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kookslastbutton · 1 month

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what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts au #fic:whatlovefeelslike #kookslastbutton

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loafgeto · 6 months

Text

ᝬ 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⤵︎

toji fushiguro x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re getting your first apartment with your own money, but there has been a complication with the housing and you were accidentally roomed with a stranger.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ mdni, explicit language, age gap (reader is 22, while toji is 30), she/her pronouns, big dick toji, masturbation, teasing, dirty talk, size kink, fingering, squirting, orgasming, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), slight breast play, pet names (pretty/good girl, sweetheart, princess). if i miss anything lmk. NOT proofread, ignore typos

wc: 6.4k (DIDNT KNOW I WROTE THIS MUCH LMFAOO)

a/n: uh if you guys see me use “princess” so much then like don’t mind me cuz i love the pet name and toji seems to suit saying it too. anyways, contemplating on what to write next 😟

After graduating university and acquiring your dream job, you were finally able to buy your own apartment with your savings from countless overworking shifts and paychecks. To say the least, all of the exhaustion and frustration was definitely worth it.

Today was the day you’d get your keys, and officially move in your things. The apartment consisted of a single bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen and a personal laundry area— all suitable for one person. When you first toured the building, you instantly fell in love and knew it was going to be your place of living for a while. So, you signed the paperwork and officially got the place.

You arrived at your apartment that afternoon, the feeling of excitement flowing through your veins. The neighborhood was relatively welcoming and safe, and there were many amenities surrounding the area, making it easily accessible.

As you were walking to the main office to retrieve your keys, your attention was primarily directed to the nature around you, along with the lively kids running around at the playground and other residents walking by, greeting you with smiles and quick hellos.

After settling in, you planned to get yourself a pet— whether it be a dog or cat, or both. You wanted some company at least.

When you arrived at the main office, you were greeted by a timid young man. “Hello there! Good afternoon. How may I help you today?” he questions when you approach the desk.

“Hello! I’m here to pick up my keys to my apartment. I just moved into the neighborhood,” you reply with a smile.

“Of course, may I have your name?” the male continues to inquire and you give him your information before he goes into the back. He returns shortly afterwards with a key and a piece of paper. “Here are your keys! If you have any concerns or questions please come back here.”

“Thank you so much,” you give the young man a final smile before you took the keys into your own hands. You were way beyond excited now and quickly left the main office to return to your car which was parked right by your apartment.

The movers would arrive that evening, so you were able to use some hours to adjust to the new place— or even buy some groceries since you already had a fridge installed— or figure out how to decorate the entire apartment. There were many options for you to choose, but you decided to pick whenever you got there.

At the same time, you couldn’t help but wonder who your neighbors would be. Would they be welcoming and respectful? Or rude and impolite? Even if they weren’t the best people, you’d hope to at least get on their good side so there’d be no issues.

You arrived at your apartment’s door minutes later, thrilled to unlock it and step inside, getting a whiff of the new life ahead of you. APARTMENT D, 404. Inserting the keys into the key hole, you twist and unlock the door before pushing the door open.

Of course, this apartment was only suitable for at least one person and if a couple were to move in together, they’d have to work together on the space. So, is someone going to tell you why a man is standing right ahead of you— drenched in shower water and only in a towel that’s wrapped around his hips?

Your mouth dropped, eyes observing how defined and muscular his entire body was, but that wasn’t the point. Clearly, you stepped into the wrong apartment. Right?

“O-Oh- I’m so sorry! I think I accidentally went into the wrong apartment!” you could feel blood rush to your cheeks due to embarrassment and you quickly avoid gazes with him. You were confused, you knew this was your apartment— your keys, the slip and signed papers could prove it all.

So why—

“You’re Y/n?” the male questions, clearly unaffected by the situation.

“Huh? Oh- yeah! Yes, I’m Y/n!” you reply, giving him a nod as you finally turn to him. Gosh, what is happening? “I-I’m so sorry once again, I probably got my keys mixed up or something—“

“You didn’t,” the male intervenes, now approaching closer to you.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re goin’ to be roommates for a while, until they get the housing shit sorted out. You heard, didn’t you?” he questions, tilting his head, as if you were already aware of this situation.

“Huh? Roommates?” your eyes widen, mouth dropping once again. From what you can recall, no one and nothing has mentioned about you getting a roommate— let alone it being a guy!

“Oh, guess not then,” the male awkwardly rubs the back of his neck with his hand, finally understanding that you had no knowledge about this whatsoever. “Let’s introduce each other first then. Toji Fushiguro, nice to meet you, sweetheart. We’ll be roommates for a week or so.”

“Wh-What? Okay, I did not pay and sign the papers for this!” you raise your voice and Toji only shrugs.

“Complain to them. Not me.”

And you did. After Toji dressed himself in proper clothes, you dragged him with you back to the main office. It was natural for someone to be infuriated and confused with this matter, but you couldn’t believe it was happening to you.

You always check your messages and emails, even from accounts you barely ever use, and you swore you never detected anything that would relate to having a complete stranger living with you in your new apartment. There were no letters or calls from the management of the apartment complex either, so you were still confused on why this was happening.

“We’re very sorry for the inconvenience, miss Y/n and mister Toji,” the manager who you called just moments ago bows his head down, apologizing to you. “There was several problems with the housing situation and we are trying to sort it out. There are several movers who have this problem so please don’t worry about being the only ones!”

“That’s not that I’m concerned about here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Y-Yes, of course. Please, we are still situating the problem and are doing the best we can. Please allow us a week and a half or so to solve the issue. We will report back to you both by then. We hope you understand,” the manager continues, keeping his head lowered.

You were about to reply when Toji presses a hand on your shoulder, intervening the conversation. “She understands. Thank you for your time,” he says, beginning to dismiss the two of you out before you could even utter anything.

“Hey! Don’t you think you’re being too calm with the situation?!” you stop and turn to him as he removes his hand away from your shoulder when you both step outside.

Toji shrugs, not returning a glance as he kept walking forward. “Don’t you think you’re being too dramatic over this? You heard them, they’re sorting it out. It’s just gonna be a week, sweetheart. If you got a problem, stay somewhere else until then.”

“What?!” your eyes follow him before your legs moved to catch up to his side. “First of all— don’t call me sweetheart. Second, of course I’m going to be pissed about this because I did not pay for this! Third, I have no where else to go and I can’t just crash at a friend’s with all of my things?!”

“Mistakes happen,” Toji says, now looking at you. “And well, if you have no where else to go— then deal with it, for a week. Sweetheart.”

Toji smiles before heading back to the apartment, leaving you even more infuriated. No matter what, you’re going to avoid this man until he finally gets moved somewhere else.

Or so you thought.

After your movers brought in your things, Toji made you pile your boxes into a corner for the time being— since there was no need to decorate the place at the moment. You figured and complied, not wanting to argue with this man.

For some reason, your mattress didn’t end up arriving with the rest of your belongings, so you had to sleep on your futon— beside of Toji’s. Of course, you wanted to sleep in the farthest corner away from him, but he insisted he wasn’t going to do anything.

Toji kept to himself, rarely trying to make some sort of conversation with you, but it wasn’t like you were complaining. He normally spent his attention on his phone, as if he was messaging someone or whatever. He’d randomly laugh or say something when it’d be quiet, catching you off guard.

You never said anything and plugged your earbuds into your ear, trying to avoid him at all cost. Closing your eyes, you just told yourself over and over again that this was only for a week or so. And then soon, you’ll never have to encounter him as much anymore.

As night fell, you suddenly felt the urge to eat. You had completely forgotten about grocery shopping and there wasn’t any open stores you could go to. You figured a quick stop at the convenience store would help, and decided to go there instead for something to eat.

You slip on your jacket and grab your wallet and phone. You hadn’t realize Toji was in the kitchen, doing something until you stepped in, watching as he was waiting for the pot of water to boil.

Toji noticed you from the corner of his eyes, and he turns, giving you a placid expression. “What?”

“Oh.. nothing. I’m just going to the convenience store since there’s no food for me here,” you reply to him before walking past him to the front door.

“Want me to come with?” Toji’s offer slightly appalls you and you turn back around to face him as you slip on your shoes. You’re uncertain, and Toji could notice that. “It’s late, wouldn’t want a young woman like you to get hurt, y’know.”

“It’s.. fine,” you say, with a little grin before turning back around, fondling with your keys. “Besides, you already seen occupied yourself.”

Toji didn’t respond for a moment, and when you were about to turn around again, he was suddenly behind you. Surprised, you nearly had a heart attack because how swift he was getting ready to accompany you out.

“Let’s go,” Toji says, already dressed in a jacket with shoes on. You give him a blank stare, but you didn’t say anything as you both exit the apartment.

Toji stood behind of you as you both walked to the nearest convenience store down the street. It was silent between the two of you— the only noise being distant cars, crickets chirping, and the soft sounds of your footsteps. Not only that, it was quite cooler in the night, which made you cuddle yourself beneath your jacket.

You didn’t once turn around to look at Toji, and even if you wanted to, you didn’t want to seem weird for just looking at him and not saying anything. He’d probably expected you to start a conversation or even inquire why you were randomly looking at him. You were overthinking at that moment, but for a fact, you were sort of glad Toji accompanied you.

The two of you arrived at the convenience store shortly enough and you went to grab a basket for your items. You figured Toji would do the same and go separate directions, but you quickly noticed that he was following you around instead.

You figured this could be a time to start a conversation. “Well. Is there anything you want? You can just put it in the basket and I can buy it for you,” you say, offering as a reward of gratitude since he had accompanied you.

“Nah. I’m fine,” Toji declines.

“Are you sure?” you repeat, and he nods his head, assuring you that he didn’t necessarily need anything to eat.

But even if Toji said he didn’t want anything, you decided to get him something. You found yourself getting a lot of food due to that and you felt slightly embarrassed, thinking that Toji probably thought you were odd for getting that much food for a night.

After paying the items and walking back to the apartment, you just couldn’t help but begin to feel curious about Toji— even after planning to deliberately avoid him the entire week or so. He was just an individual that you’ve never necessarily encountered before.

You didn’t know what made him stand out from other people, but there was definitely something about him. And so, you decide to start a conversation again.

“So. Toji,” you say, turning your head around since he was walking behind you again. His eyes raise to meet yours and he tilts his head. “Since we are going to be living with each other for a week.. shouldn’t we get to know each other.”

“Thought you hated me,” Toji smiles.

“What? No! I never said that! Yes, I was rude to you earlier but I was just upset at the housing situation since I didn’t expect it.. or even heard about it until today,” you sigh, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. “Well. Anyways. Let’s start with the basics— how old are you or whatever.”

“Hm,” Toji hums, eyes observing your face. “I’m 30”

“Oh, wow. You’re 8 years older than me,” you reply, nodding your head. Well, you honestly thought he was younger, but the age made sense due to his appearance. His built was great too. “I’m 22.”

“Fresh out of college, huh?”

“Yes.. technically. Almost been half a year since I graduated,” you nod your head. Okay, this conversation was going better than expected. “Did you go to university, Toji?”

“Nah. Waste of time and money. I left from home when I was 18,” Toji answers and your eyes slightly widen from the unexpected response. Well, you definitely didn’t think of that possibility at all.

“Oh..” you nod, wondering what to inquire next before it became silently awkward again.

“What did you study in college?” Toji then asked.

“I studied in business! It’s a common major but it’ll get me around. I found a good job during my third year of college and took an internship. And after graduating, they officially hired me,” you reply to his question, giving him a smile. Toji didn’t seem like a bad person at all.

“Young ones like you make me regret not going to college,” Toji chuckles softly as he was now walking next to you.

“Well, you can still go to college. There’s no age limit at all. You’re still young too, you know. I met some people in their late 40’s who are attending university,” you comment, hoping that would give him some consideration if he actually still wanted to attend.

Toji only gives you a glance before turning his head to look ahead. “I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finally arrived back at the apartment. You felt extremely relieved about the conversation you just had with Toji and figured you could actually end up being friends with him.

From that moment, the two of you detected another couple as you both approached the door leading to the apartment. They lived next door, the woman was patiently waiting for her partner to open the door as they spoke.

“Oh! This couple must be our new neighbors, dear!” the woman says and gently taps her husband’s shoulder, causing him to look in the direction of you and Toji.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you both,” you and Toji bow your heads. “And we’re not—“

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both! We heard we were getting new neighbors but I wasn’t sure when we would be able to properly meet,” the man quickly spoke before you could add that you and Toji weren’t a couple.

“Yes, yes. It’s nice to know that we aren’t the only couples living here— since this apartment complex is a single room and the rest are two person or above friendly,” the woman giggles. “Oh! How about we have a dinner tonight?!”

“Thank you but we—“ you start again, but Toji interrupts.

“I apologize, not tonight. We still have a lot of things to unpack. Maybe another night,” Toji says, placing a hand on your shoulder before pulling you close. “Plus, she’s very tired and we wouldn’t want to bother the two of you.”

“Oh dear, no, it’s fine! Another time then,” the woman nods with a reassuring smile.

“Well then, we can talk about dinner plans whenever,” her husband says before opening the door to their home.

After chatting a few more times and introducing each other with names, the woman gives you and Toji one last smile. “By the way, the walls here are very thin. Try not to get a noise complaint from the single person’s living around here!”

And then, she gives you two a wave before following her husband inside. You and Toji remain silent, processing what she meant, until it hit you.

You quickly went into the apartment without saying anything to Toji and he follows behind, closing the door as you placed the bag of food on the kitchen counter.

“Anyways. Let’s eat!” you say, turning to Toji who appears absolutely unaffected by what just happened. He gives you a look before you add on. “Oh, I bought enough food for the two of us, so you might as well eat some with me.”

There was a table in the small room you and Toji shared, so the two of you gathered there. You begin assembling the food across the table as Toji sat across from you.

“Oh, so that’s why you bought a lot,” Toji comments.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to just watch me eat everything if you’re hungry. That’d be rude,” you reply, placing a set of chopsticks ahead of him. “And besides, take it as a thank you for accompanying me to the convenience store.”

“If you insist,” Toji says with a smile as he lifts the chopsticks in his hands.

The two of you began eating, in silence once again. There really wasn’t much to inquire about, and even if there was, you don’t want to pry into Toji’s personal space too much.

And eventually, the quick dinner ended and the two of you cleaned up the table and threw any trash and store leftovers. You figured it was a good start to living with Toji for a week, and maybe there would be better options tomorrow.

While Toji was in the bathroom, you were sitting on your futon in the corner and had your back against the wall. You were scrolling through your phone, whether it be from messages to posts on social media, you were just bored and wasn’t feeling tired at all.

You changed into a shirt and sleeping shorts before wrapping a warm blanket around your body. You remained on your phone for a while, until you began hearing noises from the other side of the wall your back was against.

From what you could gather, it was the couple you and Toji met earlier. They seemed to be talking and moving around, muffled noises would follow after. You figured they must be rearranging something, since you recalled to the woman saying how thin the wall was.

You began hearing shuffling noises right by you, as if their bed was directly next to the wall on the other side. You blink several times, beginning to avoid what they were doing.

After several moments, you began hearing soft moans of the woman, which caught you off guard and flustered. The lewd noises were consistent, and she kept saying her husband’s name with such affection. They were fucking, literally, right by the other side of the wall.

You remain flustered, as you continued listening to them. You could’ve honestly just put in your earbuds and blast loud music to avoid listening further, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It was slowly turning you on.

The imagination of having your neighbors being able to hear you and someone fucking turned you on. You were completely lost in your thoughts as your breathing became heavier and you slipped one hand down between your thighs.

You pressed your ear against the wall, hearing the moans and grunts become louder by the minute. You bite your lower up, refraining from making any noise as you push your hands beneath your short and under your panties.

Your middle finger began rubbing circles against your clit, before gliding down your folds that were beginning to become soaked with your arousal. Fuck. This was a very risky situation, given the fact that Toji was still around and could leave the bathroom any moment.

But by then, you didn’t even think about him. You kept your attention on pleasuring yourself and the sex on the other side of the wall. Honestly, you wanted nothing more but to be fucked just like that. After you previous relationship, you hadn’t gotten with anyone and it’s been at least over a year.

You push two of your fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them up and moving them in and out. You started to let out low moans while biting down your lip, refraining them to be louder. Shit.. you’d never thought you could be turned on like this.

Pushing your thighs further apart, you sink your fingers deeper into your pussy, your arousal beginning to stick on your knuckles as you thrust them in and out. You take them out, rubbing your clit once again with your wet fingers before pushing them back in your hole.

Your neighbors continued to fuck, the woman’s moans bouncing off the walls and resonating your quiet room. But it all came to a stop when you heard the bathroom door opening, causing you to panic and quickly pull your hands away.

You were so close to being caught.

Toji walks into the room, towel over his shoulder as his eyes directed to you. He was slightly confused, noticing how flustered you were. “You okay there?” he questions.

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, realizing that the neighbor’s noises were still very much detectable.

Toji definitely heard them already, but he hadn’t address it yet. The room fell silent as the neighbors moans begin to become heard once again, and the awkwardness between you and Toji arose.

“They’re not too loud,” Toji finally comments with a sly grin.

“You think?” you raise a brow, keeping your eyes away from his. Your body was beginning to become hotter, mostly due to the embarrassment of almost being caught.

“Why are you so flustered?” Toji inquired as he starts walking closer to you.

“I’m not! I’m just— surprised!” you try to make some sort of excuse as you kept avoiding his gaze. Toji stood ahead of you before kneeling down to your level. You clear your throat, turning your head slightly and locking eyes with him.

Toji’s grin becomes wider. “You turned on or something?”

“Excuse me? I’m-“ you start but Toji was quick to hush you by leaning closer to your face, one of his hands pressing against the wall beside of your face.

“Come on. Listen to them. Aren’t you imagining and wishing it was happening to you instead?” Toji starts to tease you, his smile becoming more mischievous as your face grows even more timid.

“Please.. stop..” you turn your head away from him. It didn’t help that Toji was so close to you. It was true, you were still turned on, but you definitely didn’t want to admit it.

“Well, we’re going to be listening to them all night then,” Toji says, about to turn away when you grab his hand. He looks at you, quite surprised with your actions but he didn’t stop you. He only chuckles before leaning closer to your face again. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Can’t use words to admit that you’re turned on?”

You only shake your head, glancing at him several times and then at another direction. It was embarrassing, but Toji found it amusing.

“No need to be embarrassed,” Toji says, grasping his hand around your wrist and pulls you towards him. You were surprised but didn’t restrain as Toji presses you down on your futon. “Normally I’d get paid to do this. But you’ll be an exception.”

“People pay you to fuck them?”

“Some of the time. I follow the request of anyone in order to get money. It’s how I was able to get one of these apartments in the first place,” Toji snickers, laying beside of you and removing the blanket from your body. “So, you wanna do this, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes..” you nod, looking up at him.

Cute, Toji smiles before hovering his body over you. From the very moment you two met, he noticed how small you were compared to him. He’d imagine you being so afraid of him putting his cock in you, but he’d assure you that it would fit. Seeing how you were when it came to sex caused Toji to be slightly amused— since he never expected to get to this point with you.

“Ever slept with a man 5 plus years older than you before?” Toji inquires, slipping his hand between your thigh. He starts rubbing your inner thigh, close to your pelvic area, which makes you tremble.

“N-No.. not at all. My first time,” you reply, nearly squirming at Toji’s cold hands against your skin.

“Yeah?” Toji smiles, using his hands to slide off your shorts, and eventually your soaked panties. You felt embarrassed, trying to cover yourself up once Toji tosses the materials away. But he push your legs apart with his strength and aligns his body between them. “God, you’re so wet. Gonna fuck this pussy and make you scream even louder.”

“T-Toji..” you whine, covering your face with your hands.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you sweetheart,” Toji chuckles, noting how impatient you are.

Toji glides the tip of his middle finger against your wet entrance, making you squirm. He pushes two fingers into your pussy and presses his thumb against your clit. The feeling of his long and thick fingers thrust inside you made you reach an instant ecstasy you’ve never felt before.

Your moans started to drop from your mouth even more as Toji drives his finger deeper into your pussy, creating squelching noises. He smirks, rubbing circles against your clit with his thumb before he secretly inserts another finger.

“F-Fuck, Toji!” you gasp, feeling the third finger slip in. His fingers were so long and big. Comparing to yours, he’d be able to wrap your hands in his.

“I like how you say my name, princess,” Toji whispers, leaning in close to press a kiss on your forehead. “Come on, keep saying it.”

“Toji.. Toji..” you slowly chant through your moans as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you faster.

You’ve never had three fingers in you before, it was very much a new and different experience, but you fucking loved it. Toji curls his fingers, rubbing against your g-spot and making you reach closer to your orgasm.

His fingers kept pleasuring you in ways you’ve never thought you’d experience again, yet even better. Toji uses his other hand to hold your face, making you look at him as he fucks you with his fingers and making you moan his name out.

“Toji—“ you moan out, using one hand to grip his hand on your face. “Gonna c-cum..”

“Already?” Toji hums, maintaining the pace of his fingers pumping into your pussy. He slips one out, being able to thrust the two in and out faster. Your lewd noises start permeating the room, along with the wet noises of your pussy.

“Fuck, yes, Toji! I’m cu—“ you holler out, throwing your head back as you squirted immediately after. Your body trembles as you came all over your futon and fall back down against the ground.

“Not bad, sweetheart,” Toji comments as he slips his fingers out and into his mouth, getting the taste of you.

You don’t say anything besides watch him. You’re catching your breath, hands still slightly covering your flustered expression, until Toji reaches for his sweatpants. He was definitely hard now, from his way his cock was poking out.

“Damn. Never been this hard before,” Toji grunts as he pushes his pants down, his cock leaping up instantly. Your eyes observe in awe, and you give him a slight concerning expression.

“T-Toji.. it’s not gonna fit..” you say as Toji starts pumping his hard cock that was already leaking with pre-cum.

“I’ll make it fit.”

Toji gives you a smile before pressing the tip of his cock at your entrance. He moves his cock up and down against your folds, soaking the tip with your arousal and teasing your clit. Not only was he a bigger man, but his dick was too. You’ve only ever seen something like that in pornography, but being able to see it in person was appalling.

“Ready, princess?” Toji asks as he lifts his gaze to you.

You give him a nod and Toji instantly pushes his cock into you, making you squirm as you felt his dick stretch you out. “S-shit. So big, Toji..” you comment, both hands grabbing his biceps.

“Fuck- see that? Your pussy is already taking me so good,” Toji grunts before thrusting his entire length into you, earning more moans from your mouth. He starts moving his hips, using both hands to guide your legs further apart and starts thrusting faster.

The feeling of his big cock rubbing against the walls of your pussy was already driving you insane. Toji felt you clench him tightly as he thrusted, which makes him smirk, seeing how addicted you were already becoming to him.

Toji then pulls away and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, before pounding his cock right back into your dripping cunt. Your moans were escalating at that point, his name falling out of your mouth like a music note, and you both knew anyone around could hear how good he was fucking you.

“Toji- fuck yes, just like that!” you cry out, feeling the tip of his cock kiss your womb.

“Shit, princess. Everyone in this neighborhood is gonna know my name now,” Toji grunts again, thrusting his cock deeper into you before using a finger to rub your clit.

Your fingers curve against the skin of his biceps and your nails dig into his flesh, creating your nail marks on his skin as he pounded you. The sound of your moans and his grunts along with the wet slapping sounds began resonating the room, and your mind started becoming foggy.

Toji removes one of your hands from his biceps and presses it down on your lower stomach. “You feel that? You feel how deep I am inside of you?” Toji inquires, placing his hand over yours and you give him a nod.

“Yes- Toji. So fucking deep, keep going,” you beg, seeing water in your eyes due to the amount of pleasure this man was giving to you. “Want you to kiss me, Toji.”

Toji doesn’t hesitate and leans down, pressing his lips against yours while guiding both of your legs to wrap around his waist as he continues thrusting into you. One of your hands reach up to grasp his hair and tug him closer to you while your tongues start pressing against each others and your moans were falling into his mouth.

The welled tears finally began streaming down the sides of your face and Toji wipes them away while still kissing you. He pulls away, lifting you up with him. “Face the wall,” he commands and you listen, getting on your knees and pressing your hands against the wall when facing it.

Toji aligns himself behind of you, completely towering over you. He loved how small you were compared to him. He grabs the side of your hips, pushing them back against his before slamming his cock right back into you.

“O-Oh, fuckk,” you moan, feeling his dick penetrate you so deep and rubbing against your g-spot perfectly.

You clench around his cock again, making him groan as he starts thrusting. Your forehead presses against the cold sensation of the wall and you’re moaning even louder than before. Toji slides one hand beneath the shirt you’re still wearing and pushes your bra to the side to grope your breast.

“Such nice tits you have princess,” Toji mumbles in your ear before kissing your neck several times.

You’re crying again while uncontrollably moaning and screaming his name, begging for him to fuck you faster, rougher, and touch you more. His thick cock gliding against the walls of your pussy was making you reach your next orgasm and Toji could tell that you were close.

Toji’s hips slams against your ass to the point that you believed it would leave a mark later. He leans forward, using one hand to grab your neck and pull your head back. Your eyes meet his and you both share a quick kiss.

“‘m gonna cum again!” you cry out, eyes shutting as you were finally close to cumming.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” Toji murmurs, kissing the side of your face before returning his hand to the side of your hips. He rocks his hips faster, pounding so fucking deep into you that your body is railing against the wall.

“Toji—“ you moan out his name as you came all over him and your body nearly drops to the ground as you heavily breathe for air.

Toji grunts, feeling your cum all over him as he slips his cock out. He was still quite hard, due to not cumming and he too finds himself catching for air. You turn around, giving him a look to indicate that you weren’t done and it caught Toji by surprise.

Your mouth ended up finding its way to Toji’s cock and you began pumping him with your two hands. Toji groans, looking down at you as your tongue began swirling around the swollen tip of this throbbing dick. Imagining how your small mouth was going to take his cock was appealing to him, and he desperately wanted to shove himself down your throat.

Your mouth latches on the tip of his cock as you’re uncertain whether or not to take his entire length into your mouth, but you wanted to try. You start sucking and licking your tongue all around the tip, while pumping the rest of his length with your hand.

“F-Fuck,” Toji stammers as you look up into his eyes. “Gotta feel your entire mouth around me, princess.”

You begin pushing your face forward, making his cock sink deeper into your mouth until his tip smacked your throat. He was nearly halfway in your mouth, but you swore you couldn’t take him any further.

Toji groans as you start bobbing your head slowly, feeling his hand grasp your hair. His dick twitches inside your mouth, causing you to moan. You return one hand to pump his cock as your mouth moved up and down, your saliva covering his entire length.

“Your mouth’s so fucking good,” Toji compliments, watching your every movement. He’d never thought someone could take his cock so sensually. “Such a pretty girl.”

You squirm as you return your mouth around his tip, sucking and licking it before pushing your head back down. Toji grits his teeth, admiring how good you’re taking his cock and making him reach close to his orgasm.

“You’re gonna make me cum, princess,” Toji whines, the hand grasping your hair tightening as he gently rocks his hips.

Hearing that, you start moving and bobbing your head faster, sucking and licking his entire cock as wet and your lewd noises spilled from your mouth. You pump his cock several times again, enjoying the moans he was making.

Toji groans, pushing your head slightly for his cock to enter deeper into your mouth. You wince, surprised by this and shut your eyes as he initially begins guiding your head on his cock.

“Shit. I’m cumming now,” Toji says, throwing his head back slightly as he shoots his cum deep into your mouth and you moan, feeling the warm liquid hit your throat.

Toji could feel and watches as you swallow his cum, making a slight face afterwards to which he chuckles. You pull your head away from his cock, a small string of saliva connected from your tongue to the tip of his dick being seen before disconnecting. You were exhausted and nearly slumped over, but Toji caught you by placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You did good,” Toji says, lifting your face up with his hand before kissing you, to which you returned. The kiss was more passionate and gentle, and you couldn’t believe you were craving more from him.

But because of this, you both knew that there was no need for the other to move out.

—

The next morning, you woke up feeling numb and immediately recalled to the events of that night as your eyes opened to see that Toji was no longer beside of you. After cleaning up, you and Toji ended up sleeping on his futon, since yours was drenched in cum.

You sense blood rushing to your cheeks as the events start replaying in your head and your heart couldn’t stop racing. You were in Toji’s clothes instead of yours and you could whiff the distinct smell of his scent.

Pushing yourself up from the futon, you remove the covers from your body and walked towards the kitchen. When arriving by the entrance to the kitchen, you notice Toji standing by the door, his back facing you.

