#[ Merry Christmas to all and all a Goodnight! ]

[regscupid]

i’m kissing everyone who left a message on my tree

[wandasaura]

i’m so sleepy!

[strangedisciple]

goodnight 👍👍👍

[size-two-shrimp]

Hey y'all, just so all of my fic readers are aware: I've kinda been losing motivation writing wise, I'm just not getting as much enjoyment (read: engagement) out of it and it's just not as worth it anymore to me. I'm still going to be writing, there's still things I want to work on, but probably not as frequently as I had been. Sorry about that

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

During the fall of Riften, the cistern collapses.

Fortunately, by that point, most of the city (including the guild that lived under it) had escaped, evacuated, or were otherwise within there homes and safe.

The casualties were heavy on the Thalmor side, but much heavier on the Skyrim side. After so much fighting, so much death, Ulfric orders a retreat.

Eryn instantly argues, but is shot down. The Thalmor can take Riften today, but they need to live to fight another day to take it back, to protect the rest of Skyrim. But it's unlikely that the Thalmor will let anyone leave alive.

Eryn thinks for a moment, and then whispers "Mul... Qah... Diiv!". Instantly she is surrounded by the fiery glow of the dragons, by translucent scales and horns and wings. "I'll hold them off, and then meet back up with you." Eryn believes her words, she believes she will walk out of this alive.

Ralof tries to stop her. And while she doesn't have it in her heart to truly argue with him or even push him away, she does slowly pull away. "Galmar... I need a favor." She says, her new wings drooping just a bit with her heavy emotions.

Galmar instantly understands, Ulfric needs a moment, and then Ralof is the last person to realize what Eryn asked them to do. But Galmar and Ulfric combined both easily outarm Ralof, and can hold him back, can stop him from stopping Eryn.

Eryn disappears into the battle, getting all of the attention on her. She holds them off for as long as she can. But as her allies retreat, she is more and more surrounded and outnumbered. Still, she doesn't surrender. She stays in the middle of the town square, fighting everyone she can see.

The explosion under her takes out the last of her dragon aspect armor. The Thalmor had set off a bomb, which eventually chain reacted into the cistern collapsing. Eryn is shot up, her wings and tail and horns and scales disapate. She realizes now she has nothing to save her.

From a distance, Ralof sees the explosion. He almost screams, before Ulfric slaps a hand over his mouth so he doesn't give away their position. Ralof collapses, and Galmar resorts to just carrying him like an injured soldier.

"Odahviing!" Eryn has gotten into the habit of calling for him when she's in desperate situations. Maybe he'll catch her, maybe he'll be able to help. She watches him race through the sky, but not fast enough. The ground hits her all too fast.

A single pillar of light shines on her and the broken rocks around her. She is bleeding and broken, even if she had potions or the strength for a spell, she wouldn't be saved.

"Thuri," Odahviing manages to climb into the hole, trying to get close to her, trying to understand. "You called, I came."

Eryn is heaving, every limb is broken, her spine has snapped, but she still smiles at him. "Yes... stay."

"Who has done this to you? I shall destroy them." He speaks in his own tongue, he prefers to, knowing Eryn can understand him.

"Too late for that..." Eryn responds in her own tongue, she knows he can understand her just fine. Her voice is so quiet and small. "I'm dying, my friend." She smiles. "Viir maar, fahdon dii." She breathes in. "I don't want to be alone."

Odahviing curls up around the rubble, around Eryn. He can't understand it, not unless she uses that cursed shout on him. He can't understand a Voice that simply ends, especially not one as strong as hers. "How can I stop it?"

It's a simple question, perhaps even childish. But Odahviing is asking in earnest, wanting to know how to help her. She summons him when she needs help, so he should help.

"You can't." She rasps out. "Just stay with me until I go." She seems to relax just a bit, in spite of the wretched pain. She thinks of Sovngarde, knowing it awaits her, and she already knows what it looks like. "I will miss the sunshine." She whispers, remember the evernight of the sky.

She's gone. Her last words were about the sun. Odahviing can feel that she's gone, though he understands so little. He roars into the sky, trying to understand the emotions inside of him.

