours as you helped her step down. “We only lost the top bit, I think the rest of this is salvageable. I’ll ask Marcus to put this up on the shelf once we get it cleaned up in here.”

“Damn it,” she muttered, slipping her shoes off at the door so she didn’t track sauce all over the kitchen. 

You did the same, opening the door for her. “It’s alright, I’ve done this at least twice since I started working here. Sydney, too. It’s not our fault these shelves are so fucking high.”

Tina managed a chuckle, grabbing the mop bucket. “What a shitty day.”

“Agreed,” you replied, heading over to where you kept the clean towels and rags stocked.

You passed by Carmy on the way, who raised a brow at your disheveled appearance. “Drop something?”

“Not me, just in the splash zone. Don’t worry, I’ll get it cleaned up.” 

He was slicing meat now, and he frustratedly paused, setting his knife down. “Which sauce?”

“Uh, the garlic aioli, I think. I’m not sure, they’re all the same color, but it currently reeks of garlic in the walk-in, so I think my guess is pretty accurate.”

“Shit,” he sighed, picking the knife back up. “Could you be more careful, please?”

You raised a brow. “Well, I wasn’t the one who dropped it, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, just be fucking careful, alright? I don’t think we’ll survive any more shit today, we’re barely gonna make it as is.”

You flinched back at his sharp tone and raised volume, trying not to look too affected by his words. Suddenly, Richie called over his shoulder, scolding Carmy. 

“Cousin! Be fucking nice, leave her alone. Don’t be a dick, it was an accident.”

Carmy’s face fell as he watched your falter, and he cleared his throat, sniffing. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault. There’s just too much shit to deal with today.”

You nodded and went to grab the towels, circling back by him as you walked past. You spoke carefully, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. You knew he was under a lot of stress and didn’t mean to snap at you, but you’d much rather avoid any further potential snapping if you could, letting him be. 

“Take a breath, Carm. We’re gonna be fine, we still have all evening.” 

He nodded, mustering up a small smile. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, really,” you said, rubbing his shoulder as you walked back into the walk-in. 

Sighing, you got down on your hands and knees and started wiping up the mess. Tina stuck to the higher bits of the shelf that the sauce splashed onto. It took about ten minutes, but you finally managed to get everything up. You wiped the bottom of your shoes last, and then all the sauce was gone. Tina ran a mop through the freezer one last time, and you were finished after you got rid of the dirty rags. 

You joined Sydney at her station, tying a new apron around your waist. 

“Shitty day?” She asked, reaching for a sharper knife. “Twenty bucks on it getting even shittier.”

You huffed out a laugh. “I’d lose that bet. I guarantee we’re all gonna want to quit by tomorrow morning.”

“Fantastic,” she said, plastering a fake exaggerated smile on her face.

—

The rest of the dinner shift was—as predicted—miserable. Richie practically danced as he clocked out, saluting everyone before running out the back door to his car. Thankfully, he closed the front of the restaurant before leaving, which saved you all an extra half hour.

Everything settled down a bit once you all were steadily working in the back, but you were still rushing to make your new deadline. Everyone stuck to their own stations, in the zone as they worked. 

You finished your first round of work, deciding to see if anyone else needed help with getting theirs done. 

“Hey, Tina—”

She put a hand up, stopping you. “I’m good, mija. Talk to Jeff.”

“Heard,” you grinned, before walking over to Carmy. “Need me to do anything here?”

He took a breath, eyes scanning over his work before he nodded. “Yeah, uh…I braised the beef earlier. Could you slice it up thinly, and then pass it to Sydney? She needs it for prep.”

“Yup,” you nodded, grabbing a knife and the tray of meat. 

You began to make small talk as you worked, first with Carmy, then with everyone else. It was beginning to get late, and you all were a little delirious. Soon enough, the kitchen was full of laughter and scuffling feet as you moved around, telling joke after joke. It was a little loud, admittedly, but everyone seemed to be in high spirits. 

“Alright, alright, I’ve got one,” Marcus said, loading a tray into the oven. “When does a joke become a dad joke? When it’s apparent.”

You stifled a laugh as best you could, but you failed when Tina burst out laughing, crossing her legs. 

“Stop it, I'm gonna piss myself!”

That got Sydney, who’s laughter was practically echoing off the walls. “That’s some popsicle stick shit right there.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, tears falling as you chuckled. You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you laughed, your stomach beginning to ache. You looked over at Carmy, and realized that he had stopped laughing. He had smiled and chuckled at the first few jokes, but now he was quiet, working with tired eyes. 

“You got any jokes, Carm?” You asked, taking a step closer to him.

“What?” He asked, finally looking up at you. “Uh…no, no I don’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Marcus drawled over his shoulder, turning to look at Carmy. 

“No.”

You nodded, urging him along. “Yeah Carm, just give it a shot.” 

“No,” he said curtly, turning back to his work. 

You gave him a grin, trying to put him in a better mood. “Carm, just try—”

“Y/N! No!” He shouted, dropping his knife on the counter with a loud clang. “Could you just leave me alone for a minute, please? I mean, fuck! What’s with you today? We’ve got shit to get done. Just work! Without all the yammering, preferably.”

“Woah!” Tina shouted, immediately coming to your defense. “Take the stick out of your ass, leave her alone!”

Your jaw slacked at his words, but you quickly recovered, standing up straight. You could feel the ache in your heart at his scolding, and the tinge of embarrassment heating up your cheeks. But you steeled your emotions, setting your shoulders back as you picked up your knife, continuing to chop. You could hear arguing around you, but you ignored it, keeping your head down. 

Carmy immediately regretted his outburst, and he would have reached out to you if Sydney and Tina hadn’t immediately put themselves between you and him. 

“You alright?” Marcus said quietly, coming to stand by your side. 

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “I’m fine, I promise. Thanks.”

“Y/N,” Carmy started, and you could see the regret in his eyes. 

He dropped what he was doing, trying to come over to you. But you raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. 

“I said I’m fine,” you replied curtly, turning to Sydney. “Syd, I’ll finish slicing the beef so I can give it to you, and I’ll finish up with anyone else who needs me for something. But I’m leaving the second I’m done.”

Sydney gave you a look of sympathy. “You don’t have to, I can finish this.”

“I’m not gonna throw a tantrum and make your job any harder just because I want to leave,” you sighed, throwing a sharp glare towards Carmy. 

You could see his jaw clench, and he cast his eyes to the floor. You scoffed, quickly going back to your work. Working as fast as you could, you finished within the next half hour. Walking over to Sydney, you placed the tray of sliced beef in front of her. 

“Here,” you groaned tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

She frowned, patting your arm. “Go home, babe. Get some rest.”

“I will, let me just ask Tina—”

“I’m fine,” Tina interrupted, holding her hand up when you tried to speak again. “Marcus, too. Seriously, mija. Go home.”

You finally relented, nodding. “Alright, fine. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“Love you,” they called out in sequence, watching you grab all of your things and head for the door.

You called back to them telling them you loved them, passing Carmy on your way out. He looked up at you as you walked past, his face full of regret, and a slight bit of fear. You smiled sweetly at him, making him shift back and forth uncomfortably. 

“See you at home.”

He visibly paled, and you choked down a sinister laugh as you walked out the door. 

—

Hours later, Carmy gently opened up the front door to your shared appointment. He was practically tiptoeing, trying not to wake you up. As he flicked on the lights, he took a startled step back when he saw you sitting on the couch, a book beside you that you had long since abandoned. The TV dimly lit the room, on a low volume.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes off the TV. “Eat.”

You may have been pissed—beyond pissed—but you didn’t want him to starve. The whole day, and you couldn’t remember seeing him eat even once.

“Y/N—” He started gently, but you cut him off. 

“Eat…then we’ll talk.”

He sighed, nodding as he walked over to the fridge. After a few minutes of dawdling around the kitchen, he finally joined you, cautiously taking a seat next to you. 

You didn’t turn to him as you spoke. “Did you finish? Everyone get home okay?”

You could hear him fidgeting next to you, which led to you finally faltering and looking over at him. The look on his face almost made you take pity, but you waited for him to speak first. He finally did, breaking the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, fiddling with his hands in his lap. 

You raised a brow, having to urge him to continue. “For?”

“For being an asshole,” he finished, his eyes softening on you. 

You nearly smiled, raising a brow. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“You were trying to help, and I was being a dick about it. You were under just as much stress as I was, and it was out of line yelling at you in front of everyone like that. I shouldn’t blow up on anyone like that, but especially not you. I’m sorry.”

“You really embarrassed me, you know,” you said, your voice beginning to waver. 

Carmy winced as you spoke, nodding. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for that, too.”

Sighing, you gently took his hand. He immediately clung to yours, squeezing it as he turned to face you more. 

“You could just talk to me,” you whispered, rubbing your thumb along the back of his hand. “Tell me if I’m being too loud, or if you want me to do something else. I just want to help you. We all do. And we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what you need.”

“They all think I’m an asshole, don’t they? I would if I heard someone yelling at their girl like that.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand again. “No, Carm. They don’t think you’re an asshole. They know you’re under a lot of pressure, and honestly, I think they’d say you’re handling the change of pace really well. Marcus and Sydney would, at least. Not sure about Tina. Definitely not Richie.”

Carmy let out a laugh at that, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah, well…he’s an asshole, too. Takes one to know one.”

You grinned, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re not an asshole…at least, not all the time.”

“Fuck you,” he spat, although he was grinning, too. “And yes, by the way. We finished up, and everyone made it home safely. It’ll be a long day tomorrow, but we’ve done the hard part.”

You hooked your arm under his, leaning against his side. “I’m glad. It’s good money. We needed this job. Not sure it was worth all the rage, but I’m sure I’ll be saying differently tomorrow.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you.”

You smiled, grinning dramatically. “What would you ever do without me?”

He shrugged, leaning further into you as he let out a deep sigh. “Crash and burn, probably.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry again for the wait, I hope this is what you were looking for. Let me know what you think! Thank you again for requesting :)

[lutawolf]

My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 6

If you haven't read my other meta on the show, I suggest you do! You can find them here.

