#because i KNOW how that looks as a potential stretch manager .

[strawbabycowboy]

i left the floor today for a personal convo, and then lied abt it to my manager - who immediately called me on it. because he saw me leave . and while im like i shouldn’t have lied, absolutely, why didn’t you just ask me . why i left the floor during a busy time, and reprimand me from there? like , i realise you wanted to see if i would lie, but then you just made me panic .

#I’m like sir . #you couldn’t have just been an adult about that #instead of setting a trap? #when I was leaving for work he asked if he/they (him and gm) could talk to me #and i was like I’m clocked out but yeah #and he was like oh you’re clocked out - nvm I’ll talk to you when you’re back #however I come back befor him . and the gm ! was like huh what? Cause she was eating her lunch . #so he also lied bc he said that him and the gm both saw me leave? and i was like ??? jackie was not down here plus? i would have seen her #if she had been walking to the floor ? #so anyway back to it #he wants to talk abt it and i KNOW it’s the lying based on how he reacted when i said I went to my car like literally . crossed his arms #and was like you’re lying and of course bc I’m shocked my face fr went like 😮 #but more like idk how to explain #And then he was like you’re lyING! I know you’re lying to me right now #i saw you leave with the officer and GM and i saw you walk all the way down . #so I was like i apologise it won’t happen again . #and then he was like just kinda walked away from me and was like don’t lie to me #I’m like you … didn’t react in a mature way . and … we could have had an actual convo about it #because i KNOW how that looks as a potential stretch manager . #for me to lie . Trust me I know . It’s the first and last time . #anyway my anxiety is getting the best of me rn #fuckkkkk #personal

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

I wanna dance with somebody

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22

Prompt: Sports

Rated: T

CW: some vague mentions of Eddie’s boner

Tags: No UD AU; Meet cute; Good neighbor Eddie Munson; Dancer Steve Harrington

Notes: @thefreakandthehair, @sourw0lfs, @devondespresso - SPORTS! GO, SPORTS!!!

Wanna see dancer!Steve stretch (and Eddie have a horny meltdown)? Check out the artwork done by @house-of-the-moving-image!!

It’s still half dark and freezing outside as Eddie parks the van in front of the dancing school.

“Shit, we’re running late,” Max curses and bends down to straighten her neon-colored leg warmers for the twentieth time. “Just because you couldn’t find your stupid car keys.” 

“That all you gotta say?” Eddie huffs, but all it gets him is that bewildered brow quirk she always does when he’s being dumb. “How about Sorry for waking you at ass o’clock, Eddie? Thank you for driving me, Eddie? You’re the best neighbor in the world, Eddie?” 

She scoffs at him. “Ew, are you always that desperate for validation? Pathetic.” 

Eddie gawks after her as she opens the passenger door and gets out to retrieve her duffel from the backseat. That little gremlin! He should’ve closed the door in her face, left her standing out in the snow. 

Except, it all rang a little too close to home. The way she huddled on his porch, arms wrapped around her too-thin jacket, face set in a disappointed scowl. The way she barked at him to drive her to dance class because her mom had been home late and wouldn’t wake up. He knows she’s been taking odd jobs around the trailer park to pay for the classes, knows it's the one thing during the week she looks forward to. Also knows that her mom is too out of it to care half of the time. Knows how that feels. 

There’s no way he could’ve denied her. 

The problem is, she’s perfectly aware of that. 

“You coming?” 

She’s eyeing him expectantly through the open back door of the van. Eddie waves her off, fumbles for his cigarettes in his pocket. Realizes he forgot them. Shit. 

“‘s okay, I’ll just wait out here in the car.” 

She rolls her eyes so hard her entire head sways with the motion. “Don’t be a moron, they have heating and a lounge inside. C’mon.” 

*

The inside of the dancing school is basically just one long hall with a floor-to-ceiling mirror front at one end. There’s a counter in one corner and two mismatched sofas with a pile of old magazines opposite that. Max makes a dash for the gaggle of girls doing warm-ups on the dance floor, even though there’s no instructor in sight yet. 

“Oh hey, can I help you?” 

Eddie blinks. A guy has just materialized behind the counter - though the truth probably is that he was crouched out of sight to retrieve the boombox in his hands. He puts it on the countertop, cocks his head at Eddie, which makes a few strands of floofy chestnut hair fall in front of his wireframe glasses, and oh fuck, he’s cute! 

“Adult classes don’t start until noon, but-” 

Eddie barks a laugh and saunters closer. 

“Yeah, no. I’m just here to drop off little Red.”

He jerks his head at the dance floor. Cutie follows the movement and his face breaks into a smile so full of genuine delight, Eddie wants to cuddle him. Or maybe bite him. Maybe both. 

“Oh, Max,” says Cutie. “You her brother?” 

Eddie snorts. “Nah, just a neighbor. Her mom was … indisposed.” 

“Huh,” Cutie says. Quirks an eyebrow. Somehow manages to put an entire unspoken verdict into that little noise and gesture. “She’s real talented, y’know?” 

Eddie shuffles in his place, unsure about what to do with that information. “Um, yeah?” 

Cutie nods, eyes darting over at Max, who’s dropping into a painful-looking split in front of the mirror, and shit, when did she learn that? 

“Yeah. I think she’s got potential. Plus, she’s really come out of her shell these past few weeks. So thanks for driving her.” 

“Oh, erm …” Eddie makes, pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to hide his incoming flush. “No problem, dude, not like I had-” 

“Steve!” Max hollers, and they flinch apart. Eddie didn’t even notice how they’ve both drifted into each other’s space, Cutie’s elbows bracketed on the counter and himself just swaying ever-so-slightly closer. “You done flirting, or what? We should’ve started three minutes ago!” 

Cutie - who’s name is Steve, apparently - takes off his glasses and winks at Eddie. Fucking winks at him. It goes ridiculously well with the pretty pink blush that’s blooming high in his cheekbones. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, raising his arms over his head and bending at the hip, does a silly little stretch. “Duty calls.” 

Then, he smoothes his hair out of his forehead and steps around the counter, pressing the Play button on the boombox. 

“Okay, ladies, here we go! One song for warm-up, just move around the room however you like, feel the music.” 

Some atrocious, boppy pop number starts to blare through the room, but Eddie hardly processes it. He’s too preoccupied by the sight in front of him. 

Legs. 

And an ass. 

Legs and an ass in fucking tights. They hug Steve’s form like a second skin, bringing out every muscle, and Christ, there’s a lot to bring out! Guy looks like one of these ancient Greek marble statues - if marble statues wore fucking Tears for Fears shirts and could balance on their tippy toes and do leaps and spins in perfect sync with the music, all with flawless core tension and a seemingly effortless smile. 

Eddie thinks he may need to step out. Take a breather. Throw himself crotch-first into the nearest snowdrift, maybe. 

Instead, he takes two shaky steps backwards and collapses on top of the nearest sofa, grabs a random magazine from the pile and fans it open in his lap to hide his very unfortunate predicament. 

It’s Good Housekeeping. 

Steve spins by, catches his eye and winks again. 

Eddie turns back to the magazine. Cool, fine, he always wanted to know about the ten best apple pie recipes to delight your loved ones with. 

He does hope this magazine is sturdy, or he might just tear through it.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Jealousy, jealousy

Word Count: 5.5k

Themes: fluff, pining, Sebastian is a bit of an ass. I left Y/N’s house as ambiguous as I could so you can use whichever one you like :)

Warnings: All characters aged up to 18+. Potential spoilers for HL

“You’re staring,” Ominis murmured before letting out a quiet sigh. “Again.”

“She’s talking to Weasley,” Sebastian muttered back, his arms folded across his chest.

“Which one?” he asked, a wry smile slipping into his face. Ominis didn’t need to be able to see to know Sebastian was glaring at him. 

“Garreth, you prat.” A brief silence fell over the pair as Sebastian continued to watch the interaction between Y/N and Garreth Weasley. Y/N threw her head back and laughed at something Garreth said, and Sebastian felt something in his chest tighten as the sun caught on the natural highlights hidden in her hair. “He can’t be that funny.” Garreth muttered something to Y/N and she turned in his direction to catch his eye. He felt every nerve in his body as she smiled sweetly at him and waved her fingers to say hello before looking back at the wizard in front of her. “He’s just using her.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ominis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise as he turned his head to look at Sebastian (he hoped he was, at least).

“Isn’t everyone?” Sebastian asked. Ominis had been there with him that fateful day in the bathrooms. They had both heard what had been said, had both heard the chorus of laughter and agreement that followed.

“Everyone but you, you mean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ominis,” he looked away from Y/N to narrow his eyes at his friend beside him. “You’re not using her either.”

“Aren’t I?” Ominis asked. There was a beat of silence between them before he laughed loudly at the lack of response from the brunet, and he could almost picture the incredulous look being shot his way.

Sebastian would blame the sun, he decided, if anyone asked why he was frowning in your direction. It had come out today, and the trio had taken advantage of the warmth it provided to sit in the gardens by the north entrance for the castle. It seemed they hadn’t been the only ones to have the idea and it wasn’t long before Y/N had leapt from her position in the grass next to him to greet Natsai Onai and the red-clad gaggle that seemed to follow. Sebastian couldn’t help but begrudge Natty (who was a wonderful witch despite being in Gryffindor) from stealing you away from him. He had been content with your arm pressed against his, your legs touching as you stretched out beside him, head almost resting on his shoulder as you watched the clouds drift by. 

Ominis twirled his wand idly in his hands, the sensor pulsing every-so-often to let him know Sebastian was still brooding beside him. Although he didn’t need it to, because if he listened carefully he could hear Sebastian mutter to himself occasionally as he more than likely watched Y/N from across the gardens. It wasn’t loud enough for Ominis to hear everything he was saying, but he did manage to catch phrases such as stupid Gryffindors and was just going to hold her hand. The latter made Ominis snort in amusement. Sebastian had been working up the courage to admit his feelings for the third member of their little group since the beginning of their sixth year, and now here they were nearing the end of their seventh and final year.

He had tried to tell Sebastian - time and time again - that there was nothing to fear and that he strongly suspected you returned his feelings, but he refused to listen. Ominis wouldn’t outright betray your trust and inform Sebastian of the late night conversations they shared where you voiced your concerns for the brunet, voice tinged with more than just friendly admiration. Instead, he subtly tried to push the pair together with flimsy excuses to explain his perpetual absence. Not that it did any good when either of you refused to acknowledge the Erumpent in the room. 

It could be worse, he mused, I could actually have to witness the pining between them, instead of just hearing about it.

“Get up,” Sebastian nudged Ominis gently and stood up. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to save Y/N,” Sebastian replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Y/N doesn’t need saving,” Ominis rolled his eyes, but stood up nonetheless, brushing grass from his robes. “In fact, I need to remind you that she has saved us. Several times.”

“Well, call this us returning the favour,” he tugged Ominis in the right direction softly before letting go of his robes and stalking over to where Y/N and Garreth were sat talking, set a little apart from the rest of the Gryffindors. “Y/N…Weasley.” He nodded once at the wizard and came to a stop right next to Y/N. Ominis, wand held aloft, offered the ground an awkward smile. “I can’t believe you left us for a bunch of Gryffindors,” he looked down at her, forcing a chuckle so he didn’t start an inter-house fight. “Are we not enough for you?”

“Don’t start,” Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes at him. “Garreth was just telling me about his newest potion idea.”

“Planning on getting her into more trouble by making her sneak into Sharp’s office for supplies again?” The comment earned Sebastian a nudge in the ribs from Y/N, but Garreth chuckled and shook his head.

“Actually, I was hoping Y/N would accompany me to the Forbidden Forest soon to gather some ingredients.”

“Not man enough to go it alone?” Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. The tips of Garreth’s ears were tinged pink as he looked between the three of them, before an easygoing smile fell across his features. 

“Is that why you keep asking her to join you on trips to spider caves?” Ominis let a laugh slip out at Garreth’s words, and Sebastian shot him a glare for it. Y/N shuffled nervously on her feet between them all, sensing some tension simmering under the surface. She wasn’t sure why they were both standing there, chests puffed out, and had a feeling she didn’t want to know. The only one who didn’t seem to be stancing was Ominis, who looked just as out of place as she felt. 

“I don’t mind going into the forest,” Y/N supplied quietly. Two pairs of eyes shot her way, and Ominis looked a little to her left. “I mean, I need to go anyway. Ms Bugbrooke asked me to go and check in on a unicorn she named Hazel and find a way to keep her safe.”

“I thought we were going to go do that this weekend?” Sebastian asked.

“You could all go,” Ominis supplied. He could feel Y/N relax from beside him, her hand reaching between their robes to squeeze his arm in gratitude. “Saves for multiple trips to the forest.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Sebastian frowned, crossing his arms. Garreth gave them all a half-hearted smile and shrugged.

“You let me know, Y/N. I’ve got to get to Charms, I can’t be late again or Ronen will tell my aunt,” he shuddered at the thought and waved goodbye to the three of them before turning to walk away. Y/N offered Garreth a forced smile as he left and waited until he was well out of earshot before whirling around to face Sebastian and hit him with her glove.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sebastian. It doesn’t become you.”

“Sweetheart, everything becomes me,” he sent her a cocky grin, his body language loosening now that Garreth was gone. “Do you want me to walk you - both of you - to class?” He bent down to pick up her discarded bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Don’t change the subject,” she sighed in annoyance, her eyes narrowing. “You always seem to do this whenever I’m speaking to someone.”

“I don’t do it to Poppy, Natty, Imelda, or Ominis.”

“Please, leave me out of this,” Ominis muttered, looking away from them as they began to walk to the castle for class. Even though he knew he couldn’t see it, Sebastian still shot his friend a look as if to say way to back me up, help me out here and hoped he would get the message. The trio walked in silence until they passed the History of Magic classroom.

“Why don’t you let me talk to any of our classmates?”

“You’re talking to me, aren’t you? And you speak to Ominis all the time,” Sebastian gestured at his friend, who cringed internally at being brought back into this. He hoped if he kept silent that they would forget he was there, and perhaps he could sneak off and make it to class on his own. Not that it would do much good - he shared his next class with Y/N, and Sebastian was sure to follow. They had overheard a conversation between her, Imelda, Poppy and Natty about the chivalrous actions some of the wizards at the school took to get the attention of the witches and which ones in particular seemed to charm the girls the most. Ever since then Sebastian had held her school bag and walked her to every class. 

“Stop trying to be charming, Sebastian. I’m annoyed at you.”

“You think I’m charming?” Sebastian grinned down at her, earning a quiet whack as she hit him with her glove again. “Why are you so violent today?”

“Why are you so bothersome today?” she shot back. Ominis smiled to himself and walked a little faster. As much as he enjoyed hearing Y/N rip into Sebastian, he did not want to get caught in the middle. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight the chill that lingered in the stone walls after the warmth they had felt outside. Sebastian had been acting differently lately. Some days he was attentive, almost sweet; others like today, he was a nuisance, plain and simple. She never knew who she was going to get - the man who greeted her with coffee and a smile in the mornings, his hand lingering on hers after he handed her the mug, or the sulking mass walking by her. Her eyes fell on his back, watching as his muscles rippled through the white shirt, at her bag hanging on his shoulder.

He never aimed that gruffness in her direction, she realised. Even now, he was holding her bag for her and looked over his shoulder to see if she was still with them, a breathtaking smile falling on his face when he caught her eye. It was only ever when one of their male classmates spoke to her, standing a little too close that he began to act out, and despite his protests that she spoke to Ominis, she had seen him do it with him too. It was to a lesser scale, but even this morning he had placed himself between the pair as they all sat in the sun, his shoulder pressed against hers.

“Why won’t you let me speak to any men?” the words slipped out of her mouth before she could process them. Sebastian came to a stop and looked at her in confusion. She was vaguely aware of Ominis slowing as well from in front of them, a low groan escaping from him. 

“What?”

“That conversation you were having with Garreth wasn’t exactly pleasant, and it’s not the first time this has happened.” Sebastian watched as she twisted her fingers together nervously and longed to take her hand in his. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“You think Weasley is going to make you happy?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“I-I don’t know! But how am I meant to find out when you keep…”

“When I keep…?” His casual tone infuriated Y/N, and judging by the amusement in his eye and the twitch in the corner of his mouth, he knew it.

“When you keep acting so possessive!”

“Maybe I’m just a good judge of character and know none of those simpering idiots who keep coming over are enough for you.”

“Enough for me - ” Ire flared at his words and she gave him a withering look. “You have some nerve, Sebastian Sallow. And you,” she glared at Ominis, who had the decency to look a little frazzled at her anger. “I expected better from you, you’re always by his side whenever this happens. Care to explain yourself?” Ominis shook his head slowly and backed away a few steps as Sebatian came forward.

“Don’t take it out on him, he had no part in this.”

“Good to know the stupidity started and ended with you, then,” Y/N snapped. She turned her back on him and walked a few steps away to calm down. “Why do you always do this to me, Sebastian? Give me one good reason why you keep acting out like this.”

“I’m only looking out for your best interests. You need someone who will challenge you,” Sebastian stood taller, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “Not a lapdog who will roll over every time you call their name. You need an equal.” Ominis grimaced at his best friend's words and slowly began to back away. He didn’t make it too far before someone bumped into him, pausing to listen to the argument occurring in the hallway.

“Who are you to presume anything about my happiness?” Y/N stalked forward to poke Sebastian in the chest roughly. “Who would even fit within your insane standards for me? Who would challenge me, make me happy, treat me as their equal?” she asked, all but spitting the words at him. “You?”

“Maybe.” Sebastian shrugged, not quite meeting her eye as he shuffled between his feet nervously.

“You…” Y/N let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re something else, Sallow.” In all the times Y/N had imagined Sebastian admitting he may return his feelings for her it never went like this, in a corridor attracting the attention of their classmates with their fight. “I have done nothing but wait for you to notice me for two years, Sebastian. And when I finally realise you’ll never see me the way I want and decide to move on, that’s when you’re determined to want me?”

“I don’t just want you,” his voice was hoarse with her declaration. Two years? How could she not see that I’ve noticed her, that I've only ever noticed her? How could this have gone wrong so fast. 

“You’re nothing but a jealous coward.” With one final poke to the chest, Y/N took her bag and started to walk away from him and the little crowd that had gathered.

“You think I don’t know how selfish I’m being?” Sebastian called out, suddenly finding his voice. He followed her path, near enough pushing anyone aside who stood in his way. “I would give anything - anything - to go back to that day we first met. Back when all you were was Atë personified, before I realised how absolutely breathtaking every inch of your soul is. You’ve ruined me, Y/N!”

“And that’s my fault?”

“I’m not saying that!” Sebastian groaned and reached for the sleeve of her robe to pull her to a stop. He quickly rescinded his hand when she shot him a menacing glare as if to say I dare you.

“Then what are you saying?” she asked. Doubt clutched him, stopping the words from leaving his mouth. He must have waited a beat too long to respond because Y/N sighed, and the disappointment on her face was enough to bring him to his knees as she continued to walk away from him, the students they had attracted parting to let her through. She had made it halfway down the corridor when sharp panic squeezed his chest tightly.

“I’m in love with you!” he shouted after her. His face flamed at the confession, at the sudden whispers of those around him as his words echoed down the stone corridor. Y/N stopped, and for a second Sebastian felt hope that she would turn around and say she loved him too. That it was him she wanted, who she always wanted.

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it.” He watched in despair as she walked away from him, slipping through the doors that would take her into another hall. There was a dull roaring in his ears, drowning out the sudden whispers that had started around him. A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and he looked over slowly to see Ominis, a grim look on his face. Sebastian couldn’t bear to see the sympathy in his gaze, to hear the voices around him talking about his rejected confession. 

“All right, show’s over!” he growled, shaking Ominis’ hand from his shoulder. “Everyone clear off.” He rolled his shoulders and stood a little straighter before stalking down the corridor. The younger students jumped out of his way, and he caught the looks of pity from those in his year. Poppy tried to step forward and speak to him, but he just shook his head at her and walked out of the hall and made his way to the Undercroft. 

*~*~*~*~*

It had been nearly a week since Y/N and Sebastian’s argument in the middle of the hallway and she could still hear people whisper about it as she walked by, as if she couldn’t hear a word they were saying. A group of Ravenclaws were sitting at a table in the library near Y/N, Poppy and Imelda, and every-so-often they looked over and started to giggle. 

“Just ignore them,” Poppy murmured to her.

“No,” Imelda glared at the group, who immediately quieted down and looked away. “They need to learn to keep their mouths shut, or I’ll do it for them.” She raised her voice just enough for them to hear her threat and they quickly packed their things and left in a flurry of navy robes. 

“You can’t threaten everyone in the school, Imelda,” Y/N said with a sigh, not looking up from her Charms textbook. Another group would soon come and replace that one, and the cycle would just repeat itself. 

“Watch me.” Her grin was unnerving to say the least. “What’s he doing in here?” Y/N looked up to see Sebastian walking up the stairs into the upper part of the library where they were currently sitting. He looked around, a little unsure of himself and Y/N’s heart clenched in her chest at the sight. He always looked so confident, even when he was utterly terrified, but now he just looked lost. “He better not come over here.”

“Imelda,” Poppy sighed and shook her head. “We don’t even know if he’s here for Y/N, he could be here to study.” Even though Poppy was right, Y/N couldn’t help but wish that he was here for her, that he wanted to speak to her.

“No you don’t, wipe that look off your face,” Imelda pointed her quill at Y/N. “Don’t go mooning over him after what he’s put you through. You don’t need someone who’s going to treat you that poorly.”

“He doesn’t exactly look great himself.”

“Who’s side are you on, Sweeting?”

“I didn’t realise there were any.” Y/N rolled her eyes as the pair continued to bicker, her gaze turning back to Sebastian, who had turned in their direction as he heard Poppy and Imelda arguing. He caught her eye and began to slowly make his way to their table, casting a weary glance at Imelda as he neared.

“What do you want, Sallow?” Imelda snapped at him, turning on him as he got closer.

“Hello, Sebastian, are you alright?” Poppy nudged her in reprimand and offered him an awkward smile.

“I-I’d like to speak to Y/N, if that’s okay,” he asked, not quite looking at any of them. 

“Come to shout more declarations of love in my face?” It was a low blow, and Y/N knew it. She watched as he flinched slightly and looked away from her, his shoulders slumped in defeat. She was vaguely aware of Poppy grabbing onto Imelda’s robes to pull her away while the latter protested as she stared at him. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days, and his shirt and robes were rumpled. “Sit down,” she muttered, closing her book. “You look like you’re about to pass out from exhaustion.” 

Sebastian listened, his hands running through his hair as he slumped down into a seat. He looked awful, Y/N noted, eyes wandering over his frame. It went beyond the creased clothes and the lack of sleep. He looked paler, and Y/N watched as he sighed heavily and rubbed a hand down his face. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I went too far.” There was a different level of weariness in his voice, it went down to his bones, his very soul. The man in front of her was not the one she had fallen for. Her heart ached as he looked up at her slowly with dull eyes. “I always go too far.”

“You do,” she murmured. His eyes slid shut at her words and he braced himself for a blow that wasn’t coming. “And yet, somehow, I always forgive you for it.” She hated admitting it out loud, but once her rage had simmered and the adrenaline had left her a few hours after their fight, she had forgiven him. She could never stay mad at him for long. Even after their only other argument that had happened in the Undercroft years ago when he had called her ignorant for trusting a goblin and stormed out she hadn’t been hurt or angry, just concerned for him.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” She waited until he looked at her before giving him a small, teasing smile. They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence, each drinking in the different ways the other had changed in the past few days until Y/N sighed and looked away again. “I’m not an object to be possessed, Sebastian. You can’t just stake your claim on me.”

“I never…I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this. I just…” he sighed and tried to sit a little straighter in his seat. Y/N waited patiently for him to finish his sentence, waited as the wheels turned in his head and he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, his heart constricting in his chest and he saw the matching dark rings under her eyes. 

“I’m not going to fight you, Sebastian,” Y/N said gently, reaching his hand. She stopped before she could touch it and instead started to fiddle with the quill Poppy had left behind. “You can say what you need to.”

“It’s not pleasant.”

“None of this has been.”

“No, it hasn’t,” he smiled without humour and finally looked her in the eye. “Ominis and I once heard a conversation in the bathroom. I don’t think they realised we were in there, and they were gone before we could confront them. They were talking about you. About how they wanted to spend time with you and ask you to accompany them - alone, might I add - to the Three Broomsticks so that they could be seen with the Hero of Hogwarts.” Sebastian all but spat the nickname out, hating it in that moment. “They all left before I could see who they were. Ever since then I’ve stood between you and anyone who looked like they were trying to express interest because I didn’t know who was genuine and who was just using you.”