He was talking to someone, but the conversation was muffled, so you couldn’t detect anything they were saying. After a moment, Toji closes the door and turns around, eyes meeting yours instantly.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Toji says, holding a small piece of paper and appearing unaffected by whatever was written on it.

“What’s that? And who was that at the door?” you inquire, raising a brow as Toji approaches you.

“Seems like we got a noise complaint,” Toji snickers, showing you the paper he was given and allowed you to briefly glance over it before crumpling it up and tossing it to the side.

Toji snakes an arm around you, his hand cupping your ass and pulling you close. Your lips immediately crashed against his and you both share a sloppy kiss before pulling away.

“Guess we should be louder tonight then.”

LOAF4U. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

#loaf4u #18+ minors dni #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut

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f1byjessie · 3 months

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part four.

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yourusername here’s a sneak peek of the photos from a shoot me and my beloved did for hermès! i’m so honored to get to work with so many skilled and talented people! none of this would’ve been possible without them

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user these are stunning!! 😍❤️

user I MISSED THE RIDING CONTENT

user genuinely had no idea y/n was a rider

↳ user no fr cuz the sargeants are all athletes in some way it’s crazy!!

↳ user i think she just rides casually now 🤔 but she used to compete when they were in europe

logansargeant do i get to brag and say my sister modeled for hermes now?

↳ yourusername there’s plenty of other brands i’ve modeled for that you could brag about 💀 and it was technically my horse that modeled

landonorris ok so are you gonna take me for a ride sometime?

↳ yourusername only if you promise to do the same

↳ user WAIT HOLD ON WE'VE MISSED SOME CHAPTERS

↳ user is y/n not with oscar???

↳ user this bitch is homie hopping the mclaren boys 😒😒

You have barely enough time to respond to the knocking— or rather pounding— on your door before it's being flung open and Logan, looking very much the part of an angry brother, barges in.

“Is it true?” He asks in lieu of a greeting.

“‘Hi, Y/N,’” you begin sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “‘So good to see you, Y/N. Sorry for barging in, Y/N. Can I have a moment of your time, Y/N?’ Why of course, dearest brother of mine. What can I do for you?”

Logan doesn’t seem amused by your antics, though. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth is pinched into a frustrated frown, and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. He’s in his running clothes, and there’s still sweat keeping his hair plastered to his forehead, which gives you the impression that whatever he’s asking about had been deemed important enough that he couldn’t even be bothered to shower and change before confronting you about it.

You wonder, briefly, if his new trainer is downstairs in the living room or if he’s gone home already. You almost ask about it just to piss him off even more, but he looks genuinely serious and you’ve— mostly— grown past the years of purposefully picking on him to get a reaction.

Instead, you sit up further in bed and look at him expectantly, prompting him with a wave of your hand to elaborate.

“Are you dating Lando Norris?”

The question, and the sincerity with which it’s asked, startles a laugh out of you. The flash of hurt in your brother’s eyes, however, forces you to bite back the immediate retort. Logan isn’t asking to be a dick, you remind yourself.

Before you answer, you pull your legs up to your body and pat at the now free space in front of you.

He purses his lips, but eventually, he closes the door— softer than how he’d opened it— and moves to sit on the edge of your mattress. For a moment, as he looks at you, he doesn’t look like the nearly 23-year-old that he is. When you were younger, he’d come into your room and talk about his races, what all he did wrong, and what new things he was going to try next time, and the young man that sits before you now reminds you a lot of that little boy.

“No,” you answer him simply. “I’m not dating Lando. He and I are just friends.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “But do you want to date him?”

You shake your head and sigh, before grabbing your phone off the bedside table and pulling up the brief text conversation you had with Lando last night after he’d tipsily called you. There’s a frankly obscene amount of typos and more emojis interspersed throughout than you thought a guy like him would use, but the majority of it is all the details of his supposedly foolproof plan.

You take a deep breath, weigh the consequences of your actions for a split moment before throwing caution to the wind, and turning the screen to face Logan.

“I don’t want to date Lando,” you admit. “I want to date Oscar, and he’s helping me.”

Logan’s silent, and you pray that it’s just because he’s too busy reading through the messages to focus on reacting to what you’ve said. But the silence stretches on, and on, and on, and suddenly you regret saying anything. Maybe you should’ve just agreed and said it was Lando all along—

“I know Oscar better than Lando,” Logan suddenly says. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t just ask for my help.”

It’s your turn to be silent now. You open your mouth, close it, open it again, and close it again. You probably look like a fish, but you’re so taken aback by what he’s said that it doesn’t even matter.

“You’re not, like, mad?” You pull your phone back and let the screen fall dark, eyes focused on Logan.

He looks at you like you’re dumb, or like you’ve actually turned into the fish you were momentarily mimicking. He shakes his head— “Why would I be mad? Oscar is, like, the only driver I’d want you to date.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I mean, the others are all nice, don’t get me wrong,” he clarifies. “I’m sure they’re all very good partners, and I bet Lando would be an amazing boyfriend. Probably. But I know Oscar. I trust him more than I trust the others because I know for a fact that he’s a genuinely good guy. That first year that we met him, he asked me what your favorite color was to make sure his mom knit you a hat that you would like.”

“That was years ago, Logan…” you trail off.

He shrugs. “So? It’s not like he’s changed that much. When we were still at Prema, and you went through that vegetarian phase, I caught him once looking up restaurants that have vegetarian options so that you could eat with us when we went out to celebrate.”

You glance down, avoiding Logan’s eyes. Picking at a loose thread at the bottom of your shirt, you say, “That was still years ago.”

“What about all the flirting in the comments,” he asks.

You shrug. You’re not even sure yourself. The way Sophia and Lando had explained things to you, it had certainly seemed like flirting, but the lack of his presence on your posts as of late has made you reconsider your initial beliefs and now you’re not sure what to think.

Realistically, all of this could probably be solved if you just texted him and asked— womaned up, as Sophia would say, and confronted him about your feelings. But there’s still that underlying fear of rejection, and you would never be able to live down the mortification if you did something so bold and had your confidence thrown back in your face.

“So you’re just gonna play pretend with Lando and hope Oscar gets jealous and does something about it?” He sounds genuinely confused. “Isn’t that… mean?”

“That’s what I said!” You exclaim, burying your head in your hands with an exasperated groan. “But Lando and Sophia are so adamant that it’ll work, and they have more relationship experience than I do. I don’t wanna manipulate him at all, but I don’t know what else to do to get his attention again other than talking with him, and I think I might actually throw myself into the ocean if I have to do that.”

Logan’s face scrunches up, “‘Again?’”

You purse your lips and awkwardly shrug as if that’s a good enough answer, but his silent stare persists, so you heave a sigh and fall backward against your pillows, glaring miserably up at your ceiling. “We kissed. Once. In Bahrain.”

He stands from your bed suddenly, pulling your gaze back onto him. His hands are on his hips, his brows are still furrowed and his mouth is still turned downward ever so slightly, but he looks less upset and more determined than anything.

“I’m gonna go get cleaned up. Be ready in thirty minutes,” he says. “We’re going out.”

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tagged: yourusername

logansargeant sometimes it’s just you and your sister against the world, and sometimes that means last-minute trips to the beach to remind yourself that it isn’t all that bad

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yourusername you didn’t really give me much choice tbh 🙄

↳ logansargeant yea ok well someone in this family has to have a sense of spontaneity 🙄

user wholesome sibling content is what’s keeping me going fr

user i’m so happy we’ll be getting more of y/n in the paddock in 2024!! 💙💙💙

landonorris is twin telepathy real?

↳ logansargeant totally

↳ landonorris you’re messing with me no it’s not

↳ yourusername it absolutely is that’s why me and logan are always on the same page

↳ landonorris fuck that’s so cool

user i’m ugly crying the fact that they’re twins makes them built-in best friends i can’t do this rn 😭😭

user the sargeant twins are keeping us fed this winter break

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yourusername sometimes self-care is sunsets and petty gossiping with your brother

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logansargeant emphasis on the petty

↳ yourusername obviously

user girl idk how you can stand how cold the water is rn

↳ user i mean they kinda grew up in europe so maybe they’re used to it

user i wish i had a brother to gossip with 😫😫

user i NEED to know who they talk shit about PLS

alex_albon hopefully the east coast is having better weather than the west coast 🥲

↳ yourusername sunny skies as far as the eye can see 😌

user I’M REALLY WATCHING THESE TWO LIVE MY DREAM RN

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oscarpiastri ☀️.

comments have been disabled

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl

━━ a/n: we're going places! i'm very excited for what's in store with the next part! beyond that, though, i am seriously so thankful for how nice everyone has been with this. the reception was so much nicer than i ever could've anticipated, and i'm very excited to keep writing more!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months

Note

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss.

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss.

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.”

It was just a kiss.

“Green Four check.”

It was just a-

“Green Five check.”

Just a-

“Green Six check.”

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.”

It wasn’t just a kiss.

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron.

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad.

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons.

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne.

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure.

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide.

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them.

Simple.

In theory.

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy.

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going?

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice.

You swallow.

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart.

I hadn’t just been a kiss.

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline.

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that.

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead.

It made a lot more sense.

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own.

They had always been close. Always. Best friends.

Sickness bubbled in your throat.

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it.

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander.

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?”

Hank chortled.

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist.

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you.

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?”

Yeah. Now you had.

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains.

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet.

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter.

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch.

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss.

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence.

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons.

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands.

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next.

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?”

“Yeah?”

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed.

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.”

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname.

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you.

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.”

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on.

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal.

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay.

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures.

“Fuck.”

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled.

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!”

“How far away is the Delta?”

“Calling in attack pattern!”

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game.

That didn’t bode well.

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction.

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on.

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!”

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process.

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?”

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down.

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard.

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns.

Good.

But there’s so, so many of them.

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems.

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together.

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing.

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear.

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through.

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on.

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter.

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home.

Frizz.

“No…”

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal.

Nothing.

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz.

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes.

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist.

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity.

All you need is…

Another alarm.

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!”

A chorus of yells answer you.

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely.

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard.

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot.

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist.

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected.

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons.

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull.

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it.

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact.

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell.

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire.

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational.

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on.

Two chances left.

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits.

Poe shouts for you over the intercom.

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will.

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call.

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit.

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it.

The canon doesn’t go down.

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him.

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do.

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard.

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard.

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down.

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out-

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream.

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain.

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob.

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit.

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it.

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide.

Make it look like you had a weapon.

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning.

Can’t let them take you alive.

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down.

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot.

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue.

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear.

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds.

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use.

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back.

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good.

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?”

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper.

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-”

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.”

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe.

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.”

You snort.

He smiles.

“Who did we lose?”

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment.

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red.

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages.

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes.

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.”

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away.

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?”

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.”

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?”

You nod.

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart.

“You pushed her away?”

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…”

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.”

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes.

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head.

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating.

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly.

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.”

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight.

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins.

You scoff.

“You are.” He kisses you again.

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home.

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.”

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.”

You touch his cheek lightly.

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?”

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.”

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper.

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance.

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted.

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart.

____________________________________

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ang3lik · 1 year

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spider with a girl that grew up with him start noticing that they have feelings for each other just really sweet fluffy smut pls

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

#pairing:: spider socorro x fem!human!reader. #warnings:: vaginal unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), grinding, handjobs, fingering, slight edging, mentions of mating (na’vi) and mentions of death. #w/c:: 2.6k. #a/n:: exopacks are not a thing for this fic, just pretend humans can breathe on pandora. this was a lot and is kind of long but i love it. if you’d like to be added to any taglist you can send an ask or dm !! enjoy ! (i haven’t proof read this so if there’s any typos or warnings missing, just let me know, sorry !)

spider had always been fascinated by the na’vi. pandora itself as he explored the wonders of life each day. but he never felt exactly at home. he saw the way neytiri judged him from afar, he understood your reasoning as his own kind destroyed your home.

but he just wanted a family, a family to feel like home. his relationship with jake was quite comforting, very much like a father figure to him. spider felt as if they had an understanding of each other in sorts. when jake would tell stories of earth at night around a warm fire, he would be so intrigued.

jake saw the way spider would listen more intently than his children, the comforted but excited gleam in his eyes, guilting him slightly. even though jake’s stories fascinated him, he didn’t think he’d ever want to leave pandora though.

his relationship with the sully brothers was just the same. they both saw him as a brother and spider the same. neteyam was very protective of his family, spider included, he knew how much trouble lo’ak and spider would get into and would scold them both equally.

neteyam taught him many ways of the omaticaya clan, he taught spider to train, his body gaining muscle and building strength. he also taught him to shoot arrows with a bow. they would often also tussle, neteyam a lot gentler considering his height, but he must admit he thought spider was strong for his kind, fearless too just like a warrior.

lo’ak loved spider. he loved to explore his home just as much as spider did. however the two were quite this mischievous pair. often receiving scoldings from his older brother and father. they hung out a lot. running around like children all the time. they’d do anything for each other, just like brothers.

his relationships with kiri and tuk were both adorable. he was very protective of the girls, he knew as sisters. just like neteyam and lo’ak, he protected kiri when boys would talk to her. he always kept a watchful eye on both sisters as he knew kiri loved to explore and tuk would never be far behind her.

but his relationship with you however, was way more special. you both grew up together, playing as babies, growing into toddlers and changing into teenagers. but no matter your age, you only grew closer. he knew his mother had died shortly after his birth, just like yours had died during your birth.

you both kept pictures of your mothers, sticking them above your beds and making up stories at night at what you’d think they be like. the way he talked and interacted with you was way different to any of the relationships he’d had.

however around the age of 13 he started to develop a nervous feeling around you. spider always thought you were beautiful, but one day you looked prettier, if that was possible. each day from then you only got prettier. now at the age of 18, you were the most beautiful human being he’d ever had the pleasure of being able to look at, the fact that he got to even touch you, hug you, hold your hand, kiss you still was unrealistic to him.

you always knew you’d had feelings for spider from a younger age. much like spider it did happen just one day, where you looked at him different. you were making dinner with norm, spider stood next to you as he cut vegetables too.

you’d just gotten back from hanging with the sully kids again. however, spider was off with neteyam training with him and lo’ak, as you helped kiri collect some substances from plants for her tsahìk training.

your eyes gravitated to his calloused hands, holding the sharp knife, his veins slightly bulging out. they travelled upwards along his forearm to his biceps as they strained, his muscles had grown. his body was covered in a light sheen of sweat as all the running and laughing you had done on the way home had tired him.

you’d catch yourself looking at his lean torso sometimes too, your mouth watering just a little as you thought about touching his body just a little. he’d catch you at times too, his body heating up under your gaze. eventually, the lingering gazes, touches, thoughts had proved enough for you both.

when you were both 16, under the stars one night you had laid closer staring into each others eyes as they both sparkled in delight. he had shocked you with his confidence as he leaned closer, looking down at your lips, his nerves quietly eating away at him as your hearts heated faster in tandem as your lips connected lightly.

he pressed soft pecks to your lips, experimentally. testing the waters as each kiss grew longer. eventually you broke apart, breathing heavier as rosy blushes set into both your cheeks as you giggled slightly. from then on you and spider had been “together”, never really making it official, he just knew he was yours and you his.

small make out sessions, turned into light grazing touches along each others skin, and the make out locations changed. from the forest at night to in your bed. you and spider didn’t share a room but it wasn’t usually for you to sleep in each others beds.

you had both done it for comfort starting at a very young age, so norm never suspected a thing. the kisses grew hotter and faster though as you’d explored each other. you’d never had sex however. always stopping when your hips would jolt up or his hips would grind down into yours.

however as you both grew so did the sully boys. everyone now knew that you and spider were together. sharing small pecks around the family and it came to no surprise that they didn’t bat an eye either. of course, kiri had pulled you away as did the boys to spider, kiri squealing on delight as you told her the new development.

the boys were also very happy for spider and you. congratulating their brother on getting over his nerves and confessing to you his feelings. it wasn’t long until neteyam also found his mate, mä'reyna and lo’ak found his too, äìset.

it was quite normal for the boys to bring their problems to each other, confiding into each other for advice. they shared experiences. no problem was too embarrassing or complicated and they figured it out together.

but after neteyam had told his brothers that he had officially completed his mating with mä'reyna, he had felt eager to try more with you. neither of you had ever minded or were scared to go further you just thought it should be something special, just like the na’vi.

after lo’ak had told him of his mating with äìset too, he knew he had to create the perfect setting to decide he wanted to touch you again. as it began to get late he found you with kiri, “it’s getting late, i think norm would want us back.”

you were confused as it was only eclipse, usually you could stay for a while longer but you didn’t question him so you said your goodbyes, hugging kiri goodnight before following him. you were looking down at the floor as spider led you home, but you looked up in shock as you bumped into his chest.

you looked around, this wasn’t home, it was higher up in the forest, ‘the lookout’ everyone called it, a safe spot high in the forest above the hills, a spot through the trees where the stars shine down into a wide path of grass.

spider led you to sit down in the middle. His body collapsing down next to you. the air was warm, the sky getting darker, little noises of animals around you croaked. his hefty arm crept around your shoulders pulling you into him gently.

you laid back looking up at the sky, your head on his chest, hearing the thump of his heartbeat which oddly grew faster by the second. you tilted your head up at him to ask what was wrong, but before you could get a word out, he spoke, “i love you.”

you smiled at his words, before he continued, “but, I want you even more.” you sat up, leaning over his body a little, your hair framing his face as you looked down at him. “what do you mean?” you asked.

“i love it when we kiss, when we’re alone together always…” he grabbed your hand gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “but i want to do more.”

he signed out heavily, feeling a little more relaxed as he hit his feelings of his chest. his eyebrows rose slightly in surprise as you let out a light laugh. “why didn’t you just say? are you ready for that?” you asked him.

“i am,” he answered. “i just thought maybe you weren’t yet ready so i held off.” you both snickered at each others responses as you continued to look into his eyes. if he wanted something you’d always try your best to give it to him and if he wanted you, who were you to complain?

you leaned down connecting your lips to his slightly as his hands went straight to your hair. softly running his fingers through your locks as he groaned and sighed in pleasure. he loved kissing you. probably too much. but just the feeling of you so close to him, your lips on his moving together was the best feeling he’d ever felt.

he wasted no time in turning you over. his hands caging you in on the green grass, his dreads hanging over your face. he moved to your neck, sucking light hickies into your skin. this was perfect, exactly how you’d imagined it. under the stars in the peace and quiet, warm and comfortable with the boy you loved.

he got bolder, kissing down onto your chest. you guys wore human clothes at times, especially in colder seasons. things like sweatpants, shirts, shorts. but spider preferred his own loincloth to anything. but he still thought you looked beautiful in your loincloth and a shirt.

he pushed your shirt up, raising your arms up so he could pull it off, throwing it to the side. his lip’s immediately gravitated towards your nipple, sucking lightly as you let out a small moan. you felt him smile at your sounds against your chest.

your hands left gripping the grass, raising to his shoulders as you gripped his shoulders. he moved fast and eager, kissing down your navel, his tongue peeking out lightly to leave a cold trail on your stomach. as he got closer to your clothed centre, goosebumps raised on your skin, you arched up into his touch.

he came back up to your face, kissing you heavily again. god he felt so good and he made you feel so good, without barely touching you. you spread your legs slightly, letting him kneel between them as his hips pushed down onto yours.

you could feel his cock harden through his loincloth as a wet spot grew on yours. your hands trailed down his sides before untying the sides of his loincloth, pushing it down his thighs, as you still kissed him fast. you felt him up as you grabbed his length lightly, moving your hand up and down slowly, gripping the base tighter on the way down.

he broke the kiss, looking down and watching your hand jack him off slowly and he breathed heavily. leaning up on his left elbow, he lives his own hand down to the centre of your loincloth, looking to your face for confirmation.

you nodded quickly at him before he moved the length your loincloth to the side, trailing his thumb over your clothed centre. his thumb pressed down above your clit as he circled it, the friction of them cloth rubbing against you, making you moan loudly.

he couldn’t wait any longer, the noises you made and your palm still gripping his length that hardened even more became painful. he rose up on his knees, leaning back on his ankles as he untied your loincloth, pulling it off and throwing it again.

he pushed your thighs further apart as he moved closer his fingers coming back down on your clit as he circled it quickly. he watched the way you squirmed beneath him, soaked and leaking more witness from under his fingers, he covered his middle and pointer finger in your slick as he gently pressed around your hole, dipping one of his fingers in up to the first knuckle, checking your face for any signs of pain.

you didn’t wince and your face didn’t express any pain, you only tightened around him wanting more as he pushed it all the way in slowly. you only made a small gasping noise, one of newfound pleasure, as he thrusted his disgust in and out slowly.

you clenched again as he pumped faster, your noises growing louder as his pushed his middle finger in alongside his pointer. you winced a small bit as his fingers immediately stopped, but you looked at him, giving him a small smiles, “it’s okay, i’m fine,” you managed to speak out.

he started to pump his fingers again faster and deeper as you got wetter and louder. his cock grew red and painful, precum sliding out of his tip as his body heated up. your body grew hotter, tingling in all the right places, about to cum, before he stopped.

you opened your eyes in confusion and annoyance before you could see him, holding his cock and sliding it through your folds, up and down your slit, he leaned down, kissing you sweetly.

“sorry, i couldn’t wait,” he said, sheepishly.

“you promise to tell me if it hurts?” this is why you loved him, because even in such an exciting moment his first and only priority was your safety. you lifted your head kissing him again before saying, “of course.” he nodded, processing everything that was happening before slowly sliding into you.

a long, hefty groan left his lips, as he felt the warmth of your cunt, tight and wet around him. your moans were singing in his ear as he filled you up. he attempted shallow, gentle thrusts at first, but his hips lost control as you begged him to fuck you faster.

you moved your thighs to sit atop his hips the new angle allowing his cock to push in deeper, hitting that spongy spot deep inside you. every time he pushed in, the tip of his cock grazed it, edging you closer to your orgasm.

you felt heavenly and your orgasms crept up once again, fast, as you tried to tell him. small screams and moans leaving your mouth. he was moaning too. deep and loud, as his cock twitched, the feeling of so much pleasure all at once overwhelming him.

you came around his cock, clenching around him, shaking slightly underneath him as your eyes rolled back. he came fast, spilling inside you, his body hot, all his limbs trembling, trying to keep himself up. you breathed out opening your eyes, watching him still thrusting, riding out his high.

he slowed, collapsing down on top of you and rolling to the side. as you lay together, his hand gripped yours. you imagined this was the first of many firsts you’d share together, because you could never feel it with anyone else.

as he lay next to you, a new warmth spread through his chest, not just one of love, one of belonging. a feeling of home, as he realized hime didn’t have to be a place, home was a person and you were his home.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @astarborntowrite @liyahsocorro @gr4veyardg1rl

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

may i request for an angst to fluff fic where y/n's family arranges and forces her to marry into the house of targaryen just to rid of her in a way that it is beneficial to them. she's heard rumors about her soon to be husband, Aemond, and is scared of their family in general but all of that was just thrown out of the window when she finally meets them and sees how he is around his mother and sister thinking she'd rather be a part of this family than her own <3 (smut or no smut, it doesnt matter, as long as we are loved)

Under The Bridge

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Your parents described your betrothed as a troll, a gremlin, a monster, the perfect candidate for their wretched, useless, stubborn, first born child. Finally, they said, their daughter would be good put to good use.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions/depictions of domestic violence, big bro!aemond my love, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: ok i think im going to get carried away writing this [update] yep i got carried away Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

I thought it quite fitting for the day to be wretched. After all, it was the day I would be sent away to be married to a man I did not know to please my parents; my father, that pulled his hair out every time I bested my potential matches, and my mother, who slapped me in an attempt to correct my impetuous behavior.

Yes, finally I would find my use and help my family regain prestige and wealth.

Neither cared to escort me to the carriage out of our decaying estate. The storm had been too strong and the mud puddles too many.

I had my one bag gripped tightly in my arms and cared little for the skirts that were soaking up brown water beneath me. I shouted over the sound of thunder and rain when I ran over to the hooded man, "greetings, my lord, I-"

"I am the envoy of your prince here to pick you up, my lady," he calls under the darkness of his cloak. I could not see his face.

"I see," I say, not at all disappointed that it was not my betrothed that was picking me up, "what is your name?"

He does not respond and so I repeat my question, louder, "what is your name, ser?!"

"Charon," he calls.

I pull my head back, "are you here to take me into the underworld?"

He does not react, so I assume he does not understand my joke. He only pulls back and opens the carriage door for me.

I sigh and hastily get in, slumping down, pulling my heavy skirt, wet with rain and mud, closer to me. He shuts the door with a thud. A few moments later the carriage begins to move.

I busy myself with reading on the way. It was all that I packed, my books. My mother thought she managed to throw them away, but I switched the contents of my bag with my clothing with my books before she could. Anyway, I never cared for my ugly dresses. I figured since I was marrying a prince, he could get me at least one dress to change into. That was more than enough.

The ride was pleasant on my part; I could read in silence, with no interruption, no father to scream at me, no mother to chase me around, and yet as we passed a hump, I was shaken into reality, a reality that the driver, Charon, was manning the carriage outside in the rain.

This was why, when we rain cleared, I knocked on the closed window by the driver's seat and called out for him.

He does not respond.

I rap my knuckles harder, "Charon?"

I am slightly startled when the opening is slid open. He does not say anything. I huff and reach for the sandwich in my bag, sticking it out to the window, "it has gone cold but it should still taste nice. It will help to keep you warm, eating something."

I await as the man twists in his place.

He does not respond still, and so I push my arm out further, "if you would like another, I can give you the one I packed myself. I ate a lot before leaving," as a final act of deviance.

He takes a moment to think of my offer it seems. He finally takes it and I feel his callused hand on mine. I do not miss the bandages on his fingers and palm. I wonder how he got injured.

I vaguely hear him thank me. I mutter again for good measure, "just knock if you want the other."

I start when the knock comes, dropping the book I was finishing onto my lap. I shift in my place and move to reopen the closed area, grabbing my sandwich as I did. I however turn to my side when I the carriage door opens.

I am suddenly faced with a dark haired knight. He bows to me, offering a hand out as he greets me in regard. He proceeds to introduce himself, "Ser Criston Cole, at your service."

"An honor," I nod, straightening myself up, "ser Cole."

He surveys the carriage then turns back to me, "allow me to help you down, my lady."

I place my things back in my bag and take his hand, hopping down next to him, causing mud to splatter on his uniform. We both still when it happens. The shrill chastising of my parents replay in my mind.

"I-"

"An honest mistake, your majesty."

My lips part, "I am not you ma-"

"You are to be wed to my prince in a fortnight," he says, reaching out to my bag as he continues, "you will be soon enough." Criston adds. Once he has my things, he shuts the door, then looks at me, "allow me to escort you to your room."

I nod, sneaking a look past him, looking for the man that brought me here, "where did Charon go?"

"Charon?"

"The driver," I turn back to him, "I meant to give him my sandwich," I say, reaching for the said thing in my bag.

Criston turns from my sandwich to me, brows furrowing, "the... driver has gone to finish his other duties."

I nod, unwrapping the food, "do you want it?"

His lips form a small smile, "a generous offer, but I have already eaten."

I purse my lips, rewrapping the thing, placing it back in my bag. Criston offers his arm out to me. I link arms with him and pull my shoes out of the mud along with my crusty skirt that was getting dirty all over again.

When we reach the entrance, Criston pulls away from me, insisting I walk in first.

Once we are inside, he walks a foot away from me, silently leading me off to my room. I sniffle as I take in the ambiance of the place.

Criston turns to me and I turn to him as he says, "I will have a bath prepared for you."

"Thank you," I smile, "could you have them lend me a dress as well?"

He furrows his brows and I do not wait for him to ask, "I only packed my books, you see."

He turns to my bag as he says this, "ah," he turns back to me, "I thought your clothes were merely stiff."

I snort, breaking into a laugh.

I notice how Criston's shoulders relax and how his nostrils flare slightly.

We take a left to a well-lit corridor. Criston opens the door for me once we reach the room. He places my things on a table as I make my way towards a vanity, seeing just how disheveled and wet I was.

"The servants will come to attend to you soon."

"Than-"

"Thank you, ser Criston," a commanding voice calls, startling me in the process. A red haired woman walks towards me, nodding to the knight in regard. Criston returns the sentiment before offering me the same thing and walking off.

