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everyonewooeverywhere · 3 months

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MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ farmhand!mingyu x farmer's daughter!reader

note ✭ this is very much inspired by the mingyu pictured above. (also i don't mention it explicitly, but girly's family is lowkey rich)

synopsis ✭ when your dad hires a hot new farm hand, you can't keep your hands off of him.

content/genre ✭ smut (18+ mdni)

word count ✭ 2.9k

warnings ✭ smut, mingyu and reader are horny af, outside sex (no one else sees them though), no prep, overall horny shenanigans i guess 🤷‍♀️, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex (they're not depicted as drunk, but they did have a couple drinks)

✭✭✭✭

Every time your father hired a new farmhand, they were always the same. While they never disappointed in the build department (they were always jacked, but that was kind of a requirement of the job), but they all looked identical. They wore the same brown scuffed boots. They had their hair in the same floppy cut with the same dirty blonde color.

For a couple of summers through your teens, it had been fun. Your father would hire him after the final school bell rang for the summer. You’d introduce yourself to him when your father was nowhere in sight, and you’d spend the rest of the summer sneaking around with him and having your fun. When summer finally ended and school began, you’d bid him farewell and never speak to him again, and your father was none the wiser.

And it was fun! The first two times. Then every summer turned the same, and every single farm hand looked indistinguishable from the last with no discernible personality whatsoever.

So, having just finished your second year of university, you were expecting more of the same. You’d have a gander, but you certainly weren’t expecting much from whoever your dad decided to hire this summer.

“God, why couldn’t you have invited me to stay over at your house this summer? I’d take whatever hunk your dad decided to keep,” your best friend from school, Jennifer, whined over the phone as you pulled your car up the long driveway to your house.

“I did invite you, but you’re spending you’re leaving today for Spain, remember?”

“Yes, but y/n!” she whined again, “I need more muscly men in my life. This would be the perfect opportunity.”

“You’re gonna be in Spain for two months. I’m sure you’ll find at least one man muscular enough to fit your standard.”

“Yeah, whatever. You better have fun with this man without me.”

“Like I told you earlier, they’re so fucking boring. It’s not gonna happen.”

You put your car in park and began to gather up your purse and phone when you glanced up out the windshield to see probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life walking out your front door and toward your car. It was as if your severe doubts had summoned him.

Ever the chatterbox, Jennifer kept talking, “Well I’m just saying maybe you should keep an open mind. You never know what could happen. One magical night in the woods and you could be locked down for life. It’s just–”

“Jennie shut the fuck up.”

“Woah,” she seemed mildly offended, “sorry?”

“He’s hot Jennie. Like really hot. Not even a ten. Probably a twelve.”

“Ugh, you lucky bitch! I told you to keep an open mind,” you could hear her mother yelling at her in the background, “Oh shit. Girl, I have to go, but send pics! Please! I need to see the hunk you’re railing this summer.”

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled while she hung up on you.

This man was really throwing you for a loop. Just based on appearance alone you could tell he was not the type of guy your dad usually hired. First and foremost, he was massive. Well over 6 feet tall and far more muscular than any guy you’d ever seen (and that was saying something), and the skin-tight black t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide it. His hair was dark and cropped, a far cry from the endless supply of shaggy blonde hairstyles you’d seen over the years.

The cherry on top was when, after watching you stumble out of the car, he’d asked, “Where’s your luggage? I thought I’d help you carry it inside.”

“Oh,” you let out an awkward laugh, “It’s in the trunk. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he followed you around the back of your car and popped open the trunk, “I’m Mingyu by the way.” He stuck out a hand for you to shake it.

You grabbed the hand and he shook it with a firm squeeze. Holy fuck he has nice hands. “Y/n. It’s great to meet you Mingyu.”

There was no hiding the way you gawked at the way his muscles flexed when he carried your stuff inside.

✭✭✭✭

The idea of returning to your old ways was honestly exciting for you. Last night over Facetime Jennifer had gotten the whole rundown of your brief interaction with Mingyu. You fawned over his muscles, his cute lisp and the way he’d been such a gentleman to help you carry your luggage after what you assumed was a long day of work.

She’d found his Instagram of course and found out that he was indeed just as attractive as you’d described (and he had cute friends too).

This morning you felt more than ready to kick off what you predicted to be a great summer. And you weren’t starting slow either. You knew the routine of your father’s farmhands enough to know that Mingyu would start the day mowing the lawn around your house. He’d usually start later on Saturdays (today), too. Meaning that if you got out there by 10 am, he’d probably still be working his way around the lawn. Hopeful by the pool.

Which, by complete coincidence, is where you were. Laid out in your favorite bikini by the water. The dark sunglasses covering your eyes meant that your eyes were completely hidden, but it was obvious where you were looking.

Not far from the pool, you could see Mingyu pushing the lawn mower through the grass of your backyard. The tight black t-shirt from yesterday was no more. Instead, he wore a white tank top that left his arms completely exposed. He glanced over at you a couple of times, but he never let his gaze linger long enough for you.

You watched him from your laid-out position in your pool chair for a good fifteen minutes before he disappeared into the shed, presumably to put the lawnmower away. While he was inside, you took a moment to stand and dip your toes in the water thoroughly enjoying the coolness of the water. It was nice, you had to admit, but you’d have to save that for later because, while you were distracted by the water, Mingyu had made his way to the fence that separated your pool from the rest of the yard.

It was only when he cleared his throat that you noticed him standing there, leaning against the fence smiling at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you normally spend your mornings checking out your dad’s employees?” God his voice.

You stepped out of the pool, “Only when I think they’re worth my time.” You slid your sunglasses off your face and onto the top of your head as you approached the fence where Mingyu was standing.

“Charming. I’m assuming he hasn’t the slightest idea what you get up to, then?”

You laughed, “Of course not. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“So…” you brushed his forearm with the tips of your fingers, “What time do you get done?” You knew the answer of course, but it felt polite to ask.

“Seven thirty. Why? Hoping to get me alone?” He smirked

“I wouldn’t mind it.” You bit your lip as you no-so-subtly checked him out for the millionth time, “Meet me behind the shed at seven forty-five, ok? Don’t be late. I’ll bring booze.”

✭✭✭✭

Part of you wondered if he’d be there when you snuck out of your house at eight-fifteen. Yes, you were late, but that was part of the game. Your parents always went to bed early, and you were an adult. So getting out of the house unnoticed was no issue at all. If your dad noticed the six-pack missing from the garage fridge, you could just tell him you drank it or you could feign complete innocence.

The weather was still warm despite it being completely dark outside, so your athletic shorts and oversized tee did just fine. You’d contemplated wearing a skirt but ultimately decided against it because you didn’t want him to think you’d give it up that easily. Even though you were already struggling greatly to contain your excitement.

He could hear the clinking of the glass beer bottles as you made your way to the shed through the freshly cut yard. As much as Mingyu would love to deny it, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you since this morning. Something about the way you were laid out in the sun this morning had left a permanent imprint on his mind. The secrecy of the situation was also incredibly appealing. It turned him on more than he’d like to admit, messing around with his boss’s incredibly hot daughter.

Mingyu wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were taking your sweet time on purpose. You’d made him wait half an hour just to see if he’d wait around for you that long. You wanted to see how bad he wanted it, and clearly, he wanted it pretty bad because you found him sitting on the bench behind the shed staring up at the stars.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

He laughed, “Sure you are.” He held out a hand.

You passed him a bottle as you sat down next to him.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, but it seems you just enjoy the idea of making people wait for you.”

“Maybe,” you turned so your knees just barely brushed his thigh, “But you waited for me didn’t you?”

“Hey, maybe I just wanted free beer.” He gestured to the bottle in his hand.

“I know for a fact my dad pays you enough for you to afford your own beer.”

He laughed and leaned his head back against the shed, giving you a full view of his neck. You couldn’t help but imagine kissing his neck, leaving plenty of marks in your wake. “He sure does. It’s one of the many benefits.”

“What else do you like about the job?” You were genuinely curious about what was so appealing about doing nothing but manual labor for an entire summer. Even if the paycheck was really good.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Gets me off my ass. Gives me something to do with my hands.”

“Oh? You good with your hands?”

“You just don’t let up do you?” He really did enjoy how insistent you were despite your attempts to make him pine after you by making him wait for you so long.

“Not unless I’m asked to.”

You ended up talking with Mingyu for two hours. The two of you drank and talked about your lives, school, home, past flings, and relationships. By the time you two of you had finished off the six-pack you’d brought out, you felt as if you’d been out there forever.

At some point, you’d put your legs over his lap. He caressed one of your calves with one hand while you played with the fingers of his other hand.

As much as you’d enjoyed this little conversation, the more you drank, the hotter he got, and you were hardly holding it together anymore. With every move of his hand on your calf, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

You took the hand that was already in yours and placed it on your cheek, “Mingyu…” you whined looking up at him.

“What, baby?” his thumb stroked your cheek.

You straddled his lap, sitting back on his thighs and moving down his neck and to his chest, “can we stop talking for a little bit?”

“Oh?” he questioned, lightly placing his hand on your lower back under your shirt, “What do you suppose we do instead?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked leaning further into him so that your chests were touching.

“You can do whatever you want, baby.”

That was all the confirmation you needed to lean completely into him and kiss him. The kiss was long and more passionate than any kiss you’d experienced from your past summer flings. His hands were on your ass, pulling you to hover over his crotch where you could obviously tell he was hard. And that would have made you smug if you hadn’t been sitting in your own arousal for at least an hour.

You kissed down his neck just like you had previously imagined. He let out a deep moan with every mark and bite you made. You had failed to realize that one of his hands had left your ass until you felt a hand brush over your completely clothed pussy.

“Baby, as much as I love these cute little shorts, can I take them off of you?”

Nodding furiously, you leaned back, pulled yourself off of his lap and pulled off your shorts and shirt, setting them on the bench beside him. Of course, you weren’t wearing a bra, something Mingyu had noticed almost immediately when you’d sat down beside him. Before you made your way back to his lap, you reached for the hem of that stupid, useless white tank top that covered virtually nothing. You pulled it over his head with ease.

“Wow–” you whispered.

He laughed and pulled you back into his lap, “As flattered as I am,” he ran a hand up your side, “I could say the same thing about you.”

Before you could even think about how to respond Mingyu’s face was in your chest, feverishly placing kisses on your tits. He grabbed one with his hand and rolled the nipple between his fingers.

You gripped onto his hair and moaned softly. Your hips rolled over his clothed dick multiple times before he finally shucked off his jeans which had become uncomfortably tight.

“Can I please fuck you now?” he asked.

“Please,” you begged completely forgoing the chance to tease him for his politeness.

You pulled down the waistband of his boxers and grabbed him. Running a thumb over the tip, you pulled his cock out and pumped it a couple of times. “God, baby. You better hurry up.”

He slid your panties to the side and ran a finger between your folds, “you sure you don’t want me to prep you?”

You shook your head. So much for making him wait. “I’ll be ok. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He nodded and reached to grab a condom from his pocket. Of course, he’d come prepared. When he failed to open it fast enough, you snatched it out of his hands and ripped it open with your own teeth. You rolled it onto him after what felt like an agonizingly long amount of time.

He positioned himself at your entrance and slid himself into you with relative ease. You threw your head back when he bottomed out. You covered your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself at least a little quiet.

“F-fuck, Mingyu!”

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he grunted out, “I’m gonna need you to move, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded and gripped onto his shoulder. As you started bouncing up and down on his cock, he buried his face back in your chest, kissing and biting at your tits, collarbone, and neck. He left plenty of marks on your chest that were identical to the ones you’d left on his neck, maybe even darker. You had brought your own hand to your clit. Desperately trying to find your release.

“Oh god Gyu, I’m so close,” you grabbed onto his hair.

He hissed from the stinging in his scalp, “Me too, angel, me too.” His face was in your neck when you’d finally reached your climax, and he followed immediately after.

You both sat there, chests heaving, for a couple of minutes, saying nothing.

“Wow,” was all he could say as he pulled you off his lap and helped you put your clothes back on, tossing the condom into the trash bin beside the bench. You made a mental note to take the trash out before your dad came out here tomorrow.

You laughed breathily, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him. Your hands found their way to his chest instinctively. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”

“Oh, was that not enough for you?”

“God, no, that was perfect. But I wanna take care of you for real next time.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I have a truck,” he nodded toward the red pickup truck in your driveway, “I can drive it down to the creek. The bed of the truck is actually pretty comfy when you put blankets and pillows down.”

Laughing, you said, “You want to fuck me in the woods.” He shook his head, “I wanna eat you out in the woods.”

God, this was gonna be a fun summer.

✭✭✭✭

“Girl, what!? It’s only been a day?” Jennifer’s voice rang through the phone. “Was it good?’

“For outside bench sex? Yeah, it was great. We’re seeing each other tomorrow night.”

She groaned, “Ugh, you lucky bitch. I’m so jealous.”

“What? No Spanish hunks?”

She shook her head, “not yet. But I’m hopeful!”

“Do you still want updates, or are you gonna explode from jealousy?”

“No! Please keep me updated. I’m living vicariously through you.”

You laughed, “God you’re insufferable.”

“I know!” She batted her eyelashes at you, “You will keep me updated though, right.”

“Of course, how could I not.”

✭✭✭✭

thank you for reading! i knocked this shit out in two days (and you can probably tell 👀), but i'm genuinely surprised with myself.

anyway hope you enjoyed. reblog and like if you did! love hearing your thoughts

mwah~

#seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #seventeen x reader #18+ mdni #mdni #everyonewooeverywhere

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hazbinwhoree · 1 month

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Lute gave reader something and dropped them off at Adam's place. Now Adam had a very clingy reader who kept kissing him and laying on him like a cat. basically, reader gets drugged by Lute and Adam has to TRY to not be an asshole. Did Reader and Lute plan this? yes. But Adam doesn't need to know that this was a ploy to get him to be nice

Niceness Ploy

(Name) was a lovey drunk. The kind of drunk to hang onto whoever she’s with and tell them how wonderful they are and how much she loves them. The kind of drunk who calls everyone on her phone just to gush about how great they are.

Lute knew this, and very purposefully got (Name) as drunk as she could without making her sick.

Once (Name) was good and sloshed, Lute dragged her ass to Adam’s house and banged on the door. Adam opened it looking confused and mildly annoyed until he registered Lute and (Name) in front of him.

“Adaaam!” (Name) cried, throwing herself at him. He caught her, steadying her on her feet. “What the fuck?”

“She’s drunk,” Lute explained. “And I have to go, something came up. Take care of her!” She flew off before Adam could even argue. “What the fuck,” he repeated. (Name) was hanging onto his waist, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re sooo cute, y’know?” Cute isn’t a word Adam would describe himself with but he feels his face flush pink. “And you’re sooo drunk, did you know?” Adam said. (Name) giggled. “Just a li*hic*-little.”

Adam sighed, picking her up and carrying her inside, resigned to the role Lute had thrown upon him. He took her up to his room depositing her on his bed. “You better not throw up on my sheets. Do you feel sick?”

(Name) tried to shake her head but made herself dizzy. “No.”

Adam grabbed the remote and turned on his TV, hoping to distract (Name). But (Name) whined at him to “come here!” until Adam did. He climbed onto the bed next to her and his face heated up as (Name) snuggled into his chest.

“Relax,” she slurred when Adam tensed. Adam relaxed his body, red dusting his cheeks. He wrapped an arm around her. “Let’s watch something funny,” (Name) suggested. Adam turned on an adult cartoon.

(Name) hummed contently, pressing a kiss to Adam’s chest. Adam couldn’t blush any harder. He scowled. The great Adam didn’t blush, this was some bullshit.

But something about (Name)’s drunken affection made him warm.

“I love you,” (Name) murmured. Adam froze. “What?”

“I love you,” (Name) repeated. Adam was quiet for a minute. “You’re drunk.” “Doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” (Name) said.

Little did Adam know, this had been Lute and (Name)’s plan all along. To get (Name) drunk enough to unabashedly confess and then drop her off with Adam, who would be forced to be nice. It had worked.

“I love you too,” Adam mumbled. (Name) smiled, snuggling further into his chest. “But I’m going to pretend this never happened unless you say it again when you’re sober tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin lucifer #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #oneshot #oneshots

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jennifer-jeong · 2 months

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[Smut] [Xavier x AFAB!Reader] Innocent Valentine

CONTENT

Xavier is no so innocent this Valentine's day NSFW, 18+, smut, afab (assigned female at birth) reader, feminine reader (he calls you a "good girl"), oral, penetration, creampie, orgasm, spanking, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES

I'm very late to the Valentine's day idea but whatever LOL Yes I mildly plagiarized the last lines of dialogue from my own post please don't roast me.

Word Count: 794

Xavier being the innocent gentleman that he is brings a condom on valentines day for you two to use after the banquet. He’s such a sweetheart and doesn’t want to put any pressure on you so he asks you so many times if it’s okay for him to kiss you. Little does he know what’s in store for him.

You immediately have your hands all over him and he thinks it’s because of the alcohol, but you know it’s because you fucking want him right now.

You skip the formalities and quickly have his cock down your throat. “Mmph! F-fuck!,” you hear him moan above you as he sits on the couch while you’re on your knees. Your throat making sinful noises as you stuff yourself full of him, your cheeks flushed, and your core aching with need.

Xavier didn’t want to be too rough with you, your relationship was just getting started and you haven’t been intimate too many times yet. But, with the way that you were acting, he gave an experimental buck of his hips into your mouth and you immediately grabbed his hands to tangle in your hair. He paused, a little confused, as you stopped bobbing your head on him, but quickly figured it out. He pulled at your hair to give you some delicious pressure on your scalp. With barely any delay, he starts fucking your mouth, relishing in the warmth, enjoying your moans, and the ungodly wet sounds your throat is making.

Xavier takes control from here since you’re too drunk and fucked out already, he moves you to the bed but lays you on your stomach on the edge so you’re still half standing. He moves to start to finger you to get you ready for his size but pauses as he remembers the condom in the pocket of his pants he took off. You quickly speak up before he can go find it.

“I can’t fucking wait anymore, please just fill me up baby,” you say, looking back at him with intoxicated eyes as you spread yourself open with your hands. Your slick glistening and creating sticky strings on your thighs.

“Fuck…” He doesn’t hesitate to bottom out and you nearly scream. He pulls all the way out and starts a relentless pace as he slams back into you.

“Yeah? Mm- This is what you wanted right?” He says as he grips the plush of your ass while pounding into you at a ridiculous speed. Xavier was much more feral for you than he let on and you didn’t mind it one fucking bit.

“Y-yes! Please- mmphhh fuck!~ feels s‘good baby…” You moan in response between sobs. His raw cock drags so deliciously against your walls that you continue to drip arousal all over your pretty boyfriend.

“Such a fucking good girl for me,” he says in a deep voice you don’t usually hear and it makes you clench on him. His hips stutter for a second as he moans. He plants a firm slap on your ass and you let out a high pitched sob, enjoying the stinging pain left behind.

The sound of skin slapping and your mixed moans fill the room as he builds both your orgasms. As he feels his near, he flips you onto your back wanting to see your face, wasting no time in folding you in half to fuck deep into you.

“Y’fill me up so good- nghh… thank you baby,” you say as he kisses your cervix with his tip. He swears he can see hearts in your eyes as he kisses your legs in response.

He wraps an arm around your leg to reach his thumb to your clit, you gasp at the extra stimulation and claw at the sheets, feeling yourself quickly reaching your high.

“Ah- ah! Nghh- I’m fucking cumming baby please keep fucking m’like that.”

“Mm? Yeah? Cum f’me, pretty girl, wanna feel you cum on me.”

And with that, your waves of pleasure wash over you as your body shakes. Your moans are uncontrollable due to how good it feels from him still pounding you at the same pace while his thumb toys with your bundle of nerves.

You’ve made a ring of cream at the base of his cock at this point and he tumbles over the edge with you as your pussy twitches as you cum. His thrusts irregular as you say “cum in me please- wan’ it so bad…”

A few more thrusts and he stops, fully buried inside you, both of your arousals flooding out of you.

“Fuck… Since when did you want to become a mom?” He jokes between catching his breath.

“Your fault you fuck me like you want to be a dad,” you joke back.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #xavier x reader #reader x xavier #love and deepspace xavier x reader #xavier smut #love and deepspace xavier smut #j's silly ramblings

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zeltqz · 4 months

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selfish | haitani ran

synopsis. haitani ran wants you, but can't have you because it would be considered selfish. content. 12k words (listen ik its long just hear me out..), fem!reader, friends to enemies to lovers, mild fwb situation gone wrong, ran's mother is in prison and gives shitty advice, implied sexual harassment (some creepy junkie, nothing happens though), mildly toxic ran, possessiveness, alcohol mentions, ran says hurtful things when he's drunk. NSFW content. authors note. this was inspired by an ask that i changed up a little because i LUV drama, so anon if you see this and recongise the plot creds to uuuuuuuuuuuuuuu for the idea!!!!

You were jolted awake by the violent buzz of your phone, muffled by your pillow. You groggily sat up, wiping your eyes and slapped around under your pillow for your phone. Carefully, you rolled to the far edge of your bed and answered.

“Hello?”

“Come down. I’m outside.”

“Ran it’s…2 in the morning.”

“Just come. I want to talk to you.”

You slipped from your bed, yawning and grabbing your house keys on the way out. Once you were outside, the instant regret of not bringing a jacket hit you as you shivered from the cold. You were about to run back inside, but decided against it when you saw Ran’s car parked at the end of the road, the lights on and the windshield wipers actively wiping away the snow.

You resisted the urge to dramatically slam the door shut when you got in the car. “There better be a zombie apocalypse happening right now if you think waking me up at 2 am was a good idea.”

“So I can only contact you when the world is ending?”

“At 2am, yes.” You leaned your head back against his car seat, mindlessly closing your eyes to savour onto the lingering signs of sleep. “Why’re you even here? I thought you were out of town.”

“I had plans.” He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Like plans or ‘plans’?” His smile turned into a smirk and you grimaced. “Ew don’t touch me.” He laughed playfully and gestured at your seatbelt. You put it on as he started the car, pulling out onto the main road.