“Garreth…” Sebastian hated himself for being the one to break the news, for putting that heartbroken expression on her face. Y/N felt her stomach churn in revulsion and grief. She wasn’t stupid, she knew there were people in the school who only wanted to be seen with her because of what she was as opposed to who she was. She knew some of the requests she politely turned down for company and a drink in Hogsmeade weren’t out of attraction, but rather a ploy to get into her graces. She never suspected Garreth would be one of them. She was hurt - not because she had feelings for him, but because she had thought they were friends. 

“No, I made a mistake with him.” He pulled a face as he admitted he was wrong. “It turns out he actually wants to get to know you - the real you.” Oh. Oh. Y/N felt her face flush and Sebastian looked away. He couldn’t bear to watch her blush over Garreth Weasley, or anyone, for that matter. 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“Your delivery was less than ideal but…did you mean it? Do you mean it?” she asked nervously, her voice no more than a whisper. Sebastian hated the look on her face, hated seeing her so unsure of herself.  

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since our fifth year.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he held a hand out for hers, letting her make the decision if she wanted to take it or not. A few seconds passed, and he was just about to rescind the offer, when she shyly placed her hand in his. He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing her knuckles as he tried not to think about how perfectly her hand fit in his. “It means that I want you to be happy,” he murmured, “and if Weasley makes you happy - or anyone else who wishes to genuinely court you - I’ll take a step back.”

It hurt him to say the words out loud, to voice the possibility that after all this she wouldn’t want him anymore. Not the way she had once, the way he currently still wanted her. He let her collect her thoughts, watched as she chewed on her lower lip. 

“What if…what if I don’t want you to?” Y/N asked, voice so quiet he almost missed it. 

Sebastian’s heart stuttered at the blush that rose to her cheeks, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to be the only one that made her blush like that ever again. For the rest of their lives. The thought startled him slightly, but he realised it was true. He wasn’t saying he wanted to marry her (although, a rather enticing image of Y/N floating down the aisle to him in a white dress did flash to mind), but he wanted to stay by her side. Whether that was in a friendly capacity or more. Merlin, did he hope it was more. 

“I meant what I said too, about waiting for you to notice me,” she continued. 

“Darling, I’ve not noticed anyone else since the day I met you.” He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand again and squeezed it gently before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. He watched in satisfaction as her blush deepened, and tried to read the flicker of emotions that passed across her face. “I’m more than aware my confession was…something, to say the least (Y/N rolled her eyes at this) but I meant what I said. I’m in love with you, Y/N Y/L/N. I have been for a while now.” She looked away, unable to handle the deep emotions swirling in his eyes, that are written clearly on his face for anyone to see. She didn’t doubt for a second that he was telling the truth. “I don’t expect you to say it back.”

“I…I’m not good with all of this. I can’t quite say if it’s love but…” Her face burns, and she feels as if it will be a permanent shade of red after this conversation. “I am entranced by you, Sebastian Sallow. I’ve never been in love before, never felt it in anything more than a friendly capacity, but with you…it’s different. It runs far deeper than I can explain.” She presses a hand to her chest, right above her heart that is beating so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. “I can’t picture my life without you in it, whether that is as a friend or more.”

Y/N doesn’t know how else to put it into words. She can’t seem to say that it’s been him from the very beginning. From the moment she beat him in their first duel and he was thrilled instead of being put out she knew she was in trouble. She’d only fallen faster and harder since then, from their first trip to Hogsmeade where he flirted with her the whole way, until the day his uncle had died and she had talked Ominis out of sending him to Azkaban. 

“You don’t need to say it back,” Sebastian repeated, his grip on her hand tightening as he took note of the adoration in her eyes. “I mean, how could you not be in love with me?” Y/N laughed loudly before clapping her hand over her mouth suddenly. They waited with baited breath for Scribner to come and reprimand them, only relaxing when they couldn’t hear her making her way up the stairs. 

“You have to apologise to Garreth.” Sebastian groaned at her words, but there was a smile on his face that he couldn’t quite hide from her. Already he looked better. He still needed a good night’s sleep, in Y/N’s opinion, but life was returning to his eyes and he sat a little straighter, a little taller. 

“Where does this leave us?” he asked, shuffling his chair closer to hers so their knees could press together under the table. He hooked one foot under her ankle and tangled their legs together, enjoying the look on her face as he did so. 

“I’m still mad at you. But knowing you did this to be noble…to protect me. That lessens the blow.” She gently squeezed his leg between hers, grinning to herself as she watched him take his turn to blush. “I do hope you know I don’t need protection though.”

“My still-healing ego from our first Defence Against the Dark Arts class together remembers.” 

He’s rewarded with her laugh again, her real one, and he makes a silent promise to make her laugh the same way every day for the rest of their lives. Every muscle in his body loosens at the sound, and he feels like he can finally breathe again when she grins at him and tugs him a little closer by his tie.

“If you ever pull a stunt like this again…” Although there was still a smile on her face, the threat was evident in her eyes. He nodded quickly, throat bobbing as she twirled his tie between her fingers and let go. She watches as he looks down at her lips nervously and gratification shot her through as his face slowly flushed. A smirk falls on her face at this, and she raises an eyebrow at him when he finally looks up to meet her gaze. “Feeling a little warm?”

“What, no.” He leans back and rubs the back of his neck, his blush deepening.

“Ah, so you’re just blushing like a third year at the thought of kissing me.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“So you want to kiss me?”

“Darling, I always want to kiss you.” The look he gives her makes her stomach flip.  “Can I…”

“Not until you ask me properly.”

“To kiss you?”

“Sebastian.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” he grins, loving the way she rolls her eyes at him. “Will you do me the honour of joining me on a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Sebastian, it’s nearly curfew.”

“And when has that stopped you before?” he laughs and begins to gather her things into her bag before slinging it over his shoulder. He holds a hand out to her expectantly and waits until she grabs a hold of it before they leave the library, waving goodbye at Imelda and Poppy (who are doing their very best - and failing - to eavesdrop). They make it as far as the doors that lead to the greenhouses when Sebastian pulls her under the stairs, ensuring no one can see them as they dip into one of the shadows. She meets him halfway, pressing their lips together in a long overdue kiss. 

“Do you have any final demands for this? For us?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Only one.” Her fingers run through his hair and his heart stutters in his chest. “I’m never going to make this easy for you. I'm going to challenge you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebasian sallow angst #sebastian sallow fluff #jealous!sebastian sallow x reader #jealous!sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow x gryffindor!reader #sebastian sallow x ravenclaw!reader #sebastian sallow x hufflepuff!reader #hogwarts game #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #awkwardauthormasterlist #awkwardauthorwrites #awkwardauthor

[bonny-kookoo]

More someone older smut drabble pls

When he wakes up, he feels somewhat.. anxious?

He slowly sits up in his bed to look around, checking the digital clock next to his bed on the small table twice just to make sure that he's truly not asleep anymore. Because this- just doesn't feel quite real.

There's faint music playing in his home, outside the bedroom. The smell of something cooking fills the room as well, dishes clattering a bit in the sink in the kitchen. He knows it must be you- he's aware that you're staying with him after all. But still.

This feels too much like his mind making things up.

The bedroom door opens slowly, your head poking in, before you realize he's awake. "Oh, you're up." You say, entering more openly now. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Why did you get up without me?" He wonders, feet meeting the floor as he's moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making you giggle as you sit down on the bed on your knees.

"Cause.. I wasn't tired anymore." You shrug, reaching out to somewhat tame his slightly wild bedhead. "And I thought you might appreciate breakfast?"

"I do appreciate that." He smiles, before he catches you off guard by tugging on your arm and making you lay down, before he positions himself over you. "But you could've also woken me up." He chuckles before pecking your lips once.

"But you were sleeping so tight." You say. "Looked like you were dreaming."

"Hm.. I was." He agrees, kisses moving to your neck. "Of you."

"Oh?" You wonder, stretching your arms above your head for a second. "What were you dreaming of?" You ask.

"Things I'd love to make a reality one day." He purrs against your skin, before he releases you again. 'I'll shower real quick, alright?" He tells you, before he pecks your lips once more and leaves into the bathroom to shower-

And you're honestly not sure what makes you feel so bold.

Maybe it's that feeling of safety you have with him, this odd sense of security here in his home, as if nothing can really harm you in here. So when you move to enter the bathroom as well, shower already running with him inside, you don't feel any sort of hesitation as you shed your clothes and join him beneath the warm water.

It's a sight that easily makes him stir alive, remnants of his dream revived as he watches the water pearl down your skin. The way you easily touch and kiss him is making his head spin, making him forget about your past hesitation in its entirety.

This is how it's supposed to be. Easy, simple. No worries about what might be the best thing to do.

Just existing.

Your hand on him makes him gasp into your mouth, a sound you eagerly swallow, his back hitting the tiled wall of the shower. He manages to turn the steady stream of water up ahead a bit lower as you fall to your knees, the anti slip mat on the shower floor cushioning them quite a bit as you work on him.

It's now what his dream was about- but he's sure he could never come up with a scene as serene as this anyways, imagination not advanced enough to even think of this potentially happening.

Just like back at your place before, this time once more he's a slave to your actions. It's causing his mind to go blank at the way your tongue runs over the head of his cock, beckoning him further and further towards his release. And then your hands join in to hold and touch what you can't fit, effortlessly making the muscles in his thighs spasm as he spills inside your mouth with his head thrown back against the tiles of the shower, a hand in your hair.

He can't let this stand.

And he doesnt- returning the favor shamelessly so with both his hands and mouth, eagerly devouring you as his first breakfast before he later on sits at the table in the kitchen to eat his actual one, conversation innocent enough to mask over the things that went down not even long enough ago to dry your hair fully.

If this is a dream, he doesn't want to wake up. If all the Christmas decor and your words about baking later are lies, he doesn't want to hear the truth.

He wants to stay like this-

And he'll do anything to make it work.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic

[yesimwriting]

pleaseee write smth about that fight between Felix and reader

a/n i've been thinking about this scene for days so when i saw this ask i got so hyped

warnings: reader being AFAB/female is plot relevant (reader's father has always wanted a son), implied emotional/financial parental abuse (not described in too much detail), potentially inaccurate portrayal of early-ish 2000's phones bc i was a toddler during their oxford era, hurt/comfort

we're getting into reader's background!!

itallic texts = from felix, bold texts = from reader

There's a scratch embedded into the dark mahogany. It's small, no wider than something you could make with your finger nail.

"How's your food?"

Your attention shifts towards the ceramic plate that's almost covering the dining table's only blemish. "It's good," you mumble with a slight nod, fork instinctually jabbing at a piece of food without you even looking at it. "Yours?"

"Great," he hums casually, cutting into his steak. "Part of the reason I picked this hotel is because of the restaurant. The visiting chef's a guy that I met in New York when he was looking into financing an international expansion of his franchise."

You bring your utensil to your lips. "That's cool, daddy."

The comment only strengthens the question that's been silently ebbing at your mind since your father first suggested lunch. Why did he order room service instead of taking you to the hotel's restaurant? Your dad has always loved the ambiance, the leisure of sitting in a nice restaurant.

"Is that why you're in town?" You reach for your glass, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "To finalize something with the chef?"

He sets down his knife. "That and a few other business arrangements that needed to be checked on." He pauses, shoulders relaxing. "And to see you, too, Ace. It feels like it's been awhile since we talked."

Your lips quirk into what's almost a smile. When your father called to let you know that he'd be staying near Oxford for work and that he wanted you to visit, you had been apprehensive at first. Your mother was cautiously supportive of the idea.

Things with your father have been relatively stable recently. He liked the way no university seemed off limits to you with your grades and extracurriculars. He loved the idea of a daughter studying abroad at Oxford (which, is part of the reason you seriously considered Princeton for some time). And he's been drinking less. Part of that whole reborn, second marriage to a late-20-something methodist thing.

"Yeah, dad," you agree, as sincerely as you can manage, "It's been awhile."

"You know I'm friends with one of your deans." He doesn't give you a chance to reply. "We had coffee together, and he told me you're on track to finish in the top 10%." Rumors about the top percentages had been circling around Oxford for the past month. Still, it's relieving to know. "Congratulations, Ace."

This time, your smile meets your eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles, a flash of something practiced and charming. "When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is picking out a gift to send to you."

"If you need time, you can always wait and give it to me over the summer."

The infamous summer. Your mother is going to be spending most of the summer volunteering for an organization that brings counseling to children that have survived traumatic experiences but can't affording therapy. Your father suggested that you stay with him for a little while so that you wouldn't have to spend an entire two months in an empty house.

He stretches an arm like he wants to pick up his fork, but decides against it. "I--I want to tell you something." His tone is softer now, almost hesitant. "But you have to promise not to cry."

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, body familiar with the command. "Okay?"

"I don't know if this summer's going to work out the way we talked about." He taps his fingers against the surface of the table. Your eyes lock on the scratch marring the wood. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Complicated?"

Your father sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed Christine's not here." You can't bring yourself to react at the mention of your step-mother's name. "She isn't in--she isn't in the best condition to travel." The tapping continues. "Christine's pregnant. She's due in early June, and she isn't having an easy time. I think it'd be best to not do anything that could potentially be stressful."

Oh.

"It's a boy."

Oh. A boy. With his perfect wife, in his perfect penthouse on the Upper East Side. Of course. Of fucking course.

You can't breathe right or thing of the way you're supposed to react. All you can do is stare at the scratch. At the only thing that indicates that anything bad has ever happened to the table.

"You promised you wouldn't cry." The words feel far. "You look too much like your mother when you cry."

That seems to force you back to earth. Any and all reminders of your mother must be eradicated in his presence. "I know. I'm not going to cry." You blink once, hand moving to wipe away tears you refuse to let spill. "Congratulations."

He's quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally settling on a perfunctory, "Thank you." After a beat of silence, he continues, "Were you planning on staying tonight? I was thinking of flying back early, but I can--"

"Oh, no," you shake your head once, "I actually have a lot of homework, so it's probably better for me to get back."

Your father nods, "Always the academic, Ace." He pushes his seat back. "If you're done eating, I can walk you to the lobby and have my driver take you back."

"Yeah," you push back your own seat and stand, "Sounds good."

The two of you reach the front doors of the suite. "Hey," your father starts, "Why don't you travel this summer? That's all I did during college breaks. I'll pay so you can do it up right. You should go somewhere with a friend. Paris, maybe. You two always had fun as kids."

You nod once, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, daddy, I'll ask Paris about what she's doing this summer."

"Good." He pauses at the door, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out his wallet and counts out a few bills. "Here. A pre-gift." You hesitate. "C'mon, top 10%."

Your mother's voice rings in your ears. He won't change, you might as well take the money. You stretch out a hand, forcing a smile as you take the cash. "Thanks."

----

Stupid. You're so fucking stupid.

You really thought you'd be there all weekend. You really thought Christine would let you into her home for longer than a day or two.

And the pregnancy thing? That--that's going to get back to your mom in one way or another if you don't tell her. And hearing that, hearing that your dad's finally getting his son is going to kill her.

It's all you've been thinking about since you got back yesterday afternoon. After mumbling a halfhearted explanation to your roommate, you changed into some pajama shorts and a giant T-shirt that you only realized was Felix's after the fact and crawled into bed. You've moved as little as possible since.

Something near the foot of your bed buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You flip the phone open, immediately noticing three text notifications. From Felix.

hope ur weekend's going better than mine

lovie

i feel abandoned

Despite your angst, you smile to yourself before sending a response: it's been one day.

After a minute, there's another text on your screen: so it's a crime to miss u. You roll your eyes, fondness pooling in your stomach. how are u doing.

The second question, though sincere, forces you to spiral. You want to be honest. You don't lie to Felix and he doesn't lie to you.

But, everything comes with exceptions, and making sure no one finds out how tense things actually are with your dad is yours. Before you two got close, it felt too private, and once you finally did, a few comments from Felix's friends made you feel like the worst thing you could do for your friendship was let him see any kind of darkness.

It's not that he'd judge you, he'd just want to help you so badly that it'd take over everything else. Farleigh's made it clear that Felix loves a charity case. And you don't want to be that. You won't let your dad take that from you, either.

You want to say that you're fine, maybe text a comment about things being a little awkward because it's no secret that your mom took care of you after the divorce. But lying about being on campus feels like something that could easily morph into something else.

Felix, who actually has enough of a social life to pull sleazy moves like that never has. i'm sick. came home early.

ur back!

why didn't u tell me

i'm sick, can't hang out

are u ok

do u need anything

Guilt prods at you. You've been texting him on and off since yesterday and never mentioned that you came back early. Felix is always so good to you. But, you're in no place to see him. no just need rest

You shut your phone. You're not sure that saying you're sick is enough to keep Felix away all weekend, but it could be enough to keep him away tonight. It's Saturday night. He'll have plans.

And tomorrow, you'll feel better. More stable.

"I have some time before I'm supposed to go to Jake's. I stole some bread from the dining hall." Nadia's offer is gentle. "Do you want to go feed the ducks?"

You wipe at your face. "That's a really nice offer, Nadia, but I'm feeling a little sick. Maybe when you get back?"

She frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, "I just need some sleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon." Nadia hesitates, eyes darting towards the bathroom. She does need to start getting ready for her date. "Maybe you can call Felix later? It's Saturday night, you know there's some terribly exclusive, not meant for any of us ordinaries party he's dying to take you to."

The attempt at humor is enough to get you to roll onto your side. "Since when do you like Felix?"

To be fair, Nadia's never disliked Felix. Before you became friends with him, she had a bit of a crush on him in that way that all freshmen girls at Oxford do. After you started hanging out with him all the time, that crush turned into an awareness that fueled her worry. She's always implied her concern that he'd eventually hurt you.

"I've never not liked him," she mumbles, "I was just scared he'd break your heart, but, the last couple of times he's come over...something about the way he looks at you."

"So you finally accepted we're just friends?"

She walks towards the bathroom, "Didn't say that."

You roll your eyes, letting yourself rest on your back. You shut your eyes, trying to force out any thoughts of the outside world as you drift off.

The familiar creek of the hinges of your room's door pulls you back to reality slowly.

"Took you long enough." Nadia's voice. "All she does is sleep and mope. She didn't even want to go feed the ducks today."

"She loves feeding the ducks." Another familiar, much more moving voice. You manage to move, wiping at your eyes as you sit up.

"I know!"

You finally sit up, blinking your eyes as your vision adjusts. Felix. He's standing in near the foot of your bed. "Felix--I-I told you I'm fine. Just a little sick."

"Nadia called and told me the opposite."

You turn your head to glare at you roommate, who doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "You stole my phone and called him?"

"I had to," she defends. "All you do is sleep and cry, and you've been like this since you came back yesterday."

Felix's expression drops as soon as the final word comes out. Your eyes widen, head shaking as subtly as possible as if a too late warning will erase the sentence from existence.

"Wait," his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, "You've been back since yesterday and you didn't tell me?"

You swallow, unable to look away from Felix.

"I--I have to go." Nadia's announcement breaks through the stiff silence. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, so um..." She turns away, swinging an overnight bag over her shoulder before disappearing out the door. You can't blame her for running out as soon as possible.

"Felix," your voice is low, gravely, "Darling."

"Don't." His eyebrows pinch together, sadness tinging his expression. It doesn't fit him. "Why--why wouldn't you tell me you were here?"

You sit up a little straighter, wiping at your eyes with the back of your palm. "I told you I'm sick. I'm not up for anything right now."

Felix is still watching you with that kicked puppy look. "That doesn't--" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know I don't care if you don't want to do anything. We can--we can just sit or-or talk, or read or--do nothing." Felix presses his lips together, "I thought you knew that."

You know he's right, and that makes it harder to look at him. Felix would have been a sweetheart about it. He would have let you mope, cry even, and he would've spent the entire time holding you. It should have been easy to tell Felix, instinctual...and yet...

Your eyes briefly shut. "I do." The admission's painful to get out. Some of your hesitation was over the way Felix reacts to tragedy, but the rest is something more personal. Telling Felix would have solidified it. Would have made that label of 'abandoned child' that you've always been so wary about permanent. "It's more than that."

"Then what is it?"

Sighing, you push yourself to the edge of your bed. "My head hurts, I need a Tylenol."

Your words and movements are drowsy as you push yourself to stand. Felix takes a partial step forward before forcing himself to freeze into place. It's hard not to help you.

"Then what is it?"

You push open the bathroom door. "I don't--I don't know." It's a weak attempt at dismissing the conversation before things go to a place that you can't handle right now. "I couldn't get the words out." Still can't.

You find the pill bottle you were looking for on the bathroom counter and start working at twisting off the childproof cap. "We tell each other everything eventually." His voice is dry, almost hesitant. "At least, I do. We trust each other."

Your eyes shut as you sigh, fingers briefly releasing the top of the bottle. "Maybe that's not trust. Maybe that's your life being so perfect there's nothing you need to keep secret."

The words come out in a rush, angry and sharp. Regret floods through you instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No." The syllable is hard. "No. You're not. Don't do that. Don't--don't start saying what you think I need to hear--or keeping in what you think I don't." There's a concerned anger there, an unfitting combination that you don't have the energy to decode. "What could be so bad you can't tell me? We know about Ollie's parents and that didn't change anything, did it?"

Actually, things did change a little. Oliver's broken home life seemed to only make Felix want to pull Oliver into his world even more. You hate thinking it, because it's insensitive and a little mean, but of course Oliver was willing to give Felix all the gritty details.

After the initial implications came out, Felix devoured them with the same silver spoon that was placed in his mouth at birth. In a way, Felix's desire to fix and ease pain brought them closer together. And it probably means more to Oliver coming from Felix than anyone else.

But your relationship with Felix is different. You don't want sadness and coddling to be what makes you feel certain in your bond with Felix. You want things to stay the same. You don't want to give your dad anyway to change one of the most important connections in your life.

"You have a big heart, Felix, and I love that about you." Your hand reaches for the Tylenol again. "But I don't want you helping me to become all that I am to you. I don't want to be a charity case." You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at your wording. "And--and I'm not trying to say that Ollie's just a charity case, it's that--some stuff Farleigh's said and--" Tears are pricking the edge of your vision.

"You're more than that," he scoffs the words out like it's ridiculous he even has to say that, "Of course you're more than that, I thought you knew." He scoffs. "I--I don't just wait around for people."

You scoff, the sound almost a bitter laugh. "Oh--so now it's not about trust, it's about your ego. That I don't just sit around next to my phone, waiting for the Felix Catton to call me."

Felix takes a step forward, "It's not about that!" You raise your eyebrows, uncertainty leaving you frozen. Felix has never yelled at you before. "...It's not about that," he repeats, voice a more acceptable volume. He takes another step forward, his fingers finding your forearm. "You know how I meant it."

There's a tension in the way he's touching your arm. It's nothing harsh, if anything it's almost too soft. Hesitant. He's watching you with an intensity that pins you into place more than his actual hold.

You wouldn't be surprised by his anger, you're not even sure you'd be able to blame him for it, but that's not what you see when you look at him. You can't exactly read the look behind his eyes, but something about it reminds you of Nadia's earlier comment.

It's heavy. Too heavy for you to think about tonight. That's how Felix is. He's intense. All consuming. When all you do is blink at him, he lets go of your arm.

"Felix."

His eyes dart towards the ground, body angling itself away from you.

It's subtle, and not a direct dismissal, but after everything that's already happened, it's enough to serve as a final nail hammered into your chest. "I don't want things to change between us." You sigh, finally getting the pill bottle's lid to pop off. "Because I'm fine."

You force a smile, but there's a tightness to your features that makes it feel like a grimace. "It's not a big deal. So my dad asked me not to come home this summer, because his wife's pregnant and he doesn't want to 'stress her out'. I'm fine." You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "Y'know it's a b-oy." Your voice cracks on the last word, a laugh or maybe a sob interrupting the single syllable. "So um...good for him, he's finally getting his son."

Felix is watching you cautiously, expression not quite sympathetic, but not relaxed either. "Oh my god, I have to tell my mom. And it--it's going to kill her." You gasp the words like the realization's just hit you, even though it's been on your mind since the beginning. "I don't know why I said that like I'm surprised--because I--" You laugh, the sound shrill and uneasy, "But it's whatever. I'm fine."

You nod once, as if that'll be enough to make you feel fine. Another sound comes out, this one a lot closer to a whimper. "I'm fine. I don't know why I'm being so dramatic. I'm fine. I'm--" You squeeze your arms around your waist, supporting yourself the way Felix usually would.

You're crying openly now, tears blinding you. This is pathetic. You need to get it together.

You're pulled forward with no warning, your body hitting something solid and warm. Felix.

His arms around you, firm and supportive. It's surprising enough to force a full breath of air into your lungs. For a moment, all there is Felix. You inhale again, and again, doing your best to hold the air in your lungs.