"Apologies for startling you," the woman says, hands clasped in front of her.

I bow, eyes downturned.

You are not too look any of them in the eye if you wish to live, do you understand?

"Not at all, queen mother," I speak as I hear my pulse quicken in my ribcage.

The woman walks over to me, the Hightower colors are bright in her dress. I gulp, knowing what would come next. I hold myself back from stepping away.

"Let me look at you," she announced, reaching out for me.

I suck in a breath and catch her gaze when he takes my cold face in her warm hands. Her brown eyes are wide as she takes me in, the curve on her cheeks and jaw resemble none of the vicious remarks my father told me about her. Her pursed lips barely move when she speaks, "my, your mother was just in her musings of your beauty."

I clench my jaw.

"Surely then, I expect you to be as astute as she makes you out to be," she utters, pulling her hands away, "prince Aemond is truly a fair match for you."

I nibble on my lower lip, recalling the disgusting words my father had to offer about the said prince, "I am honored by your regard, Queen Alicent."

"Yes," she sighs, "well, you must hurry and get cleaned up." .

The moment she speaks this, it is as though the servants were summoned, and not that it was a happy coincidence.

I turn my eyes back to the floor as I bow again.

"My son said that he would wait for you in the gardens."

I nod, "I will head there the moment I am ready, your grace."

"Very good," she speaks one last time before heading off. Once she is gone and it is only me and the servants, I release the breath I held out of instinct.

The point between my bath and my going to the gardens was blurred by the vivid recount of my dreadful parent's words against the family I was marrying into.

Just close your eyes if his face is too much to bare. Turn your face away when you are coupling. The smart head you like claim to have will do you no good there. Just be silent and obedient and you will keep your head.

I snap into reality when I hear the sound of laughter once I reach the open space. I see two heads of light blonde hair just past a few shrubs. That must be the witch-sister my father was talking about.

I could not hear what they were conversing over, but it was clear that they were having a moment. It would be most improper to barge in on them.

And yet as I stood in my place, I thought of what would be the consequence if I did not show myself.

I gulp in air and walk over to them, "your majesties."

I hold my breath when they turn to me. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was not expecting a smiling, eye-patched prince and a beaming princess with a flower in her hair.

The next happening came to be all too quickly.

"Would you like to see my spider?" the woman calls, dashing over to me with a large black spider in her hand.

I recoil at her words, and before I could turn her down, she places the long legged thing onto my shoulder, making my eyes grow wide and my body to freeze into a brick. It took everything in me not to smack the insect away. What would happen if I kill the princess's spider?

I clench my jaw and my fists tightly, gulping the lump in my throat.

Perhaps it could kill me first.

"Helaena!" the man calls, dashing forward, grabbing the insect on my body, handing it back to her sister. I shiver and step back once I am free of the creepy-crawly.

Helaena looks up at her brother and knits her brows. He begins to tell her something in a foreign tongue and whatever it is makes the woman's face dampen. She turns to me, bowing with a pout, "apologies, my lady."

I shudder then suck in a sharp breath, "I..." I feel my chest tighten when she removes the flower in her hair. She was like me, rebuked for something she liked.

I force a confidence voice after gulping heavily, "I am honored to meet your spider," my breath hitches, "but I do not like spiders."

"What a shame," she says rather dejectedly.

"Perhaps it be best if you go back to your chambers," her brother mutters as the spider begins to crawl up her arm.

I step back at the sight of it.

She nods, "perhaps."

I move farther when she passes me, mostly because her shoulder near me was where the spider was perched on.

I watch as she leaves. I sigh at the sight of her fluttering hair.

When I turn to the prince, I reel back when I find him stood so close to me. Upon seeing my reaction, he does me the courtesy of stepping back as well.

I heave from my mouth then bow, "prince Aemond."

He watches me as I rise then offers me a quick nod. He sighs, placing his hands behind him, "I am thankful you did not squash her spider."

I cringe at the thought, "I'd have squashed it on my skin," I shake my head rapidly, "that would be no good."

For a moment, he only looks at me. I only manage a few seconds before needing to turn away from his gaze. I only turn back when he raises his hand out, "care to walk with me?"

I reach for his hand, and it is only then that I realized that he had bandages on. I turn to our joined palms then back to his face.

He catches how I observe him and this grip on me tightens as he visibly stiffens, "a riding injury."

I debate his words, wondering how he would get injured like that.

He proceeds to answer me as if he heard my thought, "my dragon, Vhagar, was flying fiercely upward. It was hard to keep hold. I had blisters for days."

I pull back when he releases my hand. I turn to his arm when he offers it to me instead. I place my palm on his bicep as we continue to walk off.

The next moment, I suddenly realize why the bandages on his hands were striking to me.

"You," I turn to him, "are Charon."

He keeps his gaze upfront.

I cannot help but smile in amusement over his obvious reaction to my words-- not reacting. I allow my lips to release a chuckle, "you were gauging me."

"..."

"Worry not," I look out to some flowers by the side, "I too am scared to get married."

I feel him turn to me, but I do not feel like returning his look.

"Is it marriage," he calls, "or me that you are scared of?"

I take a moment before turning back to him; his one eye is expectant and I swear I see his covered one twitch. "Both," I utter simply, "but at least now that I know that we're both scared, I have found a semblance of solace."

We continue walking in silence after my admission.

I await for him to burn my words, to wholeheartedly disagree with my verdict, much like all the other men that I was jostled into, lest they find themselves caught agreeing with a stupid woman. I am surprised that he does nothing and merely continues walking with me in silence.

He catches my shocked reaction, it seems, and raises his nose, "I was concerned."

I softly snort in humour, "as one would be."

His lips curve slightly into a smile but he does a good job of making it unobvious, "I was concerned you would be haughty, vain, irritating."

"And you decided I was not in the silence of our travels?"

He ignores this, "I am aware your parents are eager for the alliance because your coin has run low."

"That," I tilt my head, "amongst other things."

Aemond narrows his eye, "like what?"

"Well for one, they are overjoyed to rid of me," I pull a smile before breaking into a smile.

I catch the expression that twists onto his face. He does not believe me. He furrows his brows in challenge, "you mother speaks nothing but exaggerated ideations of you."

I shake my head as I chuckle, "and I am glad that it has landed me a husband who cares for his sister."

He stops upon hearing this. I turn to him when he does. He pulls away from me to place his hand behind his back again. I watch him as he looks off and sucks in a deep breath.

"I will not ask much of you," he mutters, slowly turning back to me, "I wish to only fulfil my duties; I require of you to do the same is all."

Aemond's face is sincere, or at the very least he looks and sounds as though he is in that moment. I nod at his words, placing my own hands behind my back, "indeed I am glad my mother could at least do this one thing for me."

He raises his chin, hands falling to his sides. He shifts on his leg as a breeze blows past his blonde hair. He nods, "come, there is more to see in the gardens."

#aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x you

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abiiors · 3 months

Text

red lines - pt. 2 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a late christmas/new year's gift for you lot but oh well, consider this an early valentine's day gift now lol. this is sad but also smutty which seems to be my favourite thing to write so enjoy ♡ cw: angst, crying (so much of it my god) (seriously, matty cries after sex like a loser) and arguments, a briefly sick baby (she has a cold) fucked up relationships in general, typos, probably cringe idk. wc: 6.5k here's part 1

matty’s red rimmed eyes stare back at you.

if it weren’t for your baby’s soft babbling grounding you, you would have slammed the door in his face the second you opened it. before he even had the chance to get a word in. not like he’s said anything yet—he’s busy looking from mia to you and back to mia who’s strapped to your chest, face away from him.

his daughter. he doesn’t even know what his daughter looks like.

your heart hammers in your chest as you look at him, take him in properly. he looks like he’s been frozen in time—the same man you left almost a year ago, maybe with a few more greys on his head now. but everything about him harshly pulls you back in time.

looking at him after all this time is like having the last piece of a puzzle click in place.

“hi,” he says, and looks at the back of mia’s head for a moment. his hands twitch at his sides and matty shoves them in his pockets quickly.

you clear your throat. “hi.”

the silence that lingers is so awkward that even the baby senses it. she fusses and lets out a soft whine and you know you only have a few moments before the whine turns into a full cry.

“come in,” you offer and he nods.

the door shuts behind him with a deafening creek and the silence returns with a vengeance.

you watch matty as he looks around him. you wonder how it all looks through his eyes—a house that’s neither too clean, nor too messy, mia’s toys on the sofa, her bottle on the kitchen table, half finished. the half cooked pancake in the pan. and then he looks at the baby.

you watch him carefully, look at the way his eyes shine so brightly and the subtle tremble of his lips. matty takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches out. about to touch her blanket. but you step back on instinct and his hand lingers in the air before falling at his side, limp and useless.

“what do you want, matty?” you ask, your voice more steady than you expected.

he swallows harshly. “i wanted–i thought i’d…”

“you thought…?”

he squares his shoulder and straightens his spine, gathering courage just like you’ve seen him do so many times in the past.

“i wanted to see her. mia. it’s a beautiful name…”

“who told you her name?”

you don’t know where the snapping, harsh tone comes from but matty flinches regardless. you don’t give him a chance to answer though. you know who told him her name.

“it was adam, wasn’t it?”

“please don’t be mad at him,” matty tries hastily and takes a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop. “i begged until… yeah, i begged him to tell me.”

“look i…” he continues, “i messed up, okay? i messed up big time. i've spent every day regretting it. i miss both of you, and i can't—”

“you miss her?” your voice rings out around the room.

mia in your arms is the only thing stopping you from yelling as your entire body shakes with so much rage. you try to keep the tears at bay, you really do but they fall one after the other. land softly on her head.

“you miss her, do you, matty? do you even know what she looks like?”

he shakes his head and looks down in shame.

“no? you didn’t beg your best friend for a photo?” your voice has taken a mocking quality—ugly and cruel. words meant to hurt him, to damage him. words that might give him a taste of a fraction of what you went through.

“please, i—”

“get out.”

“no, listen to me! please, just—”

“leave!”

matty stumbles back and mia breaks into a cry. whatever possessed you to yell like that leaves instantly, zapping away every ounce of strength in your body. your knees shake with the effort of standing upright. your arms tighten around the baby.

matty wipes his eyes quickly and makes his way out the door.

it’s the thud that breaks the last of your restraint. quietly, you sit on the floor, soothing her for what feels like hours. trying to calm yourself by breathing in her scent. she’s safe. you’re both safe.

you don’t need a third.

you only need her.

matty doesn’t give up.

although he doesn’t show up again in person, a box shows up at the door—one addressed to both you and mia. it feels heavy in your hands and something rattles inside.

as curious as you are, you set it on the dining table and go about your day.

you don’t need any of this, whatever he’s sent is probably useless. it’s silly and meant to break down your defenses. you’re sure of it.

still, every time you pass by it, the box seems to wink at you. so you chuck it in a random drawer—one where you keep the extra nappies, the backup-backup-backup ones—and breathe a sigh of relief.

relief that’s almost comically short-lived.

the days pass, and life falls back into its routine—diapers, bottles, and the sweet sound of mia's coos and giggles. the box from matty remains tucked away in the drawer, almost forgotten. you convince yourself that whatever he sent doesn't matter; you've built a new life for you and mia, and that's all that matters.

it's a rainy afternoon when mia decides to unleash chaos upon her last clean onesie. a cosmic fucking joke really that she should need her backup-backup-backups when you’ve almost managed to forget about the box. but there it is, sitting atop the neatly stacked diapers—a plain cardboard box, tied with a simple piece of twine.

you take it out and set it on the kitchen table. then you brew yourself an extra strong cup of coffee and sit in front of it, almost like it’s a staring match…

who’s going to break first?

but obviously it’s a cardboard box, it stays fucking still no matter how hard you wish for it to burst into flames. so you take a sip of coffee and begin undoing the twine. your hands tremble as you lift the lid. your heartbeat quickens.

first you see a layer of tissue papers covering something and then under it, a plain envelope with your name written on it in matty’s handwriting.

inside it is a piece of paper, slightly torn at the edges. folded and refolded a million times.

hi, my love please come home i’m so sorry i don't expect you to forgive me. i messed up. horribly. there’s no other way to put it. and there's no excuse for the pain i've caused. i understand if you never want to see me again, but please, i’m begging you to let me see her just once. just to let her get to know her father. so that i can get to know my daughter. i know what i did is unforgivable but it’s like half a piece of my heart has been missing since you walked out i let you walk out. i don’t expect you to let me back into your lives but please let me hold her just once. i would also like to set up a small trust fund in her name if you give me permission. i won’t have any control over it, but i want her to have something from me for anything she might want in the future. i’m leaving that decision up to you. there are post cards in here that i wrote for you and for her when things got really really bad. it’s not an excuse for how i behaved but some day i hope we could be together friends again. till then just know that not a moment goes by when i don’t wish i could go back in time and stop myself from till then i hope you know how incredibly sorry i am. i hope you know that i will always have nothing but love and respect for you. and for mia. love, matty

the weight of the emotions threatens to suffocate you. the scratched-out bits from the letter are just slightly visible. not really enough for you to make it out properly but whatever it says has to be too personal, right?

you sink further into the chair, and tears blur your vision. the postcards are right there under the letter—a hundred or so—his heart bared to you. all of the best and worst parts. all the ugly ones too.

and then there’s the trust fund that he wants to set up.

you know it’s the smart thing to do. you can’t have emotions clouding your judgement when it comes to securing her future. and he said he won’t have any control over it so that’s good, right…?

and yet a part of you hesitates to pick up the cards and read his words.

everything feels too raw, too vulnerable and honest.

everything feels too much.

you think and you think and you think for the next few days.

all you do is think about him and the postcards and the trustfund. you even have a little spat with your mum when she says it’s a good idea. you accuse her of playing the devil’s advocate but ultimately she’s right.

this is not about you. this is about your daughter.

so you let her bathe mia and get her ready for bed, and then you pick up your phone and open the old text thread.

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg.

the text sits there innocently. the words are still the same—casual and loving and normal and almost like they were written in a foreign language. you quickly wipe up your tears and delete the old thread before there’s time to second-guess it.

gone. winked out of existence just like that.

and then you open a fresh new thread.

hi matty, hope you’re well. got your letters hello matty hey. i got the box. can we talk?

it amazes you how much back and forth you have to do for a simple message. how many times you talk yourself out of sending it. but once it’s gone. it’s gone.

half a minute later, three dots dance in response.

hey, would love to. next sunday?

sunday works. that’s exactly a week from now. enough time for you to prepare mentally. it’s also a day after your mum gets back from her mini holiday so you can just leave mia with her without having to worry about bringing her with you.

sunday works. see you then.

and that’s the end of that. you switch your phone off and vow to not think about him till then. if only it were that easy…

three days later you wake up to a shrill cry coming from the nursery.

hastily you check the time, 2:37 am, and run to check up on mia, heart thudding in your chest. she’s usually such a calm baby. she sleeps so well through the night and yet the closer you get the louder her cries get.

the more you feel fear grip your chest.

“oh my love, what’s wrong? what’s wrong, baby?”

she continues to wail even after you check her diapers and feel her cot for any wetness. it’s only when you gently touch her cheek do you realise how warm she feels. heat radiates from her little body and panic sets in as you rush to the kitchen to grab the thermometer. the digital display confirms your fear—a fever.

not very high but still, she’s sick for the first time in her life.

“you’ve got a fever sweet girl,” you coo and clear your dry throat.

fuck! calling your mum’s not an option. calling the gp’s also not an option.

her loud cries make your heart squeeze in pain. rocking doesn’t help. strapping her to your naked chest helps only for about ten minutes until she’s screaming once again.

you try a bath, hoping the vapour would clear her cold a little but all it does it give you a headache.

your head feels like it’s about to burst open, blood splattering on the walls and everywhere else as mia continues to cry until her whole body is pink and red from the effort. how does a tiny baby have this much strength in her lungs? you feel her forehead for the tenth time—warm, and you wipe away her runny nose. but no amount of cooing and rocking her helps.

“calm down, darling,” you try to shush her, a note of begging in your voice. your temples throb and mia wails right next to your ears.

you think maybe singing to her would calm her down but any more exertion and the black dots in your vision continue to swim around.

fuck.

you need help. and your mum is not an option. absolutely no one you can call at 3:30 in the morning.

absolutely no one who will even answer.

but that’s not true is it…

with shaky hands you pick up your phone and dial his number. you’d promised yourself never to go crawling to him for help. but the universe has a funny way of forcing your hand.

desperation for your daughter's well-being overrides any pride or resentment. the phone rings, each tone louder than the last. just as you’re sure it’s about to go unanswered, his groggy, sleepy voice comes through from the other side.

“hello?”

you barely give him the chance to speak before launching into your panic-filled pleas. “matty, it’s mia. she’s sick–she won’t–she’s so warm and my mum’s not here and i don’t–nothing's working—”

“hey, hey, love calm down,” he shushes from the other side and then there's rustling in the background. “i’m coming over.”

matty doesn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to your house, eyes widening the second he takes a look at you and your daughter. she’s been attached to you like an extra limb ever since you woke up to her crying. not that you’ve had the heart to set her down for any longer than necessary but you’re aware how deranged you must look with your hair all over the place and red eyes, exhaustion embedded so deep down in your bones that no amount of sleep will get rid of it.

“she won’t stop crying,” you launch into it the second he steps inside. every two words you hiccup, trying and failing to keep the sobs at bay. “she has a cold, matty. i’ve tried everything. we had a warm bath, i gave her some calpol. i’ve tried rocking her and singing to her and i’m so fucking tired but she’s just–she won’t stop—”

“hey…” it only takes one gentle touch from him to make you forget every single feeling of apprehension. matty’s frown deepens.

“are you sure?” his voice has suddenly gone quiet, so quiet that you barely hear it over the baby’s cries.

you look at him in confusion. “didn’t you listen to me? yes i’m fucking sure, she’s ill, matty. look at her!” your voice rises another octave, more and more panicked as another moment passes by and she refuses to settle down.

“no i…” he steps closer and extends his hand. almost afraid to touch her or you. maybe afraid that you might step away like last time. but you stay in place and matty touches the back of her head. it's featherlight at first as if she might break if he puts too much force into it. one touch and she’d crumble away like she was never here at all.

as if this was all his dream.

“no, i meant…” he swallows harshly and clears his throat. “are you sure you want me to take her?”

the hold you have on her loosens ever so slightly.

you called matty here. it’s not like he showed up, unannounced and drunk, no! he showed up at an ungodly hour to help you. if anything… that earns him a tiny, miniscule brownie point.

“do you know how to—”

“hold a baby?” he quips and you notice the way his face brightens almost imperceptibly, barely even noticeable. “i do, i’ve uh… yeah. i do.”

he doesn’t elaborate further, he only stands there patiently until you find your hold on her loosening. you will your heart to calm down, will your body to not be so rigid. then you take a deep breath and extend her to him.

she looks almost different in his arms. smaller somehow, so much more like him than you realised. and matty’s face holds an expression you’ve never seen before.

something about it makes your heart stutter.

he’s enamoured by her, so much so that he barely even reacts when she sneezes in his face and keeps crying even though it’s a bit softer now. maybe she’s just as distracted trying to process him, maybe she feels something too—a bond that’s somehow always been there, hidden and battered and hanging on by a thread.

in a heartbeat, his face changes and he holds her to his chest.

in a tentative voice, matty shushes her, bounces her a bit just like you had been. you wring your hands nervously waiting for something to happen. maybe he’d realise he still doesn’t want her, that he was wrong to think he did. maybe he’d give her back and leave you again quietly.

your chest hurts at the thought, but you will it away and watch matty cuddle her closer.

he holds her as tightly as possible without hurting her. matty closes his eyes and presses his face into her head, he swallows harshly and for a moment his whole body shudders. when he opens them again, they’re tinged pink, and he quickly looks away.

“can you—” he clears his throat and tries again. “can you show me where the nursery is?”

you nod and gesture for him to follow. mia’s cries slow a little when matty starts walking. he continues shushing her and attempting baby talk which is slightly amusing despite everything. he gives up in a few seconds though and goes back to talking to her normally.

“just a cold, my love,” you hear him faintly, “they’re really annoying though, aren’t they?”

in spite of yourself, you smile and stop in front of the nursery.

“she usually likes the chair.”

matty looks to the corner of the room where you’re pointing and nods. then he clears his throat.

“should i… uh, does she have a favourite blanket?”

the fact he thought of it is impressive. and she does, but you know it’s just been washed and folded. to get it for her, you’d have to leave them alone. for the first time ever.

the rational part of your brain knows it won’t be a big deal. it’s two minutes at most and it’s not like matty’s gonna run away with her. your heart pounds regardless, and your feet feel leaden.

“sure, it’s–yeah, let me just…” and then you leave before you have the chance to overthink it.

by the time you’re get back to the nursery, soft blanket in hand, matty’s already settled in the rocking chair, mia in his arms with her cheek squished against his chest.

he’s unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt so he’s not entirely shirtless but just enough to feel her against his skin—to get a second chance at the skin-to-skin he missed.

“that’s it, darling,” he speaks softly and strokes her cheek. “settle down for me. daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

with every word he speaks, her eyes get droopier, her sniffles turn to quiet breaths until matty takes a deep breath and starts singing a quiet song.

it’s unfamiliar at first, and he starts off unsure and off-kilter. his voice cracks, but mia babbles something and presses further into his chest. it’s then that he really smiles—wide and breath-taking and so incredibly happy that the air whooshes out of your lungs just at the sight of it.

daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?

and that’s exactly what he does. he pats on her back softly, presses small kisses to her head until your eyes sting and a sob almost escapes.

quickly, you back away, still clutching the blanket. still holding back tears until you’re far, far away from him and somehow in the empty kitchen. the sky is only just turning pink, even then, the darkness lingers. and that’s when the dam breaks.

great, heaving sobs spill out of you—ugly and wretched and loud enough that it’s a miracle matty doesn’t come running. your legs give out from under you and you slide against the counter, leaning against it and praying for any amount of strength. your chest aches and your body trembles. a distatant memory flashes across your mind—of the last time you cried like this. when you accidentally called adam instead of your mum.

when adam did show up even if you tried to get him to leave.

the cool surface of the countertop offers a small comfort. with trembling hands, you clutch the soft blanket, and bury your face in it. it still holds the scent of baby oils and powders, of her fluffy little head that you adore so much. the same head that’s full of his curls.

you gasp for a breath and stifle another sob. the blanket helps too—it’s grounding and comforting. it’s familiar. you force yourself to take another deep breath, and this time it comes a bit easier. the weight on your chest eases just a bit. the grief that felt so overwhelming all these months loosens its grip around your heart and in the stillness of dawn, matty’s voice floats into the kitchen.

you stay there on the floor, counting one breath after the other, listening to his lullaby until the whole kitchen is bathed in the orange light of dawn.

then you wipe away the snot and the tears and make yourself stand up.

you hold your head in your hands, hoping the dull ache would go away soon, along with all the memories of the last 24 hours. at this point, you’d settle for the complete erasure of the last thirty minutes.

you just want to go back to before—back to your happy cheerful baby, back to being busy enough that you have no time to think about him.

you desperately crave the before where the crack in his voice doesn’t haunt every thought. where the song doesn’t echo in the crevices of your brain and mia’s cries don’t grow quieter with every word he sings. in fact, you crave an alternate world where she doesn’t cry at all. she sleeps through the night like always and you video call your mum when she wakes up.

that’s what was supposed to happen. not…this.

not matty being in your house with your—his—daughter, watching her with that devastated look on his face.

a soft thud of the door jerks you out of your thoughts but the house remains devoid of baby cries. the only thing you can hear really is matty’s footsteps growing louder until you can see him at the door to the kitchen from the corner of your eye.

he hesitates and lingers like he’s trapped in a limbo.

“you can come in, you know?” you straighten and roll your neck to get rid of some of the pain. there’s a momentary relief before the ache comes flooding back.

“she’s asleep…”

“yeah, i thought she would be.”

“she feels a bit cooler to the touch,” he reports and relief floods your chest.

for a moment the kitchen stays silent. the birds outside chirp once in a while and you hear the occasional sounds of a car but everything else feels like it’s come to a standstill. quiet. the universe holding its breath in anticipation.

“i should go—”

“coffee—”

you both speak at the same time and shut your mouth again. another pang of pain lances through your body and this time you barely hold back the wince.

he wants to leave, of course, he does. just because he came through in a time of need doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a father. it doesn’t mean you’re ready to let him be her father.

“coffee sounds nice,” he speaks so softly that you barely hear it at first. there’s trepidation in his voice; a slight tremor that he might be pushed away again but a rock lodges itself in your throat and all you can manage is a slight nod.

you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head when you turn. the coffee pot is still full of yesterday’s grounds—something you haven’t had the chance to tidy up yet. now that you look around, the whole kitchen is a bit of a mess. you scoff to yourself. your mum’s been gone for three whole days and your life is already falling apart trying to be a single mother.

the gurgling of water fills the kitchen as the kettle starts boiling and you look around for a spare mug. yours is right by the coffee machine but an extra one should be high up in the cupboard.

matty’s shoes squeak on the floor but he doesn’t come any closer.

“need any he—”

“no. i’m fine!”

and just to drive the point home, you yank the door to the top shelf open and stretch extra high to reach the spare mug. cool air brushes the exposed sliver of skin and just for a moment you’re tempted to see if he’s looking, just for a tiny second, until pain lances through your neck and shoulder and this time the loud wince slips out.

before you know it, matty’s behind you, steading you with a hand against the small of your back—warm palm pressed against warm, exposed skin. somewhere deep down you would have recognised him through smell alone—the same warm spicy smelled laced with just a hint of cigarette smoke that you’ve thought about on many lonely nights.

sometimes when you’re deep asleep, it sneaks up on you, envelopes you so thoroughly that you wake up surrounded by it, suffocating almost and still desperately trying to get lungfulls of it.

the same smell surrounds you now and matty’s body presses close to yours.

“careful there,” he breathes and the warmth of it spreads goosebumps all over your body.

“you alright?”

you know he’s referring to your wince from two seconds ago but your brain takes an eternity to form a coherent sentence.

“fine,” you manage. “i was rocking mia all night, think i pulled something.”

instantly, warm, rough fingers touch your shoulder and the space between you comes alive with electricity.

“trust me,” he murmurs and somehow you find yourself nodding and closing your eyes, sighing when his fingers press into your skin. the wood the counter digs into your pelvis, almost like a tether to this world, something to stop you from floating away and giving in to his touch. heat simmers in your blood just as the water in the kettle comes to a full boil.

“this feel good, love?”

distant thoughts remind you to say no, to move away and shut hm off again. he has no business touching you again, but your body seems disconnected from your brain. instead of walking away, you lean back, into his chest and away from the wood of the counter.

the tether snaps but matty’s there to hold you down. his hand snakes around your waist and you spin. spin till you’re facing him and pressed flush against his chest. until his scent is all around, finally enough to settle into your lungs and not dissipate into the cloying scent of nightmares.

“we s-shouldn’t…” you try to sound firm but the word makes you choke. matty’s eyes dip to your mouth.

“we shouldn’t,” he agrees and presses his lip against yours.

the kiss takes you back to the last time—to the before, in that cosy hotel room by the sea. you think of the two people tangled up in the bedsheets, naked and sweaty and happy. one of them looks remarkably like you—the same hair and eyes, the same smile, slightly fuller cheeks though. she laughs and whispers something in matty’s ear. then he nips at her lips just like he nips at yours now.

it’s a kiss teeming with longing and desire and everything in between.

your teeth knock against each other and matty takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue in, to let it run over your lip and against your tongue until you’re panting and leaning against him for support.

“m-matty,”

“tell me you don’t wan’t me,” he says all of a sudden but his eyes are so full of so much hope that your heart might shatter into a million pieces to see it die away slowly.

“i want you…”

and that’s the only permission he needs before his mouth is on yours again, hungry and hot, your lips between his teeth until they’re red and swollen, and only then does he move to your jaw.

his stubble leaves a faint burn on your skin and the fire in your blood burns hotter.

