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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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good boy

words: 1.5k

warnings: established relationship, marriage, protective!rafe, (guard??) dog, fluffy

“rafe, it's literally two weeks. ill be fine!” you say, folding his clothes, having dumped out his suitcase onto the bed to reorganize it when you saw how he packed it, just chucking things in.

“two weeks where im a hours away from you by plane.” rafe sighs, watching you carefully repack his suitcase as he pouts on the bed, not wanting to leave you.

“you know, cameron, i lived a whole 20 years before meeting you.” you point out, knowing while rafes concern comes from his love for you, it will completely overwhelm what is supposed to be an enjoyable family vacation and leave him miserable the whole time.

“i don't see why you can't just come with me.” rafe groans, flopping back against the bed. you smile and round the bed to where his head is resting against the pillows. you press a smooch to his forehead, rubbing your hand over his head, petting at his soft hair.

“baby, it's just for your family. you know that.” it's not like you don't want to accompany rafe to a tropical paradise, but you would feel way too awkward intruding.

“what if something happens to you? and im not here to protect you? id be the worst fiancee ever.” rafe grabs your head from rubbing his head, holding up the ring on your finger for him to admire.

“nothing will happen. nothing ever happens here.” you laugh. you're not sure what crime is like on the other side of the island, but your neighborhood is incredibly safe.

“im still worried.” rafe sighs. “you in that big house all alone.”

“im gonna spend 99% of the time wedding planning.” you hum, thinking about the tabs pulled open on your laptop of different venues, dresses, and color palettes.

that finally gets rafe to crack a smile. “can't wait to marry you.” rafe says earnestly. he only proposed a month ago, some people would say that you were too young to get married, but rafe knew when you came into his life and turned everything around for him that he had to put a ring on your finger.

“i can't wait either.” you bend down to press a kiss to rafes lips. “but seriously we need to talk about your packing before we tie the knot, why do you only have one pair of shorts packed for an island?”

-- two years later --

“remember those two weeks you left before we were engaged? it's not really much longer. you should go, baby. it's a good opportunity.” you are sat on rafes lap, back pressed against his chest as he scrolls through his email.

“it's just work, and it's a whole lot longer than two weeks. i don't want to leave you here alone for over a month.” rafe closes out of the email, making you sigh.

“i was fine for those two weeks, ill be fine now. promise. i think you should go! it's a big conference.” you turn sideways on his lap so you can look rafe in the eye. “besides, it's still six months away. plenty of time to prepare.”

“prepare?” rafe raises his eyebrows. “so you'd be good with security cams around the whole house and personal security?”

“cameras on the outside and hell no. you don't want some random guys watching after me do you?”

you can see the gears turning in rafes head as he frowns. “yeah, you're right. no men.”

“so you'll go?” you smile. rafe closes his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.

“yay!” you squeal. you're not excited to be left alone, and you love being around your husband more than anything, but the work trip is a big deal, and you know he'll be kicking himself if he misses out on such a good opportunity.

“rafey?” you call, eyes sweeping across the living room as you enter your shared home, a head full of fresh highlights.

“hubby?” you call out, continuing deeper into the house until you see movement through the glass door leading towards the backyard, but it's not the typical roll of the ocean against the shore.

“rafe?” you question as you open the door. you expected to find him in his office, where he was before you left for the beauty salon.

rafe smiles, waiting for your eyes to look down, and when you finally see what is sitting at rafes feet, you let out a gasp.

“oh my gosh!” you squeal.

“wifey, meet max. our new australian shepherd.” rafe gives a command with his hand, that has max running towards you.

you sink to your knees as the young dog excitedly greets you, licking at your hands as you pet him.

“hi maxey.” you coo at the dog, you're guessing around two years old, with max being full size but still having some young features.

“rafe, you didn't tell me you were getting us a dog!” you stand up, max following close behind as you rush to give your husband a hug.

“i have a confession.” rafe says, his hands looped around your waist. you frown, worried that max was just a foster and you'd have to give him back, or that something went wrong with the adoption. you often talked about getting pets before getting married, but wanted to wait a little bit, and then time just slipped away and before you knew it, you were over a year into your marriage.

“what?” you whine out.

“ive been working with a trainer behind your back. i wanted to make sure max was ready before we chose him for sure. he knows commands, me, your scent, our house. everything. he knows his primary responsibility is to protect you and our property.”

“oh my gosh!” you slap rafe in the chest, surprised that he was able to keep such a secret from you. “how could you do all that without telling me?” you laugh, not angry, but surprised that he was able to orchestrate everything.

you don't wait for rafe to explain how he was able to find so much time, stepping out of his hold to kneel down and continue petting max.

“we have some more training sessions so he can learn with you as well.” rafe further explains, also leaning down to pet max behind the ears as he pants excitedly at his new owners.

“what is it maxy?” you ask as he lifts his head up, looking around the living room. “you miss your daddy?”

you sigh as max lets out a sad sounding huff, petting your hand over his head, scratching at his neck which you know is his favorite. rafe has been gone on his business trip for a month now, with only a week and a half left until he returns home.

max suddenly jumps off the couch, eyes on the backyard. he lets out a bark, claws clicking on the hardwood floor as he moves to the glass door. he lets out another bark, making you stand.

“what is it boy?” you ask, looking out the window.

max lets out another bark, this one the familiar territorial bark that he’s practiced in his training with you and rafe. you know the only reason that rafe feels safe enough leaving you home is that max is a great guard dog.

you get closer to the window, squinting your eyes to try and see in the darkness when you sudden jump back with a scream as a squirrel runs across your patio, causing max to bark and run along the glass door until it scatters into the yard.

“holy shit, maxy, you scared the shit out of me.” you press your hand to your chest before kneeling down, scratching behind his ears. “it was just a squirrel.” you reassure him with a pat.

your heart rate is just starting to calm down from the fright when you hear the front door open. max instantly takes off with you following after him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see rafe standing in the foyer.

“baby.” he sighs happily, setting his suitcase down as you run into his arms, pressing your lips together. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, what are you doing home though?” you ask, giving him another kiss before he can answer.

“they didn’t need me for the rest of the week, decided to get home to my lady.” max barks, making rafe lean down to pet him, still holding you up. “and my good boy too, of course.”

“so happy to have you home.” you nuzzle your nose into rafes neck, inhaling the familiar scent that you missed so much.

“happy to be back with you, wifey.” rafe says, carrying you further into the house.

“oh, and you will be very happy to know maxy did a great job protecting me while you were gone.” you tell rafe. it mostly involved max barking in warning at any delivery guy or car turning around in your driveway, but his presence did help making you feel safer and less loney.

“hopefully not too good.” rafe huffs as he looks at your pet. “can’t have him replacing me now.”

you giggle, surprised rafe can manage to be jealous of your dog. “never.” you swear, pressing another kiss to his lips.

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owliellder · 9 months

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Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Yay!! New multi-chapter fic in honor of 800 followers!!

I'm a sucker for tropes and mean Leon is one I can't keep out of my head. If you're not good at math then this is the fic for you! (also don't mind me slipping some Sky lore in here...)

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 1

Growing up, college had always been a big dream of yours, leaving you fantasizing day in and out about all the possibilities that would open up, along with actually getting to live through the renowned “college experience”.

In reality, college was a lot harder than you were expecting. Your parents had told you to jump right into it after high school, fearing taking a gap year would ruin your good streak. The stress was starting to get to you and it was only a semester into your freshman year. All the tests, projects, and general studying really wore down on your mental health, not to mention you were failing the one math class you had.

You couldn’t tell your parents, no, they’d probably have a heart attack, especially since that math class was a prerequisite to another class that you needed to take. They were already worried enough that you hadn’t picked a major yet, so who knows how they’d take the news that you were failing right off the bat.

It was hard enough that you were feeling homesick. This was the first time you’d ever been this far away from home, studying at a university when you would’ve been perfectly content going to a community college closer to home. Your roommate was nice, but the two of you weren’t growing any closer than mere acquaintances, so it always felt awkward to just exist in your own dorm room.

Your eating habits worsened with the lack of any real food within five miles of campus. Sure there were a couple fast food chains on the campus itself, but they closed incredibly early. By the time you finished studying, which was around six in the evening, it had already closed. Not to mention that when they were open, the lines were comically long. University food was out of the question after you got violently ill from their “chicken nuggets”, so you were left with the little money your parents provided once a week to order takeout or make quick trips to the store to buy a frozen meal. Only one, since the mini fridge in your dorm was almost always occupied by your roommates stuff.

Everything was so exhausting and you were way out of your comfort zone having to use the community bathrooms for all your hygienic routines. Walking in always made you feel like you were interrupting a meeting in the president’s oval office with how many nasty looks you were given when all you were trying to do was brush your teeth.

The first thing you saw whenever you opened up Canvas was a massive F staring you down from the little box that comprised the majority of your math assignments and tests, making you feel less than worthless. This one semester alone helped you understand why so many people dropped out, this was hard.

By now you’d already gone to your math professor multiple times asking for redos or extra credit work. He was probably sick of seeing you since you showed up after almost every single assignment’s grades were submitted.

“Heeeyyy, Mr. Lebovic..” You said after knocking your knuckle against his open door to grab his attention. “Listen, about that last quiz, I-”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand before gesturing towards one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk. You hurried to sit down, watching nervously as he slowly pulled his eyes off his computer and onto you. “I get it, you don’t need to explain yourself.” His relaxed tone and faint smile was enough to ease your nerves a bit, letting your shoulders slump with a sigh. “You’ve been trying really hard, I can easily recognize that.”

You nodded eagerly, licking your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off again. “I’ve been looking into studying options that might help you. Resources are scarce for this material, but I think I finally have a tutor to help you out.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the mention of tutor. Maybe you wouldn’t have to face the wrath of your parent’s disappointment after all! “Oh.. o-okay…” you stuttered, eyebrows furrowing as you silently beckoned him to continue.

“I teach another math class, it’s higher level, but I have a student in there that’s just taken up tutoring the material you’re learning.” Your professor seemed just as happy as you were about the opportunity. “His name is Leon Kennedy, he’s got one of the study rooms in the library from three to five in the afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

It took you a second to process everything Mr. Lebovic was telling you before you scrambled to pull out a sticky note and a pen to write all the information down on. You heard the older man chuckle softly, looking over at him when he held out a small piece of paper to you. “I wrote it down already for you, don’t worry.” You wished you could’ve thanked him tenfold, but his office hours were closed for the day now, so you said a quick goodbye and hurried back to your dorm, holding onto the piece of paper like a lifeline.

Contrary to what your math professor thinks, you knew the name “Leon Kennedy”. You had a couple friends that you hung out with occasionally out in the grass in front of the science building and they’d brought him up before. The few vague bits of info that you’d heard weren’t flattering, painting this Leon in quite a bad light; the stereotypical jock in a frat flying by on a full-ride scholarship. However, he was your saving grace now and you needed to develop more of an unbiased opinion of him if he was going to help you raise your grade from an F.

“Yeesh, sorry I’m not better at math or I would’ve helped you.” One of your friends, Sky, spoke up as they read the piece of paper your professor gave you yesterday from over your shoulder. “Even if you were better at math, I still wouldn’t trust you.” Ella, your other friend, laughed out.

“Ha ha, yeah, Sky failed math four times. Big whoop.” Sky waved their hands dramatically before walking over to sit down next to Ella in the dead grass. “Seriously though, you’re better off taking a failing grade and dealing with your parents. Kennedy is the devil incarnate.”

“The devil incarnate sounds easier to put up with than my parents, so I’ll take my chances..” You grumbled, taking a seat on a medium-sized rock close to the pair. “Maybe he’s turning a new leaf? Deciding to tutor?”

Sky crossed her arms and rolled her eyes which made Ella elbow them in the side before giving you a sympathetic smile. “Maybe so, but please just be careful. I don’t want you having to put up with some jackass that has an ego bigger than Texas.”

You nodded with a slight frown, moving your foot side to side lazily to push the grass blades around. You didn’t even think to consider the repercussions of studying with some random junior. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. Besides, just tell Sky and I if he’s giving you any trouble. I know damn well no man likes to put up with two women yelling in his face.” Sky nodded and pointed to Ella for added dramatics. “Yeah, and I bite. My top six teeth are porcelain so that shit hurts. Trust me.”

Your friends never failed to make you laugh, a slight resolve in a pool full of worries, you suppose. “Don’t worry, you guys’ll be the first to know if Leon is mean.”

“Good. Now, when’re you gonna go see the guy?” Sky rested their arms on their knees before looking up at you. “Uh.. in a couple hours I guess. I already made the appointment.” Your response seemed to surprise both of your friends, giving them a confused look in response to their shocked ones. “Is that.. Is that not a good time?”

“No no, just.. I thought you would’ve maybe taken a little longer to go and see him.” Ella shrugged, reaching a hand up to scratch behind their neck. “Proud of you, taking the initiative like that.” She then looked at her phone before pulling herself off the ground with a small groan. “I got class in a couple minutes. Good luck with the frat boy.”

She patted your shoulder as she walked off towards the larger building on campus, leaving you and Sky alone for the rest of the time. Part of you wished both of your friends could walk you to the library when the time came, but having Sky was enough. “So.. Leon’s bad bad?” You needed a bit more clarification on the guy you were going to spend one-on-one time with, something to calm you down after running through countless scenarios in your head.

“He’s not all bad, 'least I don't think. I’ve exchanged a few ‘hello’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ with him here and there since we apparently frequent the same building.” Sky scooted over to the rock you were sitting on, placing the back of their head on your legs. A couple brown leaves blew over from a nearby tree which they grabbed and crunched with their hand. “I haven’t personally experienced any bad happenings around him, but he is part of a pretty notoriously rowdy frat, so you have to promise me that you’ll only study with him on campus and never go to that frat house or any frat house in general, alright?”

Sky pointed up at you, poking the underside of your chin which made you laugh again and swat their hand away. “As much as I rave about wanting to have the stereotypical college experience, going to a frat house was never part of my daydreaming.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” They switched their fingers to give you a quick thumbs up before letting their arm flop down into their lap, eyes closing with a sigh. “Anyways, besides all that, wanna go get some food? I don’t have another class today and you’ve got about an hour and a half to spare, so actually you have no choice. Get up.”

You stood up with a shake of your head once Sky pushed off of your legs who stood up as well with a small stretch. “Don’t burn me at the stake, but I kinda want grocery store sushi. I’m feeling lucky.”

“Please don’t.” You sighed, pocketing the piece of paper before beginning to follow behind Sky as they started to walk across the grass.

After the two of you shared a sandwich from some random shop not too far off campus, Sky walked with you up to the library, stopping just before the front desk. They agreed to not wander in with you under the condition that you’ll go to their dorm straight after to discuss details.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Most of what you heard about this guy meant he was bad news, though you really didn’t have much of a choice when it came to seeing him. Like your math professor said, there weren’t a lot of options when it came to studying the material you were learning. Sure you had the internet and other students in the class, but you preferred the idea of a tutor since you’d already exhausted yourself trying to follow along with various youtube videos. You needed the in-person teaching, it just stuck better in your head that way.

Slowly starting to walk, you made your way over to the study rooms lining the back of the library. The rooms seemed pretty private with the only window being on the door, which had glass nearly top to bottom. Thankfully the rooms were numbered and Leon had texted you which room to go to when you made the appointment with him, you had no idea what he looked like and you didn’t want to look like a creep eyeballing people through the door until you hopefully found the right person.

Standing off to the side, you could see the number you were looking for sitting above the door, taking a brief moment to collect yourself and hype yourself up to talk to someone who didn’t have the greatest reputation. Set aside everything you’ve heard and just hope for the best..

You took in a deep breath as you strode over to the door, glancing inside through the window before knocking to let him know you were there. The table was angled off more to the left so you didn’t immediately see him until he leaned over the table to see who had knocked. Confidence left you as soon as you made eye contact with Leon due to the groan you could hear through the door. It took you a couple seconds, but you eventually managed to get your body to work with you, hand turning the handle to let yourself in.

“-the last thing I need..” You caught the end of his little rant to himself as you opened the door. The saying “fake it ‘till you make it” is harder than it sounds since your entire body decided to betray you, deciding that shrinking in was the best move. Quietly, you shuffled over to sit across from him at the table, placing your backpack in your lap in some weird way to provide comfort in this situation.

“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Leon grumbled, sitting far back in the tilted chair as his feet lifted the front end of the chair slightly. His arms were crossed and he was giving you probably the nastiest look you’ve ever seen, next to your parents, of course. All you did was sit there giving him a blank stare. It was obvious what he’d said, yet the sheer forwardness of that snide comment had you more than confused. “What?-”

“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Apparently he felt the need to repeat himself with some added bite, barely letting you get a word in. “No one ever shows up to these shitty tutor- whatever the fucks.”

Wow. Okay. “Uh..” You didn’t even know what to say to that. It completely caught you off guard. You’d run through countless ways this interaction would go in your head, but this wasn’t one of those ways. The two of you sat in a very tense silence with Leon just glaring at you from across the table, continuing to rock back and forth in the chair.

Without uncrossing his arms, Leon lifted a hand and waved it around slightly while shaking his head. “Are you actually still gonna sit here orrr…?” The sound of his voice finally snapped you out of shock, causing you to shoot your gaze down to your backpack, fumbling with its partially broken zipper. “I-.. Mr. Lebovic recommended you..?”

You pulled out a few of your failed assignments from your bag before setting them down on the table with shaky hands, keeping your eyes glued to the papers to avoid that burning stare the man in front of you has. “I need-.. I need help..?”

“Do you?” Leon let the chair fall forward, his sarcastic tone starting to make your whole body tremble. “You don’t sound like you do.” He snatched one of your assignments from the table and held it up, pursing his lips as he studied the various red marks made on it closely. You chose to not respond to that, letting your hands rest on top of your backpack so you had something to squeeze.

He turned the page around, the sound of the paper wobbling the only thing you could hear right after the sound of the central heat blowing through the vent in the room. Suddenly, Leon started chuckling to himself, shaking his head incredulously as he flipped the paper back and forth a couple times before letting it fall back to the table. “This is terrible!” His laugh grew louder as he tilted his body to the side to pull out his phone, taking a picture of the assignments you’d put on the table.

How on earth were you supposed to react to that other than just sitting quietly? He was actually making fun of you right to your face. Hell, he might as well point and laugh if he’s going to be this brasen.

The most you could muster up was a quiet yet high-pitched “... huh?” in response to him. This whole ordeal was spiraling a little too fast for you to keep up with. You were expecting to put up with some grown man with a bratty attitude or even just a very uninterested, not all there jock with how Leon’s been described to you, not blatant bullying.

“Huh?” He mocked, taking one last look at his phone while loudly sucking on his teeth before pocketing it again. “Anyways, this is actually sad. How are you managing to fuck simple math up like this?” He roughly grabbed all the papers on the table and stacked them before partially tossing them back at you, some slipping onto the floor. “You’re too far gone, even I can’t fix that.”