“So where are you taking me anyway?” you asked, plucking at a loose thread on your pyjama bottoms.

“Nowhere in particular. Just driving around.”

“Cool. So why am I here then?”

“Wanted company. Is that so wrong?”

You looked his way, wondering if he was being serious right now. “Why didn’t you call your brother then? Or literally anybody else.”

“Because I wanted to see you.” He glanced in your direction, seeing the stunned expression on your face that you quickly fixed when you realised he was staring.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah sure. Whatever.” You yawned and turned to the side to lean against the window.

“If you’re tired you can sleep.”

“I don’t wanna fall asleep on you. That’s rude.” Another yawn. “I’ll manage it.”

“You hungry?” he asked, pulling up towards a late night fast food drive-thru across the street.

“Kinda. Now that I think about it, I barely ate all day.”

“Don’t know how you do it honestly.” He was plucking at his baby hairs as he slowed the car to a stop. “Alright whaddya want.”

You peeked past his body to look at the menu on the wall, the bright lights straining your tired eyes. “Literally anything. I don’t care.” He clicked his tongue and stared at you. You sighed. “I don’t want you to waste money on me.”

“Don’t stress,” he said, waving off your concern with a wave of his hand. You settled in your seat as he rolled down the window. You were distractedly scrolling on your phone to pass time as he spent the next five minutes ordering.

Looking up, you saw he already had the bag of food on his lap, but instead of handing it to you, his arm is leaning against the window, smirking as he talks to the cashier working the drive-thru. She has her finger twirling her hair, leaning so far from the narrow window you’re surprised she hasn’t fallen out yet.

“Hello?? Can we go?!” you snapped.

“Oh, sorry.” The girl leered in your direction, taking you back momentarily before she fixed her features in time when she looked back at Ran. “It was nice meeting you,” she said softly, her voice lacking the same venomous tone she gave you earlier.

“Pleasure meeting you too. See you around beautiful.” You don’t know if he winked or did his signature smirk at her, but it was something of that nature because she had to fan herself to calm the redness on her face as his car began driving off.

You took the bag of food from his lap and ripped it open. “Do you really have to flirt with every girl you meet?”

“Someone sounds jealous.” You weren’t even looking in his direction but you could envision the shit eating grin of his face when he said that.

“I’m not jealous. I just know how to keep it in my pants and not go around flirting with every guy I meet.” You bit the packaging of the straw and poked it in your drink more aggressively than you intended.

“Have you maybe thought that’s because you just suck at flirting?”

You almost choked on your drink with how quick you moved your head to face him. “I don’t suck at flirting!”

He snorted, taking one hand off the wheel to support his head as he leaned against the door. “Sureeeeeeeee.”

“Don't say sure like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t believe me!”

He shrugged. “I don’t.” He stopped the car at a red light. “Show me how you flirt then.”

You stared down at the food in your hands, contemplating if you should. When you looked up, you saw him already staring at you, waiting. “Fine.” You wiped your hands and set your food back down, putting it back in the takeout bag before shifting to face him on your seat.

You cleared your throat, readying yourself to speak. The second you opened your mouth, it was like your mind blanked and you instantly closed it again. “This is too embarrassing. I can’t.”

“It’s only embarrassing if you make it embarrassing,” he responded back, shifting his attention back on the road when the light changed to green.

“No. I just know you’re going to laugh at me if I do it.”

“No I won’t.” He put a hand over his heart. “Scouts honour”

“You’re so ridiculous,” you grumbled but laughed nonetheless. “Okay, I’ll do it once we get home. I need time to prepare.”

Ran seemed to agree with that and in the fifteen minutes it took you to get home, you finished your food. He was parked outside your house across the street and you were idly sipping at your drink.

“Alright, ready?” He turned the engine off, leaving the radio still on.

“Wait this is my favourite song.” You inched forward to turn the volume up only to recoil when he slapped your hand away. “What the hell?!”

“Stop stalling.” He ignored the frustrated look on your face. “Show me already. I didn’t drive you here for nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have driven here at 3 in the morning anyway!”

“So ungrateful.” He pinched your nose with two fingers, laughing when you swatted him away. “Show meeee.”

“Okay fine! Fine!” You set your drink in the cupholder and turned to look at him. “I actually don’t know how to flirt.”

“Had a feeling.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Want me to teach you,” he asked gently, looking directly into your eyes. You found it hard to look away in that moment, like so much was riding on your answer.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… okay…”

“Alright. Guys love it when you’re confident and can hold eye contact. So hold eye contact as much as you can, but don’t stare like a creep. That shit’s weird. Show ‘em you’re engaged in the conversation when they’re talking about themselves and just stare into their eyes. Shit, that even gets me all fuzzy when a girl knows how to hold it. Had me stutterin’ and shit once.”

You blinked and envisioned a stuttering, flustered Ran in your mind. “Really? Eye contact? That’s all?” He shrugged and nodded. “That sounds really hard to believe honestly.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Reaaaally?” he repeated, extra slow, giving you enough time to back out when you have the chance.

“Yes. Reaaaaally Ran.”

“Tell me what you did today.”

You crossed your arms and looked up at the ceiling. “Well…I woke up this morning…I went to work, had lunch, worked until 4, then came home and studied.”

“In detail.”

“Is that really necessary?” you complained, but the look on his face was completely serious. Sighing, you settled back into your seat. “Okay so I went to bed late as fuck last night and I woke up at like 12 which was so bad because my shift started in fifteen minutes. So I wondered whether or not I should go and—”

“Look at me when you talk.”

You were about to slap him. You sighed and turned to look at him.

“I went to back late last night and woke up at like…” Your mind blanked, and you struggled to find your words or remember what the hell you did hours ago with him looking so intently at you. “...11 ish? Which was—”

“You said it was 12, no?” he tilted his head, his stare unwavering.

You gulped. “Yes. Sorry. I woke up at 12 and my shift started at 12:15.” Your face burned. Just what the hell was wrong with you. In that moment, you felt like you were out of your own body, spirit you watching as you did nothing but blink uselessly at Ran. You fought the urge to slap yourself and ignore his slutty mind tricks.

You looked down at your lap only to have him lift your face back to him with a single finger. “You’re not done with your story yet.”

“...right…right.” You cleared your throat again. He leaned forward, forearms resting on the steering wheel, locking his gaze on you. Was Ran always this hot? Surely you’ve noticed it before but not like this, where your mind is focusing only on him, and pushing all other stray thoughts out of the way

You inhaled deeply and regained composure. “And I briefly considered whether or not I should go in late…but my boss has been kinda mean to me lately and…”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding as he studied your face, and urged you to continue when you stopped talking.

“...so I went in and finished my shift. My boss wasn’t too mad at me which was good I guess.”

“Then what?” His voice was purposefully different than usual, it was lower in that moment, throwing you off balance completely.

Your throat suddenly felt dry. “One second.” You grabbed your drink from before and began taking long sips from it, still feeling the intensity of his stare against the side of your face. Once you gulped half the drink down, you forcefully swallowed your burp, not wanting to ruin the weird, but heated atmosphere in the car with your natural bodily functions.

“Then I went home to study for my exam on Thursday and fell asleep. Then your annoying ass woke me up and here I am.”

He laughed lightly, pulling back to return back to his seat. “How hard was that? Be honest.” His head rested back against the headrest, smirking at you. “Don’t lie now.”

You looked down at your lap, averting your eyes from his and refusing to make eye contact. You hated that you had to admit that it actually worked, his intense eye contact had actually effected you. He kept urging you until you persisted and you groaned inwardly. “Fine. It worked.”

“Seeeeee?” He jostled you playfully, and you smiled weakly. “I told ya. Anyway, want more advice?”

“There’s more?” Was the eye contact not enough? You didn’t even want to think how much power this man has.

“Yeah. Say his name a lot. Drives me crazy when I hear a girl say my name.”

You snorted. “Sounds oddly narcissistic of you,” you retorted before you could catch yourself. “Sorry.”

“(Y/N),” he called your name in a deep, rumbling tone that had you internally shut down and log off.

Once you came back, you grinned, impressed. “Wow…you’re good,” you admitted, subtly rubbing your hand along your arm to rid it of the goosebumps that seemed to sprout up whenever he spoke to you in that tone. “You’re actually a danger to society.”

“It’s fun making girls all flustered.” His hand rose to rest on your thigh. When you didn’t shrug it off or tell him to stop, his fingers began to caress softly against your skin. His touch felt electrifying, zapping through the fabric of your pyjama bottoms as he continued his actions.

“Something wrong?” he asked teasingly when he saw you struggle to control yourself, clenching your thighs together.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?”

“No.”

“I see.” His thumb continued to stroke your inner thigh.

You don’t know what possessed you at that moment, but you grabbed his hand and placed it between your legs. He looked at you, confused and surprised at your sudden boldness.

You pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, and whispered into his ear, “I can be seductive too, you know?”

Something in your words ignited a flame inside him, something primal and raw when your lips softly grazed down his ear. He turned his head to meet yours.

“I’m sure you can be,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss you gently. The kiss was only a soft press of his lips against yours, and your desire to want him to kiss you for real grew stronger by the second.

His hand moved down your body, helping you pass the console to straddle him. One hand slid down the back of his neck as you kissed each other hungrily, your tongue sliding out to meet his. He bit your bottom lip, gently sucking it while running his tongue along the inside of your mouth, slowly parting your lips with his.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling away to look down at him, resting your forehead against his. You went back in, and the kiss quickly turned heated, hungry and wild. “This doesn’t mean anything, right?” you asked, panting slightly.

He broke the eye contact to look down at his hands on your waist, sliding down to your hips and held you firmly in place, leaving no space between you. “Nah. Let’s just have fun.”

He cupped the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss, your insides melting as your body temperature rose at the feeling of his rough hands working you over. He fumbled with the drawstrings of your pj bottoms until they loosened, slipping his hands inside, desperate to touch bare skin.

“No panties,” he grinned against your lips, giving you a peck when you flushed.

“They’re uncomfortable at night…gotta let it breathe, you know?” you mumbled, looking down at his lap.

He nudged your head up using his own and reattached his lips to yours. His hands continued to explore your body, roaming up and down your back, clutching at your waist. He placed his hand firmly on the back of your head, gilding your head movements into the kiss.

His thumb traced circles on the soft flesh on your hip as your mouth left his to plant open, wet kisses along his neck, teeth nipping and skimming when the radio thought it’ll be a wonderfully convenient idea to switch from the soft music it was playing earlier, to sudden heavy death metal, loud instruments and screaming booming through the car.

You both jumped apart, your head smacked against the roof of the car, wailing as you winced when Ran started laughing. “It’s not funny!”

He doesn’t stop laughing because why would he, but he at least reached forward, your body on his lap following his movements as he turned the volume down.

“Why do you even have that on your playlist?!”

“Rindou had a…phase. I hate it too, don’t worry.”

You continued to rub the sore spot and pouted when you felt a headache blooming, already kissing goodbye to your good night’s sleep tonight.

“Come here.” He smoothed a hand over the sore spot. “Better?”

“Kinda.” Your sour mood lessens and you start laughing, hiding your face in his shoulder. Your shoulders shook as you struggled to control your laughter. He laughed alongside you, his arms tightening around your body as he pulled you back against him.

“That scared the living shit out of me,” you panted, finally catching your breath, kissing down the side of his neck.

He turned his face to properly meet yours. You kissed him deeply, slowly rocking your hips with his as his strong hands squeezed tightly against your ass. After a while, you broke the kiss, your body now craving more than just kissing.

“Stop teasing me,” you complained, pushing him lightly on the chest.

“‘S fun seeing you so worked up,” he said with a shitty smirk, pressing a kiss to your neck. Your head lolled back as he steadily worked his way down the column of your throat, then down your chest.

His fingers bunched around the hem of your shirt, about to tug it off when you looked outside. The sun was still dark, but the promise of sunrise just around the corner as it rounded near 4 am. Obviously people wouldn’t be up and walking around this late, but the thought still made you stiffen.

“What’s wrong?” Ran asked, pausing with your shirt half way up your stomach.

“Can we go inside?” you asked, dragging the tips of your nails along the flat plane of his stomach. Despite having spent the last ten minutes making out with this man, the question implied more and your face burned when his eyes widened a bit.

You looked down at your hands moving under his shirt, tracing patterns across his skin and bit down a giggle when he squirmed as you hit a particularly ticklish spot, poking his belly button. You took a mental note of that for later…

“You sure you wanna?” he asked carefully. You nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

You quietly stumbled out of the car, holding his hand as you crossed the street to your house. You were fumbling with your keys, hard to find the keyhole in the darkness. It wasn’t helping your focus and accuracy with Ran behind you, fingers caressing your hips and waist, nipping at your neck. You let out a soft moan, giving up with your keys to lean your head back against his shoulder to give him more access before you quickly came to your senses.

“I need to open the door, go away,” you said with a huff, ignoring his laughter as you pushed him away.

The door slammed shut and you locked it before pouncing on Ran, letting him press you up hard against the door as he hungrily devoured your mouth. His lips branded the soft skin of your neck as he dipped lower, carrying you to your bedroom. You were dropped mindlessly on your bed, bouncing from the impact as he hovered over you, your mind pleasantly blank as you focused solely on how badly you needed him right now.

His fingers slipped down your underwear and you saw stars.

~*~

As you were walking through the aisles of the grocery store, your music was interrupted by your phone ringing. You jerked your phone out from your jeans pocket to stare at the caller ID. Just a long string of numbers.

“Who is this?” you asked suspiciously, racking your brain for a time you handed your number out to anyone you hadn’t saved.

“It’s Ran. What, forgot about me already?”

Your mood immediately dampened and you clutched your phone tighter in your hand. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Easy with the hostility, man. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“And you couldn’t have done this, I dunno, in the two months you spent ghosting me? And don’t tell me “easy with the hostility”, I have a right to be fucking mad after you just hit and dipped like that.”

“Hit and dipped?”

“You ghosted me dumbass.”

You heard a loud exhale. “Right… yeah about that.”

“What do you want Ran?”

“I miss you.”

You almost forgot how to breathe. “Areyoufuckingkiddingmerightnow?”

“You heard me. I said I missed you.”

“Let me guess, there’s no other girls available right now, right? That’s why you’re bugging me?” It would be a wild accusation if not for the fact after that night you spent together, his phone buzzed incessantly, the constant vibrations waking you up and you saw notifications of girls in his inbox, sending him the usual “are you up?” text messages, followed up with images of themselves half naked.

He hummed. “Why would there be other girls? I’m talking to you right now.”

“Because you’re you.”

“Ok, but I’m serious though. I miss you a lot.” You found it so hard to give this man any sympathy.

“Well who’s fault is that? Nobody asked you to stop speaking to me after that night.”

“I know I know. I messed up. I just didn’t know how to approach you after that.” He sounded seriously stressed over this, and your face softened for a fraction of a moment before memories of you constantly checking your phone to see if he bothered to open your message yet reappear in your mind; just like that, your scowl is back, sympathy long gone.

“Right. Because THE Haitani Ran gets nervous after sex. Wow, shocker.”

“I mean, you were the best lay I ever had.”

Your traitorous heart stuttered without your permission, making your lips quirk up into a smile. “Really?” You cursed yourself for even entertaining his bullshit, and cursed your body even more for reacting in such a manner.

“Yeah, course you were.”

“Then why’d you ghost me? It’s like you want me to hate you. I swear to god for the life of me I’ll never under male logic.”

“It’s not male logic. ‘S just me, being a dumbass.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“This was different though because we were friends before we fucked, and I didn’t wanna make things weird. I had no clue how to text you after that.” You guessed that made sense, having felt the same awkwardness the morning after waking up sore with him beside you.

“Oh. Well, it’s only weird if you make it weird.”

“Right. So…can I make it up to you?”

“How?”

“Let’s hang out.”

“Like hang out or ‘hang out’?” Part of you wanted it to be the first one, not wanting to ruin anymore awkwardness in your friendship by sleeping with each other again. But the other part of your body already was hellbent on it being the second, already addicted to the way he makes you feel in bed.

“The former. But,” his voice dropped lower, “it can also be the latter, if you’re down.”

“I’m down,” you said a bit too quickly for someone trying to seem indifferent.

“Cool. See you tonight then.”

Before you could say goodbye, he was already saying hi to someone else, and then hung up. Any negative emotions you felt for him was tempered by the excitement buzzing through your limbs as you continued shopping for groceries with a dopey smile on your face, happy you were able to patch things up.

~*~

Time passes since you both agreed to this weird friends with benefits arrangement. All awkwardness is stomped on and thrown out the window, now more open to the matter. Months go by of you losing yourself in his sheets, of him mapping out your body with his tongue, latching his mouth onto your skin and marking you all over. Months go by of you craving his touch whenever you’re alone, picturing his voice in your ear, his presence caging you from above when you’re with other men. Months go by of you both making plans, with you, more than him, staring at your phone the entire day, starting the mental countdown to when you’re next able to see him.

Life is good for Ran, until the day he dreaded the most every year rolls around. The day he has to visit his mother in prison along with Rindou. Their meet-ups are nothing more than an annual thing, visiting her on her birthday every year.

“So what have you been up to this year?” she asked disinterestedly.

Ran could see right through her, can see she’s started using again if the bloodshot eyes and the not so subtle way she rubs her nose were any clue.

“Good ma,” Rindou responded. “I’ve took up DJ’ing in a few of Dad’s clubs in my free time.”

At the mention of her ex-husband, she sneered. Rindou rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna do that every time I mention him ma?”

“I’ll react however the fuck I want when you bring up that passed around, dried up whore of a man,” she snapped. Rindou doesn’t react, already used to her mood swings and aggressive comments about his father. She jerked her head over to her weirdly quiet son. “And you? What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Ran asked, matching her levels of indifference.

“What have you been up to,” she repeated slower, like he was dumb.

“Nothing.”

“What? Your life is that shit you haven’t done anything for the past year? Nothing at all?” She stared at Ran who responded with silence and a blank stare. “Even I’ve done shit and I’m stuck in this hell hole.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Ran snapped back. Rindou slapped his forehead.

“Listen here you—”

“Ran’s been seeing a girl ma,” Rindou said quickly, hoping that small drop of information about his brother’s life was enough to diffuse a bad situation.

“A girl?? Who?”

“Just some girl. You don’t know her and never will,” Ran grumbled.

“Is she…?” she gestured at him, at herself. He didn’t respond and she changed the wording of her question. “How did you meet?”

“She’s not involved in what we do ma. If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Good.” She let out an exhale in relief. “And you make sure to leave her out of it.”

“What?”

She pointed her finger at him. “Don’t pursue this girl because you’re selfish and want to bring her in potential danger. Keep her around, fuck her or whatever it is you do in your spare time that you wanna keep a secret from me, but if you pursue her romantically then you’re a selfish piece of shit.”

Ran stiffened, his glare hardening in her direction. “Keep out of my goddamn business.”

“You know I’m right, Ran. That’s why you’re mad. Isn’t that right, Rindou?” She looked at her youngest son who looked tentatively between them both, staying stubbornly silent. She clicked her tongue and turned back to Ran. “You’d rather put this girl in danger because you can’t stand being alone by yourself. You’ve got issues, Ran. That’s why you haven’t had a relationship longer than 3 months. Correct?”

Ran stared down at the table, silent.

“Do you care about her?” she asked and Rindou had no idea if he pictured it or not but it looked like she softened for a moment.

Ran didn’t respond, but nodded in slight movements.

“If you truly care about this girl, you’ll leave her alone. It’s for her own good. Bringing her into your lifestyle is just selfish.”

“Times up,” The officer from the back of the room said, walking towards the table with handcuffs.

She stood up and placed her hands behind her back. “Do the right thing, Ran.”

“How do you know that’s true though?” he asked.

“Speaking from experience. Look at me, suffering from the actions of your father. He brought me into this lifestyle, and I wasn’t prepared for it. So now I’m facing the consequences. You’re just like your father, Ran. An emotionally distant, sadistic, messed up man. Embrace it or don’t. Try to change or don’t. Either way I don’t care. Just don’t ruin others because of that nature.”

The officer tightened her handcuffs and locked them. “Let’s go,” he said, before escorting her out of the room.

Rindou looked at his brother with sympathy. “You okay?” His hand rose to rest of his shoulder but Ran stood up before he could make contact.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned around. “Let’s go.”

~*~

You weren’t sure what was going on with Ran but he seemed emotionally distant. He was no longer affectionate towards you when you both hung out, his response time was a lot slower than it used to be. When you had sex, he was totally fine though, which weirded you out because he would randomly do a complete 180 out of nowhere with the affection.

“That was amazing,” you said panting as you collapsed back on the bed. Ran hummed in agreement, gathering you in his chest as you cuddled. You buried your face in his neck, the scent of his cologne heavy in your nose.

“I know,” he sighed, looking down and kissing your forehead. You smiled harder, fighting back the urge to giggle and use his warm body as a blanket.

You were playing with the tip of his braid, occasionally twirling it around the tip of your index finger when you decided now was the time to approach the topic that’d been brewing inside you the last few months.

“So…” you traced your fingernail across the spiral tattoo on his chest.

He looked down at you, a lazy smirk on his face. “So?” He kissed your forehead again.

You bit down on your lip and forced yourself to look into Ran’s eyes. “This might sound cliche, or cheesy or whatever but…”

“Doubt it,” he snorted, taking your hand off his chest and linking his fingers with yours, clutching your hand tightly. When you looked stumped for words, he nudged his shoulder, softly jostling you in the process. “What’s up?”

“Well…” God, this was harder than you thought it would be.

You chewed the skin of your lips as you tried to calm your nerves before you exploded with anxiety. You nearly froze when he placed his thumb against your lip, tugging it free from its brawl with your teeth.

Fuck it. “I just wanted to know…what are we…?”

It didn’t help your already racing nerves when he froze beneath you, and you swore you could feel the blood in his body stop flowing at that moment.