“please,” he chokes out and swallows roughly, “need to taste you, please.”

you don’t trust your voice enough to speak, instead you give him a light push on his shoulders. instantly, matty kneels between your legs and pulls your shorts down until they fall to your ankles, along with the underwear.

silently, you curse for not bothering to shave or wear decent underwear. not like you knew this would be happening. but he’s like a man starved and every ounce of hesitation leaves when your fingers tangle in his hair.

the tresses slip between your fingers, soft and curly and exactly how they used to feel a year ago, the greys stand out against your hand and a whine escapes you the moment his tongue connects to your clit. your breath hitches at the sight of him—eyes half-lidded, dark enough that they are almost black, lips swollen to the point they are wet and red. for a moment, you consider pulling him up just to kiss him again, to taste him again. but then matty’s tongue plunges inside you and your mind goes blank.

his rough hand is against your thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh, another against your ass, holding you up and squeezing the flesh at the same time. your legs tremble and almost give up but he pushes you back and traps against the counter.

you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you shoudn’t. you try telling that to yourself over and over again and yet your belly erupts in butterflies that just won’t go away. your hands move of their own accord, guiding his head, pushing his mouth right against your clit, and matty takes it all.

“fuck–” he chokes out and goes back to licking another broad strip, “missed you, missed your taste, fucking missed you so much!”

tears sting your eyes and your body trembles for a different reason this time but you push it back and rut your hips against his face.

despite the thoughts in your head, this feels good. this feels familiar and fantastic and as much as you don’t want to admit it, this feels right.

matty moans against your clit and swipes a finger through your folds. euphoria makes your vision go white and you let yourself cry out his name. perhaps for the first time. the sound echoes around the kitchen, confined within the four walls of this room somehow even before you stifle the second scream. there’s a sleeping baby in the house after all, the last thing you need is for her to wake up and put an end to whatever this is until the awkwardness would push matty out of the house and possibly out of your life again—

your eyes scrunch shut as another lick makes your head spin.

“fa-faster,” you moan out and shamelessly throw a leg over his shoulder, holding onto his head so tight now that he surely feels the tug. if anything, his efforts double, and his tongue plunges deeper into you than before.

the world goes hazy and soft around the edges as your eyes roll back into your head.

fuck! he’s good… he’s always been good. he’s always known your body better than you have. besides, no one’s made you feel half as good in a year, no one besides your vibrator on occasional lonely nights.

“fuck, darling you’re perfect…” he breathes and the word echoes around in your head.

you were perfect. together. even after everything, nothing and no one can erase the that.

you swallow another cry and hold onto him tighter. your head buzzes and pleasure floods through your entire body until you’re chanting his name over and over again. somewhere through it all, you’re aware of grinding against his face like a wild animal in heat but his mouth keeps up with it. if anything, his thumb joins in, pressing on your clit, pinching it just so till you jerk and let go all over his tongue.

ecstasy replaces the blood in your veins, runs at lightning speeds and you feel as if you’re floating up, up and away if not for matty standing up, holding onto you, kissing you till you can taste yourself on his tongue—taste so much more that heat pools in your stomach again and you push your hands inside his t-shirt.

his whole body tenses, muscles taut against your hand until he’s practically vibrating and rigid.

“you really w-want this? me?”

the hope in his voice is barely controlled but you refuse to open your eyes. one look at him and you know your resolve will crumble and the tears will come. instead you push your face into the crook of his neck and nod.

“i’ve never been more sure of something…”

for a moment, his breathing stops completely and matty goes still—you can almost feel his heart stop too, almost feel the stuttering beat pounding right under the palm of your hand. then the spell breaks and the clinking of his belt buckle fills the room.

his lips press against the hollow of your throat, leaving wild, reckless marks behind before he moves over to where your pulse thrums wildly. his mouth finds the spot, sucks on it gently, and you find yourself losing in him once again.

you feel the hardness of his cock through the boxers and before you have the chance to touch him properly, matty pulls away slightly, making you look at him in confusion. it’s only when his hand reaches for his wallet do you realise that he’s pulling out a condom.

good. there should be some barrier between you. some semblance of a boundary even though it laughably flimsy and pathetic. and well, that lack of barrier is really what landed you here in the first place.

“i need—”

“yes,” he interrupts and goes in for another sloppy kiss.

your hands wander until you’re pulling his hard cock out, feeling him moan into the kiss and he reluctantly pulls away to put the condom on. the moment stretches on and suddenly this whole thing feels juvenile, like he’s your high school crush. like this is your first time. excitement bubbles up in your chest—dull but unmistakably there. maybe just this once, you let it surge.

as if in a daze, matty slides the stray hair off your shoulder, brushing away the strands until your shoulder is bared to him and kisses the exposed skin. goosebumps erupt in its wake.

the whole affair is silent—just moans and sighs and the sound of his shuddering breath before he’s slipping into you, deeper and deeper until all you feel is him and his heartbeat.

“fucking perfect, so fucking perfect…” he chants and thrusts again. and again. and again till your breathing becomes ragged and your head loses every thought once again, and then he’s the only person to matter in the world.

you’d die if he were to let go of you now.

his grip on you tightens and his pace becomes faster, hips slamming into yours until you’re both moaning and panting, until your face in in the crook of his neck, mouth against his neck. the kisses excite him more, make him shiver in delight, and somehow you feel him grow harder inside you—streching you out till you’re nearly in tears and crying out from pleasure that is almost overwhelming.

“matty, you’re—i’m—”

“can’t wait to feel you drenching my cock,” his voice turns into an unexpected growl and pleasure coils in your belly. his hand inches between your legs, fingers circling your clit until his thumb is pressing down on it once again and you mewl. his chest barely even stifles it.

“please…” you beg and get swept away by another feverish kiss. your head spins and matty’s saying something, he’s fucking into you so hard that you can barely hear a word over the obscene, wet sounds. or maybe it’s the blood rushing through your whole body that drowns it out.

none of it matters though, not when you feel white hot pleasure swirl through you and then you clench around him, hard enough that he cries out too. hard enough that you feel him cum despite the condom. and that’s what tips you over the edge.

matty keeps going through it, slamming into you until he eventually slows down, until he eventually stills but doesn’t pull out. you keep your eyes closed, chest heaving, breath mixing with his, bodies pressed together so tightly that you can practically feel the rush of his blood under his skin.

some pathetic part of your brain makes tears prick at your eyes and you finally open your eyes, taking just a second to look at his face. there are lines etches into his forehead now—deep grooves that used to be much softer. a reminder of all the time that’s passed. his sweaty curls stick to his forehead, much more grey than before. much messier. still, he's as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as a forbidden fruit.

then he opens his eyes too and the breath truly gets knocked out of you.

after all this time, his eyes are the same warm hazel. the same eyes you look into every day. mia’s eyes. matty’s eyes.

for a moment, the room feels colder. the orange hue feels odd and unnatural but it’s just a trick of the light, just a trick of an overthinking mind.

“we—”

“don’t,” you interrupt quickly. “please, just… let me stay like this. let me have this memory.”

matty hmms, then moves his hand to the back of your head, fingers in your hair until you feel something wet on your cheeks, on your shoulders. until you feel his body shaking. you don’t look up. you don’t try to console him either. you just stay like that, breathe him in until your lungs feel full enough to burst.

you know how this ends. deep down, you’ve always known it.

still, letting go of him feels like plunging a knife in your chest.

there will be a part 3, this was getting too long.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman

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#read the cws pls!!!#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fic #matty healy angst #the 1975 fic #angst #minors do not interact #matty x reader #matty x you #matty healy smut #smut

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doggone-devil · 2 months

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How (Not) To Summon a Demon: Chapter 1

I’m attempting to write my first Hazbin Hotel fanfic. I don’t know how it’s going to go as I don’t normally write so much as I draw. I’m nervous but I’m also having fun with it so here’s the first chapter of my first fanfic titled “How (Not) To Summon a Demon”. Also, I’m writing this solo with no beta reader so sorry for typos, mistakes, etc. If you point them out, I’ll go back and fix them. Thank you!

Alastor x Reader

Warnings: demon rituals, stupid decisions, ghosts, paranormal activity

Feedback is welcomed! I might also move this to Ao3 depending on how well it does. 😊 Enjoy! 😊

Summoning rituals have been a pain in the ass for demons everywhere in Hell. Even lowly sinners with barely a sigil to their name could be summoned should a mortal find the right way. It was worse for those with higher power, demons who ruled over certain humanely aspects such as fertility, hearth, or revenge. Throughout the decades, as humanity build past the spiritual and focused more on science, less and less demons were being summoned. Now, the denizens of hell could roam peacefully, spending their miserable afterlives how they saw fit without the worry of being dragged topside.

That is, until one curious mortal just so happened to stumble upon such a book.

—

“Veronica, this is stupid!” you claim, cringing at the dust covered debris you were stepping over. For some god awful reason, you had decided to entertain your roommate and follow them into an abandoned house. Normally, old houses didn’t bother you. You were intrigued in the history, thinking about the people who might’ve lived in them before Mother Earth took them back. Yet this one in particular was just unnerving.

Nestled in one of the many bayous of south Louisiana, this old plantation looking home was wrapped in moss and vines, the swampland quite literally devouring the structure. The floors were barely holding your weight, groaning with every step you took forward as you tried to keep up with your very enthusiastic friend.

Veronica turned her flashlight at you, blinding you momentarily. “This isn’t stupid! It’s experimental!” she moved the light off you, using it to scan the room you were in, a bedroom on the second floor. It was filled with a bed, a dresser missing drawers, and a nightstand. The wallpaper was peeling and the light fixture had fallen years ago. You mindfully step over the glass.

“Just imagine what could be in here,” she spoke, examining the nightstand. “Not just the memories, but the potential of ghosts!”

“Ghosts,” you scoff. “The only thing here is trash, trash, and more trash.” You wonder why you even came. She thinks so, too, as she glares at you.

“You didn’t have to come you know,” she comments.

“And miss you pissing your pants? Fat chance,” you joke, making her smile. True, you were reluctant to come along when she had asked, you still felt reluctant, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying this even if just a little.

“Oh hey! Check this out!” You move over to where Veronica is hunched over. Just below the nightstand, tucked in between it and the bed frame, is a book. She brings it out and sits it on the bed, using her hand to wipe away the dust. The cover is old, leathered, and the markings on it are too faded to read.

“Maybe it’s a dirty novel,” you say, wiggling your brows at her. “You know, some chicks back in the day had to get off with those. They didn’t have internet like we do.”

“That’s just gross.”

“Honey, that’s truth.” You chuckle as she rolls her eyes, opening the book. The pages are worn but readable as she flips through them. You watch from over her shoulder, frowning at the contents. There’s pictures depicting people being beheaded, of demonic creatures drinking blood. It creeps you out.

“I think it’s a book on summoning,” Veronica says. “Look.” She points at one of the pages, a paragraph instructing on how to set up a circle. It then has some kind of image on the next page, a circle with a bunch of symbols that you can’t recognized. A cold shiver runs up your spine.

“I think we should put it back,” you state. It’s suddenly very cold in the room and you swear you can feel something watching you.

“Don’t be such a pussy!” Veronica closes the book and tucks it into her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Duh, I’m bringing it back with us!” She looks at you as if she didn’t just say the dumbest thing ever.

“Have you not watched horror movies?” you ask in disbelief. “Two dumb chicks find demon book in abandoned bayou home and then get slaughtered as sacrifices to Satan. Am I making any sense to you?”

“You make it sound like you believe it’s real.”

“No,” you defend, “I’m still a hardcore skeptic, but even I ain’t stupid enough to invite that shit into my home.” You turn to head towards the door, ready to leave this hell hole behind. “Put it back and let’s go.”

“Fine,” she sighs. You leave the bedroom and quickly make your way down the stairs, checking behind you to make sure she’s coming. When you confirm that she is, the two of you make your way out of the house and back to your car that’s parked a few feet away.

—

The ride back home is quiet and within minutes, your entering your shared apartment. You go to make your way to your kitchen when Veronica speeds past you to the living room. She’s quickly flittering around, grabbing spare candles and setting them up. You eye her with suspicion and groan when she pulls the book out of her bag.

“Veronica, you didn’t.”

“I did,” she giggles, tapping the seat next to her. You cross your arms over your chest.

“I am not participating in this,” you state, firm in your decision. You didn’t believe in ghosts or the paranormal, or even demons, but you’ve seen plenty of horror movies to know that this is how it starts. In no way were you going to be another victim in a paranormal mystery compilation.

“Please,” Veronica pouts, giving you the puppy eyes. You bite your bottom lip, trying to resist. She even goes as far as clasping her hands together, blinking up at you. You give in with a deep sign.

“Fine. But I’m waking you up if something comes into my room later tonight,” you declare. She nods in agreement as she moves to let you join her on the couch. You eye the book, then the candles. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Not a clue!” she answers. “But, the book has clear instructions. I just need three candles,” she pauses to point at the candles, “and two participants!”

“Well would you look at that,” you mock. It’s a coincidence, is all, as candles are in nearly every home and most households consist of two people.

“Stop being a party pooper and hand me that lighter.” You lean over the couch and grab the BIC, placing it in her open palm. She lights the candles one by one, then straightens up, suddenly looking serious. It takes effort not to laugh.

Veronica starts reading from the book, something about calling the corners and inviting those who wish to join as witnesses. You look around, waiting for something to happen, but so far, nothing does. She continues, beginning to speak something in what you guess is Latin. It sounds wrong as you remember your old high school Latin teacher being strict on pronunciation, but you don’t correct her. When she finishes, she claps her hand and looks expectantly to the empty space in front of her.

Nothing.

A minute passes.

Nothing.

“I don’t get it,” she sighs, slouching back into the couch. “I did everything it said to.”

“Have you thought that maybe it’s just not real?” you offer.

“Ok, but just once, I was hoping it was. I mean, look at the book! It’s so old and weird, I thought it could be legit, ya know?”

“Yeah, but sadly, we live in a place I like to call reality!” you say, using your hands to make a fake rainbow in the air. She huffs a laugh and sits back up, standing off the couch.

“Well, since a hot and sexy demon didn’t appear, how about I go grab us some food?” she asks, already going to grab your keys.

“Oh, pizza?”

“Pizza it is! I’ll be back in like, thirty minutes.”

“Cool, drive safe!” you call out as she leaves. Once it’s just you, you look back at the book, smiling at how silly it all was. Demon summoning. As if. You pick up the book and look at the Latin she had read. It was fuzzy and you’re only able to recall a few phrases. It’s less an incantation like you thought and more of further instructions. It tells the reader to place their finger once pricked on top of the signal and recite the summoning phrase.

You look at the front door then back at the book. It’s silly. You know for a fact demons aren’t real. This book was just some kind of occult hoax. So then, why did you want to give it a try?

Sighing, you reach into the drawer of the side table next to the couch, pulling out of the mini sewing kits you had for emergencies. You pull out a needle and prick your finger, wincing as a drop of blood pooled to the surface. You pick the book up with your other hand and press your finger down into the middle of the sigil. With a deep breath, you recite, “Daemon avaritiae, voluntatum et actuum, te voco. Veni et da mihi desideria mea.”

You close your eyes, waiting for something to happen. There’s just silence and still air. You can faintly hear the hum of the refrigerator. Your shoulders relax and you let out a nervous laugh. “Knew it,” you mumble to yourself, “just a stupid - .” You stop as your eyes stay fixated on the candles. The flames are flickering, raising higher then dropping back down, higher again, like they’re dancing. You feel the temperature drop, just like it did at that house.

“Ok, this isn’t funny,” you whisper, moving your legs to that they’re pulled up to your chest. You gasp when the flames go out, along with the electricity, submerging you into darkness.

“Oh, darling, I can ensure you I’m not laughing,” a voice deep responds and you scream, jumping off the couch. You can’t see anything, trying desperately not to trip over furniture. Of course an intruder decides to show up now when you were attempting to summon a demon.

“W-Whoever you are, I-I have a gun!” you shout, trying to sound tough but failing as your voice cracks and falters. You weren’t lying, you had a gun for just this occasion, but it was tucked safely away. In your bedroom. Where you were not. Great.

A deep chuckle rumbled in the darkness and you gulp, reaching around blindly to try and find purchase on anything. You felt your back press against something cold and felt behind you, relieved to find the wall. Now you just had to find a door, something to bring a barrier between you and whoever the fuck was in your house.

You’re searching for a knob when light suddenly fills the room, a figure stepping in. You scream, making the other person scream, too.

“The fuck is wrong with you!” Veronica shouts angrily, flipping on a light switch. You squint as light hits you. “Are you trying to scare me half to death?”

You run over to her, trying to push her out the door. “We have to go! There’s someone in here!” you warn her, pushing harder, but she won’t budge.

“Girl, what are you talking about? There’s no one here!” You turn to protest, to point at the man who had been talking mere seconds earlier, but she’s right. As you scan the room, there’s no one to be seen.

“No, no, no. He was just there. I was on the couch, doing the ritual, and he -“

“Wait, you actually tried it, too?” she asks but you ignore her.

“- he spoke behind me when the lights went off! He was, he was…,” you trail off, feeling frantic, panicked. Had you just imagined it all? Had you paranoid yourself that badly from the ritual that you hallucinated the whole thing?

Veronica called out your name, making you look at her. “I think you need to go lay down. You don’t look to good.” You nodded slowly, agreeing with her. You did feel tired.

“Y-Yeah, I‘ll just…go lie down.” She sat down the pizza and held your hand to your bedroom, making sure you made it to your bed before bidding you goodnight. Once the door was shut, you were left alone in your room. You looked around it, suddenly aware of the darkness creeping in around the edges. It unnerved you and you quickly turn on your lamp next to your bed. It fills in the empty spaces, bringing clarity as you took note of every little detail of your room. It eased your mind, being able to see everything.

You shoved the blankets back and crawled under them, exhaustion hitting your hard once your head laid on to the pillows. With a stifled yawn, you close your eyes and attempt to forget about the whole thing as you fall asleep.

Masterlist ; Ao3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #the radio demon #alastor hazbin #Alastor x reader #Alastor x you #Alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #fanfic

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strangesthirdeye · 4 months

Text

Being short and married to Ineffable Hubbys would include:

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way. Pretend that episode 6 never existed

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-Sometimes people would wonder if you are their daughter judging how short you are compared to those two giants. Besides, with your 'baby' face that makes you look like a child, you become one of the wonders among people.

-But when people find out that you are actually in a polygamy relationship with Crowley and Aziraphale, they surely surprise like hell.

-Those celestials being very protective of you claiming that you are very precious to them, although they actually think you are cute with how short you are to reach high places or try to kiss their cheeks or lips.

-Other than that, claiming that people will talk bad about you being in love with two older men or miss understanding with your height that makes you look like their child

-Overall, you just let it go and enjoy your life as long as they are with you.

-Crowley being the tallest one in the relationship always teases your height and often calls you Nightingale claiming it is the smallest and shortest bird. Although there are actually many other short and small birds out there. He wanted to say that you are beautiful and cute but ended up saying that you are small and short instead.

-While Aziraphale.. Oh, Aziraphale's heart always flutters when he sees you bounce around the bookshop with new book in your hands in an attempt to show him your new book or when you need him to reach something in a high place. He's always encouraged or praised you whenever you're feeling a bit down.

-But squealing like a fan girl silently when you try to reach his hands for comfort or just want to play his hands

-Back to Crowley, he always picks you up and kisses your cheek or lips or forehead while you struggle to release yourself from his hold. You look like a koala looking at the way you are clinging to him with your legs dangling on his waist. He doesn't mind as he finds it quite adorable.

-Crowley is not that type of person? demons? who shows PDA in public but when it comes to you holding his hands when walking together in the park he openly lets you hold his hands.

-While Aziraphale is the opposite, he is often the first person to seek your hands. He likes to play with your hands or just compared how big his hands are with yours. Often caresses your hand without realizing it whenever he holds your hand.

-When it comes to sleep, you are the middle person who will be embraced by both celestials. Them being big on the bed will embrace you with their arms making you look small between them.

-Crowley mostly the one who will hug your stomach while Aziraphale is the one who will hug you and Crowley, showing that he is a cuddle person in this relationship.

-Overall, they are good husbands

#prime video #good omens 2 #crowley good omens x reader #crowly x aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale #aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader #crowley #good omens x reader #good omens #aziracrow #azicrow #david tennant #micheal sheen #Spotify #ineffable husbands #ineffable husband x reader

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ohgodnotagainn · 10 months

Text

girl in a coffee shop

summary → 4 times bob recommended a drink + 1 time he recommended something else.

warnings → swearing, allusions to sex, probably some typos in there, coffee shop au, everyone is like 28ish in this

length → 5.1K

pairing → robert "bob" floyd x fem reader

a/n → this is SO self indulgent, but it's turned into my favorite fic i've written thus far. i hope you all love it as much as i do. i love, adore, and appreciate feedback, but as always, be nice or be gone. if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist let me know.

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“You’d be the pretty girl in a coffee shop, sweet as candy lemon drops, with your favorite pair of Birkenstocks - that’d be you.”

You found Top Brews completely by accident - your apartment was proving to be too distracting to finish editing your last shoot and so, in a fit of frustration, you googled the closest cafe with free internet. Five minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot with your laptop and a dream.

The shop was rather quaint - local artwork lined the walls and a variety of couches, armchairs, and tables littered the dark wooden floors. The place was alive with people slaving away on laptops, first dates, and old friends catching up over steaming lattes. You could tell these four walls harbored a community, and you wondered how you had missed it all this time.

Walking up to the bar you realized that the eclectic vibes weren’t what made this little shop special, it was the staff. A stunning brunette greeted you with a warm smile, and behind her you could see a blonde and a mustached man arguing over the ‘right’ way to do the dishes.

“Hey there! I haven’t seen you around here before - my name is Nat but you can call me Phoenix. I know the menu is a bit overwhelming, so if you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask!”

You weren’t sure how she could tell that you were overwhelmed, but you could guess it wasn’t uncommon for how extensive the chalkboard menu was. There were so many drink options you weren’t entirely sure where to start and you hadn’t thought much about what you would want in the short time it took you to slip on a pair of Birkenstocks and make the trek here.

“This is my first time in, do you have any recommendations?”

The smile on her face grew wider as she smacked the shoulder of a slender man with glasses hidden behind the espresso machine.

“Ahh, if you want recommendations then Bob here is your man. He’s yet to steer someone wrong and makes the best concoctions you’ll ever taste.”

Bob, as Phoenix called him, seemed startled when he looked up from the pitcher he was steaming. Your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met his gentle ones, and you were intrigued by his calm demeanor despite all the hustle and bustle around him.

“Well then, Bob was it? I guess I’ll trust your reputation - surprise me, I’m not picky.”

You were finishing up paying when you heard Bob curse loudly, “Shit!” You glanced over just in time to see hot milk pouring over the edges of the metal pitcher onto his hands as he frantically turned off the steam wand. His neck and cheeks were painted red, no doubt embarrassed by what happened.

Words tumbled out of his mouth while he made quick work of wiping down the bar with a wet rag. “I - uh - I promise I know how to do my job, I just get so in the zone sometimes and I got distracted and Rooster is back there squawking so loud I can’t hear myself think and -”

His words and motions came to a halt as he heard you giggling, and though it may have been at his expense, he would do anything to hear it every day.

You tried to keep a straight face, but you were still in a fit of giggles as you said, “You guys keep a Rooster back there? I’m not sure the health department would appreciate that very much.”

At your words, the mustached man from the great dish debate whipped around with a hand to his chest and pretend indignation written on his face. “Excuse you! I’ll have you know that inspector Sharon loves me and my keen sense for knowing what needs to be clean and what needs to be dirty.”

Everyone behind the bar groaned in annoyance as Phoenix pushed him back towards the sink, “You’ve lost your privilege of talking you absolute buffoon, go back to the dishpit and reflect on your life choices,” she looked at the clock, then turned back to you and whispered, “Believe it or not, that’s the longest he’s made it without losing his talking privileges all week.”

“But it’s only 9:30?” you questioned.

A cup of mystery appeared in front of you as Bob cut in with a playful grin, “Yeah, he’s making some big strides. Yesterday he only got to 7:05. We open at 7:00.”

You met his eyes and shook your head laughing. “Sounds like you may have been better off with an actual rooster.” You lifted the cup, eyes widening as soon as the hot beverage hit your tongue. “Holy shit, Bob.”

His eyes widened to match yours as he started to reach for the cup, “Fuck do you not like it? I’m so sorry, I can make you something else -”

“Oh, no!” You were vehemently shaking your head, “I didn’t mean it like that,” You pulled the cup out of his reach, “This is just the best coffee I’ve ever had - where have you been all my life? You have to clue me in to what you made so I can order if you aren’t here.”

His heart was fluttering at your kind remarks and the idea of you coming in here more, but he tamped down the feeling. “It’s, uh, it’s a honey vanilla latte with cinnamon steamed into the oat milk.” With rosey cheeks he looked down at the rag in his hands and continued, “It’s actually my personal favorite.”

“Well, Bob, it might just be my new personal favorite too.” You slipped a $5 bill out of your laptop case and into the tip jar. You looked back at him and raised your cup with a wink, “Thanks again!”

Bob was stunned into silence and couldn’t help but watch you as you made yourself at home in a big armchair by the fireplace. Where had you been all of his life?

Phoenix once again startled him when she cleared her throat - he was so wrapped up in thoughts of you he forgot she was there. “Dude, what was that? I can’t even remember the last time you burned a pitcher of milk.”

Hangman joined in from the sinks, “Yeah, man, I didn’t think you were even capable of messing up - you must be down bad.”

He groaned at their prodding, “Fuck off, Jake, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He did know what Jake was talking about, but he wouldn’t admit that to the blonde - if his ego got any bigger they’d have to expand into the space next door to fit it all.

Instead, he let your words play on a loop in his head and snuck peaks at you cuddled in that armchair every chance he could.

He hoped and prayed to every God he could think of.

Please make her a regular.

“I wonder what it’s like to be in love by you, I wondered if I’d ever be in love for you. All these doubts in my head keep me from finding you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You had to go back to there. You told yourself it was because the coffee had ruined other places for you, but you knew it was Bob. You had stayed in the shop for hours, somehow managing to get a substantial amount of work done between sneaking glances over your screen at the man who rocked glasses better than anyone you’d ever met. Would going back the very next day be weird? Maybe it was, but you didn’t care as you packed up your laptop and laced up your shoes.

The short journey felt like ages as your heart sped up with your wandering mind. Bob ran rampant through your brain and you found yourself unwilling to even try to stop - stuck on thoughts of him in your kitchen, crafting drinks on your Breville in the morning after a long night together.

You shouldn’t be thinking of someone you met once in this way. You didn’t even know if he had a partner already! You groaned and let your head hit the wheel - you had to get over it.

If you embarrassed yourself there was no way you could find another comparable shop - the coffee was simply too good and the internet too fast. Why go through all that when you were almost certain he wasn’t interested in you anyways?

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you gathered every ounce of courage in your body and went inside. You could do this.

Bob had spent his morning in a similar fashion, plagued by thoughts of you. He woke up thirty minutes earlier than usual, allowing himself extra time to get ready just in case you happened to come back.

Each time the little bell above the door rang he couldn’t help but check to see if it was you - and his heart sank a little deeper each time it wasn’t. What if you hated the coffee he made you yesterday and that’s why you didn’t come back? What would he say if you did come in the door? Would you give it to him if he asked for your number?

Who was he kidding? Even if you were single, he didn’t stand a chance when Rooster, Coyote, Hangman, and Phoenix were there.

Ding, ding.

He didn’t bother looking up this time.

“Bob! Hi!”

He had to be hearing things, had he officially gone crazy?

But sure enough, when he looked up he was met with your smiling face. Oh no. He had been thinking about you coming in all morning, but he wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen..

Say something, say something, say something..

“Oh, uh, hey!” Smooth, Bob. He hoped you didn’t see him cringe as soon as the words left his mouth. “Back again already?” Your smile faltered a bit at his words, and he caught his mistake immediately. “Not that I don’t want to see you again, because I do! I was hoping you’d come back, actually. I mean, not in a creepy way, of course.” He could feel himself rambling again, he had to bring this back before he really scared you off. “I’m sorry, let me try that again. Were you wanting the same coffee or do you want to try something new today?”

Now you were smiling wider than before - his rambling was endearing and your heart was nearly bursting at the fact that he was hoping you’d come in again.

“Well, I was going to get the same thing, but now that you mention it - I think I want to try something new. Got another ace up your sleeve?”

He couldn’t believe you were trusting him blind again.

A smile now graced his face too, “I think I’ve got one or two left.”

With an iced raspberry white mocha in hand and butterflies loose in your stomach, you set up camp in the same chair you had the day before.

Back up at the counter, Jake saddled up next to Bob.

“Two words - Down. Bad.”

“The glasses that you hardly wear .. and makeup, no you don’t really care"

Top Brews had all but become your office - now a permanent part of your daily routine. It had been two weeks since you first found the place but you couldn’t imagine life without it - the drinks were always stellar, you were friends with everyone on staff, and you were getting through work more efficiently than you ever had.

