#Does NOT look good in the middle of the night

[spidercat2099]

Nanami single dad au

Fluff-ish, Nanami’s sweet as hell in this

The blond man in the office always kept to himself. He was a hard worker and hardly talked to any of the other coworkers unless it was necessary. That's why, when you asked him out, he was in utter shock. Why would you want to go out with him out of all people? He asked himself.

He didn't say no though. His eyebrows raised and he asked you to clarify that you were actually asking him out.

"It's alright if you don't want to-" You began, but he cut you off quickly.

"No, no." His hands waved you down. "I'm..." He thought for a bit before speaking again. "I'm free Friday night. How does 7:30 sound?" He asked.

"I would like that." You responded, a slight smile tugging on your lips as you were excited he accepted. You were already picking out your clothes and looking for a new makeup look to impress him.

...

You'd been out with Kento for a couple of months already. It seemed like things were going well until he put on a serious face and cleared his throat.

"Miss y/n, I have to be honest with you on something." he began to say.

Your heart began to beat quickly from anticipation. You were worried it would be something bad. "Go ahead." You nod.

"I've enjoyed spending time with you, but it has been selfish of me to keep this going without telling you the truth." It seemed like he felt really guilty as he looked down at his clasped hands on the table. But if he enjoyed time with you, what could be wrong?

"I... I have a kid." He said as he looked up at you through his glasses.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't really expected him to be a father. "A... a kid?" You blink.

"I assume you wouldn't have known that before you even asked me out. I understand it's not a situation any woman would be willing to jump into. So, I wouldn't fault you for deciding to not go out with me again."

You begin to think, was there a sign you missed? Was it obvious? Wait... does he have a wife? You snap out of your thoughts. "And your wife?" you asked, not realizing how blunt you sounded.

His face shot up at the blunt question. "She... she passed away..." He looked away, now having a solemn look on his face. "Like I said, I understand if you don't want to continue-"

"Do you have pictures?" you asked leaning forward a bit. His eyebrows raised in the middle.

"Pictures?" He asked.

"O-Of the kid... how old are they?" His hand hesitantly pulled out his phone. He wasn't sure what this meant.

"His name's Yuji. He's 3 years old. He's a troublemaker but he's a good kid." He looked through his photo app for that album he had of Yuji. You could tell he was proud to have him as he showed you the pictures, telling you the backstory of each.

If you didn't already have a fat crush on this man, you definitely did now. The way he smiled at his kid was too cute.

When he finished showing you the pictures, he set his phone down and sighed. "I... appreciate you being this kind to me. But as I said, I don't expect you to want to jump into this situation. You're a young beautiful girl who I'm sure will find a man who doesn't have someone else's kid. It's a big burden-"

"Kento..." You cut him off. You didn't want to hear him be so somber on his "situation". Especially when you think about how proud he is of his kid and how hard he must work for him.

"I... I like you a lot. You having a kid isn't some kind of burden. We're both adults."

"I know that, I just don't want you to force yourself into a role you're not ready for just because you want to be with me."

"You're not forcing me to do anything." you grab his hand. "I'm deciding I still want to go out with you."

"You... you are?" He seemed touched but also in disbelief. You nod. You always knew how to surprise him. He wanted to believe it. That you were different, maybe that you were even the one that he was meant to be with. You were perfect. That's why he hadn't told you sooner, he wanted to hold on to that fantasy a bit longer. But he knew he still had to be realistic. After all, you could change your mind at any point.

Later that night, he drove you home. He opened the car door for you as you stepped out. He leaned onto the car slightly as he looked at you. "You're a very lovely lady, y/n..."

You smiled, getting closer to him as you adjusted his already neat tie. "And you're a very lovely gentleman, Kento." Your hand then flattened against his chest as your eyes made their way up to his. His head was tilted looking down at you.

Slowly, you came closer and his hand came up to rest on your waist. Your lips slowly join together with his. For a second, you pull back, just to join them again but with a bit more passion. Your hand made its way to the base of his neck as he pulled you closer. It was getting harder to leave it as just a kiss goodbye.

You wanted him. And you wanted him bad. Your breaths mingled together as your heads tilted every so often to deepen the kiss. Hid hand couldn't help but make it's way down your waist, close enough to grab your-

Beep, beep.

His phone rang and he pulled it out. He breathed heavily as he read the message. "That's... the babysitter." He explained before putting it away. "I'm sorry. I have to go." His eyebrows tilted up in the middle, feeling guilty once again for cutting things so short.