He knows she can take the souls of Dov, he knows they grant her power, allow her to combine her dragon soul with her mortal heart. He decides to give his to her.

By the time anyone finds Eryn, there is only a dragon skeleton left curled up around her, as though she had managed to bring down one last one before she passed. But as Vipir, who had been chosen to scout out Riften and report on the damage, gets close, he realizes she's breathing. She's alive.

He gets her back to Nightingale Hall. They lay her in bed, Etienne tries to use some of his Brenton magic to help her... but he can't. None of them can understand this. She doesn't move, her breaths are so slow she doesn't look like she's moving, she doesn't even seem to be dreaming.

Eryn is like that for six months. By month three, there's an ongoing argument about what to do with her. Whether to toss her out into the world, or keep her in the hall. Every time it comes up, Etienne talks Brynjolf into letting Eryn stay, and Brynjolf talks Opal and Karliah into it.

Meanwhile, the world mourns. As far as anyone can tell, as far as the story goes, Eryn was killed by the Thalmor during the fall of Riften. A massive service is held in Solitude, and a statue of her is even erected. People lay flowers and coins and weapons at her altar every day.

The thieves guild does consider telling the world that Eryn is alive, but they decide the risk to the guild (and to Eryn) would be too great. Brynjolf specifically also believes it would be cruel to her family if she does end up dying.

Ralof spends his little spare time picking lavender. At first, everyone thinks he's just trying to distract himself. Trying to make sure he won't burn himself out. But someone eventually asks, and he tells them that lavender was Eryn's favorite.

[spiderwarden]

i'm cold and my bed is calling me back but as I go just imagine this.

Minthara getting home in modern from a long day, it's 2am, she undoes the lady tie, pulling the bun on her head a little loose, as she starts to unbutton the front of her shirt. She turns to the counter and picks up a wine bottle and the filled wine glass in the other hand as she makes her way the living room. She HUFFS as she sits on the couch, knees spread to make room for the BDE, as she sips the wine from the glass. Leans forward to set the bottle on the glass table, and plucks the remote. Turns on the TV. What is she watching? Comedies. The Office maybe, something stupid. Maybe even those adultish cartoons like Family Guy, King of the Hill, Bob's Burger, etc. She has a tier list of favorite comedies, a top 20, where the top 5 are the go to and the other 15 are in case the first 5 are unavailable. She is not laughing, but every now and again there is a chuckle and a short smile as she drinks from the glass balanced on her knee.

[livvyofthelake]

DANIEL RADCLIFFE!!!!!!!!!!

[happilychaengs]

i have literally slept half the day away and i am concerned

[lilbruisedbaby]

lmfaooo bye

[daisywords]

success! (think)

[skyllion-uwu]

Sonic Prime DONE! I really liked the alternate universe designs, especially Rusty Rose and Dread. UM. WHAT A THANG TO DROP IN THE LAST EPISODE?? /pos Eight episodes was too short but I'm assuming that was Netflix's decision and not the creative team's, so I hope the second season comes out soon! Really interested in seeing where it goes, especially now that Shadow is back in the picture (huge Shadow fan, kinned him when I was 12)

[tisforpterodactyl]

yea crying on ur birthday sucks but have u ever cried urself to sleep on christmas eve cause that shits a different kind of hurt like okay god that was personal

[javierpena-inatacvest]

It's Never Too Late Masterlist

Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.

Paring: Javier Peña x OFC (Reader is an elementary school teacher whose nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * and each chapter will also have its own warnings), language, fluff, romantic comedy, reader has physical descriptions, Javi being so soft and getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love

Status: Ongoing

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)

Main Story:

Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You

Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*

Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*

Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*

Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*

Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*

Chapter 18: Hole in None*

Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*

Chapter 20: I Do

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 21: Paradise* (New 11/7!)