He sat up abruptly, sending you sliding off his chest. You blinked uselessly at the muscled plane of his back, grabbing the sheets and clutching it towards your chest, your body deprived of the warmth his body provided earlier now making your limbs go cold.

He scratched his hair and sighed exhaustedly. “I gotta be honest with you.”

You barely found your voice as you softly said, “Go on.”

“I don’t want a relationship right now.”

“Oh.” You quietly cleared your throat, sitting upright and shifting backwards on your mattress until your back hit the headboard. “With me…or?”

“Anyone.”

“So…what was the point of this then?”

“I dunno? I mean I just thought you liked…” he gestured at the both of you, hoping you’d see where he was coming from. When you didn’t and just stared at him confused, he got more frustrated. “You know, this? What were we doing? I didn’t know you—” He sighed again and groaned.

You felt like your throat was stuffed with cotton with how hard it was to breathe. “But I thought you liked me?”

“I do like you.”

“So then what’s the hold up?”

“Just because I like you doesn’t mean I have to be with you, okay? I’m busy all the fucking time and you’ll just be getting in the way of that,” he said curtly, not bothering to hide the clear frustration in his voice.

Hurt prickled across your skin, your ears felt full as you toned out everything he was saying. He turned to face you, those eyes of his that normally made you flush from head to toe now felt so cold and distant, like you didn’t know who the man in front of you was.

“Just get out, Ran.” You choked back tears as they threatened to fall from your eyes, but you quickly looked away before they could. He’d seen you vulnerable beneath him many times, but this time was different. You couldn’t—no, you won’t allow him the satisfaction of seeing he made you this upset.

“No wait.” He reached out for you, his heart shattering when you pushed him away, sulking.

He had a weird feeling in his chest, one that he wasn’t used to feeling, and instead of combating his emotions like a regular person, he discarded them to the side, pretending they didn’t exist. He sighed exasperatedly and slid off your bed.

You moved to lay down, covering your entire body with your bedsheets as you heard him pack up his things. He silently changed and gently closed the door when he left. Once you heard your front door close, you sat up and wiped your tears, grabbing your phone from your dresser.

The next few hours were spent watching youtube videos, laughing softly at the comments people left. It made you feel less useless about yourself and tried to desperately take your mind off what just happened prior. Honestly, you blame yourself for even bringing it up. It wasn’t worth ruining a two year friendship over.

Sure, it’s normal to catch feelings for a guy that treats you nice, isn’t selfish in bed and actually takes his time to account for your needs. That doesn’t mean you’re romantically interested in him though, right? Guaranteed it could’ve been any other of your friends, like Sanzu or even Mikey and you would’ve developed those same feelings, right?

Before you had any time to digest that topic deeper, a text message notification popped up on your screen.

Ran: ok so that was awkward before. Can we talk this over properly?? I dont want to ruin what we had honestly. It…was a mistake to start sleeping together i know. We both had different intentions and i apologise if I sent you mixed feelings. Your friendship is something I value a lot and I don’t wanna lose that. So can we start over??? Just be friends this time?

You: sure i guess. Sorry if i made things uncomfortable earlier.

Ran: ur good. Ill see you later then?

You: yeah okay

You and Ran had fought many times over the course of your friendship, and each time you both were able to move on like nothing happened. But this time, it just felt different. You felt it.

~*~

“You know it’s 3 in the morning right?” Sanzu rubbed his eyes, yawning obnoxiously. “I mentally check out from 2-10am.”

“Shut up.” You dig around in his pocket and pull out a box of cigarettes. “Give me a lighter.”

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked, then tacked on, “Oh and I don’t have one.”

“Then why do you have a box of cigarettes then?!”

Sanzu blinked at your sudden outburst. “Okay first. Calm down. Inside voices, we’re outside right now.” You fought the urge to point out how contradictory it was to use your inside voice outside but let it slide. “Secondly, why are you acting so…”

“So what?”

“You know…” he looked carefully at you, trying to gauge your reaction if he were to say the words he truly wanted to say.

“If you’re about to say bitchy save it.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Then what were you going to say?” you raised your brow, waiting. He slowly closed his mouth and looked down at the floor in defeat. “Exactly,” you said triumphantly, then exhaled softly and looked around the street for any convenience stores that sell lighters.

“So can I ask why you suddenly want to smoke?”

“I’m stressed out okay?” You began walking towards the 24 hour convenience store across the street, Sanzu following behind you. “I sort of, maybe not, confessed to Ran earlier and he wanted to stay friends. So now I don’t think I can handle being in the same room as him without wanting to die.”

Sanzu yawned again, scratching his eye. “That sucks. I dunno what that has to do with me though.”

“I need company! I feel like I’m going to explode if I’m alone with myself tonight.”

The bell chimed when you both entered the store, instantly heading over to the counter to buy the lighter. The cashier went to the back to grab the lighter.

“All I’m hearing is that you missed me,” Sanzu teased, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He was expecting you to push him off like you normally do. He definitely was not expecting you to chuckle, hug him back and mildly not in agreement.

He backed away dramatically, narrowly avoiding stumbling into a display shelf and tapped your shoulder to get your attention. When you turned around, he kept staring gingerly at your face, causing you to raise your eyebrow.

“What?”

“Who are you and what did you do to my friend?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing him away from you. The cashier handed you the lighter and you paid him, leaving the store with Sanzu behind you. Grabbing the box of cigarettes, you lit one up and exhaled for the nth time tonight.

“Do you think it’s normal for a guy to just be friends with a girl they used to have a thing with? Or if it’s normal for them to be friends with girls they know like them?”

Sanzu shrugged. “Are you asking the opinion of all men or just Ran? Because nobody knows what that guy is thinking when it comes to women. He’s way too comfortable around girls so probably? I mean, it’ll be in the back of his mind, sure, but as long as you’re not awkward around him it’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Guess we’ll have to see.” He pulled the cigarette from your mouth and dropped it on the floor, stubbing it out with his foot. At your shocked face, he held his hand out. “I don’t want you taking on bad habits because you’re having an emotional meltdown.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not having an emotional meltdown.”

“Sure…” He yawned for the fifth time tonight. “If I stay out any longer I’m going to pass out on the street. I’ll see you later, okay?” He pat you on the head, deliberately ignoring your complaint of “don’t fuck up my hair” and made his way home.

~*~

In the time you spent avoiding anything Ran related, that also meant avoiding people and situations that he was guaranteed to be there. It meant you stop hanging out with your mutual friends in groups, stopped going to parties you knew he was hosting. Was it bad your other friendships had to be jeprodized because you were too scared to confront your newfound, fresh start with Ran? Yeah, it wasn’t your proudest moment either. But it also meant you were spending a lot more time with Sanzu and Mikey. Out of everyone in his gang, they were the least close, only talking to each other with work related issues. Sanzu and Ran had this unspoken hatred with each other, that made the two of them avoid each other at all costs, not wanting to start another argument or fight.

That was great news for you because it would mean no impromptu visits, like the incident at Hanma’s house, or no unexpected calls from Ran like when you were hanging out with Kakucho, or no fear that Ran would be upstairs in his room when you were hanging out with Rindou.

Hanging out with Sanzu more often also meant getting closer with Senju. She’s two years younger than you and you treated her like a little sister. It was her birthday next weekend and Takeomi was in charge of the planning the surprise birthday party, which meant nobody had a single clue who was coming.

If that were the case, you wouldn’t have shown up that day.

“Ran. Are you going to Senju’s party?” Takeomi asked, exhaling cigarette smoke over the phone.

“Do I have to? I don’t know that girl.”

“I don’t care what you do. Just tell me so I can start planning her shit.”

“Depends honestly. Who’s going?”

Takeomi started listing off the names which included some of Senju’s college friends that Ran didn’t care about, some of their mutual friends like Sanzu (duh), Mikey, Kakucho, you, Rindou—wait, hold up.

“Wait, (y/n)’s going?” Ran cut Takeomi off mid sentence.

Takeomi grunted. “Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll go.” He hung up before Takeomi could say anything. Honestly Ran couldn’t care less about Senju, his only motivation was the thought of seeing you.

The fact he sent you that message, hoping it’ll mend whatever dent was placed in your friendship, only to get slapped in the face when you spent the last four months avoiding him pissed him off to no extent. He wasn’t blocked, he knew you wouldn’t do that to him, but he didn’t have the courage to check either. Maybe this party would be the perfect time to talk to you, to catch up and mend until he could selfishly hold you in his arms again.

He didn’t spend the whole four months pining over you, the group of girls in his bed would confirm that, but there was an unknown feeling in his chest, something always wriggling at the back of his mind that he knew distantly was caused by you. It was getting annoying, having his shitty mother’s words ringing in the back of his mind every time he thought about making up with you. It took him about three months to realise that he actually loved you, whether that was a fact he wanted to accept or not. That feeling he was deliberately avoiding, was his conscious telling him to stop self sabotaging himself and just tell you how he feels.

He can’t wait to see you next Saturday.

~*~

When Ran says he knew nothing about your life in the last four months it wasn't an exaggeration. He genuinely had no idea who you were with, what you were doing, where and when. So you could only imagine his shock when he sees you’ve somehow become best buddies with Manjiro and fucking Sanzu, the idiot currently sitting between your legs on the floor as you braided his hair.

You looked so pretty tonight, dressed up semi formal. Your hair and makeup was done in a way that Ran had never seen you in before. Senju sat beside you, talking loudly and making you laugh. Sanzu scrolled on his phone, waiting for you to finish his hair. Mikey sat next to you, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked like he was on the verge of sleep.

If you noticed him come in tonight, you sure hid it well, not even bothering to acknowledge his existence. He was planning on talking to you after Senju blew out her candles, that was until he saw what he did.

After a load of drinks, everybody was pretty tipsy, including you and Manjiro as you both made out in the patio, his hands caressing your thighs as you sat sideways on his lap. The patio was filled with Senju’s friends in the pool, the smell of barbecue (requested by Senju) filling the air as people hovered around the grill, desperate for some savoury meat. It was hard to see you and Manjiro at first, but he did, as if his eyes were automatically drawn to you no matter where in the room.

Granted he had no right to feel the way he did, he knows that, and his words from that night constantly play on loop in his mind. He told you he wanted to be just friends and you agreed to that, and friends don’t get mad at friends for having relationships. But his boss of all fucking people? He wouldn’t give this much of a fuck if it was Shion or something.

“Drink up bitch!” Sanzu shoved a cup into Ran’s hand, resting his arm on the taller boy’s shoulder as he watched Ran grimace at the beverage.

“The fuck is this supposed to be?”

“Dunno honestly. Just mixed a bunch of shit together.” Sanzu clinked his cup with his. “You’ll probably wake up tomorrow with memory loss and severe liver damage, but bon appetit.”

“I’m not drinking your mystery drink.”

“Boo. No fun.” Sanzu pouted, taking a big gulp of his drink.

“Why are you even talking to me?”

“Because you look like you’re about to kill somebody and as much as I relate to that feeling, I don’t want any drama on Senju’s birthday. She’ll never shut the fuck up about it. So drink up and enjoy the party dude.” He lifted the cup to Ran’s lips which stayed stubbornly closed until he gave in, making a face as it burned down his throat.

“See! It’s not so bad!” Sanzu slapped his back before walking away, ready to hand out samples of his new drink to random people.

Fifteen minutes later and whatever Sanzu poured in that drink did wonders, Ran couldn’t help but admit. He got over his sour funk sooner than he’d thought. The liquor running through his veins made him socialise a hundred times better and managed to snag five pretty girls’ numbers tonight. He was currently leaning against the wall, hovering beside this girl he couldn’t remember the name of for the life of him (it wasn’t his fault, he blames it on Sanzu), as she tilted up to whisper provocative things in his ear. She looked like she’d be good in bed, and that was all Ran was thinking about when he saw your hair bounce past him.

Ran looked just in time to see you disappear through a doorway, and he abruptly pulled himself away from the girl before him. “I’ll be back in a sec. Just…do whatever,” he said, not even looking at her as he walked away.

When he rounded the corner, his stomach did backflips as he saw you yell something to some people inside a room down the hallway before turning around. You almost recoiled when you saw Ran and mentally cursed the fact there was no objects, or people you could hide behind.

You pressed your lips into a wry smile and tried to walk past him before he grabbed your arm, stopping you. “What, so you’re not talking to me at all now?”

“Okay, calm down. It’s been like four months.”

“Which is a long time?” His phone lit up in his hand, a text message of a girl asking where he is with a string of sad faces emojis, and to add fuel to the fire, a tongue and water splash emoji. Ran clicked his tongue and made a mental note to block her when he’s done with this.

You scoffed. “Sorry I hadn’t been able to entertain you these last four months, Ran. I just assumed girls 1 though 56 had it handled for me.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean,” he said curtly, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

You looked up at him, mouth in a thin line as you hissed, “Exactly how it sounds. Now I have somewhere to be.” You tried to skirt past him but he blocked your way out. He suddenly felt too big, too close, and your simmering temper was beginning to surface. “Ran seriously move.” You tried pushing his chest, but it didn’t work.

“Why? So you can go back to sucking face with Mikey?” Shut up…please, just shut up, sober Ran was yelling inside his head, but the words just came out before he could stop them. Note to self, never drink anything from Sanzu ever again.

“Sucking face? Why are you…why do you even care?! You’re the one that said “I don’t want a relationship right now” so you don’t get a right to act all possessive over me and shit. Just because you’re too emotionally stunted to maintain a goddamn relationship, doesn’t mean everybody else is like that.” Your chest burnt with anger at his fucking audacity. Seriously, who does he think he is?

“What, so you want a relationship with Mikey, that it? Someone’s who is even more emotionally stunted than everybody in this fucking party combined?”

“And if I do? Is that your business? Whatever my decision is, it’s not up to you. Now get out of my way.” You leaned in close to his face as you glared up at him. His anger gave way into something more heated that made him lick his lips, wondering how you’d react if he were to kiss you right now. You were about to attempt to walk away when Kakucho stumbled out of one of the rooms in the hallway, slightly tipsy.

“What’s going on? Why are you yelling?”

“Kakucho. Get your boy and tell him to leave me the fuck alone.” You pointed at Ran who snapped out of his stupor.

“Ran, let her leave.”

“Not till I get my answers.”

You pinched your temples, not even bothering to lower your voice as you yelled in sheer frustration, “What answers Ran?! I don’t owe you shit!”

“What’s going on?” Mikey stumbled out of the room you were exiting earlier and his arm instantly found itself on your waist. You were still seething, your heavy breathing only calming down once Mikey’s hand curled a little more around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“Nothing. Let’s go,” you said softly to Mikey, letting him lead you back to the room.

Ran’s anger returned tenfold upon seeing your hand hold Mikey back. “Since when are you two such good friends?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” you yelled back from the end of the hallway, your grip around Mikey tightening significantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking him now? What is he your new boy toy? You’re that desperate?”

Kakucho slapped a hand on his forehead, regretting not pulling Ran away before he had the chance.

You froze at the door, turning to look at him. In the years of your friendship with Ran, he’d seen you get angry many times, yelling at characters in movies when they do something stupid, yelling at him over the mic when you were playing video games. And in every one of those instances, he was never on the receiving end of your anger. The look you gave him, if it could, would’ve turned him to stone with how irate you looked right now. Dimly, he knew what he was doing was wrong, and if he was sober enough he would've definitely stopped himself from saying those things, but he was hurt, and angry, and those two combinations had him feeling like he had a right to make you feel the same way.

“I’m sorry, what?” You stepped out of Mikey’s grip. “Oh this is fucking rich. The irony right now, holy shit!” You began laughing. “If what I’m doing is considered “desperate” to you, then what does that make you? Pathetic? Huh? Needing fifty girls attention on you every second of every fucking day doesn’t seem desperate to you?”

Your loud laughter began to draw people in the party towards the hallway, interested in the loud argument going on. Kakucho grabbed Ran’s arm, shaking his head as if he could read his thoughts. “Don’t respond. Let’s just go.”

Ran shoved his hand off him, sending Kakucho back against the wall. “Nah I’m gonna respond.” He turned back to you, uncaring of all the eyes watching the scene take place. “You stay bringing up these girls in every single conversation I have with you and shame them like you weren’t proud to be one of them months ago.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “So that’s all I was? A number to you? Enlighten me Ran, what number was I? 34? 52?”

“What fucking difference does it make if you know.”

“It makes no difference. I just want to hear you say it.” You closed the distance between you both and poked a finger into his chest. “I wanna hear you say that you enjoy ruining girls lives by making them fall for you with your shitty words and affection, then running away the second things get serious because you’re a coward afraid of stability.”

He pretended your words didn’t cut as deep as they did, pretended your words didn’t take him back to his mother’s birthday all those months ago, sitting at that table and listening to her spew hot garbage in his face about his personality and issues that he refused to acknowledge.

“That wasn’t the case with you. I didn’t tell you to fall for me.”

“That wasn’t the case? So I’m somehow different? How so?”

“Because—” Even in his drunken mind, he knew telling you he loved you now would only pull you further away than you already were. He pressed his lips in a thin line, and looked away from your oppressive stare. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Because your reasoning doesn’t exist, Ran. Stop searching for nothing. You’re a shitty person and you need to acknowledge that.” You pulled your finger away from his chest and turned around, lowering your voice to almost a whisper. “Now just stay out of my life.”

He didn’t say anything and only watched you approach Mikey again, the man not even bothering to look at Ran the entire time as he took you inside the room, closing it shut. Ran’s ears were burning and his chest clenched as he realised the gravity of what he’d just done. So much for making amends.

You went home and instantly blocked his number and cried yourself to sleep that night, regretting even messing with him to begin with.

~*~

“Are you sure this is safe?” you asked, looking around the strange alleyway surrounding you.

“Don’t be a fucking wuss! Besides, I can fight remember? Nobody’s touching me tonight.”

“Yeah but…underground clubs are scary.”

“I know but that’s what makes this so exciting! Come on, let’s go!” She held your hand firm and tightly in her hand, giving you a reassurance squeeze that did nothing to help calm your raging nerves.

“Imagine your brother finds you here tonight,” you laughed.

“Oh fuck. Takeomi would probably lock me in a house with no contact to the outside world for years,” Senju responded, shivering at the thought. She led you down the stairs and opened the janky door, leading you inside the club.

The rest of the night proceeded as follows, Senju getting drunk out of her mind; she nearly passed out on the floor from dancing too much, and you guarded the drinks, making sure nobody gets roofied tonight. This club was known for being shady, with drug transactions being held in the bathrooms of this place, and not just regular drugs, hardcore drugs. You had to use the bathroom and decided holding your pee in was much better than relieving yourself in a bathroom that had a woman passed out on the floor after taking too much drugs.

It was scary, and you had your guard up every second, and only felt relieved when you were carrying Senju outside, back through the alleyway to call for a taxi home. “It was soooooo much fun today. I loved it,” she slurred as you picked her up, struggling to hold her upright.

“Yeah yeah I know. You told me this fifty times already,” you laughed lightly. “Come on, help me a little bit. I can’t carry you all the way, you’re too heavy!”

“I can’t feel my legs~”

“Oh for fucks sake.” You set her agaisnt the wall and caught your breath. You pulled out your phone and decided you had no other choice. You were calling her brother.

“Who are you calling?” she asked after hearing the phone ring.

“Your brother.”

All traces of alcohol left her body as she practically screamed, “YOU’RE CALLING MY BROTHER?!”

“Relax! It’s Sanzu, not Takeomi. I considered Sanzu would be more understanding about this. It’s not like he and Omi are on speaking terms anymore.”

“Yeah but…”

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” you reassured her, patting her head.

“Hullloooo?” Sanzu’s voice rang through the speakers and you instantly perked up.

“Sanzu! Hey! We kinda need your help right now.”

“‘M sorta busy right now. Is it urgent?”

“Senju’s kind of passed out right now and I need help taking her home. I can’t do it myself.”

“Senju’s WHAT?!” Takeomi’s voice boomed through the phone; Senju shivered in fear.

“Sanzu! Why’d you put me on speaker phone you idiot!”

“So I can hear you better! Nothing’s wrong with that!”

You groaned and slapped a hand over your face, whispering sorry to Senju who looked like she was already planning her funeral.

“Where are you guys right now?” Takeomi asked, sounding positively furious.

You gulped, Senju rapidly shaking her head no no no no. “We’re at this club…” you admitted, giving him the address.

“Wait, that club?” Sanzu perked up. “That place is like known for hardcore ass shit bro. Don’t tell me Senju took anything from there?”

“...she did.”

“Ah shit. Yeah, okay. Coming. It’s really close from here Takeomi. Don’t worry, lets’ go.” He turned his attention back to his phone. “You two. Stay right there—”

“You girls look pretty lonely by yourself.” The three of you froze as a deep voice spoke from behind you. You felt time pass in slow motion as you turned around to look at a guy waiting by the club’s backdoor.

“We’re not lonely,” you said slowly. “Thanks for your concern though.”

Senju stood up on shaky legs and clutched onto your arms when she felt his stare on her body. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Who is that?” Sanzu asked from the phone.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, clutching the phone tightly.

“Seriously don’t move. We’re heading out right now. All of us, okay?”

“Okay okay.” You had no clue who “all of us” meant, but you didn’t care, not when the guy slowly stepped away from the wall and began walking towards you both. You missed Sanzu calling for Ran to come in the car with them, your attention solely focused on this strange man in front of you.

“How old are you girls?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the shameless way he was gazing you both up and down.

“It’s none of your business,” Senju spat, slowly stepping back when he began walking forward.

“It’s rude to not answer a question.”

“It’s even ruder to ask personal questions to strangers!”

“Senju, stop. You’re provoking him.” You squeezed her arm roughly, digging your nails into her arm.

“I don’t care! I hate men like him that think they’re entitled to us!”

“Men like me, huh? Go on, babe. Enlighten me on men like me.”

“Senju just ignore him,” you whispered, panic filling you when you looked down at your phone to see Sanzu had already hung up. “Sorry but we really have to get going,” you said to the man, bowing slightly before grabbing Senju’s hand and beginning to walk away from him.