I adore that Segasaki put a tracker on Yoh.

However, it looks as though it was pointless because it's as if Yoh wants to get caught. Slow doesn't even begin to describe this boy.

Now it's finally useful. He has found his man and told him in no uncertain terms to make up an excuse and come back home. Now, if he were an actual slave, he would be unable to say no. If he were deep subservient... He would be unable to say no. I know you normies are thinking, damn. Don't they have rights Luta!? They Don't Want Them! They are not you. For some people, they just don't want to make decisions. Now is Yoh that type of submissive is the question though. Let's see what Yoh does.

I love that Yoh at least has someone on the outside of things he can talk to. She clearly understands Segasaki. I really like the husband. Mickey and Minnie are well suited to each other.

Flashback time!!!

So it all starts in the school cafeteria. OMG, I love how Yoh pauses as soon as he sees Segasaki. Then he has to sit back down because he doesn't know what else to do. His original thought is no longer there. All that encompasses his gray matter is Segasaki. "The first time I saw that person. I thought they might not be from this planet. At least out of all the sculptures that I've ever seen, he's the most beautiful." Then he gives that soft smile. So freaking cute! "The shape of his ears, the line of his nose, the angle of the jawline, the fullness of their lips. Even the shape of their unseen eyeballs must be beautiful."

He then rushes to the store to buy what it will take to draw this beautiful boy. Yoh had it bad right off, but he doesn't understand it himself. Did they really call him loner guy? "If I were a girl, I would have thought it was love at first sight. But it was just a beautiful man." Yoh, you is an idiot. I love you, but you is an idiot. Okay, so he even knows that he is lying to himself. That's fair, we all do it.

I really am not a fan of these people. Loner guy? Really. These people look down on Yoh. Yup, nope, that solidified it. I don't like them.

Bless baby's heart. He is so anxious. I'm in love with Segasaki straight away because I think he fell in love with Yoh pretty fast too. Right off, we see Segasaki easily takes control. The way he tells Yoh, "Let's go." and grabs his arm then backpack to control Yoh's direction and to push him where he wants. He then keeps his hand there.

Right off, they easily drop into a D/s relationship. This is how you would see a D/s relationship develop naturally. Guidelines are always a good but for the fiftieth million time, lifestyle people are different from scene. We are naturally always Dom or always submissive, so we don't turn that off. It's going to naturally be seen even in friendship, but that doesn't mean that a Dom should expect a submissive friend to just listen. A submissive can always put guidelines and boundaries up, but to think that these relationships don't organically happen is ignorant. Yoh is submissive right off the back, just look at how he asks Segasaki if this is okay. Segasaki is Dom right off the bat.

I adore how close they are to each other. Segasaki has no concept of space when it comes to Yoh. Oh, these two. In the way, Segasaki asks Yoh what he is doing. Sees Yoh's indecisiveness, finds a book, and then gives him a command. Fulling expecting Yoh to absolutely tell him what he thinks of the book. "If he were to suddenly despise me, it might be the end of me." Those some deep feelings there.

I can't wait to see Segasaki's side of things!!! We know that Yoh's perception of things are easily distorted by his emotions. He is inclined to having a glass half empty mindset.

Please note, that Yoh as of yet hasn't acknowledged Segasaki's message. The submissive is not listening. We are not looking at a slave or a deep submissive.

Hahaha. Being drunk and clingy are absolutely who he is Mickey my dear.

OMG, This is the best! I'm Dying. I love Segasaki and I love Segasaki's personality and his jealousy. I'm in love with these mother fucking characters oh so much.

The way he stomps over and pulls back the curtains. "You can finish remotely right." I assure you, Segasaki wasn't actually asking a question. Still, Yoh faced with an angry Dom says yes. Said angry, Dom grabs him and begins to pull him away.

Leaving Minnie and Mickey both stunned and impressed. I think Mickey just developed his first guy crush.

Bombastic side eye. Oh damn... Here comes the miscommunication. Yoh is talking about Segasaki and Segasaki is talking about Mickey. Poor baby.

Yoh finds the tracker. Boy knows what that is and tells Segasaki, I put it back where I found it. But Segasaki is pissed. He thinks Yoh likes Mickey. Lawd these two. If they ever learn to communicate.

I can't wait for the next episode!!! I'm so in love with these two!!!

[ithebookhoarder]

Calling Out (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Description: You're always there for Matt when he needs you, but tonight he's keen to remind you that he's there for you too.

A/N: Set during S2 Ep 10 after the attack on Reyes - I couldn't resist.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, mentions of death, gun violence references, injury references

Masterlist

Sleep was impossible. 

No matter how hard you tried, you’d been tossing and turning since the moment you’d got home. It didn’t matter what you did, you couldn’t seem to turn it off - to quieten the worsening anxiety inside of you. 

You’d seen the news. You hadn’t meant to be watching but it had been on in the corner of the office, as it always was, silently playing in the background. 

The rolling banner on the screen was what caught your attention first, followed by the collective murmurs of disbelief from colleagues surrounding you: DA dead in courthouse shooting. 

Your stomach had dropped instantly. 

Matt. 

Even now, in your apartment, the all-consuming terror roared inside of you, drowning out anything other than the voices in your head. The fear and adrenaline were pounding in your veins, no matter how many times you told yourself that Matt was ok. He was alright. 

He’d answered the phone the moment you’d called, voice frantic as you begged to know what had happened - that he was alive and unharmed. You’d even spoken to Karen and Foggy to corroborate that fact.

That had been enough for then, enough to calm yourself and allow you to go back to work safe in the knowledge Matt was coming home to you. That he’d eventually walk through your door tonight after finishing patrol, after he’d washed away the grime and the dirt from a night in the city. It was routine - your routine… yet he still hadn’t come. 

Where was he? Why hadn’t he come yet? Was he hurt? 

It was hard to shut the thoughts down, especially as you kept replaying today over and over again in your mind. 

What if... Those two words taunted you. 

What if Matt had been sat closer to Reyes? What if he hadn’t heard the gun cock? What if the bullets had been just an inch closer and killed him and everyone else in that office? 

Sure, Foggy had been hit but at least he would recover. Matt had been just quick enough to change what should have been fatal to a flesh wound. But that was Matt all over… He had always danced with danger and death, but right now it felt like he’d never come closer to it. 

You choked back a sob and grabbed your phone.

“Hello?”

Of course he picked up on the first ring. 

"Hey, Matt," you choked, doing your best to keep your voice calm and steady. It was no use though, he knew you too well - and that was without his ‘super-senses’.  He could probably hear the way you were biting your lip and fighting tears through the phone. 

As if reading your mind, Matt’s voice became filled with concern. You could even picture his brow creasing, as it often did when he was upset. Normally you were the one to make it better, kissing his forehead until the lines simply melted away. But tonight, it was the other way around.  

"Y/N? Honey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," you answered quickly. "I just… I needed to hear your voice. I know it's late, and you probably only just got back from patrol, and I’m so sorry, but I was wondering if you were still coming over or not-"

"Hey, hey. It's ok, don't apologise," Matt soothed. "I was late getting back in and wasn’t sure if you would be asleep by now, else I’d have called to tell you. Why? What’s wrong?"

"I told you, it’s nothing. I just wanted to... to make sure you were okay-"

It would have probably been more believable if your voice hadn’t decided to crack at that exact moment. As it was, your hands began to tremble, making it hard to keep a grip on your phone. 

Thankfully, Matt could read you like a book. 

"Y/N, listen to me very carefully… I’m okay," he soothed, letting the words sink in. "Sweetheart, I’m okay. I promise."

"I know, Matt, but ... When I saw what had happened on the news, I couldn’t breathe. It’s one thing to know you’re out at night, doing what you do, but that’s different. That’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and not… this was close, Matty. This was you, in broad daylight and I can’t lose you. It was close, too close." 

The words fell from your lips without you even realising. It was as if he had removed the cork from a bottle, all the pent up emotions and fears simply spilling over in a steady stream. 

You didn’t know how to make it stop. 

"Y/N… do you want me to come over?" 

You immediately froze at the question. The answer was on your tongue but a sudden rush of guilt hit you before you could give in.

He was probably exhausted and given what he’d been through, asking him to come all the way over to your apartment just so you could squash your own fears was selfish. 

"No, don’t worry about it, Matt. You just got in and you need to sleep. You've been through a lot today and I - I’m being stupid. Don't worry, please."

"But-"

"I’ll just see you at the coffee stand, before work, ok?" you rushed, wiping a stray tear away as it finally broke free. “Love you, Matty. Goodnight."

You hung up before he could say another word. 

Hearing his voice had been helpful, you couldn’t lie, but it was no substitute for seeing him in person. To be able to hold him, to breathe in the scent that was so distinctly him. 

Taking a deep breath, you lay back against your pillows, staring aimlessly at the ceiling fan as it span in circles over and over and over… 

Until there was a knock at the door. 

You paused. 

Peeling back the sheets, you stumbled to the door, somehow knowing who it was long before you stared through the peephole. 

“Matt?” 

You couldn’t quite believe your eyes as you took him in, in the flesh, on your doorstep, at 5 in the morning. Hell, his hair was still sticking up at odd angles, and he had his favourite pair of grey sweatpants on, like he’d got out of bed and run the entire way here. 

The sight was enough to make your heart ache all over again. 

“What are you doing here?”

Matt’s lips tugged into that familiar smirk that you loved so much. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to see you."

Just like that, the tears began to flow. You couldn’t help it as you collapsed into his arms, letting him haul you close as relief washed over you. 

“I’m here,” he purred. “I’m here...”

