#early shift literally greeted me with

[margotgrissom]

Yet another week as a care worker during year 3 of the pandemic, a general labour shortage, and vacation season got me like

#early shift literally greeted me with #'oh you already know? tbh i asked [office] not to call you about [newest catastrophe] cause i wasn't sure you'd still come in.' #which fair #i briefly considered maybe trying to get hit by a car or smth #personal stuff and thangs

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

dear spring, stay forever ; satoru gojo, suguru geto, shoko ieiri

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up. 

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you? 

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes. 

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin. 

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now. 

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you. 

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses. 

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question. 

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips. 

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?” 

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog. 

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you… 

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away. 

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes. 

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms. 

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin. 

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour. 

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. and during women’s history month, too!”

”you aren’t a woman, satoru.”

”i could be.” 

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten. 

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun. 

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this? 

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning. 

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours. 

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd. 

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking. 

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up. 

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks. 

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come. 

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again. a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins; and you smile.

it’s springtime, now, a little warmer. 

(here’s to another year together.)

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #geto x you #geto x y/n #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko ieiri x y/n #shoko ieiri x you #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #sashisu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader

[romanoffsbish]

Close Your Eyes; Give us Your Hand

WandaNat x Fem!R

Warnings: Drained / Overworked R | Sad Lovers

When your girlfriends come back from their mission they are met with an unfamiliar feeling of loneliness. You didn’t intend to worry them, but you got used to going through the motions of the cruel world alone and it is apparently up to them to bring you back to a more peaceful reality. | WC: 4,238

Wanda knew something was off when you left this morning, she barely got a kiss on her cheek as you rushed out the door to get to work. Normally you'd cuddle into her as she cooked, eat breakfast with both of them, then you'd rush out so you weren't late. This anxious rush out the door was deeply concerning.

Natasha felt it as she ran into you in the hallway, literally, your rushing body slammed right into her sweaty one, her arms wrapped around you to steady you, but also to offer some comfort. "Everything okay lovebug?" The redhead gazed at her watch, noticing that it hadn't even hit 5am, her concern deepened.

"Sorry Nat," you rushed out, both in speech and from her arms, shocking her a bit. "I'll see you later."

The redhead stood in the hall, a bit bewildered as the usual response to a hug is your body melting. Her once easygoing morning off was now riddled with worry.

"What's up with lovebug?" Wanda sighed as she saw the redhead enter the apartment with a clear frown. "Okay, good, so it's not just me who sees it then..."

——

Natasha shook her head, and approached Wanda to give her a reassuring kiss on her forehead. "Let me go get cleaned up sweetheart, then we can figure it out?"

Wanda nodded, then moved back to the kitchen to finish making the breakfast you'd skipped out on...

Meanwhile, you were clocking into work—early, head hung low from a mix of both exhaustion, and guilt.

Not only have you allowed yourself to be severely overworked, by the kind of boss who doesn't lift so much as a finger, but you're also now lacking in the girlfriend department. They'd been gone on a mission for a month so you'd become so used to just rushing on out, and sleeping alone. A cycle that perpetuates hurt.

Now that you have a minuscule moment to think, you realized that you left the both of them with a frown.

You didn't have time for guilt though, so now your frustrations are heightened, and you wanted to leave, but bills don't stop, so you very well couldn't either.

"Y/N to the front, a party of two is waiting for you."

You looked at your watch and cringed, not only did you have unread messages in your group, "Lovers," but it was way beyond the time in the shift where one should take a break, and you hadn't had one, now it was lunch.

Lately, you'd been working through at least part of your lunches, to ensure your productivity remained proficient (even if capitalism barely benefited you). Working your body down until you're on fumes while hardly profiting is just not beneficial in the long run.

You knew that, but again, the bills never stopped.

Your boss raised a brow in question in your direction, and you simply shrugged, pretending you didn't know what (who) was awaiting you at the front of the store.

Wanda's face lit up at the sight of you, but Natasha's eyes observed you with concern as you were sluggish.

"Hey my loves," you greeted, tone clearly exhausted, but you wore a soft, appreciative smile. "What's up?"

Wanda lifted her arm, showcasing the bag in her hand. "You left without breakfast, so we brought you lunch." You winced at the call out, words at the ready to both defend your rush, and to get out of the current offer.

The natural redhead saw it in your eyes and frowned. Natasha reached for your hand, and tugged you out the door towards a table before you could turn them down. You knew then that there was nothing you could do to skip all of today's breaks, and your body was relieved.

It was frigid outside, even with the sun still shining, so Natasha naturally pulled your body against hers as she sat beside you, and this time you melted into her, making her heart beam with endless joy. Nat kissed your temple, and you snuggled closer. As you cuddled into one, your other girlfriend unpacked her bag.

"I made soup," she slid a bowl in front of you, then ladled some from her tupperware, you eyed it warily. "It's good detka, for your body and in flavor, eat up and maybe there'll be something sweet to follow." Wanda slyly held up a bag of homemade cookies, you smiled as you caught her playful wink, then you moaned, "This is delicious my love!" You shoveled down the spoonful of whatever soup Wanda had made like you hadn't eaten in weeks, and in part, that was true.

TV dinners, vending machine snacks and skipped breakfast was the previous, solo months meal plan.

Wanda knew, you know she did. The soup was packed full of vegetables, from her garden you presumed, but you couldn't taste the undesired flavors as she had added a delightful array of seasonings to mask them. It's not that you don't like vegetables, it's just that you don't like them enough to consume them on your own.

"Thanks detka," Wanda chirped, eyes full of adoration fell on you, but you were too busy eating to notice. The women watched you silently, eyes flitting between your face and the others. They had a mental conversation, one that would require your later input, but for now they just wanted to enjoy the serenity of the moment.

"Are you guys going to eat?" Natasha squeezed your hip as Wanda shook her head. "We already had some, this whole container is for our hardworking detka."

"So eat up krasivaya," Nat purred against your temple, a smirk sent Wanda's way as you squirmed beside her.

You giggled, hiding your face against the redhead's shoulder, stomach suddenly alit with the nerves you usually feel whenever your lovers compliment you.

Everything was feeling lighter, even after less than twenty minutes, the dark cloud above your head had all but disappeared. "Thank you guys, I have been—."

"Y/N to the dock," the speaker crackled, interrupting your moment of calm, and repeating with unnecessary urgency. You nearly groaned, but you put the mask back on as you stood up, and slid your hands down over your uniform, ironing out any wrinkles.

"That wasn't even thirty minutes..." Wanda huffed, you sighed, "From the moment I left the back it counted."

"That can't be legal," Natasha grumbled, but she stood up and pulled you in for a tight embrace. "We'll be at home, waiting for you. Your shift ends at two right?"

You nodded against her chest, and allowed yourself an extra second just to breathe her calming, woodsy scent in before giving her a soft peck and migrating into the embrace of your slightly taller girlfriend. Wanda held you so tight that your tense back actually popped, you groaned into her neck, but it was in clear satisfaction.

When you pulled away you heard a crinkle, and found your pocket was filled with a ziplock bag full of cookies. "Thanks Wands," you leaned in to peck her lips, but her hands trapped you for a moment longer as she deepened the kiss. It had been ages since she last had been able to, and your time constraints need not apply.

Natasha pulled her away from you after a moment, allowing you the chance to head in (against their hearts desire) and they waved you off with loving smiles.

"We are in agreement?" Wanda nodded, kissed her on the cheek, then left the redhead behind to fly home.

Natasha sat in the car they'd driven, listening to an audiobook while eating some of Wanda's cookies; watching, and waiting for you to leave the store.

Three hours later, an hour beyond your shifts end was when she finally caught a glimpse of you. It broke her heart to see your unfiltered face, the mask you wore for them had fallen, and you just looked fragile, like glass.

She would be fixing that...

As soon as your car tore out of the parking lot she got out of hers, the overwhelming sadness became anger, and your boss barely made it two steps out the door. Natasha had not so gently pressed her into the wall to the right of the store where the merchandise trucks sat. Offering privacy, and shielding her public reputation as a reformed Russian assassin turned America's hero.

"For starters, you never saw me," Natasha's voice was clipped, to Amy—the boss, it was all too menacing. It took her less than a second to nod her head. "Good."

"Now, as for my business. Y/N has been being worked too hard, so now, you are going to offer her time off."

"I-I don't have the capability to—," she had stuttered, but Natasha's darkened laugh full of cynicism cut her off, her voice was even deeper now, "You and I both know you can make it happen. Don't play dumb Amy."

"Okay...”

Natasha smiled devilishly, "See, I knew you were smart enough not to test a widow's patience..." she lifted her right hand up, fingers pinched, "It's very thin."

Amy nodded, her throat bobbed as she gulped down her fear to ask the necessary question, "How long?"

"Three months."

"Um, that's a long time, I can maybe do a month..."

"Fair point," Natasha mused, pretending to consider it, but then she cleared her throat and lowly said, "Still not nearly as long as you'll spend begging for mercy for all the damage you've done to our beautiful angel."

"Consider it done," she squeaked, and Natasha winked as she let her go. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Oh, and Amy..." Natasha stopped, then pointed her finger at the slightly trembling woman. "Y/N's not to work beyond the actual limits again. Understood?"

"Mhm..."

Natasha walked away with a triumphant smirk, keys twirled around her fingers as if she had just been on a normal stroll, and hadn't just threatened a civilian. The women's love knew no bounds for you though, so they would break every rule known to man for your sake.

Which is why Wanda was turning your living room into a dream as you both drove back home. Fortunately, with their Avengers salaries, you'd been on the top floor, in the luxurious loft. Your living room alone was the size of the average New York single bed apartment.

With the help of her magic she was able to create a massive fort, giving the nostalgia of childhood to you, but also leaving room for a premium air mattress, the TV, and a table full of your favorite movie snacks. It was nearly perfect, all she needed was you to arrive.

As the heard the keys in the door she made a beeline to cut you off just as soon as you entered, trying to keep the surprise hidden until Natasha returned with the rest of what's meant to be found within. Wanda's lips quirked up as she watched you enter, your shoulders shook as you adjusted to the enveloping warmth that contrasted the outdoors, and you smiled as she took your jacket and beanie off to hang on the racks.

"Welcome home," she hummed, and pulled your still slightly shivering form into her even warmer embrace. "I've run you a bath sweetheart, let's get you relaxed."

You leaned into her instantly, and kissed her throat. "Oh my love," your eyes instantly glossed over in gratitude as you whined, "You didn't have to do that."

Wanda playfully glared at you as she reluctantly pried you off of her body, and asserted why she actually did. "You are stressed and overworked, the actual least I could do is to take care of you detka, which I love."

You allowed her to undress you further, then help you ease into the tub that radiated with a calming warmth. Wanda kissed your forehead, then met your pout with a simple smile as you didn't seem happy watching her leaving. "I'll be back soon, for now this is your time."

"I want it to be us time," you quietly sniffled, and the woman nearly gave into you. "Where's Natty at?"

Then she remembered the plan, reassured you that there would be time to cuddle after you'd spent some time just relaxing a bit, then she was out the door so that there was no room left for you to question her.

Eventually, the women had finished the luxury fort, but they never caught a glimpse of you. Natasha was the one to go check on you as Wanda plated up the rest of the themed snacks she'd made for movie night. When the redhead found you, with your lower body dressed, but your upper nude, and smushed into the mattress she found herself dynamically conflicted.

For starters, you looked too cute to wake up, and also, if you were this tired maybe she should leave you be. Then she realized that wasn't the correct response either, because you would be so upset to find out what was missed— food and cuddles, plus, you still thought that you had work tomorrow morning, but you didn't.

The redhead flipped your body over, and without lust in her eyes she admired your exposed torso. Her eyes fell to the inked reminders of your love, their lips that you'd etched into the skin of your hips. Staking their claim to you, for them, and never wavering in stance. Natasha and Wanda found the concept endearing, and in turn they followed suit, each getting lips stained into their skin; Natasha's were near her heart, on the side over her ribcage, a well kept secret that held purity, and Wanda's were on either wrist, covered by her gloves while on missions, but exposed to her whenever she needed the reminder that her loves are real; true.

After a moment she felt another set of eyes on her, and then there was pajamas snapped onto your body. "Can you carry her without waking her?" Natasha smiled as her partners idea was made obvious, so she nodded then scooped your now dressed form up and out.

Once they made it to the living room the witch held the covers open with tendrils of red while ensuring the front door and windows were locked before joining the both of you underneath the illuminated fabrics. You began to stir in Natasha's hold now that you were sat down on the unfamiliar air mattress, head leaned back against her cushioned chest, her scent strong. "Natty?"

The redhead ran her thumb over the apple of your cheek as she stared down the slope of your nose and chuckled softly as you woke up in an adorable daze. "Yes honey?" The amusement was spurred on as she felt you shiver, it wasn't cold but her voice was raspy.

"Where am I?" Wanda smiled, then leaned closer to whisper in your ear, "Open your eyes and find out."

With a soft wince you did as told, the lights were too bright, forcing you to blink rapidly, but after a moment of adjusting you noted they were actually dim in comparison to the norm. An array of blush pink and off white fairy lights, with clipped polaroids of you and your lovers were strung all around the wall of sheets.

There was an instant quiver to your lip, your body was at a perfect state of rest, yet you felt so overwhelmed. With love, admiration, gratitude and also reprieve. The photos took you down a silent memory lane, from the still of your first date, where Wanda had captured you dancing with Natasha beneath the stars, to the time when you were really sick with Covid, and Wanda was nursing you back to health with her soups and cuddles (even though you obviously protested her proximity).

Nothing could ever keep them away from you, and you knew that they were hurting as you forced them to. It was like a wave of clarity washed over you, and for the first time in so long you felt genuinely relieved. Which was lost on Natasha as you turned into her and cried.

Natasha looked at Wanda in worry, but the witches smile squashed her rising fears. The redhead firmly pulled you closer, and held you as you lightly sobbed into her chest. Wanda's hand gently slipped under your sleep shirt, running up and down your back, nails scratching at your skin as a way to comfort you too.

"It's okay malysh," Natasha whispered as she rocked you, "You are going to be just fine detka, let it all out."

Once your overdue sobs turned to hiccups you moved to sit up, and subsequently pulled from Natasha's grip. The redhead wanted to stop you, but she saw a little bit of determination in your eyes as you turned to face them both so she retracted her hands. "I'm sorry."

Wanda cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears, then kissed your salty, shimmering lips to shush you.

"Apologies come when you've done something wrong detka," she scolded you softly, "and you haven't. If anyone needs to apologize it's us, you needed us and we weren't here, but I promise that's gonna change.”

You gulped, and your voice trembled, "Change?"

"For the better," Natasha clarified, smiling at you in a way that could only be interpreted as akin to a warm hug. "It's time that we take care of each other better detka, you shouldn't have been able to overwork."

"I-I need to work," you began to defend, but Wanda cut you off with a pained laugh, "You never have to work, because we have it all covered, whatever you need."

Truthfully, you didn't need to work, but you told them you'd hate not having your time filled whenever they are both away, or to leech off of their riches. They were against it at first, telling you that whatever they had was yours to have, but they didn't push the issue then.

Now though, after what they saw today they decided it was time to move forward with a lot of things. Wanda would retire her crown, and be home to tend to your every whim, you would quit your job just after the well earned, fully paid leave. If you persisted that you needed to work, you'd be Natasha's assistant as she would mostly be fielding missions out to others.

"I want to work though, make my own money," you further defended, "I can't buy you gifts with your own money, it wouldn't be right. I need to earn my own."

"Which is fine," Wanda relented with a smile, then Natasha jumped in, "but not for that stupid ass store."

You wanted to fight her on that, because you loved your coworkers but you didn't have it in you to negate the truth to her words. "That I can agree on."

"Good girl," Natasha teased, but Wanda's slap to her shoulder told you there was more important things left to discuss so you turned to her. "I'm retiring the crown detka, and Natty here is taking a massive step back."

Each of your lovers reached forward, grabbing one of your shaky hands and scooted forward to comfort you. They could see your self intrusive thoughts bubbling before Wanda could hear them. "We want to do this."

"I-is it because I'm worrying you into this?"

"No detka, you are seeing this in the wrong light, we want to do this because we hate being away from you. Natasha and I are miserable without you, and it's also time we start working towards the life we all want."

Because, if it was time for progression, then that would come with the overdue wedding bells, and babies cries. Natasha could still be an Avenger, sure, but she wants to be equally as present in your family as you both. It was a surprise to you all those years ago, when she was the one to tell you that was her dream; it wasn't time then, but you all know it is the right time now.

"Really?" Both women placed a kiss to your cheek, and nodded so that you felt their confirmation. Your heart had started flipping within your chest, and you raced out of the fort before either woman could stop you. It was cause for concern, but you were back before they could get up to capture you, with a radiant smile.

"I've been saving up for a long time," you blurted, "It had to be perfect, you know? You guys deserve that."

"Nothing has to be perfect at the expense of your wellbeing detka," Wanda admonished you, but the aura flipped to excitement as Natasha rushed out, "What has to be perfect?!" You giggled, and a surge of impatience pulsed throughout you, causing you to pull the ring box from behind your back and open it.

Inside were three rings, all similar in the fact that they were gold, but each with a uniqueness. On the left of the box sat Natasha's, the band was thicker than the average, crafted with style and missions in mind, but still thin enough to let the oval shaped diamond shine. On the right was Wanda's, the band was thinner, as it suited her preference, with a pear shaped emerald in the center, and tiny diamonds that lined the band.

You found it amusing that no words had to be said, no grand speech, they both just hastily grabbed their own rings to slide onto their finger. Each one whispered a soft yes as they kissed the other's ring cladded finger. You naturally went to slide the simple gold band you'd purchased for yourself, to match theirs, onto yours but Natasha stopped you with a firm grip on your wrist.

"Let us ask," she pleaded, you blinked back your shock, and dropped the band into Wanda's awaiting hand. Who then slipped it onto her chain, you frowned, but then she pulled a box from beneath a pile of snacks and you realized that you were never truly out of sync.

Natasha pulled you back into her lap, and rested her chin on your shoulder, craning her neck she placed a kiss on your warm cheek. "Y/N, you have made us the happiest we've ever been, this world hasn't been kind to us, you either, but somehow you're still so sweet. The darkness never had a grip on your soul like ours."

"Natty..."

"Hush," she chuckled, "I've come to terms with my past detka, as has Wanda, and that's all thanks to you."

Wanda nodded along to Natasha's words, the ring was held up between her fingers as she waited her turn.

"When I found Natasha, it was like I could stand on my own two feet, she taught me how to be a human again," Wanda sniffled, "and then we met you and it was like we could finally breathe—you saved us entirely Y/N."

Natasha helped to lift your frozen arm up from behind, and extended your hand out to Wanda who slid the ring onto your finger. It was still a simple band, but the inside was inscribed, "Y/N—Nash Dom (Our Home)"

The redhead linked your fingers and pulled your hand up to her lips next after Wanda had sealed the deal. You asked them what it said, as you felt the indents of the words against your skin and they both smiled. Natasha whispered the Russian with tenderness, then Wanda offered the translation when your eyes asked.

"I love you both," you declared the obvious, "with my entire heart I promise you that I will never give us up."

"We wouldn't dream of allowing it either," Wanda joked as she crawled forward and kissed your lips, and as she pulled away she sighed away her prior burdens. Natasha and her shared a soft kiss before the witch had returned to her prior pile of pillows, then the redhead turned you to face her and kissed you with a smile.

"We love you too," she whispered the words that didn't even need to be spoken, then she helped Wanda to get your plate prepared so you could all get settled down.

The rest of the night was spent watching movies, eating most of the witches delicious snacks and talking candidly about the dreams you'd all just reconfirmed. It was mostly just Wanda telling you and Natasha all about the wedding of the century, it appeared you two only had to show up—dressed properly and on time.

Wanda consequently fell asleep first, and you appreciated the chance to admire the peace she naturally radiated when she was unconscious.

"Detka," Natasha whispered softly, keen on not waking up the slumbering witch, who was holding onto you tightly from behind, softly snoring into your bare back.

"Yes Natty?" Your warm breath against her collarbone sent shivers down her spine as you turned back to face her, naturally nuzzling closer. "It's okay to rest now."

"I know," you sighed dreamily, "I just want to feel this safety for a bit longer, then I promise to close my eyes." The corner of Natasha's eyes crinkled, and you shared a sweet kiss with her, tempering her need to cry at your endearing words; the assassin with a heart of gold, you would always tease. "You're forever safe here detka..."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff hurt / comfort #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #gxg #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff hurt / comfort #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x nat x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #wanda x natasha #wandanat #wandanat imagine #wandanat fluff #wandanat x female reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n

[thef1diary]

What You Need | D. Ricciardo

Requested by @imacutiepatootie “thought about Daniel with what you need by the weeknd, like maybe with smut idk just him and the weeknd 🤭”

Warnings: 18+ smut, daniel and his filthy fucking mouth, mature language, fingering, reader cheats on unnamed bf with daniel, penetrative sex.

Pairing: daniel x fem!reader

wc: 2450

Note: literally had no idea how to summarize this

Looking back at your house one last time for the night, you focused your gaze ahead of you.

I just want to take you there

You spotted the bright blue McLaren parked further ahead, away from your house and already had a smile gracing your face.

As many times as you told him to drive a less flashy, unrecognizable car whenever he's coming around to your place, he would never listen.

You walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. As soon as you turned to greet him, he was already looking at you with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen.

Before you could utter a word, his lips were already on yours, but you weren't complaining at all. A small groan left your lips, having missed the feeling of his soft lips.

He don't gotta know where

"Hi Danny," you muttered against his lips once you separated but your foreheads were still touching.

"Hey sweetheart," he whispered back, placing a brief kiss on your forehead before parting away completely.

As he began to drive and focused his gaze on the road, yours was still on him.

"You had to bring this car?" You asked, attempting to look stern but he just chuckled.

"Only the best for my girl," he held your hand, bringing it closer to his lips before placing a light lingering kiss.

Does he touch you here like this, this, this, this?

"What if someone sees? Or worse what if he sees?" You ask, still suspicious of being caught by the person who was your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend was unfortunately not the one sitting next to you, but he was at home, already sleeping due to an early morning shift at work tomorrow.

Daniel sighed but didn't say a word. Stopping at a red light and spotting no other cars around, he placed both of his hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for another kiss.

Let me take the friction from your lips

This time, it was slow and sensual. He knew you well enough to know he could make you forget about your lover you left at home with a simple kiss from him.

There was some light music in the background, but all you could hear were his low grunts as you lightly grazed his bottom lip with your teeth. You teased him further by slightly pulling it, before letting go and pressing your lips harder against his.

There were few streetlights around, making the sin you're committing with him seem more enticing in the dark.

The red turned into green, and Daniel parted away. Fortunately, there weren't any cars as he looked at you for a moment too long before releasing the brake.

And I'ma love you girl

"you were saying?" Daniel asked, a cheeky grin on his face as you failed to remember the topic you were speaking of moments ago.

"It's not important if I forgot," you shrugged, sitting back in your seat properly but your sights never moved away from his face.

As he continued to drive, the streetlights illuminated his face perfectly.

The way you need

You trailed your eyes from the curve of his nose, to his sweet soft lips that you just can't get enough of, down to his neck.

You couldn't help yourself but reach over to his side and place one of your hands behind his neck before attaching your lips right underneath his pulse.

For a moment, he was allowing your actions but then he blinked and realized that he wouldn't be able to drive in a straight line if you continued.

Ain't no one gon' stop us

"Baby," his voice had deepened and you internally smiled at how your actions affected him. But you didn't stop.

You grazed your teeth down his soft skin before using your tongue to drag back upwards. "I missed you so much, darling," you muttered in his ear.

While one of his hands remained on the steering wheel, the other settled on the back of your neck to pull you away.

"Behave," he instructed sharply, but both of you knew how much it affected him as he shifted in his seat.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked, choosing to behave for now, but you would resume your ministrations later.