You let out a gasp when the papers were tossed at your face, scrambling to catch some of them. Pushing the chair back, you leaned over to grab the few that fell on the floor, desperately holding back tears. “Please, you don’t understand.” You pleaded, voice cracking as you tried your best not to start crying in front of him. “I-I need to pass this class. I’m passing everything else, I just can’t keep up with this one!” You were speed-talking to try and argue your case, sitting back up with the small pile of papers that you struggled to stack properly.

Leon started rocking back in his chair again, arms back across his chest as he watched you with squinted eyes. The corners of his lips soon turned up into a smirk, taking in your sorry state before rolling his eyes with a dramatic groan. “Alright, alright, stop whining, jesus..” He cleared his throat, letting his head fall over the back of the chair. “I’ll help you only because I feel bad for you.” It’s not like he was going to admit that he was being forced to be a tutor, no one needs leverage over him like that

You couldn’t help but give a small smile despite his implication. It was a start. “And I’m not gonna do it today, either.” Well, the sooner the better, but still, it’s a start.

He then stood up from the chair, fixing his jacket with a sigh. “If you show up even a minute late on Friday, I’m not helping” and before you even had a chance to reply, he walked out of the room, the door shutting with a slam which made you flinch. Luckily, you were a very punctual person when it came to this kind of stuff. This was important, so if you had to show up early, so be it. You hurriedly shoved your assignments back into your backpack, not even fully zipping it up before rushing out of the study room, back through the library, and to the dorms.

“He said that?!” Sky yelled, quickly wiping their hand over their mouth to quiet themself once you shushed them. “I don’t really feel comfortable with you going to another ‘study session’ with that guy if he’s just gonna bully you.”

“I wouldn’t call it bullying-”

“He was bullying you.”

“OKAY! So what if he was?!” You fell back onto Sky’s bed with a sigh, arms splayed out with your legs dangling off the side. “I can handle it. As long as I get my grade up, who cares?”

Sky sat down next to you on their bed, giving you a sad look as you sat yourself up with your elbows. “I care. So does Ella. You shouldn’t put up with that just for a grade. I’m sure if you explain to your professor and-”

“And what? Tell him that I’m a grown woman getting bullied over something I should know by now?” You sat yourself up fully now, leaning forward to place your elbows on your thighs as your head rested in your hands. “It’s only until finals are over and we’re already halfway through October. Maybe I won’t even need that much time, maybe I’m just missing one simple… math move and it’ll get the gears in my brain moving again.”

You tilted your head to the side to look at Sky, head now resting only in your right hand as you took in their annoyed look. “Trust me. I can handle this.”

“If you say so.” They ran their fingers through her hair before looking away from you, directing their attention forward to stare off at nothing. “Just remember that I bite and I’m not afraid to use my fake chompers on that no good-”

“I don’t wanna think about escalations right now, but thank you.” You chuckled, playfully nudging Sky with your free hand before moving it back to hold your head up with the other. Though you were trying to convince Sky on this, you were mostly just trying to convince yourself that you could handle this. Handle Leon and his.. alluring charm..

Only until finals, maybe even sooner.

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reiding-writing · 5 months

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could i please request spencer reid comforting reader whos been picking at her lips? Like idk maybe he brings around chapstick for her smth. Tysm!

dermatillomania [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. Even unintentionally. So a lot little bit of research later he’s ready to confront you about it.

WARNINGS: dermatillomania (impulsive picking at the skin), mentions of very minor self induced harm, sharing germs??? spencer would be deterred by that i’m sure, well maybe not in this case

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: pretty much straight fluff

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: this marks the my final fic of 2023, currently uploading at 10 past 11 pm so like less than an hour until 2024 (yay??)

i love writing for reid because it allows me to satisfy that nerdy part of my brain that endlessly thirsts for knowledge

Everyone had subconscious habits.

Yours just happened to be more physically harming than some.

You found comfort in the monotonous repetition of peeling away the layers of skin covering your lips, whether it be with your fingernails or your teeth.

It would often leave your skin red and raw, sometimes to the point where they cracked or bled.

It wasn’t usually too bad, but during times where you were over-stressed and under pressure, the small habit of yours became more of a staple of your personality.

You sigh softly as you sit at your desk, head resting in your hands as your eyes pour over the file in front of you.

Paperwork wasn’t exactly stressful when you compare it to the rest of your job, but after the week you’d just returned from it was clear that you needed a break.

Spencer glances up at you from his own desk opposite you, a small frown present on his face.

“Stop that,” His tone is soft and unchastising.

"Hm?" Your eyes flicker upwards towards his, your eyebrows knitted into a small line of clear confusion.

“Your lips. You’re going to scar yourself if you keep pulling at them like that.” Spencer’s words come out even softer than before, a small look of worry in his eyes.

"Oh-"

You pull you hands down from your face, the thumb and forefinger of your left hand that had been tugging at the cracked skin of your lower lip now tucked securely in your right as you clasp them together in your lap in fumbled embarrassment. "Sorry.."

Spencer sighs softly, and takes a brief moment to observe you. The corners of his mouth twitch downwards into a slight frown.“Don’t apologize. I just… I’d hate for you to have permanent scarring.”

You hum softly in response to his caring nature, not meeting his eyes anymore out of the small amount of shame that trickles into the back of your mind, and your tongue runs smoothly over the raw skin on your lip in an attempt at soothing the sting. "Yeah.. thanks,"

Spencer looks away for a few seconds, thinking about your actions. After a beat, he leans over his desk slightly to grab a tube of chapstick from his desk drawer and holds it out to you over the small metal hatched wall of separation between your two desks.

It’s dark blue with no writing or labelling of any kind on it and has very clearly been previously opened.

“Take care of your lips, okay? They’re very important for human expression, phonation, and sensation.”

And to be able to kiss people with.

You hesitate to take the tube from him at first, not because he’d used it, but because it was his, and you knew how much he hated sharing his personal belongings for fear of germ contamination.

“Are you- sure you want to give me this? I can go and get one after work-“ You take the tube from his hand carefully, as though it might explode if you grip it too tightly.

Spencer is slightly relieved to see you take the chapstick, and smiles brightly at you before shaking his head. “It’s fine. You clearly need some form of relief, and I doubt you want to be waiting another six hours.”

He pauses, before adding, “I’d like you to keep it. It’s pure white petroleum, it should solve any soreness or dryness in no time,”

"Thank you.." You give Spencer a grateful smile as you remove the cap and twist the bottom of the tube to extend the chapstick upwards.

You choose not to acknowledge the small dip in the balm from where Spencer had used it on his own lips in the past, fearing the inevitable flush of your cheeks if you thought about the way you were indirectly touching your lips to his for too long.

"I’m- not sure why i can’t just stop, but.. yeah- thanks.." Your half-assed explanation is more of a way for you to distract yourself from your impending emotional implosion rather than a genuine want to explain yourself.

Spencer watches you apply the chapstick, nodding once as he does. “I have some advice on how to stop, if you’d like to hear it.”

You re-cap the tube of chapstick and place it next to the pencil holder on your desk for easy later access, exhaling softly through your nose as your mouth bends into a soft smile. "Alright, have at me,"

“First things first, you should try and figure out what’s causing you to want to peel at your skin.” Spencer dives into full explanation mode once you give him the chair. “Everything has a trigger, and figuring out what yours is is the first step to stopping it,”

You give a understanding nod to Spencer’s suggestion, your mind beginning to scrub your brain for and reasons why you might have the insatiable urge to pull the skin off your lips like you would the meat from a turkey.

“You should also redirect the behaviour. When feeling the urge or the subconscious action towards picking at your skin you should instead reapply a layer of chapstick to your lips instead,” Spencer gestures towards the tube on your desk, just barely visible from his point of view past your pencil holder.

“People with dermatillomania often times don’t realise that they’re engaging in the behaviour, so having somebody who is aware of the situation to redirect your attention is also a good idea.”

He’s obviously referring to himself in this moment, indirectly telling you that he’s willing to be stuck to you like a piece of gum under a shoe until you fully manage to break your habit.

"dermatillomania?" You blink your eyes blankly at him at the unnecessarily complicated term you’d never heard of that Spencer had casually thrown into his sentence.

“It’s the term for excessive skin-picking that causes damage or scarring. That’s what you were doing to your lips just now.” Spencer nods nonchalantly at you like it was common knowledge.

“Oh-“

You can’t say you’re surprised that there’s a term for what you’re experiencing.

You also can’t say that you’re surprised that Spencer knows what it’s called.

Spencer feels the need to explain himself upon your confusion and surprise at the revelation that what you were doing had a proper medical diagnosis.

“I’ve observed you for a while now, and noticed you often picking at your lips.. So I did some research and came across dermatillomania.” There is a tiny bit of embarrassment in his tone.

"You- looked it up for me?"

Spencer Reid had gone out of his way to research something that gave him no personal benefit solely for your wellbeing.

You swear you could melt.

You probably look like you do, physically feeling the pink rise to your cheeks as they heat up in flustered gratitude.

Spencer’s cheeks mirror your own in their soft pink hue, slightly embarrassed to have outed himself to going out of his way to research something on your behalf.

“I did, yes.” He pauses. “I just… well, I didn’t want you to unintentionally do any damage to yourself.”

You let out a soft exhale that could almost constitute as a laugh, pressing your lips together to prevent a smile from breaking out on your face. “Thank you Spencer.. That’s really sweet,”

Spencer nods, diverting his eyes from yours and leaning back in his desk chair to try and look as casual as possible. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve researched countless topics to help the team, this was just one of them.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. But he wasn’t going to tell you that instead of the usual half an hour he would spend learning about something for one of his team mates he’d instead read every single publicly available medical journal on dermatillomania he could possibly find.

He turns his face back down to his work as you do the same, pushing his desk drawer closed now that nothing inside it was any longer needed.

His eyes fixed on the blue tube that rolled to his the front of the drawer as he pushed it closed.

It was identical to the one he had given you in every way.

Except for the fact that the one in his drawer was still brand new.

But you didn’t need to know that.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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strawberryya · 8 months

Text

notice me!

pairing: jihoon x reader

synopsis: Your boyfriend has a hectic life, but he usually has at least a little time to spare for his girlfriend. Now it has been two months since he last spent some alone time with you and you're losing your mind just a little over it... luckily, angry make-up sex can solve any problem!

word count: 2.1k

genre/cw: smut, angry sex, also make-up sex, established relationship, feeling neglected in relationship and bad ways of handling said feeling, unprotected sex, manhandling, light choking, fem reader, musician/producer! woozi.

rating: 18+

a/n: I had a moment a couple weeks ago where I wrote this whole thing in one hour in the middle of the night, and then I forgot about it and now I'm in shock just a little bit... anyhow, yay angry sex with wooziiii

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

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You watched your boyfriend of two years looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly across whatever app he found more interesting than his girlfriend sitting on the other end of the couch. You were barely wearing anything, a large t-shirt barely covering the sexy lingerie you had put on for tonight.

“Jihoon, it’s been two months.”

You wanted him to notice you. He had barely been home at your shared apartment for weeks. You knew his work was demanding, and that he gave it his all no matter what. But you have been feeling neglected lately. He had been coming home late, crashing on the couch instead of sleeping in your bed. Only giving you a chaste kiss before running off to work the next morning with a groggy “Sorry I missed dinner last night,” as a greeting.

He hadn’t touched you in two months. You had counted the days, and after three weeks you were wondering if he wasn’t stressing too much about the latest album. After six weeks you had been feeling too horny for your own good, and your toys weren’t fulfilling your needs anymore. You wanted to feel him again. It didn’t matter how many times you came. It didn’t hit the spot. After two entire months of him being abstinent, you had begun getting snarky at the smallest things he did wrong.

Jihoon looked up from his phone at your statement. He carelessly scratched his chin, making your pussy clench at the memory of those perfect hands being all over your body once upon a time. “Two months? Of what?”

“Of you acting like a damn nun,” you said, dead serious.

“A nun?!” He gasped out.

“Yes! A nun!” You shouted back at him.

He looked you over, sitting at the other end of the couch, dolled up more than usual and staring at him as if he had offended yuo great grandmother by existing. Then it seemed to click in his mind. “Oh,” was all he said.

Two months? Had it been that long? He knew very well that he had been resisting his urges, but he had managed for two entire months? He had been so busy with the new album, he had been staying late at the studio every day and waking up rushing back to the studio to put the new ideas he got during the night into reality. Two months without sex, and a pissed off girlfriend because of it.

“I’m sorry?”

You looked at him like he was an equation, mouth open just a bit as you stared at him in shock. “You’re sorry? What the fuck does that mean?” He was so clueless, you thought as you watched the dumb face he was making. (You still wanted that stupid handsome face of his to eat you out until you cried, but that was besides the point.)

Jihoon knew he had fucked up, you were pissed off and picking a fight, and he hadn’t made it better by not even knowing that he hadn’t slept with you in two whole months.

“Do you even care? Because you don’t seem to care one bit about it since you didn’t even know! Do you not like me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Are you in love with someone else? Why the fuck would you go and cheat on me?!”

He stared at you in complete surprise. Cheating? “Hold up- hold up! What are you talking about?!” He said, flabbergasted at the way you seemed to have drawn the most far-fetched conclusions to this problem you could’ve possibly thought of. “I’ve been busy with the comeback! Please, baby, why are you acting crazy?”

He shouldn’t have said that, he knew it the second the word left his perfectly plump lips.

“Crazy? Did you just call me crazy? You haven’t seen crazy, you fucking asshole!” You shouted as you stormed out of the room. You were packing your bags, if he didn’t want to be with you anymore you wouldn’t be the one to stop him from moving on and sleeping with whoever else he wanted. Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be you after he had just called you crazy for noticing that he wasn’t interested in you anymore.

“What are you doing?? Why are you messing up the apartment? Are you leaving?” he shouted, seemingly surprised that you didn’t feel like staying in an apartment that he was hellbent on making a girlfriend-free zone.

“Yeah, I’m fucking leaving,” you grunt, shoving some shirts into your bag. You wouldn’t be able to grab it all but at least you could make it with the stuff you were throwing into it for a while. Y9ou could always borrow your friends’ stuff until you could get back all your clothes. “You’re pissing me off and I don’t wanna hate you.”

Jihoon was by the bedroom door now, hands pushing his hair out of his face as he watched you angrily packing your bags. How had he fucked up so badly that his girlfriend wanted to leave him like this?

“Hate me? Baby, I really don’t know what I did to mess up this bad…”

Of course, he didn’t understand, because apparently, your boyfriend was a freaking master at staying “pure”. He hadn’t even spent a single thought on you and what he could do with you. He only cared about his music. And you wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way if thats how he truly felt.

“You don’t know?! Look at me Jihoon!” You threw the t-shirt off your body in an angry fit, making your boyfriend’s eyes widen. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, to care even a bit about me- about us- for months!! And tonight, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my mind because you won’t fuck me, how stupid is that?” You nearly sobbed as you made it clear that you were frustrated in more than one way. You were so mad at him, and still, you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked so hot even now, his long black hair falling in pretty curls around his face and his lips shiny and pink. He looked so kissable it was like he was teasing you just by existing.

“You got me all addicted to your cock and then you fucking left me to go through some kind of twisted withdrawal.”

He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat, you didn’t even care to look at him anymore, you were angrily throwing your shit into the bag on the bed yet again, bent over and flaunting the tiny piece of fabric that tried it’s best to cover your ass. “You don’t even care,” you rumbled as you stuffed more things into the bag. He took in the way the lace set hugged your curves deliciously, he had been so busy with everything he hadn’t even noticed his own cravings. He had ignored it all for so long.

“Shut up.”

His voice was deep, and commanding. Your breath caught in your throat, surprise and need mixing in an arousing blend that went straight to your head. “Excuse me?” Your movements paused completely. When you heard his footsteps approaching you hastily you looked at him, his gaze was darkened, and your core clenched around nothing as he pulled the bag from your grasp. Throwing it on the ground before he pushed your barely clothed body into the bed.

“You think I don’t fucking care anymore just because you haven’t gotten dick in a couple weeks? Are you that desperate to be stretched like a little whore?” He growled in your ear, his bulge evident in the way he pressed against your ass. “I care, and I see you. So shut up.”

You gasped at his harsh movements, neediness soaking your panties in record time. God, you were pathetic.

“I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, and I sure as hell haven’t let myself even think about this sweet pussy of yours. I’ve been denying myself it all. But you’re right…” his hand pressed against your throat where you laid face down on the bed, “I’ve been neglecting you. You wanna know why? It’s because I knew that if I so much as looked at you, or held you in my arms while you slept so innocently, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but fuck your tight little pussy all day and night.” His growling voice set off all kinds of sparks in your core. You needed him, now.

You pushed your ass up against him, eating a groan from your boyfriend. “Such a little slut,” he mumbled, letting go of your throat and pulling himself back from you completely. You were dizzy from the hold around your throat, his perfect hands remembering just the way you liked to feel them around you. You were about to whine when his touch left your body when you heard the familiar shuffling of his clothes falling off his body. You wanted to see it, take his form in properly after all these weeks. But he was faster, pushing you back down against the bed before you got up.

His erection pressed against your heat, making you moan as he prodded against the soaked fabric covering your entrance.

“Jihoon, please,” you mewled, wiggling underneath his firm body.

“Wanna shut up and let me fuck you then since you’re so fucking needy?”

“Please, yes! Anything! Please fuck me!” You almost cried as you pleaded with him.

“Sobbing over cock, you really are such a dirty girl for me.” He groaned as he let his pretty hands smooth over one of your asscheeks, smacking down hard and leaving a burning sting after him. Even that felt good. You needed him more than you had ever needed anything in your life.

You felt him pull the sticky fabric from your core, pushing it aside in favor of pushing the head of his hard cock against your messy pussy. “I’m about to drown in you later tonight, just you wait.” He whispered before pushing past your entrance, slipping inside, your walls lubing his cock up as he entered. He ignored the way you were so tight it almost hurt to push all the way inside, your moaned pleas for him to go deeper, and the way you were gripping the sheets while he pushed all of himself inside of your dripping heat enough of a reason to push through. It had been so long since he had felt your walls gripping around him that he could’ve spilled his seed into you right then and there.

He pulled himself together soon enough, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Your ass which you had pushed up to meet his hips at first had been completely overpowered by the sheer force he was fucking you into the mattress with. You were coming for the first time within minutes. Screaming and sobbing as you finally came around him. He continued, repeating to you what a good toy you were, and how good of a girl you had been for holding out for him this long.

When you were moaning again, closing in on a second orgasm he told you to come again. Lifting your ass up to balance you on your knees and chest, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to reach your clit, pressing down on it while he let his cock slip in and out effortlessly. Your arousal dripped down your thighs. You came undone and sobbed as he continued to overstimulate your abused cunt.

He continued fucking you until he couldn’t take it anymore, his own orgasm crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath from his lungs.

“That was one hell of an apology,” you said, breathless and still leaking cum, exhausted after having all your pent-up frustrations released all at once like this.

Jihoon chuckled, a sound you had missed these past weeks as well. He really had been unusually absent in your life. It wasn’t just about the sex, you had missed him a lot. “I’m sorry for not being around as much,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over your back. You hadn’t had the energy to move a once from the position he had dropped your hips from once he had pulled out.

