#and to silence people who call her out on it is just another layer of shit on an already massive dung heap of a person

[justauthoring]

jerk [2].

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate.

a/n: the LARGELY requested part two! honestly, i'd be willing to write more parts if people wanted :) this part ended up being more about the girls and y/ns friendship but i couldn't help myself - if you guys want some fluff with bakugou for future parts, just let me know!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part one.

“You’re hiding something from us.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then another and when finally, you realize you should say something, you blink, sputtering out a barely believable; “no i’m not.”

Mina and Jirou glance at each other, then behind them at the rest of the girls, and you feel a layer of sweat build up when you realize all of your female classmates are here, surrounding you, demanding an answer. And you’ve never really been all that good at lying before, it’s how Bakugou was able to figure out the whole “i’m your soulmate thing” rather quickly and it had only taken him as long as it had because, well, it was Bakugou.

So, to put it bluntly, you’re screwed.

“Come on, Y/N,” Mina laughs, “that wasn’t even remotely believable.”

You know it’s written across your face, your eyes wide and your lips parted and you’re sure you look like quite the picture in that moment surrounded by every single female student in your class, a group of girls you considered your friends but were feeling considerably more like your interrogators in that moment. 

But you have to at least try.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you repeat, this time taking special care to make sure your voice is even and somewhat believable. “I’m just… tired. It’s been throwing my balance off. Sorry guys.”

You really are because you have been weird recently and you were hiding things (even if you were desperate for them not to know that) so the sincerity was there and it seems to be enough because they all glance at each other, frowning, and you can literally see the determination fade as Momo speaks up first.

“You have been leaving to train a lot,” she agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s no wonder you’re so tired. But you should still try to get some rest, don’t push yourself so hard.”

You let out a breath of relief, trying not to let it show as some of the girls shuffle back to walk away, until—

“Wait, that reminds me!”

It’s Jirou who calls it out and you feel yourself freeze.

“She hasn’t been training!”

Eyes widening, you turn to look at Jirou. She’s grinning your way, her figure pointed in your direction, clearly pleased she’d caught you in your lie.

“Jirou,” Uraraka calls out, confused. “What are you–”

“Two nights ago when she left to go training, I followed her, thinking we could train together… she wasn’t there.”

They gasp. Literally gasp.

“Now that you mention it,” Froppy nods, finger held to her chin in thought. “I haven’t actually seen her in the gym very often… nor does she look particularly like a person who’s just trained when she comes back.”

Their eyes fall on you and you take a step back.

“Y/N—”

And then you just run.

-

“I can’t believe she just ran!”

“I know!”

“Guys, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Who?”

Mina’s lips are left parted at the sound of Kirishima’s voice, all the girls turning to face him in the living room where he’s sat with the rest of the class.

“Y/N,” Mina explains with a huff, falling into the couch dramatically. “She’s been ditching us constantly and always leaving right after we return from class with some excuse. When we tried to ask her about it today, she lied and then when we caught on to her lie, she ran! Literally just bolting down the hallway before we could even blink.”

Kirishima frowns, glancing over to Denki on his left.

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Deku calls out from across the room, head tilted in curiosity. “Especially to lie to you guys.”

“I know!” Mina calls out, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 

“Like I said,” Uraraka speaks up, trying to remain calm. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Maybe something’s wrong…”

“You think she could be in danger?” Shoto asks, quirking a brow. 

Uraraka shrugs; “I don’t know… I hope not.”

Everyone falls silent, worried expressions plastered on their faces.

“Wait, Kirishima… bro.” Denki calls, reaching to shake Kirishima aggressively, to which the red-haired boy swats his hands away, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Hasn’t Bakubro been disappearing a lot too?”

All the girls straighten out.

Kirishima just shakes his head; “Bakugou is always disappearing. You know he doesn’t like hanging with us a lot.”

“No, Denki’s right,” Sero nods, “even if he isn’t hanging with us, he’s usually in his room or in the gym. Recently, he just completely disappears.”

“I guess you’re right…” Kirishima frowns.

“Wait,” Jirou calls out, “what are you saying? That Bakugou is disappearing with Y/N?”

“That’s crazy,” Mina brushes off. “I’ve never even seen the two talk to each other unless they’re forced to–wait.”

Everyone's eyes snap to hers, wide.

“What?”

“You don’t think… no. It’s not possible.”

“Oh my god,” Denki cries out suddenly, leaning forward with a manic look in his eyes. “Bakubro is hurting Y/N!”

“Wait–”

“No way!” Kirishima calls out, turning to Denki. “Bakugou is a lot of things, but he would never hurt somebody intentionally. Especially not a girl. That’s not manly. Right, Midoriya?”

“Right,” Deku nods confidently, before pausing; “I think?”

“Hey!”

“Guys, no!” Mina cuts in, shaking her hands widely before her. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay…” Momo nods, “then what?”

She leans in, pausing for dramatic effect. “He could be… her soulmate!”

There’s silence, then, “no way.”

Mina’s face falls; “why not?”

“Bakugou? Having a soulmate?” Jirou snorts, “I doubt that.”

“Everybody has one!”

“Okay, the odds of him actually caring about his soulmate are slim to none,” Froppy offers in response.

“Yeah,” Deku nods, “I've never once seen Kacchan show interest in his soulmate like… ever.”

Kirishima shakes his head; “even I have to admit that’s so not manly.”

Everyone shuffles around agreements but Mina is quick to argue; “have any of you guys ever seen Bakugou’s soulmate mark?” Slowly, one by one, all glancing at each other, the guys shake their heads. Mina then turns to the girls. “Okay, have any of you ever seen Y/N’s? Cause she’s never shown or told me.”

The girls all shake their heads.

“So how can you really know?” Mina raises a brow, “I mean, Y/N is always so secretive about her mark. She refuses to tell me.”

-

“Bakugou, we have—”

“Katsuki.”

Coming to a sharp halt, lips left parted, you blink up at Bakugou.

With a grin, Bakugou gently shuts your mouth with a hand to your jaw, laughing lightly; “say Katsuki. That’s my name.”

You can feel your cheeks warm, profusely, and a burst of heat flood through you as you pull yourself from his touch, avoiding his gaze. “Katsuki,” you oblige with a huff and a pout. “We have a problem.”

“Yes?” Bakugou asks, raising a brow your way as he lowers the weight’s he’d been lifting.

“The girls are onto us!”

Bakugou just stares down at you. “What does that mean?”

Exasperated at his obliviousness, you huff, stretching your hands out before you for emphasis as you stare up at him, wide-eyed. “They know I’ve been disappearing after class a lot. I tried to tell them I was training, which I guess we usually are but Jirou caught on to that being a lie too and now they’re onto us!”

Bakugou just blinks. “But what do you mean onto us?”

You let out a cry; “Katsuki! They’re gonna know we’re soulmates!”

“So?”

Pressing a hand to your face, you can’t believe your situation. Not only were the girls onto you, they knew you were lying, which made you feel awful and if they found out that you’d been spending all your time with Bakugou… well that was bound to bring up more questions. Questions you wouldn’t be able to avoid. Questions that would ultimately lead to them finding out Bakugou was your soulmate.

A hand gently reaches for your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as Bakugou crouches to meet your eyes directly. 

“Why is it such a big deal?” He asks gently, an odd tone that you’re still not used to hearing from Bakugou yet. His face remains neutral but there’s patience lingering in his eyes as he waits for you to explain why you’re so upset.

And you do. Your lips part and the words are at the tip of your tongue until, suddenly, you can’t say anything.

Nothing leaves your lips.

“Y/N?”

“I…—”

“You don’t want them to know?”

Blinking, you bite your lip. “It’s not that, it’s just…” But again, you can’t find the words.

“You don’t trust them?”

“Of course I do,” you argue instantly, “they’re my best friends.”

“Okay…” he says slowly, and then his face twists, “are you… embarrassed of me?”

Meeting his gaze, you frown. “...No,” you whisper, and you mean the words.

“Then what���s the problem?”

“I…” Shoulders falling, you frown. “Nothing… I guess.”

“So,” he says, “let them find out!”

Sputtering, you lean back; “it’s not like you’ve told Kirishima or any of the other guys!”

“It’s none of their business,” Bakugou shrugs, letting go of your wrists to set his hand on your head. “But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell them.”

You find yourself silent with disbelief once again, Bakugou’s words echoing in your mind paired with the look in his eyes. Just staring down at you.

Looking at you.

Like you’re his whole world.

-

“I’m sorry.”

They blink at you.

“I’m sorry about running away yesterday.”

Another blink.

“And I'm sorry I’ve been lying to you guys for the past few weeks.”

Slowly, all the girls glance at each other, trying to gauge the situation, before Uraraka is the first to speak up.

“It’s okay,” she assures with a smile, setting her hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We appreciate you apologizing. We were just worried.”

“We wanna make sure you’re okay,” Jirou adds, smiling shyly at you. 

You take a look at all of their faces, seeing the sincerity staring back at you, before settling on Mina who still has a hint of hurt in her eyes but there’s also hope.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Bakugou’s my soulmate.”

Silence echoes, once again, before.

“What?”

“I knew it!”

“Bakugou!?”

There’s a mix of words, gasps of disbelief and shouts of question thrown out at you as all the girls rush towards you, swarming you, desperate for answers.

You laugh a little at their reaction, and that catches their attention.

“Y/N?” Mina asks, confused.

“I’ve been sneaking off to see him,” you explain to her, meeting her gaze, before letting your gaze drift. “I didn’t say anything because I’m still adjusting to it myself and I still don’t know how to feel about it. But I realized it isn’t fair to lie to you guys like that and that I want you guys to know because you matter so much to me.”

“Y/N…” Uraraka mumbles, tears welling in her eyes.

Her expression mimics many of the other girls before suddenly there’s a body slamming against your own, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you stumble back, trying to catch your footing.

“Oh. My. God!” Mina screams, you wincing at the sheer volume, as she pulls back, grinning brightly at you. “You have to tell us everything!”

-

The next morning, you’re sitting at the island in the kitchen eating breakfast, chatting to Mina, Jirou and Kirishima. The rest of the students trickle by, some making breakfast, some in the living room, all in their own conversations, until suddenly it all stops.

It takes you a moment to realize Kirishima, Mina and Jirou are no longer listening to you, head turned to their right and following their gaze, curious, you blink when you realize it’s Bakugou they’re staring at. It’s not like he’s doing anything particularly odd, nothing except for the fact that his gaze is directed on you and he’s heading straight for you and then suddenly, he’s right in front of you.

His gaze drifts from you, to your plate, back to you; “who made you that?”

“Nobody,” you say slowly, still stunned. “I made it.”

He’s grabbing the plate before you can say anything else, pressing a kiss to your forehead that has your cheeks burning before turning and making his way to the fridge.

“I’ll make you something better,” is all he says in explanation.

Your gaze slowly drifts from him to Mina and Jirou who are grinning widely at you, before there’s the shout of;

“Did Bakubro just kiss Y/N?!”

“And offer to make her breakfast!”

“Wait,” Kirishima suddenly calls after Sero and Denki, turning to Mina and Jirou, “why are two grinning!?”

“All the girls are!” Deku exclaims, pointing at Uraraka and Froppy in front of him.

“You guys knew?”

“Of course,” Mina grins, sending a wink Kirishima’s way before shrugging. “Isn’t that right, Bakugou? You and Y/N are soulmates!”

Everyone expects him to ignore her or tell her to shut up, but instead, he pauses in what he’d been doing (cracking an egg for you), turning his head over his shoulders to meet your gaze before smirking. 

“That’s right.”

And chaos follows.

Utter and complete chaos.

#mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader

[chlorinecake]

🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【 薄幸な恋人 】 ⛦

summ✩ry While collabing with your girl group and Enhypen for a special stage, forbidden feelings spark between you and the main dancer upon dorming together

p✩iring idol!niki x popstar!reader ✩ requested ✩

-> PART 2 HERE

genre band au, fluff, secret romance cw swearing, mild bullying, the word ‘sexy’ like once, kissing, girl drama, reader is younger than Niki wc 4.4k

“Ugh,” Serenity groaned as the hairstylist applied yet another thick layer of chocolate brown hair dye to her scalp.

“This gig better bring in some serious bank, because never in my life would I willingly collab with those overrated wannabes,” she exclaimed, taking a frustrated sip from her vanilla latte.

“Hey, people used to call us wannabe's, too, you know,” Haerin said quietly as she tucked her hands under the UV light.

“Yeah, you should be more mature about this, Serenity... like I always say, professionalism triumphs pride," you added, only half-engaged in the conversation as a certain online article caught your attention.

As the band leader, you were always in charge of everything, so Serenity and Haerin were used to you talking to them this way...

“I’m just glad that we're getting exposure,” Haerin smiled, thinking of the countless nights you and your group spent practicing routines and writing songs for auditions, "it's not often that artists like us get opportunity's to perform internationally."

“For real,” Serenity cheered, “Riot Grrlz for the win!”

The three of you put your hands out to make a circle, “Riot Grrlz for life,” Haerin exclaimed, forgetting that her nails hadn't fully dried yet.

"Whoops," she giggled, just as Jade, the oldest of your group, made her way from the bathroom.

“What took you so long in there?” Serenity asked cheekily, “I thought we were gonna have to call the fire department.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jade returned, taking a seat beside Haerin so she could get her nails done, too.

“You were talking to the enemy, weren’t you,” Serenity accused.

“No, Ren, I didn’t go behind your back and sell my soul to the devil for fame.”

“Not that enemy,” Serenity grinned, “I'm talking about Mr. Six Foot Moon Eyes.”

“Oooooo,” Haerin amused, pulling your attention away from your phone.

“Ugh, let it up guys. My crush on Sunghoon is long gone, especially now that we’re gonna be working together. Besides, I would never act so recklessly over romance.”

“Who said anything about reckless romance,” you teased, unintentionally giving Jade a full view of the article your were reading on your phone.

"Nobody,” she began, “but I’m surprised you even heard that over all your internet-stalking.”

You were scrolling through a K-Pop news feed when you came across a post.

It was titled: "Enhypen Rumored By Netizens To Be Collabing With THIS Rookie Western Girl Group."

"Shush," you whisper-yelled at Jade, "unless you’re trying to get our record deals pulled!"

Just last week, your management team made you and your group sign a contract of secrecy, swearing silence regarding unpublicized business projects and associations: this included your upcoming collab with Enhypen that Jade nearly just spoiled.

Although, in all honesty, the blog's use of the word "rookie" bothered you more than potentially breaking any contract rules.

"Relax, boss, it's practically a ghost town in here," Jade defended, drawing your attention to the near vacant salon space.

Ding.

It was an email from your manager.

He wanted to inform you all that your chauffeur would be ready around 2:45am to bring you guys to the airport.

"Jeez," you mumbled to yourself, "looks like I'm not getting much sleep tonight."

“Shit,” Serenity whined, “I haven’t even made enough time to brush up on my Korean yet!”

“Luckily me and Haerin here are bilingual baddies,” Jade giggled, giving the cat-eyed girl a fist punch.

“Ahh, watch my nails!!”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Your company's fashion crew was experimenting with different concepts, assigning each of your members an individual color to permanently represent: Serenity was teal, Jade was purple, Haerin was white, and you were pink.

Some time passed, an you and your group arrived in South Korea around 3:00pm.

Thanks to the fashion tech your management team hired, it wasn't obvious that you and the girls had been in and out of sleep for the past 13 hours.

You couldn't help but stalk the headlines about your group, as rumors about your Enhypen collab continued to spread like wildfire.

So much for swearing silence and secrecy, you thought to yourself.

South Korean pop media had already seemed to build a vendetta against your group, given that you were young, talented, and most importantly, from the states. The xenophobia of most K-netizens was disheartening at best, but you understood that hate was a part of success.

Besides, you were living the dream of many engenes at the moment — most of them would sell their siblings to be in your shoes right now.

“Ahh! This is unreal!!” Jade cheered excitedly in the back of the limousine. You guys had just left the airport around thirty minutes ago, after getting past the pesky crowd of paparazzi.

“I know right? Korean McNuggets slap way harder than back home,” Haerin added while munching on the salty snack.

“Don't get too comfy, Rinnie. We will leave you here,” Serenity joked.

You hadn't even realized the radio was playing until a certain guitar riff blared from the ceiling speakers.

"Oh hell no," Serenity immediately cringed, covering her ears as you, Jade, and Haerin exchanged knowing look, bringing imaginary microphones to your mouths in unison.

It was Enhypen's song Blessed-Cursed, Jay’s voice singing "We go!" over the radio.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, GO!!" The three of you cheered, obnoxiously dancing to the choreo while sitting.

Memories of your group (minus Serenity) binge watching music videos at sleepovers resurfaced in your mind.

Usually, you'd only listen to throwback hits like Britney Spears or Rihanna, mostly because Rnb and Pop beats inspired your own art.

Still and all, Blessed-Cursed was one video that the three of you fell in love, way before your upcoming collab was even a thought.

"Don't get mad when I start recording you clowns," Serenity threatened, thoroughly amused by your behavior.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Upon arriving outside the Hybe Building, a trio of body guards guided you and your girls to an office room where the seven boys stood awkwardly around a large table.

Part of you still couldn't believe this was all actually happening, despite it being right in front of you.

“Hello! We are Enhypen,” Jungwon bowed as the guards exited the room.

Jay visibly cringed at his leaders words, “I promise we were told to introduce ourselves like that. Please don’t judge us.”

“Well, uhm… H-hi,” you stuttered, feeling a bit nervous, “We are the Riot Grrlz. It’s a pleasure being able to work with you all.”

Niki, the tallest of the boys, caught your attention immediately as he greeted you with a peace sign.

Was he always this cute?, you thought to yourself.

That’s when a lady dressed in all black barged through the glass door on the other side of the room.

“Sorry to interrupt… well, not really. Me and the Enhypen boys are already well familiar with each other, but you ladies can call me Kim,” she greeted, waltzing into the office as if owning the place.

She was a fast talker, so you knew you’d have to pay attention to what she was saying or else you might miss something.

“I hope you made use of each others time and gathered everyone’s names? Phone numbers?”

”We were just in the middle of that before you came in, Miss Kim,” Sunoo clarified.

“Very well then. You have a total of 15 minutes to lock in dorming arrangements. As you’ll see on this clipboard here…”

She paused mid-sentence, holding the clipboard dumbly.

“God, can one of you take this thing already?”

“Oh- sorry,” Heeseung chuckled nervously, taking the clipboard from the fiery woman.

“As I was saying, there are four rooms for the eleven of you to somehow divide. And no, just because you’re all hormonal young adults, none of you get a free pass to break the no-dating rule.”

“No-dating rule? What is this, a detention center,” Serenity mumbled.

Kim cleared her throat, feigning a smile as she glared at Serenity with narrowed eyes, “This is a place of utmost professionalism, Princess Land of The Free. If you have a problem adhering to the rules in place here, you are more than welcome to leave.”

“A-and after that? The fifteen minutes, I mean,” Haerin blurted out shyly.

“All of you will meet back in the main lobby, where you will be guided accordingly.”

Miss Kim turned of her black boots, beelining to the door with powerful strides, “The timer starts now” she called out, closing the door behind her.

And with that began your group discussion of rooming arrangements. Unfortunately, though, things didn’t get off to a particularly nice start.

“Are you effing kidding me?” Serenity asked rudely, screwing her eyes toward a now annoyed Heeseung, “Why can't we just get separate hotel rooms?!?”

“Look, there's no perfect way to go about this," he sighed, crossing out the roommate pairs you all had just agreed on. "So you either humble yourself, or sleep in the bathtub for the next two weeks."

“Really guys, the math is simple,” Jake started, “There’s eleven of us and only four rooms to choose from. Nine of us will be divided in groups of three, and the remaining two will share the last room together.”

"Cool! Me, ____, and Jade can share the first room together!" Haerin obliged with a smile.

"Perfect, and where will I go?" Serenity questioned, mocking Haerin's excitement.

"The bathtub, right?" Jay teased, provoking Serenity to argue with him.

Meanwhile, you attempted to make peace with everyone willing to listen, “Guys, I agree with Jake. We need to make a decision quickly before Kim gets back.”

“Right. Everyone in favor of room number 1, provide a show of hands,” Heeseung said, Jay and Jake raising their hands with him.

"And for room 2?" Jungwon initiated, raising his hand with Jade and Haerin.

A pout formed on Jade's face once she realized that Sunghoon wasn't in the same pair as her.

"3's the magic number, I guess…" Sunghoon offered, Serenity raising her hand with him.

Now it was just you, Sunoo, and Niki remaining.

"I'll group with 3, too. All of our name's start with "S," so it just makes sense that way," Sunoo joined shyly.

"Welp, now that leaves the final room for me and..."

"Me..." Niki spoke with a deep voice, flashing a mysterious half-smile-half-smirk that you knew would haunt your mind later.

"Me and me... the odd one's out! Wow, that's actually perfect!" Jake cheered just as the lady in black strut back in.

“Times up,” she said, taking the clipboard from Heeseung to analyze the finalized dorming plans.

“Hmm, interesting,” she mumbled to herself, tucking the clipboard under her arm.

You all made your way down to the main lobby, just as Kim instructed.

One of the security guards mentioned that Hybe suggested a dinner outing for your group and Enhypen as a way to end the night before you started work the next day… or maybe it was mostly a way to officially confirm the rumors about your collab.

Upon arriving, everyone sat at separate tables, divided according to who they agreed to room with.

Although Niki seemed quiet at first, you and him were giggling the babies the entire time you ate.

“Poor Jungwon. He’s gonna be sandwiched between Jade and Haerin for the next two weeks, his biggest fans,” you joked.

“Nah, Sunghoon and Sunoo have it way worse. Serenity’s attitude is enough to send me running,” Niki chuckled, shaking his head.

"Speaking of running, how come you were appointed leader over your group even though you’re a baby," Niki teased.

"Not you baby-shaming me! I was born in 06', you've barely got any experience on me."

"I've had an entire YEAR to catch up on things, for your information."

"Things like what? Potty training?"

"Pfft, probably..." he replied, going quiet for a second before continuing, "If you ever need help, though, I don’t mind practicing with you after hours.”

"Sounds like fun, but that might be past my bedtime," you pouted playfully, taking one of the fries off his plate.

"Hmm."

"Hmm what?"

"Nothing, I just didn't take you as the type to follow rules," he smirked, taking a sip from his soda.

"I guess it depends on what rules we're breaking. Whether it’s worth it or not."

"So rule breaking is a “we” thing now, huh?"

"Probably..." you smiled, the cool breeze of the foreign air sending shivers down your spine.

Or maybe that had something to do with Niki?

Before you knew it, it was time to head back to your dorms for the night. You knew rehearsals in South Korea were taken a lot more seriously than where you're from, so you needed all the rest you could get.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Day one was easy.

The main focus was recording voice samples in the studio, experimenting with different harmonies, and training your vocals as needed.

Now you were on day two, which started with a quick vocal session, leading into the dance rehearsal warm-up right after. After stretching, the studio was split in half, girls taking the left side and boys taking the right.

You all wore numbers on your back. This way, there wouldn’t be any confusion when any of your were being called.

Niki was assigned number eleven, and you had number one.

According to Jake, the numbers were disseminated based on skill level, and out of the 11 of you, that made Niki first place… and you the very last.

As rehearsals went on, your placement was proving to be true.

You were struggling to keep up with the choreography and it was really starting to bug you.

"Are you feeling okay," Niki asked as you sighed for what sounded like the hundredth time.

"Yea, I'm fine, it’s just this footwork is a bit tricky," you admitted.

“Aww, the smallest number for our most inexperienced contributor,” Serenity teased, making a pass at both your age and inability to get this one move right.

“I may be the youngest out of all of us, but I was appointed head over our group for a reason,” you snapped back.

“Yea… and it still shocks me to this day,” she mumbled, Jade and Haerin pausing to listen now.

You scoffed at her ignorance, putting your hands on your hips, “As if you could lead the Riot Grrlz any better.”

Serenity gave you a look that made you wanna drop here right there in front of everyone.

You never understood why she always had an attitude over the simplest things, and given the current work setting, your tolerance for her bull crap was at an all time low.

“Right, the Riot Grrlz. “Rookie Western Girl Group,” huh? And you expect me to be proud of that?”

“With pride of lionesses, of course,” Jade pitched in, leaning down to fasten her shoelaces.

“We should really keep working on our routine, guys,” Haerin mumbled quietly, causing the raging brunette diva to roll her eyes.

Meanwhile, the boys seemed to be getting along rather well with their part of the routine, completely blind to the chaos brewing at their left.

And by the boys, I mean all of them except Niki and Jake, who were both too distracted by your girl drama.

Way to go embarrassing myself again, you thought to yourself

“You’re new to this sort of training, aren’t you,” Jake asked curiously.

“What, did my shitty dance moves give it away?”

You know it wasn’t Jake’s fault, but you were started to doubt your abilities as an artist and performer.

Even Serenity felt as though you were letting your group down.

“You’re not a shitty dancer, ____,” Niki answered, walking closer to you.

“Yeah, Niki’s right. You shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself,” Jake added.

“Exactly! Just focus on your strengths,” Serenity pitched in, “your vocals, for example. You might ruin the dance routine, but at least you’ll save all the high notes with Heeseung.”

It was clear that you and Niki were equally fed up with Serenity’s toxicity.

“Okay, can everybody clear out for a moment," Niki clapped, causing everyone to back up against the walls almost instantly.

He pulled you by the hand, turning you to face him as he called out to Sunoo, "Put on a random dance track, real quick. Something upbeat, please."

“Gotcha!”

Turning back to you, Niki took your chin in his hand, making your eyes meet his. “Just follow my lead, okay?” He whispered, taking off the bracelet he wore before sliding it on your wrist, “Do you trust me?”

“Niki...” you started, not sure of what he was trying to do.

“I need you to feel the music, ____. Let it control you," he said, stepping away as a short remix of "Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls blared from the radio.

You could hear an amused Serenity and Sunghoon chuckle a bit at Sunoo’s choice of song, but Niki remained serious.

His gaze met the ground before he started freestyling to the song, letting his mind and body get used to the rhythm as he flowed to the beat. You stood awkwardly beside him, not feeling up to dance at the moment.

He caught sight of you standing and nudged your shoulder, "Loosen up, ____," he smiled, finally starting to feel the song himself.

You started by mirroring his movements at first, adding a few steps to make it fit your own style more.

"See? Now you're getting it," he encouraged again, pulling you toward him so you could dance together.

Your friends and the boys cheered you and Niki on while you two danced as if choreographed.

The track ended with Niki's had on your waist, both of your chests heaving from all the action.

Haerin's jaw dropped as she struggled to find the right words or any words to say, “That was…”

“Sexy!” Heeseung smirked while playfully fanning himself, making Niki turn his face in embarrassment.

You could feel your own face getting hot now, too, especially with everyone staring.