His hand that held the back of your neck was now resting on your thigh as you sat back down properly. "Are you in the mood for some ice cream?"

Ain't no one gon' stop us

You nodded, "I'm also in the mood for something else."

"I know, but unless you want me bending you over the hood and fucking you while everyone around us watches, be patient."

You clenched your thighs together, forgetting that his hand was resting there until it was too late. He smirked, "you want that? Want to show everyone how fucking wet you get for me?"

"Only you," you shook your head and slid your hand down to cover his, slowly moving it closer to where you need him the most.

And I'm gon' give you girl

Although he riled you up further, he continued driving until he reached the drive-thru line, a few cars up ahead.

Once he started strumming his fingers on the steering wheel, matching the beats to the music playing, you knew he was intentionally ignoring you.

You should've been used to it by now. At how he riles you up til your soaking and needy for him, and then he praises you for doing so well.

But you weren't. You just needed him and your patience was running thin.

What you fiend

His hand inched towards the inside of your thigh, moving higher. You held your breath, not wanting to say anything that would make him move away.

Four cars were queued up in front of Daniel's McLaren.

His fingers lightly skimmed over your clothed pussy, feeling the heat through your shorts.

You couldn't help but whine as he retracted his touch, instead teasing his fingers across the waistband. He pulled it away before letting it snap back in place.

"Danny," if he didn't do anything soon, you were convinced that you'd combust.

He looked over at the pout hiding your smile, and laughed at your state. "That desperate?"

You closed your eyes before nodding, giving him what he wanted. But then, your eyes quickly snapped open when you felt his fingers slip underneath the waistband, teasing your folds over your panties.

I'm the drug in your veins

"Fuck, you're so hot," he almost gasped once he felt the damp patch, wishing he could see it.

Three cars ahead, and Daniel didn't even stop moving his fingers as he released the brake pedal for a brief moment.

His own restraint was slowly breaking apart, especially after feeling what he did to you.

His fingers skillfully moved your panties to the side, finally dipping the tips of his fingers in your wetness as he glides through your folds.

The back of your head hit the headrest, eyes rolling back as you tried moving your hips closer to his hand.

You shifted your hips forward, giving him more access to your body. This allowed him to dip his finger deeper, almost to the second knuckle.

"Fuck Danny," you moaned, your hands eager to hold onto something as the pleasure radiated through your body.

Just fight through the pain

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, his gaze stuck on the way your pleasure takes over your expressions. The heat rising on your cheeks, reddening them. The little bead of sweat forming on your forehead.

"Spread your legs," Danny swiped his finger through your folds once more before stopping his movements until you listened to him. 

You brought your right leg up, the heel of your foot against the edge of the seat while spreading your other leg.

Despite spreading your legs, Daniel could feel how your pussy was attempting to clench around his fingers, wanting to envelope them.

He gave in, not inserting only one but two fingers. One of your hands grabbed his arm to ensure he doesn't pull away while the other made its way to the headrest.

He's what you want, he's what you want

Only two cars in front, and Daniel looked at you with a mischievous smile as an idea popped into his mind.

"Cum on my fingers before I order, or I won't let you cum at all tonight."

Your eyes widened as your head snapped to look at him but before you could protest, his fingers curled just right, making you let out a loud moan.

He laughed at your desperation when you started grinding yourself on his fingers.

While his fingers were deep inside you, his palm teased your clit. Moving ever so slightly in circles, making your vision blurry as you fought to keep your eyes open.

"Please Danny," you pleaded, wanting his help.

I'm what you need, what you need, what you need

"What do you need sweetheart?" He asked even though he knew the answer, he just needed to hear it from you.

"I need you, your fingers," your voice was beginning to become hoarse.

As soon as those words left your lips, he slipped in a third finger without any resistance.

He couldn't thrust his fingers faster due to your shorts restricting his movements so he resorted to thrusting deeper.

He's what you want, he's what you want

There was only one car remaining before it was his turn to order.

Daniel replaced his palm with his thumb rubbing your clit, bringing you oh so close to your sweet release.

You groaned his name, "so close, 'm so close" you muttered, not being able to string a proper sentence together.

"I know baby, let go," he dragged his middle finger against the inside of your walls, finding the spot that made you quite literally see stars.

As Daniel pulled up to the drive-thru speaker, you had become putty in your seat. His fingers remained inside you, stilling, while his thumb continued rubbing your abused clit in slower circles.

He looked at you once he ordered the ice creams, pulling his hand out before lightly tapping your lips with his wet fingers.

You eagerly opened your mouth and lapped your tongue around his finger, tasting every last drop of your own cum.

He reached over quickly to press a kiss to your lips. "You were so fucking good for me," he whispered in your ear before driving forward to the window.

I'm what you need, what you need, what you need

Your mind was wandering in the blissful nothingness with a smile on your face so you didn't realize when he paid until he held the ice cream cone in front of you.

He continued driving until he found a secluded spot surrounded by nature. Daniel turned to face you, a smile growing on his face as he listened to you speak, and a small part of him hoped that he could have you like this everyday.

But he quickly dismissed that thought knowing that if he mentioned it, it would ruin the mood for the rest of the night.

Instead he focused on your tongue darting out to lick the ice cream, the white creamy sweetness gathering in your mouth.

If you weren’t looking at him as you did the action, he would’ve thought it was unintentional. But your teasing smile told him otherwise.

You flattened your tongue against the cream, making direct eye contact as you dragged it upwards. You watched as his own eyes darkened, and he brought his face closer to yours.

“Do you want some of my ice cream?” You asked him, seeing as he already finished his.

He nodded, but instead of taking the cone you offered, he kissed you and used his tongue to take the melted ice cream gathered on your tongue.

“You’re so fucking needy, made you cum and you still want more?” He gripped the back of your neck, his thumb right on your pulse point feeling the beats quicken.

I'm what you need, what you need, what you need

“Fuck yes, I need you so bad, don’t you want me?” You looked up at him with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.

He didn’t respond, pulling away and opening the car door. You watched him with confusion but it all made sense once he opened the passenger door and helped you out.

“Need you so bad I can’t wait anymore,” he placed his hand on your lower back before pulling you into him.

He trailed his lips down the side of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of your body wash. Your arms rested on his shoulders, a hand crawling into his hair.

I got everything you want with me

Daniel grasped your hips, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist and you obeyed easily.

You hadn’t adjusted your panties back in place, so your wetness stained your cotton shorts making it stick to your skin. He settled you on the hood of his McLaren, pulling you even closer.

You tilted your head back to look at him, your hands teasing the waistband of his pants.

I do everything he does times three

As the light rose, the darkness began to fade. The sin you had committed many times before with Daniel was hidden in the darkness, but for the first time, you had spent the entire night until early dawn with the man you had begun to love.

Daniel had bent you over the hood of his car wearing nothing but your shirt barely covering your ass as he thrusted in and out at a steady pace.

You rested your cheek against the warm hood, but it was quickly pulled back as Daniel had wrapped your hair around his fingers.

“So good, fuck you feel so good Danny,” you whined, feeling your pleasure tenfold as you forgot how many times he made you cum.

He leaned over you, bringing his lips near your ear as he whispered, “better than him?”

Your eyes rolled back as he thrusted deeper, and you nodded. “Yes, better than him,” there was no doubt that Daniel was better than your boyfriend in so many ways, and now you began to question why you’re still with him.

And he don't gotta know

Unbeknownst to you, your phone had been buzzing incessantly on the car seat. Loads of messages and a few calls, all from your boyfriend as he only had one question; where are you?

#daniel ricciardo #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #f1 x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 smut #smut #request #f1

[wileys-russo]

Could you maybe write something about Leah and r being engaged and Leah can’t help but mention it to literally everyone and keeps calling r ‘Mrs Williamson' x

mrs williamson II l.williamson

hearing your alarm blare on your phone beside you made you groan, forgetting you'd set it to repeat everyday despite it being a weekend. clicking it off you blinked, your body now unfortunately wide awake much earlier than you planned to be.

you heard leah shift beside you, exhaling heavily clearly also having been awoken by your alarm but refusing to accept so. "good morning baby." you murmured, shuffling closer and placing a few soft kisses on the back of her shoulder blades.

"what time is it?" leah breathed out tiredly, face still smooshed into her pillow as she stretched with a gentle groan. "nine." you mumbled into her neck, peppering her skin with butterfly kisses. "too early!" leah moaned, hardly appreciating this was how her day off had started.

"m'sorry i forgot about the alarm my love." you apologized softly, moving to straddle the back of her thighs, your fiance whining as the duvet was pushed further down the bed.

"we could go and get a coffee? get breakfast? go see your grandma or your mum?" you suggested, now you were wide awake you were determined not to waste the rare day off you both shared.

"or we could stay in bed? cuddle? sleep?" leah rebuked, voice muffled by the pillow as you shoved her lightly. "you're already awake!" you laughed quietly, laying down on top of her and squeezing her cheeks as her head rolled to the side and one eye cracked open tiredly.

"and whose fault is that?" "mm apple? for not just knowing i never want alarms on of a weekend." "nice save babe." "seems like you should just accept it and get up baby."

"leah!" you laughed as the taller girl suddenly rolled onto her back, sending your body crashing back down onto the mattress as she was quick to straddle your hips.

"in that case-" she grinned down at you, eyes still a little puffy with sleep as you smiled at her slightly flushed cheeks. "good morning mrs williamson!" leah sang out, ducking down and kissing all over your face.

once she was done with that she grabbed your hand, kissing all over the back of your palm as she stared adoringly at the utter rock on your finger. "not quite mrs williamson yet my love." you teased, her excitement at your recent engagement nothing but infectious.

"excuse me mrs williamson, none of that negative energy here please." leah tutted, face breaking back out into a grin as you tugged on her hoodie, pulling her down into a proper kiss.

"shall we go and get started on our day then, mrs williamson?" "i wholeheartedly agree that we should do just that mrs williamson." "coffee mrs williamson?" "only if its accompanied with a full english mrs williamson." "god you know just the way to my heart mrs williamson."

~

"mrs and mrs williamson have arrived!" leah sang out as she let herself into her mums place, fingers interlocked with yours as you shook your head with a smile. "hello lovebirds." amanda chuckled, greeting the pair of you with a warm hug.

"still on a high from the engagement then?" the older woman laughed, leah disappearing to the kitchen to make you all a cup of tea, bella racing eagerly after her at her call.

"i don't know if she understands i'm not legally mrs williamson until we actually get married." you teased making amanda smile. "wedding planning going well then?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow as now you laughed.

"please! she can hardly decide what takeaway she wants on her cheat days let alone what type of flowers we want, what colour scheme for the invitations, and don't even get me started on the guest list-" you sighed with a shake of your head.

"if leah had her way we'd be married by ourselves tomorrow at the court house and she'd just be in her arsenal shorts and a baggy old hoodie." you grinned, leah returning with two brews for yourself and amanda, kissing your cheek as she placed one down in front of you.

"you make me sound so unromantic darling." "am i wrong?" "no i can actually book us in for one in the afternoon tomorrow mrs williamson, i'll wear my very finest hoodie?" "in your dreams, mrs williamson."

~

"well well well, if it isn't mrs williamson!" katie teased as you leant against the barrier, awaiting leah to come and say hi once she'd finished her post game lap and clap.

"the one and only!" you flashed your ring, the irishwoman grabbing your hand with a whistle. "you know you could just pawn this fuckin rock and run away, one last chance at freedom before you're stuck with her forever." katie grinned, letting out a yell as leah snuck up behind her and smacked the back of her head.

"mrs williamson would never, she loves me far too much mccabe." leah grinned, helping you over the barrier and hugging you tightly from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. "has my name just permanently changed to mrs williamson now?" you smiled, craning your head back to look up at your fiance.

"yes, forever and ever my love."

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #engwnt #leah williamson #woso blurbs

[niceboyeds]

rough day (e.m)

eddie x fem!reader

18+ MDNI

contains: language, unprotected PIV, slight cockwarming, lmk if i missed something!

a/n: y’all voted, and wanted smut, so here you go little freaks. i hope you enjoy!

—————————————————————————

it had been a long day. hell, even that was putting it lightly. it was the worst day at work you could have possibly had and yet you hadn’t taken it out on a single customer, coworker, or even the concrete wall in the back alleyway.

you trudged through the door into the beloved Munson Family’s trailer, a place you felt like you were able to relax and be greeted with endless love and support.

today however, you had no room to receive love or support. you instead just wanted to crawl into bed and wither away. you wanted to physically be unable to tell the difference between your body and the mattress.

Eddie sits in the living room on the sofa and instantly lights up at the sight of seeing you. he stands to greet you with a hug but once locking his eyes with yours his smile fades and his walk slows.

“hey baby… bad day?” he treads carefully. surely scared to receive the brunt of your harbored anger.

“yeah. like literally the worst ever.” you sigh, the feeling overwhelming as hot tears prick your eyes.

after slipping off your shoes, you pad to the bedroom and start stripping your work uniform off your body and finally feeling some sort of relief.

Eddie follows you around at a distance, still nervous to see what you take out your aggression on and comfort you where needed.

you sit yourself cross-legged and naked on the bedroom floor, opening the bottom drawer of Eddie’s dresser where he keeps a decent stack of semi-clean tshirts for you to wear. you pull the top shirt out and glide it over your head and arms, engulfing you in his scent.

it takes everything in you to just stand from the floor and crawl onto the bed, letting your body hit the mattress as you lay flat on your back. you hold your arms up and move your fingers in a motion that implies you want Eddie to join you on the bed.

“whatcha need hun?” he asks softly, laying next you while combing though your hair with his fingers.

“you, please. i need you to fuck me until i forget the world exists.” you turn your head, locking eyes with his.

“okay baby, i got you.” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you as he begins grinding his growing erection against your thigh.

you don’t leave room for much foreplay, craving him inside of you. you strip him of his clothes and pull him on top of your body.

seeing your eagerness, he doesn’t even try to finger you first, which unsurprisingly you didn’t even need. he just shoves his cock into your weeping and needy hole.

“oh fuck! yes baby, harder please!” you cry out, gripping onto his back by the shoulder blades, pulling him down to be closer to you.

he pounds into you, grunting and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

“there you go baby, being so good. look at you, taking all of me so perfectly.” he coos, his lips lingering on your ear.

as soon as you begin clenching around his cock he knows you’re close. you feel him pulsating against your walls as he moves one hand down to play with your clit. he swirls the small bud around in between his pointer finger and thumb, making you jerk up in reaction, his cock hitting you just right at your movement.

“fucking hell, Eds! i’m so close. don’t stop, please don’t sto—” unable to even finish your sentence, you feel him shuttering as his white and sticky cum spills inside of you. that alone is enough to bring you to your orgasm.

you lay on the bed, feeling his cock still twitching inside of you as your body becomes less tense. you feel like a puddle, just melting into the mattress with Eddie laying on top of you.

after a moment, he shifts, beginning to pull out of you but you’re quick to stop him.

“wait! no, please don’t. just… just wait a little longer? i need to feel you close to me.” you squeak out, not feeling an ounce of anger like you had earlier in the evening.

you felt comfortable, safe, and content with the current situation you were in. the rough day you had gone through seemed to have been whisked away by the presence of Eddie. though the orgasm he gave you certainly was a key factor as well.

“don’t worry baby, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are soft, bringing more comfort to you as you continue holding him in a tight hug.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie blurb #eddie smut #eddie munson fic

[bookshelf-dust]

love and mandrakes

sirius black x gn!reader

word count: 5,220

warnings: swearing, fluff, i think that's literally it, but let me know if it's not

a/n: hi! so this is new!!! a new character!! sirius black is the loml, and i've been working on this for what feels like forever. i'm really proud of it, and i hope that maybe some of you will like it. it's been very fun to explore a new universe and the marauders as a whole. i hope you enjoy this!! love you 3000 <333

————

The greenhouse windows are frosty this morning, and you can feel the chill seeping in through the thin glass panes. You fight the urge to lift your finger, using the tip to draw a face in the condensation gathering on the one nearest you. 

You’re stood at the back of the greenhouse, like always. You’ve never liked to be very close to Professor Sprout–certainly not because of any disdain towards the woman–but for the fear that she’d have something negative to say about your work. This is despite the fact that she’s been nothing but kind to you regarding every plant that’s ever been in your care.

Really it’s just that you’d beat yourself up if you killed a plant that makes you so determined to do well.

You’re twenty minutes early for class today. Early enough that it’s just you and Professor Sprout in the greenhouse. Everyone else likes to stumble in within the five minutes before class begins.

But clearly, that’s not quite the case this morning. The greenhouse doors open, both rather than just one, and Professor Sprout turns to greet whoever it is.

“Good morning, Mr. Black.”

You look up. Sirius Black is never early to class. If anything, he’s usually either not there at all, or the absolute last one to find his way in, perhaps a half hour late, if not more. He sidles up to Remus Lupin, and suddenly they've got a lovely little group project on their hands.

“Remus won’t be in today, Professor.” Sirius gives her a look that you assume is supposed to induce sympathy on her part. “Seems he’s got a cold.”

Pomona has never found it in herself to be frustrated with the boy, unlike the majority of her colleagues. She’s one of the few professors at the school to not harbor particularly malicious feelings towards the boy. He might be a troublemaker, but who isn’t at that age? 

She’s been briefed on what his home life is like, too, and who he has to put up with. And since she was a young girl, Pomona has been determined to give everyone a fair chance.

"Thank you for letting me know," she tells him.

You watch as Professor Sprout heads to a supply closet and begins to pull out heaps of gloves and what look to be earmuffs, messily tossing away the things she doesn’t need. You're lost in observing her, so consequently the voice sounding a few inches from your ear startles you.

"You always in this early?" Sirius has materialized next to you, the beginnings of a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. 

You glance at his hand where it lingers over the stem of a plant you’re not sure he should dare to touch. He’s got a ring on every finger excepting his thumb.

“Usually,” you say. It occurs to you that these are some of the first words you've ever spoken to the boy, if you don’t count bare minimum exchanges in the odd class. “I like it back here.”

You like it back there because less people can look at you. Because having to sit somewhere else stresses you out, not to mention throws you off. You feel safe in your little corner. 

Sirius withdraws his hand from the questionable plant and raises his head. His eyes bore into yours. They’re the strangest shade of blue. It seems to shift in the light, and sometimes they look almost gray. He grins, and then begins to scan the area around the both of you.

“Suppose it is nice. Maybe I’ll stay back here with you. Wouldn’t want you to be lonely, you know.” 

You snort at that and he quirks a brow at your amusement. Sirius pushes his hair behind his ear and you realize he’s got a silver industrial piercing.

“That hurt too bad?” You ask, gesturing towards the jewelry and hoping he knows what you mean. He does.

His thumb skips over the metal ball at one end, coming back to fiddle with a section of his robes. He leans forward, grinning at you. His smile is wide. The corners of his mouth tick up mischievously, smile lines conveying layers of mischief you know he must have hidden in that mind of his. 

“Probably wouldn’t have as much if I’d gone to a shop.”

You gasp lightly, thinking about it getting infected and Sirius having a bloody mess on his hands.

“You did it yourself?” You ask, eyes wide and full of concern.

He laughs. It’s a gorgeous sound, deep and friendly. Warm.

“I was prohibited,” he says, pressing a scandalized hand to his chest. “Remus did it for me over break, while my brother played nurse.”

“Well it looks nice,” you tell him, palms beginning to sweat. You find his presence to be slightly overwhelming. “I mean I think so.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He bends slightly at the waist, hand over his stomach, and it’s a gesture you might take as being that of an asshole, if it weren’t for his voice being so kind.

You hum in place of a you’re welcome, trying to will away the swarm of butterflies in your tummy. They’re being rather aggressive. 

“And for the record,” he adds, “Remus was very strict with my cleaning regimen, so I did not get any infections if that’s what you’ve been contemplating.”

“That’s good.” You smile. You’re not sure it’s anywhere near as pretty as his.

Professor Sprout claps her hands, startling you. Today is really not your day. Sirius snorts at your jolt, but when you glance at him he’s pretending to be intensely focused on your instructor.

“Morning, everyone!” she begins. “Today, as you may have guessed, we will start our lessons on Mandrakes. This particular lesson will focus on basic knowledge, as well as care, but come next class, your actual project will begin.”

“You’re going to need a partner, so I’ll give you a few minutes now to choose, that way you can prepare with one another prior to the main exercise.”

All at once, everyone turns to this person and that, chattering and deliberating. It seems everyone has someone.

Your heart starts to pound, and you wonder if maybe Professor Sprout might let you work independently. Pairs are forming, and you can feel yourself being left out, pushed to the edges of society. Maybe that’s dramatic, but it’s how you feel. 

You lean against the table behind you, hoping that she won’t call you out for not having a partner. That is until there’s a figure in front of you.

“What’d you think, huh? Shall we work together?” Sirius stands so that you have no other choice but to look back at him. It’d come off rude to not maintain eye contact at this distance. 

You feel yourself burn and can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of cruel joke.

“Wouldn’t you rather wait and join Remus?” You ask, fingernails picking at the wooden underside of the table.

“You think I’m using you as a fill-in?”

You shrug, rubbing your nose. “We’ve quite literally never spoken an actual conversation before today. I just thought you’d want to work with your friend and not some stranger.”

“Well there’s a first for everything, isn’t there? And you’re not a stranger. I see you all the time.” 

You sigh. He grins, ever pleased with himself. 

“You don’t want to be friends with me?” He teases.

“I—”

“No, it’s quite alright. I’ll see if good ‘ol Mona will help me out.” He turns like he’s going to march away, though his feet barely move. He’s not going anywhere and you both know it. 

“Holy shit,” you start. “Just shut up. Go and get the gloves then.”

Sirius grins. “Demanding, aren’t we?”

He does go and get them though, returning with two sets of gloves and a pair of shears, as Professor Sprout had instructed.

“Today, we will focus on tending to your Mandrakes. I want you, in your pairs, to check the soil and water as needed. I also want you to trim the leaves, as these have been left to run amok for a while. To work!”

Chatter erupts around you, bouncing against the glass walls of the greenhouse.

You fetch a watering can while the area is still free, and Sirius fills it up for you. You notice that your Mandrake is severely lacking the soil it needs. It’s not very well off at all.

“Do you see this?” You ask him, gesturing towards where the roots are showing, clearly dehydrated and with nowhere to sprawl out and grow. “She’s got us treating the wounded.”

Sirius crosses his arms. “That’s a damn shame now, isn’t it? Guess we better heal this thing then.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You ask, eyes darting up to meet his.

“No, I swear. I can tell you’re into this. It’s not my best subject.”

“Well you know what they say.”

“What do they say?” His eyes are gleaming. That’s the best word you can think to use for it. 

“Teamwork makes the dream work.”

He rolls the very same eyes. “I’d like a new partner after that one.”

You laugh, and Sirius feels a pang in his chest. Like he’s taken a blade to the heart, and he can’t do anything but let it happen. Your laugh is such a sweet sound and he worries it might be the death of him.

You slip your gloves on and start trimming the leaves that have to go. There’s quite a few of them, but luckily they seem to be towards the bottom of the stem, and you think once you’re able to water it, the Mandrake might have a chance.

You finish with the shears, and set them down. You look up at Sirius, and your eyes catch a group of buttons on the shoulder of his robes. His hair had been covering them before. You find yourself feeling warm inside, as one in particular tickles your fancy.

“I like your pin,” you say.

His brows shoot up, “Which?”

You use your pinky and tap the glossy finish. He watches. “That one.”

“The Queen one?”

You nod, shoving some more soil into your pot to try and save the roots.

“You listen to them?” Sirius leans down so that his face is next to the Mandrake and in your line of sight. He’s got this brilliant grin. It’s worrying you. For a moment you think he might say something cruel, but the look in his eye is almost boyish.

“Yeah,” you say. “My mom is a muggle. Fell for a dorky wizard boy. So she’s raised me on loads of good stuff.”

“Lucky duck, you.”

