#the one where the character does a walk circle and it is interrupted every now and then by some edgy still frames

[doodlingwren]

If only the original Saint Seiya anime was a 2014-2018 anime series instead of being aired in the 80s-90s, I can only imagine the sheer amount of animation memes that could have been done. Some of the characters are just so perfect for those, like, if this was a more animation-oriented fandom this would totally be a thing.

[minquv]

➽ 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 (𝐈𝐈)

☁ Pairing: Dazai Osamu x gn!reader

☁ Category: Angst

☁ Synopsis: Every time he holds you closer, he can’t help but think of his previous love. You left the agency in order to move on and recover, leaving Dazai in pain.

☁ Note: A continuation of Part 1 of Glimpse of Her. Originally, I didn't plan on making a second part for this since I'm out of ideas, but some of you insisted, so here you go. This story sounds so much better in my head. ;// 08/16/2023

Part 1

Since then, a week has gone by without your presence at the agency. Others started to worry and tried contacting you. They knew what had happened and were utterly disappointed with Dazai. Of course, he received tons of smacking from Kunikida for being such an idiot.

Dazai sat at his desk, staring into the distance. He absentmindedly fiddled with the slack bandage covering his arm, almost ripping it out. Normally, he would replace them with new ones, but does that really matter right now? He couldn’t think of anything other than you circling his mind.

It was unusual, to say the least, for the Agency to be so quiet.

He signed softly and leaned his head on his desk. The pain, guilt, and regret have been weighing heavily on his mind. He despised himself for how he exploited you for his own pleasure; how he only loved you because you reminded him so much of her, yet despite everything he had done to you, you continued to love him dearly, and that made him feel extremely guilty.

What good would it do, he thought, to apologize when he knew it wouldn't repair the pain he had caused?

Honestly, even if he knows he's done something wrong, he's not the type to apologize, but to you? He's unbelievably tender, almost making Kunikida choke and die with the change of Dazai’s personality around you.

He thought about what might possibly happen if you hadn't accepted his feelings in the first place. Will you both be content with your lives as friends or just happy as companions?

He doesn’t know the answer to that.

He sighed and stood up, proceeding towards the exit. This is something he always does to clear his mind. He'll go somewhere where he can be alone and think without being interrupted by people.

He twisted the doorknob, ignoring Kunikida's exasperated yells. He proceeded through the corridors and down the stairs, ignoring everyone in the agency. He just wants to get out and be by himself right now. Most eager to find you. Yes, he's worried.

As he was ready to leave the building, he was stopped by Ranpo's plaintive voice from the President's room.

“EHH? WHAT? You’re leaving?! (Name), don’t leave me!” was all Dazai heard as he walked back almost immediately and stood in front of the president's office. He grasped the doorknob, hesitant to enter. Dazai knew you didn't want to see him, but it's been a week, so this would be an opportunity to talk to you.

He broke out in a cold sweat as the thought of you leaving passed through his head. This felt like a kick to the gut for Dazai. He doesn’t want you to leave. He’s already lost the people he cared for, and now you? His grip tightened, and a familiar feeling rose up in his chest. He knew he was the reason, yet he ashamedly admits he doesn’t want you to leave. Even if you don’t talk to him, seeing your presence safe in the agency is already enough for him.

But what did he expect? This is clearly the consequence of his foolish actions.

He stood there for a moment, debating whether he should go in or just wait for you to come out. He gritted his teeth as his breath became shallow. His heart was hammering against his ribs. Despite being able to control his heart rate, he couldn’t stop it. Dazai wasn’t familiar with the sensation, as it was the first time he had felt this way, and it left him feeling overwhelmed and out of character, almost making him cringe.

He snapped back to reality when he heard a familiar voice behind the door. "Don't worry, Ranpo-san, I'll still come by and bring you sweets," you muttered as you opened the door, unaware of the person behind it. You collided with something, or more specifically, someone's chest. You looked up to see who it was, making you suck in a breath. You took a step back and instantly adjusted your stance. You silently closed the door behind you while staring at the individual in awkward silence.

Why now?

You thought as you pursed your lips. You were helpless and simply stood there, staring at the man who had broken you. Thoughts of ignoring him and leaving as if you didn't know him crossed your mind, but something inside of you keeps you from doing so. Possibly anxious?

Breathing nervously, you were taken aback by his sudden embrace, causing you to halt in place and your eyes to widen. Dazai didn’t know what pushed him to do that, but he didn’t care; he just felt the need to hold you in his arms.

"(Name), you’re safe. I’ve missed you so much, my bella-"

"-please get off of me." You spoke as you firmly pushed him away. You could have sworn you saw the anguished expression he made, but you were too perplexed to even care about that. Right now, you just want to be eaten by the ground and be alone. Just seeing him makes your heart tighten.

"(Name), belladona, can we talk this out? Please talk to me," He said in a pleading tone, taking a step closer to you, but you were too hurt to even want to hear of any of his pathetic reasons. You didn't want to take a chance of getting hurt again, especially when he made it clear that he took advantage of your feelings.

Sweat began to gather on your forehead as you fought back tears that threatened to form in your eyes. You were at a loss for what to do in this uncomfortable situation. You didn't want to cry in his presence. You just want to be away from him and be alone.

When he didn't hear you respond, his heart tightened, a clear indication to him that you didn't want to talk to him. Normally he would pester the person and force them to speak to him, but this time was different. He knew you didn’t want to, so he had no choice but to let you go.

You muttered a low ‘excuse me’ as you walked past Dazai, leaving a pit inside of his stomach. You surpassed the impulse to cry as you exited the building. It's probably the last time you'll ever set foot on it. As much as Dazai wanted to hold your wrist to stop you, he just can’t bring himself to do it. But if he can, he will, even if it means screaming at him, just for you to stay.

His heart sank when you disappeared from his sight. The person he loved was leaving him again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t. In that moment, everything seemed to slow down as he watched the person who had made him feel understood disappear from his life forever.

Ranpo knew it was coming as he walked out of the President's office, peering at the man's amber eyes with his emerald ones in disappointment.

"Honestly, did you love them? Or was it simply the way they treated and loved you that made you love them?" Ranpo inquired solemnly, already knowing the answer to his question. Despite Ranpo's childish demeanor, he becomes serious in circumstances like this if you’re involved. You were like a sister to Ranpo, and watching you leave the agency sent thousands of knives through his chest. He couldn't help but blame the brunette for your departure.

Dazai turned his gaze to where you had left. He did love you. He loves you with all his heart. But there were times that he'd see you as her, and he couldn’t help but miss her solace. But of course, that is no excuse for him to make you stay.

He didn’t immediately respond, but after a moment of silence, he replied, “With all my heart.”

“How can you say that? You broke their heart.”

He sighed deeply and said, “I know, and for that, I'm forever sorry. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt them. I loved them more than anything in the world. I still do.”

‘Never meant? that’s bullshit.’ Ranpo thought to himself. Although Ranpo isn’t the type of person to curse, what Dazai said made him look at him in disbelief.

After a long pause, Dazai continued, “I know how much pain I caused them, and I don’t expect them to forgive me. But I want them to know that they’ll always have a place in my heart.”

If he hadn't messed up in the first place, surely your relationship would not have ended up this way.

But his actions were a choice, not a mistake, right?

Right.

Before turning around, Ranpo took a final look at the brunette and then closed his eyes.

“The hardest part of love isn’t falling in or out of it. It’s learning how to pick yourself up and move on.” and with that, Ranpo left the brunette dumbfounded.

As he stood there dumbfounded, a sudden realization slowly began to dawn on Dazai. He was coming to understand something he had never quite fully realized before. He blinked a few times as he breathed out a breath he was holding before starting to move again.

Maybe… Just maybe one day he'll find a glimpse of us.

Part 1

Bonus part: It's been 6 years since you last visited the agency, and you're now blissfully engaged to someone amazing. You haven't seen or heard from your former colleagues in a long time, so inviting them to your wedding would be a fantastic idea.

And what about Dazai? He hasn't changed since you left. Consider his distress when he receives your wedding invitation. To be honest, he deserves it. That was something he did to himself. But part of him is relieved that you've found happiness.

He was hesitant to attend your wedding, but Ranpo persuaded him to do so. (Lmao He wanted him to feel your anguish 6 years ago.)

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 3

Your first few weeks on set go by in a blur of learning the ropes. You follow Briony around a lot and listen to her use words you’ve never heard, like striking and dolly grip. You learn the difference between a first assistant camera and second, though it doesn’t seem to make much sense when Maggie points around nonchalantly and gets interrupted by a joke coming from the walkie-talkie on her hip. 

It was going well! Aside from whatever whirring now thumps in your chest when Brett comes up beside you. You’re still in good impression mode for another, like, 3 weeks.

“Hi,” he says, a smile and nod when you look up to see him. “Hopefully you’re liking this lot so far?”

“So far,” you nod, appreciative of his inquiry. “But I also heard it takes a few weeks for you all to turn into divas.”

He pulls a hand to his chest in mock offense. The jacket he’s wearing belongs to his character, but the color suits him well. “I usually wait until at least halfway through!”

“Hellooo,” Maggie sidles up and smiles at both of you. Jason’s right behind her and when the four of you stand in a make-shift circle, you’re acutely aware of the way Jason angles himself toward you. 

“We’ve got a lot to get through today--wanted to have you hear all of this as well,” Jason says this to you in particular before Maggie launches into some sort of schedule. She’s listing numbers and tasks and referencing scenes by shorthand lingo that only makes half sense. 

It’s weird, you realize, that while you’re here on set and working alongside them, your job is different in almost every way: it’s focused entirely on him. Which is maybe a bad thing, seeing as your stomach still does this little flip when you notice the dimple on his cheek that you remember from Day 1. 

Lucky for you, though, most of your time on set is spent in Jason’s office. Scheduling his travel and handling his emails and pulling the strings behind the scenes so his actual job here was easier. You’re in constant contact with his manager, his nanny, even sometimes seeing messages from his ex or his friends come through before you pass them right up the ladder.

Briony pops in and out, often passing messages from Jason to you and then in return. She was the coffee kid, still young enough to be excited by that type of task and good enough to never mess up an order.

Poppy hurries by and after you commit the entire shooting schedule of the day to memory, you return to Jason’s office to actually get your work done. Today, primarily, was to be spent going through emails and calendars, plugging in meetings and finalizing his schedule for the next two weeks before filming really picked up.

But there’s a knock on the door that grabs your attention before your inbox is even open. Brendan’s there, a binder in hand and a hesitant smile when you both realize you’ve never been alone in a room together. 

“Hi,” he says a bit awkwardly. “Y’know where Jason is?”

“He was with Paul and Jenna near Rebecca’s office,” you hoped you were getting the names right, blending real people with characters in the same way that didn’t trip up the rest of them. “Anything I can help with?”

He holds your gaze for a second, almost skeptical, but then decides he’ll at least give it a shot. 

“I’m looking for a list of scenes we’re shooting today. Not the actual schedule that got sent out but the list of ones Jason wants to do if we can move more quickly than everyone thinks we can.” 

You stand from your spot on the couch and nod thoughtfully, walking towards his desk as your eyes start to scan the piles of paper. You’ve learned his system bit by bit: the pile on the left is Lasso-related but not urgent. The pile on the right is more personal, with a higher level of urgency. Work-related urgent things get put on top of his laptop, or, if he seems to think it’s really important, sometimes he takes a picture of it and emails it to himself. 

As of now you find it mostly adorable that a guy in his mid-forties is sending himself emails with picture attachments so he doesn’t forget stuff. You’ll have to give him a crash course in the reminders app at some point.

You locate the piece of paper you saw him scribbling on yesterday, the red ink of the pen he clips into his pocket smudged in the corner. Today’s scenes are listed out in the same shorthand code you’ve heard Maggie use, Jason’s chicken scratch is in the margins in red ink.

You hold it up before you look back towards Brendan. His brows are arched when you take a step over and deliver, what you assume, is exactly what he was looking for. 

He scans it. Nods. 

“Three extra scenes sounds ambitious to me,” you try to crack a joke, feeling weird about the fact that you’ve yet to bond with Brendan. 

“You can read his handwriting?” He looks up at you again, more quickly this time, surprise on his face when you nod. 

“Yes--yeah,” you stammer like this is an embarrassing admission. “Should I not be able to?”

“Jessie always complained,” he shrugs, eyes back down to the piece of paper you’d handed over. 

“It’s messy as shit but I figured if I can’t read his handwriting then we’re all fucked.”

The corner of Brendan’s mouth flicks into a smile, a tiny laugh before he salutes you in farewell and his footsteps fade down the hallway.

**

April 2022

The end of March sputtered more rain onto the London streets than you’d ever seen in Los Angeles. Maggie promised it wouldn’t be like this the whole time, but now, on the third rainy Friday in a row, you were beginning to think your friend was a liar. 

“It’s bad luck,” Jason comments as he looks out the window into his backyard, “not bad weather.”

Thunder booms overhead and the British Airways website logo keeps flickering on the page, please be patient while we locate your booking!

“You’re beginning to sound like a London apologist,” you look up at him from your laptop screen, eyebrows arched to challenge his statement. The backyard gets lit up again, the line of trees overhead is visible in the flash of lightning that cracks open the sky.

He smirks at your retort, “forgive me for not wanting you to hate the place you agreed to move.”

His hands are in his pockets but he moves to sit on the couch across from you. You showed up 20-minutes ago, laptop in tow after he heard you mention something on set about your travel plans to Amsterdam. 

“London could have been on fire and I would still have come,” you think aloud as the page blinks back to life. “Okay, here,” you sit up. “Booking 1430-3925-098, business class to Schiphol.”

“Cancel it.”

“You’re sure?” You look up at him now, finger hovering over the trackpad. 

“Positive,” he stands and nods. “Red or white?”

“Hmm?”

You click the button, Yes, I’m Sure!, but then notice he’s waiting for you to reply. 

“Wine,” he laughs. “Red or white?”

You pause, is this a test? Is having a glass of wine with him on a Friday night in his living room crossing a line? No, you decide when he holds your gaze for a moment. If it wasn’t crossing a line with Kyle or Reese or any other boss you’ve had, it’s not crossing a line with him. 

And besides, he’s not your boss, technically. 

“Red.”

He smiles at your answer and makes his way towards the kitchen. “So why would a fiery London not be a deterrent?” 

You set your laptop on the coffee table, a few steps over to stand in the doorway as he pursues his wine rack.

“Sorry?” You’re confused now, still watching when he scans the label of a bottle before he sets it on the Island. 

It was a long week. You’d been on set every morning at 6:30am. Most days you left work around 4 or 5, and Jason was good about making sure you took lunch breaks and had enough coffee and knew all the good places to hide for five minutes of quiet when the set got too crowded. 

“You said London could have been on fire and you would have moved here still,” he reminds you, his eyes watching for your reaction as you lean against the door frame. 

You nod slowly and let your eyes flutter shut in embarrassment. What’s the most professional way to say: I got dumped and fired in the span of two weeks and my life felt like a living hell, so surely London ablaze would be manageable?

You decide there isn’t one, so you bend the truth as he searches for a wine opener. “I was in desperate need of a change of scenery.”

“Christmas in LA does suck,” he nods. 

“Luckily I didn’t have to withstand that torture,” you walk over to the drawer on his right, the one that Jessie’s binder said had miscellaneous kitchen tools and utensils. You open it and pull out an opener and hand it over. “I was in New York for the holidays, left LA right after Thanksgiving.”

He opens the bottle and nods sympathetically. “Something about December in LA always feels…depressing.”

“Yeah,” you let out a breath at that word, one that circled and swirled in your brain for days and weeks before you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. Your parents were worried and your sister was three-seconds and a text message away from booking a flight out there to beat the shit of your ex, as she so kindly offered.

He pours the first glass, stealing a peek in your direction when he thinks you aren’t looking. You are. 

“So--yeah, Los Angeles, change of scenery, back to New York. Now London.” He pours his own and then brings them both over, clinks his wine glass against yours before you both take a quiet sip in the kitchen. “What on earth made you take this job?”

You smirk, sure you can’t say what pops into your mind: a new city, a penchant for spontaneity after a crisis, the chance to work for your friend’s hot boss…

“Oh god,” he laughs, taking in your expression when your cheeks flush. “Did someone make you come here? Have you been kidnapped? Forced against your will?”

“No,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and laugh. “I just--I really needed a job and a fresh start, I guess.”

He nods in understanding, takes another sip in the quiet. “Yeah, I get that.”

You’re not sure why it suddenly comes out, honest, blunt, a thud on the fancy tile of his kitchen. 

“My boyfriend and I broke up--we lived together--then my job kind of exploded, well, Kyle’s life did too, so, Maggie took pity, I guess, when she realized my life was a shit show.”

He’s a little caught off guard by your confession, his eyebrows are slightly lifted and you can’t read: is it curiosity or concern? Like, did I hire a psychopath concern. 

But that must not be it, because when you take a loud slurp of wine to drown out the awkward silence, he swallows and nods. 

“Just because it feels like a shit show doesn’t mean it is,” he offers, a small smile before he continues. “My fiancé of a decade left me for someone 15 years younger a few years ago and then decided to give a fuck ton of interviews about it,” he smirks. “So--I get the whole shit show feeling.”

Your lips pull into a smile at his show of humanity, but then he gestures for you to follow him back to the living room. You’d known about his failed relationship, saw headlines and heard murmurs but didn’t pay much mind. You didn’t think in a few years time you’d be drinking wine on his couch on a rainy Friday.

“And now you’re single?” He asks over his shoulder, more of a follow up on your recent disclosure than the flirtation you wish it was. He sits down and you watch the way his knees knock together in khakis. 

“First time in 6 years,” you say over the rim of your glass, returning to your spot on the sofa. 

He’s watching you, like you’re throwing him off somehow or he’s intrigued. You realize you like it.

And then you remember why you’re here, tonight, in the first place: Amsterdam. The location shoot for the temp gig. Your temp gig job. Your job, him sitting across the room from you as not the man who writes your checks but still the one who generates them. Your laptop on the coffee table pulls you back to reality. You should probably not flirt with him.

“It’s canceled,” you nod towards the computer and then lift your Apple Watch as proof. “Confirmation email came through a few minutes ago.”

He shakes his head but smiles. “I can’t believe you thought I’d make you fly business class if I’m on a jet!”

You remember Maggie’s words from January, facetime a thousand miles away. Something along the lines of he’s amazing, Y/N, he’s so chill!

“You’d be really disappointed to hear what it’s like to work for Tom Cruise, then.”

He laughs, shifts on the couch and takes another sip. “I think it’s really shitty when people treat their EAs like regular assistants,” he shrugs. “Here’s this person who manages your whole life…arguably that means you’re more competent than I am,” he thinks aloud, a playful glance in your direction. A compliment? Maybe. Flirting? You hope.

Is that shitty? Is that weird and inappropriate or—worst of all—are you fully delusional? 

“I’m going to pocket that for future reference,” you admit with a smirk. 

He sips his wine and smiles, eyes you seriously from behind the glasses he puts on at the end of the day. “Just…know from here on out that you can book yourself as nice of a hotel room as you want, you know, within reason.”

You let your eyes bug out of your head. “Reason, like, the Presidential Suite at a Ritz Carlton, or?”

“Jesus,” a short laugh escapes, a comedic hint of suspicion is his eyes after he checks a text on his phone. “Maggie wasn’t kidding when she said you’ve been primarily A-list.”

“I would never,” you call back, a quick confession to make sure he knows you’re not that type of…employee? Temp? Whatever.

“Great, but still--we’re there for work, but you deserve to enjoy Amsterdam,” he gestures toward your laptop, like the British Airways website itself was a symbol of the upcoming business trip. 

Maggie’s been excited for weeks. She babbled about it in the car on the way from Heathrow and Poppy’s been shouting out nightclubs and restaurants and places she wants to go most mornings in the makeup trailer. 

You’ve never been to Amsterdam, but you’re excited nonetheless for a chance to see a new city in a new country. The last time you and Maggie were in Europe together was on your study abroad trip when you were both 21. Now it’s ten years later.

She bounces in one April morning to Poppy’s trailer while you’re sipping a hot coffee. One from the catering table because the one you sipped on your way here wasn’t enough. 

“You’re exactly who I wanted to see,” her face lights up when she spots you in a chair beside Juno. 

“Good morning,” you coo, grateful that Poppy’s trailer has become a bit of reprieve for you. You were right, a few weeks ago when you went out for your first Friday in London: Maggie and Poppy are tight, Juno and Briony and Hannah and the rest of the make up crew seem to be their own little friend group within the larger cast and crew. Ladies who stuck together.

Luckily, you were beginning to feel like a part of it. 

“I’m thinking pubs and clubs,” she dumps a tote bag on the counter, contents spill out but Poppy doesn’t seem to mind. 

“What?”

“We need to start planning for Amsterdam, babe.”

“It’s a work trip, babe,” you remind her with narrowed eyes, a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else was aware of Maggie’s scheming. 

“Work trip, hah!” Juno pipes up from her chair. She’s got curlers in, eyes still sleepy since the sun’s just made it above the horizon. “Someone tell Y/N about Lasso work trips.”

“Work trips,” Poppy turns to see you--she’s getting a palette ready for Juno, all of her brushes and tubes of lip gloss are organized sociopathically by color, size, and brand. “Are only half work.”

A woman after your own heart, though the results of your organizing episodes usually only last a few weeks. 

“Half work? How does that…work?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to get mascara swiped on your lashes before your eyes are fully open. 

“We shoot long days and we’re busy,” Maggie nods honestly, she’s strapping her walkie-talkie onto her waist, snaking the wire of her headset up and behind her ear. “But when work is over, it’s playtime.”

You watch your oldest friend closely. “Sounds oddly sexual,” you comment around another slurp of coffee. 

“It can be sexual if you want it to be,” Maggie wiggles her eyebrows now. “If you’re feeling up for getting down and dirty!”

Oh boy. You blink at her a few times, memories of your last trip to Europe come flooding back. Maggie writing your number on the bathroom stall of a club in Rome, encouragement at every hour of the day to get loose and get laid. Unfortunately for you, this trip might be oddly reminiscent. 

“Yeah?” This pique’s Juno’s interest. “Someone in need of a little hanky-panky?”

They all giggle, you choke down more coffee but wipe your mouth when there’s a knock on the door. It opens, the whole trailer goes quiet when Jason’s on the other side.

“Morning,” he nods, a few steps in before he slinks down to the chair next to Poppy with an amused smile. “You know the gossip’s good when it goes completely silent.”

“Not gossip,” Maggie locks eyes with you in the mirror and smirks. “Just some chatter about Y/N’s lack of a love life,” she smiles, an apologetic but excited one.

“I work more than I sleep,” you defend loud enough for the whole trailer to hear—-all six of you in there.

True. Until, about, six months ago.

“Lack?” Jason’s eyebrows are arched in the mirror.

You hope Maggie doesn’t see the way your cheeks flush, a moment where his eyes find yours in the reflection above Poppy’s drawers and drawers of makeup. You wish you could vanish into thin air.

How—in only a few weeks—does it feel like you and Jason are in on your own little secret? 

“This is only my second cup of coffee so why don’t we talk about Maggie’s childhood obsession with webkinz?” You propose, a loud slurp and a ghoulish look in her direction to show her you mean business.

You had just as many years of ammunition as she did. If embarrassing each other was the goal, you could at least play the game. 

“Weren’t you a bit old for that, babe?” Poppy asks with a teasing smile, fingers focused on the curlers in Juno’s hair. 

“I didn’t give a shit that I was 16 and still into it,” Maggie defends, a dismissive eye roll when she picks up her phone from the counter. “The heart wants what it wants.”

A dodged bullet, for sure. You’re able to excuse yourself shortly thereafter to make sure Jason’s got what he needs for the day. Briony did the check of his office, grabbed breakfast and delivered a bagel to the makeup trailer. Which means you’re free to move about in search of the people you need today.

Joan from the location department, Tom from Post-Production—Maggie said he’d be easy to find because he always wears hats but is impeccably bald. 

You get the write-up you need from Joan and that’s when Briony falls into step beside you. She shows you the way down the maze of halls and through the lot to an office where Tom sits at a desk. Once you’ve got what you need from him (a firm answer to a question of Jason’s he’s been dodging all week), Briony sits with you on the sidelines of a scene in the locker room. 

Jason, Phil, Brendan, and Brett are shooting, the set’s loud before someone calls for quiet. 

Briony silently breaks her granola bar in half and offers you some, Greg--who works in sound--offers you both a warning glare: I better not hear rubbish. 

So you munch quietly side by side, feeling somewhat mesmerized by the way that when the camera’s rolling, Jason and his scene partners feel like the only people in the room. The scripted jokes they’re cracking are so good, it makes you regret never finishing season 1. 

You don’t remember finding him nearly as attractive back then as you do now, sitting behind the cameras and the boom, a walkie-talkie on your own hip and a pit in your stomach when you realize this isn’t even a thought you should be having.

But you can’t help that warmth pools in your belly when he rolls up his sleeves or laughs from across the room. Okay, so, maybe this isn’t just jet lag. 

CUT!--the room buzzes back into motion, Maggie’s zipping around the set and shouts to Greg, can we start again at line 47? Poppy goes to powder Brendan’s forehead, Briony’s on her feet and then the whole thing starts again. 

That happens another three times before there’s actually a break. Props weren’t delivered on time and so a different scene is getting staged but it doesn’t mean much to you. You’ve checked your own inbox eight times today and Jason’s twelve. 

But today was quiet. Showing up and making a stellar impression in the first few weeks was definitely a good thing, but had you been…too productive? Had you accidentally fucked yourself over because now you’re sitting here looking like a moron because you didn’t have something to do?

You booked a zoo tour for him and his kids next month, finalized the rest of his schedule for this week, arranged his travel to see friends in Spain later this summer. You’d organized his home office last week, updated his business accounts spreadsheet and even managed to book him an appointment with an eye doctor after he told you it’d been three years (ridiculous). 

Jason walks up and says something to Greg, who’s pretending to give Briony shit about the granola bar. Briony’s smiling up at him like he’s just told her Christmas is coming early.

“Hey,” you greet Jason with a smile, hand him his cell phone that’s been tucked into the bum bag around your shoulders. 