You could hear his footsteps behind you and began walking faster until the point where you were running away towards the end of the alley. The end of the alley seemed so far away with how small your vision was as you panicked hearing him begin to run after you. Senju was a faster runner than you and grabbed your hand tightly, leading the way as you both bolted as fast as you could.

“Stop running girls! I just wanna touch you!” he screamed out, laughing obnoxiously. He was clearly high on something.

Senju bumped into the chest of Takeomi at the end of the alley, and the man came to stop upon seeing Sanzu exit the car, a manic smile on his face.

“You wanna touch my sister huh?” Takeomi gritted out.

“Wow, uh I didn’t mean for—I didn’t know she was—”

Sanzu walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think we should have a little chat, huh? Come with me.” He had this strangely friendly smile on his face that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart was beating out of your chest and you barely heard Takeomi telling you both to get in the car. He and Sanzu stayed behind and taught the man a lesson, and Senju slipped in the back, taking up all three seat as she laid down, exhausted.

You had no choice to sit in the front seat. The windows were tinted so you didn’t see Ran until you opened the door. You blinked uselessly at him, fingers tightening against the handle. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your stupid ass, that’s what. Now get in.”

You swallowed whatever retort you had because he wasn’t lying, and as much as you shouldn’t a part of you felt relieved to see a familiar face after that incident. You slipped in the front seat and slammed the door behind you, putting your seatbelt on and looking straight ahead.

Ran got the order from Takeomi to take Senju home first and so he began driving towards the Akashi household. Senju was dead to the world in the backseat, drooling partially on the seat as the fatigue from running finally hit.The two of you sat in silence the entire ride, and Ran exited the car to put Senju inside once they arrived. He locked the door behind him and re-entered the car to see you facing the opposite way, staring out the window.

No other words were said as he dropped you back at your house, and you were surprised you both said nothing to each other the entire time. After sitting in silence outside your house for a while, Ran finally broke the silence.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ran scolded. “What made you think coming to an underground club was a good fucking idea?”

“Oh sorry, I was just playing the role of the dumb desperate slut that can’t keep her legs closed. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“Listen to me,” he said sharply, making you snap your mouth shut. “You could’ve died tonight if we weren’t here tonight you know that? That place you went to, that’s not for girls like you. Not for girls like Senju either. I don’t know what fucking possessed you to be acting this fucking recklessly, but I just hope you know what you experienced tonight was a wake up call. You aren’t built for this goddamn lifestyle, so stop trying to act like you are.”

“...you’re right. I’m sorry, Ran.” You looked down at your lap when the tears started to drop from your eyes. “Tonight was so scary, I genuinely don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

Ran sighed and you kept sniffling as you heard his door open before slamming shut. You watched him round the car and open it on your end. “W-what are you—”

He carried you out of the car, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kicked the door closed behind him, walking up to your front door. He set you down on the ground and held his hand out. “Keys.”

You swallowed and reached inside your purse, pulling them out and into his hand. He unlocked your front door and once again carried you inside, locking the door behind you. He led you upstairs to your bedroom and set you down on your bed.

You watched in confusion as he walked over to your chest of drawers and began searching for your pyjamas. Once in hand, he tossed them next to you on the bed, and then walked into your ensuite bathroom. You heard him turn the shower on.

“Get changed and come in here,” he said from the bathroom.

You stripped out from your dress and entered the bathroom, not even bothering to cover yourself in his presence, nothing he hasn’t seen before anyway. He was in the midst of taking his shirt off when you stepped into the shower, the warm water running down your body as you waited for him to join you.

You stared at your feet when he grabbed your soap, placing some on his hand before lavashing your body with soap, rubbing them along your arms and sides.

“What are you doing Ran?” you finally asked as he bent down to wash your legs.

“What I should’ve done months ago.” His tone left no space for a remark from you, so you stayed silent and let him do what he had to you. Once you were washed clean, he turned the shower off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapped it around your body. “Go and get changed.”

“You need a towel too. I’ll go get one.” You quickly towelled yourself dry before stepping out, returning with an unused towel from your storage. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You entered your bedroom and got changed into the clothes he picked out for you, then handed him some clothes of his you kept when he used to sleep over all those months ago. You sat on the bed and listened to him change.

“Are you going to sleep over?” you asked, looking up at him.

“You want me to?”

You nodded slowly, getting into bed. He followed you, giving you some space as he laid down beside you. He had his back facing you, turned away from you and you frowned at the lack of attention.

“...Ran?” you tested, seeing if he was asleep or not.

“What?”

“Why don’t you want me?” you whispered, remembering the last time you were in your bed together.

“Because I don’t deserve you,” he responded, voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

“Huh?” you asked, confused.

He turned around and looked at you, your eyes glossy with fresh tears. “I uh. I spoke to my mom a few months ago.” Your eyes widened, knowing the estranged relationship he has with her. Why didn’t he tell you this?

“I spoke to her and she uh, gave me a fucking reality check.”

“What did she say?” You shifted closer, close enough that you could see and finally notice the eyebags under his eyes, like he hasn’t had a good night sleep in time, which was strange for Ran as he savours sleep more than anything else in the world.

“A lot,” he sighed exhaustedly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Said I was a lot like my old man. That was I was emotionally stunted, sadistic, and a downright shitty person.” His chuckle was so emotionless, you almost reached out and hugged him, but stayed still as he wasn’t finished talking. “Worst thing was she’s right. I can’t savour relationships for my fucking life and when I actually felt something for the first damn time, I fucked things up and ruined it. Nobody else did that. I did. I’m responsible for that shit. I don’t wanna bring you down and you deserve better than me, whether you wanna admit that shit or not.”

He took a moment and you were unsure if you should respond or not. When you were about to, he continued.

“She told me I’d ruin your life if I pursed you. Told me I was being fucking selfish. Can you believe that shit? And you know what, I fucking believed her. I thought I would do that, that’s why I pushed you away. I wanted you all to myself which is why I continued sleeping with you, which was wrong of me I know, but you seemed happy which is why I didn’t think much of it. Then you had to go fuck with my goddamn head and tell me you wanted me too.”

“...sorry,” you whispered, feeling the breath sweep out from your lungs.

“It’s not your fault, dummy. It’s mine. I—In that moment I should’ve been selfish. I know I should’ve, and every fucking day I regret not doing that shit. But as usual I fucked things up again, then you were gone. I thought we could still be friends so I could at least see you again, but nope. You distanced yourself from me.”

Another tear fell from your eyes, wetting your pillow the longer you heard him talk. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising. You did the right thing. Keeping you as a friend would’ve been selfish of me. You clearly distanced yourself because you wanted to get over me, but I wanted you all for myself and wanted you in my life at all times, even if that wasn’t what you wanted. Once again, proving my ma right. I’m fucking selfish. Then that stupid party happened and just seeing you with Manjiro made me want to lose my shit. The fact that I wasn’t able to have you because as a guy living this type of lifestyle, it would be considered selfish. But yet Mikey was? How come he was allowed to be selfish and I wasn’t?”

“It’s not selfish Ran,” you finally got a word in. “I didn’t even like Mikey like that. We were just drunk and horny. I never dated him. In fact, I hadn’t dated anyone since I was with you. Nobody else made me feel the way you made me feel and it was selfish of me to want you when you didn’t want me back at that time. We’re allowed to be selfish Ran. Don’t let that stop you from getting what you want.”

Ran’s eyes were wide as he listened to you talk. When you finished, he shook his head. “My level of selfish and yours aren’t the same. In my world, if you’re vulnerable it can get you killed, or put in a bad situation where you have to take a live, or have yours taken. You don’t need to be involved in that. That’s why I can’t be selfish.”

“But—”

“No. Buts. Go find a nice accountant to date or whatever. You don’t need me tying your life down.”

You frowned. “I don’t want an accountant though.”

“Why not? You always said you wanted to marry rich.”

You shifted closer, flush against his. “I never said it had to be good money though.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He looked down at you. “You’re fucking crazy,” he said with a light laugh, and you were happy you were able to break the ice.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, pulling him closer till your noses touched. “You love it though.”

“Damn right I do.”

#—tr </3 #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev #tokrev x reader #haitani ran smut #ran smut #tokrev smut

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moonlightspencie · 3 months

Note

Could you write a Spencer Reid x fem reader where they’re best friends and when Spencer is taking care of drunk reader she ends up drunkingly complimenting him a lot and ends up confessing her feelings for him (and he reciprocates but not till she’s sober)

this has been in my inbox for like six months. then i started ovulating and watching cm again so… here is this little drabble

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: drunk!reader (duh), a mildly suggestive comment

——————————

We stumbled into my apartment after a long night. Really, the only people who got super blasted were myself and Penelope, but… she was never a good influence on me. I just couldn’t say no.

Spencer tried as hard as possible to keep a hold on me, but I was hardly upright as I laughed over nothing as we got inside my place.

“Quit moving around so much,” he grumbled.

“Maybe I just like your hands on me,” I laugh, leaning into him.

The blush on his face was bright as I told him as much, then he shook his head quickly.

“You’re… drunk,” he said after a beat, locking the door of my apartment.

“And you’re hot,” I retort, trying to kiss his cheek.

He pulled his head back quickly.

“Quit trying to kiss me, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’m drunk, not a child,” I laugh. “You’re always cute. I know exactly what I’m saying.”

He sighed, trying to help me move to my bedroom.

“Let’s get you to your room.”

“Ooh, baby, trying to get me to bed already?” I laugh again, letting him pull me there.

He sighed softly. “You need to lay down. Go to sleep.”

He helped me plop down on my bed, then stood up straight.

“Why don’t you take me seriously?” I pouted, looking up at him.

“Because you drank way too much tonight, and it all got to your head. Your inhibitions are lowered, dangerously so, and you have no clue what you’re actually—”

“I know what I’m saying, Spencer,” I cut him off. “Just too scared to say it all sober.”

He raised his brows. “What?”

“I always think you’re cute,” I groaned, flopping back on my bed. My ceiling spun overhead. “I feel like I’m in the Wizard of Oz.”

Spencer merely quirked a brow, then helped move me up my bed, and haphazardly covered me up.

“Thanks,” I said softly, looking up at him. He looked like a little angel with my bathroom light making him glow from behind. “Morgan isn’t wrong calling you a pretty boy, you know?”

Spencer just watched me for a beat. “Go to sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake up? Wanna tell you I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“No.”

“Yes,” I whined. “You’re cute and sweet and smart and when you ramble I just wanna climb you like a tree, it’s so hot.”

His cheeks flushed quickly, and I finally managed to render him speechless. I smiled at him.

“Swear I’m not lying. I’ve liked you like… forever.”

“I—”

“Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”

He nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

I smiled to myself. “Okay, Spencie baby boo boo. I love you.”

He sucked in a breath, watching as I quickly began to fall asleep. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead when he thought I was officially passed out. The last thing I heard before I drifted off was nothing more than a soft whisper.

“I love you, too.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert

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thevirgincherry · 1 month

Text

ASKING FOR IT !

ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO

note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3

Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.

They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.

He goes:

Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?

And she goes:

Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!

And then she doesn’t cum.

So there’s that, but he’s working on it.

Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.

He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.

As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.

Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.

When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.

When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.

(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)

What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.

Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.

“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.

Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.

His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.

Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.

It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.

You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?

When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.

When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.

“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.

She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.

“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.

“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.

Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.

“What’s wrong, Leon?”

He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.

“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.

Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that’s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.

So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”

“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.

“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”

She’s teasing him now.

“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”

“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.

Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.

He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.

Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.

Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.

Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.

“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”

Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.

You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.

“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.

“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.

“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”

You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.

You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.

“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.

The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”

“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.

Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.

“I’m sorry?”

Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”

“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“

You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.

“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.

“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”

Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”

“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“

Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”

“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.

“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.

And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.

She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.

“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.

“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.

“I still missed you.”

“Even when you’re sleeping?”

In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?

“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.

“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”

“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.

“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.

“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.

Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”

“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.

“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?

“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.

“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.

Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.

At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.

In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.

“You don’t like that, honey?”

He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.

“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”

“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.

“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.

She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.

Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.

He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.

“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”

Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.

“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.

You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.

“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.

“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.

“Not for me, right.”

“Anyone but you.”

“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.

“Why?”

“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”

“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.

Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”

“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.

Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.

“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.

“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.

“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.

“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.

It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.

“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.

“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”

“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.

“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.

“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”

“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”

And your silence proves him right.

That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.

“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.

Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”

“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”

Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.

“What is that, sign language?”

“No, I want to finger you.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.

“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”

Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”

“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”

Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”

“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.

“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.

“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?

“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.

“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.

“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.

“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.

She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”

“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.

“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”

“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.

“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.

“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.

The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.

At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.

The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.

Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.

“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.

You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.

“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.

Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.

He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?

A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.

“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.

Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.

Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.

“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.

“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.

“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.

Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.

“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”

He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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perfinn · 2 months

Text

you're out of touch, i'm out of time

aegon ii targaryen x reader

wc: 3.3k

summary: you have a tendency to pick up strays, but when you pick up the king of westeros (who was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago), things begin to get a little complicated

cw: NSFW, f!reader, aegon being a creep (shocker), aegon being deeply pathetic (also shocker), aegon is drunk or possibly hung over, attempted sex (aegon begs for a handjob but doesn't get one)

read on ao3, divider by saradika

You’ve always been too nice. You’re aware of this unfortunate fact, though you staunchly refuse to admit it’s a weakness. Has this trait left you without necessities from time to time because you gave them to someone who needed them more? Yes, but you sleep better at night knowing that that homeless girl had sturdy new shoes, even if you had to walk home barefoot. You can always handle a bit of discomfort if it means improving someone’s day marginally. It’s not as though you’re without any sense of self preservation– you know when to say no, or when to walk away. When someone is out for their own self interest, or just plain dangerous.

You’re smart about it. Mostly. Sometimes, though, your sympathy gene takes over, and you approach the danger because you feel there’s more beneath the surface. So far, it hasn’t put you in any troubling positions. Still, first time for everything. And as you stand on the edge of the pavement, toes of your shoes swinging down into the gutter as you sway back and forth, you wonder if you’re about to break your successful streak.

There’s a man in the busy city street, raving and desperately trying to get someone’s attention. Usually, he’s the type you’d regretfully ignore for your own safety, but he seems different. He doesn’t seem like the usual King’s Landing crackheads. He’s dressed too nice, for starters. Strange, yes, but still nice. In fact, it looks to be better quality than anything you own. And he’s young– which isn't uncommon in this situation, but it always makes your heart ache when they’re young.

He looks desperate, terrified, and as another person ducks their head and walks past him, you feel yourself moving toward him. You don't know why. Maybe because you know if you leave now, you’ll not sleep tonight for the sheer guilt of passing him by. He spots you making your way over and turns to you, seeming to hope against hope that you’re going to acknowledge him.

“Hi,” you say in a calm, even voice. It's a tone you’ve gotten quite good at. You’re not professionally trained by any means, but these things generally come with the territory. “Let's get you out of the road, okay? You could get hurt.”

“What the fuck are those things?” He demands of you as a car stops to let you take him across. You wave your thanks to the driver, who looks mildly disgruntled, and take the young man gently by the arms to get him onto the pavement. “Where are the horses?”

You know he must be confused, so you’re gentle with him. “There's no horses,” you say, still holding his arms as he finally looks away from the disappearing car and into your eyes. He looks so deeply afraid, but you notice he does take a moment to look you over. You let him, trying to see the best in him and hoping it's just curiosity. It doesn't matter right now anyway, you tell yourself. “Are you okay?”

“No!” He snaps. “Course I’m not bloody okay! Where am I?!”

“You’re in King’s Landing,” you say. “Let's get you somewhere quiet, okay? Are you hungry?”

“This,” he laughs in disbelief, looking around. “Is not King’s Landing, I know what King’s Landing looks like!”

“Okay,” you nod. “I believe you. Let's go sit down, I’ll buy you something to eat.”

The man looks at you with what you think is an offended scowl, but the offer of food does seem to intrigue him. “And wine?”

“No,” you say, and he deflates.

He scratches at his chin, but nods in agreement. “Yes, fine.”

You smile, a bit of relief easing the worry in your ribs. Sometimes people won't cooperate, or they’ll turn you away when you say you won't buy them booze or give them money outright. This young man seems to be content enough without wine, so you wave your hand and lead him down the road toward the nearest fast food joint.

He follows behind you, panicked eyes still looking around as though he's never seen the world before. It's not wonder, but something close to anger, indignation maybe. You make it to a diner you like, opening the door for him. He's clearly astounded by the ugly cacophony of colours inside, but you can't blame him. You don't come here for the aesthetics.

“Go sit down?” You tell him gently, framing it like a suggestion as you point to your favourite booth. He scowls, but does as bid.

The teen behind the counter takes little notice of your strange company. It's King’s Landing, he's probably seen something ten times as strange already today. Once you’ve paid, you join your new stray, sitting down across from him and folding your hands on the table.

“So, what's your name?” You ask him, and he looks away from the bustling street outside the window to stare at you in what you assume is disbelief.

“What’s my name?” He echoes, leaning slightly over the table. “Are you serious?”

You blink. That’s… not a question anyone’s ever been mad at you for. You learned quickly which questions to steer clear of to avoid pissing people off.

He scoffs, leaning back in his seat and tapping a dirtied fingernail against the peeling surface of the table. “Aegon,” he says, almost experimentally. Like he's testing the waters.

You nod politely, and tell him yours.

He stares at you. “Nothing? Aegon? You’ve not heard the name Aegon?”

“Well, of course I have,” you say, confused smile pulling at your lips. “It's a common enough name. I think I knew a guy in school named Aegon–”

“You have been to school?” Aegon asks, eyebrows shooting up and a laugh spilling from his mouth. He leans back, dragging his hands over his clammy face. “Have I been drugged?!”

You’d put serious money on that being a resounding yes.

“This is crazy,” he says, leaning forward again. He says your name slowly, glancing around before his eyes land on you. “Can you tell me what's going on?”

You bite your lip, thankful when the cashier calls out your order number. You rush to get up and get it, fearing you may be way out of your depth this time. He talks like he’s never seen the world before, and his comment about you having gone to school… none of it makes any sense. You’ve never even had the thought of dropping someone off with someone who’s better equipped to handle problems of this magnitude, but Aegon has you really considering it. When you return with the tray of food and set it down, Aegon has the specials menu in hand and is squinting at it.

“I got you what I usually get,” you say, setting the tray down and placing his wrapped burger in front of him, leaving the fries on the tray. “Aegon, I want to help you, but I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“That certainly makes two of us,” Aegon says, unwrapping the burger curiously. “What meat is this?”

“It’s beef,” you tell him, unwrapping your own. He watches as you take a bite of yours, and he nods as though in satisfaction before taking a hefty bite of his. “Aegon, I want to understand what’s going on in your head. Can you just…”

You’re not sure how to say it, really. It’s invasive, and you don’t want him to feel like you believe he’s crazy, or lying.

“What’s your deal?”

He chews slowly on his burger, eyeing you suspiciously. “My deal,” he echoes, lips turned down in a scowl. “Is that I’m the King of Westeros.”

You nod slowly, biting into your burger so you don’t have to answer right away. You hope if you stay silent long enough, he’ll feel compelled to keep talking.

“King Aegon,” he says slowly, like you’re the deluded one. “Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all the rest. Are you serious?”

You swallow your mouthful and nod. You’re not particularly well versed in history, but the titles ring a bell. It’s some sort of messiah complex, you’d wager. Trying your best not to seem dismissive, you pull out your phone. “Let me see,” you say.

“What’s that?” He asks, leaning forward and trying to snatch it from you. You move it out of his way, yelping softly in contrition.

“My phone!” You say. “I’m just looking you up, Aegon.”

“You’re what?” He says, looking horrified. “Give me that!”

“Dude, no! Let me just–” You stand up from your seat to be out of his reach, hurriedly typing the name he’d told you into the search bar. “Look, I know the name Targaryen, that’s the Conqueror's name!”

“Yes! Aegon the Conqueror!” He cries. “You’re finally making sense!”

“What? No, I mean Daenerys!”

“Who!?”

“Aegon, sit back down!” You snap, and he pauses in his pursuit of your phone, stunned into silence by your firm tone. Slowly, he returns to his seat, picking up a fry to eat it.

“Only because I want to,” he says childishly.

You frown at him, shaking your head before looking back at your phone as it pulls up the results for your search.

‘Aegon II Targaryen, also known as Aegon the Elder, was the sixth Targaryen king to sit the Iron Throne, succeeding his father, Viserys I Targaryen, as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.’

The search pulls up a picture as well, one of those terribly done paintings from the dark ages. It’s hard to say whether the Aegon in front of you looks much like the one in the painting, but he does have the same pale blonde hair and violet eyes. He’s a lot more pathetic than the portrait, too. He has the qualities of a wet cat, and you hate that it’s somewhat endearing. When you keep scrolling, you find a painting that can’t have been contemporary. This is a more detailed portrait, likely from half a century ago, where Aegon is covered in burns and lies dead in a carriage.

You look up, meeting the wary eyes of the confused but un-burned man before you, and slowly sit back down. You know that he isn’t actually the king from nearly a millennium ago, but there’s an uncanny quality about him that makes you want to doubt the logical truth. His clothes, for one. You don’t know many homeless guys with such fine embroidery on their clothes. And there’s his features… you know them to be Valyrian, but rarely does anyone still pop up with the stark blond and violet irises. You remember well enough from your high school history classes that the Targaryen dynasty had those features.

“What does your little brick do?”

You blink, looking down at it and pulling up the contemporary portrait – part of you tells you not to show him the other. He scowls at it, but nods. “Seven hells, that’s not flattering. Where did you get this miniature? You have this and yet claim not to know me? What game do you play?”

You sigh. He truly doesn’t understand, does he?

“Aegon, what year do you think it is?”

He rears back and regards you with more suspicion. “129 AC,” he says.

“And what were you doing before this?”

“I will not tell you that,” he says. “You’re one of Rhaenyra’s spies, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who Rhaenyra is,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, Aegon, I’m not a history buff.”