Spin-Off Series:

Forever and Always*: Slices of life following the Peña family after their first child

One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):

Movie Night*

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Take Me Home

Plaid Pajama Morning

Agent Peña*

Every Inch*

Soup for Breakfast

Whatever My Wife Wants*

Fever*

Oh, Baby

Insatiable*

Peanut Butter and Pickles

Sail Away

You Make Lovin' Fun*

Asks/Headcannons:

Javi and Osita before work

Javi's DEA Jacket

Javi's Tac Vest

Javi and Osita when they argue

Javi being distractingly cute

Javi when he's sick

Javi helping with Osita's pregnancy cravings

Osita when she's pregnant

Osita after a bad day at work

Javi coming home after work to his kids

Javi and Osita deciding how many kids they want

Javi and his daughters at the Eras Tour

Extras:

NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita*

1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

Timeline of NTL

[bookofbonbon]

christmas kiss - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Summary: A drunken Coriolanus has a particular Christmas gift request of you on Christmas day.

Word Count: 1.3k+.

A/N: Merry Christmas! Just a bit of light-hearted fun. No hidden or dark motives. Technically based within the "You Keep Him There" universe because it was easier to just take the background from there but, it's during their first year together and she's still very much in conflict with her own feelings.

Coriolanus Snow is drunk.

Drunk and clingy. 

It’s simultaneously endearing and disturbing. Endearing because you think there is a certain cuteness about him when he’s drunk; disturbing because it makes you think there is a certain cuteness about him and as far as you were concerned, cuteness and Coriolanus simply did not belong in the same sentence together. 

It makes you dislike him more - more so, when he insists on squashing himself in between you and the couch’s armrest despite there being room for an entire other body beside you - on the other half of the couch. 

Drunk and clingy. 

“I think that was a rather successful first Christmas gala, don't you?” he smiles, completely ignoring the fact that he’s half on top of you. 

“I suppose,” you grunt, pulling yourself out from under him and standing. 

It was time for bed. 

“Wait- where are you going?”

He follows you like a lost puppy.

“To bed, Coriolanus,” you tell him stiffly. “It’s almost midnight.”

You don’t wait for his response. Climbing the stairs two at a time, you don’t bother to look back at him or say good night, instead making haste for your bedroom, your safe haven. 

You couldn’t do drunk Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t like his vulnerability or sweetness, his wide eyes and handsome smiles, his easy laugh and pink tinged cheeks. There was no room in your heart to like him and that is exactly what drunk Coriolanus could do, make you like him.

You feel yourself immediately calm once you enter your bedroom - thankful that the two of you agreed that the separation of sleeping spaces would be for the better - however, when you turn he’s standing at your door. 

When the hell did he get there? 

As if he can hear your thoughts, he says, “the elevator is faster than the stairs.”

You make an ‘O’ with your mouth - of course it was. It had just been put in a couple of days ago, you’d completely forgotten that it was there. 

“Right, well.” you compose yourself. “Goodnight, Coriolanus.” 

“Wait, no-” 

His hand blocks your door before you can close it, an exasperated look on his face and you’re sure, on yours too. 

“Coriolan-”

A loud groan emanates from deep within his throat - you back away in caution, he better not throw up on your bedroom floor -  followed by an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

“Coriolanus, coriolanus,” he mocks, pulling a face. “You know you don’t have to use my full name every time.”

“Fine, Coco,” you smile, saccharinely.

“What? No! What the hell is Coco?”

“What? Yes! You’re what the hell is Coco” you mock him this time. “What do you want, Coco?”

“Don’t call-” he pauses, thinking for a moment “We’ll discuss that name later, right now I want to discuss my Christmas present with  you.”

“What?” you almost laugh disbelievingly.

“No. Christmas presents are not up for discussion. I buy you something, you buy me something and either we like it or we don't and if we don’t then we pretend that we do,” you dismiss him and go to close the door again but it's blocked - by his foot this time- again. 

“I want you to kiss me.”

This time you do laugh. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” he folds his arms stubbornly. “I don’t want whatever’s wrapped under that god awful green tree downstairs, I want you to-”

“I kiss you all the time,” you snap. 

“No, I kiss you all the time. You never kiss me.”

“I kiss you back.”

“But you don't initiate, you never do” he practically whines. You're surprised he doesn’t stomp his foot too.