"Relax, Rinnie, you're acting like you've never seen a guy dance with a girl before," Jade chuckled.

"N-not... n-never like THAT,” Haerin said with a shocked face, “____, you're amazing!"

"Thanks," you smiled shyly, eyes falling back the bracelet Niki put around your wrist.

"Keep it... it's a good luck charm," he replied softly.

"Alright, alright. You guys can loosen up each other's buttons on your own time," Serenity snapped, interrupting everyone's gawking.

"Right... On second thought, it’s time for our break," Jay called, handing you and Niki a rag for your sweat.

"Great job, you guys. See you in 20," Jungwon added.

"Come on, girls," you chirped, picking up your gym bag as you took a sip from your water jug, heading towards the studio exit.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The rest of the day continued according to your work schedule. One vocal practice followed the other as the initially difficult routine felt more natural with each retake.

You also made a stop by Hybe's fashion team, getting your measurements taken so they could design your outfit for the upcoming stage.

Although this was a work trip, you were having a blast in Korea so far. You liked getting to work with the new people and trying different foods. You especially liked being roomies with Niki.

He was super talented, chill, yet flirty at the same time.

No wonder his fans go so crazy over him, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, ____,” Niki called out, jogging to catch up as you made your way from the dance studio after going back to get the pair of headphones you forgot near the water cooler.

“I wanna show you something…,” he announced, “Well, a thing I like to do.”

“Mhm, and what’s that?” You asked playfully.

He chuckled, “Just a thing that I can’t get away with while in idol mode. My secret escape... Are you interested?”

You meditated on his words before answering, considering the early curfew outlined by both your managers, and how it was already 8:00 at night, “It’s getting pretty late, you know… Is it gonna take long?”

He giggled again, this time leaning into you. “Only if you’re indecisive.”

The sounds of your sneakers tapping against the shiny tiled floors bounced off the hallway walls.

Like you said, girls would sell souls to be in your shoes right now: there’s no way you were gonna pass up on a chance to hang out with Niki…

A chance to explore this reckless romance.

“Ok, let’s go, but we have to be back by midnight,” you agreed.

“Ok, Cinderella. We’re not too far from where I wanna show you,” he beamed, fighting the urge to hold your hand as you followed him out of the Hybe Building, clashing into the night.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The place was reminiscent of a skate park, graffitied ramp-like walls cupping you and Niki in the surface of the arena.

There were a few other people present, but they seemed more wrapped up in their own little worlds to even look your way…

The moon shined behind the thin clouds of the sky, basking you and Niki’s skin with an ethereal glow.

“This is it!” He gestured with open arms, “my secret escape.”

You tucked your hands in your pockets as it was a bit cold out, “A shared secret place?” You corrected, pointing out the tiny groups of people hanging around.

Niki pushed the hoodie from over his head, revealing his two-toned mane, “I guess you could say that… they’re all idols, here. Just like me. They get why I do this.”

“Why you do what,” you inquired, stepping over a few random rocks that decorated the path.

“Why I dance,” he answered almost immediately, looking you in the eyes, “for myself.”

He took a few steps away from you, swaying to the music that rippled from one of the mystery people’s carry-radios.

Like earlier, you mirrored his moves at first, adding your own adjustments based on intuition.

Feeling.

You had so many more questions to ask, but in this moment, you focused on Niki and the way he moved.

The small groups of people developed into a crowd within a matter of seconds, joining you and Niki along with the music.

Although everyone was doing their own thing, in a strange way if felt harmonious.

Some people danced calmly, others were more wild. Either way, you were starting to understand what Niki meant.

Being able to express yourself away from prying eyes, scornful comments, flashing cameras, or a number 1 sign on your back was invigorating.

The music was still going when Niki grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side, a soft look taking over his features.

“Kiss me,” he whispered, staring into your eyes.

“W-what?”

“I just need to know that what I’m feeling right now is real.”

You took his face in your hands, trying to make yourself feel more in control of the situation, “Niki, I don’t think we should do this. Your manager outlined pretty strict rules.”

He paused before responding, “Remember what you said at the restaurant the first day we met?”

His grip on your hands remained delicate despite how strongly he felt for you.

“About us breaking rules together… only if it’s worth it.”

“Exactly,” he smiled, leaning in, “I knew they didn’t call you a riot girl for nothing.”

His lips connecting with yours like a puzzle piece, both your hearts fluttering as if they’d grown butterfly wings.

You felt like your world was spinning at twice its original speed, but at the same time, the moment felt still.

Niki tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he braced a hand at your waist, pulling you closer before finally letting go.

“I like you, ____. Like, a lot,” he confessed, taking in the dreamy expression displayed on your face.

Your mind went blank.

“Say something? Please,” he urged, taking your hands in his.

A smile wavered over your features as you kissed him back on the lips, feeling as though you both stopped breathing for a moment.

“I like you too, Niki. But isn’t this pretty risky?”

“You said so yourself, risks don’t count if it’s worth it,” he nearly whispered.

“Well,” you began, still holding onto him, “if we’re gonna do this, it has to stay between us… no one else can find out.”

And just like that, you were now secretly dating your roommate / coworker / Enhypen’s main dancer and maknae / one of K-pop’s most sought after It-Boy’s, all in a three days.

Great.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

You and Niki made it back to you dorm rooms undetected. It seemed like everyone else was either too tired or too busy to notice that you two were out for so long.

Unlocking the door to as quietly as possible, you and Niki took light steps, trying not to disturb anyone or draw attention to yourselves.

Once the door was closed, you both bust out in a fit of laughter for reasons you didn’t understand nor cared to understand.

You didn’t need a reason laugh when Niki was around… it’s kind of just something that started to happen over the last couple days.

“What’s your secret to performing so well?” You asked him, both laying face-up on the lower bunk bed together.

“Hmm, I feel like nervousness is a strength. It pushes you to go forward in a sense…”

“Yeah… I get that. Sometimes, I feel like being calm is dangerous. It puts you in a safe space, when performing should be all about taking chances.”

“Right,” he agreed, resting a hand over his stomach, “Speaking of chances, they’re precious, you know? I never just assume I’ll get another opportunity to dance.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Like…” he sighed, trying to find the right words, “Every time I get on stage… in front of those lights… in front of my fans… I perform-”

“As if it’s your last…” you answered for him.

“Yeah, that,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “You know, it’s really nice talking to someone who gets me… the dancer part of me.”

“Of course, it’s really nice talking to you, too, Niki,” you smiled softly.

Breaking the calmness of the moment, he sat up in his elbows, meeting your face.

“Top or bottom?” He asked, referring to where you wanted to sleep for the night.

You crawled over his body, climbing into the upper bunk of the bed and laying down to finally rest.

“Good night, number 11,” you teased, snuggling into the mattress.

“Rest well, number 1. Big day tomorrow.”

🎙️ For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s, I hope it was worth the wait ~ And yes, before you ask, there will be a second part 💕

⛦ Additional tags for my fellow Niki enthusiasts: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @nikisblkgf @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel

🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~

@ashgonedash, I still felt bad about forgetting to tag you earlier 👑 so here you go, my love :3

Update: THANK YOU ALL SM FOR 400 NOTES!!

#niki fluff #niki x reader #niki x y/n #niki scenarios #niki fanfic #niki imagines #niki soft hours #niki blurbs #niki drabbles #enha niki #niki enhypen #enhypen #enhypen nishimura riki #niki ff #enhypen riki #nishimura riki #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen blurbs #enhypen drabbles #enhypen ff #nishimura riki x reader #niki x female reader #niki x you

[katiexpunk]

Caller Number Nine | Pairing Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a radio host of a popular late-night segment on relationships, advice and more. After a particularly bad night of calls, your final call of the night takes you by surprise.

Warnings: Javier is a flirt. Alcohol/marijuana. Humor/Banter. Flirting. References to infidelity and a man's negative view on his wife's postpartum body (the reader puts them both in their place). Both reader and Javier are lonely. New York. Slightly dom Javier. Biting. Javier gives reader a hickey. Murphy the Cat (this cat is DEA). Bodegas and a wholesome shop owner named Carlos. Some Spanish. TUWOMT call back to Paddington 2 but in a Javier AU. Javier calls the reader a slut once (she likes it). Praise kink. Thigh riding. Use of pet names. Just a hot fuck. Creampie. Unprotected sex. Fingering. Pizza on ranch. Dave Portnoy gets mentioned (iykyk). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. For immersability, the reader has no major physical descriptions.

W/C: ~6K

A/N: Let's just say this story was inspired by the slutty mustache that has made a triumphant return. I’m also just really into pizza with ranch right now, too, idk. If you need me I’ll be internally freaking out about the fact that there are almost 1,400 of you interested in my silly little stories. Thank you. 🥹🖤

Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3

People suck at listening. You used to, too. But over time, call after call, you have become intimately acquainted with the quiet moments—the pauses between heartbeats, the breaths taken before confessions spill forth, the silence that stretches like a canvas waiting for emotions to color it. 

These moments, often overlooked in the noise of daily life, are where you find the truth that guides you through the tangled web of love and relationships you navigate every night on your show.

For you, the quiet is not emptiness but a space brimming with potential. It's in these pauses that you listen most intently, not just to the spoken words but to the ones that tremble on the edge of silence, too shy or too scared to make themselves heard. You have learned that what is not said can be just as important as what is, and you can hear those unspoken fears, dreams, and desires. 

Each night, as the clock winds down and the world outside your studio window holds its breath, you lean into the quiet, inviting it into your show. You encourage your callers to do the same—to listen to the quiet within themselves, to the truths they've buried under layers of fear, doubt, or societal expectation. "In the silence," you often say, "you'll find the answers you've been too busy to hear."

Most of the time the callers are open to your feedback, their hearts open and kind.

Most of the time. 

Tonight isn’t one of those times.

++++

“Have you ever had Brussels sprouts made for you at midnight by a gorgeous woman in no pants following multiple orgasms? I have, and they’re fucking delicious,” one caller said. It was obvious after minutes of talking to him that he was failing to heed your advice that if he didn’t stop sleeping with women who weren’t his wife, she would likely find out one day and leave him. God, you hope she does. 

“I love her, you know? I just don’t find myself that physically attracted to her after she had the baby, it’s not my fault…” another said. Ugh, fuck off, dude. You were quick to shut that one down, to tell him that he was being a boy, to go to the store and buy his wife some goddamn flowers and apologize for being such an asshole. 

Like a broken record stuck on repeat, this is how the night continues. One bad call after another, each seeming to echo or outdo the last in its what the fuck factor. 

In the dimly lit recording studio, a soft hum of equipment fills the air, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of LED lights on the soundboard. You think briefly about letting out a scream before your last call, surely the foam walls would absorb the sound. 

The glow of the computer screen casts a soft light on your face, accentuating the furrow of your brow and the downturn of your lips. You're a picture of frustration, a stark contrast to the empathetic persona that your listeners know and rely on. Each bad call tonight has chipped away at you. You drop your head into your hands and rub your temples for a brief moment before looking up at the clock, its hands inching their way to your liberation. 

Just one more call. 

The phone lines blink red. Your hand, a little steadier than you feel, reaches out and cues up the next caller, your voice finding strength as it always does when you speak into the void. 

“Hi there, caller number nine. You’re on the air with Midnight Confessions. What’s on your heart tonight?” 

“Ah shit – oh, uh probably shouldn’t say that on air huh – mm, wasn’t expecting to get through,” the man admits, his tone telling you he’s nervous, and probably a little drunk. 

“Guess it’s your lucky night then. And it’s a late-night show, you can curse all you want to. What’s your name?” you ask, trying to ease him into the conversation.

There’s a pause, the kind that tells you the caller is weighing his options on whether he should give you his real name or not. Finally, he exhales softly, his mouth close to the receiver, enough for the exhale to cut through the static. 

“I’m Javier. And you are?” 

“You can call me the voice of the night,” you reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, the first genuine one in hours.

“Didn’t realize I called the crime fighters hotline.”

The joke catches you by surprise and you let out a little laugh.

“Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before,” you respond before eventually giving him your real name. “So tell me, Javier, what would you like to talk about tonight?” 

There’s another pause, longer this time, before Javier’s voice returns softer, and you can tell the tone is about to shift. 

“This is stupid, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry for wasting your time tonight ma’am,” he says, and you can tell he’s seconds away from hanging up. 

“Javier, wait –” you say, but he doesn’t respond. The line hasn’t disconnected, so you know he’s still there. 

“Listen, I don’t know you – and you don’t have to tell me anything – but I can tell from the tone of your voice that it sounds like you’re carrying quite a bit on your shoulders. It’s brave of you to want to open up about it. Sometimes, talking to a stranger is easier than talking to someone you know,” you say, letting the dead air hang heavy for a second, “let me try to help.” You try not to make a habit out of convincing callers to spill their guts, but something about this call, this man, compels you to. 

Javier sighs a sound that carries a world of worry. “I don’t even know where to start. My whole life, I’ve defined myself by my job, and without that, I –” his voice starts to crack, and he stops. You hear the clank of an ice cube against glass, and he continues again, “I realize how alone I am, how I don’t have anyone or anything. I feel like the only company I have these days are the ghosts of a past life.” 

You don’t have the full context of his confession, but it hits you deeper than expected, echoing a sentiment that's all too familiar. You think about how most of the time, when you’re not working, you’re either turning to dust on the couch or in the company of fictional men you read about in books. 

"Javier," you start, your voice softer, threading through the silence with care, "I understand more than you might think. You're not alone. It might feel that way right now, but I promise you’re not,” you say sweetly.

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue, “Losing a part of our identity, especially one that's been a cornerstone of who we are, is like losing our direction. But it's also an opportunity, a chance to rediscover yourself, to find new aspects of your life that give you meaning and joy."

You pause, giving Javier space, letting your words hopefully seep in to provide some comfort. 

“What does that mean – that you understand more than I might think?” he asks, not acknowledging the rest of your statement, a curiosity in his voice. 

“It means –” you start. Oh god, here we go. You’re not often like this with your callers, but this feels different. The studio, with its blinking lights and the gentle hum of the machinery, suddenly feels more intimate, as if it's just you and Javier at this moment, connecting through the airwaves.  

“When I was little, my mother always knew my things, quirks, you know? Things like the fact that I’m scared of heights, that I get cranky if I don’t eat breakfast, and that I only like ranch dressing on pizza and never salad. It’s all trivial, small little details, but from this, I think I learned that being known is to be loved. 

You take a deep breath, and let the silence swallow you whole for a moment before continuing. 

“When I say I understand more than you might think, I mean that I’m still one of those people who’s waiting for someone to tell me how much I mean to them, still hoping for someone who will know those things about me, too,” you pause.

“Someone who will hold my hand tightly when I’m on a rooftop so I don’t somehow tumble over the edge, someone who will make sure I eat breakfast, even if it’s just a shitty granola bar, someone who will buy the fancy ranch, even if it only gets used on greasy pizza.” 

You hear Javier chuckle through the line. 

“Something funny?” you ask, a little confused, slightly embarrassed that this call has somehow reversed the roles and you’re the one spilling your confessions over like a broken yolk into his hand. 

“No, no – it’s just ranch on pizza, that’s uh, that’s…disgusting,” he admits, a playful tone to his words, the sadness before seems to be gone, but you know his humor is likely just a mask. 

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know ranch on pizza is a classic, and quite delicious. Thousands – no millions – of people like ranch on their pizza, it’s not that weird,” you quip. 

“Right,” he rasps, “I’ll take your word for it, sweetheart.” You bite your lower lip and try to ignore the heat that’s risen to your cheeks, the little thrill you feel in your stomach from your banter. You’re quickly brought back to reality when you look at the clock and realize your call time is nearing an end. 

“Well, Javier, you're my last call of the night and I’m afraid it’s time to wrap the show up. Is there anything else I can help you with before I let you go?” 

“No,” he says, his voice a low rasp, thick like honey, “thanks for saying all of that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, the smile still on your lips like sugar from cotton candy. You slump back into your chair and the line disconnects. 

++++

As the clock ticks past one, the studio lights fall to darkness, leaving only a solitary desk lamp to cast long shadows across the room. You loop the familiar weight of your backpack over your shoulder and put on your headphones. 

You lock the studio door, and step into the brisk night air — it’s March, technically Spring, but the remnants of Winter are still holding tight. The city's pulse is tangible, even at this late hour, as you navigate your way to the subway. With only the Eagles in your ear to keep you company, you watch as the Graffiti-streaked walls blur past. 

Once off the subway, you think about heading straight home to promptly melt into your mattress, but the rumble in your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten since lunch. 

Might as well go see Murphy. He’s always happy to see you. 

You round around the corner and the bodega lights come into view. The ground beneath you is damp and you’re careful not to step into any puddles as you make your way to the shop. You push open the shop door and the familiar chime of a bell alerts Murphy to your presence. 

“Hi Murphy,” you coo, crouching closer to the ground so he can rub up against you. “How’s my favorite boy?” You say, scratching his favorite spot under his chin, feeling the comfort of his soft fur and rhythmic purr. If Murphy had it his way, you’d live at the Bodega, ceasing only to exist to give him love. 

Your stomach growls again and you rise, “Gonna get some dinner now, okay Murph?” You walk through the tight aisles, grab a can of tuna as you pass by the canned goods, making your way to the frozen section in the back.

Chicken nuggets it is, you silently tell yourself before grabbing the frozen bag and making your way to the register. 

"Hola, Carlos. ¿Cómo va tu noche?" (Hi, Carlos. How’s your night going?) 

"Oh, hola.” As much as you’d love to practice your Spanish with Carlos, he needs to practice his English more and you’re more than happy to oblige. 

"Good to see you. Listened to your show tonight, what a piece of work some of those people were,” he responds, using his index finger to punch numbers on the cash register.

"Tell me about it. How much do I owe you?"

"$7.50. Murphy says thank you for the donation,” he smiles, holding up the canned Tuna, and like clockwork, Murphy jumps up on the counter and starts assaulting the can with his cheek. 

“Like he gave me any choice,” you respond, handing over $10. Carlos gives you your change and you give Murphy a few final loving pats on the head.

“¡Hasta mañana!"

"Buenas noches."

Back in the quiet of your apartment, the microwave fights you, its door refusing to stay closed until you jam it shut with a wooden spoon. With dinner finally spinning inside, you sink onto the couch, the night’s weight lifting off your shoulders. You feel yourself nodding off before the sound of the microwave beeping and the rumble of your stomach wake you up. 

Dinner done, you smoke a joint, the smoke curling lazily in the lamplight. Your mind goes fuzzy and you stare up at the ceiling, trying to make shapes out of the popcorn on the ceiling. Your mind drifts to the thought of your last caller and you let your mind wander as you imagine what he might be up to tonight. Is he asleep? Or is he staring up at his ceiling, lost in thoughts as you are?

The only thing you know for certain is that you’re both alone tonight. At least there’s some comfort in knowing you’re not the only one.

The city outside continues its restless murmuring, but your mind goes silent as you fall asleep. 

++++

You're grateful to have the next night off. Not like you have plans, but at least you don’t have to show face or wash your hair. Even if you did have to go out in public tonight, it wouldn’t matter — that’s the beauty of New York. You could look like a gutter rat and nobody would give a shit. But still, the freedom of an evening without obligations feels like a luxury, a small pocket of time where the demands of the world fade into the background. 

Staring at your nearly empty fridge, its emptiness staring back at you, you sigh. Fuck. And then it hits you, unexpected but undeniable, a craving for pizza. Not just any pizza, but a pie from your favorite local spot, where the crust is always perfectly crisp and the cheese melts in a way that feels like a hug for your taste buds.

Stepping out into the evening rain, you make your way to the pizzeria that’s only a block away. The moment you open the door, a warm wave of garlic, tomato, and baked dough envelops you. The line isn’t long, but it gives you enough time to deliberate over your order, though deep down, you know you’ll end up choosing your usual — a Margherita. 

You peek up from your phone and notice the man in front of you at the order counter. Broad shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt, his tight jeans outlining a figure that speaks of strength. Dark hair and tan skin contrast strikingly under the fluorescent lighting. He orders confidently, his voice smooth, almost familiar. As he’s about to cash out, he adds “Can I get a side of ranch too, please?” 

“No problem,” the cashier says, a little too happy to oblige his request. She’s flirting, you don’t know her, but you can tell. When the cashier asks for a name for the order, it confirms what you think you already know. 

 "Javier." The name hangs in the air, a familiar sound that sends a jolt through you. 

It couldn’t possibly be. 

The words escape your lips before you have a chance to second-guess it. 

“I thought ranch on pizza was disgusting.” 

He turns to face you and oh. You might have guessed that he was attractive from his voice, but seeing him is something else entirely. He’s strikingly handsome, with a dark mustache trimmed perfectly above his lip, his jaw stark and chiseled. The corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. 

“Shit. Caught red-handed by the crime stopper herself,” he says with a wink. 

Okay, so he’s handsome and charming. You’re so fucked. 

As Javier steps aside, your gaze lingers for a moment longer before you place your own order. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you do. 

“No plans tonight?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“Not really, just this. Might swing by to see my boyfriend on my way home,” you say, noticing the way his expression shifts into disappointment, it’s subtle, but it’s there. 

“Oh,” Javier says. He thinks for a second that maybe you were lying last night about understanding what it’s like to be alone. 

“Yeah, we’ve got a hot date with a can of tuna,” you respond, smiling as you watch his very visibly confused face, the furrow of his brow. You can tell he’s not quite sure how to respond, the words a tangled knot in his brain, or perhaps conjuring up some weird kinky thoughts about what a date with a can of tuna could entail. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“I’m just messing with you,” you laugh. “He’s a bodega cat up the street, I usually swing by every night after work and I’ve developed a soft spot for the little guy. His name’s Murphy.” 

“Wait, Murphy? From Carlos’ shop?” Javier asks, and you’re a little surprised. 

“You know Carlos?” 

“Yeah, yeah — he’s friends with my father. Great guy,” he adds, nodding to the pizzeria worker who hands him his order. You notice the blush on her cheeks when he says thank you.

You watch intently as the other worker packs up yours, placing two to-go containers of ranch on your box. 

You grab your pizza and use your free hand to grab one of the containers of ranch and extend it to Javier. “For you,” you smile as you hold it out to him. 

“Eat with me?” He asks, grabbing the ranch from your hand, your skin briefly touching. 

How could you say no? 

You smile and nod, and follow him through the restaurant. He holds the door open for you and places his hand on your lower back as he guides you out. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. He’s just being a gentleman, but something about the touch causes something in your core to run hot, a hint of arousal in its warmth. 

In typical New York fashion, you find a relatively clean stoop to sit on. With the pizza boxes open on the step in front of you, the steam wafting in the cool night air, you smile at Javier. 

“Are you ready to have your world rocked?” You ask, holding the pizza up long enough for the strings of cheese to disconnect from the box. He does the same. 

“After you, Cariño.” 

Cariño. So he’s a flirt, too. 

You dip your slice into the ranch, a perfect amount clinging to the tip, before you bring it to your lips. The anticipation builds with the scent of garlic and herbs wafting up. 

You barely pause to savor the moment before you declare, “Some people say the first bite of pizza is the best, but I disagree.” You dunk it back into the ranch and take another, this time bigger than the first, “The second bite is really where it’s at.” Since when did you become Dave Portnoy?

Javier watches with amusement as you delight over your dinner. “Go on now, after you,” you nod, continuing to work on your pizza like a starving dog. You watch as he delicately dunks his pizza into the ranch, and like a baby bird, takes a small bite. You study his expression, a mix of curiosity and amusement, as he carefully chews. His face gives nothing away, a poker face if you ever saw one, until he finally delivers his verdict, “Can’t say it’s my favorite.”

“What?” you gasp, half in disbelief, half in jest. You playfully nudge him, your hand reaching out to liberate the neglected ranch from his box. “Let me save this from your indifference,” you tease, claiming the ranch for your own. The banter feels easy, much like it did when he called in the other night. 

“So tell me, Javier,” he stops you “You can call me Javi,” he says. 

“Javi,” you smile, picking at a tomato on your second slice. “What made you want to call in the other night?” 

He looks at you as you bring the tomato to your mouth, and lets his gaze linger on your lips. You notice. 

“That’s a good question. Um,” he says, taking another bite before continuing, his elbows on his thighs, staring out into the street. “Truthfully, I was a little drunk, and a lot alone. I think I just wanted someone to talk to.” 

“I get that,” you acknowledge. 

“What? You probably talk to dozens of people every day,” he responds, turning to face you this time. 

"False. I listen to dozens of people every day, but I don’t really get to talk. At least, not about things that matter, not truly." He gives you a long look, then nods, understanding etched into his features. He doesn’t pry further. 

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both work on finishing your pizzas.

"What about you?" you finally break the silence.

"What about me?" he echoes, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"I spilled my plans for the night, my glamorous date with Murphy. What's on your agenda?" you ask, leaning forward slightly. His tight bicep muscles press up against your arm.

"This," he gestures broadly to the city around you, wrapped in the open night. Then, with a sheepish grin, he adds, "Well, actually, I was planning to go home and watch Paddington 2."

You laugh hard enough to let out a little snort. He looks at you with affectionate eyes, like you’re the cutest thing he’s seen in a while. 

“Paddington 2? Like, the bear movie?” you manage between chuckles.

“Yep. I cried through the entire thing the first time I saw it. It made me want to be a better man.” 

“I see, well I’ll have to take your word for it, I’ve never seen it.” 

"Do you want to come over and watch it?" he proposes, the question hanging in the air. It’s a bold move, especially since you've only just met, but there’s an earnestness in his invitation that makes you pause, considering.

"Only if we can swing by and say hi to Murphy on the way," you quip, bumping your shoulder against his lightly.

“Deal,” he says with a wink. 

++++

As the saying goes, you make plans and god laughs. 

It's almost as if you could have, perhaps even should have, anticipated this turn of events. 

Paddington 2 might as well have been code for want to come over and fuck? 

The energy crackling between you two is undeniable, magnetic. His blend of wit, handsomeness, and confident charm weaves an irresistible allure, drawing you in closer with every word, every glance. 

It's one of those rare, electric connections that you read about or see in movies, but seldom experience in real life. Yet here it is, unfolding in real-time, a reminder that sometimes the most memorable moments are those you never see coming. You rarely see yourself as the main character, but tonight you feel like one. 

In the narrow stairwell, his hips press firmly against yours, your back against the cold wall, arms pinned above your head. His lips find yours with an intensity that leaves no room for hesitation, a crash of desire against desire. You surrender to the moment, tilting your pelvis into his, a plea for more. 

The world around you is a blur; it's just the two of you, enveloped in a haze of passion. His hands, desperate and eager, fumble for his keys—a brief interruption in your heated exchange as he struggles to unlock the door without breaking the heat of your gaze, the connection of your lips only momentarily severed. The anticipation builds with each fumbled attempt, heightening the intensity as you eventually enter his apartment and he has you pressed up against the door.