“I just missed you, I’m sorry for lashing out.”

“Don’t worry about it, just… next time you should just ask me to fuck you instead of threatening to leave me.”

You were embarrassed now, you had acted like a complete maniac, but my god - if that’s how he fucked a maniac, you wanted to stay crazy for the rest of eternity.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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#woozi smut #seventeen smut #kwritersworldnet #jihoon smut #woozi svt smut #seventeen #svt smut #svt #woozi #jihoon x reader #x reader #fem reader #x reader smut

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gimmeyourlovepls · 18 days

Note

Hiii idk if your requests are full or not, but if you're free can you write Miles Morales, where he was in love with the reader since they were kids, and now they're in their teens, but he doesn't know if she feels the same?

Doesn't matter which one, thanks! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Spider Senses

summary: miles wishes his spider senses showed him whether you liked him or not

a/n: i hope u like this :)) (p.s. my requests are very empty pls fill)

content warning: female reader, but it doesnt really affect the plot, hair described to smell like vanilla and cocoa butter, no texture described though, reader shown to wear makeup

a six year old was playing in the sandbox at a local playground, building a sandcastle. she giggled as she placed a small stick on the top of her sandcastle before some kids running as they played a game ran towards her. she managed to not get trampled by them, but her structure was ruin. tears started running down her cheeks.

"hey, are you ok?" a small child stood before her, his wide brown eyes staring down in concern. he had coily dark hair, and was holding a wrapped popsicle in his hand.

"my sandcastle..." she sputtered out, wiping her tears. it took her a while and she was disappointed that it was destroyed after all her hard work.

"don't cry! my mommy says that crying is bad, it gives you wrinkles," he spoke, looking around for a solution. "here! take my popsicle, and stop being sad, ok? you can't be all wrinkly!" handing her the package in her sandy little hands, her tears almost immediately stopped.

"yay! you're my friend now, come meet my mommy!" standing up on tiny legs, shaking so some sand falls off her already dirty dress, she took his hand and started walking to her mom, who was already staring at the scene with a smile, along with the boys mom, who was exchanging phone numbers with her for future playdates.

"mommy, this is my new friend!" letting go of his hand, she presented him to her mom, smiling brightly as the boy looked up at her with a nervous smile.

"aw, thats nice baby, do you know his name?" the mother asked, looking down at him with a kind smile.

the girl paused. did he ever tell her his name? "duh mommy, his name is..." she looked at the boy, whispering into his ear, "whats your name?" He whispered back to her, the two mothers laughing at the sight. "his name is miles, mommy! he gave me a popsicle!"

the mother glanced at miles. "well nice to meet you honey. i'm this little chipmunk's mom." she ticked the little girl gently as the child squirmed, giggling.

"mom, I'm not a chipmunk!" she pouted, looking up at the amused woman. "i'm a big girl now," she muttered, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of her new friend.

"i'm sorry honey, you're a big girl," her mom said, laughing softly. miles grabbed the girl's hand before pointing at the playground, where there was an empty pair of swings.

"look! the swings are free, lets go swing!" the duo ran through the woodchips towards the swings before they were taken, and luckily they made it before anyone else did.

as they started swinging, the girl opened the slightly melted popsicle, and gasped as she saw it was one of those double ones. with the most precision a six year old can muster, she split the popsicle and handed one side to him with a grin. "now we can share!"

the two mothers looked at the kids with a smile. they could tell this friendship was gonna be a good one.

---

flopping onto miles' bed, you take out your phone and show him a picture. "can we please go here miles? look how cute the food is!" on your phone screen, you were showing him picture after picture of a little cafe that opened not too far from his place.

"i dunno, the food looks cute for sure," he mutters, and you perk up. "but money..." you deflate immediately.

"c'mon, please? you know I get paid from ganke next week for helping him with homework, i'll pay you back!" staring at him with puppy dog eyes always broke down his (very small) defenses he held up against you. this little, ok well, not that little crush he held on you was making him basically silly puddy in your hands.

"you ain't gotta do that, i'll pay sunflower," he mumbles, sitting up. Seeing the smile that immediately lights up your face makes it worth the fact that those new markers and jordans he was saving up for would probably have to wait another month (or maybe two, since your birthday was coming up soon).

glancing at his floor as he looked for his shoes, he saw a drawing he had made of you about a week ago. he wasn't biased, but he thought it was one of his best works. you, surrounded in sunflowers and a smile shining from your face, he knew he was done for.

he was a broke boy in love.

---

you sat in front of miles, grabbing what looked like a torture device with a grin as you held his face still with one hand. "miles, hold still!"

"no, this is gonna kill me!"

you pouted, shifting closer to him. "its just my eyelash curler, now hold still!" you held it closer to his face as winced, trying to stay as still as possible. "there, almost done, last is the lips!"

as you scrambled to go get your lip gloss and lip liner, he wondered why he hadn't confessed yet. it was almost the 10 year anniversary of that playground meeting, and he swore he would tell you a year ago, but then again, he also said that the year before that one.

he looked down at the breakfast on his wrist, the black and red a perfect setting for the silver spider charm that sat perfectly in the middle. although you have (hopefully) not learned about secret alter ego, you said it fit his "vibe."

he just took your word for it with a nervous smile.

you came back with new supplies to decorate his face with, and as he saw the smile on your face, he swore he would tell you soon.

....maybe.

---

you hugged him tightly as you stood at the front door of his house, about to walk home. your hair smelled like vanilla and cocoa butter, and he wanted to bury his face into you (but in a non-creepy way, or course).

it was close to the last day of high school, and you and him were going separate ways, he wanted to go to one uni, and it wasn't the one for you. he was gonna miss your late night talks on the roof, splitting meat patties every friday, the way you dragged your fingers through his hair gently as you rambled about anything and everything.

he still hadn't told you he was spider-man, but now definitely wasn't the time. looking down at the well-worn bracelet on his wrist, he didn't know if he would even get around to it. maybe when he came to visit you?

kicking rocks on the sidewalk distracted him on his walk back home distracted him from his thoughts until-

bang!

he heard a clash of screams and destruction as he spun around to see a cloud of dust in the direction he just left from. whats going on?

thankful for the amount of alleyways in this side of town, he slipped off his normal clothes to reveal his suit and swung over buildings to assess before diving straight in, from his experience, not doing that normally led to a longer talk with the police.

ugh, some stupid new villain of the week. easy stuff. swing in, save citizens, then knock them out. as he webbed people out of the way, he spotted the one person he didn't want to be in the chaos.

"sunflower?" he gasped, and immediately as your face snapped to him, he knew he messed up. he'd play that off later, but for now, he had to act. quickly scooping you up in his arms, he dropped you on a roof of a building, quickly deepening his voice. "c-citizen, stay up here, ill... come back and get you, just-"

you grabbed his wrist with a stern look on your face. "you better not leave me up here, miles." he nodded quickly before running to go fight off the latest villain, who was apparently mad because the "love of her life" left her for university. 'join the club...' he thought before he dived down.

---

as he handed the lady to the police, he thought back to you on the roof, and your words.

'you better not leave me up here, miles.'

you had called him miles.... dammit, you knew. he groaned softly, before swinging back to the roof he left you on, seeing you play games on your phone. "took you long enough, bug-boy." you mumbled, slipping the device into your pocket.

"dont play me, sunflower. you know. you knew. how long?" he spoke, fiddling with his thumbs.

"um, lemme think... the day before i brought you that bracelet. i was waiting for you to tell me, but..." you look away from him with a small frown, biting the inside of your lip. he knew you only did that when u were thinking hard.

" 'm sorry, i was gonna but... i didn't."

"well... were you also gonna tell me that you like me?"

miles started choking on his spit, pulling up his mask to reveal his whole face. "w-what? y-you- what?"

"i saw the drawing on your floor. you made me look so... pretty." you stared at your shoes with that same smile as miles had captured in his drawing, suddenly finding your tangled laces interesting.

"you are pretty," he mumbled, staring at you, he could almost see the sunflowers blooming around you. "wish i said something before uni."

"yeah... but its not too late to do this, right?"

before he could ask what, your arms were wrapping around his shoulders as you met him in a sweet kiss, and damn it felt like everything he imagined and so much more.

"so... you like me?" miles looked at you with a boyish smile as you rolled your eyes.

"you're lucky i do," you said before you kissed him again, his arms finally moving to wrap around you. you were right though.

he was the luckiest boy he knew.

over 2 weeks on this i might jump 💀

#miles morales x reader #miles x reader #across the spiderverse #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales

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colubrina · 3 months

Text

How I Got My Agent, Take Two

I’m so ridiculously over the top happy to say I’ve signed with a literary agent to sell my magical bookbinder book. This has been a long process that started in 2017, and I’m genuinely overjoyed.

It played out thus:

Write book one.

Write book two. Query the book.

Write book three. Query the book.

Write book four. Get into Pitch Wars with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book five. Get into Author Mentor Match with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book six.

Write book seven.

Write book eight.

Write book nine.

Get a Revise and Resubmit offer from an agent for book five. Do it.

Start querying book six.

Get an offer from the R&R (Yay!)

Write book ten.

Book five dies on submission.

Start writing book eleven.

My agent and I amicably part ways.

Start writing book twelve.

Finish querying book six.

Query book ten.

Start writing book thirteen.

Go back to book eleven.

Go to a live pitch event. Pitch book eleven to two agents. Neither likes it. One asks what else I’m working on, and when I do the one sentence pitch for book twelve, says, “I could sell that.”

Pivot to finishing that book.

Query book twelve, sending queries first to four agents who only want queries and who are actively requesting off those queries. Get a 75% request rate. Query is fire. Check. Unfortunately, every agent rejects when they see the opening pages, which turn out not to be fire.

Revise opening

Resume querying book twelve. In case you’ve lost count, while this is the twelfth book I’ve written, it’s ‘only’ the seventh I’ve queried.

Finish drafting book thirteen in NaNo. Revise. Send to CPs.

Have existential crisis on a Tuesday. Meltdown on Tumblr. Weep in my living room. All my books have failed. I do not know how to write a better book. Maybe I should give up. This turns out to be a very well-timed dark night of the soul within the narrative.

Get two full requests for book twelve on Wednesday.

Get an email telling me one of my short stories has been held for consideration on Thursday.

On Friday get an email that the woman who handles submissions for one of those agents from Wednesday loved the book but she doesn’t think it’s a great fit for the agent I queried. Would I mind if she forwarded it in-house to a different agent? In shocking news, I would not mind this.

On Monday, get an email asking for a call.

On Wednesday, which is Valentine’s Day, have a call with the agent. She’s lovely in every way, her thoughts on the book are so good, every editorial idea she floats is good. Like, really good. She is super enthusiastic about repping the book and offers to do so.

There is an etiquette requirement at this point that I tell any agent who has the book that I have an offer on the table and give them two weeks to respond, so I go around nudging all the agents with a full (four people) and several agents who only have a query. Three more agents request fulls. The rejections start trickling in. People are very sweet and complimentary, and I am deeply, deeply relieved that I never waver from how much I adore the original offering agent.

I sign with her on February 29.

Final stats for Book Twelve (THE ARCHIVE OF THE WORLD):

Total Queries Sent: 39 Requests Before Offer: 8 (20.5% request rate) Request Rate Including Post-Offer Requests: 28.2%

Year I Started this Nonsense: 2017 Total Queries Sent across 7 books: 456

Takeaway wisdom: The query trenches are a soul-mangling machine into which we all keep putting our souls and most of us don’t make it out unmangled. I am not unmangled. BUT, I am a persistence hunter, and I will walk steadily towards publishing until it lies down in exhaustion and gives up.

Thanks for hanging out with me as I do.

Also, this book is so much fun. You’re going to love it.

#querying #wow that process sucked #when we've sold the book you will hear about it #and when you can pre-order #and when you can order

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vhstown · 10 months

Text

time out (part 1)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)

PART 2 → / THE AU

"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"

Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.

The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.

Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.

CONGRATS BABY!!! Not delivered

IM SO PROUD OF YOU Not delivered

You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.

why arent my texts sending Not delivered

miles??? Not delivered

Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.

"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?

Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.

It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.

There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.

Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?

You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…

Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.

"Hello?"

"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.

"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."

"Oh… Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"

"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.

"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"

"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.

"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…

"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."

"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.

"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.

"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)

Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."

There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.

"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."

"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.

"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."

“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)

“Sí, tía.”

The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…

But why weren't your texts going through?

miles are you ok? Not delivered

im really proud of you Not delivered

i wish i couldve seen you live Not delivered

It wasn’t like there was much point, but…

i love you Not delivered

Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.

Hey man

Out of town

LMK if miles breaks in

You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.

sure Read at 11:24PM

are you out of town already? Read at 11:25PM

Ping!

Yeah

@ Queens

Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?

You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.

The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.

THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!

"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.

Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.

The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...

It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.

It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.

And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.

“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”

“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”

“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”

The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—

"Miles!"

The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?

The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.

You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—

"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"

The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.

Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.

Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.

"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.

"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.

"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."

Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.

"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.

“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"

"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"

"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.

“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”

If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”

You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”

“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.

“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”

“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”

His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?

“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?

“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.

“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.

“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?

“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.

The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.

“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.

“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”

The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.

“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.

“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.

“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”

Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.

“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.

“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.

Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…

“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.

“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.

“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.

“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”

“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.

“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.

“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”

The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.

Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.

Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.

“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.

He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”

“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”

“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.

“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.

The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”

All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.

🕸️🔭👾

thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again

this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au

reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)

catch my atsv masterlist here !

#miles 42 x reader #42!miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles 42 #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv x you #42!miles x reader #atsv #prowler miles x you #prowler miles x reader #prowler miles #vhstown

698 notes · View notes

svmjaeyvn · 4 months

Text

love maze, s.jy.

chapter six pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER SIX: EXS

previous masterlist next

word count: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, kisses, calling minjun a stalker, protective jay and ni-ki

a/n: not a lot of jake in this one i know but i have to make a plot and conflict yall 😩 adding in bbg riki and some more best friend!jay pls enjoy

"HOW MANY TIMES have I told you to wear the gloves when you do the dishes?" You tsk, delicately wrapping the small gash that ran along Ni-ki's, the newest trainee at your work, hand. He sheepishly smiled, tilting his head in the smallest of ways.

"Sorry noona," He mumbled out, embarrassed by his third time sitting like a kid being scolded due to his clumsiness. "I needed the steaming pitcher so I just reached in the sink and didn't see realize the tongs were so sharp,"

You shake your head with mock disappointment though a small smile perked at your lips nonetheless. With the middle of the semester rolling around, most freshmen had found themselves finding a rhythm with balancing their school lives enough to find a part time job. You've seen numerous come and go, Cho— your generous manager who was the sweetest old lady that ran the cafe, always took them in for at least a short amount of time.

Ni-ki was your favorite thus far, always listening intently (to everything aside from the dishwashing) and picked up the skills relatively fast. Respectful but also comfortable enough to joke around with, the two of you had become a dynamic duo in closing four days out of the week together.

Of course he was still a boy, a young and partially annoying one at that but he reminded you of your younger brother, weaseling his way in having a soft spot in your heart even though it had only been two weeks.

"Okay now we switch, you run the front I'll clean up back here," Satisfied with your makeshift bandaging, you shoo the younger boy along who rolled his eyes but nonetheless disappeared from the back of the house. Cleaning up the medical kit and barely managing to slip on your gloves to handle the load of piling dishes, you noticed his head poke in around the corner.

"Someone would like to talk to you," He hums before disappearing once more, not giving you enough time to determine whether it was a good talk or bad one in having to handle the customers. With a small sigh, you make your way to the front, prepped for the worst but your tension dissolves seeing your bright smiled best friend leaning over the pastry case.

"Off the glass," You warn, making your way to the register where Ni-ki stood with a goofy smile. Jay reluctantly stands himself up straight, pouting seeing as you didn't greet him with the same warmth he was expecting.

"That's not very good customer service, where's ajumma Cho? I'd like to file a complaint," Jay tuts, peering around the store though he knew well enough it was only you and Ni-ki in the building. The younger boy lets out a small snort, used to his antics in the past two weeks of running into each other and forming a budding friendship through their mutual teasing over you.

Rolling your eyes, you lean against the counter expectantly. "What'd you need Jay?"

"I can't just come say hi?" He pouts, seemingly offended by your words while he shakes his head. "I haven't seen you in days teeny, you've been too busy with your boyfriend to give me any attention now,"

"I saw you when we had lunch," You deadpan, finding his dramatics amusing though you knew the mess that occupied the back room needed tending to before you were forced to stay late. "Seriously, I actually have work to do today so I can't talk—"

"I'll help!" Jay volunteers, the same boxy smile on his lips while you shake your head. "What? I've done stuff before! I'm bored and want to hang out, let me help. It'll show me what you broke college students do everyday to survive and stuff,"

"Let rich boy do the dishes," Ni-ki interjects, rolling his eyes at his ladder sentence though it was all in playful manner.

"As long as I get to wear an apron," Jay agrees, pointing a finger at the coffee brown colored uniform piece you had to wear.

It was a temping offer, and he wasn't wrong. Typically you had him clean the menus or refill caramel bottles whenever he wanted to be like a kid and help out but you really did dread washing dishes. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded your head and not even a split second later, Jay had made his way around the counter to the employees side.

"This is exciting," He hums, following you to the back while you reach into the locker cubbies, pulling out one of the spare aprons left just in case anyone needed it. Jay slips it over his head, securing the strings behind his waist while you point toward the far end of the room. His excitement visibly deflates seeing the mountain of items waiting to be cleaned, the cherry on top being the empty dishes Ni-ki waltzed in with a genuine smile of content as he added to it.

"Have fun princess," You laugh, patting his shoulder as you walked by and with some reluctance, Jay made his way to begin without a word of protest much to your surprise. Having far more time to do your tasks, you began with the inventory. Going through the store and marking down the amounts had while Ni-ki continued to clean and restock due to the end of the night approaching, it was peaceful with the younger boy taking hold of the aux to play his own music now opposed to the cafe playlist.

A few minutes passed without any words, finding comfortable silence and both of you working on your own things before the jingle from the front door indicated someone coming inside. "Welcome in," You called out, not bothering to look up from the fridge you were bent down beside while Ni-ki headed for the register to attend the guest.

"Hey," You stiffen at the familiar voice. Pausing in your count, you stare at the half empty milk carton in the fridge, waiting for the person to speak again, praying it wasn't what you thought. "Sorry man, is ___ here?" With a deep sigh, your head falls down. Ni-ki peers to the side, giving you a questionable glance noticing your reaction and unaware of what to respond with.

Sending him a half smile, you stand up properly, exposing your hidden figure behind the counter. You make eye contact with Minjun, void of emotion and placing the fakest of smiles onto your lips as you spoke. "How can I help you?" Decidedly going with the faux customer service route, you place the book down you were previously using to record while his eyes trail over your figure.

"Hi," Was all he spoke, almost hesitant and you had to hold everything in you to not roll your eyes. "You're a manager here now?"