You really only had one problem with it - Bob. You suspected that if he was available and interested he would’ve made a move by now, but you couldn’t stop your growing feelings for the quiet barista and the little hearts he always poured on the tops of your lattes.

He made your mornings a little sweeter - often chatting with you over the red espresso machine while he whipped up your drink of the day. You rarely saw him do this with anybody else, usually too in the zone to make small talk, and you couldn’t help but feel special. He was never in too much of a rush to talk to you, and nobody else had ever made you feel so important before.

Through your chats you learned that he owned the place with Natasha, and overtime they somehow roped all of their friends from college into working there with them. Coyote overheard this and appeared out of thin air to inform you that it took major begging to get him to quit his office job and join the staff.

Bob informed you that it really only took a six pack of Dos Equis and the promise of priority aux privileges. (Coyote took a lot of pride in this, spending hours on Spotify crafting playlists for every occasion).

You also learned that, no, their parents don’t hate them, they just liked having their nicknames adorning their tags. They wanted those who came to know they were part of the squad, that they considered every single person who came through those doors a friend - regardless if they came in once or every day.

You looked forward to these chats more than you’d like to admit.

This particular morning you were not doing well. You had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, things going awry left and right. Your phone hadn’t been fully plugged in and you woke up late. You got a scathing email from an unhappy client, who demanded they get their non-refundable deposit back from the shoot they didn’t show up to. Another client didn’t make any indication whether they liked their gallery or not, leaving you even more insecure. You ripped your last pair of contacts and had to opt for glasses - that were four years old and out of prescription - instead. To top it off, you were missing one of your most important SD cards.

If you weren’t so superstitious, you would say that things couldn’t get any worse.

For once you were hoping to not see Bob. You didn’t feel like yourself and you were feeling rather self conscious about your appearance.

Like everything else that morning, you weren’t so lucky. You saw him the second you entered the building and scurried to your armchair instead of the counter to order like normal. You would have to set up camp first and get your coffee once he went to the bathroom or went on break.

Twenty minutes into working and you were left more frustrated than before. Lightroom was crashing on you every five photos, you were developing a migraine from the lack of caffeine, and Bob still had not moved from his place behind the bar. You could feel his eyes on you every so often and you knew he was probably figuring out how to nicely kick you out.

You were loitering after all.

Suddenly you felt a presence in front of you and you looked up to see Phoenix smiling down at you.

Here it comes.

Without a word, she produced a glass from behind her back and placed it on the little table next to you.

“You must have the wrong person, this can’t be for me - I haven’t ordered yet.” You told her, sheepishly pushing the glass away.

“No, I’m certain this is for you,” she nodded her head in Bob’s direction, who was currently looking anywhere but at you, “Something about how he could tell you’re having a bad day and could use a pick me up. He’s insisting it be on the house and instructed all of us to refuse letting you pay, so, don’t even try. Also, you cannot tell him I told you this, but he won’t shut up about how much he likes your glasses. I think you could get away with never paying here again if you wore those everyday.”

You were shocked, your mouth agape and unable to form words.

“Oh! I was also sent on operation pick-me-up to give you this,” she fished your SD card out of her apron pocket and handed it to you, “We found it sweeping yesterday and couldn’t tell if it was yours or not. Bob kept it in his wallet for safe keeping until we saw you today, just in case.”

You flipped the little disc around in your fingers - completely shellshocked now.

“I uh, I don’t even know what to say other than thank you, seriously. Are you sure I can’t pay? I feel bad and it’s really no trouble at all,” you said as you fished around in your laptop case for some cash.

Shaking her head, she started to walk away from you, yelling over her shoulder, “Don’t even try!”

You could feel your migraine dissipating as you sipped on the lavender cold brew topped with a sweet cold foam.

Bob had saved your entire day.

You slipped a $20 bill in the tip jar when no one was looking.

“Oh, I, could only hope that you would feel it too - if we locked eyes right here in this crowded room for just one second it’d just be us two”

A month had passed since your first visit and the tattered blue armchair by the fireplace was now your spot. Sure, it wasn’t written anywhere, but you were there for hours everyday like clockwork. It was common knowledge and the other regulars respected it as your territory, sometimes even going as far as leaving a jacket in place to make sure it was vacant upon your arrival.

You always sat there because it was the comfiest chair, you liked the warmth that came from the fireplace, and the internet connection in that specific part of the cafe was the strongest. You definitely didn’t always sit there because you had a stellar - and discreet - view of the bar.

Okay, maybe you did.

But if you couldn’t actually be with Bob, there was no harm in looking, right? How could you resist a few peaks here and there when his hands looked that good moving expertly around the bar?

Yeah, that was going with you to the grave.

It had been a busy morning and there was not an empty chair or table in sight. The crowd was overtaking your space and you could tell, even through your headphones, how loud it was getting. Even the internet was struggling to keep up with the traffic.

The most recent batch of photos was in the process of exporting and with how slow it was moving, you knew it was going to be a while.

You didn’t mind much. You could allow yourself generous looks at Bob without worrying so much about being caught - everyone behind the bar too preoccupied with the rush at hand to notice - and there was no guilt around being distracted from your own workload.

Without warning, Bob’s eyes snapped up and met your gaze.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

You had been caught red-handed, but your eyes stayed locked on his and you nodded at the freshy vacated chair next to yours in a silent invitation. The only way out of the embarrassment now was through, you had to pretend this was the plan all along.

Bob wanted nothing more than to join you in your corner, but there was a hoard of tickets still waiting to be made and Jake was scheduled to take his break first. With an exaggerated look of disappointment on his face he held up a cup in one hand and a pitcher in the other, shrugging his shoulders as a way to politely decline your invitation.

You nodded in understanding, but he didn’t miss the dejected look in your eyes as they dropped back to the laptop screen.

God damnit. He was grateful that his business was flourishing, but he finally had a chance and he was barred from taking it.

Unbeknownst to him, Rooster had seen the entire exchange.

“Hey man, I got bar so you can take your break,” he stated, leaving little room for argument.

“Oh, uh, I actually think Hangman is supposed to break first today,” Bob responded, eyes downcast and sadness laced in his tone.

Jake was quick to interject, “Yeah! I’m starving and I opened so if anyone is going on break its -”

He was cut off by Bradley’s elbow making sharp contact with his gut.

“Nope! It’s Bob. Here’s a slice of banana bread big enough for two, do with it what you will.” Bradley winked, shoving a plate in Bob’s hands and shooing him away from the counter

Hangman grumbled, still doubled over and cradling his stomach, “We really need an HR department.”

Bob ignored him as he untied his apron and grabbed two forks, making his way over to the fireplace before he could talk himself out of it.

You thought nothing of it when you felt a presence in the chair beside you - it had been occupied for almost the entire morning - but you were confused when a plastic fork suddenly appeared in front of your eyes.

“Not sure if I can finish this piece of banana bread on my own, interested in sharing?” Bob asked you with a blush on his cheeks.

You grabbed the fork out his hand and clinked it against his, “I would love nothing more.” You took a big bite and your eyes got large, “I need this recipe, I need it more than I’ve needed anything else in the history of needing things.”

Bob let out a chuckle, “I wish I could give it to you, but unfortunately Rooster has it under lock and key. Believe me when I say we’ve tried to get it from him since freshman year, but It’s his mom’s old recipe that they used to make together before she died.”

You were silent for a moment.

“That’s actually really sweet. Does he do a lot in the kitchen then?” you asked softly.

Laughing, Bob answered, “Oh absolutely not, he’s a master baker but I wouldn’t trust him to make a box of mac n’ cheese. A truly horrid cook.” You laughed this time, and he continued, “He was actually the first one to join the team here, his only request was that he wanted to bake. He says it’s to keep the memory of his parents alive, but truthfully I think it’s when he feels closest to them.”

You hummed in understanding and took another bite, “Well, here’s to Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw then.”

Bob took another bite before raising his fork, “Here, here!”

The conversation stood still for a moment before you turned to Bob with a serious look on your face, “Rooster, Phoenix, Fanboy, Payback, Hangman, Coyote - everyone else has silly nicknames. How come you don’t have one?”

“Bob actually is a nickname, even though it’s a derivative of my real name. I used to go by Robby, but when I was sharing a dorm with Hangman our freshman year he would always use Bob’s Burgers to fall asleep.”

“That’s absurd! Everyone knows that American Dad is the superior adult cartoon for sleeping purposes!” you quipped.

“That’s what I always said!” Bob agreed before continuing, “Anyways, the opening jingle started to really drive me crazy but I never said anything about it until one fated day when he put it on while we were all hanging out. I heard one note and went ballistic - we got in the biggest fight we’ve ever had and it ended with him saying that I was ‘jealous that I was the inferior Bob.’ The name just stuck after that,” He ended with a shrug.

You had a hand over your mouth, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You started laughing, and before he knew what was happening, Bob was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes and his stomach was burning.

Wiping away stray tears, he looked down at his watch and a deep frown overtook his features.

“Are you okay?” You asked, suddenly worried that you had offended him by laughing so hard.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. I’m just bummed that my break is almost over, none of those fools,” he pointed to the bar, “keep as good of company as you do.”

You watched as Rooster and Hangman thumb wrestled, Fanboy and Payback standing to the side, acting as referees, “I don’t know, that looks like a pretty intense match.” Bob just laughed again and shook his head.

“I enjoyed this too, you know. You should join me on your breaks more often, Robby.”

“I look forward to it,” he said earnestly, leaving you to enjoy your iced strawberry matcha with a new stampede of elephants taking residence in your stomach.

“I’m just another boy in a coffee shop, dreaming of a love that’s not .. I’m just dreaming of a girl in a coffee shop”

Another month had come and gone, and Bob didn’t let a day go by without sitting with you on his break. If he sometimes took 25 minutes instead of 15, well, nobody said anything about it. Everyone loved you, and everyone loved how happy you seemed to make Bob.

Everyone was, however, frustrated beyond belief that neither of you had made a move yet.

Phoenix was the first to crack, and it was under her supervision that operation intervention staff meeting (everyone thought the name Rooster pitched was stupid, but nobody could come up with something better) was born.

When Bob arrived at her house, ready to handle all the usual housekeeping, he was surprised to find that everyone was already there and sitting in a circle - he always the first to arrive.

“Bob, dear boy. Come in and sit with us.” Rooster said, trying to act normal yet failing miserably.

The weird tension in the room was palpable, and Bob was unsure what to do other than oblige, “What’s going on?” he asked, before finding a place to sit between Fanboy and Phoenix.

“We’ve decided, dear boy, that you finally grow a spine and ask her out,” Rooster replied, crossing his arms.

“First of all, stop calling me ‘dear boy’ - it’s really weird. Second of all, ask who out? I don’t know what you guys are on about.” Bob coolly responded.

Suddenly a hoard of pillows was thrown his way and everyone wore the same displeased look on their faces. They were obviously talking about you, and they knew that Bob knew they were talking about you.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I get it. I can’t ask her out though! I love talking to her everyday, she’s one of my best friends at this point. It would make things weird,” he continued.

Hangman groaned, responding before anyone else could, “You really think that would make it weird? Really? After two months of weird sexual tension that everyone but the two of you can see?”

Now he was on the receiving end of the swarm of throw pillows as a chorus of “not the time” “really Hangman?” and “you’re disgusting” rang out.

Payback, who had been quietly observing up until this point, decided it was time to step in. “Listen, man. If you really don’t want to ask her out, none of us are going to make you do it.” Phoenix looked like she was about to object but he shot her a look, “None of us are going to make you do it.”

Bob looked relieved for a moment, but Payback wasn’t finished yet, “However, I think you’re doing yourself, and her, a huge injustice if you don’t. She looks at you like you hung the stars, and you look at her like she hung the moon. We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but don’t you want to find out how much sweeter life can be if you stopped selling yourself short?”

“I don’t know how, and I’m scared.” Bob said quietly.

Everyone seemed to sober at his words, and Phoenix pulled him into a tight hug on the couch. She took hold of his hands and looked him in the eyes, “Then we’ll help you figure it out, and we’ll be there with you every step of the way. You deserve this, Bob, don’t let her pass you by only wondering what could’ve been.”

So, they all spent the rest of the night coming up with a plan - eventually falling asleep sprawled around Phoenix’s living room.

•••••

Everything seemed normal when you arrived at Top Brews, albeit there did seem to be a fair fewer cars in the parking lot. You didn’t think much of it, though, Tuesday’s were generally a pretty slow day at the shop.

It wasn’t until you walked up to the door and noticed the sign that said your name and to not enter unless it was you that you realized this was not going to be an average Tuesday morning.

Once inside, you followed a trail of meticulously placed coffee beans to your usual corner, where Bob sat nervously with a coffee mug in one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other. You could barely hear Billy Joel over the blood rushing to your head, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves and anticipation crash into you.

You had a million questions, but settled on a familiar one instead, “What’s in the cup today, Robby?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a honey vanilla latte with cinnamon steamed into the oat milk. I’m not sure if you remember this or not, but I made it for you the first time you came in,” he stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day. I’ve tested a thousand different recipes - not all winners, by the way - to make sure I can always make you something new. I used to hate taking breaks, but since I started sitting with you they are the highlight of my day. I never realized how much I missed being called Robby until you said it. I really don’t want to mess this up with you, you make my life sweeter in every way without even realizing it. If this is weird, and I’m misreading things, feel free to walk out that door and pretend this never happened but I am begging you, if that’s the case, please don’t stop coming -”

He was cut off by your lips making contact with his.

Pulling back, you allowed your eyes to meet his, “I remember every drink you’ve ever made me, I keep them saved to a list on my phone. I came back to this shop because of you. Watching you make drinks and sing whatever song is playing under your breath because you think nobody is looking has become my favorite pastime. I can’t even use my own Breville anymore because all I can think about is you using it instead. You’ve overtaken every inch of my brain and you’ve made the most bitter days sweet again. I could never stop coming through that door because I know you’re on the other side of it. This is by far the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, and I love it.”

You connected your lips to his again when a sudden roar of cheers and clapping filled the space.

Bob pulled away this time - laughing softly at your startled expression whilst the others poured out of the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, I had a little help.”

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

taglist:

@fogle97 @wkndwlff @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @abaker74 @starlightstories @aviatorobsessed @accioprocrastination @shanimallina87 @roostette @cassiemitchellrecs @waklman @cherrycola27 @nuvoleincielo @roosterbruiser @mayhemmanaged @genius2050 @dempy @dakotakazansky

#robert floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #tgm #dagger squad #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #mickey fanboy garcia #rueben payback fitch #Spotify

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Jack Jeanne Complete Collection - Interview with Ishida Sui and Towada Shin Translation

This interview is from the Jack Jeanne Complete Collection art book, it’s available on CDJapan and Amazon jp. You can also purchase a digital only version on bookwalker jp. I encourage anyone reading to purchase the game (if you haven't already) or the art book itself to support Ishida and Towada directly. 💕

This is a VERY long interview so I apologise for any typos or errors I may have missed.

~ ~ ~

An interview with Ishida Sui and Towada Shin, who both worked on writing the story of Jack Jeanne. In this interview they reveal what went on behind the scenes during production, rejected story ideas and much more. This interview was conducted remotely on the 9th of February 2021.

Interviewer: Yui Kashima

How did Ishida Sui end up making an otome game?

—How did the production of Jack Jeanne begin?

Ishida: It was sometime around Autumn 2015 I think… On an old personal site that I used to run, I received an email from the company Broccoli to an email address that I no longer use. It was a commission request for character designs.

—In 2015 Tokyo Ghoul was still being serialised wasn’t it?

Ishida: Yes. Usually job offers like that go through Shueisha first, so I contacted my editor asking why this one was sent to my private email… At the time, in addition to working on Tokyo Ghoul, I was also drawing illustrations for a tear-off calendar and very busy with various other things, so when my editorial department heard about the offer they seemed very shocked like "What!?".

—Why did you decide to accept the offer even though you were so busy?

Ishida: I would often receive offers asking for me to draw manga or illustrations, so I figured that this one was a similar case. However, some words in the email caught my eye. Like ‘Gender Swap’, ‘Takarazuka’ and ‘All Boys Opera'. When I saw these concept ideas, a dream began to swell in my chest and I felt like giving it a try.

I think if it had just been a normal character design job, I would have turned it down. However just from reading the short brief in the email my interest was piqued. While in discussions with the Young Jump editorial department, I also casually mentioned the kind of offer I’d received to Towada-san.

Towada: Yeah, Ishida-san asked me for some advice. I was also drawn to the ‘Gender Swap’ and ‘Opera’ concepts. I could easily visualise the setting of the story. Additionally, it seemed like it would be a story that included many different themes such as gender. When I thought about that, I figured that Ishida-san would be a good fit, since I knew he would be able to draw something that went beyond all genders.

Ishida: I’ve been drawing androgynous characters for a long time, so Towada-san and I talked and wondered if that's what they must be looking for. After that, I created my own proposal and submitted it to Broccoli.

—You created your own proposal, Ishida-san?

Ishida: When I looked at the original proposal that Broccoli had sent me, a lot of it differed from my personal tastes. It was a very upbeat and dazzling story. It would’ve been hard for me to match my art style to that, so in my proposal I noted things like ‘if it were me, I’d do something more like this’. I was interested in this unpolished gem of a story, so I thought it would be a waste to turn it down altogether. I wanted to at least try throwing my own ideas into the ring, so I spent a week creating the six main characters and sent them in.

—At that time, I heard that the game wasn’t titled ‘Jack Jeanne’ yet, but was instead called ‘Jiemarie’.

Ishida: At first, I wanted to try creating a word that doesn’t exist. So using French as a base, I came up with ‘Jiemarie’ as the game's provisional title. But then a month later when I was reconsidering the title, I looked at it again and thought, damn this looks lame. So I hurriedly called Towada-san on Skype and we entered a discussion that lasted about ten hours over what the title should be.

That’s when we decided on ‘Jack Jeanne’. The male roles take the name from the knight, or the ‘Jack’ in a deck of playing cards. And the female roles ‘Jeanne’ take from the word parisienne and Jeanne d’Arc. When these two terms are put together, I feel like you can comprehend what the game is about with a bit of nuance. Plus you can shorten it to ‘JJ’… That’s also the title of a magazine though (lol).

—Taking on another job whilst your manga was being serialised sounds like it would be tough on you both physically and mentally.

Ishida: I think I must’ve been a bit unwell (lol). My body was fine, but being able to work on something other than a serialised manga was a lot easier on me mentally. I may have seen it as a way to escape, so I didn’t feel that working on two projects at the same time was difficult. When it comes to game development, I can only create what I’m capable of, and there was no set release date yet. Of course, I would work on and submit things whenever I could though.

—What kind of things would you submit?

Ishida: I would sketch character designs, discuss and create story elements with Towada-san and try to put Univeils history into chronological order. Then I would share the progress with Broccoli and have meetings and such with them. In the beginning, rather than having to draw anything yet, it was mostly just brainstorming and planning. That’s why I think I was able to do it all concurrently with the serialisation of my manga.

~ ~ ~

How Ishida Sui and Towada Shin know each other

—Do you chat with Towada-san often?

Ishida: Well yeah, she is my older sister after all.

Towada: We talk a lot. When we both have the time we chat over Skype.

Ishida: Once we start the conversation can last up to five or six hours. We mostly talk about things that happened throughout our day. When I’m talking to someone I often bring up something that’s happened to me and ask their opinion on it. She became someone that I could chat with whilst working on my manga. Ever since my student days we’d talk until early morning, I usually told her about storyboards I’d drawn.

—At the Ishida Sui exhibition it was revealed that Towada-san had even given you advice on some of your earliest works.

Ishida: Yeah that’s right. It was a work I’d prepared for a 'bring your own work along' induction course in Tokyo that I attended back in my student days. It was a manga about two characters who eventually became the prototypes for Tsukiyama and Hori Chie in Tokyo Ghoul. It was only about 30 pages long, however when I showed it to Towada-san the day before the presentation, she told me that she thought my linework was too thin.

Towada: Yeah, the overall linework of the manga was thinly drawn. Once I told Ishida-san this thought, he began tracing over his linework and making it thicker. And then when he looked at it again, he said “Yep, I need to redraw the whole thing”.

The linework being too thin was only my personal opinion and the presentation was in Tokyo the next day, so in horror, I began hastily telling him, “You won’t make it in time, stop, stop!”

Ishida: All I could think about was that the lines really were too thin, so I wanted to redraw it. All of the screentones had already been affixed to the panels, but I didn’t want to bring something along with me whilst knowing it wasn’t the best that it could be.

Towada: Ishida-san handled the linework and I helped with redoing the screentones. We worked throughout the night and finished redrawing the whole manuscript. Once it was done, it wasn’t even comparable to the previous version, the lines were powerful and the characters' expressions conveyed a lot. I was seriously worried though (lol), I didn’t know if we’d complete it in time.

Ishida: I couldn’t think about anything other than the lines being too thin, so I wasn’t even worried about whether I had enough time or not.

Towada: I fell asleep halfway through, but you continued and boarded that Tokyo bound flight without having slept a wink, didn’t you?

Ishida: Yeah. I let Towada-san sleep and continued applying the screentones myself right up until the very last minute. I was still applying them whilst on the plane and also after my arrival in Tokyo. I used screentone number 10 a lot, so I remember the scenery around me gradually began to look grainy like the screentone. It felt as though I was hallucinating.

—Sounds like it was a tough manuscript to complete. Towada-san was also the author for the Tokyo Ghoul novels, has your relationship always been one akin to work partners?

Ishida: When it was decided that Tokyo Ghoul would be getting a novelisation, I was given other authors' works to look at. However, none of their styles really clicked with me, and they didn’t seem right for the series. I knew that Towada-san wrote, so I tried reaching out to her.

Although back in the days of Tokyo Ghoul’s serialisation, Towada-san and I didn’t talk as much as we do now. If I had any concerns I would just try and sort them out by myself. We’d always gotten along as brother and sister, however we didn’t really start to have a ‘work partners’ kind of relationship until we started working on Jack Jeanne together.

Towada: That’s true. Back then, we only occasionally conversed regarding the novelisation of Tokyo Ghoul. Before :re we only spoke once every few months over Skype. As Ishida-san said, it wasn’t until I started working on Jack Jeanne that we really started properly talking to one another.

—How often would you contact each other?

Towada: Depending on what stage we were at, we would bounce ideas off each other once every three or so days. Ishida-san would make a request like “I’d be happy if this part of the script was done within the next two weeks.” And then I’d present what I’d written and we’d discuss it and then I’d return to writing again. This process was repeated until Jack Jeanne reached its completion.

—Was Ishida-san the one that reached out to Towada-san to write the script of Jack Janne?

Towada: He didn’t ask me specifically to write the script, early in development he’d ask me to help with some research like “I’d like you to look up some information on this, could you help me?”. I’ve always liked ikusei games and within that genre I also enjoy romance and otome games. So I think that’s why it was easy for Ishida-san to consult me about it. We’ve had a common interest in games ever since we were kids.

Ishida: Back then I played games like ‘Pinnochia no Miru Yume’ and ‘Angelique’. I wanted to try and conquer Marcel in Angelique but it was one difficult game, so it was a tough task. Before I could even raise any flags with him, the training aspect of the game was so hard that no matter how many times I played I never got any good at it.

Towada: I’m the type that loves playing games, so after talking with Ishida-san, I went on to play every popular otome game that had been released around 2015, as well as every Broccoli published otoge. I completed every single character route in those games. I began analysing otome game trends and Broccoli’s brand identity and relayed my findings to Ishida-san. After that, I went along with the Jack Jeanne production team and Makasano Chuuji-san from Shueisha, who was the scriptwriter of the Tokyo Ghoul anime. We all visited the city of Takarazuka for research.

Ishida: I was also supposed to be there for the Takarazuka trip but since I had my manga to worry about, I had Towada-san go and take in the atmosphere in my place.

Towada: I did have to gather material but I think I visited Takarazuka a total of five or six times. From morning I would watch the Takarazuka theatre from afar and simply watch the guests move about, soaking in the atmosphere of the city.

Along with the Takarazuka plays, I also watched student plays, in total I probably went and watched one hundred shows. Theatre shows that are performed by professionals are fully realised and flawless. So getting to see the contrast to student plays, where they progress and improve until the show is complete was a very helpful reference.

I’ve always enjoyed watching plays, so everything I had to research overlapped with my own hobbies. I still shared my own input with Ishida-san though.

Ishida: I’d never formally been asked to write a script before… I felt like a fraud (lol). I think it’s because I’m not very good at being considerate of other people. I don’t think I’d be able to work with anyone other than Towada-san on something.

—Why is that?

Ishida: Well, for one I don’t want to talk to anyone for long periods of time (lol). Because Towada-san understands what aspects of a story are important to me, she’s also able to comprehend what I mean when I talk in abstract concepts. We could save time by not needing to have any pointless discussions.

Towada: Back then Ishida-san was still very busy publishing his manga, so bringing in all sorts of new people to work on the project probably would’ve put quite the burden on him. That’s why I wanted to help him out in some way.

After researching all sorts of things, I ended up participating in a production meeting for Jack Jeanne, but I was not expecting that I myself would end up being in charge of writing the script. Rather, I was more just looking forward to getting to play a game made by Ishida-san. As things progressed though, I was asked to try plotting things out, or to write part of the script to be used temporarily. Eventually I came to think, why don’t I just write the scenario myself?

I’d never written the script for a game before though, so that’s what had been holding me back. Unlike novels, it’s commonplace to not have to write descriptively. Novels are made up of dialogue and descriptions, like describing the setting and characters' expressions or emotions. So I had to spend a lot of time working out how to write to properly convey a story through dialogue alone.

When I first started getting the hang of it, I tried writing a script that still included descriptions but I quickly stopped. Jack Jeanne is about theatre, so I figured that it would be easier to convey the presence and narrative of the story through conversation. I usually write novels, so I was uncertain, but since Jack Jeanne has sprites of the characters on screen, I thought that I could do it. I suppose it’s closer to writing for a manga rather than a novel.

~ ~ ~

The rejected character routes

—Before Tokyo Ghoul was completed, what kind of things did you work on?

Ishida: The first two years were mostly spent creating the game’s world and mechanics. Like deciding how many performances there would be, how the plays would be presented. Would it be a dialogue drama? Would there be mini games? Things like that. We also had to decide whether summer break would be included or not, how raising affection would work and how the choices would be presented. Those are the sort of things that were talked about first.

—You got to watch over the entire game’s development then.

Ishida: At first, I got carried away and envisioned a stage play game full of skill mechanics that I personally enjoyed. A busy game full of specs you can raise and improve in mini games, however when I explained these details to a friend of mine, they were like “You’re just imagining a game that you would like, right?”.

They asked me if that’s what the eventual players of Jack Jeanne would be looking for. That same friend said that since it’s a story that deals with the theme of theatre, it would be better if the player could witness the performances themselves. So I took that advice and the prototype of the current Jack Jeanne was created. I told all of this to Towada-san and had her handle the script.

Towada: You can’t write a script without knowing how the game’s system works after all.

Ishida: Now that I think about it, before Tokyo Ghoul was finished, rather than build the game's foundation, all I was really doing was scattering the sand to prepare for said foundation.

When Tokyo Ghoul entered its endgame especially, I really had to concentrate on it, so I took a six month break from Jack Jeanne. Ending a story requires a lot of energy and attention, so I left the practical work of Jack Jeanne to Towada-san and only supervised the music production and attended any important meetings.

—So during serialisation you were making preparations to jump right into it afterwards?

Ishida: Yes exactly. I wasn’t able to do much practical work, so I had Towada-san prepare the script in advance for me. And for the time being, create one character route.

—Which character was it?

Towada: It was Shirota. I wrote about the equivalent length of a short book and it was more or less complete. In the end, we scrapped the entire thing though… Because the atmosphere in the beginning was quite dark.

Ishida: It was dark because I was too used to Tokyo Ghoul. It included issues like a troubled household and severe bullying. Reading something like that wouldn’t put the player in a happy mood.

Despite it being a story about the theatre, my attention drifted to other topics which didn’t fit. And it was me who had asked Towada-san to write something like that… A couple months after the Shirota route had been completed, I read over what Towada-san had written for me once again and realised that it was a bit too gloomy. I’d forgotten what prompt I’d even given to her in the first place (lol).