His lips trail from yours down the razor edge of your jaw, the hallow of your throat, over your collarbones, and down the valley of your still-clothed chest. “Javi,” you moan, and he responds with a groan into your chest. He looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes, “Can I take this off, Cariño?” 

“Yes, yeah — shit, yes, please.” 

He makes quick work of your shirt and assists it over your head, before returning his lips to your soft skin and working to undo your bra at the same time. “God damn” he mumbles under his breath, and you can’t help but feel the warmth rush to your chest and cheeks, “so pretty.” 

You can’t even remember the last time you were touched like this, nonetheless kissed. Your skin erupts in goosebumps as he makes his tongue trail over one of your nipples, the other being teased slightly between his fingers. The sensation causes you to tilt your head back in ecstasy and you let out a soft moan. “Oh, yeah? You like it when I do that, baby?” You nod your head in response. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, oh god — feels so good.” 

“That’s better.” 

You bring both of your hands to the waistband of his denim and pull him in closer to you, close enough to feel his hard cock, desperate to be touched. He brings his hands to grip your hair, baring your throat to him. He forces your legs apart with his knee, shoving it against your core. You begin to slowly grind on the denim. 

“Want more?” 

“Fuck, yes — ” you whimper with another grind against him. He kisses you again, one hand tightly gripping your hip and the other wrapped in your hair. You cling to him, arms wrapped around his middle until you drop them to find his belt buckle. His lips find yours once more, and he sucks the bottom one into his mouth before biting it and letting go.

He steps back, and you work to remove the rest of your clothing and shoes. You shimmy your pants over your thighs, taking your underwear with you. He thought you were beautiful from the moment he turned around and saw you, but seeing you standing in front of him, chest heaving, bare and perfect just for him, is another story. He slides his pants and underwear off in one go, kicking them off the side along with his boots.

He only gives you a moment to admire his form, cock hard and thick, the tip of it red and weeping, before he surges forward and kisses you with new passion. He licks the seam of your lips before forcing it open with his tongue, swallowing every one of your moans like they’re a gift just for him.

When you both can’t breathe, he pulls back and peppers kiss down your neck once more before he sucks a hickey into your neck, eliciting a breathy moan from you. He smirks against your skin and moves to the expanse of your shoulder, finding a new spot to bite and suck. 

He forces his thigh between yours again, pushing the expanse of it right up against your bare pussy. You moan and cling to him, once again riding his thigh. “You gonna come on my thigh, baby?” He questions against your skin, feeling your shoulders shudder from his breath ghosting along your neck. He tightens his grip on your waist and rocks you forward, “Use me. Want to feel you soak me,” he hums, kissing your neck. You’re lost in the haze of your arousal, chasing the friction you so desperately need. 

“Answer me, Cariño.” 

“Y-yes.” You breathe,  tightening your grip on him. You grind against him more, faster, harder. “Want it so bad.”  And fuck, you do, you need it so bad but you’re not sure you can get there from just this. 

“What do you want, beautiful?” He questions with another bite to your skin. “Do you want to come on my thigh like the good little slut I know you are?” You whine at the filth of his words, the warmth of his praise causing your belly to tighten. He tightens his grip on your hips and guides you faster on his leg, his fingers digging into your skin, hard enough you hope you bruise. 

“Show me how pretty you are when you come, Cariño — make a mess of me,” Your body seizes up and you throw your head back and let out a guttural moan. The spot where your pussy rests against his thigh gets wetter. When you tilt your head back up, his eyes are what throws you over the edge. He holds your gaze as he watches you come for him, on him, because of him. “Fuck, that was gorgeous,” he moans, holding you steady as you come down from your orgasm. 

“Bed. Now,” he demands, guiding you through the hall and to his bedroom. 

You fall back onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a small oof, your breasts bouncing with the movement. He holds his heavy cock in hand by the base as he gently strokes himself, and watches as you part your legs wide open for him and finger yourself.

He continues to work himself while staring at your tight, slick hole, dripping just for him. His eyes go impossibly dark as he watches your fingers saw in and out, you’re really quite the sight.

“Shit, Cariño. Look at your little pussy,” his voice in between a whine and a whimper, as he steps forward between your legs and begins to position himself at your entrance. One hand on your knee, the other holding himself, he presses the head of his cock into you, making you moan, his tip alone is a stretch you’re unfamiliar with — it’s intense but good.  

He’s not trying to taunt you, not really. “Just wanna make sure you’re nice and ready to take this fat cock,” he says, pressing just the mushroom head in and out of you. The slow drag of it is excruciating, enough for you to let out a plea of please fuck me. “Look so good like this, baby. Can feel you sucking me in, she wants it bad, doesn’t she?” 

You nod, “More, Javi. Need to feel you inside of me, please,” you plead, holding your thighs behind your knees, spreading yourself wider for him, giving him full access to your cunt. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, thrusting the full length of him into you, and ohhhhmyfuck. 

Your pussy walls flutter and tighten around him, and he lets out a wrecked groan. He draws his hips back and slams that back into you with enough thrust that your tits bounce. His thrusts are hard, but slow, giving you time to adjust to his size. He’s quick to pick up the pace, causing you to sob in pleasure, broken moans leaving your lips as he knocks the wind out of you with each snap of his hips. 

He draws himself nearly out, his cock glistening with your slick, and he grabs both of your hips to hold you steady as he fucks into you. “Look at the mess we’re making together, Cariño. So fucking beautiful, you’re taking this cock so well.” You’re starting to realize that he’s a smooth talker both in and out of bed. 

You wail as he picks up his speed, panting and grunting, groaning as he watches the thin skin of your pussy stretch around his girth. He releases one of his hands from your hips and brings the pad of his thumb to the swollen clit between your folds, and begins to rub tight circles. 

“So tight, baby, little cunt’s trying to make me come, isn’t she?” He groans, his pace slowly slightly, his stomach muscles tightening and his jaw clenched shut. 

“Want you to, want you to fill this hole up with all of your come. Want to feel you drip out of me, need to feel you.” Your words spur him on more, and he continues working your clit, his cock thrusting in and out of you, “oh god, please, please, please.” You’re not usually one to beg, but something about him has it pouring out of you. 

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, baby? I will if you come with me,” he says, an intensity, an urgency behind his voice. You’re so close, you think you’ll be able to come with him, but before you have the chance to get there, you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut to try and collect himself, but he’s too close, nearly over the edge of his orgasm. His cock starts to swell and his movements get a little sloppy. 

“Come in me, Javi. Want to feel you,” you moan, your voice a seductive whisper, and that does it.

His hips stutter, “Fuck, Cariño,” he groans, his voice a wreck, as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and starts to throb ropes of his warm spend in you. There’s so much that it spills out of you and down your asscheek. 

“Oh such a messy, pretty pussy,” he groans, admiring the way your cunt looks stuffed full of him, the glisten of your release and his on his cock, “Milking me so good.” 

“Gonna make you come for me again beautiful,” he says, cock still spearing you, throbbing and pulsing as he collects some of his spend on his fingers and brings it to the needy button between your legs. It doesn’t take much to get you there, and within seconds you’re on the brink of your orgasm. 

The warmth that pools in your belly grows and radiates through your limbs until your whole body feels tingly and your vision goes white. 

“Oh my god, Javi, I’m coming,” you wail, a blubbering mess of pleasure, until you’re drowning in the sea of your orgasm. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweet girl,” he groans, both out of pleasure and a little bit of over-stimulation on his already spent cock, “So. Fucking. Pretty. Such a good girl,” he says as he works you through the last of your orgasm. After you come down from your high, he gently pulls out of you, and a little trail of his come follows and spills out onto the sheets below. 

“Jesus, Javi. That was something else,” you say, blissed out and thoroughly fucked. You nestle up into his chest like it’s easy, it comes naturally, a movement you don’t even question. He wraps his arm around you and plants a soft kiss on the top of your head in response.

“Can I say something?” He asks, and you look up at him a little worried. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’d buy the fancy ranch for you.”  

END

If you like this, please consider a reblog. <3

Trying a thing where I don't use a tag list to see how it goes. To be notified when I post fics, follow @katiexpunkupdates

END A/N: the line she gives Javier in response to knowing what he means in the first part of the fic is adapted from a poem. I wrote it down, but forgot to name the author. So credit to the author, whoever it is.

#javier peña #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #pedrohub #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #pedrostories #narcos smut #the slutty little mustache has returned

[morganbritton132]

obsessed w this new saga with David and the other teachers.... perhaps them either coming over again for a small party - "it's mostly family!!" Hence being even more confused when even MORE famous people show up (THAT'S brony Erica???)

I’m picturing the same cookout from this post.

There are three new eighth grade teachers this year. Including David, there is Marissa and Jordan. Then there is Kathy, who has been at the school for two years. They are all trying to figure out what is going on with Steve Harrington.

The man is a complete mystery.

He’s a walking contradiction in a math pun sweatshirt and he is often the topic of conversation when the four of them are alone in the breakroom. Jordan describes him as ‘onion-like’ because he has many layers and Marissa always replies with, ‘yeah, a fucked up alien onion where each new layer is weirder than the last.’

It’s a bit cruel but also, they found an article about Starcourt Mall.

Who is just in a fire? Who saves a bunch of children from a structure fire that collapsed on top of them and doesn’t make it their whole personality for the rest of forever? Who just never mentions it ever?

Steve Harrington, apparently.

After David (and Kathy) left Steve’s house more confused about the mild-mannered math teacher than ever, he went home and googled ‘Eddie Harrington.’ All he found was a link to a Facebook page for some dentist.

So, like, who the hell is he even married to, right? The guy has a Grammy but not a Wikipedia page? What’s up with that?

All David knows is that when Anita (the teacher that’s probably closest to Steve) invites everybody over for a cookout and says that your partners are more than welcomed, he’s going. When Steve asks if it’d be okay if Erica stopped by on her way to the airport and Anita said yes, he’s definitely going.

He is not going to miss the opportunity to see the kid that gave her dad psychic damage by introducing him to the fucked up parts of the My Little Pony fandom. No way.

Kathy informs everybody that she will NOT be bringing her husband, but she will bring booze.

David arrives too early and ends up helping in the kitchen. He’s slicing up tomatoes with the world’s dullest knife when Steve gets there. He can’t see the front door, but he can hear Anita ask, “Oh, where’s your service doggie?”

“It’s his day off,” He hears Steve joke, “Brought the human instead.”

And then David hears the man of mystery’s man of mystery himself because Eddie says with 100% impulsive thinking and 0% brain-to-mouth filter, “Yeah, he brought his service top instead.”

David just knows that Steve is giving Eddie the same dead-eyed look of unbelievable that is reserved for students that mix their chocolate milk with peas and dare each other to drink it in the silence that follows. Anita, bless her heart, replies as happy and clueless as can be, “Oh, that’s cute. Because you provide a top-notch service.”

“Never had any compl- ow!”

The first time David gets a good look at them, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back, looking over his shoulder at the pictures of Anita’s grandkids she has on her phone. One of his hands is wrapped loosely around his waist and Steve is holding the other one, fiddling with the rings on it. They look so casual, like they’re always standing that close together.

David watches as Anita points in the direction of the drinks cooler and Eddie slips away with a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck and then another to his cheek. They hold hands until they absolutely have to let go. It’s cute. Marissa, next to him, scoffs and says, “Gag me with a spoon, they’re fucking adorable.”

Eddie returns to Steve with two beers and a Smirnoff Ice for Anita, gets another kiss and clearly calls Steve ‘sweetie’ when he clinks their bottles together. Steve throws his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie tucks his hand into Steve’s back pocket like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

David loses track of Steve and Eddie for a while, catching them in his peripheral as he mingles with everybody. He seems them steal a kiss. He sees them laughing at something Kathy says. He sees them holding hands as Eddie looks utterly lost during a discussion of the baseball season.

At one point, he sees Eddie stand up on the bench of the picnic table and get yanked down by Steve. They’re both laughing and Steve gives him a kiss that is not exactly chaste.

Cindy rolls her eyes at them and says that they’re always like that.

Him and Jordan are playing cornhole against Steve and Eddie. He’s almost positive that Eddie is not as bad at the game as he’s pretending to be, but just likes when ‘Stevie baby’ guides him through how to throw the beanbags. If it wasn’t for Steve excusing himself than he probably wouldn’t have noticed the big SUV parked in the driveway.

His first thought when he sees Erica is ‘oh, she must be adopted’ followed immediately by ‘wait, duh’ and then by ‘hey, wait a minute.’

Steve gets stopped by her bodyguard before he can hug her with a big threatening hand on his shoulder. David’s still trying to figure out why she looks so familiar when Erica says to the bodyguard, “Uh, excuse you. Do not touch him. He was my first bodyguard, have some respect.”

Steve scoffs, “I was your babysitter.”

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, full of sass. Eddie is a couple steps back, grinning ear to ear. He loves when Erica and Steve get into it. “Did you bleed for me? Did you fight for me? Did you, Steve Harrington, get tortured so I made it out safe? I think so. Bodyguard.”

Eddie finally greets her with a bow, “Lady Applejack.”

Erica gives him a flat look and tells her bodyguard, “You can tase that one.”

David is still reeling from the words ‘babysitter’ and ‘torture’ that he probably would’ve missed Marissa in his ear if she wasn’t so goddamn loud, “Holy shit, that’s a fucking US Senator.”

Jordan is quieter when she mutters, “Language.”

Later in the evening when the sun is starting to set and they should all really go home and prep their lesson plans for next week, Anita’s husband lights a bonfire. David is sitting across from the fire from Steve and Eddie and he so tempted to ask what Eddie does for a living when Steve whispers something to him and then stands up quickly.

He can’t even ask what that was about because Eddie gets up and follows him, almost matching Steve’s quick steps into the house. They’re gone for a while, long enough that David gets up to check on Steve. He looked pretty pale when he rushed out of here.

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears them, and he stops. Steve sounds tired but reassuring as he repeats, “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m fine now.”

He hears Eddie respond with, “I know, baby. I know, but rest with me for a minute, kay?”

When he pokes his head around the turn in the staircase, he can see the bottom of Steve’s Nikes hanging over the top landing. He can also see the bottom of Eddie’s boots where he’s crouched over Steve. His first reaction is to think he stumbled on them in a compromising position, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet.

“You just had a seizure, take your time getting your bearings, sweetheart. Do you wanna go home?” Eddie asks in a cacophony of jingling metal rings and chains. Steve makes a noise that Eddie interprets, “Okay, do you want me to give you space?”

“No, come –“ The sound of metal clinking together doesn’t get louder, just more and when David pokes his head around the corner again, Eddie is straddled across Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands are on his hips and then higher, pushing up Eddie’s shirt clumsily just feeling him. “Feel floaty.”

“I’ll keep you grounded, baby.”

David knows he should leave, or at least looks away, but he stuck frozen to the floor at the sight of the scar tissue running up Eddie’s sides and back. They’re deep and jagged, and old. It looks like he was torn open and sewed back shut, and it takes David a long time to get his feet to go back down the stairs.

He goes back out to the fire a little dazed and later, it’s only Eddie that returns. He whispers something to Anita and then disappears into the night.

When Cindy makes a comment about Steve leaving without a proper goodbye, David tells her to shut up.

#I made one post about David wondering why Eddie Munson is and followed it up with a post where Eddie introduces himself as a Harrington #I think it’s infinitely funnier if David is trying to find info about this man but has the wrong name #Steve has his one-sided beef with Diane. Cindy has hers with Steve #This one is long and it sorta/kinda answers the prompt this time #This was a great prompt. I really enjoyed writing this #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

As You Wish | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary| You've had your eye on Neil for a while now and Neil's friends can tell but Neil isn't so sure until you come into Gumshoe Video with a boy on your arm with horrible taste in date-night cinema. When the date goes awry, Neil jumps to action.

Warning| Age gap, reader (19) and Neil (27), rudeness, flirting, touching, Neil being a little creepy, Neil's dubious consent, talk of virginity and inexperience, kissing, blowjob.

Mastermind- Taylor Swift (yeah, I said it) 🎵

Colorblind- Counting Crows 🎶

word count: 4933k

*sentences in italics are quotes from The Princess Bride (1987)

Please read warnings before continuing- thanks!

“That kid keeps coming around. If you’re not careful she’s gonna fall in love and you’ll be in deep shit,” Lucien fixed the thick frame of his glasses on his angular nose and returned the fake pipe to his mouth. 

“Why don’t you shut up, Lucien. It’s not like that. Just keep your weird thoughts to yourself in my store.” Neil called over his shoulder as he stocked the shelves with returned VHS tape sleeves. He ran his elbow over his forehead, wiping away the thin layer of perspiration. 

“Everyone’s thinking it…” Lucien raised his hands in defense and Neil rolled his eyes. Jonathan came in from Neil’s office holding a milkcrate full of new movies, still wrapped in plastic. Neil whistled at him. 

“Jonathan, do you think that girl likes me?” Neil shot Lucien a look as Jonathan answered. 

“Oh yeah, 100% dude.” 

“What, no! Jonathan, you were supposed to say no.” Neil spoke with his hands, slapping his hand against his face. Lucien chuckled and Jonathan looked between them, confused.

“What? Neil, did you want me to lie or something?” Jonathan put down the milkcrate and leaned against the checkout counter. 

“He’s blissfully unaware of how much that girl likes him.” Lucien sucked on the empty pipe and coughed, swallowing his spit the wrong way. 

“How? Neil, she comes by like twice a week to talk to you and shows up at all of our softball games.” 

“She’s only nineteen! For all I know, she just wants a job here one day.” Neil shrugged and went back to stocking the shelves, a blush creeping into his high cheekbones. 

“Sure she wants a job here if it means that she gets to fucking talk to you everyday, all day about classic films and shit!” Jonathan laughed. 

“She’s nice!” Neil exclaimed defeatedly and massaged his eye sockets. 

“Yeah, so’s my aunt but she doesn’t come around here every week to tell me about the latest movie she’s watched.” Lucien mumbled. 

“That wasn’t as effective as you think it was,” Jonathan sighed, then just to Lucien, “don’t use a family member next time, ok?” 

“Ok, OK!” Neil interrupted them, shaking his hands. “It’s not like that and she doesn’t like me like that. I’m like eight years older than her…” 

“That’s never stopped people before,” Lucien reminded Neil and he withheld a few choice expletives as the shop door opened and a customer came in. The bell twinkled and Neil called out the familiar greeting. 

“Welcome to Gumshoe Video!” 

“Hi, Neil.” Y/N smiled shyly. Lucien and Jonathan’s quiet snickers stopped as a second customer entered after the girl. “This is Woody. Woody, this is Neil.” 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Woody waved to Neil and his friends on the back couch. They waved back in shocked silence. 

“What happened to you?” She asked, recoiling away from the employees who stared at her as if they’d seen a ghost. Neil blushed, still embarrassed. 

“I was just not looking forward to telling you that we lost the copy of um, The Virgin Suicides that you wanted. It’ll take another few weeks and I assume that’s why you stopped by.” Neil scrambled for a reliable answer, and one that was partly true. She blushed slightly when she heard Neil use the word ‘virgin’ and laughed it off. 

“It’s ok, I just wanted to show Woody my favorite place.” 

“We’re going to get a movie,” Woody smiled and began to scan the shelves. 

“Sooo what do you like? Classic horror, westerns, Spike Lee, Hitchcock, Coppola?” Neil listed off categories of films he viewed to be superior and Woody shook his head, oblivious to Neil’s edged tone. 

“I like action movies mainly. I haven’t seen much else.” 

Neil smiled at the girl’s embarrassed reaction. He knew well that she didn’t like action movies and refused to watch them even if Neil recommended one. 

“So like war movies?”

“Sports movies.” Woody corrected and pretended to shoot a basketball. “Anything about football or basketball.” 

Neil felt a sharp pain in his chest at the boy’s words. He was a walking abomination to the film community. Lucien made a sound similar to a whimper and Neil cleared his throat to mask it. 

“Well uh i’m sure that we can find something for you though we don’t tend to carry sports movies because we have so little demand for it,” Neil explained blandly. “Have you ever seen anything by Tarentino? His movies tend to be more action-oriented. That and the old Bond movies.” Neil started to list movies he was almost completely sure Woody had not seen. Every shake of Woody’s head scratched a strange itch inside his head. What was this girl doing with someone like Woody? 

“Ah maybe,” Woody shrugged. “Do you have Rudy, Bull Durham, Remember the Titans?” 

“No, we don’t.” Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled stiffly. “We do have the Air Bud movies,” Neil mumbled as a joke but Woody looked interested. 

“Where’s that?” He asked, looking around the store. 

“The kid’s section. It’s about a dog that plays sports,” Neil deadpanned and Jonathan and Lucien stifled their giggles. 

Woody was completely oblivious to Neil’s pointed comment and shrugged. 

“Sounds good to me,” he looked at the girl with a smile. Her lips were parted in a look of displeasure and shock. 

“You want to watch Air Bud?” She stressed the name of the movie like a bad word. Woody smiled, still not catching the tone of dislike in her speech. 

“Um…” She started and trailed off, totally caught off guard. Neil smiled, almost enjoying the direction that this interaction had gone. 

“I’ll get it for you,” Neil used his best customer service voice and turned around. He widened his eyes at Jonathan and Lucien, I told you so. Lucien narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, not wanting to admit defeat just yet. 

“Sooo are you two dating,” Lucien tried to sound casual but his tone was suggestive and Y/N blushed deeply from embarrassment. 

“No, we’re just friends,” she answered too quickly and Neil glowered at Lucien. Jonathan looked down at his hands, wanting to stay out of the conversation. Woody looked at her and frowned. 

“Well on that note, I think I’ll just get going. Forget about the movie, dude. Thanks anyway,” Woody snipped and left the store abruptly. The bell beside the door clanged loudly as he walked down the sidewalk, fumming. 

“Lucien!” Neil exclaimed and Jonathan swatted Lucien’s arm. 

“Sorry…geez!” Lucien deflected Jonathan’s hands and scooted away. Neil, holding a copy of Air Bud on VHS, lowered it and slid it onto the checkout counter. 

“Sooo no more Air Bud?” Neil tried to break the awkward silence. She gave him a look that quieted him immediately and left the store, going the opposite way that Woody had turned. She went around the side of the building where she knew there was a shabby basketball goal and a place to sit. She wanted to wait it out, to make sure that she wouldn’t run into Woody again that afternoon. It was safer to hide here than walk home. 

“Nice going, Lucien.” Neil sighed and returned the tape to the shelf. 

“You just fucking ruined young love,” Jonathan quipped and Lucien gasped defensively. Neil joined them on the long section couch and they sat in silence for a while. A loud bang made them all jump. 

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan turned to look where the sound had come from. The three of them stood to investigate. The second time they heard it, the shelf of tapes on the wall was josuled. They each jumped again and Neil drew his face up into a tight line. 

“Is someone throwing something against the wall?” Lucien surmised and spoke with his pipe in his palm. 

“I’ll check it out,” Neil looked at the shelf warily and backed away. He left the store and went around the side of the building. Seeing Y/N made him jump again and he clutched his chest briefly. She had a basketball and was chucking it at the hoop without much care for whether or not it went in. The ball hit the wall again. Jonathan and Lucien collected the tapes that had fallen off of the shelf only to have more tapes fall on their heads. 

“Maybe you should watch more sports movies, it might help you with your technique.” Neil crossed his arms casually across his chest and smiled. She dribbled the basketball slowly and caught it in her arms. 

“It was more of an exercise of rage,” she spoke between heavy breaths. 

“Sorry about Lucien,” Neil gestured to the store. “He’s not great with people.” 

“I could tell… but I’m not really upset about it-”

“You fooled me,” Neil interjected with a laugh. She rolled her eyes with a small smile. 

“He gave me an out but it wasn’t the right time. I shouldn’t have said it like that to Woody.” She dribbled the basketball again. 

“So were you dating?” Neil opened his hands, signaling her to throw him the ball. 

“Kind of,” she tossed him the ball and shrugged, “we’d gone out once or twice. We met at a party. Nothing was official yet.” Neil aimed and threw the ball, it fell through the hoop with a quiet whoosh before bouncing on the pavement below. She retrieved the ball and with one hand, she fixed the legs of her shorts, pulling them down over her thighs. He looked away quickly. 

“Did you know his taste in movies before you started going out?” Neil asked and watched as she aligned herself to toss the ball. It bounced off of the backboard and spun into the hoop. Neil applauded and she smiled. 

“He said he liked action movies but I didn’t know that he meant… sports movies. He’s a business major and I doubt he’s ever taken a film class or seen anything that wasn’t about sports in some way.” She nearly shivered. “And you had to suggest Air Bud?” She asked him pointedly and he pursed his lips defensively. 

“That was not an actual suggestion. I can’t believe he fell for it,” Neil dribbled the ball around his legs lazily and circled her before shooting. He missed and she giggled. “I think you dodged a bullet,” he told her honestly and when they held eye-contact, he felt his navel twitch. 

“Could you imagine if I had to watch Air Bud on a date?” She looked down at the ball and missed the hoop by a few feet. She sighed and fanned herself. This is exactly what she had been hoping would happen. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that she was a mastermind but she’d been trying to get closer to Neil for weeks. She’d liked Woody enough but taking him to Gumshoe Video was more strategic than cute. She hoped to make Neil a little jealous, and show him that she could get other guys. Nothing had actually happened between her and Neil besides long chats and lots of laughter. Maybe she could change that. 

Neil picked up the ball and bounded over to the hoop, jumping and shooting the ball. His fingers pushed the ball into the net as he landed back down on the ground. When he turned his eyes widened slightly. 

“It’s really fucking hot today,” she mumbled as she pulled off her t-shirt, having just a camisole underneath. Her cutoff denim shorts and black camisole left little to the imagination but Neil still tried. She tossed the shirt to the side and dribbled the ball, her eyes focused on the goal. Neil looked down her camisole, staring at her chest as her breasts shifted beneath the fabric in her bra. Her pink bra straps slipped on her shoulders and after shooting the ball, she had to snap them back into place. He blushed more and looked away. She crossed the small makeshift court and sat on the shallow ledge beside the store, swinging her legs up and underneath her. Neil held the ball awkwardly in his hands and approached her slowly. 

“What movie would you watch on a first date?” She asked him.

 “Uh,” his mind blanked, “definitely Air Bud,” he nodded and she laughed. He sat beside her and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

        “Neil! I’m being serious!” She pressed the toe of her foot against her chest.

“Ok, ok ummm,” he wrapped his fingers around her bare ankle with a smile and moved it back to the ledge in between them. She shifted her body so that she was facing him, both feet planted on the ledge in front of him. “Maybe The Wizard of Oz.” 

 “Why?” She asked with a soft smile. He rocked back and forth, using his hands to support himself. His large hands sat on either side of her feet, his chest directly over her knees. 

“Well it was one of the first movies to use color,” he said first, “and it would give me a chance to brag about how much I know about film.” He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. She laughed and shook her head. 