“History–” He stops, and goes deathly silent for a long moment, as though the whole situation is finally processing for him. You wonder if it’s the stench of wine that hangs off him explains his slow processing. “What year do you think it is?”

You tell him the year, even tack today’s date on for him. He stares are you, and you can see his brain buffering yet again.

“Seven hells,” he murmurs. You find you share a similar sentiment.

He picks up his burger and begins to eat it slowly. He’s silent for a long while, eyes seeming far away as he contemplates. You try not to stare at him, but it's no easy task.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he says after a long while. “But I believe I may have travelled… through time.”

“I’d say so, yeah,” you respond. At this point, it's the only explanation. You’d usually say something about eliminating all the impossible options, but that just doesn't work here. Time travel is impossible, or it should be. And it's possible Aegon is just suffering from a deeply intense messiah complex. But that doesn't seem right. Your instincts haven't led you wrong before, you’re not about to ignore them now.

“What am I going to do?” asks Aegon.

You want to tell him you’re going to try to find a way to get him back to his own time, but you’re struck once more with the image of him burned and twisted, dead in a carriage. How can you send him back to his fate knowing his grisly end?

You take in the man in front of you, this historical figure you’d never heard of until five minutes ago, and bite your lip. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise him. “You… can stay with me until we do.”

That’s probably dumb, and you’ll probably regret it. But not more than you would regret leaving him out on the streets.

“I suppose,” sighs Aegon like he’s spoiled for choice. You get up to ask for a bag for your food, glancing back as Aegon chews sadly on his burger.

You get Aegon back to your place, and he wanders into the flat ahead of you. You watch him go with a soft huff, rolling your eyes. If everything else hadn’t convinced you, his attitude is proof positive that he’s from the past. He has all the entitlement of a prince and none of the consideration of those around him that modern men have (sometimes) gained.

Your flat isn't much, two bedrooms and mostly paid for by your university. You had a flatmate for a time, but their sudden withdrawal left you without anyone and the school doesn’t seem to have noticed. Aegon can stay in the empty room until you figure him out.

Aegon’s standing in your living room, staring in wonder at the decor you’ve collected over the course of your degree, at your television, maybe he’s just looking at all of it. He’s turning in a slow circle, eyes narrowed.

“This is very nice for a commoner. Very strange, but it is not… disgusting.” He pauses in his assessing, looking between you and the ridiculous tapestry you purchased one night after far too many drinks. “Who is this man?”

“Oh, he’s this guy from a movie,” you say, not really processing that he won’t understand what a movie is. He stands there, dumbstruck, while you go to put your leftover food in the fridge.

“A what?”

“Just… don’t worry about it. There’s going to be a lot for you to take in, but with any luck you won’t be here too long.” You come back over to him, taking him in. He looks out of place standing here in his king’s threads. “Let me get you something to wear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he says, shifting and taking in your clothes. “Where is your father? Your husband?”

“My father is in my hometown, and I don’t have a husband.”

“You live without a man?” He eyes you suspiciously. “A whore?”

“Okay,” you say, gently grabbing him by the shoulders and walking him over to the sofa. “Sit here, I have some men’s clothes lying around. Do not move.”

Aegon huffs, rolling his eyes and sitting back with folded arms. You wonder, as you go into your room to find something for him, if he’s heard the word ‘no’ very much in his life. It wouldn’t seem that way, but sometimes the way he reacts to you telling him off leaves you thinking otherwise. He’s a bigger mystery than you’ve ever faced, but something tells you he’s worth it.

You emerge after a while to see him flicking through the book you’d left on your coffee table, frowning. He looks up when you enter, setting the book down. “Your home is peculiar,” he informs you.

“I know,” you say, handing him the soft clothes you’d found. “Student housing is kind of a lottery. You can get changed in the spare room, if you want. I’m going to go shower. If you get hungry, your leftovers are in that big white box there, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever.”

You watch him enter the near-empty bedroom and shut the door, heaving a heavy sigh before you go off to your own room. You don't shower. Instead, you pull out your computer and set out to learn all that you possibly can about Aegon.

What you learn twists your stomach into knots so tight you feel that they would trap the nausea that grips your throat from escaping. Aegon was no saint, no, but what you find is that his life is steeped in tragedy. If he believes himself to be king now but remains unburned by his cousin’s dragon, he must be near the end of his life; but the worst of his troubles have yet to begin.

It is strange to think of the pathetic and bratty man in your flat as growing into the role of a king, if one could say he ever did. He seems nothing but a lost young man, unloved but for the power he afforded his Hightower family.

The reports on him are so extensive and exhaustive that an hour has passed before you realise you haven’t been disturbed. You get up from your desk, wondering if Aegon has somehow wandered out of your flat and back onto the street.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your kitchen cabinets strewn open, and your cheap bottle of vodka now empty on the counter. Aegon is sprawled on your sofa, cradling a novelty ceramic beer mug you won in a pub quiz in your first year.

“Seven hells,” you mumble, going over to him and snatching the cup from him to be met with his whining protests. You sniff the cup, nose scrunching in disgust at the acetone-y smell. “Not even a mixer…”

Aegon looks up at you, trying to reach for the cup and whining your name. At least he changed into the sweats. The King’s Landing University jumper rather suits him, actually.

“Please,” he says, looking even more closely akin to a wet cat. He seems on the verge of tears. “You’re pretty, do you know?”

“I’ve heard,” you say, setting the cup down on the coffee table and turning to him.

He grabs your wrist, tugging you closer with surprising strength considering how sloshed he is. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. He almost sings your name. “Will you get me off?”

“Wh- Aegon!” You snap, tearing your wrist away. “No!”

“Please! Just your hand, you’ve got such soft hands!”

“Aegon,” you hiss. “No. You’re drunk. Even if I wanted to, that wouldn't be okay. You don't know what you're saying.”

Aegon pouts at you, falling back against the sofa and letting out a soft hiccup. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe not in your time,” you say, grabbing him a blanket and laying it over him. “Gods- just- just try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning when you're fully sober.”

“I’ll die before that,” he says, snuggling up to the soft blanket with a ridiculous cartoon of a wolf on it. Another of your decor purchases you thought would be hilarious in the moment. You grab his cup and pour what’s left of the vodka into the sink before gathering up your remaining bottles and vowing to take them to the cabinet in your room with a lock.

“Maybe. But if you vomit on my carpet, you’ll be paying the cleaning bill, your grace.”

#don't love this but i need to get it out of my system in the hopes that someone else will #my work #aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #i cant be fucked adding more tags #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #excet thst one #yootioot

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moonshynecybin · 1 month

Note

marc undressing another man.... sorry but you can't tell me vale wouldn't be the most jealous man on planet earth. he doesn't want marc anymore (or at least that's what he tells himself) but at the same time nobody else is allowed to have him! he would sooner forgive and forget everything that happened than be okay with seeing marc with someone else

vale sowing: haha fuck yeah!!! yes!!

vale reaping: Well this fucking sucks. what the fuck.

truly like. jealousy is another one that’s interesting to play out for them because marc is so blindingly and publicly and LOUDLY stuck on vale. like to this day vale can open his instagram explore page or whatever and see marc in a cunty turtleneck with his cheekbones out and dramatic reality show confessional lighting pontificating about how vale can totally call him later if he wants to fuck. marc voice please please please youre nothing. now. that being said. i don’t know if vale 100% believes marc is in EARNEST on those (myriad) occasions, but certainly it helps him on a subliminal level to know he was the best dick of marc’s life and he isn’t over him.

where this gets reallyyyy interesting for me is post ALL IN, where i think marc is trying to actually fire back a lil… exert some autonomy. take off the widow’s veil. like suddenly vale has lost the proverbial high ground in terms of being in this weird longing covenant with marc. he’s lost his love, in a way. break up 2: this time he maybe WONT come to your semiannual post retirement mildly drunk booty call :( and hilariously. i can see that fucking rattling him a bit.

so vale’s in his own head. pathetically shadow boxing his demons. whatever so it goes. and he ALSO notices at the next race he attends that marc has gotten a new trainer. older than him. italian. the marc marquez special as we have all seen and perceived. and five alarm bells are ringing in the back of vale’s head like FULL kill bill sirens and then he sees the new trainer guy (nice normal dude hired for PT. marc has met him. Twice.) like. dig a thumb into the muscle of marc’s arm and marc’s whole body visibly relaxes and vale feels about ten different types of insane about it. like he LOVESSSS to do things for people he cares about its his favorite thing. and if he saw marc get a need fulfilled like that when he’s been so obviously wanting and in pain— and directly AFTER his i’m done with you for realsies docu-break up letter— vale would go fucking crazybananas. like he enrolls in an online massage therapy class that day. just in case. not even under a fake name he’s that rattled.

#LOSING. the idgaf war. and then of course post reconciliation it’s marc being normally nice to someone #and them CLEARLY hitting on him so vale swoops in #just extremely and aggressively charming and pleasant and Valentino Rossi hi have we met i have nine world titles what do you do again??#while also tucking marc under his arm and like. dragging him away to fuck in the bathroom VERY obviously #motogp #asks #callie speaks #POV: VALENTINO ROSSI HAS ENROLLED IN YOUR ONLINE MASSAGE CERTIFICATION

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eomayas · 9 months

Text

in the morning • kms [req]

request: can we get a morning sex fix with xiumin where he is both very sweet and very thirsty please and thank you

pairing: minseok x f!reader, established relationship

genre: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!

synopsis: reader is late to work because minseok is hard to resist in the morning.

warnings: SMUT!! p in v, praise, unprotected s**, oral (f receiving)

a/n: hehe i told anon that id consider writing this and i did! i hope u like it, thank you for all of the support thus far <3 ps xiumin is a munch heheheheehhe

you shouldn’t have been surprised when his lips found purchase on your neck the moment he felt you stir awake. his hands on your hips, rubbing across your stomach and pulling you flush against his hard member.

last night, drunkenly, he had asked (and you thought he was joking) if he could hit it in the morning. you assumed he was singing the song, teasing you mostly, but you had said yes in your drunken state. in all honesty, neither of you were that drunk, and your saying yes was mostly because you don’t give a shit where or when he fucks you, as long as he does it right and often.

“min,” you murmur, voice laced heavily with sleep. minseok slides a hand underneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your stomach and toying with the tie on your sleep shorts. “i have work.” you say, but it’s like placing a stop sign on a highway the way he doesn’t budge.

“i know,” he mumbles, pressing himself into you. “you told me i could hit it in the morning.” minseok nearly whines when he says it, his mouth by your ear. all you can do is chuckle softly, mildly shocked at his upfront-ness. he kisses underneath your earlobe and goosebumps arise on your skin.

“did i?” you ask rhetorically, moving your head to give him more skin to kiss. “i’m gonna be late.” your complaint falls on deaf ears, your boyfriend slipping his hand underneath your sleep shorts. you can’t help but open your legs wider for him.

minseok removes himself from behind you and crawls on top of you, quickly capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s not long before he’s kissing down your neck and shoving your shirt up to rub his hands over your skin. “min,” you say, threading your fingers through his hair, urging him to keep kissing and touching you, though he really shouldn’t if you want to make it to work on time.

“what?” he asks, cutting his eyes to the clock on your bedside table. “at least let me eat it.” he says, already sliding between your legs. you look down at him, lip caught between your teeth. his eyes are pleading, if his fingers digging into the soft skin near your core wasn’t enough indication that he’s starving for it, you don’t know what was.

“if you’re quick,” you say, running a hand through his hair. he quickly tugs at your bottoms and you help him take them off. minseok lowers himself to your exposed core and kisses your clit like the sweetheart that he is. he drags his tongue up your slit experimentally, paying attention to the way you suck in a sharp breath and tense up.

minseok eases your legs open when you try to close them around his head, resting his palms on the inside of your thighs and applying pressure so you don’t move. he makes out with your core, for lack of better imagery, taking his time with you as he sucks on your nub and pokes his tongue into your hole. you cry out his name and throw an arm across your eyes, your back arching off of the bed. “fuck!” you sputter, mouth falling open as you let out moans and whimpers.

he rubs your clit with his fingers when he pokes his tongue in your hole, your legs starting to shake when the pleasure gets to be too much. minseok like when you get like this, when he drives you over the edge and overstimulates you until you can barely talk or think straight. he relishes in seeing your legs shake because he knows he’s doing his job right every time. “you’re close, huh?” he mumbles against you, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“yes!” you whine, drawing him closer by wrapping your legs around his shoulders and holding his face to your core. minseok groans and grinds himself down into the mistress, wanting to be trapped by you in another way. “fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you chant when he starts sucking and licking at you without mercy. he slurps you up like soup, quickly getting you to orgasm all over his face and the bedding.

minseok unhooks your legs from around his head and kisses the inside of your thigh. your eyes flutter open and you sit up to look at him over the rapid rise and fall of your chest. “min,” you say, curling a finger and beckoning him to you. he crawls up your body, kissing your stomach and then kissing you lips, spreading your arousal on your lips. you don’t mind, not right now when you need him lecherously.

your hands quickly work to pull down his sweats, and your start to turn your body around so you can get on all fours, but he stops you. “i wanna see your pretty face,” minseok grouches, gently pulling at your waist to flip you onto your back. “better.” he kisses your neck softly and hooks one of your legs onto his shoulders, checking with you to make sure it’s comfortable before lining himself up with your entrance.

work is lost on you, the time long forgotten the moment he sheathes himself inside of you, burying himself to the hilt and slowly rocking himself inside of you. you cry out his name and hold onto his shoulders, your acrylics creating shallow indents in his skin. “ah, fuck, y/n,” minseok moans, his eyes squeezing shit.

you slide one of your hands into his hair and tug at his roots, your chest arching into his as his thrusts speed up. “minseok, baby, please!” you whimper. what you’re begging for, you don’t know. he’s stretching you wide and hitting it so deep that your brain can’t fully process how you’re feeling. “min!”

“i-i’m right here,” he pants, kissing your jaw. “do you want me to stop?”

“no!” your tone takes on one of offense and you harshly pull at his hair, making him hiss at the action. you gasp when he lifts his chest up and plants his right hand by the side of your head while the left holds your thigh against his shoulder. “oh, m-minseok!” you mewl, your mouth falling open as you look look down at where you two connect.

“so beautiful,” he praises, his voice breathless. “and so tight. always s-so tight a-and pretty for me. i-i could stay here a-all day.” he stammers, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth and hanging his head as his thrusts start to become less rhythmic.

“i love you,” you choke out, putting a hand on his cheek. minseok turns his head and kisses your palm, mumbling an ‘i love you too’ into your hand. you buck your hips when a knot forms in your core, tightening as he keeps up with his strokes despite being near his own release. “min! i-i’m gonna come!” you gasp out and throw your head back onto the pillows.

eyes rolling back into your head, your body convulses as your orgasm takes over. you squirt onto the bed sheets and onto his bare abdomen, calling out his name as he stills momentarily before releasing inside of you. minseok pants removes your leg from his shoulder and collapses next to you, his arm slinging across your abdomen.

minseok lifts his head to glance at the clock and lets out a chuckle. “fast enough for you?” he mutters, rolling onto his back and covering himself with the bed sheets. you lean over him to check the time and nod.

“perfect,” you mumble, kissing his lips with more passion than necessary, especially since you’re cutting it close to being late for work.

“babe,” minseok whines when you pull the sheets back and crawl on top of him and settle your bare core over his lap. surely your boss could handle you being a few minutes late, just this once.

#exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo smut #xiumin x you #xiumin x reader #xiumin smut #minseok fan fiction #minseok x reader #minseok x you #minseok smut #xiumin fic #xiumin fanfic

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dirtysvthoughts · 10 months

Text

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER THREE

pairing: prospective club owner! joshua x stripper! reader

word count: 2.2k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, worldbuilding before the dirty stuff (be patient 😉), female! reader, mildly cocky! shua, dom! shua, power play/brat! reader, full nudity for reader, use of pet names (love, baby, sweetheart), shua tries to get reader to fall for him but to no avail (or yes avail?)

playlist songs: special affair - the internet, give me head - sweet the kid, na na - trey songz

notes: chapter 3 baybeeeee! sorry this took so long, but it’s finally here! i’m gonna start working on chapter 4 and that should be done vv soon! hope you enjoy besties!

taglist: @im-gemmy @enhacolor @hooniewnderland @svtup @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol @marsstarxhwa @haoxiaoba

“and i’m telling you, i don’t need any help, take your service elsewhere,” your boss, mia, says over the phone, curtly hanging it up afterwards. “fucking nuisance,” she mumbles under her breath as you enter her office.

“somethin’ happen?” you say as you shut the door behind you, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“shouldn’t you be getting ready, sage?” mia says not even looking in your direction, fiddling with whatever paperwork is in front of her.

you roll your eyes, “it’s 5 PM, i only came here early to practice my new routine. plus, i needed to ask you something, but then i overheard you. you know i’m one of the few people you actually trust here. so seriously, what was that all about?”

she stops messing with the papers and finally directs her eyes towards you, breathing a heavy sigh. “okay, so you know the club has a few more debt payments before i can solely own this place right? well, this man i was on the phone with can more than likely wipe away the rest of the debt with a snap of a finger.”

“so if he can do that, why would you tell him to fuck off? i don’t get it.”

“because he wants to own majority of the business! all of the creative decisions, finances, even down to the dancers’ employment would be his decision. i’m not doing that! i’ve worked way too hard to get to where illusion is today. and do you know how many strip club owners are women? not a whole lot. this is my pride.”

you both sit in a minute of silence, her words repeating in your mind. she was right, so much went into this club and those who weren’t on the pole proved that a club could run without a man’s help or approval. and you knew your boss wasn’t desperate enough to give in just yet.

“well no one but you is gonna run club illusion. fuck another owner or a co-owner,” you firmly say as mia shakes her head and smiles, now directing her attention at her desktop, moving her mouse around.

“why do i like you so much, sage?”

“i dunno, i guess i have that effect on people,” you smile as you push your hair back, opening the door so you could start getting ready.

“by the way,” you say with one foot out the door, “what was the guy’s name?”

“somethin’ hong, i kept forgetting the name, why? does it ring a bell?”

“nah, just wanna have a name in mind just in case he shows up, you know they like doing that.”

“well let’s hope not,” she groans as she stretches her arms out. “i really don’t need the extra stress - i can already tell tonight’s gonna be extra for no reason.”

and crazy enough, your boss was right. security had to break up two fights, one of the dancers ended up getting sent home (she was overly drunk), and a bartender ended up quitting - all in the span of four hours.

you look at the clock on the wall, readjusting your bodysuit straps and making sure your makeup was still intact. it was finally midnight, which hopefully meant the rest of the night would be better until it was time for the club to close.

“crazy ass night huh?” your closest friend and fellow dancer, hana (also known as chardonnay) approaches you. she finds her makeup kit and grabs a brush, dolling up her face.

“who are you tellin? and it’s only thursday! if heads into the weekend,” you say but hana finishes your thoughts.

“oh hello no, do not manifest that energy. this weekend can be busy, but not crazy,” she puts her kit back in her corner and checks herself out.

min then walks into the dressing room, hastily scanning the area for one person. “hana!” she calls out, slightly panicking. “you have a whole party waiting for you and you’re talking in the dressing room?”

“i know min, i just had to make sure i was ready, sheesh,” hana rolls her eyes. “gimme five and i’ll be out. they can wait.”

“you better hurry up,” min says walking away, “mia already has had to deal with a lot of shit and i’m pretty sure the last thing she wants to deal with is y’all acting out.” she closes the door behind her and the music becomes muffled again.

“lemme head out there before even more hell gets raised,” hana sighs as she switches her clear heels for her champagne-colored ones. “i guess i’ll see you out there in a bit.” she and a few others leave the room, leaving the space nearly empty.

——

after checking yourself out, you finally head back on to the scene, deciding to walk around and look for clientele since you already performed on the main stage for tonight.

as you get deeper into the center, you notice a figure at one of the small, standing tables. intrigued, you walked closer and your body can’t deny it’s reaction when you see how handsome he is. his dress white shirt had a few buttons opened, his black hair styled to where not all of it was in his face, and his eyes? oh you felt like you could melt in them.

when you finally get close enough, you place your hand on his shoulder and he looks up at you, putting his glass of whiskey down. “hey there,” you smile flirty at him, and he responds by smiling back at you.

“hey beautiful,” he says in the most soft, yet incredibly sexy tone. “i haven’t seen you around before, are you new here?”

“oh, so you’ve been here before,” you say going to the opposite side of the table, your eyes not leaving is. “that’s interesting, considering i’ve never seen you, i practically have a sixth sense when it comes to this place.”

“mmm, different days, different times, maybe,” he picks up his glass and takes a sip and when he puts it down, you reach for his hand and take hold of it.

“well that can’t stop us from getting to know each other better,” you rub his hands softly. “what’s your name?”

“hong. joshua hong, to be more specific,” he says. “and yours?”

you try to keep a poker face, but you fail drastically as your expression changes. “hong?” you think to yourself. “hong.. why does it sound so familiar?”

you mind then recalls the conversation with mia, and you slowly remove your hand from his. “w-wait a minute, hong? are you a club owner or something?”

“actually i am, how did-” you interrupt him by scoffing and shaking your head, not believing what could’ve happened.

“no fucking way.. you’re the man that called my boss earlier today weren’t you? about wanting to own this place?”

“yeah, that was me,” he says with all the pride he can muster and it made you a little annoyed. “this place has so much potential, and it’s becoming one of the most popular clubs in the area. with my help, it can reach that and more! everyone would benefit.”

“look, hong - whoever you are, this club is doing fine. mia didn’t need a savior before and she doesn’t need one now, especially from some cocky motherfucker who he thinks he can change everything just by walking into the room.” you walk away ready to find another customer, but he comes in front of and stops you.

“you’re bold as hell.. i love that in a partner,” joshus says grinning as he begins to kiss the side of your neck teasingly, his lips feeling like a soft pillow. your body and your mind are now drastically confused. yes, he was trying to take over the club and you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t deny your physical attraction to him either.

after a few more seconds, joshua pulls away and smirks at you, clearly enjoying the fact that you were starting to break down your walls. he takes something out of his pocket and slides it into your hand, and when you feel it - it’s a thick wad of cash.