“And what makes you think I’m going to start now?”

You could, you absolutely could but, why give him the satisfaction?

“Why not? It’s Christmas, spirit of giving and all that and I want you to give-”

“Fine,” you cut him off. Needing him to stop talking so, you could think - cogs turning in your head.

“Fine?”

"Just a kiss, right? That's all?"

"Just a kiss, that's all," he confirms.

It’s not as if you’d never initiated a kiss with him on purpose, you just weren’t in the business of making first moves when it came to him. It didn't bother you to kiss him - you just didn't know if it was something he wanted. It was impossible to tell, not when he acted one way in public, another in private and another… when drunk. 

“But, if we’re making Christmas gift requests then you have to ask me sober,” you negotiate. 

“What?” his face blanches, as if he’s seen a ghost. “That’s not fair, it’s Christmas now.”

“It’s Christmas now and Boxing Day tomorrow, when presents are actually exchanged so, if you want your kiss, you have to ask me tomorrow-”

He begins to grumble, “Whatever. There’s only five minutes anyway left till Bo-”

“And sober! You will not be sober in five minutes!” you speak over the top of him. “Now… I’m going to bed and so should you.”

You finally close the door.  

-

You go about your morning routine as usual, Coriolanus nowhere to be seen- not even as afternoon approached and you readied yourself for lunch with your mother’s side of the family. 

Perhaps he’d dug himself a grave and instead, went to bed there, out of embarrassment. You breathe a laugh at the thought. 

Gathering your things, your sensible heels click against the marble floors as you make for the front doors - an avox helping you into your coat and then opening the door for you. 

You clear the landing - and almost forget about the stairs - when the undeniably alive voice of Coriolanus calls out to you as you finish descending the several steps.

He’s dressed for gardening, having obviously been in the greenhouse with his roses this entire time - not the type of gardening you were hoping he was doing.

“Leaving so soon?” 

He looks at you with a lopsided grin, not a hint of hangover in the air - probably a result of one of  those little experimental concoctions he’s always working on - as he walks toward you, pulling his gardening gloves off and handing them to a nearby avox.

 “Not so soon, it’s midday…” you trail off. 

He’s close, too close, he smells like roses and dirt - it makes your stomach flip because of butterflies or because you’ll be sick, you don’t know. 

“I believe you owe me something.” 

“I thought you wouldn’t have remembered, you were very drunk last night.”

“You thought wrong.” 

He smiles handsomely, like one of his drunken ones-

“Are you still drunk?” 

He laughs, the sound is stupid. 

“No, very much sober as were the conditions.”

"You still need to ask."

"For Christmas," he says slowly. "I want you to kiss me."

“Okay,” you shrug and step closer to him.

You can see the way it confuses him but, you don’t let him dwell on it. Placing a hand on his chest to steady yourself, your breaths intermingle as you bring your lips closer to his. There's a searing heat on the small of your back as he pushes you closer to him - if he presses you any closer, you think the two of you might become one. You brush your nose affectionately against his, feel his heartbeat heavy beneath your hand and at the last minute, you veer to the left and press a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling back quickly, you step out of his reach, leaving him a floundering mess as he comes to terms with what you had just done. 

After a minute, he says “that was not the deal!”

Offended and perplexed but, even you can see the hint of a smile on his face. 

“It wasn’t not the deal. You said a kiss, you never said where,” you laugh, walking backwards to the car and getting in.

“Details, dear Coco, it’s all in the details!”

You don't hear him laugh but you can see his body shake with it. 

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2023. All rights reserved.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.06.2024]

[whorekneecentral]

Miss Me, Miss Me

Ruben Dias x Stones!Fem!Reader

Warnings: fwb!ruben, jack and reader are besties, alcohol and the consumption of, kyle is always annoying her, teasing, a strip tease according to reader, finger sucking, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, fingering, orgasm denial, the use of 'whore' in a sexual/degrading context, penetrative sex (P in V ), big brother john is not having it.