“I thought you hated musicals!” She protested and he looked away sheepishly. 

“I do but I can’t pass up an opportunity to impress someone, especially a girl.” He looked at her and then blushed, looking away again. “I mean,” he started and she nodded.

“No, I get it. Do you like romance movies?” She fluttered her lashes discreetly, making Neil second guess whether she had done it intentionally or not. “You don’t seem like one but we all have our secrets,” she dragged her hand up her leg, drawing his attention to the contours of muscle beneath her shin bone. 

“You could argue that every movie is a romance,” Neil sputtered slightly, collecting himself. 

“Even Air Bud?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and he scoffed, looking away. 

“I don’t know about that.”

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She rested her forearms on her knees and leaned forward. He looked at her briefly, his eyes dipping to her cleavage before meeting her eyes again. 

“Uh w-what?” He asked and she giggled.

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She asked again and he thought quickly. 

“The Princess Bride,” his eyes flicked to her’s for approval and that surprised him. 

“I love that movie,” her eyes widened as she recalled the plot. 

“What about you?” 

“Well The Princess Bride is the best answer but I like The Great Gatsby too,” she smiled shyly. 

“The Great Gatsby is a tragedy at heart,” Neil argued and she shrugged.

“As you wish,” she quoted from The Princess Bride and his eyes flicked open wider for one second before he cleared his throat. The sun was starting to set and the sky bled with a sated orange color. She looked up at the sky, showing the vulnerable underside of her chin and swallowed. Neil watched, letting his eyes wander over the soft expanse of flesh. 

“We should probably go inside,” Neil broke the silence, “or I-I should go back.” He jerked his thumb back to the store and she lowered her head again and let her head fall to one side. 

“As you wish,” she said again and laughed. He watched her silently and licked his lips. He felt like he was going to say something but no words came to his mind as he sat there. 

“Or do you want to come inside? Sorry, I’m not trying to get rid of you…” 

“Ok, sure.” She nodded and followed him around the store, pulling on her big shirt again. Jonathan and Lucien were arguing inside but stopped when they walked inside. 

“Basketball game?” Lucien asked over his pipe and Y/N nodded with a sigh. 

“Sorta, I had to blow off some steam.” 

“He’s sorry by the way,” Jonathan added and Lucien started to argue but she cut them off. 

“It’s ok. You saved me a night watching Air Bud.” She winked and started to browse the aisles again. Jonathan shoved Lucien. 

“What? What’s your problem?” Lucien protested and Jonathan gestured to the door, hinting that they should leave. “You have to be joking,” he muttered under his breath, irritated. 

“Hey uh, Neil?” Jonathan cleared his throat. Neil broke his obvious concentration on the girl and looked at his friends on the couch. 

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna head out. Lucien owes me a beer and I want to beat the bar rush,” Jonathan grabbed Lucien by the shoulders and shuffled out the front door. 

“It’s not even seven yet-” Neil started but they were gone before he could finish. His heart started beating quickly and he glanced anxiously at the disappearing silhouettes of his friends. The girl walked through the aisles, biting her bottom lip slightly as she looked. He didn’t want to be alone like this with her, it felt weird. She was young enough to be his younger sister and it irked him… and yet, she looked so pretty beneath the yellowish fluorescent bulbs inside the store and her hair was sticky from the humidity. 

“We should watch something,” she said quietly behind a rack of VHS and Neil cleared his throat. 

“Together?”

“No, in separate rooms… yeah of course together.” She laughed lightly and showed him the movie she had found. He chuckled and shrugged. 

“The Princess Bride? Ok, sure.” He approached the small box tv in front of the sectional couch and inserted the tape. Y/N slipped discreetly to the front doors and turned over the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and locked the door. Neil stood behind the couch and set up the box player, struggling with the buttons on the remote. She collapsed on the couch and rested her legs on the wide ottoman. Her hair spread over the back of the couch and covered Neil’s hand. He looked down at it and struggled to exhale normally. The movie started and she wiggled in excitement. Neil sat on a stool behind the couch, worried about sitting beside her. After the first ten minutes of them each reciting the lines back to the tv, she looked over her shoulder, flashing a toothy grin. 

“Neil, come on, sit with me. It’s weird to have you looking over my shoulder like that.”

“Um I- uh yeah ok,” Neil stammered and joined her hesitantly on the couch, his hands between his knees. His longer hair brushed the tops of his shoulders and she resisted the urge to sweep a strand into her hand. Slowly he relaxed and they acted to each other as well as to the tv, adapting the characters they liked best. As the movie went on, she braved looking over at him more and holding his startling eye contact. They laughed hard at one scene and bent over with laughter, shifting their bodies closer in the process. Eventually they were nearly arm-to-arm on the worn brown sectional. Neil’s breath escaped in pained bursts as he looked at her thigh, relaxed on the couch beside his leg. Her shorts had creeped up to her crotch as they sat and she’d made no move to pull them back down. He caught himself staring at the crease at her crotch and wondering if the tightness was uncomfortable for her, how warm the material would be against her like that… he shook his head to clear his thoughts and clenched his jaw when he felt his cock twitch. 

“Neil?” She turned slightly to him and his breath hitched as he turned his attention to her. She bit her lip lightly and slowly pressed herself up onto her knee. He watched her, his eyes flicking between the tv and her face, inches from his face. 

Hear this now: I will always come for you. 

She exhaled softly and her breath rippled across his face. Her hands inched closer to his stomach clothed beneath his light blue shirt. Her bright eyes intoxicated him as she brought her lips to his, offering herself. When she kissed him, her eyes squeezed closed and she sucked briefly on his bottom lip, lacking technique from her barely nonexistent experience. When she pulled away slowly Neil’s brow creased as his brows flew up. 

“Y/N… we uh we shouldn’t.”  

But how can you be sure? 

Her eyes crinkled in embarrassment and her small cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered and sat back against the couch, pressing her sweaty palms against her thighs. Neil looked over at her and licked his lips, fighting an internal argument against himself. 

This is true love- you think this happens everyday?

She flexed her thighs anxiously on the couch and the movement sent a shock up Neil’s body, making his crotch throb slightly, weary from the close proximity to her warm skin. 

You mock my pain.

Neil brushed a shaky finger down the side of her thigh and felt her inhale quickly. She looked at him slowly, her lips parted. His hand slid up her body to her head and cupped her cheek. He leaned over and kissed her, not harshly but not subtle either. Their lips popped wetly when he pulled away. He looked down at her, she was panting slightly, her heart fluttering in her chest. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Neil whispered and fell back into the couch beside her, clenching his fists. They sat in silence, their breath mingling in the space between them like a mixture of heat waves. Neil smelled faintly of mint mouthwash and musk, the sweat worked up during their “game” clung to his body. 

Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something. 

And quick as a flash of lightning, their bodies flew together, their mouths finding each other like opposite ends of a magnet or a cap over a pen. She climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and held his head in her small hands. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bunching the fabric in his hands. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he greeted it with enthusiasm, his hands tightening around her waist. She licked his lips as she closed down around them, sucking everything out of him. He moaned softly against her kiss and his arms flexed, his cock hardening. She gasped when she felt him get hard against her crotch. He broke their kiss abruptly. 

“Fuck, sorry.” He loosened his grip on her waist and went to shift out from under her. “I didn’t mean to get…” he trailed off and moved her off his lap easily. She watched him, her mind already caught in a lapse. 

“This was a mistake. You’re in college. I shouldn’t have encouraged this,” he dragged his hands through his dark hair and pulled at the roots, mumbling incoherently as she looked up at him, her eyes wide like a doe. The front of his pants tented out and he started to walk to his office. She jumped and grabbed his hand, catching him before he disappeared into the backroom. 

“Please, stay.” She whispered and bit her lip, dispelling some of her pent up energy into the action. 

“You’re too young.”

“I’m nineteen.” 

“I’m too old for you.”

“You’re 27.”

“You’re a virgin.” 

She flushed redder and looked away, embarrassed. “Not really.” She looked back at him and shrugged. “We all have our secrets, right?” She cocked her head and tried to smile, her heart beating so fast that she felt dizzy. 

“I don’t know…” Neil added half-heartedly, having run out of reasons. “The customers!” Neil remembered and glanced, panicked, at the front doors. 

“You closed early.” She smiled embarrassedly and rubbed his wrist with her thumb. “Please,” she tried again and he looked down at her. His cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants. He allowed her to lead him back to the couch and watched as she lowered herself onto her knees. Her hands rested on his thighs as she opened his legs wide enough to sit between them. He watched dumbly as she unbuckled his belt and slowly unzipped his fly. She tugged down the crotch of his jeans, exposing the waistband of his checkered boxers. 

“Wait,” Neil blurted and she looked up at him, “come here.” He asked softly and waited as she rose to her feet, her hands moving to his chest as she leaned closer. He pulled her back onto his lap, straddling her over his lap and kissed her, lapping at her mouth with his tongue. His small biceps flexed around her, his hands finding her hair and wrapping his fingers in it hungrily. She sat up on her knees and pressed her crotch against his chest, making him sit up taller to reach her mouth. She whimpered softly as he kissed her as if he was eating her, slowly getting deeper. His kisses felt so good on their own that she almost moaned into him, licking the tip of his nose. She licked the edge of his jaw and he let her, savoring the immature way she approached tasting him. His hands supported her back as she panted, bucking her hips against his chest as she kissed him feverishly. Racks of tapes shielded them from view but Neil hoped passerbys couldn’t hear them through the storefront’s display glass.

Slowly she slid down his chest and returned to her spot between his legs. She licked the warm mound at his crotch, leaving a wide wet spot. Neil sighed as he watched her, his cock twitched again. Her hands squeezed into his thighs and she licked his erection again through his boxers. 

“Oh god,” Neil gasped and looked up at the ceiling. She hooked her hands around his waistband and pulled it down slowly, finally releasing his cock which glistened with precum. She stared at it for a moment before kissing the head. Neil’s mouth fell open in pleasure and shock. “Look at you, god… fuck.” She smiled, self-conscious and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, squeezing him slightly. He groaned and bucked his hips. She rubbed the head against her wet lips and slowly slipped him inside her mouth. Her mouth was already watering and he whined loudly as she took him in, hallowing her cheeks on accident but soon realizing that it made Neil feel good. She went as deep as she could and pulled away, allowing a thick line of spit to connect her lips with his cock. Neil’s eyes widened and his head dropped back against the couch. His hands flew up to his face and massaged his cheeks, unsure how to handle the things he was feeling and not wanting to force her head down on top of him. 

She took him back into her mouth and swirled her tongue around him, bobbing her head up and down. She rocked her head slightly and tried to create a rhythm that elicited the most pitiful sounds from Neil. His cock shook inside her mouth and she sucked hard against it like a lollipop. Neil’s hands tightened around his face and he moaned loudly, exhaling sharply. 

“Oh god, honey. What the actual fuck.” He whined between even breaths. He looked down at her pretty little mouth sucking him off and he nearly finished then when she pulled off of him and started to jack him off, her tongue pressed flat against his head. Her fist clenched around his length and he sputtered, unable to form words. After a dozen hard and fast jerks, she took him in her mouth again and bobbed up and down quickly, drooling heavily around him as she tasted his salty precum. 

“Oh fuck- fuck- fuck! Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He panted and moaned loudly, his hands finally finding her hair, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that it was almost painful. The friction and sensation heightened and his knuckles turned white around her long hair. He thrusted his hips gently into her mouth, not wanting to gag her. She welcomed it, opening her throat and humming to let him deeper. She breathed deeply through her nose and her exhales feathered across his crotch, adding even more to the sensations he was already feeling. With a yell Neil spilled into her mouth, bucking his hips and falling back on the couch. She proudly continued to suck him off, pulling everything out of him. He watched her, breathing heavily. She swallowed his warm cum with a smile. 

I told you I would come for you…

Neil glanced up at the movie screen and chuckled. She licked him from the base up and plopped back onto the couch, breathing heavily too. Neil tucked himself back into his pants, leaving his belt unbuckled. She arranged herself proudly beside him on the couch, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“That was fucking incredible,” Neil slapped his forehead and laughed breathlessly. “So so good…” he shook his head and looked at her, smiling lopsidedly. She snaked a hand onto his crotch again and rubbed him before wrapping her arm around his sweaty neck. He wrapped his arms around her and supported her body weight as she laid against him, their stomach crushed against each other. She shivered as she heard his heavy breath against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered and sighed. He rubbed her back and kissed her shoulder through her shirt. She turned over, sitting nearly on his lap. His hands clasped around her stomach and held her tightly. Her soft belly shivered beneath her slowing breaths. They both relaxed again into the movie.     

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #fanfiction #cillian fluff #cillian fanfic #neil lewis x fem!reader #neil lewis x y/n #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #princess bride

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

afterimage, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi is afraid. Afraid to break down the wall between what I want to say and what I cannot say. How someone answers tells him a lot about he can trust them or not. He wants to trust the smile that breaks rules. He shouldn't, but he wants to.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; jaded views of the music industry; a layered conversation of worldviews, coping mechanisms, and overwhelming sexual tension; smut (fem reader, ripping stockings, heavy petting, fingering, very minor restraint, m-receiving oral, spit kink, penetrative sex); non-BTS!AU - solo music artist!long-haired!Yoongi x writer!reader; Yoongi’s POV

--

“What is something that you want to say but you cannot say?”

Those careful eyes surveyed him closely. After a moment, she answered with, “Just a game, right?”

He smiled. Tipped his half-full whiskey glass towards her. She didn’t have one. Nothing in front of her but the walls in her eyes to keep him out. Not complete darkness though. There was a door if he really looked deep into that stare. Locked. But a door was a door. Any door could always be unlocked.

She was inviting him to break in.

“Yeah. Play along.”

They sat on the floor, his smoked-glass-topped coffee table in between them. Everyone else was gone. Only them left, somehow. She had lingered for a beat and he had turned it into a melody. Sit down with me. The request was met with measured silence and sharpened obedience. No nervousness in the face of danger. He wondered if she would take his question seriously or if he would be disappointed once more. In hindsight, it was a silly worry. She was not the others.

Her eyes followed his whiskey glass.

Voice calm.

“People only like success when it comes from suffering. When you’re happy and successful, they hate you.”

Her lashes shifted and then she was directly watching him. Piercing. Daring him to back away. Daring him to run. He was not the type to run. The intensity in that gaze tempted him though. He took a sip instead, both to smooth over the shake in his hand and the sudden cold in his throat.

“What about you? What do you want to say, but cannot?”

Min Yoongi kept his smile on.

“I hate them,” he replied.

Her lips parted. Not really from what he said, but the venom and bitterness ravaging his otherwise even, mild tone.

“I fucking hate people.”

There had been so many here. Quite a number, right here in his home. People who called themselves ‘friend’ when they were around him. Oh, he used the word too. He used to avoid it, but no longer. That was the way it was in this industry. Friend. Friends help friends until money became much more important and then ‘friend’ became only a word. Money was always more important. If not money, then ego. If not ego, then…

“People pretend they like you but, if you watch their words, you will see how they love to slip in that one aspect where they think better than you. If they are not trying to make you feel inferior, then they think they can be the one to make you better.”

Those eyes were following him.

No.

Not following.

Already there.

“They think they know you,” she finished for him.

He raised the glass to keep something between him and her.

“Do you think you know me?”

A moment of silence and knowing.

“I thought I didn’t, but now I think I do.”

She must have wondered why she was here tonight. A celebration, but something she was only barely part of. He thought, too, that she shouldn’t be part of the guest list. But there had been some kind of mix up and he wasn’t the type to take back an invite. It was fine. One more person wouldn’t impact the cost that much. She came alone. Didn’t even drink. The reasoning behind this moment mattered little. What mattered was that it was happening.

What mattered was that he was afraid.

People avoided fear, pain, the unknown, but Min Yoongi was not people.

He lowered the glass and placed it on the coaster. “Tell me another thing you want to say. But can’t.”

She looked at the whiskey glass with a lack of whiskey. Lashes shifted and then back to him, half-smiling.

“Alcohol is an excuse to escape.”

He didn’t smile. “Or a way to cover up,” he added.

Half to full. “You don’t need to cover up.”

Yoongi didn’t mind lying a little to be polite. He didn’t mind putting on his best when he wasn’t feeling his best for the sake of not dragging down the mood. Yet, to himself, he did no such thing. He knew his tendency. He knew what he was doing to himself. He wasn’t sure he was going to do it, though, because he was afraid.

Fate implied nice things. The correct word was inevitable.

“Who said anything about me?”

She kept her smile and changed the subject. “Do you think creation only comes from suffering?”

He frowned.

“No.”

She nodded.

“Me neither.”

She leaned back. It was an invitation rather than a retreat.

“But no one ever praises it as the best work you have ever done either.”

Her dress shirt was crushed black velvet. Buttoned all the way up to her slim neck. He knew she wore a fitted miniskirt tonight, one with a silver zipper detail that stopped at the waistband. Sheer black stockings. Velvet heels that matched her top, currently lined up by the door. Small purse and long coat present on his sofa.

She would have to pass by him to retrieve them.

“Even if by technical means, it is the best work you have ever done. Even if it’s the most expansive personal exploration you have ever done. Even if you are proud of how far you have come. Lyrically, melodically, vocally. People don’t like it… as much. Not unless it comes from suffering. Then and only then do they eat it up, finding pleasure in devouring your pain.”

He tracked her with his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

She didn’t smile. “You didn’t. I did.”

Yoongi was afraid to stand up and pour himself a little more. Not that he couldn’t take it. He could. It was the shimmering nervousness eating away at his limbs that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to reveal.

“I’ve gone on too long. Your turn. What do you want to say?” she asked.

Not yet.

He breathed out and answered.

“I knew from the moment I met you that you knew me.”

Her forearms leaned against the edge of the coffee table. One hand poised over the table, fingertips not quite touching the glass. No fingerprints. She humbly tilted her head. Visible puzzlement. “I only played a very small part in the marketing. Just the written portion. I was a little surprised that they wanted to have a separate position from the marketing director.”

“I made the request.”

His elbow was resting on his raised knee. Fingertips loosely on the rim of the glass. He wore a designer suit as the host and for the celebratory occasion. The honey-mocha-colored blazer was now draped over the back of the sofa, leaving him in the slacks and tan silk shirt. His black hair currently reached past his jaw. He had it half-tied back to look presentable. Now, he was wishing that he had taken out the hair tie to have this conversation. As if on cue, she swept back part of her long hair over her shoulder, exposing her right ear.

His eyes followed the action and then met up with hers.

Vigilant.

He raised his head. Instead of elaborating, he asked again.

“What can’t you say?”

The silence was loud.

“Everyone has an ulterior motive when they speak to me,” she murmured. Not quite looking at him. Lips barely moving. “Everyone plays nice but, in the end, everyone wants something.”

He had to remind himself to breathe. “Don’t you?”

Her gaze flickered back. “Don’t I what?”

“Want something.”

Pause.

“Want someone.”

She hummed softly.

“You don’t think I could have someone if I wanted them?”

There was an edge to her tone. She placed her elbows on the edge of the table and laced her fingers together. Almost rude, if Yoongi had been one to care about etiquette. She had beautiful hands. Hands that could tell stories.

“Or, rather, are you of the opinion that people are might to be kept? That I, as a woman, must desire to keep someone, hold them, and base my worth on whether or not I can keep them in my grasp?”

A faint smile.

Not a kind one.

He really needed that drink. Gripped the top of his glass.

“I want to keep someone,” Yoongi confessed softly. “Someone who knows me.”

He lowered his knee.

He got up, breaking their shared gaze. Walked over to the bar and poured himself a little more. Drank it slowly to savor the burn that always came with whiskey. And yet he continued to drink it. He wondered why she agreed. He wondered why the skittering in his veins wouldn’t go away. He wondered why he let himself be in this position.

He wasn’t one to build sandcastles.

Exhale.

Yoongi left the glass behind and turned back around.

She was still sitting on her side of the coffee table on the pillow he had provided. Relaxed shoulders, elegant legs together, had shifted her weight to her hip to be more comfortable. One of her elbows was still on the edge of his coffee table, hand hanging down. She had sensed that she was in his line of sight and turned her head. Lashes lowered. Lifting.

The faintest tick of her eyebrow.

His hands found their way to his pockets.

“You want to keep playing this game?” she asked him.

He tilted his head, looking down at her frame.

“I don’t think either of us were playing a game.”

Eyes back up.

Standstill.

He smiled. “You’re too blunt and honest to be afraid to say what you want to say.” He let out a sigh from tiredness that wasn’t physical. “Me, I’m restricted by my choice of profession. Expectations. Public image and shit. You never know what someone says behind your back. You never know what harmless thing you said comes back to bite you. You never know when friend become foe.”

She remained seated but there was no question that they were standing on the same playing field.

“Am I considered friend? Or foe?” she asked.

He still had a chance to end the night.

Could have right here.

Yoongi stepped forward. Closed the distance. Squatted down, hiking up his slacks and resting his elbows on his knees to be eye level. In his expensive designer clothes, this casual action was almost laughable. No one was laughing. They both knew the difference between appearance and true self. In his heart, he was still the young kid protecting a dream no one believed in. Now, people saw him as someone who achieved that dream. Someone who made it. Someone who had it all. Money, ego, and loneliness. He hesitated to keep anyone. Everyone wanted something. Couldn’t blame them for it. But.

The air was thin up high.

“You’re right.”

Something flickered in her eyes. He nodded.

Exhale.

“What you said about alcohol. I use it to escape. My thoughts, mostly,” he admitted. Tapped the side of his temple. “It’s a cage in here.” Pointed to the window, to outside. “A cage out there. Good or bad, expectations are a cage that fuck with your head. A cage to keep you in the dark.” He gave her a wan smile. An honest one. “You can still find light in the dark, even if you’re caged. You just have to let go. I learned to let go. People liked that… but not as much.”

She nodded. Didn’t reply. Nothing to reply to. He continued as he watched her eyes.

“But you don’t drink alcohol.”

There was something in there. Even in the shadows of the low lighting, he could see them.

“You are not trying to escape. You actively rebel against the cage of expectations. You don’t look for the light.”

Sparks.

“You are your own light.”

The corner of her lips rose.

“There’s more than one way to escape.”

There was gravity here. Telepathy. Inevitability. He lowered one of his knees, leaning in slightly. Her eyes followed his hands, then back up to his face. Yoongi knew he shouldn’t. He was someone and people were dangerous. Her hand raised, resting on her chest. Her fingers slid across black velvet. Tracing the button placket. Just because they were alone didn’t mean that this moment would stay alone. He knew that. She could hurt the life he had made for himself. He was afraid, yes.

But not intimidated.

She leaned forward. The scent of musky warmth, somewhere between blessed fruit and wicked temptation. He breathed in, keeping his gaze torso up. 

“I don’t let people project their expectations on me,” she finally said. “The world demands. I question it and it seen as resistance. Insolence. People judge you solely on their moral compass that you had no say in. If they find a flaw in you, it is always on their terms.” She shook her head. “No. I will not live by their compass or on their terms. I choose what possesses me. I choose what makes me and what is left behind.”

His eyes followed the shape of her lips.

“I create my afterimage.”

He knew from the moment that they met that her hands could tell stories. He wondered what else they could do.

Wondered if they could make him fall apart too.

“Do you ever lie?” Yoongi asked.

She answered honestly and with a kind smile.

“Everybody lies.”

Lowered her hand from her chest. Placed the other on the floor. The distance between them was respectful but their shared gaze was closer than close. It wasn’t what was said that revealed the most. It was the words unsaid that revealed all. Her eyes tracked his. He followed the path created. He could blame the whiskey but that would be discourteous to the moment, to the feeling, to her. She sat up, to her knees. Stance no longer relaxed.

Now they were both on their knees.

Her whisper set his world on fire.

“Something you want to say, but cannot say?”

He held the tremble of his breath and now he couldn’t breathe.

“I really hope your method of escapism is what I think it is,” he replied.

That spark in her eyes gleamed. She moved her hands from her lap to behind her back. He could see the edges of her fingertips wrapped around her elbows. Yoongi recognized this feeling. It was the same exhilaration he felt when the melody and lyrics hit that sweet spot of the soul, the instant he knew he had gotten it right, the moment of a song becoming more than just sound.

“You can say it,” she urged gently. “I am not ashamed.”

He felt the side of his lips rise.

“I shouldn’t use sex as escapism.”

The tip of her pink tongue traced the edge of her smirk. A soft sigh, and she tipped her head back, exposing her neck. Her hair slipped along the line of her shoulders, framing her face. Downcast gaze. Then, a shift. Sensuality and sharpness.

No obedience.

“Good thing I don’t abide by your rules.”

The door was open.

He let his gaze linger on her face for a moment. Then, down. Down. The silver zipper was to the side of the skirt, along the center of her upper left thigh. Instead of zipping downward, it unzipped upward, towards the waistband. Decorative and functional. Sitting for a period of time had caused the article of clothing to hike up. Previously, Yoongi had never allowed himself to even consider it. Too dangerous to be disrespectful when others’ eyes were watching, and he had no desire to torture himself with impossibilities. But that was the past.

And this was the present.

He looked back up to watch her reaction.

Reached forward.

She kept her hands behind her back and her knees together.

Yoongi gripped the zipper pull and pushed the slider up her thigh.

The sound of metal teeth teasing apart. Then resistance. The delicate evisceration of fragile threads being torn apart. Obvious destruction. He could hear it. She could feel it. He saw himself in the shadows of her eyes as her stockings ripped from being caught in the skirt zipper. He didn’t look down. She didn’t stop him. Up. He had to scoot closer. She did not flinch. He hit the end of the tape.

He let go.

So close that their breath was mixing now.

His fingertip traced the rips, grazing over soft flesh threatening to spill out.

“I apologize. I’ll pay for it,” he murmured.

An open-mouthed smirk.

“For what?”

The zipper ended all the way up past her hip.

“Nothing is happening here.”

Then she raised herself, spreading her knees. Her skirt split apart further. Her hand raised, cradling his jaw for a split second before she leaned in and claimed his lips.

A kiss was evidence to intention. A kiss could reveal when someone wanted to be liked, when someone was trying to impress, when someone was desperate to be loved. A kiss showed Yoongi who meant well and who was selfish. Soft, insistent, angling her head to deepen the taste. She kissed with intent to bed him. With intent to feel him and his heart.

With nothing to hide.

He matched her intent, burning in it.

Hot and low, she whispered into his mouth.

“Rip it.”

He curled his fingers under the thin nylon. Soft, smooth skin under his knuckles. Tension in his grip and in the electrified air between their lidded eyes. Centimeters between them that felt like nothing. Her sweetness and resolve tingled against his lips. He pulled. Her breath stilled in her throat. The tearing sound was violence in the silence. He dug his fingers into the stockings, creating more holes, shredding them. Her fingertips by his ear pressed inward. Breath shallowing. His free hand settled on her other thigh with the stocking still intact. Slid up, stopping at the raised hem of her skirt.