"Yeah stuff changes over a year," You respond dryly, not particularly seeing the point in his attempt in a conversation. Ni-ki lingered, seemingly wiping at the warming station but he listened carefully, aware of how unenthusiastic you seemed and found it best to stay close just in case with how stiff the air seemed. "Something you need from me?"

Minjun opens his mouth only to close it twice over. Not having the proper words to say, he purses his lips. "I've been wanting to see you," Was all he could come up with, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Heard you still worked here and figured it'd be the best place to find you,"

"Yunjin told you to leave me alone and that I didn't want to talk," You reiterate, sending him a pointed look while he nods along. "So you came to my place of work knowing I didn't want to see you," Another nod. "Yeah, think that's called stalking,"

Ni-ki stiffens up at your words. "Noona," He mumbles, coming up significantly closer to your side while you shake your head. Ni-ki was tall, significantly more than you and a majority of the male population was shorter than him but he was still a kid. Besides, you didn't need any protection, Minjun wasn't a dangerous guy, just an idiot.

You hold up your hand, silently telling him that everything was fine. Reluctantly, he backed away, though he still lingered and his eyes stayed glued to Minjun who stood on the opposite side of the counter.

"I just wanted to talk," Minjun starts, voice seemingly sincere but you shake your head.

"There's nothing to talk about,"

"No means no dipshit, did you forget kindergarten rules already?" Jays' loud voice interrupted the stiff air, the attention brought to him as he emerged from the back room, a drying towel being throw over his shoulder and his apron slightly damp at the waist. He makes his way beside you, arms folded across his chest and puffing out the muscle and veins that peaked out from his rolled up sleeves. You nearly let out a laugh seeing the tough guy act your best friend pulled, almost wanting to take out your phone and take a picture but you had to admit, Jay was intimidating when he wanted to be.

"Lovely to see you again too Jongseong," Minjun sighs, plastering on a more than fake smile at the man who always expressed his distaste over him even when you were together. "Didn't think you'd be a part-time cafe guy,"

"You gonna order or not?" Jay cuts to the point, his patience thin enough as it was and especially with people he didn't like. You made a mental note to applaud him for being mean for once.

"If I order will you go away so I can talk to ___?"

"She has a boyfriend," Ni-ki interjects, standing beside Jay who nods along. "Plus she doesn't like you, so I can either take your order or you can leave,"

Minjun's eyes flicker to you once more. "A boyfriend," He repeats. "Thought you told Yunjin to tell me that just to get rid of me,"

"Not everything's about you man," Jay rolls his eyes, quick to answer for you. "Being desperate doesn't really work for you,"

"How long?" He ignores Jays jabs, eyes focused on you while you shrug. "Recent right, considering you haven't posted anything about him,"

"You really are a stalker," Ni-ki grimaces, not knowing the full details but hearing enough to make his judgements.

Sending the two behind you pointed looks, silently telling them that you'd handle it, you look back at Minjun with a small sigh. "It's not really any of your business, is it?"

"Well with me you were all about posting stories and making sure I posted you so it's just surprising,"

Narrowing your eyes, you pick at the skin of your nails at your side, something that Jay took note of in your old habits whenever you grew irritated. "Things change. Being with a guy who provides reassurance and treats you well does wonders," You hum, no longer bothering with decorum. "I don't have time to go back and forth with you. If you want to order they'll help you, if not, leave,"

Without giving him time to protest, you made your way to the back of the building ensuring he wouldn't be able to follow. Jay was quick to tag along leaving Ni-ki to fend for himself but knowing the young boy would be fine.

"He's fucking insane," Jay rambles as soon as the two of you were out of sight and behind the door that separated the front from the back. "To think that after all the shit he put you through you'd just, welcome him back? Delusional ass who doesn't know how to take no for an answer apparently—"

You nod along, taking a seat in the plush chair that was tucked away in the corner of the room beside the desk. You stared at the ground, focusing on counting the tile patterns allowing for Jay to ramble as he paced around the room. Taking note of your unusual silence, he stops mid step to look at you, a small sigh leaving his lips seeing how your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth and how you continued to pick at your hands.

Leaning down in front of you, Jay squats as his hands find way to your knees, leaning against you and forcing your line of vision to be filled by him. "You okay teeny?" He asks softly, the look of pity one you remember all too well and not what you wanted.

"I'm fine," You respond. And you were, for the most part. You just couldn't deal with your own emotions and Jay going back to treating you like a fragile piece of glass, it was exhausting enough having him be as attentive as he was in general. "Seriously, I'm fine. He's not worth my time anymore J, I just hope he got the hint and won't come back,"

Jay nods along, giving your knee a small squeeze in reassurance while you click your tongue. The door swings open, Ni-ki poking his head in the frame. "He left," The younger boy reassures, a small smile sent your way. "Am I allowed to ask noona?"

He looked concerned, an expression you had yet to see from Ni-ki and it emphasized just how young he seemed in your eyes with the innocent gleam. Gesturing for him to take a seat, you lean back in the chair while Jay settles himself on the ground. Peering up at the security cameras, ensuring to have a clear view of anyone were to walk in, you begin your story.

"Buckle up kid, you're getting a whole new level of lore from me tonight,"

"THIS IS SUCH bullshit," Jay huffs, eyes focused behind you as he takes a rather large bite of the apple he had been holding for the past ten minutes. "I can't believe he transferred back,"

"You know, it's kind of heartwarming how upset you are for me," You tease, significantly less worked up over the situation although it was less than ideal.

"No I agree, he's a fucking asshole," Yunjin adds, shooting daggers with looks that could kill causing you to raise a brow. "What? I hate him. We're not even really related, my aunt is divorcing his uncle and I only hung out with him cause of her so now it's free range since he's being a weird idiot,"

"Are we talking shit?" Sunoo draws the attention to himself, placing his bag down and smiling brightly as he clasped his hands under his chin. "Who about?" He sing-songs, voice dripping like honey and a grin that seemed so innocent but the content behind it was entirely different.

"Her stalker,"

"Whose stalker?" Heeseung interjects, Sunghoon trailing behind him to join the ever growing table. Jay and Yunjin's fingers immediately point toward you, silently answering his question causing the older boys brows to frown. "What happened now?"

As you opened your mouth to explain, a rather loud one cut you off once again. "Noona!" Ni-ki calls out, voice booming as he made his way toward you with Jungwon leading. Rather obviously pointing in the direction you spoke of, his eyes were wide seeing Minjun on the other end of the plaza with his own group of friends. "What the hell is he doing here?" The youngest asks as they reached the table, now having all curiosity peaked of those out of loop.

"Who?" With the last member of the group joining, Jake smiled widely as he weaseled his way beside you, placing a quick peck to your cheek as he sat.

"Everyone here now so I can talk?" You ask aloud, glancing over the group and doing a quick headcount. Over the past week, with the concept of you and Jake being together, your friend group had merged with his. Well your two friends, one of which you shared already, had joined in with Jake's while Ni-ki had been recently adopted in after finding Jungwon and him shared a general ed class. You had to admit, it was nice having more people to talk to, your life had certainly become more interesting in the best of ways.

"Do tell," Sunoo urges, far too excited to know more as the certified gossip of the group, though he was always the best at giving advice so it was two sides of the same coin.

"My ex transferred back here," You finally say with a small shrug. Jake tensed up from beside you, his brows pinching together as he leaned in closer to listen to your explanation. "He came by my work the other day trying to talk and I told him to get lost and then now he's here,”

"He's weird," Ni-ki adds in, his face pinched with disgust as he shook his head. "Desperate stalker behavior,"

"Who is it?" Sunghoon asked, looking in the general direction Jay pointed in but not particularly locking in on anyone.

"Kang Minjun," Yunjin answered without missing a beat.

Jake lets out a scoff, leaning closer into your side. "He's a fucking prick. Came into class today and wouldn't shut up during the lecture," Taking hold of the unpeeled orange you had left since it seemed like far too much work at the time, he peeled the skin off without a word, holding out the first piece to you before popping one into his mouth. "Professor Choi loved it, annoying as fuck when most of us just come since attendance is mandatory even though it's a gen-ed class,"

"We're the same year, he had always been popular," Heeseung shrugged. "Definitely annoying considering he used his looks for basically everything and acted cocky all the time,"

"The pretty one?" Sunoo asks, glancing around while he gained a few pointed looks for the comment. "What? My bad I've never seen him before," He pouts, hands up to show his lack of defense.

"Stalker," Ni-ki reminds, entirely ambient on making it knowing for everyone how uncomfortable he was to be around. "Doesn't matter what he looks like, he's still a weirdo,"

Jungwon lets out a small snort at his comments while Heeseung suddenly changes the subject. The conversation topic switching over to plans of a staycation in the near future while Jake absentmindedly holds out the last slice of orange for you to take.

“He comes over here and I’m throwing this apple at his head,” Jay warns, holding up the partially bitten fruit causing you to grimace.

“I don’t think he’s that dumb,” Sunghoon snickers. “And that’s gross, you can see all your teeth marks,”

“Who cares?” Jay retorts, beginning to bicker as the two change the topic for the second time in a near minute. Everyone else following along, paying no mind and rather comfortable in one another’s company.

You felt Jake’s arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as he leans down to your ear. “You alright?” He mumbles, breath fanning against your skin causing you to shiver but nonetheless nod along.

You pull away slightly, enough to see his face while a small smile peaked at the corners of your lips. You had to admit, it wasn’t ideal and made you exhausted having to deal with your past. You put on a brave face, one enough for the others but for some reason, Jake could see through it more than you knew.

He let out a small sigh, a lingering kiss placed to the crown of your head as he did so. “You’re alright,” Jake spoke, the words intended to reassure you, fully certain of it for your sake and that seemed to be more than enough to help your nerves for the time being.

Letting out a puff of air, you allow yourself to melt into his side, settling in comfortably as your head tucked itself below his chin, leaned into his chest and arms caged around you for extra support. Your attention was brought back to the rest of your friends, eyes meeting with Yunjin who sat with an amused expression being one of the ones who knew everything while Heeseung had his nose scrunched up with disgust.

“I hate couples,”

my tags!! @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whowantshota @addictedtohobi @coolwitu @simjyunnie @kgneptun @graythecoffeebean @143ikeu @zyvlxqht @tesywesy @nxzz-skz @aishisgrey @missmischief1408

( pls make sure your settings make you applicable to tag )

#enhypen #enhypen jake #jaeyun x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enha x reader #jaeyun smut #jake x reader #enha #enhypen jake smut #jake enhypen #enhypen smut

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bellaturner · 11 months

Text

The Unexpected

Unusual fluff (?)

Summary: you went to an Arctic Monkeys concert as a distraction to your recent breakup, but ended up having an unexpected connection with Alex.

TW: breakups

3,6k words

Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I had just broken up with the man I thought was the love of my life. Nothing made sense anymore: the sky was permanently gray, the grass was dead beneath my feet, and the chirping of birds had become a melancholic tune. Life had lost its vibrancy, leaving behind a hollow emptiness.

We had been together for six years. To my twenty-four-year-old self, it felt like an eternity. But then, it all came crashing down. The signs were there, lingering in the shadows. Silently warning us of the inescapable end, but neither of us wanted to face the turmoil of ending a relationship that had lasted for so long.

However, as days turned into nights, we found ourselves tangled in neverending arguments. Even when we were together, I felt alone. The solitude became impossible to deal with, and we couldn't bear the weight of our shared life any longer. Honestly, I still struggle to pinpoint the moment where it all went wrong.

Despite everything, a part of me still cares for him. Perhaps that's why I made the difficult decision to sever our ties. I couldn't stand to hurt him any more than I was already doing by simply existing by his side. Each fight pushed him further away, and the thought of his fading presence tormented me.

Eventually, I reached my breaking point. Something had to change. So, with a heavy heart, I decided to officially end what had long been over. In that final moment, as we parted ways, not a single tear fell from his eyes, and that realization cut me deep. I had hoped to see a glimpse of emotion, a reminder of what we once had. But it became clear that I had been mistaken, painfully wrong about his feelings. The truth hit me hard and shattered me into countless pieces.

I felt utterly lost. There was no other way to put it. Waking up each morning became a burden, and I found myself hoping to die in my sleep. The days lacked any meaning. My friends were concerned, and my family shared the bruises of my heartache. After all, he had become part of our lives during those six long years.

But then, on that fateful day, everything changed.

It was my final semester of college, the moment when I was supposed to embrace my dream of becoming a mechanical engineer, fueled by my passion for motorsports. But now, it all seemed foolish and pointless. Every ambition had lost its spark.

In one of my last classes, vehicle electronics and control systems, tears started to melt my notebook pages, forcing me to leave early. I sat on a bench outside the building, next to the parking lot, gaining the courage to return home and confront my feelings again. There weren't any more pictures of us in my room, but the memories of moments shared in it were still there.

That's when Lana, one of my closest friends and an audio engineering major, found me.

"That's it!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with frustration. "I can't take this any longer, YN! I know you're hurting, but you have to move on. You ended things a month ago, but you said it yourself: it's been over for nearly a year!"

"But Lana—" I tried to interject, but she cut me off, refusing to listen.

"I've got backstage passes to a festival I'll be working on next week, and you're coming with me. No excuses. I don't care if I have to drag you by your hair." Her determination startled me, but I knew she was right. "Come on, YN! Pretty please?" she pleaded, putting on that irresistible lost dog face that I could never say no to. She even added the praying hands this time. There was no way I could escape her demands.

"Okay," I relented, sniffing and wiping away the tears from my cheeks. She had a point. I couldn't bury myself in this hole any longer. It was time to start crawling out of it.

"Yay!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down with joy. "That band you love so much is playing on Saturday! The Arctic something, you know?" she said casually.

"I beg your pardon?" I shot up from my seat, disbelief washing over me. "The freaking Arctic Monkeys are going to be playing, and I have a backstage pass?" It felt too incredible to be true. There was no way in hell something like that would happen to me—the unluckiest person in the world.

"Yup, that's the one. So you're going!?" she said happily.

"Of course I am. I had bought tickets to it long ago, but with everything that happened, I guess I kinda forgot about..."

"Hey, hey, stop it!" She cut me off once again. "You're not allowed to say his name or even think about him!" she protested. "I'll be working, though, but maybe that's a good thing. You could try to find some other monkey stan to hook up with!" she said with a mischievous smile.

Lana is unbelievably straightforward. But I think that's why I love her. My silly little girl. My best friend.

I chuckled at her suggestion, shaking my head in both amusement and disbelief. "You never fail to surprise me, Lana. Finding another 'monkey stan' " I scoffed "I just want to enjoy the music and forget about everything else. No more falling in love."

Lana nodded, her expression softening. "I get it, YN. This is your chance to have a great time." It was a statement, and I knew that she would make sure of that.

Her words resonated with me. Maybe this concert was exactly what I needed—an opportunity to let go of the past and rediscover my own happiness. I smiled at my friend, grateful for her support.

"Thank you, Lana. For being here. I appreciate you more than you know."

She grinned back at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I know, I know! I love you too, YN. Also, that's what friends are for".

With newfound determination and insane anticipation, we made plans for the festival. Lana shared more details about it and the lineup of incredible artists that would grace the stage on that weekend. But the thought of seeing the Arctic Monkeys perform live is what filled me with a mix of nervous excitement and sheer bliss.

Finally, the day of the concert had arrived, and I couldn't contain my excitement. I slipped into my favorite band t-shirt, a quirky image of the members dressed as clowns and the words "who the fuck's Arctic Monkeys?" boldly printed across it. With the backstage pass hanging proudly around my neck, I could feel the anticipation building up inside me.

Lana, being the amazing friend she was, had made sure everything was perfectly arranged for us. As we ventured backstage, the air buzzed with an electric energy that sent shivers down my spine. From my privileged viewpoint, I could see the massive crowd and the whole stage, just waiting for the Monkeys to take their places.

"Hey, listen," Lana said, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and responsibility. "I have to go work now, but you stay here and have the time of your life, okay? Text me if you need anything or decide to explore elsewhere. I love you!" She planted a kiss on my head before disappearing into the backstage area.

Not long after she left, the stage lights illuminated the massive venue, and the band made their entrance from the opposite side I was at. The opening chords of the first song reverberated through the speakers, igniting a surge of excitement and cheers from the crowd. I surrendered myself to the music, letting it embrace me completely, like a warm blanket. The world around me faded away, leaving only the hypnotizing rhythm and the lyrics that resonated with my soul.

With tears streaming down my face, I allowed the familiar melodies to stir deep emotions within me. Each song evoked a different feeling, and I embraced every single one. I couldn't help but dance like there was no tomorrow, losing myself in the moment. The euphoria overwhelmed me, and it felt like I was floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

As the concert progressed, around the third song or so, I caught a glimpse of Alex looking in my general direction. My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly dismissed it as a mere coincidence. He was probably just checking out his surroundings or searching for someone from the production team. I decided to step to the side, not wanting to obstruct his view, and to my surprise his head turned with me as I moved over.

Our eyes briefly locked, and in that split second, I could feel my whole face burning up. Was he actually looking at me? It felt like a fever dream, the kind you never expect to come true. It was probably the effect of one too many unlimited drinks I had enjoyed, courtesy of my backstage access.

Whether it was a genuine look or a result of my tipsy imagination, I couldn't help but revel in the moment. The music enveloped me, drowning out any doubts or rational thoughts. I surrendered myself to the rhythm, dancing like an old lady, feeling the pure bliss of being swept away by the insane energy of the concert.

The combination of the music, the crowd's energy, and the enchanting presence of Alex on stage created an atmosphere that was nothing short of magical.

'Arabella' was the sixth song played that night, and I'll never forget it. As soon as I heard that familiar guitar at the beginning of the song, I could feel the excitement running through my veins. It is one of my all-time favorite songs, a track that holds a special place in my heart. I can't quite put into words what it makes me feel, but it is a mix of exhilaration, warmth, and an indescribable amazing sensation.

My legs turned to jelly, and I found myself leaning against a nearby wall for support as I watched in awe. The combination of Cookie's amazing guitar riffs, Matt's powerful drumming skills, and Nick's pulsating bass lines drove the crowd into a frenzy. The energy was palpable, radiating through every beat and note.

My attention was drawn to Matt and his extraordinary talent behind the drum kit. His precision and sheer passion were a sight to behold. As I focused on him, completely immersed in the music, that indescribable feeling of watching my favorite band perform live washed over me one more time.

And then, it happened again. When I shifted my gaze towards Alex, I found him looking straight at me. Our eyes locked in for the second time that night, making my cheeks flush. I was grateful for the dim lighting that hid my embarrassment.

As he sang, a smile formed on his lips, almost like he knew what he was doing: singing my favorite song and looking straight into my eyes. I felt like he was singing it just for me. It was a crazy moment, and it made me down the rest of my beer in one gulp. I swear he let out a soft chuckle, away from the microphone.

As the last verse sounded through the air, I knew I had to sing along with the crowd, my voice merging with the chorus. "That's magic! On a cheetah print coat!" The lyrics echoed around me, lighting up my face with a huge smile while the tear roamed free.

As the concert continued, there were a few more instances when my and Alex's eyes met, a fleeting connection in the midst of the electrifying atmosphere. But I brushed it off, convincing myself that it was just part of his stage presence, a way to engage with the audience.