“I saw the tickets to the zoo at Battersea Park--thanks for putting that together.”

You nod, glad you were able to come up with something he could do with his kids next weekend when they’d be in town. An advertisement on the tube is what led you to buying three tickets on a whim, just in case.

You smile and look to your left, for some reason nervous that someone will see how awkward you’re being and misread it. It doesn’t matter, though, because he reaches forward and his hand’s on your elbow in a way that makes your face feel warm. 

“I mean it,” he says, a nod to himself and to you, one that lets you know he’s touched by the gesture. 

“Yes, yeah, sure,” you nod like an idiot, immediately embarrassed by the way his touch leaves your mouth unable to form consonants or vowels.

“Jason, go talk to Mark about camera angles,” Maggie appears and slaps him on the shoulder, a smile on her face when she playfully barks the order. 

Phil’s hand is outstretched suddenly, a reminder that time on set moved faster than anywhere else. “Y/N, could you take a picture of me in this for my mum?” 

You accept the phone and snap a photo, Maggie’s answering a text and then gets tugged away by a PA.

You turn to face Jason when Phil walks away, you’re ready for a request or a task or anything. But he just holds your gaze for a second, a pleased smirk spreads across his face. 

“Anything I can get you?”

He shrugs, “I’m good.”

It dawns on you, right then, that he walked over here to talk to you. Well, maybe not you. Maybe you were just in his way. Maybe he was looking for someone else but he saw you and it reminded him to say thanks. 

But either way, right now it’s just you and Jason standing here and it feels good to think that maybe he just likes being around you. Maybe the smirk on his face is because he sees the way your brain is short-circuiting. Luckily, he pulls you out of your crisis. 

“Can you come to my trailer later, around 3? Before I have to help them shoot at Keeley’s office later? I can text you.”

You’re nodding and agreeing to it as you visualize your own calendar in your head. You’re supposed to get off at 4pm today, an evening to yourself and the idea of a glass of wine on the couch sounds especially nice now that you’ve realized your social skills are such shit. 

“Perfect, great,” he says. “Apparently I have to go talk to Mark.”

You nod, he nods, and then he turns to leave you by the huddle of sound guys handling wires and knobs. You meet him in his trailer and handle the emails and errands he needs, grab a tea on the way home and you’re in the door at 4:49pm--and that’s with afternoon traffic. 

London’s been sunny this week, you had wine with Maggie and Brett and Phil one night and you didn’t feel new. You felt normal.

Winter was fading into spring over the last ten days, it was starting to feel like you were your own little piece in the big puzzle you got thrown into. Brendan knew he could always count on you to laugh at his jokes--especially and specifically when they were aimed at Jason. Brett knows your childhood nickname and threatens to tell Phil every time you get dangerously close to calling him out for flirting with Maggie. 

You don’t always feel like a transplant anymore, you feel like someone who’s starting to have a place. A tiny one, maybe off in the corner, but still, a place.

And when you left Jason’s trailer that afternoon, you thought it’d be the last time you saw him. 

So, naturally, your eyes go wide when you find him beneath the light of your front door this evening. You’re in a sweatshirt and bike shorts, completely unprepared for company. 

“Hi!” he says quickly, almost like he’s startled by the opening of the door, like he didn’t know if you’d be home or expected someone else on the other side of the knob. There’s a smile on his face that mirrors yours almost immediately. “Hey, sorry—to just show up here, like this.”

“How do you know where I live?” You narrow your eyes, a teasing but confident tone. All that does is give him a cheerful smugness that you regret immediately, one that makes his eyes scan your face before he shrugs.

“I know I’m not your boss, but I’m, like, not not your boss at the same time.”

You hold back a laugh and watch him, “what a blurred and confusing boundary…”

He smiles, “Which, all I mean by that is that Maggie sent the listing to me when she found it, I’ve actually known where you live since before you lived here,” he admits casually.

“Got it,” you step aside and he comes in, shuts the door behind himself before he meets your eyes again. 

“How are you?” You ask, intrigued by his surprise visit but also not wanting to scare him off. You like the way he’s looking at you, your heart does a flip at the thought that he wants to be around you. Just like earlier today. Fuck.

“I’m good,” he says, you walk towards the kitchen and wave a bottle of wine in the air and he nods. “I got stuck late at work, I was walking and it started to rain.”

“You live like, two minutes from here…” you’re smiling despite the challenging statement, you grab a glass from an overhead cabinet.

He shrugs when he slinks into a barstool at your counter, apparently unfazed by your accusation when he comes off it easily: “yeah, I just wanted to say hi.”

You reach for a glass in the cupboard overhead and tease him over your shoulder. “Curious to see how Maggie allocated the living stipend?”

He sits up straighter now and plays into the bit, pushing his lips out in thought when he looks around your open concept kitchen and living room. “That and…”

He looks around the room again, his words hang in the air as he buys time. But his hair’s a mess and his watch isn’t on--so you know something’s up.

It clicks. He’s got something on his mind or something and he’s…trying to talk about it? To you? 

Men! Sheesh. You try to relax your forehead as you pour him a glass so your confusion and shock isn’t misread as displeasure. Realistically, you’re touched he feels comfortable enough and the thumping in your chest is a dead giveaway if he can hear it when you deliver the wine.

“Shit day?” You ask, watching as his fingers wrap around the step. He takes a sip and shrugs. 

“Yeah, shit day…shit month, shit year.”

You giggle into your own glass, take your first sip before nodding. “I know the feeling.”

“No, I shouldn’t--” he pauses and stumbles for a second, “I don’t mean to complain or sound like a dick.”

You shrug and offer a smirk. “You’re not a dick if you have a human emotion.”

He nods, watches the wine in his glass as a smirk crawls onto his face. He looks up at you. “My ex could argue that statement for two hours.”

“Could she?” You smile, nodding when you tell him: “I’m a pretty patient person.”

“Are you?” 

“I am,” you laugh, “I like to think so.”

He lets out a tiny laugh at your comment, quiet for a second before he lets out an exhale. “I’m just stressed, really. Being showrunner this season is harder than I thought and it’s not even hard, it’s just more than I’m used to.”

You nod immediately. That makes sense and you see the fatigue on his face. You’d heard Maggie talk about it before: long hours, late nights, location shoots, freezing days, rewrites and props changes. TV wasn’t easy and you were already aware of that, only a few weeks in.

“I get that—but I think it’s normal to notice the learning curve when you’re doing something new.” 

He nods, accepts it and holds his breath for a second. “Yeah, that’s…a good way to say it.”

He smiles at you softly, eyes coming up to meet yours quickly before he shrugs. “I know I’ll survive, it’s just—been a rough go of it, lately.” 

“So what’s your release?” You ask.

His brows furrow together and the crease in his forehead lights something up inside you.

He says it like this hasn’t occurred to him at all. “My release?”

“How are you dealing with your stress?” 

The confusion on his face turns into amusement when the corner of his mouth twitches toward your ceiling. 

“So, nothing?”

He laughs. “I hadn’t thought about—doing anything, really.”

“Men,” you roll your eyes, moving towards the couch with your wine in hand. “The wine’s a nice place to start, but certainly not enough.”

He makes a face for a second, like he’s judging himself or imagining the terrible things you must think about him now that you’ve heard his feelings, but he stands to follow and listens intently when you almost open up.

“When my boyfriend dumped me and Kyle let me go, I stayed in bed for a good…two weeks,” you admit, a grimace on your face because you know it makes you sound like a loser. “But then my sister suggested I go to a rage room and it was amazing.”

“A rage room?” He laughs. “One of those places where you just break shit?”

“Smashing a TV to pieces is surprisingly therapeutic,” you tell him seriously.

He thinks on it for a second, nodding like he’s giving it real thought when he plucks at his lower lip. You can see the smirk he’s fighting, a sip of wine when your eyes dare him to say whatever he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to tell me--”

“But,” you say at the same time as he says it. A flash of embarrassment on his face when you raise your brows, reading him like a book,  just spit it out. 

“Why’d you get fired?”

Right. You knew it would come up at some point and even if Jason wasn’t really your boss, he definitely had the right to be curious. 

“I only ask because I read her reference letter--she loves you.”

“She does love me,” you nod. “But she was having family issues and I wanted a raise and then I found out that her daughter was sleeping with my boyfriend.”

His lips form an ‘o’ involuntarily, the response you got from most people when they hear how the dominoes all fell at the same time.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Fired might be a strong word, but, certainly how it felt.”

“Well, her loss,” he nods confidently. “I’ve seen the way you organized my desk drawers and it’s either witchcraft or psychoticism and I’m okay with either if it’s always this easy to find shit.”

“I’ll keep it up then,” you smile and take another sip. 

“Sorry to just…show up, by the way,” he looks down at his own glass in hand, “and drink your wine.”

You had been looking forward to a shower and a night of watching trashy reality TV (though now you’d sworn off all of the Real Housewives). Other than that, your night was likely to consist of facetiming your mom and plucking your eyebrows. 

Jason sitting at your counter with a smirk on his face didn’t bother you at all, but you certainly couldn’t tell him you were flattered that he came here.

You nodded to let him know it was no nuisance. “I’m always up for a glass of wine and talking you off the ledge.”

“That shouldn’t be part of your job description, though.”

“Do you know how many times I listened to Kyle complain about her friends or had to send gift baskets to them after fights?”

“I’m guessing a lot?”

“You venting about work stress is a walk in the park,” you reassure.

“Well, I’m glad,” he says solemnly, a moment when he holds your eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm. 

You clear your throat, don’t be stupid, and force out a joke to act like whatever moment this was wasn’t problematic or weird or worse, enticing.

“So unless you have a daughter that will sleep with my boyfriend, we’re probably good.”

“My daughter’s seven,” a beat when he shrugs a single shoulder. “And you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You take a loud slurp from your wine--partly for comedic effect and party out of your own awkwardness--and smirk over the rim to match his. “Right.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: WOW! HI! It's been a hot minute. I'm so glad to be posting this chappie and so appreciative of everyone's patience as my life evolves and writing has taken up a smaller portion of my time. I would love love love to hear what you think of this chapter and the story so far, I've been writing a lot the last few days as feb turns into march and I'm excited to share more!!!!

taglist: @babysugar02 @daydreamgoddess14 @endlessblasphemy @hart-kinsella @shanefilan @bookoffracturedghosts @cavillsim @the-fanfic-fangirl @tegan8314

[gurugirl]

Hi guru <3 crime boss y/n anon here! First, want to say I'm loving the content you're always so generously putting out on Patreon... we are so fed. Second, I had a tense tingly visual the other day about crime boss y/n and H and thought I'd share, hope that's ok? y/n is in her home office, I imagine it's pretty ornate with the classic character features of her home, might be a cliche but we all know how the money and nice things work. She also hosts a lot, her crew are always around, so it walks a fine line between being a piece of her but also not giving too much away? But that's also her point of difference in a way, she's not vulnerable or weak but she's not afraid to show herself. I hope this all makes sense? I get very wordy when I'm passionate and imagination running wild. I digress, she's sitting in her office and it's a little late and she's a little stressed, every now and then she can hear voices, maybe a little ruckus through the open crack in her office door. A few of her upmost, closest guys in the circle are hanging around, perhaps planning their evening... and we all know H is never far away. She requested to be left alone, but, she knows. He rarely goes very long without checking on her, so her restlessness is interrupted when his knuckles rap on the door and it slowly creaks open wider. Y/n sits back in her chair, crosses her arms, eyes on the spot where she knows any second his big, jeweled hand is going to wrap around the edge of the door -- then his face will appear, his eyes will meet hers, clear green but tense -- "yes?". And there he is. He almost fills the doorway, she resists letting her eyes rake down and they remain on his face. "You good?", "Mhm". He waits for more, sometimes she gives it and sometimes she doesn't, he can sense tonight she isn't in the giving mood. By now he knows her tells, he notices everything, even if she doesn't realise, or pretends not to realise. The tension in his eyes is a little harder, the tension in her body is a little stronger. He licks his lips in preparation to say something further and she squints a little when her eyes flit to the motion, but then, ache and relief at the same time when one of the other guys obnoxiously interrupts. It's a hard clap on H's back and his body jostles with the action, lets go of the door while he's questioned on if he's coming along because they're leaving. His jaw tenses, she notices. Sometimes her men are a little brutish, but they mean well. They're not good people, none of them really are lbh, but they're loyal to one another and they treat each other with respect. She tries not to smirk when she gets a "hey boss" and her perfectly manicured fingers gesture a small wave from where they're wrapped around her arm. Still crossed. H looks at her, her eyes meet his. A beat of silence as they stare, while the other guy pokes his head in a little further, does a quick nosy scan of the office. "Go. I'm fine", she tells him. His jaw clenches up to his ears, his eyes almost look stormy now. Even if it's cliche, it's probably a bar, a gentleman's club, one of the many laundering businesses on the roster, the usual. She knows, she's not stupid that's why she's the boss. He can take or leave it, he wishes she'd tell him not to go, or, his deepest fantasy, tell him that she doesn't want him with anyone else, he's hers only. And deep down she too knows that he'd stay in a second if she asked him to, and that's exactly why she won't...

Oh shiiittt! Ahhh! You're writing the scene with this babe! I can't wait to get started on this one. Ufff so good! Love the details (do you write? you should if not) and the tension between them is absolutely going to smolder.

Thank you!

xoxo

[shawty-writes-a-little]

Frequent clashes

Ram (RRR) x fem!reader

Word count: 2.2k+

Warnings: Angst (happy ending tho)

Summary: The reader is an activist and there’s always a difference of opinion between them but it turns out it be a bigger fight between them—they make up w an emo ending

An: Im sorry if I didn’t capture Ram’s character well HES VERY COMPLEX OK I TRIED

—

The copper vessel made a loud sound as it clashed with the stone floor before circling and finally getting place, scattered. Y/n flung it across the room, opposite to Ram’s direction of course. “What is your problem?!” She exclaimed frustrated. Their marriage was an arranged marriage an expected box for their checklist they both had to cross off. Time went by and despite of their changing views on everything they grew close. Both of them learned to not come in either’s way. Y/n was an activist, moreover she didn’t let anyone come in her way. Rigid and calm and wild and loving. She never hid her activism or her projects from Ram, rather flaunted them to him given his job.

Quarrels like the current one where normal with the pair. Not frequent, but not unusual. One always provokes the other out of line for this outcome but it was different this time. “I did my job? That’s the problem?!” Ram replied exaggerating his hands in front of her.

“Your ‘job’ you rated our rally out to your officers! That was a month of my work!” Y/n wasn't angered easily with the problems she faced with her activism. It took a lot and she was aware of the hardships by now. But taking taunts from Ram here and there was one thing today he was inconsiderate.

“Alright I am sorry for stopping you and your group of misguided rebellions from committing federal crimes?” He scoffed turning away, only so he resisted from saying something even harsh. He had the common main aim as hers, he made her aware of that but every now and then he walked on the thin line of making her doubt him.

“Crime? CRIME? A peaceful rally is a crime but being a traitor to your own country isn’t? Did your classicist white seniors forget to pass an amendment on that?” She asked in a self evident and provocative way. Very less did y/n ever lost her temper but the same couldn’t be said for Ram.

“I am not a traitor to th—” before he could raise his voice y/n interrupted him mid way.

“Does beating your own people feel good to you then? Blockading the city—stopping a peaceful protest of your own people?” The volume of her voice during their arguments never matched his. She never raised it at him or anyone for that matter but her words held more meaning, speaking louder.

“If you are so good at what you do why didn’t you keep your journals in a better place then? Write every information of every plan laid out word to word-and to think you would know better” He huffed insulting her capability in one way.

“So you admit it—You read my journals?! That’s where you got to know about it? You sick—”

“No I did not open your journals to know about anything-I stumbled upon them and it was open.” He spoke with confident but y/n knew enough not to fall for it. Moreover she knew he wouldn’t have simply “stumbled upon it” she never left her planning journals in casual site.

“You know I can’t change what you think is correct neither can you so I thought we had an understanding that we wouldn’t come in each other’s way—I could easily stumble upon the records you keep lying around but I don’t. That’s a line I choose not to cross for our sake. But YOU-you spiteful—”

“Namaste Anna, Bhabhi!” Akhtar greeted walking into the house in his normal cheerful demeanour but he heard Ram from the middle of the street and just walked in on whatever foul words that would’ve followed y/n’s vocabulary before he interrupted them. The tension in the room seemed heavy and the dismantled vessels and arm rest pillows here and there explained even more. Wrong timing.

Y/n was quick to collect herself and cleared her throat “Namaste Akhtar! Come on in!” She replied in just as cheerful tone and a wide smile. Ram stared at her in amusement of her changed tone so sudden, as if only a moment ago he wasn’t about to get the knowledge of every curse word in the book.

It rarely happened that Akhtar ever hesitated entering their house, current situation didn’t seem so favourable. “I was just passing by if you two are in the middle of something I’ll com later.”

Y/n waved him off and shook her head “Not at all! Your Anna and I were just discussing his treacherous—sorry I meant his love for the country” She said that more to tell off Ram than Akhtar.

Ram shot her a glare reading he didn’t appreciate it but she just gave him a mocking short smile “You’re in right time for breakfast come on settle down!” She motioned Akhtar to the living room seating.

Akhtar did enter the room further but wished to flight from the scene as of now “Bhabhi don’t bother—I am quite full right now.”

“I wasn’t asking Akhtar” she smiled at him before turning back and caught Ram’s eye, her smile dropped and she walked to the kitchen.

Turning down food seemed impolite to Akhtar but he didn’t intend to do that. But for now this was the last place he wanted to be at.

As soon as Y/n went inside Ram told Akhtar what happened. Y/n knew about Akhtar being Bheem and what he planned to do. He was going to know what happened through y/n either ways but he had to act on being on Ram’s side for the sake of the conversation.

“Whatever I tell her she doesn’t listen or try and understan—” Ram stopped his rant as y/n walked out of the kitchen.

She smiled wide and didn’t even look in Ram’s direction, annoyed. Placing the plate in front of Akhtar she served him the breakfast—stuffed paratha and poha. Again went in and came back with chai.

Before Akhtar was nearly done with his plate y/n was already crouching to serve him again, he refused at first knowing he planned to leave before another war waged while he was there but y/n reasoned saying it wasn’t much and forced a plateful again.

Ram rolled his sleeves attempting to sit down “I’ll have breakfast as well” he said coldly.

Y/n dropped the serving spoon and the container a few meters above the ground rather than just placing it so it made a thud sound. “Serve yourself then I’ve things to get to.”

__

Ram spent the entire day distressed with how things went with y/n earlier in the morning. It felt odd or maybe it was the first hand guilt. He had never seen y/n get mad like that maybe she felt hurt. They didn’t fight all the time and from what he knew of her she wasn’t someone to overreact or hold a grudge. He was unfamiliar to this, sure they had fought before but he hadn’t felt this way before. Too smug to admit it even to himself that he cared more than just to not engage with her even if she was possibly hurt. He knew he didn’t accidentally open her journals to know about the protest. Despite her never getting in his line of work he failed her plan. Could it be she felt disrespected?

He ought to do something about it he thought but coming to means with his feelings was hard for him as it is let alone putting it into words. Ram was trying this time though, he couldn’t undo what he did which he did not feel wrong of. But he wanted to undo how he made y/n feel. Took him almost the entire day to realise he was the one in fault for but it realised it nonetheless.

On his way back home he stopped at the town mithai store. A backup wouldn’t hurt if his apology turned out bad. He got the warm freshly made nakhatai biscuits, her favourite. The way back home never seemed longer.

Reaching there finally he was surprised not to see her at the stairs of the baramda today. It was a routine of her he was accustomed to by now. If she’d be home first in the later part of the evening she would be outside with her back leaned on the stone pillar reading or watching the hustle on the street.

Y/n was home he figured given their front door was open the lights inside as well. He paced through their living room and then their shared library room. Small light peeped through their bedroom he walked over to. She sat on the edge of their bed by the table lamp from what it appeared cancelling out something in her journal with her head low.

“Y/n” he called out in a hushed tone announcing his presence pulling her out of focus with whatever work she was doing.

She almost didn’t take notice of him walking inside, looking aside from him she quickly wiped traces of tears from her face and stood from her place. “I’ll get your dinner” she said not looking at him. Trying to get past him and into the kitchen as fast as she could.

Ram held her wrist in his hands stopping her in her way, “Are you alright?” Y/n nodded slightly looking away hoping she could leave his sight soon but he sensed something was wrong. “Y/n?” He turned her face towards him revealing her bloodshot eyes which read she had been crying. “Y/n-what happened?” He asked concerned, though she wanted to reply to him tears welled up her eyes again resulting in a sob escaping her lips.

Ram wasn’t familiar with this scenario, he didn’t knew what he was supposed to do or how to console someone but that thought vanished away from his mind. Worried extremely, why she would cry a thousand possibilities already ran through his head though he convinced himself it was surely something he did. She continued to sob as he sat both of them on the bed rubbing her back “It’s going to be alright y/n-what’s wrong?” He asked the rephrased question again.

Y/n exhaled managing her tears she began “The British officers found out of the men enlisted for the rally we had—they tracked them down and gave a hard beating-most of them had to go to the hospital” tears kept flowing as she recalled their hurt faces and their families, all these people with children and settled, some single earners of the family. They trusted in her aim yet she believed she was the one who led them there. Ram’s eyes softened to see her like this which felt like her most vulnerable state “We were making such progress! It’s hard to gather these many people in the first place especially if you’re a woman-I had all these other plans for other protests, send support in other movements I made them believe that we could’ve done it but it feels like I’ve just failed all of them.” She shrugged her shoulders in defeat looking at the crossed out plans in her journals.

“Y/n” he sighed at her wordings disappointed to see her spirit this dampened. Ram took her hands in his gently intervening their fingers “You didn’t fail anyone. I know I never say this but you are the bravest person I know. It isn’t easy fighting against an entire institution but you are trying! Your words have great impact with all these people but there would always be hurdles it doesn’t mean you are on the wrong path. If my father were here he would’ve really liked what you do.”

Y/n looked at him with teary eyes but this time her lips curled into a small smile, what he said warmed her heart and it made her feel much better. But knowing about Ram’s past and him mentioning his father felt a great deal “You think so?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed nodding to assure her he meant it “Also-I need to apologise to you I did read your journals to know about your protest, I know I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s alright I understand it’s your work you had to report it. I get it.” she shrugged her shoulders already forgiving him. He couldn’t take back telling his officers their plan now so it would be pointless being at each other’s throat for it now.

“No it wasn’t just because of my work.” Ram inhaled audibly and continued “You know these protests turned violent in Bihar and other places recently—the government doesn’t listen and people get outnumbered, severely hurt, some even loose their lives it turns tragic. I wanted to prevent it before anything happened. Anything happened to you. I-“ he hesitated. “I don’t want to loose you.”

Oh.

Y/n stared at him comprehending his feelings. He wanted to prevent anything happening to her. He cared that much? She had never seen this side of him before it flabbergasted her. “Ram” she said softly unsure for the right words, she pulling him into a hug wrapping her arms around his neck.

He reciprocated the hug placing his hands by waist in what time felt perfect and he never wanted to let go. Y/n pulled away slightly looking at him “You will never loose me.”

—

Drink water mwah I hope you like this 🧍

🏷 @thewinchestergirl1208 @brekkers-desigirl @voidsteffy @sivuda @yehsahihai @obsessedtoafault @toxicangels1-4

[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 1}

See {overview} for more info!

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: mentions of death/war, emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4.2k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

Bond  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

“Good morning, Your Highness,” you called, entering the prince’s room and walking to open the curtains, revealing the cloudless sky behind them.  Of course a beautiful day like today would have to be ruined by the very event you were here to collect Chan for.

Chan’s head peeked out from around the dressing panel, smiling softly as you pressed the shirt he’d clearly been looking for into his hands. “Good morning Y/n.”

“Your father’s in quite the foul mood this morning,” you said, leaving Chan to finish changing as you tidied up his dresser and prepared the many pins and beads bearing the royal crest that would adorn his formal attire for today.

You could hear the scowl in his voice as he grumbled, “Only he could manage to be upset during an event solely orchestrated by him and his insufferable band of so-called advisors.”

You nodded your head, indulging him in his ranting.  Better he get it all out now with only you here to hear than cause a scene in front of the court.  The prince took his responsibilities seriously and hardly ever openly clashed with his father, no matter how much they disagreed.  But this had been an exceedingly upsetting matter for him, and, by extension, you as well.  You’d spent the majority of the last week attempting to keep the peace between him and his father, as well as show your support for your friend as best you could.

Chan stepped out from behind the screen, and you had to stop yourself from doing a double take at the man in front of you.  A far cry from his normal outfit of loose breeches and dirtied, tattered tunics, his cleanly pressed white shirt was tucked neatly into snug fitting black trousers, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim figure.  You were sure he hated the confines of such an ensemble, but you were equally sure he would turn every head in the kingdom during today’s events, and you smiled at having the privilege to see him here first as he struck a nonchalant pose and asked, “So, how do I look?”

“Very handsome,” you replied, stepping up to pin his bright red cloak around his shoulders and set to work attaching the fineries to the outside.

“You do as well.  Look very nice, I mean,” he corrected sheepishly, pose all but forgotten and head tilting forward as a blush formed on his cheeks.

You glanced upward, smoothing his hair that had gotten tousled from his rushed dressing.  “Thank you, Your Highness,” you replied quietly.  You decided to throw in a humorous quip, hoping to lighten his mood as you finished decorating the course, red fabric.  “We couldn’t have the prince’s personal attendant looking like she’d just had a spar with a knight and lost, now could we?”

“Certainly not,” he laughed, then quieted as he continued, “And you’re still wearing the flower.”

You reached your hand absently up to the flower that was perched behind your ear, and you felt his fingertips ghost over yours as he gently pushed your hair to sit behind it.

“Of course, Your Highness.  Is it not our tradition that I wear it until it is completely bare of petals?”

“Mhmm… our tradition,” he hummed, his hand lingering next to your cheek.

“We really must be h-heading out.”  You cringed at the unsteadiness of your voice.  You needed to get out of here, needed to get him out of here.  You straightened the clasps of his cloak and tapped your hands on his chest.