His murmur shaking as he spoke.

“You wanna fuck me.”

He could feel his pulse thundering in his ears. Her touch left trails of goosebumps.

She promised with a question.

“Who doesn’t?”

His fingers danced up, up, tearing holes with his nails. The ghost of pain flitted over her features, but there was no fear. She closed her eyes, shuddering. Her fingers stopped at his hair tie. Lips to lips again, and he felt her other hand rise, steadying against his temple and tugging his hair free as he ripped her stockings apart. Pressure and breath and lust. Tongue against tongue. A curtain of black cascading around their faces, his long hair falling forward, and then they were closer, knees to knees, his hands on her thighs.

Squeezing.

Her hands in his hair, tangled into the darkness.

Every kiss made him want more, more.

Her hands tumbled out of his hair and slid past his shoulders, fanning over his back.

His fingertip outlined the center seam. Pressed down on it. Followed the dip down. She sucked in a breath from his throat, stealing it from him. The heat pooled in his core. A shared throb. His teeth caught the edge of his lips. A nick of pain. Her arms around his neck, and they were eye-to-eye, on their knees, saying nothing and feeling everything, his touch tracing her covered slit and her fingers twisting into his silk shirt, clutching fistfuls. He wondered why she didn’t touch him.

One look into her eyes and Yoongi knew why.

There was dampness. He pressed deeper. She spread her knees more, stretching the rips and making them worse. He hooked a finger along one. Guided the tear. Had a destination in mind. Dug his knuckle into soaked fabric. Her eyes slid shut. Shuddering breath. Hips rolling towards him. The uncomfortable strain traveled up his torso. He pulled his other hand on her thigh back, his jaw clenching as he adjusted himself.

A faint smile lingered on her lips.

No need for words. That was enough of a response.

He placed his palm back on her thigh and grinded circles along the top of her pussy.

Her lips parted, exhaling a lustful breath.

The slinky material of her panties molded to her folds. He ran his fingertips along her covered clit, pressing the thin fabric taut, drenching it with her slick. Heavy sweetness mixed with her decadent perfume and his fresh cologne. He pushed the pantyhose seam out of the way. Rubbed steadily, building the pace, gripping her thigh and feeling his own cock swell with carnal want.

“Take more.”

Her whisper dark and forceful. Two minds on the same one-track wavelength. Her eyes opened ever-so-slightly. Teasing gaze.

“Put your fingers in me.”

His fingernail followed the edge. Pulled back, sucking in a breath as the scent of sex strengthened. He met her stare with his own desire, into her eyes and bathed the light of the open door within them, suddenly feeling unashamed, unafraid, no longer any need to cover up, sliding two fingers into warm, tight heat.

Fuck.

Her eyelids fluttered. Tip of her pink tongue wetting her lower lip. He curled his fingers inward. She shook her head and he straightened them at the wordless instruction. Deeper, all the way to his knuckles. Her inner walls clamped around him. He pressed his thumb at the top of her pussy, using the pad to flare open the folds, finding what he was looking for when she softly moaned, right in his face, feathery breath washing over his lips.

She started the pace, hips rocking, her arms around his neck. She didn’t break eye contact. Neither did he. Slid his fingers out and then pushed back in, answering her want. Answering her force with his force, speed with her speed. Breathing quickening, the haze creeping into her eyes, and he pushed for the edge, tightening his jaw as he felt her pussy shiver around his fingers. Moved his grip from her thigh, finding himself unable to control his strength and instead turning it towards himself.

“Yoongi…”

He pressed his palm against his throbbing erection, wincing as the aching pleasure strummed up his torso. Even this faint stimulation was making him heady. Deeper. No sound but sloppy wet smacks and ragged breathing, stroking himself through his slacks and driving his fingers forward, tension at his fingertips and pulsing from her to him. Skin hot, muscles tense, staring at her parted lips and listening to the melody of her moan.

Yoongi leaned forward and kissed her as she came onto his hand.

Her nails twisted into the beige silk, raking along his shoulder blades, and he needed them on his fucking skin. He could feel her inner walls shiver violently, sweet honey seeping down his palm and sticking to his knuckles, and that shiver traveled through his nerves and up his arm, all the way to his head and scattering his better judgement.

Shouldn’t.

The kiss broke.

He pulled his hand away, breathing hard.

She lowered one hand and took his wrist, raising the mess to his lips.

All societal rules forgotten under the influence of complementing lust.

He curled his tongue around his middle finger. The taste was distinct and spread over his tongue, staining it with lustful memory. He watched her smile as his lips closed around his own fingers. Sweet with a hint of sour, stronger and more impactful than any other. The taste of her cum remained even after he pulled his fingers out and leaned in to kiss her once more.

A shared tension, and yet.

She broke the kiss. Shaking air, layers and heat and the gravity of the situation sinking in. She breathed against his lips, not looking at him.

“I… I can…”

He interrupted.

“Come closer.”

Wound his arm around her waist. Body to body. Her arms shifted, and he caught her left wrist with his left hand, pinning it to her lower back. She glanced up at him, curious. He looked back, strands of black clouding the edges of his vision. A second of connected eyes and his free hand hovering by her hip, debating on whether or not to say what he wanted to say.

“I can’t have you touching me yet,” he finally let himself admit. “Still afraid of your effect on me.”

His fingers danced along the curve. His eyes on her lips, remembering their softness against his.

“Let me give you one more orgasm.”

The edge of her mouth curved upwards. “Can’t refuse that, can I?”

Yoongi lowered his head. Nearly forehead to forehead. More than just give some, get some. Saturated scents, her and him, tension racing, his fingers slipping downward. Held breath, leaning against him. His knees against the hardwood were killing him. He didn’t care. Traced her slit, trembling at the smooth wetness. Pressing, coaxing, his lips to her jaw, following the lines. At first only the ghost of a touch, then harder. Kisses to tongue. Slow strokes to gentle circles. The experiment of teeth in the pocket of her neck and under her ear. Her free hand gripped his shirt, yanking him closer, her head tipping back, giving him more access.

The quiet breathing turned into breathy moans.

He set skin alight with his mouth. He knew how much pressure to apply so it wouldn’t leave a lasting or obvious mark. He noted the flinches of when he hit a particularly sensitive spot and paired it with the movement of his fingers, amplifying the pleasure. Slid two fingers in but didn’t move them. Only to provide fullness and feel her walls constrict and shiver. Built up the pace, kept it consistent.

Tightened his grip on her wrist.

Her hand let go of his silk shirt.

He clenched his jaw as her palm covered his clothed cock, her fingertips pressing into the fabric.

Raised his head. Found her eyes and they were already on him. It was not an easy angle nor convenient, but she didn’t stop and he couldn’t find the words to resist, seeping pleasure snaking through his core and down his thighs, face to face, unavoidable, her juices seeping down his fingers and her throbbing pulse at his fingertips, closer, harder, faster. Her low moan drifting into his open mouth, closing his eyes as the tingling sensations clawed up his back and head, desire aflame.

Her name falling from his lips in a rasp.

He knew she was watching him and he knew she saw all of him in this moment.

Then she came apart in his hands with a sigh, leaning her forehead against him, a smile with a bitten lip, pussy shuddering and thrusting her hips into his hand, taking him down, down with the racing rhythm and overwhelming shivers. Colliding, lips to lips, hunger, her hand gripping his thigh.

Creating a craving.

He shouldn’t have but he had no intention of stopping here.

She unzipped her skirt as she stood up. Pushed it down. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Crushed velvet skirt, ripped stockings, hair messy and tumbling over her left shoulder, pausing as she realized he was taking in all the details. She took him in too. Ceased silk. The thin fabric of his slacks that did nothing to hide his erection. His previously neat black hair now a sweeping mess over his cheeks.

Small smile.

“Still afraid?” she asked, knowing the answer.

He began to unbutton his shirt.

“No.”

Emotions of this caliber made him more attentive. More aware of the moment. Not a source for inaction but a reason for action, the reason to take her hand and hold it tight. There was no reason to hide now. It meant more to be in the present. Out of his head and into the insistence of hands fanning over bodies on the walk to the bedroom and into the hunger in catching lips between breaths. The aftermath was for the future.

Red knees.

Tangled arms.

They fell onto the bed and he let her hands tell a story.

They were warm. Exploring his skin with softness and hardness. Delicate pads across his collarbone. Digging fingernails dragged down his back. Followed his lines and pressed her lips to the inflamed skin, searing it with lustful fire. He sank his fingers into her thighs, then up her ass. Fanned over her back, gasping. Lips down his torso making an invisible path of kisses. The faintest touch on her shoulders and then gliding into her hair, pushing it out of the way as her mouth covered him.

Tongue around his hard length, dripping saliva.

Molded the wet muscle to the underside of his cock and applied varying pressure as he slid in and out of her mouth. Her hands spread over his hips, decorating him, running the sensitive head along the roof of her mouth and then back into the tightness of her throat, relaxing around him to press just a little deeper.

He gripped her hair harder.

Deep. Steady, flaring her tongue along the base of the head and making him twitch from the added burst of pleasure. His chest felt tight, trembling. Her hands pressed him into the mattress, not letting him escape, forcing him to feel it all. Eyelids fluttering from the brutal bliss. Skin prickling, unable to contain the overwhelm. Up and down, her hair spilling over his thighs, wet, constricting, the tips of her fingernails indenting his skin, closer, his lips parting.

A rough groan.

The precise sting of the high shooting through him and his palm pushed down, gasping as he felt the shuddering jerks and seeping release flood her mouth. She swallowed and he bit back the hiss, sensitivity bordering on pain, but that was its own exhilaration in a way. The suction ceased slowly. Her tongue continued, soft and slick, blanketing his tingling nerves with saliva and then licking it off, sending ecstasy in waves, up his chest and down his legs.

He stayed hard with soft stimulation.

She wrapped her hand around his cock and leisurely stroked it, extending the pleasure as she sat up.

Something in those shadowed eyes.

She smiled.

“Something you cannot say?”

Yoongi raised himself to his elbows.

His hair curled over his forehead and part of his jaw. Closed his hand around hers and made her tighten her grip, keeping it slow. Building the pleasure. Shuddering. Looking into her eyes and he knew what he wanted to say.

“Spit in my mouth.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He cocked one.

She leaned forward and he could taste himself in her saliva.

His entire body jolted when she spat in his open mouth. He hooked his other arm around her shoulders, pulling himself up and kissing her fiercely, the electricity of wrongness driving the lust, pumping himself with her hand and surrendering to her tongue. He had never asked for that before. Didn’t know if he was interested but most importantly neve found himself comfortable enough to make such a request. It felt wrong somehow, as a man.

Wrong, but delicious.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Yes.”

Her hands glided over her thighs, spreading them as he rolled down the condom. She knew her body. His skin still burned from where she touched him. A tactile afterimage. He watched her spread her glistening pussy lips open, twitching at the obscene image. He placed a hand on her thigh and thrust in, following the hunger in her gaze and the tension in her knuckles. She exhaled in sensual approval, pinning her own legs to her chest. His palms hit the mattress, gasping at the depth. The wet tightness sucked him in, closing in and massaging his length. An uncontrollable jerk of his cock and they both moaned, heat radiating.

She tapped his arm.

A smirk.

“Don’t hold back, Yoongi.”

He smirked back.

The hard, shocking force of hips to hips. Hers rising, his driven downwards, making them both snap their heads back at the power. Pleasure to borderline pain. Chasing a feeling, a primal appetite, a taste soaked into his tongue, and there was no going back, shallow breath, racing heart, finding each other once more, his head hanging down with a cascade of black strands along his periphery, knowing eyes and a devious smile underneath him. Rougher, hitting that angle, so deep and so tight that it sent a wave of boiling shivers up his spine, gasping as the tip of her pink tongue traced her teeth.

Erratic exhale and hazy gaze.

The ecstasy eating him inside out.

Her hands sliding up his arms, delicate caress in contrast to the harshness, stories behind those fingertips, fuck me with everything you’ve got, hesitancy that belonged to someone who knew and could see right through dishonesty, and he lowered his torso, his palms shifting up higher, using all of his power combined with gravity. Her legs sandwiched between their bodies, the position making breathing more difficult, but she wasn’t asking him to stop.

Not with that fire in those eyes and the way her hips smacked into him.

“Are you close?” he whispered.

A gasp with an edge. “Y… Yeah.”

His fingers twisting in the sheets. Burning. Growling.

“Take it.”

Meant it.

Hard, deliberate smacks, sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of the head rubbing against her rigid inner walls, heady throb, clenching all around, maintaining the tension to avoid hitting his own high too soon, there, almost there, his eyes screwed shut and only hearing her torn moan, shuddering, and then it hit him, thrusting in and hit with multiple points of contact, her powerful spasms shattering through his nerves and knocking the wind out of his lungs.

He lost his control.

The grimace sliced through his jaw and the orgasm shot up his body, hers combining with his, a match to gasoline that made his spine pull back, helpless moan as it spread through his chest, his head, his thoughts reminding him that it was dangerous to want this, that he shouldn’t want this, that it was not advisable to think this was anything else than what it was.

Equally breathless, clawing for oxygen.

One of his elbows hit the mattress, his fingers curling into her hair.

Shaking eyes to shaking eyes. He kept telling himself not to want more. Her hand drifted to his chest, settling there. His heart was beating so hard that he could feel it in his throat. Under that gaze, in the light of her open door, she held his quivering heart in her hand and invited him to say what he wanted to say.

Even now, Yoongi could taste the vivid mixture of her and him on his tongue.

“I can’t… I can’t say that was by best work.”

She raised an eyebrow, panting hard.

He smirked.

“Haven’t fucked you a second time yet.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I’m going to need that money for my new stockings. In person, along with a formal apology. On your knees preferably.”

She had a smile that broke rules.

He didn’t know it then, but it would become a memory he would always have. A smile he would come to see many times afterwards. In nights, in days, in dreams,  in moments he learned to call just theirs, a constant afterimage that appeared when he searched for a memory to comfort him in times of hardship.

A smile to light the dark and break him out.

“I look forward to it,” Yoongi promised.

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

[cupids-scream-queen]

A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*

❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀

Part 3 // 2.1k words

-> Part 1 // -> Part 2

Warnings: slightly graphic murder, stalking, alcoholic mother, Ghostface thingz

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Monday. Your first day of school. A new school, which made this particular Monday even worse.

You were the new girl. You were the outsider.

You got up, darkness surrounding you as you stretched. It was five in the morning—far too early to be up, but you wanted to make sure everything was perfect. You got out of bed, your feet bare and cold.

You hadn’t heard from Ghostface since the call on Friday, and the silence was driving you insane. You didn’t know if you scared him off, or if he decided to spend time with another prank-calling victim—you guessed the latter. You definitely weren’t scary enough to make someone afraid of you, even with your murders. They weren’t gruesome like the ones you watched on television, they didn’t have the pizzazz of the Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer kills. They simply were a teenager getting her anger out on poor, drugged-up Californians.

You dragged yourself to the bathroom, grimacing as you turned on the cold water at the sink. You splashed some on your face, and began to scrub with one of your many face-care products. You hadn’t had a breakout in nearly four months, and you weren’t going to start now. You finished your skincare routine and turned on the shower, undressing yourself. Stepping in, the water was cold, and it made your skin crawl. You preferred cold showers, warm ones reminded you too much of when you were happy, when your brother was alive and you didn’t have a killer for a biological father—no matter if he was dead or not.

You washed yourself quickly, the cold water almost burning your skin. You washed your hair, making sure to condition the ends, just like your mother taught you. You got out, wrapping a towel around yourself and drying your hair with another. You went back to your room, glancing at the clock. Five thirty-eight. School started in about two and a half hours.

You went to your closet, trying to find an outfit with some semblance of fashion. You unpacked a few days ago—the boxes once guarding your room collapsed and stored under your bed, just in case you’d have to move again. You decided on a simple green top, with a long, patchwork-style skirt. The multitude of different fabrics and textures made it an interesting piece of clothing to look at, and when you dressed it up, it could look sick as hell. You decided on silver jewelry today, layering a barbed-wire style necklace and a rosary. You slipped four silver rings on your fingers, and brushed your hair, deciding to leave it down naturally. Giving a spin, you decided you looked hot as fuck.

You smiled and began working on your makeup, concealing under your eyes. You did a light brown shimmer eyeshadow, and did large, triangular wings. Mascara. Pink lipgloss. Blush.

The phone rang. You nearly jumped out of your skin, the loud sound you were positive would wake up your mother. You answered it quickly, listening for any yells coming from your mother’s end of the house. Silence.

“What the hell?” You said, whisper-yelling. “People are fucking sleeping in this house!”

“You’re not home alone?” Ghostface asked, and you shook your head.

“No, I’m not! My mom’s been here the whole time you dickwad!” You started pacing. “She’s just…”

“Not around much?” You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if he was genuinely sorry, but you grimaced when he said that. You still remember when your mother was good to you, when she wasn’t constantly drunk or crying, calling out the names of her dead husband and your brother. “That’s more common than you’d think.”

“It doesn’t matter,” You hissed. “What are you calling me for? I’m going to school, you’ll see me.”

“And I look forward to it,” Ghostface chuckled, and you stuck your middle finger up at the window. “Hey now, that’s not very nice of you.”

“Says the fucker that called my house at like six,” You rolled your eyes. “Are you gonna say hi to me today, or are you going to just let me figure out who you are?”

“I told you this was a game, Knife Girl,” You felt annoyance creep through your body. “You’ve got to defeat Ghostface to win it, remember?”

“What happens if I don’t?”

“You die.”

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

You wanted to figure out who this Ghostface was. You didn’t even know how to defeat him. Were you supposed to kill him? Find out who he was? You didn’t even know where he was half the time, just that he was watching you out your bedroom window—not that you did much to prevent it, but still. You realized you had to either start stepping up, or just let him kill you. You were fine with killing him.

The drive to the school was purgatory. You took your car—a cherry-red 1959 Buick Electra 225 convertible—to school, your map hidden in the glovebox. Your car was fancy, and you knew it—you wanted to make a statement.

You came from money. You knew it, and your mother knew it. Even with her alcoholism, you knew your family was still extremely well-off—your grandfather was a millionaire, your step-father left nearly three million to your mother, and your 16th birthday present was two cars; a beater and your Buick, which you nicknamed The Vampire.

You noticed how people’s heads turned when you pulled up to school, and you relished it. You knew that they wouldn’t want to be friends with you for anything except money, which was fine—you didn’t intend on making friends.

You parked your car, making sure to lock it when you stepped out. You knew exactly what you were doing, bringing that car. You wanted to catch his attention.

First things first, you had to visit the office. Ignoring the looks of students, you went into the main building, finding the office with little difficulty. The lady gave you a schedule and a map, highlighting the routes to take. She also gave you a notecard with your locker number on it, and you thanked her before leaving.

English.

Your teacher was old. She looked as if she were a frumpy old woman that smelled of that old people's perfume. That was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was your class was entirely full, except for a seat next to an auburn-haired girl.

“You’ll be sitting there,” She said, barely bothering to look up. “You’re…Y/N, correct?” You nodded, taking a seat. The girl next to you waved. “Here’s a textbook, you’ll need to read up to page 247,” She said, passing a book down. ‘The Language of Composition’, an enthralling read, to be sure. The girl next to you held out a note.

My name’s Sidney Prescott, nice to meet you Y/N

You scribbled back a basic reply, smiling at her. She seemed nice enough, but you didn’t want to get close to anyone unless you had to. You had other things on your mind rather than friendship.

“Sidney, it would appear to be your turn,” Mrs. Tate said solemnly, and she wordlessly packed up her belongings and went to the principal’s office. You looked up, curious. What was going on?

You finished the class, and you felt a little tap on your shoulder in the hallway. You found it was Sidney, the girl from class.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You asked, walking to lunch.

“A girl was murdered with her boyfriend, it was huge,” She explained. “Do you wanna sit with my friend group and I for lunch? I can’t imagine you’ve made many friends.”

“Your confidence in me is astounding,” You joked. “I’ll sit with you, sure.”

“Great!” She smiled wide. “There’s uh, you’ll meet Tatum, who is one of my best friends. And there’s Randy, who’s a little funny, and you’ll meet my boyfriend, Billy, and Tatum’s boyfriend, Stu,” She rambled, and you took mental notes. “They’re, like, totally obsessed with slashers. It’s kind of funny, really.”

“I don’t mind horror movies,” You commented. “They can get a little cheesy though, I prefer the classics.”

“Classics? Like Halloween and shit?” She asked.

“No, classics like the 30’s and 40’s. Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and The Birds are two of my favorites, but there’s Genuine: The Tragedy of the Vampire that’s also pretty good,” You explained. “Not all horror movies are big tits and gore.”

“The ones the boys watch are,” She mumbled, and you laughed a little.

“You’ve just gotta expand their taste, that’s all,” She smiled at that, and she walked you out to a fountain.

“Who’s this?” One of the boys called out, and you raised an eyebrow before glancing at Sidney.

“This is Y/N! She’s sitting in Casey’s…” She trailed off, before continuing. “She’s new! And she likes horror!” As if on cue, the ears of all three boys practically perked up.

“Horror, you say?” One of the boys, with long-ish hair, said, cocking an eyebrow. You nodded. “What kind of horror?”

“Do you like the kind where it looks like you can fuck the body?” Another boy chimed in, and a blonde girl kicked him. “Ow! I was just askin’ a question.”

“I like psychological films,” You said. “Mostly shit that messes with your mind.”

“Bo-o-o-oring,'' the same kid said.

“Why don’t you all introduce yourselves?” Sidney said through clenched teeth.

“I’m Randy!” One of the boys said, shaking your hand harshly. You nodded.

“I’m Stu,” Dressed in over-large clothing, Stu had some sort of class clown energy you couldn’t really pinpoint. You decided he was a wild card.

“I’m Billy,” The other boy said, not even looking up. Sidney was perched at his side now, and he was practically buried in her neck. You felt like out of them all, Stu and Billy seemed the most familiar. You noted it in the back of your mind.

“I’m Tatum! Nice to meet you,” The blonde girl who was sitting next to Stu said, flashing her teeth at you as she smiled. You sat at the fountain, not quite sure what to say. You mostly zoned out, but the way Stu and Billy talked about the murders didn’t sit quite right with you. As someone that’s killed before, the knowledge that they had wasn’t something you could get quite out of a horror movie. They made it sound like they’ve done it before.

“So, what’s your favorite horror movie?” Billy asked, and you thought about it for a minute.

“Psycho. The Birds. Genuine: The Tragedy of the Vampire. The Creature of the Black Lagoon,” You took a sip of your water. “Yours?”

“That’s pussy shit, you gotta try the big boy stuff!” Randy exclaimed. “Yo, when are we gonna watch movies? We gotta invite this chick. She ain’t seen nothing but grandma shit.”

“Depends. Sid doesn’t like horror, remember?” Tatum looked around the group, her eyes landing on you. “And you look like more of a Tom Cruise girl than a Freddy Krueger girl.”

“You got that right,” You laughed. You could see almost…disappointment? In the eyes of Stu. Billy’s gaze was intent on you. It made your hairs prick up, just like the night when Ghostface first called you. “In Top Gun he was to die for.”

“I know!” Tatum squealed excitedly. “He’s just darling.”

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

When school let out, a crowd of students surrounded your car.

“Hey dipshits, get off my car,” You shouted, and they practically parted like the red sea. “That ain’t a fucking chair.”

“My bad,” A boy got off the hood, and you rolled your eyes before unlocking it and starting it.

“Fuck around next time and see what happens,” You shot back, before moving. Your drive home was equally uneventful, and you quickly found your mother sprawled out on the couch, a bottle of Tito’s next to her.

“Fuck, Mom. Can’t you drink on any other day?” You poured yourself a glass of water, carrying it upstairs with your bag. On cue, your phone rang.

“Hel-l-lo?” You answered, drinking half the glass of water.

“How was your first day?”

“Hell,” You grinned, and the voice on the telephone laughed.

“You made five new friends today, didn’t you?”

“Damn, you were really watching me?”

“I’m watching you right now, Knife Girl. Any suspects as to who I might be?”

“No,” You lied, your eyes glinting. “But I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“You have until next week. Or you’re dead.” You grinned before hanging up.

Enjoy my writing? Please like, reblog, or follow me! The support is super encouraging, especially since I'm going to make this a longer fic and post nearly daily 💕

-> Part 4

#billy loomis x reader #ghostface x y/n #slasher fucker #slashers x reader #billy loomis smut #ghostface #ghostface smut #stu macher x reader #stu macher #billy x stu

[fariesoiree]

ok idk how to explain it but

this please, I want this. hobie with this.

that is all, thank you

hi! i really enjoyed this idea and i hope i wrote it up to your standards c: it's such a hobie thing to do tbh. request under the cut! 1075 words, black reader who uses she/her pronouns

the dull ache behind hobie’s eyes sets in before he’s fully awake. he moves with a certain grogginess that can only come from staying up into the early hours of the morning. as he writhes around under the disheveled duvet, memories from the previous night begin to creep in the edges of his consciousness. loud music, lots of alcohol, and plenty of drunken kisses with strangers throughout the night.

he licks his lips, taking note of the dryness settled deep in his throat. hobie can only groan into his white pillowcase and push himself up onto his forearms. today, the sunlight is extra bright, scorching his hazel eyes until he’s forced to squint and turn away.

in this new position, hobie is able to take in his surroundings and survey the damage from last night. he can see his trail of clothes, discarded and thrown onto the floor on his way in. he can remember his skin feeling so hot that he just had to get his clothes off, removing each layer until nothing but his boxers were left.

he reaches over for a half empty water bottle on his nightstand and unscrews the top, scrunching his face when he feels the first initial throb of his headache. he sniffs and chugs the rest of the water down. the plastic crinkles under his grip and does nothing but make his headache worse, ebbing away at his sanity.

images of the previous night flash through his head, a little hazy at points. behind each blink, he can see brief pictures of the prettiest face, grinning at him from between the hold of his fingertips. an expression of confusion skims across his face as he tries to piece the memories together.

hobie remembers before he went out, bored out of his mind on a typical wednesday night. crime-fighting can only be so entertaining before it got repetitive. he needed some chaos, a form of disorganization. there’s no better place to find it than at a party one of his friends coincidentally threw.

he remembers downing shots like water and flowing through the dancing bodies in the crowd. occasionally, he’d mix and mingle between people, some of which he wouldn’t find particularly interesting if he wasn’t under the influence of vodka. somewhere along the line, the images begin to get a little blurry.

hobie is still silently working through the memories when he clears his throat. he goes back to searching for his phone, swinging his legs over the bed. his attention is drawn to his white bedroom door, slowly creaking open. behind the wood, a little tanned head pokes through. the soft, dark hair is recognizable enough, even without the familiar lazy smile.