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

THEY KISSED BUT AT WHAT COST 😭😭😭😭😭

we're only halfway through the show and she's already down to her final jump, I DON'T LIKE THIS AT ALL.

before i address the widespread panic gripping us all, i just want to say that i have never loved a character more than ryu sun-jae. this boy loved sol wholeheartedly for fifteen (fourteen?) years without a shred of self-preservation. he kept watch over the time capsule and dug it up himself. it's impossible not to have a visceral reaction to the undisguised yearning in his face when he opens sol's letter and reads it for the first time — to the way he cradles her gift in his hands.

just look at the naked longing in his eyes when we see the bridge scene from his POV — the way he drinks in sol's features, like a dying man in the desert with his last drop of water. like it's the last bit of beauty he's allowed to see. byeon wooseok is a master of the micro-expression — just contrast the desperate hope in his gaze from this timeline, to the pain and regret in his eyes when he saw sol in her wheelchair from the original timeline, when he's still ridden with guilt over her paralysis.

to this very moment sunjae loves sol boyishly, unreservedly, with limitless capacity for adoration — all she needs to do is cutely ask "can't i?" and he acquiesces without hesitation. without a single thought to spare himself. he's the gentlest, tender-est kdrama character to ever exist, and it will break my heart into a million pieces if he doesn't survive the end of this show. nobody deserves to live more. he's redefined what it means to love for me.

i'm very apprehensive of the fact that we're only on ep 8, and sol is going to use up her final chance to save him already (based on the promo.) what do the writers have in store for us? i'm grasping at straws telling myself the webnovel ended happily so this will too, (even though they've already changed so much from the webnovel.) not to mention mr. byeon wooseok loves tragic roles.

also, the kiss was pure, pristine beauty. i love that sunjae pauses and waits for sol to initiate it — i love the slow, syrupy heat of the moment — the delicate strength of his hands as he cups her face. how they inhale each other like air tinged with night-blooming jasmine — the most precious thing on earth.

welp, that's all i have to say at the moment. if you need me, i'll be setting up a prayer circle and begging every deity i know for a proper happy ending for our soljae couple.

[oonajaeadira]

i was rereading a GTTT chapter and Patricio has just been in my mind rent free, creeping in from daydreams in places i should not be daydreaming. So I’ve got a PATS question for you. How would Patricio and Reader navigate the issue of him being too drained sexually when Reader is needy?

Hello, lovely.

First of all, I want to apologize for the long hiatus I've taken on Pats and Pres. This ask--and many more--have been sitting in my inbox for far too long and I'd like to think that answering late is better than never. Thank you for your patience with me!!!

This is a very interesting question and it sparked some over-arching thoughts. I have half an answer for you here--from his point of view, and therefore the "drained" part of it. Pres may not seem too needy here, but look to the next installment for more on that.

Also, a non-apology here to everyone.

For so long I've made you believe that Patricio is confident, in control...or at least in denial about it when he's not. But he's growing. Changing. There may be more vulnerability here than you want and much less sexy times. Not everyone has a good day every day.

Kiss and Tell: Everyone's Allowed a Bad Day (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content. (This one's much tamer than most.)

(gif by cavill-henry)

It’s nights like these that he sometimes wished he smoked. He’ll pour himself a drink once the client wakes up and leaves, but he doesn’t want her to catch it on his breath.

Bourbon. Bath. Bed. Maybe something short and calm on streaming. There’s a new cowboy film just dropped by that Spanish director looks good. 

Leaning on the kitchen counter and staring out across the silent living room, he contemplates the novel you left on the coffee table. Wonders if you’re missing it.

It occurs to him that he could call you. He can do that now. He doesn’t need a reason anymore, but even if the reason is a rough day…actually, maybe that’s even more reason to call you. In fact, he really should ask you–

His phone vibrates on the countertop and he frowns. It’s your pattern and his heart races a little, not only because it’s you, but thinking he’s been lost in thought too long, that he’s missed the three-hour mark. But a flip of the phone shows him he’s got 20 minutes to go. 

Odd. It’s not like you to interrupt a session.

“Hey, muñeca, everything okay?” he mumbles, stepping barefoot out onto the front porch in nothing but his sweatpants.

Your voice sounds far away, “Oh shit,” before a riffling sound and then a clearer, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit dial. I didn’t know I did. I was going to call and then I saw the time…I know you’re in the middle of a session, oh loverboy I’m so sorry–”

Just the sound of your voice is an instant balm. “It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s sleeping. I was actually just thinking about calling you.”

“Oh, really?” There’s something there behind your fluster, hiding among the smile in your voice, something that he might not have noticed if you hadn’t said you meant to call.

“Something you wanted to call me about?”

There’s a sound in the background. An announcement. You’re in public. “Um, no, not really. I just had a lonely moment, that’s all.”

“Well that’s an ego boost. You wanna come spend the night?”

There’s a pause. Shocked, judging by your voice. “Really? On an appointment night?”

He scratches his head and focuses on his feet as he aimlessly paces the porch. “Sure. I mean, if like a quarter after ten isn’t too late for you to drive just to go to bed.”

“With the weather shifting and how warm you run? It’s never too late to say yes to a heated bed.”

He smiles. “Glad I can be of service.” There's silence from you and he cringes. “Shit. Not you– not– Was that a bad choice of word?”

“No. It’s just–”

“Hey. I want you here tonight. I wanna talk to you.” Another silence. He supposes that sounds ominous. It shouldn’t. “You know, here. Not…on a phone.” He’s still not good at this. 

“That sounds nice…. You, uh, need anything? I’m at the grocery store.”

“No. Just you.” It feels good to say. Right. It’s what’s needed to break what feels like an odd tension into a few comfortable, mutually smiling moments. “So. The grocery store. And you’re feeling lonely. At a grocery store.”

Your laughter--hushed but musical--is kept close to the phone. “Well I am standing in produce and they just got in some preeeeeetty nice looking eggplants.”

“Wow.”

Another laugh, less hushed, throatier. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll let you get back to your work. I assume you’ve got a sleeping beauty to wake up.”

Pulling the phone away from his face for a timecheck, he winces. “Yeah. I’ll see you in 20?”

“I’d say I can’t wait, but you know that I will.”

Wow. “I know and I…”Something sweet twists inside. “I know.”

After you hang up he stands a minute more on the porch in the dark. The leaves are almost all off the trees now, the crickets are gone. His feet are freezing and the skin on his torso is goosebumping; doing its best–and failing–to lift his fine hairs to shield him from the autumn chill. But it’s far from unpleasant and he finds that he’s awake for the sensation in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

He’s alive again in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

The last couple of months have been…nothing short of amazing.

He should tell you that. He should say it.

But he’s got to get to that point where…he accepts it. 

Not the relationship…the fact that there’s always a possibility it’s too good to be true, that he could lose it. He could lose you.

You’re handling everything so well, but for how long? How long until you make him choose?

Oh fuck, please don’t make me choose, preciosa, please.

The phone buzzes in his hand. Timer; no need to look, just thumbs the button to silence. On another night, he’d allow himself more time, let the client sleep while he mused. But he’s got a job to do. 

And someone special arriving soon.

So he packs these thoughts away and goes quietly inside to prepare.

________

He’s just poured the detergent in the washing machine when he hears the door open. “Hey, I’m just cleaning up, gimme a second.”

Out in the entry, your shoes clatter on the floor and then your keys jingle on the kitchen counter and before he knows it you’re on him, topless and crowding him against the washing machine, kissing him like he’s just come back from war. It’s jarring but pleasant and full of hungry sighs…until there’s a ping in his calf muscle.

“Ooh, hey, Pres, hey hey, hang on.” Taking your face in his hands he calms, he whispers, he soothes you in order to soothe himself, but you catch on instantly, concern splashing over you.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

A kiss to the tip of your nose, to your smart little nose. “No, no, I’m a little sore; just had a difficult session–a difficult day, actually. And I haven’t showered yet. So don’t get yourself too worked up here. You don’t want me like this.”

He expects you to recoil from this, to find the sex with someone else still lingering on his skin. You don’t.

You simply run your hands over his sides, lean in to kiss his chin. “Of course I do. I want you like whatever you are.”

You’re backlit from the kitchen and there’s something like a soft halo around you, bringing a glow to the roll of your cheeks, the swipe of your lip. Tracing these with a finger and finding himself reflected in your eyes, he trusts you, accepts this, tries to see himself like you do. How are you so effortless?

There’s nothing but surrender when you rake your fingers through his beard and push yourself up onto tiptoe to press a warm kiss to his forehead. “But if you really feel that way, beautiful, let me run you a bath.” 

Everytime he opens his eyes and you’re there, it's like a small miracle.

“Come on,” you smile, taking his hand and guiding him to the stairs, “let me take care of you and you can tell me about your day.”

You’re perfect. He’s so grateful he picked up the phone tonight when he did.

________

“Mmmmm, that’s good.” The sigh comes up from his bottom wells, like a contented creature crawling out of hidden caverns within. The back of his head rests in your palm, warm water spilling over his scalp. Your hands whisper and calm and soothe. He spends so much time using his touch to bring relaxation to others that he’d all but forgotten that it could go the other way. And your touch–

“So there was some heavy lifting tonight, huh?” Your finger lightly wipes away an errant rivulet from the corner of his eye. “Ness, right?”

The ghost of irritation looms. “Mmm. She has a pretty severe tailbone injury. Didn’t tell me about it before she showed up. Lot of full-body lifting on the table just to get her in the right positions for stretch.”

“I see. You’ll feel it tomorrow. And sore tailbone means no actual sex tonight.”

“Oh no, we had some fun. She’s got weeks of recovery ahead of her and she needed some practice re-routing some natural orgasm responses to different muscle groups when she ejaculates.”

“Ejaculates? She…? Ohhh.” A loving hand begins to wander lightly over his chest. “I assumed. My bad.”

“Sorry. Should have been more clear. But yeah.”

“No need to apologize. I don’t know why I hadn’t just assumed that you…took all forms of payment.”

He peeks an eye open to catch your reaction as you reach over the side of the tub toward him and finds your warm, curious smile. “Not to disparage the vaginal anatomy, but sometimes it’s nice to have my dick handled by someone who has a lifetime experience with their own.”

“Noted. Fair.”

Closing his eyes and sinking into the warm bath of your care a lifetime goes by with your hands running over his skin.

“You’re very accommodating.”