The first character portraits and CGs that I created were for Shirota too. The reason being that Shirota is the only second year student and he was already a complete individual, so he was easy to create for. As for the third year students, there’s three of them, Fumi, Kai and Neji. Along with Kisa, Suzu and Yonoga are also first years, so continuity and character relationships need to be taken into account in order to create them, so they were a little more complex.

—How did the other characters come to be?

Ishida: At the proposal stage, the first character that I created was Kai. It’s a game where characters will be falling in love and confessing to one another, so first off I wanted a character that was handsome. Then I made Fumi who would be Kai’s partner. After that, I think Shirota was next.

Towada: At first you created the characters by basing them on plays didn’t you?

Ishida: I’m a fan of Yamamoto Shugoro’s work ‘Kikuchiyosho’ so Shirota was created using that as a base. In Shirota's case the genders are swapped, but Kikuchiyosho is a story about a girl who is born into a samurai family and raised as a boy. It has an element of androgyny and portrays the confusion and anger concerning gender quite well.

—How did you select the plays to base the characters on?

Ishida: I chose plays that lots of people are familiar with and would be easy to assign characters to. Kai is ‘The Phantom of the Opera’, Fumi is ‘Salome’, Neji is ‘Faust’ and Yonoga is ‘Shintokumaru’. Kisa and her classmate Ootori are ‘Don Quixote’. Ootori ended up becoming a side character though.

—So Ootori was originally meant to be a main character?

Ishida: Yeah. If I were to compare it to Tokyo Ghoul, Ootori is in the same position as Tsukiyama. I wanted a pompous character like that in Quartz. However I may have made him a little too unique (lol).

I received feedback from Broccoli that they want the main six characters to be an elite group, so a more easy to approach character would be better. So I moved the bright and cheerful character that I had originally made as Onyx’s Jack Ace over. That character was Suzu.

Making the characters personifications of plays started to become difficult to stick with though, so I abandoned the idea entirely halfway through.

—Despite appearing glamorous, the characters are all dealing with their own issues, like certain complexes and family troubles. I think that they’re all conflicts that are easy to sympathise with, how did you decide what the backbone of each character's conflict would be?

Ishida: First I created the character's appearance and then decided what personality would match them. Like with Fumi, when I began to think about making his story about the unique struggles that come with being born into a respected family, if becoming a successor was going to come into question, then he needed to have a brother.

In this way, I worked backwards from the vibe of his appearance and created his home life. I did the same with the other characters too, thinking things like ‘to have a personality like this they must not have parents, or they must struggle with expressing themselves’.

I think that if you let your characters do human-like things, then aspects of them that are easy to sympathise with will be born.

Jealousy, setbacks due to failure, inferiority complexes… Each and every character naturally ended up having some form of theme attached to them.

—I feel as though Kisa had a different sort of personality than that of a typical heroine.

Ishida: To put it simply, I want my protagonists to be fighting something. If they’re not giving it their all, then it’s no good. If they’re just standing around, then you can’t empathise with them.

—There’s times where she draws others towards her or supports those around her. She also has some masculine aspects to her.

Ishida: I think that I’m moved by characters who make me think “This kid’s really admirable”. That’s why I made Kisa a girl who works hard no matter the difficult situation that she’s in. I like Kisa and I’m sure Towada-san feels the same way.

Towada: She’s the result of both of our preferences. While due to the game’s setting, she of course has struggles related to being a girl, but I was careful to write the main thread of her story in a way that transcended gender and instead simply showed her charm as a human being.

—Regarding gender, I was impressed by how neutrally it was portrayed.

Ishida: Yes. Originally, I was going to make Shirota a character with a feminine personality, but I ended up scrapping the idea. In the end, he ended up having more of a masculine mentality. The premise of Jack Jeanne is that boys also play the female roles on stage, but it’s not a metaphor for anything and I didn’t want it to raise any questions. I simply wanted to give it my all creating plays with that setting and create something new and refreshing.

I don’t struggle with any gender related issues myself, so it’s not like I can fully understand what it’s like, but in general I’ve never considered gender to be a very big deal. If someone born male were to tell me “I have the heart of a woman” then I’d just think ‘ok cool’.

To me it feels strange to place so much weight on such an issue. I don't see why others need to be bothered by someone else's gender, I'm not since I myself am not able to speak for such experiences.

Towada: At first, it was possible to take that direction with Shirota but as I continued to write, I came to realise that there was no need to exaggerate any emphasis on his gender identity.

To those looking from an outside perspective, it may seem like a unique identity such as that is a person's defining trait, when in reality it's only just a portion of their whole self. If you consider it to be all they are, then you end up denying the other aspects of that person.

Whilst considering the individually of each character, I kept in mind to write them in a way that seemed natural for them.

—The side character, Tanakamigi Chui of Amber, had a very striking presence. How did you go about creating him?

Ishida: I wanted someone that’s easily understood to be the antagonist, so I went ahead and tried to draw someone who looked like an unstoppable genius. Despite being a second year, it’s as if he controls the school. I wanted an enigmatic and intriguing character like that. Once I named him Tanakamigi Chui I felt as though he was complete and his inclusion in the story was quickly decided on.

—On the flip side, were there any characters that you had a hard time creating?

Ishida: I had to think a little harder about the other members of Amber. They needed to have the aura of the enemy but since they’re only villains in the context of the stage, they’re not actually bad people. So it was hard to find that balance between them.

Visually they’re edgy and have a talented vibe, but they also have their own individual quirks, they’re not all homogeneous. I struggled with Kamiya Utsuri especially, I wanted him to visually look like he could be a Jeanne while also still looking like a boy, so it was difficult to get him right. I didn’t have to do many redesigns though and all the other characters came to be without much trouble.

What I actually had more trouble with, was the fact I made the cast too large. I initially created almost double the amount of first year characters, but when I looked back over the script that Towada-san created, I told her “There’s way too many characters, please cut some of them out.” To which Towada-san replied, “Ishida-san, you’re the one who created them in the first place.” (lol).

Towada: That’s because the cut characters had already appeared in the script (lol).

Ishida: I feel that when there’s too many characters a lot of them get wasted, so just like that I end up creating and scrapping a lot of my characters. I think even Broccoli were surprised by the amount of times I’d suddenly tell them “Oh that character doesn’t exist anymore.”

—Apart from characters, were there any other aspects of the game that were abruptly discarded?

Ishida: The performances I suppose… Originally I had wanted there to be a larger variety of shows, but if you were to put all of them in the script it probably would’ve ended up being three million characters long.

In the beginning of development, I had originally planned for each character's route to have a different final performance. There’s six main characters, and including Kisa’s route, that would total to seven unique shows.

Before that there’s the newcomers, summer, autumn and winter performances, so I arranged to have a script written for each. Basically I wanted to include more shows and increase the amount of sub stories, but that would be confusing to play through and development would never end. The game engine has its limits too, so I decided to keep it simple.

Towada: It would’ve been difficult to play through all that as well (lol). For the final performance, we settled on it being one show and letting the player enjoy it from each character’s perspective instead. And even then, there’s still over 20 different endings to the game, so it still took a long time until everything was fully complete.

—Newcomers, summer, autumn, winter and the final performance, were these five show’s scripts all original?

Towada: Yes. However at first, like the characters, we had planned to base them on famous productions. Like Shakespeare or fairy tales. We figured that players would find it easy to get immersed in plays that they were already familiar with.

Ishida: For the newcomers' performance, I thought we could have a show called ‘House of Biscuits and Candy’ based on Hansel and Gretel. I had also originally planned to use each character's motif to base the plays on.

Towada: Like Shintokumaru, right?

Ishida: Yeah yeah. I even went as far as getting permission to use it, but if the show were to be following a story that already exists, then the script would be bound to it. Once I understood that it would make it difficult to relate the stories to Univeil, we decided to create the plays ourselves.

Since I acquired the permission to adapt Shintokumaru though, maybe I’ll have to make a manga about it someday…

By the way, the one who was saying “Let’s do this” and then changing it to “Nevermind let’s not” was all me. I’ll start on something wholeheartedly thinking that it’s the right choice before realising halfway through that I can’t actually take it anywhere and stop. Jack Jeanne’s development was full of trial and error.

Whenever I’m about to start something, Towada-san will express her concerns with my ideas but I always end up pushing on with them only to ultimately scrap it.

I probably have at least ten books worth of scrapped drafts alone. I had no real knowledge of how to properly craft a story. I hadn’t drawn anything other than Tokyo Ghoul, so even though I had no idea what the fundamentals of storytelling were, I misunderstood that I could write other kinds of stories too. This time around I studied and revised each time… I really learnt a lot.

Towada: You learn things by doing them, so I think I just got used to it (lol). Also, you don’t commonly see stories presented within stories, I thought that it was a rare case for a game especially.

~ ~ ~

The story behind ‘Lyrics: Ishida Sui’

—You also wrote the lyrics for each of the songs used in the performances didn’t you, Ishida-san?

Ishida: Yes, that’s how things ended up. It goes without saying, but no one, including myself, thought that I’d be the one writing the lyrics.

Originally Broccoli brought in several professional lyricists and had me look over what they’d written. However I couldn’t help but feel that they were lyrics I’d heard somewhere before, or they at least didn’t leave a unique impression on me. I did feel the finesse of a professional, and they were beautiful lyrics that fit the story in one way or another… But the words used didn’t touch on the core of the story.

The songs in Jack Jeanne are stage songs that Neji wrote for the members of Quartz. So unless you’re familiar with the setting and understand how the characters are feeling, then you won’t be able to write lyrics that perfectly fit the scenario.

While I knew that my lyric writing technique would be far from that of a professionals, I thought that no one understands and loves these characters more than me, so I approached Broccoli about it. I’d poured my heart into not only the character designs, but also the story and system of the game, so I didn’t want to compromise on the lyrics and have them pale in comparison.

So, to the best of my ability, I wanted to at least try my hand at writing them. I had Broccoli check whether or not what I’d written was viable and asked them “If there are no problems, then please let me write the lyrics.”

—Did you sing the temporary vocals for the songs too?

Ishida: When I submitted the lyrics to Broccoli, I got the normal response of “Thank you, we’ll leave the temporary vocals to you.” Along with this message they also wrote “You can hire a professional vocalist if you’d like, or you could record the temporary vocals yourself.”

Because of this I started thinking that maybe I should record them myself. Similar to how one wouldn’t be able to write lyrics for the songs without a deep understanding of the story, if you weren’t the one who wrote the lyrics, you wouldn’t know how they’re supposed to be sung either.

So, after deciding that I had to be the one to do it, I made preparations to acquire some audio recording equipment and downloaded some editing software. I divided up the parts and harmonised with myself and over the course of three days, I finished recording the temporary vocals. That’s more or less how I did it.

—When recording yourself singing, being self conscious about it can interfere, can’t it?

Ishida: I don’t think I was possessed by him or anything, but… When I tried to go all out, as expected I felt a bit hesitant, so I began recording whilst imagining I was Neji.

In the game, Neji is the one who writes the scripts, so surely he would also write the lyrics and subdivide the song and do everything himself. So I got through it thinking like that. In that pumped up mental state, I sent in the temporarily recorded songs but all Broccoli said back was “Alright, let us know your upcoming schedule”, I got so carried away that I was somewhat bewildered by the cold response (lol).

~ ~ ~

Recruiting via DM, gathering specifically selected creators

—It appears the creators you gathered to handle things such as the concept art and music are all people whose work you enjoy.

Ishida: Yes. Almost everyone was sent a targeted offer. For example, I’ve always loved the concept artist Lownine-san’s work ever since I was a student. I suppose you could say I was jealous of how high quality their artwork is… They’re someone who I thought I'd never be able to beat in my entire life. Lownine-san is an amazing artist who is especially good at blending characters into their backgrounds.

When we were creating Jack Jeanne, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pull something like that off, so I definitely wanted to recruit Lownine-san for the job. After getting permission from Broccoli, I reached out to Lownine-san myself through Twitter DM’s. I had only appreciated Lownine-san’s work from afar, and we’d never actually interacted before, but we did both follow each other. I received a reply that Lownine-san was fully on board to accept the job.

Towards the end of Jack Jeanne’s development, I got the chance to speak with Lownine-san, so I asked them “Could you teach me how to draw?” They gladly accepted this request and taught me how to draw whilst screen sharing over Skype. However, in about 10 minutes, they’d already drawn such an amazing piece that I felt I should just put my pen down (lol).

Towada: You were a little down after that, weren’t you?

—Had you been a fan of Kosemura-san, who was in charge of music, since you were a student as well?

Ishida: Yes, I’ve listened to Kosemura-san’s music a lot since I was a student. When I was brainstorming what kind of music would fit Jack Jeanne, Kosemura-san’s ‘Light Dance’ immediately came to mind, since it fit perfectly. Because I didn’t have any personal connections to Kosemura-san however, I didn’t know how to get in contact with him, so I made the request through Broccoli. I only found out about this recently, but apparently Kosemura-san almost turned the offer down*, I was quite shocked to hear that (lol).

*When the initial request was sent, it was under wraps that the game was being made by Ishida Sui, and since Kosemura-san didn’t have much experience in writing game music, he wasn’t optimistic about the offer. However, later, when he learned that it was a game being made by Ishida Sui, he readily accepted the offer.

—How did Seishiro-san, who was in charge of the choreography, get chosen for the job?

Ishida: A very long time ago I saw the group Tokyo Gegegay appear on a program called DANCE @ HERO JAPAN and I remember thinking ‘this group is crazy good’ and I was immediately charmed by them. After that, whilst I was looking through more videos of Tokyo Gegegay on YouTube, I happened upon a studio workshop video and discovered Seishiro-san.

—What about him caught your eye?

Ishida: Whilst first and foremost his dancing was super sexy, it also had a certain strength to it. I remember thinking that he danced in a way that embraced the best elements of both masculinity and femininity. And that had stayed in my memory ever since. When Seishiro-san was recording motion capture for the game, he allowed me to interrupt and even taught me some of the choreography.

(note: you can watch Seishiro dance here, he is also the choreographer behind this RADWIMPS music video!)

—I hear you’ve known Gyudon-san, who was in charge of making the movies, since your Tokyo Ghoul days.

Ishida: Yes. Around the time volume 13 of Tokyo Ghoul was set to be released, we held a still image MAD (Music Anime Douga) contest. The grand prize winner of said contest was Gyudon-san, who at the time was still only a student. The way they made a video by manipulating the manga panels to move so fluidly was really cool and stood out from the rest.

Around when Tokyo Ghoul had ended and :re was about to start, I had Gyudon-san make a minute long video for me. After that, Gyudon-san grew in popularity and became someone whose work is in high demand, so they seemed very busy.

However when Jack Jeanne was announced, we were able to have them create a promotional video for us. Since I’ve known them since Tokyo Ghoul, I figured I couldn’t go wrong entrusting the job to Gyudon-san. They didn’t just deliver their finished work without a word either, Gyudon-san also made a variety of suggestions and worked on the project with a positive attitude. For the videos used in the performances, I was asked to provide materials and became very involved in the process. I think it took about two weeks… Despite the really tight deadline, Gyudon-san allowed me to catch up and was super helpful.

I was also the one who reached out to Touyama Maki-san, who was in charge of creating the in-game chibi characters and the 4koma manga used for promotional purposes. During Tokyo Ghoul’s publication, Touyama-san would draw short comics for the series as a hobby, I thought they were a nice person for doing so. Their art was great too and I was very thankful. So when it was decided that we’d be displaying chibi characters during the game’s lesson segments, I wanted to leave it to Touyama-san and sent them the offer.

(note: this is the MAD that gyudon won the contest with, they now regularly make moving manga CM's for jump titles, they make the Choujin X ones too!)

~ ~ ~

The winter performance moves into Quartz’s ending, and the divergence in the story since the beginning of the year drastically branches off

—The performances, packed full of each of the character’s skills, continue for a year and pass by in the blink of an eye. Once the new year breaks, it feels as though the atmosphere of the game drastically changes. What were your intentions behind this?

Towada: That’s when the character route specific endings begin. So we packed all the needed material to set them up into the winter performance.

Ishida: The winter performance is like an ending for Quartz as a whole, so we packed it full of good lines and scenes without holding back. I may have used up all of my cards but by using them all without compromise, we were able to make the story reach a nice peak. After that, the story switches to focusing on each character's individual ending.

Towada: We used a lot of great material in the winter performance, which meant the final performance would have to be even better still. In a good way, it gave us a higher hurdle that we now needed to overcome.

—So you needed to create even more anticipation heading into March?

Towada: From January to March, each character’s route is completely different. From the new year onwards I needed to create seven different scripts, so it was very challenging. The amount of text for the last three months of the game alone just about eclipses the amount of text from up until the winter performance. There was so much to write that I began to fear I wouldn’t even be able to finish it.

Ishida: Having more choices that drastically change the ending of the game makes the player feel more involved. So, despite it making things tougher on ourselves, around the time we were working on the autumn performance is when we began thinking about how the game’s big branches should work. Along with the main routes, we also planned for there to be the option to deepen your bonds with the side characters.

—How did you go about creating the confession scenes?

Towada: Before the winter performance, to some extent each character has already grown closer to Kisa, so I kept in mind not to disrupt that flow. Since if I didn’t make it a confession that respected both Kisa and her suitor’s feelings, then I felt it would spoil the fun.

—Is that how you approached the ‘realising Kisa’s a girl’ scenes as well?

Towada: Yes, I suppose so. As I was writing the script, I knew that a point was going to come where Kisa would have no choice but to acknowledge the fact that she’s a girl. There’s characters that realise her true gender once their bond deepens and on the flip side, there are some who don’t realise it at all. There’s also the case of Yonaga, who knew Kisa’s situation from the beginning. I guess you could say each reveal followed one of these three patterns. Those who came to realise it, those who didn’t notice anything and those who knew from the start. I think they ended up being nice variations and I put careful consideration into writing them to make sure none of the realisations felt forced.

Also, the beginning half of the story is akin to that of a sports drama about teenagers putting on shows together, so the room for romance to be added is limited. That’s why, when I first started adding romantic elements to the character routes, it felt strange to me, so I discussed it with Ishida-san. I wasn’t able to effortlessly soak the story in romance. I think I had to rewrite Shirota’s ending at least three times…

Ishida: Shirota was who you tried writing an ending for first after all.

Towada: Shirota and Kisa aren’t the sort of people who’d be all flirty, and Shirota’s initial route was already muddy, so it was difficult to pull everything together. However, once I stopped trying to write in a way that forced romance on them and instead wrote them becoming closer as partners, things went more smoothly.

It may not be a stereotypical sort of love, but it was a human love. I thought that the natural way these two would be drawn together wouldn’t be through whispering sweet nothings to one another, but instead by coming to understand one another without having to exchange words at all. Once I’d completed Shirota’s route, to some extent, I continued writing the other routes in a similar way.

Ishida: While it’s true Shirota acts like that, the other characters all act differently. To the point some aren’t even comparable. In contrast to Shirota, Suzu’s route ended up being more of your stereotypical kind of romance. I thought that it would be nice for each character to have their own unique form of love.

Towada-san’s strong suit is writing a love story with your more classic otome guys like Suzu and Kai. I have no idea about that kind of thing, so I left Towada-san to pour her own ideas into their routes. On the flip side, characters like Fumi and Neji were dyed more with my own ideas. Neji’s way of flirting especially were mostly lines that I requested.

Towada: He’d say “Make him say something like ‘Try seduce me!’ Because I want this CG to appear.” (lol).

Neji especially plays with his words a lot, so unless Ishida-san told me what wordplay to write, I wouldn’t have been able to expand on it. Ishida-san has a very unique way of phrasing things, so I asked him for advice a lot to make sure I was making Neji speak in a Neji-like way. I then arranged the lines and created events in order to reach the intended goal. I constructed the route in a way that wouldn’t disrupt the flow of the story. As for Fumi, Ishida-san wrote his route himself.

Ishida: Yes, I wrote it all myself.

—Well isn’t this quite the exciting plot twist?

Ishida: I turned into quite the young maiden myself (lol). Even though I’m clumsy at it… I began wondering why I ended up loving writing it so much. I added some lines that have more of an adult and deeper meaning to them, so when I played the route myself I was like “Woah!”.

Towada: It’s more interesting if at least one character is that way. From the early days of production, I’d quietly wanted Ishida-san to write a character himself, so I was happy. I was unsure how to deal with Fumi too, so it was a big help that Ishida-san took him on. His route ended up being a lot sweeter than I’d been expecting though, it got my heart racing (lol).

Ishida: I was also the main writer for Kisa’s solo route. There’s no romance in it, but it’s an ending where long lasting friendships are born and it ended up being the kind of story you’d see in an uplifting shoujo manga.

Towada: It’s full of Ishida-san’s flair, I loved it.

Ishida: If love is a lie, then how do you face that lie? That’s the sort of thing I thought about. Kisa is lying about her gender and pretending to be a boy, but Neji, Suzu, Fumi, Yonaga and so on, are also hiding lies within themselves.

The fact they’re all hiding their true motives is something that they have in common with Kisa. Whilst hiding, the two grow closer. I think that a confession is a scene where all these lies intersect and burst open. Everyone is lying, and I thought that was like a play, without realising it I think that slowly became the theme of the work.

As people, we meet others whilst lacking something and some people end up becoming a necessary part for someone else. I wanted to see a drama like that. Despite it being a game with confession scenes, I wanted it to be a story that both women and men alike are able to identify with.

~ ~ ~

From thorns to rounded edges, how the style of work transformed

—If there was a small novels worth of rejected material, then how many books worth of words made it into the final game?

Towada: In terms of paperback books, probably about twenty volumes worth.

—Because as well as the main scenario, there’s also the sub scenarios and the stage plays?

Ishida: As much as time allowed, I put my all into creating the game. However there was a deadline for things like the voiceline recordings, so I was working both day and night to get things done in time.

Towada: I was only getting around three hours of sleep. I feel like at one point Ishida-san didn’t sleep for four days.

Ishida: I was in a serious pinch so I don’t remember it well, but when I was writing the script I would hole myself up in a manga cafe for around thirty hours at a time. Multiple times a month. Once I felt as though I’d written to a good point, I’d go home only to return to the manga cafe again. Why? Because I was sleeping in the manga cafe. I mays well have been living there…

Towada: Once Ishida-san had finished writing his part of the script, he’d have me check it. So at the same time, I’d have Ishida-san check what I’d written.

Ishida: For a period of time it seemed like Towada-san was always awake. Whenever I would send a check request she always responded right away regardless of the time, so I figured she must not be sleeping.

So that my productivity wouldn’t be affected, I made sure to sleep at a regular time, however I’d be awake for like 30~40 hours at a time and then sleep for 10 and then be awake again for another 40. My sleeping patterns would repeat in this cycle. During Tokyo Ghoul’s serialisation my sleeping patterns were similar, so to some extent I might’ve gotten used to it.

—That’s just like Neji-senpai, isn’t it?

Ishida: Yeah yeah, I worked in a similar way to him. However in Neji’s case, he can complete a script just one day after coming up with the idea for it, so he works way faster than us. It took us around two months to write parts of the script, so Neji really is a genius isn’t he? I was writing whilst wishing I could be like Neji.

After experiencing writing a script, I’ve come to have a lot of respect for authors. Writing is completely different from drawing. When writing I need to really concentrate on it, I can’t multi-task or think about anything else. Whereas with drawing, there are some things that can be done as long as you can move your hand, so I can talk to someone whilst drawing or watch a movie in the background or work whilst thinking about other things. I can’t do that when I’m writing though, I was starting to wonder if I really had to think so deeply about everything I wrote.

—During the production of Jack Jeanne, as you worked on the script or the lyrics etc, did you notice any changes in how you worked?

Ishida: For Tokyo Ghoul, I was always consciously adding things, meaning I would draw everything that I came up with. I thought that it was fine to only put 20% of my output into the characters and dialogue. However, when I was working on Jack Jeanne, I began to think that my method of just adding things was incorrect and that I should also consciously remove things. It’s ok to just be left with what’s necessary. My way of thinking ended up being the exact opposite to before.

—What brought about this change in thinking?

Ishida: It was early in production, when I had asked Towada-san to write Shirota’s route for me, I got concerned about the ‘sharpness’ of the story. As I mentioned earlier, I ordered Towada-san to add this and that and sent her walking on a long journey. Except, what lay completed at the end of that road was such a painful story that even I myself was shocked by it. When I looked down at the world I had created it was as if I’d received a psychological shock. I think I even smelt the faint scent of blood.

—From thorns to rounded edges. I still remember the comment you made during a press conference saying, “I was careful to not kill off any characters”.

Ishida: Stories where characters die are usually fast paced with high stakes, however, the kids at univeil are living a different kind of story. I had to consider the best way to create drama in that kind of setting. I thought about it a lot and it may have only ended up being possible because of the fact it was a game.

—Why is that?

Ishida: Because of the flow of the dialogue, backed by Kosemura-san’s music while it's being read out by all of the voice actors. It all comes together as one… That’s what I think at least. Writing and illustrating are Towada-san and I’s main domain of expertise, but I think that it was thanks to all of the other various creators involved that we were able to create something new.

—Do you think anything about yourself changed, Towada-san?

Towada: It came down to the fact I wanted to create something for Ishida-san whilst there were also things that I wanted to add myself. This dilemma caused me trouble at times, however when I started to consider what components I should add, or which ones I should remove, I began to discover what elements I liked and what my own skillset was.

The way that Ishida-san and I go about creating stories is different. I came to understand that Ishida-san’s strong point is creating impactful scenes, whilst mine is plotting and world building. Ishida-san being in charge of the pivotal scenes would make things more exciting, so I concentrated on writing everything else whilst keeping the balance in mind. Through working on Jack Jeanne, I’ve become able to say that my strong suit is being able to create a story that flows well.

It may be true that by working with other people, you come to understand more about yourself. Starting with Ishida-san, I also looked at what the other creators were doing and thought ‘so this is how they interpret the story.’ Seeing what they came up with made me notice different approaches that I hadn’t thought of.

I’d write whilst listening to Kosemura-san’s music and decide which way to take a scene. Or I’d watch Seishiro-san dance and think about how I could make the performances more exciting. We were all connected in some way. Novels are usually written alone by one person, so I came to learn the thrill of working on something in a team.

—The way you all came together as gears to create a single work sounds similar to the story of Univeil.

Towada: True. I never thought I’d experience something straight out of my youth again at this age. Being helped by other team members or being supported by them, being motivated by simple phrases like “It was great” or “I like this idea”.

For example, when I was working on the final phases of the story, I was just writing and writing with no end in sight, I couldn’t take it anymore and my pen just stopped moving. During this dire moment so close to the end, my proofreader messaged me saying, “You’re almost done.” And with that simple message alone, it was as if a burst of light appeared before my eyes. Everything had gone pitch black, but they lit everything back up again. Ishida-san also wrote some of the script, so I didn’t feel as alone.

Ishida: At that time I left all my drawings alone and decided to solely focus on the scenario.

Towada: Yeah, because I hit a point where I wasn’t able to write it on my own anymore… When Ishida-san sent me the script he’d written, it was interesting and I let out a breath of relief. I felt the joy of being able to see someone else's work. I was the same as the Univeil students who find joy in performing with others. I definitely wouldn’t have been able to do it if I was alone.

Ishida: You’ve got that right. I think that if anyone was missing from the team, it wouldn’t have worked out. Not to mention that in my case, everyone’s contributions were directed to me, and they were all people that I’d personally gathered.

With manga, even if it comes to the worst case scenario, at the very least it would all just fall on me. However this game isn’t just something I made on my own, I need to contribute as much as I can or the efforts of everyone around me will go to waste as well. There was a moment where I felt afraid of having such a heavy responsibility placed on me. However, if I had tried to do it all on my own, I think I would have given up.

By listening to wonderful music, reading interesting scripts and moving forward together with everyone, I was inspired. Coming together with fellow creators to make one work came with a lot of challenges, but it was fun. It was refreshing being in an environment working alongside other people, and because of it I was able to experience something new.

—Has working alongside other people changed the way you work at all?

Ishida: Right now I’m still in the state immediately after being swept away by the raging waves of a storm, so I’m not sure how I really feel yet. I’m in the phase of just watching what becomes of Jack Jeanne as the waves subside.

Even though the script and illustrations were done, like bonus stages lots and lots of new tasks kept popping up. So I was still busy with work up until the beginning of October last year. When I looked at some of the thoughts people had on the demo version of the game, it felt as though what we’d all been working so hard on had finally taken shape, and I was relieved.

Working on this project I’ve come to learn both the hardships and the fulfilment that comes with creating something with others. So, I suppose I’ve started considering working on something by myself again… I’m not trying to say that it’s in my nature to want to work alone, I think I’m just experiencing some kind of aftershock. I think the waves are returning.