Felix's hand smooths circles against your back. He whispers soothing words that you can barely make out. Between that and the even rhythm of his heart, you manage to ground yourself.

"You don't have to be nice to me right now," you mumble into his shirt. "I was really mean to you."

He continues to trace patterns against your spine. "We don't have to talk about that right now."

"I know," you whisper, "I just--I don't want you to feel like you can't be mad at me."

He gently smooths your hair away from your face. "Can I be mad from right here?"

"Yeah." You sniffle once, letting your chin press into his chest so that you can look up at him. "If you want to."

"Then okay," he mumbles, knuckles running up and down the length of your spine, "I'll be mad from right here."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

#bestfriend!felix x reader #bestfriend!felix #saltburn x reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

[userlando]

any chance you can write the same hotel room have to be quiet sex but with max? I feel in my gut he’s as loud as they come

this isn’t quite the same setting but it’s still “have to be quiet sex” so I hope it’s okay 🤭 thank you for requesting max, i love him a lot <3

blinding pleasure (1.9k words) max verstappen/fem!reader bathroom smut 18+

The music is loud in your ears, pulsing much like your heart as you stare at your phone screen. It’s opened on your text conversation with Max and you can’t help the little smirk that graces your lips when you glance up and look across the room; Catching the wide eyed stare he gives you as his eyes flicker from you to his phone. He fumbles with the drink in his hand, looking around for a place to set it down before typing on his phone.

You’re not standing too far, close enough to see the light flush on his cheeks that the alcohol in his system has provided him with, the colour deepening as his fingers tap on his screen. He’s drunk, buzzed off of the few drinks he’s had and it’s evident in his body language and the way he’s been carrying himself for the last hour.

You glance at your phone, where you’d been having a conversation that gradually went from a playful you look hot to your most recent one: I seem to have forgotten my panties when we left the house.

Max looks up, bottom lip caught between his teeth and your phone buzzes in your hands a second later, three consecutive messages. Like his brain is going faster than his fingers can type.

bathroom

3 minutes

need to fuck you

You grin, trying not to think too hard over how you’re about to possibly defile Lando’s poor bathroom when you set your can of seltzer down on the counter, not even sparing your boyfriend a glance when you pass him on your way to the upstairs bathroom.

The place is crowded, more people than these walls are probably used to so it takes a minute or two to navigate through the throng of people and up the stairs. The restroom is unoccupied, but so very close to the staircase and you know that’ll be a potential problem because Max isn’t a quiet person. He argues that he is, but two years down the line in your relationship and he hadn’t managed to prove you right even once. It wasn’t a secret that your boyfriend was unapologetically himself, loud and proud when needed be, but he became borderline obnoxious when he was drunk and while you found that mostly funny and endearing; it wasn’t always in your favour.

You stare at the bathroom door, waiting for the knocks to come. The skirt you’re wearing rides up when you haul yourself up on the counter, and you bite back a grin when you think back on how Max had been following you with his eyes all night. He hadn’t questioned your choice of clothes when you’d walked out the apartment, only grabbing at your thighs and being touchy until you had to swat his hands away. If he’d wandered up any further with his hands, he’d ruin the surprise you’d so nicely set up for him.

There were three knocks on the door and the sound of it startled you a little. You reached your arm out to unlock the door, smiling when it cracked open and your boyfriend’s face came into view. He looked a little concerned that maybe he’d gotten the wrong bathroom, full lips stretching into a pleased smile when he caught sight of you. Max stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, only locking it when you stretched a leg out to give his thigh a nudge with your foot as a wordless reminder.

His hand caught your leg, sliding up your knee and thigh the closer he got until he was crowded up against the counter and stood between the V of your legs. You watched his hand as he lifted your thigh up, hooking it over his hip with a searching gaze.

“Wanna know.” Was all he said, words a little hushed but you were still a bit lost on what he meant. He glanced up at you, biting his lower lip as if to keep his smile at bay. “Wanna know if you were winding me up or if you really have been walking around without any panties.”

You grinned at that, flushing warmth all over your body when you grabbed his hand and slowly guided it up under your skirt. The sharp inhale when he felt skin instead of the usual cotton was worth all the trouble and awkwardness of walking commando all night. His cheeks turned a little pink as he stared at you, eyes wide and glossy from the drinks he’d had.

“Almost managed to flash Daniel earlier.” You said, laughter in your voice and your amusement only grew when his eyebrows pulled together into a disapproving frown.

He didn’t say anything but his fingers did all the talking as they swiped through your folds, feeling the wetness there and rubbing gentle circles against your clit. You gasped at the sensation, scooting closer to the edge to hopefully get him to hurry up and fuck you but he was still looking annoyed; like the thought of anyone else seeing you bare was too much to bear.

“You’re mine.” He leaned forward, the words coming out of his mouth a statement rather than a question. It sounded possessive, jealous and it was like music to your ears. “No one can fuck you like I can.”

Your head shook in the negative because no, Max was the only one in tune with your body and needs. There was no one else who could measure up to him, and even if there was, you wouldn’t want them.

“No one.” You looked at him from beneath your lashes, trapping your lower lip between your teeth.

“Yeah?” He looked smug all of a sudden as he nudged a finger against your hole, pushing until your warmth enveloped the digit nicely. Max exhaled at the tightness, pushing his finger to the knuckle and watching you squirm. “No one can make you feel like I can.”

“Only you.” You nodded, breathless.

Your arms went up to his shoulders, hands stroking along the hardness of the muscles there before your fingers slid up the back of his head; knocking his cap to the tiled floor. His hair was standing on end, soft to the touch when you buried your fingers in his strands.

He added another finger, listening to your whines as he fucked you. There came a point where your begging started to get a little too loud, and he was quick to slot his mouth against yours to hopefully shush you.

Normally he’d encourage every sound and word that came from your pretty mouth, but he knew you’d be mortified if any of your friends caught you fucking in a bathroom when all was said and done.

The kiss was filthy, there was no other word to describe it. Your lips opened beautifully under his and he could taste the sweet tang of alcohol on your tongue, finding the taste of you so addicting that he hurried to pull his fingers out because you were stretched and wet enough for him.

He was about to reach down and unzip his pants but you were quicker than him, making small sounds in your throat as you worked on getting him out of his underwear. Max watched you, chest tight with all the emotions he felt for you and they only swelled when you grinned in triumph, having managed to fish him out and get your hands on him.

Max threw his head back, mouth falling open in a groan when you started to jack him off, arching his back into your hand and eyelids fluttering shut. You watched him with hooded eyes, leaning up to press feather soft kisses to his jawline.

Your thumb swiped over his head, collecting the wetness there to aid you as you stroked him to full hardness. Max was breathing heavy, moaning louder than he probably realised but you weren’t about to stop him; Not now. He sounded so pretty and you were hit with a wave of sudden need to have him in you, notching his head against your entrance and placing your other hand against his asscheek to bring his hips in. He slid in, inch by beautiful inch and your breath hitched in your throat when the widest part of him stretched you out.

Max tilted his head down, lips pink and wide open as he stared at your face; Noting the slight frown on your face that immediately had him pausing his hips, giving you a moment to adjust to him. It shouldn’t have made his ego swell as much as it did, how even after two years, you still needed to adjust to his size. It made him almost puff his chest but he refrained, placing one palm of his hand against the flat surface of the counter next to your thigh and the other one sliding up to your cheek.

The tender touch made you look up, and Max kissed your lips slowly before raising his brows in question. You gave him a nod, flexing your hand where it was still resting on his buttock and Max pushed his forehead against yours as he slid all the way inside; A deep guttural moan rumbling in his chest.

“Need to be quiet, baby.” You urged him, earning a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth from him. “Don’t want them to hear, do you?”

Max gave a hard thrust, sending you up the counter with a high pitched moan that hit him in the stomach like a punch.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He replied honestly, words a little slurred and you believed him completely.

Max had no shame. He was only so careful and modest to protect you. And fuck, did you love him for it.

You placed both of your hands behind you on the counter as Max started picking up pace, thrusting into you with these punched out breaths that anyone walking by outside could no doubt hear. But you were too lost in the sensations of his cock, the burn of the stretch giving way to something that had your nerves singing. You threw your head back, baring your throat and it was all Max needed to hunch forward and attach his lips to the vulnerable skin there, biting and licking until your moans were rumbling beneath his lips.

“Sound so pretty.” His words only made you moan louder, and Max couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he grabbed a hold of your ass with one hand to bring you into him every time he fucked forward.

He watched your eyes roll, bringing his free hand up to stick two fingers into your mouth and he could see the moment it dawned on your face when you realised that he’d just pushed the very same fingers into your mouth that had just been inside of you.

“You taste so good, right baby?” He pushed his fingers further into your throat, hearing you gag and watching your throat muscles contract at the intrusion. “Yeah, you do. Look at you, you’re loving this. Such a pretty slut.”

Your pussy clenched around his cock at that, making Max grin wildly as he pulled his fingers out. Saliva was dripping down your lip and the Dutchman chased it with his own mouth, licking up your chin to your lips before claiming them in a kiss that had your toes curling.

Max didn’t care about how you were supposed to walk out of here like nothing had just happened. How you’d be able to pull yourself together, or how you were supposed to hide the bite marks on your throat. All he cared about was how he was gonna make you sing.

And you did.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

i am severely sleep deprived so i'm gonna drop off the face of the earth for the next few hours. i enjoyed writing this, so i hope you enjoyed reading it 😭 i feel like i keep posting these blurbs and putting of posting longer fics but blurbs are just SO fun to write <;/3

#max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen blurb #f1 fics #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 blurb

[sleepysnk]

a/n: i needed something to post, so i decided to make these headcanons. i hope y’all enjoy!!

characters: bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, oliver aiku, michael kaiser

warnings: established relationships, nsfw, virginity loss, virgin!reader, corruption (oliver), praising, use of pet names (baby, princess, my love), daddy kink (kunigami + oliver), fingering (kunigami + kaiser), oral sex f!receiving (oliver + bachira), breeding kink (kaiser + kunigami + oliver), creampie.

VIRGIN KILLER HEADCANONS.

bachira meguru:

you and bachira had been dating for almost a year. he only found out you were a virgin because one night when he went down on you, you confessed to it. being the good boyfriend he was, he had no problem with that. if anything, it turned him on even more that he could potentially be the one to take it from you at some point. the idea of your pretty pussy being filled with his cock made him harder than a rock, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck you better than anybody else.

eventually, you got comfortable with him and after some talking, you both decided to have sex after a date. he was completely in love with how pretty your naked body looked underneath him. your skin and curves were made from the god’s themselves and he honestly didn’t know where to start first. he started off by eating you out until you saw stars in your vision. you tasted even more divine than he imagined and your sweet cries for more only furthered his assault on your cunt. his hands were squeezing and groping at the flesh of your thighs, massaging the fat to make you feel even better than you did right now. his tongue was skilled and you almost squirted from how it dragged along your sensitive bud.

nothing compared to how great his cock felt inside of you for the first time. you always knew how long it was. there was a small vein that ran just underneath the base and, when he entered you, you could feel it dragging along your pretty walls. he made you feel so full with barely just a few inches and my god he found those spaces inside of you so quickly. he loved how tight your pussy was. it was all his, after all. he wasn’t going to let somebody else enjoy how your cunt spasmed at every rut of his hips. he couldn’t hide his smirk when you clawed at his back as your orgasm reached its peak. he fucked you through your high, almost cumming the second you tightened around him. you made such a mess on his cock, but he didn’t give two shits about it.

“hehe.. look at you. you made such a mess, but it’s perfectly fine, baby. i think it’s cute..”

kunigami rensuke:

kunigami had been your boyfriend for a couple of months. he treated you like a princess and nothing more than that, but when he found out you were a virgin, he was pretty surprised.

kunigami was a big guy. his cock was long and thick and he wasn’t sure if you’d be able to take it the first time. he worried he could possibly hurt you and the last thing he wanted to invoke harm on you and your body. first times were meant to be memorable with the right person, so he wanted to play it safe with you when it came to sex. you guys both talked and after watching a movie, you decided to make a move and finally take that step with him. he started off with foreplay, because he knew full well that he couldn’t just put it in without it. he decided to use his thick fingers to prep you. they were so filling and they curled and twisted inside of you, making your whole body twitch. he truly was gifted with those hands of his.

the stretch of his cock was so great that you gasped sharply when he first entered your cunt. he made your toes curl and no amount of prep could have prepared you for the way his cock felt inside of you. kunigami could hardly believe his cock fit, but he managed to stuff you full with it. he was scared that you were in a lot of pain, but when you tried moving around to feel some kind of friction, he knew you were ready. all he wanted was to make you feel good and he was doing just that. nothing could have prepared him for when you moaned out “daddy” through glossy lips. he almost came right then and there, but he only continued fucking you. kunigami wasn’t gonna stop until you were a complete mess because of him.

he had the urge to fill you to the brim with his cum. he knew it was your first time, but he just couldn’t help himself. the way your walls gripped him like your pussy was made for him to fuck was driving him up the wall. he begged you to let him cum in you and when you agreed, he completely let go right then and there. his thick seed filled your womb, making you moan in pleasure at the warmth that spread across your belly. it was just too good.

“i’ll fill you until your pregnant, princess. I’ll make sure of that..”

oliver aiku:

oliver was quite shocked to hear that his girlfriend of nine months was a virgin, but that completely turned him on more than he would like to admit.

you were untouched and there hadn’t been another man who had seen you in such a manner. the idea that he was the only person who would have that access to you made his mind go crazy with ideas and thoughts, but he had to compose himself because you were his girlfriend. he knew he had to be smart with you about your first time, so he told you that when you were ready he would gladly take your virginity. that day came after the two of you had your annual anniversary date that evening, and he was more than ready to take that step with you.

oliver was completely mesmerized by your beauty. he knew you would be beautiful already, but seeing you in that manner was just amazing to him. he took his time praising your body and calling you beautiful. when he took off your underwear to eat you out, his mouth watered at how delicious your pussy looked on display for him. it was already soaking wet with your slick and he wanted nothing more than to taste you. his head game that night was unlike any other. his tongue dove deep into your folds, slurping and sucking on your clit to make you dig your nails into his scalp. the sensation was so foreign, but you craved it more than anything else. once he made you cum, he was able to push his cock into your tight hole. his cock was big and somewhat girthy, which made you feel so full.

oliver was losing his mind while he was fucking you. your pussy was so warm and perfect. he loved how you felt sucking him in. he whispered to you to call him daddy and once you did, he started fucking you at such a rough pace you almost lost all of the air in your lungs. he made you beg for his cock and to let you cum. your brain was completely under his control and all you wanted was his dick and nothing else. he had the desire to fill you up with his cum and with your consent, he did so. there was nothing more satisfying than watching his thick white cum leak from your cunt that was all his.

“good, huh, baby? let’s go for round two.. yeah?”

michael kaiser:

kaiser wasn’t that surprised to hear that you were a virgin. plenty of people were and it didn’t bother him one bit that you were. he honestly thought it was kind of cute. he would be the one to take care of you when that moment came and he honestly thought about it a lot.

after the two of you hung out, you decided to make that move and tell him you were ready. kaiser was somewhat shocked but he didn’t really mind much. he prepared for that moment and he was ready to show you what he could do with himself. he made sure you knew that your body was beautiful and just as gorgeous as you were as a person. he played with your cunt, making sure you were almost dripping wet. he wanted you as prepared as possible and he was so excited to see what you would be like in bed. he wondered it often, and seeing your cunt get sticky the moment his fingers dipped under your panties was an answer for him.

once your body was prepped enough, he pushed himself inside of you and he almost came the moment he slipped inside. you were so tight and wet. your pussy hugged his cock perfectly and he almost struggled to move because of how intense the feeling was. kaiser wanted to fuck you so good, but he knew he had to be patient. it was somewhat dwindling because he just couldn’t keep himself composed around you, but he tried his best to remain that way for your sake. however, you started becoming needy, whining his name like it was a prayer. he had to let go and just let you have it.

kaiser heard this voice inside his head telling him to breed your cunt. he tried to ignore it but he just imagined how hot it would look with his cum inside your pussy. he kept asking you in your ear and when you nodded your head vigorously, he allowed himself to empty his balls inside of your cunt. your red walls were now painted white with his cum and there was a mess coming from within you. it drove him mad, and he knew he would do it again if he had the chance.

“aww, look at you, my love. all fucked out, are we?”

#blue lock #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x female reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #bllk smut #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #bachira smut #bachira meguru x reader #kunigami rensuke #kunigami x reader #kunigami smut #kunigami rensuke x reader #oliver aiku #oliver x reader #oliver aiku smut #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser smut #michael kaiser smut #kaiser x reader

[sunderlust]

you left me no choice but to stay here forever (right where you left me)

masterlist

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader (hotshot journalist!reader) 

synopsis: you and jake have been best friends for years and eventually he becomes the love of your life - which makes it that much harder to cope when he starts pulling away with no explanation (based off right where you left me by miss tswift)

wc: 14k (yoo I think I actually may'd)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, pining, supposedly unrequited love, kinda sad feels, reader wearing heels.

A shoutout to gretagerwigsmuse and @seasonsbloom - I wouldn't have gotten through this fic period, let alone begun writing in the first place without them. Please check out their writing, send them a sweet message or two <3

AGE SIXTEEN (pages turn and stick to each other)

This is not a date. 

On a crisp Wednesday in October - well, as crisp as it can get in Texas - you find yourself sitting across from your high school’s running back in a greasy booth at your town’s renowned pizza parlor. And even though he’s objectively the hottest guy in your grade - not to mention the fact that he’s kind, well-liked amongst your peers, almost too charming for his own good - there’s no way you would ever go on a date with Jake Seresin. 

For that matter, you’re not even friends. The only reason he’s even here is because you managed to pique his interest with the promise of a free meal in exchange for an interview for the school newspaper. So even though he held the door open for you and let you choose the side of the booth to sit in and even insisted on getting your favorite pizza toppings, you’re not going to let it distract you from doing your job.  

You had been invited to join the school newspaper team in August, but you had yet to write a story featured in the paper. By some stroke of luck, Newsteam President Joe thought you were ready to handle your own solo project: a profile on one of your school’s football players. And while you aren’t exactly thrilled to interview Westwood High School’s star running back you’re determined to deliver a moving, heart wrenching piece about #25 and the trials and tribulations of high school football that’ll have Joe reaching for tissues.  

No one needs to know that you’ve never even been to a football game in your life. 

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” you tell Jake briskly after your waitress walks away after passing you your drinks. You pull out the giant legal notepad you stole from your dad’s study and your favorite ten color shuttle pen, then push down the lever for dark blue ink - for your more serious projects. 

The boy in front of you nods once, stretching both arms out on either side of him to rest on the back of the booth, eyes darting around. “Sure.” 

“So...” you start, then trail off, eyes scanning the list of questions you’d meticulously drafted the night before. You decide to start from the very beginning: “What can you remember about the first time you played with a football?” you ask, and Jake shrugs his shoulders. 

“Blood,” he says simply, and you wrinkle your nose. 

“What? Blood?” 

“Yeah. I was six. My dad was trying to teach me how to catch the ball, and ma kept telling him to use the foam ones but he said they didn’t spiral as well. Ended up pelting a pigskin at me and clocked me right on the nose. I can still feel a bump here,” you briefly look up from rapidly transcribing to watch him idly rub the bridge of his nose with his index finger. 

You nod, scrawling down the details, mentally planning out how you could possibly fit this into an article and thinking of potential titles. Child gets pelted with a football and vows revenge. Becomes Westlake’s Star RB. Pathetic. 

“So you’ve been playing since you were six?” you try to establish a timeline. “Ten years?” 

“No. I joined a youth league when I was nine,” Jake corrects. He doesn’t elaborate. 

You sigh, tapping your pen on your legal pad idly, then another question catches your eye. “What do you enjoy most about football?” you flip over to a clean page and smooth it out, not missing the flash of incredulity on Jake’s face. 

“You kidding? No offense, but these questions suck,” he snickers, and your shoulders sag as you flip back to scan your messy notes. “Do you even want to be doing this little interview?” 

“Do you?” you throw back, angrily, nervously clicking your pen as you try and figure out how you’re going to salvage this meeting, reaching into the crevices of your mind to craft a less sucky, more thought-provoking question. 

The one thing you know about conducting an interview is asking the right question, one that will unleash your subject to go off on their own path and tell their story the way they want to. This way, you find that you get the most details, the most honest perspective. And so far, all you had from Jake was a stupid story about a childhood injury doesn’t lend itself to writing a tear-jerking profile. 

Jake’s smirk doesn’t waver and after a few moments of silence, he relents. “I was promised free pizza. What’s in it for you?” 

You sigh and rest your head back against the worn pleather of the booth seat, squeeze your eyes shut, tighten your grip on your pen as you deliberate his question. “Will you answer my questions if I tell you?” 

“If they’re better questions, yeah.” 

You shoot him a quick glare, then let out a resigned sigh and click your pen, setting it down on top of your scribbled notes. “First off, I hate football. Never even seen a game.” 

“Seriously?” Jake says and folds his arms together to lean in closer over the sticky tabletop. “We live in Texas. You’ve never even watched a game on TV?” 

You shrug ambivalently. “No, it never really caught my interest. I mean, what’s there to watch? Someone screams out a bunch of numbers and then you all just charge at each other to wrestle for five seconds while a stupidly shaped ball gets tossed around? And don’t even get me started on your weird scoring system-” 

“- It makes sense if you actually commit to watching it!” Jake defends hotly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like he’s trying his hardest to fight a pout. “Why’d they even put you on this article? Doesn’t seem like you give a damn about writing football.” 

“I don’t,” you agree, sitting up straight and daring to look him straight in the eye. At this point, you don’t care how little you know about the stupid sport - you just want Jake to answer your questions so that you can go home and cobble together something, anything to show Joe that you can handle writing your own opinion pieces. “But Joe said if I write a great profile, he’ll print my story about the cafeteria workers.” 

Jake pauses, mentally chews your words. “Seems like he set you up, then, darling,” - your surprise at the sweet name is overtaken by the harsh reality check - “Seeing as he asked you to interview me when you’ve never even been to a game.” 

A wave of clarity washes over you. You didn’t think about it that way - that Joe might have intentionally put you on this project just to watch you struggle, so he could easily shut down your other ideas. You deflate, shrinking into yourself, and your solemn expression suddenly has Jake shaking his head and trying to backpedal.

“Look - hey. I’m sorry. I’m sure... Maybe he’s just testing you to see if you can write things out of your element. Isn’t that the mark of a good newspaper... writer?” 

It kind of makes sense, but the first reason hurts more, resonates with you, and opens the door for self-doubt to stride right in. With how hard you had to fight tooth and nail to even be offered a spot on the school news team, it’s easy to imagine they didn’t want to make things easy for you. Suddenly, you find yourself questioning your writing ability, wondering if you’re really cut out for this. You shrug. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Jake purses his lips, drumming his fingers again on the tabletop. “What’s the story with the cafeteria workers?” 

At this, you perk up slightly, straightening your back and halting your anxious pen tapping. “There’s just been lots of wages being cut, some layoffs early this year and now they’re being asked to work overtime and the supervisors keep changing the schedule around and giving them such a hard time for wanting to take time off. I think they let someone go because they wouldn’t come in when they had the flu. Can you believe that? Someone was literally sick and didn’t go to work in a kitchen where they could easily infect the whole school. And Sandra - you know Sandra the cashier? She told me they’re all planning to walk out in two weeks, which I think is really admirable - but honestly, I think they need someone to talk about their complaints y’know? Let their voices be heard?” 

You stop, finally realizing that you’d been rambling for the better half of a minute about a topic the star running back probably couldn’t care less about. But to your surprise, he’s listening intently, nodding encouragingly, looking contemplative. It’s weird - you’re not used to people being interested in what you have to say. 

It’s nice. 

“Sounds like you’re a lot more keyed up about this story than stupid football,” he finally says with a half smile, and you push down the warm feeling it ignites. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and shift uncomfortably, bashfully. “It’s just... It’s what I want to do. Write about real people and real events. Give the silenced a voice. Which I know, it sounds kind of cheesy and idealistic and quixotic - but I don’t care. I just want to make a difference. Maybe win a Pulitzer Prize, I don’t know.”

His eyebrows furrow - maybe he doesn’t know what a Pulitzer is - but he nods thoughtfully. “I mean... Don’t really know what quixotic means, but I don’t think you’re being cheesy. Speaking of cheese, though...” his eyes flit over your shoulder.  

Your waitress interrupts, setting down a large pizza with the toppings of Jake’s choice. He eagerly loads two slices onto his plate and continues his train of thought: “Tell you what: how about I give you a hand with the article? I’ll tell you what you need to know about football, at least.” 