“There.  Now you look like a real prince charming,” you said, forcing a smile to your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He shook his head as he half chuckled, half grimaced at your words, lips forming into a straight line.  “Then I suppose we must go meet my future wife.”

You Have My Bow  |  Kingdom of Gu, 19 years ago

“Mama, Mama, look what Papa made for me!” you squealed, bounding into your tightly-packed cottage and nearly crashing into your mother’s legs as she stood boiling soup at the stove.

Your father had taken you to the woods that morning, your favorite place to go with him when he had a rare spare moment away from the castle.  You had thought he was taking you for your usual ritual: fishing by the river’s edge in the hopes of catching something to use for dinner.  Instead, when you reached the riverbank, your father knelt down and pulled a tiny child’s bow from his knapsack, small enough to fit in your four-year-old hands.

“I’m going to teach you how to use this bow Y/n.  Not many girls will know how to, but you need to be able to fend for yourself and your mother if anything should ever happen to me.”

“Why would anything happen to you Papa?”

“Well, Papa helps the king to keep our home safe, and there are some people who might want to make it unsafe.”

“Like the Lajorans?  Or the Mirohans?  The ones with the missing princess?!  Or the Sillans?  I heard old man Jerrald talking outside the tavern, and he said Lajorans like to ...”

“Yes, just like those,” your father interrupted your enthusiastic babbling, “though you shouldn’t believe everything old man Jerrald says, alright?”  You nodded as he continued, “The king does everything he can to keep the peace, but sometimes our peoples get into fights.  Really big ones, where people use swords and bows like this.  And I want to make sure that if that ever happens, if one day a fight should come here, that you can keep yourself and your mother safe.  Do you think you could do that for me, Y/n?”

You’d agreed of course, your little body bouncing with excitement as he pulled you in for a hug then took the bow and began to show you the basic principles.  The two of you had spent the rest of the day practicing, and you couldn’t be more excited to show your mother what you’d learned.

“Y/n be careful,” your mother admonished, kneeling down to your height as she gave you a tight squeeze.  “Now let’s see what that father of yours has cooked up for you this time.”

“It’s called a boo!” you all but shouted, whipping the bow out from behind your skirts and drawing back the string in a mock archer’s pose.

“A bow, Y/n, it’s called a bow sweetheart,” came your father’s voice from the doorstep.  He crossed the small space to pull your mother into a tight embrace as he said, “And be careful with that in the house, or your mother will have my head.”  You nodded back at him and he sent you a mischievous wink over her shoulder.

Your mother turned to face him with a wary smile as you started galloping in circles, pretending to ride an imaginary horse.  “Giving our already rambunctious child a deadly weapon, Minhyuk?  You want to get her into trouble, I see.”

“Julietta, you worry too much,” your father whispered, pressing his lips to her temple in a gentle kiss.  “Besides, I’d be more concerned about the trouble she’d be in if she didn’t know how to take care of herself.”

Little did you know that everything you learned that day would soon come crashing into your life, taking many precious things with it when it left.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You struggled to keep up as you walked behind Chan, the two of you heading to the throne room where you were sure a very short tempered King Bang would be waiting to reprimand you for your tardiness.  Sure enough, when the guards opened the doors, you saw the king pacing in the small space in front of the raised thones, his head snapping up as he heard your footsteps approach.

“You’re late.  I told you to have him here 20 minutes ago Y/n, did I not?”

“It’s not her fault,” Chan defended.  “Besides, they’re not here yet, are they?”  He gestured around to the otherwise empty hall, save for the usual servants and guards, then slumped into his seat at the right hand of his father’s.

“You would do well to lose that attitude before they do arrive.  I will not have you embarrassing yourself or this court because of your petty feud with me.”  Chan gave a hollow laugh at that, eyes closing to block out the mere presence of his father.

You took your place behind Chan’s throne, hands coming up to rest on the ornately upholstered back.  You liked keeping your hands there; it made you feel like you were supporting Chan in some way, the closest you would ever come to being able to actually hold his hand the way you wanted to right now.

After a few moments, you heard the telltale sound of trumpets and the growing shuffling of a group of approaching footsteps.  Chan straightened in his seat and his father took his place at the head of the room.

The doors opened, and you were greeted by a small party of what appeared to be political ministers and guards, in the middle of whom stood a woman clad in a yellow gown.  She was beautiful, golden hair spun up into a twist and a delicate silver circlet resting above it.  You would know she was a princess from a mile away.

The Gu herald spoke first, gesturing towards the two men seated at the thrones.  “May I present His Majesty, King Bang Geun of the Gu Kingdom and his son, His Royal Highness Bang Christopher Chan, crown prince of the Gu Kingdom.”

The gaggle of people gave a quick bow, then parted to allow the woman through.  She stepped to the front, then dipped into a low curtsey.  “I am Princess Korenna Dormio of Lajor,” she spoke, her high, clear voice ringing in the chamber.  “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

The king stood up, walking towards Korenna with you and Chan trailing behind.  He took her hand and kissed the top of it, his voice exclaiming in a fake bright tone, “We are honored you could join us in our kingdom!  May I present my son, Christopher.”

Chan stepped forward at that, hand outstretched to take hers.  “I prefer strangers to call me Chan.”

You could feel the icy gaze King Bang was sending to his son, but he pressed on, ever the politician.

“This is Y/n.  She is Chr- err Chan’s personal attendant, and will be at your service during your stay.  Go to her with whatever you may need.”

Korenna eyed you with a curious look, and you knew why.  It was unusual, though not entirely unheard of, for a prince to have a woman as his personal attendant.  Not only did they complete duties for him in the domestic sphere, but they also served a professional purpose, a sort of squire, scheduler, and strategist all in one, roles typically reserved for men.  The unique circumstances surrounding the time of your’s and Chan’s upbringing had made having you as his attendant a logical choice, but you could understand her concern about the man she was supposed to marry spending most of his time in the company of a woman she knew nothing about.

You knelt into a curtsey, head leaning forward as you heard Korenna’s voice.  “A pleasure to meet you Y/n.”

“You as well, Your Grace,” you responded.  Glancing up, you saw that Chan was not even looking in her direction, gaze apparently trained on a fascinating branch just outside the rightmost window.  Well this was off to a wonderful start.

“Very well,” King Bang said tentatively, “I will let you two become acquainted.  Y/n, I believe you were given their itinerary for the day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the king made his way to mingle with the rest of Korenna’s visiting party, Chan turned to the both of you, eyes almost glaring at the princess.

“I don’t want to be here, and I doubt you do either, so let’s just get all of this shit over with so we can go back to our normal lives.”  With that, he stalked towards the door, leaving you and a highly affronted Korenna to follow in his wake.

***

The next few hours only got worse.

The pair were thrust immediately into making a multitude of decisions about the wedding ceremony: What kind of flatware did they want?  Which cakes were their favorite?  How should the shrubbery around the edge of the garden be trimmed?  And all the while you stood between them, relaying information to the various servants charged with these tasks and corralling the two royals between each of their stops.

Your latest one was with the palace groundskeeper, to determine what flowers would adorn the wedding canopy.

“We can always have tulips brought in from the highlands, Your Grace.”

“Tulips are fine, but I was thinking something more along the lines of white roses or lilies.”

Chan’s annoyed huff at her words was impossible to miss.

“Can you at least try to give some input about this?”

“We’ve barely met and they have us making all these asinine decisions about something weeks away!  What do you even care what I have to say about flowers anyway?!”

“I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

“Isn’t that what your people are good at?!  Picking a fight with someone who never asked to be involved in the first place?”

You hated seeing Chan like this.  His normally kind, generous, and thoughtful demeanor, that you knew to be his real self, not just some facade put on to impress the nobles or win ladies’ affections, was being replaced by this antagonistic attitude, intent on ruining any chance of finding common ground with this woman.  You knew he was doing it to protect himself, both from his father’s antics and from his own fear of being open, of letting someone in and risking actually wanting to keep them there.  But under different circumstances, you knew he would never want to be seen treating anyone like he was right now, let alone a princess from another powerful kingdom.  And she didn’t seem to be so bad; if she felt the same malice as he felt towards her, she at least did a better job of hiding it.  You needed to stop him before he did something you knew he would regret.

“Your Highness, I believe Prince Minho wanted to brief you on the latest border patrol, seeing as he is back in the city for the time being.  Why don’t you meet with him while I escort Her Grace to the ladies afternoon tea?”

“A wonderful idea,” Chan muttered unenthusiastically and began walking towards the closest castle door as you guided the princess in the opposite direction.  You looked back and locked eyes with him, reading the expression of thanks on his face.

When you were out of earshot from Chan, Korenna turned to you almost immediately and asked, “Is he always this standoffish?”

You were unsure how to answer that question, wanting to make it clear he wasn’t always like this without getting her hopes up that he would change his attitude about this particular situation any time soon.

“His Highness is not especially fond of this arrangement.  It has nothing to do with you personally, Your Grace.”

“Well I am also not especially fond of this arrangement, but it’s the arrangement we have at present and at least I’m attempting to be civil towards him.”

“Perhaps you should tell him of your similar feelings, to establish some common ground?”

Korenna became agitated at that suggestion, visibly tensing as she said, “And risk my father finding out I feel that way.  Absolutely not.”

You understood that apprehension, that fear.  Stories of her father, King Eunther, had spread often throughout your kingdom, and from what you heard, you knew he was not someone you wanted to cross.

You walked in silence for the rest of the way, until you rounded the corner into the courtyard where you could hear ladies’ voices and the gentle clinking of fine china.  Korenna turned to you, placing her hand on your arm.

“You and him seem to be… close.  Maybe you could talk to him, ask him to try to appear like he doesn’t despise me and everything I do or say?”

You had a feeling that would only make it worse, his oldest friend asking him to grin and bear it for the “good of the kingdom.”  You also knew his political protest against his father might not be the only reason for his general disdain of everything that had happened the past week.  But Korenna seemed like she was genuinely trying to put in some effort, and you couldn’t bring yourself to outright deny her request.

“I will try, Your Grace.”

As you left Korenna in the garden, you reached up to feel for the flower by your ear, and found that all the remaining petals had fallen off.

Arrangements  |  Kingdom of Gu, 1 week ago

“Have you heard anything?  From the staff, about what this announcement might be?”

Chan was walking briskly ahead of you, voice coming out slightly strained.  You knew why; his father calling an unscheduled meeting with the entire court, alluding to some mysterious “announcement,” had everyone on edge, Chan most of all.  The king still kept his son in the dark about the majority of his political proceedings, much to Chan’s frustration and chagrin, and no one but his closest inner circle had any inkling as to what this might be about.

“No, Your Highness. It’s been quiet in the servants’ quarters; everyone is equally surprised.”

“Well, whatever it is, promise to take my side?”

“Have I ever not?”

The two of you entered the throne room, and despite your knowledge of what a full court gathering was, you were still taken aback by the sheer amount of people present.  Every nobleman, every knight, every person who wasn’t otherwise occupied was here, filling the space along the wall and facing the dias at the head of the room where King Bang sat, the empty seats to his right and left standing out amongst the crowded room.  Even Prince Minho, the king’s nephew and second in command of the royal guard after Chan, was back from his post on the Lajoran border.

Whatever this announcement was, it was serious.

Chan approached his seat next to the king as he usually did on occasions like this, but was stopped by his father’s voice.

“Chan, please remain there.  You are the subject of my announcement today.”

You saw Chan’s face pale as he remained in the center of the room.  You were still standing behind him, debating whether or not you should stay beside him or step back to one of the walls where the servants stood.  As you scanned for your mother in the crowd, that question was answered for you.

“Y/n, you too shall stay where you are.  I will have instructions for you as well.”

You bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement of his order, and took your place slightly behind Chan’s left shoulder to await whatever insane proclamation King Bang was about to make.

Nothing could have prepared you for the words that left his mouth.

“Chris, I have made you a wedding match.  You are to be married to Princess Korenna of Lajor in six week’s time.”

The entire room was silent, every person holding their breath to hear what the prince’s reaction would be.  This was not something anyone was expecting, Chan least of all.  It took every ounce of your willpower to school your face into a neutral expression as you tried to contend with the hundreds of thoughts flooding your mind.

Chan was to be married?  To someone from Lajor?  One of Gu’s oldest enemies suddenly wanted to form an alliance, and through marriage?  What would that even entail?  Who would hold what powers?  Why was the ceremony so soon?  Who would be in charge of the preparations?  How would this change your relationship with Chan?

After what felt like hours, but was more likely only several seconds, you heard Chan’s voice echoing one of your thoughts out loud.

“A Lajoran?!  But father, they are responsible for - “

“You need not remind me what they are responsible for, Christopher.”

“Then I don’t understand, how did this come about?!”

You couldn’t stop the low ringing slowly building in your ears, accompanied by a sudden wave of nausea.  You vaguely registered the king’s voice, explaining how King Eunther had approached him, how he agreed “it was time we put that mess behind us,” and how his daughter would be a suitable match for the Gu prince.  Your mind wandered, remembering how many times Chan had told you he never wanted to be used as a pawn in his father’s political games, how he hated the idea of being forced to marry a stranger.  You couldn’t seem to register any other information, thinking solely about Chan, the man you’d known since childhood, your friend, having to be married off to satisfy his father’s need for power.  Finally, a loud voice cut through the fog in your head.

“Y/n, are you listening?  Look at me when I’m talking to you, girl!”

You looked up in surprise to see the king’s unpleasant expression looking down at you.  Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chan’s pained face turned slightly towards you, waiting to see why his father had kept you in the center of the room as well.

“I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“You will serve Princess Korenna when she arrives for her introductory stay here a week from today.”

You heard a scoff from next to you and glanced to see Chan’s face growing angrier by the second.  “First you lay this on me, now you’re taking away my servant?!  How do you expect me to cope with all of this?”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words.  You knew he was simply talking in a language his father would understand, explaining how it would be an inconvenience for him to not have someone available at all times of the day, to keep track of his schedule, to clean his clothes, bring him his meals, prepare his horses and armor.  But you couldn’t help the sting of being referred to as a “servant”; surely Chan saw you as more than that, just as you saw him as more than just your future monarch.

“You will manage with half of her normal attention,” the king answered, his tone laced with a hint of irritation at his son’s current attitude.  “Besides, you’ll spend most of your time with Korenna, so she’ll be with the both of you regardless.”

The anger was coming off of Chan in waves, so palpable you felt like you could reach out and touch it.  Finally he set his jaw, facing his father.

“Is that all you had for me?”

“Well that’s all for the matter of the marriage yes but - “

Chan turned on his heel, walking out of the room to the sound of hushed whispers and his father’s increasingly pitiful protests.

You wanted nothing more than to run after him, to pull him into your arms and soothe him, tell him everything would be alright.  But you knew better than to leave, not having been dismissed by the king yet.  So you stood there, heart aching so badly, feeling exposed, like everyone could see the shattered pieces of it that had fallen at your feet.

“I’ll go look for him,” you heard Minho say as he passed by you, the king nodding and waving his hand to dismiss the rest of you.  You heard your mother calling for you but you ignored her, wanting to get out of that stifling room, to go somewhere, anywhere where you could be alone.  You knew where Chan had gone, where he always went when he was upset and needed time to think, but no one bothered to ask you in their search for him.

***

He returned to his room that evening like you knew he would, the door creaking open as you stood across the room ironing his rarely used formal wear with the glass smoother.

His voice came out choked as he whispered, “I’m sorry for what I said.  For referring to you as my servant.”

“It’s alright, Your Highness.  I know you were upset - “

“That’s no excuse.”

Feeling his presence close behind you, you turned to him, reaching for his hand.  “I forgive you.”

He brought his other hand to your cheek, and when you looked up, you saw his eyes staring at you, imploring you to stay, to talk to him.  It was so tempting, the desire to give in, to lean in to him and let him hold you like you knew he wanted.  But you had to be strong, for him and for yourself.  And you knew if you stayed, if you opened up to each other, tried to confront the feelings you knew you still had and could only hope he reciprocated, neither of you would ever recover.  So you took his hand from your face, holding both of his in yours between you as you said, “You should get some rest, Your Highness.”

“Y/n please,” he murmured.

“It is done.  There’s nothing you or I can do.”

He made one last attempt, turning and holding your wrist lightly, but let you go as you pulled away.  Opening the door, you wished him goodnight, desperately trying to hold in your tears as you left.  Your footsteps took you down the hall quickly, but not before you caught the small sound of a sob coming from behind his door.

{part 2}

[rommahh]

Enough For You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

{This is my first peter fic and theres more to come. I may make a part two of this- it depends though. This work is a complete work of fiction and doesnt follow the mcus storyline of peter parker at all. Just the characters. Anyways enjoy. Much love, R.}

Peter, as smart as he can be, was a complete and utter idiot. He could read an entire textbook on quantum physics, take a test on said textbook, and ace it like it was nothing. That's how intelligent he was. But when it came to the obvious things that didn't take place in the academic world- he was an oblivious idiot.

Y/N has had a crush on Peter since they were in elementary school. Everyone in Peter and Y/N’s inner circle saw how deep in love Y/N was with Peter- except for Peter. Y/N has spent years trying to tell him how she feels but he always just interprets it as Y/N telling him how much she loves their friendship- like the idiot he is.

As senior prom slowly approached Y/N waited for the moment where Peter would ask her to the dance. They both were not dance people but senior prom was so different. Y/N just wanted to spend the night with her closest friends before they all went their separate ways for college. Normally Y/N and Peter went to every dance together, but as prom got closer, Y/N started to worry that he wouldn't even ask her. And unfortunately, she was right to think that.

Ned, Peter, MJ, and Y/N all sat at a round table on their school's campus during their lunch period talking and eating. The conversation of prom came up making Y/N’s ears perk up hoping to hear the words she's been waiting for from Peter.

“So Peter, what are your prom plans?” MJ asked, chewing on some of Y/N’s carrots from her lunch. Y/N looked at Peter waiting for his answer. He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck to ease his nerves.

“I'm actually going to prom with Liz. I asked her yesterday after school and she said yes.” He smiled happily of the thought of him and Liz dancing at prom. Y/N on the other hand felt her heart clench uncomfortably. MJ looked just as shocked as Y/N hearing Peter's words. Ned looked up from his comic book as an uncomfortable silence filled the table.

Quickly, Y/N packed her lunch back into her lunch bag and slung her bookbag haphazardly over her shoulder. Her face was scrunched up as she tried to contain her tears. “Sorry guys, I completely forgot that I have to help Mrs. Anderson with some...thing.”

Rushing away, the group was left to watch Y/N’s figure scurry away from the table. Tom looked at her in confusion before looking at his other best friends trying to figure out what had just happened.

“What just happened? Is she Ok?” He asked getting his stuff ready so he could go and follow the girl. MJ put a hand on his arm to stop him from packing up.

“I think you should just let her be alone for a minute… So you and Liz huh?”

“I- yeah I've had a crush on her for years now. I thought I told you guys this.” Peter’s hands fiddled with the book in front of him. Ned shared a look with MJ making Peter look at them confused again. “Guys, what aren't you telling me? What's going on?”

“Sorry dude, it's not our place to say. You should probably talk to her after school.” Ned replied, patting Peter on the back trying to comfort him. The bell interrupted any further conversation from happening. The trio went their separate ways to class after saying an awkward goodbye.

Peter spent the whole day with his mind clouded with thoughts. He racked his brain for any possible reason as to why Y/N were so upset.

After school, Peter showed up to a Y/N’s house hoping to talk to the girl and figure out why his best friend was so upset. Y/N’s mom gave Peter a small smile when he approached the house, nodding her head to where the backyard was located to say where Y/N was at.

Y/N sat on a quilt made by her grandmother on the soft gras of her backyard. A large tree covered her from the sun that was slowly beginning its descent into the night. She looked up from the book she was reading hearing the sound of footsteps coming towards her. Peter stood there, backpack on one shoulder, hands in both sweater pockets just waiting.

“Hey.” Peter said, setting his backpack down before sitting across from the girl on the soft quilt.

“Hi Peter.” She quietly replied, keeping her head low so she couldn't meet his eyes.

“Can you tell me what happened today? You seemed upset. Did something happen in class?” He asked, his hand reaching out to tilt her face to look at him. She looked at his face, seeing his furrowed eyebrows and watching as his eyes searched her face for any clue as to what was wrong.

“You're taking Liz to prom.” She finally spoke after a moment of silence.

“I'm taking Liz to prom.” He confirmed still sitting there in confusion.

“I wanted you to ask me to prom.”

“Oh.” Y/N stopped looking at Peter, her hands playing with the frayed edges of her ripped jeans.

“Oh? You always ask me to school dances and I just thought…”

“Thought what? Y/N I dont get what you're saying. We did go to past dances together but this is prom you know. I really like Liz so I asked her.” He said still not putting two and two together to understand the issue.

“To be the smartest boy in our school, you are the biggest idiot ever.” Peter scoffed, offended by her comment. “Peter, I love you.”

“What?” Peter was shocked by her statement.

“I've liked you since the 4th grade and I guess I assumed you had started to like me too. I thought you were going to ask me to prom because you- you liked me too?” She looked at him again, face flushed and shoulders tense with anxiety.

“Y/N...I'm sorry but I- I dont like you like that. I didn't know that you did like me like that.” He watched as her shoulder dropped in defeat. Tears pooled in her eyes spilling onto her cheeks. She quickly wiped her face off with her hands. “Please don't cry, i'm so sorry. I still want to be friends though.”

She chuckled at his words. “I don't think we can be friends, Peter. I think it would be best for myself if we weren't friends.”

Her words cut like knives through his heart. He stood up abruptly as anger flooded through his body.

“So we can't be friends now? We've been friends since kindergarten. You are my best friend Y/N and you're going to throw it away over this?” His voice rose as he spoke. Y/N stood as well, anger taking over her as she listened to Peter raise his voice at her.

“Do you know what it feels like to watch someone you love not love you back?” She yelled at him, Peter’s eyes widened in shock having never heard his best friend speak like this before. “Do you know what it's like to watch the person you love have crushes on everybody but you? Do you know what it's like to not be enough? What is it about Liz that I don't have? You don't even know her!”

“You're mad at me for not liking you back? I can't control my feelings Y/N and I'm sorry for that but I don't want to lose our friendship. Please don't do this.” He held her face in his hands brushing the stray tears from her face. She shook her head free, backing away from him. Her hands clutched her arms, folding on top of her chest.

“I'm sorry Peter that I couldn't be good enough for you.” She gave him a small heartbroken smile before grabbing the book she was reading and went inside of her house. Peter watched as his best friend walked away from him for the second time that day. His chest felt tight, hands shaking as he thought about the ending of friendship he held dear to his heart.

Peter dreaded going to school. He spent the whole night being forced awake by panic attacks and non-stop crying. He had never felt a heartbreak like this. He's heard people say that friendship breakups are harder than relationship breakups and Peter can attest to that. Granted he's never been in a relationship, but he's going through a heartbreak he's never felt before.

He got ready for school slowly, relishing in the comfort of his room before exiting out into the living room of the apartment. He gathered his backpack that had been thrown carelessly in the living room out of anger as Aunt May watched him from the hallway before her bedroom. She decided against asking him what was wrong because she didn't want him to become even more upset on his way to school. Her heart aches as she watches her boy frown and wander around with sadness looming on his face.

At school, Ned and Mj waited for Peter at his locker like the group normally does. This time, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Peter walked up to his locker, unlocking it and grabbing his things from inside of it for class.

“Did you guys know she liked me?” Peter asked after standing in silence with the group for a few moments. They looked at Peter in pity before nodding yes. Peter shook his head, upset with himself for never noticing the obvious feelings coming from his best friend.

The group walked to their first period class, Ned and Mj making small talk whereas Peter walking listening in on the conversation. Sitting in their normal seats, they waited for the first bell to ring that determined when the first period would begin.

The door of the classroom opened showing Y/N with arms filled with her textbooks and backpack slipping off of her arms. MJ thought Peter looked bad but Y/N probably looked worse. Her eyes were puffy carrying bags of sleeplessness and her overall appearance looked tired. The Y/N the group knew would come to school always dressed for success wearing the cutest outfits and makeup done to perfection. She wasn't over the top with it but she always looked so well put together. Today, she was wearing leggings and a ratty hoodie. Her hair didn't look like it normally did, her face was bare of makeup.

She moved slowly looking for an open table in the classroom. She saw one in the back of the room near the window and walked over to claim it as her own. Her friend group watched in shock as she walked past them and towards the empty table. Peter’s chest hurt so bad watching her walk past them. Mj and Ned were upset too but they had spoken to her before school and understood her want for space.

“She doesn't have to sit all the way over there.” Peter whispered still staring at Y/N as she settled into her seat in the back of the room.

“It's ok, she just wants space and that's ok.” Mj reassured him, rubbing his shoulder as he laid his head down on the table. He didn't know how he would cope without his best friend or lack thereof.

Lunchtime came sound and normally the friend group would sit outside together if the weather was nice. They've always done this since freshman year. They would sit at the wood tables and share their lunch with each other. Y/N would normally share her fruits and vegetables knowing that her friends packed unhealthy junk food.

Today was different though. Mj, Peter, and Ned sat at the table without her. Her spot at the table is empty leaving an uncomfortable gap at the round table. Y/N found herself seated inside of the library by the window that looked out on the wooden tables she would normally sit at.

Y/N sat in the quiet library crying her eyes out as she watched her friends comfort Peter. She was hurting so bad knowing that she ruined her friendship. She wishes that she never said anything. That she just let Peter be happy with his newfound relationship with Liz. She wanted to be happy for him but she had some resentment towards him. She understood he couldn't control his feelings but she hurt knowing that he never in the years they've known each other he's never looked at her more than a friend.

She wiped her tears from her face, pulling her neatly packed lunch box out of her backpack. She stared down at her lunch, sad that she had no one to share with anymore.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit here?” A voice said from above Y/N. Looking up she saw Bryant, another senior in her class, standing with his lunch.

“Oh- yeah, sure, of course.” Y/N stuttered making room at the table for his things. The table was large enough for the two of them so there was no real reason for her to say that he couldn't sit with her. Bryant was the captain of the baseball team at their highschool. He wasn't like the cliche popular kids at school who stayed within their cliques but he was very sweet and attentive to anyone he crossed paths with.