You breathe out. "It's... it's alright. Don't worry about it." You step back a bit to allow him to leave. He wasn't sure but he knew it could very well be the last time you both go out, regardless of what you said. You could've just been trying to be nice and just let him down easy later or decided to ghost him. And he didn't like that this was how the night had to end.

...

Things had gone normally for the next few weeks. You'd talk to him whenever you could at work, spend breaks together, and go out on the weekends. It seemed like things were going well.

Then, one day. He saw you at your desk while some guy leaned over it and spoke to you. He looked like he was closer to your age. And he had you laughing.

Kento wasn't a jealous person, but for some reason, he felt a pang in his heart. Like you could be taken from him at any moment and his fantasy would go down the drain. Especially when he though that's what you deserved. A guy your age who you could decide to have a family with.

Instead of walking over to say hi to you like usual, he just passed by to go to his own desk. You hadn't even noticed, since you'd been busy talking to the other guy.

Later in the day, Kento heard your voice call to him. He looked up from his computer to see you standing next to him. "Hey..." He said with a soft smile.

"Hey... I know we usually go out on Friday's but I'll have to cancel today." His heart had that same feeling again. Could it be that you realized you'd be better off without him? That the other guy was better? Maybe you'd decided to go out with him instead.

"Oh..." He said, his eyes looking away from you now. That's the one thing he always looked forward to after work.

"It's not anything serious, I just-" Then your watch began to ring. You had a meeting to go to, just sparing a minute to talk to Kento. "Sorry, I'll talk to you after the shift, okay?" You said as you left.

Kento wanted to tell you he was leaving early. The daycare only had a half day today. Of course, you wouldn't have known that. You don't have a kid, you wouldn't keep track of when schools are open. So he decided to text it to you, seeing as he won't see you that day at all. He'd have to wait until you texted him back, or until Monday to see you again.

But you never did. Not that day. Not the rest of the weekend. Was he right? You were ghosting him? Were you that type of girl?

...

On Sunday, he went to the grocery store with Yuji. It was raining, but they were in desperate need of food. So he just zipped up Yuji in a cute yellow jacket, carrying him in one arm as his other hand carried an umbrella over both of them.

It wasn't anything special as he walked around the store with Youji's hand holding his. Except, he couldn't stop thinking of you and what you were doing. Why you hadn't responded to any of his texts. He'd read a can and slowly get distracted by those thoughts until Yuji pulled on his hand because he got bored of that aisle.

After long enough, he picked up Yuji again, the other hand full of groceries and the umbrella. As he turned he saw... you.

He froze for a second, unsure if it was his imagination. You didn't live on this side of town, why would you be at the grocery store here?

"Papa, are you gonna move?" Yuji asked, poking Kento's face. "Y-Yeah, we'll go home."

When you heard that familiar voice, you looked up. His eyes widened as he realized it was truly you. You were wet, with nothing but a sweater on to protect you from the rain. No umbrella, no jacket. Just the awning of the store you stood under.

"Kento?" You called out. Yuji looked at you too, unsure of what was going on. Why was it so quiet? He just wanted to go home.

"Who's that?" He asked, pointing in your direction. "She's... a friend from work." You weren't fond of that response, but you knew how careful Kento had to be when the relationship hadn't even been established yet.

You were endeared by Yuji. He was even cuter in person. "Oh my God is that Yuji?" you got closer pinching his chubby cheeks gently. "Aren't you the most adorable thing ever?" Yuji definitely enjoyed the attention. He was giggling a lot.

"He likes you..." Kento said as he looked at his son's expression. "What are you doing on this side of town? You don't live near here." He couldn't help but feel curious.

"I left my phone at the office and the boss said I'd only be able to pick it up today. Halfway through walking here, it started to pour, can you believe that?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned.

"Bad luck, huh?" he said, trying to keep it light although he was slightly upset with you.

"Don't get me started." You looked at him with a frustrated expression, but it also felt aimed at him for some reason? But he couldn't tell why you'd be upset with him.

You held your own arms to keep yourself warm again as you turned your body away from him. "My house isn't too far from here, we should get you out of this rain." He moved his umbrella so you'd be under it too.

"Fine." Although you were upset, you couldn't deny you were freezing, and the office was still a long walk from here.

The walk home was quiet and Yuji had fallen asleep in Kento's arm. As he grabbed his key and began to unlock the door, he began to say "I would've invited you here on better circumstances, but-"

"It's fine." You said, not bothering to sweeten up your tone.