Word Count: 2,952

Author's Note: this one is written solely for my pookie, that's also why ruben is so early on in this series lmao - all of these things are shit she'd eat up so pooks and everyone else, please enjoy :)

merry smutmas series

--

Your brother holds his annual Christmas party and you’re forced to spend the afternoon with the one person you had been avoiding all season but tis’ the season you guess. 

Will they or won't they was the tagline for your relationship - if you could even call it that- with Ruben.

You had recently moved to Manchester to be closer to your older brother and your niece and nephew. You had gone to every home game you could and over the course of the season, you fell into a bit of a pattern with the Portuguese defender.

It was innocent enough at first, you two were friends who occasionally hooked up to relieve whatever stress you were having but over the years, it turned into more. Feelings got involved and it got messy so because of that, and for your brother's sake - despite him not knowing, you pulled away from Ruben.

It was never your intention to make things messy.

You hadn't seen Ruben face to face in weeks, if not months. You had still gone to games but you simply went for your brother and then left afterwards, not hanging around too long.

Ruben had a hold over you; you knew if you hung around him too long, you'd just end up in his bed again. That was the last thing you wanted.

Today was unavoidable though.

John was hosting his annual Christmas party at his place; old friends, a few of the boys from his time at Barnsley as well as his teammates and their families from Man City filled his house.

You were somehow, always on kid duty. You were in the room with a bunch of kids; Kevin's, John's, Phil's, Ederson's and a few others that you had no idea who they belonged to.

"Settle down," you tell them, trying to get them off the sugar rush to watch a movie. You tried to rock your nephew in one arm while you switched on the tv, the kids shouting 400 different movie titles all at once.

You huffed and your nephew began to cry just as you tried to ask which one they really wanted to watch but someone opened the door. Jack smiles at you, taking the remote from you when he sees how flustered you are.

He worked a miracle, getting them to quiet down enough for you to calm the baby and to be able to put on a movie for them. You sighed, sitting on the bean bag with the baby as the kids watched Finding Nemo.

Jack sits next to you, rubbing the baby's hand. "I heard the noise, figured I'd come check before they killed you," he whispered, making you chuckle.

"You're a lifesaver, Jack, really. You're good with them too, you and Sasha ever think of.."

"No," he laughed, shaking his head. "I mean, at least not yet."

You nod, smiling. "You'd be wonderful parents.. but you should go join the party, I'm okay in here."

"You're sure?" He gets up and you nod. "Go on, I'll come out in a bit." Jack smiles, nodding before he walks out and closes the door behind him.

It was about an hour later that Finding Nemo ended and the kids went looking for their parents. Those with kids ended up heading out, saying their goodnights before the party actually picks up.

You make your way into the kitchen to find Jack looking for something. "Missing something?" You asked, picking up a glass.

"Your brother said he had shot glasses somewhere?"

"Check the bottom cabinet, it should be in there. What are we drinking?" You asked, setting your empty glass back down.

"Whatever will get us drunk fast." He laughs and you smile, "you're just like me," you nudged his shoulder, reaching for the bottle of tequila on the counter.

Jack lines the empty shot glasses on the tray you found, letting you fill them up. The man picks one up before handing another one to you. "To.. the holidays!" He shrugs, tapping his glass to yours before you two down the shots, and two more rounds after that.

You send him on his way, the man dancing his way over to his girlfriend. You on the other hand, picked up the tray and made the rounds, offering shots to all of those who wanted them. Eventually, you find your way to the living room, the music playing in the background as some people danced and the others chatted.

"Pebbles!" Kyle shouts, his hand in the air to call you over. You roll your eyes, walking over to the group of men by the couch. "How many times have I told you not to call me that, walks?" You laughed.

Kyle puts an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You're pebbles cause Johnny is Stones and you're the little one!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Very original, Kyle. Anyone want a shot?" You offered, holding the tray out.

John takes one, passing another one to Ruben who you've yet to look at. Kyle grabs one for himself and you go to walk away but your brother grabs your arm, bringing you back. John's arm is over your shoulder now, pulling you into his side.

"Have one with us! You're grown up now, aren't you?" He teased, nudging you to take a shot with them. You and John were only a few years apart; he was 29 and you were 24.