You snort and then look up at him, though he's already been looking at you. His eyes haven't left you the whole time you've been working. He finds the way you treat the plant as if it has feelings to be charming. He wonders if you take care of everyone like that. Or maybe even yourself.

You move the soil pouch towards him. "You gonna help me?"

He slips his gloves back on. They really don't match anything he's wearing, and frankly it bothers him a bit. "Of course, of course."

He starts tending to the plant and you watch, noticing the bumps left in the gloves where his rings are hiding underneath.

"Feed her, Seymour," you say, and Sirius whips his head towards you.

"Who the fuck is Seymour?"

"Muggle film. Musical actually. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry for exposing your nerdiness. What's the film about? Talk to me," he proclaims, wincing at the state of his soil work.

“This guy, Seymour, finds a plant, and he tries to take care of it, you know, as you do, but he figures out it only wants blood and meat to eat and that’s what he feeds it, so it keeps growing and growing until it’s big enough that it starts eating people.”

Sirius looks at you with wonder in his eyes, and starts to laugh. "Are you fucking with me, love?"

You start to smile, one that you at first try to suppress, but it ends up spreading across your face, softening your features. Sirius thinks maybe it's the prettiest smile he's ever seen. He can't get over the way the lines around your mouth form, or the way your cheeks bunch and your eyes light up.

"No, I promise."

The boy tugs his gloves off, having finished salvaging the soil for your plant. "Killer plants, huh?"

"Indeed," you say. "You know Mandrakes are killer too, right?"

"Stop."

You start to water the plant, trying your best not to drown the damn thing. "What do you think the earmuffs are for, dumbass?"

You immediately regret calling him a dumbass, thinking you may have crossed a line--it's not like you know him all that well, you've only been speaking for this one class period--but he only smiles at you.

For some reason, you find him easy to be around. He doesn't scare you.

"It's cold."

"Because it's cold? No. After we save the plants we have to re-pot them, and when we take them out they're going to scream. Their cries are fatal, Sirius."

He stares at you. Remus did not tell him this. Technically he could've read his textbook, but clearly he didn't.

"That seems highly uncalled for."

You chuckle and he grins again.

"I agree,” you say. “Have you got the time?”

Sirius pushes his sleeve up, glancing at the watch tight around his left wrist. “We’ve got five minutes left.”

You look up, and notice Professor Sprout removing her gloves. If you’d waited to ask for just a moment longer, she would’ve begun her everyone-get-your-shit-together-and-get-out-of-here speech. 

“Students, your attention please!” Professor Sprout’s cheeks are rosy, tufts of curls sticking out from under the brim of her hat. 

“Next class we’ll try and get the Mandrakes repotted, so that they may grow to their full potential and can then be used as needed for Madam Pomphrey. You’ll need to come and water your plants periodically throughout the week, as these tend to drink rather quickly, so I suggest you alternate days with your companion.”

When you’ve finished and you’re outside once again, it’s misty, your skin dampening with each step you take. 

You feel a hand on your elbow, and Sirius has appeared next to you. Frankly, you hadn’t expected him to continue contact with you. 

The both of you had discussed what days you’d water you plant, and you assumed that was that. 

“I’ve realized we’re co-parenting a Mandrake,” he starts, “and I feel as though I should at least know a little something about the mother of my child.” You raise your eyebrows at him. “You know, to ensure that they don’t grow up lacking proper guardianship.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, hopping over a puddle. 

He tosses his head back, laughing, and you feel your insides go all warm and gooey at how his hair moves with the motion. You can’t help but wonder what it feels like. 

“First, you don’t want to be friends, and now, you want our child to be one of divorce.”

You stop, resting your forehead against the cool stone of one of the courtyard walls. 

“Sirius, we haven’t even been married.”

He presses his forehead against the stone next to you, and you turn to look at him. “I’m pretty sure there are a good bit of people who’ve been married and know less about each other than we do,” he says. 

You smile at the wall and he catches it. 

“Besides, we’ve got the same music taste, and that means I’ve got to keep you around.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s how this works. Didn’t you know?”

You brush at the side of your robes where you’ve now gotten moss remains on them. “I was not aware, no.”

“Haven’t you got class or something?” You ask him. His cheeks are pink from the cold, a stark contrast from the chill of his eyes, the sharp black of his hair. 

“Not for another hour. You?” 

“Yeah, actually.”

“So tell me something quick.” He spins a ring around his finger, a chunky silver one with something set into the center. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously?”

He smiles. It’s gorgeous and full-fledged. You can’t believe he’s looking at you like that. It feels like some big error. 

“Sorry I set myself up for that one,” you say. “Um, it’s green.”

“Lovely. Now what shade of green are we talking?”

“Sirius.” You pout. 

“Come on now, chop chop.” He snaps his fingers. “Thought you had an excuse to ditch me or something?”

You roll your eyes. It seems that cocky ass grin never leaves his face. “Like a forest green. Trees and such.”

Sirius claps his hands together, metal clinking. “That’s fantastic. I’ll be sure to remember it. Mine’s purple, by the way, thank you for asking.”

“I bet you look stunning in purple, Sirius.”

He blushes. He actually blushes. You grab for his wrist and push his sleeve up to peer at his watch. 

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

For the first time in a long time, Sirius Black hasn’t got shit to say. No one ever makes him blush. 

————

“I don’t come to class one day, and you’ve made a new friend? Why couldn’t you have made a new one any other day? I think I need some time off. Maybe even early retirement.” 

Sirius smacks Remus on the shoulder where the latter lays stretched out in bed. The curtains are drawn one one side so that the only person they’re visible to is James, who is half asleep in the neighboring bed, glasses askew and tie on the brink of choking him. 

“It’s rude to abuse the wounded.” 

“You’re off your rocker, Lupin.”

Remus rubs his face, though he winces, his arms much too sore for any sort of activity. “Tell me about it.” 

“Feeling any better today?” 

“Yes, Sirius. I’m feeling fucking wonderful.”

“He’s being sarcastic.” James’ voice is muffled by the pillow he’s collapsed into. 

Sirius turns to look at his friend. “Yeah, no shit, Prongs. Thank you so much for enlightening me.”

James raises a weak arm, flipping him off. “Eat me.”

“You say that as if I won’t do it.”

James sits up, but only enough so that he may rearrange himself into a poorly structured child’s pose. “Stop being such fucking tease and do it then, babe.”

Remus rubs his eyes aggressively, like it might somehow rid him of his ever permanent longing for sleep. “Shove it, you two.” He peeks out from between his fingers at Sirius. “I thought you were saying how you’ve made someone else miserable with the joys of your friendship.” 

“Fuck you,” Sirius says.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I did make a new friend. In herbology, since you decided to have a go with the moon and left me to perish.” Remus rolls his eyes. “They’re very kind, if you must know. We are co-parenting a Mandrake.”

James snorts into the mattress. 

“Is it really co-parenting if you’ll make them do all of the work?” Remus asks. 

James snorts again and Sirius leans over to smack him against the back. He lets out a pathetic cry that both of the other boys ignore. 

“I’m helping, asshole,” Sirius begins. “I’m supposed to go water the fucking thing in a bit if either of you need proof of life.” 

“Of your friend or of your child?” Remus reaches his arm out to grab hold of one of the bedposts and heave himself up. 

“Both.”

James slides off of his bed and starts to stretch, and a cacophony of cracking sounds follows, which is slightly concerning considering his age. “Sorry. I’m supposed to go and see Lils. But I expect a full report back, Moons.” He strips off his tie and pulls on a coat. The other two boys watch him bound across the room like they’re at a tennis match.  

James is gone so quickly you’d be amazed that he was half-asleep minutes before. 

“What a prick,” Sirius says from where he sits at the foot of Remus’ bed. He looks away from the door and at his friend. 

Sirius sets his hand on Remus’ knee. “You get any sleep this morning?” 

“Some. Not enough. Though it’s never enough, or whatever.” Sirius gets a pang in his chest. He wishes he could make it all better. 

“You want to get some fresh air? You can come with me to the greenhouses if you want, but you can stay here too. I’ll sneak down to the kitchens and get you something.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go with you. Sun’s not out, is it? It’ll kill my head.”

Sirius stands and peers beneath the drawn curtains. It’s cloudy, like it might storm, a thick layer of cloud lying over the grounds. “Nope. She’s hiding from you today.”

Remus nods and his friend walks back over to his bedside. “Come on, Rem.” 

He removes the blankets from over his lap and scoots to the edge of his mattress. Sirius holds out his hands for Remus to take. Sometimes he gets really woozy when he has to stand after nights like the last. His knees shake, but he’s steady once he’s up. Sirius keeps an arm around his back when there isn’t anyone in the halls to question Remus’ condition, but has to settle for watching his friends footing otherwise. 

Sirius gets Remus on a bench and makes a stop by Madam Pomphrey on the way, feigning a headache. She gives him a little bottle of these chewable tablets with instructions on how often to take them and tells him to come back if the ache persists. 

He hands the bottle to Remus when he’s finished, and the boy’s had the medicine for an entire four seconds before he’s chewing. It’s one of those headaches that stays dull, but any sudden movement and your entire skull is throbbing and he thinks he might just die. Remus thinks this every full moon. He is not dead. 

The trip to the greenhouse takes longer than usual, mainly because of Sirius’ tendency to baby Remus during his moon hangovers. He claims it’s because he doesn’t want a death on his hands, something about living up to the Black name, but Remus knows it’s really because Sirius is much more caring than he’d ever admit. 

“See? Look at this fucker. My child.” Sirius gestures dramatically at the potted plant. Remus leans up against one of the tables, only slightly amused, much more out of breath. 

He’s only just gone digging for a watering can when he hears the door open and glances up, assuming it’s another student having to monitor their own dirt ball. 

But it’s you. 

“What’s up, love?”

Remus’ eyebrows shoot up. He hadn’t realized when Sirius said he made a friend he actually meant friend. He’s never really seen Sirius look at someone that way. 

You stand by the doors, kicking the one you came through shut behind you. Sirius pretends like he’s not attracted to the movement. 

“Hi,” you say. You step a little further into the room. “I know it’s not my day to water, but frankly I was kind of worried you’d forget to do it.”

Remus turns to face you and laughs, full on. You grin at him. He’s never really looked at you before, but there’s no denying how sweet you look. He bets you could kick Sirius’ ass if you wanted. He also thinks Sirius might let you do it. 

Sirius straightens and flips his hair back as he does so. “You wound me.”

You shrug. “I was also slightly panicked you’d drown the thing, so there’s that.” 

Sirius walks over to the sinks, filling up his watering can, though you both know he could easily use a spell to do it instead. “So you came to supervise?”

“‘Fraid so.” You chew on the inside of your lip. 

“I don’t blame you,” Remus says. “He’s kind of a flake.”

“Fuck you, Rem.”

“Yeah, sure.” Remus pushes off of the table, moving in the direction of you and the doors. His head is starting to feel better. He leans in next to you, though his voice is anything but a whisper. “I don’t know why you’re putting up with him. Would’ve asked for a different partner myself.”

“She picked me!” You laugh, seeing Sirius put his hands on his hips out of the corner of your eye. 

Remus raises a brow at you. “Oh yeah?” He smiles at you. It’s a knowing expression, an understanding one. He keeps his eyes on you, but speaks to Sirius. “I’m gonna go for a walk, Pads. Come and retrieve me when you’re finished.” 

The squeeze Remus gives to your shoulder is kind. It tells you you’re safe with Sirius. With him. That you’re welcome. The glass door rattles as it shuts. 

“You really have no faith in me?” Sirius asks, spritzing the Mandrakes leaves. You peer into the pot, noticing he’s watered it just right. It’s not going to drown after all. 

“No, I’ve got plenty. Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” 

Sirius sets the bottle he’s holding down. “No shit.”

“Well you see, last time you asked me a question, and I didn’t get to ask you one of my own, and I figured I’d better do that if I want to keep the friendship alive, you know?”

Sirius is smiling at you. He can’t believe this–your teasing. 

He runs the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone. “So what’s the question?”

“Do you like pie?” you question.

“I do.”

“That’s good. Because I feel the same way, and rumor has it you can get into the kitchens, so I thought we could work together on this...and get pie. It’s like a reward. I put up with you and you put up with me kind of thing, so we get something to eat.”

Sirius tosses his head back, letting out a bark of a laugh. Your eyes linger on his neck for a second longer than they should. 

“Well the rumors are indeed true,” he says. “Guess we’ll have to ditch Remus, then. Make it a proper date and whatnot.”

“That seems unkind,” you chuckle.

“He’ll live.”

————

“What’s happening here?” Sirius throws himself into one of the chairs on the other side of the table where you and Remus sit. 

“We’re reading,” Remus tells him. “Go away.”

Remus had shown you to this table. Said it was his favorite. There are a small group of them in the very back of the library, behind one of the last rows of shelves. You wouldn’t know they were there unless you went looking. 

He said it’s where he goes to hide when James and Sirius won’t shut up and let him work, which is more often than not. 

“You whined about me making new friends,” Sirius says, “so that I’d leave you alone, and now you’ve taken it upon yourself to steal said friend from me?” 

You cover your face with your book, sliding deeper into your chair and trying your very best to fight off a giggle. 

Sirius reaches across the table and snatches the book from your hands. He wants to see the shit-eating grin you’re hiding. He stands and moves in front of you just when you bury your face in your sleeve. 

He tugs on the fabric of your shirt. “Traded me out then, have you?”

You snort into your sweater, and Sirius watched the way your shoulders shake. Remus eyes his friend’s hand, trying to make sure he didn’t lose your page with his frenzied antics. He didn’t though, pale thumb tucked into the paper.

Remus sets his own book down, stretching over the back of the chair. He’s thinking about going to bed. 

Instead of looking at Sirius like you know he wants, you turn to Remus.

“Leavin’ me, Rem?”

Sirius scoffs. Rem his ass. 

Remus lowers his head so that it’s level with yours. “Sleepy,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. You look at the scar that runs through his brow and across his eyelid. There’s another by his ear. You wonder if he’ll tell you about them someday. 

He bumps his forehead—the gentlest of taps—with yours, and then he’s standing. Sometimes you forget how lanky he is when he’s always so hunched over. 

“Goodnight, Lupin,” you say. 

“Goodnight, you two. Don’t get too wild. This is still a library.”

Sirius takes the chair Remus had been occupying. You look at him, and reach for his hand. He wouldn’t even think about denying you taking it, even if he is being a grump. 

“I have not traded you out, Sirius.” He glares at you, though his eyes are still much too soft for it to be anything malicious. He’s not sure he could ever look at you in a hateful way. 

“You could’ve read with me,” he argues, tickling your palm. You try and wriggle your hand away, but he only presses his fingers firmly into your skin, keeping you there. 

“Come on.”

“No, you could have,” he continues. “I can be very well behaved, if need be.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re the one smirking now. Sirius is afraid he might never get this image of you out of his head. 

“Yeah.” He leans in, nuzzling his nose against your temple. When he pulls away, you realize he has a smattering of freckles under one eye. You have the urge to touch them, and so you do. 

He relaxes against your hand. “You’re very pretty, Sirius.”

“Thank you.” He kisses your knuckle. “You’re very pretty, too, sweets.”

“Thank you.”

In the weeks since your Mandrake project has finished—and the plant did indeed survive—Sirius has grown increasingly attached to you. Frankly he finds himself shocked that you’re willing to deal with him at all, let alone that his friends like you so much. He wasn’t even a little upset that you’re spending time with Remus. You have a lot in common, actually. 

He just likes to tease you. And he’s very good at it. 

“So you come looking for me because you need something? Or are you perhaps attention starved?” You question, taking your hand away from his face, though your other is still within his grasp. 

“Most definitely the latter.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

He speaks close to your ear as if he’s about to spill the world’s most confidential information. “Is this a safe space?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him. 

“I want you to play with my hair,” Sirius says. 

You gasp, clutching at your nonexistent pearls. 

Your moment's pause makes him a little nervous. “Well let’s get on with it then,” you tell him.

You take Sirius up to your common room, it being much too late for anyone to be up. You slip your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp until he’s falling asleep and you’ve made promises of braiding it sooner or later. Eventually, you have to wake him, send him off to bed.

And he pouts. God, does he pout. But it’s okay. He’ll get you to do it again tomorrow.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x gn!reader #sirius black x gender neutral reader #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius black comfort #sirius orion black #sirius x reader fluff #sirius x you #remus lupin #james potter #the marauders #sirius black imagine #sirius black oneshot #marauders #sirius black one shot #savannah’s fics

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana Preview | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, fluff, angst → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, so much yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: what da hell who is she... HEY SO its been a while since ive written anything longer than 2k words and i really wanted to get back into writing, if only for practice... plus this is part of my heart full of hugot series that i teased literally eons ago and i want to finish it before the year ends... pray for my sanity ( ; ω ; )

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you continue, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and purse your lips uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

#my wips #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #i gotta stop making jimin a gremlin in these LMAOOO #at the very least he isnt insane in his installment of this series #idk who i should write for next... maybe hoseok? its been a while since ive written for him (or written anything at all lol) #i need to stop making hoseok evil... new year new me #OK ANYWAY i'll post the entire thing soon-ish... yippeeeee

[hypnoneghoul]

Father hyppp i am hungy for more ficlets (of any kind) 😞😞 literally obsessed with your writing style

stawp bro you'll make my raging daddy kink turn and go the other way... (I like it) speaking of which daddy kink is exactly what you get heh

820 words of daddy aether and transmasc baby boy dew comfort cockwarming. fluffy kinda smut? i think it is

Aether was doing… nothing, really, reading yet another book by his desk in the infirmary. It was empty, but there always had to be someone there in case of emergencies. He looked over at the annoyingly ticking clock and sighed. Thirteen minutes left of his shift.

The quintessence ghoul turned the page, then another and another, until he heard the door opening. For a split second he had thought it was Omega coming to switch him a few minutes early, but before he even lifted his eyes, Dewdrop’s scent hit his nose.

Anxiety flared in him, afraid that the reason for the fire ghoul’s trip to the hospital wing was injury on his person, but all that dissipated when Dewdrop sent him a crooked smile. There was something… off about him, but he was fine. Aether guessed he’d just come for a visit.

“Hey, firefly,” he greeted him, putting the book down. “What brings you here?”

Dewdrop shrugged, coming closer with a slight slump to his posture.

“What’s wrong?” He didn’t get a reply, only the fire ghoul falling into his arms the moment he was close enough. He hid his face in the other’s chest, hands coming up to cling to his biceps. “Dewdrop, are you alright, baby?”

A whine left him at that and Aether noticed a certain switch in his scent. He was nearly sure what it was but– “Look at me, love.” With help from one of the quintessence ghoul’s hands, Dewdrop lifted his head and– there it was. His eyes all glassy and his pupils blown.

“Oh, baby,” Aether cooed. “Need me to take care of you, yeah?”

Dewdrop nodded.

The quintessence ghoul looked over at the clock again. Two minutes left. He supposed Omega wouldn’t mind if he cut off a minute off of his shift… He hummed in thought before hooking his arms under the small ghoul’s thighs and picking him up. Dewdrop immediately shoved his face into his neck and kicked up a small purr, clinging to Aether for dear life.

Not minding being seen in the corridors, Aether walked out of the infirmary, whispering softly into his mate’s ear. He didn’t know what brought this particular need of his up this time, but he didn’t care, not now. He’d find out later and possibly murder someone if someone was at fault.

“I’ve got you, baby boy. Daddy will take care of you.”

Aether had no idea which one of them enjoyed that particular dynamic more. He’d guess Dewdrop, but the way heat flooded him every single time that word would fall from the fire ghoul’s lips was implying otherwise. It was safe to say they were both incredibly down bad. Sometimes it was just for sex, sometimes it was a way of sharing comfort, sometimes both. Whatever Dewdrop would need.

Now that they finally got to their bedroom, Aether would find out what it was that his mate needed that day. He crawled onto the bed, still holding him, and sat by the headboard. “What is it, baby? What do you need from me?”

“Want your dick, daddy, but– but just– not...” Dewdrop muttered, but seemingly couldn’t spit out what it was that he wanted. Good thing Aether knew him better than he did himself.

“Want to warm me for a bit?” he asked quietly, as if someone would hear. He got a slight nod in response and rewarded Dewdrop with a kiss to the bridge of his nose. They shuffled around to take off their pants, just enough for Aether to take his half-hard cock out and for Dewdrop’s cunt to be able to take it.

The quintessence ghoul slipped his fingers into his mate, finding him slippery already, and stretched him out for just a minute, not wanting to wait any longer for Dewdrop’s sake, but also not wanting to hurt him. When he started to whine quietly against his neck, Aether took his fingers out and lifted the small ghoul up, lining his cock up with his hole.

With a huff Dewdrop sank down onto it, Aether’s dick fitting inside him perfectly, like they were made for each other. The quintessence ghoul said as much, swallowing the noise Dewdrop made at that as he kissed him deeply. “There we go, baby boy. You’ve got me, daddy’s all yours.”

The fire ghoul hummed appreciatively before nuzzling himself back against Aether’s chest, face tucked safely under his chin, nose in his neck. He wrapped his arms all around him and brought a soft blanket to truly swaddle Dewdrop. A rumbly purr sounded from him and Aether kicked up his own, raspy and loud.

Whether Dewdrop would fall asleep like that, decided he’d want to be fucked for real, or whatever else, Aether was content. He had his mate all soft and warm and close to him, and he didn’t need much else. Whatever he’d want, he’d be granted, but for now…

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #dewther #cw daddy kink

[etoiile]

"BE BRAVE"

starring chigiri hyoma!

synopsis: after being your roommate for a little over half a year, chigiri can say without a doubt that he's never met someone like you. you're sweet, funny, and just a great friend. but what happens when he wants to be more than that?

warning(s): not proofread but im p sure i didnt grammar correctly, mild swearing, gender neutral reader

notes: i want him your honor

"im back.." you mumbled, kicking off your shoes and practically throwing yourself onto the couch.

"well, dont you sound energetic." he joked as he turned off his phone and sat down next to you. "rough day?"

"ugh you cant even begin to imagine." you grumbled. "shit day. start talking. distract me."

"hmm..." he thought. "my day was pretty uneventful. i got let out early and just caught up on some stuff."

"who were you texting earlier? got any tea?" you questioned sleepily with a yawn. gossip sessions with chigiri were your absolute favorite. whenever he texted someone, there was usually some sort of news. plus, he gossiped like a girl and you were here for it. (sorry but chi is just so freaking canonically girlypop)

"nah. i wish, though. just talking to my older sister about some... stuff." he trailed off, racking his brain for a new subject.

"you hungry?" he asked, motioning towards the kitchen.

"yeah. will you carry me?" you asked tiredly, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. you were too tired to move on your own.

chigiri rolled his eyes at you, but still let you climb onto his back regardless.

as he carried you to the kitchen, he couldn't help the way his heart would leap out of his chest every time you left out a sleepy groan or would shift a little in his hold before nuzzling into his back. he couldn't help but imagine being here with you, in this apartment, though not as roommates or even friends, but lovers. he couldn't help how he could never be mad at you, despite what he'd say. he couldn't help how every time you did literally anything, he could feel himself falling deeper in love with you.

"well, think about it this way, chi." his sister had texted. "you've got two choices before you. confess or dont. correct?"

"yeah"

"WRONG. there's only one choice. by doing nothing, youre doing nothing but self torture. you'll always be thinking about how much you want to hold her but cant, and you'll have to watch her go on dates and even get ready for them. obvi, thats no fun. imo, just go for it, honestly. gotta be brave, yk?"

at the time, chigiri said something along the lines of, "maybe i will, maybe i wont. we'll see." before turning off his phone to greet you.

now, as he thinks about his feelings, he's never been more sure. he's never felt this way about anybody else before. its not like his past relationship where it was thrilling and exciting but exhausting. the way he feels with you is different. you feel safe. warm. comforting. you feel like a warm, sunny breeze after a cold rain. you feel like home. you feel like warmth. you feel like love.

he gently set you down at the kitchen counter before heading to the fridge.