“Thank you! I saw you sitting by yourself and it kinda looked like you needed a friend.” He commented setting his salad from the cafeteria down along with his backpack that seemed too empty for a highschool seniors backpack. “So, how's today going for you?”

Y/N was taken aback by the boy's boldness. This was her first time ever talking to him and he wants to know about her day? She was baffled.

“I-It's been slow I guess. I'm ready to go home honestly.” He nodded, chewing on his salad.

“I feel that. I wish I could go home after school. I've got prom preparation after school, so annoying.” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “I don't know if you know but my name is Bryant, it's real nice to meet you.”

Sticking his hand out to shake, Y/N grasped it hesitantly.

“I'm Y/N, I think we had english together last year.”

“Yeah we did didn't we. I hated that class, you were awesome in it though.” She blushed at the compliment. “But yeah, I know who you are. You're apart of Peter’s little group.”

“Oh yeah, I was.” She shrugged emotions overwhelming her again.

“Was? You obviously don't have to tell me, but I hope you're ok.” Bryant smiled at Y/N and Y/N was blown away by his kindness.

“Peter and I aren't friends anymore. He's going to prom with Liz and I just thought that maybe he would have asked me.” Bryant felt bad for Y/N. He could see how hurt she was despite her wearing a smile on her face. Y/N wasn't a stranger in this school. She played a large role in academics and actively participated in multiple clubs. The Y/N Bryant saw before wasn't present today and it was sad.

“I know we've just met but I don't have a date to prom either...if you would like to go with me. I wanted to go with Jordan but it turns out he is not actually into very beautiful and athletic boys.” Y/N laughed along with Bryant.

“I would love to go to prom with you as long as we can coordinate outfits.” Bryant laughed some more agreeing with her. Y/N looked down at the lunch before sliding over a few snacks toward Bryant. Y/N still felt the sadness of letting go of her best friend lingering with her but it felt nice to meet someone new. Not someone to replace her Peter but someone to remind her that life goes on and that she'd be ok in the long run.

Weeks have passed since Peter and Y/N’s fallout and it was a weird few weeks. School was coming to an end, cap and gowns were slowly being handed out for graduation and prom posters were posted everywhere.

Y/N was still avoiding Peter at all costs but she apologized to Ned and Mj for ignoring their feelings. She didn't want them to feel like they had to be in the middle of this mess. She didn't want them to feel like she also ditched them too. They understood her, they knew how hard it was for her to remove herself from their friend group for the sake of her mental health.

Y/N and Bryant continued to grow closer. He was a good distraction from her current problems. She also learned that he was bisexual and that Jordan was also on the baseball team who was too scared to come out and go to prom with Bryant. Bryant was someone Y/N didn't expect to befriend her. His kindness made her feel so much better after what had happened.

Peter struggled badly. He had been so happy to finally get the girl he had been pining after for years but seeing Y/N cry because of him hurt so much. It made him rethink his whole friendship with her. Did he really only think of her as a friend?

Peter watched everyday as Y/N grew closer to Bryant, a warm feeling entered his belly every time he saw the two together. It wasn't a pleasant warm feeling, it was a feeling that made him overthink everything he did. It was a feeling that made his face scrunch up and his head fill with sickness. His thoughts became muddled, words not making sense as he watched the two. He was jealous. Did he recognize it as jealousy, no, because Peter was an idiot.

Prom season was hectic and fun all at the same time. People were hardcore prepping for the dance. Money was being saved for the before dance dinner and the stretch limo that would provide a chariot to the dance.

The mall was beyond crowded, Bryant led the way with Y/N pushing through crowds of people to reach the small dress shop they had been dying to go to all day. The small dress shop was locally owned by a hispanic couple who hand made the dresses in the shop. The dresses they had were beautiful, all arraying from different colors, sizes, and silhouettes. Y/N tried on almost every dress in the store that was in her size.

“This is useless, these dresses are gorgeous but I feel like I look so stupid.” Y/N huffed sitting next to Bryant on the velvet loveseat that sat in front of the dressing room. Y/N was near tears out of pure frustration.

“Stop it, I thought you looked amazing in every single one of those dresses. I think you're just too into your own head. What's up girl?” He put an arm around her shoulders laying his head on top of hers.

“I just want to look good. Good like Liz…” She whispered the last part out of embarrassment. Bryant scoffed.

“You're joking right? You two are incomparable people. She's pretty in her own ways just as you are. Are you comparing yourself to her because of Peter?” Bryant exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of the woman who owns the shop.

“Peter likes Liz.” Was all that Y/N could muster, pouting at her own words.

“Here mija.” The woman who owned the shop came walking over to Y/N with a beautiful pink dress in her hands. “I made this a week ago but havent even put it on the floor yet.”

Y/N shook her head furiously, “No I couldn't.”

“No, please try it on and if you like it, it's yours.” The woman insisted on a bright smile playing on her face.

“Its-Its mine?”

“Yes honey, you obviously need this dress more than I do. You need a dress that will make you feel beautiful and I think this will do.”

Y/N tried on the dress watching it flow down to the floor. It was a pretty pink color with flowers at the top. Buttons adorned the middle of the dress cinching the waist and the bottom of the dress flowed to the floor in bunches.

Stepping out of the dressing room, dressed clad on her body, Bryants mouth dropped in shock at the sight of her.

“Holy….” He was at a loss for words. Y/N blushed, turning to look at herself in the mirror, her own mouth dropping in shock.

“...Shit” She finished.

“You look amazing mija. It's all yours, please, you have to wear that to your dance.” The woman begged Y/N. Y/N nodded, smiling at herself in the mirror. It had been weeks since she felt like her normal self. She had spent so many days pondering about why Peter liked Liz more than her. Why Liz got Peter versus Y/N getting peter. But now it wasn't about Peter.

The woman walked with Y/N up to the front of the store, carefully wrapping the dress in a delicate box.

“No boy should ever determine his worth.” The woman said, handing the box over. “You are beautiful and I'm sure Liz is too but you, you are a gorgeous young woman who will encounter many men or women or people in general who will want to be in your life simply because you are you.”

Y/N thought about the shop owner's words as both Bryant and her maneuvered through the mall's crowds. Y/N grasped the corner of Bryants elbow as he carried their shopping bags. He made small jokes making Y/N laugh. He kissed her on the cheek endearingly as she laughed some more.

Unknown to Y/N, Peter stood a few feet away from the couple as they walked by holding onto each other looking like...a couple. That warm feeling reentered Peter's belly, sickness looming over his head making him feel lightheaded. Peter watched the couple walk away with sadness filling his heart. He missed being Y/N’s best friend. He missed their walks through the mall where he would buy her all the pretzels she wanted while holding her bags of useless junk she spent hundreds on. He missed her.

Prom night came quickly after finals finished on campus. Y/N put on her dress and had her hair and makeup done by her mom. Standing in front of her mirror she made sure she was ready to go. Her mother called her to the front door signalling Bryant was there to pick her up.

Bryant showered Y/N in compliments, getting his matching pink tie tied by Y/N’s dad. They both exchanged corsages and boutineers that were adorned by pretty white flowers. They took pictures in the backyard by Y/N’s tree posing in silly poses and in your typical prom poses.

Peter stood outside of Liz’s house filled with dread. He realized that this was not the place that he wanted to be. He wanted to be at Y/N’s house taking pictures, eating her parents food, and laughing about the stupid things they normally joke about. He wanted to watch as Y/N showed off her dress to him. He wanted to be the one to bring her a bouquet of flowers that she would dry up in her journal for safe keeping. But instead he was here, in front of Liz’s mansion, hurting.

The dance was at full blast when Y/N and Bryant arrived- late because Bryant believed being fashionably late was the best type of late. They walked around the venue hand in hand as Bryant showed off all of the things he contributed to the dance. Bryant left Y/N in the flower photo room having been called away to help fix something for the dance. Y/N admired the walls covered in small and large flowers.

“Woah.” Someone gasped from behind Y/N. Turning around she came face to face to a red faced peter. “You look…ethereal, is that even the right word?”

Peter couldn't stop staring at how beautiful Y/N looked. Her dress made her stand out from the rest. Butterflies erupted in his stomach replacing the warm feeling of jealousy he had been previously feeling.

“Oh, hi Peter.” Y/N was filled with nerves as he slowly walked towards her. “How are you?”

“I don't feel too good honestly. I messed up a really good thing I think and I want to fix it. I never realized how much you meant to my life until I lost you. I know that's cheesy but it's true.” He quietly uttered, staring into her eyes. “I don't want us to stop being friends and I think I do like you.”

“You think?” She questioned looking at him hopefully.

“I- yeah I think.”

He thinks. He doesn't know if he likes her but he thinks he does. Y/N shook her head disappointed.

“Peter, I've spent the last three weeks wondering why I wasn't good enough for you to like me. I only just realized that I was good enough maybe not for you but for other people. Since we were kids I always did things in hopes of catching your attention. I joined the debate team because you did. I joined the academic team because you became the captain. I even tried to apply to be an intern at stark industries so I could work with you without even realizing that stark industries didn't have internships. And that spiderman started appearing a lot more after said internship appeared.” She had a knowing smile on her face.

“Oh so you know.” He looked down at the ground embarrassed to be exposed.

“Peter, I know so much about you. I know you better than Mj and Ned that's the whole reason why we are best friends. I know how you like your sandwiches- breakfast and lunch. I know how you organize your school work. I know that you like to specifically request time in the lab in the morning because all of the equipment is freshly washed and you like to first pick at the goggles and coats. Peter, I know you don't like me. You feel bad and miss me but you don't like me.” She walked to him, placing her hands on his cheeks. He melted into her hands.

“But I think I do Y/N.”

“Ok so say you think you like me, I would prefer to have you when you know you like me not when you have only developed small feelings after not having me for a few weeks. Peter, I'm in love with you. I'm in a lot deeper than a few small feelings. I don't want to make you be in a relationship when we are in two very different places.” She sniffled a little one hand coming to stop the tears from ruining her makeup.

“I want nothing more than to be your best friend again but I can't.” He couldn't stop his tears from falling at those words. “I can't go back to being the girl who did nothing for herself and everything for the boy she loves. I need more for myself. I'm going to college and I don't even know how to just be me without you and I need to learn how.”

He absorbed her words, crying free flowing tears.

“I want you to be happy Y/N.” He nodded, she swiped her thumbs under his eyes. She smiled sweetly at him. Placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Y/N  gave him one last smile before walking away from him.

Y/N walked away with her heart feeling light. She felt like a burden had been lifted off of her shoulders. Her intent wasn't to hurt Peter but she needed to say what had been in her mind for weeks. She knew he would eventually move on from his slight crush on her and so would she. She would move on eventually, it would be a slow and hard process but it would happen. And she would never fully get over him. She's been in love with him since they were kids- it's all she's ever known. But for right now she was focusing on loving herself and growing into the person she was meant to be- without Peter.

[semisgroupie]

Third Time's The Charm

Club Member!Taichi x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism (Oikawa watches), condom usage (i know, crazy right?), praise, many many check ins, safe word mention, characters are college aged (both seniors in college so 21/22)

A/N: this is my submission for the @hqintheclub Haikyuu University Sex Club collab! Read the rest of the works here! I am so thankful for this network and to contribute to the collab, I hope this does a good job in conveying safe sex practices. Also a huge huge thank you to @meiansmistress for beta-reading!!! Yes the safe word is a little tribute to what Taichi does in the timeskip.

Once Shinsuke called the end of the meeting, Kawanishi stood up and made his way to the front of the room with his clipboard in hand.

“Alright my fellow club members, I’m just going to go over the statistics before the end of the month, who need to go for their STD tests and the notes I took from this meeting.” He adjusted his glasses and flipped through the papers. “Okay, so some recommendations from this meeting are, ‘buy scented toilet paper’ by Tooru. Yeah, not happening.”

A whine came from the back of the meeting room.

“Dude, why not? You know how girls have to pee after sex? They could have something that smells good while they do it!” Tooru’s eyes lit up offering his proposal, just like every other month, only to have it shut down again.

“Buy scented candles or something for your smelly bathroom.” Chuckles and snickers erupted in the room while Tooru sat back and pouted like a child. Kawanishi went through the rest of the recommendations and other areas of concern before moving onto the last topic.

“Okay, so for the fun part. Time to see who has had the most and least sex this month.” The room went dead silent as Kawanishi went over the log book. He did a onceover of the totals before looking at the group.

“So the lucky guy with the most amount of happy customers is… Osamu with eighteen.”

“Huh? ‘Samu? He isn’t even here! Not even a member.” Atsumu huffed and kept on ranting and raving about his brother until Kawanishi interrupted him.

“Actually, he’s an unofficial/official member who does not need to really attend meetings since we haven’t properly officiated his membership. But we definitely need to do that since he’s definitely bringing popularity to the club. Next is Mr. Chairperson Tooru and Mr. President Shinsuke both tying in with twelve happy ladies. Congratulations to the both of you. So, now the two least are—well you guys shouldn’t be surprised as these results have been consistent for a while now. But in good spirit, it’s me with two and Keiji with one.”

A shrug came from Keiji as the results were read. Kawanishi felt the same way, it got annoying every single time he had to read the results. They both knew they had to get laid but Kawanishi had his eye on a special someone.

The meeting was called to an end and Kawanishi made his way to his room to get ready for his chemistry lab. There was only one thing circling in his brain—he had to raise his number, but how? There was that one person he wanted but he wasn’t even sure if she even had plans to use the services the club provided, let alone choose him.

You were Kawanishi’s cute little lab partner. Always looking at him with bright doe eyes and always greeting him with a huge smile. You were too cute, too innocent to use the sex club. Kawanishi was sure of that. You probably even had a boyfriend so any hope he had for you was gone.

That was until he overheard you talking to your friends.

You were huffing and complaining about your sex life as you stood in front of the lab room—well, lack of sex in your life. You had a cute pout on your face as you rambled on, completely unaware of Kawanishi eavesdropping on such a private conversation.

“My toys aren’t even as enjoyable anymore! I just give up halfway through because it's the same thing over and over, I’m tired of it! And there’s absolutely no way I’m going to find a random guy on Tinder because he could be a creep or just horrible at sex.”

You sighed and started scrolling through your phone while your friend started thinking about what you said. Kawanishi recognized her, he knew her name started with a J and she was with Osamu last week. He remembered her moaning—well, screams—of Osamu’s name. As Kawanishi shook the thought from his head, “J” spoke.

“Remember that hook up I told you about last week?” She waited for you to nod before she continued speaking, “Well, there’s a website I met him off of. I’ll give it to you now and check it out. I think I saw a picture of your lab partner on the site. But check it out and let me know who you pick. Enjoy your class!”

You gave her a quick thanks before walking into the lab room, getting your goggles and supplies as Kawanishi soon followed. You made small conversation but every time you snuck a glance at him, you couldn’t see him as the type to be a part of the university’s sex club. Jay probably got him confused with someone else but for some reason you couldn’t wait until you got back to your apartment.

You just had to make sure. It was just curiosity. Well, that was what you kept telling yourself when you opened up your laptop and typed the web address in. You were met with the website, seeing the names of all the members and things that they specialized in. While you were scrolling through, your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Secretary: Taichi Kawanishi Specialty: Fingering

“Holy shit. It’s him.”

You read the name over and over again. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep finally getting to you or maybe it was because you unknowingly inhaled some drug that caused you to hallucinate and see his name. No matter how many times you refreshed the screen and rubbed your eyes, nothing changed. His name was still there and so was his specialty.

“Fingering? Well, he does have nice fingers. They are very long.”

You started thinking about his slim fingers, wondering how they would feel on your skin, grazing your most sensitive parts, but before you got too deep in thought you snapped yourself out of it. This was your lab partner! Not some pornstar or prostitute. Not some rando you met on a dating site. You would see him again if you decided to go through with it. How would that change how you two interacted with each other? Would it bring unnecessary tension?

You had this back and forth with yourself all night. You finally made your decision when you couldn’t get yourself off, the toy on your clit no longer bringing the same satisfaction it used to. With a huff you grabbed your laptop and went back to the website. Once the page loaded, you looked through all the guys and their specialties.

“Corsetry? What is that?”

You looked through the rest of the other specialties and you were equally intrigued and confused. You went back to Kawanishi and stared at his name. You didn’t want to ruin anything but you couldn’t stand this any longer—you needed a good fuck and you needed it badly.

“Fuck it.”

You scheduled an appointment with him, Saturday evening, a time where the site said he would be free. You put your laptop away and went to sleep.

The next morning Kawanishi woke up to frantic knocking on his door. He rolled out of bed and opened the door to be welcomed by Tooru.

“Dude, what the fuck? Did someone die?”

“No but check your phone, someone has been scheduled for tomorrow evening.”

Kawanishi rolled his eyes and checked his phone, the notification woke him up.

“Y/N scheduled me for tomorrow evening?”

“Don’t worry my friend. I will get you condoms. But aren’t you glad I sent you for STD testing on Monday? You can thank me later.”

The rest of the day went by normally, then Kawanishi remembered one of the main rules.

“New members and members who fuck the least need to fuck in front of an official club member.”

Kawanishi went to some of the other guys first, but Keiji and Koutarou both said they couldn’t. Shinsuke had to visit his grandmother and some of the other club members were occupied. That left  only one person.

“Tooru, are you busy tomorrow evening?”

Tooru thought for a few seconds then shook his head. He furrowed his eyebrows in a silent question as to why he would be needed tomorrow evening.

“You forgot the rule, didn’t you?” Tooru kept a confused look and shrugged his shoulders.

Kawanishi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before continuing. Only if anyone else was free. He would take anyone at this moment over Tooru.

“People who fuck the least in the club need to fuck in front of an official member, and everyone one else is busy so I’m asking you.”

A smile grew on Tooru’s face as he got up and wrapped his arm around Kawanishi’s shoulder.

“Oh my friend, don’t make me seem like I’m the last choice—“

“—you are.”

“Ouch, anyways I’ll be glad to watch. Do you need any tips? All the girls have left with a smile on their face after a night with me. You know I would’ve never thought I’d say this but you should’ve gone to Seijoh or maybe I should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa… I would have gotten you laid all the time, or at least done a better job than stupid Ushiwaka, you wouldn’t have had this little dry spout you’re having now—hey!”

Kawanishi removed Tooru’s arm and walked out of his room.

“Thanks for doing it, I don’t need your help though. If you try coaching me, I don’t care what I’m doing, I will throw you out of the room myself.”

Kawanishi spent the rest of the night and most of the day Saturday organizing his room, making it neat and stuffing his mini fridge with drinks and snacks. When it was time for you to come over, he waited for you in front of the club house.

As he waited, his nerves were getting the best of him. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he lost his virginity. Before he could really start worrying, he saw you approaching, giving him a small wave before you could greet him with a hug.

“Hey, well first off, thank you for choosing me for this. I should explain that we will have someone watch us, so if that makes you uncomfortable I completely understand. It’s just a rule we have for the club and I can show you the rule book if you need me to once we get to my room.”

“It’s okay. If you don’t mind me asking, who will it be?”

Before Kawanishi could answer your question the man in question wrapped his arms around the both of you.

“Hello you two! I shouldn’t need to introduce myself but I’m Tooru and—oh! I recognize you, Y/N right? I think we had biology together last year. You saved my ass so many times with your notes. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Kawanishi here treats you right—ow!”

Kawanishi pinched Tooru’s side and gave him a mean side eye.

“Tooru, remember what I told you yesterday.”

Tooru raised his hands in surrender at Kawanishi’s warning and you couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction. The sound of your laughter helped calm Kawanishi down a bit. He just had to get it through his mind that you were just a regular person with needs just like him, and he was going to help you satisfy those needs.

Light conversation was shared between the three of you as you all walked to his room. Once you crossed the threshold of his bedroom, Kawanishi took your hand as he led you to the bed and sat next to you. You rested your hand on top of his and offered him a shy smile, leaning in slowly.

“C-can I kiss you Kawanishi?”

He cupped your cheek and closed the distance between the both of you. Your lips felt so soft against his and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss. His hand moved to squeeze the fat of your thigh that was exposed by the skirt you were wearing. He broke away from the kiss to sit against his headboard, patting his thighs.

“Come on, come sit on my lap, pretty girl and we can get started. If you feel uncomfortable, your safe word is mojito. Once you say it, I will stop whatever I’m doing and we can just cuddle or do whatever you want, okay?”

You settled yourself on his lap with a meek “yes” before leaning back in to kiss him. Tooru was sitting on the spare chair in the room, scrolling on his phone. It was adorable to see you get so shy. You were always so confident and so outspoken, but once Kawanishi got you inside his room you crawled into a little shell.

He pulled you down to kiss you this time as his hands wandered over your body. His hands moved over your clothed breasts, squeezing them softly, making whimpers leave your lips. He moved his hands lower to your ass, squishing the flesh, and when you bucked your hips into his he gave it a light smack, swallowing the moan that left you. He pulled away to look at you.

“Can I touch you some more? I just want you to feel really good for me.”

“P-please touch me, w-want more.”

He smirked at your stuttering—it made this even more enjoyable. He leaned in and trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw and neck, your hips bucking more. You were so sensitive he couldn’t wait to see how you would react to his fingers. His hand trailed up your thigh and his thumb grazed against your panties. You bit down on your lip, trying to hide your moans.

It was embarrassing to you how quickly you were falling apart; he hadn’t even touched your skin for more than a few seconds and you already felt like once his fingers touched your bare pussy, you would cum.

Kawanishi licked your neck as he slid your panties to the side.

“Are you ready? I’ll go nice and slow for you.” He spoke into the skin of your neck as his fingers rubbed your slick folds.

“Yes, please.”

Your head dropped to his shoulder once he slid his middle finger inside you, moving slowly. He hissed at the way your cunt swallowed his finger, thinking about how it would feel once his cock was buried inside you. He sped up his thrusts, your muffled moans and whimpers encouraging his actions further. He slipped another finger in, leaning back to see your expressions as you quickly lifted your head from his shoulder.

Your jaw went slack as moans kept falling from your mouth, your hips bucking into his hand as you got lost in the pleasure, chasing your orgasm. His fingers were so long and hit so deep. They felt so good, better than any toy you had used in the past month or so. You were embarrassingly close to your orgasm after only a short time.

“Ka-Kawanishi, ‘m close!”

“I know, just cum for me, okay? Cum all over my fingers, let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

He thrusted his fingers faster, using his thumb to rub your clit. He rubbed your back with his free hand while watching all your expressions. Your hands made their way to his shirt, balling the fabric in your fists as you came undone on his fingers with a moan of his name. He slowed his fingers down to help you relax, making sure he wasn’t overstimulating you.

“You did such a good job for me. You look so beautiful when you cum. So good for me. Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine,” you reply breathlessly.

“We can stop here. All I care about is you cumming. I could continue fingering you until my fingers turn pruney if you want or I could get you some snacks and water and just talk.”

You shook your head; you couldn’t leave him hard. You wanted to fuck him, and the snacks and drinks could always come later.

“I-I want to fuck you. I want you to feel good too.”

“Don’t worry about me, this is all about you and your pleasure. I’m here for you, okay?”

You nodded as he reached over for a condom on his nightstand. You lifted yourself off his lap slightly to remove your panties and skirt as he pulled off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing how hard he was.

“Okay, so how do you want to do this? I want you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself.”

“I want to ride you.”

You sat yourself on his thigh as he opened the foil package and rolled the condom onto his cock, pinching the tip of it. Once it was on, he placed his hands on your hips to help you guide you down on his cock. His grip tightened, feeling your warmth envelop his cock and fighting the urge to just thrust up into you. He moved you down slowly until you bottomed out.

“You did amazing, now take your time. I’ll help guide your hips so you don’t go too fast.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders as you slowly bounced yourself on his cock, the tip brushing against your g-spot over and over again. Praises kept falling from Kawanishi’s lips as moans kept coming out from yours. Tooru couldn’t help but start palming himself over his sweatpants at the sight of you and Kawanishi, your sweet moans and cries filling the room. Your hands went under your shirt, freeing your breasts from the confines of your bra. You played with and teased your nipples, adding extra stimulation to the pleasure you were already feeling.

The closer you got to your orgasm, the more your legs shook, making him take more control. He bounced you up and down on his cock, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. You felt so good around him and the sight of you playing with your nipples turned him on even more. If he thought you looked beautiful when you were fucking yourself on his fingers, you looked like a goddess now. Your pussy clenched his cock tighter and tighter with each thrust, signalling to him that your orgasm was approaching.

“Cum for me Y/N, cum for me. I know you’re close, I feel you clenching me so tightly. Come on and cum for me.”

Once the soft commands were spoken, you came around his cock, your eyes clenched shut as your jaw went slack letting out a silent moan. As you were riding out your orgasm Kawanishi couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Small beads of sweat rolled down your neck and you finally opened your eyes to make eye contact with him. You leaned down and connected your lips with his once more.

Kawanishi kept thrusting until he filled up the condom with his cum. Once he felt you relax around him, he lifted you up slowly and laid you down on the bed, covering you with a blanket. He pulled the condom off, tying a knot and throwing it out in the trash can in his room. He nodded at Tooru, giving him the signal to leave, and so he did with a wink and a wave.

Kawanishi reached out for your hand and helped you get up as he walked you to the bathroom.

“I just need you to go to the bathroom and then we could watch something.”

You did your business and left the bathroom with a small smile on your face.

“Is there any way we could have this happen again? I don’t know if you guys can have regulars or if it's against the rules.”

Kawanishi chuckled and walked you back to his bed.

“We have no rules about regulars and I’d love to do this with you again.”

He kissed you on the forehead and handed you a water bottle to drink from before laying down next to you.

As he laid down next to you, talking about a random topic you brought up, he finally understood when people said the third time's the charm. He couldn’t have asked for a better person to raise his total to three.

[jinkicake]

Don’t Ignore Me!

Kenma, Kuroo, Tendou when their s/o ignores them to play video games.

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Tendou Satori x Reader

Hi Anon,, thank you for requesting this!! I hope it is good,, happy first request!! I kinda wanted to make this a lot smuttier but you know.... sometimes I want to add crack.