You nod, picking up a shot glass. "Cheers!" Kyle shouts over the music, the 4 of you tapping your glasses together before downing the contents.

Some of the tequila ended up on your fingers during the toast, your finger instinctively ended up between your lips and you don't miss the feeling of Ruben's eyes on you. Looking up, your eyes meet his and you move your hand.

"Can I go now?" You asked your brother, and he nodded before kissing your temple. "You're free to go. Go eat something before you feel sick though."

"Should take your own advice, Stones." You tell him and he tosses you a glare. "Whatever, pebbles."

Kyle and John laugh at the use of the nickname and you flip them both off, laughing as you walk away.

The night turned out to be good, you ended up hanging out with Jack and Sasha for a bit before Kyle pulled you to dance with him. He was telling John he knows how to waltz, he just needed a good partner. You were confused as to what made you qualify as a good partner but you went along with it.

At this point, everyone had left and whoever was left, was drunk as fuck and on the verge of passing out.

You slowly make your way upstairs, you have just put away the leftovers and locked the front door for the night. You walked into your room for the night, unzipping your dress as you bent over to pull some pjs out of your bag.

The knob turns and then the door unlocked, someone steps in. "Hello, what the fuck? I'm changing-" you freeze when you turn around to see who it is.

Ruben stood by the door. "It's just me."

"Okay and?" You look at him, confused as to why he's in your room. "Just because it's you, doesn't mean that gives you a right to be in here."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, love." He smiles at you and you resist the urge to roll your eyes when he says that.

"Fuck off, will you?" You turn away from the man, your back to him as you went to get changed for bed.

Ruben doesn't take no for an answer; in life and on the pitch. He walks over to you, "don't be like that, y/n. You know I miss you," his hand rests on your hip, pulling you to him.

It was so easy for him - your mind is screaming no but your body's betraying you, giving into him before you could stop yourself.

"You don't miss me, Ruben. Shut up." You whispered, the man lowered his lips to your neck. A trail of kisses from the base of your neck up to your jaw, you're certain there's red marks all over your neck from his beard scratching on you.

Your hand instinctively reaches for his face, your palm's warm against his skin; there your body goes, betraying you again.

"I miss you, I do," he whispers against your skin, his hand sliding between the two of you, from your hip to your back. The fact that your dress was unzipped gave him free rein, his fingers running along your spine, finally resting on the curve of your spine.

"Rubes-" you breathe, feeling him suck on the sensitive spot on your neck. "We can't."

He nods, "we can."

"John could walk in."

The thought made Ruben chuckle. Yes, it'd be a mess, it would get both of you in a lot of trouble but the fact that you, at your grown age, were scared of your older brother catching you with his friend, was funny to him.

"John's passed out drunk on the couch, sweetheart. No one's coming, it's just me and you."

You turn to face the man, Ruben's chest to yours; the first few buttons of his shirt undone, the black fabric tight on his arms and the sleeve were rolled up to his elbows. Was he always such a slut or did he only recently become one?

He's already pulling the straps of your dress off your shoulders and you don't stop him, letting it fall to the floor and pool around your ankles.

Ruben's hands reach for your face, cupping your jaw. "C'mon baby, I miss you." He whispers into the quiet room, his lips ghosting over yours.

Hands wrapping around his wrists, "I miss you too." You admit, giving into him. You pull Ruben into you, kissing him.

It doesn't take long, the two of you stumbling back to the bed. Ruben ends up on top of you, your legs wrapped around him as he moves you to lay properly. He pulls away from your kiss and your wandering hands, earning him a pout.

"Why'd you stop?" You groaned, Ruben smiles at you whining as he stands, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt before taking it off.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the man. "Mhm, all for me?" You raised your eyebrows, making him laugh.

"Everything's for you, baby. It always is." He tells you, dropping to his knees in front of you.

The words and his actions made your head spin, you were constantly swooning over the man and today was no exception.