"we dont have much food because SOMEBODY forgot to buy groceries." he teased. "we have fruit, eggs, bread, tobiko roe, rice, and instant ramen."

"yeah, yeah. anyways.." you then started batting your lashes at him like a maniac. "would you mind making me some ramen, my dear, sweet chichi?"

chigiri's heart leapt at the use of the word "my." he could feel his cheeks start to heat up and he quickly turned around.

"yeah, yeah, as you command." he rolled his eyes (for the 349348th time) and got to work.

"dont forget the eggs!"

"just be brave," his sister had said.

pfft. "just be brave?" give him a break! it just wasn't that simple. he couldn't risk the friendship most beloved to him. he just couldn't!

he watched as the seasoning gently bubbled with the noodles as he gently stirred the pot with a pair of wooden chopsticks, humming along to a tune he'd heard on your playlist absentmindedly.

"CHIGIRI?!" you suddenly yelped, clearly taken aback.

"what? is something wrong?" he asked calmly but concerned, praying that you weren't hurt as he set down the chopsticks and ran to you.

his cheeks were met by your palms as you squished his face together. "you're humming "cruel summer" by taylor swift! ive done it! youre a swiftie!" you let go as you squealed and leaped for joy, jumping about.

"chigiri's a swiftie! chichi is a swiftie!"

he chuckled as he watched your antics when suddenly, you crashed into him as you jumped.

you looked up from his chest and were met with his gorgeous pink orbs. it stunned you for a moment. they were so captivating, like they were gently chorusing a beautiful melody. you felt yourself sinking into them when suddenly, you realized the position you were in.

there was maybe an inch or two separating your lips from his. flustered, you quickly drew back, though you didnt exactly want to.

"sorry! um, my bad. i was just thinking! about how your eyes? uh... about how taylor swift has... uh... actually, what am i saying I WAS ACTUALLY-" you stammered as you tried to find an excuse for lingering much too long in his arms. staring into his beautiful eyes. on his chest. his muscular, toned, delicious... STOP.

suddenly, chigiri felt something. it wasn't embarrassment, it wasn't anxiety, it was... bravery.

gently gliding over to your flustered and still stammering figure, chigiri took your hands and looked you in the eye, freezing you.

"y/n, youre my one of my best friends." he said, his melodic voice gently wafting through the air. he then gently leaned down to your ear and in a low whisper, said:

"the thing is though, i dont want you like a best friend."

you were left frozen.

"a lyric from "dress." not bad, am i right?" he asked with a sly grin.

as the great taylor swift said, (in "its time to go") when the words of a sister come back in whisper, he realized that his sister was, as much as he hated to admit it, right. all he needed was to be brave.

𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 ©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

#ami writes 💌 #LOLL the last quote was kind of a stretch but its ok #guys i believe that chigiri would be a swiftie #he just would be hes just so girlypop #chigiri x reader #chigiri fluff #chigiri x you #chigiri imagines #chigiri headcanons #chigiri hcs #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock drabbles #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #blue lock hcs #bllk headcanons #bllk hcs

[duckywuckypookiepie]

Literally typing this on my phone as I’m about to go eepies, AND I NEED TO GET THIS OUT THERE

DRAGON DAN HENG AND HIS PRECIOUS TAIL

OH MY LORRRRRDD

update: this went in a completely different section than what I anticipated. It barely talks about his pretty tail that I totally want to wrap around me and never let me go

Warning???? Talks of bebe’s and families

Imagine you guys get back to the astral express, Dan heng in tow still in his semi dragon form, the one that doesn’t have the tail but has the ears and the horns. So relieved that he had came back with you guys to the express, you refuse to leave his side, too afraid of the possibility of losing him, something that could’ve easily happened in the xianzhou if Dan Heng had wanted it too

So you stay with him in the archive room, bringing your own blankets and pillows as to not impede his space. As your trying to sleep however, you can’t, mind too overwhelmed about everything that happened at the Luofu. Knowing now that Dan heng was a long life species, you couldn’t help but think about you’re inevitable parting, wether it be due to a difference of goals in the future or to you dying, especially of old age.

You had dreamed of getting old with him, having your own family, little Dan hengs running around the express. It was something you had always spoken about to him on nights were all you two did was bask in each others company. There was always an air of sadness to him whenever you mentioned it. He’d change the subject moments later but never seemed told you outright he didn’t want that too. You just assumed he did but thought it was too early in your relationship to think about and that he wasn’t ready for it yet, which you totally understood.

You open your eyes and gaze longingly at the man laying next to you, clearly tired from the things that transpired just early today. It was really late and you were also ready to knock out but your mind just would not let you. You had never noticed the distance Dan heng had cautiously placed you in until today. You truly did not know that much about him and his appearance during your expedition was the catalyst you needed to realize that. He hadn’t even told you the xianzhou was his homeland, even when you had gone to check on him before you, March, Welt, and Stelle had departed.

Blue eyes greeted your own as your lover shifted in his half slumber. Quickly closing your own eyes as to not alert him of your staring, and thus your troubling thoughts, it was to no avail as he had already caught a glimpse of your sad gaze.

“Darling, are you okay?” He whispers to you, voice heavy with sleep, and hands soft against your cheek.

You don’t answer, futilely pretending you were fast asleep. You knew he didn’t believe it, but you did it anyways on the hope that he would be merciful tonight and just drop the subject. But ever the patient and attentive boyfriend that he is, he refused to let it go. Moving closer towards your face, he doesn’t let up in his pursuit.

“I know you’re awake… Talk to me, I know you have a lot to ask me….”

No response

Cradling your cheek, he lets go and opts for you to to be brought closer to his chest, your hearing filled with the sound of his beating heart.

His voice was the smallest you had ever heard it before, “…I know I have a lot to apologize for so please….. I’ll answer any question you ask with honesty… I promise you.”

He nuzzled his nose into your hair, clearly tired of the silence. It was his way of gently nudging you to respond to him. You sigh as you give in to him, never one to deny your lover of anything.

Bury yourself further into him, you voice the thing that’s been plaguing you the very moment he revealed himself to all of you, “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me… or well, I do… it’s none of my business but it just.. it hurts”

He grips on to you tighter as he hears your voice waver. Before he can speak, you cut in, ever-so the understanding girlfriend he had. “No, don’t answer that.. I have no right to ask that of you. It’s your story not mines and it isn’t fair to ask… im just hurt is all” you whisper, eyes shining with tears he can’t see.

He softly says your name, the hand which had subconsciously started massaging your hair stops to try and pull you away from him so he could see your face. You put up a fight and that’s when he gets the crushing realization of your tears. You hear him let out a defeated sigh as he clutches you tighter to his body.

You break in his hold

Quiet sobs rack your body and you feel so pitiful. You hadn’t wanted him to worry, he had enough on his plate and you didn’t want to burden him by serving him more things to think about and so you tried to keep quiet, even in this moment you so desperately held your breath.

But nothing could escape the ears of a dragon

Apologies fall from his heart and make its home into yours. At this point he too was in tears as he lifted you onto his lap, still tightly clutching at your figure.

“Shhh, calm down baby. What can I do for you hm? Tell me and I’ll do it… cmon, you gotta calm down, breathe darling breathe” he coached you into it, steadying your breathing as he was truly worried at your panicking state.

He wraps his tail around you, the blue appendage naturally manifesting at his lover mates turmoil. It flicks to and fro at your side, an illumination at his own anxiety over the situation. As you gradually calm down and tire, so does his tail, which now comfortable rests around your hips, though his arms haven’t let up on their hold you either. He was a greedy dragon after all.

You’re tiredness gets the ahold of you and your body slumps further into his hold. You effectively melt into him as he continued to hold your shape, making sure all of you, your mind, body, and spirit, remain intact.

“I’m here baby.. For whatever you need I’m here,” he kisses into your forehead, “and if you don’t need anything but for me to hug you right now, we can do that too. We can just rest and talk about this whenever you feel up for it hm? Does that work for you baby?” He gently lifts your chin to look up at him and this time you don’t fight back.

Sweet blue eyes, prettier than all of the skies in the galaxy, meet your blurry gaze for the first time tonight. He coos at your red puffy eyes, rubbing at them clear your last remaining tears. “Hi pretty baby,” he smiles, “there you are”.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Vidyadhara?” You pout at him grumpily, “if you did, I wouldn’t have said all of that stuff and made you-“ the waterworks had already started to come out again and so dan heng shushes you as he wipes them all away.

“If it’s about when you told me you wanted a family, yo don’t have to worry about that okay? “, he grabs your face and squished your cheeks. Your pout further deepens

“I- I want a family too… when I reincarnate, I was immediately thrown into the sins of a person whom I had bit a single recollection of.. I had no one and it’s something I desperately want… I want a family. With you. No one else but you… you who found me lost and wandering. When I was drowning in the mistakes of another… don’t apologize for dreaming of having a family with me.. I was never anything but glad that you also wanted me in the way that I wanted you” Dan Heng confesses to you. He opened himself up to you, and while it wasn’t an overwhelming amount of information, the fact that he was opening up in general caused your heart to soar.

It was now your turn to wipe away the tears coming from your blue-eyed lovers cheek.

“I love you” you softly, and tearily, whispered to him

“I love you always” he whispered back to your lips

And so that’s how you slept the first night you learned the of his truth. Body’s and hearts entangled.

When you woke up the next morning, you remembered something important

“I didn’t realize you had a tail??”

#honkai x reader #honkai star rail #dan heng #x reader #dragons #Dan heng dragon #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae #softfortheloveofmylifedanheng

[rrxnjun]

i felt younger when we met | n. yuta

nakamoto yuta was your hero. as the lead singer of the rising punk band takes you along with him on his journey to stardom, you realize that you never knew heartbreak could taste so sweet.

PAIRING: nakamoto yuta x fem! reader STARRING: lead singer! yuta, guitarist! doyoung, bassist! johnny, drummer! mark GENRE: rockstar au, band au. angst, suggestive. WC: 17k (17.630) WARNINGS: age gap, mentions of alcohol, weed and hard drugs, yuta and his band actually played the warped tour (canon!) pls somebody tell me yall get the reference, cheating and breaking up

PLAYLIST: honey - l'arc en ciel ; i felt younger when we met - waterparks ; your power - billie eilish ; motion sickness - phoebe bridgers ; guys my age - hey violet ; praha/vídeň - calin ; drugs - cheridomingo

A/N: oh yall are gonna HAATE this one. thank you arden @zhongriot for brainstorming with me about this it was greatly appreciated <3 growing up is realizing doyoung was actually the only decent one and that jaechan was right. also the original title of this wip was honey so sweet bc of the honey cover just so yall know lol

I. honey, so sweet

The last few tones of a G chord resonate through the garage, the platinum blond’s raspy voice fading out into silence as you watch the band in front of you with stars in your eyes, breathless and with your ears ringing only slightly due to the noise that’s been happening for quite some time now. Feeling yourself clap and squeal at the little show you just finished watching, you’re brought up to your feet as you jump around enthusiastically, the sound of the thick sole of your boot against the ground waking you up only slightly from the weird state of euphoria you’ve been in until now. 

You’ve known Yuta for quite some time now, but this was the first time he let you watch his band practice. Everything you’ve known about the music he plays was through the headphones sneakily passed to you when you had a night shift at the diner, or from the voice memos he’d send you very early on in the morning when you were supposed to be asleep, and everything you’ve known about his band members was through his words shared in the comfort of his car seats or the benches in the park. You’ve seen Mark once before, when he had late dinner with Yuta while you were working at the diner downtown, but your interaction didn’t go further than a polite greeting and a boyish grin sent your way from the charming drummer. 

It’s only natural that everything about the late night feels ecstatic to you now. The tones of electric guitars and the rhythm of the drums making your heart beat faster than before, Yuta’s sharp, yet hearty vocals calling to you like sirens in the middle of the ocean. Tonight’s one of the few nights you don’t have night shift at the diner– since you usually take all Friday night ones; you get paid more for them and with your schedule at school, you can’t afford to work more night shifts throughout the week– and Yuta took that as an opportunity to invite you over to his garage to listen to his band play. The lead singer made eye contact with you throughout each song, and you felt yourself flush at the thought that the words coming out of his mouth might have been addressed to you, written about you, adrenaline soaring freely through your veins. 

“That was amazing! Wow, like,” you throw your hands up, at a loss for words, “I literally couldn’t believe my ears.”

“You expected less of me, babe?” Yuta grins at you from his place at the microphone stand, taking a step back from the device to put away the guitar hanging around his neck. You watch his movements intensively, eyes scanning the outline of his biceps and the loose hems of his jet black shirt, the platinum white hair falling into his eyes. “I thought you already knew what we were made of when I let you listen to our songs back then.”

“Well,” you sheepishly hum, “it’s different to hear it live.”

The singer snickers, shrugging to himself. “Told you to prepare yourself.”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” you compliment the man, eyes watching the rest of the band as they put their respective instruments away. And again, you don’t know these men that well– you’re not as familiar with them as you are with their frontman, since you haven’t spent much time around them just yet– but there’s something joyful in the bassist, Johnny’s smile when he meets your eye before he puts away his guitar into its dark blue case. 

Their band– Neo zone– consists of four members. Yuta, your friend, plays the guitar and sings. He’s the frontman of the group and also the person that founded the band; at least that’s what he told you. He met Johnny at college– both of them majoring in Finance before they decided to drop out in their sophomore year– and soon after, he recruited his friend to be the bassist for his band. The two of them met Doyoung, their lead guitarist, at a concert of an underground band some years ago through a mutual friend Taeyong, and they all hit it off so well that when the thought of a band first came to light, Yuta wasted no time in chatting up the charming male for the position. And lastly, their drummer Mark– he was the youngest of them all, the most quiet one, and from what Yuta told you, he met the man through his younger brother. The two of them were friends at college, so Mark spent a lot of time over at Yuta’s house, and he knew that the male could play the drums– so after a casual conversation over a beer one evening, here they were.

“I’m heading home,” says the drummer, waving at the rest of the group, “I have a thing I’m supposed to attend with Jaehyun today.”

“Aight,” Yuta hums, nodding, “good job today, Markie. See you next week!”

The male disappears out of the rusty garage in no time, and with him follows the tall one– Johnny– saying he has a morning shift at the store he works at tomorrow, excusing himself out of the after-practice hangout. That leaves only you, Yuta and Doyoung in the room, and while you’d like to get to know his friends and bandmates better, you’d be more satisfied if either all of them stayed behind, or if the only one who stayed was anyone but the lead guitarist.

See, you don’t know Kim Doyoung that well. All you know about him is that he’s a year younger than Yuta and that he’s painfully good at what he does. You also know that he has a sharp jawline and even sharper eyes, which he gladly lands on you whenever he hears you talk, and that motion makes you self-conscious and insecure on most instances. He also has a sharp tongue, which you learned not that long after being first introduced to him this afternoon, and while you don’t know what you did to get on the man’s nerves so much, you figured it’s for the best to interact with him as least as humanly possible if you wanted to spare your feelings and not get yourself hurt.

“Today was good, but try getting over the last song on your own again,” Doyoung offers to his friend, watching him with cold eyes. Yuta makes his way around the room and takes a seat next to you on the dusty, maroon sofa, his legs spreading wide making your eyes drift towards his lean figure. You watch the exchange silently, picking at the skin of your cuticles anxiously, hoping for it to be over quickly.

“The Departure?” Yuta assures himself.

Doyoung nods as he hides his guitar into his case as well, handling the instrument with utmost care. “You went a little off-beat in the last part.”

“Got it, chief,” Yuta jokes, saluting the man, a lazy grin overtaking his features. “Wanna grab a beer and stay over for a bit?” he asks, the question making your insides heaten up with anticipation, stinging a bit of an anxious fear.

It’s almost as if the guitarist feels that you’re afraid of his presence– it’s not like he scares you, to be exact, you’re just slightly intimidated by the serpent-like male– as he meets your eye before he turns towards the frontman. “Nah,” he shrugs, “I’m good. Maybe next time,” he adds, taking the guitar case off the ground and heading towards the door.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

“Try not to fuck the kid on the couch, right? We sit there sometimes,” Doyoung snickers before he’s off, his raven bangs bouncing up and down when he skips out of the old-smelling garage. The remark stings you a bit, the harsh words, although you hate to admit it, feel like salt thrown into a fresh wound, having you chew on the inside of your cheek as you listen to the door close behind the male, leaving you alone with Yuta.

The male next to you clears his throat, easing the tension in your muscles when you look up at him and see him smiling softly at you, a twinkle in his eye. “What?” he asks you, sensing that you’re feeling a little down.

“It’s- it’s nothing,” you nod to yourself, not really wanting to be as vulnerable in front of your friend. You treasure Yuta more than anyone else, since you always somehow feel like your souls are connected on a level you haven’t felt with no one your whole life, but sometimes, you feel a bit shameful to admit to your worries in front of him. To the male, the world is his sea, his place that he swims through with passion and enthusiasm. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to worry about what your friends would think of him, no matter how bad it could be. He doesn’t seem like the type of person that would understand you if you worded your anxious feelings out loud, the type of person who’d reassure you without making you feel foolish. 

Still, somehow, he sees right through you. “Don’t worry about Doyoung. He’s got a stick up his butt on most days, it’s nothing to have with you,” he says, offering you the gentlest of smiles, poking your cheek a little when he sees you pout.

You heave out a sigh, but offer the man a loop-sided smile– the kind you fake, but hope the receiving side is satisfied– watching him as he scoots closer to you and puts an arm around your shoulder. The scent of his cologne hits your nose and you feel yourself easing into him, the gesture somehow protective and affectionate in your eyes, but the proximity still makes your heart thump fast against your ribcage. Taking a shaky breath through your nose, you find yourself staring intensely at his face.

“So you’re saying you enjoyed hearing us play?” he asks you, tone of voice kitten-like, yearning for praise. He sounds coy, confident, but still searches for hearing you say it out loud. Sometimes you think he enjoys listening to you talk about him. It makes him feel good when you flutter your eyelashes at the male in the middle of the diner and tell him you love the way he sings, it makes his ego grow when you gasp at all the right parts and compliment the lyrics in the chorus. And you don’t think it’s a bad thing– you think you’d do the same if you were in his shoes.

Hushed voice, you nod eagerly, grinning. “Yeah,” you agree. “I also enjoyed seeing you play,” you muse, watching as the satisfied look on Yuta’s face grows and his excited eyes gleam with more intensity. 

“Did you?” he teases, head ducking closer to you, the proximity making your breathing catch in your throat. You bet he knows about the effect he has on you by now– you bet he realizes that each time he talks to you with that tone, the flirty hint of it in his voice, you feel weak in your knees, ready to fold for him. You bet he is aware of the fact that you watch him all the time, eyes glued to his confident figure, amazed at the way he moves around the garage with his guitar, tinted with a hint of jealousy when the girls that go eat at the diner at the same time he visits you on your night shifts ogle him and he sends some a shameless wink. You’re almost sure he knows about the dreams you have of him at night, about the fact that you fantasize about him writing songs for you and singing them on stage, letting the world know that your feelings might be reciprocated. 

The idea makes you cave in on yourself. “Yeah,” you breathe out, feeling heat rising to the tips of your ears. 

“That’s good,” he hums, “wanna hear a little secret?” he asks, eyeing you with a glimmer in his eye. You hum in response, eager to be let in on the confidential information. “I wrote the last song about you,” he whispers. “Maybe I’ll release it one day.”

The sentence startles you, the comment makes all sorts of warm gold sprawl around your stomach, the tips of your ears burning and the nerve endings on your fingers tingling from excitement. “Really?” you gasp. You never imagined having a song written about you. You never imagined someone caring enough– never imagined having someone sing to you, about you. Sure, you fantasized about it happening, almost a little foolishly and childishly, but you never once dared to think of the fantasy as true.

Yuta laughs at your composure. You bet you look small in his eyes. “What? Are you shy about it, pretty girl?” 

“No,” you peep, averting your gaze from him and aimlessly searching through your surroundings, watching the unmoving garage. Your eyes glue to the white wall in front of you, ignoring the fact that Yuta’s face is only an inch away from yours, your hands now clammy as you rest them in your lap.

“It seems that you are,” he grins, “you don’t have to be, though,” he notes, a finger hooking around the bottom of your chin, a gentle hold making you turn your face towards him, eyes locking in a dangerous blink. 

Gaping, not breaking eye contact– too afraid to break the spark– you wait for what’s about to come, welcoming it with open arms. The air around you gets thicker and the silence becomes overbearing, you find yourself counting each white strand that falls into his eyes, when the male leans in to you, the sudden shift making your eyes flutter close on themselves.

It happens, the moment you’ve been dreaming about; the moment you’ve wanted to experience ever since you first met the male, all real and only yours to live over and over in your memories– Yuta kisses you, gently at first, lips playing with yours in a way that makes the soft sense of nervousness flutter like butterfly wings in your stomach. Your shy hands grip the front of his shirt when he deepens the kiss, makes it more firm and urgent, teeth clashing against each other in the messy cacophony of your souls, a sound of a heavy breath flying into your ear as the male grips your jaw and angles your face the way he wants it to, testing the waters with a bit of tongue.

You invite him in, parting your lips and letting him explore, letting him win the battle for dominance– not that you even wanted to be the one in charge in the first place– and although you feel a little overwhelmed, a bit too lost in the moment, you find yourself moving from your place and straddling his lap, the hands that were once cradling your face falling off and gripping your hips, keeping you right where you are. 

When you feel your lungs being knocked out of all oxygen, you pull away from the male, eyes locking with his swollen lips, and you feel a bit satisfied with yourself– having him like this, eyes blown-out and staring at you like you were the only thing in the whole entire universe that mattered right in this moment. There’s something about the wrinkles on his shirt from how you’ve been gripping on it, about his flushed cheeks, that makes you feel proud of yourself. You did this to him, you smile, you are the reason why he looks like this.

Pressing your forehead against his, eyes still staring into his deep, dark orbs, the singer breaks out into a boyish grin, shaking his head in disbelief, wanting to bring himself back to the present moment. “So I’ll take it as my pretty girl will come watch me play more often, right?” he hums.

A fluttery feeling erupts in your chest, warmth spreading all the way to the tips of your fingertips. “Your pretty girl?” you ask.

Yuta nods, snickering to himself. “My pretty girl,” he mumbles, and before you get a chance for a rebuttal, he pulls away an inch, cradling his neck up to press a peck to the middle of your forehead. 

The adrenaline, the smell of his cologne, the excitement seeping right through you and to the space all around– you never knew Yuta would taste this good. You never knew he could taste this sweet.

II. the rush of adrenaline, I'm not scared to jump in

The smell of burned oil and grease fills your nose as you make your way through the kitchen, figure skipping through the whole diner in irregular intervals during yet another one of your Friday night shifts. Taking the plate filled with chicken nuggets, potatoes and ranch dressing, you offer a quick smile to your coworker Jaechan as you walk out of the back, ready to serve the food to one of your regulars. 

As you finally get out of the heated and humid place, back to the main dining area that has air conditioning on, your eyes catch with a certain someone waiting for you at the pult, a grin settling onto his features when you light up at noticing his presence.

“I’ll be right with you,” you say to him as you pass his body and walk over to one of the tables in the corner of the room, smiling at your customer when you give him the plate. Your steps are lighter and more enthusiastic when you get back to Yuta sitting at one of the tall stools, his face still adorned with a soft smile. The male watches you as you work, and you feel warmth envelope your insides. 

“Weren’t you supposed to have practice tonight?” you ask him, settling behind the pult. There aren’t many people in the diner right now, and the work during the night is slow– you kind of despise the fact that you’re open 24/7, but that’s what you get for working at a diner– so there’s no issue in you chatting away with your friends that come visit when you have the time. You always make sure to do your job well and put the customers first, so your boss never really complained. 

“It’s over already,” he says, “we got over the songs quite quickly,” he notes, seeing you nod and smile at his response.