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, and you’re honestly shocked he didn’t just brush off your whole rant about your hopes and dreams, amazed that he’s even offered to help. 

He shrugs and swallows the huge bite he’d taken. “‘Course - but in exchange, you’ll have to go to our games. You know, all my friends come to support me.” 

You first open your mouth to object to having to watch football - then close it, sending him an incredulous look. “We’re friends?” you ask dumbly. 

He shifts, looks the tiniest bit bashful, busies himself with the straw in his drink. “I mean... I’d like to be. Who knows, maybe you’ll be famous one day or you could help me with my English essays - ”

“- You want to be friends so I’ll cheer on you at games and tutor you for free?” you interrupt, narrowing your gaze.

But despite your tone being riddled with annoyance, despite the glare you’re now sending his way, Jake sends you an easy smile, serving himself another slice. “Nah, you just seem pretty cool.” 

-- 

By another stroke of luck, you manage to pump out a puff piece about Jake Seresin - something along the lines of how the first time #25 threw a football was the moment he resolved to never back down after the first hit, to wipe the sweat and blood from his face and keep pushing forward. Joe is more than impressed with the quality of your work - almost surprised, you annoyedly observe - and agrees to run the profile for the following week’s issue, just in time for Westlake’s playoff game. 

On Monday evening, you’re reviewing your interview notes with Sandra the Cashier at your kitchen table when suddenly, the landline rings. “Hello?” you answer, anticipating it to be one of your parents’ friends calling to gossip. The line is silent for a few moments, and you clear your throat to try again. “Anyone there?” 

Suddenly, Jake’s laughter flows into your ear. “‘Never back down’?” he quotes through a wheeze, and you hold back a smile, this time letting yourself feel the butterflies that come alive in your stomach at the sound of his voice. 

“You didn’t give me much to work with for your story!” you tell him with a small giggle. “So I managed to pull this together, and I’d say it’s a heart clencher - a tear jerker, even. Joe’s happy, at least.” 

“He gonna let you write that other thing?” 

“About the cafeteria workers? Working on it right now, actually,” you tell him, twirling the phone coil around your finger idly. 

“Well darling,” Jake says and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sweet name, at the sound of mirth filling his voice, at the memory of his smiling eye crinkles that involuntarily flashes in your mind. “I’ll hold onto this profile, hang it in my gym locker. But let me know when they print that union thing. I’d like to hold onto a future Pyoo-litzer Prize winner’s first ever real story.”

“Pulitzer,” you correct him, and despite your writing hand hurting terribly from all the notes you’ve been scribbling and the slight twinge of a headache from your eyes straining, your heart feels full as ever as you chat with Jake - your new friend -  into the late hours of the night.  

AGE EIGHTEEN (wages earned and lessons learned)

Almost two years later, you find yourself seated across from Jake at your town’s fanciest Italian restaurant. It’s been a while since your waiter has checked in to take your meal orders, but his absence easily slips your mind as the two of you gossip while munching on garlicky breadsticks that are way chewier than you’d like.

After a lull in the conversation, you take a deep breath. “How’s your mom doing?” you carefully ask, taking a sip of your coke to avoid tacking on more words, to fight the urge to add more useless attempts at hopeful sentiments.

Jake shrugs, unbothered, nonchalant. “She’s holding up.” 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he just drums his fingers on top of the white tablecloth impatiently, turning his head to glance behind him at the swinging door to the kitchen. “Have you... spoken to your dad?” you probe, and while Jake doesn’t react harshly like you expect, his hand momentarily freezes. 

“No,” he finally says. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him.” 

“Right,” you pause. “Do you think you ever will?”  

Jake heaves out a sigh and turns back to face you, idly chewing at a hangnail. Your fingers twitch and you hold yourself back from reaching out to pull his hand away from his mouth. “There’s not much to say, really. They were married, and now they’re not.”

You nod slowly, taking another sip of your drink, briefly lamenting the fact that it’s now just melted ice with a dash of soda. “How are your sisters?” 

Again, he shrugs. “Fine. I’m driving them around a whole lot. Kinsey won’t come out of her room, but that’s no different than usual. They won’t talk to him either.” 

He’s silent, doesn’t seem to want to say much else, instead tries to play off his nervousness by taking another large gulp of his drink and shifting his eyes to watch the Cowboys game playing on the tiny TV behind the bar. But you can tell he’s gotten himself worked up by the way you can feel his foot tapping impatiently under the table, the way he presses his finger harder into his teeth, by virtue of knowing Jake so well. 

So you change the subject. “Are we doing this every year now, then? A friendship anniversary?” you ask. 

Jake visibly relaxes, almost looking grateful. The foot tapping stops, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth to sling an arm around the booth and send you a signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Of course - gotta celebrate the day you learned about football - ” 

“- I swear, I’ll break your nose again with one later - ” 

“With your aim? Please,” he scoffs, a goofy smile breaking the moment he makes eye contact with you. 

You roll your eyes. “Plan B is always my fists. Anyway, how do you think we’ll even keep up every year while I’m at school and you’re at the Academy?” 

“I’ll visit you at Columbia - and before you say it, shut up. You’re getting in, Miss Pulitzer. As for the Academy... Depends on whether I even apply.”

“Why wouldn’t you apply?” you ask, even though you’re sure you know the answer, ready to pour out words of affirmation, tell him that there’s no way they’d turn him down. 

“Not sure if I’d get in,” - bingo, but he follows up with something that stuns you - “And I think I might want to stick around here for a bit. Take care of the family for a bit.” 

You’re not sure what to say to that, exactly. Because you were prepared to jump into a supportive best friend mode: reassure him that he’s a shoo-in, remind him of his accomplishments, deliver your long-winded ramble of uplifting words that’ll make your mouth feel like you’re chewing cotton by the end of it. But that’s not what Jake needs right now. 

“I don’t think your Ma would want you to do that, Jake,” you say quietly. “She wouldn’t want you to abandon your dreams just to take care of her.” 

He stretches his arms back, rolls his neck out hard enough so that his joins sound like crackling rice krispies in the silence. “She’d never ask me to. But I don’t want her to have a hard time, make her shoulder the burden.” 

“Knowing her, she wouldn’t want to unload anything onto you, Jake,” you tell him firmly, sitting up straight in an attempt to look more certain, strong. “You’ve wanted this for such a long time. Don’t let your dad ruin this for you - I know a part of you wants to stick it to him or something. But fuck that, Jake. If you put your dreams on hold, you’ll regret it. You have to do this for yourself.” 

“Yeah... I guess,” he trails off, still sounding uncertain, but a little less subdued. His hand lifts up and he’s again gnawing at the raw skin on his fingers.

“You’ve really gotta stop biting your nails, Jake,” you tease, hoping it’ll relieve some of the tensions that somehow returned, and he rolls his eyes. “If you want to keep your mouth occupied -” 

“- You offering? I tell you, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it -” 

“Shut up,” you snipe, feeling the heat rush into your cheeks at the suggestion. You shake off your embarrassment. “How ‘bout chewing gum?” 

“Hate gum,” Jake pouts. “Makes my jaw hurt.” 

“You’re such a baby. Lollipops?” 

“Charles would hate me,” he replies, and you internally roll your eyes at him calling his dentist by his first name. His sincere dedication to exceptional dental health and maintaining his teeth was sure to win him the best smile Senior superlative. “If your next suggestion is smoking -”

“- It’s not!” you glare. “How about toothpicks?” 

“You want me to roll a sharp piece of wood in my mouth? Sounds delightful,” he drawls sarcastically, and you scoff, turning your eyes to look up at the ceiling. 

“Better than sticking your fingers in your mouth all the damn time. What are you, two?” 

“I’m a ten, thank you very much.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you groan out, fighting back the urge to smile. “You won’t stay a ten if you rip your fingers apart though, Jake. You should give it a try. They have flavored toothpicks, too.” 

He ponders this with narrowed eyes, pulls his hand away from his mouth to lay it flat on top of the table to examine his cuticles carefully. “Think they have cinnamon?” 

“Probably. Would keep your mouth fresh too.” 

“Oh, the ladies are gonna love that,” he laughs, smiling so big now that his eyes crinkle  and it feels like someone’s opened a window in this dim restaurant, pushed the sun higher in the sky and bathed your whole body in sunlight. You laugh along with him, rest your elbows on the table to prop your head up and just look at him, appreciate him as a boy who offered to help you within the first hour of knowing you, a man who’s willing to give up his aspirations to care for the people he loves. Your best friend who stopped giving you butterflies a long time ago and now brings you a feeling of comfort, of warmth. Of home. 

Suddenly, Jake reaches across the table, palm facing up. You eye it carefully, slowly sliding your hand into his. “You good?” 

“Thanks for putting up with me for two years,” he tells you seriously. And you shake your head with a smile, can sense the emotions well up in your eyes, feel your heart beating faster. 

“Of course,” you breathe out. “Thanks for always supporting me.” 

“Always,” he parrots back. “Anything for a future Pew-litzer Winner.” 

You huff out a wet laugh, and the two of you just sit there across from each other, smiling like idiots until finally, with your vision slightly blurred and your hand still squeezing his across the table, you glance around for your waitress who has yet to make an appearance. “You wanna just... go get some pizza?” 

“God, yes,” Jake agrees, immediately moving to stand up. “Think we can find some toothpicks on the way?” 

AGE TWENTY-THREE (she’s still 23, inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be)

The October after you graduate from Columbia and Jake’s graduated from the Academy, you visit him in Pensacola in a bar that’s packed to the brim with patrons in Navy-issued khakis. You find yourself in a booth across from Jake, snacking on greasy bar eats and nursing some shitty beers. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your date, Hangman?” a dark-skinned, intimidatingly handsome man in uniform leans against your table and looks down at you with a grin that could rival a hyena’s. You glance over at Jake, who rolls his eyes. 

“Coyote,” Jake says admonishingly, flips a toothpick between his teeth, but goes on to introduce you. “This is my best friend from back home.”

You wave awkwardly, pondering where his callsign may have come from - unless that was his birth name, in which you’d love to have a quick interview with his parents. Coyote raises his eyebrows and slides into the booth next to Jake, subsequently pushing him closer to the wall and rests both elbows on the table. “So you’re Jake’s friend? With all the articles?” 

You whip your head to look at Jake, who’s bearing a sheepish grin with his cheeks getting slightly pinker. His hand raises up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s nothing -” 

“- You should’ve seen him during basic - had all these things pinned up on his wall, always reading your letters at breakfast with a puppy dog face. Honestly thought you were his sweetheart or something- Ow!” 

Coyote’s rubbing his side where Jake elbowed him harshly, cheeks still red and teeth furiously gnashing down on the toothpick. Underneath the table, you can feel Jake’s leg start bouncing, and you shift your foot forward to lightly brush his, tap the side of his tenderly. He halts his movements. 

“He’s just a great friend,” you clarify, beaming at Jake, who seems slightly less tense with his jaw unclenched. “Anyways, is Coyote your callsign?” your curiosity gets the better of you, and you figure it might be a good chance to get the spotlight off Jake. 

“Sure is. Name’s Javy,” he smirks at you, then jerks a hand over at Jake. “Has he told you his sign?” 

“Yeah, Hangman. Which is stupid, because he honestly sucks at the game -” 

“- I don’t,” Jake hotly defends, sits up in his seat and crooks an accusatory finger in your direction. “You’re the one that does weird ass long words. No one’s gonna guess - what was it? Gerrymandering?” 

Coyote attempts to stifle a laugh, but you let a giggle bubble right out of you. “I like to use it as a learning opportunity.” 

“Here’s a word for you: buzzkill.” Jake retorts, and you scoff, holding back a smile, about to snark back when you feel your phone vibrate from your purse. 

“One second,” you pull out your Blackberry, glancing over the email from your coworker at The Washington Times and tapping out a brief response. 

“Hey sweetheart,” you hear Jake say and your heart skips a beat, a smile forming at the familiar name as you press send on your message. Your surging warmth is immediately extinguished as you look up from your phone and see that Jake’s not speaking to you at all, not even looking your way. Instead, he’s shifted his entire body to face a gorgeous woman who’s stopped by your booth and is currently looking at him with a sweet smile.

“Still on for Friday night?” she asks, and you envy how cool she sounds saying it, like there’s no doubt in her mind that Jake will say yes, against your better wishes. 

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” he replies easily, the dimple on his cheek popping out, deflating you further.

She flashes a quick smile at you as well - no malice or threat in it whatsoever - and you wonder if it’s that obvious that you and Jake are friends, that you’re not on a date even though you’d both been seated in this booth for the better half of an hour. 

Maybe she thinks you’re just here with Javy, who’s been watching the whole interaction with a smirk, eyes laser focused on you trying your hardest to keep your expression neutral. “You’re going out with Imani? What happened to Priya?” Coyote asks after the girl walks away, his pointed look at you unwavering.  

Jake shrugs. “She knew I didn't want anything serious. So does Imani. It’s just drinks and dinner and you know... whatever comes next.” 

They both share a chuckle and your heart clenches painfully. You’re no prude - you’re all in support of people having casual sex, and you’re glad Jake is forthcoming with these girls.  He’s not breaking their hearts, and they seem content to just have one night with him and be done with it. 

There’s just the tiniest whisper of anxiety that wonders if there’s something wrong with you for rarely engaging in hookup culture, for not feeling comfortable enough to have meaningless flings. The one time you took a step out of your comfort zone and hooked up with a stranger, your walk of shame felt like a daze - inside, you were empty, despondent. A part of you envies Imani and the mysterious Priya for being able to cast aside their emotions so easily, fall into bed with a stranger, step out the next morning without feeling like they’re missing a part of themself.

The little green monster in you also flares up at the realization that they’ll know Jake in a more intimate way than you ever will - in a way that you’ve only dreamt about a handful of times. Give or take. You’re not sure when you started seeing him in a different light, as more than a friend, more like the person you’d want to get old with and celebrate milestones besides the anniversary of you becoming friends - but it happened slowly, suddenly, then all at once. And now, your feelings just sit with you, tethering you to the impossible dream of knowing Jake as so much more. 

All this to say, you can’t be angry with Jake or any of these women. It’s not a crime for him to want to sleep around. You just wish you had the courage to tell him it’s not entirely victimless. 

“There’s quite a few girls back home who’d be shattered to hear this,” you tease instead, ignoring the way your stomach is dropping low, the way your appetizer is slowly creeping up your esophagus. 

Jake rolls his eyes. “Always been a heartbreaker, darlin’, it’s an occupational hazard.” he tells you and you agree mentally, idly picking at the basket of cold fries on the table. “You’ll always be my number one girl, though.” 

Ah, and the dream lives on. 

AGE TWENTY-SIX (time went on for everybody else, she won't know it)

“Happy tenth anniversary to a spectacular, intelligent, absolutely phenomenal woman,” Jake toasts, grinning across from you at Malatesta Trattoria in West Village. Jake had insisted on treating you in celebration of your new job at The New York Times - did the research and made reservations all on his own, took time off and everything. 

“Happy friendship anniversary to a guy who still forgets to pack his toothbrush,” you snicker, and laugh even harder when his look of pride quickly turns into a mock glare. 

It’s been a full year since you physically saw him at your last anniversary dinner - Jake had been away on a longer assignment in Lemoore, and you’d been busy churning out inflammatory political op-eds for The Washington Times and applying to jobs in the Big Apple. The two of you called pretty regularly, but this was officially the longest the two of you had gone without seeing each other. 

You thought it’d feel awkward, like you’d have to fumble to find your footing with him the same way you have to figure out how to balance when you put on roller skates, but it’s easy. The moment you stepped outside of your building to meet him, he’d rushed to lift you in a giant bear hug, like no time apart had even passed. And the whole night, the two of you chat about anything and everything- he fills you in on his assignment and about something he’s gunning for called Top Gun, and you tell him about an upcoming project covering creative renewal in Beirut - you both nod along as best as you can while the other speaks. 

After your plates are empty and cleared out and you both have determined that you’re too full for dessert (although, the ice cream calling your name at your apartment might have you singing a different tune later), you both stand up to exit the restaurant. 

The wine you had with dinner has loosened up your movements - typically, you have to move through the city streets with big strides and purpose - like you’ve got somewhere to be and you’re already ten minutes late. But with Jake, there’s no timetable, no place you have to hurry to reach. Right now, the only thing on your agenda is to stand next to Jake in the middle of the sidewalk outside of this fancy restaurant and appreciate the moments you have with him. 

And figure out how the hell you’re getting home. 

“You wanna call a cab?” Jake asks you with an arm wrapped around your waist to steady your swaying form, and you balk at the thought of having to pay a hefty fee just to sit still in a car and try to keep your spinning head from making you throw up. God, your tolerance has become abysmal. 

“We can just take the F train back to my place. If you’re okay walking?” you reply fuzzily, looking up at him with a messy grin. Jake’s sweet expression catches you off guard - hazel green eyes locked on you, his sweet smile etching a dimple deeper into his cheek, like Michaelangelo himself carved it. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you become all too aware of the feeling of his hand squeezing your hip, the warmth of his forearm around your lower back, the way his chest is just barely brushing your shoulder and yet still manages to heat you up from head to toe. 

And you know he’s only trying to keep you upright, probably just trying to gauge your level of drunkenness and assess whether you’re good to make the thirty minute walk plus subway ride to your home. But he doesn’t know that it’s not the three glasses of wine you had at dinner that’s intoxicated you this much, that’s made your mind feel lighter than air and your heart ten times fuller. It’s all Jake - Jake - who’s looking at you like you’re the only thing on his mind, the only person in the world, the only one who matters.

“Are you fine with that?” he asks, and the softness written in his features reminds you of all the times you’ve looked at Jake and found a new favorite thing to fall in love with. 

The very first time you looked at him - really looked at him - you fixated on the way his dimple poked out while you regaled him with a story about how you exacted revenge on your friend’s two-timing ex by pouring your entire yogurt cup on top of his head. The way he threw his head back with his eyes squinted shut and hands clapping together made you feel more enamored with him than ever, had you scraping the back of your mind for more stupid jokes to make him laugh that hard. 

Another time, you remember looking right at his nose and thinking about how much you wanted to plant a sweet kiss on the tip, found yourself wondering how it would feel pressed against your neck as you both drifted off for the night, and how the sound of his soft breathing beside you would be the most comforting, reassuring sound to fall asleep to. 

This time, you’re completely mesmerized by the way the streetlights hit the flecks of green in his eyes, the way his pupils look slightly dilated, the way his gaze darts down for a split second to your lips and right back up to meet your heated look. If you weren’t drunk you’d fall right into the moment, lean right in and press your mouth to his like you’ve always wanted to, let his perfectly brilliant teeth clash with yours. Maybe see for yourself if you can taste cinnamon on his tongue. 

But you are incredibly drunk right now, and that’s no way to kiss him for the first time. So you pull your head back ever so slightly. “I think I just need to walk off the alcohol for a bit,” you shoot him a sloppy grin, still managing to lose yourself in those fucking beautiful eyes. 

Jake’s talking, murmuring something low in your ear. “You sure? Those shoes look like they hurt.” 

You look down at your heels - and yeah, they’re fucking painful. These past few minutes of Jake’s inebriating presence has given you the briefest reprieve from the sharp pains shooting up your calves. You’re desperate to take them off - but you can’t recall when your last tetanus shot was. And even if you were up-to-date, no one could convince you that it’s safe to walk barefoot in the streets of New York. “No, I’ll make it. Need to walk off the wine.” 

“You wanna wear my shoes?” Jake offers and you scoff. 

“You wanna walk barefoot? What, do you think they sanitize and mop the sidewalks every night?” 

“I’m wearing socks!” he defends and you roll your eyes. 

“Still gross. Besides, you know what they say about guys with big feet?” 

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, looks momentarily stunned as his eyes dart to his shoes, then return to your face. “Big dick?” 

“Big shoes,” you deadpan. “And if I take one step in your big clown shoes, I’m faceplanting right on the sidewalk. You want that to happen? ” 

“Clown shoes?” he repeats to himself quietly with an amused smile, then shakes his head, finally relenting. “Fine. But if you get tired, I’m not carrying you.” 

“I’ll make it,” you insist. 

--

“Jake?” you say thirty minutes later after traversing up the subway stairs, stopping for a moment to bend down and massage your ankles. Jake stops, shifts the paper bag with leftovers from one hand to the other and places his free hand on your back. He looks down at you with concern. 

“Yeah?” 

You pause for a moment, wondering if he’d turn you down, deliberating if you even feel comfortable asking him for a piggyback ride for the five minute walk back to your apartment. But the aching toe cramp that you’re trying and failing to stretch out drowns out your insecurities, silences your fear that he wouldn’t be able to manage. You remind yourself that he’s been bragging about his new squat record for weeks now, anyway. “Can you carry me on your back? Please?” 

A sigh. Then, “Sure darlin’. Hop on.” 

You wordlessly reach to take the leftovers from him and he turns away from you, couches down low enough to let you clamber onto him. With an arm secured under each leg, he extends to his full height and lifts you up onto his back. 

“Alright?” he rumbles, and you nod wordlessly, wrap your arms around his neck and hook your chin over his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in his familiar cologne, some Tom Ford scent you’d gifted him a few Christmases ago. It grounds you, keeps your head from spinning even more as you relish the feeling of your ankles not supporting your whole body weight. 

You feel the alcohol hit for a second wave, completely demolishing your self-control, unleashing your thoughts to race limitlessly, to see no bounds. At this point, your head is close to mush, your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much, and you think you’ll never let yourself drink rosé again. But you’re certain of one thing. “I think you might be the love of my life,” you murmur sleepily. 

Silence. Jake doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t even say it back. So maybe you were too quiet, or perhaps you completely imagined saying it at all. 

Because it’s unlike Jake to let you have the last word. 

AGE TWENTY-EIGHT (I'm sure that you’ve got a wife out there, kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware)

“Have you ever thought about this?” Jake asks you, leaning back against his chair as he  watches the happy couple swaying in the middle of the dance floor to an Ed Sheeran song - not your personal choice, but the rest of the onlookers seem to be incredibly moved by it. This year, your friendship anniversary coincides with your old roommate’s wedding, and after much pleading (and the promise of an open bar), Jake agreed to fly out to be your plus-one. 

It surprised you how much you had to beg for him to come. At first, he had been hesitant, imploring you to attend the wedding instead of meeting him for your usual dinner. You didn’t hesitate to dismiss  that idea - it’s been twelve years of celebrating, and there’s no way you’re stopping now. Not when it already feels like Jake’s been pulling back for the past year or so: calling less often, answering texts hours after you sent them, sometimes not even replying to your articles with anything aside from a little thumbs-up emoji. 

At this point, it feels like this anniversary is all that’s tethering him to you. 

“Have I ever thought about my wedding?” you ponder. “Yeah, sometimes. Don’t think I’d ever spring for something as big as this, but -” 

“- No, no,” he interrupts, “you wouldn’t want to make a big fuss of it all, not a crazy big party and definitely not a five hundred person guest list. ‘Course I know that about you.” Jake smiles and shifts forward, leaning in close; you can just barely smell the sandalwood and vanilla musk of his cologne. He seems relaxed, finally looks content to be here - though you’re sure that’s all thanks to the top-shelf whiskey he’s imbibing. “I meant marriage, commitment, settling down. You think you’d ever want to do that?” 

You purse your lips, gaze still locked on the newly wedded couple, appreciating the matching expressions of adoration written on their faces as they twirl around their guests. “Of course. Just haven’t found the right person who’s ready to do that with me.” 

He scoffs. “What, like you’re struggling to find someone? You know, from the minute I walked into this banquet hall with you, I’ve counted maybe five death glares from interested parties.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” you snort, tilting your glass up vertically to catch the last few drops of champagne.

“Sweetheart, I’d never lie to you. In fact, I think the redhead over by the bar is still sending daggers my way. And she’s hot, so I’m kind of turned on by it,” Jake adds seriously, and you roll your eyes. “Come on! I thought you were going to give Tinder a shot earlier this year?” 

You snort again, this time feeling a little more jaded. “I did give it a shot. And all I found was guys holding up fish and finance bros asking for my snap. I don’t even have a Snapchat, Jake. What happened to just getting people’s numbers and having a normal conversation?” 

“It’s a new era, all this online dating stuff,” he replies, crossing one ankle over his knee and interlacing his hands over his abdomen. “But I see your point, maybe Tinder isn’t the best place to find your forever partner.”

“Don’t know why I even bothered,” you remark and look over at him, momentarily allowing yourself to appreciate the way his tux fits over him. “Maybe if we’re both still single by the time we’re forty, we get hitched,” you muse, only half joking. 