A kiss lands on his temple. “Wait until you realize I’m terribly selfish and am in it for the rewards points.” When his smile fades, your hands slow. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” Sensing a shift in tone coming when he turns to you, you instinctively pull back, but he catches your hand in his, pulling it in to place a wet kiss to your knuckles. “Would you mind if I don’t want to have sex tonight?”

“Of course. That’s okay.” A half-smile. Are you covering disappointment?

“I’m more than happy to go down on you if you–”

But a shake of your head stops him. “No, it's fine. I can tell you’re tired. You said you had a hard day. Wanna tell me about it while we get you dried off and into bed?”

He feels like a child as he simply nods, allows you to help him up, succumbs to you as you care for him. It’s easy to do, to melt under your attention, to crack open and spill. He does his best not to control the spread as he generalizes a failed report at work, a difficult project he’s fallen behind on. By the time you’re sliding into the sheets and curling up next to him, he’s breaching the topic he’s been deciding and undeciding and deciding again to tell you about–that his mother called without warning.

“She wants to meet you.”

Your breathing stills in the darkness. “You told your mom about me.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I..” you stutter, “I guess I didn’t… I’m flattered that you talk about me?”

There’s a pang of guilt that he’s let you believe you’re not important enough for him to tell the world that you’re in his life. But he sighs as you squeeze your arm around his middle. “You might feel differently if you met her.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to meet your…is it just your mom?”

“And my father. I have an older brother but he lives in Australia. Doesn’t go home much.”

“Home issssSantiago?”

“Just outside of it. Rancagua.”

Another squeeze. Perhaps that was a lie; your arm around him and the brush of your lips on his shoulder feels like his true home now. 

“So this call was stressful because she wants to meet me. And you’re nervous?”

“The call was stressful because…I don’t…want her to meet you.” Your squeeze lightens a bit and he slides his grip over your arm in case you decide he’s awful and want to pull away. He knows he should let you go if you want to but– “I wanted to ask you, Pres…I’m sorry I don’t know if I can ask this much from you but–”

It almost breaks his heart when your arm slides through his hand, when your warmth leaves his side, when you abandon him…

But it’s only for the time it takes to hear the click of the bedside lamp, register the bright sting and spill of light, and you’re back beside him, leaning over him, turning his face to yours with one patient hand on his cheek. “What’s going on. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Shit. Get it together.

“You’re going to think I’m a fucking jerk–”

“Don’t tell me what you think I’m going to think, sir. Tell me what you need from me. Just say it.”

This leaves him with depleted gambling chips, raises the stakes. But you’re right. He has to be honest.

“The relationship I have with my family is…strained. That’s why I live here and not there. I see them somewhat regularly, but the holidays are when the whole family gets together–all the cousins–and it’s just a lot. There’s a lot that’s expected, a lot of judgements…it’s overwhelming. I can barely make it through myself, but having you there? Watching you be scrutinized on top of it when we’re just figuring this out? I just…no.”

“You know I won’t tell them–”

“It’s not that, fuck, it’s not that.” He surges in for a kiss, taking you in deep, willing you to understand him by osmosis; if only… “Every time I’ve gone down for the holidays it’s stressful enough…it’s…it’s bad enough that I’m away from my clients, but–”

“But under stress the itch gets worse. And you don’t have your outlet. And you’re not in control.”

Oh god, you see him. You see him and he’s so…fucking pathetic.

The last thing he expects is for you to pepper kisses along his mouth and chin, to dot a lingering one on his cheek before pulling him into your chest, to cradle him, breathe into his hair.

But it’s exactly what you do.

“What do you need, beautiful boy? Anything you want.”

He breathes. Sighs. Curses himself for doubting you, for assuming you wouldn’t surprise him. Allows you to hold the weight of his heart on your own without a spotter.

“I need to…not do the ‘meet the family’ thing this year. I just want you to myself for a while.”

A hum of sympathy, of bittersweetness, one that stakes his heart into the ground at your feet. “Oh Patricio. Is that all?” Your breast moves under his cheek as you lean over to turn off the light, your soft curves and soft scent and soft hum whispering to him, calming him, soothing him into you. “I’ll admit that I’m a little sad that I don’t get to show you off to my family, but I definitely see the appeal of a quiet holiday season, just us hiding away from the world together. You want me to yourself? Did you really think I would find that anything but absolutely wonderful?”

All at once, the strains of the day overtake him, the need to say more is gone and took his energy to do so right along with it. A whole lifetime of relief in just an hour. That’s your secret power. Always has been. He cannot think of words more meaningful than, “Thank you.”

Your fingertips begin their pattern of affection along his jaw, tattooing a spell of sleep through him. “This really means a lot to you, huh.” He’s too gone to get his voice to work and it seems you assume he’s fallen asleep. “Well you mean the world to me. You don’t even know, mister.”

It’s not worth the effort to drag himself from the downward pull of dreams to ask you to say more about that. Not when he knows you’ll be right here in the morning and he can ask you then.

Or say the same thing right back to you.

Maybe this time he’ll find a way to do that.

______

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[keyaho]

II. You Give Me Butterflies

summary: hotel rooms are becoming commonplace with the pair, however, getting to know each other at such a pace leads Nashae to tell Leati how she really feels about him touching her.

Coco sat in her home studio avoiding the eyes of her team of producers. She leaned forwards, her elbows resting on the desk space and her head in her hands. Her black hoodie was open, showing off a gift from Joe. The company that made the hoodie he gifted her, had a new maxi dress, and the fitted brown material molded to her skin. She knew he went above and beyond when her personal assistant remarked on how the item didn’t come out until the fall. Topped with the hoodie and tan sheepskin slippers, Coco was ready for bed more than she was for the studio. 

“Alright, what ideas do you have?” Gerrie, her main producetress, asked. “You said, new year, new ideas.” 

Though she kept to herself in the industry, her team was close and she trusted them, especially Gerrie. She had multiple songs where Gerrie’s heavy and soulful vocals were in the layering. It was rare the producer stepped up to the mic, but when she did, Coco was always grateful. There was something about the blend of their voices that always made Coco happy and excited to sing with Gerrie. However, when Gerrie was in her producer mode, she was all about keeping Coco moving forward with innovation and newness. 

“So, if I say I haven’t thought about it, would you all yell at me?” 

“No, but we’re side eyeing you girl.” Alicia, another close industry friend snickered. “We give you a damn deadline and you’ll drop a project ten minutes after agreeing to our plan.” 

Coco’s head shot up and she pursed her glossed lips. “That was one time and it worked!” 

Five years ago, Coco dropped her “self-titled” album, Yayha, on a Wednesday morning, with no promotion. This time she wanted a “self-titled” album, but with her real name attached to it. Everyone knew her as Yayha, when her fans were being funny they used Nashae. However, she hadn’t produced any music in her whole career where her real name was listed as the writer or producer. 

“I don’t want to do what I’ve already done,’ Coco hummed. 

Then it hit her. 

“I might not have thought about what the next project will be, but, there are some songs I have been creating and thinking about. It’s more pop based, though, however, I think I want to do small EP projects through out the year. Maybe four?” 

“Are we touring this?” Alicia asked. 

“Probably, but the tours would be small. Intimate. I’m not trying to go on a world tour right now.” 

“So, these four projects?” 

Coco opened up a document folder that had different songs saved. “I want to do a show four times. So, each set of songs get it’s own show.” 

“When do you want to start these?” Gerrie asked. She had her own notebook out and had begun jotting notes. 

“First show in March? Probably in Atlanta. The band, some dancers…’ 

“When are you going to drop the EP?” 

“Late February, the show is a surprise.” 

The creative juices began to flow. Ideas for stage, costumes, and all began to fill notebooks. She had already reached out to her choreographers and would bring them in for a meeting in a week. Coco felt her phone buzz and she saw Joe’s name and a text flash across her screen. 

Can you talk? 

Not at the moment, in the studio. 

You going to let me hear the new music? 

Maybe. 

“So you want to put out a new EP every three months?”

“Yeah,’ Coco replied. “After this year, I want to do a world tour and I mean, the world.” She put her phone down and faced her team.

She had plans of taking some time off to spend with her family. She felt like her career had taken her from them. She had nieces and nephews growing fast and she wanted to spend time with them. As well as her parents. 

“Well, we need to get started. Once you have a date, I will book the venue,’ Gerrie stood and gathered up her things. 

Alicia follow suit, already on the phone with the choreographers since Coco had given her a list of potential songs. The songs would be mixed, but they could get a gist of what the dancers should be doing. 

Jumping back into work, she knew this year was going to be crazy. Glancing down at her phone, she picked it up and sent Joe another text. His reply gave her butterflies. 

I’m always going to make time for my pretty girl. 

 January 11th, 2024, the night before Friday Night Smackdown

It was rare, but, when she could fly normally and under the radar she would. Having thwarted people by posting photos as if she was in another country, she booked the first flight that would take her to Lincoln, Nebraska. Grabbing her duffel bag, she slung it over her shoulder. It was a bit chilly when Coco stepped through the doors of the airport terminal. As soon as Joe said he would love for her to come to a show, she booked her flight ticket. It was a long flight of nervousness as they spent most of it talking. Her lips were still tingling from their last kiss and her dreams had been blessed with Joe and his mouth. 

She looked around and there he was, leaning against the hood of a Cadillac Escalade. Like her, he was in a mask and dark clothes, his hands folded in front of him. Even this far away, she could see his dark eyes had landed on her. 

Taking a deep breath she walked over, clutching the strap of her bag tightly. However, the closer she got to him, the bigger her smile grew behind her mask. Her feet shuffled a little faster until she was almost skipping into his arms. Those same thick arms she missed wrapped around her waist as she dropped her bag and fell into them. His head dropped to her shoulder, breathing in her scent while she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

His hands rubbed up and down her sides, pulling her as close as he could. 

“Wassup pretty girl,’ he whispered while pulling down her mask and his before sealing their lips in a kiss. 

He tried to pull back, but Coco grabbed his head and brought him back in for another kiss. He smiled against her lips.

“Na ou misia foi oe, Nashae.” (I missed you too, Nashae.)

“Ou te valaau atu ia te oe Leati?” (Do I get to call you Leati?) 