“That’s good,” you say, “I’m glad. Do you want something? Fries? Coke? On the house, obviously,” you grin, making the man eagerly nod to your question, eyes lit up in joy.

“Just a glass of coke is fine,” he says. 

You turn away from him for a mere second, taking one of the clean glasses to your hand and then walking a few steps to the right where the coolers are, taking out a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. Offering the drink back to your boyfriend, you watch him as he pours the black liquid into the tall glass, the two of you enveloped in a comfortable silence. The diner doesn’t play music after 10 PM, and somehow, you’re glad. It gets kind of annoying to listen to the same few songs on loop the whole night– because the speaker system is old and doesn’t have an AUX input, you have to listen to the same 3 CDs over and over again the whole year– and so whenever Yuta comes to visit you during your night shifts, the silence only adds to your sense of intimacy and comfort with the man.

“Was Doyoung less snappy today?” you ask, watching the male grin and shake his head at your question.

“A bit,” he admits, “not too much, though. Don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but he’s been a real bitch.”

You hum at his response, eyes tracing his features. “Maybe he’s stressed about something,” you propose, and you don’t really put much meaning into your own words– you don’t know the man enough to know how he reacts under pressure, nor do you really care– but the man in front of you only squints his eyes in thought, shrugging.

“Could be it,” he agrees, “I mean, there’s a lot happening with the band right now, so it would be only natural,” he says, making you furrow your brows at him in question. You weren’t aware of anything big happening– maybe the news were recent, you didn’t know, but judging by the fact that you’re pretty updated on things concerning the band, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, folding your hands at your chest and leaning on the counter, your face now closer to Yuta’s– god, you’ll never get used to just how beautiful this man is in your poor eyes.

The singer grins to himself, acting innocent. “Just… some stuff,” he says.

“What is it?” you ask again, this time with a coat of persistence in your voice. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you’re getting kind of worried– Yuta doesn’t usually hide things from you. Hell, you’d even go as far as saying that you are the first person he comes to when something happens, no matter if it’s good or bad, and with the suspicious way he’s acting right now, your mind can’t help but wander.

“Nothing,” he peeps, taking a sip out of his glass, making you sigh and roll your eyes at the male. You point your finger to the middle of his forehead, poking him– his head lulls backwards a little, making you heave out a soft giggle– before you squint at him in annoyance.

“Come on,” you huff, “you’re not gonna tell me?” you pout, mastering your best attempt at puppy eyes– something inside of you tells you that no matter how stubborn Yuta is, he’s kind of weak for you when you look at him like that– and the man only snickers at you as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I will,” he admits, smiling at you. The gesture has you soften a bit, your muscles losing their previous tension, because come on– if he’s smiling at you like that, there’s no way the news could be bad– but before you get a chance to pry him about it, the ring above the door makes a sound and your eyes trace the figures of two girls, both a bit older than you, smiling at someone in particular.

And that someone isn’t you– of course, why would anyone smile at their server, am I right? – that someone is Nakamoto Yuta, the man sitting in front of you, and you’re already familiar enough with the two girls to know what’s about to happen next. 

See, you are aware that Yuta is attractive. Hell, you blushed under his gaze when you met him in this diner for the very first time, his hair back then raven black, falling into his eyes. You’re painfully aware of the fact that you’re not the only one who finds him beautiful, but there’s something about the very obvious gazes and giggles the girls who frequent the diner send to him that has your stomach turn, making you see red and feel very obvious green, and no matter what you do or try to tell to yourself, you can’t battle the feeling out of your veins.

The scenario is one you’ve seen before– the girls giggle out as they arrive, sharing a knowing look, before they pass the pult you two are standing behind, sending very obvious looks to Yuta as they reach for the table in the corner. They greet him with their soft, honey voices, they say “Hi Yuta!”, because he’s known around the town– everybody knows the name of the rising band’s lead singer, everybody wants to take a glimpse of him, shoot him a flirtatious smile, because once he makes it big, you can tell yourself you knew him, he knew you, he looked at you and said hi back. Yuta looks at them and grins, sends them a wink, greets them with his raspy voice that says “Hi ladies,”, and it makes your stomach growl, it makes your gaze harden, but most importantly, you feel acid on your tongue when the man in front of you sends them his usual wink.

Clearing your throat as all goes exactly how you remember and expect it to go, you watch as Yuta looks back at you with an innocent smile, not really minding that he told you you were his pretty girl just last week, not really caring that now, his actions have very different consequences. Back when you were uselessly pining over him, you knew your jealousy was foolish– you didn’t really have a reason to feel possessive over the man, because he was very clearly single. Now, things have changed, though, and you kind of expected his behavior to alter around the girls– the girls that are a few years older than you, a few inches taller than you, a bit more mature and a bit more pretty.

“Something’s wrong?” he asks you, face coy and feline-like. You glare at him, knowing he’s aware of what you’re implying, but still, he does nothing to apologize as he only giggles at you and leans in, pecking your lips. 

“Everything’s peachy,” you mumble, shaking your head as you take the menus from the counter, ready to serve the customers. 

As you’re about to exit the pult and pass your boyfriend, he grabs your wrist and spins you so you face him, making you watch as he downs the last remains of the Coke in his drink, offering you another smile. “I’m gonna get something at the gas station real quick,” he muses, “I’ll wait for you in my car after you get off?” 

Sighing, still acting a bit annoyed at his behavior– but knowing, sensing that you already forgave him the moment he spared you a single glance– you nod. The male pulls you closer to him, sending another kiss, this time firmer, to your lips, and if he wasn’t in control of the situation, you know you’d get too lost in the moment, too distracted to do your job– but before you know it, he leans away and stands up from the tall chair, pats your bottom and walks over to the front door.

Watching as he disappears behind the glass, laughing to yourself when he waves at you and blows you a kiss, you shake your head as you walk over to the table with the two girls sitting at it, their mood not as bright as it was before, and with a victorious smirk, you realize, with a hint of joy in your heart, that they’ve been watching the exchange.

The singer waits for you in the parking lot, his figure leaning on the 2007 Volkswagen golf he sometimes drives you home in, and although it’s already 4:45 AM (your shift ends at 4:30, but you have to count up the register and change before you go), you find yourself walking over to him with a pep in your step. The platinum white falls into his eyes as he grins at you, reaching his arms out once you’re close enough, pulling you into a hug. 

You and Yuta never really hugged much. You can’t say you dislike the change. 

“How was the rest of the shift?” he mumbles into your hair, holding you close to his chest. His arms feel almost possessive, making you feel secure, and something about the whiff you get of his cologne makes your head spin a little when he lets go, watching you as you walk over to the passenger’s side and get into his car.

“It was okay,” you admit, shrugging, “not busy.”

“That’s good to hear,” he nods, getting in as well and fastening his seatbelt, putting the car into reverse and slowly driving out of the parking lot. The radio is turned off at this hour– a thing that rarely happens in Yuta’s car, because he always has to have music playing in the background of his life– and the silence envelopes you in an intimate, comforting atmosphere.

Hence, why you ask the crucial question that’s been bugging you the whole night. “What did you want to talk about earlier?” you mumble, the tone of your voice light and coated with tiredness. You’ve been up the whole day, since you have classes in the mornings, but now that you know there’s something Yuta’s been keeping away from you, you know you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if you tried, overthinking making your mind too busy to lull you into the dreamland.

“Are you up for a drive? I’ll tell you and then drop you off at dorms,” he asks, eyes locking with yours for a split second before he focuses back on the road.

Humming, you agree with his idea. You give him some time while he takes the turn that goes out of the city and towards the ring road, tracing his actions with your hazy, half-asleep eyes. The car takes a steady speed, one that’s neither alarming nor too slow, and Yuta’s palm easily takes a hold of your thigh, the steering wheel now being operated with only one of his arms. The affectionate action makes you feel heat in the tips of your ears and on the highest parts of your cheekbones, gaze shifting away from the male next to you towards the empty road. Everything about the things you’ve been dreaming about– the subtle touches, the glances, the pet names– makes you shy away from the man. It’s not that you don’t enjoy it, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t, but still– the novelty of it all still surprises you, keeps you on your feet.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit before proceeding, “you know how I told you we now practice more often than we used to?” he asks, eyes peering at you with expectation, waiting for you to answer. You offer him a tired hum, too sleepy to really master up anything else, and when it reaches his ears, he takes it as his lead to continue.

“Well, it was for a reason… at our last gig, there were some scouting people, or whatever you call it… and I didn’t tell you before, because it wasn’t certain and I also don’t really know how these things go– y’know, that’s Doyoung’s thing, sorta– and I also didn’t wanna sound silly if things didn’t work out,” he explains, deep voice resonating through the low hum of the engine, keeping you awake, “but things did work out and we got signed to a label.”

Yuta gives you a minute to process the information. He doesn’t say anything for a bit, only waiting for you to reply back to him– to react, in any way, really– and when he doesn’t get any words out of you, he looks at you with a look so fragilely expecting that you almost want to coo at the male and hold him in your arms, tell him you’re just as excited as he is, because it’s the truth, and you are; you just can’t really find the right words to express so right now. 

“Wow,” you heave out, half-lidded, something warm and proud bundling up in the depths of your chest, “that’s- that’s awesome,” you mumble, watching as the male next to you visibly relaxes at your response.

“Yeah,” he nods, suddenly more energetic than before, and you chuckle at the realization of just how important your opinion was for him– even though it shouldn’t be, really. It’s always been his dream, and what you think of the matter shouldn’t be any of his concern. “So they heard us play and listened to our songs and stuff, and they said we can record an album somewhere towards the end of the year, but they said we gotta promote ourselves a bit first, so…” he freezes a little, chewing on the bottom of his lip.

Suddenly, he seems nervous again. It’s a strange sight– you don’t often see Nakamoto Yuta so worried about the opinion of other people. You don’t often have the privilege to see the singer so open and so vulnerable, so easy to break. It only happens with stuff important to him, you think– the band is always his priority, and you’re more than happy that he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves and strives for. Hand slowly reaching for the one that’s resting on your thigh, you interlock your fingers with him and squeeze his palm in a reassuring manner, as if to tell him that he doesn’t have to be afraid, that you’re his biggest supporter, that you’re always here for all the news– good or bad.

“So…?” you prob him.

“So,” he clears his throat, smiling at you when he gets reassured, “we’re going to tour this one festival. It’s only for a couple of weeks, and it’s around the country, so we don’t have to fly out and all, but… I’ll be out of the city for a while, is what I’m saying.”

The confession makes your stomach churn in fear. Suddenly, you’re painfully aware of Yuta’s worry about talking to you about the topic. Somehow, you understand him completely. Ever since you met Yuta, you haven’t gone more than three days without seeing each other. You two are like puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, always searching for the other pair when it’s not in its place by your side. Your relationship is very fresh, very new, and although you know your bond is stronger than the distance, you can’t help but feel a bit of worry in the tips of your fingertips, in the pit of your stomach. And also, there’s this silly feeling– small, but yet so overbearing– that comes with the image of not being close to Yuta for weeks, of not being able to see him every day and find the light in his eyes to get you through the week. There’s this silly feeling of missing him, of yearning for him to be there with you every minute and every second of the day, and hell, sometimes you miss him even when he’s away for a day, and you don’t know what you’ll do if it’s gonna be weeks, a big, nasty thought that’s both unreal and too realistic prickling your brain– how will you even survive when he’s not by your side? Without Yuta, you’re nothing. No one.

Still, you’re not about to ruin this for him. You’re not about to act sad, or act disappointed, because you’re not, at the end of the day. At the end of it all, you’re aware that this has always been his dream. You are happy for him– you’re ecstatic. And that’s exactly how you’re gonna react.

“That’s awesome, Yuta,” you muse, and you’re glad the tone of your voice stays genuine, “that’s big news. I’m so happy for you,” you say, seeing as the male next to you breaks out into a boyish grin, excitement spreading into every inch of his body, fingers tugging at yours to bring your interlocked hands into his lap. 

“It’s gonna be over soon and then I’m right back by your side,” he hums, and you shake your head at him.

“I’ll wait however long it takes,” you disagree with his statement, “don’t you worry. I’m gonna cheer for you every night.”

The road in front of you signals a turn back into the city, Yuta’s car naturally and smoothly driving back towards the center of life. You subtly hear your partner talk excitedly about all his dreams and all the visions he has of the festival tour– how he’s going to have the time of his life, how the boys will make it big, how he can’t wait to show everyone what they’re made of– and although you’re happy and content, the buzzing excitement of his voice does nothing to keep you awake in the late hour. You feel a peck pressed to the back of your hand, your sleep-filled eyes meeting with his, when he shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“We’re almost at yours now,” he hums, “I’ll wake you up in front of the building.”

Smiling, you nod. Somehow, you drift off with thoughts of full crowds cheering for Yuta, with thoughts wishing for him to make it just as big as he’s always dreamt of. You battle your own worries away, telling them you’re silly for thinking that things will change between the two of you when he’s away, writing them off to be your own unreasonable anxieties. 

Things won’t change, you repeat to yourself, and if so, only for the better.

III. a little bit of California with a little bit of London sky

Life has stilled into a pleasant, comfortable routine for the two of you. You admired just how easily Yuta fit into your daily schedule, just how easily he managed to get used to the cycle of your days, and the knowledge makes you that much sadder to let him go. You go to class from Monday to Friday, snatching mostly the morning ones this semester, which is a thing you’ve grown to be appreciative of, since it means you have time off in the afternoon for your shifts and hanging out with Yuta. On Friday evenings, you take the night shift and have your boyfriend drive you back to dorms when you’re off, and on Sundays, you and Yuta go out to eat in your favorite sushi restaurant downtown as he talks to you about the events of the whole week. He talks your ear off with his excitement, sometimes not even giving you a chance to speak yourself– which he apologizes for on most days, and you’re not mad at him, because truly, you understand– telling you about how practice is going and how their new manager, a thing they haven’t had before, is keeping everything in check for when the festival tour happens. 

You went to listen to them practice one more time. You don’t really dare to go close to the garage anymore, since Doyoung has not grown warmer to your presence, but you still enjoyed yourself as you realized that their mutual passion only made them perform better. 

And with days going by slowly like this, you almost don’t notice when it’s time for Yuta to leave, and suddenly, you’re standing in the crowd of the first show of their first festival tour– the thing that’s supposedly going to make their career take off– as they play songs you know like the back of your hand by now for thousands of people around you in your hometown. Something about the first stop of the tour being your hometown made you feel a bit unsettled– isn’t it always the other way around? Aren’t you supposed to reunite with your lover while he plays his last show back home? But then you realize that it’s a festival, and not their own tour– they aren’t as big to have one themselves yet– and you’re understanding of the logistics. They can’t all play the last show in their hometown.

You brought your roommate Aeri along with you to the show, both of your outfits matching in shades of black and red as you make your way towards the front row, making sure you have good enough of a view to see your boyfriend on the stage. There’s a nervous pep in your step when you wait for the band to arrive, the knowledge that your roommate has never seen Yuta before; you wonder if this is how he felt when he was introducing you to his bandmates all those weeks before, and if so, why he didn’t tell you about it.

Murmurs of the people in the crowd fill your ears, and you watch them with a horrifying realization that you don’t seem like you belong here– so out of the general aesthetic of the crowd, making you feel not cool enough, not punk enough, not good enough to be by the side of someone like Yuta– but before you get a chance to really vocalize your thoughts, there’s a sound of a drum coming from the front of the stage that makes you turn your head forward, watching as Mark grins at the crowd with something you’d call a nervous, yet excited smile, starting off their gig with an up-beat song.

“They’re kinda good!” you hear Aeri scream into your ear, and something about the compliment makes you relax. This is a good thing, you think– she doesn’t hate it, which means she probably won’t hate the members of the band themselves either. 

Once Yuta walks on the stage with his guitar slung over his neck, playing the chords you’d be able to name by memory– having your boyfriend repeat them to himself for a few good minutes once when you came over to his house and he was practicing the song by himself– and even though you wouldn’t be able to play it, you’re sure you’d recognize this song even if you were woken up in the middle of the night, slightly sleepy and still out of it. The crowd cheers, and you find yourself smiling in a sense of euphoria. 

Jumping around with the rest of the population, you get lost in the music. Their set plays out for a good hour and a half, combining cover songs and their own originals, the sun setting with the sound of their eclectic guitars. There’s always something about concerts that makes you lost in time, not really register the way it flows by and leaves you unknowing in the spiral. You didn’t even realize it– you don’t think you even fully registered the experience of seeing Yuta play live on a stage for the first time– and it’s over and you’re catching your breath, feeling your ears ring from the noise that’s been there for the last hour or so and now isn’t, everything around you muffled and a little bit hazy.

“Let’s go, we gotta catch them in the back,” you hurriedly mumble into Aeri’s ear, the girl following you with excited steps as you drag her around the crowded space. Yuta told you he is leaving as soon as the festival ends so their van can drive over to the next city as soon as possible, and since they were the second to last to go on, you feel a threatening bubble growing in your chest.

There’s a group of girls waving at the band leaving off stage, and you pray that you can somehow catch Yuta before he has to walk over to their van.

You catch a glimpse of the platinum white bangs when you jump around and try to see them, and as your eyes meet, the singer breaks out into a smile before he turns towards the rest of the band, waving at them and telling them that they can go and that he’ll find his way back in a bit. The gesture warms your heart, a sense of relief settling onto your shoulders. 

“You were amazing!” you holler as you get towards the metal gate that keeps the artists away from the crowd, your body getting into contact with the cold material as you throw your hands around your boyfriend’s neck, grasping him harder than ever before. His arms reach around your waist, squeezing out all of the air in your lungs, as a laugh bubbles out of his chest and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“I was singing the songs for you, babygirl,” he hums into your ear, heat rising to your cheeks at the sentiment. When you pull away visibly flustered, Yuta laughs at your face, making you swat his arm in an act of playfulness. “You must be Aeri!” the man notices your roommate tagging along, smiling at her with his welcoming, warm smile. 

The girl nods at him, greeting him almost a little too politely. “Yeah! I heard a lot about you, so I’m glad Y/N wasn’t lying, y’know,” she giggles, and you roll your eyes.

“See, I would never lie to you,” you snicker, and as you put your arm on the metal gate to steady yourself, you feel warmth cover it as Yuta’s own palm envelopes it in a sweet gesture that still surprises you whenever it so effortlessly happens, but also puts you at ease all in one minute. 

“I liked the drummer,” Aeri muses, making Yuta laugh at her.

“I’ll let him know,” he salutes, and with that, he turns back to you with wide eyes, a thousand glimmering stars behind them making you admire just how beautiful and full of life the man in front of you suddenly looks. It tugs at your heartstrings– it’s only the first show and it’s already gone so well, he was born for this, you think, and even though it’s difficult, you suddenly feel like letting him go will be so much easier after the sight, because you’ll be doing it with the knowledge that it’s the best possible thing for him, something you would never be able to give to him if he was stuck with you back home.

“It went exactly how we wanted it to go, it was- it was so great,” he sighs, the crowd behind you suddenly disappearing and grouping around the front of the stage again, signaling that the next band is about to play and finish off tonight’s stop, “thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, you know,” you shrug, gazing into his eyes. There’s a lot of noise around you– the sound of the people talking and cheering behind your back, the beat of the drums, the shuffling of feet– yet, you feel like in this moment, everything else tuned out, everything around you disappeared for a second and left only you and Yuta in the big place, eyes and hearts for each other.

“I’m gonna–”

“Don’t say it,” you hush him, chewing on the inside of your cheek in nerves. You don’t want to hear it– you don’t want to hear him say it, because then, it would make it feel more real, more raw. You wanted to name the sensation when it comes to you, not have it in your brain before you even get a chance to get it, but Yuta shakes his head at you and sighs.

“I have to say it.”

“No, you don’t,” you giggle, amidst a little sadly.

“I do,” he nods, “because it’s true. And you deserve to hear it face to face, not over the phone,” he says, and you heave out a sigh at his words.

“Fine,” you grant him permission. Get it over with.

He shakes his head at you in disbelief, his hair bouncing in the motion. It makes you want to reach over and brush back the damp locks, put the wet strands into their place, but you don’t– and why you stop yourself is a question you don’t get to ask. “I’m gonna miss you,” he completes, and you nod.

Tears prickle at the edges of your eyes, and you promised yourself you’re not going to cry when Yuta goes– something about it feeling childish, too overly dramatic for a fact that he’s gonna be away only for a couple of weeks– and that’s exactly why you didn’t want him to say it, why you didn’t want to hear the words before he’s miles away and talking to you through the phone, because crying seems foolish in this moment. It seems stupid, dumb, dramatic, because tonight’s a good night– one that should be celebrated– and you feel like you’re ruining it.

“I’m gonna miss you more,” you muse, choking through the tears, battling away the heat in the corners of your eyes and begging that no tears actually fall down your cheeks– you could handle tearing up, but crying was a bit too much– but when the man softly scoffs at your state and brings you towards his chest, you feel them escape and fall freely, wetting his sweaty shirt more as you hold him closer, trying to hide into his body.

Who knows? Maybe if you hug him hard enough, you’ll be able to fit into his skin so he could bring you with him. Maybe you won’t have to be apart. 

“Don’t cry, you dummy,” he sighs as you push yourself away from him, trying to laugh through the pain that’s hitting you in your gut right now, praying hard you can ease the situation, “I’ll be back in no time,” he says, wiping at your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs– one of the only fingers that aren’t calloused with the force he plays on the guitar– the action so tender you swallow in on yourself.

His voice is as soft as it can get over the loud music, and you nod at him, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth so you can stop it from trembling. “Come here,” he hums, tugging you into him once more, but before you get a chance to hide your face into his chest, the male leans towards you and kisses you on your lips, a firm, sweet contact with the chapped surface.

When you pull away, he goes in for another, a starved man wanting more, and you try to remember the imprint of his lips on yours so you don’t miss it on lonely nights, so you can remind yourself of it whenever he’s away. 

There’s an arm on his shoulder when you pull away from him, a tall figure tugging him backwards, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you recognise Doyoung telling your boyfriend that it’s time to go, we gotta get on the road soon, and you’re left aimless and lost in the crowd, the hollowing feeling in your stomach only deepening once Yuta nods at his bandmate and turns to you again, smiling.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, hating the fact that you can barely see him over the tears, but not really caring enough to try to stop them now. 

“I will,” he reassures you, hand coming up to your hair to pet it, a soft laugh escaping his throat. “I gotta go now, baby.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay,” he repeats, taking a few steps back from you. You watch him, his figure skipping away from you, when he turns and hollers over the loud set. “Love you!”

You don’t get a chance to react before he disappears out of your sight. You don't even get a chance to say it back after hearing it from him for the first time, and something about the fact brings countless worries to your chest. Still, you chant to yourself– nothing’s gonna change. And if so, only for the better.

IV. no matter where you go, somebody follows

Navigating through the foreign city with the hood pulled over your head, the plastic bag full of take-out hanging loosely from your hold, you squint at the buildings around you and sigh in relief with the recognition of your surroundings– you didn’t get lost, despite your biggest concerns, and you’re at the parking lot behind the venue, multiple buses parked right in front of you. Jogging through the space, your sneakers hitting the pavement in a sound you find satisfactory and calming to your nerves, you reach one of the older buses parked in the corner of the parking lot, the windows dark and the vehicle painted in a chipping, rusty white color. Still, it’s a tour bus– an upgrade from what Yuta and his band departed in from your hometown just three weeks ago– and you feel a sense of pride swell inside of your chest at the sight. 

Yuta’s band has been growing successfully and steadily– just like his new manager thought would happen. Their songs are catchy, their fanbase is growing in amount, their exposure is getting bigger on social media and some of their songs even play on the radio. Sure, you wouldn’t call them radio hits– it’s not like your parents or your professors would recognize the band or know the lyrics if you showed them the tune– but it’s still something, and even that something feels tremendously big in your eyes.