He chokes on his whiskey, coughing loudly with the liquor singing his throat. “Yeah, right!” Jake finally manages out with a laugh and teary eyes, and it feels like someone’s poured a bucket of ice water on you, wakes you up from the lighthearted banter you lost yourself in. 

“Okay,” you narrow your eyes, heart dropping at the rejection. “Don’t sound too eager. I’m not down on one knee here or anything.” 

“Sorry,” he apologizes but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He swirls around the remaining amber sea in his drink, slightly mesmerized by the mini whirlpool. “You know me though. Never settling down.” 

You know you should take the sign to drop the conversation, but his quick refusal and blasé tone rubs you the wrong way. “Why? Because of your parents?” you hedge, leaning in to get a better look at his face, which has slightly hardened in the dim glow of the bulb lights strung across the venue. The extra bubbly you’ve consumed pushes you to question him, to finally figure out why he’s so resistant to letting himself be loved. “I know you’re scared you’ll end up making the same mistakes as your dad, but you know you’re not like him. Not in any way.”

He grits out your name warningly, arching a brow and gripping his glass tight. You run the risk of it shattering if you keep pushing. But that’s the least of your worries; right now, you’re blind with hurt. How can he just dismiss you like it’s nothing? How can he close himself off so easily? 

“Typical Jake Seresin, you know?” you cut him off hotly, trying with all your might to keep your voice even through the haze of champagne. “Always so ready to let your daddy issues ruin your chances at happiness.” 

He glares at you, knocks back the rest of his drink without even grimacing, doesn’t meet your gaze. Crunches the ice bitterly. “Get off your high horse, sweetheart,” he finally says roughly. “Stop pretending like you know me.” 

You scoff, still not backing down. “You think after over ten years of friendship, I don’t know you at all?” 

Another shrug. His leg starts bouncing incessantly. “People change, darlin’. You certainly have.” 

You draw back, feeling like he just slapped you in the face. “What d’you mean by that?” you ask a little quieter, with a slight waver, still audible over Ed Sheeran’s ballad. Where’s he going with this? 

He groans again, turns to look at you, but you don’t quite recognize the expression on his face. It’s menacing, hardened, darker than the amber liquid in his cup. “We do our separate things, sweetheart. We call a couple times a year and meet up on the same weekend to do the same dinner and yeah, that’s nice. It’s great. But that doesn’t mean you know me as well as you think you do. Quit grilling me - I’m not just a sad story for you to write about.”

His words punch you in the gut, sock you in the ear, send blood coursing angrily through your veins. Part of you wants to tell him off, unleash your fury, make a scene in the middle of this reception hall. Another part of you wants to storm off and leave him behind, but you’re not sure if you want to face the reality that he might not follow, might not chase after you with apologies and promises to soothe the burn from his words. 

Slightly misty-eyed, you fight to reel your emotions back in, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you or make Jake feel like you’re guilting him. It feels an awful lot like using thimbles to catch roof leaks. Your strength comes back to you in slow, even waves: your heart returns to its normal pattern, your chest no longer heaves for air. 

“You can’t say things like that, Jake,” you tell him, your voice surprisingly steady, rock solid. “You’re my best friend, and you can’t speak to me that way.”

His jaw ticks, his expression remains unchanged. “Sure, right. Sorry.” 

The easy dismissal brings your anger back in a rush, yet gives you time to think about your next words carefully. “You’re such an ass, Jake,” you bite out, and maintain decorum, calmly push your chair back to stand up, send him a glare with all the furiosity you can muster before making a bee-line for the exit without looking back to see if he’s following suit. 

You dodge fellow wedding attendees, snatching champagne from a waiter with a platter before knocking it back and setting the empty flute back down and continuing to make your way to the exit. Over Ed Sheeran’s second ballad, you can hear Jake quietly calling out your name, his footsteps right behind you. 

As you burst through the doors, into the crisp outside air, you teeter for a few steps in your heels before leaning against a pillar, trying to contain your emotions, lest you say something silly or embarrassing or humiliating. 

“Would you just wait? Would you let me talk?” Jake’s hot on your heels as he steps over the threshold. 

“You’ve said plenty,” you throw back. 

“Come on, darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jake says behind you, closer now. 

“I think you made it very clear,” you grind out, turning on your heel and looking him straight in the eye. “You can’t smooth-talk your way out of this, Seresin. That might work on everyone else, but it’s not doing jack shit on me!” 

He throws his hands up in the air, shakes his head. You eye how his fingers are twitching, how he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “What do you want me to say? I’m just saying we’re not the same people we used to be -”

“- That’s fine!” you gesticulate dramatically, too overwhelmed with frustration to let your hands remain still. “But you don’t have to be an ass about it! You don’t have to minimize our friendship like this! God, Jake, what has it been? Twelve years? Twelve years of loving you, supporting you, celebrating anniversaries -” You cut yourself off, realizing what just bubbled forth from of your mouth. 

Jake’s expression stays ablaze, but his spine stiffens, hands twitch twice before he clenches them, digging his nails into his palms harshly. You meet his heavy gaze, mouth slightly agape, mind running a million miles a second until it starts to decelerate, slows down gradually, then stops on one thought, one single thought alone. 

“I love you, Jake,” you say. Like you’re stating a fact, common knowledge for everyone and their mother. The sky is blue, the world isn’t flat, and you’re in love with Jake Seresin. 

He inhales, shaking his head, and looking down at the ground. 

You falter, furrow your eyebrows, wonder if maybe he didn’t hear you. “I love you, Jake,” you repeat, this time a little louder, taking a step forward, closer to him. “I’m in love with you.” 

Jake looks up, his face contorted into a look of pain, eyes void of its usual light. Inhales sharply. “I know.” 

You falter. “You know?“ the words feel like marbles rolling out; you can almost hear the tiny plinks as they hit the ground. 

“Yeah.” 

”…How long?” 

He swallows. “Since New York.” 

You’re transported back in that moment, a montage of scenes from your tenth anniversary flashing through your mind like you’re in a cinema. You remember the night’s end in a haze: his warm body next to yours as you stumbled to the subway, you gripping onto his arm tightly with every lurch of the train, Jake carrying you on your back and you saying -

“Oh.” You shrink back, and the realization he’s held onto this for two years hits you like a truck. Jake is silent, hands now shoved into his pockets as he awaits your next few words. “And... you have nothing else to say to that?” 

Jake lets out a pained groan. “Listen, darlin’, don’t get me wrong. I... care about you so damn much, but I can’t feel for you the way you want me to. We wouldn’t work.”

His words make you freeze and your anxiety screams out ‘I told you so!’ in a manner that echoes thunderously throughout your brain. This unrequited love is something you’ve always expected, always prepared yourself for, yet you never gave it much further thought to safeguard your heart. 

You’re rapidly accelerating through the stages of grief - next, your anger comes back to you. First, in small rivulets that trickle down your spine - then as a rush of agony that feels an awful lot like the crash at the bottom of a waterfall. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall, your palms already stinging from how hard you’ve dug your manicure into them - but is it fair for you to be mad at him? For not loving you the way you desperately want him to? 

For the longest time, a small, tiny part of you hoped Jake would come around, decide to knock on your door, knock you back with a signature bear hug. That he’ll swear to be there always, love you the way you love him. 

After tonight, you reflect, it seems like that might never happen. And quickly, you surmise that you’d rather have one part of him than nothing at all. So as you finally reach the stage of acceptance, you vow to treasure every moment of friendship with Jake Seresin. 

“I understand,” you tell him, feeling like you’re miles away. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?” His eyes still rake over you with concern. 

“Positive.” You do your best to plaster on the most reassuring smile you can. 

“Sweetheart -” 

“- Can we just talk about this later?” you interrupt, feeling defeated and embarrassed all rolled into one. There most certainly is more to the conversation - but all you want to do is prolong it for longer, preserve the fantasy in your mind that you can Jake are alright, that the past few minutes never happened. 

He closes his mouth, nods, pushes his hands deeper into his pockets. 

From inside, the music suddenly changes - still a slow ballad, but this time it’s Al Green, Let’s Stay Together. “I believe you stipulated that I had to dance to at least one song,” Jake holds out a hand, looking at you almost hopefully. As if the last few minutes hadn’t completely shattered your heart and sent the pieces flying away with the wind. 

“Ah,” you say, feeling a wave of exhaustion overcome you. “You go on ahead. Think I just need some more air.” 

Internally, your heart is deflating, sending slight tremors throughout your body. But you can’t have Jake know that, can’t have him feel even worse about this, won’t have him feeling an ounce of guilt for something so out of his control. 

Despite your best efforts to hold it all in, a small tear escapes and slides down your cheek as soon as Jake’s back turns, and you feel like you might have kicked a pebble that’s about to precipitate an avalanche.

--- 

Jake calls you up a few days after, initially sounding like he just wants to check in until his tone takes on a more somber note, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Listen, I know we had a little bit of a heated... discussion at the wedding. And I just need you to know I really, really, appreciate you. And I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, but I just want to make sure we can still stay friends.” 

“Yeah, of course -” you stop yourself from readily agreeing, pause to reevaluate how you really want to take this moving forward. 

Jake is the love of your life. That much is certain. And you’re not sure how willing you are to push aside your feelings, pretend your confession never even happened, just to go on with the guise that you guys are simply friends. Just friends. Holding off on love in hopes that he’ll come around. 

If you’re being completely truthful, a part of you does feel empty without a person by your side, without a companion to walk through life with, without a partner to share all the moments of joy and despair and everything in between with. You’ve tried dating throughout the years - agreed to so many blind dates, worked up the courage to ask guys at the bar out. And somehow, you always run into the same problem. 

They’re not Jake. 

And it’s not like they’re not as funny as him, or as charismatic or charming or sweet as him. It’s not the fact that they gave you spearmint kisses when you’ve always craved cinnamon. It’s the harsh truth that no matter what, they always feel threatened by your passion for your job and your drive to succeed. Always find problems with you jetting across the world for different projects, and patronize you for saying you wanted to make a difference with your stories. 

One Tinder date even mocked you for aspiring to win a Pulitzer - you’d promptly excused yourself to the bathroom and never came back, instead ending your night with a long phone call from Jake, who was six hours ahead at the time but more than happy to console you. 

Jake’s always encouraged you, from the very first day at the pizza parlor to now. And the more guys you took a chance on dating, the less hopeful you felt about finding a future with someone as kind, as wonderful, as unwaveringly supportive as Jake. 

Maybe it’s time to let go of the pipe dream. 

“Actually, no. I don’t think I can move forward as just friends,” you rush out, and admittedly, it feels like you’re ripping off a bandaid but the sting feels more like an ache. “And don’t get me wrong - your friendship means the world to me. Even if you think we’re different people now. But it feels like nothing’s changed for me, Jake. I think for years, I’ve been holding onto the hope that you’ll come around and feel the same way. But after this past weekend... I think I need some space. Just so I can get over you, if you’re not changing your mind anytime soon.”  

Jake’s silent on the other end of the line - the only indication that he hasn’t dropped off is the sounds of cars rushing on the other side. A part of you hopes he’ll take the bait you cast with your final sentence, that at the very least, he’ll consider reconsidering. You don’t think you’ll get that lucky. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

“It’s not,” you quickly reassure him while blinking away tears, feeling numb. “And I don’t want to be cliche and tell you it’s what I need, Jake - because believe me, sometimes it feels like I need you like I need a Pilot G2 pen or the sun. But I can’t live like this. I can’t settle for just having part of you because that’ll be agonizing for me.”

Silence on the other end. “I hope you understand,” you quietly add. 

“I do, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” his voice is void of emotion. You try not to think too hard about it, try to transport yourself back to a better moment when he was right there in front of you with every feeling written on his tanned, chiseled face. 

Deep inhale. “Bye, Jake.”

AGE TWENTY-NINE (I cause no harm, mind my business, if our love died young, I can’t bear witness)

These gentrified tapas places are a menace to society. You shift uncomfortably on the cold, sad metal excuse for a barstool. This restaurant is noisy - glasses clinking together, patrongs cheers-ing to various occasions, champagne bottles popping open. Yet, the sound of the entrance dinging open is the only thing that makes you perk up, has you involuntarily glancing up hopefully in an attempt to manifest a familiar handsome pilot walking across the threshold to join you on your anniversary. But to your disappointment, it’s only a bunch of drunk bankers stumbling out. 

In the past year, you’ve found a number of ways to distract yourself from the pain of not having your best friend. As per Dr. Richard’s advice from your first therapy session, you tried your hardest to find comfort in solitude: catching films in the theater alone, wandering through new art exhibitions by your lonesome; you even attended a wine tasting in Brooklyn and ended up passing the time with a group of ladies who encompassed very similar energy to the Sex and the City Quartet (and you ended up getting some solid reassuring advice after you lamented your complicated friendship - Samantha’s carbon copy was all too ready to shit on Jake by the end of your tale).  

All in all, you’re content to be scoping out this restaurant solo, trying their featured cocktails and appetizers and people watching. You’re trying your best to convince yourself that you’re okay being where you are right now. The only thought that puts a damper on your night, sets your pride back a little is the realization that this might be the first October thirteenth you’ve spent alone in thirteen years. It shakes to your core, makes you flag down a bartender for a whiskey neat, but you calm down, take a deep breath, and let it out. 

Jake’s a different man, not the boy who sat in front of you in your beloved pizza shop with a crinkly-eyed smile, telling you “you’re just a cool person.” 

In the same way, you’re most certainly a different girl than the one who sat in front of him with a ten-color shuttle pen and bright eyes, one who was just grateful he’d seen a companion in you to begin with. 

You’re a strong, self-assured, career-driven woman now. You’ve been featured on a variety of articles ranging from the devastating 2016 US Presidential Election, to a Buzzfeed Guest Feature on what your favorite ink color said about you, to discussing culture and conflict in the Middle East. While Jake’s support from the very beginning was part of what motivated you, what spurred you on, you are the one who did all the hard work. You are powerful, driven, intelligent, sophisticated. 

You’re also drunk, and dialing a number you know by heart. 

“The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message or...”

After the beep, you steel yourself. “Hey, Jake,” you clear your throat, gripping your phone tightly in your palm and taking a deep breath. “I, uh... Just wanted to wish you a happy anniversary. Think it’s the first one I’ve spent without you in a while.” 

You pause, look around at the tapas bar as you try to gather your thoughts, wistfully eye the empty barstool next to you. 

“I know I said I needed some time before. And I’m glad you honored that - truly, from the bottom of my heart. Even though a part of me wanted you to change your mind and chose me over not having me. Does that make any sense?” 

Your eyes catch on the bartender who’s cleaning glasses with a towel a few feet away from you, catch him shaking his head slightly. 

“Do you mind?”you snap, and he at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Quickly, he flashes you an apologetic smile before comically pretending to hear a patron calling out their order and dashing across the bar. 

You snort, shaking your head. “Sorry. Some asshole was just... Never mind. You would’ve hated this place, Jake. I mean, aside from nosy people, it’s got overpriced drinks with Edison lights hanging from the ceiling. And there’s no jukebox - they’re just playing top 40s hits over and over again. Like, this is the third time I’m hearing Shape of You and I got here less than an hour ago.” 

Again, you pause, feeling embarrassed at your incessant rambling. Debate whether to blab about what’s been plaguing your mind since you woke up this morning. “Sometimes I wish I never said anything and that we could’ve just stayed friends. I just don’t think that would’ve been fair to me - because I meant what I said, Jake. I’m in love with you. Even if we’re different people - I would’ve loved getting to know every version of you.” 

It feels like a breakthrough, saying the words out loud, realizing that things truly are going to be more different than they used to be. And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re perpetually mourning a friendship, you don’t feel waves of anxiety that try to convince you that you conflated your friendship to mean more. You can breathe easily.

“I think I’ve realized that the person I am today is all a conglomeration, a constellation of every interaction I’ve had with other people. And for the most part, I am who I am because of our friendship, because of your presence in my life. So a part of me is finding it hard to let go of that and move on without you being so ingrained in me. But I’m trying. I’m going to therapy, at least,” you smile optimistically, wiping away the first tear you’ve let yourself shed today. 

“So rest assured, I’ll be okay without you, Seresin. In case you were worried. But no matter what, this day will always remain special to me. You’ll always be special to me.” 

AGE THIRTY (and it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong, I’m right where you left me)

You don’t realize it’s the day of your anniversary until you catch a glimpse of the date on your phone, realize why you felt like you were missing something the entire day. At first, it sends a wave of anxiety over you, makes your stomach swoop like you missed the last step on the staircase. 

But as best as you can, you remind yourself that taking on this special day alone is part of your healing process, that sometimes we create our own heartbreak through expectation, and that it’s just a matter of managing your hopes, assuaging your guilt, honoring your friendship by yourself for the second year in a row. 

It’s taken time, but you’ve made your peace with the fact that Jake won’t be playing as active a role in your future as you’d hoped. Maybe you two can just be the type of friends who send each other Christmas cards and call on your birthdays. Years later, maybe you’ll finally settle down and find someone who will support you just as well as Jake did, who will treat you kindly and see you as more than a friend to hold hands with from time to time and look at your lips sometimes and give you piggyback rides when you’re too drunk. If you have kids, maybe you’ll have Jake over to meet your family, oblige him to regale them with tales of your friendship, send gift cards for their birthdays and talk about his time in the Navy - if they’re interested in hearing about Uncle Jake’s career path. 

That’s all. You settle for keeping him in your footnotes, for cherishing the memory of who he used to be. 

Even if you’ll always be in love with Jake, that doesn’t mean you have to wither away waiting for him. 

-- 

In the middle of catching up on some editing and shooting out some emails from the comfort of your plush couch, your phone rings with a familiar name proudly displayed at the top. Immediately, you narrow your eyes, wondering if he’s remembered or if it’s some weird fluke that he’s calling you on today of all days.

“Hello?” you answer cautiously. 

“Hey, darlin’,” you hear Jake’s easy tone flow through the speakers, and despite all the growth you’ve endured, despite all the lessons you’ve etched into your heart, your brain turns to mush. 

“Hi Jake,” you force out, feeling as nervous as you did that day you interviewed him at the pizza place. At times like this, you wish you had your old landline from back in the day so you could coil the cord around your fingers idly, distract your nerves momentarily from the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice in two years. “How’ve you been?” 

“I’m alright,” His voice is stilted, slightly muffled. Sounds just as easy as you remembered it, “Just... Remembered what today was.” 

“It’s Saturday.” The quip rolls off your tongue before you can think any better of it - and you cringe inwardly at how rude you must have sounded. “I’m sorry, that was...” 

But Jake’s chuckling on the other end, a delightfully warm sound, one that pulls a surge of pride from deep within your chest. “Yeah. You're not wrong.” 

And just as quickly, it fades into the awkward silence - the kind you never used to have with Jake. Mentally, you flow through all the happenings in this past year, think about where his Ma told you he’d been last. 

“How’s San Diego?” - “Can you buzz me up?” you both speak at the same time, and his answer makes you freeze, makes time suspend for a few seconds as if you’re floating outside of your own body. 

“I’m outside your building, I think. Unless your Ma sent me the wrong address, which admittedly, I’d deserve but - " 

“- You’re in New York?” you ask, still in shock, finally feeling in control of your muscles and limbs and words. Hurriedly, you scramble off your couch and swipe up your empty tea mug, then rush to your kitchen to deposit it unceremoniously into your sink. 

You hear the sound of a car horn beeping on the street echoing both in real time and on the line, further sending your heart into a frenzy. “Yeah - you do live off 65th, right? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to just pop in like this - ”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you breathe out, making your way to your front door with your phone still sandwiched between your ear and your hand. “I just... Wasn’t expecting company.” 

He snorts on the other end. “S’not like the Queen of England is coming. It’s just me.” 

“Somehow, I think that’s worse,” you muse, leaning against your hallway wall and hovering your finger over the button to let him in. If hearing his voice has put you this much on edge, you can’t imagine what it’ll do to you if you see him in person. 

“Maybe so,” Jake agrees, and you can practically hear the forlorn smile in his voice. “Mind letting me up, though? Just wanted to talk. In person.” 

The reality of the situation crashes down on you - that Jake’s practically been AWOL for the past few years, that your friendship has felt one-sided and exhausting to try and keep up with, that you spent your last anniversary alone and sobbing into your cellphone So a part of you wants to turn him down, hustle him out of your safe space - but your heart pounds rapidly with its demands for answers, your brain implores you to hear him out. 

Without a second thought, you push the button and hear the resounding buzz on Jake’s side, followed by a “See you soon, sweetheart.” The line clicks. 

Mind going a million miles a second, you turn to glance at your reflection in the hall mirror that you’ve procrastinated hanging up for months now. You level a determined look at yourself, brush some crumbs off your sweatshirt and smooth some flyaways before pushing your shoulders back, standing up tall and proud in an attempt to exude confidence. 

Three heavy knocks sounding out at the door immediately makes your look turn panicked, sending you stumbling over your feet as you reach to grab the doorknob and pull it open to reveal Jake Seresin standing in your narrow apartment hallway. 

Not even five seconds have passed and you’re already annoyed with him. He’s still mind numbingly handsome: tall as ever, blonde hair still infuriatingly shiny and soft, green eyes catching the dim evening light, glimmering back at you like gemstones. It makes your stomach swoop, brings the butterflies fluttering back into your chest from where you’d banished them.

Asshole. 

“Hey,” he greets, quirks up a corner of his mouth into a half smile that would normally have you swooning if you weren’t already frozen. 

“Hi, Jake,” you manage out, eyes raking over his figure just to convince your mind that he’s really there, actually standing just a few feet in front of you. Shaking away the doubts, you step to the side, gesture for him to enter your apartment. 

It’s not the sound of his footsteps that convince you, nor is it the brief brush of his arm as he sidles into  your narrow apartment hallway or the unreal sight of how he fills up the space and how his shoulders stretch from wall to wall. It’s the familiar heavy scent that hits you - tobacco and vanilla - which makes your cheeks flush, your heart skips a beat. 

He’s really here. 

Gathering your wits, you follow him into your cramped living room, grateful that you’d done some vacuuming and tidying up that morning in an effort to banish all the anxieties and ruminations that come with this special day. “Feel free to sit anywhere,” you find your voice, snatch up an oversized throw to make some room on the couch. 

He nods, turns around to assess your space thoughtfully before settling himself into the cushions.“I got your voicemail,” he tells you. “From last year.” 

Oh. It suddenly feels bitter, leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “You didn’t call back?” you hedge, immediately going on the defense. Instead of sitting down next to him, you elect to slide into the armchair furthest away from him, an attempt to shield yourself from him. An attempt to avoid making the same mistake twice. 

“I was going away on assignment the next morning,” Jake explains quietly, patiently. He meets your disbelieving look with somber eyes. It only slightly alleviates the pressure building in your chest. “And... honestly, I didn’t want to worry you. It was one of those missions. The kind I wasn’t sure I would come back from - like, where they’re telling us to call home and lay down all the cards.” 

You pause for a moment, absorb his words and feel a twinge of hurt upon the realization that you weren’t kept in the loop, that you never even knew you stood a chance at losing him. Before the emotions can rattle you too much and send you spiraling with anxious thoughts and what ifs, he explains further.. 

“I thought I would spare you the details, spare you from having to prepare to lose me. I was okay with that decision up until the moment one of my engines failed and my jet was going down - and the one thing that flashed through my mind was that I wouldn’t get to talk to you again, or see you, or how when you win your Pulitzer you wouldn’t be able to call me to tell me the news or how I wouldn’t be able to hang up the print of your winning piece next to your union one,” his voice is shaking slightly, and you know if you even attempted to reply your words would quiver just as much. In this moment, you’re trembling with your hands folded over your eyes to hide the tears brimming. 

It’s a mix of sadness and anger and disappointment and you try your best to hold off on the tornado, but it rips your soul to shreds the more you realize the gravity of the situation. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you grit out, pressing your lips together to barricade the sobs. Your hands are tightly wrapped around a throw pillow, squeezing and kneading out your frustration on it. You can barely stand to look at him.  “Took you a near death experience to call me? You think I haven’t already put myself through the fucking wringer after feeling so guilty for cutting you off just because you were too scared to love me? And you almost died?” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake repeats, at least sounding sincerely apologetic. 

“I appreciate that, Jake,” you reply bitterly, then defeatedly toss the pillow to the side. “When did you even get back?” 

His jaw tenses slightly and he sighs, and you immediately feel triumphant for successfully frustrating him, as petty as it sounds. “Few months back. And I’m sorry for not calling you. I wanted to as soon as I got back, but I wanted to say all this face to face. And it took some time for me to figure out my shit, but I’m here now, if you’ll hear me out?” 

All you can do is nod, purse your lips and let him say his piece - there’s no pressure to forgive him or fall into his arms. 