SMUTTY

WC- 1,960

~~~

Kozume Kenma

First of all,, bold of us to assume that Kenma will give us the time of the day….

Plsss you all know he is streaming or on twitch or whatever the fuck gamers do

You really think Kenma is gonna be like “hey babe </333” NO, he has a village to create and villagers to befriend and a debt to pay off!!

Kenma probably goes through cycles where he is addicted to his games and then he starts missing you and becomes needy for your attention

Sweet angel boy will pout so hard if you ignore him for a video game,,, he’d be there standing in the door like…. Kisses? Spare coochie? 

Kenma would get annoyed very quickly if you ignore him, he will purposely become super clingy

Like he will cuddle into you, plop himself down on your lap and paw at your hands like a cat

He just wants your attention!!!

Kenma turns into a brat™,, like he will whine and pout but remain relatively quiet as you continue to play your game

The second you put it down or stop playing though,,, he will pounce on you~~

“(Y/N).” Kenma calls from the living room after putting his dead switch on the charger. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm before running his slender fingers through his dyed hair. Kenma slowly blinks as he looks around the small apartment for you, did you go somewhere?

Kenma walks into your shared bedroom and sees you perched up against the headboard with your laptop in your lap. His golden eyes widen slightly when he notices your bare legs, the only thing covering you is a pair of panties and his favorite hoodie, he swallows hard and quietly pads over to you. He crouches down beside the bed and places his chin on the mattress as he stares up at you pitifully. You don’t even glance at him.

“Kenma, I’m in the middle of fighting a raid, I’ll be done in like five minutes.” You mumble and continue to strain your eyes as you focus on the screen, your fingers are moving fast on the keyboard to move your character. Kenma doesn’t listen, instead, he crawls over you and cuddles up to your side. He rests his cheek on your shoulder and lazily throws an arm over your waist, his legs hook one of your own and he nearly moans at the feeling of your soft skin. “Kenma.”

You try to warn him, you can’t get distracted right now! Kenma ignores you once again and begins to rub circles into your hip with his thumb, he pushes his hips against your thigh and you tense when you feel the growing bulge grind into you. His long fingers toy with your panties and go between fingering the material and letting it snap against your skin.

“Kenma-“ You gasp as your character begins to lose a lot of health. Your boyfriend starts kissing along your neck, nipping at the skin, he smiles at the hoodie you have on. You always look so good in his clothes. The feeling of his legs woven between yours, the growing heat against your side, and his skillful fingers teasing you like this make it hard to focus. If you don’t stop soon, your character is surely going to die.

In a panic, you pause the game and save it before putting your computer on the floor. You try to calm yourself down but in a rage you turn to Kenma with furious eyes, pushing him back against the bed before straddling his hips.

“I don’t interrupt you when you play games so I hoped you would do the same with me.” Kenma swallows deeply and you begin to grind your clothed core along his aching cock. “Kenma, you need to be punished.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is not going to take you ignoring him lightly, he will literally go insane

He will get so annoyed that a device has your attention and he doesn’t, he craves your attention so desperately

Please, if Kuroo sees you wearing panties…. He is going to go feral, it is like an instant boner

Your legs all out and on display for him~ leading up to his precious little oasis,,,, he wants to take a peak heheh

He is going to try and thirst trap you, walking around in only his boxers just to see if you stutter in your movements

Bruh when you don’t and instead yell at him to get away from the screen, his heart will break and his face will harden

Kuroo won’t hesitate to sit in-between your legs and start eating you out,,, you aren’t going to ignore him!!

Kuroo needs his attention!!!!

He is so busy and preoccupied with your legs that he doesn’t even notice that you are wearing his favorite hoodie,,,,, when he does notice….

Kuroo will fuck you into the couch, literally upside down,,,,,

“Tetsurou if you don’t get away from the fucking screen!” You snap at him, cursing as you nearly lose the car you were following. You have been playing gta for nearly four hours and your boyfriend has had enough, Kuroo wants to be the focus of your attention now.

His face hardens as he narrows his eyes at you, are you really that preoccupied with a game? Especially when he is standing in front of you, all bare just for your eyes. He knows you can see the tent in his boxers, the ache between his legs that he desperately needs you to relieve. Kuroo is done waiting for you, he knows you can focus on games for nearly ten hours straight. 

Your boyfriend walks over to you, his shoulders are rolled back and dominance emits off of him in waves. He doesn’t take his eyes away from yours as he lowers himself to the floor, Kuroo wastes no time in leaving soft kisses along your inner thighs. The touch is so gentle you can barely feel it but with the way your fingers are tightening around the controller, Kuroo can tell just how affected you are. He peaks his tongue out to lick a broad stripe of your skin up to the edge of your panties.

Your breath hitches and Kuroo has to refrain from reaching down and palming himself from the way your chest jolts. His hands hold your thighs open and he finally leans down to bring his mouth to your panties. Kuroo cheekily grabs the waistband between his teeth and pulls it back to let it snap against your skin before kissing your clit over the material.

“Don’t.” You threaten and Kuroo simply ignores you, instead he licks your slit over your panties. He smirks when he notices how damp your panties already are, now they’re completely ruined by his saliva and your essence. Kuroo innocently continues to lick lightly as he runs his eyes along your body, he stops completely when he notices the familiar clothing adorning your shoulders. Your boyfriend detaches himself from your core and stands up to his full height, he does not hesitate to take the remote from your hands and place it somewhere else. “Tetsurou-“

You growl angrily as you watch the way you lose the mission, being taunted by the ‘wasted’ screen. Kuroo pushes you down against the couch forcefully, catching you completely off guard, before settling over top of you.

“What’s this?” He pulls at the collar of the hoodie and your legs squeeze around his waist at the way he restricts your airflow. “This doesn’t belong to you, does it, baby girl?” Kuroo asks and you roll your eyes at his question, he pulls on the material tighter. “Acting like such a brat, daddy needs to teach you some manners.”

Tendou Satori

Ignore Tendou? Bold of you to assume you can ignore Tendou,, he simply won’t let you do it

Please, he will become the clingiest puppy every and trail everywhere after you

If Tendou finds you ignoring him for a game, he would become a pouting mess and would be so whiny as he begs for your attention

Now,,,, if he sees you in your panties and his favorite hoodie….. he will, without invitation, cuddle up against you and do everything to show you how happy he is~

“Oh, is this a little present for me?” Tendou would literally kiss the life out of you and have the dumbest smile on his face, he is so excited

And then you’re staring at him like…. What ,,,, he would pass out if you gave him the cold shoulder

How could his most precious angel, his sweet little love, ignore him so cruelly? He needs your affection now!!!

He would try cute little touches first to see if you’ll react but when that doesn’t work then he will bring out his ultimate plan

Tendou’s ultimate plan just includes kissing your neck and running his hands all over your body, basically anything he can do to make you flustered

You can’t ignore Tendou, you simply can’t ignore the bright ray of sunshine :’’’

“Ah, of course, I can come over Jumin!” You squeal and rollover on the bed, letting yourself bathe in the man’s deep voice. Tendou freezes inside the bathroom and glances at himself in the mirror trying to figure out who the hell you are talking to. Your boyfriend slowly dries himself off after his shower, trying to focus on more of what you are saying. He wants to hear the bastard you are talking to.

“I can’t wait for the future with you.” The low voice echos throughout the room and you screech, sitting up straight, your heart is beating so loudly in your chest at his words. Tendou feels his eye twitch, and in a fit of jealousy, he throws on some clean clothes before poking his head out of the bathroom. His red eyes zone in on where you are sitting on his bed, your thighs are pressed together with your hand over your racing heart and Tendou can’t even focus on the fact that you are in his favorite hoodie right now.

“Who are you talking to, (Y/N)?” He sings playfully but his voice comes out awfully tense and strained. You don’t even look up at him and instead wave him off with your hand before going back to your phone.

“Hush, I’m trying to hear him.” You mumble and curl up, bringing the phone close to your face.

“My love… Hearing your voice makes me desire the day I get to hold you in my arms and roll around the bed all day.” The track emits from your phone and you squeal loudly, tossing the device onto the bed before covering your blushing face with a pillow.

Tendou can only blink because he genuinely has no idea what is happening, he can’t even understand what the man is saying. He can’t control himself as he walks over to you, towering above you before pouncing. Tendou pins you to the bed, both of his hands are wrapped around your wrists with one of his long legs between your own. You try to push him off and whine for your phone but your boyfriend only tightens his grip.

“M-my phone,” You mumble weakly and Tendou swiftly captures your lips in a heated kiss. Your moans are muffled as he kisses you strongly, taking your bottom lip into his mouth and gently sucking before licking the plump area with his tongue. “Satori.” 

“He,” Tendou hovers his lips over yours and stares at you dangerously, motioning to your phone where the call with Jumin is just ending. “can listen.”

You have to refrain from rolling your eyes, you go to tell Tendou that it is just a game, but before you get the chance Tendou takes your lips as his own again. 

Maybe, you can tell him after~

~

Taglist.

@yams046​ @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy​ @xhanjisungiex​ @xxashshs​ @chaosamu​ @angelkogane​ @augustdearly​ @kunimwuah​  @lovellucy​ @osamuonigiri​

[wiypt-writes]

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Part 5- Nobody Dance On A Sad Disco 

Intro: Paul doesn’t react well when your logical and practical side suggests you postpone your wedding…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4

"I just don't understand why you think this is such a big frickin' deal, Paul." You said with exasperation. This argument had been carrying on for a good twenty minutes and so far, the only thing you'd accomplished was going in circles like a NASCAR driver. 

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, hands on his hips, “seriously? You don’t see why I’m slightly pissed off you wanna postpone our wedding?” "You can't continue to tell me that not pushing everything back a few months makes the most sense right now. In a month’s time we were supposed to be going away for our stags, and since..... since... you.... This is just what's better for..." 

"Y/N, you do still want to get married don't you?" He interrupted. The strain in his voice was evident from both use and emotion. 

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Now you were raging. The absolute audacity of him to even ask that.  “Well it's non-rhetorical.” “Of course I still want to get married, you fucking moron!” You growled.  "Then explain to me wh.." his voice cracked out and he breathed harshly through his nose. “That!” You gestured to him. “That is why!” "So it hurts a little, it's fine. For fucks sakes, I'm fine," his voice was entirely strained from arguing, his chords stretch to their limit. “No, you’re not.” You shook your head before you took a deep breath and pinched your nose. “Paul, I want our wedding to be a day we both look back on in years, decades even, to come and still love every minute of it...” "And we will!" “Right, okay, so your voice fails during our vows or your speech and you’re gonna be okay with that, huh?” You put your hands to your hips and waited for his reply.  "No. I mean, I don't know." "My point exactly." You flung a hand up in his direction.  “But it’s another eight weeks off, plenty of time, I might be fine.” He shrugged you off like he could make it happen. You knew it wasn't possible. It had only been a week since he'd said your sweet nickname as clear as day and while more and more words were stronger and phrases longer and more clear, you knew him better than that and you knew he wasn't ready no matter how much he wanted to pissingly argue with you that the two of you could move forward as if his shooting were nothing. 

"Might. Key word." You sighed, clearly frustrated to the point of tears as they welled and stung your eyes.  “Okay, fine.” His hands flew out to his side. “Have it your way, call the venue and cancel.” Gritting your teeth, you replied, “I don’t want to fucking cancel, Paul, I just want to move it!” “You know how long in advance we had to book that place, Y/N, it could be another year before they have an opening again.” “Then we wait another year!” You sighed dramatically, “in the grand scheme of things what does it matter? Today, tomorrow, twelve months, it all amounts to the same thing.” "It matters to me, Y/N." “Okay... fine. Let’s keep the date.” She shrugs. “Let’s just go for it and when you can’t speak and start to get frustrated we’ll write our vows on a pad of paper. Or, better still how about we learn sign language?” “You’re a sarcastic bitch.” “Yeah? And you’re a stubborn asshole.”

There was a long, angry pause between the two of you, harsh jabs and insults now floating painfully in the air. The two of you glared at one another. Both of you furrowing your brows and chewing on the insides of your mouths.  Then, you sighed, again with a harsh tone. "God damned it, I hate this. I hate that we’re even having to have this conversation but we are. You were shot! You were moments from death and-“ "And now it's my fault?" He shrieked at a higher pitch than his voice typically was.  “Oh for the love of- I didn’t say that!” You balled your hands into fists, your body visibly shaking. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying that given everything that’s happened, pushing the second biggest day of my life back is the least of my fucking concerns, Paul.” Now you were tearfully arguing, your eyes red as was the tip of your nose. You blinked hard to attempt to show your strength, not wanting to back down. “Second biggest?” “Yes, the second. Because when you...I mean the...” you swallowed back the sob that threatened to scream from you, so you choked in it. “The first was when they told me you were going to live.”

At your words, Paul blinked a little, his mouth opening before it snapped shut again and you shook your head, continuing to talk. “I know you’re hurting and struggling with all of this and it isn’t what you want but it hasn’t been easy for me, either.” You sniffed, the tears now falling from your eyes. “I might not have been the one that took a bullet to the neck but I had to sit there and watch you, barely able to live but fight so hard to stay and all I could think about was the fact I might have to live without you and for that reason alone I’d have changed places with you in a fucking heartbeat.” Your face scrunched up with heavy emotion that you'd held onto for weeks. 

“Y/N....” he tried to take a step toward you, but the damage was done for the night. You were done.  “Seeing you there, in that bed, wondering if you were gonna make it or not, it was the worse time of my life. So, yeah, frankly I don’t care when we say I do, but it can't happen the way we want it to right now. You’re alive. That’s enough for me. And right now, well it should be for you too.”

You turned on your heel and quickly left the living room. You slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned your back against it whilst you allowed your exterior to fully collapse. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed. This wasn't what you wanted, you'd expected a better reaction from him as you'd hoped he'd have seen things the same way as you, but you were wrong. 

Now, all that was left was to go to bed. You had no fight left, no drive and right now, you didn't want to make up.

Eventually, you crawled into bed and moved no further. Sleep weighing on you heavily. 

****

When he'd watched her go, Paul was floored. The things she'd said to him had gone unspoken since he'd been home from the hospital. He knew it had been hard on her, the both of them, what he'd gone through but he'd never imagined how she'd have felt given she was always such a strong woman and that was one of the things he adored most about her. 

In frustration, he rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed a walk. He walked around the neighborhood and back, taking in the cool air, realizing the fall weather was upon them. Shit, fall, the holidays were creeping up on them and he'd hadn't even given it a thought. 

It didn't matter, what mattered was the incessant need to push their wedding back another year, was his best guess, and that killed him. It wrecked him and he found himself getting angry all over again. He wanted to marry her now, drag her down to the Justice of the Peace and take her as his bride the minute the courthouse opened. So now, why, all of a sudden did she not want to do even so much as that. Was it cold feet? Was it him? What had happened to him? Was she ashamed of him being unable to speak? She said it was nothing of the sort but it didn't stop the thoughts from weighing on him. 

When he got back to their apartment, he found Y/N fast asleep in their bed, her back to his side of the bed. He hated that they were going to bed like this. He didn't believe in it, and if he was honest with himself, this was the first time this had ever happened in the span of their relationship. He was a firm believer in his parents golden rule, never go to bed angry and always kiss each other goodnight. Tonight he didn't get to do either. 

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite make it. Instead, it dropped about a foot or so away, ironically right on the spot where he’d dropped to one knee that November evening almost three years ago…

She'd stood in the bathroom across the hall getting ready for their dinner date, listening to him chatter on in their bedroom about whatever it was as he dressed for the night. It was mid-week and they'd both managed to be off in time for a dinner date. Paul had wanted to make it fancy, something special.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked as he tied his tie in the mirror that stood in the corner of their room.

"Er, Wednesday," she replied, loud enough for her voice to carry. 

"Of course, but try again," there was a hint of humor to his voice, sarcasm at best.

"Date night," she giggled. 

"Nope." He breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. A full two strides and he stood in front of their chest of drawers, pulling open his sock drawer, reaching for the small box in the back. 

"I give up."

He chuckled anxiously and closed the drawer. "Our anniversary." He took a knee, opening up the small box and waited. 

"What? No, that's not for a few more months," she said with a smile as she walked across the hall and into the doorway of their room. Her hands were at her ear, adjusting her earring.

She gasped seeing him on one knee, his eyes smiling but his hands shaking as he held out the ring box. The lid open to show her what he was asking. 

"Also true, but no. At exactly this minute, twenty-one months ago," he checked his watch, "I responded to a call for backup and my life changed forever. I met this woman who I just couldn't let go and that same woman took her time in giving me a chance. But I knew from the moment she kissed me that nothing would ever be the same. I fell in love that night, and I knew I wanted to make her mine, to keep on loving her forever. That is, if you'll have me forever?"

He watched as her eyes began to pool with tears as her own shaky hands covered her mouth as he spoke, a nervous silence crossing the room as she seemingly processed everything he'd said. 

Tearfully, she replied, "yes, absolutely, yes!"

Tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes as he stood, and pulled the ring from its box, slipping it on with jittery fingers over the knuckles of her ring finger before he crashed his lips into hers for a deep, happy kiss. "I love you so much, Sugar."

With their foreheads pressed sweetly together, they both cried a little. 

"Tell me about it, Stud." She smiled.

They were late to dinner that night, both of them showing up glowing. But his surprises hadn't ended there, no. He'd had both their parents waiting on them for their eight o'clock dinner reservations to celebrate their new good fortune. It was a night he'd never forget, not ever. 

Paul glanced down at the ring on his girl’s finger as she slept. Her left hand just close enough to her face so it wasn't obscured as she still lay with her back to him while her right lay tucked up under her pillow. The five raw cut diamonds were set in white gold, a center stone with two diamonds on each side. The center cut wasn't gargantuan and it didn't need to be. She knew how hard he'd worked to buy her the simple design with the small stones it held. 

He'd wanted to upgrade it the month he'd solved his first case as a detective but she'd denied him, explaining that it didn't matter how big or fancy it was, the first one was special because of all the thought and effort he'd put forth to even consider her as his wife.

With a sigh he bowed his head and turned to go wash up, before he climbed into bed, Y/N’s back still facing him and he lay awake, looking at the ceiling until finally, an hour or so later, sleep finally took him.

**** The next morning your alarm went off for the first time in weeks. With a groan you hit the button to silence it and cracked open a sore, tear swollen eye, it was still dark outside. You rose, heading on auto-pilot to the bathroom and showered quickly before you wrapped in a robe and headed in to make yourself some breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, Paul walked into the kitchen and you stood up and left the room, not speaking a word to him, you had nothing else to say.

Unfortunately, your bad mood soured what should have been a happy return to work, a sign that your life was getting back to some form of normalcy. Instead, you were off your game, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Yo, Panny, you come to work or just fucking off?" Rodriguez hollered from behind you as an entire clip of used bullets lay at your feet, still hot from firing. You slammed your hand against the button that brought your target to you, all but four shots missing the target. "Fuck off, Ro." "Y/L/N!" Captain Rogers shouted from the doorway. "Outside, now." With a grumble, you rolled your eyes and holstered your weapon, but not before changing out the empty clip for a new one. The tone of his voice was not comforting. "You got your ass handed to you on the mats in hand to hand, you couldn't even shoot a decent hand at sniper poker, and now my ace shot, a skilled and decorated marksman, can't sink a suspect in range." Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek as you drew a deep breath. “Sorry Cap, must be a little rusty.” He sighed and shook his head as it dropped disappointingly to his chest. "You're not ready, go home Y/N." "Steve...." "I pushed you too far. Go home, chill the fuck out, take the weekend." You groaned, “I don’t wanna go home.” The petulance evident both in your tone and body language as you folded your arms across your chest. “I'm fine. It's just a rough start." "Go the fuck home, Y/N. Or I'll send the Mrs. after you." You couldn't stand his wife and given your relationship with Steve, it was a credible threat. Karen Rogers was as green as Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. "I'd call you an asshole but you're my sup so...." "Now, Y/N." “Fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go back home. Wonderful.” "I didn't miss the sarcasm," Steve called out to your back.

You flipped him the bird as you kept walking.

**** Paul slammed the door to his mom and dad’s house, storming into the kitchen. It had been a shitty morning, with Y/N not speaking to him and then that damned fucking speech and physical therapy he had to endure twice a damned week.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Big Jim looked at him, frowning a little. Paul ignored him and headed straight to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Paul, honey, what’s got into you?” Dot asked gently and he sighed, turning to face both his parents who were sat at the bar top, the remnants of a brunch on their plates in front of them. “Y/n wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Ah.” His dad leaned back in his chair. “And let me guess, you don’t?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Language.” His mother chastised and Paul rolled his eyes, as he paced slightly across the kitchen.

“And, you clearly discussed this in your usual, calm and rational manner?” His dad arched an eyebrow. Paul paused for a moment to eye his dad, before he resumed his movements.

With a sigh his mom spoke. “Paul, sit down for a second, quit pacing my kitchen floor.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” He shot back, petulantly.

“Paul Christopher Diskant, you sit your grown butt down, now.” His mother’s tone was sharp and with a groan he pulled a seat out from the breakfast bar, opposite his parents, and flopped down.

“Now, out with it, from the beginning.” His mother instructed and Paul let out another growl of frustration.

“I just told you. She wants to postpone the wedding. I don’t. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I’m not sassing you, you’re just not fucking listening.”

“Hey, cut the shit. Don't talk to your mother like that.” Big Jim pointed at him, his voice stern. “You might be a grown man but I'll still kick your ass into next week, you little shit.”

Paul took a deep breath, his head hanging slightly. “Sorry Mom. It's been a really crappy couple of days.” At that he snorted. “Crappy couple of weeks one way or another.”

“Oh, Paul. I know it's not been easy.” Dot gave him a gentle smile. “But you're here with us and that's really all we care about.”

“I just feel like Y/N is getting cold feet. And that really sucks.”

“Don't be a dick.” Dot scoffed at his admission of feelings. “That girl has stood by you while you knocked on death's door.” “Mom, did you just call me a dick?” Paul looked at her, his brow raised and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“She’s not wrong.” His dad interjected.

“What is this gang up on Paul day?”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child who just had his best toy taken away.” Big Jim looked at him. “Son, she wants to postpone, not cancel!”

“Well it didn't feel that way last night or this morning. She stormed out for her first day back at work all pissed off I wasn't agreeing with her.”

“And I refer back to my previous observation. Maybe you should have attempted to discuss the issue in a calm and rational manner as opposed to shouting and getting all pissy.” Big Jim observed.

"I’m not pissy, I’m just... look, we've waited twice as long as we wanted to because she loved the venue so much, hell, I loved the venue. That place means a lot to us and it's so perfect. Everything has been perfect until now." He sighed, his voice again weak.

"What was her reasoning?" Dot pressed.

"Me." He said sadly, frustration clearly featured on his face.

"Paul, I highly doubt it's just you."

"She doesn't think I'm ready. Healthy enough. Healed enough. There's till eight weeks, Mom. Eight weeks, I can be so much better by then."

Dot reached across the granite for his hand. He took it, and held tight, like a boy needing his mother.

"My sweet, love sick boy," she softly smirked at him and he rolled his eyes .”Y/N is only thinking about you. She knows how frustrated you get when you struggle to talk and how would you feel if that happened during the vows or speeches? Look, Sweetheart, you’ve waited years for this, what’s another couple of months?” 

“Mom, it won’t be a couple of months, there’s no way that place won’t be booked up for at least another year. I just... Is it so bad that I want to marry her right now as we planned?" His voice breaking and cracking. Too much talking.

“No, Son, it's not.” Jim cut in. “But listen to yourself, your struggling to talk now after this conversation. Y/N just wants to have the wedding you both have dreamed of, and spent so much time planning. Don't take that from her or yourself. You'll look back and think, I should have waited, when I was at full strength.”

Diskant looked at his father before he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Seems like I’m out voted.”

"Not out voted, just...." Big Jim couldn't come up with a reasonable example. 

But Dot interrupted, "We just think you need to think about this a little more and be open to what's going on."

"Open to what? The fact I’m now not gonna get married for another year coz some asshole shot me in the neck?" 

"Paul..."

He shrugged, "Whatever. Guess, I have some rearranging to do."

Automatically, he looked down at his phone and saw that Tom Ludlow was calling. If there were any better time to get off this hamster wheel of an argument it were now. "I gotta take this."

He stepped outside and took his call. An hour later, he was meeting Ludlow at their apartment, fresh bottles of beer in the fridge and two on the coffee table between them.

Ludlow filled him in on exactly what happened after he'd left the scene and Paul behind. He talked about how Biggs was using Ludlow to get to Wander, how Tom had killed his entire unit out of self-defence and in turn discovered all the corrupt shit Captain Wander had on Tom, the unit, multiple officers, judges, councilmen and other local politicians and prominent community leaders. He told Diskant about the stolen money, hidden in the walls of Wander's home and he explained how important Biggs seemed to think Tom was for IA and the department. 

It didn't surprise Diskant in the slightest that Ludlow's department was dirty. In fact, he'd half expected it and the realization hit moments before he was shot. The rest of Tom's story however was just insane, insane enough that he joked a movie could be made about it. 

That said, Paul trusted Ludlow from the start. And he’d clearly been right about the guy, even if helping him had resulted in him being moments from death. Painful memories aside, it was nice to see him too. They’d been through a lot, but Paul wasn’t dumb enough to figure this was a purely social call. He knew Ludlow felt guilty about what had gone down and that was partly the reason for his visit. But it was misplaced guilt, one Disco was happy to absolve him of.

"Listen, Paul, with what happened, I..."

"Hey, it's okay. Shit happens. I'm alive. I knew what I was getting into, the risks involved. You gave me an out and I didn't take it." His voice rasped a little.

"Felt like I took a kid to a gun fight." Tom sighed, tossed back some of his beer and shook his head with a slight shrug. "But you're one helluva kid. A fucking fighter. You're a good cop, even better detective and I'm sorry I pushed you so far."

“No hard feelings, man.” Disco took a slug of his beer and shook his head as Ludlow made to speak. “I mean it. I knew what I was signing up for the second the call came in. Our jobs are shady as fuck and twice as dangerous.”