“As long as you are calling my name I don’t care.” He reached down and picked up her bag. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” 

She stepped aside as he opened up the passenger door for her. Behind her, on the backseat, he dropped her bag and slid into the driver seat before pulling off the curb. Lincoln night time wasn’t as vibrant as they bigger cities, but as they drove through downtown, the bars were full and music was blaring. Even on a Thursday night. 

“I hope I won’t be in the way or distracting,’ Nashae said, ‘I’m sure you need to focus.”

It was then he reached over and placed his hand on her thigh. His thumb rubbing small circles into the fabric of her jeans, but igniting a fire against her skin. He had saw them when she walked over, but the heels he’d gifted her for Christmas were on her feet. 

“Nah,’ he replied while turning onto another street, the hotel in the distance, ‘when you asked to come to work with me, I was more than happy to accommodate.”

“You hungry?” He asked, turning down the heat as she slipped out her jacket. 

“I could eat,’ she replied. 

He reached into the arm rest between them and pulled out a few restaurant menus. She flipped through them and settled on Whataburger, a place she hadn’t had in years due to her dieting for tours. He found the drive through and joined the line, glad to be able to focus a little more on the woman in his front seat. 

Before she could speak, Leati cupped the side of her head, tilted it to the side, and laid one of the nastiest of kisses he could manage on her lips. Her hand came up and gripped the back of his head, pulling him closer as she leaned into it. He tasted like mint and she was sure it was from his gum. Regardless, she sighed into his mouth before a soft moan filled the car from her. 

“Mmmhm,’ he spoke against her lips, ‘my pretty girl.” 

A honk behind them made them separate and Leati pulled forward to the speaker box. He ordered a few patty melts, she skipped on fries, and two shakes. 

“Why do you call me that," she asked around her straw. “I mean I like it! Just wondering….”

Leati pulled to the next window and paid for their order. The car rolled up slowly to the next window. Once he had their food, he headed towards the hotel. 

“I like the way you grin and get all shy on me when I say it. Your nose gets all scrunched up like a bunny.” 

He slung her bag over his shoulder after parking while she fitted her mask to her face. Her hair was in it’s natural state, and she pulled out the band holding it in the bun she flew in. Her curls caught him off guard and he reached out, tugging on one of the curls. 

“You know what I want to say,’ he teased and just as he said, her nose scrunched up and she looked away with a soft giggle. “But I will say you are beautiful like this.” 

“You really had a crush on me, huh,’ she whispers, reaching out to tug on his beard. 

Suddenly called out, Leati laughed. “Jey?” 

Coco nodded. “You were inside helping get the fire wood and he came and told me. He thought you were being weird because of me so he told me about the crush.” 

“I’ll kill him,’ he cheesed. His pearly whites shining as he licked his lips. 

“You won’t!” She smacked his chest, stepping around him while holding her shake. 

Leati grabbed the rest of the food and she held his drink in her hand as well. When they stepped into the hotel, she walked on his left side which somewhat hid her from the front desk. Leati was grateful that the area was empty and so were the halls towards the elevators. It wasn’t rare for the roster to bring women or men back to their rooms, but he didn’t want anyone to know the woman that was with him. 

Behind him, his stride took off, Coco nearly skipping to keep up with the man in front of her. The halls were long, winding it seemed, and he kept stopping to make sure no one was around a corner. They had finally made it to the room when she leaned against the wall beside him, breathing just a bit too hard.

Leati looked down at her as he opened the door. 

“You okay?” 

“You,’ she panted suddenly, ‘have long legs!” 

He looked down at her flustered expression. When she allowed herself to relax around him, she was so cute and very expressive. She was comfortable and he wanted her to always be that way with him.

Playfully, he looked down at her and leaned forward so they were eye level. “Nah, that’s because you’re short.” 

He kissed her quickly before she could reply. Laughing, Leati opened the door but stepped aside so she could go in first. She dunked under his arm and was instantly smacked in the face by the scent of man. Heavy, strong, the hotel room smelled like him. That’s that pheromone shit folks were talking about. She thought. There was nothing artificial about what she was smelling. He came up behind her and kissed the side of her head. She had stopped just in front of the door way. 

“Shy?”

Leati placed her bag in his room of the suite. He had all intentions of letting her have his bed alone for the night. He was always wired the night for a show and would pay a gym to get a few hours in to blow off enough steam to get a few hours of sleep. 

When he came out of the bedroom, he stopped and watched Nashae stand and begin to eat. She swayed side to side, shoes gone, the patty melt in one hand and the shake in the other. The jacket was on the arm of the couch and he licked his lips at her outfit. The most simplest of outfits; black yoga pants with the matching jacket, cropped and fitted to her chest. Her hair fell to the middle of her back, the brown curls moving as she swayed. He gave her a long once over. From the top of her head to the heels of feet, she had his full attention and didn’t even know it. Well, until her hand started digging around the bag for what she knew was his fries. 

She had them in her hand, ready to bring them to her mouth when a hand curled around her wrist, turned her hand a bit and dropped them in Leati’s mouth. 

“Ms. I don’t want any fries.”  

“Yours looked good.” 

Nashae pulled out two more and quickly put them in her mouth before he could stop her. She swayed side to side again, stopping when she realized how close Leati was to her. Her back was pressed up against his chest.

“I don’t think I’m the only one that had a crush on you though.” 

Arms around her middle, Leati leaned down so his head was on her shoulder. He felt her tense at his closeness. She didn’t pull away, but he could tell she was still nervous. 

“You’re the only one that matters,’ Nashae replied. “It does come with the territory though.” 

“I guess I have to earn my keep. You have a lot of admirers.” 

Nashae shrugged, his lips right beside her ear. His beard rubbing against her cheek. 

As they finished up their food, she was sitting between his legs as they watched TV in the bed. Well, she was trying, he was kissing the back and sides of her neck. She leaned back, head rolled to the side as he tasted her skin. Her chest rose and fell very visibly. 

“You’re so sensitive,’ he remarked, nosing along the length of her neck as she shivered. “You get so worked up just from my touch.” 

To prove his point, he placed his hand on her stomach, his thumb right under her top. Her stomach fluttered and she grabbed his wrist. 

“Is it me?” He asked. 

“A little.” 

“Noted.” 

He pulled away with a smile and leaned back against the pillows, his hands behind his head. She sat up, miffed, and turned to look at him confused. 

“What-’

Nashae turned around and looked at him. He avoided her gaze, pretending to watch the movie. 

“Leati!”

“O le a?” He asked. 

“E le mafai ona e pa'i mai ia te a'u ona toso ese ai lea faapea.”

“Manaia tele le leo Samoa i ou laugutu.”

She folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. 

“E te mana'o ou te pa'i atu ia te oe?.”

“Ou te le iloa le mea ou te manao ai, ae ou te fiafia pe a e paʻi mai ia te aʻu.”

“You told me you were a virgin,’ he said, ‘and I’m not going to do anything that you aren’t ready for. So when you ask me to touch you, what do you mean?” 

The switch to English and the focus on her virginity made her grimace. She hated this talk. It was always the crucial moment in relationships and it determined whether they wanted to deal with a relationship or not. 

“Leati,’ she whispered, ‘I-’

“If I am going to be the one that takes you to bed, I want you to be ready for it. For me, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know I just, I don’t have much experience in this.” 

Standing up, Nashae rubbed her hands on her pants. They were suddenly clammy. 

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to, baby.” He watched her pace. 

“Yeah, there are moments when I don’t want you to go slow.” She admitted.

She wouldn’t say he made her feel so submissive, but she was sure he could pick up on it.

“I just know that I don’t know what I’m doing and would probably be a disappointment.” 

“Woah, woah, woah,’ he beckoned her back to the bed. Patting the spot between his legs, where she had been, he took her hands in his.

“We don’t have to think about that right now. The fact that you want me to touch you is enough. I get to kiss you as much as I want so for right now, just lead me where you want me.” 

Translations:

“O le a?” - What

“E le mafai ona e pa'i mai ia te a'u ona toso ese ai lea faapea.” - You can't touch me and pull away like that.

“Manaia tele le leo Samoa i ou laugutu.” - The Samoan voice on your lips is very nice. (literal) I mean't it sounds good coming from her*

“E te mana'o ou te pa'i atu ia te oe?.” - Do you want me to touch you?

“Ou te le iloa le mea ou te manao ai, ae ou te fiafia pe a e paʻi mai ia te aʻu.” - I don't know what I want, but I like it when you touch me.

[filmflowersbangtan]

I Must Still Want You pt. 2

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: angst (so. much. angst) | smut

word count: 4k

warnings: rough sex | infidelity | explicit sex scene | I'm so sorry in advance if I make some of you angry with this one. I promise it'll get better in future chapters.

author's note: hey...I'm back. I have so much in store. I know I've said it before and then I disappeared again, but I finally left a toxic relationship that had me in a writer's rut for a very long time and I also stopped following BTS for a while. But then they all came out with their incredible solos, and V's "Layover" was so beautiful it had stirred up so many ideas. It also somehow aligns with this story so well, so I couldn't help myself. I'm really proud of this one. I put so much heart and soul into this. This is not the end of this series.

part i | part iii

----

At first, Taehyung understood. The excuses as to why you couldn’t come home for the holidays, why you couldn’t come home for his birthday, why he couldn’t come visit. Art school was difficult, adjusting to California was difficult, but making friends was easy. Making friends had always been easy for you. You and your mom were on bad terms, that’s why you couldn’t come home. You had deadlines and couldn’t afford distractions, that’s why Taehyung couldn’t come visit.

Then there were the arguments after Taehyung lost all his patience with you. And then the texts and phone calls became more and more infrequent until there were none at all. Taehyung’s calls went to voicemails, his messages echoed in a chamber of emptiness.

Months passed by like this, with Taehyung only knowing you were alive through news from your mom, whose lawn he mowed and driveway he shoveled. He sat with her sometimes for coffee. He didn’t dare going into your room again after he saw that your mother transformed it, pushing an untouched treadmill in the same corner your bed used to be.