Ruben's lips were soft, the faintest of kisses trailed up from your calf to your thigh and he let your leg hang over his shoulder as he pulled you to the edge of the bed. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Ruben drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

"Please," you mumble, looking down at the man. Ruben smiles, "not in the mood for teasing, sweetheart?"

"Fuck you Ruben," you groaned, dropping back into the mattress when he pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy but his hand reaches up, pushing two fingers in your mouth. He didn’t have to tell you, your tongue laps over his fingers. 

“Taught you well,” he smiles, pulling his fingers away from your mouth. 

He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 

His fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. 

“Rube, please.” Your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach. 

Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Ruben fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire. Everything about him made you want him, you couldn't explain the attraction.

It just made sense to you.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

Ruben knew you like the back of his hand, even with the time apart. Something didn't change and the way your hips buck, it's your way of saying you want more, who was Ruben not to give into you?

His fingers curl upwards once again and he glances up to see your head tossed back into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut.

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. 

Ruben pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness. 

"What the fuck?" You groaned, an arm over your face. If you looked at Ruben right now, you might kill him.

The clink of his belt gets your attention - maybe you'd finally get what you wanted.

Ruben scoots you back, getting on the bed, on top of you. He leans down, his lips over yours and you reach up, a hand on the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss; you can taste yourself on his lips. He lifts your leg, resting on your hip before he lines himself up with you.

The way the tip of his cock rubbed against you and the fact that you were already on the edge from before was enough to make you beg.

"Please, Ruben."

"Please what?" He looks down at you, smiling sweetly.

Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. "Ruben," you whined, lifting your hips towards him. "Please, fuck- god just fuck me already."

Ruben smiles, "those words really shouldn't be in the same sentence, you know." He tells you, pushing into you. You moan, ignoring his words at the moment.

Your hand wraps around his bicep, your manicured nails digging into his skin. He didn't mind the pain, especially if it was your doing.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, Ruben's thrusts were slow and deep- you can feel him everywhere, his hands, his lips, his touch. Everything about Ruben was consuming; he knew that and he loved it.

In some sick way, he loved watching you fall in love with him all over again, seeing the effect he had on you.

Ruben pulls your legs back up to his hip. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder.

How you wished you could scream his name right now.

His hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit; matching the pace of his hips. Your head falls back into the pillows when he hits the spot he was looking for. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Ruben leans down, his lips next to your ear; “you have to be quiet, you don't want everyone to know what a whore you are, do you?”

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. He holds you, managing to flip you two over so that you're on top and his cock is still buried in you.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure.

“Ruben, god-” you mumble, your hand tangled in his dark hair as you bounced up and down.

"Not quite," he whispers, pulling you down to kiss along your neck. Ruben's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back. "Mhm I love you." He whispers into your shoulder.

You huff, "shut up, don't ruin this for me." Ruben laughs, "whatever you say, baby. I do."

"I'm so thirsty," you get off of him, yawning.

Ruben looks over at you, "you want another round?" You roll your eyes, "not what I meant, you freak."

You get up, pulling on his shirt and a pair of shorts. Ruben lays in bed, watching as you buttoned it up. "Don't look at me like that." You tell him and he laughs, "like what, love?"

"Like you want to fuck me."

"I just did," he smiles. You roll your eyes again, something you did often in his presence. "I'm going to get water," you tell him before heading down the stairs.

When your brother hears the creaking on the stairs, he sits up, rubbing his eyes before looking over in your direction. "Y/n?"

"Johnny?" You freeze, looking at him.

"Whose shirt is that?" He asks and you look down at the black button up. "Uh, mine."

John nods, dropping down onto the couch once again. You grab the bottle of water, walking back into the living room to toss the blanket over your brother. You lean down, kissing his head before turning to head back towards the stairs.

He reaches out from under the blanket, grabbing your hand to stop you. "You better get Ruben out of my house before I get up, or I'll kill him."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you tell him and your brother lets go of your hand, a sly smile on his face. "Yeah, okay. Maybe you two should shut up next time, or don't do it in my house? Perhaps don't wear a shirt that reeks of his cologne."

"Shut up, go back to sleep," you push him back into the couch before walking away.

--

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