“You can say that again.” Ludlow sighed. “Still, what happened was rough, I’m glad you’re through it.”

Disco gave him a smile as they clinked bottles and Ludlow’s eyes scanned the small living room, stopping on the photo on the small shelf above the television. Paul glanced at it, looking at his and Y/N’s smiling faces as they stood in his parent’s back yard, both dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, taken a few months before he’d been shot. A time when everything had been simpler and his life on track.

“How's the Missus?” Ludlow asked and Paul took a deep breath.

"She's, uh, she's good,” he answered, deciding not to burden Ludlow with details of their argument, “first day back today, getting her ass kicked I'm sure. Rogers told her it was training day."

"That's rough. Rogers is a hard ass.” Ludlow mused before his eyes flicked down to the beer bottle in his hand. “She er, she due back any time soon?"

Paul shrugged, “I wouldn’t expect so. Why you ask?”

“Because I don’t intend to be here when she returns.” Ludlow replied. “She wasn’t very happy to see me last time.”

At that, Paul frowned. “Last time?”

“Did no one tell you I came by the hospital?”

“Well, yeah they mentioned it but-“

“Well your girl packs a mean right hook.” Ludlow ran a hand over his jaw, almost as if he was recalling the punch he was talking about.

“Wait, what? She hit you?” Paul leaned forward, deeply concerned and slightly proud.

Tom nodded, "then said that if you died, I was next."

“Dammed, she’s vicious.” Paul couldn’t help the smirk which flicked onto his face at the thought of his girl landing one on the man sat next on the small armchair opposite him. 

But the grin soon faded as it sunk in just how downright upset and distraught she must have been to do that. For all his jokes about her being a hard ass, she wasn’t one to throw punches around for no reason, in fact, given her job, she often did everything she could to avoid altercations in any shape, stating she saw enough of it at work without seeing it in her personal life too.

"Yeah, she is and frightening. But she's got good intentions. I don't fault her. I'd have popped me one too." Ludlow shrugged.

Paul took a deep breath as he pondered what Ludlow had said. His girl had that stupid nickname “Panny” for a reason, nothing much phased her. So for her to be rattled enough to sock Ludlow in the face just goes to show exactly how distraught she had been.

None of that was news to Paul, he knew all of this, and it had been pointed out to him again earlier that day by his parents. And then, in a moment of clarity, he realised that he might be being slightly unreasonable. Whilst logically, a compromise would be to perhaps cancel their current venue and forgo the huge day they had planned and book something smaller and less flashy for a few months down the line, Paul understood that she wanted this to be the best day it could possibly be for both of them. They had fallen in love with the Shutters on the Beach from the start, and had booked it with enough time to save for their dream day, even though they could have done something smaller and been married by now.

But that was a decision they had taken together, and hadn’t taken lightly, understanding that it would mean a long wait until they said “I do”, but that wait would be worth it. So, in the grand scheme of things, whilst he might not completely agree, she was right. Another year or however long made fuck all difference, even if he didn’t necessarily want to postpone, he understood.

And damned, now he felt like a right jerk.

*****

You pulled up to the curb to your duplex and frowned as an unfamiliar black car was parked outside, one you couldn’t recall seeing before. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, resting your head back against the seat as you gave yourself a moment, trying to rid yourself of the frustration of the day.

Rogers was right, you weren't ready to come back. Not yet. Or at least not after the argument you’d had. It frustrated you entirely that this one small thing had spiralled so much as to affect your job. Never, since you'd joined the force, not even since you'd been on S.W.A.T., had you been sent home for misconduct of your behavior. That angered and frustrated you more. And right now, that frustration was leveled firmly at Paul.

You knew he was angry and upset, but so were you. You were thinking logically, wanting your wedding day to be as perfect as it could be for you both, but Paul was blinded by emotion. You understood. Of course you did, it wasn’t like you wanted to postpone, hell you wanted nothing more than to become his wife but it wasn’t worth rushing if it meant that when the time came you could both make those declarations to one another without either of you worrying his voice would give out.

And it irritated you that he couldn’t see that.

Growling out loud and slamming your palms against the wheel, you shook your head. That was when you saw him, you saw the one person you unadmittedly blamed for your mood, your position and your current situation.

"What the... That mother fu..." you stopped yourself, downright pissed at seeing Tom Ludlow leaving your residence.

You waited until Ludlow pulled away before exiting your car, slinging your 'go bag' over your shoulder from the back seat. You didn't miss your fiancé tossing what appeared to be bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the duplex.

He saw you and smiled, but you did nothing to acknowledge his gesture, allowing the screen door to slam behind you.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice called after you as he followed you in. “Sugar, look, I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck was he doing here?” You dropped your bag to the floor of the small hallway and wheeled round to face him.

"What?"

“Don’t play dumb with me! Ludlow, why was he here?” Paul sighed, "He called me while I was at my parents, wanted to come by. We talked for a bit, had a couple of beers and clearly you saw him just leave." There was a pause between you. "Which by the way I heard all about how you decked him in the hospital lobby." "The fucker deserved it. He's lucky you pulled through or I would have killed him. It would have been a clean shot too, non-traceable round. I'm not a marksman for nothing." Paul rolled his eyes, “you’re being ridiculous, this-“ he gestured to his scar, “- was not his fault.” "It was and you know it was. This is all because he didn't think you could do your job on your own." “Bullshit Y/N!” Paul shot back. "He gave me an out and I said no. He told me to go home, but I told him I knew what I was doing." You could see him flush with anger and, at his surprising admission, you were shaking in it. "He what?" "You heard me." "You fucking asshole. You stupid, stupid son of a..." you couldn't bring yourself to talk about Dot like that so you carried on, your anger raging as you railed into him. “How dare you throw that at me? You had every fucking chance to come home and let him take the fuck up on his own and you still went. You still stepped right into the fucking madness when, Tom fucking Ludlow of all the people in the entire fucking department, gave you a chance to come back to me?"

“Stop it Y/N! You know as well as I do, you don't take up the badge and go 'you know what, I might die today, imma sit this one out'!”

He had you there, he wasn't wrong. You literally growled at him, your chest rumbling. Paul sighed, and swallowed, looking down at the floor before he raised his head and licked his lips as he glanced over your shoulder for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Listen, about the wedding-“

You groaned, “I can’t do this now.”

“Just listen to me, will you?”

“Why? So you can tell me again how you don’t want to change our wedding date? Because of your pride and..."

At that something flashed in his eyes and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

"My pride?” His voice his voice strained harshly, "Okay, how about we discuss why you do want to change the date because you’re embarrassed. You're embarrassed of me."

His comment floored you momentarily and you frowned. “Is that what you really think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

"Feels like it."

"Pull your God damn head outta your ass, Paul."

“The only person round here with anything up their ass is you, a big fucking stick about Tom Ludlow paying me a visit.” He croaked back. “What, you want me to be sat at home, helpless, waiting for you to come back? Does that fit with the narrative of why you wanna call the wedding off? Poor Paul, he can’t manage much at the moment so-“

“Fuck you!” You screamed back. “Fucking fuck you!”

Your chest heaved, your nostrils flared. You. Were. Done. You moved to leave, but as you made towards the door, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

He grabbed you again, this time by the waist and pinned you to the near-by wall. It wasn't painful or abusive, it was just enough roughness to keep your attention.

“Get off me.” You hissed, attempting once more to rid yourself from his grip.

“Fucking calm down!” He instructed, his hands pinned yours to the wall, his chest lifting away from your body. It reminded you of how he'd treat a suspect, enough force to maintain control but not to hurt.

His words were said through clenched teeth, his own hot breath from his nose flicking your hair a touch, he was so close. His blue eyes, full of fire, blazed into yours as the two of you stood still, chests heaving from the exertion of the shouting and anger.

He was the one to break first as he slammed his lips into yours. It stole your breath as he kept you pinned against the wall.

Eventually he pulled back and you glared at him. “Prick.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed again, his voice breaking before his lips crashed back to yours. His hips ground into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall and it didn’t escape your notice that he was hard. The fucker was turned on.

But, in all honesty, no matter how pathetic it was, his display of dominance had you fluttering slightly but you were damned if you we’re going to show him that.

You felt him release your arms as his hands quickly moved to your work cargos. Your utility belt and flies were no match for his swift movements and you felt the release of their hold on you as the material flew open.

His chest and kiss kept you pinned to the wall as he undid the zipper to his denim and you quickly felt the head of his cock slip between your folds. “Seriously?” You whispered, making no attempt to stop him. “You think a fuck is gonna sort this out?”

He rutted up into you, stuffing himself right inside and jolting your body up the textured paint. The burn and stretch took your breath away, you weren’t as prepared as usual but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I said shut up." He growled as your arms swooped around his neck, trying to find purchase to grab and your fingers found the collar of his shirt. You gave a tug, no doubt stretching the collar but you didn't care. He thrust upward and used his hips to keep you in place as he leaned back enough to slip his shirt off, his built chest and less defined abs now on display, that necklace bouncing off his chest from the speed of his disrobing.

His eyes still blazed as you caught them in your own gaze. He looked down right feral, his skin flushed with anger. His hands flew to the hem of your navy uniform tee and in a wrench he had that over your head, his lips dropping to your collar bone and he nipped along the line, stinging bites that would no doubt leave their marks.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you Sugar?”

Your only reply was the 'fuck' that escaped your lips at a whimper as he spoke. The rasp of his injury mixed with the deep tone lust did to him had you fluttering in all the right places.

You weren't sure how he'd done it but your boots were unlaced and falling to the floor at his feet with a thud. You barely registered the way his fingers slipped under the hem at the leg of your cargos and slipped your socks away. He was rutting into you with such hard measure, his tongue aggressively and passionately dancing with your own. You felt a rawness against your back from the wall. He stopped kissing and fucking you long enough to tear down your pants and panties the rest of the way, leaving you in your sports bra, your nipples rock hard poking into the material. All whilst his body still pressed hard against you.

With a yelp, he lifted you and carried you the few short steps to the couch, dropping you on your ass and turning you to your knees. You caught just a glimpse of how he looked, chest naked and heaving, tattoos glistening with sweat, that look still raging in his eyes. You wagered you looked about the same because he looked how you felt. His cock glistened with your slick as he slipped right behind you, a knee on the cushion of the couch, the other boot planted into the carpet.

Without a word his hands grabbed your hips, unceremoniously repositioning you before he slammed straight back inside, jolting you forward a little as you cried out, your hands curling round the arm of the sofa, elbows locking to prevent you from falling face first into the cushions.

The angle change along your swollen walls filled you with a deep, rough pleasure and you groaned loudly as his hips rotated in a dirty grind as he bottomed out on one of his thrusts.

"Oh my... fuck..." you stuttered and behind you Paul gave a moan of his own.

“That all you got to say?” He panted, his voice cracking slightly, punctuated by his pants.

“Asshole.” You managed to whisper and with that, Paul grabbed that ponytail you sported and held tight, arching you head back towards him.

“Jesus Christ you just can’t stop can you?” His lips crashed to yours in a sloppy, filthy, tongue filled kiss before splaying his chest over your back, his hot breath against your ear as he made the most pleasurable grunts and moans, his hips pounding back and forth in a relentless rhythm.

He was close, you could feel it in the subtle rhythm change of his hips, his hand on your hip squeezing your skin, bruising it no doubt later.

"Do. It." You punctuated.

“Oh, baby girl , you should know by now,” he growled as his right hand moved from your hip, slipping around your belly and down between your legs, “not. before. you.” In no time at all his fingers had teased you to relief, your back arched as you cried out loudly, the heat and surge of your orgasm washing over you, the world spinning as you crashed over the edge.

He growled your name as he came, filling you but not stopping his relentless thrusts as if he couldn't help the automated way his body had taken over, taken you. You felt how warm your insides were at his spend, no doubt absorbing most of it. You fell forward onto the couch, his body lightly crushing you into the cushions.

As the two of you worked at recovering, his lips brushed over your skin in super soft kisses; along your shoulder, the back of your neck.

The only sound in the room were the two of you breathing heavily, a stark contrast to the screaming match you shared for the last two days. Then you felt his weight shift and a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

"About the wedding...."

You groaned, after everything you just threw at each other and the most ridiculously, satisfying angry sex you had ever had, he wanted to start back up again. "Please don't. I don't want to argue."

He hushed you and your walls squeezed against him. He let out a low chuckle mixed with a moan. "I’m not." He kissed your shoulder. "Before you came in before like a buck shot grizzly bear, I was gonna say you were right."

You stilled and turned your head to look at Him. “I’m sorry, say that again?” You teased

He smiled and nipped at your neck, "don't be a dick."

He pulled out of you and sat down on the sofa. Your body was jello but you couldn't miss the chance to seize an opportunity to slip him back inside you and simply sit on his lap. He gave a grunt as you kissed him, soft at first, then lolled your tongue over his lips. "I'm sorry too."

“I never said I was sorry.” He playfully chuckled and this time you nipped at him, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Don’t be a dick.”

His hands moved to your hips and then up your back, pulling you against his tacky damp chest.

“Disco?”

“Sugar?”

“You don’t really think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

"It'd crossed my mind."

"Look at me," you sat up and held his jaw in your palms. "Never, in my entire life will I ever be ashamed of you. You are the absolute strongest, bravest person I know."

"Okay."

You kissed those sweet little moles on his right cheek by his nose and just below his bottom lashes. "I love you like no other, Paul Diskant."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and that gorgeous soft smile spread across his lips. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss where you knew he'd feel and understand what you meant, what you felt. It was covered by a still healing scar, but he felt everything.

“I only want us to have the day we want, the day we deserve.” You whispered, sniffing a little as you blinked back tears.

"I'll call Shutters tomorrow. See what they can do." He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

“Thank you.” You lay your head on back his shoulder, his arms holding you close.

***** Part 6.1

[kiyoomichan]

SAKUSA.PEGGING.PEGGING SAKUSA. and edging him and then overstim him 😼😼 fem dom we r flourishing TODAY. and i love u!!

i love u too anon🥺

SAKUSA X FEMDOM!SO + PEGGING

A/N: all characters are strictly 18+.

warnings: humiliation, degradation, spanking, hole-slapping, femdom, slight dumbification

this is so dirty i’m sorry in advance

it’s late one evening when kiyoomi gets home from practice. you’re sitting on the couch as he comes through the door, and can tell he’s stressed out just by looking at him; his shoulders wound tight and his eyebrow twitching

you figure it’s probably because of something atsumu did to piss him off, and omi is like a firecracker when he’s upset, so you wait to let him come to you and go back to scrolling through your twitter feed

you’re surprised when he comes over to you, curling up next to you on the sectional and laying his head on your shoulder. you can smell the gym brand shampoo on his curls, and the hint of aftershave and cologne on his neck

“not now,” you think to yourself, trying not to let his scent arouse you. he’s upset and you want to comfort him, not gross him out

“bad day?” you ask, already knowing the answer. he mumbles a quiet “yes,” the sound muffled by his face in your shoulder.

a large hand comes down to rest on your leg, his thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh in an attempt to self soothe, not realizing he was inadvertently making you more wet by the minute

“wanna talk about it, baby?” you ask again, reaching up to pet his damp hair. he whimpers into your shoulder, snuggling his face deeper into the crook of your neck

he pushes himself closer to you, seeking comfort. you feel lucky that you get to be the one to see this side of kiyoomi—his usual stoic facade crumbling as soon as he lets himself be held by you. it took you a long time to get to this point, to crack his walls—and you couldn’t be more happy that he let you

“do you need me to take care of you, hmm, kiyoomi? a lil’ TLC?” you chuckle, twisting your neck to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“please,” he whispers, so faint that you can barely hear it. “need you.”

your breath hitches at his words as you slowly start to piece together what he wants—you should’ve known, really—the neediness in his voice, the clinging, touchy-feeliness of his actions up til now.

you’d only done it a few times before, on these rare occasions when kiyoomi needs you to take him apart and put him back together again

“of course, doll,” you say, moving to get up before you’re interrupted by a hand gripping your wrist. “don’t leave,” he says, sounding very small and not like himself at all

“shh,” you soothe, turning around a bit. “i’ll be right back, ok? i just need to get our toys.”

you watch as he bites his lip and lets go, albeit reluctantly

you smile at him and hurry to the box in the nightstand, grabbing your strap, latex gloves, lube, cockring, and vibrator

by the time you get back, he’s laid himself out on the couch, chest heaving with anticipation as you walk towards him.

you crouch down beside him and look into his eyes lovingly.

“do you want to prep yourself? or d’you want me to do it for you?”

he flushes and throws an arm over his eyes, turning his face away from your gaze

“...you, please.”

you waste no time getting to work, crawling up to where his legs rest on the couch

“m’gonna take these off, okay?” you say, slowly tugging at the waist and of his athletic shorts and briefs. he says nothing as you pull them off at the same time, and shivers at the cool air against his half-hard cock

“so cute,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “hold your legs up for me, baby.”

he obeys, moving so that his legs are spread and pressed to his chest, letting his most intimate parts be exposed to your eyes

“so pretty, love,” you smile, glancing at his embarrassed expression. “so clean and beautiful, all mine, hm?”

he squeezes his eyes shut, holding back a moan as you slip on the gloves and lube up your fingers, pouring a bit extra down his perineum and the cleft of his ass.

“a—ah!” kiyoomi yelps as two of your fingers sink into his hole, starting to scissor in and out of him.

you steadily increase the pace as you go, adding a third finger and watching in amusement as he nearly screams when you find his sweet spot.

“you feeling good, baby boy?” you tease, watching the slightest bit of drool trickle down his chin, giving a particularly rough thrust of your fingers against his prostate

“h-hngh!” kiyoomi moans, moving his hands from where they’re hooked under his knees to grasp at the fabric of the couch

“please, please, please...” he trails off, looking at you with hazy eyes

“shh, honey, i’ve got you.”

you slip your gloved fingers out of his hole, and he whines at the empty feeling

you grab the vibrator and ring—and you watch his blissed out, needy expression turn into one of panic

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” you hush him as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “you’ll feel so much better after, i promise.”

his muscled chest heaves as you pump his cock a few times, carefully slipping the pink silicone ring over his length

you cut him off by flicking on the hitachi to its lowest setting, slowly running it over the underside of his aching cock

kiyoomi watches you slip your harness on, fixing the mini bullet against your clit and hooking the dildo on. you crawl over to hover above him, and run a gentle hand down his cheek

“(y/n), i—“

his hips buck at the vibrations against his groin, rocking up into the toy while simultaneously trying to get away from it

“oh, oh, oh, oh—” he cries as you increase the power, moving the wand from his balls to the flushed head of his cock, where pearly white beads of cum begin to drip down his length

“such a good boy,” you whisper as the volume of his moans heightens. “such a good boy, kiyoomi.”

his cheeks are flushed strawberry with embarrassment at being so vulnerable

“miss, please,” he whines as the vibrations of the toy torment his senses. “please, i need....”

“what do you need, sweetheart?”

kiyoomi bites his lip and groans in frustration at having to admit to something so filthy

“c’mon, love, you can do it. don’t be shy, it’s just me and you,” you smile sweetly, teasing him.

he’s panting now, curls sticking to his forehead, covered in a fullbody flush. you’re so close to breaking him.

“don’t you wanna be a good boy, kiyo? or do i have to punish you, hmm?”

his eyes widen at the thought—but he’s too slow to answer, instead mumbling and stuttering, and before he knows it, he’s been thrown over your lap, bottom in the air.

“no, no, no, no—please don’t, please—”

“shhh, honey—you were a bad boy, so now you need to be taught a lesson, yeah? bad boys get spankings.”

his neck lurches up as your hand rubs over the swell of his ass, then coming down with a harsh slap. his face is red and he’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“count for me, darling.”

“o—one!” he shouts, screaming numbers every time you land a blow. you can’t see his face, but you can tell there’s tears streaming down his cheeks.

“it’s okay, baby, just a little more.”

you spread him open, and he whines when he feels the cool air hit his hole. he tries to squirm away from your grasp, embarrassed at being so exposed.

“stop it,” you say sternly. “i think you need to be punished here, too. how does that sound, hm?”

he doesn’t have time to speak before you’re using three fingers to slap his most sensitive part—his yelps sounding like music to your ears.

you’re able to feel him rutting his pathetic cock against your thigh, smearing cum all over your skin. “you’re so naughty, baby,” you chastise. “you came just from me slapping your stupid little hole?”

“kiyoomi, i asked you a question. are you going to answer or do i need to give you another spanking?”

he shakes his head furiously. “y—yes, i did, i came from miss slapping my hole,”

you smile and card your fingers through his silky locks

“does baby want me to fuck him now?”

“yes, please, please fuck me—“ he cries, so uncharacteristically but so sweet all the same.

“shhh, love. i’ve got you.”

his toes curl in anticipation as you lube up the strap, your expression lewd and domineering.

kiyoomi moves into position, face down, ass up. he knows exactly how you want him.

“‘s okay, babydoll, i’m gonna take real good care of you, i promise.” 

you slap the silicone head of your strap against his already puffy hole a few times, laughing when he all but screams your name.

“d-don’t tease,” he huffs.

you smile slyly, and thrust the entire length in to the hilt. he cries out, tossing his head back just enough for you to grab him by his curls.

“is that what you wanted, sweetheart? you wanna be fucked like a little slut, huh? you’re so needy for me, so tight and wet. i bet you’d love it if everyone could see you all weak and pathetic like this, huh?”

��no, no!” he cries, fingers clutching at the sheets. “only...only miss can see me like this.”

“is that right, angel?” you grunt, abusing that spot inside him with your repeated thrusts.

kiyoomi whines so prettily as you pound him into the mattress, cock weeping and dripping onto the bed. your hand comes up to stroke his length ever so lightly, drawing out more cries from him.

“does baby wanna cum? wanna spill himself all over mistress’s sheets like a stupid little boy?”

you can tell he’s fighting your words in his mind—he’s not stupid, but he does want to cum.

“yes! yes, please, please let me cum, please let me, miss—i’ve been so good, please—”

you reward him with a flick of your wrist, twisting over his flushed, aching cock just how he likes, spurts of cum shooting to cover your hands and his chest.

kiyoomi’s shoulders shake and tremble as he comes down from his high, and you hold him through it, gently pulling out and taking your hand away from his dick. he shudders at the loss as you help him lay down.

he shuts his eyes for a few seconds, chest heaving. you lean over him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“shh, kiyo,” you soothe, petting the sweaty curls off his forehead. “you did so good for me, honey.”

“would you like to go get cleaned up now?”

he mumbles something akin to a yes, and you help him walk to the bathroom, a protective hand on his waist the whole way.

you allow him to soak in the bath while you wash off in the adjacent shower. he’s near falling asleep, a sated sleepy expression on his face.

you finish up, wrapping a towel around yourself and padding over to help him out of the water.

back in the bedroom, you dress him gently, pulling his briefs and an oversized shirt on him.

you stand in front of your shared bed for a moment, his large hands coming down to hold your waist.

kiyoomi is so soft after a scene, a side of himself he rarely lets others see. you’re thankful he’s allowed you to be one of the lucky few.

“i love you,” he says, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

your hand comes up to play with his freshly washed hair, fingers tangling in the curls and running down his neck.

“and i you, sweets.”

[shadyteacup]

If you’re still doing requestsssssss how about a hcs of Dazai x fem! Reader who is like Midari from Kakegurui 😌

Ooh thats a nice one! Yes love, I'm still doing requestss

And I'm so sorry, this is so late... also it's very long n I'm not exaggerating. It's not even funny I'm so sorry

I'm Crazy, But I'm Free

Dazai x Fem!reader who is like Midari

• You and Dazai probably met during his days at the port mafia.

• I can imagine the mafia capturing you because of how much trouble you were causing in a casino.

• UK, when big businesses pay gangsters for security?? Yeah, similarly the casino you were playing at, has paid the mafia.

• You were already banned from many other casinos, as your games either end with you gaining a lot of money, or begin with a dangerous condition.

• Many people were quite afraid of you, and wanted to avoid even being in the same room as you, as they couldn't handle the severity of the danger you pose with every game.

• Anyways, so you were warned by a few members of the mafia twice, but you, being the fearless adventurer you are, flipped them off and continued to seek a life threatening game.

• So then the mafia decided to use violence, and cornered you in a dark alley. You pulled out your beloved gun.

"Well, well, well! Do you boys want a fight!?", you excitedly point the gun at them.

"Put your weapon down, Ms. L/N. We are here to warn you for the final time. Stay away from this casino. Further misbehavior will lead to dangerous consequences."

You hum, thinking up a plan.

"How about this. My revolver has 5 bullets. And there are five of us. How about we all take turns to shoot blindfolded!"

You excitedly shove them in a circular arrangement.

"I'll go first! The rules are that every person gets a chance to shoot from the center of the circle. If the bullet misses, everyone takes a step ahead, closer to the center."

You explain, grinning at the men clad in all black.

"If a bullet hits me, I'll agree to your terms. If it hits one of you lot, then you can't stop me anymore. What do you say?!"

The mafiosi were weirded out by this. What if you had a good aim, or an ability that allowed you to shoot them with your eyes closed? They didn't have much intel on you, and only knew you to be a girl from a rich background, who had come to Yokohama for higher studies.

"That's enough. Grab her-"

• Thats when our boy showed up. Dazai was curious when he overheard some of the men talk about some 'fearless girl that had flipped them off even after two rather threatening warnings.'

• So he had decided to tag along, staying in the shadows, until now.

• "I think it will be a wonderful idea. Play along, gentlemen. I want to see where this goes."

• You shot, and missed. So did the other guy. Then the other one. Now, the circle had shrunk really small. You were almost in the line of fire at this point. There was an 80% chance of getting shot.

• "That's enough." ,Dazai said, as he walked to stand in front of you.

• "You are daring, aren't you. You're not afraid of death."

• Staring into his eyes, you saw a reflection of yourself. A dark, lost soul stared back at you.

• "In fact, you arranged this little game to ensure that you got hurt. You perfectly planned it out, and ensured that as the circle gets smaller, you would be in the direct line of fire."

• "You missed the first shot on purpose, didn't you?"

• He had seen right through your game.

'What's this guy's deal?', you thought.

"Why would you stop the game when it was at its peak? Hah? Whats wrong with you, man?!", you angrily grab his collar. "I was just beginning to have fun, and here you are, ruinjng it!"

• Taken aback by your bravery, he just blinked at you.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, obviously, idiot. But that doesn't give you any right to interrupt our game."

"Oh? So who do you think I am."