“let’s go upstairs baby,” joshua says as he pulls you towards him, having you lead the way. watching your surroundings, you firmly grab his hand and you lead him to the vip rooms, walking up the steps and then finding the closest, empty room.

unable to hold back anymore (and away from any other eyes), you sharply pull him closer to you and smash your mouth against his, hands roaming his hair as he walks backwards. when he reaches the edge of the couch, joshua gently sits down and pulls you onto his lap, his hands now palming your ass. you lowly moan at the feeling as you begin to roll your hips into him, his touches becoming more firmer as he squeezes your cheeks.

“you couldn’t resist me, could you?” joshua laughs to himself. “just a second ago you were telling me off, and now you’re like putty in my hands.”

“fuck you,” you moan out when he starts playing with the crotch of your bodysuit, dragging two fingers over the cloth. he continues the motion until he can start to feel a familiar dampness.

“awww cute, you wanna fuck me,” he gloats, dragging his fingers into your bodysuit, playing with your inside lips. he continues the motion for a few moments and then you muster every good bone left in your body, to pry his fingers away from your now dripping core.

“fuck, i shouldn’t be doing this.. i really shouldn’t be doing this,” you say hesitantly.

“well why not? we’re already here aren’t we? no one has to know, baby. this’ll be our little secret, m’kay?”

and that was all you needed to hear. this was definitely something you’d be carrying with you to the grave.

“fine. one round and then that’s it-” you can’t even finish your sentence before joshua slams his lips once again on yours, this time with more vigor and fever.

——

for the millionth time tonight, your body and your mind are in two conflicting states. how could something this bad be so incredibly good?

“m-mmm, sh-shua,” you moan into his ear as he thrusts into you, your bodysuit completely off and his pants pooling down at his ankles. “you feel amazing,” you continue to feel him up, pressing down on his shoulders. joshua hisses at the feeling, guiding your hands down to his waist so you can see and feel what he was doing to you.

“that’s all you,” he smiles as you move a bit to match his pace, almost moaning with you at the new intensity you both set. “with me here, you could have this every night, hmmm, maybe even more than that to be real with you.”

he was really trying to get you over, but for your sake - it couldn’t happen.

“and with you here, you’d probably take out 20% of my pay,” you chuckle but it’s immediately cut off when joshua thrusts sharply into you, causing you to hunch over and moan, almost loud enough to where someone could hear you.

“i thought you needed to be quiet? you’re fucking the new potential owner, can’t have everyone finding out, right?”

“fuck, fuck, f-fuck,” you whisper, joshua not sure if that was from the sex or if you were still frustrated that your morals have gone out the window.

you feel a tightening in your core, and you knew any minute that you were about to come. as he continues to thrust into you, the coils in your become smaller and more detailed.

“joshua, shua, i- mmmm, i-!” you call out for him and moments later, you juices leak on him. you relax into his chest, regulating your breathing to a slower pace.

——

“this doesn’t mean anything you know,” your back facing him as he helps you fix the strings on your bodysuit. “i’ve already crossed some lines that i can’t return from.”

“i keep telling you sweetheart, no one has to know. you’re making it seem like you have to tell the whole world.”

several thoughts run through your mind, including ones of him railing you from behind in one of the secluded vip rooms. you try and push them out of your head when you finally speak.

“and if i did want to see you again, how would i go about that?” joshua then hands you a business card and pats your back, signifying that he was done.

“just gimme a call love.”

you both walk out the room, and he turns to face you again, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “see you soon, baby.” he walks away, leaving you dazed and in suspended motion. you almost don’t hear your name being called out.

“sage!” hana calls out to you and you walk over to her.

“who was that? he’s so fucking hot! how’d you bag him?”

you sigh as you lie through your teeth, “he’s no one special. just another customer.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #joshua smut #hong joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #joshua imagines #hong joshua imagines #hong jisoo imagines #joshua fanfic #hong joshua fanfic #dsvtt: kenny’s works #dsvtt: private dancer

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myysaints · 1 year

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𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐦𝐞 — r. lupin

REMUS LUPIN x f!reader

⌗︙・ summary — months after graduating from hogwarts, you and the gang - remus, james, sirius, and lily - reunite for some drinks and a good time. but didn't you know? not-so-drunk words are still sober thoughts...

based on — “Please, stop smiling at me like that. I’m not sure what will happen if you keep doing that.” (dm for creds! i forgot sorry)

contains — pining!!!, remus and reader are blind to each other's affection, siri and james are drunk in the bg lol, awkwardness, fluff ending

notes — i love remus with all my heart. i missed writing for him sm!

“MY MONEY’S ON Potter,” you grin, watching as James drunkenly leans against Lily’s shoulder, his fingers dancing across her palms. The redhead gazes down at him fondly.

“Well, I personally think it’ll be Padfoot.”

From across the table, Remus smiles, head lowered to meet yours, a conniving smile on his face. You raise an eyebrow, failing to force down a grin.

“Sirius? Really? The man can hold his rum, you of all people should know that, Remus.”

He shrugs, smiling and leaning back against his seat. His arm raises to take a swig of his Butterbeer, and you watch, mildly transfixed, as the muscles in his shoulders ripple.

“Still. He’s got a weak stomach, the idiot; For all the alcohol he drinks, he seems to spew out three times the amount.”

Remus tilts his head back, a flushed smile on his face. Your heart stumbles a little.

“He’ll be the first to the bathroom, I assure you.”

The comment has you snapping out of your daze, and you laugh breathily, shaking your head as you turn to watch Sirius dance - rather, stumble - to the music playing.

“Betting on which of our friends throws up first.” You smirk, taking a sip of your own drink. “‘S this what our friendship’s come to, Remmy?”

It’s a Friday night, and the group - you, Lily, the Marauders - are at your local pub. It’s a much needed break away from the tedious chore of adult life; You’re just a few months shy from a year out of Hogwarts, and you’d be lying if you said things haven’t been tough.

“Well then,” Remus says, grabbing your hand. There’s a pink flush on his face that tells you he’s a swig away from tipsy. And he does usually get touchy as the night progresses. “Tell me. How’ve you been, love?”

Your cheeks immediately heat, and you swat your hand away with a playful scoff.

“Told ‘ya to stop calling me that,” you murmur, suddenly feeling immensely shy. You’ve never done well with being alone with Remus; Being the only object of his attention has your stomach erupting into butterflies and tingles and all that.

Love.

He merely grins, chuckling. “Sorry, sorry. You know how cute y’get when you’re angry.”

Remus would never admit it aloud, the embarrassment alone would kill him, but the way your cheeks flame, the way you immediately duck your head, a shy smile peeking through: It makes him proud that he’s the source of your reaction.

9 months away from you, and you still manage to make him feel as giddily in love as he was when you first met.

Hogwarts that day was particularly lonely for Remus; The rest of the Marauders were off doing Merlin knows what, most likely formulating some ragtag plot to prank one of the professors again. Remus, on the other hand, had homework to do - Unlike some people, he liked to make a conscious effort not to get expelled.

So there he was, alone in the library, surrounded by books. Really, it was all he needed, all he should have needed. But as he watched a nearby couple giggle at each other over a stack of books, he suddenly felt a pang of loneliness.

Of heartache.

“Erm, ‘scuse me.”

Remus started, glancing up. And there you were.

Standing before him under the faint shine of a lamp, glowing like the angel you were. A soft smile gracing your features, head tilted to the side.

He finds himself suddenly at a loss for words, stumbling over himself as he stutters out, “I- Yes, er - pardon the mess - can I help you?”

You chuckle, and Remus wracks his brain trying to think what on Earth was so funny. But you just give another small smile that sends his heart racing, and gesture towards the seat beside him.

“Is this seat taken?” you whisper.

Immediately, as if on its own accord, his head is shaking. Fervently.

It’s almost embarrassing, really, how eager Remus is. He is acutely aware of just how uncontrollably forward he’s being - His hands have instinctively drawn up a chair for you, and they’re now clearing a space for you.

You flash him a smile - brilliant, dazzling - and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven.

Trying to recover some semblance of politeness, he returns back to his books while you set up your things, but, oh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots you pull out a beaten up copy of what just happens to be his favourite book.

Feeling his gaze on you, you flush, looking up to catch his eye.

This sends him in a tizzy, a flustered mess. But you don’t seem to mind, even quirking up your lips into an amused smile.

“Is there something on my face?” you muse, teasing.

Heat sears through his cheeks, his face red. “No! I just… I was admiring your book,” he gestures wildly to said book.

“This old thing?” you raise a brow, shrugging. You turn to him, a gleam in your eye. “Why, have you read it?”

A smile breaks across Remus’s face, and it tells you everything you need to know.

You two are going to get along just fine.

A sudden realisation hits you, in this moment, seated across from Remus in this dingy bar.

Time is not on your side. Truthfully, it never really was; But now, it is your greatest adversary. Gone are the opportunities to catch him momentarily in the Hogwarts corridors. Your shared peaceful study sessions are no more. Both of you have busy schedules, and catch-ups are sparse.

You fear you may lose him forever.

“I missed you, y’know that, right, love?”

You raise your head, surprised to find a sudden tenderness in Remus’ gaze.

Something in your voice breaks as you say, quietly, “Really?”

And Remus feels it in his heart too - The slight crack that wedges in his chest, the feeble cry of your name that bubbles up in his throat. He coughs, face aflame, and brushes past it.

“Yeah. Mean, ‘course I did. Missed all of ya - the guys and Lily and all that.”

Your heart sinks. Of course. He doesn’t miss you in particular - It was foolish of you to think, even for a second, that you’d be special in his eyes.

Years and years of pining, days spent trying to talk yourself out of this silly crush, nights ranting to Lily about how “stupid this is! This is just so stupid!”. All that, and for what?

You nod tersely. A silence lapses between you two, the tension so thick it feels as if you’re suffocating under the weight of it.

Remus frowns at the way you sit stiffly, strangely stoic and quiet opposite him. The look in your eyes - just moments ago, alight with glee and mirth - has deflated into something sullen. Defeated.

“Hey,” he reaches towards you. You look down at his hand - familiar and comforting - stretched towards you over the table. His thumb skims over your knuckles, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. But you don’t dare to look back up at him.

“What’s the matter? You’ve gone all quiet,” he says worriedly.

You shake your head, tersely.

A hand reaches to tilt your head up; You swat it away, harmlessly, but can’t stop the slight smile that breaks across your face at the ticklish feeling.

He grins, and now his head tilts to the side, observing you as you try to recompose your face. Again, he reaches out to touch you - this time, a bop on the nose.

“Remus,” you huff, unable to stop the slight chuckle that escapes you. “What in the name of Merlin are you doing?”

The smile on his face, so warm and true, makes you stop.

“Jus’ wanted to see you smile,” he grazes a thumb over your cheek, and you feel clammy all over.

“Stop that,” you murmur, still, not pulling away.

A playful grin makes its way across Remus’s face. He leans over - the tall bastard - and cups your face. His hands are warm against your skin, and you pray they hide the sudden heat that rushes to your cheeks.

“Please, stop smiling at me like that. I’m not sure what will happen if you keep doing that,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut.

There’s a shuffling noise, and Remus’s hands are retracting. You keep your eyes screwed tightly shut, feeling your own resolve crumbling as you feel a warm body press against your side.

“Love,” Remus whispers, his breath hot on the side of your neck. A shudder ripples through your body.

You shake your head, eyes still shut.

“Love,” he says again, slower, softer this time. “Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Your heart stops.

When you open your eyes, your breath hitches - You’re so close, so unbearably close to the lycanthrope it makes your heart burn. You blink rapidly, trying your best to look anywhere, anywhere, except into his eyes.

The slightest smirk makes its way across his face, and then his fingers are on your chin, gently manoeuvring your head around to face his.

All you can manage is a breathless, “Oh.”

He laughs, loud, hearty. And then a soft blush settles across his cheeks.

“Oh.”

You stay like this for a moment longer, the two of you; Remus’s fingers resting lightly on your face, you blushing madly. Entangled in each other’s existence.

He's the first to break the silence: “Are you gonna let me kiss you, love?”

This time, you can’t stop the smile on your face.

But the one on his face when you kiss him is a thousand times better.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #harry potter fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #remus x reader #remus harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #marauders fanfic #andrew garfield x reader #remus lupin x y/n #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🧳] harry potter #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing

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blerb-f1 · 9 months

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I noticed that y’all have no idea what Germans grew up listening to. Late 80’s/very early 90’s stuff is THE SHIT and all the drivers definitely know them by heart as do i. So here’s a songfic to a sappy German lovesong(?) that we know by heart. Also, i may have been a bit drunk and a bit nostalgic so yes

This one is called “dammit, I love you” and one of my all time favorites https://youtu.be/x6q0ciiqyG0.

Ex! Sebastian Vettel x Reader (songfic!!)

I wander through the streets until after midnight

Loved doing that back then as well

Don’t need you for that

Sebastian stared at the cold leaves falling, hands shoved into his pockets. 2013, the year of evil things. Good Guy Seb was gone, especially after Multi 21. Same with his homelife, he grew bitter and almost jaded. The infighting with Mark traveling home to you, his Girlfriend. To be exact, his ex-girlfriend. You didn’t want to hear him like this anymore. You struggled through so much together, so why didn’t he want to listen? That’s what you had told him, but he knew better. He had to prove himself, to be the man. With or without you. Showing that he wasn’t just lucky, winning thanks to the car but instead due to his own prowess.

I’m sitting at the bar, drinking another beer

Back then, together we’d be here

It doesn’t affect me, doesn't affect me at all.

He pulled the big, wooden doors of his usual bar open, the Barkeeper mildly nodding towards him with a pained expression. He knew everything about the situation, witness to one to many fights and breaking up equally many of them. He celebrated Sebs first World Title with you here, sponsoring Champagne to every guest that stumbled in. How quickly Time had passed since then. Sliding into his usual seat, the barkeeper quietly placed a bottle of beer in front of him which Sebastian hurried to take a sip from.

This season was over, and It had taken enough from him. Ferrari was going to be a new start- Start of a new journey without you. He could do this without you. He should. He had to.

Opposite of me sits a guy like a bear,

I imagine if he was your new man

It doesn’t affect me at all

Seb stared at the tall, muscular man sitting there. He looked a lot like Jenson Button, a guy you were often rumored to be cheating with. Not that you’d do that. You were loyal, if so to a fault.

Suddenly it hits me and i approach him

I tell him off:” Leave my Woman alone”

He just asks:” Are you mad?”

And all i can think of is You

Staring into Jenson’s Face just flared his deep rooted Anger. Those fake cheating news had started it all, making his trust towards you weaker. Making him question you while you were there for him through thick and thin. So what if you actually were with Jenson now? Sipping Cocktails somewhere in Britain? You, wrapped around his arms?

'No, that needed to stopped.'

He pushed the chair back and stomped towards Jenson, Face filled with Anger. “Leave my Woman alone!”, he almost screamed while slamming his fist on the table. Jenson jumped upwards in shock, clearly surprised. “Are you Mad?” he pushed Seb away from him. The barkeeper was quick to arrive, grabbing Seb by the sleeves and pushing him out. Muttering something about enough Alcohol which Seb didn’t hear. All he could think of was you. Your beautiful, loving eyes staring back at his upon waking up. The texture of your skin while wrapped around him.

Dammit, I love you

I don’t love you

Dammit, I need you

I don’t need you

Dammit, I want you

Dammit, I don't want you

I don’t want to lose you

Slowly I’m starting to remember it all

I just wanted to be a bit more free

Am I now or am I not?

You’d left before the season was over, after your big fight in Hungary. Dyed his Hair blonde because you loved his natural hair so much. Ready to actually become the villain you called him.

I didn’t fit into your happy world

But it and you, are what i’m missing the most

I simply can’t believe it

He was free to do whatever he so desired , but at what cost? He dominated the season but without your love at home, without you tousling his locks so gently, nothing was fine anymore. You were angry at his rude demeanor, his blatant disregard of others. You didn’t understand, with Michael being like that he felt like he had to prove himself anew. To prove himself the new German hope as some called him.

Opposite of me Is a phone

It’s laughing at me mockingly

It won’t, it won’t ring

His iPhone laid there, Wallpaper back to the default one instead of your wide smile, sometimes turning on to inform him of some trivial news yet none of them related to you. Were you actually happy without him, living your best life?

He did something he hadn't done since meeting you: smoking. You hated the smell with a fiery passion. Sebastian grabbed a cigarette from the Box (Marlboro Reds of course) and placed it between his lips while procuring a lighter from god knows where. Lighting it and taking a deep breath. The hot smoke filled his body with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Seven beers, smoked too much

This is what a man needs

But nobody, nobody to stay “Stop it”

And again, all I can think of is You

He dropped the lit cigarette into the empty beer bottle, face crashing flatly on the table. Nicotine and Alcohol running through his veins, making his body fuzzy. You’d have said Stop. You didn’t like seeing him in this state.

You’d have said Stop like you always did. The voice of reason in his miserable, little life. Stop to Betrayal. Stop to Fighting. Stop to Self-Doubt and Self-hatred.

Dammit, I love you

I don’t love you

Dammit, I need you

I don’t need you

Dammit, I want you

Dammit, I don’t want you

I don’t want to lose you

He didn’t want to lose you but he already did. You were gone.

#Sebastian Vettel x Reader #Sebastian Vettel x you #Sebastian Vettel #f1 x reader #blerb writes

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astralaffairs · 9 months

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freedom of the press 08 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press 08

words: 10k

warnings: a lot of angst sorry. 09 will be happier if i can publish it in less than 2.5 years this time. addiction/substance abuse mentions, STI mentions

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudynblw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98 @nyxie75 @i-know-i-can @yxseminx @yavin4andor @sugacita @sstrawberry-fanta @youtxbemusic @queenwilty @someinsanefangirl @foudre-aqua @whatevs2000 @rwr-ites @maxi-ride @moose-on-the-l00se @itshaileyn @toxicidity @malos-moving @luckyfriesss @lovecass123

"YOU SENT ASHLEY my fucking article?"

"Woah, honey, slow down," Angelica said, voice staticky through the phone, but Y/N was fuming. She was sure that everyone in the diner below her apartment could hear her yelling. "Yes, I sent it. You asked me to, last night."

Y/N furrowed her brow. "...What the hell are you talking about?"

"Seriously?" she asked. "Don't tell me you've forgotten. You promised you only had two drinks."

Y/N's stomach turned. She distinctly remembered downing half the open bar at the campaign fundraiser the night prior after the way her conversation with Thomas had ended. She less-distinctly remembered Angelica driving her home -- she'd been in North Carolina on a different assignment, but it turned out the CEO she was reporting on happened to be one of Thomas's biggest donors. "Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth a little, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with everything," Angelica said flatly. "You told me to send that article to Ashley in the middle of your soliloquy about how Jefferson was ruining your life. You were rambling, but you were coherent; I wouldn't have expected you'd wake up having forgotten all of it."

The more she spoke, the more was coming back to Y/N, though. Flashes of Angelica checking her out of her hotel, driving her several hours back north to DC.

"Fuck," she finally said, palming her forehead as though it'd restore her memory. "Wait, why would I have you send it to her instead of just doing it myself?"

"I don't know," Angelica said mildly. "Maybe you were too far gone to write the email."

"You said I was coherent," Y/N replied, raising an eyebrow. "So which is it? Was I drunk beyond belief, or did I just seem a little tipsy?"

"Honey, I don't know; you were just a little out of it. And you did just tell me you’d lied to me about how much you’d had to drink." Angelica sounded exasperated, but Y/N wasn't done.

"Forward me the email you sent Ashley. I need to see when you sent it and what you said."

"Why? I—"

"Because I don't believe that I asked you to do that," she snapped, and Angelica paused for a long moment, taken aback.

"...Why don't you believe me?"

"Because I'd already decided that I wasn't going to send it," Y/N huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"And so you think I did it behind your back?"

“That’s exactly what I think.”

There was a long pause; all Y/N could hear from the other end of the line was static.

“Y/N—”

“Either forward me the email you sent Ashley, or own up to it,” she cut her off, having no desire to hear Angelica push another excuse. “Prove me wrong.”

“I can’t.” Angelica’s tone was biting, and Y/N’s scowl deepened. “I did send it, but you know what? I’m trying to save you from yourself.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘save me from myself’?” she asked incredulously. “You were the one who told me that only I could decide what I wanted to publish.”

“You spent an hour on the trip home talking about how Jefferson was ruining your life,” Angelica reminded her. “So why don’t you want that article published? Why are you trying to protect him?”

“Because even he doesn’t deserve this.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Why doesn’t he? He’s been ruining your career, antagonizing you on Twitter; do you even remember how worked up you were yesterday? Talk about your integrity all you want, but that doesn’t mean you have to protect him.”

“It’s not about protecting him,” Y/N defended. “It’s just what I think is right.”

“And why don’t you think this is right? That’s what I don’t get.” Angelica’s huff sent a rush of static through the phone that made Y/N wince. “Honey, this would fix all the damage he’s done to your career; isn’t it only fair that you publish? You've been drowning in bills, and I know it's taking a toll on you. You deserve the money you'll get from this. Besides, you don’t owe him anything.”

You don’t owe him anything.

Y/N couldn’t reply; Angelica’s words reverberated in her mind like an echo — they were true. She didn’t owe him anything. That was what she’d been telling herself, it was what she’d been telling everyone else, and it was what she'd spent the past night arguing with him about.

And he’d agreed. She didn’t owe him anything.

“I… I can’t have this conversation right now, Ang,” she sighed. “I know you meant well, but this wasn’t your place to get involved. Now I need to figure out what my next move is.”

“It’s too late to stop the article. Ashley already has it.” Y/N winced at her words, and Angelica continued, “If you refused to give her the sources, she’d fire you. I know this job means too much for you to just throw it away when things get hard.”

"This isn't 'things getting hard'; it's me losing the reason I wanted to be a journalist in the first place."

"And if you want to stay a journalist, you'll send Ashley the tape of your interview with Adams," Angelica said. "She can't publish without it."