Towada: I’m still working overtime and supervising Jack Jeanne (lol). Like checking content that will be posted on social media, as well as the 4koma manga. Content is still being released and there have been bug reports from some people who played the demo… Meaning that my journey is still not over yet. I think that things should calm down once the game has been released for a while.

Ishida: Yeah, probably after around five months (lol).

—After their final performance, the members of Quartz all threw a party to celebrate. Did you and the rest of the creators do the same upon the game's completion?

Towada: I celebrated with Ishida-san as siblings. And then afterwards we got swamped with work again (lol).

Ishida: Yeah, we didn’t end up meeting with the other developers or the voice cast. Big project after parties aren’t as common these days, but I do want to hear everyone’s stories of any struggles they had.

Towada: There were way too many people involved in total for me to be able to speak with them all, but I’d still love to convey my impressions to them. Like letting them know what I thought was good, or letting them know that a certain thing really helped me out.

Ishida: Ideally I would like to gather everyone and really have it feel that ‘this is the team of people that created Jack Jeanne’ and I’d like to express my gratitude to them all in person. I hope that an opportunity like that will come one day.

~ ~ ~

#jack jeanne #sui ishida #towada shin #translation #jack jeanne translation #jack jeanne interview #sui ishida translation #otome game #jack jeanne art book

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jikjinz · 7 months

Text

★﹐this is overdose ．﹗﹑

anonymous asked: Can you please do treasure legal line overstimulating their s/o unintentionally kind off something?

cw: treasure legal line x fem!reader (separate); overstimulation (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), squirting kind-of?, fingering, tit play/nipple play, unprotected p-in-v sex (yall better wrap it up), aftercare mentioned; lmk if i missed any

a/n: back on my bullshit to drop a bomb and disappear. this is like a year late request so im sorry in advance but ig better late than never lol. enjoy <3 and btw this is little to no proof-read so yall dont see eventual typos or grammatical mistakes.

CHOI HYUNSUK 💭ˎˊ˗

it happened by accident

but when he noticed, his brain caught an error, a big one

keeps on going either way because you’re so gorgeous this way and he’s unable to stop

no thoughts in your brain right now, as your head is full of fuzzy pleasure and hyunsuk. that’s all you can think of and when you feel his tongue yet again on your clit you’re losing it.

hyunsuk is as well in his world… kind-of?? because his world right now consists of the most scrumptious meal he’s ever had. your pussy. and he loves the background music consisting of your moans, screams, and random blabbers you say occasionally. yet the moment your thighs shake and the most overpowering orgasm hits you while providing him the tastiest thing ever, hyunsuk finally comes back to reality. and as you try to calm yourself by breathing steadily, hyunsuk looks at your with his dreamy gaze, his lower face covered in his spit and your juices.

because you’re the best thing that he got blessed with and he hopes to keep you by his side until you two get old.

💭ˎˊ˗ PARK JIHOON

probably it was his goal

which he achieved

grins like a stupid idiot (which he is) at your fucked up state because it’s him, it’s park jihoon who got you to such point and no. one. else. ego boost 100

“jihoon, please, please, please jihoon-”

“please what, pretty baby?”

“make me cum already, stuff me with your-”

jihoon only chuckles like a jackass, staring back at you with that cute smile of his. you whine again, trying to hump yourself on his hand that’s between your legs. he’s rubbing your clit for some time now, ocassionally picking up on his pace and then harshly stopping. jihoon also is toying with your cute tits and those nice nipples of yours, driving you even more insane, causing you to think only about him, his actions, his hand, his length…

jihoon grabs your chin with his other hand and kisses you hastily, a perfect disguise for his fingers sliding in past your folds, causing you to moan right into the kiss and cumming immediately, too intensively for your senses to bear. jihoon, satisfied with the results, lets you to ride it all out on his fingers. and as you look at him with that half-lidded eyes and soft smile, he’s about to melt.

because you are the only one who makes his heart flutter in such indescribable ways.

KANEMOTO YOSHINORI 💭ˎˊ˗

once he did it, got so addicted to the result immediately

sent himself into the oblivion btw as well

stunned and amazed by the abilities of your hot body; would like to try this again

your body is on autopilot now, chasing that so much wanted pleasant high. mind went on a break, leaving your instinct to continue and all you got in your head right now was yoshi making wonders inside you.

“does it- ah! feel- good?” yoshi asks, his mind slowly ascending as well. the sight of your fucked out mind, your whitening knuckles from gripping the sheets so tightly… it’s all too much for him as well.

“uh- uh-huh!” that’s all he gets in response from you but that’s all he needs. and so yoshi continues, though he can’t do it for too long himself. he’s sure you’ve already milked him dry, yet you’re still going… until he feels something warm on his lower parts. smashed back to reality, yoshi smiles reassuringly, caressing your skin with his hand.

“you did so well, darling. i love you.”

because no matter how many times he’ll say it, it’s never gonna be enough and these words can’t cover the whole amount of his love for you.

💭ˎˊ˗ KIM JUNKYU

gets worried the moment he notices your fucked-out face

tries to check up on you but when you tell him to go on

his insides do flips at the sight of the results of his actions

you’re a moaning mess, eyes rolling back to see your brain, tongue out with no strength to keep it tense.

holy fuck, what is happening to you?

“keep going! don’t- stop!”

and as junkyu hears your trembling words, there’s a sheepish smile on his face. the fact that your head is empty already, only lust and the overwhelming pleasure junkyu provides with his actions is getting to his head, slowly, but it does. he still cannot believe that he does you so good and his confidence grows with each louder scream, each rougher scratch of your nails on his shoulders, and each plea of your to make you cum for the nth time. and as he’s whispering ‘i love you’ over and over into your neck, he really means it.

because no one ever got him so confident in himself as you do.

YOON JAEHYUK 💭ˎˊ˗

is in awe of the view in front of him

will stop if you want but that’s not enough for him

is the type to overstimulate you on purspose because it’s hot when you do it

jaehyuk can’t help but stare with wide open eyes and salivating mouth at your still spasming pussy.

“i’d love to see it more often, baby,” he says with that dumb boyish smile. right now, jaehyuk looks like a little child amazed by a new toy. he’s still staring at your entrance, in awe, trying not to hump himself between your thighs. finally, he looks at your face and gets close, so he can kiss the living shit out of you. you are just too good for him and he would give you the world if you’d ask. and he’ll start with a comforting bath, warm bathrobe, and lots of kisses and cuddles.

because he loves you so much and he knows you love him the same amount. but he still loves you a bit more than that.

💭ˎˊ˗ HAMADA ASAHI

did you so good for so long you squirted for the first time ever

blurted out some stupid bullshit because he loved that so much

will try to make you squirt again in the future (next time you get intimate)

“now that was hot as fuck.”

asahi stares at your soaked pussy and the wet stains on the sheets, in awe of your abilities. and as you squirm, trying to run away from his stare in embarassment, his heart swells inside his guts.

“darling, i love that you did it, it was incredibly hot and i wish to see you do such things more. it made me even more horny right now to be frank.”

you are able to only stare at him for a second, then chuckle at his honest words. as he sees your body slowly relax with each laugh, he smiles as well.

because he loved how you made his heart flutter with your smile and he would do anything to see you smile all the time.

KIM DOYOUNG 💭ˎˊ˗

another idiot who gets an ego boost

but is incredibly lost at what is going on with you

stops the moment you start crying out his name, does not understand the mixed signals of your words and body

“ah-! too- too much-!”

the moment doyoung hears these words, he stops his movements. indeed, he got lost in the pleasure the moment he slid inside, yet it seemed at first you were enjoying it as well. he has no idea what is happening to you but carefully watches your body, your each move, as he slowly tries to understand what do you mean.

“are you- are you okay, princess?”

the concern in his voice brings your senses back a bit and as you notice his worried stare, you try to say something coherent, though your fried brain can’t find right words.

“so good it’s- too much.”

what?

he is still looking at you and he still monitors your reactions but can’t help this cheeky smile. as he proceeds to finally get your words to his head, doyoung can’t help but kiss you.

because he did you so good it’s too much, all of it by accident, which only adds to his confidence.

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fandom-chic · 8 months

Text

Please Please Please: Chapter 7

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Previous chapter

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Life has been chaos. I wanted to get something out so I apologize if there are some typos.

1914

"Are you sure this is right?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he replied.

"I don't know," she turned towards Tommy, letting the gun hang limply in her hand. "I just feel like there has to be another step to shooting that I'm just not getting. This seems too easy," Tommy smirked at Y/N.

"It's truly simple, I'll show you." He gladly took her hips and angled them towards the old can that had become a target. It didn't take long for a blush to rise to her cheeks as his arms reached around her, his hands adjusting her grip on the firearm. She couldn't help her eyes from looking back at her lover and admiring his focus on her hands. It was his idea to teach her how to shoot. After the Peaky Blinders had begun to become more involved in affairs around town, Tommy believed that it would be best for Y/N to have some sort of protection when he wasn't there. She laughed at him, wondering who would come after someone like her, but deep down she knew. Going after the leader's girl was a death sentence but also a statement. One that she didn't want to finish.

She felt Tommy give a final adjustment to her fingers before feeling his hands go back to her hips. His lips went up to her ear, whispering, "And now you shoot." The reality of the danger she could enact suddenly became tangible. She could snuff out someone's life with this device and that was something she felt she was incapable of. That was when she began to shake.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, feeling her grip become looser and looser.

"Of course, I am, my love," His lips didn't leave her ear as he coaxed her out of her mind. "You don't need to shoot to kill, just to warn. Learning to shoot straight at your target will allow you to shoot straight at a target behind your enemy. I promise, as long as you are by my side, you will never shoot to kill." She couldn't help but look back at Tommy. His face was so close to hers, she wanted to drop the gun to the ground and jump into his arms.

"You promise?" she questioned, although she knew she could always trust her Tommy.

"I promise." At that, she faced forward, readjusted, and shot. The sound was closer to her head than she expected. It jostled her, but Tommy was there to stabilize her. He always was. When she got a good look at the can, she saw it fully intact.

She let out a disappointed sigh, "Well, damn," she said, seeing she not only missed but she missed the target by many meters.

"Hey, don't worry," she turned back to Tommy and both his hands went to her cheeks, "this is what practice is for." Her eyes could not leave Tommy's as his words filled her chest, making it swell.

"I know, I just wanted to be as good as you." This got a chuckle out of Tommy.

"Once you have been shooting for 10 years, let's compare."

"We can shake on that, Mr. Shelby." But she didn't put her hand out and instead leaned in, letting Tommy's lips grace hers. Even after all these months, it still surprised her how soft his lips felt. They fit perfectly to hers, making her think of nothing until he had pulled away. But he hadn't yet and all her mind could do was fixate on the way he made her feel. She felt the gun slip out of her fingers and fall to the ground beside her. With her hands now free, she let them lace behind Tommy's neck, pulling her chest to his. His hands left her cheeks and began to trace down her sides and grab onto the small of her back. She didn't care where they were right now, all she knew was that she wanted him.

She felt his lips lightly pull from hers as a hoarse whisper escaped Tommy's mouth, "There's an abandoned barn around the corner if you-"

"No," she interrupted as her fingers began to slip his jacket off, "I want you now." Tommy didn't question her. How could he when he understood her completely? As articles of clothing fell off the pair, they soon found themselves wrapped in each other's arms on the grass. When he was inside her, the world stopped. She knew it was impossible but if someone told her this reality was a lie and it truly was just the two of them in each other's arms, she would laugh in understanding.

He let out a long sigh as they lay tangled in limbs. Her head rested on his chest as she traced the freckles on Tommy's chest.

"So much for shooting practice," she said. She looked up at Tommy to see him reaching for his discarded jacket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"I do think this was time well spent," he said, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. She watched as the smoke created shapes in the air. He gestured the cigarette toward Y/N and she gladly accepted by taking a deep inhale.

"I still have to learn to shoot," she responded, smoke escaping her lips. Y/N gave Tommy back the cigarette, and he took another drag before noticing his watch.

"Shit," he muttered, sitting up rapidly.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asked, sitting up too.

"Meeting," he muttered under his breath as he began to grab for his clothes. She followed his lead, beginning to throw back on her garments. Before she knew it, they were on horseback heading towards Small Heath.

"What's so important about this meeting?" Y/N questioned as they trotted down the road, her arms wrapped around Tommy's waist.

He let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand as the other handled the horse, "It's about the gambling business. It's beginning to get off the ground."

Y/N gave Tommy's waist a little squeeze, "Well, that's a good thing. Why the stress?"

"Because I'm late."

The couple arrived at the Shelby home 30 minutes after what would have been the beginning of the meeting. Y/N jogged behind Tommy as they rushed in. To her surprise, Polly, Arthur, and John were chain-smoking languidly at a rickety table. No discussion of business at all. Only Polly bothered to look Tommy in the eye as he grabbed a seat.

"You're late," she said as she blew a puff of smoke out of her lips.

"I had other affairs to take care of," Tommy responded, causing John to look back towards Y/N. She sunk into the corner of the kitchen, quickly averting her eyes from his.

"Affairs?" John questioned with a snort. Tommy's eyes shot to his brother's, narrowing.

"Yes, John, affairs. Is there anything else you would like to add before we commence?" John silently fumed as Tommy grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the table.

"Actually, yes," The flame finally seemed to ignite. Tommy leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

"And what is that?" There was malice laced into his words.

"You're never bloody here, Tom. You are always out for 'affairs' or 'meetings,' but we all know what you're doing," John took a quick puff of his cigarette before continuing, "You're fucking Y/N."

"John," Arthur warned. Y/N's eyes moved over to Tommy. He was still, staring straight ahead.

"It's fucking true," John said.

"Stop fucking fighting," he spat before taking a breath, "Tom, you haven't bothered to show up, and it's causing the family business to fall. Family comes before whores." The words left Arthur's mouth faster than she could think about them. "After all these years, I thought you saw me as more than..." She couldn't say the last part. It stung too much. Arthur opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by Polly.

"Alright, enough," she said, slamming her hand on the table to punctuate the words. Polly takes a sip of whiskey to alleviate the stress before she continues, "We all know Tom has been absent, but we are still making a profit. Not as much as we wanted, but things are moving forward."

Tommy let out a semblance of a sigh of relief, "That's something," he put his cigarette in his mouth, puffing on it, "Pol, do you have the financial statements." Polly turns to the cabinet behind her and fishes through. She pulls out a folder filled to the brim with papers. Tommy grabs it and begins to go through. His look of relief quickly turns to one of annoyance as each paper flips by.

"What the fuck are all these damn charges?" He asked, turning to his brothers. Arthur avoids his brother's gaze, but John stares him down.

"Who said all work and no play?" There is a smirk on John's face that Tommy wanted to smack off. His hand clenched his glass of whiskey instead.

"John, you spent almost one hundred pounds this month alone. What the fuck are you spending that kind of money on?" John leaned toward his brother, his face inches from Tommy's.

"You'd know if you were fucking here." That was when Y/N heard the sound of a fist on flesh. Her eyes widened as Tommy threw himself over the table, grabbing at John. John fought right back, lunging into his brother. Y/N felt her feet rush toward the boys, grabbing at Tommy, trying to pull him away from John. Polly follows suit, grabbing the bloodied John away from Tommy.

"When did you all turn into children?" Polly yelled, dropping John into his chair with a thud. The adrenaline seemed to have left his body as he fell partially limp. Y/N held Tommy to her chest as he seemed to calm slightly. "Meeting tonight." Polly said, turning toward Y/N, "Family only." Those words were the last straw for Y/N as she let go of Tommy and strode quickly out of the kitchen and out of the house.

She didn't let her feet stop until she was by The Cut, gazing out at the water. It was not the most beautiful body of water, far from it, but it calmed her. She held herself as the sun began to fade behind the trees and the air cooled. The meeting must be happening now. The one she couldn't attend because she wasn't family. She was just a whore. Y/N took a deep breath and continued to stare. It wasn't long before footsteps approached her. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see a beggar or a prostitute, but instead saw her love, her Tommy. He stayed silent as he moved to her side. Together, they gazed out at the sun brushing the water. It was the most peace they had all day.

She couldn't help but sneak a peek at Tommy and was met with a black and blue face. She tried to suppress the look of horror on her face, but she knew Tommy noticed.

"Is it bad?" She shook her head, avoiding eye contact. He let out a snort, "It's that bad then?"

"It's not awful, not great either," she said, letting her hand reach for where the bruise rested on his cheek. He flinched slightly as her fingers brushed against it. She pulled away and shoved her hands into her pockets. It must've been a sign. Some twisted sign that her touch truly was a danger to him.

"I don't care what they say," Tommy's words cut through her overthinking, and she let herself look back at him, taking him all in. "You're my family." Tommy looked down at her as a twinkle gleamed in her eyes. It lasted for a second before it disappeared.

"That's kind of you to say, Tommy," she let her fingers wrap around his and squeeze, "but I'm always going to be an outsider. That's just the way it is."

"No," he responded. Afterwards, his words were quick. So fast she almost let them fly by her. But she caught them, "Marry me."

It wasn't a question. Far from it. It was a statement. A declaration. He was telling her that she was his and he could be hers if she would take him. She looked up at her Tommy, and he was already gazing upon her. Her hand left his and snaked behind his neck. She pulled him into a kiss, and they both knew what her answer was.

Next chapter

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oomfvia · 5 months

Text

⛧critical failure

pairing: astarion/gender-neutral bard tav, astarion/gender-neutral bard reader (second person)

spoilers for act 3

sfw, friends to lovers :)

2,547 words

posted this on ao3, liked it and thought it'd be nice to put on here too after fixing some typoes

preview:

“You know,” Astarion says, a singsong tone to the disapproval in his voice. “Was this really the best use of your gold, my dear?” He tilts his head in that way you’ve previously found handsome, but now it’s terribly infuriating.

It takes all the willpower in your body to not scream at the fool standing in front of you. Well, yes, Astarion! It could almost be a life-changing use of my gold, if you’d just fucking notice that I’ve been gathering expensive memorabilia of you for the past few days, priorities like a gigantic cult-brain be damned.

larian doesn’t make astarion react even if you go through great lengths to show him his own face. it fills me with joy to think about how you could get an entire statue commissioned of the guy and he would just shrug and wonder to himself who that handsome elf is LOL

in this timeline you (tav) don’t sleep with astarion at the tiefling party because you were a lightweight drunk out of your mind. yes, you curse yourself for missing that opportunity every single passing day at camp.

An unexpected perk of renting out the entire second floor of the Elfsong Tavern was being able to decorate the place as much as you liked, giving it a personal touch for as long as you made camp there. You made it a habit to bring back as many stuffed animals you encountered along the way in your journey, cramming plush owlbears and kittens into your pack as carefully as you could to avoid staining them with blood.

Occasionally, you hung up the odd painting or two, but none that were especially valuable — just the ones their previous owners wouldn’t miss. Though, you had to admit that none of them struck a particular chord. Perhaps you just haven’t ransacked enough abandoned homes.

Out of all the heroic acts you can tell the tale of, you would consider exterminating ghosts to free a possessed artist to be one of the weirdest. When Oskar Fevras, finally back to his senses, offers to draw a painting of you, you’re tempted for a moment to take him up on his offer. A gallant, heroic portrait of the aspiring saviour of Baldur’s Gate! It’s the stuff of a bard’s dreams. A perfect centrepiece for camp, would it not be? Except, you suddenly hear an exaggerated sigh from your right.

“You know, I’m just starting to think that rescuing the poor artist from the Zhentarim was more trouble than it was worth,” Astarion muses aloud. “A painting, after all of that slo-“

“Hold on,” you interject hurriedly and wide-eyed despite your attempts to sound As Normal As Possible. You turn to the rest of your party, a growing smile on your features.

“I need to have a talk with Oskar. In private. Artist to artist. Just for a minute!”

You’re all too eager to guide your party back to the bottom of the staircase, before returning to the artist with an excited glimmer in your eye. Oh, Gods, this is going to be amazing. Surely, you can get away with calling this a simple, friendly gesture without being questioned too much. In a hushed tone, you discuss your very specific request with the artist, keeping your voice low to avoid it being picked up by pointy, elven ears.

When you return to camp with your new painting titled ‘The Sanguine Seducer’ (Oskar had a…peculiar taste for names), you find an appropriate spot on the wall for it. Not too near the muse’s side of camp for it to be too obvious, but near enough for him to eventually take notice.

To your dismay, said muse does not value your new find in the same way, even when you ask him about it while stifling your excitement.

“Another one to add to the collection, I suppose.” Astarion says, acting far too nonchalant for your liking.

You realise that to a vampire with no ability to see his own reflection, it’s another portrait in the same vein as the others on the wall. You have half a mind to tear that picture of the maid holding a duster to shreds, as well as the one of the Red Prince hung up next to it. Instead, with a soft sigh, you return to your side of the second floor after bidding Astarion a curt goodbye, balling up the fists resting on your lap. Should’ve just gotten Oskar to paint me, bloodied armour and all.

Your other companions either don’t acknowledge the painting’s inspiration, or were intentionally refusing to. You don’t blame them — if your own shame was this overwhelming, the second-hand embarrassment must be painful as well. And with a few days having passed, it’s far too late for you to just tell him. Well, it isn’t, but your immature sense of pride wouldn’t allow for it.

Was there any other contrived way you could show Astarion a reflection of himself? Your mind whirs with the same intensity as it does in battle, trying very subtly not to burn a hole into the vampire’s forehead with your stare. How did he make reading a tome look good? And how did a man this well-read not recognise himself, or at least, the admittedly well-painted replica of his visage?

One fine afternoon, you chance upon a corpse, or at least, what little was left of it. You'd recognise the garish pattern on that mangled pant leg anywhere. It’s heavier than expected, and you end up relying on Lae’zel to haul Dribbles’ leg back to camp. You follow her in grimacing at the bloody, squelching sound it makes as she places it in her pack. Just as you were about to leave that awful cavern, it finally clicks. That Mephit from the circus.

As the rest of your companions take a well-deserved day of respite, you leave camp early with a stash of long-forgotten equipment, every piece having been replaced with something far more suited to the battles ahead. After what seemed to be hours of bartering with the local merchants, your pockets feel a great deal heavier, interrupting the spring in your step that you would’ve had otherwise.

Stoney is more than happy to receive your gold, and just as promised, you find ‘Astarion the Sensuous' delivered to your door the next day. Of course, this comes with a fair bit of judgmental stares from your fellow adventurers. Unfortunately, it includes Astarion himself, his expression quizzical as he looked upwards at the sculpture.

The only thing that stops you is the thought of how Astarion’s face has been lost to time for him, after centuries of losing the man he used to be. It keeps you barely grounded, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. Perhaps if you had just bedded him, which he seemed very willing to participate in during that party with the tieflings, instead of snoring into your bedroll, you would be able to muster up the courage to just yell at him.

That same night, you vent your frustrations with one too many rounds of Hoot’s Hooch, wallowing in your muddied thoughts. The painting. The statue. Astarion. His past. How much you’d like to see Cazador Szarr’s head on a stick.

After a few more drinks, you find yourself somehow both temporarily blinded and dancing uncontrollably. If not for Karlach mercifully pulling you back to the Elfsong Tavern, perhaps you would’ve been there trotting your feet clumsily through the night.

When you’ve all but given up on showing Astarion his own reflection, it happens when you least expect it.

Battling Cazador Szarr is quite possibly the worst experience of your life. There was already so much to take in from your way to the site of the Black Mass — those poor Gur children, that harrowing list of names, Sebastian. Not only are you fighting an incredibly powerful vampire lord, but you have to squash that blasted lump in your throat threatening to bring tears to your eyes in the process.

You emerge triumphant, but barely alive. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you attempt to regulate your breathing to the best of your ability, taking laboured inhales and exhales. Through blurry eyes, it takes all of your concentration to focus on the unfolding aftermath. Astarion, after centuries of being puppeteered, finally had the upper hand against Cazador. You wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.

“Get over here. We can do this,” Astarion beckons, an uncharacteristically desperate tone to his voice.

Your own comes out raspy, and the metallic taste of the dried-up blood staining your gums is equally as horrific. “What do you need?”

“I need your eyes. In a manner of speaking.”

Before Astarion can specify what exactly he needed your eyes for, your tadpole is all too eager to reach out. Your perspective floods Astarion’s mind in a series of vignettes of silver curls, sharp fangs, and deft fingers. The same features he’s seen at camp, both painted in deliberate strokes and painstakingly carved into marble. Alongside them, a heart-wrenching sense of longing that has festered for far too long.

Whether for better or for worse, fatigue overwhelms any potential embarrassment you could have had. The tadpole’s connection is severed as suddenly as it was formed, your body and mind completely exhausted to their limits. And as you find yourself falling to the floor, you utter out what you had wanted to say all day, ever since you entered this damned castle. What you had wordlessly thought to yourself as you watched him pace through the halls, looking the most vulnerable he had ever been, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“Astarion…Please, stay…”

You wake up in a cold sweat, your upper body screaming in residual pain as you lift yourself up from the bed. Rapidly blinking, you scan your surroundings, familiar wooden walls dyed orange hues of the sunset, gentle light streaming in from the windows. The Elfsong Tavern. To your left, ‘The Sanguine Seducer’. By the door, ‘Astarion the Sensuous’.

To your right, the man himself, seated on the floor beside you and once again absorbed in a tome.

“Astarion,” you choke out, your tongue now dry and tacky in your mouth. It breaks his concentration, and he immediately turns his head upwards to look at you. With a single movement of his wrist, the book shuts with a satisfying thump. You meet his gaze, the inner corners of your eyebrows raised in panicked concern. Did he complete the rite? Is he the Vampire Ascendant now? Or is this the same Astarion you saw in the morning, lost and confused and all he ever remembered was that poor excuse of a home?

“Please tell me you-“

“Dead. I’m free from him. Forever.”

Oh, thank the gods.

“The vampire spa-”

“All of them are making their way to the Underdark as we speak. And yes, including my siblings. Someone has to make sure they keep their fangs away from whatever horrors may be lurking around.“

“The oth-“

“Our other travelling companions have very graciously decided they’d rather leave us alone for….whatever this is.”

“Can you stop interrupting me?” You sputter in frustration.

“It was impossibly easy to guess what questions you’d ask, with how long I’ve had to wait for you to wake up. Now, have some water. You look dreadful.”

Astarion stands up, strolling over to the nearby table to pick up a glass of water. You drink from it eagerly, releasing a throaty sigh as your throat finally feels quenched. He watches your graceless behaviour with narrowed eyes, visibly unimpressed.

“More importantly, your little nap allowed me the time to think of what choice words I had for when you’d finally wake up.”

Your breath catches in your throat, Astarion’s pointed tone reminding you of things that you’d rather forget. Out of all the possible ways that tadpole could have gotten you into trouble, you didn’t think it’d betray you in such a juvenile way. Exposing your secret crush, out of all things? It almost feels like retribution for meandering around Baldur’s Gate, breaking up turf wars between the Guild and Zhentarim, and picking up abandoned children from the streets, instead of vanquishing The Absolute.

“I don’t know whether to thank you, or laugh at you,” Astarion continues, the hint of a smile on his features.

Your cheeks are practically burning up at his words, and all you can do is gawk at him, equally flustered and mortified at the same time. He takes it as a sign to keep speaking, for which you are more than grateful for.

As Astarion speaks, his smile grows, showing glimpses of his fangs. “Oddly enough, by collapsing on the ground like that, you saved me from myself and let me walk a new path where I can be free. Truly, honestly free.”

In Astarion’s voice, you find warmth, sincerity, and…gratitude. You bite your lower lip gently, swallowing heavily. It breaks your resolve to bury your affections for him, like a dam that shatters, water flooding past the cracks. Even if you hadn’t fallen for him long before, how could you not fall for him now?

“I…I’m glad to hear that, Astarion,” you say, making a valiant attempt to portray the essence of calm composure. “But it was all you,” you insist, slightly knitting your eyebrows together. After all, you’ve done nothing but make a lovesick fool of yourself.

“You did more than that,” Astarion responds, the smile lingering on his lips. “If I had ascended, those…tributes you’ve collected of me might have become inaccurate to my image. I suppose that’s one way to tell me that you prefer me the way I am,” he adds with a slight shrug. You respond with a roll of your eyes, though clearly out of bashfulness rather than any genuine ill will on your end.

“Anyway. If you have any other…commissions on your mind, I’d like to at least be asked to pose next time,” Astarion says, his smile turning into that familiarly haughty grin. After such a long day of seeing him looking awfully bleak, it was unusually reassuring.