He took that as a sign that you were upset and didn't push any further. He led you in. "I'll be back in a second, I'll just go put Yuji down."

You stood by the door, sopping wet. You didn't sit down, as to not wet his couch.

He came back with some clothes in his hand, presumably for you to change into. He chuckled lightly as he looked at your usually perfectly styled hair frizzing up into curls. "Curly hair?" he asked as his hand picked up a strand an grazed it. It was funny to him that you two had been seeing each other for a while and he didn't know until now.

You turn away, your hair falling from his grasp.

"Miss y/n, I can't help but feel you're upset with me."

"Why wouldn't I be upset?" You said as you looked up at him.

"I don't know. You haven't told me. If anything I'm the one who should be upset with you." His own eyebrows furrowed at your hostility.

"Upset with me? You blew me off on Friday." You defend.

"Blew you off? You said you were busy."

"I meant when I was going to explain why I was busy. I waited for you but you didn't show. Next thing I know, the boss tells me you left early and you didn't even bother telling me?"

"I did. I texted you. Several times actually, and you didn't respond to any of them. I understand I told you that you're not obligated to continue going out with me but I had at least expected you to tell me." His eyebrows tilted upward again. You could tell he was just upset but hurt too.

"That's not it at all! I was not ghosting you if that's what you think." You defend quickly.

"You... weren't? Then why didn't you send a text back?" He asked, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"My phone had broken at the office and I wanted to go get it fixed on Friday, that's why I said I couldn't go on the date with you." You explained.

"That's why... you didn't get my message..." He realized. His hand runs through his hair in relief. You hadn't changed your mind.

"Why would you think I'd ghost you?" You asked, crossing your arms. Just a bit shaky from the cold.

"You're freezing, miss y/n. You should go take a shower and change." He lightly guided you to the bathroom.

"Kento, wait. You have to say why you thought that." You turned around to face him when you got into the bathroom. You didn't want him to get away with that. Did he really think you'd do that to him? He thinks you're the type of person to do that after a while of dating?

He sighed putting the clothes on the counter and leaning on the doorframe. "We can discuss it after you shower, okay? I don't want you soaking wet and freezing, you'll catch a cold." His thumb came up to your cheek to lightly caress it. "Please?"

Your cheeks tinged pink and your heart raced. You were still a bit upset but you couldn't help but be touched by him caring for you like that. "Fine," you mumbled, slowly closing the door and starting the shower.

...

You come out of the bathroom, practically swimming in his big clothes. He waited for you on the couch, reading a book in his comfy clothes as well. He looked up at you. "Too big?" He asked, holding back a smile. It was a bit attractive seeing you in his clothes like that.

You scoff, also holding back a smile. "Only cause you're too big." You walked over to sit next to him, not too close. You bit your cheek as you continued to hold your grudge. "So?" You asked, glancing at him. Hinting for him to explain now.

He sighed. "It's not anything against you, y/n. I just... haven't had the best experience with these things. Usually, women run at the first hint of me having a kid. That's why I gave up dating for a while. And when I saw you with that guy, I thought you might've changed your mind..."

You raise an eyebrow. "That guy?" You had to recollect your memories to figure out what he was talking about.

"On Friday. He was by your desk and making you laugh and everything. I thought you realized you'd be better off with someone like him."

"You thought I ditched you for him?" You asked, a bit in disbelief. Sure, maybe a different girl would've but... you were head over heels in love with Kento. Some random guy wasn't gonna change that. "That guy... has nothing on you, Kento." You admit. Your hand reached for his. "I told you, I like you a whole lot..." your eyes move from your hand to his face. "Do I not say it enough?"

"Well..." his ears began to heat up. You said it more than enough. "I just thought since we haven't established anything yet, you'd still look for other options. After all that would be fair."

"Are you looking for other options?" you ask.

He shakes his head slowly.

"The only reason there isn't anything established is because you haven't asked for me to establish it." You explain.

"Would... you want that?" he asked, his hand tightening its grip on yours a bit. You nod in a way that says 'duh'. He was usually a smart man, hell, he was the best employee in the company, but for some reason, he always second-guessed himself with this relationship.

He got up, not saying a word as he left. You were left a bit confused, you weren't sure where he went or if he was coming back.

But he came back quickly. He had a bouquet of roses in his hand and a box. Your eyes were wide. "This was meant for last Friday. Unless you'd like me to wait until next Friday. We're not out or well dressed so maybe it's not the best-"

You cut him off again. "What's that for?" You asked, looking at the things in his hand. He sat down next to you. "I was going to ask if you wanted to... be my girlfriend?" He asked. He placed the flowers on the table and handed you the box. "It's a necklace."