But, as the final notes of the last song gradually faded into the air, signaling the end of an unforgettable night, I figured that Alex would follow his bandmates, disappearing into the same entrance he came from. To my surprise, he broke away from the rest of the guys, walking towards the side of the stage I was at.

His steps were purposeful and determined, making my heart race as he approached. The gap between us was closing quickly, and I tried to steady my trembling hands and calm my racing thoughts.

A rush of excitement and disbelief flooded me as he stood before me, and I was hit by the combination of wood, whisky, and tobacco scent that he emanated, leaving me momentarily speechless. His eyes sparkled with exhaustion and genuine appreciation.

"You sure look like you had a great time, love," he said with a husky voice, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't help but let the butterflies fly around my stomach by the way he casually referred to me as 'love,' that charming British accent adding an extra layer of charm to his character.

I mustered a shy smile. His presence was magnetic and the whirlwind of emotions inside me made it difficult to speak.

His gaze traveled up and down my figure, a playful glimmer danced in Alex's eyes as he glanced at my t-shirt. "Your choice of attire is quite captivating," he said, letting out a laugh that made my cheeks flush. "Join me for a beer, will ya?" he asked, his tone more of a confident statement than a mere question, gesturing for me to follow him deeper into the backstage area.

"Al, mate, come join us!" Matt's voice carried excitement for the post-show celebration. "We're going out for-"

"Not tonight, man," Alex responded without even glancing in Matt's direction, his eyes fixed on mine, unyielding. "I think I'll just head back to the hotel. Thanks, though."

I stood there, stunned, as Alex brushed off his friend's invitation without a second thought, leaving me wondering if he had a different plan in mind. Matt shrugged and joined the rest of the band, while I remained rooted to the spot, my mind swirling.

"Well, it looks like I have some free time," Alex's eyes held a glimmer of curiosity and a hint of a smile danced on his lips. "How about we grab that beer we were talking 'bout?"

Excitement coursed through my body, and I nodded eagerly, unable to contain my smile. "Sounds great," I replied, my voice filled with faked confidence. "Lead the way."

As Alex led me through the backstage area, we entered a private room tucked away from the bustling crowd. The moment the door closed behind us, the noise dissipated, leaving behind a sense of tranquility. The room was dimly lit, adorned with vintage music posters and instruments that had an aura of creative energy.

Alex approached a small cooler, grabbing a couple of cold beers, and handing one to me. "Here you go," he said with a charming smile. "Make yourself at home, darlin'. I'm just gonna change real quick,"

"Thank you," I replied, accepting the beer gratefully. My heart raced, the British mannerisms swiping me off my feet again. I watched him disappear into the bathroom, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As Alex left, I took a moment to take in the room. The instruments scattered across the space caught my attention, particularly the grand piano sitting in the corner. My fingers itched with the desire to touch the keys. It had been ages since I last played one.

Leaving my beer on a nearby table, I made my way to the piano bench. Sitting down with my back turned to the bathroom door, I ran my fingers gently over the smooth ivory keys, and began to play a familiar tune, allowing the notes to flow from my fingertips.

The sound filled the room, a gentle melody that mirrored my emotions. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the music, letting it carry me away from the moment. When I was younger, I used to say that the piano was my voice, expressing the emotions that my words couldn't capture.

The sound of footsteps made me snap back into reality. I swiftly rose from the bench, ready to apologize for my impromptu performance, but before any words could escape my lips, Alex interjected.

"Please, don't" Alex said, his voice laced with a hint of awe. He stood at a distance, his eyes fixed on me and his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. "That was beautiful. You have a gift."

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice betraying any attempt at sounding nonchalant. "It's been a while since I've played."

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with playful charm. "Well, consider me a lucky man then."

A genuine smile spread across my face as I admired Alex's transformed appearance. He had tidied up his hair and changed into a sleek white collar dress shirt that accentuated his abs. His leather jacket added a touch of rebellious charm, and he was wearing that illegally sexy scarf of his.

"You look like a brand new person." I remarked, walking past him to retrieve my beer can.

He smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "A change of clothes and a splash of cologne can work wonders, wouldn't you agree?" he replied, his voice dripping with playful modesty.

I smiled at him once again, feeling a sense of ease settling between us. Taking a sip from my beer can, I realized I hadn't properly introduced myself. "I'm YN, by the way," I said, trying to keep the conversation casual.

"It's a pleasure, YN. I'm Alex," he replied warmly, his voice inviting. I couldn't help but chuckle quietly, knowing exactly who the musical genius before me was.

"The pleasure is all mine," I responded, lifting my can in a toast. The clinking sound filled the air.

His gaze shifted towards the vinyl player nestled in the corner of the room, catching his attention. He walked over to it, selected a disc and delicately placed it on the turntable. The soft crackle of the needle meeting the vinyl filled the air, as the melodic tunes gracefully unfolded.

Returning his focus to me, his eyes sparkled with curiosity, a genuine interest shining through. "So, YN, what brings you here tonight?" he inquired, his voice carrying a gentle warmth.

I couldn't help but laugh at his question. "Aside from your amazing songs?" I replied playfully, my gaze meeting his. "Well, my friend is working backstage, and she managed to get me a ticket. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you perform live."

He nodded, a hint of appreciation in his eyes, and then he extended his hand towards me, gently taking hold of my beer can and setting it aside.

"Will you dance with me, YN?" he asked, his voice turning my thoughts into a blissful haze, as my name rolled off his tongue.

My heart skipped a beat, and I eagerly placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch. "I'd be delighted," I replied, my voice had a hint of nervousness to it. "I must warn you, though, I'm not the best dancer."

He simply smiled, his touch steady yet gentle, as his other hand found its place on my waist, effortlessly guiding me across the dance floor. We moved in harmony, a mixture of playful twirls and gentle sways, surrendering ourselves to the embrace of the music.

The song came to an end, and as if on cue, Alex pulled me even closer, making me look at him. The room buzzed with energy. His hand, which had been resting on my waist, moved to the back of my head, gently tangling in my hair, sending a thrilling shiver down my spine.

My lips parted with a soft sigh, surrendering to the gentle tug he made on my hair. The reaction prompted Alex, as he leaned in, allowing our lips to touch in a delicate kiss.

His lips were soft and insistent, exploring every inch of my mouth. It felt like he was perfect.

The room was filled with the gentle white noise of the needle scratching the record, creating a soothing ambiance. But then my phone started buzzing in the background. We initially ignored it, lost in our passionate exchange, but after it rang three times, Alex broke the kiss.

"Maybe you should answer that, doll," he whispered, his fingers caressing my hair as he brought me back to reality.

"Hey, Lan," I said softly, my gaze locked into his dark brown eyes. He stared right back at me.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?" Lana's voice boomed through the phone, making me hold it away from my ear.

Alex burst into laughter, seemingly amused by the situation.

"I'm sorry, Lana. I got carried away," I explained.

"Oh, come on! Who's with you? I heard laughter," Lana teased, her voice adopting a playful tone. "Did you meet someone?"

"Oh, she definitely met someone," Alex interjected, his distinct accent making his words stand out.

"Is that-" Lana started to ask, but her question remained unfinished. It was an overwhelming experience for me.

"May I?" Alex asked, reaching for my phone, and I nodded.

"She's alright, Lana. She'll be with you shortly," he assured her before ending the call.

"One for the road?" he whispered, his fingers gently tracing my swollen lips.

I chuckled in response, and he leaned in, our lips meeting once again in a passionate embrace.

"Can I have your number?" he asked, his forehead resting against mine.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

This has been rotting in my drafts since May, I truly didn't know how to end it so I just left an open ending I guess.

I also experimented writing in first person, which I don't intend on doing anymore tbh but let me know if you liked it anyways.

I've been asked a couple times to tag people, so lmk if you'd like to be tagged on my next fic.

As always, love youuu 💕💕💕

~ Bella

198 notes · View notes

lilystyles · 10 months

Text

one of us.

part six of the no strings attached series by @lilystyles

no strings attached masterlist & main masterlist xxx

authors note part six yay...drama awaits

brief description karaoke night leads to a run in with paparazzi. y/n's face is splashed everywhere, and harry doesn't know what to do.

warnings! alcohol abuse, drug abuse, sexual themes, angst, drama. around 5.3k words angels.

inexperienced!fwb!reader x fwb!harry

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Daisy called Y/n up Thursday morning while walking to a lecture that she was not particularly excited to attend. She always felt like she had aged ten years when she stepped out of the lecture theatre. The tune of her ringtone played in her headphones as she felt the Spring wind hit her face. The weather was getting warmer but the mornings were still very chilly in London.

She hit answer instantly without checking who it was. It was likely either Harry, her mum, or Daisy.

“Y/n!” Chirped Daisy into the phone.

“Hi, Babe.” Said Y/n calmly into the phone, startled by Daisy’s excitement.

Daisy was a bartender, who owned her own small business on the side, she made handmade clothes. So Y/n was surprised that Daisy was calling her at nine in the morning, she usually worked nights and slept all throughout the day and even then she was busy with sewing and screen printing when she was awake.

“I was going to wait until I see you, but I can’t!!” She sounded completely ecstatic.

Y/n pinched her brows as she grinned at her friend’s utter excitement, “What?! What?! Spit it out, Mate!”

“James!” She cried and Y/n could only assume it was one of three things. They are moving in together, she’s pregnant, or James finally popped the question. She didn’t know if it was the latter, maybe all three. James was that kind of guy, he acted quickly and on impulse but when it came to Daisy he was more calculated he cared too much to do that.

“James?” Y/n asked walking towards the small coffee stand that was in the middle of the courtyard. She needed a very large latte to get through this lecture. Maybe even a cookie, they made this really good pistachio and macadamia nut one, and she loved it so much she had to put a ban on buying one every day because it was draining her bank account.

“He wants to marry me!!” Daisy cheered, and Y/n could imagine her arms up in the air as she ran around in her pyjamas.

Y/n made a sound of excitement and the group of people in front of her turned around and looked at her with a judging look, but Y/n did not care!

“No way!” She gasped, stopping herself from jumping up and down too. “Fucking finally!” She cheered into the phone, a big cheek-splitting grin coming across her face. They’d been together since fucking preschool.

“We are going out to a karaoke bar tonight, I’ve invited everyone to surprise them, so you don’t know act surprised. But I just had to tell you! Can you make it? 8:30 Lan Kwai Fong?”

Y/n had an assignment to do but she thought fuck it, James and Daisy were getting married! Her best friends were getting married! Finally! She was so happy for them and if she did a chunk of this essay right now it would be fine.

“I’m there. See you tonight. Congratulations, Baby!”

“Bye, love you!” Daisy chirped.

“Love you, too.” Y/n finished and hung up, she was finally at the front of the line and she ordered her latte and cookie before quickly grabbing it from the redheaded barista and rushing off to her class.

She was five minutes late so she came in through the back looking for her only friend in the class and his long brown hair. She hoped he was here, she wanted to ask him about the exam next week and she felt like she hadn’t seen him in forever.

She saw him instantly and sat down beside him, he looked up with a smile.

“Y/n, hey.” Said Mitch softly, his hair was tied up today and he was in a One Direction shirt which made Y/n giggle to herself, no one knew she knew Harry Styles except mega fans (she knew the boys too!). It was like her little secret.

Y/n handed him one of the two cups in her hand.

“Cinnamon soy.” She whispered as she opened her laptop eyes moving ahead to the boring professor who was sitting down at his desk speaking about god knows what. This class just gave her extra points towards her degree, which meant she finished quicker. Mitch was in an entirely different degree and was taking it as a prerequisite for another class. They met back in first year, study buddies.

Mitch patted her shoulder, a smile cracking on his normally stoic face. “You’re a gem, Mate.”

Y/n practically fell asleep during the next few hours but she managed to get her essay finished, all she had to do was edit now. She was very happy with that. At the end of the lecture, Mitch was telling her something about his girlfriend Sarah having a house party and that she was welcome to come swing by, it was next week.

She told Mitch she would text him, and they both rushed off with a hug goodbye and Y/n to the train that took her home to Harry’s. Her headphones were blaring Taylor Swift as she made a mental to make sure to get off at the shops so she could buy some lunch for Harry, he was busy as a bee with his new Album and since their weekend away their schedules had suddenly filled keeping them apart. She wanted to see him even if it was just over some sandwiches on his living room floor, his company vastly improved her days. And since her Uni work was done basically, she had time to see him now.

As her mind dazed off it was no time before she was at her stop and she snapped out of her daydreams.

Her heavy backpack weighed on her as she walked into the supermarket. She decided on making her version of a fast food sandwich. She grabbed meats and ingredients for salads and even got Harry this box of tea that had a little bear on the front, it was strawberry flavour which she’d never tried, the bear just reminded her of Harry. He had a pink shirt with one on the front just like it.

After she got everything she needed she caught a bus to his place, which had become a bit of a routine now. It didn’t take her long to get there, the weight of all these bags had her shoulders aching but she would carry a bolder uphill to please Harry, so what was a little groceries on a five-minute walk?

She hit the security buzzer by his fence and Harry let her in instantly. The gates opened and he stepped out of his front door with a look of surprise on his face. He was in pyjama pants and a small shirt that had a bunny rabbit on it. It showed a sliver of his tummy. His hair was up in a little top knot and she could tell he was in full work mode.

“Angel, what are you doing here?” He asked with a big grin when she was close enough to hear.

Y/n shrugged at him with a big smile on her face. “Missed you, H. I come bearing gifts.” She lifted the bags in show, “I’m gonna make us lunch.”

He pulled her into his arms and took the heavy bags from her arms before pecking her lips in greeting.

“You are a goddess. I’m so hungry.” He smiled as they walked inside.

Y/n took off her layers and boots as she walked into the kitchen following after him. The living room had three of his guitars strewn out and the book he used to write, along with loose pages scattered everywhere.

Sometimes he’d pull that little book out while they were in bed and he would try and write out how beautiful her blissed-out face was post orgasm in words, or in the morning when she met his gaze, he’d quickly grab the pink thick and full book and scribble something that he never let her read.

He said she’d have to wait and listen until his new album was out. The fact that some of his songs might’ve been about her gave her a rush of energy and smittenness towards him. She never thought a boy would write a song about her, especially Harry!

She began to make the sandwiches so he could sit and tell her about his day so far, he watched her dreamily speaking slowly and lazily as he usually did.

He interrupted himself, “You look beautiful today, Y/n.”

She blushed, her movements stuttering as she shook her head. She had messy hair that needed a wash, smudged lipstick and a pair of loose jeans and a jumper that actually belonged to him on. Harry had a way of making her feel completely flustered, like she was in a floor length gown when she was really just in lazy sloppy stained clothes. But to him, she practically was.

“Harry, do you do that just to make me lose my mind, or what?”

He giggled. “Well, partly, but it’s like an itch I’ve got to scratch. I simply must tell you. Like when you look at a pretty sunset, you can’t help but take a photo or tell everyone to come and admire it’s beauty.”

She rolled her eyes, a warmth filling her belly. “Sap.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, H. I just….feel speechless when you say things like that.”

Harry grabbed her hand from across the bench and squeezed it.

They enjoyed their sandwiches with some of the bear tea which Harry said he liked, and they watched a few episodes of Friends because that was Harry’s favourite show. It was becoming normal for them to do this sort of thing. Y/n then asked hopefully if he would come tonight.

He said he would be able to if he got back to it after the next episode. Y/n was glad to hear that.

“Do you want to use my study it’s soundproof, you can do some Uni work or even take a nap, Petal. You look sleepy. Got much Uni to do?” He didn’t want her to go, even if he was busy. He liked knowing she was pottering about. She began treating his home much like her own and he was happy. He loved finding things of Y/n’s here and there, and her scent on his sheets. Or even a strand of her hair on his jumper.

She sighed at the thought of a nap and longed for a short one. “Oh, I’m so getting into your bed.” Wondering why she hadn’t thought of that earlier, he smiled amusedly and kissed the top of her head.

They finished the episode and then Y/n left him to go sleep in his bed. She turned on the fancy diffuser he had in his room, putting in a lavender-scented oil. He’d told her one day it was one he used before sleep, usually when she wasn’t there to aid him with her soft scent and touch. She shut the curtains too to block out any light and stripped out of her clothes and slid inside his cool silky sheets. Her bare skin felt so cosy against the warmth of his bed.

She shut her eyes and when she woke up an hour and a half later she was surprised she had slept with such ease. She hadn’t realised how tired she was. She thought it was probably because Harry’s house and room were such a comfort to her now. The musky smell of his natural odour clung to the sheets, something that was just Harry — she loved it, and wasn’t something that was easily washed away. The fact she could hear him doing his thing downstairs and talking made the perfect white noise.

The soft pillow he slept on each night was like a cloud and the hum of the diffusor was calming to her.

Her small rest was needed, and made her feel much perkier, she sat up groggily, still feeling slightly asleep and confused. She grabbed her phone to check the time. She rubbed her eyes softly getting up so she could go home and get ready. She told Harry she’d meet him there tonight, because she needed her clothes and makeup, and wanted to wash her hair. When she told him she’d get the train home he refused and got his driver to take her back home. He was always like that.

He gave her a kiss on her head goodbye and told her he’d see her tonight. She smiled brightly, and he gave her one back.

On the twenty-minute drive home, she felt like a politician or something. Or royalty even, like that scene in Princess Diaries when Mia’s grandma shows up.

The driver’s name was Brad, and he was also Harry’s bodyguard. Nice, but quiet and professional. The windows were tinted so darkly, and it was such a fancy car. It had snacks, a TV, and champagne. Not that Y/n needed any of that, the drive was fairly quick and she wasn’t a rockstar on her way to perform. She was just going home.

When the car pulled up outside her apartment building she thanked Brad kindly and told him to have a good evening, and she stepped out the air was damp and smelt of rain and walked upstairs and into her apartment. She had been here all week instead of at Harry’s, stewing in her mess rather than his luxury, because she’d been busy working on Uni assignments and exams. She decided to clean since she had a few hours to kill until tonight. The pile of dirty clothes in her laundry was starting to grow eyes and a personality now and she really did not want to clean it. She started organising into piles of whites, blacks, delicates and others.

As she waited for all her laundry to be done she contemplated finally asking Harry out for real, she was sitting on top of her dodgy washing machine that tended to shake so much it fell on its side if there wasn’t enough weight on top of it. It was annoying, but she honestly couldn’t afford a new one.

She stared off mindlessly at the tiled walls of her small laundry room, imagining him as her boyfriend, what would it be like to date him officially? Would much change? He acted pretty lovely already.

They had wonderful and passionate sex, he took her to dinners and fun places, dates, and every little thing in-between. I mean, isn’t that what a boyfriend does? She’d ask any of her friends for advice if it wasn’t Harry Styles she was with and on top of that Haz her childhood friend who she hoped would not mess up the group because of their ‘relationship’. She didn’t know what her friends would say about it, and she really didn’t want to disappoint them. At Uni she had a few mates like Sarah, Mitch and Adam, but she wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt she stopped her childhood circle of friends from being normal. It was not that she didn’t trust them either, just that she knew how important privacy was between them. Nothing was private when you were famous, or knew a famous person. Also, she didn’t want Harry to find out about how she felt, what if he really only wanted sex like they had agreed on?