“I think you were right,” Jake continues seriously. You dig your nails into your palms anxiously. Under any other circumstance, you would have loved hearing those words from anyone else. Not now. Not Jake. “You were right to call me out when you said I was letting the fear of becoming my dad hold me back from chasing what I want.” 

As your anger slightly dissipates, you think back to that moment - about how those were just a few of the words you wish you could snatch up out of your past and make them disappear. Your breath hitches. “I was a bit harsh - "

“- But you were right,” he interrupts. “And I think that’s another reason why I shut down, because you know me so well. After all these years, I think you know me better than I know myself.” 

You nod, not sure what exactly to say to that. It’s not like you can explain to him that you were so incredibly taken by him, that you held onto his every word and agonized over interaction in hopes of really getting to know your best friend. 

Jake goes on: “And you have to know that my dad broke Ma’s heart like it was nothing. Married for twenty years, dated for five years, friends for another ten years. Even after you add all that up, it’s still not enough to keep them together. He still went for the first temp who waltzed into his office, still fucked with both of them for months on end. If my parents couldn’t keep it together, how could anyone else?” 

You’re stunned, frozen in shock before you manage to gather your strength, pick up your thoughts and hurl them right back at him. Screw this defeatist attitude he’s picked up. “You have to understand that’s the nature of some relationships, Jake. Sometimes they’re not meant to last forever, sometimes people change - "

You halt, feel a wave of déjà vu. The words on the tip of your tongue sound eerily familiar to something that’s replayed in your mind for the past two years, and a couple puzzle pieces start to fit together. “Is this why you were spouting all of this bullshit at the wedding? About us changing?”

Suddenly, he launches up from the couch, walks two steps across the room and pivots on his heel to walk the two steps back in an attempt to furiously pace. He groans out exasperatedly, rakes a hand through his stupid perfect blond hair. “I mean... Yeah. It made sense at the time,” he admits. Briefly, you wonder when his nervous tics changed in the past few years, when did he switch from bouncing his legs under tables to wearing a path into carpets? 

People change indeed. In more ways than one. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you tell him matter-of-factly, and there’s no sugar-coating your words anymore. He makes a sound, as if he’s about to feign offense, but you power through. “People change all the fucking time, Jake. How the hell are we supposed to grow and become better versions of ourselves if we stay stagnant? Where’s the fucking story in that?” 

You huff out a laugh, don’t even wait for him to reply before continuing on a rant. He’s stopped pacing now, is looking at you, but you’ve sprung up to your full height to look at him straight on, deliver your words as firmly as you can. 

“People change, Jake, especially when they’re in relationships - it’s a matter of adapting, supporting them and loving your partner through it. And like, let’s be clear: I’ve changed a lot, too. Physically and emotionally - but I’m okay with it because I realize it’s made me become someone my sixteen year old self would be stoked to meet. And not just because I live in the city or because I have, like, two Montblanc pens - but because I’m working on these stories and they fly me out wherever to interview people, and I know I haven’t sent my stuff to you in a while, didn’t think you’d still want to read it - ” 

“- I’ve kept up,” Jake interrupts. You stop in your tracks, tilt your head to the side as you process this. “I wanted to read them.” 

“You have?” you ask dubiously, doubtfully. Hopefully. 

“‘Course,” he affirms, sends you a reassuring smile and stands up straighter, takes a step forward. “I mean, not while I was overseas, I read up when I got back. I really liked that one about the Obamas’ portraits. Thought that was pretty cool. But the one about the grassroots movements for peace in Afghanistan got me thinking. Like, obviously I was assigned there for a while, but didn’t really consider other things happening there - Actually, I had some questions for you, but we can talk about it later...” 

“Oh. Sure.” You’re slightly shocked at the confession, at the small vision that flashes through your mind of Jake typing your name into Google and catching up on your stories, determinedly following your career even during the most unstable moment in your friendship. It sparks hope in you, sends a wave of hope crashing down on you forcefully. “Wow. I didn’t think you… That means the world to me, Jake.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, excitement reverting back to a somber contemplative expression. “I understand what you’re saying about change,” he says hesitantly, rocks back on his heels. “And I think I’m starting to understand what you meant in your voicemail about the... conglomeration stuff. Loving every version of me. Because I really feel the same way about you.” 

It’s ambiguous, a little mysterious, his words a little stilted and broken, and you replay his words over and over to try and dig up the meaning behind them. But he’s taking another step towards you - if you reach out, you can certainly reach up and run your finger across the small bump in his nose from that football all those years ago. Hold his cheek in your hand like you've always wanted to.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he’s saying, and it makes your heart thud a million miles a minute, makes you want to pinch yourself. “I can’t remember it for the life of me. But I think about the moment I realized it - when you said it to me four years ago. And I regret not saying anything back every fucking day.” 

Your heart stumbles, crushes up against the front of your ribcage as it tries to peek out at the man you’ve loved since you were seventeen. “Oh, Jake,” your response rolls out along with two tears down your cheeks.“ It’s okay - “

The scent of vanilla tobacco hits you first, then his chest as he pulls you into a giant bear hug that envelops you in a warmth that could put both the sun and Texas bonfires to shame. Your face is pressed into his jacket and he’s talking, saying something that you don’t really register until you tilt your head up and dig your chin into his firm chest. 

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart,” the words burst forth. His hand’s resting gently on the small of your back - the warmth of his palm radiates comforting heat through your body that only multiplies as he pulls you into him. You stabilize your hands on his shoulders, crane your neck to look up at him and map out every part of his face - from the small lines in his forehead to the slope of his nose to the slight redness in his cheeks. “It’s okay if it’s too late, if you’ve moved on. I just don’t want to lose you again, don’t want to risk not talking to you, can’t - ”

“Of course I’m in love with you, stupid man,” the words come to you as easily as breathing does. The smile that spreads across his face brings back your favorite eye crinkles, carves a dimple into the corner of his mouth, makes it feel like you’re bathing in sunlight. And Jake wastes no time, doesn’t even hesitate before he’s breathing out a question and you're nodding tearfully and then he's cupping both of your cheeks gently and surging forward to press his lips to yours.

--

Jake tastes like cinnamon, just as you’ve always suspected. Aside from that, nothing about the way you love Jake is predictable. Nothing is ever steady, nothing is ever expected. Every moment with him brings forth a new set of revelations that drives you crazy, tears you to pieces. And somehow, it’s all incredibly worth it, worth the brief heartbreak, worth the years of hoping and waiting for him to join you. Because in the end, he made it. In this moment, it feels like everything is just right.

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #tgm fanfic #mine

[imagine--if]

hii i saw that requests for alice in borderland were open and i rann 🏃🏻‍♀️

could you do a scenario where chishiya and banda have a crush/interested in the same s/o?? how tense would that be, especially in the solitary confinement game?? 👀👀👀

A/N: Oooo this is an awesome scenario idea, thanks for your request!! I'm still open for AIB requests until the 15th, so if you're interested then send some in!! A particular ask has caught my attention for after this... jealous Chishiya 😵😍 Little obvious disclaimer that the GIFs aren't mine- but look at Chishiya's, he's staring RiGhT aT uSsS 😭

Chishiya and Banda Both Crushing On You Includes...

💛• How'd you even manage to get the attention of both these guys?!??! I'm jealous 🥲 because the way these two fall for someone, combined, is basically the most intense and warm and crazy hot experience you'll have in quite a while. Let's say that this all starts in the Jack of Hearts game:

💛• With Chishiya, he's drawn to the little, unnoticeable things that interest him, like being a lot smarter than you look, or making a good decision that surprises, or even outwits him somewhat. There's not much of that in the borderlands, apart from Arisu's selflessness that absolutely confuses him until he starts admiring it, and the deadliness of the games, everyone looks like they're going to die. Except you. So he'll most likely start following you around - very subtly - observing your way of doing things and interacting with other players, until he properly approaches you. Probably asking you for his symbol on his collar, and asks you if you want yours. If you turn him down but give him his or something, he'll actually be taken aback... in a good way, because now he's obsessed with wanting to know how your mind works. So, basically, you've got yourself a new partner.

💛• With Banda, however, subtly and patience are not his things. All it takes is one minute of eye contact, or hearing something a little psycho come from you, anything that's potentially original and beautiful to him, and suddenly he's right in front of you with that dark smirk, giving you a twisted but flattering compliment. That's it. Now you've got a new protector who grows oddly possessive and obsessive over the first few rounds, pulling you back when you think about joining the others' big group. You don't need them. You've got him.

💛• So when the two ultimately end up bumping into each other when they both go to talk to you or something, there's just a moment of stretched, painfully strong silence as Banda eyes up this new 'distraction' to your attention, and Chishiya takes him in with that annoyingly indifferent, and kind of smug, look, before his brown eyes meet yours. Banda looks in your direction too. No pressure 😅

💛• I mean, Chishiya tolerates pretty much everyone, but Banda lurking around and infecting your brain with his sadistic ideas of entertainment and advice on how to win every game like he has, is something he's apprehensive of. He'll see how you react to it at first before jumping in, but overall, Chishiya thinks you're the first truly curious and inspiring person that's caught his attention in the Borderlands, and that's something he doesn't want to let slip as soon as he's found it.

💛• Banda has little to no empathy or care for anyone except what you're happy and unhappy with, so he's gonna be pretty forward with Chishiya and give him one of his hushed, intimidating, close-up threats to move along and find someone else to play with. When Chishiya retorts smugly with a comment about how the last women he hung around with suddenly made it onto the murder section of the newspapers, he'll get a deathly glare in his eyes, and basically the only thing stopping him from snapping at that moment is the rule of the game being that you can't outrightly hurt anyone.

💛• They let it go for now, but neither one of them is put off from hanging around with you. The rest of the players in the big group find it odd how you're just sitting there at a table, and within a few moments, Chishiya comes striding in offering his snack with you, sitting beside you on the table, all the while Banda's unblinking gaze is fixed on you from the other side of the cafeteria, where he sits on the floor against the wall. The Jack probably notices it too, but doesn't say anything, since no one really wants to see Banda Sunato get angry.

💛• Once the game has gone on and it's over, Banda has some 'business' to attend to with Jack, and probably makes you wear a tracker or something so he knows how to come and find you when he's done and figuring out how he can have more, or all, control over the lands. Cocky psycho even tries to kiss you goodbye too, and whether you let him go for it and leave you flustered after an intense few moments, or push him away gently with a blush is your choice. Either way, he'll still respond with one of his smirks and a wink before he causally pulls out his pocket weapon and goes into one of the cells after Jack.

💛• That just leaves you with Chishiya, who Banda has 'trusted' to keep you safe while he's gone. Since Chishiya figured it all out with him and survived the round in a pretty impressive way, Banda doesn't misjudge his intelligence and capabilites, even though he seems a little too relaxed when entering these life-or-death games. Still, you'll end up leaving with Chishiya wandering by your side and making small talk about who you are as a person as you go for the next game, or to meet his gang from the Beach, like Arisu. He's surprisingly talkative in his own way as he uncovers more about you and listens to every word you say, but when the questions are reflected back at him, the answers are simple and short - at first, anyway. It's not all because he's reclusive, but mostly because he didn't really like his life, or have much of one, in his opinion, before the Borderlands. But now, maybe he does. Intelligent and nice to look at. He'll stick around for sure 😉

💛• Elsewhere, Banda basically pulls up every file and piece of information on you instead of outrightly asking. It's safe to say that he's an obsessive and possessive crusher/lover, and he'll make that known once he's sorted things out and comes to find you again. And he will come and find you again 😏

#chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya x reader #banda sunato x reader #banda x reader #banda sunato #aib x reader #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland spoilers #alice in borderland scenarios #alice in borderland fanfic #alice in borderland season 2 #chishiya shuntaro #aib season 2 #imawa no kuni no arisu #shuntaro chishiya #alice in borderland s2 #aib headcanons #aib s2 #aib spoilers #aib chishiya #aib x you #aib imagines #imawa no kuni no alice #aib aguni

[vilixxr]

(non)commital

kyle x gn!reader

tags: fluff, bits of smut, marriage, that’s it. kyle is also endearingly annoying?

notes: marriage? no. with him? maybe.

wc: 962

You didn’t do the whole 'marriage' thing.

Well, you liked the idea of it. On the outside, looking in, it painted a nice picture: Eternal love, spoken out loud, in which death couldn't keep you apart. In theory.

It looked nice, pretty and pure, but you had sworn against it. You've seen how it ends, anyway. At some point, 'Eternal love' would sound more like chains you would tie to your wrists. Till death do you part, until you'd grow desperate to find the key midway through.

But, fuck, it was hard to keep promises between you and your heart. Especially when he was there.

This bastard. The one who had managed to worm through your own wall that you had set, now sitting in your stuffy kitchen. Your boyfriend, all calm and quiet, yet still holding that air of confidence that drove you wild. His lips were propped up in a dumb little smirk, almost a grin, as he caught you staring.

Kyle tilts his head, barely hides his amusement. "Somethin’ wrong?"

Absolutely.

It didn’t make sense to you. You've known Kyle for years. Years, and he’s always been the same man to you. A man who moves like he dreams. Constant, unstoppable, a man who soars and would never settle down, even if it killed him. Marriage was the furthest thing you'd find him doing. Probably.

Of course, though, you had to feel something anyway. All your heart, solely spent on him, the man that pissed you off. He just taunts you in ways that fit in the crevices of your heart, and he didn’t even know it. He makes your head spin, him and his perfection, drowns your mind in blooming photos of every single feature that made him the cunt that he is.

It had gotten so bad that you couldn't stop painting a picture of life beyond calling him your boyfriend. Wrath knows no bounds, and it's in the way you'd punch him at the altar for enlisting and leaving you. It's in the way you'd hiss in his ears all of your gripes that falter with the moan that leaves your lips mid sentence. It's in the way that you'd dedicate your energy to arguing over every little thing, even while the both of you went window shopping for a potential home.

You glance away. "No."

He smirks, like he knows. He's so getting punched at your wedding.

He slowly blinks, nonchalant. The slight sheen in his eyes are irreducible. "Has to be. You keep lookin' at me like I did somethin'."

The only thing that leaves your lips is a sigh that you hope doesn't tell him anything. You know it does anyway.

His expression barely changes, but you (unfortunately) can tell that there's something different. He looks at you, smirk stretched into a smile that shows top teeth, and his eyes shine in a way that makes you melt. It's such a look of love, where he tells you that you were the only one he really existed in his world. He may drop to his knees and bend to your will, just to see you smile. All that "hatred" you harbor, which he knows doesn't really exist, is something that he loves to shatter every time he tenderly takes you in his arms. Feel his heart pressed against yours.

And, you hate to admit it, but this is what made you soften. Your body slumps a little in your chair, but you kept your eyes on him. Those beautifully made eyes that glow in the sun, and seem to shine especially when it's you who's staring back at him.

Fuck. You'd punch him at the altar, you decided. Punch him, lightly, in the shoulder, because you couldn't dare to try and harm the man that's survived bullet wounds and bodies at his feet. You'd kiss him, because he deserves tenderness he was never given until now. You'd kiss him, again, just because. Again and again, and you'd beam at the sight of your husband.

The gripes would be nothing but insincere complaints. "I hate you," you'd breathe, but you wouldn't mean it. Your breath would hitch as he grips your thighs and kisses you in tandem with the pace set, while you follow with, "God, I love you."

And, while you may argue with him over the smallest things while choosing, you could still envision the home you'd live in with him, too. Small, cozy, some place that fits only you and him. Pillows placed so. Scattered remnants of hobbies and hoarded items left askew that encapsulate everything the both of you could ever be. Decorations, messes, love in every corner.

All that, and not just that. You'd find comfort, among the things that would make up your predetermined home. You could laugh, cry, ache, yell, rise and fall, all in the middle of the kitchen you imagined in your dreams, especially with him, wrapped around you and carrying you through it all. It was then that you'd find that something, as he cupped his hands around your face, and you did the same, cuddling among the walls of the only place the both of you could settle.

Something you've both yearned for, for a long, long time.

A home. One to reside in. One within each other.

So, marriage was something you swore off of, but it seems like the perfect time to ask him something. A murmur, so hesitant and unlike you.

It pairs well with the way your eyes dart around, before falling on him once more. You breathe, and the question leaves your lips:

“Would you marry me?”

And it was perfect, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle in an unspoken yes.

this fic beat my ass. kyle i’m sorry

stars + dots divider by cafekitsune

#cod #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mwii #kyle gaz x reader #gn reader #gaz #cod gaz #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod fluff #gaz ily btw #fluff #suggestive #. . . fics

[yoshida-chiyo]

Sunghoon (ENHYPEN) realizing he has a crush on you

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader

word count: ~0.4k

disclaimer: No images used in this post belong to me. All credits to respective creators. Contact for credit/removal. Your work is valued.

casually flexes his muscles while pretending to stretch, hoping you'll be impressed

stares at you for a solid minute during a group hangout and suddenly forgets how to blink

blinking is overrated anyway 🙄

constantly teases and flirts but acts like it's just casual banter

"Oh, you dropped something? Must be my jaw because you're stunning." abhjdwujdbsk.

practices saying your name in front of the mirror to make sure he doesn't stutter when talking to you

ends up giggling cuz he can't contain himself ( >⩊< ).

develops a sudden interest in all your favorite things, like your favorite movies, books, and even your weird obsession with collecting antique spoons

When you ask him about it, he just shrugs ¯_(ツ)_/¯.

gets overly conscious of how he smells and starts wearing that cologne he swore he'd never use because "it's too mainstream." 

hey, anything to impress you, right? ツ

tries to impress you with his "cooking skills" but burns the pasta

still insists it's a new culinary trend called "extra crispy al dente." 😁

becomes the unofficial photographer of the group, taking candid shots of you when you're not looking

insists it's for his "photography portfolio" ( ◡̀_◡́), but everyone knows what's up

can't focus on anything you're saying cuz he's too busy imagining the two of you holding hands and walking into the sunset 🫠

gets caught daydreaming more than once

sits there and spaces out, trying to figure out how to confess to you

attempts to be poetic but ends up sounding like a romantic disaster

"Your eyes are like... um, stars. Yeah, stars. Because they shine... and stuff." 🙄 ahh, my dear hoon

lowkey drops hints about his feelings in casual conversations

"You know, if I were to have a crush on someone hypothetically, they might have the most beautiful smile ever. Just saying." 😌

awkwardly stumbles over words while complimenting you but manages to blurt out, "Uh, you look... really nice today. I mean, you always do, but, um, today is just... extra nice."

gets all flustered when you compliment him back 🤭

steals glances at you when he thinks you're not looking, only to get caught and pretend he was inspecting the nearby wall for potential paint flaws 🤪

rearranges his entire schedule to 'accidentally' bump into you more often ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

spends an entire day debating whether or not to text you first

finally musters up the courage, only to send a meme instead ( •_ •)

starts using your favorite emojis in his texts, thinking it's a subtle way to convey that he's totally chill and not at all thinking about you 24/7 🙈

initially types out a really cheesy name to save in his contacts, then backspaces furiously, trying to maintain a semblance of coolness

thinks for a while and ends up with a simple "[your name]" but with a subtle smiley at the end. :)

accidentally calls you "babe" in the middle of a conversation and tries to cover it up by fake coughing. (≖_≖ ) smooth, hoon, real smooth

has this stupid grin on his face whenever you are brought up in the conversation

denies having a crush when his friends tease him about it

"Me, crushing on [your name]? 🤨 Pfft, you're delusional!" 

nervous laughter

Copyright © yukimura-chiyo - All Rights Reserved

Note: Please refrain from reposting my work. If you appreciate it and would like to share, kindly link directly to the original post. Thank you for respecting the effort and creativity put into this content.

ty @deobizonctzen ⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝

#enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen members #enhypen fake texts #jungwon x reader #lee heesung x reader #park sunghoon x reader #park jongseong x reader #jay x reader #sunoo x reader #sunghoon x reader #riki nishimura x reader #sim jake x reader #jake x reader #kim sunoo x reader #yang jungwon x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #enhypen niki #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen #trending #viral

[ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater]

The Blessing to Your Curse - Part 2 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

I finally finished writing part 2, it was originally quite short but I managed to write over half of it in the last few hours while doing genshin dailies in the background lmaooo, anyway I hope you enjoy this part, it's been a few weeks in the making, and it's starting to kick off a little more! I'm super excited to write more for this series :)

Part 1 here!

Warnings: none really? quite fluffy, mentions of experiments later on but nothing described

Word count: 2.8k

“Brat, let me talk to her,” “No, you don’t deserve to,” “You can’t keep me suppressed forever! You and that stupid white haired sorcerer, you can’t keep me away from her!” “I’ll let you talk to her when you let me sleep peacefully for once!”

You’d been walking down the hallway of your house to the bathroom when you heard Yuji talking to himself. Or more accurately, talking to the curse inside himself. Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, who also happened to be your best friend and potential lover from a life you lived, lost, and then forgot a thousand years prior.

You knock tentatively on the door, “Yuji? May I come in?” “No! He’ll only get worse,” He grunts the last part but you crack the door open slightly, “Please Yuji, I can try asking him to leave you alone,” You hear shuffling and sheets moving and then the doorhandle is pulled from your grasp, his eyes dark with exhaustion as he looks down at you. He steps aside to let you in the room and you feel Sukuna’s energy reaching eagerly for you like a child would reach for his mother, seating yourself on his bed. He sits in front of you and brings his legs up to match your crossed position, “You really think he’ll leave me alone?” “I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll see what I can do,” You say.

He sighs softly, his head drooping down and his eyes closing, before the familiar tattoos form beneath his skin and you almost feel you can see the changes to Yuji’s physical appearance as they happen. They’re subtle, and when he looks up again with all four eyes this time around you find yourself noticing the larger face shape and the fact his eyes are narrower. “They’re pathetic idiots, why won’t you help me take over this body? Why won’t you let me take you away?” He growls. You reach a hand forwards and take one of his, stroking the back with your thumb as you let your eyes trace over his body, Yuji’s grey sweatpants and plain yellow shirt looking so out of place on his body from what you remember in the Heian era.

His gaze is almost as heavy as Gojo’s six eyes, you can tell he’s getting impatient for your reply so you tilt your head, “Because we are different,” You murmur, “Though I remember you, and I remember me, I know that this body did not live through the trauma of our childhood, does not share that burden, and I fear you may resent me for it,” His hand finally grips yours in return, you can feel the taut of his muscles wanting to yank you closer as he hisses, “I made a binding vow, I sacrificed what was left of my humanity to avenge you, no matter how much we’ve changed since your death I will never break that vow, do you hear me?”

His nails prick into your skin but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch. “Sukuna…” You murmur, squeezing his hand in return, “You said the world would be right when you found me again, but… as right as your world may seem, mine is on the edge of falling apart,” You’ve known for a long time that something was coming, and as soon as Yuji was introduced to you you thought the ‘something’ that haunted your dreams was Sukuna’s return, but a few more unexplainable nightmares later you knew whatever it is is definitely still coming, and it’s much worse.

“Your vow only stretches to me and my wellbeing, and while I am a well-trained sorcerer, I am first and foremost a healer,” He looks wholly unbothered by your words but you press on, “You promised to protect me, well answer me this Sukuna, my heart is a part of me is it not?”

He refuses to meet your eyes, stubborn as ever, but when you let go of his hand he reaches for it again before you get too far away, this time giving in to the urge to yank you towards him.

You tumble into his lap as he cradles the back of your head to look up at him, “No, no,  don’t look sad, I can’t handle that,” He’s never been the best at comforting you but you always managed to find some semblance of comfort and meaning in his words, “Just… tell me what you mean, and don’t call me Sukuna I hate how it sounds from your lips,” You manage to right yourself, feeling entirely out of place but completely at home in his arms.

“My heart belongs to the people of Jujutsu High as much as it belongs to you,” You murmur, feeling trapped within his crimson gaze, unable to escape, “If they die in the midst of whatever is coming, I fear my heart will go with them,” His nostrils flare and you can feel the raw heat of his cursed energy piercing your skin but he inflicts no wounds, hands gripping tightly, “They don’t deserve your heart, it’s mine, can’t you find a way to get me my own body?” He growls.

Your face twists sadly and tears well up in your eyes, “I don’t know,” You murmur, “Maybe, with my abilities, but I can’t guarantee anything especially if it puts me in the line of fire from Gojo or the higher ups,”

You hear him growl, his teeth sharp as he grimaces, “I didn’t make a binding vow to protect you all those years ago just to allow it to be broken by one brat who can’t even survive a special grade on his own,” His grip on your arms is both painful and comforting and you cup his cheek, “I won’t let the vow break, Ryomen, vessel or no vessel,” He’s forced to meet your gaze and you resist the urge to poke him, “You’re one proud self-centred piece of shit you know that?” “If I’m self-centred you’re a part of that self, like it or not you’re stuck with me,” He grunts, his eyes softening as his grip loosens.