“Don't act like somehow you know what's best for me, Angelica."

"It seems like I know better than you. Your finances have been the worst part of your life for years, and those are your exact words," she said, and Y/N scoffed. However, there was truth to it. "If you just waited it out and let Ashley transfer you to another department, would you even be able to pay your bills? Or would you lose your electricity? Your running water? What would you do the next time a student debt payment rolled around?"

"Well, thanks to you, now Ashley's threatening to fire me altogether.” Y/N scowled. "If I lose my income, I sure as hell won't be able to pay off my debt."

"Then follow through with the article," she urged. "You know it's what you need to do. You have to do this for yourself, Y/N. You think Jefferson's never broken his code of ethics to get ahead? Do you even think he has one?"

“Of course—” Y/N had to cut herself off. Her first instinct was to defend him, but she didn’t see any way she could convince Angelica of anything without her believing she’d been indoctrinated. “It isn’t about him. It’s about me, and it’s about my integrity. It doesn’t matter what he’s done.”

“Ashley already has the article. Don’t forget that.”

"You shouldn't have sent it in the first place,” Y/N said. “This is my job, and it's my career; you aren't allowed to make decisions like this on my behalf. At least the tape will buy me time.”

“That buys you two weeks, tops.”

“Then I’ll make the most of it.”

____________

THAT’D BEEN THE first stop on her damage control from the previous night, but she still had a long way to go. Lafayette was gracious enough to get her Dolley’s phone number; Y/N had a number of things she felt she needed to clear the air on, but her conversation with Dolley wasn’t exactly short.

Y/N spent the better part of two hours trying to convince her not to tell James what she’d heard. Apparently, she’d been holding her tongue since she walked in on them at the state dinner months before, but she felt like she’d learned too much the night prior to keep it from him.

She couldn’t tell James, though — at least, that was Y/N’s firm conviction. If she spilled everything to James, he’d have done everything in his power to keep Y/N away from their campaign. After all, since whatever there had been between her and Thomas was over, James didn’t need to worry about anyone’s conflict of interest.

Y/N’s throat tightened when she realized that.

But Dolley didn’t budge, and Y/N was ultimately forced to give up her desperate plea.

A week passed. Y/N returned to her normal schedule at the diner, and Thomas returned to avoiding those shifts whenever possible. (Although, according to Mira, he hadn't stopped by at all.) To the untrained eye, everything was business as usual; Y/N was working both her jobs, going to election events, and interviewing politicians, but to her, there was nothing usual about what she was doing.

She hardly slept that week. It wasn’t because of Thomas, she’d like to have claimed; she was just busy, balancing everything she needed done, working two jobs and trying to figure out what needed to happen for her to keep the Adams article from getting a green light. This was just how she was getting by.

So when Lafayette called her the next Friday, she almost didn’t pick up.

Or, really, she didn’t pick up until the fourth consecutive time he called.

“Hey, Lafayette.”

“What happened between you and Thomas?”

“What?” Y/N was curled up with her laptop on her couch, indulging in retail therapy against her better judgment. At his words, she furrowed her brow. Why was he bringing this up? Why would he have known? “What are you talking about?”

“Do not act as if you do not know what I am referring to,” Lafayette snapped. "He 'as not been 'imself since his fundraiser in North Carolina. So what happened?"

"I…" Y/N furrowed her brow as she processed Lafayette's words. Had he really taken it that poorly? Y/N knew he wasn't thrilled about the development between them; that much went without saying, but they both knew it was for the best. What Thomas wanted, she couldn't give him. Not then. "What d'you mean 'he hasn't been himself'? And why the hell do you think I have anything to do with it?"

“I do not know ‘ow to explain it, Y/N.” Lafayette sighed. “‘Ave you ‘eard from him recently? He 'as been… distant."

She swallowed hard at the question. "Not… not really. Why, what has he told you?"

"Nothing. And zat is exactly ze issue." His tone was short, and the words left little room for discussion. "Did you talk to him about ze article?"

"No, actually."

"...Really?" The surprise in Lafayette's voice was unmistakably genuine, and it made Y/N crease her brow.

“Yeah, um… why is that such a surprise? Did he say something?”

“No. He has ‘ardly spoken to me since ze fundraiser, and I cannot decipher why. I supposed zat something ‘ad happened between ze two of you because of your article, but…” He trailed off, and Y/N could hear in his voice just how stumped he was. “Did anything happen that night?”

“I mean, no, nothing important," she said, brow creased. "Why do you think I have something to do with this?"

“When I asked him what was wrong, ‘e told me to ask you,” Lafayette replied. "So here I am. There 'as to be something, Y/N."

“Don’t worry about it, Lafayette,” she said, rubbing her forehead as though it’d make her headache subside. “It doesn’t concern you.”

"So there is something zat you are not telling me." She winced at the accusation in his voice, but she couldn't claim that he was wrong.

"Okay, fine, but it wasn't a big deal. I swear."

“Perhaps not for you,” he countered, "but you should ‘ave seen Thomas.”

“Is he really doing that badly?” she asked hesitantly, unsure of whether she wanted to hear the answer. "Maybe he's just stressed."

“He has ‘ardly left his apartment, chérie. I went by earlier to check on him, and he would hardly speak to me. He looked like a mess.”

"What d'you mean 'looked like a mess'? Is he okay?" The question was hesitant. "He's, like, safe and everything, right?"

"Alors... he is safe, yes. But he is," --Lafayette hesitated for a long moment, and all that could be heard was static through the line-- "self-destructing, I suppose is ze term. I do not believe zat it is my place to share anything further, though."

"...Well, shit. I didn't think it was that serious."

“You did not think zat what was zat serious?" he asked, voice exasperated. "Can you not simply be forthcoming with me?"

“Nothing, like, big or tragic happened between us,” she said, and she could hear the defensive edge creeping into her own voice. “We just… talked, and we decided it was in both of our best interests to stop sleeping together. That’s all I have to tell you.”

“Zere ‘as to be more to ze story.” Lafayette’s voice, though muffled through the phone, had a stern undertone. “Please, do not withhold things. I am simply trying to help.”

“I don't know what to tell you, honestly,” she said. “What’s done is done. I can't help him anymore. He wouldn't want to see me.”

“Why did you decide to end things?” he asked. “My impression ze other day was that you were happy.”

She winced. That afternoon at Lafayette's place felt so long ago, after what'd changed. “It just had to happen.”

“Is it because you are publishing ze article?”

“I… no. It isn't.” She swallowed hard. Whether she was publishing it seemed like an extraneous detail.

“Then what happened? What did you say to ‘im?”

“I didn't say anything wrong. I've told you all that went down,” she insisted. “We just… You know we’re not in a relationship. The choice to stop all this was mutual.”

“Was it really?”

“Yes. He was the one who suggested it.” That much was true. However, she wasn’t sure how candid the suggestion had been when he initially brought it up. “Whatever's weighing on him, it has to be more than what happened with me. I don't think our conversation would've affected him all that much."

“Y/N, please, be straightforward with me. He told me to speak to you about zis." The concern in Lafayette's voice was neither light nor well-concealed. "I am worried about him. Zis is serious."

“Then I don’t know what it is,” she insisted, throwing a hand up in frustration. “I'm sorry, Lafayette. You know this wouldn't be something I'd want for him, but I can't help you.”

He sighed audibly. “I realize zat I will not be getting any more information from you, Y/N, but I am not done with trying to figure zis out.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “And I wish you the best of luck.”

____________

SHE WANTED THE weekend to herself after that. She didn't think Thomas would be taking this all so hard, but then again, she'd bottled everything up the moment she returned to D.C., pretended she'd believed every word she'd said to him, and she figured he'd do the same. It didn't seem like him to dwell.

And yet, there he was, dwelling, and so there she was, too, worrying about him. Her stomach was in knots.

Lafayette called her a number of times, sent her countless texts. He asked her to come over and talk to him about what happened, but she had no interest. He'd get nothing out of it, and she'd only feel worse. Besides, she couldn't run the risk of seeing Thomas in their building when she was there for Lafayette. He seemed to be unavoidable whenever she was there, but then again, maybe that was why Lafayette asked her over in the first place.

She called off all her shifts over the next couple of days, claiming a head cold, that she didn't want to get anyone else sick. Mira sounded skeptical, but she let her go.

Despite her reluctance to leave her apartment, though, when Dolley called and asked her to come over to talk, she was in a double bind. She hadn't told James anything yet, she said, and she wanted to hear what Y/N had to say about it all before she did. If she didn't want James to resent her until the end of time, she supposed she didn't have much of a choice. She was struggling to pinpoint why she still cared so much about his opinion of her, though.

But she thought she owed it to Thomas to try to contain the fallout.

“Hey, Dolley. Thanks for hearing me out.” She shrugged her coat off, left it on the bench beside the front door of James and Dolley’s house.

“Of course, dear. I figured it was only fair." Dolley gave her a sympathetic smile as she came to pull Y/N into a gentle hug. "Can I get you anything? I was about to make myself a cup of tea, but I could put on a pot of coffee, too, if you'd like."

"Actually, tea sounds really nice."

"Alright. You just sit tight, make yourself at home, and I'll be back in a minute."

Her mind was racing as she curled into Dolley’s couch, glancing around her house. She knew James wasn’t home, but she couldn’t help her paranoia that, somehow, he’d hear her, astral projecting from his lunch meeting into his bedroom.

But Dolley came back after putting the tea kettle on the stove, and Y/N had to get herself out of her head. She’d boiled her advocacy down into a nice, itemized list; Dolley took a seat beside her, and Y/N began giving her the hard sell.

I’ll spare you the details — after all, it’s everything you already know. You’d been there, a fly on the wall beside the hotel hot tub, and you know that Dolley telling James what she’d heard would accomplish nothing — he'd likely resent Y/N for it (not that she'd blame him; she knew the problem her relationship with Thomas presented for their campaign). However, with everything between her and Thomas having been put to an end, it'd accomplish nothing. James would have her barred from their events to prevent her from becoming a distraction, but it wouldn't change anything, by then, and only hinder her career.

And besides, she and James were friends. She didn't want the brief, silly fling she'd had with Thomas to ruin that.

She finished monologuing, and, as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at the door and then back at Dolley. "Were you expecting someone?"

"I—" The tea kettle started whistling, cutting her off abruptly as she turned her head back toward the kitchen. Dolley sighed. "Oh, hell. Would you mind getting that while I get the door? I need to go see who's here."

“Yeah, sure.” She went to the kitchen as Dolley stood to get the door, and she found that Dolley had made her life fairly easy. There sat two mugs and a box of teabags on a little wooden tray, so all she did was put the little kettle on a potholder before returning to Dolley’s living room.

She couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes, but when she came back, she and Dolley weren’t alone.

She nearly dropped the tray.

“Thomas?”

He and Dolley both looked up from where they sat on the couch.

“Y/N.” The minute he met her eyes, she froze. Lafayette was right — he looked like hell. The bags under his eyes were deep, and he clearly hadn’t shaved in several days. His beard was growing in patchy. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I…” She was struggling to speak past the lump in her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Dolley invited me.”

Her eyes widened as she turned. “What the hell, Dolley?”

“Oh, would you relax? You two need to talk, and you well know it,” Dolley snapped, and Y/N’s grip tightened on the handles of the tray she held. “Come here and sit down.”

“No. I...” She set the tray down on the side table nearest her, and Dolley furrowed her brow. “I'm leaving. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there’s nothing more to say.”

"Come on, Y/N—"

"She's right, Doll," Thomas sighed. "We already ended things."

"Please, neither of you wanted to. You're just both too stubborn to say it."

"Don't act like you know the full story," Y/N scoffed.

"So you don't want to fix this?"

"There's nothing to fix." Dolley hummed skeptically as Y/N proceeded past her, grabbed her jacket from the bench by the door. "Thanks for having me, though. I'll see you."

"If either of you leaves, I'm telling James everything."

She paused. "Dolley, you can't—"

"I can, and I will. Now, get back here."

"This is blackmail."

"I won't deny that." Dolley raised an expectant eyebrow when Y/N turned back to her. "Are you going to come sit down, or was this a waste of both our afternoons?"

“Dolley.”

“Would you two like a minute to yourselves?”

“I…” She didn’t answer, instead turning to Thomas, waiting for any sort of a cue. He was watching her, though, and when their eyes met, both of them fell silent. She swallowed hard.

“That might be best.” Thomas’s words were soft, but Y/N couldn’t speak, not with the lump that was building in her throat. Dolley glanced between them, and maybe she could see the silent dread in Y/N’s eyes, but she didn’t say another word, just nodded before she left the room. And with that, Y/N and Thomas were alone.

She swallowed hard. When she finally took a seat, it was on the far end of the couch. Y/N felt certain that Dolley’s draping coats and resting books on every other chair in the room was deliberate.

He was the first to speak.

"So, what're you doin' here, then?"

"Dolley invited me, too." She pursed her lips. "I came to talk to her about… everything she heard."

"Why?" Thomas looked genuinely bewildered, but Y/N didn't understand his confusion.

"I was trying to convince her not to talk to James about it." She shrugged. "I mean, it's not like it's worth her telling him now. It wouldn't change anything."

"Then why d'you care if he knows?"

"I…" She trailed off, unsure whether there was any delicate way to say that she didn't want him to be on the receiving end of any hostility from James just because he'd fucked her a few times. She didn't think he deserved that. "I guess I'd rather James not think I'm sleeping around to get ahead."

"'N you're really that worried about his opinion of you?"

"More than I should be." Her voice was quiet. "Anyway, what issue do you have with that? This whole thing affects you, too, you know."

"Oh, believe me, I know." He huffed, folded his arms as he sat back against the couch cushions. "I, er… I came for the same reason. Didn't want James chewin' me out over it."

“James loves you. Even if she does tell him, you know he won’t be able to be angry about it.”

“James ‘s one of my oldest friends,” he agreed, “but when we’re workin’ together, that doesn’t matter anymore. He’d be furious.”

“Even after the fact?”

He shrugged. “We knew everything we were putting at risk here. He’d tell me my priorities weren’t in the right place, or that I shoulda been taking our campaign more serious than… whatever you ‘n I were doin’.”

“Then I guess it’s good that we stopped,” Y/N replied weakly.

“Yeah.” Thomas didn’t meet her eyes. There was a long moment of silence after that; she could tell his mind was elsewhere with the absent stare he wore, fixed on the ottoman of one of the armchairs, but his brow was furrowed. He was deep in thought. She pursed her lips. “What were you gonna say that night?”

The question caught her off guard; her eyes widened, and he looked up calmly to meet her eyes, wearing an inquisitive look.

“What?”

“The night of my fundraiser.” She pressed her lips together into a thin line. “When Dolley came in, she cut you off. I haven’t been able to keep my mind off’a it.”

God, she hated how he was always so blunt. He always spoke his mind, always said what he was thinking, and it was one of the things that scared Y/N most about him. He hadn’t been able to keep his mind off of that one little moment, that fragmented sentence.

“I… I don’t remember.” Her answer was honest, but Thomas wasn’t satisfied.

"You never meant to…?"

"Hm?” Y/N furrowed her brow, and Thomas's noncommittal shrug didn't help much. “'I never meant to' what?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out."

Oh. She pursed her lips, and her movements were hesitant. She knew what he was talking about — that'd been the last thing she said before their tense conversation ended abruptly the night of his fundraiser. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Thomas scoffed. “Really? I don’t even deserve the truth about this?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.” His tone was unshakeable; he was beyond convinced of his words, and Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “After everything we’ve been through, I know you better than this.”

“And what have we been through? Hm? Fucking on your kitchen counter? I’m sorry to say it, but I’m not quite sure that’s the peak of intimacy.”

“Yeah, alright,” he acquiesced, “but what about all the time we didn’t spend fucking?”

“I…” Y/N trailed off, her jaw tight, entire body tense. “We both knew that was why we were together in the first place. I stayed over because I didn’t wanna travel through the city in the middle of the night. There wasn’t much more to it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we both know that if you really just wanted to get into my pants, there was no need for you to spend so much time at mine.” His tone was frustratingly condescending, but he was right. “Don’t tell me the reason you made dinner with me, watched all my cheesy old movies, even watered my damn plants was ‘cause I give good head.”

Y/N scowled. "Fine. I like spending time with you. But that doesn't make us anything more than friends."

He hummed in acquiescence, giving a subdued shrug. "Guess not. Making out on the kitchen counter does that well enough, though."

"Okay, we were friends with benefits," she conceded, but Thomas didn't look quite satisfied. "What? What's wrong with that? We're friends, and we slept together."

"Don't try and tell me this is all in my head." Thomas scowled. "Yeah, we slept together. But we did a lot more than that. I know very well I'm not delusional for thinking something more was goin' on there."

“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” Y/N scoffed. “You know it was never like that; it wasn’t what I wanted.”

“No, I know.” Thomas shifted on the couch to face her, and his gaze was heavy with scrutiny, with skepticism. “You didn’t wanna get too involved. You made all that clear as day.”

“Then what’s the problem?” The undertone of irritation in his voice was putting her on edge, and he let out a dry, breathy laugh, shaking his head.

“That you’ve been lyin’ to me.”

“What? I never—”

“I don’t mean your intentions. You never wanted us to be more than friends. That’s just fine,” he reasoned, and how measured his tone was made Y/N furrow her brow. “But what I wanna know now is if you did end up gettin’ more attached than you meant to.”

“I… ?” Her voice was breathless. It sounded as though his question had knocked the wind out of her, but Thomas just continued to watch her expectantly.

“You heard me. You know what I’m askin’.”

“Does it matter?” she asked, but the words sounded hoarse. She could feel her hands trembling where she rested them on her thighs, and she folded her arms to hide it. She didn’t want Thomas to see how uneasy she was.

“It does to me.” He pursed his lips, leaned forward to rest on his forearms on his thighs. Y/N didn’t respond. “If you’re not gonna gimme an answer on that, the least you can do is tell me what you were gonna say that night. Just give me something to go on here.”

“It won’t change anything.” Her voice was heavy.

“Then just tell me." He sounded tired. "I can't go on wondering if this was all in my head."

“Thomas…”

“Please,” he said. “What’d you ‘never mean to’ do?”

“Hurt you.” Her words were nearly inaudible as she stared down at her legs, unable to bring herself to look up and see how he was watching her. “Which feels silly to say now, but it’s the truth.”

His jaw was tight. He nodded. “Great.” He let out a heavy breath, leaned back off of his legs to sit up in his chair. “Great. ‘M gonna go tell Dolley we’re finished with talking. Don’t think there’s anything else to say.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide as he stood, particularly as she hadn’t moved an inch. “Wait, what?” He looked down at her with an expectant eyebrow raised when he went to grab his coat. She frowned. “I mean, yeah, sure, fine. But…”

“But what?” Thomas immediately challenged it when she trailed off, shaking her head.

“But that’s it?” she asked. “You’re just gonna leave now after you pressed for me to tell you that?”

He let out a humorless, breathy laugh. “‘Course I am. What else am I supposed to do with, ‘oh, I never meant to hurt you, Thomas’?”

Y/N wrinkled her nose at his mocking impression of her voice, taken aback by his shift in demeanor. “I don’t know. You’re the one who kept asking.”

“Mm, you’re right. My bad, sweetheart.” His tone was mocking as he pulled his arms into the sleeves of his coat, shrugged it onto his shoulders. He glanced back at the doors to the rest of the house. “‘S Dolley in the kitchen? Hang on a sec.”

“Hey, wait, slow down,” Y/N said, and she sounded affronted.

“What? You don’t wanna leave?”

“I… yeah, but…” She frowned. “Why do you sound so angry? What did I do?”

“I’m not angry.” The strain in his nonchalant gaze and his clenched jaw both said otherwise. “I can just appreciate some good irony, ‘s all.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean,” he said. “You’re too smart for that, c’mon.”

“I got the implication,” she replied, struggling to keep her tone in check, “but no, I don’t know what you mean by it. What have I done to wrong you so sincerely? Hm?”

“Oh, please, I can’t do this again.” His frustration was unbridled in his voice. “Hasn’t even been a week since we went over it. Try ‘n think.”

“Do you mean in North Carolina?”

“When else?”

She huffed. “Alright, fine, but I don’t know what you want me to say to that. Do you really want to re-hash that argument?”

“Not in the least. ‘S why I’m leavin’,” he said frankly. “You take care of yourself, now.”

“Wait, come on,” she protested, finally standing up alongside him. “You seem even more mad now than you did last week. What’s your problem?”

He raised an eyebrow, and the amusement in his small smile was sardonic. “Right now? Sugar, you’re my problem. What’s hard to understand about that?”

How condescending his tone was made Y/N grit her teeth. “Then what do you want from me? What am I doing so incredibly wrong right now that I deserve—?”

“Same thing you’ve been doin’,” he spat. “Pretending to care about me ‘n then turnin’ around and makin' me feel silly for believing it."

"Hey, what?" The offense she took was clear in her voice. "Of course I care about you."

"Oh, save it. There's nothing to prove anymore. No need for the act."

"What the fuck do you mean 'act'?" He rolled his eyes at her question, went back to buttoning up his coat, and she scoffed. "I'm still talking to you."

"'N you're not sayin' anything I haven't heard."

"Then what do you want from me?" she asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. He looked her dead in the eye.

"Something you can't give me."

She was stunned to silence for only a moment after his biting words, and as he finished putting his coat on, she drew in a shuddering breath. "So that's what this is about. You're angry because I haven't sucked your dick in a couple weeks."

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "Please. If I needed to get off, I could go anywhere I wanted."

"Oh, right, because the women are lining up down the street to fuck you."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," he snapped.

"Then what do you mean?" She folded her arms, raised her eyebrows.

He paused for a moment, tongue burrowed into the corner of his cheek as he watched her. "I mean that I actually want you. Am I not bein' clear enough? I don't just wanna fuck you once in a while 'n then pretend to be strangers. But I have no idea what the hell you want from me, so I'm leaving. You can tell Dolley I said g'night."