The decision of skipping school for a few days and coming up to visit Yuta on his tour was spontaneous. It came to you after you missed him particularly much one night, going to sleep without his call– he apologized a day later, telling you he’d been too busy to talk– and after you counted up the money you saved up from working at the diner, you realized you can afford going on a little getaway to meet up with your lover. Yuta was delighted to hear about your plan and even got you a free ticket to the festival, and after watching him and his band play, you decided to get McDonald’s as a form of a late night snack. 

You expected your boyfriend to follow you, but he didn’t. It was okay, though– he was probably tired. Traveling both gives and takes a lot from you, and while Yuta was given a thousand opportunities over the past few days, his energy has been slowly receding. You understand– as his girlfriend, it’s your job to.

Knocking on the door of the bus– and hearing the ruckus coming from the inside, making you gaze at the darkened windows in suspicion– you get inside after the driver opens the door for you and nods at you in acknowledgement. The tour bus is kind of old, again– Yuta isn’t at a point in his career yet where he could afford the latest gadgets– but although the lights aren’t neon and the space isn’t big and modern, it still serves its purpose. It has a functioning bathroom in the front, with a surprisingly working lock on the door, and it also has a kitchen area that’s big enough to host a couple of people behind the efficiently placed table. The bus has a corridor with bunk beds on the sides and a small bedroom in the very back of it all, which is used by their manager Sangyeon. 

Usually, the bus stinks a bit. You don’t really know what it is, but you can’t really get the bad smell out no matter how hard you try. Now, though, the bus stinks even worse– and although the smell is a tad bit different than the one you’re used to (even though you’ve only been here for 2 days, with the next day being the morning of your departure back home, to your ordinary life), you can’t quite put your finger on the cause. 

You walk over to the kitchen area, the plastic bag full of food still loosely placed in your grasp, and the noise gets even louder now, the laughter and the loud music over the speakers mixing together in a way that has your head pounding similarly than to what you experience when you stand front-row during the festivals, and when you put your head through the entry to the small area, the sight in front of you has you gasping. There’s a bit more people in the tour bus than you’d expect– you mentally count the heads, realizing there are four unfamiliar faces in the small crowd– and that’s what initially makes you shy away and want to hide. See, your experience with Yuta’s band mates wasn’t the brightest– that’s why meeting another potential friend group of your boyfriend has you shrinking away in worry.

“You’re back already?” Mark asks you, your presence noticed by the man first. You nod at him, offering him a tight-lipped smile as you hold up the plastic bag in the air, showing him its contents. He smiles at you, but doesn’t pay you much attention after, instead focusing back on the commotion in front of him. 

Disappointment washes over you when you realize your presence hasn’t been acknowledged by your boyfriend– mainly because everyone else at least offered you a nonchalant nod of a head, Doyoung included– and that’s when you sigh to yourself and move closer to the small table, ready to put the food in the middle and try to join the conversation. You’re taken by surprise when you realize it’s harder to find an empty space on the crowded surface, bottles of beer, shot glasses and a bottle of tequila settled all around, a potato chip bag thrown in the corner, almost falling off. An ashtray in the middle of it all, almost full to the brim, something white and messy lined up on the other side of the table, folded arms falling to the surface with a loud thud that have you snap your head around and watch Yuta as he settles his chin on them and closes his eyes and then slowly opens them in a hazy blink, pupils almost as big as his whole iris.

This has you stopping in your tracks, this has you slightly wake up in a cold sweat, making you too aware and alert of the situation. 

Your eyes scan the surroundings again. The four men at the table seem a bit older than your boyfriend, and you’re sure you saw them on stage a few hours ago, playing their own set. The bottles of alcohol are almost empty, the ashtray filled with cigarettes, your gaze finding the source of the weird, sweet, yet earthy smell when you see a bag of dried weeds loosely thrown behind a beer bottle, rolling papers settled on the side. Finding the platinum blonde head again, the line of white substance close to Yuta’s elbow, chills run down your spine when the male looks at you with big eyes, his smile slightly out of it, yet amazingly satisfied.

Suddenly, you’re terrified. You’re scared and afraid, and you wonder how things could have gotten so out of hand in the time you were gone. Surely your trip to McDonald’s didn’t take more than a few minutes, or did it? 

“What’s all this?” you ask Yuta, your voice hush, yet loud enough to be heard over the music.

“What?” he asks, voice coated in a blissful sweetness that has your hair stand up, goosebumps rising all over your body. Frustrated, you run your hand through your hair, seeing that your interaction doesn’t have many viewers comforting you only the slightest.

“What’s all this, Yuta?” you ask, pointing everywhere around the place, but mainly to the substances found on the small, dark-wooden table.

“We’re just having fun, baby,” he says lazily, grinning at you from under his eyelashes. Were the circumstances given to you different, you’d admire his features– his flushed cheeks and his strangely starry-glazed eyes, the satisfied and comfortable smirk playing with his flush lips. But now, you feel shaken-up; a strange kind of terror you’ve never experienced before, and frankly speaking, one you wouldn’t imagine experiencing even in your worst nightmares.

“This is fun to you?” you ask, scoffing. “Is- what happened here?” you keep dumbly asking, not finding any more coherent thoughts in your brain that could be expressed by words. Somehow, the whole situation is painted right in front of you, yet, you don’t think you have it in you to describe it or admit it to your brain.

“Why are you freaking out?” he asks, reaching out one of his hands to you to hold your hand, but you shake it off with a different sense of vigor. 

Why are you freaking out? Is he out of his mind? Does he not understand the consequences of his actions; the full implications of everything that’s going on right in this moment? Are you overreacting? You find it hard to think that’s the case.

You scoff at him, not really believing you’re in this situation right now. Something in you feels a bit shameful to be acting like this, now that you’ve been called out on it. You’re in a battle of opinions– one side telling you to drop it and let him live his life, because he’s an adult and he knows what he’s doing, the other one shouting at you that this is not okay and you need some space to breathe and get away for a second. Yuta said he was having fun, but to you, none of this was even close to funny.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, moving away from him and sending him a gaze you hope signifies the turmoil of emotions on your insides right now, your hands shaking as you cross your arms on your chest. You’re not met with the desired reaction, though. Somehow, Yuta makes the matters even worse as he scoffs at you, shaking his head and pointing it towards the group as he mutters something under his breath.

“And you’re being unreasonable.”

The argument makes your blood cold, your eyes widen. You’re being unreasonable? In your eyes, you’re being ignored. You’re being put on the very end of the ranking of his priorities, and you’d understand it if the first one was held up by his career, his dreams– you’re not willing to battle for that place with alcohol and drugs, though. You’re simply not.

Storming out of the area, suddenly feeling like there’s no air in your lungs, no oxygen in the whole planet Earth, you run through the small and crowded place, making eye contact with no one as you run out without a plan. You bump into a slender figure as you plan on escaping the vehicle, right in the place where the stairs down are located, crossing your paths– one going in and the other one out. The person smells of cigarette smoke and when you look up to find a raven-haired boy staring at you with a glare, the plan of leaving sounds even more urgent in your head.

“Where are you running off to?” Doyoung asks, voice laced with indifference.

“I don’t want to talk right now,” you snap at him, trying to push through the small corridor past him so you can get out and get some air.

“Saw something you didn’t like?” he mocks, laughing at you.

“Doyoung-”

“Those places aren’t for college kids like you, Y/N,” he snarls, huffing out air as you push against his chest to get him out of the way, “this is how this world works. Get out before it gets you too, kid.”

V. you're the only one I'll miss when I'm gone

The coldness of the liquid spilling down your throat makes you cool down noticeably, your fingers working on the lace around your waist to loosen up the apron you’ve been wearing for the last couple of hours. You sit on one of the tall bar stools, facing the diner with your back, as you scroll through your phone and look through all your social media. You’re working another one of your night shifts, the diner surprisingly empty as you allow yourself some time to just sit around and do nothing– it’s not like you have anything else to do or any customers to serve in the first place.

Checking your messages– and finding none, much to your dismay– you move over to other apps, opening up Instagram with a swift tap of your finger, eyes tracing the posts appearing on your phone screen. There are some from your favorite music artists and some from your friends from high school, and you’d usually find an Instagram story from your boyfriend’s band right at the very beginning of the little reel on the top as well, but ever since they got signed to a label, their page is hands of their manager Sangyeon, so the account is no longer as active and as unserious as it was when Yuta was the one behind the posts. 

Scrolling down a little, your eyes zero in on a post of the mentioned account– a carousel of professionally-looking pictures of the band on the stage, taken from multiple angles and in perfect quality, colors most likely edited and lightning adjusted so they look as nice as they can. You were in the crowd just a week ago, and although you only left your visit recently, you already miss seeing Yuta in real life, playing and talking to you, existing by your side. 

You haven’t heard from him much since the day you left. Still shaken up from the sight in front of you that one night, the band’s manager let you sleep in the only bedroom of the tour bus before you took off to the station in the early morning, having Yuta groggily press a kiss to your forehead as a goodbye, telling you to stay safe as you travel, before he went back to sleep. The events of your last night with him went unnoticed and unmentioned and you’re not exactly sure if it’s for the best– you two barely call nowadays, since your schedules don’t align, and it’s kind of hard to talk about it over a text, especially when the conversations are short and dry, like they’ve been for the last few days. 

Zooming in on the picture, fingers pinching the screen to take a closer look on Yuta’s face, you chew on the inside of your cheek, letting your thoughts run a thousand miles an hour. What did you do wrong? Or was he just busy? 

That must be it. He’s in a band. A touring, rising band. He must be busy.

“What are you staring at?” you hear a male voice coming from your right, making you jump in your seat. Eyes landing on Jaechan, your coworker from the kitchen, you watch as he throws a damp kitchen towel to the counter and takes a seat on the chair next to you with a sigh. You shrug. The male takes a peek over your shoulder, craning up his neck to get a closer look, a hum escaping his throat at the sight. “Is that your boyfriend? I heard he’s in a band.”

You find yourself humming in agreement at his question. Jaechan nods at you in acknowledgement, resting his head into his palms, eyes zeroing on your stoic face. “Did something happen between the two of you? You don’t sound too happy talking about him right now.”

Sighing, you put the phone down, the screen still on and displaying the professional picture their photographer took, showing Yuta with his platinum blonde hair damp and all over the place, the singer in the middle of a song gripping his microphone tightly, veins protruding due to the notes he’s singing on his sweat-covered neck. Once again, you find yourself shrugging. “I don’t know. He’s just… not really talking to me?”

“Did you two have a fight?” 

“No,” you shake your head, “not really. It’s not like he’s not talking talking to me, it’s just that he’s not doing it as often as he used to before,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip as you tear your eyes off the picture and glue them to your companion instead, seeing as the older male hums, pressing his lips into a tight line. 

“He must be busy,” you say, not really knowing who you’re saying this for. Is it to prove to Jaechan that your relationship is completely fine, that there’s nothing shifting in the dynamic you had with Yuta, or is it to reassure yourself, try to manifest the thought into life? You’re not quite sure at this point.

“Well, he texted you a lot more often before,” he points out, “how busy can a singer really be, you know what I mean?”

“There must be something that’s taking up so much of his time,” you sigh, the male in front of you scoffing and rolling his eyes at your naivety. 

Jaechan argues with you, and something about his sentence makes your mood even gloomier, your composure shake further. “I mean, what does a singer even do? He plays a gig in the evening and then he’s lazing off the whole day, it’s not like he’s recording an album or something, do you feel me?”

To this, you shrug. What does Jaechan even know about this? He’s never dated anyone in a band before. He’s never been in one either, so he can’t know how this life works. Maybe he’s just jealous that your significant other is famous and his is not (because it’s non-existent, just for the record), and that’s what’s making him say all these things.

“What do you know?” you scoff.

Jaechan looks at you with a softer look in his eyes now, the black bangs falling into his forehead serving as a sort of a curtain when he smiles sadly at his next words. “Enough to see when a guy gets bored, Y/N. If he had time before, he just can’t be assed now. I’d hate to see your heart break over him,” he says, each word like a sharp knife to your heart, a stinging pain erupting into each crevice of your body. Your mouth opens to reply to him, to argue that he is clueless, he is snide, he is acting like a know-it-all, when the bell above the entrance rings and a small group of teenagers enters the diner.

Before you get a chance to stand up from your place to re-tie your apron and serve them, Jaechan, who doesn’t usually serve– since cooking is his job around here– beats you to it and pats your shoulder as he goes. “I’ll get it.”

You’re left sitting at the bar, eyes bearing into the screen of your phone, gazing at Yuta on the other side of the country, almost begging him with your eyes to text, to call, to do something, before the screen darkens and your phone eventually locks, the time running out already.

VI. and he holds me like a woman

Prepared for another night of staring at the ceiling, not even the sound of Aeri’s snoring present to lull you to sleep with its monotonicity, since the girl went out and stayed over at her (as she calls him) sneaky link’s place, you settle into your bed sheets and pull your blanket close to your neck. Unlocking your phone and scrolling through social media, planning to do so until your eyes are droopy enough that you don’t have much time to overthink in the late hours of the night, waiting for sleep to take you, your finger moves through all the different apps, begging for your brain to stay occupied. You have to treat yourself like you’d treat a little child while trying to get them to sleep– except you don’t watch Cocomelon, instead you settle on the latest episode of your favorite podcast– and it starts working eventually, until you’re woken up with a knock to your door, cursing at the person behind the wall for disturbing your routine, because now, you’ll have to do it all over again.

Sighing, you stand up from your bed, lazily walking over to the door of your room– sometimes, you despise the fact that your dorm layout looks like the corridor of a hospital wing, with rooms all over the hall and a common kitchen and a bathroom at the very end, since the living space for you and your roommate Aeri is a 5x6 square meters with little to no storage room– but this time, you thank the god for this fact, since it means that nothing is too far out of reach and nothing can get lost in the small space. You think of whoever might be behind the door– is it Aeri? You doubt it’s Aeri. She usually doesn’t back out of a hook up, and even if she did, she’d text you about it before– she has her own set of keys as well, so she wouldn’t just knock. 

Is it your dorm mate? Yeji from three rooms down the corridor sometimes comes over and asks you if she can use your frying pan– since the ones in the common kitchen suck and are hardly ever clean– so maybe it’s her. However, you’re not quite sure why she’d want to cook something so late in the evening.

Shrugging, deciding that you’re not gonna dwell on the thought much longer and instead look for yourself, you unlock the door (you learned to do that every night after Ningning, the freshman that lives across the corridor from you, once stumbled into your room at 3 in the morning, drunk out of her mind, because she confused her left and right) and crack it open, shock overtaking you as you recognize the figure casually standing on the other side of the wall.

“What are you doing here?” you gasp, the man with platinum blonde hair snickering at your parted lips and big eyes.

“Visiting,” he shrugs, “I missed you.”

Taking a few seconds to process the situation, you stay standing in your place, a metaphorical loading bar appearing in the middle of your forehead. Yuta shakes his head at you in disbelief, taking a step closer towards you. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

“I- I am, but-” you stutter, taking a step away from the doorway, watching as your boyfriend walks in as if he owned this place, “who let you in? We can’t have visitors after 10 PM,” you mumble, suddenly aware of the fact that you could get in trouble. 

You close the door after yourself and lock it– old habits die hard– as you watch the male giggle at your shaken composure. “The doorkeeper recognized me,” he announces, “I just had to say I have a girlfriend I haven’t seen in a while living here and he let me right in,” he shrugs.

Humming, you play with your fingers as you walk over to your bed. “So you’re like, famous famous now, huh?”

“Not that famous,” he sighs, “but quite a few people know me now.”

“So I’m dating a rockstar,” you joke, taking a seat on the uncomfortable mattress, watching as the male follows you and invites himself into the sheets.

“Something like that.”

A smile overtakes your features at that, and your room breaks into silence. Something about the quiet makes your skin scatter with goosebumps, the discomfort of his stare making you almost hate the fact that he’s here now, after not talking to you properly for a couple of weeks, but at the same time, you know you don’t really hate it. You love it, actually– the fact that he came to surprise you in the middle of the night, the fact that he’s here, the fact that he thought of you, spared you the time of his day. You love it and you love him and the fact that he came back to you. He came back for you. Only you. That sounds like a prize, doesn’t it?

Still, you feel a bit of a distance in between the two of you, and you can’t believe the fact that he feels further despite being closer in space. Maybe it’s because you can’t blame his lack of words for him being busy now– he’s right in front of you, paying you his full attention.

“How long are you staying?” you ask, picking at the skin of your cuticles.

Yuta averts his gaze from you, looking almost shameful at his reply. “I have to leave tomorrow afternoon,” he whispers, “I left suddenly, but we gotta get back on the road.”

You hum at that, not offering him a vocal reply– you don’t have any words to say to him anyway. What is there to say about a fact you can’t change? You only have to accept it.

“We only have a couple more stops to go. It will take another three weeks or so, and I’m back with you,” he says, this time locking his eyes with you in a sincere gaze, “I promise.”

The sentence has you gazing at your hands, clasped in your lap, nodding. Holding eye contact with him is suddenly hard when you feel just how far away he is from you, in another world, in other circles– and you can’t help but not see yourself fitting those, you can’t help but hate the fact that you’re so far away from everything that completes him as a person now. Maybe you’re a burden now– maybe you’re a nuisance, a baggage he has to carry even though he doesn’t have to, but keeps holding on to just because of a promise.

You remember how you chanted to yourself– believed– that nothing’s gonna change, and if so, only for the better. But you’re not so sure it came true, looking at everything now. And you do admit, you feel a little silly. Both for making the promise to yourself, and both for feeling so defeated when your world is shifting. Because things did change, and you should’ve expected it, and for Yuta, they did change for the better. He’s chasing his dream and everything’s coming out well for him. You should be happy.

You should be happy that he’s texting you less, talking to you less, having less time for you. Because that’s proof of him succeeding, after all. You just wish you could’ve been there to witness it with him.

“It must be so hard for you,” Yuta suddenly hums, leaning closer to you and wiping your cheeks. You haven’t even realized you were crying– you failed to keep your emotions in control– but instead of pushing him away and not showing him just how much the distance hurts you, you only hold him closer, crying into his chest.

His hands caress your hair, smoothing down the strands and providing you comfort, your body folding into his hold. He lays you both on the bed and tugs the blanket over you, strong arms shielding you from the pain. “Are you- are you having fun at least?” you ask, hiccuping through the sobs.

“I am,” he hums, and something about the sentence comforts you, making you fail to address everything you’ve witnessed when you came to visit him and just how much it made you worry, “wish you were there with me, but I know it’s hard. We just gotta hold on and get through this, and it will only get easier as we go, alright?”

You hum, fists bunching up the fabric of his thin black shirt. “Promise me to hold on for me, pretty girl? It’s gonna be okay. I swear.”

Another silent sob accompanied by an eager nod, hands letting go of his shirt and instead sneaking around his waist, nose burying into his chest intaking his scent. “I promise. It’s hard, but the thought of you having fun and chasing your dream comforts me.”

“That’s my sweet girl,” he hums, smoothing down your hair, “now stop crying. There’s nothing to be sad about.”

Nodding, you try your best to relax. He’s right– you were being unreasonable. Silly, even. Everything’s okay and everything will turn out just fine, you just gotta hold on for a few more weeks. Once Yuta’s back, your relationship will go back to normal and things will get better.

Leaning your head back, you press a kiss to his lips. He holds you to his chest, deepening the contact of his mouth with yours, wiping the last tears off your cheeks and placing pecks all over your face. When his lips find their way back to yours, his kisses are deeper, more firm, experience making him smoothly slip his tongue into your mouth to battle with yours, passion dripping off the muscle and tasting just like honey. 

He makes your heart race, just like he did when he first kissed you in his garage, and when his lips smoothly travel down your neck, placing bites and kitten licks to smooth the area after, you let him work his magic. You relax under his touches, you let him unravel you from your clothes, big hands testing flesh, calloused fingers pressing into all the right places. It feels amazing. It feels rewarding– and even though you’ve never done this before, you’re glad he’s your first. It’s good to look back at your first time when it’s done with someone you love– someone that’s admired, older, but still so fond of you. You feel beautiful with his hushed compliments, whispered promises. It’s like you’re running on a high, and you’re not sure if and when you’re ever gonna get back down.

You ache a little when you wake up for your morning class the day after. Throwing on his shirt you find on the floor, taking a seat next to him on the bed and brushing back his disheveled hair, his arm finds yours and tugs you back towards him.

“Stay,” he hums.

“I can’t,” you reply, “I have class in a few,” you explain, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

He sighs, dissatisfied, but lets you go. When he chants a goodbye at you as you close your door after with the knowledge that he won’t be there when you come home in the evening, you chew on the inside of your cheek with the crushing feeling of living in a different world than he does. And it shouldn’t matter to you– because he loves you and showed you so last night– but still, it keeps annoyingly eating you up from the insides.

He’s in a rising punk band, and you… you have to get to class.

VII. he used to sing me sweet melodies

The news hit you on a Thursday afternoon, on your way to dorms after your last class of the day. You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, and so you decide to take the bus– the journey isn’t long, but you don’t feel like walking, and so you slung your pained body onto one of the free seats after pressing your travel card against the terminal to pay for the ride.

Fingers searching through your tote bag, a small sense of victory filling your veins when you finally find your phone in the mess of things, you grip the device and unlock it, deciding to search through social media to pass time and let yourself dissociate. 

A flood of uninteresting posts flashes through your vision as you absent-mindedly scroll through your feed, unfunny memes making you roll your eyes at the absurdity of the jokes, political discourse just making you sigh. After a while, posts from Neo zone update pages that you selfishly and amidst a little foolishly followed quite some time ago start appearing one-by-one on your Twitter feed, the face of your boyfriend smiling at you from fan-taken pictures from the last few stops of their festival tour. It’s been three weeks since you last saw Yuta, and even though you’re glad he’s enjoying his life to the fullest, you can’t help but admit to yourself that you oh so desire to have him back home as soon as possible.

One post in particular makes you stop in your tracks, furrowing your eyebrows as your eyes scan over the headline of an article with your boyfriend’s face clearly staring down at you through the screen. It’s not often that Yuta or his band get interviewed– or at least, it wasn’t the standard before, but you heard from him that he did get an interview from one of the local newspapers right after he got signed to an agency– but it seems that after getting interest from the punk scene during the festival, everybody wants to know more about the lead singer and his friends; press included. The existence of the interview itself isn’t what makes you so startled, though– it’s the headline of the article, each word like a sharp knife to your heart, making you more and more confused.

“No, I’m not dating anyone right now.” Neo Zone’s frontman reveals in our latest article, the title reads, your shaky fingers pressing down on the picture to have the text pop up, making you brace yourself for the impact. You know that the press loves to twist words and put statements into people’s mouths, but you don’t really know how those exact words could come out meaning something completely different– your very much taken boyfriend told everyone he is very much single. Do you not deserve to be talked about, after everything? Is he ashamed of you?

Sighing, taking a peek out of the window to see if you’re at your stop yet– you’re not, and you think you have just the right amount of time to read the whole article before you have to get off. And so you do that– eyes quickly skimming through the words, Yuta’s answers transcribed so perfectly you can almost hear his voice saying the words in your head, the essence of him everywhere, making your chest tighten on itself.

The Seoul-based punk band Neo Zone is picking up everyone’s attention as they take over the Warped tour festivals with their ecstatic performances and amazing stage presence. Their sound is like no one else’s, making their fanbase rise quickly, the fastly growing popularity making a lot of questions rise in the heads of the public– one question in particular mostly in the female side of the spectrum. 

We met with the frontman, 28-year old Yuta Nakamoto, to ask him a few questions about the band’s slow, but steady journey towards stardom, and also a bit about his personal life. Stay with us to get all the answers to questions you’ve been wondering about!