You sigh, letting your hand fall and sitting back off his lap, “Look, I’ll do it, the body thing, I will really try, but only because you actually asked me to,” His wolfish grin makes you huff, “And only if you help me convince Gojo by getting along with the sorcerers for once, because there’s something worse than you coming,”

His face is blank and he sniffs, “I’ll protect you, that’s what I promised, so if that means I have to help some idiotic sorcerers claim victory over a threat supposedly worse than me then so be it,”

“I can’t believe I’m helping you,” You grumble, “You know I could get in a lot of trouble for this,” “Such a pity I’m your only weakness,” He teases, running his tongue over his teeth with a predatory look in his eyes. “Mess with the bull and you’ll get the horns, I’m not as physically restricted as I used to be,” You chastise, “And if you don’t play along I refuse to risk my place here just to save your ass,”

With a roll of his eyes the tattoos fade from his face and Yuji returns, yawning widely, “What did you guys talk about?” He mumbles, rubbing his eyes. You tilt your head, “I made a deal with him that can benefit us,” You shake your head, “But you don’t have to worry about that, he won’t hurt me, so if he goes off the rails all I need to do is throw myself off a cliff or in front of his technique and he’ll stop,”

“You have an awful lot of faith in a thousand year old curse who treats everyone like a piece of crap,” He side-eyes you, clearly suspicious, but you brush it off, “Yuji, let me just assure you, he doesn’t do it for no reason. His village, my village, was afraid of him, they treated him like dirt and then exiled him and expected him to go quietly,” You touch his arm softly, “I did everything I could to prevent him from turning on everyone, but my village was swarmed with curses and I died in his arms,”

His eyes soften slightly as you recite your memories, “He made a binding vow to reunite with me, he’s not going to risk that just to return to punishing the world, I know him better than anyone because I was there, I was his only hope in a world that punished him for existing,”

“Was it his cursed energy?” Yuji asks, tilting his head slightly. You nod, “It’s always been that strong, it was volatile and uncontrollable and he hurt people when he was much younger, he’s spent his life refining it and trying to prove he could control it, and it took me dying for him to finally find the strength to wrestle it into something he could wield properly. I was the only person that treated him like a human, but he and I were the same,”

“Your opposite energy, right?” You nod at his inquiry, “He and I were like two sides of the same coin, I suppose it could have been some sort of coincidence that we were in the same place, but I was treated with reverence and respect where he was ridiculed and rejected,” Yuji yawns again and you brush some hair back from his forehead, “Get some rest, I’m sure Gojo will want you at peak performance for training,” He nods, slumping back against the pillows and falling asleep with soft snores almost instantly.

You sigh softly, standing to leave the room. Things just got a lot harder, you’ve now got to figure out how to use your abilities to create an entirely new body for Sukuna based on what you remember from the Heian era, and then you’ve got to make sure that nobody figures out it was you, lest you break all trust placed in you.

You like to imagine that if your life was a movie, the next few weeks would have made up a training montage under some popular tune like Holding Out for a Hero by Bonnie Tyler or We Built this City by Starship, but unfortunately the vast majority of your time is spent on unsavoury experiments on curses that leave you soaked with sweat and make you vomit from exertion.

You’re disgusted with yourself, knowing that you’ve stooped to levels that Noritoshi Kamo once did. Each new mission comes with an opportunity to test out your developing skills. An arm here, a leg there, every so often a face pops out at you, but nothing human. You want the best for Sukuna, as morbid as that seems, and you will not settle for anything less than entirely human.

But, creating life from nothing but cursed flesh is one of the hardest things you think has ever been attempted in Jujutsu history. You’re sure it can be done, you know that all you need is to channel enough of your energy and focus into it and you’re sure you’ll be able to recreate his body perfectly.

Only one person seems to notice the change in your demeanour, and he has finally been able to remember the conversation you shared with Sukuna that night. Itadori approaches you seated in the clearing behind your house and sits beside you, “Sukuna thinks I can help you, with the body thing,” He says bluntly.

“Don’t tell me that,” You murmur, rubbing your eyes tiredly, “You’ll be punished as an accomplice if I’m discovered,” “You just need my DNA, it’ll help you create a clone of my body and then-” You cut him off with a side-eye and a hand clapped over his mouth, “Yuji, you’re not listening, they’ll know, and they’ll punish both of us, he’s dangerous,”

He grabs your hand, superior in strength, and lowers it from his mouth, “If it gets this idiot out of my head, then I’m willing. I trust you, even if I don’t trust him, and I know you’ll stop him from doing anything awful,” He shrugs, “Besides, its not like they weren’t going to kill me the moment they found out Sukuna was inside me anyway, what’s an extra crime on my head in the grand scheme of things?”

You tear up, sniffing quietly, “I’m sorry,” You murmur, “I shouldn’t be asking this of you,” “You love him, we all do crazy things for the people we love,” He’s oddly mature for his age and it scares you a little, “Whatever, just make sure next time we’re on a mission together you let me do this for you, okay?”

“As much as I hate this plan, I’ll do it,” You murmur, “But not at the expense of a life, if someone innocent is in trouble they come first, agreed?” He nods firmly, “Save as many people from unnecessary death as possible,” After squeezing his hand gently and metaphorically sealing the deal, there’s no going back. One way or another, Ryomen Sukuna will return to the mortal plane, for better or for worse.

It comes as no surprise to you that the night you spoke with Yuji, you find yourself dragged into a deep sleep where you wake in Sukuna’s innate domain. A place you’ve only seen once before, in a waking nightmare that gave you a glimpse of his past through his eyes. “Sorry about the mess,” He rumbles from atop his throne of skulls and bones, “I don’t normally have visitors beyond the brat,”

You cross your arms, sitting in the oddly not wet pool of suspicious red liquid, “You didn’t even think to spruce it up in here a little bit for my sake? You brought me here after all,” He shakes his head, standing and then walking down the pile of bones to your side where he crouches, “I didn’t bring you here, you fell in on your own,” He pokes your cheek, “Guess I should’ve known this would happen when I opened my domain to you,”

You frown, “I… fell?” He nods, “Probably the result of over-exhaustion, and the relief of finally having some sort of solution to the problem I gave you,” He shrugs, “Who can say?” He seems distant, detached, it hurts you to know he hasn’t reached for you since that night you spoke.

You stand up and look around, taking in the endless black void beyond the massive ribcage that encapsulates his throne, “Why now? Why’d you invite me here?” “I wanted to see you, is that so much to ask?” You shake your head, “You could just come to me through Yuji,” “And have the brat listening to everything we say? You’re crazy if you think I’d let that happen,”

You sigh, “Yeah, but why now? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks, and I refuse to do this for you if you’re keeping secrets from me, I’m not weak Ryomen, not like I used to be,” He stands beside you, looking down at you with an unreadable expression, and suddenly the space around you changes. A field of grass, painfully familiar, and a pair of young teenagers in the distance laughing playfully.

Why is he showing you this? Why is he rubbing salt against an open wound? “When I look into your eyes, I see her,” He murmurs, looking over at the memory of your past, “I see her, but I also see you, and I see how you’ve changed, I see your differences and I see how you’ve stayed the same,” You remain quiet as his memory tackles yours into the grass, handling you delicately as he always did.

“I’m… readjusting,” He looks down at you, his arms crossed and face still painfully neutral, “You were born in this era, you know your way around, I’m still the same as I was, I’m still a thousand years old,” He points to the memory, “That is me, but that isn’t really you, just your mind,” You yearn to comfort him but you don’t know how, you don’t want to risk alienating him from you more than he already is.

“I suppose there’s nothing I can really say to convince you otherwise,” You say slowly, “Considering the fact it took a jolt of your energy to jog my memory, but… I am here, and I want to be that for you again,” You gesture out to the field which has begun to fade. He sighs, his shoulders slumping just a bit, “You won’t be caged for much longer,” You murmur, reaching your hands up and resting them on his cheeks, your thumbs brushing just under his second pair of eyes softly.

“Don’t make promises you may regret,” He mumbles and, if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought for a moment he might begin to cry, but he remains silent. The domain falls away around you and you’re left with the feeling of his face in your palms as he lets you go and you’re allowed to return to sleep.

thanks for reading!!!

Part 3

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #yuji itadori

[btsbabe7]

A/N: a spontaneous semi-spicy drop of a draft that’s been sitting since April 1st, and now that I just watched Challengers and it’s pretty much on brand with this, that’s the mood I’m in. I also didn’t edit this, but I will post it anyways. 🙃

Words: ~2k, (Mature, 18+)

Pairing: Sebastian x Ominis x reader

Natty and Poppy teamed up to put together a small get-together with certain members of your class; however, words and owls got around, and a party of ten had turned into fifty. Overwhelmed, but determined to make the best of the situation, Natty and Poppy were able to get things under control, from snacks to Butterbeer and entertainment, it turned into a literal house party.

You find yourself sandwiched between the two boys you’d managed to get close to over the past few years, Sebastian and Ominis, both surprisingly enjoying themselves, thanks to your presence.

“Wanna try this jelly bean I made?” Garreth exclaims, scaring you from behind while nudging your arm. He stretches his arm between you and Ominis, out towards the light, where a single jelly bean is hoisted between his fingertips.

“Not tonight, Weasley,” you giggle and shrug his arm away. “I’m not in the mood to have smoke coming from my nostrils or other extremities again.”

“Suite yourself,” he replies with a shrug before trailing off to find another potential victim.

You watch Garreth walk over to another girl, one you know to be from Gryffindor, whose name is completely unknown to you. You watch her giggle as he holds his hand out and offers her a tiny red bean. The one he’d offered you had been yellow, for Hufflepuff. Her polish red nails pinch into his palm as she grabs the bean and pulls it between her lips with a teasing smile.

You see Garreth grin softly, but he turns his attention away quickly, right back to you in fact.

“He fancies you,” Sebastian states as if he’s already right and knows it all. “You have him wrapped around your finger.”

“As if you’d know, Seb. It’s not like you’re consulting with a Gryffindor.”

You hear Ominis’ snort, clearing getting a kick out of it too. You watch Sebastian’s cheeks grow ruby red in annoyance.

“I’m just saying, it’s pretty obvious. Offering you yellow jellybeans as if the rest of us don’t realize what he’s doing. As if we don’t see how he acts around you in The Great Hall, in class... Always showering you with gifts…”

“Well… I do love Garreth’s gifts,” you hum in amusement now that you’re on the subject. “Jellybeans aside, he did have his owl deliver a beautiful bouquet of daises and roses about a week ago.”

“H-he sent you flowers?”

You can hear the disappointment in Seb’s voice. Because why hadn’t he thought to send you flowers? Is the tone that laces his voice and gains a pat on the shoulder from Ominis.

“Even as a Slytherin, this conversation is becoming awfully dreadful. Care for a dance, Y/n?”

“Yeah, let’s dance!”

Ominis smiles deeply and stands to his feet to reach out for your hand. Sebastian tries to slap it away, but you take it before he can.

“Sorry, Seb,” you whisper mockingly.

You and Ominis find a spot in the corner of the room, away from the prying eyes of Sebastian or Garreth, a spot where they’d have to look if they wanted to find you.

“Sebastian‘s right, you know?”

“Oh, not you too, Omi… Garreth and I, were friends.”

“Friends fall in love. We all know that’s not quite uncommon here,” Ominis states, knowing he’s right and that any protest is just an excuse from you at this point. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly, which makes you smile into his shoulder.

“Friends can fall in love, but that doesn’t mean I’ll fall for Garreth. No matter how cute and sweet he is.”

“You find him ‘cute?’”

“Omi!” You giggle loudly and smack his shoulder playfully before falling silent and twirling around with him. It had to be Poppy’s idea to throw a slow song into the mix. “I think Garreth is adorable, admirable even, but he’s not Seb… He’s not you. And I see how miserable Seb is when Garreth is around.”

Ominis smiles, a very telling smile, and you nuzzle against the crook of his neck.

“We can’t invite him. He wouldn’t understand.”

“He may be a Gryffindor; however, that doesn’t make him stupid… or less understanding. The point is freedom from understanding. It’s for fun.”

You know this, but you don’t press further. Omi always wins in the end anyways and if you press it, you’ll find yourself more than sandwiched between your three favorite boys.

He sways you around the livingroom, one hand at the small of your back and the other placed firmly against your mid-back, and your fingers find comfort in the thickness of the sandy blonde hair that sits at the nape of his neck.

“Do you still think about it?”

Your whisper is so low, you almost hoped he hadn’t heard it. You wish you didn’t still feel the electricity coursing through your chest when he touches you, when he’s near. You try to cool it when Sebastian is around, but most of the time it feels as if you’re fighting your own being to keep the peace between friends.

“Well, you certainly made it memorable,” he replies softly and leans his head on your hair like he had the very first time the two of you danced together.

You find yourself pulling back ever so slightly until his gaze meets yours. You find yourself fluttering again, lost in the beauty of his pearlescent eyes, his tiny sprinkled moles, and the soft look of his pink lips.

“Omi…”

His hand pulls your chin upward and he stops mid-turn, your back against the wall and his to the party, concealing you as his your lips find each other’s. You can’t remember the last time you had Ominis’ lips, and his alone, without Sebastian needing you at the same time. It takes your breath away just as it did years ago.

A soft cough breaks your kiss and you and Ominis pull away with reddened cheeks.

“Am I interrupting something?” Poppy laughs sarcastically. “I mean of course I’m not, my best friend would’ve told me if she were dating a Slytherin, or you know, dating in general?”

“Poppy, it’s…”

“Exactly what it looks like,” Ominis breathes. “I asked Y/n to keep it between us. After all, Sebastian has feelings for her too.”

“Ominis…”

“Sebastian has feelings for you? And you’re okay with kissing his best friend in the same room?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples as if everything will soon come apart at the seams. You’d expect this reaction, this level of immaturity from Sebastian, not Ominis. Why would he admit that after you’ve all been hiding it so well?

“He may have feelings, but I’m… I’m in love.”

You choke, dropping your arms from Ominis’ neck in disbelief. If he were in love with you, there would be signs. There were signs, but why would he admit it here?

Poppy notices your distress and pulls you by the hand.

“Gonna borrow her for a moment,” she calls, pulling you further away from the sad looking boy. She pulls you into a room, banishing everyone out before slamming the door behind you both. “Y/n, are you… insane? I mean of course you aren’t, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever known, yet you deliberately got involved with not one, but two Slytherin boys. Nat and I told you to be careful since day one!”

“I know,” you breathe and kick your shoes off before bringing your knees up to your chest on the bottom of her bed. “But it’s Seb and Omi, they’re harmless.”

“Harmless?” She scoffs. “That man just said he betrayed his friend, who has a crush on you. I mean you two were snogging! As if it’s completely normal. The way he said he loved you as if he meant it, as if he’s been completely enraptured by you. How did this even happen?”

“We… spent time together. We’ve been friends for years now.”

Poppy places a hand on her hips, believing only a small portion of what you’re admitting. She takes a deep breath and settles on the bed next to you.

“What’s really going on between you and Ominis, Y/n?”

You deflect from her prying eyes, all your steady thoughts and chaotic ones overlapping and tangling with each other in your mind as you do. You can’t tell a lie without part of the truth. And if you tell the truth, you can’t lie. Not to her.

“Poppy… Ominis and I have been seeing each other.”

“Seeing each other?”

“S-sleeping together,” you mutter softly. Your hands go cold and the coldness travels up your shoulders and washes down your body, all the way to your toes under your striped lime and cherry blossom knitted socks Ominis gifted you with last Christmas.

“Sleeping together? Like in his dorm?”

“No,” you sigh. “Like sleeping together… sex.”

All color in her cheeks flush and she shoots off the bed like a rocket.

“You’re sleeping with Ominis!?”

You can’t bring yourself to repeat it. It’s not like you’re embarrassed, you just knew your girl best friends would react this way. Garreth would react this way or say he somehow already knew. But Sebastian’s always the one you’ve been scared of hurting.

You nod.

“And Sebastian?” She dares to ask with widened eyes.

“I… we... I don’t know Poppy. He and I, we’ve done it once. Two Christmas’ ago when he took me to meet his family in Feldcroft. I told Ominis about Sebastian, but I can’t tell Sebastian about Ominis. It’s happened too many times with him, Sebastian would never forgive us,” you cry.

“Y/n… I, for once don’t know what to say.”

“There’s not much you can say,” Sebastian groans, coming from the connected bathroom with a scowl.

“Why’re you in here!?” Poppy yelps.

“Other restrooms were taken. But that’s beside the point, Y/n, you betrayed me? You and Ominis went behind my back? Didn’t think to tell me, to just let me know? I had my suspicions, but I… I didn’t want to believe that my two best friends would go behind my back.”

“Seb, it’s not like that. It’s—“

“It’s what? You’re in love with him, aren’t you? That’s the only reason you wouldn’t tell me? You couldn’t bear hurting my feelings, so you just hid your own?”

You climb off the bed and walk over to him, tears still in your eyes as Poppy steps out the room to give you two privacy.

“Sebastian, I love you both, truly. But what I feel with Ominis…”

“You don’t feel with me?”

“Seb, what I feel for Ominis, I can’t keep hiding. But I love you too. Since our first night together, I’ve always felt something.”

Sebastian’s features fall as if everything in his life has come to a halt and has never been in his favor. You know this was never fair to him since the beginning, since his interest had been you, but yours had been in his best friend.

“I should’ve known, I tried to ignore the signs,” he sighs and falters a bit.

You reach out for him, wrapping your arms around him as he sobs into the crook of your neck. You want to say words, but they would change nothing. If anything, it’d probably make matters worse for the three of you. You don’t know what admitting your feelings will do to your friendship, but you can’t afford to lose either of them, not after having them this long.

Sebastian trembles softly in your arms as you rub his back.

“I don’t want things to end this way,” he mutters against your wet skin.

“Nothing has to end,” you reply and pull back to look at him through tear blurred eyes. “We don’t have to end anything.”

“But if you’re in love with him, it won’t ever be the same.”

“Sebastian… please.”

He shakes his head as it begins to settle in. As it does, Ominis steps into the room. You hear the lock snap shut and a soft sigh from Sebastian’s lips.

When you glance down at Sebastian, the smirk of his lips is what makes you uneasy. You’ve seen this smirk before, back in the living room of his uncle’s house in Feldcroft.

“Seb—“

You’re cut off by his lips pressing hungrily into yours. His palm massages into your curls and the other into the flesh of your ass under your short dress.

You moan softly, almost forgetting about Ominis who stands sheepishly near the door.

“Care to join?” Sebastian mutters into your neck before licking a stripe up the length.

“Perhaps somewhere more private.”

Sebastian chuckles, ready to take you anywhere as long as he can have you right now in this moment. He kisses you deeply, his own moaning sending vibrations throughout your lips and straight to your core. He’s inching closer to Ominis with each twist of his tongue, and once you’re close enough, you grip his shirt at the shoulder and apparate to the one place where you know you’ll have all the privacy in the world.

Your Room of Requirement.

Feel free to check out my other fanfics :)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

#fanfic #fanfiction #Hogwarts legacy #Sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian x ominis #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy smut #seb sallow #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow #hogwarts imagine #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #hogwarts legacy drabble #ominis gaunt smut #sebastian sallow smut #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #ominis x sebastian #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Part 5

➪ Playlist (Spotify)

➪ W/c: 2398

Remind Me Why We're Taking a Break?

As the warm beams of sunlight scatter on my exposed skin, I melt deeper into the soft duvet before his grip tightens around my waist. And by his, I mean Jungkook. And by Jungkook, I mean the guy I promised myself to not get attached to. Way to go y/n, you really pulled through with that one … But, I swear, one minute we were just talking and then the next, his chains were dangling on top of me. In short, I blame the alcohol. 

Nonetheless, the damage was done and now, I have to pay the price by swallowing down whatever is left of my dignity before doing the infamous walk of shame towards the kitchen. At this point, I don’t even know where half my clothes are, which is concerning because I wasn’t wearing much to begin with. So, Jungkook’s white button-up would have to suffice for my little trip. Tiptoeing towards the fridge, I’m careful not to wake Koo’s sleepy head, before exhaling a deep sigh at the depressing sight of his empty fridge. How does one live off of beer, shredded mozzarella and strawberry milk? Moreover, how does one stay so fit and toned while indulging in such a bizarre nutritional palette? Beats me. 

Scanning the top shelf, I audibly gasped out of relief upon seeing a carton of eggs, even if there were only four left. Challenge accepted, Koo. In no time, I was oiling the pan while whisking some milk into the yellow, homogeneous mixture seasoned with some pepper, salt, and dried parsley.  

[Narrator's POV]

Stretching his body, Jungkook is saddened by the empty space beside him. Tracing his steps back to you, his half-awakened self follows the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. No one has ever cooked for him. Or, at least, not out of their own intentions or desire. Thus, to him, your gesture is unfamiliar, but deep down, greatly craved.

Focusing his softened gaze on your body, he takes a moment to admire the way his button-up cuts off right at your thighs. Although smirking at the sight, he isn’t too pleased by the fact that the rest of your body is still covered. Not enough exposure for his liking. If it was up to him, he would have you right there on the countertop, pretty whimpers bouncing off the walls. 

“Morning gorgeous,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, pulling your body closer to his bare chest. Leaving traces of soft kisses on your neck, his veiny hands intertwined with yours before pinning your body against the counter shelves. Now face to face, the space between you two has become less apparent, tension rising at the way your forms mould into one singularity. 

[Y/N's POV]

“Koo,” I whine into the needy kiss, eyes searching his darkened orbs. 

“Yes, baby?” he replies in a raspy tone. I didn't think someone's morning voice could have such a chokehold on me, but Jungkook's is definitely doing something. Please y/n, focus. 

“Koo, we can't keep doing this,” I manage to let out. 

“Doing what?” 

“You know, ignoring the elephant in the room?” my tone is firm but shaky. Nonetheless, I mean business, so my eyes maintain focus on his hooded gaze despite the suffocating tension between us. 

“Well, it's not my fault your thighs got me all horny, but I think I'm managing just fine,” he says with a grin, looking down at his grey sweatpants. 

“Quite literally, I hope you trip down the stairs and never recover,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at his teasing before pushing his hands off of me. I swear Jungkook is the epitome of a man-child, not one fibre of his being has the potential of being serious. Disgusting. Pushing past his broad shoulders I manage to get a few steps in before being pulled back on his lap as his doe eyes sparkle under the kitchen lights. 

“I'm sorry y/n, what did you actually mean?” he says with a slight chuckle, moving a few hair stands out of my flustered face. 

“Well, we can't just pretend like nothing happened. You cheated, Koo …” I explain softly, nibbling on my lip as the nerves kick in. Jungkook knows he messed up. He might not be in tune with his own feelings but he does care about mine. Or at least, I thought. Nonetheless, I could tell the topic made him backtrack his own thoughts, taking the time to formulate something morally acceptable. 

“Y/n, that didn’t mean anything to me. It was a mistake, I promise,” he explains, gentle with his touch as his hand caresses my exposed thighs which are now covered in goosebumps. 

“Your mistake hurt. A lot.” 

“What do you want y/n?” he asks hushly, tightening his grip on my waist as our bodies inch closer. Noticing my scattering eyes and furrowed eyebrows, his gaze softens. 

“A break. We need a break.” I whisper, feeling my throat slowly tighten. I don’t want a break. But, I also don’t want to simply sweep this under the carpet. If Jungkook truly cares, he will understand where I’m coming from. If he doesn’t, well, then I guess, we were never meant to be. 

“Is that what you really want?” he replies with a soft smile, our faces, now inches away from each other. 

“Yes,” I manage to let out, eyes lowering to our intertwined hands as his thumb caresses my skin. 

“Break it is,” Jungkook whispers, leaning in to place a soft kiss on my forehead before locking his eyes with mine for the last time. It hurts. It genuinely hurts. Why does he suddenly have to be so sweet and sincere? 

-- 

“JEON FUCKING JUNGKOOK,” I yell out from his room upon seeing the plethora of notifications popping up on my phone. I guess it died last night because I didn’t hear any of them, and quite frankly, was too occupied with Jungkook, if you know what I mean. 

“It better be something really serious for you to use my full government name,” he chuckles, rushing into the room with strawberry milk in one hand and an apple in the other. 

“It’s Bomi and Jason’s wedding tomorrow, I completely forgot,” I whine, burying my face into his pillow as hopeless whimpers leave my mouth. Bomi and I are high school friends and Jungkook is Jason’s personal trainer. I was kindly asked to be one of her bride’s maids and naturally, Jungkook was supposed to be my plus one. But, the problem or should I say problems, is that 1) I am not ready at all and 2) Jungkook and I are technically now on break. 