And then, about a year after the two of you unofficially broke up, you posted on Instagram. A man was kneeling before you as you wore a stunning dress Taehyung had never see you wear before. An expensive dress. There were letters hung behind the two of you in the background. Taehyung stopped breathing. The letters read:

Will you marry me?

Still not breathing, he swiped right to see another picture of your left hand—a hand he used to hold so much he could still feel the ghost of its warmth—displaying a gaudy engagement ring encrusted with a sickening number of diamonds. The camera’s flash made them glimmer in a way that made Taehyung nauseous.

Despite everything, Taehyung had been taking the unofficial breakup well. He never said anything about it to your mother although he desperately wanted to understand why you stopped talking to him or know if she knew. He didn’t rot in bed. He didn’t stop photography. While you had been gone, he discovered a newfound love of singing and his roommate Jungkook was a small-time producer and part-time DJ, and through him Taehyung had virtually unlimited access to a studio. Instead of succumbing into a debilitating depression, Taehyung worked on his very first EP. He had finished a few days before the Instagram post. He was going to send it to you. He knew you were going to love it. Maybe it would even make you speak to him.

But the post.

Taehyung dropped his phone on his bed and steadily walked to the bathroom, breathing through his nose. An ugly surge of emotion ravished him. He thought he was going to cry, but when he closed the door behind him, he stumbled to the toilet. And vomited.

Jungkook rushed in, his headphones dangling from around his neck, concern stretched across his face. “Bro, you good? It sounds like you’re dying.”

Taehyung wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. His eyes and throat burned. Thick snot crept down his lips. He wasn’t going to cry, but seeing Jungkook standing there pummeled him. His dear friend who didn’t even know Taehyung had been going through a breakup. How was he going to explain this? He couldn’t. He dropped his head back into the toilet bowl and heaved.

Later, after Taehyung cleaned himself up and Jungkook sat him down on the couch with a cup of water, he told Jungkook everything.

Jungkook had been quiet the entire time, nodding to let Taehyung know that he was listening. But when Taehyung finished, gesturing to his phone because he couldn’t speak the words “she’s engaged,” Jungkook looked at the post himself.

A brief and subtle expression flickered across his face as he swiped. It was there and then it was gone, only noticeable in the slight tremble in the eyebrows and the momentary clench of the jaw. He looked up at Taehyung whose eyes were rimmed in red and whose hands were quivering as he dabbed at his nose with a napkin.

With a venom that Taehyung did not know his roommate possessed, Jungkook said, “That bitch.”

--

After grieving for a month, Taehyung pulled himself out of bed. He went to a party where Jungkook was DJing and downed shot after shot of anything anyone would hand him. He blacked out and woke up in his own bed wearing the same sweaty clothes from the night before, feeling like hell. He looked at his text messages to make sure that he didn’t say anything fucked up to anyone and noticed your contact at the top.

Of course, he reached out to you. How embarrassing. He cringed, afraid to read what he said, but all he sent was a link to his EP. Somehow, that was worse. He absolutely wanted to die.

And of course, you didn’t respond.

--

A year stuttered by. Sometimes when Taehyung looked in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself. He was dirty blond now and handsome and miserable. He had slept with so many people in the last few months—girls, mostly but sometimes guys, too. He had had so many threesomes that he’d lost count. People on campus knew who he was now. He had gone from having one friend in his first year of college to becoming a name that people sighed dreamily as they said it.

Still nothing from you.

And then, one morning while nursing a hangover at the dining table in his shared apartment with Jungkook, a text from your mom. Maybe he was reading into it, but there was a tone of sadness in the wording, possibly regret. It said:

Y/N is back in town. Her grandmother died last week and the funeral is Friday. Please come if you feel comfortable. If you don’t, I understand.

There it was again. That roiling sensation inside of him. That urgent need to vomit.

The first time he had a threesome with Jungkook, he couldn’t perform. He had fumbled to the bathroom, his pants undone, and hurled into the toilet until the girl left. He had thought Jungkook would be pissed, but instead he sat on the bathroom floor with him in silence.

Now, Jungkook paused, a spoonful of cereal and milk halfway to his mouth. “I know that look,” he said. “What happened?”

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Y/N’s grandmother died.”

Jungkook wrinkled his nose. “So? Fuck her and her grandma.”

In other circumstances, Taehyung would've laughed. He couldn’t. He was too numb. “I liked her grandma when we were little. She used to make homemade blackberry jam and watch our stupid choreographies that we made up.”

Jungkook’s expression softened. He lowered the spoon. “I take that back about the grandma, but still fuck that bitch. Y/N, not the grandma.”

Now Taehyung mustered up a halfhearted chuckle that could’ve been a genuine laugh had the thought of you being in town—not in California—not robbed him of any sense of humor.

Jungkook hated seeing Taehyung like this because there was nothing he could do to help. “Don’t go to that funeral,” was all he said. It wasn’t a command. His voice was pleading. “Seeing her will only fuck you up. And what if she’s with—”

Taehyung closed his eyes as if expecting a blow. He hadn’t realized he was crying until warm teardrops slid down his face and into his mouth.

--

He went to the funeral. Your parents embraced him when they saw him. Individually, of course. Your dad remarried. He had stepchildren. Taehyung thought you probably hated it if you even still talked to him. The idea of someone else being frozen out of your life and not just him slightly comforted him. Slightly.

It was a beautiful day out—early summer, bright blue sky, cool breeze—but Taehyung was cold. And you hadn’t arrived yet.

“She slept in,” your mother said. “She hadn’t been feeling the best ever since she landed yesterday. She should arrive soon.”

An Uber arrived, and the back door opened. Taehyung held his breath.

You stepped out. You were so familiar yet you were a stranger. Your hair was longer, fuller. You were wearing a form-fitting black dress and red-bottomed heels. A designer bag dangled from the crook of your elbow. Large, expensive sunglasses obscured your eyes. Your lips were painted red.

The Uber departed before Taehyung realized you came alone.

You sauntered in his direction. He was breathless as he watched you move. Did you always walk like that? With such an elegant sway? Or was that new? A by-product of your reinvented life.

He realized that he was not your target. He was standing with your parents and your stepmother you probably hated. Except you didn’t hate her because she was the first you hugged. Then your dad. Then your mother. Then—

“Tae.”

He blinked. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears. Feel the bile rising in his throat. He cleared it behind a polite fist before croaking your name in return.

Then, very cautiously, you pulled him into a hug. He felt everyone’s eyes on the both of you. You were making him into a spectacle, and he hated it. In that moment, he realized he hated you. But his arms were stiff at his sides and when he became aware of that, he lifted them to pat you on the back.

“I know how much you loved her,” you said when you released him.

He blinked, not understanding. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My grandmother.”

His face felt hot. Jungkook was right. He shouldn’t have come. He had never once wanted to hurt a woman before, especially not you. But he wanted so badly to strangle you. To make you feel what it’s like to have your throat full of heartbreak. But he pushed a smile onto his red face. “Yes. My condolences.”

“Thank you for coming,” you said.

I hate you.

Taehyung nodded, and without meaning to, glimpsed at your left hand. The ring was still there. You were still engaged. But you returned home without a fiancé.

I hate you.

--

After the funeral, there was a gathering at your dad and stepmom’s house. Taehyung wasn’t going to go, but he couldn’t bring himself not to. He wanted to keep looking at you, breathing the same air as you, and wondering if you had listened to his EP.

But for the most part, he was just wandering around the beautiful countryside home as awkwardly as he had been at the party in middle school where he had first seen you kissing a boy on the porch. Except this time, you were getting married. You were getting fucking married.

At least at a funeral it wasn’t odd to cry. He went outside to do it.

He sat on the front porch steps and loosened his tie. No one came out to bother him. He was good at being invisible. Especially to you.

The front door behind him opened. The sound of heels approached him but stopped a few paces away.

Neither of you said anything. He quietly wiped away angry tears.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” you said.

He wanted to scream. “Not here. Please.”

“I booked a hotel. Let’s talk at the bar there. You look like you could use a drink.”

Taehyung closed his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes. But I could use a drink, too.”

Taehyung dropped his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have come.” He stood up and walked to his car. You didn’t follow. Didn’t beg. He grabbed the handle of the driver’s side door and looked at you from over the roof of the car. You were still standing on the porch, your hands delicately interlaced in front of you. You weren’t wearing your sunglasses, but he couldn’t see your eyes from where he stood.

Who were you?

He yanked the door open and got in the car. His phone vibrated when he started the ignition. You had sent him a text with an address and a time.

“Fuck you,” he whispered. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.”

--

He arrived thirty minutes late. You were sipping a purple-colored cocktail at a secluded table. God, you looked so good. He hated it.

“I would’ve understood if you hadn’t showed,” you said, expressionless.

He hesitated before sitting down, considering leaving. When he did sit, you said, “I really like your hair. It complements your skin tone.”

“Fuck you,” he said.

“I deserve that.”

“Fuck you.”

“What are you drinking nowadays? It’s on me.”

The bile was threatening to choke him. He swallowed thickly. His voice trembled as he said, “What do you want from me? You don’t fucking care about me. All you care about it—I don’t know what you care about. You’re such a—”

A drink appeared before him. “I already ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind whiskey. It’s top shelf so you most likely won’t have a hangover.”

“I don’t want—”

“I listened to it.”

Taehyung stopped.

“It was beautiful. It was so fucking beautiful. When do you sing? And like that? Oh, my God.”

Now Taehyung was crying again. He downed his drink. You gestured something to the waitress and another whiskey appeared before him. Taehyung said, “Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?”

You touched his hand. He flinched away as if burned. “I dropped out of college a couple of years ago. I was homeless. And then I met a guy who fixed all of that.”

“Such bullshit.” But Taehyung knew you were genuine. You were never a liar.

“Not bullshit,” you said gently. “I was embarrassed. Who flunks art school? But I was intimidated being surrounded by all of those freakishly talented people. I didn’t fit in. But you would’ve sure as hell did. Your photos, Tae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.” You took a sip of your drink and looked away before continuing, “You are so talented. And then that fucking album—”

“EP.”

You glared at him. “Now it is my turn to say fuck you.”