You give him a 'baka janiono?' look.

"You are their leader. Probably an executive of the mafia, judging by your expensive suit. Why?"

The thoughts running through Dazai's head were along the lines of :

'Just who is this girl? How does she know about the mafia? Surely my men weren't dumb enough to tell her who they work for. How does she know about my position? She surely didn't just guess that, right?? And why the fuck does a student have a gun? Does her family have connections within the underworld? She obviously doesn't fear death. Will she be a good addition to the mafia?'

• "What are you thinking about, baka? Answer me."

• He smiled sweetly at you, and firmly gripped your wrist, pushing it off his collar.

"There's someone who would like to meet you"

Before you can retort back, he continues,"You seek adventure, do you not? You want to feel something worthwhile. Something akin to facing death, something that will give you an adrenaline rush. I can give you all of that. If you come with me, that is."

• Mori was shocked when he heard about what had happened. He agreed with Dazai's decision to make you join the ranks. He needed such fearless crackheads in his organization.

• He paired you up with the double black, making you an executive too. You hadn't quite agreed to his terms, but he had offered you to just accompany the ginger and the brunette on a mission. And had let you make the final decision .

• You three had to go to an abandoned warehouse, where some people were tampering with the mafia goods. There, you saw how sadistic Dazai was. How manipulative and bad he was. It made you fall for him. Hard. Plus, you realized the risk of being a mafiosi. It was quite thrilling.

• When you got back, you had screamed at mori to let you join. Quite literally begged. And he, ofcourse, agreed. You hadn't even given him a chance to threaten your life, which was the usual norm, when a valuable asset wasn't willing to join the ranks of the feared organization.

• You trained with dazai. And purposely got hit. It turned you on. But you never mentioned anything, in fear of being rejected.

• Dazai, ofcourse, noticed this, and one fine day, confronted you about it. You told him just how much you love him. He was always intrigued by your sadistic side. He saw a part of himself in you. The daring, brave, smart side of yours was something so similar to himself, yet unique. You were seeking the same thing that he was, that is to feel something. He felt sadness, and loneliness, and he never had a purpose in life. You, someone who had it all, a good family, a great marksheet, and a pre set goal in life, were willing to give it away, just to feel something. He, someone who was stripped off of a normal childhood, was never given the opportunity to choose. He used to think that maybe he was to blame. Maybe if he had had better luck, he would have gotten a good childhood, a purpose. But now that he knows you, a genius, smart person, who had it all, but threw it away, he realized that maybe life really is worthless. Maybe, he wasn't to be blamed. And that, oddly enough, made him feel better. To know that no matter how much lady luck favors him, life would still be fucked up, and that it wasn't his fault, made him hate himself less.

• And so, you two became a thing.

• Let's just say, that both of you are equally freaky.

• You want him to dom u, and he gladly accepts

• You guys try it all... I mean, especially with guns.

• I can imagine you both sitting at a boring meeting, when you decide to edge him on, and you're not even touching him. Your gun is.

• You both claim atleast one spare room on every floor of the building, for your.... activities.

• You are like his praise queen.

• He loves that.

• Always rough. Always. And you guys are into spicing it up.

• Anyways, you both never decide to commit double suicide.

• Thats because dazai wants a beautiful way out, while you want to feel the thrill of facing death. You don't really want to die, you just want to know the feeling of almost dying. You want to feel something exhilarating.

• When Dazai decides to leave the mafia, you are all for it. As long as you get to stay by his side, you were ok with it.

• Like Midari, you are a very perceptive person, and can easily guess what's going on in someone's mind. Dazai was easy to read for you, as his thoughts were pretty similar to your own.

• You were smart, cunning, and could read peoples mind with ease. So it was pretty easy for you to guess what's going on in Dazai's mind, sometimes even predicting his next moves.

• You really fit in with the ada, coz that place is filled with crackheads, and you and dazai are no exception lol

• Also, you get along with Yosano really well.

• Like, if you weren't so loyal to dazai, you would have become Yosanos slave. So would i ngl

• Anyways, you and dazai always mess with kunikida. You two prank him till the breaking point. You two are such a menace in the office. Always skipping work, slacking off, but really shining when it comes to actual detective work, like solving mysteries.

• You are a valuable asset to the ada, coz 1. You are smart and 2. You can intimidate the enemy into giving in, thanks to your sadistic games.

• You are also a very good companion. You can easily understand what the other is feeling, and end up comforting the gang.

• I can imagine you roasting Kunikida for being such a nerd, but at the same time giving him accurate and well needed advice .

• You do the same for your bf, and the two of you have many late night convos about topic that Dazai had never discussed with anyone before. Because no one had quite understood him the way you did.

• Midari is actually a pretty deep character, and just like her, you have many layers. There's the sadistic side, the goofy side, the careless side, the intelligent side and the insightful nature.

• You would be his perfect partner, as you'd support his crazy, reckless ideas, but at the same time keep him afloat, and prevent him from drowning in his own thoughts.

[empower-bi-women]

Scene partners

Paring: Pedro Pascal / brown!reader 

Word count: 1809

Warnings: SMUT SO IF YOUR NOT 18+ KINDLY FUCK OFF, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk, oral sex (f receving), age gap, edging? I’m not sure what else this is pretty tame compared to my other stuff. 

A/N: This is dedicated to my girl. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have been in this position. I hope this kills you! (Jk I love you didi)  As always feedback is greatly appreciated :) 

masterlist

“Ok that’s the last shot of the day!” the director called out. You moved from your spot on set to walk to your trailer. “Y/N,” your co-star Pedro called out for you. You sped up hoping to avoid talking to him today. You could not handle the way his brown eyes started into your soul as he talked and the way he bit his lip as he would shamelessly eye you up and down. Not right now, “Y/N wait up I want to talk to you for a second.” You could hear footsteps getting closer. Realizing that there's no way of getting out of this you slowed to a stop. “Hey you got headphones in or what.” Pedro smiled at you 

“Sorry I guess I'm just caught up in my thoughts. Got a lot going on.” You played with the hair tie on your wrist nervously. 

“You know you can always come and talk to me,” he grabbed your wrist gently and tilted your head up to look at him, “I’m always here to help you darling.” 

Your face flushed at the nickname. “I’m just a bit nervous for the scene tomorrow.”

“Well why don't you come home with me and I can help you work through it. I’ve done scenes like that so many times.”

You blinked at him. “Are you sure I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

He smiled. “Y/N you wouldn’t be intruding. I'm asking you to come.” 

“Ok, that would be really helpful, thank you.” 

--------------------------------------------------------------

When you reached Pedro’s house he led you inside. Taking you to the living room he gestured for you to sit on the sofa next to him, but you sat on the chair across from him instead. He had an amused look on his face. “So you haven't prepped for this scene at all?” He asked.

Your face burned. “Well I'm not really experienced in that area so I wasn't sure what to do.” You whispered with your head down. 

“Listen, I remember how nervous I was for my first sex scene. Let me help you practice,” after seeing the blush that covered your brown skin, he added, “only if you want to of course.” 

“Yeah that would be good.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Ok sweetheart, let's get started then. We can take it slow and I’ll tell you all the basics, but first, why don't you come and sit next to me and tell me what you already know about it.” 

As you got up to move you pulled down your skirt and couldn't help but notice how his brown eyes raked over your body with a hungry look in them. Sitting down you played with the edges of your skirt and wouldn't look him in the eye. He brushed your hair behind your ear. 

“So at the start of the scene the characters are sitting just like we are, side by side, talking,” he picked up the script, “So I’ll be Jason and you be your character, Sabrina.” 

You nodded your head and took a deep breath before getting into character. “Jay I need you to understand that we need to set boundaries in our friendship. This ‘arrangement’ isn’t what normal friends do.” 

Pedro put his hand on top of yours and you couldn’t help but notice how his hand was so large it completely covered yours. His other hand turned your chin to look at him. Holding you still to look into his eyes he said, “I don't want boundaries I just want you.” He moved closer and closer to you, his eyes flickering at your lips, and stopped a mere centimeters away. You held your breath. 

He pulled back. “And that's where the kiss will start and the rest of the scene will follow, okay?” 

You took a deep breath and tried to shake the dark thoughts that plagued your mind. Just the idea of kissing him made your head spin. 

He rested his hand on your knee.  “Are you ok darling? You look a little out of it.” 

You shook your head. “I guess I'm just a little dehydrated from everything today.” 

“Let me go get you some water. I'll be right back ok?” He said, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear making you flush red. 

I need to pull myself together. You thought. There's no way anything would ever happen. He's so much older and I just need to be professional. Just talk and be professional. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when he came back with a glass of water as promised. When he sat down he sat closer than before and handed you the glass. 

“You need to drink at least half of that before we get back to work ok?” He said sternly.

“Ok.” You drank the water, fully aware of his eyes on you as you did so. As you put the glass down the energy in the room had changed. Everything was a little more tense. Pedro was silent before moving his hand to your knee. 

“You know I always thought you were so talented. The way you disappear into a role. But I think it's because you play characters that are like you. Such sweet girls.” His hand glided up your bare thigh to the hem of your skirt. “I never told you but I love it when you wear these skirts. You look so adorable. It makes me want to ruin you,” he growled in your ear, “if you let me take care of you darling, I can make you feel so good,” his hand ghosted over the front of your panties, “all you have to do is say yes.” He left wet kisses down from your ear to your neck. The only sound in the room was your breathing and his kisses. 

“Yes please.” Your voice was so quiet you weren't even sure he heard it until he purred ‘good girl’ in your ear as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom. 

He lay you down on the bed before walking away to take his shirt and pants off. You sat up watching him with hungry eyes. He threw his clothes on the floor and crawled on the bed toward you. He hovered over your body and kissed your forehead sweetly before whispering in your ear. “I’m going to ruin that cute little pussy.” 

His voice sent shivers down your spine, he pulled your shirt off before kissing his way down your stomach. His fingers hooked around the top of your skirt and underwear, he tapped your hips and you lifted them so he could slide the material off your body. 

Throwing your clothes somewhere in the room, he wasted no time getting in between your legs. Leaving wet kisses down the inside of your thighs, sucking and biting, red marks appearing in his path. His scruff tickled your legs making you shiver in anticipation as he neared your core. Licking a long stripe up your pussy he dove in. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. A loud moan escaped your mouth that you tried to muffle with your hands. He moved away from your pussy to pull your hands from covering your face. 

“Now princess I don't want to see you covering your face again. You be a good girl and let me hear every little sound you make.” He said with a stern look on his face. 

“Okay.”

“Good girl,” he growled before diving back in, this time slipping a finger in you, “so tight just around my finger.”

You whined and tried to move away, the feeling unfamiliar but Pedro held you in place. 

“You can't run away from me baby. We gotta open you up so you can fit around me right?” 

His finger sped up, hitting your g spot every time. Adding another finger in and his thumb rubbing your clit you were close in no time. 

Your loud moans bounced off the walls and you warned Pedro of your upcoming orgasm. You looked up at him, eyes wide as you begged him to let you come around his fingers. 

“Please, please let me cum I need it so bad!” Your legs thrashed on the sheets in frustration as he pulled his fingers out of you, licking your wetness off them. 

“No baby that’s not what you want,” he said in a condescending tone that made your pussy clench around air, “it’s gonna feel so much better to finally cum around me.” He pulled his pants down. “Don’t you want this?” He questioned you, gesturing down to his cock that was standing ridged at attention. 

You felt your wetness drip at the sight. “Yes.” 

He stroked your head lovingly. “Such a good, obedient girl for me. Now lie back.” 

He pushed your shoulders slightly so you reclined back into the soft pillows. His fingers intertwined with yours as he slowly pushed in. You could feel your walls gripping him tight. He let out a breath and hung his head. 

“Goddamn honey you feel so good around me.” He squeezed your hand as you whimpered. Finally his hips met yours and he stilled inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. You had never felt more full in your life. Every inch of you tingled with electricity. You squeezed his hand as a signal for him to move. He slowly pulled out slightly, only to thrust his hips against yours once more. When you moan in pleasure he took that as a sign to move slightly faster, the curve of his cock hitting your g spot every time. 

“Does that feel good baby?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“Yes,” you gasped, “more please.” 

When you looked up at him with those big doe eyes, he lost it. Pistoning his hips in and out as fast as he could. You neared your high quicker than you would have liked. Whimpering and clawing at his back, Pedro knew exactly what you needed. His hand snaked down between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles.  His lips went to your neck, marking you as his. All the while, never breaking pace. 

“Pedro please,” you whispered in his ear, your voice breaking, “I'm so close.”

“I know baby, me too just hang on one minute longer.” he kissed your forehead. 

When you couldn't hold out any longer you finally felt that white hot wave of pleasure wash over you as Pedro kept on moving his hips in and out, working you though your orgasm. 

He came soon after, you moaned at the feeling of being filled up. The two of you lay there in comfortable silence before Pedro spoke up. 

“I know this is a little backward but will you go on a date with me?” 

You laughed. “Yeah of course.” 

[alby-rei]

Piano Heist (Arthur x MC)

a/n: In which MC can’t resist the urge to steal Mozart’s piano, and Arthur pays for it. 

[Characters]: MC, Arthur, Mozart, and Theo

[Genre]: Comedy with a hint of pining  

[Warning]: One Very Angry Austrian None

~*~

Do you ever get that feeling…?

When the more forbidden something is, the more you really want it?

When all logic and reason tell you to look away, to let go of your inner desires?

What I’m referring to, of course, is the desire to play on Mozart’s precious fortepiano.

Every time I walked by his room, and the sound of his elegant performance drifted through the hallway, I could feel my fingers twitch at the thought of doing the same. And today was no different.

Mozart was out to rehearse with his orchestra, and I was in charge of cleaning his piano room.

Okay, more like I appointed myself in charge of cleaning his piano room.

The more I darted around the magnificent instrument that sat proudly in the middle of the secluded room, the more my mind began to swarm with plans to steal it, to take it for myself. No other piano has made me feel this way…

…except maybe the modern Steinway, but that wasn’t invented yet… 

I circled the piano, shifting my gaze between it and the door. I carefully walked towards the open door that led to the hallway. I leaned against the door frame to scan the hall for any signs of vampiric presence.

None. My mind was set. 

I’m stealing Mozart’s fortepiano.

I looked down at the legs of the piano. It looked like wheels were installed.

Must’ve been recent, perfect! 

I unlocked them, moving behind the piano to start pushing it towards the door. I struggled with the sheer mass of it, but I kept going. I wasn’t going to back out now.

I had about half of it through the double doors barely; it was a tight fit. I winced every time any edge of the piano made even a hint of a scraping sound.

Just then, I heard a low whistle rightward outside of the door. A mop of blue hair peaked inside. Identical blue eyes narrowed with a mischievous grin to match. All the telltale signs of one curious Arthur Conan Doyle.

“What do we have here, luv?”

I brought the piano to an abrupt halt and stood leaning on it casually. 

“…Nothing.”  

“Well, it seems to me a lot like you’re trying to snatch Wolfie’s piano.”

I stared long and hard back at his keen azure eyes, my position unchanging.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He flinched. His grin melted off of his face into something between a grimace and a pout.

“MC!!” He whined, “You know I don’t like being compared to that woman-hating bloke.”

“Shhhhhh!” I attempted to hush discretely and assertively. I paused, on the lookout for any signs of more vampiric movement.  

None.

I rolled my eyes at his insistent snickering.

“I am taking this piano for myself, now are you going to help me, or do I have to eliminate you first?”

“Eliminate me? Last I checked, I won our last bet, and you owe me a favor.”

“You cheated! I called out your loophole and you still haven’t paid up for that.”

“…alright, dove, I’ll relent this time, but I’m not back down from my favor rights.”

The thought of Mozart’s absolutely livid expression when he finds out about this was an utter delight to the resident troublemaker.

“Oi!” I glared at the sudden feeling of contact from a gloved hand, swatting the offensive hand away.

“You’re not getting any favor until this mission is completed, Sir Arthur.”

“Alright, alright. Just don’t call me Sir again. It’s much too formal for us, pretty bird.”

Arthur proceeded to push the piano, flashing a practiced flirty wink to me.

I could not roll my eyes any further back than I already did. This man never rests, does he? Not that I minded.

Not that I would ever admit to him that I did not, in fact, mind it.

‘Focus. Piano. Mine. First.’

“Where are we taking this to anyways?”

“Your room,” I answered instantly, “Duh.”

~*~

It was a long day at rehearsal. Mozart’s entire body ached from standing, conducting, yelling, and just being out in public in general. He rubbed his temples insistently on his carriage ride home with Jean, praying he could just be in his piano room at last.

Arriving after sundown, Mozart made a beeline for his room to change clothes, then to his sacred piano room. He had a stack of sheet music tucked under his arm, as he went to unlock the room.

Wait. It was already unlocked.

Oh no. Oh no.

He opened the door with the force of a hurricane. His lavender eyes wide and enraged. The sheet music scattered on the floor haphazardly.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The vampire composer’s sadness and sorrow could be heard loud and clear in every corner of the mansion. The crows flew off of their tree branches, the squirrels scurried off into the wilderness, and the worms hid beneath the dirt. But none of these creatures were half as terrified as the mansion’s residents.

Well, almost all of the residents.

Two lovely troublemakers leaned against the subject of Mozart’s anguish, laughing hysterically together. We currently settled in Arthur’s room with the hostage piano standing proud, nestled between his bed and his writing desk. The chaise-lounge was moved to the side for space. The fortepiano’s solid white wood contrasted with Arthur’s dark oak furniture, creating a magical air to it. It carried itself like a precious treasure out of a dragon’s den. 

Our laughter died down as I slid Arthur’s chair in front of the guest piano of honor, sitting elegantly as I would in front of an audience. I brought my hands gingerly over the keys, softly pressing to play excerpts of pieces I learned in the 21st century.

Arthur slowly settled into his chaise-lounge on the sidelines. It may have started as a prank, but now he deemed himself the luckiest man in the world to be the sole audience member in this moment.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a furious Mozart loudly announcing his presence in the room next to us. The suddenness of it caused me to strike a harsh dissonant chord that surely reached the composer’s ears.

‘Shit shit shit shit.’

Wordlessly, I flattened myself on the floor and rolled under Arthur’s bed to hide, leaving Arthur to confront Mozart’s rage single-handedly. Luckily for me, Arthur was too caught up by the sound of Mozart’s entrance to notice. 

“Arthur…” Mozart was seething, every word dripped with venom, “what is my fortepiano doing in your room?”

Mozart’s expression was deadly calm, but the intensity in his eyes caught Arthur off-guard.

“Mozart, mate, you see… Me and—” Arthur’s confident aura dissipated as he found no MC behind the piano anymore.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t report you to le Comte.”

Arthur received his second shock of this conversation. His mind swirled with flashbacks to Comte’s relentless scolding and subsequent punishments.

“I… have none. But what I can do is help you return it to its original place.”

THE Arthur Conan Doyle... bargaining? I pressed my lips to avoid making a sound as I shook from laughter.

“Help me?! This is all your responsibility to put back without a single scratch.”

Arthur’s eyes darted for a split second to the edge of the piano.

Uh oh, Mozart noticed.

“ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, YOU DARE DAMAGE MY PIANO?!”

Needless to say, Arthur would expect an earful from le Comte after the earful he just received from Mozart. Oh, he was definitely going to abuse his favor from MC after this.

Once the sound of their footsteps grew fainter with time, I slowly rolled out to run where no one could hear my laughter that was kept bottled up for the past 30 minutes.

I stumbled a bit as I tried to compose myself in the hallway when—

“Oi, Hondje. What are you off giggling about?”

Despite having calmed down from my previous laughing fit, recalling the past hour’s events got me doubling over in laughter again. I held up a hand as a signal to give me a minute. Theo pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about his time being precious.

“Ok, so basically…”

As I told him everything that unfolded, Theo went from facepalming to slightly shook to cracking a smile at Arthur’s demise.

“You brilliant Hondje,” he chuckled unexpectedly. 

I straightened up and courtsied as dramatically as I could muster with arms outstretched.

“Why, thank you.”

His smirk straighted into a line, his eyes carrying a challenging glint, “Pull that shit on me and I won’t let you go that easy.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try to stop me,” while maintaining eye contact, I pointed a finger at his chest, “you’re next.” 

MC: 1, Arthur: 0

[youwontlikethisblog]

Nicolas Mora is Better Than You

Up to this point Armando has been getting heavily manipulated by Mario a lot. However I find it wonky this time around how many times Mario changes tactic.

One moment he brings out the emotional part of it all by joking that Armando looks heartbroken and distraught over their[Betty and Armando's] breakup which just annoys Armando. When he realizes that this isn't working he bring the whole "The company! Millions of dollars! Your family!" and when Armando rebuts this by saying he can't take it anymore, the guilt and that he doesn't want to hurt Betty Mario strikes for the ego.

"Turns out, Nicolas Mora is better than you." he says and Armando reacts furious. "Yeah that hurt didn't it? Well just imagine how much it'll hurt when Betty and Nicolas take away Eco Moda and your entire family finds out you handed it to them."

The conversations goes in circles and Armando argues that he can't take any more kisses, he begs that he can't take kissing her anymore.

Let's go back to a few scenes, in that exact day, when Mario and Armando were in production talking about the plan like they didn't have hundreds of witnesses hearing them talk about it. Mario pointed out that Armando hadn't been complaining at all over the kisses, at least not like before "I think you're starting to like this a little too much."

"No you see, it's like boxing. At first the first hits hurt but by round two you're already numbed to it so it doesn't hurt. The most important thing is to make it to round three."

"Yeah but you can still get knocked out before."

If Armando is saying that he is numbed to it, though we know that he's no longer focused on the physical aspect of Betty but rather what he feels when he kisses her(I mentioned this in the post La Arrogancia De La Niña), though he sometimes still struggles to accept her "ugliness" when he kisses her, why does he say "No more kisses!"?

These kisses are awakening something in him that he has been unaware of until now. They make him feel guilty for enjoying them because he feels like he is doing so in only a malicious way. They are kisses of deception and cruelty and here he is finding something in them that make him feel something deeply in him and he enjoyes it.

The begging for them to no longer happen is not really for the "ugliness" of Betty but the ugliness of what he's doing to get those kisses and how deeply they are affecting him in his life(when he kissed Marcela after the first sober kiss with Betty. I talk about in the post La Arrogancia De La Niña) and he no longer wants to feel what he feels. He is refusing to feel what he feels. He tells Mario that he had wanted to fix everything with Betty in the office for that reason but before Betty left he told her he wanted to drive her home so they could talk on their way there. Again, Armando continues to contradict himself when he talks to Mario about the situation.

Mario then repeats the same thing Armando told him except he compares it to a dentist.

He's numb to it by now. He pumps up Armando and he leaves.

Ever since Betty broke up with him he's been off. He has been somber, like he was the day that it was official that Terra Moda was moving forward with the seizure against Eco moda.

This following scene is honestly the whole reason why I even went back from the start to pick apart Armando's character because up to that point I wanted to bury him after I made him dig his own grave.

Armando calls Betty's house phone and her dad picks up.

Betty had been talking to Nicolas and lecturing him about the cell phone and was helping to set up the table for dinner when Don. Hermes tells her her boss is on the phone asking for her.

As they speak on the phone Don. Hermes tells Betty that if they are going to speak that he needs to come in, Nicolas then says "Yeah tell him to come in we'll invite him for something to eat."(he is so sweet) and Armando asks who she's with.

"My dad and Nicolas."

"Ah, What a shame, am I interrupting something?" he asks rather aggressive.

Hours before he heard Betty get upset with Nicolas because some other woman had answered his cell phone.

I think it's extremely important to note that Armando isn't aware at all that Betty isn't in love with Nicolas, that she isn't fawning over him, and that they are honestly just a really cute pair of friends who deeply care for one another. He wholeheartedly believes what Bertha told him regarding Betty's love life. So Nicolas isn't just a potential boyfriend but in his mind, Betty's soulmate and because of what Mariana said he also believes that they will end up together and even if he doesn't understand why that upsets him to the degree it does, he is sure that he doesn't want that to happen, not only for the sake of Eco Moda(his distrust in Nicolas(Post Nicolas Mora, Un Amigo and part 1-2 of Betty, My Betty!)) but for the sake of his heart. So his dislike of Nicolas is a very serious one that he has been harboring since the day he found out about him being a romantic partner to Betty(which has been like little over a week lol or am I missing some time stamps here?).

As Betty leaves her house to speak to him she seems nervous and anxious while trying to stay composed. She doesn't go into his car and instead by his door she squats down to speak to him but Armando orders for her to get in, not as her boss, but as her boyfriend and this is where we begin to see a very... como se dice, important red flag. This harboring of feelings against Nicolas and his refusal to understand his feelings towards Betty ultimately are what drives him mad and not his love for Betty. His love for Betty is what made him feel alive but the fact he harbored so much animosity and hatred against Nicolas, his distrust of Betty's faithfulness, and his refusal to understand his feelings towards her are what really made it all explode.

This is where we begin so if you want to take a break, take one. It's a long one.

Armando holds the picture of AA and takes a drink from his bff(whisky bottle). Betty steps out and walks down to his car and he watches her until she makes it to him.

"What can I help you with?"

"Why don't you get in the car?"

"See what happe-"

"Betty get in."

"Yes sir."

"Betty why are you avoiding me?" he does seem honest in asking this question and it sound heart felt.

"Sir I think what I said in the office still stands, we have nothing to talk about." She says looking at her house in turn Armando turns to her house as well. "Nothing has happened between us. It's best that we continue just like before."

"Betty but how can you say that to me like that, so cold?" He looks her down. "Do you not have a heart? How are you capable of telling me to just forget, that nothing happened between us?" He asks hurt while Betty continues to look at her house. "Are you listening to me?" He asks frustrated.

"Yes sir, I am listening to you."

"Well it doesn't look like it." He throws his hands in the air and drops them with a slap onto his lap and stares at her, hurt. "You're worried about your house, looking over there the whole time. What? Does it bother you that Nicolas can see us? Or what?" he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Nonono, Sir. It isn't that. It's just that my dad said if we were going to chat for us to go inside."

Armando asks her if she wants him to go in there so they can talk about their relationship in front of her father and Nicolas.

"No sir. It's best if we leave here."

"Are you sure it's because of your father." He looks down at her. "Or Nicolas." he says with his mouth tight.

"No because of my father. Nicolas knows I'm out here talking with you."