“oh great, you’re up. thought you were dead; it’s four in the afternoon. you were hammered last night. they called me to bring you home. i found you locking lips with some guy.” karl lets himself in, surveying what had happened in his absence. he whistles at the mess but otherwise doesn’t judge.

hobie winces, not at karl’s words, but at the volume of his voice. the sound rattles around in his head like nails on a chalkboard. he raises a hand in an attempt to silence his friend for just one second. it takes him a moment to process this new information before hobie lifts his head in visible astonishment. “what?”

but oddly enough, it feels familiar. as if it’s a flashback, hobie gets another glimpse of the past. in the back of his mind, he can see it. the image of a man pressing his hands on hobie’s chest is awfully clear, so much so that he’s able to remember the hot pink highlights that streak his dark hair.

“what the actual fuck did i do last night?” hobie mumbles, bringing a palm to his forehead. he peeks at karl, standing empathetically by the door. for the first time, he notices the packet of liquid iv in his hand. “is that for me?”

karl looks down, seemingly to have forgotten he even brought it with him. “huh? oh, yeah. i thought you’d be feeling poorly after all that. just give me a ring if you need anything else,” karl tosses the packet onto the bed and begins to slink out of the room. “oh, and that girl, you should know the one, she wanted to tell you to text her when you get up.”

hobie’s eyebrows furrow together. before he gets the chance to ask for any context, karl is already gone. it’s not like hobie could get any information out of him, anyway. he wasn’t there. he was merely the person on call to pick hobie up in case he got sloppy.

girl? what girl?

hobie’s hand slides underneath the cool side of his pillow, searching for his little phone hidden somewhere in his bed. he finds nothing but more sheets and clicks his tongue behind his teeth. his patience is growing thin, especially when paired with his condition. he’s growing more frazzled after learning that not only did he get involved with a random guy, but had managed to give his number away to a girl.

he takes a breath and stands, slowly turning to face his bed. he plants a hand on his hips and runs another along his face, tugging at the skin. the puzzle is connecting so slowly, yet he’s right there; he can feel it. both of the faces in his memory are related, somehow. he’s just missing that one thing.

the gleam of hobie’s phone in the sunlight catches hobie’s eye. it sits just on the edge of his bed, ready to teeter off the side and clatter towards the floor. he reaches for it just before it does, tapping on the screen until it lights up. there’s only a little percentage of battery left but it’s enough for him to stand there, scrolling through the missed notifications on his hub.

his eyes narrow upon spotting an unsaved number, one he didn’t recognize. hobie’s thumb goes to click on the notification and he finds himself staring at a groupchat. he can’t help but tilt his head at the numbers across his screen and the text that comes with it.

[phone] : hii :) it’s the couple from ri’s party last night you might not remember us but we def remember you

(111)-111-1111 : did you make it home safe baby? <3

oh, that’s what happened last night.

#౨ৎ˚⟡ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 #. . . 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 . . . 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓵𝓲 𝜗𝜚⋆ #hobie x black!reader #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

[wolven91]

Spa Day

Jonathan pushed his hand into the thick white pelt of Garsh's arm and luxuriated in its softness. He pushed his arm forwards and his hand disappeared into the pelt, then his wrist, then part of his forearm, before his palm touched something solid and hot.

The ursidain's fur was dense and thick, if the human had to guess, it was near enough a foot deep. The outer layer was rough and coarse to the touch, creating a sort of barrier to the outside environment. When he pushed his fingers deeper, the soft under pelt felt like silk to his hands, but the heat that was trapped beneath was also instantly transferred to the man's hand. It wasn't a surprise that her hidden flesh felt hot to the touch, ursidains ran far hotter than a human ever did.

The human and the ursidain were both sitting on a bench in the public space of the station. It had been a long day and the two of them, after leaving work, had immediately needed to just sit and take time to decompress. It all honesty it had been a busy week, they were both exhausted and finally had a few days to themselves. The busy period was over.

As Jonathan lovingly combed his fingers through the fur on her arm, he noted the coarse fur and the knots he came across on a regular basis. Garsh had her eyes closed and head leant back as she lay slumped on the bench itself. Jonathan watched her for a time, noting the clenched jaw and the effort she was making to slow her breathing, taking in air through her mouth and exhaling through her nose. A technique he himself had taught her.

"Fancy a 'spa-day'?" He asked, breaking the silence, unaware if 'spas' were a thing up here.

She frowned, before the 'polar bear' like ursidain lifted her head to turn to him and fix him with a quizzical expression.

"The heck's a 'spa-day'?"

Jonathan gave a single bark of a laugh before sobering when she remained confused rather than revealing her joke.

"How about I book it all and we go together?"

--- 0 ---

Turns out, the aliens did 'do' spas.

The following day, the pair pulled off the station's motorway and pulled up in a vehicle bay using the 'hover-bike' that Garsh had favoured over the sealed 'cars' that the majority of the citizens preferred. Garsh had given up trying to get Jonathan to call the vehicles by the correct terms, it seemed another strange quirk of 'her' human.

Humans seem to have their own names for things and enjoyed mildly annoying everyone by using their terms over the correct ones often deliberately using terms that the translators would hiccup over rather than their correct names.

The human and the ursidain entered into the 'spa' and the atmosphere changed from the busy, cavernous station, to a warm, welcoming room with a smiling male taurian behind a desk. He ducked his head in a graceful bow, until they stood before him at the counter.

Jonathan tiptoed up to peer over the desk and confirmed his details with the receptionist who immediately welcomed to duo into the deeper parts of the building with a sweep of his arm. Garsh had no idea as to what to expect from the spa. It wasn't something that people like her did.

She was an engineer, getting greasy or dirty was part and parcel of the job. What was the point of spending hard earned credits on getting clean when she could do it with a coarse brush and bad language at home?

When she was told to strip and given an oversized fluffy robe, the ursidain's eyes bugged out of her head and flitted across to Jonathan who merely laughed and disappeared behind a curtain. To her left was a similar curtain, which she peered around to reveal a changing room like one would find in a clothes shop. Turning the fluffy robe over in her hands she found that hers had no sleeves, but when she saw Jonathan again, his robe covered more of his whole body.

Another pair of diminutive taurians, at least to Garsh, ushered them through to a new room. This one was full of hot mist and the pair were subjected to a hot bath.

The bubbling water, but not boiling, roiled and undulated with a pleasant scent curling up from it in the steam. At first Garsh was concerned about whether it was wise to go anywhere near something that hot without safety measures, especially with such precious cargo like a human around. Jonathan instead simply shed his robe and stepped down into the giant boiling cauldron, much to Garsh's shock and horror!

However, instead of all the thrashing and screaming she expected, the human merely gingerly settled himself into the water, 'oohing' and aahing'. The ursidain frowned and with very little grace, 'plunked' a foot into the water to test the heat. Hot, but not uncomfortable. Copying the human, she tossed the robe and with all the grace expected of an ursidain, tumbled into the bubbling pool as her foot didn't find a solid floor past the shelf Jonathan was using. A surge of water partially lifted and displaced the human who cackled at the display, glancing over to his robe which had been already retrieved and placed onto a raised bench by an unseen assistant alongside hers.

The overflow of water displaced by the ursidain went into wide drains that surrounded the hot tub. Jonathan suspected any ursidain sitting in the pool would cause the same tidal wave, so considered it wise planning on the architect's part. The constant stream of bubbles provided a massage to the pair of them as the streams of air rippled through Garsh's fur and over Jonathan's skin. For a time, she sat with her arms in her lap, unsure on what she was supposed to do now.

Garsh looked over to Jonathan, wondering what the next part was. The human merely smiled and said that she should try counting her breaths into she got to a hundred. She got to twenty-six before Jonathan sighed and scooted down into the water. Ursidains were roughly twice the height of a human, with the design of the pool, she was sat on a lower bench that was beneath the roiling surface. It was one of the few times that she and Jonathan were almost eye level. The gentle giant cared deeply for the human and only wanted what was best of him and to make him happy. The only reason she had agreed to this whole thing was because he had said it would make him happy...

Seemingly sensing her gaze, he opened a single eye, smiled and scooted along the shelf until they were sat touching arm to arm. She leant back and stretched out, placing an arm at Jonathan's back. With this natural feeling action, it was her turn to sigh as a wave of contentment washed over her and the ursidain finally 'got' spa days, scooting down into the water.

Garsh began to notice painful bunches of muscles across her body that she hadn't realised was there. Tensed legs, arms or even her shoulders began to uncoil. She rolled her shoulders as she hesitantly allowed her tense muscles to relax. It was an alien sensation, but far from a horrible one. She found her lungs releasing a pent-up breath she hadn't realised she was holding on to.

The two lay against one another for a time, listening to the sound of the water before a quiet noise of another set of two employees entering the room with a tray of bottles and brushes. Every furred and even scaled being up in the stars had a grooming kit. A series of clippers and brushes held in personal kits of varying styles was owned by everyone bar the humans. The kit's these attendants unrolled however, were of the finest quality, appearing as gold with shining silver of metal along the edges of the blades and scissors.

The attendants coaxed the pair from the waters, Garsh averting her gaze from the human's body before laying down on the leather gurneys that had been rolled out for them.

What followed was a significant shampooing, conditioning, and scrubbing of Garsh's pelt in such a manner that she couldn't recall the last time it had had such attention given to it. Of course, she washed herself, kept clean and gave it a brush when needed, but the attentions she was being given was unlike anything she had experienced before. The human on the contrary was both easier and harder for the delicate taurian to deal with. Instead resorting to a body massage to burn time waiting for his ursidain partner to be dealt with.

When Garsh was finally released and the pair were told they could sit up and join the attendants in the next room at their leisure, Jonathan's jaw dropped open. Garsh was practically glowing, her fur, usually a creamy white, was now almost sparkling in the dull lights of the spa, it rippled and flowed easily with every movement.

Garsh pulled the curtain to the next room to one side, allowing Jonathan through. Now there were two seats, the human was dwarfed by it, whereas it was 'just right' for Garsh. What happened next was a pedicure and a manicure. The taurians once more were stumped by the dull 'claws' of the human, whereas they knew exactly what they were doing with the ursidain. Jonathan opened one eye to see them applying what looked like nail polish onto his nails and opened his mouth to protest.

Until he noticed the male taurians working on him, who all sported various colours across their claws. He gave a mental shrug and laid back. There were no humans on the station, he doubted any alien that knew what was 'normal' for a human and what wasn't. Plus, it felt nice to be pampered...

The rest of the day was a series of events, each focused on another part of their bodies. Claws, ears, arms, and legs.

When they finally stepped out of the building, both of them practically glowed.

Climbing onto the 'bike' again, Garsh ensured that Jonathan was wearing his helmet, before wrapping a protective paw around his front and pulled him backwards so his back was against her front. Only now, instead of compressing the fur of her front, he instead partially disappeared into the luscious thick pelt. His world was outlined with the long white fibres of her fur and his own body heat was reflected back at his back immediately.

"So, when is it my turn to drive this thing?" He asked playfully.

A rumbling chuckle gave him a taste of what an earthquake felt like.

"On this deathtrap? Not a chance. Now hold on, we're setting off."

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #ursidain #bear

[joannaofarkham]

I just have to write this drabble/short oneshot or else I'm gonna combust but here you go!

"They said I would find you here."

Eren looked up to the source of that melodic soft voice, his bottle of beer pressed to his lips as he was about to drink some. Even in the layers of coat, beanie, and scarf, Mikasa looked so beautiful, especially with how the neon sign of the pub illuminated her face, that it made Eren's heart pound to his chest. He should probably take the time to commit her face to memory; in a few days, she would be packing her stuff from the office and leave.

He couldn't help but fake a smile for her. To hide the fact that he felt lonely the day she handed her resignation to their editor-in-chief, Erwin.

"Crowd's getting louder inside, I'm starting to have a head ache," Eren said to Mikasa as he patted the space beside him. He took another swig of his beer while Mikasa made herself comfortable.

She was also cradling a bottle of beer for herself and for a few minutes they sat side by side by side, enjoying the inviting silence of the street being slowly departed by the people on their way to their homes or to the nearby restaurants and bars. A minus one of Last Christmas was playing inside the pub their company rented for the night, and the wails coming from Connie blasted through the pub's dilapidated speakers as he attempted to sing in-tune.

Mikasa chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm gonna miss this," she said. Eren looked at her and asked, "What, you're gonna miss your ears bleed with Connie's singing?"

"Honestly? Yeah." Mikasa looked back to where their colleagues drink and sing. "I'm gonna miss the whole team and their shenanigans during brainstorming."

Mikasa took a long swig of her beer before saying softly, "I'm gonna miss our coffee breaks, Eren."

Maybe it's the alcohol but Eren swore he saw Mikasa's eyes soften to a form of loneliness (?) but he would be calling himself delirious. Him and her were just colleagues, colleagues who happened to always get their coffees in the same cafe at the same time. Who happened to know each others' favorite sandwich and pasta for lunch.

She was just his colleague who happened to be his crush since their first day, during their first assignment writing an article about the most shippable fictional characters. And maybe, after four years of working together as writers and content creators, Mikasa was just Eren's colleague that he had harbored feelings for and now might be his only chance to say whatever these feelings were to her.

But, instead, Eren said, "I'm sure there will be better cafes in Hizuru, Miks."

What a fool.

Mikasa looked down, a falter of a smile gracing her lips as she said, "Probably." She sipped from her bottle and said, "But it wouldn't be the same."

What used to be a comfortable silence stretched out to become an awkward void between them. Minutes past, Connie's song was done, and here both Mikasa and Eren were, still sitting outside the pub, their beers getting cold as the snow started to fall. Why am I so good at ruining my chances, Eren asked himself. Why am I so good ruining moments like this? Probably because I'm the number one hopelessly in love coward out there, he noted.

"Um, we should probably go back inside. Connie said every one of us should sing in the karaoke machine," Mikasa finally said and she chuckled awkwardly as she stand. She was about to pull the door open when Eren suddenly said, "Miks wait!"

Mikasa looked back at him while he stumbled in front of her. Eren looked down breathing out as he whispered to himself, "the heck, pull yourself together, man," before looking back at her, eyes intense and mind fried with nervousness.

"I should have asked you a long time ago but, shit, I'm not really good at this. I don't know, fuck." Eren sucked in a breath and finally said, "I like you, Mikasa. And I don't know what I'll do if I don't say that before you go but, yeah. I really like you, Mikasa Ackerman."

Mikasa kept staring at him and Eren couldn't help think that he might have creeped her out. After what felt like forever, Eren didn't expect what Mikasa said next.

"Does that mean you're okay with long distance?"

Eren blinked once, then twice. Is he okay with long distance? He didn't have to think twice with his answer.

"If it's with you, I don't mind."

#eremika #Eren #Mikasa #Coworkers #resignation #Confessions #it's very fluff ofc #drabble #eremika fanfic #aot fanfiction #quick write #Christmas can be lonely #Especially if you don't confess to your crush #I'm looking at you Eren

[writingsforwhatever]

Part 2: Love letters to Matthew (m.s.)

Part 1

Please read the author's note in part 1!

Anyway, enjoy.

Her world seemed to halt as Matt's confession hung in the air. Shock rippled through her, rendering her momentarily speechless. It was a revelation she had never anticipated, and it left her grappling for words.

"Matt," she finally managed to utter, her voice quivering. "I... I don't know what to say."

Matt's gaze remained fixed on her. He wore an expression of vulnerability that was entirely new to her. The weight of his confession bore down on her shoulders, and she could feel her own emotions swelling within her. She had spent years wondering about his feelings, longing for some indication that he shared her sentiments. And now, in this unexpected moment, he had laid bare his heart.

Her voice quivering, with tears already forming in her eyes. "I never knew," she spoke softly, breaking the silence again. "I never knew you felt this way."

The unfairness of the situation overwhelmed her. How could he do this, especially when she had already found a home in another person's arms? It just didn't seem fair. Unfairness and dissatisfaction had always seemed to define her relationship with Matt. It had never been enough.

Seeing him in pain like this, knowing that she had felt the same way for so long, tore at her heart. All those years of hurt, of watching him leave and return, had led up to this very moment. Yet, inexplicably, it still felt like it wasn't enough for either of them.

Matt responded, his tone filled with frustration, "Forget it, it doesn't matter. I'll get over it. I just can't be near you right now; I can't even look at you. It hurts too much. Please, just go."

"Matt, don't do this. Please, just hear me out first." She tried to hold back her emotions, but the tears were already falling. However, he was already on his way to the living room, walking away from her.

He turned around once more, his expression marked by a deep frown. "What could you possibly say? You're going to Europe for two and a half months with Luke! Spare me your pity. I don't need it. Please, leave. Just leave me alone." Matt's words were filled with a mix of pain and exasperation, as he struggled to cope with the situation. Unable to bear the weight of the emotions any longer, she ran past him and out of the house, tears streaming down her face. Matt heard the front door slam shut, and he could hear Chris and Nick calling her name.

~

Europe was different from any place she'd ever been, olive groves stretched out before her, their silvery leaves shimmering in the sunlight. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, adding to the idyllic atmosphere yet her thoughts often wander off to the boy who was thousands of miles away from her.

Matthew is in love with her. This in fact didn't make things better as much as she thought it would. For years, she had secretly yearned to hear those three little words spill from his lips, believing that it would bring clarity, but it only added a layer of complexity to their relationship.

Matt’s confession had been long-awaited, but she couldn't help but think and feel that distance and time had definitely changed things; he lived on one coast, she was in college meeting new people on the other. No matter how hard she tried, he was drifting away. His love arrived too late. Matt needed to accept this, just as she had quietly done over the years.

She has Luke now. Luke, who loves and cares for her deeply. Their love is quiet and simple but it's sure. Unlike her relationship with Matt, which always felt intricately complicated, Luke's love was a beacon of simplicity and warmth.

The night Matt confessed his feelings, she cried under her covers while Luke, slept soundly beside her, oblivious to the emotional storm that had raged within her. It wasn't how she imagined their friendship would end, but it was inevitable.

Someone always gets hurt.

She knows this.

And it's both of them.

When Luke asked about the stains on her cheeks when she got home, she brushed him off, saying she was emotional about leaving her parents and friends for a few months. As they landed in New York, Luke remained unaware of her hidden sadness and when the plane took off for France, Luke held her hand firmly. Below them, the vibrant city lights of New York City shone brightly, yet her thoughts remained to the boy back in Boston.

She watched Luke's friends, Fiona and Andrew, their laughter echoing in the warm air. The warmth of the sun making everyone's cheeks pink, but her mind was still elsewhere. His words that day lingered like shadows in the sun's gentle glow, reminding her that their friendship could end for good.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked, taking a seat beside her with a freshly made mango shake in hand.

She offered a small smile in response. "Yeah, just feeling a bit homesick. I can't wait to get back home."

Luke returned her smile. "I get it. Home is home, but I'll miss this place for sure. Italy is amazing."

"It really is," she said, her eyes drifting over the scenery in front of them.

Luke shifted the conversation. "Have you talked to your parents yet?"

She nodded. "Yeah, they're doing well. My dad mentioned that Haley has a crush on our neighbor, Josh," she shared, rolling her eyes playfully and letting out a chuckle.

Luke almost choked on his drink, chuckling too. "Oh boy, Josh better watch out."

She nodded, acknowledging that her little sister could be quite a handful at times, but she loved her, nonetheless.

Luke's curiosity turned to her friends. "What about your friends? Chris and his brothers? How are they?"

Her thoughts briefly wandered to a recent text from Alahna. "Alahna visited them in L.A. 2 days ago."

Luke, unaware of her feelings of not wanting to talk about them, continued the conversation. "Nice. How are they?"

"Who?" she asked, momentarily confused, her gaze shifting to the side.

"Chris, Nick, and Matt?" Luke clarified, his eyes lingering on her profile to gauge her reactions. "And Alahna?"

"They're doing great," she replied. "Alahna mentioned they're planning to take her to Beverly Hills before she heads back to Boston."

Luke nodded in understanding. Sensing her desire to change the subject. "You want to swim later?"

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she replied, "Absolutely! Let's do it." Grateful for the subject change she pushed the Matt thoughts in the back of her head.

~

"You suck at cooking eggs, Alahna." Chris teased, a playful tone in his voice. It was the first week of September 2023, and the late morning sunlight of Los Angeles shone through the kitchen, making the room bright and warm.

"It's not my fault that you scared me. I thought you'd be up later." Alahna defended, grinning.

"I couldn't sleep anymore; you woke me up with all your ruckus here." Chris said lightheartedly. "I'm surprised you didn't wake up Matt over there."

Alahna set up the plates for her and Chris, the newly cooked eggs now a little bit saggy and one slightly burnt. "You know he was up all night?" she whispered, a hint of concern in her voice.

"He was?" Chris asked, sitting down.

"Yeah, I came downstairs to grab a glass of water, and apparently, he saw Luke's post on Snapchat."

"How did you know?"

"He was sitting here. I could see his phone. I recognized that picture because I saw it too just minutes before."

"The... him and?" Chris trailed off, understanding dawning on him. It was a photo of Luke and her kissing at the pool. A sweet, innocent kiss, but it was enough to shatter Matt's heart into pieces.

Alahna sat down and looked Chris in the eyes. "Chris, I forgot to tell you, but remember the time Matt had a girlfriend?"

Chris's eyes locked onto Alahna's, urging her to continue. He remembered those days with the girl from Florida.

"Well, about a month after, I think? I forgot exactly when. It was a long time ago. But Chloe and I met with her, and she admitted that she has been in love with Matt for years. We told her we already knew—" Alahna chuckled, and Chris nodded in agreement.

"What?" Matt's voice echoed from the wall beside his bedroom doorway, leaving Chris and Alahna exchanging shocked expressions.

Matt's voice hung in the air. "Matt," Chris began cautiously, stepping closer to him, "we didn't mean for you to hear that. It's just that Alahna and I were talking, and..."

Matt interrupted, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and pain, "She said that?"

Alahna nodded solemnly, her concern deepening. "Yes, Matt."

Matt's expression tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "How long have you known, Chris?"

Chris sighed sadly, choosing his words carefully. "She didn't admit it to me, but I've always known, you know? Bro, anyone could see it in her face. She's always been about you. For years."

Matt turned away; frustration evident as he ran his hand through his messy hair while he processed what he had just heard. "I can't believe this… I was so blind, and now it's too late," he muttered.

Alahna stood up and walked over to Matt, her voice gentle. "Matt, I'm really sorry you had to find out this way. It wasn't our place to tell you because we know how much it would mean coming from her. She loves you a lot. I hope you know that."

Matt stayed quiet for a moment, lost in thought. It all started to make sense now—the times she turned away or seemed distant when he had a girlfriend back in 9th grade, the fake smiles she wore when he talked about his high school crushes. He felt incredibly stupid, realizing that Nick had been right all along. He was beginning to think he was the most oblivious person on the planet, especially remembering how she had gotten sad when he didn't mention having a girlfriend from Florida. He had misinterpreted her feelings as mere sensitivity.

She had been in love with him for years, and he had been too oblivious to see it. And now, she's with someone else.

"What are you gonna do?" Chris asked, his eyes filled with sympathy as he observed his brother processing the revelation.

Matt sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know, Chris," he admitted, uncertainty clouding his thoughts.

"He's not going to do anything, Chris," Nick chimed in, his voice carrying the grogginess of just waking up. His tousled hair and half-asleep appearance drew everyone's attention.

"Nick," Alahna cautioned, her tone barely above a whisper.

Nick shrugged, unfiltered as ever. "What? Matt had his chance, and he missed it. She's happy now. Why would he want to ruin that for her?" he bluntly stated, embodying the frank and opinionated brother he had always been.

Chris, torn between his desire to see them together and the undeniable truth in Nick's words, couldn't help but nod in agreement. Matt had indeed let his opportunity slip away long ago, and now he had to face the consequences of it.

Matt sat down and lowered his head, absorbing his brother's words like a heavy truth he couldn't deny. The weight of missed chances and regret hung in the air.

Alahna exchanged a meaningful glance with Nick, understanding his perspective, even if it stung.

As the morning light crept into the room, the silence continued.

Nick sighed deeply, closing his eyes as to calm himself. This time he spoke with gentleness in his tone, "Look, Matt. I'm not trying to be negative or anything... But I've seen her get hurt over and over again by you. I just- She's with Luke. It would be unfair."

Nick’s straightforwardness, as abrasive as it might have sounded, held an undeniable truth. He was the voice of reason in the room. His message was clear: it would not be fair to all of them.

Matt grumbled, his hands pressing against his forehead in frustration. "I had no idea she loved me, Nick," he admitted with frustration.

Nick looked at him with a sad expression. "We know, and funnily, even your ex could see it," he said softly.

Matt let out a deep sigh remembering the fight he and his ex-girlfriend had when he admitted that he kissed his best friend. "If she's happy, then I'm happy. It's okay. I'll be okay." He stood up, trying to put on a brave face.

The three of them shared knowing looks, aware of the emotions in the room. Chris decided to bring up a painful topic. "Matt, you also need to apologize for what happened back home when you told her to leave."

Matt's cheerful demeanor faltered briefly. "I'll apologize when she gets back from Europe," he replied, not wanting to dwell on the day she had left his house, when he had wanted to chase after her but didn't. He had spent nights crying and regretting what he did, ignoring Chris and Nick's knocks on his door.

As Matt walked toward his room, he added, "I'm going to be okay. Trust me."

Understanding that Matt was only lying to himself, they let it go.

‘Be there in 10 😊 see ya’

She looked at Matt’s text for a few seconds before sighing, a heavy sadness enveloping her. It's the first day of Senior year the final chapter of high school, and here she was, trying to mend her broken heart.

"Are you okay, honey?" Her mother's green eyes full of concern. Beside her mom is Haley's school clothes all folded neatly ready to be worn.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just not feeling like going to school, that's all," she replied, her gaze fixed on her worn-out Converse.

"Why? Talk to me about it," her mother urged, taking a seat beside her. "Is it about your subjects? Your teachers?"

She sighed again, glancing at the time on her phone. "It's Matt."

Her mother furrowed her eyebrows, clearly lost and confused. "Matt? Did you guys have a fight?"

Since when had Matthew upset her daughter?

"No, Mom. We didn't fight," she replied, impatient. She kept looking out the window, feeling nervous.

"Then why..."

"It's just..." She paused, aware of the curious looks her mom is giving her. "He has a girlfriend, Emily, and she's been with us all summer. He said it's not serious, but I don't know. I don't know why I'm feeling like this." Her shoulders slumped at the little confession, but her mother knew.

Matt was a constant presence in her daughter's life, just as much as his own brothers. They grew up together, celebrated Christmases, birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Halloween — every occasion imaginable.

Her mother, Elizabeth always had a hunch, but she believed they were probably too young to comprehend or understand.