She also kind of wished, even if it would hurt her feelings, that she could ask an ex-fling of his. Was he just a romantic? Or was he different with her compared to the rest?

The whole thing was a mindfuck, so she liked to pretend it wasn’t something to worry about. But the weight of it was beginning to get her down. As she made it to the final task on her list of mopping her hardwood floors and having mulled over the whole thing for about an hour, she decided that tonight she’d test the waters. Mention something about them, and bring it up. Just to see how he would react to the idea, and then reevaluate from there.

By the time she’d hung her laundry out on her balcony pegging it to a wire, she realised it was already dark and that she needed to go get ready for tonight.

She made a light dinner for herself of a grilled cheese with tomatoes on too, and a cup of juice. She ate slowly enjoying the taste, and she heard the familiar sound of heavy downfall rain landing on her roof outside. Ah, London, always raining when Y/n felt herself overthinking! That was a lot, clearly. She hoped her laundry would dry eventually.

She finally finished and got up to wash the hair that was now greasier than ever, and clean the day off of her skin. After she got out feeling warm and clean, she was happy she could take her time styling her hair in her favourite way for going out and doing her skincare. As she applied the fancy mosturiser Harry had given her as a gift to her face and neck she basked in the floral and gentle smell. She sighed softly as she ran her fingers through her damp hair before drying and combing it.

She didn’t know what to wear now that it was raining. Lan Kwai Fong was a karaoke bar, and it was always so hot inside. But the air was chilly and damp now, so she decided to wear something with a few layers. She picked out her favourite jeans they were flared at the bottoms and rested lowly on her hips showing the top of her tattoo, a cute blouse that was red and black with floral designs on it, it was lacey. For shoes, she decided to wear black heeled boots that were leather and could handle the rain, and over the top, she wore a long black faux fur coat. It was warm, and she was happy with that. For jewellery, she wore her usual gold rings, necklace, earrings, and a few bangles. She’d found the ring that matched Harry’s necklace and slipped it on.

She applied makeup that accented her features and chose reddish lipstick to match her shirt. She felt pretty and was excited to go out and celebrate, though she had a slight pinch of anxiety in her tummy she brushed it off thinking good thoughts, and after all, it was just Harry. She knew that boy, he was just Harry from the end of the street. Not some wild sexy rockstar who was untouchable. Despite it all, Harry was still her old friend.

When her taxi arrived at the bar she was excited and could already see Daisy waiting out the front under James’ arm. Y/n rushed over sprinting into both of their arms and jumping up and down in pure childlike excitement.

“Congratulations!” She cheered loudly with a giggle, before settling down when she saw Finnley, Olive, Penny, and Michael all in tow. She knew it was a surprised, and instantly acted as she normally would.

She jumped at hearing the rumble of a voice behind her neck, hairs standing at the gentle vibration.

“Hey, guys,” Said the familiar slow drawl of Harry. He rested closely behind her. He squeezed her hip in a hello before hugging everyone else and then finally her, wanting to act normal. They’d always been fairly touchy.

“Hey stranger, how you been?” She said acting as if it had been the same time away from him as everyone else. He smiled knowingly.

“Not too bad, Pet,”

She smiled and all of them walked inside. Harry stayed close by her side and they made their way into a room that had a little stage and seats. Everyone placed their bags and coats down and left to get drinks. Harry and Y/n both decided to have some mojitos tonight and kick back a little. Harry was talking to the group about his work and his day, of songwriting and composing. Y/n acted like she hadn’t known that and asked questions, Harry appreciated her acting. He asked about Uni even though he already knew and then the conversation finally shifted to the real reason they were all here.

James grabbed Daisy from beside Olive and they stood up before them. Daisy leaned into his side and held his hip under his shirt. “We are getting married!” She blurted out excitedly showing her hand and the ring that rested there. It was an antique snake ring made of gold with diamonds. Very Daisy.

Y/n squealed excitedly and everyone erupted with cheers. Daisy and James then began to discuss details about when and where, and the plan. Daisy was talking about the dress she wanted to the girls and the boys were discussing how James had popped the question. It was nice. The first one of them to get married, wow. They were growing up!

The night was perfect, it was just like always; fun, lighthearted, full of drinks and laughs. Memories fluttered through the voices of such familiar faces, and Y/n felt a sense of home. Harry had barely left her side all night he remained close by and they danced every few songs, goofily twirling or doing horrible moves on purpose. Her tummy hurt from laughing so hard.

When it finally came time for Y/n to sing up there like the others she wasn’t keen. So Harry put on a favourite of hers she simply couldn’t refuse. It was One Of Us by ABBA. Harry had a very specific memory of the pair of them singing it in his bedroom once. He always tied that song to her and that night in his bedroom.

Harry and Y/n were hiding up in his room from their mothers who were having one too many wines downstairs with other parents from the neighbourhood, it was Easter long weekend. The pair of them had gotten sick of socialising and talking about what their plans were after school, they were only halfway through their final year of school and had already been asked too many times to count.

Y/n flopped onto his bed with a sigh grabbing his favourite turtle pillow, Terry, and scooped the stuffed animal into her arms. They always hid up here when they were sick of the adults. Harry sat on a beanbag by his CD player watching her. He always watched her, eyes never shying away from her face which always brought a radiance of heat to her skin.

She looked cute. She was in a pink floral dress, it was long and she had paired it with her favourite pastel yellow cardigan. Her hair was styled into two plaits with ribbons. She looked rather angelic.

She was mumbling a complaint about how she had no bloody idea who she wanted to be when she grew up, and how she didn’t think that was such a bad thing. Harry could only nod in agreement.

She looked at his tall shelf of CDs and sighed. “Put some ABBA on, they always make everything better.”

So he did.

The track played as background noise for a while as they talked, Harry told her of his aspirations to sing and she told him of her aspirations to be happy and content. Eventually, it finally hit one of her favourites, One Of Us, she gasped.

“Turn it up!”

He obeyed turning to the dial louder. She stood up on his bed still holding Terry, and began to sing and jump on the bed. For an eighteen-year-old, she felt like a kid sometimes. As she began to belt the lyrics very off-key, Harry covered his ears playfully and she stopped jumping.

“Hey, you try jumping and singing then!” She said and Harry took that as a challenge. He toed his shoes off and joined her placing his hands in hers and began to jump with him as they belted the lyrics between laughs.

Harry’s voice was soft and nice on her ears so she shut her lips just so she could hear him louder, and she wished she could just listen to him for hours. She was almost certain he would be someone one day.

When the song ended they flopped down on his squeaky bed with a laugh, backs pressing into the soft springy mattress. Then Gemma came in and made a complaint about Anne dancing.

Y/n and Harry sat up and then followed her downstairs. Somehow Y/n’s mother convinced them to get into a photo. ‘All grown up! Our babies!’.

The photo was in Y/n’s childhood bedroom back home. Harry’s hand was on her waist and Y/n leaned into him smiling, Harry was laughing in the photo Y/n couldn’t remember about what.

Harry slid her under his arm and gave her her own microphone, neither needed to look at the lyrics on the screen and as she sang and acted out the scenes she imagined went with the song. She was back in Harry’s house when the chorus hit.

He seemed to have gone back to then too. They smiled at each other knowingly. He was very close to her, their noses touching as she dragged her fingers down his chest seductively. The song was slower more dramatic so they acted out as if they felt that feeling.

Neither had noticed the flash of phones or cameras until the chorus when they turned to face their friends. Unfamiliar faces stared back at them, and Harry’s brows pinched.

Fans? Drunken people? The latter it seemed.

Y/n continued to sing into the microphone but Harry slightly deterred, stepping back from her. He didn’t mind if it was fans, but it was a private room. He really didn’t want this night to become about him. That night was about Daisy and James.

Y/n was suddenly aware of the way she had been touching him and pulled her hands away from his warmth.

When the song ended they both got off stage and Harry was swarmed. People called his name, asking for pictures and Y/n was surprised when one of them asked if she was Y/n.

Y/n frowned. How did they know? She nodded.

“Hi.”

Someone even asked to take a picture with her and in her bewildered state she let them. Harry noticed and frowned, this wasn’t what he wanted.

“I’m really sorry, guys, but this s’a private event. And m’ with my friends. I can’t take that many pictures, and I would appreciate it if you respected that.” He tried to explain. The fans were pushy and Harry tried again. Y/n didn’t know what to do, but he gave her a pleading look for her help. She snuck away, with ease, to the front door of the bar and told the bouncers the situation they walked to the room she pointed at and she went to the bathroom, she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

She leaned into the sink sighing deeply. It must be hard for Harry to live like this, they had nearly been spotted a few times and Y/n who kept little track of social media involving celebrities hadn’t noticed the few gossip pages that had photos of Harry with a mystery woman. Which was of course her. Harry hadn’t seen anyone else since Y/n had come to the forefront of his mind.

A paparazzi had taken one of them going to dinner in London to see Anne. It was just a photo of their interlocked hands. ‘Who is this mystery woman?’. Then another of the back of her body hidden in a coat getting in Harry’s car from that same night.

There was also a photo of Harry near her apartment walking titled ‘Harry seen leaving a friend’s house. A very pretty friend.’ That was on New Year’s Day.

Another photo was of the pair of them. It was that day they walked in the park hand in hand, Y/n swimming in his clothes. The title was called, ‘Harry on a Sunday stroll.’ It was the back of them. Miraculously Y/n’s identity had yet to be leaked. But Harry worried now that they would know. The fans had already taken photos and videos of them singing.

He had hidden all this drama from her. Not wanting to stress her out, and now he felt awful. He had ruined the night. For everyone, and Y/n would probably snap out of herself and realise now that he came with baggage.

When two large bouncers came in they realised the situation quickly and escorted the fans and people out from the room. Harry was grateful, that must’ve been Y/n. But where was she? When the room was quiet he apologised but his friends seemed to not mind too much but were grateful to be alone once more. Harry said he was going to the loo, but he was searching for Y/n.

When he left and walked down the hall hoping no one would recognise him, lost in thought and panic he felt a body bump into his.

“Sorr- Oh, hey, Petal. Yeh’ okay?”

Y/n was looking up at him already. “Yeah, you?”

He nodded, pulling her into his arms and placing a kiss on top of her head. He whispered something about how he was sorry about all that, and Y/n was too focused on him to notice the photos being taken of them.

This time both their faces were visible in it. Due to their slightly intoxicated state, they were less aware of their surroundings and so Y/n pecked his jaw and red lipstick shade was left there. They went back into the booth and began to sing some more and brush off the incident trying to enjoy the rest of their night.

Daisy and Y/n sang a Fleetwood Mac song, and soon all ten of them were on the small stage shouting the words and laughing. Daisy was holding Y/n’s hand and Harry was holding Y/n’s hip and she felt so warm, safe, and comforted between them. They belted the words without microphones and giggled together. She felt so at home, they were her people.

James began to dance very badly and serenade Daisy and the stage was theirs now. Like they were actors from the actual Shakespearean time.

Romeo and Juliet by The Dire Straights played loudly over the speakers. That was their song. James fell to his knees dramatically and it reminded Y/n of that scene in Mamma Mia on the beach.

She and the others had a few more drinks and the night grew more blurry. At around one in the morning, they began to wrap up and were all on a high from the great news of their best friend’s engagement. The group walked together in each others’ warm touch and stumbled outside. A flash of blinding white lights hit their eyes startling them all.

Y/n leaned into the nearby touch of Harry the flash burning her retinas as she tried to figure out where she was. It was disorientating. But Harry was all too familiar with it. Loud voices asked questions.

“Is that the mystery girl?!”

“Who are you dating?”

“Is it any of these women?”

“Look at that lipstick stain! Is it from Y/n?”

How did they know her name? What mystery woman? Was Harry seeing other people?

Somehow James and Harry managed to get them out of the way so they could all get into their taxis. Harry didn’t get in beside her like she assumed he would, he just leaned into the window she rolled down handing her some money. “Get home safe, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

As he watched her car zoom off he bit his lip. Maybe it was time.

Weirdly as the car drove off Y/n felt tears prick in her eyes. What was happening?

326 notes · View notes

see-the-fandom-imagines · 1 year

Text

What’s in it for me?

Chapter 8

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Pairing: Kyouya Ootori x Reader Author: see-the-fandom-imagines Warnings: Kyouya in a bad mood, other than that mostly cute fluff, filler Author’s Note: I hope you will like it! One tiny question: I have been thinking about uploading this same fic with a few changes that would be required, but using male pronouns. I feel like our male readers get too little attention every once in a while, so let me know in case anyone would actually be interested in reading this with male pronouns! Tag List: @radical-bunny, @redsakura101, @ellouisa17

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46325452/chapters/116633701

The next morning you awoke early. You needed a moment to realise where you were, but Haruhi’s steady breathing soon reminded you of everything that happened the day before. You groaned and stretched, before carefully sitting up. Bright sun light shone through the curtains, so you decided you might as well should get up and make some breakfast. You owed everyone as much for scaring them like you did. Quietly you walked into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror you noticed that your eyes were still a little puffy from crying, but that was nothing that a little cold water couldn’t save. You brushed your teeth and quickly washed your face, before slipping into your everyday clothes and sneaking downstairs. No one was there yet, and you enjoyed the short moment of calmness, a rare occasion when being anywhere with the host club. You had to admit you probably were relaxed for the first time in weeks, although you knew you also had to thank the six boys for that who were still sleeping upstairs. Silently you checked the fridge and the pantry for food and you actually found almost all of the basics – eggs, rice, flour, sugar … You could work with that. You had just finished heating the pan, when you heard steps coming down the stairs into the kitchen. You turned around to see who it was, after you had poured the first load of dough into the pan. “Mori-Senpai”, you greeted. “Good morning!” You smiled at him and he smiled back. “Good morning.” He stepped closer to see what you were doing. “I am making breakfast, I thought it was the least thing I could do after … after yesterday.” You carefully flipped the pancake, before turning towards him, as you noticed something. “I never really thanked you properly, but… well, thank you. Really.” You looked him in the eyes. “For saving my life. And everything in general, too.” You bowed down as deeply as you could without falling to your knees. He was quiet for a while, but then you felt the weight of his hand on your head as he ruffled your hair. Surprised you looked up into his smiling face. You knew this was his way of saying that it was alright. You smiled up at him. “If you want to you can sit down, I’ll bring the breakfast out in a bit.” “Let me help you.” “But…”, you started but he shook his head. “Please.” You chuckled and gave in. If he said he wanted to help, that’s what he wanted to do. You always enjoyed Mori’s simplicity in this regard. “Alright! You can make some pancakes if you want to? They’re mostly for Honey-senpai and the twins whenever they wake up!” Mori nodded and took the spatula from you. The rest of the morning was spend in a comfortable silence, only interrupted by you giving Mori some cooking tips and asking which vegetables and leftovers he wanted in the soup.

Proudly, Mori showed you the big stack of pancakes he had just made, and you gave him a thumbs up. “Amazing! Now we just have to wait for …” “I smell pancakes!” You almost flinched as you heard the older hosts voice behind you. When did he get up? Had he been awake this whole time? Slowly you turned around, looking into his happy face. “We made some for breakfast, I had a feeling you’d like them”, you said, trying not to be freaked out by his weird sense of smell for sweets. “Yay!”, he proclaimed, “Let’s set the table, so we can eat!” You nodded and handed Honey a stack of plates, when suddenly Mori stepped in front of you, grabbing your chin with one hand and lifting your head to look at him. You felt the heat creep onto your cheeks at his touch. “M-Mori-senpai”, you stammered, but then he lifted his other hand and gently wiped something of your face with his thumb. His fingers felt warm on your face and his touch was soft. A lot softer than how Kyouya had touched you yesterday. With wide eyes you stared up at him. “Flour”, he explained and immediately you understood and relaxed your shoulders again. “Oh”, you said, but before you could react any further, two very well-known voices appeared next to you. “Hey hey, are we interrupting something?” Immediately, Mori let go of your face as if he had been burnt by it. Hikaru appeared next to his brother. “Is there a secret kitchen party and we haven’t been invited?” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, huge kitchen party, too bad, you’re late.” “Hey”, Kaoru started poking your cheek. “That’s mean”, Hikaru said, poking the other one. “You know me”, you shrugged, “mean to the core.” “Have you made breakfast?”, they realized at the same time. “Yes.” “But why? “Yeah, there’s maids for that.” “Well, there are no maids here as you can see.” “Well, then there’s delivery”, Hikaru shrugged, and you waited for Kaoru’s response but instead he smiled down at you. “Thanks.” Hikaru sent him an irritated gaze, but you beamed up at him. “You’re welcome, now go, go, set the table if you want to eat!” “Do we have to?”, they groaned in unison, but a raised eyebrow from you was enough to get them to move. You shook your head, watching your friends set the table and a weird sense of security and happiness washed over you. It weirdly felt like home. Just… safe. Although a few people were still missing. Smiling at the view, you saw Tamaki and Haruhi walk down the stairs, bickering again, but stopping as they saw the almost fully set breakfast table. “(Y/n) have you done all this?”, Tamaki asked, but you shook your head. “I had some help." You smiled at Mori. “You could have woken me up, I would have helped”, Haruhi protested, but you shushed her quickly. “That’s exactly, why I didn’t wake you! You deserved some rest.” You looked around. “Well, Kyouya-senpai is still missing.” You checked your watch. “I better go wake him up.” Suddenly you felt the gaze of all the hosts on you. “Better don’t do that”, Hikaru said. “Not if you want to live”, Kaoru finished. “What do you mean?” “Kyouya has the blood type AB”, Tamaki explained, but you still were a little confused. “So?” “Kyouya really doesn’t like to be woken up”, Honey said, while already stuffing his face with his first pancake. “You are not the one to talk”, Mori solely commented on his cousin’s utterance, but since you also could not really place this, you just sighed. “Ah, come on, guys, it can’t be that bad … right?” “Try it at your own risk”, the twins said, shrugging, while already sitting down at the breakfast table and you gulped. “Well, I think he is going to be angrier, if we let him sleep and we miss our car back, so I guess I’ll… try my best.” But you had barely finished the sentence, when you were already beginning to doubt your idea.