You scoff at his teasing words. “There weren’t any, and there certainly won’t be now that you've caught on.”

“How bardlike of you, to dedicate art to your beloved. Very tasteful art, now that I’ve gotten a closer look at it,” the vampire says, ignoring your protests. He glances at his portrait on the wall, looking more than pleased. If only out of consideration for his circumstances, you bite back the multiple retorts you can think of, letting him dangle this over your head as much as he likes.

“And what do I get for all of my good taste, besides having to listen to you gloat?” you ask, tilting your head towards him with a resigned smile on your face.

“Darling. I’m sure that when you’ve healed those broken bones, I’ll have thought of a multitude of ways to repay your devotion in kind.”

You exhale deeply, letting your shoulders slack. How bad could a bruised ego be at this point?

“Took you long enough to realise it, you halfwit.”

You punctuate your sentence with laughter at the absurdity of it all. Astarion joins you, laughing in that effervescent tone that makes your chest squeeze.

Your conversation is drawn out for hours until the dead of night. When you wake up at dawn, you find your limbs tangled with Astarion’s under the blanket of your bed. It leaves the sweetest ache in your shoulders when you rise.

As you prepare for the myriad trials the new day would certainly bring, you entertain the thought of putting a quill to paper, celebrating tender kisses and exchanges of secrets from a newfound lover through lyric poetry.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #baldur's gate x reader #oomfvia.txt #oomfvia:\bedtimestories

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t-nd-rfoot · 1 year

Text

SUNFLOWER aka The Secret Valentine

There's something special about the happiness that comes from flowers.

Pairing Bob Floyd x female!aviator!OC/reader (callsign: Honey, but he calls you Bee)

Theme fluff

Warnings Valentine's clichés (ish); love triangle (ish); mentions of drinking; Hangman does something OOC (but roll with it please); edited a million times but I'm sure there's still a typo or two

Word Count 5.9k

Note Oh my goodness. This was....a headspinner to write, to say the least. First of all, so many thanks to @avaleineandafryingpan for requesting this and being so patient and kind!!! This was supposed to be a quick Valentine's drabble and lol. Look at the word count. And I'm about a week late from Valentine's Day. Secondly, a quick thanks to bestie @hangmanbrainrot for giving me advice on writing OCs! I'm not sure if Honey ended up being an OC since I wrote it in reader's POV but hey, I'm learning 😅 anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog! Reblogs are the best way to support creators (writers, artists, gif makers, everyone!) on this platform. Share the content, share the love!

It started with a sunflower.

One lonely sunflower sitting on the railing of your porch, its bright and yellow petals made it hard to miss on your out of your house on your way to the hangar.

How did this get here? you wondered aloud as you picked it up.

You looked up and down the street, hoping to see its owner, but it was still too early for anyone to be up. A few officers here and there were on their way to work just like you, but there was no other sunflower in sight. None on their porches, none on the ends of their walkways, none in their hands.

Shrugging it off, you took it as a sign for a good day. You figured it might make you late if you looked for a vase to put it in, so you placed it on the passenger seat of your car along with your work things and headed off.

“Happy love day, ladies!”

Hangman’s voice boomed as you, Phoenix, and Halo walked in the tactical auditorium. The guys were all scattered around the room and talked in groups, seeing as Maverick was running late to brief all of you on today’s drills.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’s and ‘thank you’s echoed around as all of you greeted each other.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bee,” Bob greeted as he walked up to you. You smiled as his special callsign—he refused to call you by your real callsign, Honey—rolled off his tongue, always teasing him about the adorable blush he sported whenever he said it.

“Thank you, Bobby, and Happy Valentine’s Day to you!”

He looked at you, a small grin forming on his face, though he never said a word.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “Nothing. You just seem extra happy today,” he pointed out.

Smiling even wider at the memory of this morning, you replied, “Well, it’s a happy day today, I guess. I found a sunflower on my porch this morning.”

“You mean you actually found it? Or do you mean ‘you found one in a flower shop and bought it for yourself’ kind of ‘found it’?” he teased.

You shouldered him playfully as he apologized. “I found it-found it. I have no idea how it got there or who placed it there, but I’m not going to question it. I got a free flower this morning and that’s all that matters,” you laughed.

Bob was one of your closest friends in and out of the Navy, graduating from the same TOPGUN class and working in Lemoore together before he got reassigned to North Island for the uranium plant mission. No matter where the two of you ended up, though, you somehow always found your way to each other as it wasn’t long till you were called back to TOPGUN as well. Though you missed being in the plane with him, the two of you were just happy to be working together again. Things between you picked up right where they left off, though the two of you had gotten closer—always sitting together at The Hard Deck or in the ready room, having lunches with Phoenix, and even going on morning jogs together down the beach. He even ditched Mickey as a teammate at pool, always calling first dibs to join you instead.

You turned to your seat when you saw that it had been decorated, and you noticed that Phoenix’s and Halo’s were as well. They were laughing with the others over the appropriately hand-drawn cards that were placed on the seats, along with a few small cut-out hearts. Clouds and wings were drawn around Halo’s cursive card, and Phoenix’s was drawn with fiery lettering.

The most detailed one, however, was yours—it was a full scene with a garden with flowers and bees in the background, and honey dripping down the block letters.

“Oh my gosh,” you cried out, “this is adorable!”

“You’ll never guess who made them,” Bob whispered.

Your eyes scanned the room and pointed to all your suspects. “Fritz? Coyote? Fanboy?” and all were denied with the shake of his head. Just as you let out a sigh of defeat, Bob pointed to the blond aviator who was talking to Phoenix.

“Hangman?!”

Bob nodded as you continued staring at Hangman. “He was one of the first ones here,” he informed you, “Just barged in with the cards and markers told us to help set it up.”

Overhearing your conversation, Harvard chimed in, “it felt like a pre-school in the locker room, or some weird Santa’s Valentine’s workshop.”

“First of all,” Hangman walked up to you, “my niece actually deserves fifty percent of the credit for pretty much bossing me around to do something nice for the ‘pretty ladies who always give her chocolate,’” he quoted as he slung his arm around you, “and naturally, I get forty-five percent for listening to her. The guys can split the other five for helping.”

Just the image of Hangman sitting down and cutting out paper hearts with his eight-year old niece had you giggling. “Aww, who knew Bagman had such a soft spot?” you pinched his cheek.

Hangman flashed his million dollar smile at you, “Honey, you know I always have a soft spot for pretty ladies.” He threw a quick wink at you before walking back to Phoenix and Fritz.

Could he have left the sunflower? you thought. This definitely was not the first time Hangman’s flirted with you. Knowing him, you always thought it was just light banter, but now, you were second guessing.

“Actually, his original plan was to decorate your lockers, but you can probably see how that might look like a problem,” Bob told you once Hangman was out of earshot.

“Probably,” you hummed sarcastically.

He was about to say something else when Maverick burst through the auditorium doors and rushed to the front of the room. You and the rest of the squad rushed to your seats before Maverick allowed you all to sit.

“Morning, guys. Sorry, I’m late. Had some…motorcycle problems.”

Rooster cleared his throat. He gestured tiny circles at the side of his own neck. The older pilot looked confused until the young Bradshaw mouthed ‘Penny,’ and his eyes shot wide before he cleared his throat and tugged up the collars of his flight suit.

“Let’s get to work!”

The squad rushed out of the locker rooms as soon as they could so they could get ready for their dates. Yale had just finished talking about his plans with his date when the others started talking about their plans.

“How about you, Honey? Got a big date for tonight?” Coyote asked as all of you walked out the building.

“Mhm, I got McDreamy and McSteamy waiting for me at home right now,” you joked.

Halo laughed from beside you. “Now that’s a threesome I can get behind,” she joked.

“Ouch, a Grey’s Anatomy marathon on Valentine’s Day?” He whistled lowly.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, okay?” you defended yourself, “At least there’s a Valentine’s Day episode! And besides, I didn’t hear you say anything about a ‘hot date’.”

He held his hand, feigning offense. “You wound me, Honey. And I just so happen to have one waiting for me as we speak!” And he rushed off to his car.

“You know, the more you try to hide her from us, the more we think she’s not even real!” Payback called out. Coyote didn’t even look back at the squad as he flipped the bird and drove off.

“Coyote has a girlfriend?” you asked.

Rooster snickered, “an imaginary one.”

“He says he met someone months ago, but he’s not giving us anything else,” Fanboy added, “no name, no story, nothing. Just that every other week or so, he meets up with her.”

“Or so he says,” his best friend quipped. “The fact that even I don’t know about her is something, and he usually never shuts up about someone he’s interested in.”

The group decided then to go their separate ways to get their Valentine’s Day started, but Bob walked all the way with you to your car.

“So, you really have no date for tonight?” he asked.

You shook your head in reply as you loaded your things in the backseat of your car. “It’s not that I don’t like Valentine’s,” you suddenly found your self ranting, “it’s just that no one’s asked me this year, and I’m fine with that. I’m not gonna sit around and wallow—well, I’m going to sit around and have my Grey’s marathon, yeah—but I’m not going to wallow! And it’s not like it’s the end of the world that nobody’s asked me to be their Valentine…right?”

You looked up at Bob to find his big blue eyes staring back at you, clearly at a loss for words from your little spout.

“Oh my gosh, I sound so pathetic,” you muttered. “Please, please forget I said anything, I—”

Bob burst into laughter and hugged you tight to try and calm you down.

“This isn’t funny, Bobby!” you said, though you couldn’t hold back your own laughter.

Looking up at him once again, you found his blue eyes already on you, though there was more sincerity in his gaze this time. And something else, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You and Bob have both looked at and hugged each other a million times before, but the way he looked at and hugged you now felt different. Suddenly, you were both aware of the position you were in and pulled back. He ran his finger through his hair nervously while you crossed your arms, unconsciously missing the warmth of his embrace.

You stole glances at him as you cleared your throat. “So, um…how about you? Do you have a date tonight?”

It took a few seconds for him to answer. “Yeah,” he mumbled, suddenly finding the stray gravel on the pavement more interesting than you.

A small ‘oh,’ escaping your lips, you put on a poker face. “Wow, um, since when?” you asked.

“Oh, um, it’s been…awhile, I guess.” he trailed off.

Relationships weren’t a strange topic for either of you, but looking back, you were more open about your love life than he was. Maybe he met someone before you arrived. Maybe he didn’t want to let anyone know, especially if he thought the others were going to tease him about it. Maybe he didn’t say anything because you never asked…until now. Knowing Bob, he never dated casually, so this must have been serious. But he never kept things from you. Not in his emails, not in his texts, and certainly not in person. But you weren’t insulted, just confused, if you could ever admit.

“Well, whoever she is, she’s a lucky girl,” you assured, “I’m really happy for you, Bobby!”

You climbed into your car before your emotions started to show, but just before you stepped on the gas, Bob knocked on your window and you let it roll down.

“You’re not pathetic, Bee. In fact, you’re far from it, not even close to it. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Your lips turned up graciously at your best friend’s words of encouragement.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“And if you ever start to feel that way again, just think about your sunflower,” he gestured to the plant in your passenger seat.

“It’s wilting,” you pointed out disappointedly.

“So?” he shrugged, “it’s still pretty. It’s still a sunflower.”

With a small grin, he pushed himself off your car to let you get home and waved goodbye.

You were about to pull up to your driveway a few minutes later when a delivery driver showed up and asked for your name.

“Yeah, that’s me?” you said before they handed you a bag. “Um, I don’t remember ordering anything…”

“Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of,” they informed you with a kind smile.

“By who, if I can ask?”

They shook their head, “Sorry, I was given specific instructions to not say anything. Though from what’s in the box, I’d say you have a secret admirer!”

After they left, you walked in your kitchen to open the bag. Inside was a stark white box with neon squiggles.

“Sugarlust,” you read aloud the sticker that sealed it. The bakery Coyote always goes to, you recognized.

A small card with a printed message was also stuck to the box ‘I’m no TV surgeon but I hope you find these just as good!’ No name.

Sure enough, it was a box of the salted caramel cookies you loved from the last time he bought a box for everyone. A quick flashback of Coyote’s proud smile popped in your head, of when you couldn’t stop raving about it and his promise to buy more next time.

You picked up the sunflower from the table and twirled it in your hand. The hours it lay in the heat showed in the paling yellow petals, and though you had no idea how to care for it, you placed it in a watered vase anyway.

Maybe it was Coyote, you thought. It certainly checked: he had your address, he knew you liked sunflowers, and he remembered the cookies you loved. But he said he’s on a date…unless he was pretending? The other guys definitely thought he was.

Refusing to confuse yourself any longer, you gave one last glance at the sunflower, took a bite from your cookie, and hoped that Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan could distract you…for now.

“I'm in love with Teddy. I love her.”

“You're like Lexie with the inappropriate feelings for inappropriate people.”

“What can I say? My heart lives in my scalpel.”

The Seattle Grace Mercy West surgeons were trying to play baseball when your phone chimed. Phoenix and Halo were currently messaging the squad group chat.

Bassett Hound 🐾💗 date was a bust. reservation got screwed and they refuse to go anywhere else told them i refuse to waste this outfit hard deck anybody?

Pixie Nix 🧚✨ aw hales 😞 sorry to hear that if it helps, my date spoke more words to the waiter than to me don’t have to ask me twice

Bassett Hound 🐾 hbu @Mamma Mia 🍯🍯 ? we’ll be your valentines ❤️

Glancing between the half-eaten box of cookies and the Grey’s Anatomy theme running on your screen for the fourth time in a row, you decided that maybe it isn’t too late to salvage the holiday.

You showed up feeling a bit more refreshed from earlier. You opted to dress up just the slightest bit more than usual since you figured Phoenix and Halo would be too, coming from their dates.

The bar wasn’t crowded—a lot of the regulars you recognized were probably out on dates—but it looked like a haven for lonely hearts, single people dotting the bar or nursing their drinks at their small tables. You spotted some introducing themselves to others, and one lucky couple just escaped through the side door. The pool table, however, was as lively as ever with some of its usual suspects. Halo and Phoenix had already started a game, but you were surprised to see a few of the others there as well—Rooster and his girlfriend, Omaha and his wife, and Bob—who all cheered as you approached the table.

“Come here often?” Phoenix fake flirted.

“Only when I’m summoned with magic,” you came back and hugged her. “What brings the rest of you here?”

“We didn’t feel like going home just yet, then I saw Halo’s text in the group chat and she wanted to say hi,” Omaha explained and gestured to his wife as you went around greeting the others. “Rooster’s car broke down about a half mile up the road.”

“Excuse you, the Bronco doesn’t break,” Rooster interrupted, “It just…swerved off the road a little. But it’s fine. Just needed to stretch our legs a little.” His girlfriend giggled silently as he pulled her close to his torso and started whispering in her ear.

You took your usual seat on the stool next to Bob’s. “So I’m guessing Coyote’s date was real? Since he’s not here, I mean.”

“Looks like it,” he agreed as he sipped on his water. Noticing your lack of banter, he studied the pensive look on your face. “Why’d you ask?”

Your train of thought broke as he spoke. “What? Oh, um, it’s nothing,” you said nervously, “Forget I asked.”

“If you’re thinking about it this hard, it’s probably not nothing,” he egged on. “What is it?”

You could never say no to Bob. He was your best friend and you trusted him. Even though you were a little hurt that he kept his girlfriend a secret from you, you just couldn’t bring yourself to make it even. “Okay, so you know how I found a sunflower this morning?” you said in a low voice.

He nodded silently, letting you continue without being interrupted.

“I didn’t want to think anything of it at first. I just figured that someone—I don’t know, ‘neighborly person’ in a Valentine’s-y mood, I guess—left flowers up and down the street. But no one else had one so I just brushed it off. But then there was Hangman this morning with the cards and the flirting, and I thought it felt different. But it’s Hangman. You can never really tell with him, right? So I brushed that off. Then when I got home, get this: I get a delivery of cookies from Sugarlust. Coyote’s bakery. And it wasn’t just any cookie, it was the salted caramel cookies that he brought to that one dinner, the ones that I loved. What really did it for me, though, was the card. Something about him not being McDreamy but he hopes I love the cookies just as much. He was the one who commented about my Grey’s Anatomy marathon. And now I’m thinking if he was the one who gave me the flower, and…I don’t know,” you sighed, “I guess I was just hoping to see him here tonight to ask if it was him.”

And like this morning, he was dumbstruck again at your rant. You grew conscious of yourself at his reaction so you changed the subject.

“But enough about me, though. How about you? Where’s your date?” you asked as normally as you could.

Halo stood up after her turn. “Bob had a date?”

All eyes landed on the spectacled wizzo in his usual corner. “Oh. Right. My date.”

“Since when? And how come I don’t know about her?!” Phoenix asked, echoing your conversation and thoughts from earlier.

“Uh, awhile,” he said again, though he sounded more nervous this time, “but it’s okay, um, I don’t think it’s gonna work out…”

Your heart dropped after seeing how dejected Bob looked. “I’m so sorry, Bobby.” You put an arm around him, and he returned your small smile with one of his own.

Phoenix pushed herself off the pool table and handed him her cue stick. “Welcome to the club, Bob.”

Customers came and went in the two hours you have been there, but the eight of you had stayed. Rooster took over the piano, crooning blues covers with Halo, while his girlfriend and Omaha’s wife were talking with Phoenix. You were back on your stool after winning the last round of pool against Omaha, who was now playing darts against Bob.

The lack of a crowd allowed for cool night air to linger inside, that you had borrowed Bob’s jacket to keep you warm.

“What the fuck, bro?!” Omaha groaned in disbelief after Bob hit his fifth bullseye of the night.

“Target locked, and direct hit,” Bob retorted while he picked off his darts from the board.

Omaha took his place as he got ready for another game. “Best of nine,” he challenged and threw his darts immediately.

“Roos baby, I love you, but you’re kinda killing the mood here,” his girlfriend laughed from across the room while he and Halo were in the middle of singing November Rain by Guns N’ Roses. And without missing a beat, he started playing Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti. The lively melody brought the empty bar to life and the four girls started to dance with each other.

Halo called out to you, “Honey! Join us!”

“In a minute, Hales! I’m on dart watch from Omaha,” you pointed your thumb to the brunette who had just lost another game to Bob. He was practicing his aim when Bob took his seat beside you.

“Let me know when you’re done warming up, Vikander,” he taunted, his competitive side coming out now that he was more relaxed.

“Gonna make you eat your words, Floyd,” Omaha came back.

You and Bob entered your little world again from your seats. You watched as he chugged his water, his glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose.

“How’re you holding up there, Bobby?” you asked.

He let out an exhausted laugh. “You’d think darts wasn’t exhausting, but I think Omaha might as well have me running a marathon if he’s making me play this much.

“We’re aviators,” you snorted, “everything’s a competition.”

“I woke up the beast,” he sighed.

Taking a sip of your own water, you repeated his sentiments back, “You woke up the beast.”

A few beats passed in comfortable silence when he turned to you. “How about you? You don’t wanna join the others?”

“You might be surprised at how much five straight games of pool can do to your legs and back.”

He chuckled, “Well, you better hope you don’t get any push-ups tomorrow.”

It wasn’t even midnight yet when the bar was nearly empty. The jukebox played in the background seeing as Rooster and Omaha joined in on the dancing on the other side of the bar, but you and Bob remained in your seats. Usually, the two of you would be conversing non-stop—talking about the latest podcast he was listening to or your vivid dream from the night before, people watching the tourists, betting on who fellow aviator was going to do what predictable act for the night, or singing along to the music.

But you could sense some slight tension between you two tonight, thinking it might have been from the whole Valentine’s date conversation from earlier. Bob never brought it up afterwards so you didn’t think anything of it too, but now that the two of you were alone, you could see the somber expression return to his face as he stared at the floorboards.

You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder closest to you. “It’s gonna be okay, Bobby,” you said.

He looked up to your encouraging smile, and his empty hand crossed his body, his fingers brushing yours in a silent ‘thank you’.

“Who was she? If I can ask,” you said, “but you don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to, I don’t wanna pressure you—”

“It’s alright, Bee,” he said softly. He took a deep breath as he turned his eyes back to the floor. “She’s just someone I liked for awhile now.”

“How’d you meet?”

“The usual, you know. Work,” he shrugged.

“So she’s a local?” you inquired.

“Nah, she moved here from upstate.”

After placing his now empty water cup on the ledge behind him, he sat up straighter in his seat. “Guess that makes two of us now.”

Your eyebrows raised in confusion when he let out a low laugh. “Valentines-less,” he referred to your little blather from this afternoon.

You let out your own laugh as you jogged up the memory. “We can be pathetic together,” you jested. “Well, not entirely true, I guess. Halo and Phoenix decided to be my Valentine’s to get me to come here, but I think they’ve got each other covered.”

Bob looked back to see what you were talking about, to find Halo and Phoenix drunkenly belting out Love is a Battlefield a cappella with Rooster’s girlfriend while the aviator just watched their performance. The two of caught a glimpse of Omaha and his wife waving at the two of you just before they exited.

“Besides, it doesn’t seem fair that I have two Valentine’s and you have none,” you continued.

“So what are you suggesting? You give me one of your Valentine’s?” he played along.

You looked up, pretending to think, “Hm, I don’t know if they’d appreciate being someone else’s Valentine without them knowing, so what do you say, Bobby? Will you be my Valentine?” you proposed playfully, even looking up at him through your lashes for added effect.

He smiled tightly. “I don’t think you’re gonna give me a choice, anyway,” he mumbled playfully and you elbowed him, “but sure, Bee. I’ll be your Valentine.” You spotted just the slightest bit of a blush creeping up his neck.

Finally regaining some strength in your legs, you were ready to go home. “Well, I hate to cut our date short, my Valentine, but I think I need to call it a night,” you said, “I hate that you reminded me about the push-ups.”

Bob got up with you. “No worries, Valentine. And trust me, I think the three of them might have it worse than you tomorrow,” he said about your co-workers still in the middle of their impromptu karaoke.

You dug out your phone, wallet, and keys that you kept in his jacket pocket when something else fell out. You picked up a small velvet box tied with a white satin ribbon. What caught your eye was the tag—instead of a name written on it, there was a doodle of a tiny, squiggly, buzzing bee.

Like how the bees looked on Hangman’s card.

You looked up already finding Bob staring at you nervously. His mouth had been drawn in a thin line and the tension that you felt earlier increased tenfold.

Though he never outright said the gift was for you, he watched as you tested him, slowly untying the ribbon. Even as you pried the cover off the box, he never stopped you.

“Bob…?” you whispered in disbelief as you stared at the gift. It was a golden bracelet—two delicately thin chains connected by a shining sunflower charm.

“Hey, you guys okay?” Phoenix called out from the piano.

Neither of you spoke as you continued to stare at him. Seeing as you didn’t respond, Bob replied for the two of you. “Yeah, we’re all good.”

“We’re gonna get going, if it’s okay,” she notified you. All of them had their things gathered, and the bartender on shift was already wiping down the counters.

The two of you waved your goodbyes at them as they headed out. Halo blew flying kisses in your direction as the door shut.

“Take care!”

“Happy Valentine’s!”

“See you tomorrow!”

And then there were two.

Still in shock, you held the box as securely as you could while your mind was still reeling. Bob? The sunflower this morning. The sunflower on the bracelet. The bee on the card. This has to be a coincidence, right? Maybe this was meant for his date? Maybe he’s holding on to it for someone? Maybe he’s—

“Can we talk about this?” You didn’t even realize you had asked it out loud until Bob turned back to you. His eyes grew big, the same way they always did when he started to panic during a drill or a mission.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He led you out to the parking lot where it was still a bit bright from the street lights. The cool breeze bit at your skin when you remembered you were still wearing Bob’s jacket. You had barely taken it off when Bob tugged it securely back on your shoulders.

“It’s freezing,” you insisted, but Bob just shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

It was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. Your thumb ran over the bracelet still in its box and the thoughts you had previously came flooding back.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you mumbled.

Bob wiped his face with his hands. “I don’t think there’s any other way of saying it except that it was me. I never had a date, and I was the one who left the sunflower at your door.”

Happiness. Relief. Frustration. Love. You could have been feeling all of those things right now, but no. You were just as confused as ever. “So when I was talking about all those other things, about Hangman and Coyote…”

“That was me too.”

The two of you took a seat on the bottom step of the bar’s front deck. “Hangman and the other guys were cutting out the paper hearts when he told me to bring out the cards from his bag. I didn’t have anything to do, so I just started drawing the garden on your card.”

You toyed with the hand-drawn bee on the card still hanging from the ribbon. “I guess I should’ve known from the card that it was you,” you said, mostly to yourself but loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the only one who calls me ‘Bee.’ Who was the guy from TOPGUN again? The one that you nearly decked—” you smiled trying to stir the memory.

“—But I didn’t—and it was that asshole, Shadow,” he groaned. “Ugh, I’m never gonna forget the way he called you that day.”

“But I still don’t get why you don’t call me ‘Honey.’ Everybody else does. I don’t mind it, you know.”

“I know, I know,” he nodded. “But if I’m one less person to remind you of that day, then I’ll call you ‘Bee’ until you truly forget about it.”

You couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your heart at his confession. You actually haven’t remembered that incident until now, but it was sweet that Bob always tried to make you feel better about it, even if you didn’t realize it.

“That’s real sweet of you, Bobby,” you said warmly. “But speaking of sweets…”

Bob winced jokingly, “Ah, thought I was in the clear.” He had a distant look in his eyes as he recalled, “I still remember the look on your face when you tried the cookies. The two of us alone wiped out half the box before dinner even started. You even begged Coyote to go back for another box after Fanboy ate the last one.” The grin on his face only grew bigger the more he looked back at the memory.

You barely even notice yours did too.

It all made sense now. Bob had been a constant presence in your life ever since the two of you met, even moreso now that you were together back where your friendship started. How you even thought of Hangman or Coyote before you suspected him was beyond you.

There was still one question you needed answered, and it had you on the edge of exasperation. Your voice was small as you spoke, “We were with each other the whole day, Bob. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Just as frustrated as you were, he let out a big breath. “I don’t know. I’m a coward, I guess. I was right there on the sidewalk outside your place, fully prepared to ask you out. Even had a whole speech prepared and everything,” he confessed. He spoke slower and softer, his eyes never leaving yours, “about how I saw the bracelet in a window the other day, and how it reminded me of the sunflowers you painted on my arm that one time I visited you in your hometown. And how I wanted you to have a sunflower on your own hand, then I’d ask you to be my Valentine.”

He looked down at the ground in shame as he continued, “But I got scared. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship, especially since you’ve only been here a month. So I figured after I left your house that it might be easier if you didn’t know it was me, and that’s why I lied about the date. Just in case you were, I don’t know, expecting something…more. Than just me, I mean.”

Taking the box in his own hands, he twiddled with it. “I thought I lost my chance this morning, but then Halo messaged asking you to come. So I came here thinking this could be my second chance until you started asking about Coyote…thought I was done for. You wanted him while I’d stay the idiot that lost you forever.”

Your heart no longer fluttered but burst at his words. A love you had for him that didn’t know was already there had finally surfaced as you shut him up with a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“You’re so much more than what I could ever want, Bobby,” you whispered, scooting closer to him on the step.

A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and you swore you’ve never seen him smile so widely. Gently lifting the bracelet from its box, he undid the clasp. “May I?” he asked.

You rested your outstretched arm on his knee, allowing him to put it on you. Your nerves awakened at the soft touch of his fingers against your wrist, sending even more shockwaves throughout your body as he clasped his hand around yours afterwards. The bracelet was cool against your skin, but you felt nothing but warmth allover—from his jacket, from his touch, and from the loving feeling dancing inside you.

The moon shone high above you as midnight quickly approached, and you decided to make the most of the last minutes of the day.

“Hey, Bobby. I believe you have one last thing to ask me.”

“Is it the something you actually asked me first?” he teased, but quickly surrendered at the funny look you gave him. Hee gazed sincerely at you, “Bee?”

“Yes, Bobby?” you pretended.

He leaned in close to you till your noses were touching, and whispered slowly, “Will you be my Valentine?”

“I don’t think I have a choice anyway,” you mocked his earlier response as you both laughed, “but yes, Bobby. I’d love to be your Valentine.”

His lips found yours not a second later, fireworks exploding with every kiss that landed on your lips.

The moon stood brightly above, indicating the beginning of another day. Though your days from this point would never be the same, now that you had Bob and Bob had you.

All thanks to a flower given on a front step.

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