As for Matt, he was bound to break a few hearts, even though Elizabeth hoped her daughter wouldn't be one of them, yet she understood that it was inevitable. Her daughter and the blue-eyed boy were as thick as thieves. They were inseparable. And so now that she has confessed without really saying it, she knew.

And she just hopes the fall wouldn't be too high and prays that she'll find the strength to weather the heartbreak that comes with it.

"Why? What are you feeling?" She asked gently, hoping but not pushing her to open up.

"I don't know. I'm confused and I'm hurt. I'm hurt that he has a girlfriend," she said with a sad smile.

Bingo.

"Oh, honey." Elizabeth enveloped her into a hug, soothingly rubbing her back. "How long have you been feeling this way?"

"Months."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"Of course not," she replied, standing up and shaking her head. "I'd never. He's going to want to not be friends with me, Mom. I know Matt."

"If it's bothering you so much, just try. I'm sure he'll understand, sweetheart." Her mom stood up too, trying to catch her eyes. "This is Matt we're talking about, aren't we? He cares about you. He'll unders-"

"No, no way!" She argued, already walking towards the front door. "Just forget I said this, mom. I'll get over it."

Elizabeth could only watch her daughter walk away before she could say goodbye, anxiously waiting for the familiar car that had been arriving at their house like clockwork ever since Matt had learned to drive.

Chris runs down the stairs at 7 am in the morning. "Matt, let's go we're gonna be late."

Nick was already in the car, grumbling. "What took you so long? And who are you texting?"

Matt rolled his eyes, inserting the key into the ignition and starting the car. "Can you shut your mouth Nick? It's too early for you to be talking this loud."

It was clear that Matt's feeling anxious by going back to school again. People just never made sense to him, especially people from high school. He hated it. Hated them.

As they made a stop to pick up Alahna and Emily, the road is still slightly damp from last night's rain. Gradually, a sense of realization began to dawn upon Matt - It was their finaly year in high school, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for it.

Meanwhile, she watched as Matt's car approached her driveway. She couldn't deny the sinking feeling in her chest as she saw Emily sitting in the back with Alahna. Of course, she's here. As the car pulled up, she took a deep breath and mirrored Nick's cheerful laughing smile and mood.

"Hey youuuu." Nick teased as she climbed to sit beside him. "Missed you."

"You literally just saw me last week, Nick." She chuckled, glancing at Matt from the corner of her eyes, not fully acknowledging him. "Hi Chris."

"Hi bestie, long time no see." Chris turned his whole body to look and flash a playful smile at her.

"Shut up."

She exchanged waves with Emily and Alahna. From the driver's seat, Matt felt a sense of confusion wash over him. He couldn't help but wonder why she didn't even greet him.

In November 2023, she saw Matthew again.

When Chris mentioned that they were coming home back in October, she remained resolute in her decision to remain confined within her school dorm. She didn't want to meet them and see Matt. Just the thought of last June, when he confessed his love right before she left for Europe with Luke, still haunted her.

She sometimes wonders if he did it because he was being mean, or he just doesn't want to see her happy. Cause why now? Why now that she has already found someone that truly loves her?

He was unfair, she thought. The bad timing of his love just broke her heart over again.

The kiss last year, Matt's girlfriend and now this - It was all cruel and she couldn't endure it any longer, especially when she has spent her entire life loving him. She deserved to be happy.

And so, she ignored their texts. She knew she was being a bad friend by not replying. Matt made several attempts to reach out, offering apologies in the weeks following her return from Italy, but she ignored them still. They stopped eventually and she couldn't deny, it made her a little sad.

Her plan to distance herself from Matt and anyone connected to him was successful until Thanksgiving in November arrived.

In all her mother's holiday spirit, Elizabeth had extended yet another invitation to the boys' family for the upcoming occasion after seeing Marylou at the grocery store two weeks ago. This had been their tradition for years as family friends and Elizabeth was completely oblivious to the inner turmoil her daughter had been wrestling within for months.

However, everything changed when she heard Nick's familiar laughter emanating from downstairs, causing her to freeze in her tracks, despite being already halfway down the staircase. She stood there, frozen, her eyes locked with the boy she had painstakingly avoided for the past few months. Matt held her gaze and for a moment, it was like they're the only people in the room. 

One thing stood out - Matt looked different and she couldn't help but notice it. He was clad in a blue flannel shirt and jeans, a combination that remarkably complemented his features. It seemed almost impossible, but the outfit made his blue eyes even bluer. On that chilly Thanksgiving night in Boston, Matthew Sturniolo appeared almost angelic, emitting an air of maturity that was a far cry from the Matt she remembered from their high school days. The years had been kind to him, and her heart ached with the realization of just how much she had missed him even though it had only been a few months. She realized that, deep down, she still cared about him, and it will never change. Matt will always have place in her heart that he owns.

Walking down the stairs, she couldn't help but feel like a girl going to prom, with her date waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Only, in this case, her date was a handsome, blue-eyed boy wearing a pair of New Balance sneakers.

The room’s silence was broken only by the soft murmur of the exchanged how are yous and the pounding of her heart. Chris, ever the mediator, exchanged a quick glance with Nick, and then he cleared his throat, attempting to ease the tension in the room.

She took a deep breath and smiled when he was inches away from her, she couldn’t help but think that this Thanksgiving might be different from all the others, and it had nothing to do with the Roast Chicken with Maple Butter on the table and Chris’s smirk.

As everyone in the room felt the awkwardness, they all retreated to the cozy living room, leaving her and Matt alone. Nick and Chris gave her comforting hugs before following their own parents, Nick shot her a look that said, "We'll discuss this later," while Chris wore a sly grin that she couldn't resist rolling her eyes at. Oh, how she missed them terribly.

Finally, Matt broke the silence, keeping a safe distance from her. "Hi," he said, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and regret, "It's been too long."

Her throat felt dry, but she managed a small smile in return. "Yeah, it has," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look... good."

She couldn’t believe that after all this time, Matt still had that effect on her.

Matt chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving her face. "I could say the same about you," he said, his gaze softening. "Different but still the same you I knew."

The silence after Matt spoke hung in the air, both of them seemingly lost. The other room beside them remained hushed, everyone subtly listening to their conversation.

Before she could respond, Matt cleared his throat, mentally scolding himself for making her uncomfortable with his feelings. "How was Europe?"

"Europe was incredible," she replied, briefly breaking eye contact with him. "It was beautiful."

"I'm sure it was," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The way he said it, so softly, made her glance up at him again only to find him looking at her still. Matt smiled, a hint of resignation in his expression as he nodded and tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. It was now his turn to break eye contact. "I'm sure it was," he repeated, the realization dawning on her.

Europe. Matt. Their plan. She cringed.

Just as she was about to say something again, Chris interrupted, his voice carrying a teasing tone, “Hey, you two, hate to break up the reunion, but dinner’s ready.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. “Alright, Chris, we’re coming,” she replied, grateful for the interruption.

Matt shot his brother a knowing look and smiled.

After the lively dinner, with Matt and Chris by her side, making jokes about missing each other, and her dad sharing a funny memory, the tension faded away quickly and like always, the usual routine after such gatherings – they all gathered in the living room to play different board games. She glanced around, seeing Nick and Justin on the other side of the room. Meanwhile, Chris was engrossed in conversation with both her dad and his, laughter filled the room.

However, even amid the happy ambiance, a sad thought worked its way to her mind – how much longer would these gatherings remain a constant in their lives? They were like a lifeline to her memories of childhood. She could come to terms with not ending up with Matt but the notion that this might never happen again bothered her.

Nick's voice abruptly pulled her from her thoughts. "Matt wants to talk to you," he whispered.

"Huh? Where is he?" She scanned the room, her confusion growing.

Nick couldn't help but chuckle at her bewildered state as he patted her shoulder. "You're zoning out, girl."

"I'm sorry. Where is he, Nick?"

"He's in the car, waiting for you," Nick pointed at the front door.

"What? Why? Is he crazy? It's freezing out!" She hurriedly searched for her coat from the other room, ready to rush out, but Nick stopped her before she could leave. "Just talk to Matt, okay? Sort things out. Be patient with him. You mean a lot to him, and I know you still care. If I'm really wrong and you're not into him anymore, please, just let him down gently."

Speechless, her throat went dry. In the background, she could hear their families talking, soft chatters filling the room with warmth. She met Nick's eyes once more, nodding in understanding. "I love him, Nick."

This time, it was her response that made Nick hug her. "I know."

He eventually released her, "Just be honest with Matt, he can take it."

"And be honest with yourself." Nick added, his gaze gentle but knowing.

It was clear that Nick could see thru her facade. She had never stopped loving Matt, and she couldn't even imagine the day she won't. With a final glance to her friend she had known her whole life, she stepped outside, finding Matt in his phone as he sat inside the car.

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, I swear to God, I'm going to kill you," she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the house. Her furious footsteps reverberated as she chased Matt around, her sock-clad feet making a soft padding sound against the wooden floor. She could already sense Nick's growing frustration and annoyance about what could be causing this commotion on a quiet afternoon.

As she watched Matt's mop of brown hair rushing down the stairs, she couldn't help but burst into laughter at how silly he looked. She knew she couldn't compete with Matt's long strides.

"Matt, I'm dead serious," she called out, following him to the kitchen and towards his brother's room. However, it was too late; he was already halfway to Nick's, his laughter filling the room as he locked the door behind him.

"What the fuck is going on?" Nick stood up, clearly taken aback by the noise. He walked towards his door to unlock it, allowing her to come in.

It had been a warm Saturday afternoon when Matt had invited her to hang out at his house. The day had started off peacefully, with the two of them lying on his bed but then Matt had snatched her phone from her hand after noticing she had been on Snapchat for 10 minutes, giggling.

"Seriously, Matt, this isn't funny. Give me my phone!" Her voice pleading.

Matt chuckled, raising his hand to signal "wait" when Nick made an attempt to snatch the phone from his grasp. His eyes darted over the Snapchat conversation at lightning speed, a glint of mischief in his eyes when he glanced back at her.

"Come on, Matt, give her the phone back," Nick groaned, evidently tired. "What are you even looking at?"

"She has a crush on that football guy, Daniel," Matt chuckled again.

"The senior?" Nick asked, an amused and surprised expression forming as he turned to look at her.

She protested, "No, I don't!" Taking a step closer to Matt, she added, "Give it back, Matt!"

"Just a sec," he hushed her once more, retreating against the wall, eyes fixed on her phone screen. He finally looked back at her, his smile fading. "He asked you out to Homecoming?"

Nick smirked at her. "He did? Oh my goodness."

She sighed, embarrassment washing over her. "Well, I'm not even sure if I'm going."

"Why not? Daniel Thompson is hot." Nick replied.

She blushed, her face turning hot. Once again, Matt shifted his attention from the phone to her, locking eyes with her. He held her gaze and with a shrug, tossed her phone onto Nick's bed. "He's a jerk."

With a groan, she reached for her phone. "Ugh. I hate you so much."

She walked out of the room, leaving the two of them behind.

Matt swiftly followed her to the living room and back upstairs to his room, where they had been hanging out just five minutes earlier. "You never told me you'd been talking to him."

Rolling her eyes, she started going up the stairs. Her back to him. "I don't have to tell you everything, you know."

"So what? Are you guys a thing now?" Matt asked, his brows furrowed. A subtle hint of jealousy in his expression.

She continued walking towards his room, yearning for the comfort of his bed. Ready to be swallowed whole by his comforters. "No, we're not."

With a frown, she turned to face him. "God, you're so annoying, Matt. Why do you care? And he's not a jerk, for your information. You don't even know him."

Upon arriving in Matt's room, he closed the door and watched her climb back into his bed, grabbing her phone. With a dismissive roll of his eyes, he joined her on the bed. "Yes, he is. Oh my God. Did you not hear what he did to Stacy Martin last year?"

"They'd broken up when he did that."

"Whatever, I'm just saying he's not a good guy," he frowned, his eyes fixed on her face.

"What's your issue with Daniel? Can't I have a date? He's the only one who asked me out, you know," she stated matter-of-factly, sounding a bit sad. Matt could see her turn away from him, wounded by her own confession.

"Are you kidding me? I'm sure someone else would. Just not Daniel fucking Thompson, jesus," Matt muttered. He knew he was being unreasonably harsh, but he couldn't fathom why she chose Daniel Thompson as her date. Of all people!

"Enough, Matt. You don't know anything."

"I don't know anything? You don't even know he threw his chips at me in 3rd grade!"

"Oh my God. So this is about what happened in 3rd grade? You guys were 8 years old! Holy crap," she stood up, leaving. "I'm going to Nick's room. You're so annoying."

Matt was left momentarily speechless as he watched her walked out of the room. "I'm just trying to look out for you," he called after her.

Turning around to face him, arms crossed. "You don't have to. I can handle it myself."

"You're my best friend, I just care about you." Matt whispered.

Feeling her heart break at his words, she replied, "If I'm your best friend, then why did you ask Nicole out?"

Matt groaned, pinching his forehead in frustration. "It's not the same. Nicole is different."

A heavy silence enveloped them. She regretted opening this can of worms. Matt had no idea how deeply it had hurt her when she found out that he asked this girl out for homecoming. He could ask anyone, doesn’t matter if it’s not her, just not Nicole, but he still did.

"She hates me, Matt," she shot back, a mixture of anger and frustration on her face.

"No, she doesn't!" Matt whispered loudly, his eyes pleading as he defended.

"Fuck you. I'm leaving."

Matt watched her rush down the stairs, slamming his front door. He sighed, running his hands through his hair. Chris came out of his own room, hearing everything.

"Is your girlfriend mad at you again?" he teased.

"Shut up, Chris."

"I told you, Matt. She likes you."

"Shut the fuck up, Chris!”

Meanwhile, Nick watched the exchange from the sidelines, a knowing smile playing on his lips. As the door closed behind Matt, he couldn't help but think that perhaps there was more to their friendship than meets the eye. But he decided to keep that to himself for now and let them figure it out on their own.

As she walked down her steps, thoughts of Luke consumed her. Luke, who was now her ex-boyfriend, remained blissfully oblivious of the ongoing chaos, primarily centered around her and Matt.

When she was about to open the passenger door, she found Matt already extending his arms to open it for her.

"Hey."

"Hi," she replied offering a small smile as she settled into her seat. She watched Matt attentively as he took a moment to collect himself, fully aware that this night could either make or break her. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," Matt whispered, nodding. His fingers restlessly fidgeting.

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I wanted to apologize for last time. What I did was uncalled for. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I'm truly, deeply sorry."

"Matt—"

"Let me finish because if I don't say this now, I'll never get the chance to say it again," he cut her off, lowering his gaze to his knuckles. Slowly, he turned to face her entirely, and she couldn't help but notice the scent of his shampoo and the faint flush on his cheeks and lips from the cold.

"I'm sure you already know where I'm going with this, right?" He asked, his eyes locking onto hers through his lashes. She didn't know if it was the way he's looking at her or the nervous fidgeting of his fingers, but she swore her heart never beat this fast.

"Listen, it all came crashing down on me. All those years of stalling, all this denial. It's like my eyes were closed and when I opened it, you're all I could see. God, this is so weird, but I love you, okay?" Matt rambled and took a deep breath. "You're my best friend and I'm in love with you. How crazy is that? I thought that only happens in movies."

"Matt—"

"And I hate myself for it. I swear I'm not saying this because I'm expecting you to feel the same way. I'll get over this, alright? Just give me time."

"Matt—"

"...because I can't lose you. You mean so much to me. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself—"

She replied with an eye roll, her fingers clutching the collar of his flannel shirt. At that very moment, it was as though the entire world had faded away,

The kiss was a culmination of all the pent-up longing they had held onto. For Matt, this moment had been a year in the making since that unforgettable night in L.A. The soft pressure of their lips meeting perfectly is making her go crazy. He was initially taken aback, but his hands instinctively found their place on her neck. His fingers caressing her cheeks, making her stomach tingly from the warm she's feeling all over her body. She had to break the kiss off to breathe, but Matt pulled her back. "The second time's even better," he whispered to himself causing her to blush.

Matthew Sturniolo, in his awkward nature, didn't know why he was so natural at kissing her and how easy it felt. The kiss was tender and heated, leaving them both breathless. She rested her right hand on his shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt.

And then, as if Matt couldn't make her melt any further, he spoke in the softest, most loving voice she had ever heard from him. "Come closer.”

Matt traced her bottom lip, eyes never leaving her parted lips. “You have no idea how much I love you. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I regret kissing you last year because I don’t.”

He kissed her once more, this time with a slow, gentle tenderness that made her feel like she might dissolve into a puddle from the softness of it. “I could never.”

“You’re driving me crazy, Matthew,” she murmured foolishly, her mouth still entwined with his.

With a gentle chuckle, he broke off their kiss and locked his gaze onto her, making her feel a bit shy. "So does this mean you feel the same..."

"Oh my god, Matt." She shook her head, smiling. "I've been waiting for you to say these things since high school."

"Wait, what?"

“You really think I’m not head over heels in love with your dumb fucking ass?” She playfully rolled her eyes, enjoying his reactions.

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?”

"Matt, first of all, you're incredibly dense and second, even your grandma knows it."

He sighed, remembering the times he had talked with his brothers, even his mom. "Even grammie?!"

She groaned, covering her face. "Maaatttt," she muttered.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Matt smiled softly, his cheeks matching the blush that was forming on her face. He reached for her hands, intertwining his fingers with her. "For everything. I was so blind..."

Before he could continue, she interrupted him with another kiss, and just as it was about to deepen, she pulled away, whispering and giggling, "Took you long enough."

Matt was the first one through the door, leading the way with her hand tightly held in his. A heartwarming scene unfolded before them as their entire family stood there, all sharing knowing smiles, and watching in hushed anticipation. It was Matt's father who couldn't contain himself any longer and yelled, "Finally!" which was met with a chorus of cheers and clapping.

Chris approached them first with open arms, enveloping Matt in a bear hug and then her, a big grin on his face as he playfully teased, "Fucking finally."

"It's about time!" Her dad chimed in with a whistle. "Woohoo! I knew it!"

Her cheeks turned a shade of pink, and she buried her face in Matt's arms, muttering. "Oh my god, dad."

"aww" and "finally" echoed around them making the atmosphere more joyful than ever.

As Matt held her close, she couldn't help but think about the letters she'd show him later.

On that cold November night in 2023, Matthew Sturniolo officially became hers.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #OK im tired #chris sturniolo x reader

[nuevialnst]

Can you do an angst/comfort Leon x reader where Reader is in a depressed state and while going on a walk, she bumps into Leon. They end up having a cute movie night at Leon’s house with cuddles and food?

I need some love from Leon. >~<

YES OFC I CAN!!

I haven’t done angst at all, so this is probably gonna suck ass atleast I tried though that is all that matters.

Anyways the angst part is about the fem! reader loosing her parents bc I couldn’t think of anything else I am very sorry!’ I didn’t know how to end it but I eventually thought of something.

— Restless Comfort

Pairings: ID! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: What the request said.

Cw. Angst to Fluff, death of parents, grieving /mourning of death, kissing, age-gap (The reader is like a couple years younger than him), Leon being shy/embarrassed, reader slowly falling in love w Leon, cuddling, waking up ontop of him, and Leon admitting he loves you and you do reciprocate back. :)

Character Count: 19.9k

On a cold September evening, you were walking arms crossed underneath your chest through the park. The sun had disappeared, leaving only a bitter layer of light in the sky behind the clouds. Your breath left small puffs of cloud in front of your face as you walked. It was getting darker now too. The park was empty except for you and the occasional bird that swooped by from time to time.

You sighed deeply as the cold air brushed against your cheeks, as you thought of attending your parents funeral today. They ’d been married nearly three years already, and yet the loss was still raw to you. They had always been so supportive when you needed it, but now you were alone in this world with no one to turn to, nothing to fall back on. Not for the first time, you wished you had someone at home to take care of you, someone who could make sure you took care of yourself.

Shaking your head, looking down at the pond you sat before. You were watching the ducks swim around lazily, their feathers brushing along each other every now and then, creating tiny waves beneath their surface. Your eyes drifted over them as you let out another deep sigh, the sound carrying off across the quiet of the area.

You decided it wouldn’t be best to attend, but you couldn’t bear to let yourself not say any words to them. After all, they were the people you would have to live with now until you found your place in life.

Besides, never getting to tell them how you been holding up these last few months is not an option either, you reasoned with yourself. So, instead, you turned, making your way toward the parking lot, which you bumped into a tall attractive looking man. As he stumbled backward, trying to regain his balance, you saw he also wore sunglasses. You frowned in confusion before he spoke. “Oh geez, I’m sorry ma’am. Are you alright?” He asked politely, reaching out for you, helping steady you.

“I’m fine thank you. I apologize too for bumping into you. I wasn't watching where I was going,” you apologized, giving him an apologetic smile. His gaze flickered meeting your eyes. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but pushed away from the uncomfortable and embarrassing moment. You cleared your throat before stepping away, you said, “Well…I’ll just get going now. Goodbye…”

Just as you turned to leave, you heard his voice calling after you, “Wait a minute.” Your eyes immediately shot up, and you saw that he was smiling. You didn’t know what to say as the silence stretched between the two of you. “What’s your name?” he asked finally, breaking the silence. Your stomach dropped at the question, and you felt the urge to run.

What the hell do you tell a stranger?

Should you even give him your real name, or just a fake one?

Oh no, this isn’t good at least not at this time.

You opened your mouth to respond to him, but he interrupted before you got the chance, saying quickly, “That’s okay! No need to answer if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry for bothering you…I…uh…well…” you watched as he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “Never mind,” and turned on his heel, striding back towards his car that was parked some distance from yours. You watched, slightly dumbstruck as he climbed into his expensive looking car.

A couple minutes later and you heard the engine revving loudly and he drove off slowly, disappearing from view. You shook your head, laughing to yourself silently, amused at his strange behavior.

How did he get so flustered all of a sudden anyway?

Was there something about you that made him seem like a total idiot?

Maybe he was just really awkward?

Who knows, maybe you are just being dramatic, you thought, shaking your head again as you began to drive homewards.

The rest of the night flew by uneventfully, and before you knew it, tomorrow morning arrived and your family gathered in the parlor room, ready for their final viewing of your parents. You had cried during the whole ceremony, though you tried desperately to conceal that fact.

After the service, you sat in the living room, talking to some of your closest friends that had came. Jill and Claire were the one’s always there for you even when you were little, but this event that took place was not merely giving you guilt it was more so a grievance that would haunt you for the rest of your life. Your parents were murdered. You lost your mother, and your father. And yet somehow you managed to try and pull yourself together by going to live with Jill & Claire. It was hard for you to believe sometimes how far you'd come since then. But as you stood there next to one of your best friends, Claire told you she invited one of her friends to join them as well.

She had gone out to the lobby fetching him bringing him over to where you were, your eyes began to meet his once again. He seemed just as shocked to see you as you were to see him, but you simply smiled at him warmly. Claire introduced both of you to each other, but you weren’t really listening to them. Your focus was solely on the man you had met earlier, and who hadn’t looked quite as flustered anymore. In fact, he looked almost smug.

His eyes danced with amusement, and suddenly you found yourself unable to take your eyes off him as you continued to smile shyly. Finally, he broke the eye contact, shifting awkwardly, his eyes darting to the ground. You blinked several times wondering if you’d actually seen something pass through his blue eyes, like electricity sparking through the air. When your trance was broken, you tore your gaze away from the man, focusing instead on what Claire was saying.

You nodded absently at her explanation, not even realized what was happening in the conversation until it ended abruptly, Claire having noticed your distraction as well. You turned to look up at the man standing before you with distance once more, feeling a bit sheepish. He must have noticed your glance as he chuckled softly, glancing up briefly, giving you a wink. It was then that you realized that he was gazing at you. Noticing that he was taller than you, much taller than you, with broad shoulders and strong arms. You gulped, taking another quick glance at him, and you felt your body temperature raise.

It took all you had in you not to avert your eyes in his direction, embarrassed by your own reaction. You were supposed to be grieving but you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach that you felt as he looked at you.

Why do I feel this way?

Why am I falling for a complete stranger that happens to be handsome?

As if sensing your internal turmoil he smirked. He gave you one last lingering look before turning away and whispering something to Claire. She replied to him, giggling. You got up from your seat dusting your skirt off, telling them that you have to take a call and will be back soon, leaving the parlor. Walking to the closest room in the building, it was small, however, could possibly be a dressing room of some sort. Pulling your cell phone from your pocket, you hit speed dial 3 on speed dial, and waited patiently for someone to pick up on the other end.

‘Please pick up, please answer. Don’t hang up, please don’t...’ you kept repeating in your mind, the number didn’t answer. You paced in a circle trying to dual it again, but it was no hope. The door closed behind you, someone coming from behind you grabbing you hand over your mouth, so that you wouldn’t scream as you tried to fight against the person, tears filling your eyes.

They pulled their hand away from your face, letting out a sigh of relief once they saw that it was only you. ‘Thank god…’ you thought relieved, but the person who had grabbed you turned you to look at them. “Didn’t mean to make ya think I was gonna hurt ya..” you heard him mumble. You were still stunned at seeing him again after all you been trying to avoid him, but his apology made you relax. You didn’t trust yourself enough to talk at first as a blush spread across your cheeks. “It’s all right, I forgive you…” you whispered.

He let out a small chuckle before replying, “Good…” he trailed off staring at you intently. Your heart began beating fast as he moved closer to you. You gulped nervously as your breathing increased, “So um…who are you exactly?” You questioned nervously, your fingers rubbing against the fabric of your dress trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. He chuckled lightly before speaking.

“My name is Leon,” he said, “Leon Kennedy…”. At hearing his name you felt like something inside you clicked in understanding, “Oh! You must be Claire’s friend, right?” you asked. “Yeah…that’s me. Nice to meet you.” He responded, a grin plastered across his face. His hands rested lightly on his hips as he leaned down to speak with you, which gave you an unobstructed view of his chest, as well as his eyes. “I never caught your name earlier…I was trying to ask you, but I didn’t want to put pressure on you, you know?” he explained. You chuckled nervously, feeling your cheeks begin to flush red once more. “I see…my name is Y/N….”

.

“Nice to meet you once again.” he remarked. “What are you doing here anyways? I thought Claire told you it was my parents funeral before she invited you..” He could hear the worry break in your voice at the mention of Claire’s words. He sighed inwardly. “Yeah…I know, Claire mentioned something about that earlier.” He paused, “I guess I should have known that you’d be attending it, since it’s your parents….” He spoke softly, placing his hands around you bringing you into him for a hug. You froze up in his arms, unsure of what you were supposed to do.

For some reason, you felt safe in his arms, like you belonged there. You breathed a sigh of relief as you held onto him for what seemed like forever, enjoying his security.“I…I-“ You said hesitantly wrapped your arms around his middle hugging tightly to him, while letting your tears just come pouring down the sides of your cheeks.

You were grateful that he did not push you away, and you were content that he did not leave keeping you in comfort due to the loss.