You were in shock. You really missed out on a great proposal just cause your phone broke? "Kento, you're so sweet. Of course, I would."

You placed the necklace next to the flowers, kissing him immediately. "I'll... do it again on Friday..." He said between your kisses. You didn't care. All you cared about was him. "New flowers... dinner... I'll ask again... make it special..."

...

You were nestled into Kento's arm as you both watched a movie. Kento fell asleep first. So he didn't notice when Yuji came out of his room searching for him. He dragged his blanket on the floor as he rubbed his eye.

Without a word, he crawled into the space between you both, nuzzling into Kento as he placed his own blanket on himself. You couldn't help but feel this sweet moment was exactly how your life was meant to be.

[viiennie]

mdni 18+

Frontman! Gojo Satoru whose eyes stay stuck on you the moment you enter the facilities with that gorgeous face and those pretty doe eyes.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who thinks literally everything you do is adorable, each bounce to your step, each flutter of your eyelashes, and each tiny smile you send everyone you make eye contact with sends butterflies to his stomach, his heart pulsing with adornment.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who can't help himself, not having the power to just watch you through a screen. He needs to be closer to you. He needs to be the one you're smiling at, the one you depend on no matter what. He just has to have you.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who approaches you first, a friendly smile on his face as he introduces himself. He swears he melts on the spot when he finally gets to hear your voice in person. He almost feels bad when you finally enter the first game, the sparkle in your eyes telling him you definitely weren't prepared for what's to come.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru feels guilt gnaw his heart at the sight of your terrified expression when the first person for the season meets their end, bullet in their skull with the blood splattering on your cheek. He makes sure you stay behind his towering frame after realizing you couldn't control your trembling after that.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who comforts you after the red light green light game, arms wrapped around your trembling body as he whispers words of assurance into your ears.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru, who if he said he didn't take pleasure in the way you looked so small and helpless, then he'd be lying.

“W-what do I do Gojo? I-I’m pregnant too! My baby..” Your hands rest on your belly, the bump not being obvious because of the fact that you were only 3 months along. You were scared. So scared for both you and your baby’s safety. Had you known this game included losing lives, then you would’ve gladly burnt that card the recruiter gave you and endured poverty if it meant being alive with your child. 

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who feels his dick straining in his pants for some reason at the news of you being with child. He knows it’s the worst time to be popping a boner, but how can he control himself when you look so pretty with tears running down your face? How can he help himself when he imagines fucking you raw and deep with your pretty baby bump showing underneath that annoyingly thick jacket? He groans, biting his lip to stop himself from daydreaming, “Don’t worry pretty, I’ll protect you and your baby, yeah?”

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who thinks it’s the cutest thing ever when you tell him you wanna try befriending the other pregnant woman, hoping a bond would form between the two of you. He encourages you, giving you advice on how to start a conversation before gently pushing you toward player number 222.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who takes the chance to slip away while you and everyone else is distracted during break time, instructing all his pink soldiers to be gentle with you, and to make sure to specifically give you food that was good for pregnant women. 

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who is surprised when you wake him up in the middle of the night, asking him to come with you to the bathroom because you really, really needed to go but you were also too scared to go alone. He chuckles at your cuteness, easily agreeing to your demands before accompanying you to the said bathrooms.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who’s even more surprised when you pull him into one of the stalls in the women’s bathroom, your lips crashing against him in a messy attempt to makeout. He thinks it’s so endearing who you whisper to him about your raging hormones and how you just can’t take it anymore. 

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who doesn’t waste time to plunge his fingers deep inside you, the squelching noises further keeping him motivated to give you your sweet release. The way your knees quiver and your arms cling onto him for balance sends blood rushing straight to his dick, moans and whines leaving his lips, only to be muffled by your own.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who's got shivers going up his spine when he finally buries his cock deep inside your sore pussy, hips stuttering in movement as he tries to be gentle with you, reminding himself that you're pregnant and he couldn't be as rough as he wanted.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru, who resolve breaks down when you whine into his ears for more, for him to go harder and not to hold back because it felt so good. He's now got you in a full nelson, burying his cock balls deep into your pretty cunt without an ounce of hesitation.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who makes sure to take care of you well after several rounds, cleaning you up with his tongue and brushing out your messy hair with his fingers. He finds himself smiling at the way you blink sleepily in his arms. He's definitely going to whisk you away after these games are finished.