"What did you tell him?" he ask rather quick with a angry tone.

"Mhmm nothing." Betty shakes her head. "we were talking about other things when you got here." Betty looks behind to her house.

"And what? He's waiting for you?"

"Yes but that doesn't matter. Lets go."

Before he turns on his car he turns to the front, then turns back to stare at Betty and then back to turn on his car, whoever the expression remains the same; anger. At first he was solemn, he wanted to talk to her but as soon as he heard Nicolas was in her house(when he heard his voice through the phone) he was in a terrible mood. When Betty stepped out he order her to get in his car. When she got in he was willing to talk but as he saw Betty's nervousness he attributed this to her being nervous that Nicolas would catch them, therefore confirming that she had something going on with him so he's pissed.

Armando pulls onto the side of some street "And what Betty? Will it be that you feel more at peace here and can concentrate in the conversation, hmm?" she nods.

As they talk Armando sounds very rehearsed. Like he knows exactly what he saying and has thought it all through, which is a very different tone of voice he had in the office and the previous times.

Betty again tries to reason and tell him that what they're doing isn't correct.

"[..]I also feel like I'm in hell whenever I run into Ms. Marcela I feel like I'm burning," Armando stares at her intently, he has a slight crease between his brows and seems surprised to hear Betty confess that she feels guilty every time she sees Marcela, a woman who has treated her so poorly. "condemning myself when I see what I'm breaking up. When I see I'm betraying so many people. No, sir, I feel really bad."

"What's stronger? What you feel for me and what we've lived?" At the end of his question his expression changes to a hopeful one, to one that is sweet as his glisten and there's a slight upturn to the corners of his mouth.

"Of course what I feel for you." She says.

In his response you can hear that manipulation at work. You can hear how rehearsed and detached from emotion everything is.

When he leans in to kiss her at first, for a second he seems hesitant but soon he gives into the kiss. Take into account that he hasn't looked at the picture of AA since he was waiting for Betty outside of her house.

Now they kiss and they kiss for a good ol' while until Betty taps his shoulder repeatedly for a second or two and he pulls away. Armando tries to reason with her as to why they should continue their affair, he tries to explain that he can't break up with Marcela and why. His body language is all indicating his satisfaction with how things are turning out. He tries to play the concerned and pained expression because he can't break up with Marcela soon but when he begins to talk about the company's struggles you hear that sincerity and see it as well. He feels confident that he's go it all under control. However, Betty refuses once more to get back together. As Betty agrees now and tells him that it would be terrible if Marcela ever found out and they broke up because of it; he turns his face away from her and smirks.

"I understand sir, that's why it's best we end this." Now he turns more towards her and pulls from his seat as he stares at her with flared nostrils and wide eyes.

Armando gets frustrated and tells her "I'm not saying let's end things, Beatriz" He says between clenched teeth. "I'm saying we have to be careful. Let's understand things, yeah?"

Armando has had all day to marinate in the situation and think of how to get her back. He has definitely dealt with his guilty conscious which is what pushes him to not want to continue the relationship built on deception and lies and this scene shows us the nature of his manipulation and how good he's at it. If you aren't paying attention you truthfully think this man is just coming up with it on the spot but he shows his true colors sooner rather than later.

"It's better for us to end things before it gets worse."

"N-no Beatriz don't leave me."he pleads and in a millisecond his tone of voice changes and he repeats. "Betty don't leave me, please don't leave me" and he leans closer to her and kisses her and they start kissing again ;)

Now this is what really made me go back. He no longer is behaving cocky and being manipulative in just this short lived sentence he has a look of plea in his eyes, he places his fingers on Betty's lips and stares at her and then he resumes to seduction.

In a matter of seconds as he realizes that Betty is not convinced to get back together there's something inside of him that screams for her and the need to be close to her and again we are shown this and shown how good Armando is at avoiding his feelings in an instant. He begs for her to not leave him and we get two very different "Don't leave me" in an instant to be able to determine which was the honest plea and which was the manipulative/seductive plea.

This time however they're interrupted by Roman and Co. as they start to make fun of Betty and say very disrespectful things like she's the ugliest woman in the world, that she had to get somebody else from a different neighborhood to notice her ect.

Armando get's out of the car and listens to what they're saying(I do believe that he is a hypocrite because he listens to his best friend make the same jokes and he doesn't do anything except sit there and take it. I mean he does get mad at him but he never says anything about it. Maybe the reason why he got so angry here is left over anger from Calderon?) as the keep making these jokes. After one of them mentions that Nicolas was the one that was courting Betty and that he now had competition Armando walks around his car and removes his glasses(the true victims of this show tbh Both Betty and Armando's glasses are.)

"No seriously how did you get such a man? […] What are you seeing her devine?" and badabim badabom fists are thrown, kicks are thrown, mans is being held back by two other goofs while some short dude punches him, he frees himself, Betty is trying to get the mans some help and then Don Hermes shows up and fights them off like a true hero.

Betty stands behind them, closer to Armando while Don. Hermes shares words with Roman and Co.

When they run off Don Hermes asks what happened.

"The thing is they were being very disrespectful to Betty and I couldn't allow that so I got out of the car and a fight broke out"

"But what did they tell you?"

"Ay Dad, you know they always bother me for...being ugly." Both Armando and Betty share a loot.

I truthfully feel for Betty. I think anyone who has been bullied at one point or the other feels embarrassment for how they were treated9like it's our fault people are so cruel and superficial? Nah it's the fault for being so ugly on the inside) , especially when it happens in front of someone you like. Betty's self-esteem is really non-existent and for her to have something that she's used to happening to her happen in front of someone she thinks so highly of is mortifying and you can see that in the way she looks at him, embarrassed. It comes to no surprised that Betty decided to change her look after this night.

"I couldn't allow that. Betty must be respected, above anything, well I'll make her be respected." He says with authority. "You know?"

Don Hermes then tells Armando how embarrassing it is and that for that exact reason he doesn't allow Betty to leave the house so that she can avoid problems like those. It paints a very scary picture because it's true.

Don Hermes loves Betty a lot. She is his jewel but because of his distrust in people he keeps his daughter on a tight leash. As Betty mentioned at the start of the show that he[Don Hermes] wanted a good girl so he took her out of regular school and put her in a convent, that he wanted a smart and studious daughter and he got that. That it was time she started to live her life for herself, that she wanted to experience life. Even when Betty has lied and said she's stayed out for work related reasons he still gets upset and demands for her to be home at all times.

I'm not saying Don Hermes is a bad father, the contrary he's an amazing father however there must be a balance and ironically even though he has done so much to take care of his precious daughter Betty has still suffered tremendously because of love.

"[...] that's why I told you to make him go in so you could avoid these kinds of problems, Betty."

"No I was just passing by, it isn't Betty's fault Don Hermes."

"She knows this very well because I have prohibited her to be out here in the streets(she ain't for the skreets) it isn't the first time that we have problems with those guys. Nicolas has had to fight them before because of it-"

"Oh really?" He shifts on his feet and moves his hands from his hips to be clasped in front of him. "Nicolas?" he asks agitated.

"Yes and I've had to fight them myself too."

As they walk towards Armando's car Don. Hermes mentions that he wouldn't want his[A] girlfriend to find out about the fight and Armando tells Betty to continue to the car. He now starts to avoid the topic of Marcela being his GF in front of Betty since he now knows how much it hurts her.

When he drops them off at their house Betty stays for a moment longer in his car so they can talk.

"You shouldn't have gotten in a fight like that for me, it wasn't worth it."

"Betty, please, it was worth it," He sounds genuine. "I couldn't take it...for them to say those barbarities in front of you, for them to make fun of you. I don't know what happened to me I -I have never felt like that. I was so furious." Armando speaks of this like it was an outer body experience and he was trying to understand it himself as he told it. "I couldn't take it. They had to respect you." he now sounds angry again as he says that between clenched teeth.

Again as he says "me tenían que respetarla" is a possessive term. Armando implies that by disrespecting Betty in turn they were disrespecting him i.e. "what they do to you they do to me.".

Then his jealousy pokes through as he turns to her and asks:

"Hey eh, seems like Nicolas already defended you once before..."

"Um yes." He looks away from her and down(to his keys or hands). "Once before."

"So like, I've got competition... because that's what they said that before Nicolas was courting you and now it's me." His tone here is curious but timid as he asks her these questions. Unlike before when he first asked Betty about her having a boyfriend(Betty, My Betty! post) he sounded very angry as he asked her these questions, though curious, his tone later changed to calm and pretending to just be curious however we later saw him enter Calderon's office very happy and his tone reminds me of that. He isn't angry here but he is curious and timid to ask her this because he doesn't want to show jealousy or ask her the direct question that he wants: "Are you with Nicolas? Are you two together and in love?" because he knows he's asked this before and Betty always tells him there's nothing happening.

"Don't listen to them, Sir. They say that just to mortify, to playa round."

"Of course." Armando nods, unconvinced. He turns to Betty's house and then back to her. "What? Is he still in there? " he points with his head while staring at Betty who looks at her house.

"I imagine so but it won't be long before he leaves. He always leaves early." Armando hasn't taken his eyes off of her. It shows that he's really paying attention to any tail sign that would indicate that she's lying to him.

"Ah that's good, very good." He looks away from her. "Well I'll leave then." he turns to look at her again as if hoping for something else.

"Okay, are you sure you're fine, Sir?" He turns away from her and looks thoughtful for a second, debating whether to tell her or not. He finally decides to.

"No. No, I'm not fine." He says being vulnerable. "How am I going to be fine, Beatriz? I came here to talk with you because I've been really worried, I wanted us to reconcile, Beatriz. For us to get back together, for you to not leave me. I wanted us to fix everything and look at what happened...I'm leaving empty handed and with a face full of bruises." he chuckles in disbelief at the end.

"Sir you're not leaving empty handed." The music now changes to a "DUN" sound. "because I don't want to leave you either. We just have to be more careful. We can't go out as much. We have to restrain ourselves." Betty nods.

Now Armando's act of bravery and macho man has moved Betty. It has made her want him more. Why is that?

It's not hard to understand where Betty is coming from. In her respective work field she is confident in what she can and cannot do but when it comes to her person and her appearance she lacks any confidence. While she was stubborn to stick to her morals and her ethics at the beginning and not continuing the affair, now after his display of macho man she is weak.

She no longer cares about how badly it hurts her or how guilty she feels for the betrayal she's inflicting on so many people because her knight in shinning armor has defended her and hasn't made her feel guilty for it. Betty yet he has expressed how he couldn't take it, that he felt like if by disrespecting her they were disrespecting him. He made it so personal that Betty throws all caution to the window and decided to continue the affair.

"Betty... I-I feel so happy, so marvelous with everything you're saying. Betty we-we're going to have some time later on so we can be together." Armando is right back to being a liar, a stinkin' liar.

Betty lets out a sigh and nods. "Yes Sir because I get nightmares just thinking about Ms. Marcela finding out." Armando looks away with wide eyes and lets out a sigh of his own. "Um" Betty clears her throat. "Sir, Does Nicolas bother you a lot?" Armando searches her eyes and Betty continues. "It's 'cause I've noticed that whenever I or somebody mentions him you get indisposed."

He looks thoughtful for a second before responding "Look Beatriz, if you're telling me that there's nothing boing on between you two I-I don't feel bad." Notice how he doesn't make eye contact with her which is something he often does when he feels guilty for lying to her.

"I swear to you, Sir."

"Yeah?" She nods while he stares at her, again trying to find a tail sign that she's lying to him. "Betty, Betty, all of this makes me so happy." He reaches to caress her face with the back of his fingers. "your love..." his tone again changes here.

He tells her that from now on she'll tell everyone that Nicola's is her boyfriend that way Marcela isn't suspicious of them or anyone for that fact. Betty agrees to it but she herself doesn't feel uncomfortable with that.

"Well, I'd kiss you here but your dad could see us and well..." He looks at her relieved but trying to play it off.

Betty nods and looks behind him and then at him and leans to give him a quick peck on the corner of the lips. As she turns to exit his car he touches his lips and looks contentment.

As she walks to the side of his car to wave good-bye he watches her and shows a genuine smile and waves good-bye as well.

You know how I keep mentioning the drop off when Betty leaves and waves bye and how Armando behaves. Little by little we see the fake smile turns to a genuine one. We see him no longer look ready to bolt but him staying for a second longer, him staring and watching Betty with a look of peace and happiness.

What do we get from all of this?

While Armando did have time to rehearse what he wanted to say and most of his responses to Betty sound very rehearsed we get this moments where he is genuine and honest with her and you can clearly tell which of those moments are and which aren't.

Did he want the relationship to end? Yes. The guilt of hurting Betty is a lot and the interesting to note here is that while in the past he didn't care if he used his models for a quick affair with Betty he feels differently and the only logical reason for that is that he cares for her, like actually does, but that doesn't mean he's in love because he's not.

Betty here exposes her true weakness and that's her desire to be loved so even when she feels uncomfortable with certain things like Armando telling her to lie that Nicolas is her boyfriend, she agrees. Again this shows the power dynamic in the relationship and that Betty hasn't learned how to voice her feelings.

Betty's life is no longer changing just in her profession but a lot in her emotional and persona life and it isn't just because Armando is dating her but because these small things aren't normal in a healthy relationship. In this relationship with Armando she has learned to cater to all of his wants and wishes and at this point of the relationship Armando isn't focused so much on what Betty wants.

At this point it's' all very egoistical of him. He feels that Betty belongs to him and due to his ego he goes after her. He feels that Betty is only meant to be special toward him so he gets pissed at "knowing" that she could be that way with somebody else. He feels offended that Betty would think of him as a superficial man. He has made it all about him and though his guilt pushes him to want to not deceive her his ego is bigger than him.

In some redeeming way we know that Armando does in fact have feelings for her and that each and every time they spend time together those feelings just continue to grow and we steady but surely see that change.

However Betty needs a change asap and let her wishes and desires be known and respected just as she does for him and that's why it was so important for her to take him off that pedestal she had him in otherwise that relationship at some point would have ended even if she never found that letter.

[EDIT:]

Armando's rivalry with Nicolas is highlighted in these scenes. Here someone has done what he has just done. Here someone spends time in her house with her family while he doesn't. Nicolas is part of Betty's personal life and he experiences it while he doesn't. He only gets glimpse of it and instead of voicing any of this he just tells Betty that he believes her and drops the subject but Mario's words ring truth here.

Nicolas is better than him. Nicolas has defended Betty before he was in the picture. Nicolas has made himself part of Betty's personal life as a friend. Nicolas makes his[Armando's] money increase each day and the worth of Terra Moda as well. Nicolas manages to be inside Betty's house with her father, who doesn't trust anyone with his daughter, while he can't do any of that.

The harboring and animosity just continues to grow even when Betty says she isn't in a relationship with Nicolas, Armando hates him because he feels that in every aspect of the word Nicolas is a competition to him.

[EDIT 2:

When Betty said that he couldn't be interested in her because she didn't fit his ideal type of conquest he seemed offended, even when he told Mario that Betty had said that he seemed offended.

To Armando based on what Mariana, Bertha, and Mario have told him, Nicolas is Betty's soulmate and in the middle of riches they will end up together and there is a mutual attraction between Nicolas and Betty.

So if Nicolas finds Betty attractive as is(the night of the new collection launch when Nicolas went to pick her up with her dad he sent an urgent memo that he was Betty's boyfriend and was there to pick her up. Both Mario and Armando were witnesses to the door man delivering that memo to Betty and when she left Mario said that a man that desperate to pick up a woman as ugly as Betty only had one reason to sound that urgent; that the attraction was mutual) and he shows to be a lot smarter than him, a ladies man, and still takes notice of Betty, why wouldn't he feel like Nicolas is a competition?

This with the reasons mentioned above are a good cause for him to feel hurt over Mario telling him that Nicolas is better than him. They are fuel enough for him to continue with this sinister plan, despite the guilt.

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | epilogue: better than okay

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, smut, fluff. a lot of fluff. SO MUCH FLUFF. but also smut. am i making any sense? is this thing on?

rating: 18+

word count: 1.9K

author’s note: okay, guys.  here is an unplanned, totally out-of-left-field drabble/epilogue for guilty.  i got a few messages from you guys that you’d love to check in on these two after the night in the penthouse. once i saw those messages, it’s like i couldn’t unsee them and i had to write this before i could move on with my life to give mr. min yoongi the guarded treatment he deserves.  

this is fluffy. lots of feelings? it’s interesting because i’ve never alluded to marriage or children or even had my characters “use the L word” in any of my fics. it’s not usually my style, i guess? i like to leave a lot of the feelings implied. BUT in this case, i felt it was appropriate.

i hope you guys like this. i hope it’s a satisfying wrap to the story of these two characters.  i can’t wait to get going on yoongi’s story and hope to have something out on that soon. beta read by the amazing @ladyartemesia​ and @hobi-gif two brains i cannot live without!

thanks to every last one of you who read and message me about these fics.  i wish you knew how genuinely happy that makes me.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03

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

The villa is quiet but for the muted whirr of the air conditioning units when you return.  

You walk from room to room, coming up empty each time you open a new door.  It’s only when you walk out back to the deck that you find them.

They’re napping together in the sun, faces shaded by an oversized beach umbrella.  

Dasom is curled securely into her father’s side, lashes moist against cheeks rosy with heat.  One chubby arm draped over his chest, possessive over him even in sleep.  You’ve come to accept that this is the way of things these days -- Dasom is in the throes of an all-consuming daddy phase.  Your little girl seems to have conveniently forgotten which of you did all the hard work of bringing her into the world.  

You stare down into her beautiful, traitorous little face -- tucked into his golden, carved body and your heart does a funny little flip.  

You didn’t know it was possible to love this deeply.

Namjoon stirs when you delicately extract Dasom from his hold, careful not to wake her.  He pouts even before he’s fully awake, mourning the loss of her comforting weight.  It’s only then that his eyes open -- hooded and drowsy -- and the corners of his mouth quirk into a tired smile.  

There’s that funny little flip again.

You put one finger over your lips to silence him and he nods, eyes falling shut one more time.

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

You handle Dasom with the kind of care you’d give a live bomb.

You carry her back into the villa slowly, afraid to make a sound and careful to avoid any sudden movements.  It’s a painstaking process but eventually your hard work pays off.  After some very careful footwork she is lying down in the crib, one hand fisted into her favorite blanket.  

The one that smells like daddy, of course.

You stand there and watch the steady rise and fall of her chest for a while.  

It’s a stroke of serendipity that Dasom favors your mother as much as she does.  You never would have imagined she’d share a face as well as a name with the matriarch she’ll never meet.  

Life has such an interesting way of coming full circle sometimes.

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

Namjoon is still resting when you make your way back to the deck.

His long, strong body is sprawled out across the massive sun chaise, droplets of water not yet vaporized by the sun clinging to his skin and hair. He looks so young like this -- rested and peaceful and bronzed -- millions of mental miles away from the pressure of his responsibilities in Seoul. 

You’ll never get over how handsome he is.

Never.

You’d come home from your massage today with a very specific goal in mind -- but you take one look at your sleeping husband and hesitate.  These moments really are so few and far between for him.  

You should let him rest. 

You bend down to drop a soft kiss on his cheek before heading back inside.  But as you straighten to leave, his hands come up to grab you.  Strong fingers grip your waist, dragging you down onto the chaise.

Onto him.

“Namjoon,” you whisper a paper-thin protest, lips at his ear.  The rough material of his swim trunks scrapes against your thighs as you straddle him.  “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Why would I do that,” he murmurs, hands stroking down your sides, “when I could be doing this?”

Good question.

He kisses you then, slow and languorous, pressing you into his chest with hands splayed against the small of your back.  You sigh when they slip lower to grip your ass -- to drag you against the cock now stirring to life between his legs.

“You really do need your rest,” you protest as his lips move up the column of your neck.

“Quit bossing me around,” he mutters, nipping at you like a reprimand. “I know exactly what I need.”

His hands stray from the cup of your ass then, slipping under your sundress and just a heartbeat later you feel his smile against your skin.  

He hums his satisfaction at finding you completely bare beneath the thin material. His fingertips glide over the soft skin of your legs, touch feather-light. 

“You were gonna let me sleep, huh?”

“Yes, of course,” you insist, rolling your hips experimentally against the bulge you can now feel throbbing beneath you, straining against his trunks. 

“Liar,” he accuses, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver up your back. His hands drop to the hem of your dress and he pulls it over your head in one smooth motion, throwing it aside.

You lean into him, claiming a kiss with one arm wrapped around his neck. Namjoon lets you steer this one, content to let you explore his mouth at your own pace.  Your hands card into his hair and you grind down against him as you taste him, taking his bottom lip between your teeth.  

Microscopic grains of sand tickle your skin as your body slides against his.

There’s no concern for privacy, despite the fact that you’re naked on top of your husband in the outdoors.  This piece of Jeju Island is Namjoon’s, and the armed men who stand guard at the entrance to this compound at his command are tasked with ensuring no one and nothing comes near.  

This is the safest place in the world right now.  

At this villa.  On this chaise.  In his arms.

Namjoon makes an impatient sound from deep in his chest while you rock mindlessly against him.  He slips a hand down to your apex and drags one long finger across your opening.  He groans when he finds you messy for him, thighs slick with sweat and excitement.

“Minx,” he teases, teeth at your neck.  “I’m playing right into your hands.”

“So you are,” you agree as he kisses his way down, mouth open and wet against your breast until he reaches one aching nipple, already at attention.  He rakes his teeth over it and you suck in a sharp breath, jolting at the stimulation.  Then he turns his head to mouth at the other nipple, softer this time.  You jerk again in his hold.

“Sensitive?” he muses, one brow lifted.  

“V-very,” you stammer, pulling back.  “It’s too much.”

Namjoon makes a curious sound under his breath as he pulls you closer.  Your nipples graze against the sun-warm planes of his chest but this time the sensation is bearable, skirting closer to pleasure than pain.  

You tighten your hold around his neck, moaning when he sinks one finger inside of you, thumb closing over your clit at the same time.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Namjoon knows exactly how to touch you, where and for how long.  He can take you apart and put you back together with breathtaking precision now that he knows you -- quite literally -- inside and out. Years of trial and error distilled down to the most masterful strokes, culminating in skill that has you shaking in his arms in no time.

“No, Jagi,” he chides, sensing you’re well on your way to coming undone with his fingers inside of you and his mouth against yours.  “Save this one for me.”

You whine on an exhale when he pulls away from you long enough to shove his swim trunks off his hips.  He takes himself in hand, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches you.  

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.  

You cross your arms over yourself without thinking. Your body has changed so much since Dasom came into the world.  It’s impossible to ignore the new fullness of your breasts, the added roundness in your hips and thighs.

Namjoon tuts under his breath.

“Don’t hide from me,” he admonishes quietly, pulling you back in.  “I just like to look at you sometimes.”  He lifts your hips over his with steady hands, gazing up into your face.  “Still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

He punctuates that sentiment with his cock, guiding you down and lifting his own hips to meet yours halfway.  You whimper at the perfect fullness you feel when he’s anchored deep, completely sheathed inside of you. 

“Namjoon,” you breathe, rocking impatiently into his deliberate grind.  “God, you feel so good.”

He smiles into the kiss he plants on you; rolling his hips slowly, thrusts careful and unhurried. 

Here there’s no urgent calls waiting, no Seokjin or Yoongi to interrupt -- just you and him melding together against the backdrop of the beach and waves.  He savors this moment -- basks in it -- cock buried deep inside of you, lips plush against yours.

It goes on like that, slow and sweaty and snug, until the release he’d stirred inside of you just a few moments ago threatens again.  You feel it looming, circling when he pulls his knees up and strokes deep against your most sensitive spots.  You pull your mouth away to cry out and his grip on your hips tightens, keeping you from pulling back.

“Come apart for me Jagi,” he groans, thrusts building in intensity,  “Come around me.”

You’ve never been able to deny him a thing -- and certainly not this.  

You stop fighting back against the pleasure, surrendering to the sensation.  You let it wash over you, holding tight to Namjoon for balance as his own release ignites.  He whispers your name over and over as his thrusts become frenzied, thighs straining when he empties himself inside of you.  

You fall onto him then, spent and limp. 

You lie together like that for a while, bodies warm in the sun, the sound of water lapping against the shore lulling you both into relaxation.  Namjoon drops a kiss on your temple, fingers tracing soft lines up and down your spine. 

Everything is going to be okay. 

Your think back to the penthouse and the promise Namjoon made to you at the very beginning. Since then it’s become a shared mantra of sorts, whispered between you both during times of trouble.  

He’d promised you that again when you thought grief would pull you apart at the seams after your mother died. You promised the same to him when his worry and doubts about fatherhood nearly broke him in the months before Dasom’s arrival.  

“Our baby isn’t a baby anymore,” Namjoon laments in a whisper, interrupting your thoughts. “I was watching her today on the beach, walking in the sand. She’s so independent now.  Not much longer and she won’t even need me.”

“Don’t be silly,” you soothe. “She’s always going to need you.”

He hums thoughtfully, chest rumbling beneath you.

“Well, I was thinking -- ” he clears his throat before continuing, “ -- that maybe it’s time for another.”

You tuck your head under his chin, smiling to yourself.  

“Another?” 

“Another baby.”

“That’s a good idea,” you murmur, taking one of his hands in yours.  You guide it down to the swell of your belly, relishing the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“Really?

“Really.”

“Now?”

“Not now now,” you tease. “Now as in about seven months from now.”

Namjoon slips two fingers under your chin to tip your lips towards his.

“That’s good, Jagi,” he exhales, kissing you softly.  “That’s real good.”

He winds his fingers through yours and you stare at your joined hands.

Everything is going to be okay.   

But everything is not okay. 

It’s so much better than that.

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

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