Eventually, he gently eased you apart from him, looking straight into your eyes, wiping the remaining traces of your tears from your cheeks. “Better?” he asked. You sniffed nodding your head, “Yeah…thanks…” You said softly, he wiped a few stray tears from under your eyes, leaving you to feeling embarrassed.

There was silence between the two of you. He seemed hesitant to say anything else, but he finally decided to take matters into his own hands. “You know… I haven’t gotten the chance to thank you properly for inviting me to come here…” he said moving to stand directly in front of you.

You looked into his eyes, trying desperately to memorize every feature of his face, “Yea..” you murmured, as the corners of his lips upturned into a slight smirk. He placed one of his hands on your cheek pulling you close towards him, making you gulp nervously, his thumb softly stroking your cheekbone. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you sooner…” he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, “Don’t be sorry…” you said, “I’m glad Claire invited you and that you had even showed up…” you admitted quietly as the both of you stared at each other deeply. Your hands found their way to his chest, resting comfortably on his bare skin, and he gazed down at you as if you were everything he’d ever wanted, and more.

Suddenly, as if a switch had flipped somewhere deep inside of him, his body tensed. His dark eyes widened as a look of horror appeared on his face. You frowned in confusion, “What’s wrong?” you asked worried. He seemed as if he were struggling to breath. “Are you okay? What is it?” you questioned.

“it’s just that esrlier I was going to ask if I could get your number, but I think it is such a bad time this moment…” he muttered almost too low to be heard. His hands began to shake slightly, his knuckles turning white in a visible sign of panic. You narrowed your eyes at his behavior.

‘Why does he seem uneasy?

And why do I feel anxious?’ you wondered in frustration, clenching your fists tightly, ‘Why do I feel like something is going to happen?’ you continued to ponder on your thoughts, not noticing Leon standing beside you. You were too lost inside your own mind to notice the man standing next to you.

“Well..uhhh” you stuttered looking at the male in front of you, “You can have it if that makes it up…maybe we could go grab some coffee or see a movie?” you suggested.

He smiled at the offer, “Sure…that sounds perfect. I think it has been a long time since I went out to dinner anyway.” he said chuckling sheepishly. ‘A date?!’ your mind screamed in excitement, your body becoming lightheaded. ‘I have a date with my bestfriend’s friend?!.' you thought excitedly. “Let me get my keys and say goodbye to Claire so we can head out.” Leon stated, grabbing his keys out of his pockets and opening the door to walk out of the room followed by you back into the parlor.

Saying goodbye’s to your friends and family as well you stepped outside, waiting for Leon to open the car door for you. After saying goodbye to everyone you climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Leon to join you. As soon as he got into the car he started the engine, backing out of the driveway.

A few seconds later you couldn’t help but notice his hands were shaking again, his knuckles white from how hard he was squeezing the steering wheel. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern, deciding it would probably be better for him if you didn't say anything. Instead, you chose to focus your attention outside of the window instead, watching the scenery rush past you quickly. Leon cleared his throat breaking the tense silence. "Sorry, my hands are a little shaky." he apologized, "I've never been in this area before." he explained.

You knew this was a lie, so you just played along.

You nodded in acknowledgement before taking a glance over to him, you were surprised to find he was looking right at you, his blue eyes gazing at you intensely, causing goosebumps to form along your skin.

"Do you live nearby?" you asked, suddenly nervous when he turned his gaze away from you. He nodded, “Yes..in fact, my house is not far from here actually.” You hummed nodding in approval before returning your eyes back outside.

The only thing on your mind now was your upcoming date and whether or not Leon is going to remember you. “So uh…” you began awkwardly. “What exactly are we going to do when we get there?” you asked after awhile of staring out the window, hoping he might be able to give some sort of response to your question. “Well…I suppose I should tell you all about myself first then, huh?” He chuckled as he took one hand off the steering wheel to fix the hair that fell across his forehead. You rolled your eyes smiling fondly at him before answering, “Alright, shoot” you replied.

*

Your eyes trailed slowly over to the side of him, noticing that he was still holding his hand on the steering wheel. You grabbed your bag strap pulling it tighter against yourself. The air became tense. You didn’t like the way the atmosphere felt, like it was getting darker and darker. When you had arrived to his house, taking off your shoes before you came in. He went to make popcorn and started up the movie.

Once finished with that he walked over to the living table where you sat and set the bowl of popcorn, and drinks down in front of you sitting dowm.

After a few minutes into the movie you fell asleep resting your head against his shoulder, which woke you up once Leon had placed you carefully on the couch. “(Y/N), wake up…” He whispered softly rubbing your arm soothingly.

You blinked your eyes groggily before lifting up your head slightly to see Leon’s face, “mmhm…Just a few more minutes…” you would groan, yet he moved you laying a pillow on his lap as you slept with a blanket thrown over you, his arm on your back rubbing light circles helping you drift back to sleep. Once you were asleep he carried you to his bed placing you next to him, tucking you kissing your forehead gently, “Sleep well, princess.” before resting his eyes taking in some sleep next to you.

*****

It was late afternoon and you woke up half asleep finding yourself lying ontop of Leon’s chest and he was still fast asleep, but his arms wrapped around you. You felt comfortable in his strong hold and your dreams were filled with nothing except him.

When your eyes fluttered open, you realized that you hadn’t dreamed, and that you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. It was definitely a pleasant surprise though. You smiled lightly before shifting yourself to look up at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. That’s when he woke up. His face immediately turning red, as he shot his eyes open.

“Hey sleepy head…” you cooed at him teasingly, running your finger across his chest. He turned his gaze shyly “Good morning...I was beginning to wonder when you would awaken, but I had decided that you were uncomfortable on the couch so I brought you in my room to sleep….ending up falling asleep myself. How embarrassing am I right?” he muttered quickly, averting his gaze. You giggled, “You are so embarrassed. I find that cute!” you grinned letting out a small laugh.

“Oh no, please don’t tell anyone else, they will tease me.. .” he joked laughing at the same time, you rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay I won’t tell anyone…but, maybe you should let me stay with you more often.” you suggested jokingly. He raised an eyebrow at you, “Hmm…are you sure? Because I think Claire might get the wrong idea....” he teased. You gave him a stern look, “And if she does? She can’t do anything about what she doesn’t know….” you smirked, making him raise his eyebrows even higher. Your face turned pink when you realized what you had just implied. He stared into your (e/c) eyes for a while, a smile appearing on his lips, “Don’t worry I won’t push you to tell her about us if you prefer to keep our relationship under wraps.” That smile sent shivers down your spine and caused your heart to begin pounding in your chest, your palms starting to sweat slightly.

Before you had a chance to respond he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a second before moving his face closer to yours as your faces were inches apart, you opened your mouth to speak when he spoke. “I’ll always make sure our secret stays between the both of us…no matter what…” he breathed.

Your breath caught in your throat, the heat building up inside of you growing stronger than before. He pulled away, his face blushing slightly while you felt as if you were floating. He leaned back in closer and pressed another kiss against your forehead. Then finally closing the gap between your two faces, he kissed your lips tenderly, brushing them with your own. Feeling yourself melt into the kiss you parted your lips, allowing him entrance. This kiss wasn’t filled with passion but it was gentle and sweet. It was different from any other kiss that you had shared before.

He held onto the back of your neck, gently pushing you further into the kiss. He tasted of coffee and mint toothpaste as his tongue explored your mouth. This kiss was short lived however as the two of you pulled apart, gasping for air. A small chuckle escaped your lips as he laid your down gently onto the bed.

He laid down beside you wrapping his arm loosely around your waist, “I love you, Y/N” He mumbled quietly. “I love you too, Leon.” you responded, giving him a kiss on the lips. The rest of the night was filled with soft kisses and cuddles with his arm draped protectively over your waist. Neither one of you said anything, knowing that there wasn’t really needed to be.

All you could feel is pure happiness with him.

#bl1ss posts #requests to bl1ss #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem! reader #leon kennedy #resident evil 🚔 #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x fem reader

[mizukamiyaseiryu]

OKAY TWF4 spoilers and Felix Kranken as a character (really more of just him)

(tw for suicide ideations)

how do I say this man I just. I just find felix kranken so fucking interesting?

like obviously we knew of him as this skeevy, alcoholic businessman who killed his best friend's kids (though unintentionally), hid his crimes, silenced anyone who came close to discovering the truth, and was now likely out to get his niece sophie as well. clearly we were meant to view him as someone irredeemable and a villain right?

but then came twf4 and we get so many more layers to his character than we initially thought

we knew from "Guilty" that he regretted killing the kids, yet still worried more about the restaurant opening, making him seem a bit more unsympathetic to his supposed niece and nephew. but with twf4, that wasn't entirely the case.

we were given a man so distraught at the idea that he'd gotten his best friend's children killed (kids who he was close enough to consider family as well) that he'd thought about killing himself more than once after burying them. in the end, he didn't, and even kept a memento of the incident.

we thought that he killed jack and everyone else just to keep them from finding out, but instead he "fessed up" to the family. except he didn't actually, and lied about what really happened to the children.

we knew him for being an alcoholic thanks to linda and his own confession tapes, but we found out now that he actively lied about his alcoholism to his own friends, with the only ones who actually do know about it being his ex-wife and seemingly the cyberfun tech employees (also worth noting that it seemed like jack wasn't involved with handling this department, hence why he didn't find out about it). this makes the phone call of jack asking felix to drive the kids to school and back even WORSE. because jack doesn't know about the alcoholism, he didn't know that he was giving a man with a drinking problem a handle on his kids' safety. felix clearly knew of his own addiction and yet still took the kids anyway, despite hesitating to do so.

several different occasions we've been given of felix where he plans to do one thing, but turns around to do another. felix is aware of when he's doing something wrong and very much wants to admit to them, but he chickens out and deflects last minute. he's afraid of the repercussions, of losing respect from people he cares about, or at least people who he didn't want seeing him be a "failure". even when he'd come close when admitting to the waltens, he chickened out and lied to them on what really happened to the children.

he was too cowardly to admit to his addiction, too cowardly say no to his best friend, too cowardly to end his own life after his crime, too cowardly to throw away incriminating evidence (and even hid it from the family) and too cowardly to actually confess his killing of children. he's a real coward, through and through. because of that, his cowardice brought about the worst consequences, what with a malicious entity seemingly latching onto him and killing those close to him one by one with him none the wiser. and now that entity had set their sights on sophie, who it seems he personally took in and cared for.

it's very interesting of martin to write such a complex character who we're clearly not meant to root for but understood how he felt the way he did. it makes me wonder what martin actually plans for felix now, with sophie being the target. will he finally, finally start his path to redemption and stop being a coward to protect her? i suppose we'll find out in the future. either way, i'm looking forward to it.

#oto.txt #the walten files #the walten files 4 #twf spoilers #felix kranken #GOD this is a such a word vomit but boy do i love yapping about my 'technically should be counted as' niche interests // #maybe i'll write more on my thoughts when i rewatch the whole series bcos LORD there's still a lot more stuff to talk about // #like who in the fuck is this white ass bitch bon //

[eomerofrohan]

The Grinding Ice

(an excerpt from an as-yet-unpublished WIP I've been working on featuring some of my Noldor OC's. for @march-of-the-noldor)

~

After what felt like an eternity trekking across the frozen wasteland, Fingolfin called for the group to halt and make camp. They could not continue on their march as worn out as they were, and although trying to sleep in such an environment would be dangerous, he preferred it to trying to press onward and having his people collapse of exhaustion. They’d had too many close calls already.

“I’ll stay awake for now,” Vanessë whispered to her sister Rainiel as they pitched their tent. “To keep watch for cracking in the ice or anything else. You should get some rest.”

“Are you sure?” Rainiel asked. “You need sleep too.”

“I’ll be fine.” Vanessë handed Rainiel the extra blanket. “Take this.”

“Absolutely not, you keep that if you’re going to try to stay awake in this cold!”

“You need to stay warm while you sleep,” she retorted.

Finally, Rainiel agreed to take the blanket, and she wrapped it around herself with one of the cloaks as extra padding. Then she spread a bedroll out on the ground inside the tent and lay down, curled up in between these layers and still shivering.

Vanessë waited until Rainiel’s breathing was steady. Then, slowly and quietly, she laid the fur-lined cloak Turgon had just given her across her sister’s shoulders and slipped out of the tent without another word, letting the flap close behind her. She went and sat down a few feet away and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, trying to ignore the icicles that were slowly forming on the ends of her hair.

“You care about her a lot, I can tell,” Saeldur said, sitting down next to her.

“She didn’t want to come and I feel responsible for her,” Vanessë answered. “Besides, I’m the only one she has now. Our parents stayed in Tirion.”

Saeldur paused. “And… what are your feelings about our expedition?”

Vanessë shivered. “It’s hard to think of anything right now except ice and water. I don’t think I ever want to see ice again for as long as I live. I hope Middle Earth is warm.”

Without saying anything, Saeldur slipped part of his cloak off of his shoulders and wrapped it around hers, so that it covered the both of them. Vanessë glanced at it, surprised, and then looked at him with gratitude.

“I think there may be a limited supply,” he explained. “We didn’t expect to have to come this way, after all.”

“Well, I appreciate your generosity,” Vanessë said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” he replied.

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Vanessë was the one who broke it.

“I want to kill Morgoth,” she said.

“What?”

“I want to destroy him completely and utterly. He destroyed what stability we had, destroyed the light of the Trees, destroyed my trust in the Valar… I want to pay him back for all of that. A thousand times.”

Saeldur stared at her. “So, you’re still dedicated, even after hearing the Doom that Mandos set down on us,” he whispered. “Even after… after being betrayed by Fëanor?”

“We don’t need Fëanor,” Vanessë scoffed. “We can do this ourselves. Look around: we are a larger force than his, and better equipped. This ice shelf is full of passionate, dedicated Elves who just spent today helping each other out of a number of bad situations. Fëanor could never.”

Saeldur had to laugh then. “You’re right! He is singularly focused on his own personal ambition. We were taken care of in his fortress, but… not by him.”

“So, what’s this about for you, then?” she asked him. “What made you want to take up your sword and march across a thrice-damned frozen deathtrap?”

He thought about it for a moment, shifting a little under the blanket as he did so, subconsciously shifting a little closer to her, drawn in by her body heat.

“Well, I… I swore an oath to Fëanor. Not that one. An oath of fealty, several years ago. I wanted to be a part of something, and he seemed so promising then. But… I’m not a part of that anymore. I turned away from him. I… I defected. But even having done that, I can’t make myself turn aside from the quest. Maybe it’s that I consider my fealty to have transferred to Fingolfin, so the same oath applies… but I don’t think it’s just that. People don’t swear oaths for the sake of swearing oaths. There’s feeling behind them. Some sort of desire or emotion. It doesn’t just go away.”

She was watching him intently. He took a deep breath and continued.

“I was in Formenos when High King Finwë was killed,” he said softly. “I didn’t see it, of course. No one saw it, it was pitch black. But to think that a being such as Morgoth could just… do that… just come into our home and murder our leader, and none of us could stop him… that chills me to the bone. I can’t sit idle and let him get away with that.”

Vanessë nodded as he spoke. She understood that implicitly.

“I think that’s a very respectable thing to want,” she whispered.

The two of them sat there and talked for many hours, and the longer they talked, the more Vanessë felt like she and Saeldur were on the same wavelength when it came to ambitions and things they would or would not accept. Internally, she breathed a sigh of relief that someone else here felt the same as her.

Saeldur gently nudged her. “Look up,” he whispered.

She glanced upward, then stared. In the sky, thousands of tiny dots of light pierced through the darkness. They stretched all the way from the land she had just left behind to the opposite shore, and they reminded her of Varda’s silver orbs. In that moment, a story came back to her mind.

“Varda created the stars so that the first Elves would not awaken in darkness,” she whispered. “This is… this is the light our people were born under.”

“Maybe our road is not so hopeless after all,” Saeldur said. “Morgoth can destroy the Trees, but he cannot destroy the stars, and we are banished from Valinor, but we keep the first gift we were given. No one can take the stars from us.”

Vanessë smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “I like the way you think, Saeldur Elennion.”

After a while, they drifted off to sleep there in the middle of the Helcaraxë, both wrapped in a single cloak, with Rainiel sleeping a few feet away and a handful of the most noble Elves they’d ever met patrolling quietly around them. A cold wind blew, but they snuggled together for warmth, and in that moment, it seemed like their exile might not be such a bad thing after all.

#silmarillion #fanfic #march of the noldor #helcaraxe #my posts

[mattsturniolosmuse]

You're Like Me

Young Dexter Morgan x Reader

Summary: You are also a serial killer, for the same reason as Dexter. You only kill people who deserve to be killed. When Dexter gets bullied, you stick up for him, starting a friendship.

Warnings: SMUT, oral male receiving, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex)

"Look! It's Dreadful Dexter!" Someone says, pointing to Dexter and laughing.

You looked over. Dexter was sitting at a picnic table, picking at his lunch. You felt bad for him. He was always a target for being picked on. He was just so much different from everybody else.

"Hey, leave him alone, won't you?" You call towards the bully. He looks at you and chuckles.

"What're you going to do about it, Miss Prissy?" He asked, crossing his arms.

You could do lots of things. Usually involving a roll of duct tape and a chainsaw.

"If only you knew." You say. He laughs and walks away, picking up a basketball off of the court.

You approach Dexter.

"Hey, Dex." You say. He smiles shyly.

"Hi. And... thanks." He says, packing up his lunch.

"No problem. Want to walk to class together?" You ask. He nods. He was in your biology class, and he was really smart. Right now, you were doing dissections, which you and him seem to be the only ones who enjoy it.

The walk to class was pretty much silent. You looked at him. His long hair was brushing over his face, and he was biting his lips.

You had to admit, he was pretty cute.

"You want to hang out after school today?" You ask to break the silence.

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I have... something to do."

You nod.

"Tomorrow after school?" He says instead. You smile and nod. You got to class, and you find your desk, and he finds his.

>>>><<<<

You were in the forest just outside Miami, looking for some new spots to take your victims. After an hour, you had found an old shack.

Perfect. You thought to yourself.

But when you entered the front, you heard voices coming from inside. You froze.

"What about her? Remember her?" A familiar voice said.

"No- no! I swear!" Another voice said, trembling. Then it started screaming.

You went further into the shack. Layers of plastic sheet covered the walls. And then you see him.

Dexter standing over the naked body of an older man, who was duct taped to a table. A saw was slicing through the mans arm.

Dexter jumps when he sees you.

"Y/N? I-i can explain!" He says, looking at you with fear in his eyes.

You just smile.

"Dex, you're doing it wrong." You say, taking the saw from him.

"You have to cut in a smooth motion, tip to blade. It helps make a cleaner cut and takes out less blood." You say, demonstrating.

Dexter looks at you.

"You're like me." He says, lips barely parting to say the words. You nod and blush, looking down.

He takes a step closer to you, and your bodies are touching. You look up into his bright blue eyes. But they aren't bright anymore.

Soon enough his lips are on yours. You freeze, not knowing what to do or how to do it. But soon enough, you're kissing back, your hands in his hair.

Dexter tilts his head, so you do the same, the opposite way. His hands trail down your sides and rest on your waist. He squeezes gently and you gasp. Dexter takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He spins you around and pushes you against the wooden wall behind him.

"Jump." He says, his voice deep. You obey, jumping. He catches you and wraps your legs around his waist, still pushing you up against the wall.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, baby." He says, his lips moving to your neck. He leaves a few love bites across your throat and jaw. You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pauses to lift it over his head and off of his body.

His lips attack yours again, his tongue forcing its way past your lips. You trail your hands down his stomach. He doesn't have abs, but he's still in good shape.

Dexter's hands fumble with the strings of your sweatpants. He finally gets them off, and his hand rubs circles through the fabric of your underwear. You moan slightly and throw your head back.

"W-wait, Dex." You say, looking him in the eyes.

"You ok?" He asks, suddenly scared.

"Yeah, I just want to try something first." You say. He puts you down and you push him against the wall, kneeling in front of him. You tug his jeans down along with his boxers.

"God, baby." He says as you kiss his tip, throbbing red and leaking precum. His body jerks as you take all of him in your mouth.

"Mmm..." He moans, tangling his hands in your hair. He tugs slightly, and you hum, sending vibrations down his dick. He pushes your head into him, and he hits the back of your throat, making you gag and drool.

"S-so good, baby." He whimpers. You feel him twitching, and not long after, his warm cum shoots down your throat. You stand up, wiping the excess off of your chin and kissing him. He turns you around once more, and you jump automatically. You grind into him, and he groans, hastily pulling your panties off. You unzip your sweater and reach your hands back to unbuckle your bra, still not breaking the sloppy kiss.

You are both now fully naked.

"You ready?" Dexter asks you, making eye contact. You nod, and he pushes himself into your wet folds, letting out the loudest moan yet.

You gasp at the new feeling. Sure, you've had fingers in you before, but this was different. He was a tad bit bigger than your little fingers.

"S-so tight, baby." Dexter says, pushing in and out of you, slowly getting faster in pace.

"D-dexter! Faster, please!" You moan, nails digging into his skin. He obeys, fucking you at an inhumanly pace. His face is buried in your neck, gently kissing the skin.

His lips trail down to your breasts, leaving huge hickeys all over. He lifts one nipple into his mouth, roughly kneeding the other.

"I'm s-so close, Dex." You say, cock drunk.

"Me too." Dexter responds. His pounds started getting slower and sloppier, and soon you feel his seed shoot into you. He keeps going, waiting for you to orgasm. You clench down on him. He moans sinfully.

"Come on, baby, cum all over my cock." He whispers in your ear. You release, whimpering in his ear, toes curling.

Dexter pulls out of you and places you on the floor, handing you your clothes. You guys silently dress and he pulls you in for a hug.

"I love you. I never knew I was capable feelings until I met you." He says, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you too, Dex. Now, what are we going to do with this body?" You say, gesturing towards the bloody mess on the table.

#dextermorgan #thedarkpassenger #xreader #smut

[intersectionalpraxis]

from a feminist perspective, what do you think when isnotreal women post garbage like this? https://www.tumblr.com/anneemay/736470687414386688

and also about how taylor swift has been silent on everything but last night I saw a tweet that she was seen going to one of ramy youssef's shows and all proceeds would go to gaza humanitarian relief? a bunch of isnotreal girls were freaking out and saying things like 'I don't see it!' and 'she's hopefully just pro-peace and not against us!' and 'some people are pro-isnotreal but just feel bad for palestine'. I would think as the time person of the year (lol the gazan journalists and doctors deserve it) with a lot of influence, she should speak up? when she told everyone to vote, there was a huge surge in voter registration. not to give her more power than she has because she obviously can't influence policy but if she were to join the ceasefire demands, it would bring out even more support and put more pressure. idk! just wanted to hear your thoughts on these topics if you have the bandwidth to do so!

I really do not know how much more depraved settlers can get, and I'm continually reminded it get can get lower and lower each time I see something like this:

From slut shaming a Palestinian women when an IOF soldier found her lingerie in her OWN fucking room that they were raiding, to an IOF soldier happily destroying a small stationery shop, to another IOF scum stealing a Palestinian woman's silver necklace he looted (a necklace that was supposed to be worn on her wedding day, but she was killed in an attack) in order to give it to his own girlfriend...

I just... the layers of indoctrination here is incredibly evident (I actually intend to post something about this in the near future) as one element, because you cannot do something or say something like this without being void of humanity -and also, without being so deeply ingrained in this notion that Palestinian people are not human beings -and that by degrading, humiliating, and dehumanizing them in ways like this will somehow justify the violence, terror, and genocide the IOF is committing... it's just so wild to me.

Because the IOF is continuing to commit heinous war crimes, crimes against humanity, and has and will continue to disproportionately commit sexual violence against Palestinian women and young boys, and it is absolutely inhumane and despicable -and the fact that this person thinks the IOF has a 'good' reputation -is absolutely next level shamelessness. My stance has and always will be if you're a 'feminist' who supports the IOF, you're not a feminist -you're a genocidal apologist like the rest of those sympathetic to IOF crimes.

As for Taylor Swift, like her fellow celebrities -and every single one of them that signed that document in support of the IOF, including those who have been and remain silent -they are all complicit. A part from saying celebrity culture needs to be dismantled and diminished because why -like why are these people put on pedestals is one thing, but also -if you have to do go through mental gymnastics to defend that silence or complicity (like fans of Selena Gomez did), I need people to critically reflect A LOT more. And that if your fan base is more concerned about your 'side' rather than a ceasefire... then I think the people who need to be calling this out especially are Swifties themselves -and to acknowledge that this is an issue. Just like how Taylor Swift for YEARS made bank fully well knowing white supremacists LOVED her -and only being more 'socially aware' when she could monetize it has also never sat well with me.

There are SO many voices encouraging people to vote, to get involved in their communities and to raise awareness about social issues (a lot of whom are Black, Brown, and Indigenous artists and creators -so many of which get backlash a lot more than their white colleagues do), so even with her platform, I think she's always going to be motivated by what will make her money and will appease the people she works for (which, I want to assume as pro-IOF).

And even if she was supportive [like morally knows what the IOF is doing is criminal, violent, and unethical] but is not vocal about it, I think it's important we stop putting our energies into getting celebrities and influencers like her to talk about this (especially given her track record). Generally speaking, I would prefer to elevate Palestinian voices and activists like so many have already (like Hind, Motaz, Muhammad, Bisan, Plestia, and many more) than people like her. I do understand why people with millions of 'followers,' are powerful -they are (like Kehlani for instance -and I love this woman with my whole heart because she has been very open about supporting Palestine); but the one's who aren't transparent -they are also millionaires/billionaires who have social and financial capital in ways that are beyond excessive and I do not believe any one of them will speak on Historic Palestine if they haven't from the start or haven't already and addressed the reasons as to why, especially given the US's position -which is that the IOF has a right to 'defend itself.'

So I say support the artists and people who have been aligned with Palestine since the beginning, and to be wary of the people who have remained silent -and to boycott and call out the people who are complicit in this genocide. I know that this was an incredibly long response, but at the heart of it -I don't like or trust Taylor Swift. And I am amazed every single time I see her fans run to her defense (I know there are exceptions, which I respect), but at the end of the day she's a celebrity/an entertainer, and she will capitalize and monetize on 'feminist' or 'social justice' issues when it can be sanitized and watered down in a way that is not 'too political,' but makes a statement -so that it can still sell records and sell out stadiums.

I posted a video recently where a creator on tiktok called Taylor Swift out and The Times, if I can link it here I will as well.

Thank you so much for your questions, and if you have any remaining feedback or insights, please do not hesitate to send another message.

#feminist #feminism #social justice #freepalastine🇵🇸 #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #gaza strikes #gazaunderfire #gaza strip #settler violence #settler colonialism #colonialism #celebrity culture #fuck capitalism #israeli propaganda #israeli war crimes