Eyes only briefly reading over the questions that ask about their journey– since you do know how they got where they are now, being there to witness it all; from band practices on Fridays, Yuta’s worried words at midnight over your night shifts, the songwriting sessions they had with Doyoung, where Yuta would send you pictures of his lyrics, asking for advice from his one and only muse, to them getting signed and going from playing local gigs at bars filled with cigarette smoke to venues filled with thousands of fans, all in the course of a few months. There’s only one thing you’re searching for in this article– although you’d read it all anyways, taking your time to patiently skim over each sentence, cheering Yuta on silently, there’s a thing in particular that makes you so jumpy to get to the bottom of the headline.

Finally, you get to it. You can only imagine the voice of the woman who did this interview with Yuta to be annoying, her eyes sneaky and coy as she asked him the question– but you soon catch yourself and sigh at your antics, at disbelief with what you managed to turn yourself into just for attention of a man that deemed you worthy.

“I’m sure a lot of girls are wondering the same thing, Yuta– especially after seeing you play on stage. I mean, you have an amazing stage presence, one that can’t help but attract people. The public– me included– wants to know: are you dating anyone right now?”

The singer laughs at the question, shrugging to himself. The words don’t take long to come out of his mouth. “No, not at all. With how things have been going for us, it’s been really hard to find some time to date, but I’m sure that if anyone shoots me a wink from the audience, I can change my mind quickly.”

The words make you scoff. You rest your head against the seat, your tongue poking the side of your cheek, when you notice that you’re at your stop– resulting in you scrambling for your things and practically throwing yourself out of the bus so the doors wouldn’t close on you and drive you away from the bus stop you need to get off on. Yuta’s response keeps repeating in your brain– ‘it’s been really hard to find some time to date’ –  at least he’s not lying about that, you think. 

And yes, maybe you should’ve understood his motives. Maybe he wanted to protect you from the hate, maybe he simply wanted to give you your privacy, but still– something in you breaks at being denied, at being hidden, and that burning, green feeling has you dialing Yuta’s number, waiting for the singer to reply.

It takes him a few seconds to pick up the call– you expected it, since it’s an usual occurrence now, with your texts going unanswered and calls mostly ignored, if taken, then either after a lot of ringing, or being returned to you after a few minutes when you get through to the voicemail. Still, you’re relieved when you hear his voice on the other side of the line, a little low and groggy, but still familiar.

“Hello, my love,” he says, and the pet name makes you equal parts warm and furious. So now you’re his love? What about the time he did the interview?

“Hi,” you breathe, walking down the sidewalk to your dorm building. 

“Why are you calling?” he asks. Do you need a reason to? He seems to be asking this a lot lately, but now that you actually have a reason is when the question hurts you the least.

You hum into the phone, finding the right words to say. Something inside of your gut is screaming at you, telling you just how silly and childish you’re going to sound– at just how demanding and clingy you’re going to look. But still, you can’t help but let the words slip past your mouth. “I was just wondering… about the stuff you said in the interview,” you say.

The male is silent for a little, not really responding to your worries. When he seems to gather that you’re not going to explain– and you don’t have to, since you’re aware that he knows what you mean by your subtle prompt– he talks to you with lightness in his tone, something akin to playful teasing in the reply that has you feeling stupid, so stupid for calling him. 

“About that? Y/N… you know you don’t have to worry about the two of us,” he says, laughing, “it’s just… I couldn’t just tell them I’m dating. My manager said I couldn’t, since it may damage the band’s image. I have to stay desirable to keep up the interest.”

You’re silent. So he did it for the band. Not your privacy, not your safety. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

You find it in yourself to hum at his explanation– no matter how unsatisfactory it was, no matter how it made you feel even worse about the situation than before you called. It’s okay, though– you know that his band always comes first. You can’t tarnish his dreams like that. If a secret is what you have to be, then you’re more than okay with that, if it means Yuta gets to shine like the star he’s always been in your heart.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” he asks. “I have to go now, if you don’t have anything else.”

“That’s- that’s all, yeah,” you mumble, sighing as you walk over to the dorms, opening the door with your student ID and slipping inside. 

“Okay,” he hums, “I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

No I love you, no how was your day, no I miss you. No I’ll see you soon, no I can’t wait to see your face, no I can’t wait to hear your voice. It’s okay, though– he must be tired.

VIII. broke, but gave all money to an airline

The next time you allow yourself to travel to see Yuta (despite all your responsibilities at college, with finals coming up and assignments piling up, making you bring your laptop to work with you and type away to finish up all your essays in between customers, having Jaechan read over the passages when your sleep deprivation gets the best of you and you can’t even recognise if you’re using the correct grammar and punctuation anymore), is on the last show of his festival tour. Something inside of you is telling you that you should go watch your boyfriend’s last gig for the time being, to congratulate him and show him just how much you support him, despite your busy schedule (that he is unaware of. You don’t want him to worry). 

And on top of that, it’s his birthday– the surprise visit to the show is only an addition to the gift you bought him, though. The personalized lyric journal and a box of his favorite chocolates seems too silly of a gift for somebody like Yuta Nakamoto, but it’s all you can afford, all you can give him. Still, you hope the sincerity and love is able to be felt through the action; you hope he realizes just how much you love him and just how much you missed him all those months.

The journey to the last state was long. You didn’t get enough sleep, you felt jittery and anxious, everything in your bones was screaming at you and cursing you for allowing yourself to make such a trip so early after the old one. Traveling is exhausting, you realize– both mentally and physically– when you have to walk distances and flash all your savings down the drain just to get bus tickets, when you have to rack your brain over to not get lost and take the right directions, make the right turns and walk the right distances. You guess you could understand Yuta a little bit better now– you’re not the one traveling somewhere else every night, and still, you feel insanely tired.

You didn’t tell Yuta about your visit. All you texted him the night before was that you wish him good luck on stage today and that you’re proud of him– sentences that get a short-cut response, an uninterested tone. You guess he just got bummed out that you didn’t stay up and wish him happy birthday the first thing at midnight– a thing he did for you when you weren’t even dating yet, the action warming you up so much back then– but even though it broke your heart, you couldn’t blow your own cover. You wanted to wish him happy birthday in person, to his face.

There is a buzz in the tips of your fingertips when you arrive at the festival. You’ve watched countless of clips online, experienced the concert first-hand multiple times before– you’re sure you could recite the setlist and the exact order of the acts playing if you were woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat– but still, you can’t wait to see Yuta perform. You can’t wait to watch the joyful look on his face, the dreamy eyes gazing over the crowd, the raspy voice calling to you like a siren in a love song you were told was about you in the middle of the night, holding him in your dorm bed.

You didn’t stand in the front rows this time. For some reason, you don’t want the singer to know you’re here. You want to watch the show unnoticed, unannounced, enjoying it like every other fan would– except, you’re expecting to meet him after, the way so many girls dream of every night, but never get to experience.

And in a perfect reality, the show ends and you run backstage. The security acknowledges you as his girlfriend and lets you in, smiles at you and pats you on your lower back– go get him, he’s all yours– as you excitedly grin and get ready to finally close the distance between you. In your perfect dreams, that don’t become reality, you’re meeting Yuta and holding him close, chanting whispers at the universe and telling them see? We made it, no matter how many obstacles you threw our way. We made it despite the distance. 

Maybe somebody should’ve told you you were a naive dreamer before you came here to embarrass yourself. Nobody did, though– and so here you are.

“Unfortunately, fans aren’t allowed backstage,” the security says, and you understand him– your relationship is secret, not public, so really, he couldn’t have known you were not just a fan, but his girlfriend (despite still thinking that you are Yuta’s biggest fan, always. Nobody could ever support him the way you do).

“I’m not a fan, sir,” you grin, “I’m his girlfriend. I know anyone could say that, but if you just get someone from the back and tell them my name, they will tell you that I’m his partner, trust me,” you explain, a desperate inkling in your voice.

“I don’t have time for that, kid,” the man says. And it’s fair. He’s just doing his job.

“Please, I went here to surprise– there he goes!” you point towards your boyfriend walking off the stage, his head snapping towards you at the sound of your voice, still recognisable even through the flood of screams around. The man locks eyes with you and you wave at him, a fond smile overtaking your tired face, the flame inside you that’s currently giving you third degree burns of anxiety finally starts to get more subtle when recognition flashes through Yuta’s face, but again– you were naive. Naive to think he would appreciate your visit, naive to think he’d like the surprise, naive to think nothing would change between the two of you, naive to think he wouldn’t get tired and find someone new.

A naive kid.

That’s what you are.

Nakamoto Yuta runs off stage, envelopes an excited girl around her shoulders when she runs after him from backstage. Her hair is longer than yours, her face more mature, her smile similar to the ones you saw all the time at the diner whenever Yuta was around, a flirting spark somewhere in between her pearly white teeth. She kisses his jaw and he grins at her, not bothering to look around. The crowd around you gets silent, but your brain tells you it’s foolish to think everyone suddenly stopped talking– it was just your senses slowly shutting out, your vision getting blurry.

So this was the problem all along, you think.

“Anything else? If you’re done being delusional, you can get lost,” the security spits at you, and you chuckle to yourself. 

Delusional. That hits the nail on the head.

Nodding, you chew on the inside of your cheek as you stumble backwards, running off through the crowd as you try your best not to get your legs tied and fall over. Your vision is hazy and you refuse to look up, too embarrassed, humiliated by the events of the day to show your face to anyone, resulting in you bumping into someone, your figure limply falling to the ground. Sobs make your shoulders shake, all motivation to stand up and move leaving your body when somebody crouches down next to you, a considerate female voice reaching your ears.

“Everything okay, hun? I’m so sorry, I should’ve watched my step,” she says, a hand patting your back, the smell of her perfume filling your nostrils. “Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

Shaking your head, you refuse to speak. The female considerately sneaks her arms around you, pulling you to her chest. “What is it? You can tell it to a stranger, I won’t spill.”

“Yuta-” you choke out. Embarrassment is finally the least of your concerns.

“What? What about him?”

“I loved him and he– he threw it all away,” you finish, now completely breaking.

The girl rocks you back and forth, hand running up and down your back to get you to relax. It’s strange, since you haven’t even seen her face, haven’t even asked her name– for all you know, she could think you’re just a crazy fangirl, crying for no reason. But the universe has its way of looking out after you tonight– the soul next to you holding you tight, fingers running through your hair. “It’s alright, babygirl. Cry it out,” she says, “he doesn’t deserve you… I know, I’ve been there. That’s a lesson you have to learn, though– you never date a band guy. 

He’s always gonna break your heart.”

EPILOGUE - try not to abuse your power

Yuta Nakamoto was your hero.

He was your everything. He was someone you admired, someone you longed for, someone whose attention you craved for ever since the day you met him for the first time. It’s not every day you get to hang out with a guy that’s in a band, and it’s also not every day that the said guy shows you any type of interest or gives you any type of attention– and in your foolish heart, you took all of that and ran with it, chasing down the adrenaline and calling it love.

You guess it’s never a good idea to date your hero. See, people tend to idolize the ones they admire. People tend to put their heroes on the pedestal and do everything for them, putting them as their priority and disregarding their own needs and interests just to be worthy in the eyes of the other. You were too young to differentiate between healthy love and toxic obsession. You were too young to realize the relationship you had with Yuta wasn’t built on healthy grounds.

Yuta was your hero, yet, he managed to ruin you in a little not over a year. You bet it wasn’t even that hard.

Yuta was sweet. He tasted of honey and adrenaline, of chasing your dreams and running through empty streets with sparkles in your eyes. Yuta was someone older than you, more mature, promising you security and safety that he failed to give you despite your delusional beliefs of having your haven in him. You were young; thinking that guys your age don’t know how to treat you, won’t ever know how to treat you right– being with someone like Yuta was only right in your eyes. You were his fragile piece of pottery, the thing he was supposed to handle with care, and yet, you found yourself shattering at his touches. You should’ve expected it– his fingers were always too calloused to know how to touch anything gently anyway.

And yes, you do feel guilty. You do feel like it’s your fault that you let someone do this to you. You should’ve known better– you shouldn’t have been so childish, so naive. But really, you didn’t know any better. No one ever told you it was wrong. No one warned you. No one told you how it’s supposed to look.

No one told you that you weren’t supposed to spend all your money on plane and bus tickets just to see him for a couple of days. No one told you you weren’t supposed to support him unconditionally, ignore all the bad signs and pay no mind to the way his treatment made you feel worthless. No one told you you weren’t supposed to believe his sweet words, put trust into his empty promises.

It makes you sick, in a way. He knows your freckles, he knows your skin. He knows you like the back of his hand. Maybe, just maybe, you’d still fold under his touch if he dared to get close to you again. You don’t know if you’re strong enough to resist.

And maybe you do know better now, you do hate him for what he did, but you still miss him like a little kid. It’s like you were put on a drug that made you hate everyone and make him the only one you miss when you’re gone. 

You do miss him. You do sometimes look at his social media. You do read the headlines of magazines when his face is on the front page. You do think of him whenever you wipe the counters during your night shifts, gazing at the spot he used to sit in whenever he came to keep you company, almost as if you could wish him back into existence. It’s a weird battle. The strangest type of inner conflict.

Driving down the road, back to your dorm in the car you saved up for, the radio humming lowly to keep you company in the silence, you recognize the first few tones of a G chord, the song sending chills down your spine. You listen for a few seconds, waiting for his voice to start– the raspiness, the strongness of his vocals still making you feel some type of way– before you chuckle to yourself.

You guess he did end up releasing the song, after all.

You sigh. It feels like ages have gone by since you heard the song for the first time. It feels like you aged a thousand since you last saw his face.

It’s still strange to hear him on the radio. He made it big, you think. 

After all, you still wish him well. Somehow, you still think he deserves the glory.

You skip the song.

You park the car. 

You get inside your dorm.

You live your life.

#nct #nct x reader #yuta #yuta x reader #yuta fic #yuta fluff #yuta angst #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct angst #nct fluff

[fancyfeathers]

The Moon Will Sing (Yandere Rex Lapis/Zhongli x Goddesses!Reader) (Normalized Yandere AU) (Sneak Peek) (+Art)

A/N- the full fic may not be published for quite sometime, but if you wish to read it early let me know and you can be one of my (first) beta readers or you can let me know if you wanted to be added to the tag list for when the full fic gets published

(TW- kidnapping, restraints, extreme isolation, semi torture, dehydration, starvation, marking/body modification)

Inspired by this post

(Edit- the full fic has been published, read it here)

You sat on the hard cold ground, it felt like ice in here despite this cave being carved out by the lord of geo himself. Speaking of the lord of geo, you haven’t seen him since he locked you in here, how long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? You didn’t know anymore. Your clothing was tattered, you sat here half naked, and that was putting it nicely. You may not need to eat but it was still unpleasant not to, one of the cons of you choosing a mortal form.

That’s not the worse of it, you can forget that when you sleep, escaping to your dreams. The dreams are full of the days where you would lay in the field with your sister and watch over your people in their village. There is only one thing you can’t escape, the constant pain in your body, every time you move the searing pain that rips at your wrists ankles, even in your dreams you can escape that pain, it ruins the happiness you get from those memories. 

Chains…

Enchanted chains…

A special gift from Rex Lapis himself…

The chains linked around your wrists and ankles and attached to the floor of the cave. Sure they were long and if it was just that you would be able to pull yourself to the wall to have something to lay against, but it’s never that simple. Every time you move the chains surge geo energy into your body, it feels like you bones are shifting like tectonic plates during an earthquake. Even breathing hurts now, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was due to to the geo energy literally grinding most of your ribs to dust. A mortal would be dead by now, but not you, you just went through the same pain, and it never ended. You could only lay here, on your back, and stare at the same spot on the rock ceiling as dust and dirt collected on your body. But never any water, this place was bone dry, fitting for a place meant to hold the goddess of rain and moonlight.

Then there was the silence, it was maddening. The first few days, or maybe weeks, you sang to break the silence, keep your sanity, but most importantly fulfill your godly duties. But that was Celestia knows how long ago, you could only hope your sister was doing the best she could to watch over the day wherever she was now, because now you could only guess how violent the night has become in your absence. The night was already unsafe, but without the light of the moon, it was deadly.

A soft steps echoing in the cave snapped you out of your thoughts of simply reminding yourself to breathe in an out since it has become such a task. But now there was only one thought in your mind, after all this time he had finally come to see you again in this stone cage he made for you.  You could not even turn your head to look at him in fear that your neck would break from the pulses from the chain, nor could you give him one of your usual witty greetings due to your throat being as dry as sand in the Sumeru desert in summer from the lack of water or even moisture in this cave. 

You could only see him when he stood right beside your broken body, gazing down at you, but you were to weak to even make out the details of his face. He stared at you for a long time before kneeling down so that he could get a better look at your limp form. You could finally make out his expression, calm as ever, but it was unsettling for you to witness. He was ever so calm as he reached out his clawed hand and ran his finger along your cheek, collecting the dust that had landed on your skin. He looked at the dust on his fingers then back at you, like how you would treat a vase on the shelf you had forgotten to dust off. 

“Oh my dear…”

He sighed as he reached down with his hand to graze over your arm, down to the chain that was sealed to your wrist without a lock. Suddenly he gave it a pull which resulted in a bloodcurdling scream ripping from your throat as your felt the surge of geo energy surge from the chain into you arm and your bones began to rub against each other and snap like twigs. As he does this you can feel your arm rapidly repair itself and breaking it again as your limb begins to change, the skin turning black and where you could feel the surges, golden markings begin to form the same one the Geo Archon bares himself.

“It seems perhaps the punishment was too strong for the crime.”

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader

[thejakeslayla]

I have a script idea in my mind, but if you don't want to, you can of course not write it.

I had a fight with Jake this morning and i got angry and went to the club with my friend to drink. The end of the night, i was so drunk, my friend called my bf Jake, and asked him to pick me up. Then while Jake is trying to drive me home we start arguing about why I went to the club and why get so drunk. Later, when he sees that we are really bad-drunk, he worries about me and takes good care of me.

I'm sorry if it's too much, you don't have to write it. I hope it didn't sound like an order. I dont want to be misunderstood. :(

╰─▸❝ going through hard time in your relationship with jake ❞

idol!jake x gn! reader ୨୧ genre angst, fluff at the ending ୨୧ warnings profanity, alcohol, neglect of relationship and a dog, arguments, kissing, sfw intimacy (jake helping reader change) ୨୧ wc 3k

you woke up unusually early today. your boss had called you two days ago and requested that you come in earlier due to the recent workload at your company. you agreed to the request, and the night before, as you prepared to wake up early, you asked jake to walk layla, your adorable border collie puppy.

as you left the bed, jake sensed the absence of your warmth and presence. he shifted in bed as you gathered your things from the desk. glancing in his direction, you greeted him with a smile, taking note of how he was presently rubbing his sleepy eyes. he appeared incredibly endearing, with disheveled hair and a groggy expression on his face.

"where are you going, angel?" he asked, his morning voice, with its deep and soothing timbre, melting your heart. you packed everything into your bag and approached the bed. you playfully tousled his blond locks and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"i'm going to work, baby. don't forget to take layla for a walk, okay?" you reminded him, thinking that he might still be half-asleep and not thinking clearly. as you began to move away, jake grabbed your wrist, preventing you from getting too far.

"what? I have morning practice today, i can't," he said, and you looked at him, realizing he was fully awake now and understanding the situation.

"jake, I told you yesterday right after you got home. do you even listen to me when i talk to you?"

you understood that your boyfriend had a busy schedule, but lately, it felt like he wasn't fully present when you spoke to him. he used to pay attention to even the smallest details of your conversations, but recently, he seemed to forget the topics altogether. when the first week passed, you attributed it to him being overworked, as it had happened before, but now it had been weeks.

he didn’t have time for you, which you at some point got used to, you understood, it was his job. but layla was his puppy, he was the one to grow up with her and you just came into his life, when layla was already there. at the very least, he should be able to spare some time for her, a single walk wouldn't hurt him. 

you sighed, your expression becoming more irritated. he remained silent for a while, and when he finally responded, you couldn't help but explode in anger.

“y/n, i can’t. just walk her today, please.” 

he had the audacity to ask you to walk her, even though you did it every day. it's not like you didn't enjoy it; in fact, you loved it. but you weren't the rightful owner of layla. sometimes it felt that way, as you were the one feeding her, playing with her, taking her to the vet, and walking her.

“jake, literally what the fuck is wrong with you?” you exclaimed, unable to contain the anger that had been building up over the weeks.“are you aware that layla is also your fucking dog? i moved in with you, and yes, i agreed to take care of her too because i treat her like my own, even though she isn't.” 

“i get that and i truly understand that you’re too busy to spend time with me, but she’s a fucking dog!I can't explain to her that her dad is a neglectful owner who's too busy with work to even walk her when i'm busy!” you shouted. “you're not the only one with a job here. i've had to leave early numerous times to take care of her or handle things for you because you were too busy.” 

“show her that you love her at least! you already don’t show me that, so do it for her!” 

with those words, you left, slamming the bedroom door behind you. your whole day was now ruined. you despised how jake had been treating you and your precious "puppy daughter" lately. you noticed how layla always waited by the front door, ignoring your calls when it was bedtime, falling asleep on the doormat rather than in your bed right behind you. she was always near you, ready to comfort you when you cried because of jake's absence. she missed him as much as you did, but she was a puppy who wouldn't understand why jake wasn't home.

you said goodbye to hear, promising her that you'd be back soon. leaving the house, you felt a heavy weight pressing down on you with each step. a knot of anxiety and unbearable sadness twisted in your stomach.

on the other side, jake remained in bed, utterly shocked by your words. when he realized that he should probably apologize and agree with you, that he had been a terrible owner to layla and an awful boyfriend to you, it was already too late. you had left.

he looked at layla, who appeared clearly clueless, wagging her tail as she noticed that jake was awake. he patted the mattress, inviting her up.

as you arrived at the office, your coworker and best friend of several years instantly picked up on your bad mood. she didn't press you for details, knowing that you would open up during lunch. 

and it did happen. as you took another bite of your rice, she sat down next to you, and it took only a few minutes for you to vent and share the morning's argument with jake 

"i just don't understand. it's not like i don't enjoy taking care of layla, but it feels like he's changed. we used to take walks with her together, play with her together, and—" you sighed, toying with your food as your mind filled with memories of you and jake spending time together.

"i absolutely adore her. it really feels like she's just my dog, like she's not jake's dog anymore. but he told me when i moved in that she's our dog now, that we'd both take care of her." 

"i don't know anymore. i just want to get absolutely wasted tonight," you concluded, looking at your best friend.

"well, you could say that you three are like a family now. it says a lot about jake if he's treating layla and you like that. i don't even want to imagine if layla were a human, not a dog." 

and you thought about it. jake wouldn't treat his own human daughter like this, would he?

you didn't even realize when the scenery changed, and you found yourself in a nearby club, sipping on your second, or maybe third, drink. you were ready to order another one when your friend stopped you.

"remember that you're lightheaded, okay? i don't want you to end up sick from another drink." you could tell she was concerned, but you paid her no attention. your goal for the night was to forget all your problems.

after about two more drinks, you danced for a solid hour, immersing yourself in the crowd, engaging in small talk, and meeting new people. one drink too many, and your head landed on the table. everything was spinning, and your stomach felt uneasy. you tried to calm yourself with deep breaths, you weren’t ready to go home, you didn’t want to see jake just yet.

as you closed your eyes to rest, you immediately regretted it as everything spun even faster.

"y/n, you don't look well. i think that's enough for you," your best friend's soft voice whispered near your ear. 

"maybe you should pick up the phone and ask jake to come get you?" she asked. you had been ignoring jake's calls since you finished your first drink. it was even later now, and your phone showed 23 missed calls and 31 messages.

"he's probably worried about you, y/n. you should at least text him that you're okay."

and as she said that, your phone rang again. you weren't quick enough, as your best friend picked up the phone.

"hi, umm... i work with y/n. she's okay, yes. she's safe, but... well, she's drunk. i told her to call you, but she keeps saying she doesn't want to talk to you. i'll message you the address. please come get her."

and just like that, almost ten minutes later, you heard his voice. god, how much you hated his beautiful voice right now. 