"I will," she replied. "And I'm sure James will love hearing everything Dolley knows about us hooking up. Have fun dealing with that fallout."

He let out a mirthless laugh. "Thanks. Whatever he has to say, it'll be much easier than havin' to deal with you."

––––––––––––––––––––

mailto: [email protected]

Ashley:

I hope this email finds you well. Thank you so much for all your feedback on the Adams article; it’s been incredibly helpful in my redrafting process. However, many of the claims he makes about Jefferson’s past remain unsubstantiated, and I have faced numerous obstacles in finding a source who is willing to corroborate. None of Jefferson’s contacts who know him well enough to confirm or deny are willing to comment. As such, I am reaching out to request a two-week postponement on the publishing of the article while I straighten out the facts supporting it.

Thank you in advance,

Y/N L/N

––––––––––––––––––––

THOMAS’S WORDS HAD stung. He left that day with no further ado, and Y/N was left dwelling in the days that followed. She couldn't help but wince every time she recalled what happened. Her guilt was weighing on her even heavier than before.

"Mija, where is the order for Marcus?"

It was Mira's voice that broke her train of thought, pulled her out of her head. She blinked hard and found herself in the middle of absentmindedly assembling a sandwich. She checked the receipt— shit. Marcus had specifically asked for no mayo.

Y/N huffed as she trashed the bread and pulled out another roll. A minute later, she slid his order out in a basket complete with fries and a pickle, yelled it out over the counter, and went on to the next one. They were closing in ten minutes: why the hell were there still orders to make?

She slumped against the kitchen counter, resting on her hands against it after she finished the lobster roll for Sriya. Mira walked in to her left.

"Ay, this mess," she huffed, untying her apron and scrunching her nose as she surveyed the room. Y/N nodded, her blank stare not leaving the floor in front of her. Mira furrowed her brow. "Oye, you with me?"

Again, she nodded absently, and Mira frowned, folded her arms. "And you are happy to wash all these dishes, too? I can leave you here to mop the floors?"

The robotic nod she received in return made her sigh. "Mija." She snapped her fingers; Y/N visibly jumped, eyes wide. She looked at Mira. "What is wrong, hm? Why are you acting dumb?"

"Hey, uncalled for," Y/N defended herself, wearing a small frown as she looked over at Mira's impatient expression. "I'm just distracted."

"By what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know… work, I guess."

"You are at work," Mira pointed out, and Y/N sighed.

"You know I mean my other job. There's a lot on my mind. I'm sorry if I've been slacking here."

"Mm. Apology accepted," she said, and Y/N could only roll her eyes.

"Glad to hear it."

"But actually talk to me now, hm? You are giving me half answers." Mira raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. Y/N pursed her lips.

"It's not a huge deal. Just an article I've been working on," she said. Her stare was absent. After a minute, she cleared her throat. "But hey, um, sorry to change the subject, but can I ask, has Thomas Jefferson been around here lately?"

"'To change the subject,'" Mira repeated skeptically. "So he is your problem. It is always a man."

Y/N furrowed her brow. "I thought you loved Thomas."

"Sí, sí, pero te quiero más," Mira replied matter-of-factly. Y/N couldn't help her small smile. "You know you always come first for me."

"Thanks," she said softly.

"But why do you care about Thomas Jefferson coming here now? Hm?" Mira asked, making Y/N frown. She assumed she was off the hook. "All you ever do is complain about him. Shouldn't you be happy?"

"So he hasn't been coming here?"

"Ah, ah. My question first."

Y/N shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. I just haven't seen him during my shifts. I was curious."

Mira paused, eyeing her skeptically for a moment before she pulled her apron off over her head and folded it in her hands. "Yes, he has been by."

"Really? When?"

She nodded. "He was here yesterday."

"Did he seem… okay?"

Mira paused. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno." She shifted under Mira's disbelieving gaze. "I've heard he hasn't made many public appearances recently. Just wondering if something was going on."

"He seemed fine." Mira tossed her apron onto the counter. Y/N nodded, pressing her lips together. "He asked about you."

She froze. "He did?"

"He did," she confirmed. "Why did he ask about you?"

“What? I don’t know.” Her brow was furrowed, and her tone was defensive. “What did he ask?”

“The same thing you asked me about him. What is going on?”

“Nothing, I don’t—”

“No me mientas. I saw him leaving on a Saturday morning two months ago when I came in to open.” Mira’s tone was sharp, and Y/N’s stomach dropped. “I am not stupid; simply tell me what is happening."

“Mira, it’s really not what you think; he was just here while I was closing, and it was the night of that horrible blizzard, and his car wouldn’t start, and the roads were closed…”

“So you had an innocent little slumber party with Thomas Jefferson?”

“I just let him stay here for the night,” Y/N defended. “He didn’t really have any other options.”

“So why is he coming around here asking after you?” Mira folded her arms, and when Y/N shrugged, she sighed. “Please be honest with me. It is obvious that there is something more going on than you want to admit.”

Y/N’s long moment of silence following her words told Mira more than Y/N meant to divulge. Mira pursed her lips.

“Por favor, dime. I am only asking because I care about you.”

“Well, I appreciate it, but there’s nothing to be worried about,” Y/N assured her. “I’m obviously fine, and he’s apparently doing alright as well, so there’s no problem. I’ll come talk to you if there ever is.”

Mira looked her over as she cleaned up the counter she stood before. “Are you really doing fine, though?”

Y/N went to take out the trash.

–––––––––––––––––––––

SHE SETTLED BACK into her usual closing shifts at the diner within the week, returning to working the dinner rush. She could only feign illness to stay away for so long, and this wasn’t the shift Thomas typically came in during, anyway. Besides, she needed the money more than she needed to avoid him.

That week passed with little intrigue, limited to her favorite (and least favorite) customers alongside a surprise appearance from Lafayette on Wednesday night. Thankfully, he showed up during peak hours, so it wasn’t difficult to evade his questions under the guise of taking care of other customers. She assumed he left shortly after he came, but around an hour later, she noticed him in the back corner chatting animatedly with the old man who always ordered nothing but coffee and read his newspaper for hours. She couldn’t help but smile.

She was slowly walking back information from her article about Thomas, claiming she had another source denying the validity of its original claims, but she wasn’t sure her editor was buying it. Ashley was impatient, and her approach had always been to publish first and follow up later. It was surely only a matter of days, maybe a week, before the article went live without anyone corroborating it. Y/N was operating on stolen time.

But at that point, it couldn’t be her greatest concern.

The following Wednesday was slow at both the office and the diner. Thomas hadn’t appeared much in public since his fundraiser in North Carolina, so Y/N didn’t have much to write about to distract her from the exposé she was doing her best to stall. She had resorted to redundant think pieces about his economic policy platform.

When she arrived at the diner for the night, Y/N was already counting the hours until she could curl up with a glass of wine and watch Parks and Rec until she passed out on the couch. She’d take a night with Aubrey Plaza over her regulars any day.

She was working the kitchen with Jac until Mira left for the night, pushing Y/N to the register in her place. It wouldn’t have been a problem for her if not for the first face she saw when Mira brought her out to the front.

He was absentmindedly checking his phone when she approached, and she cleared her throat as she stepped up to the register. He looked up, and his eyes went wide.

"Hey." She spoke first. "What can I get you?"

"Hey." His voice was hesitant. "Sorry, I… thought you didn't work Wednesdays anymore."

She didn't meet his eyes, staring past him at the diner's patrons as she tapped her fingernails on the counter. "This is my usual shift."

"I know, but Lafayette said…" He trailed off, shaking his head. She raised her eyebrows, finally looking directly at him. His eyes were bloodshot. "Nevermind. 'M sorry. Can I get a roast beef on rye and a cappuccino to go?"

"Yeah. It'll be out shortly." Her words were soft, absentminded as she eyed him. He looked more put-together than she'd seen him when they were at Dolley’s, but the heavy frames of his glasses didn't hide the growing bags under his eyes.

He nodded, leaning down to pay, signing the screen before him. "Thanks, sweetheart."

He was tucking his card back into his wallet as he spoke, and as her eyes widened, he froze, both of them processing his words at the same time. He didn't say another word, though. He sighed as he turned to walk away, and she didn't interrupt him.

She sent his order to the kitchen and grabbed a cup for his coffee, marking it with his name. She stared at it for a long moment before glancing back up at him. He was seated at a table by the end of the bar, typing frantically on his phone.

They had his order out for him in around five minutes, and it was Jac who called it out to the dining room when he put it on the bar. Y/N went ahead and made his coffee herself, forcibly switching places with her coworker to transfer herself off of the register, and she was finishing it right as he came up to collect his sandwich.

"Cappuccino for Thomas?"

Her voice was weak as she met him at the end of the counter, and he gave her a halfhearted smile.

"Thanks."

As she handed him the cup, his fingers brushed against hers, and she couldn't bring herself to let go.

"Give me a call?" she asked quietly when he met her gaze. Her eyes were hopeful, and he swallowed thickly.

"Take care of yourself." His tone was impersonal as he broke her stare. She pursed her lips. He pulled the cup from her shaking hands.

––––––––––––––––––––

THOMAS DIDN'T CALL. Y/N wasn't sure she was really expecting him to after how he came in on Wednesday and made it clear that he'd been trying to avoid her. Still, her heart rate picked up every time she received a notification, not letting her rest until she had confirmed it wasn't him. She was let down every time.

She was the last employee there before they closed on Friday, as Jac had to leave early for a date, so she was left wiping down the counters as she waited for the final few customers to make their way out of the diner.

She looked up when the bell above the door rang, expecting the last person to be leaving, but instead, Thomas Jefferson was walking in. Her eyebrows shot up.

She came over to meet him at the register. "Did Lafayette also tell you I wasn't working Fridays?"

"Nah. 'M actually here to see you," he said. His expression was blank, his tone businesslike. "You did ask me to call, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Her voice was small. "At this point, I didn't think you were gonna."

"I didn't plan to." They both glanced over as the bell above the door chimed again, letting them know the last person had left the diner. "But it's been on my mind. I don't have time for that typa distraction, which is why I'm here."

"Right," she said softly. "Can I get you anything?"

"Coffee would be great if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course." The coffee pot was still hot and sitting under the machine, so it didn't take her long to pour him a cup in one of the mugs she'd just cleaned (one cream, two sugars). She turned back to hand it to him. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He accepted it as he sat down across the counter from her, putting it down in front of him. When he pulled out his wallet, Y/N raised an eyebrow, and when he started fishing out bills, she couldn't help but sigh.

"Put your money away; this is on the house," she said, and he glanced up with his dark brow knit.

"You should know by now that I can't be bought."

Her eyes widened at his words, and she looked him over skeptically for a moment as he put his wallet away. He held her gaze for another moment, watching her expectantly, and after a beat passed, the corners of his lips quirked up, giving the only indication that he might be joking. She rolled her eyes.

"How could I forget about your impeccable morals?"

"No idea." He reached for his coffee, and he took a delicate sip as she leaned against the counter across from him. "Why'd you ask me to call?"

"I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't think a text would cut it."

"What do we have left to say right now?" The bluntness of his question caught her off guard, and her eyebrows shot up as he watched her expectantly. "The conversation we had at Dolley's made it pretty clear any talk we had was gonna be more of the same."

She frowned, crossing her arms in front of her as she drew back from the counter. "If you think this is a waste of time then why did you bother to come here?"

"I don't think this is a waste of time," he defended. "I'm just not sure what you want from it."

"I don't know if you do, but I still have more to say," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Then why didn't you say it while we were at Dolley’s?"

"Because we started fighting, and you were angry, and I…" She sighed. "I didn't know how to. You had every right to be angry, but I didn't want to think I was in the wrong."

"So what's changed?" he asked, watching her expectantly.

She shrugged hesitantly, looking down at her hands on the counter. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what you said. I felt bad, and… I've been worried about you."

"You've been worried about me?" he repeated skeptically, and when she looked up, she didn't like the disdainful look in his eyes.

"I have." When his disbelieving stare didn't budge, she sighed. "The last couple times I've seen you, you haven't seemed like yourself. You looked… tired."

"'Course I'm tired; I'm running a presidential campaign," he said flatly, and Y/N pursed her lips.

"I know, but then Lafayette called, and…" She trailed off when Thomas huffed. "I dunno. Mira told me you asked about me, and then Lafayette started talking like he knew something I didn't. So I was worried."

"Of course Lafayette called," he scoffed. "He can't just stay out of our damn lives, can he?"

"He means well," she reasoned, but he looked unimpressed.

"He needs to learn a thing or two about boundaries," Thomas said, "but I'm doing just fine. If that's all you wanted to talk about, I can head out."

"No, c'mon," she pleaded. "I didn't bring you here just for that. Bear with me."

Thomas said nothing but raised an expectant eyebrow as he took another sip of his coffee, waiting for her to continue.

"The real reason I wanted to talk is because I owe you an apology. Several apologies, really."

He put down his mug, leaning back in his chair. "What for?"

"You know what for." She gave him a tired look, and he shrugged innocently.

"Maybe." He drummed his fingers on the ceramic absentmindedly, watching them bounce on its glossy surface. "But I wanna know if you know what you're apologizin' for."

The bored look he wore made her feel small. She swallowed.

"I'm sorry for treating you how I did."

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

"I think if I tried to be specific we'd be here quite a while."

"I've got time."

"It's late."

"You don't have work tomorrow." He paused, considering himself. "As far as I know, that is. Won't pretend I still know your schedule."

"It hasn’t changed as much as I pretended it did,” she said quietly. “So I guess I’ll start there. I’m sorry for lying to you about my schedule and trying to pretend I hadn’t been avoiding you. I should’ve been upfront when you asked about it.”

“Yeah, you shoulda," he agreed with a nonchalant shrug. "I never got an explanation on why you were avoidin’ me either, but with how you started deflecting when I asked about other men, I’m not sure I want one.”

“Woah, I wasn’t deflecting anything about other men,” she defended, brow creased. “I told you in no uncertain terms that I had no desire to hook up with Lafayette, and you decided to push that and scrutinize my dating life.”

He rolled his eyes. “‘S great to know you and Lafayette aren’t sleeping together, but you can’t pretend you were straightforward with me.”

“What was I not being clear about?”

“You’re really gonna make me do this again?” Thomas huffed, glancing to his right as disbelief flashed in his eyes. “I dunno why you wanted to talk to me if we were just gonna rehash this.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Every time I've asked whether you were sleeping with other people, you told me you didn’t owe me that information, ‘n it all became some big fight about me actin’ controlling,” he said. “If you don’t wanna tell me, fine, but don’t act like you’ve been transparent. We both know you’re keeping me in the dark for a reason.”

“I’m not, actually,” she said, looking him in the eye. “I haven’t been with anyone else. Not in any capacity. If I were having sex with other people, I would’ve been asking you to be a lot more careful.”

“So you didn’t call me up to tell me I needa get tested for chlamydia?”

“No, just syphilis.” Her tone was lighthearted, but Thomas didn’t offer any sign of amusement. She cleared her throat. “You’re the only person I’ve been with since we met, so the last thing you have to worry about is me passing on some incurable STI.”

“You haven’t slept with anyone else since I’ve known you?” There was surprise in his creased eyes as he fixated on the first part of her sentence. She shrugged.

“I guess I haven't.” She eyed his incredulous stare. "I didn't think this would be that shocking, either."

"You've been careful as possible to make that unclear," he said. "So if there's nobody else, then why all the lyin'? If you wanted space, you coulda just said so. I'm an adult; I can handle it."

"I know you can," she said quietly. She rubbed at a smudge on the countertop, trying to avoid his gaze. "I just… I've felt guilty about being with you and… whatever this is. Whatever we are. So much happened so fast between us, and the more time I spend in the outside world the more I feel like it was a mistake."

"'A mistake'?" The hurt in his tone was clear, and she sighed, resting her forehead on one of her hands.

"I don't mean it like that, but you know what the reality is here. We knew it from the start."

"I shouldn't have come here," he muttered, setting down his mug and moving to stand. Her eyes widened.

"Wait, hear me out," she pleaded, but he was off of his seat, buttoning his coat. "I got a lot more attached to you than I meant to, alright?"

That stopped him cold.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about what you said at Dolley's, and I'm sorry I spent so much time deflecting." She pursed her lips, watching him hopefully, and when he met her eyes, his tense shoulders softened. "I really like being with you, but with what our lives are, we can't be doing this. We’re not good for each other."

"I never asked you for any kind of a commitment," he defended. "You shoulda just told me if you didn't wanna do it anymore."

"I do want to keep doing it, though, and that's why it's such a problem." She sighed, her back sagging as she leaned against the counter. "I got too close. It's ruined all my objectivity as a journalist."

"You're good at your job," he reasoned. "The way you write about me's gotten more nuanced. I don't think that's a bad thing, sweetheart."

"No, you don't get it. This is a presidential race, and as a frontrunner, people have had enough of hearing about your politics. They get it by now. They want to hear about you and your ugly past and all the things that make you an unqualified leader." Her voice sounded hopeless, and it made him frown. "You've told me too much for me to play it straight. I care too much to be able to decide what the public does and doesn't need to know. I got this assignment because I wanted to serve up your dirty laundry on a silver platter, but I don't think I have it in me after everything that's happened."

"There's not much in my past worth hiding."

"Isn't there?"

"If I've made it this this far into my career without bein' hurt by what I do behind closed doors, I'm not afraid of anything you're gonna dig up."

"You were an alcoholic."

His wide eyes snapped to hers, and she didn't dare speak.

"'N how the hell d'you know about that?"

"So it's true?" she asked quietly.

"I was grieving my goddamn fiancée. She was all I had; I was surviving," he snapped, and she pursed her lips. "You try losing the love of your life 'n tell me it doesn't screw with your head."

"I don't blame you, Thomas, and I'm not judging you." Her soft words didn't save her from his skeptical gaze. "I’m sorry that you went through that. You didn’t deserve a second of it. But now that I know this, I’m supposed to publish an article about it. My editor wants to make this front page news, but I want to kill the story because I got too close to you."

"If I was anybody else, would you even know about this?"

"I got this information from an interview." She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. "My source wants to remain anonymous, but it's sound enough to publish without someone else corroborating it."

"Are you tellin' me you're planning to publish an article about me bein' an alcoholic?" His voice was incredulous; he watched her as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. The look in her eyes was pained.

"I don't want to," she said. "I don't want to make this public because I care too much about you. I don't even know whether this would be a fair article for someone to write because I've lost all perspective on writing about you."

"So don't write the article," he said, and she could barely stand to look at the worry in his eyes. "'S all in the past. I'm under control now; 's not who I am. That was me at my worst."

"My editor already knows about the interview," Y/N said softly, and she winced at the dread she saw flash in his expression. "If I don't publish this, someone else will, and I'll lose my job in the process."

"Who did the interview this came from?"

"I did." Her words were tearful.

"Then you can still stop this," he said firmly. "Refuse to write about it. Don't send your boss the notes from the interview, or the tape, or whatever you've got."

"Thomas, it's already written."

Her words struck him silent, and all he could do for a moment was stare at her in disbelief.

"I'm trying to stop it from running. It's a rough draft, so my editor still needs me to—"

"I opened up to you about my fiancée's death, 'n you just turned around and wrote an article about it?" His quiet voice was heavy with hurt.

"It's not about that. It doesn't even mention Martha, and my editor doesn't know about any of that," she pleaded. "My source doesn’t know about her, so nobody else has to. But there are people out there trying to crush your campaign who know about your struggle with addiction. The information’s out there; it’s only a matter of time before someone goes public with it."

“So you figured you may as well fast-track destroyin’ my reputation? You wanna tell the whole world who I was in my weakest moments?”

“Wouldn’t you rather the story be written by someone sympathetic to what you’ve been through?” she asked. “If I withhold the source from my editor, she can’t run the story, I lose my job, and some asshole who wants to see you suffer casts this all in a much harsher light.”

“All I’m askin’ for is time,” he pleaded. “We’re in the middle of the primaries; if this comes out now, I’m through.”

“I’ve delayed it for as long as I can. My editor wants a final draft by the end of next week.”

“The end of next week,” he repeated softly, looking down at the counter. His teeth were gritted; his jaw tense, but he was eerily still. Y/N felt sick. “You asked me to come here to apologize and tell me you cared about me just so that you could, what, feel better about yourself before you stabbed me in the back?”

“I felt bad about how we left things.”

“And this is so much better.” His voice was harsh, thick with irony as he looked up at her. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You have some goddamn audacity, trying to make peace with me knowing damn well you just wrote an article that’s gonna destroy everything I’ve been working for.”

“This isn’t going to kill your career. It won’t even kill your campaign; the primaries are almost over, and you’ve won. You’re the candidate; take your victory lap,” she said, and the source of the indignation in her voice was hard to pin down. “I’ve been writing articles for months in opposition to your presidential run, and you never cared. We even laughed about it. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that there’s finally some news that might make a dent.”

“This isn’t the same thing, and you know it,” he snapped, rising from his seat as his hand hit the countertop. His mug clattered against the surface.

“And what’s so different? I’ve said the harshest things about your career that I could think of; no matter how bad it got, you were still texting me on Friday nights asking me to come over.”

“This isn’t about my career. This is about me.” The words were firm, and he looked Y/N dead in the eye as he said them. “You don’t care about me; you care about climbin’ corporate ladders ‘n being national news. Nobody who really cared would be able to hear about what I’ve been through ‘n capitalize on it.”

“It’s not like that, Thomas, I—”

“Don’t call me,” he cut her off abruptly as he buttoned his coat. “Don’t text me, don’t talk to me, and don’t come near me. I’ve had enough of this goddamn game you’ve been playing, and I’m done having this conversation over and over again where I give you the benefit of the doubt n’ all you do is remind me that I’m expendable.”

“Wait, don’t—”

“I said I’m done,” he said. “And we’re done. You… you need to take a long, hard look at yourself before letting anybody else into your life.”

Y/N could barely speak with the lump building in her throat. She could barely breathe. Her eyes stung as she looked up at him, and she was afraid to move. All she could manage, her voice hoarse, was, “I’m sorry.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

When he walked out, he didn’t look back.

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