“Well, don’t look at me. You’re the brains here, I just do what you tell me to do,” he replies with a grin before plopping himself beside my distressed self. Scratch everything I said about his sincerity before. I meant none of that. Jungkook is still a man-child. 

“Okay, then listen to me when I tell you to drive me home, immediately. I still need to figure out what to wear,” I sigh, shaking my head in disbelief. How could I forget? I was so caught up in the whole cheating scandal that I almost missed my best friend’s wedding. Way to not get attached y/n! 

Finding my dress under Jungkook’s pile of boxers, I quickly change out of his button-up, feeling his gaze on my exposed figure. Eyeing his favorite view up and down, he leans his head back before letting out a deep sigh. 

“You know, we never discussed the length of this break …” 

- -

Softening my curls, I touch up my makeup before rushing out the door hearing Jungkook send a few honks upon arriving at the entrance. Initially, I was going to just take a taxi, but he insisted on driving us. None of our friends know about our little break, so the least we could do is act the part. Suited up, Jungkook looks very put together, handsome even. And, as our eyes meet, his gaze softens, opening the passenger door. 

“Thank you,” I say hushly, as he leans in closer to buckle my seatbelt before turning his face towards mine. Lips inches apart, I can feel the flush rising up my cheeks. He is such a tease it’s physically unbearable. Nibbling on his lip ring, Jungkook takes a moment to appreciate the way the dress pushes up my cleavage, reminiscing all those times his hands did the same. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, just admiring the view,”

“Oh, yeah? Well, how is it?” I tease back, tilting my head as my hands slowly slide up to his neck, intertwining in his curls.

“Irresistible, I fear,” he whispers softly into my ear, nibbling on the soft skin before his hooded eyes search mine. This will be really fun, I can just feel it. Not only are we lying to each other, but now, we are also lying to our friends. 

- -

“Y/n! Jungkook! You guys made it!” Jason greets us with a big smile, pulling Jungkook into a tight hug. Fixing my dress, I stand awkwardly to the side, admiring the beautiful setup. It's exactly how Bomi envisioned it, as hues of gold and white paint every inch of the hall. 

“Y/n, how have you been? Bomi was worried about you,” Jason’s voice brings me back to reality as I divert my attention to the two buddies. 

“I'm good, no need to worry, just got caught up in some things,” I explained with a soft smile, peaking at Jungkook’s nervous hands. It's gonna be a long night of pulling various excuses out of thin air before we can go back to our established break. Buckle up y/n.

Taking my purse Jungkook and I separate ways as he heads to the seating area while I help Bomi with her last-minute touch-ups. 

“Bomi, you look so ethereal,” I say softly, in complete awe of the beauty standing in front of me. Jason is one lucky man, let me tell you. She has recently chopped off her hair as a symbol of letting go of the past. An impulsive decision at first that ended up serving her right as she now looks better than ever. 

“You really think so?” Bomi replies nervously, eyes swelled with tears as I fix her veil. 

“I know so, love,” 

- -

As the venue doors open, guests turn their attention towards the adorable flower girl, Bomi’s little sister, Bae. Trying her best to not trip, she leaves behind a trail of pink rose petals before running towards Bomi’s warm embrace, embarrassed by the sudden rush of attention. And, as the pianist begins her cue, the bride’s maids make their way down the floral aisle. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, I focus on some deep breathing before spotting Jungkook in the sea of people, noticing his gaze soften as my chest heaves up. Something about him calms me down. Maybe, it was his smile, or maybe, his doe eyes that followed my every move, making sure I got to my spot safely before finally allowing his body to relax in his seat.  

After the vows and the tearful I do’s it was time to take pictures, as Bomi, Jason and their photographers navigated everyone out to the beautiful scenery by the beach. Standing beside Bomi, we intertwine our hands, exchanging soft smiles before the photographer tells everyone to scooch in closer, wanting to capture the breathtaking sunset behind us.

“Jungkook, get in here,” Jason yells out, motioning him to stand beside me. Holding my purse, Jungkook waves his hands with a nervous chuckle, initially declining the offer before being commanded by the photographer to do so immediately. Nodding a quick yes, he rushes towards my stiff body. Sensing my discomfort he maintains a slight gap between us, knowing dam well that’s the last thing he wants right now. But, none of it matters, because we are on a break remember? So, he gulps down his sinful desires, body remaining craving my touch. 

“Sorry, but could the gentlemen in the middle move closer?” the photographer says, finger pointing towards Jungkook, whose eyes lower to mine searching for permission before I give him a slight nod. Careful with his touch, he places his hands on my waist, grip tightening as our bodies inch closer. Feeling his breath on my neck, there’s virtually no room for me to move, remaining enclosed by his broad shoulders. 

“It would be in your best intention to stop moving y/n,” he whispers into my ear as I manage a slight shuffle in place, feeling the bulge in his pants rub against my lower back. 

“I can’t, you're basically in my ass,” I snap hushly, looking up at his hooded eyes.  

“Don’t do that,”

“Do what?”

“Don’t give me ideas,” he grins, leaning closer before placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. You know, the devil works hard but I swear, Jungkook works harder. 

- -

“One, two, three, go!” everyone counted down, as cheers and applause filled the hall once Bomi threw her bouquet. I swear, it’s as if the scene played out in slow motion. From crying children, to drunk uncles, everyone played a role in this mess. I was no exception, of course, running towards the circle of bride’s maids whose arms reached out towards the incoming bundle of pink flowers. Although I wasn’t there for the bouquet, it somehow found its way to me, landing perfectly in my trembling arms. And, just like that, I was now encircled by words of cheers, best wishes and congratulations being shouted at my flustered face. 

Searching the crowd for Jungkook, I find him standing by one of the paintings with his tie undone, balancing two glasses of champagne in one hand. 

“Well, I guess I’m next,” I chuckle, waving the flowers in front of him, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“Does this mean our break is over?” he grins, pulling my body closer to his before leaning into a needy kiss. This time, however, I didn't fight back. Giving in to the suppressed desires as my hands intertwine in his dishevelled hair before looking back at his darkened eyes. 

“We can always begin again … some other time … in the near future,” I whisper, tracing little hearts on Jungkook’s burning chest, feeling him smile into the kiss.  

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#bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #bts x yn #jungkook fanfic #fanfic #jungkook smut #romance #young love #slow burn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x female reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #toxic relationship #ex-boyfriend jungkook #toxic love #toxic jungkook

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 8:45 PM 🔞

Tags/Warnings: Adult, smut-heavy, making out, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though, Jungkook struggling hard, misunderstanding, angst with happy end, emotional smut, oral (fem. Receiving), protected sex bc this is me writing this and I teach you kids the true life lessons

Lenght: long.

AU-Masterlist

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

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He still can't believe your first time got interrupted by something as ridiculous as his manager calling him.

It's like a reminder that his career will always somehow wiggle itself between him and whatever happiness he tries to find outside of it- nothing ever truly personal for him, everything always meant to be well thought through so it fits into his public persona.

But he refuses to give you up, even knowing all of that.

Apologizing for it just feels.. odd now, like bringing up something awkward you did ten years ago that everyone forgot about anyway before you decided to rekindle the memory in their heads. But the problem here, right now, with you, is that he knows he should bring it up. Somehow. Because he's struggling hard to keep himself in check, even having had to embarrassingly rub one out in the shower this morning after you'd made yourself tea in his kitchen wearing nothing but a shirt and panties.

It's a problem.

He's hesitating to initiate anything now mainly because what if it happens again? He can't just put his phone on silent and ignore what could potentially always be very important calls from people who only want what's best for him in the long run- real life doesn't work like those movies where the protagonist throws it all away for his girl. He wants to, he truly does- but at the end of the day, he's also scared, because if he falls, he'll potentially take you down with him, and God knows how deep he'll fall with where he stands right now.

A drop from a height this high would shatter you inevitably, and he's sure he'd crack like delicate porcelain just as much by having to watch you suffer the consequences of his actions. You don't deserve that.

"..-ungkookie?" You try again, and he snaps out of his thought, looking at you.

"Hm?" He responds, looking at you next to him.

"I asked if you want me to cook for us tonight. Is that alright?" You wonder, and he nods, eagerly so, because of course he'd love to have you do something so domestic with him. He's always dreamed of being able to experience these things after all, despite his curse of being a public figure who's not supposed to appear unavailable. "Alright-!" You hum. "Gonna have to put pants on now though, gotta go get some groceries.." you whine under your breath as you stretch on the couch naked feet pushing against his thighs and oh, how your back arches-

No, bad brain. Not right now.

"I'll give you my card, hold on." He tries to save himself, getting up to fetch his wallet as you begin to laugh.

"Jungkook baby, I can cover some groceries, don't bother!" You argue softly, getting up as well before walking over to him. "You'll just have to survive some minutes without me, that's all." You tell him, hugging his middle as you put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Also, people would think I'm a gold digger for using a black card looking like.. well, me." You joke, as he can't help but reach out to affectionately brush some hair out your face, hands holding your cheeks.

"M'sorry." He mumbles, and you part a bit from him, serious at his tone of voice used.

"Hm? For what?" You wonder, and he sighs. Why did he bring it up now? This is going to be so awkward, he already dreads it. But now that he's put the noose around his neck, he might as well stand on the chair too.

"Yesterday. Or.. day before? Technically it was, wasn't it.." he rants, before sighing. "I hate that we.. had moment, you know, and then.. nothing. Ruined." He complains softly, and you can't help but look at him affectionately. He's such a soft soul sometimes, worries about so much that doesn't even need to be worried about.

"Jungkook, it's fine." You answer.

"Not fine-" he shakes his head. "Not fine, I- ugh, I want you, you know? Want to, but now, it's awkward and I don't know how to initiate it because every time I plan to I keep thinking of that moment he called and-" he groans in frustration, head thrown back before he looks down at you. "I'm sorry." He apologizes yet again, and you laugh.

"I forgot to pack socks for this trip, that's why I'm always barefoot in your apartment here." You say, and he blinks once, twice, before he looks at you, confused but amused the same.

"What?" He questions, tilting his head for a split second and you shrug.

"Now I've made an awkward moment for myself too. We're even." You explain, and he laughs.

"Thats not how that works-" he wants to argue but he inevitably leans down to kiss you- a peck quickly deepened by you, because God knows you want him just as much. But the struggle of initiating isn't solely his alone, because you don't know how to either. All is still new with your relationship, you don't even live together at this point in time, only a week more and you'll be back home trying to figure out how to move most of your stuff to his country so you can be closer. This was all a test, after all- to see if it's worth it. If you'll be okay.

And you know now, you'll be just fine with him at your side.

"Hm I need to get going now though-" you say, trying to escape him now- but he won't let you, hands firm on the small of your back as he keeps you against him, lips chasing yours making you giggle as you lean back as far as you can. "Jungkook!" You laugh, but he just playfully bites at your neck.

"No, I'm hungry." He mumbles against your skin, and you look at him, pushing against his chest.

"Yeah that's why I have to go? Get everything to cook?" You remind him, but he shakes his head, gaze making it clear that he doesn't care for that.

"Not.. that." He tells you. "Hungry for you." He says, raising his brows and you laugh at how ridiculous he's being. How can he be both so cute but also attractive at the same time? It's truly unfair.

"You're so cute." You tease, catching him off guard to escape his grasp and run into the bedroom to get some proper pants at least. But he's faster, palm slapping flat against the wood of his door before the momentum of his move slams it into the wall with a loud noise, making both of you jump for a second before he stalks towards you.

And once the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed, you know you lost.

It's like his patience had finally snapped, his hands eagerly helping you out of his shirt, happily running his palms over your skin, warm and soft as you move around a bit to get comfortable. He sighs when his phone vibrates somewhere close- probably having fallen out of his pocket on the couch earlier, and you laugh, visibly uncaring of his misery. "Go get it." You tell him when it sounds again, and he groans out loudly as if he's in pain, angrily stomping back into the living room, where you can hear him answer the call with an annoyed tone to his voice. It surprises you when he walks back into the bedroom however, pointing to the shirt you're attempting to put back on, before he motions for you to put it back on the floor where he'd thrown it down earlier.

Just what is he thinking right now?

"Yeah, that's fine." He talks into the phone, his free hand untying the strings of your sweatpants, before he pulls on the hem, tapping your hips as if to silently ask you to lift them so he can get you out of those pants. "Not right now, but tomorrow is fine." He continues to talk to whomever is speaking to him over the phone, while simultaneously running his hand from the side of your knee, up to the hem of your underwear, the last item of clothing covering you at the moment. It's oddly exciting to see him so serious, yet clearly more focused on you than anything else.

You've never felt so adored before.

His fingers slip underneath the side of your panties, teasing you, so close yet way too far from where you'd like his hands to be most right now. And he's clearly aware of it too; if the hooded eyes and the small smirk on his lips was anything to go by. "No, right now.. I'm pretty busy. Sorry." He speaks again into the phone, thumb running over the dip between your inner thigh and your by now more than aching heat. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip for a second, before the whole thing visibly seems to edge him just as much- then tent in his pants evident.

"Alright, yeah, just- text the schedule to me and I'll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay?" He offers into the phone, moving to stand up and search for something in the drawer of his bedside table- colorful foil package pretty obviously hinting at what he means when he's said he's currently busy. "Alright, hmhm, yup- bye." He rushes out, ending the call before he throws his phone somewhere onto the shirt you'd been wearing, his eyes rolling in an annoyed manner before he takes off his own shirt, joining you on the bed.

"Did you really hang up on him like that?" You wonder, giggling when he has to sit back to slip out of his loose grey sweats as well, jumping on one foot for a bit as his other gets stuck in the fabric for a second.

"I'm not sorry." He shakes his head, crawling closer to you on the mattress to get a hold of both sides of your panties. "I've got my hot girlfriend all pretty and ready, no one can ever blame me for being needy." He shrugs, shaking his hair out of his face before he tries to pull your underwear off. "Hey come on now!" He whines almost, a stark contrast to the tattooed, muscled appearance of him currently already flushed and fully erect, straining against the cotton of his own underwear.

"Needy." You tease, and suddenly, as if you'd pushed a button, as he suddenly pulls on the fabric with more determination, successfully getting rid of the item of clothing with a gaze that screams fake innocence. Jungkook isn't new to sex, and neither are you- but it's the first time doing it with each other, which naturally places a bit of pressure onto you.

Or maybe it usually should be like that- because somehow, it all comes naturally.

When his hand finds your heat, you're already melting underneath his gaze, no words spoken as he leans further over you, catching your lips again. Only that this time, he truly seems hungry; no longer offering you fleeting pecks but desperate kisses that try and convey just how much he wants you right now. He knows that he could never truly make it clear to you though- because he himself doesn't even know if that's possible.

He's never wanted anyone so bad.

And while usually not too fond of it, his need to prove himself as the perfect lover- emotionally and physically- makes him detach himself from you for a second, before he adjusts his position, leaning down to have you lay your legs over his shoulders, hands holding your thighs apart as he lays his mouth onto your heat.

It's an entirely new experience for you, and he knows.

But luckily, if your Impatient whining was anything to go by, you're definitely enjoying yourself as he flattens his tongue over your sensitive nerves, eyes focused on you while he has to use a little strength to keep your legs apart, especially when you grow close to your first orgasm. He's eager to see it, moving away to gain a better view before one of his hands finishes the job, gaze on you as you arch your back and come undone from his actions.

And its now that he really can't take it any longer.

"Fuck I need you." He curses under his breath, finally getting rid of the last item of clothing he still had on until now, no need to give his length any form of help to get ready for you. He can't help but groan a little under his breath at how sensitive he feels, rushing the act of wrapping the condom over as to not rile himself up too much.

After all, he wants to be inside you for his own orgasm, no matter what.

"Hm I'll go slow, ok?" He asks, and you nod, hands reaching out for him, making him chuckle. "You're cute." He comments, earning a roll of your eyes in return. He lets it go for now- giving you a pass this time, but only because be truly feels needy now.

He'd love to tease you a little, make you all whiny and desperate for him, but right now, he just wants you as close as he physically can get.

Though in his haste to get onto his own road towards pleasure, he never forgets you- pride swelling as he watches you hold onto him, wanting him just as much as he wants you. He's a little sweaty already, and the sheetsbare tangled badly at this point from all your squirming, arousal already staining some parts of them but right now he really can't bring himself to care.

He uses one of his hands to aid him in finding your entrance, positioning himself to carefully push himself inside, and at this point, he just feels as if he truly became one with you. It's the last key experience in a way he's had to have with you, and now that he's in exactly that moment, things start to feel real.

"I love you." He almost whispers into your neck while he starts to move. "I'm.. so grateful you're here." He tells you, hips moving at a steady pace. "I want you to.. stay forever." He almost asks, in a way, and while you can't give him an answer to that right now, you probably will later.

After you're back with the normal thinking human beings, because right now, with his pace and strength gaining as he chases his high, your head is definitely unable to form thoughts.

In a way, he loves the sight of you like this. It's awfully sinful, a sight only he wants to ever be able to see, no one else.

He can't control his own noises at this point, uncaring of his groans of pleasure as he chases after his peak, noticing you growing antsy as well, visibly eager to cum as well. And he will make sure you'll get your attention as well- he'd never let you down, ever.

And with his hand reaching in between you both to find where he needs to be, you're gone and out; head thrown back into the pillows while he pushes himself in deep, condom filling with his seed while he slows down into almost no movement at all.

Catching his breath, he leans down to you to kiss you once more, ticking of his clock on the bedside table coming back into the background noise, as well as the cars outside from the opened window, and your breathing underneath him. His senses return one by one as he pulls himself out, moving to get rid of the condom and start the shower.

"Come on." He asks, tapping your thigh, but you just whine all grumpy at him. "Noo get up, get up- the bed's all messy and we're too.!" He laughs, all energized from his own afterglow, while you seem to be the exact opposite, having to be physically pulled into a sitting position by your wrists. Jungkook himself can't help but simply laugh, before he takes matters into his own hands, lifting you up over his shoulder-

And of course, landing a loud smack onto your butt for good measure.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader

[fungalittleweirdo]

Yandere Rise Donatello Designer AU

okay, hear me out.

let me give context for this concept idea first (you could skip the next paragraph if you don't care, i'm just weird, i promise i start discussing the concept right after this next paragraph trust me)

i am a huge fan of this one designer in new york, bella pietro, her work is amazing. i was able to attend her bridal line debut fashion show in person this past sunday and got to speak with her very briefly. she's very lovely, relatable, super down to earth, and humble. she is also one of the influences for my own jewellery line, but this isn't the point i'm making, i'm going insanely off topic. i thought about what it would be like being a clothes designer in nyc.

donatello is the founder and ceo (at least, that's canonically what i'm led to believe) of Genius Built Technologies. it's also canon he designs Genius Built Apparel. i initially had this idea and shared it on discord a while back based around donnie being a member of a discord server with other designers. these designers usually joined said server for creativity, support, sharing each others' work, and giving critiques when wanted.

imagine you, an up-and-coming designer, join this server to gain more reach. while donnie was bored looking at others' designs and critiquing them harshly when asked to, he admired your work and advocated for you so that you could gain more popularity. the two of you accepted each other's friend requests and started talking in dms. he admired your work and thought it was cute how you were slowly rising in the industry, but you needed the right connections to actually get things going. you started getting seamstresses and a manager, but that took your time away from donnie.

donnie might have found out you lived in new york, that was when he suggested a meet-up for a collaboration. he was excited when you said yes, and a GB Apparel x For You line was in the works for when the two of you started discussing potential pieces. your crew got a little upset when you put all your attention on the collaborative project, especially your manager, and they thought it was a bad idea. you thought about listening to them and backing away to work on the collab line in the future. donnie... didn't really like that.

he loved spending time with you, as hard as it was for him to admit it. he adored the way you drew your designs, the face you made when you focused and shrimped over your tablet to get the details just right. he told you to adjust your posture, and you did it with a stretch, you ran your fingers through your hair he so badly wanted to run his fingers through instead. donnie hated the thought of having that taken away from him. once you told him you wanted to file away the collaborative project for another time, he managed to manipulate and gaslight convince you into believing your manager has the wrong idea, because his own brand was well known and high quality.

you hesitantly agreed with him and your crew began getting a distaste for you when you arrived late to meetings, made decisions with poor judgement, and delayed your own projects in favour of working with donatello instead. what you didn't know is that donnie anonymously emailed them all to quit their jobs with you because you were practically not working with them anymore. your crew moved on to work with other local designers. you didn't think much of it, you were aware people in this business would come and go, they would find other people to work for and it's no big deal, because you could sew your designs yourself.

besides, donatello had been a big help, he lent you his sewing machines that literally sewed by themselves. your own fall line had been presented on a runway at a moderately sized venue, a team curated by donatello organised it as if he were your manager. everyone on the server the two of you met on barely showed their support at first, until you got incoming praises and compliments from everyone after donatello's worship of you was sent in the runway channel. you were unaware to the fact that donatello threatened everyone with their careers if they didn't support you.

everyone seemed beginning to dislike you, your fans acknowledged that it didn't seem to be you at fault because your head was still held up high, staying positive and thanking anyone who bothered to take a look at your collection. donatello was working behind the scenes to isolate you as much as possible. he didn't want anyone taking you away from him because you were his precious fashion genius, your ideas complement his. that's why GB Apparel x For You is going to rock the fashion world, he had thought, deep in his delusions of spending more time with you. one look at you and it had his heart beating out of his chest.

your workspace in his apartment was a mess, fabrics everywhere, sketchbooks and a couple tablets (courtesy of Genius Built Technologies) with plenty of space for designs and you sat on the floor with your hair a mess and new glasses (those were courtesy from donatello himself) on your face after staring at the screens for so long. the softshell simply watched you work, enamoured and savouring the way you find his apartment more comfortable to work in because yours is already so cluttered.

donatello was so proud to see the results of your collaboration, he kissed the top of your head and held you close. you've had affectionate friends before, but you had only intimately known donnie for a few months. sure, he was one of the turtles that saved new york years ago, not to mention his brand even climbed up the ranks for a place in paris fashion week alongside balenciaga and valentino... so you knew him... but you didn't ask for this. you used to have more friends, lovely colleagues. whatever happened to that ?

of course, once the collab line debuted in the spring you went back to work, you designed a men's fall line you thought would grab people's attention. it certainly snatched donatello's, when he called you frequently and realised you were parting from him to work on your own, it pissed him off. he wanted to know what you were hiding. you hesitantly let him in on a day when you were being interviewed by april for press, dressed up for photography and not for him. you're only for him, no one should see you except when you're beside him. he lashed out at you in front of april, upset that you weren't telling him your plans since the GB Apparel x For You collaboration, and april took notes of the drama. not for press purposes at all, but to tell his brothers.

you didn't see donatello for a while after that, to which you were glad. you felt a weight finally slipped off your shoulders as you rebuilt your community. people didn't know that donatello was the one at fault for your darkest moments. you rebuilt your community over the course of a year, making new connections and finally making it into new york fashion week all by your own efforts, not by donatello's.

it was when he showed up at your door everything went downhill again. he pushed his way back into your life, asking for a spring GB Apparel x For You line even though he already started on his own designs, incorporating style that you would add due to how well he already knew you. over the year he had been gone, he watched how you grew and connected with other people in the soho fashion scene. the thought made his skin crawl. it irked him to know you were out and about, perhaps having dinner with your new manager, or spending hours at a time with your new seamstresses after you threw out the sewing machines he so lovingly gifted to you.

all he wanted was to share his world with you, have you live in lavish luxury like you deserve. you said no. you already had ideas for your spring line which would be presented in london along with new york, you didn't have time to collaborate with him. donnie threw another tantrum in your apartment, this time feeling a lot more destructive. he threw your decorations everywhere, then held up some of your supplies to set them on fire. it scared you into submission, telling him yes, putting off your own projects to move into his apartment and get to working with him on the next collab line.

things were different this time. donatello was a lot more clingy, literally working alongside you as the two of you designed the thirty-piece collection, he made gentle suggestions and leaned in close, added and subtracted things on what you already drew. the two of you had ordered takeout sometimes and he would be the only one allowed to receive the food. you felt trapped. there was nothing you could do about it, just accept your fate.

you disappeared off the tabloids, no one knew where you went, not even april. donnie kept you away for his eyes only, wrapping his arms around you at every chance he got, nuzzling into your neck from behind as you tried to break through the parental locks donatello placed on your tablets. that won't work, darling, he said, a smirk on his face you could feel against your skin. it made you sick, your stomach churning at the thought that you might stay in your captor's arms forever.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt writing #rise donatello #rise donnie x reader #rise donatello x reader #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #rottmnt x reader #yandere rise donnie #yandere donnie #no beta we die like gram gram #angst #dark content #jules' thoughts