"y/n! princess, my dear," you heard him getting closer. he wrapped his arm around your waist as he sat next to you. "why didn't you tell me you were going clubbing?"

"leave me alone, jaeyun. i don't want to talk to you," you mumbled, trying to move away, but he was simply too strong.

"it's okay. let's just go home and talk, okay?" 

you couldn't resist his firm grasp, and he easily guided you into the car. with all the movement, your stomach churned, and you had to fight the urge to throw up. as you got into the car, jake handed you a bottle of water and fastened your seatbelt, but he didn't start the car yet.

"can we talk?" he asked, his voice gentle and quiet.

“there's nothing to talk about. just drive me home," you replied, ignoring his extended hand holding the water bottle.

“y/n–“ 

"there's nothing to talk about!" you shouted, frustrated and intoxicated enough to raise your voice. 

“can you at least fucking listen to me?” he also raised his voice, trying to be heard over you. 

“listen, i know i fucked up. i walked layla this morning, i left work early, and i spent time with her. i understand how you felt, and—“ 

“you don’t understand shit.” you spat out. “you have no idea how much you've hurt me.” 

“but layla is fine–“ 

"it's not about layla! for weeks, i've been wondering why you're avoiding me, because that's how it feels. you're only home to sleep and, sometimes maybe eat, when you feel like acknowledging your girlfriend. but oh, sorry, you don't even listen to her!" you cut him off, too angry to hold back, the alcohol removing any filter.

"i really don't get what changed. i don't understand what i did to deserve this treatment. but if this is what our relationship is going to look like, i don't want to be in it." 

jake’s eyes widened, shocked that you could actually break up with him. you – the love of his life, his princess, his angel, his everything. e was one hundred percent sure he couldn't live without you. his source of happiness, you were his source of happiness. he grabbed your wrist, gently squeezing it. 

“y/n, don’t say that.” he finally spoke, and you finally realised how hurt he was, the sadness in his voice evident.

“drive me home.” 

and he did. he helped you out of the car, and you clung to him as if your life depended on it. he guided you to the bed and left you there to change, going to fetch water, a bowl in case you needed to vomit, and some medicine to prevent a hangover the next day.

as he returned to the bedroom, you were lying on the bed, still in your clothes, wrapped in a blanket.

"hey, angel. here, drink some water, okay?" he said softly, brushing the hair from your face. he helped you take a few sips, but you ended up chugging the entire glass.

"let me help you, okay?" he said, helping you sit up. he handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of your pajama pants. he sighed when he turned around to you and you were laying down again. after yet again, forcing you to sit up, he grabbed the end of your blouse. 

“may i?” he asked and when you nodded, the cold air attacked your warm skin. you groaned at the feeling. “here, here. one second, princess.” he said, noticing your reaction. he helped you put on the t-shirt and quickly moved to your pants. you accidentally kicked him a couple of times as he tried to remove your clothes, but it wasn't hard enough to hurt him.

once you were changed, he wrapped the blanket around you. then he left the bedroom again, returning with another glass of water. as he set it down, he noticed you had already fallen into a deep sleep, your cheek pressed against the pillow as you hugged a plushie.

he remembered the day he had won that plushie for you. you had joked that it was a miniature version of him, as it was a golden retriever plushie. secretly, he had sprayed it with his perfume every time he had to leave for a tour, leaving you with it to cuddle at night. 

he adored the way you looked when you slept, your face so relaxed, your body rising and falling with your steady breathing. you appeared innocent and pure. he couldn't resist himself, and despite the strong smell of alcohol on you, he placed a kiss on your forehead and then your cheek.

his hand almost unconsciously moved to your head, softly stroking your hair as he sat beside you.

"i'm so sorry, angel," he whispered, still admiring your face. "i should've known better. i should've realized you were hurting."

"i love you so much. if i could, i would go back in time and fix everything. spend more time with you, appreciate you more, and show you just how much i really love you."

if only jake knew that you weren't asleep, that the moment he had touched your head, you had awakened. you couldn't help but feel sad, heartbroken even, as you heard his words. 

"i'm so sorry for being a bad boyfriend, a bad dog owner, and just... overall a bad person. i got so caught up in my work that i forgot i also needed to take care of you. you're way more important than work. you're the love of my life, the person i want to spend my future with. i have so many plans that involve you, my angel."

"jake..." you whispered, slowly opening your eyes.

he withdrew his hand, realizing that you had heard everything he had just confessed. instead of saying anything else, you opened your arms, inviting him into a hug 

"i love you," you said, as he wrapped his arms around you.

"i love you so much, y/n. i'm really sorry. i'll spend more time with you, i promise. i'll be better," he spoke softly, right next to your ear, then pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"it's okay, jake. i understand. it's your job, and you have to be there most of the time. i just wish you were home more often."

"i will, i promise you that, love."

in the following days, jake made a sincere effort to keep his promise of spending more time with you. he adjusted his work schedule to free up some evenings and weekends, ensuring that he had quality time to devote to both you and layla.

one sunny saturday morning, jake surprised you with a homemade breakfast in bed. it wasn’t perfect, the toast slightly burnt and your coffee had too much sugar, but it just made the whole gesture more adorable. he'd even prepared layla's favorite treats, and the three of you enjoyed a cozy meal together. it was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you.

as the weeks passed, you noticed a positive change in jake's behavior. he was more present, attentive, and genuinely engaged in your conversations. he made an effort to plan special outings and romantic date nights, just like when you first started dating. it was as if he had rediscovered the magic of your relationship.

your bond with layla also strengthened during this time. you both took her on long walks in the park, played fetch and each day jake sent you at least one article on how to take better care of your dog. it was clear that he was determined to be the best dog dad he could be.

one evening, as you and jake cuddled on the couch watching a movie, he turned to you with a heartfelt expression. "y/n, i can't thank you enough for helping me realize what truly matters. i was so consumed by my work that i lost sight of the most important things in my life—you and layla."

tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers interlocking with his. the emotions swelled within you, and you felt a profound connection to the man beside you. "jake," you began, your voice filled with sincerity, "we all make mistakes. what matters is that we learn from them and grow stronger together. i love you, and i'm so glad to see the changes you've made."

jake leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. the affectionate gesture sent a warm shiver down your spine, and you nestled even closer to him, finding comfort in his embrace. as the movie continued to play, all while their loyal four-legged companion, layla, lay at your feet, contentedly dozing off, feeling the warmth of her family surrounding her.

as time went on, the two of you learned that love wasn't just about saying "i love you." it was about showing that love through actions, and jake had proven that he was willing to do whatever it took to make your relationship stronger.

. . . . . -ˋˏ ✎ author's note! oh my!! i enjoyed writing this one so much, thank you for requesting with so much details, it was easier to understand your request and write what you actually wanted! hope you enjoyed ♡ requests: open © 2023 — all rights reserved to user thejakeslayla, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work !

#thejakeslayla #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen x you #jake x reader #enhypen #jake x you #jake x y/n #jake drabble #jake drabbles #jake imagines #jake fluff

[inthe-dark-tonight]

Falling Into My Sins

chapter three: balled up fists

dbf!joel x fem!reader series - loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 4 chapter 5

summary: tommy and joel walk into your new job and you decide to confront joel about the events that took place at sunday night dinner. the only thing is, joel isn't alone.

word count: 2.5k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: no outbreak AU, age gap (reader is in their 20s, Joel is in his 40s) no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, tommy and reader flirt a little, player!joel, joel being a gaslighter sorry, ANGST, theres one part where joel grabs readers wrist kinda roughly bc she’s… doing something so be aware of that, if i’m missing anything let me know!!

notes: okayyyyy here we go, i don’t want to spoil anything so… let me know what you guys think of this chapter :) thank you again to my love @shatteredbaby for proofreading for me again, i owe you my life mwah. can't forget my literal mother @pr0ximamidnight for letting me ramble for hours <3

It’s Friday morning now and Joel never got back to you. You didn’t send another text after your last one, afraid that you would seem desperate or annoying. You’ve been busy this week anyway so you try not to let it bother you.

One of the jobs you applied for finally called back, so you went in for an interview on Tuesday morning and they already have you working your first shift tonight. It’s a waitressing job, which isn’t exactly what you were hoping for, but you applied for anything and everything, just happy to be working again. It will also be good to get your mind off of everything that’s happened last weekend. 

You finish getting ready for work. Your shift starts in about an hour but you want to be early for your first day. As you leave your room, you grab your purse and your apron before running down the stairs. Your dad’s in the living room and you shout out to him. 

“I’m leaving! I’m not off until midnight so see you tomorrow!” 

“See ya bud, have fun!” He shouts back. 

You shut the door behind you and walk down your front steps to your car. As you walk to your car, you glance across the street towards Joel’s house. His truck isn’t in the driveway. You haven’t seen him at all this week, not even a quick glimpse as he was leaving for work or coming home. You saw Sarah come home from school a few times, but no Joel. 

You get into your car and turn the radio on, trying to shake the memory of the other night from your mind. You pull away, past Joel’s house and out of the neighborhood. The job you got is at a local diner near your house. Unfortunately though, it’s a 24hr diner which means you’ll probably be working nights most of the time but you’re just happy to be working again.

You pull up to the diner and step out of your car, grabbing your purse and tying your black apron around your waist. The one good thing about this job is that the dress code is simple, all black. You walk in and one of the other waitresses, Betty, greets you as you walk up to the counter. 

“Hi hon, welcome to work!” She smiles at you. 

She's an older woman, probably in her late fifties, and she’s very friendly. She was here the day of your interview and she chatted with you as you sat waiting for the manager to be ready for you. 

“Hi” you smile shyly at her.

“I’m gonna be training you tonight,” she starts. “There isn’t a lot to learn, I think you’ll get the hang of it easily so I’m just kinda here if you need any help.” 

You nod your head and follow her behind the counter. She takes about fifteen minutes to show you the ropes, how to use the register and things of that sort.

“Okay well,” she starts taking a deep breath. “I think you got this, I trust ya.” She winks at you. “It’s gonna be pretty slow for the next few hours, just watch the counter for now, I’ll handle any tables that come in.” 

You nod, acknowledging that you understand and then she walks into the back. You look around the diner noticing that there’s practically nobody in there. One booth in the back corner is occupied by an older man reading the paper and sipping on a black coffee, but that’s it. 

About an hour later you hear the bell on the door jingle as someone enters the diner. Your head whips towards the door and you see a familiar face, Tommy Miller. His face lights up as his eyes meet with yours and he walks towards the counter.

“Hey,” he glances around the empty diner, then his eyes land back on you. “Guess you heard back from some of the application’s you sent out huh?”

“Hi,” you laugh a little at his comment. “Yeah uh, I did. Today’s my first day actually.” 

He takes a seat at the counter and you hand him a menu. “Does that make me your first customer?” he raises his brow and smiles at you. 

“Yeah actually.”

“Hmmm, I’ll have to test ya then.” He opens the menu. 

You let out a small laugh “Can I get you anything? Coffee?” You watch as Tommy glances over the menu. 

He doesn’t look up at you. “Yeah actually, I’ll take a coffee while I wait.” 

Wait for what? You don’t ask. You walk to grab the coffee pot and a mug, setting it down to fill it in front of him. 

“Thanks darlin’,” he looks up at you and your cheeks heat up. 

“No problem, let me know when you’re ready.” You turn around to replace the coffee pot. 

Suddenly the doors open again, you hear the bell but you don’t turn around to look until you hear a woman laughing. You look up and your face immediately drops. 

It’s Joel Miller, and his arm is wrapped around some woman as they walk towards a booth. He doesn’t see you yet as he slides into a booth by the window, sitting on the side that faces you. Tommy turns his head glancing at him, then turns back to you. 

“Christ, when I told him to meet me after his date I didn’t think he’d bring the woman along.” Tommy rolls his eyes. 

Joel was on a date? You just hum in response, not sure what to say. You look back towards Joel, he’s smiling as he leans on the table. Once his eyes meet with yours his smile disappears. You immediately snap your eyes away from him and focus back on Tommy. 

“Ready?” You smile at him. 

He looks up at you giving you a cheeky grin “Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck as he talks. “Gonna keep it simple I think, just a burger and fries.” 

You jot it down on your pad and then quickly rip the paper off. “You got it.” You wink at him, eyes meeting with Joel’s for a quick second before you turn around to place the order with the line cooks. 

When you turn around, Tommy’s cheeks are slightly flushed. Then you see Betty come out from the back and walk towards Joel’s table to take their order. You try not to stare as you try to catch a better glimpse at the woman he’s here with. She has long blonde wavy hair, and as she turns her head to say something to Betty you catch a glimpse of her side profile and blinding smile. You have to admit she’s quite gorgeous. Then Joel’s saying something to Betty before she walks back and gives her order to the line cooks. His eyes flicker to yours again, and then to the woman he’s sitting with. 

Your blood is boiling but you’re trying not to show it. How was he fucking you the other night and now he’s here with someone else? 

“So, what’ve you been up to this week?” Tommy says, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Oh nothing much,” You smile, a bit distracted.

He hesitates for a moment. “Got anything going on tomorrow?” He’s looking at you with his large brown eyes. 

You notice Joel is watching you like a hawk, dark eyes burning straight through you as you’re talking to Tommy. You peel your eyes away from Joel and look back to Tommy.

“Not sure, I don’t think so.” 

“If you’re free, maybe we could go to this bar downtown?” He stops for a second. “I mean, if not, that’s fine just-“ 

“I’ll let you know.” You smile at him before turning to grab his food and placing it in front of him. 

“Thanks.” he glances up at you quickly. 

You nod and then look back towards Joel. He gets out of the booth and the woman follows. As she stands up, he pulls her into an embrace before waving bye to her and sitting back down. As the woman walks out, you finally get a look at her. She’s gorgeous, luscious hair bouncing as he walks towards the door. She glances over at you and smiles before pushing on the door and leaving. You’re frozen there for a moment, before looking back towards Joel. You need to talk to him. 

“I’ll be right back.” Tommy looks up at you with wide eyes, nodding his head. 

You storm over to Joel, blood boiling. His eyes are locked on you the whole way over. When you get to his booth, you slide into the spot where the blonde woman was just sitting a moment ago and stare directly into his eyes. He shifts in his seat as your eyes stay glued to his. 

“We need to talk. Now.” The last part comes out low through gritted teeth and filled with anger as you try to keep it together. 

“What about, sweetheart?” He leans back, throwing his arm over the back of the booth. 

What about? He's got to be joking. You feel like you could snap any second, and you think he can tell by the look in your eyes. 

“Joel.” It comes out as a warning. 

“Okay, okay,” he glances around the diner. “Not in here.” He gets up from the booth and you follow him as he walks towards the door. 

Joel walks outside and you call out to Betty saying that you’re taking a quick break, she just waves you off. You walk out the door and look both ways before spotting Joel leaning against his truck. You walk towards him slowly, thinking about what you want to say. You stand in from of him, practically fuming at the way he’s acting so nonchalant, like he didn’t fuck you up against the side of your father’s home five nights ago and then ghost you. 

“So,” You say, finally breaking the silence. 

“So.” He says back. 

You’re silent for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. “What exactly is going on, Joel,” your eyes meet his and your stomach flips. 

“Not sure what you’re talkin’ about.” He clears his throat and breaks eye contact with you, looking down at his boots. 

So he’s going to play dumb, you see how it is. “Seriously?” You shake your head still looking at him. 

He looks up at you apprehensively, like he’s afraid to meet your gaze. “Seriously, what are you on about.” His brows knit together as he looks at you.

You take a step closer to him. “You’re going to act like you didn’t fuck me behind my dad’s house less than a week ago?” Your voice starts to raise and he’s just staring back at you now.

“I-“ you cut him off. 

“No, let me finish.” You’re ready to let it all out. “You left abruptly Sunday night, practically ghosted me when we had plans Tuesday, and then showed up here… on a date?” He doesn’t say anything. “And then you have the nerve to ask me what we need to talk about.” 

He shoves one hand into his pocket and the other rubs at the scruff on his cheek. 

“Just tell me, were you lying when you said you didn’t want to forget about the night we met? That you wanted me,” You swallow thickly, afraid that you might not like his answer. “Was I just another girl to add to your list?” 

His jaw ticks as he stands there silently. “Yeah.” He’s still not looking at you. “It was just a fuck, that’s all.” 

You scoff. “You’re sick.” His eyes snap up to you. “Even after you found out that my dad is your best friend, who does that?” You shake your head, he has a smug look on his face that makes you just wanna- 

Your hand reaches up to slap him, but he catches your wrist before your hand even gets close to his cheek. He’s breathing heavily, anger burning behind his eyes.

“The hell are you doing?” He says it through gritted teeth. “Tryin’ to hit me?” 

You just stare at him. “You deserve it, don’t you think?” Your voice slightly breaks as the words come out. 

He grabs your other wrist and spins you around pressing you up against his truck. You try to wriggle away but he’s too strong. You’re speechless as you stand there in his grasp, a shocked look on your face. 

He’s breathing heavy as he towers over you, dark eyes staring at your parted lips now. His eyes meet yours, you have no idea what his next move will be. 

“Do I?” He’s close enough now that you can feel his breath fanning over your face. 

Your heart is racing. “Joel…” you breathe out.

Then he’s slamming his lips against yours, the kiss is needy and rough as he presses himself against you. You start to melt into him and then snap out of it, breaking the kiss. You push his solid chest as hard as you can, shoving him away from you. He slightly stumbles back releasing his grip on your wrists. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He looks like a deer in headlights right now, stunned by your reaction. 

His mouth falls open but nothing comes out. You turn away from him and start walking back towards the door, taking a deep breath trying to hold back tears, not from sadness but from anger. Who does he think he is? 

When you open the door to the diner, Tommy’s head whips towards you. “Hey, were you on break?” He asks as you walk back behind the counter. 

“Yeah,” Your voice cracks a bit as you answer him. “So, about tomorrow,” you clear your throat.

Tommy’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Joel walks through the door making his way to Tommy, you glance at him before your eyes meet his brother’s again. 

“I’d love to go with you.” He smiles at your words. 

“Great, I’ll get you around 8?” He says, his dark chocolate eyes gleaming as you nod positively.

Joel’s standing behind Tommy, now staring you down. You’re unsure about how much he’s heard, but honestly, you could care less at this moment. 

“C’mon Tommy, we gotta go.” Joel says as he lightly pulls at Tommy’s sleeve. 

Tommy pulls out his wallet, setting some cash on the table for his meal then stands up. “See ya.” he’s holding back a smile.

You bite your cheek. “Yeah, see ya.” 

Joel’s standing by the door waiting for Tommy as you give him a deadly glare before clearing the counter and you hear the door to the diner close. You’re not sure what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you feel sort of excited for tomorrow night.

thank you for reading! feel free to comment or leave asks, i love to talk about this fic so I will almost always answer/chat :)

tag list and some moots: @ilovepedro @isitmeulookin4 @joelsversion @nostalxgic @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @beskarandblasters @javiscigarette @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @kaybee181520 @joeldjarin @akah565 @laurifern @chefchy4 @untamedheart81 @eliza-8 @fellinfromthetop @sofiparallel @znerac

#dbf!joel #player!joel #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #fic: falling into my sins #joel miller smut

[milkywaydrabbles]

Meeting the Haitani brothers in their clubs

A/N: literally no one asked for this but I am a firm believer the Haitani brothers are raveheads. Rindou is for sure a wook, while Ran stays in his progressive house lane. I could literally talk about them and their music taste for hours, writing a dissertation as we speak.

Haitani Rindou Artists inspo: ATLiens, Svdden Death, Rezz

⁍When you first met Rindou you were at one of his smaller clubs. Definitely an edm club, one that he owned for fun and not to push drugs or be a cover for any other illegal activity. He knew it was a silly club but it's one he often visited for the fun of it if he wasn't doing business. That's when he was his most casual. ⁍He was by the bar area, leaning by the rails of the elevated section and looking out to the sea of ravers. That's when he saw you. Across the masses, you were on one of the pillars that has some footing (not its intended purpose but you know what it worked). It let you be above the crowd for some air, really taking in the lights and visuals of the artist performing.  ⁍He’s seen it done before, not a new concept, so he let it be. Though his eyes lingered for a beat longer than normal of any other girls that frequented his club. For one, he hadn’t seen you before, a newcomer he assumed. But you were so comfortable in the scene it must have not been your first rave. Second, your attire might have matched his aesthetic in terms of rave gear than anyone else. All black, showing skin in a tasteful way, but paired with spikes and chains. Hot.  ⁍He watched you every now and again throughout the night, but not acting on anything. And then he saw you next weekend. And the weekend after that. And each time, no matter the artist, your aesthetic regularly stayed the same save for a jersey or pashmina that matched the artist. Each time you were heavily involved. Either fanning the crowd to give some air, trading kandi, hell even turning up in the pit.  ⁍The third time he saw you Rindou decided to say something. He got there early enough before the crowd started to form. You turned to him with a bright smile, and he thought just for a second you were too pure to be here.  ⁍You got to talking before it got too loud, and he learned you were new to the city, and you just found this club. He asked you your opinion, almost anxious on what you thought of his club. When you gushed over how amazing it was, he almost preened. ⁍Rindou wasn’t much of a smooth talker, didn’t really continue much conversation from there but he lingered, dancing and headbanging with you to each of the performers. You gave him a piece of kandi for the great night and wished him a safe trip home. ⁍He spoke to you again the weekend after that, and ultimately decided to just man up and ask for your number. You gladly gave it to him. Your hangouts eventually made it out of the club, now turning into breakfast dates, lunch dates, park dates.  ⁍Rindou over time confided in you, telling you that the club you frequented was his, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He laughed in your face, immediately apologizing but it was too funny not to.  ⁍The two of you continued to see each other in and out of the rave scene, promise of this new found relationship blooming into something more.

Haitani Ran Artist inspo: Slushii, Dabin, Elephante

⊛Like his brother, Ran owns an edm club too, though a much different vibe. You were a bottle service girl at his club, and a diligent one at that. You’ve jumped in to help on nights you weren’t supposed to work, and even took on cleaning shifts if the rest of the bar was understaffed. ⊛All the bottle girls knew Ran, he liked to hire them personally to make sure they all fit the bill he was looking over (aka running background checks on them and making sure they were clean.) ⊛Every night he’d show up you greeted him with a cheery ‘good evening, Mr. Haitani!’ to which he responded with ‘you can always call me Ran, pretty girl.’ It ended with a giggle and a roll of the eyes, before heading off to your duties. ⊛You weren’t any different than the rest of them, not really, but he did notice you tended to get more tips than the rest and he was interested to know what you did. Maybe it was heavy flirting? Or maybe you ended up taking shots with the poor bastards and you milked them dry of their money that way? ⊛When he started watching you more, he noticed he was completely wrong. While the other girls tried to dance sexy with their tables you actively ended up singing all the words to the songs the performers would play and headbanged with them. That’s what got you more tips, you genuinely enjoyed the music. Huh.  ⊛At the end of the night while you cleaned up Ran came to find you and ask you about it. Oh boy, your face heated up so much you swore you could fry an egg on your forehead. You apologized for your behavior, stating that you ‘just really like the music, so working is really fun’.  ⊛Ran threw his head back and laughed, and asked you out on the spot. You paused, confused at the random offer and started to decline. That was your boss and you were pretty sure it was definitely against policy. ⊛But Ran was so pleasant and asked so pretty it was hard to say no. ⊛So you went on a date with him, thinking it would be one and done, and that it’d be short. Turns out, you had the best night of your life with him.  ⊛Every shift after that started the same, with your eager ‘good evening, Mr. Haitani’ his rebuttal ‘Call me Ran, pretty girl’, a giggle and smile.  ⊛And ended the same, Ran driving you home with a kiss and finally getting to hear you say ‘good night, Ran’.

#haitani rindou #haitani ran #rindou haitani #ran haitani #haitani brothers #haitani ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #haitani brothers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev #milk writes