Carefully, you made your way up the stairs and turned to the left where you knew Kyouya's room was located. You knocked carefully, but didn’t get a reply. You knocked again. Still nothing. You gulped heavily and decided to go in. Once you had stepped inside your eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darkness and suddenly you weren’t so sure anymore of what you were doing here. You had entered Kyouya’s room without his permission, to wake him up, also without his permission. Even morning people would have every right to be pissed at you and he apparently was the complete opposite of a morning person. Biting your lip you questioned why you were here again and thought about simply turning around, it was not too late to just leave again, but then you remembered the feeling of seeing everybody help out in the kitchen. And how happy that had made you. And how much you had noticed Kyouya’s absence in this moment. A part of you really wanted him to be part of this memory. Maybe it was foolish, but now that you were already inside his room you decided there was no going back. You took a deep breath, and carefully stepped closer to his bed. You looked at his sleeping face and couldn’t help but notice how relaxed he looked. You smiled a little to yourself. His hair was messy from sleep and he seemed unusually relaxed. He was always so composed, seeing him in this state was highly unusual, but you had to admit that you liked it. The messy hair was weirdly attractive. You swalled down the lump in your throat and knelt down beside him. “Kyouya-senpai”, you whispered, but he still didn’t move. “Kyouya-senpai”, you tried again, this time a bit louder. You sighed. This was not working. You stood back up again, and carefully moved his shoulder. “Kyouya-sen…” But this was as far as you got, for in the next second you felt Kyouya’s grip on your wrist that had just tried to shake him awake. The sudden pull of his touch made you fall over. Your upper body collided with his and your faces were just inches apart from each other as you now stared into his eyes. The usual brown-greyish colour had turned black and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he looked at you. “First you won’t let me sleep and now you wake me early in the morning?” His voice was ice cold. Wait, not let him sleep, what have you …Oh no, you must have woken him up last night with your crying. Immediately your face went bright red, thinking that he had heard your absolute breakdown. Your mouth went dry and your thoughts went blank. How much had he heard? Had he heard you cry? Had he heard anything at all? You felt your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. You felt his chest moving with his chest against yours, his fingers burning into your wrist and you were way too aware of the warmth radiating from him. You tried to think of something to say, anything. You wanted to apologize for waking him both yesterday and today, but you realized you were close enough to smell the faint scent of cedar and lavender that always seemed to surround him and it clouded your thoughts. All you could perceive was the warmth of his skin against yours and how close his face was. This was getting really weird, you had to say something, anything to make this better. Just apologise, (y/n), apolo … “I made breakfast.” You slapped yourself internally, but nothing else would come over your lips. You swallowed hard and looked down at him. His eyes seemed to regain a bit of colour, although, he had still gripped your wrist tightly and seemed slightly murderous. “You… made breakfast?”, he asked back. “Yeah.” “…” “…” “You wake me up ... to tell me you made breakfast.” “Yeah.” He seemed to think for a second, before you could feel his chest begin to vibrate with a low chuckle. “You made breakfast”, he repeated again and finally let go of your wrist. Right away you scrambled back up to your feet, although you were immediately missing the warmth. Kyouya sat up and looked at you. It was impossible for you to guess what he was thinking. He still radiated a slight murderous spirit, but at least he didn’t seem like he wanted to decapitate you on the spot anymore. “I’ll be right down.”

Trying to steady your breath you made your way back down the stairs, your legs a little wobbly from the second close call with death in the last two days and only now noticed that all the other hosts, including Haruhi had gathered at the foot of the staircase, looking up at you expectantly. Before you could react, you found yourself in Tamaki’s embrace. “Oh, (y/n), you can’t imagine how glad we are that you are alive and well!” You blinked a few times. It had been scary, but now he was overdoing it. “I am fine”, you tried to get out between him squeezing you, and it took the help of both twins to peel him away from you. “You don’t look fine”, they observed and you realized, that you probably still were blushing quite heavily. They seemed to mistake it for fear. “No worries, (y/n)-chan! You’re safe now!”, Honey assured you with a serious gaze. “And now sit down and have breakfast with us! A few pancakes will help you get better!”

It didn’t take long for Kyouya to come downstairs, neatly dressed and styled as always. It was as if he was a completely different person. “Good morning”, he wished everyone at the table and they responded. “Good morning, (y/n)”, he said to you in particular, his voice cold, and you knew he was still mad at you for waking him up. “Good morning”, you mumbled back. You had just gotten up to get Honey a few more pancakes, and immediately made your way back into the kitchen to grab another bowl of rice, a miso soup and some of the fish from yesterday you had been frying up again. You placed them one by one in front of Kyouya who looked at you with an unreadable gaze. “I said I made breakfast”, you mumbled, and shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “And I remember you once said you don’t really like sweet stuff, so I made something savory, too.” Kyouya didn’t reply and you didn’t dare to look into his face so you made your way back to your seat to finish your own breakfast. You tried to ignore him, but somehow you caught your gaze wandering back towards him, eyeing the food in front of him suspiciously. You knew it tasted fine, you had had some yourself and Mori had also told you it’s delicious, so you weren’t sure why you were so worried about what Kyouya might think about it. You chewed on a bite of rice, and acted as if you were listening to something Haruhi was telling you, but actually you were watching the dark-haired host from the corner of your eyes, curious about how he'd react. You watched him separate a piece of fish and put it in his mouth. He halted for a second and looked at you, almost surprised. Your gaze met his for a second, but he immediately averted his gaze and focused it on the food again. You had to turn back to Haruhi, so that she wouldn’t realize that you hadn’t been listening to a word she said, but you could have sworn that you had seen a small smirk on Kyouya’s face, as he took a second bite and somehow this made you irrationally happy.

Kyouya for his share did not remember when he had last eaten a homecooked meal like that. Trying to show as little emotion as possible, he nonetheless gladly realized that she seemed to be feeling better. A small smile played on her lips now and he watched her talk and laugh with the other hosts. That sight might have even been worth getting woken up for. Might.

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magnifythesun · 7 days

Note

CCO Anthony Padilla and President Ian Hecox of Smosh

ooooooo let's goooo!

post writing notes: YAY OKAY IVE DONE IT!!! so i read this and immediately assumed you meant a business au and i for the life of me have not been able to think of what kind of business they would run in this fic SO it is "the company" and they make money and also have shareholders and they call their employees their "crew" and dont ask me any details i was unable to figure it out!! but i think this turned out pretty cute?? more angsty than i was anticipating but with comfort i promise.

also i stayed g rated since i wasn't sure what rating you were comfortable with but Company(TM) President Ian and CCO Anthony could get it on i think if anyone wants that in the future lmao, just don't expect any details on what the hell they're selling sorry lmao! also i know nothing about business

bonus points if you can spot the direct reference to the wikipedia article for the term CCO.

---

The responsibility of being in charge of the company weighed heavily on Ian. It had been at its worst when Anthony had left, the fear of driving the company into the ground, of not being a good enough leader, of failing to thrive without his right-hand man.

When Anthony had returned, it was like a breath of the freshest air. Although Ian maintained his position as President, Anthony taking the role of CCO was possibly the best business decision Ian had ever made. Anthony had always been best with the marketing and business strategy, with an eye for the best trends to get their company booming. A huge weight felt like it was moved off Ian's shoulders. He could just focus on the top-level stuff and taking care of his employees and leave the marketing, which Ian had always hated, to Anthony.

Still, this didn't mean Ian didn't get stressed anymore. Ian loved his work, but sometimes it became overwhelming, the way his mind spun around, worrying about the whether he'd assigned the right person to the right project, whether his employees were happy, and so forth. Over the course of each work week, the panic would build up inside, setting him on edge until he would lie awake at night, staring up at his bedroom ceiling as his mind flew.

Reprieve came from an unexpected corner.

There was a routine now. At the end of the work week, there was always a meeting, and he and Anthony would attend. Ian would mostly listen, too stressed and sleep-deprived to think of any meaning contribution. Plus, Anthony was better at leading the meeting anyway, as it was mostly about that week's sales. Afterward, Anthony would talk him down from all his worries, and Ian would be able to breathe until the next week began. This week was no different.

At the end of the meeting, everyone filed out, excited to book it home for the weekend, leaving Ian and Anthony alone in the big meeting room. Ian let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging, letting the last shards of his confident facade crumble and fall. Anthony glanced over at him as he shuffled his papers back into order.

"You alright?" He asked this every week.

"You know me," Ian waved a hand dismissively, "I get in my head."

"You're too hard on yourself, man," Anthony tapped the papers on the desk with finality. "Didn't you hear anything I said just now? Our sales are up, stockholders happy, and we even get to give a big bonus to the whole 'crew,' just like you always talk about doing."

Ian shook his head like he could knock the words away, standing up to face the big window that was letting in the light of the late afternoon sun.

"This year is going great, Ian! Why won't you let yourself celebrate this success that we've built?"

Anthony sounded tired. Ian couldn't blame him. They'd had this conversation every week for the last six months. However, this time, Anthony's words just couldn't shake the dread inside him.

This year, things were going great. But it wasn't that long ago when it had been the whole company on Ian's shoulders, margins in the red, the heavy weight of responsibility for all of his people's livelihoods crushing him into the ground. What's to say this year's success wouldn't be short-lived? Was there already something he wasn't seeing, some sign of trouble to come?

And what if, when things got rough... What if Anthony...

A gentle warm grip on his wrist startled him out of his thoughts. Ian turned, surprised. They'd had this conversation a million times, but Anthony always talked him out of it, sitting over at the table while Ian paced out his anxieties. He'd never come to join him by the window, and certainly had never—

Anthony tugged him slightly so that they were facing each other directly, the sunlight filtering through Anthony's hair so that the light brown highlights he'd gotten sparkled. Ian, for a blessed moment, couldn't think of anything else at all. Then, Anthony's hands took his own.

"I," Anthony started, not seeming sure of himself, "I get this feeling. Every week, I reassure you about the company. About how we're doing. About how our 'crew' seems really happy about where we're at, how we're seeing success at levels we could barely dream of back when we first started this." Anthony paused, his face filled with such genuine worry that Ian felt the hot sting of guilt roil in his stomach. "But, Ian, telling you all that doesn't seem to help you for very long."

Ian sighed, looking off to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"I think I do," Anthony cut him off, reaching up to grab his shoulders instead. "Ian, I don't even know if I can say this in a way that will fully convince you, but I—," He pushed through with growing confidence, "I'm not leaving this company again."

How did this man always see right through him?

"I'm not leaving you again," Anthony said, quieter, and Ian couldn't stop the tears that were coming to his eyes. "Ever. Do you understand?"

Ian reached up and swiped the tears away. "Yeah," He said, shakily.

"I'm not leaving." Anthony shook him slightly, the look in his eyes so serious that it began to chip away at the pit in Ian's stomach that had sat there for years.

"Right. Yeah," Ian nodded his head.

"I'm not. We're gonna be running this thing for years," Anthony smiled, "Into the ground if necessary."

Ian laughed, "Okay, okay. I believe you." And he actually did. Another, heavier weight that he hadn't realized he was still carrying felt like it was melting away. "Alright, good."

They stood there just a little too long, Anthony's hands warm on Ian's shoulders, the sun bringing out each delicate shade of brown in Anthony's eyes. And again, for a moment, Ian couldn't think about anything else.

"Right, so." Anthony let go and walked back over to the table. Ian took in a slow, deep breath and let it out as Anthony grabbed his papers and shoved them in his briefcase. "I don't know if you even realized with your President head so far above the clouds, but we just wrapped a fiscal year!"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Of course I know that."

"Just checking!" Anthony beamed at him. "So, wanna celebrate? How about soup at your place?"

That startled a sharp laugh out of Ian. "That's the biggest celebration you can think of?"

"Look," Anthony held up a haughty finger. "As your CCO, I think making soup tonight will allow us to achieve our long-term objectives."

Ian scoffed. "Yeah, your long-term objective to have me cook you soup," Ian said dryly, grabbing his own briefcase and heading toward the door.

"No, hey, hear me out!" Anthony followed him out. "I've got a whole pitch for it and everything!"

#my fanfic #asks #ianthony #☀️🔍#my apologies for the long delay between prompt fills! i started a new job last week and i have been adjusting lol #hope you all enjoy!! <3

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enrosadiraanisaaa · 5 months

Text

Within Session .Part Six.

Holy shit, happy December and Merry Christmas y'all! I'm so happy to finally post another chapter of Within Session. Yes, its been a while but starting a new job is stressful. Thankfully, I figured how to manage time. This part is extremely long, more than 5k. words. I'm proud of myself! This fanfic consists of Yandere!Leon Kennedy. I intend for this fic to progressively become disturbing and fucked up with each chapter. While the first few chapters will be tamed, expect the following in this series:

~Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced Breeding, Degradation, NonCon, Gang Banging, Forced Pregnancy, Somnophilia, Blackmail, Manipulation, Abuse, Pet Names, Obsessive Behavior (Duh), Torture, Constraints, Mentions of Blood & Gore, Mental Degradation, Toxic Relationship, Sexual Abuse, Masturbation, Drugged & Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity, Forced Penetration…

Also you will be retconned (Too bad 😏): Female Reader, 24 Years old and from Texas 💝 (yeehaw)

This story was purely written with RE 4 (Remake) Leon in mind. So no puppy dog Leon from RE2 or DILF Leon from later games & movies. The story takes place several months after the events of RE4. Yay, you’re in 2004!

I plan to make this series long and fleshed out, but I promise what you want will hit you like a train~🚂

This story does contain +18 content (NSFW) 🔞 If you’re a minor, please go read a real book or something, don’t cry to me when your mom finds your shit.

Summary

As an on sight therapist for STRATCOM in Nebraska, you’re tasked with providing quality therapy for US military personnel and government agents. After working at the headquarters for 6 months, Hunnigan recommends you to a notable government agent, Leon Kennedy, who is in need of therapy. After a number of sessions with you, Leon notices a substantial stability in his sanity yet is threatened when you are offered a position back home, closer to your family and friends. Your choice doesn’t sit well with one particular client, who can’t fathom you out of your role as his therapist. Leon has found a means of keeping his precious therapist and realizes you are the key to his permanent solace. You were obviously destined to be his in some form. Why dream of him letting you go?

A\N: I was heavily inspired by Satoshi Kon’s Perfect Blue 💙, ExploreVenus’s Something Permanent and Guardian Angel by NexysWorld. We're finally getting into the nitty gritty of the story. Reminder that if you're not comfortable with male obsession and stalking, this is not for you. But if you're fucked up like me, please enjoy this! This is a really long chapter, hope y'all like it. 😉 Please comment on what how you feel about this chapter, I'm a whore for feedback. Hate it? Comment. Love it? Comment, por favor.

This is the longest chapter with 5k words, pretty much twice than I typically write for a chapter. Keep this in mind if you are wondering why, it seems longer.

Hope y'all enjoy the sixth part! More to come 💝~ Anisssa أنيسة

Here is Part One , Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five of Within Session

Blue Monday

For several months, the disdain for the winter season was prominent as the days were still short of daylight. Along with the absence of familiar faces from family and friends from home, winter blues roused thoughts of returning to home. Even with the presence of Mateo and his buddies around at the house, it never satiated your homesickness. The transition into this New Year was strenuous, yet you continued the routine of attending to clients at the USSSTRATCOM headquarters during the week, the occasional LAN parties hosted on weekends with the dudes, and friend dates with Hunnigan. Still, you could not deny there were urges to pull out your suitcase and call quits on the government position. Home was not here in Nebraska.

Now in the middle of February, the extensive drive home seemed to kindle symptoms of burnout. Upon opening the entrance door to your apartment, the dead silence prompted your eyes to glance around the living room for the presence of your roommate, Mateo. For once you arrived home before him. With every step further into your living room, the floor boards seemed to creak under pressure. Your body immediately gravitates towards the couch, slumping on the cushions to sprawl out in exhaustion. In one hand, you gripped your purse while the other held a bouquet of flowers.

Until the last session earlier today, it did not dawn on you that today was Valentine's Day. Leon, of all people, arrived at session with a bouquet of roses in his possession with his usual smuggish smirk. The gesture caught you off guard that you simply accepted the bouquet without protest. This questionable offering from him was unpredicted, a moment of vulnerability impelling you to accidentally violate a simple policy between client and therapist.

A groan emits from your mouth, decisively kicking off the heels to note how sore your feet were. No doubt the roses in your hand were beautiful, but they were from a client on this particular holiday. You grunt in disapproval, instead eliciting to assume he gifted the roses for his appreciation for your dedication to him as his therapist. Yes, those thoughts brought peace of mind. But you then realized the price tag sticker on the bottom of the bouquet.

“Holy fuck! Who spends $80 on a bouquet of roses? Well shit, now I’ll feel guilty if I toss them out… Dammit, Leon…”

Leon Kennedy, a client you have been providing treatment with for the last three months since November. Along with his substantial progress in his intervention goals, you had the opportunity to further learn about the peculiar character that is Leon. Every session he never failed to crack jokes on whim or comment snide remarks, his attempt to speak off topic. Beside his efforts to conceal his discomfort with humor, there was also an underlying suspicion that Leon was withholding details regarding certain discussions. He avoids topics through escape by immediately steering the conversation. Every instance that Leon avoids a subject, you take note of it, knowing somehow you would eventually touch base on it.

With the bouquet of roses in your hand, you notice several detached rose petals on the couch cushion. A pang of guilt coursed in your chest, registering the maltreatment of the flowers in your grasp. Despite the aching pain in your feet, you stand from the couch to walk to the kitchen in search of a vase. You were no flower arranger but the glass vase you found complimented the red of the petals. Next session you would have to bestow some gratitude to Leon, since the guy deserves some appreciation for the gift. Maybe the man really was trying to express his reverence, Valentine’s Day was not all about romance, right?

In the moment of admiring the roses you placed in the glass vase, you realize that it has been a while since you have received something like this from anyone. While you let out a gentle huff, your hands reach out to rearrange several roses until you were appeased with the arrangement. Then the abrupt ringing of your phone from your pocket interrupted your trance from the vase of roses, a phone number unbeknownst to you displayed on the small screen of the flip phone.

‘It’s an area code from Texas… is it from San Antonio, Dallas, or Austin? But who calls late on a Monday night?’ You decipher, debating the thought to answer the call knowing the area code was from one of the major metroplex cities.

This time you sigh, adjusting your throat to answer in a pleasant tone. “Uh, hello?” You greet hesitantly, holding the pink flip phone to your ear.

A gentle feminine voice responds with “Hello…” along with your full name.

The utterance of your first and last name from the unknown voice nearly startles you to the core, immediately furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“This is her… Uh, who are you?” You ask, slight concern obvious in your question. Was this call a scam?

On the other end of the line, the female voice chuckles lightly into the phone,”Sorry to call this late, I am from a counseling program partnered with a foster care facility based here in Austin. We are looking for new recruits with the right credentials. I came across your application from a year ago and I am curious if you would still be interested in doing an interview and perhaps be interested in joining our team? From your application, I can see your address is in Corpus Christi.”

At that moment you seat yourself on a chair in the dining room, glancing at the adorned vase of roses on the dining room table. This was an unmistakable opportunity that manifested itself in one phone call, but you could not allow yourself to become excited so soon.

“Unfortunately, I am not living in Texas at the moment. I actually took a therapist position here in Omaha, Nebraska. I won’t be able to schedule an interview, I apologize,” You express in a solemn tone, assuming this would end the conversation.

“Oh, if you don’t mind…. We can do an interview right now over the phone.” The lady mentions, followed by silence on her end.

You direct your eyes at a digital clock in the distance, noticing the time was a little past 9PM, which meant no minutes were being wasted.

“Sure, why not…” You respond, guessing this opportunity was unprecedented to simply dismiss.

For the next 30 minutes, you were asked a series of questions, mostly about your experience and qualities. In your efforts, you answer professionally while you slug against the dinning chair in exhaustion. Your hand became cramped as you gripped the flip phone to your ear. Every time you glimpse back to the vase of roses, you notice several petals shed from the roses. With one rose petal, you twindle it between your fingers as you speak to the woman over the phone.