“Get to the point.”

“I wasn’t measuring up. I dropped out before I got expelled. Mom wanted me to come home, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I love California. I slept on some friends’ couches for a few months, working odd jobs—bartending, dogwalking, commission stuff. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “I was embarrassed, Tae. And then you kept pestering me about wanting to see me and—”

“Pestering? You think so lowly of me?” “That’s what it felt like at the time. I had so much going on in my head—”

“But not so much that you still had room to go and fuck someone else before even breaking up with me.”

You finished your drink. “I didn’t fuck anyone.”

Taehyung had no response.

“I met a guy while bartending. He was rich. And kind. And I was very poor and lonely.”

“And he swept you off your feet," he said with betrayal in his voice.

“No. But his tips were nice. They were big enough to feed me for a couple of weeks. And then he would take me out to dinners. Next thing I know he’s buying me an apartment and a car and a dog and a life.”

Taehyung’s eyes were wet with fresh tears. He couldn’t look at you. “I wanted a life with you. I could’ve helped you.”

“With what money, Taehyung? All you would’ve done was spend way too much money on a one-way ticket and be stuck there with me.”

He had nothing to say to that. He downed his drink. “That doesn’t explain not telling me a fucking thing. Not even a goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you love him?”

You sighed.

Taehyung clenched his hands into fists under the table. He repeated, “Do you love him?”

Another purple drink appeared in front of you. The waitress flitted away, sensing the tension.

Finally, you said, “I think I could learn to. Someday.”

He blew out the breath he’d been holding and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked out the window at the pool. So still, so blue. So beautiful. He thought of California. He thought of the song on his EP, “For Us.” He wanted to fucking drown you.

In a soft, broken voice, he said, “I have loved you for my entire life. My entire life. Just wasted.”

You didn’t say anything. You just simply stared out the window with him. And then for the first time that entire day, you began to sob.

He didn’t dare look at you. He didn’t want to empathize with you. What for? But hearing you cry silently, seeing your shoulders shake with each sob in his peripheral vision…

Before he could say anything, you were already cleaning yourself up, dabbing under your eyes with a neatly folded napkin. “Should we go up to my suite for some privacy? I fucking hate crying in public.”

--

The suite was gorgeous. He didn’t know something so extravagant existed in his hometown.

“I need to get out of this dress. It’s not really my style,” you said, delicately removing your heels.

Taehyung looked away. For some reason, seeing you do that simple action made his heart ache.

You disappeared into the bathroom after telling him to make himself comfortable. He instead opted to stand around, unsure of what to do with his hands. Then you called his name from the other room, needing help with the dress.

“The zipper,” you said. “It was hell putting this thing on by myself. Can you unzip it for me?”

The bathroom was all marble and glass. Taehyung felt like there were a dozen versions of the both of you reflected around him. You were trying to catch his eyes in the mirror, but he purposefully avoided you. He focused on keeping his hands still as he stood behind you and reached up to grasp the tiny zipper at the nape of your neck.

The sound of the dress unzipping made his dick throb as longingly as his heart. You were fucking with him. You had to be.

But he wasn’t the same Taehyung that you left behind at the airport. Not at all. He was going to show you.

The zipper ended right at the top of your tailbone. You let the dress fall to the floor.

“You said you didn’t fuck anyone?” Taehyung said, voice gruff with want. He could feel himself hardening.

You were breathing slightly faster. You wanted him, too. This time, he allowed your gaze to meet each other’s in the mirror. You said, “Just myself. I never let him touch me, Tae. I don’t love him.”

He ran his hand up your leg, up your ass, traced the line of your back with a steady finger. He was no longer nervous. Fucking was what he was good at. And he wanted to fuck you until you regretted ever leaving him. Until you rued the day you said yes to that stupid fucking engagement.

He stopped his hand at the base of your neck. You stood still, breath shallow. Waiting. Wanting. You were probably so wet for him already, but you would have to wait.

He pressed himself against you so that you could feel how hard he was for you. A moan stuttered out of your throat. He clenched your neck from behind and shoved you forward, bending you over the sink. With swift fingers, he undid his belt, lowered his pants, pushed down his briefs. His cock sprang free, swollen with a two year long need for you, beaded with precum.

You shimmied out your underwear. With two fingers, he felt the velvety skin of your pussy lips. He was right, you were so fucking wet for him. You arched your back and shivered at his touch.

Your eyes met in the mirror again. Yours were heavy-lidded with desire, lips red like Marilyn Monroe. He wanted that lipstick smeared all over your face and all over his cock when he was done with you. His own eyes were low lidded as well. He grinned at you before he entered you. He didn’t want to take it slow, and he didn’t.

He fucked you like you were water, and he hadn’t drunk anything in days. You were a mess, clawing at the marble countertop like it would give you stability. Your moans were so fucking hot. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back so that his lips were at your ear.

“You’re mine, do you hear me? This pussy is mine.”

You tried to say “Yes, daddy,” but your eyes were fluttering and rolling and Taehyung was fucking you so good you couldn’t get a word out. He slapped your ass and you gasped.

“Fuck you,” he said but he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it at all.

He felt himself getting carried away and pulled out. You squirmed at the lack of him, begging for more. He didn’t want to admit he almost came. Sex hadn’t felt this good in years. Both of you were breathless, filling the room with your panting. But he wasn’t done with you yet. And you knew. You smiled at him, big and beautiful, and Taehyung almost came right then and there.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

Your pupils were dilated, your face was glimmering with sweat, your hair was a mess. You were so beautiful Taehyung wanted to fucking cry.

And then he was. “Fuck you,” he said, but he meant it this time.

You unclasped your bra and dropped it to the floor. Then you were on your knees before him, using that expensive dress as a cushion against the marble. You took all of him in your mouth, slowly, never losing eye contact. Your mouth was warm and wet and your breasts looked amazing, the nipples hard. You noticed him looking and pinched the nipple of your left breast as you sucked him off, using your right hand to jerk him in and out of your mouth. You were an expert with your tongue, paying close attention to the head of his cock. And then when he felt the back of your throat, he squeezed his eyes shut and grasped a handful of your hair again, this time to keep himself steady.

“Ah, fuck,” he whimpered. “Where? Where do you want me to cum?” He made the mistake of looking at you again, your mouth smeared crime-scene red.

You smiled at him like a good girl, like you didn’t have a spit stretching from your lips to his cock like party streamers. “On my face,” you said.

He didn’t hesitate.

When he finished convulsing the final streams of cum onto your pretty face, he stood there, face flushed and veins straining from his neck as reality crept back into his bones like a winter’s chill. He was disgusted with himself. He was angry with you.

“You’re fucking engaged,” he said, cleaning himself up. “Oh fuck. I’m such a fucking idiot.” He hastily threw on his clothes. Ran his hands through his hair to look somewhat presentable and not like he just face fucked someone’s fiancé.

You were extremely calm and still extremely naked. Taehyung realized belatedly that you hadn’t come yet. Good, he thought. You don’t deserve that release.

He finished dressing as you started washing your face. He went to leave but then stopped at the door. He didn’t turn to look at you, but he said, “You’re an awful person, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

Taehyung left the bathroom and was halfway to the suite’s door when he heard you say meekly as if to yourself, “I do.”

--

[kazumist]

EPISODE 21 ✿ WE NEED TO TALK

YOU + ME = LOVE — A DILUC SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 400.

the day that diluc attended school again (which was really just tuesday, aka the day after), he didn’t see you anywhere.

although yes, you both are on different grade levels, diluc finds it impossible that he wouldn’t find you. yet a whole day passed; the school day was nearly over and diluc hadn't even seen a glimpse of you yet.

but diluc didn’t need to be some sort of genius to notice that something was awfully wrong. it was there in his gut. “have any of you seen (name)? i haven’t collected their last activity yet," he asks as he takes the seat next to thoma. it was a lie, really. diluc just hasn’t seen you today but he has no reason to actually see you.

“(name)? i saw her earlier with sucrose, i think.,” ajax says, taking a sip out of his drink. diluc glances at his brother, who was being quiet—too quiet. “what’s wrong?” diluc asks him. kaeya swore he felt his heart drop to his stomach when diluc asked him that. “what could you ever mean, dear brother?” he nervously replies.

“you’re being awfully quiet for once, so something must’ve happened.” the redhead blankly looks at him.

kaeya didn’t reply to him and shifted his focus onto the straw of his drink instead, twirling it around. diluc raises an eyebrow at his brother, fully convinced that something has happened now because of his lack of response.

“kaeya, spit it out.”

“i may or may not have told (name) that you were planning to migrate after graduation," he said, all too fast that diluc almost missed it. but diluc caught every single word of that sentence. 

shit.

he wasted no time in getting up from his seat and starting his quest to find you, leaving his friends there at the table. ajax and thoma looked shocked at the redhead’s brother. “you what?!” they both exclaimed at him.

it took a short while before diluc finally saw you. hell, it was the first time that he ever saw you today. he calls out your name as he approaches you. but you picked up your pace and didn’t even bother facing him.

of course, diluc wasn’t a quitter. so he followed you.

“(name), we need to talk," he says, trying to grab a hold of your arm. but you leave it out of his reach at every attempt.

“we don’t.”

extra notes.

ep 22 will drop in an hour or so ! decided to double update (again) and take valentines day as a day off :)

taglist (open): @ryuryuryuyurboat @g4bbyyy @kizakiss @quackimilktea @mochiboo123 @thystarsshine @cerisescherries @jamieexistss @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @aethion @dottoreworld-page @naishite @sleepyeri @staaarhin @eroxotckv @kiyiiaarchived @fallenssun @lolmeowing @dorryx @astolary @kissingkzuha @axerrri @a1-ic3 @lottierulez @livelaughlovekuni @sorcerersseestars @whipped-for-fictionals @morganadorodo @briluvspnk @venderretta @xiaosoneandonly @angeilix @morgyyyyyyy @kazioli @the-massive-simp @qtange @tiredjxnna @yuminako @acheronie @sn1perz @akitokisser @siu-ssi @artri-ad @hyeinszn @saeskiss @bubblegum-angelquartz @boomie-123 @moni11032 @sandwichmyonetruelove @cherrybb-ily @itztaki @dontmindtheevie @hotgirlshit5 [1/2]

[kimsmuse]

Hiii, I just came across your blog, and I L O V E it! Since you said you were looking for a recommendation, here's one from me. Yandere school president. They have immense power at their school because not only are they the president, but their parents own the school. Their word is quite literally the law at this school. He just so happens to be head over heels in love and obsessed with you. Give in to their obsessive and possessive love or suffer the consequences. Since he holds so much power, he can make you a school outcast in less then a week, and he can have teachers fail you or pick on you for the stupidest reasons ever, he'll make your life a living hell at school if you don't accept his twisted and fucked up love, it's best to just be a good darling, and let yourself be loved on his own terms. It's a concept I've thought about a lot, but I haven't seen much of it. Anyways, thank you for your time, and keep up the good work!!!

okay okay omg first of all your brain???? this way too good and oml now i'm sad i spent my entire school life without a class prez like this :( but let's talk about this !!! this is mildly inspired by this one guy from the kdrama called taxi driver (ep 3) !!!

gender neutral!reader. warnings for obsessive behavior, mentions of killing someone but it's nothing graphic. blackmail/coercion type thing?? and typical yandere behavior.

okay so yandere!class president who is so focused, he's the top student of the grade and he's good at sports too?? captain of the basket ball team?? i don't know how he does it because i really couldn't but anyway even apart from that he keeps on taking part and neatly scoring in debates, and writing contests, you name it and he's doing it. it does happen sometimes that he ends up getting silver or bronze but he's there on the list somehow.

and obviously if you've ever been a teenager then you know how attractive this type of people are, because they're good at everything, because they look very unattainable and bonus for our class president is that he's super hot as well. so obviously he had a classroom filled with admirers. and he loved the attention, who doesn't? but he's never thought more of it than that, the aspect of romance is kinda alien to him, he's had his fair share of physical relationships (if they can be even called that) but none of them too good to stay.

so he keeps on with his day, his cram school, having lunch, dinner, studying, more studying.

and when he bumps into you from his way back from the library, he just stops dead in his tracks as you attempt to pick up the books you both dropped, and when you look up at him he's literally frozen. who are you? why has he never seen you around? why do you look so pretty? hey, where's that romantic instrumental playing from? why-

"hey, mister, are you okay? i didn't hit your head or anything right?"

and trust me when he's the literal embodiment of the ":0" emoji.

anyway, but that guy has never had a crush before so at first he just feels like its some kinda internal intuition? that there's something wrong with you or something.

but then he finds himself trying to find your class, sitting there on the excuse of talking to some friends and obviously he's welcomed there.

and he figures that his initial impression might be a wrong because you were such a sweetheart. not as popular as him, and you stuck to your 2-3 friends but he saw the way you would smile at people - a gentle, warm one. and he quite literally died when you greeted him that way once, surprised that you would know about his existence

it wasn’t that he forgot he was famous but having a crush really does wonders to your self esteem.

also you best believe he's digging up all your information, your past schooling if you've transferred, your parents' background, your social media and duh, where you live, where you work.

and if you work somewhere like a cafè or a convenience store, he's there for half the day, "studying" for exams and stuff, he claims it helps more than studying at home. and all the time his eyes barely register a page because he's looking at you as you're hard at work, helping customers, greeting them with that damned, charming smile and then in rare moments he looks at you as you lose that demeanor and sigh out of exhaustion. poor baby, he wished he could something for you so bad in those moments.

and then comes the part where his friends (he has a lot of friends but he believed that when you have a crush you shouldn’t tell everyone? also given his popularity... he figured it wouldn't be a greatest idea ever. so he only told like a guy or two) they adviced him to just go up to you and ask you out? what's the problem even? he's literally the golden boy of the school, why would someone reject him ever? you shouldn’t even be worried about that, dude! but with that confidence in himself, he decides on a day, nothing too significant and he looks at himself in the mirror.

"uh, actually, i do have a partner," did you hear that? the glass shattering? uh, that was his heart. that was his reaction when you told him this. but it was true, you had a partner in another country (which made sense that the yandere did not come to know of this before because he had been following you, just to make sure you were safe ofcourse, and he did not see a persosn who could classify as a romantic threat) and you loved them very much! no matter how cute and great this guy was, you were loyal to them.

and now cue the yandere's sad era. but only for like a day or two. until he realizes something. this was absurd, you were rejecting him? when so many people would literally kill for something like this? it was unbelievable. but he was deadset, this was the first time he felt this way for someone and he was determind to make you feel the same, or at least keep you with him, and he would do it with any means necessary.

he realized that your friends' parents were mere employees in his dad's company so all it took was one meeting. "stop talking to y/n." for them to start ignoring you and they did not even try to keep it lowkey and you had to resort to sitting alone at lunch, giving an easy access to the guy who used it as a time to sit beside you and tell you about his day, nevermind the fact that for the first few times you would just up and leave. and then you finally decided to just snap.

"what the fuck do you want?" you look at him, frustrated by all these things, and changes happening in your life in less than a week.

he just smirked, that mf had the audacity to smirk? "you, ofcourse,"

now he wasn’t quite violent because he'd just entered adulthood, he did not want to fuck up and spend the rest of his years in jail (not that he actually would because his parents would be hiring the world's best lawyers for him) but he did imagine it, murdering your s/o. he did not know what they looked like, but all they saw was you happy in their arms and as much he loved that little smile of yours, he wanted it to be for himself! not someone else!

so anyway, after you storm out on him after the last conversation, you get your english test results back and a big, red F is staring at you.

and normally your parents weren't grade obsessed but you would boast to them about how good you were at english and how much you loved the subject and even the teacher agreed thaf you were good at it.

when you meet with the teacher after class, he just removes his spectacles and rubs his eyes, "listen, y/n, you're one of the smartest students i've had the pleasure of teaching. so make the right choice, it's good for your future. just say yes to him. he's not bad, you know,"

he was behind this???????

you felt even more utterly helpless when you found that the yandere's parents fund almost more than half of the school so there’s nobody who would be willing to go against them and help you, no matter how much you would plead them.

"a transfer? don't even think about it, baby, nobody is going to issue that certificate unless i say so,"

chills run down your neck as he whispers this. you were truly stuck with him.

[tzuu-died]

braven and superbia theory :]

so my discord server allowed me to be stupid on main and rant about bravern at 11:30pm my time, so here’s just.. everything copy and pasted LMAO

also, posting this before ep4 drops, i can’t wait to see if any of my ramblings made sense

theory under the cut, spoilers for bang brave bang bravern ep. 1-3 and ep. 4 preview

the theory is this: bravern and superbia are the same species, possibly related to the deathdrives

firstly, in episode 1 and episode 3 we see bravern with a mask thing covering his face. and when you look at superbia, it seems as though they have something similar

i wouldn’t say that part is superbia’s actual face, due to the purple highlights/crystal looking things on their body. bravern’s eyes are green, and he does have a green crystal or piece of glass on that gold part of his face

and also, bravern has a green background in his transformation sequences and when we first meet him.

there’s also a green trail left by him when he flies in the intro + uses his blade.

the show’s logo briefly flashes green in the op

and the green in bravern’s cockpit + the weird green liquid from ep3

and superbia’s eyes do flash purple in the op, so i’m willing to bet superbia wears a mask much like bravern when we first meet him

and now when you look at bravern and superbia, they do seem very much alike

plus, the opening hints at superbia being somewhat relevant at least, due to the fact that in most anime openings, the fight featured in it is at least somewhat relevant to the story

and also, bravern knows superbia

the “you never change” implies that bravern’s fought against superbia before, or known them in the past

plus, the opening and show kind of confirmed lulu pilots superbia

1. lulu and isami have very similar outfits when piloting

2. this scene in the opening. the character does resemble lulu and the necklace looks like it was made to resemble superbia

3. again, the weird liquid in the mechs’ cockpits

so in other words, bravern and superbia are definitely very similar

plus, we saw that bravern was losing to superbia without isami

without a pilot

and lulu magically appeared on a beach after superbia was defeated. and coincidentally, superbia was in the deep waters when we first see a hint of them.

and i just wanna point out that smith had no idea what lulu meant when she said her name, but bravern understood.

and he didn’t look too happy about that

and in the preview for episode 4, we see a few scenes of bravern essentially being in a shitty mood. kind of looks like he’s lashing out here?

and then at the end we see a scene of lulu looking confused, and we immediately cut to this?

so to just tldr the point that bravern and superbia are part of the same species:

1. they share similar traits and visuals in the show (mainly the colours i talked about)

2. they both have pilots

3. they have a history together (we see superbia scoffing at bravern a few times, and bravern’s quote: “you never change”)

4. bravern shows a clear dislike for superbia and isn’t all too happy about lulu

and now, the other thing: bravern and superbia are some advanced form of the deathdrives, or are related to them

so first off, when the deathdrives are defeated, they go kaboom and explode into this weird cube shaped stuff

and what happened to superbia after bravern and isami’s attack?

additionally, when battling superbia, bravern attacked them with a punch, which they stopped with a purple shield

and what else uses a purple shield?

yup. the deathdrives

and in episode 2, bravern explains that they’re inorganic, metallic organisms that gained something like a conscience. and both bravern and superbia show to have that

bravern’s can be sean very clearly. he talks a lot.

superbia? all we hear from them are shrieky noises and scoffing. and what do we hear from lulu? also that

so to just tldr this entire rant/rambling:

bravern and superbia show signs of being from the same species. they both needing a pilot to achieve their true strength, without them they’re not as strong.

the deathdrives also show similarities to them; that being the similar way they “die” (we’re not sure if superbia actually died in ep3, so i’m putting the word in these “ ”guys), similar abilities (barriers/shields, flight, weaponry?).

so basically, to put all of this short: bravern and superbia are some advanced form of the deathdrives, probably existing to be something like commanders in an army, seeing how superbia kind of teamed up with the deathdrives?

anyway, hope this makes sense LMAO 😭