“I’m impressed with you, I really think you would be a great addition to our team. I’d like to offer a full time position, with a Monday through Friday schedule. Instead of hourly, you will be paid a salary with benefits. If you need help with moving, we can pay your first few months of rent wherever you decide to move in Austin. How does that sound?” The lady expresses, seemingly to be entirely impressed with you.

For a moment, you were hesitant as the offer seemed too good to be true. “When can I start?” You then ask, feeling the sweat in your palm as you grip the phone to your ear.

“Since you said you’re out living in Nebraska, I can give you a month… March 14th on a Monday, and we will run a background check and proof that you can work in the US. Nothing major, it’s usually quick. For any certifications you need, we will pay for them…” The woman explains, her voice cheery with every word.

By the end of her explanation, your body involuntarily begins to shake. Several thoughts coursed in your mind yet the most prominent thought was obvious… you were finally returning home.

“I look forward to starting,” You respond, matching her voice of enthusiasm.

“That is great to hear… Well, I will let you enjoy the rest of your night. Please call this number again if you have any questions or updates,” She infers.

“Thank you, have a great night!” You add before clamping the flip phone shut, ending the call.

In that moment, your body slumps in the chair while a long exhale of breath escapes your mouth. Every part of your body was jittery to the point it was difficult to contain despite the laborious deep breaths exercises and your hands crossing to squeeze your upper arms. No doubt, the ticket home seemed to magically appear on your lap. Maybe the universe had finally answered your prayer, and within a month you would travel back home.

Tears formed, your eyes evidently becoming glossy while you were seated slumped on the dining room chair. With tears flowing down your face, a part of you felt ridiculous for becoming this emotional.

The front door knob jiggle, the sound of keys from the other side of the door interrupting your mini crying session. Once the door opens, you whip your body to direct your attention to Mateo standing there in the entrance. The evidence of crying was still conspicuous as your cheeks were entirely wet and your eyes were puffy.

“Ah shit, did I come home at a bad time?” Mateo mutters, cautiously setting his black bag on the floor by the entrance after he shuts and locks the front door.

“No, you little jackass. I just got a job offer back home… I start in a month,” You respond in a sincere tone, cracking a subtle smile to Mateo.

Mateo appeared taken back, now walking into a plethora of confounding information. With a few steps into the dinning room, he sits beside you at the dining table. He notices the vase of roses placed on the center of the table yet does not comment on them for now.

“Are you moving because of me?” Mateo questions, a pout forming on his face. He was honestly a child at times.

“Huh? No, absolutely not because of you… I just think I have overstayed here in Nebraska, and need to return home so I can be near family,” You explain, your tone heartfelt as you glance at Mateo with a grin.

Mateo deeply exhales, his brown eyes narrowing at the sight of you, “I guess I'll allow you to leave… on the condition you visit,” He expresses smugly.

A soft chuckle emits from your mouth, nodding in agreement to his prerequisite,” Deal…But I plan on moving out in three weeks. Tomorrow, I am putting in my two weeks resignation letter. Some of my clients are not going to be happy.”

To your verdict, Mateo expresses a solemn smile before his hand points to the roses you arranged in the vase earlier,” So… who bought you these?” He asks with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll let you guess, but the answer is obvious,” You respond bluntly.

“Leon?” He answers immediately with his lips curved in a grin.

“Mhmm..” You hum, scratching the side of your hair with a finger. “He arrived at session with them, and pretty much shoved them in my arms. Never been so caught off guard,” You then comment.

With a sudden snap of your fingers, you jolt up to stand before scurrying across the room to your bag, “Oh shit, I almost forgot, he also gave me a card. I haven’t opened it yet.” Within a moment, your hand digs inside your beg to then reveal a red envelope once you pull it out. By holding the red envelope in hand, you return to seat yourself at the dining room table beside Mateo, ripping the side of the envelope with your hand. A blank expression instantly appears on your face once you slide out the Valentine’s card. By opening it, you notice a gift card and Leon’s writing inside the card, “Mateo… He gave me a gift card to Chili's… Dude, look what this says…’To the spiciest therapist I know’... What the fuck does that mean?!” You glance at Mateo, biting your lip from amusement and disturbance simultaneously.

Mateo only burst out laughing, snatching the card from your hand to read Leon’s writing closely, “Damn girl, what you be doing to him during your sessions, huh?” Mateo questions you in an accusatory tone with a hint of humor behind it.

“Absolutely nothing… Goodnight!” You huff, snatching the card from his grasp back into your possession before stomping off to your bedroom.

By next morning, you were able to have written a two weeks notice letter explaining your resignation with a clear date that you would be concluding your tenure with USSTRATCOM as a therapist officially on Tuesday, March 1st. The following days were heart-wrenching, revealing to clients that you would be concluding your position as their therapist and only a few sessions with them remained. Several clients congratulated your new position while others simply were in denial of your departure, or expressed their grief to you.

Friday eventually arrived with the anticipation of preparing the last client with the news of your resignation. Instead of being seated at your desk, you waited patiently for the arrival of Leon on one of the two chairs that you would usually sit during the session. Every minute that passed, you contemplated on how to deliver that in a few weeks, you would no longer be his therapist. Last Monday, he gifted flowers and a gift card to you, clearly there was a modicum of admiration from him. Would he congratulate the advancement in your career or distress over your inevitable departure like other clients? You could not rationalize with yourself on why you were nervous to tell him.

Right at 5PM, you heard the knock on the door of your office. Leon was always on time for his sessions when he was not sent away on missions. For his division, you still did not know the kind of work he did but only that he was revered as a top dog in his position.

Upon hearing his steps, your eyes instantly gravitate to his ocean eyes piercing back at you as he treads further inside the office. Leon seats himself on the chair across from you, an obvious grin plastered on his face. No words were exchanged, but your thoughts spiraled,’Shit, should I tell him now?’ Your thoughts debated but you shook your head on the notion.

“Leon, how has it been these past few days?” You then ask, mustering a soft smile on your lips.

“Great, since I knew I’ll be seeing you today,”Leon smooths, leaning comfortably back into his chair.

Your lips falter, steering to not encourage this behavior from your client. “Leon, how many times have I repeated to you to respect the boundaries between us?” You remind him, followed by a soft sigh. This was his mindless flirting that recently sprung up in sessions.

“Too many times, miss. I apologize,” Leon chuckles, averting his eyes to the side at the floor. Ultimately, those icy eyes return their gaze to you even though his face was directed away. “So Miss, how were those roses I gave you last time?” He questions you, his eyebrow quirks as he awaits your answer.

“They were nice, I was able to place them in a vase. Thank you… But understand that as a therapist, I could lose my license for accepting gifts, okay?” You remark, your tone firm with blank expression.

His tongue clicks along with a small nod, “Oh no, I can’t have that happen. I- We need you here…” Leon mentions, his gaze studying your face.

As you examine the features of his face while he spoke, you realize how exhaustive his features appeared. Before he could utter another word regarding gifts, you interfere,”Hey, how are you sleeping as of late these past few nights?”

In that moment, his grin deflates in an almost surprised expression. Leon adjusted his throat, shifting in the chair.“I’m experiencing nightmares…” Leon admits, blushes blooming on his cheeks.

You expected him to retort with humor or downplay his exhaustion. But Leon was actually opening himself to you about his nightmares. This was an opportunity too good to let pass by. By extending your arm to your desk, your hand grabs a notebook and pen. Every detail that he verbalizes, you need written down.

With your pen awaiting on the lines on the paper, your eyes return to his face, the bleak blue in his eyes not as bright as they usually are. “Describe what you remember from your dreams, Leon.”

“Burning bodies, blood caked on my skin that did not belong to me, and things I can’t even explain…” He shifts in his seat again, his voice feeble.

His narrative could not paint a picture for you, the few details not being enough, but only suggested he endured an incident so horrifying. On paper, your pen scribbled down the only two details he described: burning bodies and blood on skin.

“Leon, can you recall an incident you might have seen or experienced?” You ask, bringing the top of the pen to your lips.

After a moment, his head shook,” No ma’am, I simply have watched Dawn of the Dead too many times,” He chuckled, seemingly forcing a smirk.

If you could roll your eyes at this moment, you would. An internal scream echoed in your head, and you nearly wanted to slap your forehead with the notebook in your hand. When he finally opens up about something regarding his trauma, he fucking does this bullshit… again.

Instead of proceeding in your usual passive tone, you adjust your voice to become stern,”Leon, do you honestly need this service?”

He was clearly offended at the change in tone in your voice, his eyes narrowing at you. An expression you never expected to witness him guise, yet you kept your composure. “Yes, I do,” He merely responded, his voice consisting of no humor.

“Then please help me, help you. These past few months you have progressed, but you would honestly be further in your treatment if you allow yourself to open up. I’m not expecting you to explain everything in one session, but understand if you were a bit more cooperative, I can guide you more efficiently through your trauma. I’m not a therapist that wants you to be in therapy forever…” You breathe out along with a huff.

The words seem to echo into the room as the room falls into silence, Leon just sitting there with no words to exchange. Nonetheless, every word spoken from your lips was valid. But on the back of your mind, time was inching closer for you to reveal the news.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, miss. I know I’m your favorite client,” Leon retorts, that same smug expression on his face.

This session was going nowhere, 30 minutes somehow wasted. Time was working against you, so it would be easier to rip the band aid off the wound, right?

“There was never a competition between my clients in the first place. I regard and care for all my clients equally, Leon,” You retort, directly staring at his eyes. “Also…” Your voice proceeds along with an adjustment in your throat. At this point, it can not be helped, he deserved to know. “Uh, to simplify it… in a few weeks I will no longer be working with USSTRATCOM, I’m moving back to Texas. But don’t worry, I already notified the next therapist on your case on your goals and what we worked on.”

The heart in your chest was beating, feeling anxiety ridden, but nonetheless you revealed the big announcement. Then that same tense quiet air settled into the office once more, Leon had a blank stare directed at your face. Those eyes of his blinked several times before he mustered a warm smile. “That’s very sudden news, but congratulations,” He breathed, his fist clenching on his thighs.

While an exhale of air escapes your nose, the ache in your chest seems to ease away. This time, you permit yourself to smile in response to the commendation from Leon. “I really appreciate the congratulations from you… But we will still conduct session the same until I leave. So tell me…what is an incident that may be a considerable source that prompts your nightmares, Leon?”

“Wait-” He utters, tilting his head as his mouth tries to form words. “Can you at least explain why you’re leaving? I know three months is not a long time, but I have made so much progress with you…”

His voice betrays him, nearly breaking yet Leon sustains a smile on his face. Subtle taps on the floor peak your attention, your eyes glancing down to notice his foot tapping on the floor.

“Sure, I can explain… Um, I have close family in Texas, and my next job allows me to be closer to them,” You answer simply, keeping your voice calm.

You see Leon nod in his head in acceptance as he glances down to his hands resting on his lap. “I see… just… you don’t seem like a Texas gal..” He chuckles, bringing his gaze back to you.

A laugh emits from your mouth, not expecting Leon to return to his whits suddenly. “If you expected me to wear a big cowboy hat and speak with a twang, I might just punch you,” You suggest with an empty threat, raising a fist in his direction while your other hand holds the notebook to your lap.

Leon lets out a fake gasp while appearing offended. “Hmm, sounds like someone is in need of anger management.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” You retort, pursing your lips at his remark.

“I think? Oh, honey, I am funny…”

‘Honey?’ This little endearing nickname riled your core, perceiving it as condescending, nonetheless you opt to let this slide. With a small sigh, your eyes peer to the clock on the wall, silently thanking the universe that only 5 minutes of the session remained.

“Alright comedian…” You speak, leaning over the armrest of the chair to grab the clipboard from your desk, “It’s that time you give your signature, and that will be all for today’s session.”

Leon chuckled once you extended the clipboard to him before he wrote his grand signature: ‘Leon Kennedy’ on the signature line. He extended it back to you, except his expression appeared solemn.

“So you really are leaving Nebraska? Quitting USSTRATCOM to move back to Texas?” He inquires, no hint of humor in his voice.

Your head nods, only responding with a hum in agreement.

“Well I’m happy for you… I will see you next week,” He expresses, giving a brief smile before he leaves the office.

“Bye Leon!” You call out, proceeding to shut and lock the office door after he leaves.

An exasperated groan iterates into the empty room, letting out that strenuous hold of breath out your chest. While the complicated part of informing all the clients was settled, now the actual moving process was the next course of action. At that moment, you reluctantly retreat to your desk, knowing that the legal documents, session notes, and insurance signature sheets need to be submitted to your supervisor before you can leave for home. It was Friday, all you wanted to do was drink to your heart's content, play video games, and pass out on the couch. Typical Friday night shit.

In time, all necessary documents were submitted to your supervisor. The familiar brunt whirl of flurries stung the skin of your cheeks once you step outside the building, being welcomed into the dark parking lot. Every step along the parking lot was careful while you walked towards your car, seeing the red among the white.

Even inside the car, your body shivered, desperate to warm up. The inconvenience of the winter night sky entirely made it difficult to see in your car, but you were able to insert the car key into the ignition. With anticipation for warm air, your wrist turns the key forward.

Kkkkkkk.

The sound of the car struggling to start only furrowed your eyebrows in response.

Naturally, you turn the key one more time. Two times. Three times. With a disgruntled groan, you continue to turn the key, your foot persistently pressing the gas pedal.

“No no no no. Baby don’t do this to me now!”

With every desperate turn of the key, the car only responded with jerks before dying completely. Hot visible breaths huffed from your mouth, that bitter cold was already piercing through the fabric of your clothes. Your hand pulls out the key from the ignition and your foot ceases from stepping on the gas pedal. That sense of anxiety crept into your chest once more at the awareness you were oblivious to the malfunction in your car.

Your hand decides to reach down to pull down a small lever, hearing the familiar pop of the hood. While hesitant, you then retrieve your flashlight from the middle console before returning to the brunt winter weather as you exit the driver’s seat. Once the hood is propped up on the stand, you click the flashlight to instantly illuminate the engine under the hood. The problem was then apparent, the light revealing ripped spark plunges that were supposed to be connected to the engine.

“Oh, what the fuck…” The words seem to let out, unsure how this happened to your car.

Crunches of ice behind you alleviated you from deep thought, prompting you to immediately whirl your body to the source of sound. Light from the flashlight directs to a broad figure, startling you to where you nearly scream. Your hand points the flashlight up and you recognize the familiar sandy blonde hair.

“Leon?” You mutter into the air, your eyes widening at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” You then ask, pointing the flashlight down from his face out of courtesy.

“I heard a car struggling to start, so I thought I would check it out…” He responds, proceeding to walk to the open hood of your car. Leon glances down to the flashlight in your hand, gesturing you to hand it to him. “Here,” You whisper, extending the flashlight to him. While he holds the flashlight, he directs it down to the engine, “Damn, your spark plugs are damaged,” He remarks, his demeanor confirming your earlier speculation.

“They were recently replaced, this shouldn’t have happened,” You retort, your tone obviously confused.

“Well they look like they've been bitten… Maybe a small animal searching for warmth crawled inside and decided to chew them out,” Leon suggested, returning his attention to you.

Leon’s revelation was plausible but when you return your glance to the spark plugs, the damage appeared like a clean cut as if they were physically cut by something. Regardless of how they were damaged, your current situation ensured that you were stranded in the parking lot of your job. The road conditions were horrible, piled with snow, and you honestly did not know how long a tow truck would get there.

While you contemplate your options, you hear Leon adjust his throat. “If you like, I could drive you home. It’s cold and dark now, there’s not much you can do," he suggests.

Spark plugs were easy to install, but to travel to a nearby auto shop was complicated enough in this weather. Your head immediately shook at his offer, shifting your attention to his face. “Thanks for the offer, Leon, but I have to decline. I’m still your t-“

“Therapist. I know. Miss, it is dark and freezing. A tow truck would take an hour… I can’t leave you out here,” Leon interjects, his tone stern to prove a point. “Come on, let me take you home. It wouldn’t be an issue for me at all,” He continues, proceeding to let down the hood of your car.

Deep down, you knew his proposal would violate ethical codes as a therapist, but his persistence swayed your verdict. Your body was visibly shaking while you stood there, glancing around the parking lot to ensure no one was watching. “Fine, but straight to my house, Leon.” You sternly express, going to quickly retrieve your purse before returning to his side.

You hear chuckles from Leon while you follow him to a black SUV, obviously a government vehicle. “Perks of being an agent,” Leon mentions, his voice laced with humor. It honestly seemed he was enjoying this.

By sitting in the passenger seat, you experience the loving warmth of heat from the vents once Leon turns on the car. A pang of guilt coursed at the realization you were leaving your car behind at the parking lot. “So you drive a Nissan Z? Didn’t think you’re into cars like that, especially with turbo,” Leon strikes a conversation, driving off the premises of the USSTRATCOM parking lot.

“Ah, it was a parting gift from my dad. She is practically a family member…” You say, blushing a bit.

“There’s no shame in that, it’s actually interesting you’re into cars. But I could definitely swing by in the morning and I could personally switch out the spark plugs,” Leon offers, shifting his attention to you in the passenger seat.

“If replacing the spark plugs is no hassle, then I am okay with it…”

Leon grins, ecstatic that you conceded to his assistance instead of blatantly rejecting his offer. For a moment, he remained quiet as he drove on the snowy desolate streets before eventually realizing he did not know your address. “Ah shit, I got ahead of myself. Tell me where to drive from here to get to your home,” Leon nervously chuckles.

In response, you nod with an assuring smile, ”That’s fine…”

Other than Leon’s rock music playing on the stereo, the car ride became quiet as the exchange of words died down. The moments you only spoke were when you provided directions to your house. Soon the sight of the familiar Victorian house was in view, although you notice a line of cars parked in the driveway and street, along with an absurd amount of people hanging around the house. Once Leon gradually slowed infront of the house, he turned his head to you sitting in the passenger seat.

“This is your house?” He asks, turning down the volume of his rock music.

A sheepish smile appeared on your lips, nodding to Leon,”Yeah, I guess my roommate decided to throw a party.”

Leon returns his attention to the amount of men chilling on the front porch, drinking beers or smoking cigarettes despite the freezing air. You see Leon narrow his eyes at the scene yet smirks when he glances back to you. “Looks fun… but I will see you in the morning, right? Is 9AM alright?”

Your head nods frantically, presenting a pleased smile on your lips,”Uhh, yeah. It sounds good,” You reply, somehow almost forgetting about your car stranded at the parking lot of your job. At that moment, you open the passenger car door before slipping onto the pavement of the road. “See you tomorrow, Leon! And thank you for taking me home…”

Leon seemed content, before waving off to you, "I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night,” He responds. Once you shut the passenger door, he drives off, leaving you to watch him as you stand there in the middle of the road. A nagging intuition provoked an uneasiness into your body regarding this night. Nonetheless, you decided to ignore your paranoia since there is a party that required your attendance because even God knew you deserved it after this whole week.

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