[astronnova]

trying to figure out how i would wanna draw both of them inbtwn working on shtuff

ramblings under the cut

ok *cracks knuckles* excuse my design ramblings

vlad & danny are such interesting parallels to me esp if u wanna play more into the horror aspect of the show. vlad to me is the kind of horror vampires bring, they're attractive and alluring with large spiked gothic mansions as they suck you dry before you even register what happened.

danny is more like... small town radioactive horror? to me? does that make sense??? the horror of feeling, of knowing something is wrong with one of your classmates in your small, middle of bumfuck nowhere town. you know something is up, but he's still here walking around like always.

unfortunately my style is basically rip off anime LMFAO and i've never been good at communicating horror (falls to my knees and cries) but phantom could be so creepy and eerie. a seemingly teen boy in a hazmat suit, with a gas mask and/or goggles, wandering the streets at night, floating over streetlamps and making them and traffic lights buzz on and off. also electric core danny. he died to electrocution his ass is electric i do not Care what the show says, frost core danny can eat my ass🖕 (sorry to the frost danny likers. i do have an idea for the frost core thou)

my friend gave me the idea of making vlad snake-like too to match danny as a badger, snakes and badgers are natural enemies and all that. plus i didnt realize until after i drew it but vlad's hair and cape give him the silhouette around the head of a cobra! so i gave vlad cobra stripes on his ghost tail

i really like the idea of vlad kind of representing what danny could be. he represents the allure of power and letting go of your humanity i guess. he's petty, selfish, and has definitely murdered a couple people just because he felt like it. i know there are bones in the walls of his manor i just Know it. which i feel could be a fun way to rethink danny's first interaction with plasmius proper, maybe danny figures out who some wisconsin serial killer is with the added bonus of finding bones and rotting clothes in the walls of the basement because. ghost powers. and only another ghost could hide a body that way. ya feel me? its cool. kinda just rambling atp

i played around with giving danny a full face gas mask but i didnt like them too much. the goggles im on the fence about, i wanted them to be the same round goofy goggles maddie and jack wear but it takes away from the potential creep factor i feel... or maybe i just dont know how to draw it creepy (yet). he doesn't need the gas mask as a ghost but it would help hide his face i think. thats one thing, im watching eps with some friends who arent really into the show like i am and they keep asking how tf does no one know its danny and i just have to gently put my hand on their shoulder and tell them its cartoon logic. but for this! i feel like danny's face would be harder to see, like he's usually engaged in combat and when he's not he still has that gas mask and goggles combo, and its not like his hair looks the same like it does in canon.

ok crazy people ramblings OVER

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Black Velvet, If You Please

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Velvet | Word Count: 1113 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Famous Corroded Coffin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Steve Trolling Eddie, Because He Loves Him

It's tacky. Kitsch. An oversized eyesore. 

And it's perfect. 

Steve couldn't be more pleased. It's exactly what he envisioned and more when he commissioned it.

He watches the artist carefully wrap it, then with their help, Steve picks up one side of the frame, both of them wrangling it carefully so they don't drop it, and carry it out to the waiting car. Gareth's behind the wheel, engine running, like he's the driver of a getaway car. 

He kind of is. Eddie's gonna consider this a crime.

And Steve loves it.

They very carefully place it in the folded down backseat of Gareth's ridiculously huge SUV, which for the first time in history actually came in handy. Steve shakes the artist's hand, and then climbs in the passenger side. 

"Well. Let me see it," Gareth says.

"It's wrapped, you can see it when we get it to the house," Steve explains. He's definitely not unwrapping it until they get it home safely.

Gareth mutters, but agrees, and puts the car into drive. 

Heist over, bounty secured.

Once it's safely hidden away inside the pool house, Steve gently peels back the brown paper and cardboard that has been protecting it.

Gareth leans forward, as if that'll help him get a better look. It's huge. He could see it from across the lawn. 

"Holy shit," Gareth says. 

"I know," Steve laughs, delighted. 

"It takes talent to craft something so magnificently ugly," Gareth says, and Steve agrees. It's ugly because it's on black velvet. That's kind of its thing. But it's not technically bad, nowhere near. It looks just like Eddie, and cost a pretty penny, but Steve definitely got his money's worth. Because the painting is damn good, and exactly what he commissioned.

But utterly and completely ridiculous.

Eddie — on black velvet. 

Christmas is gonna be so good this year.

"Why are you talking all the pictures off the wall?" Eddie asks, laying on the couch, eating popcorn, watching the annual A Christmas Story marathon. He's said he isn't moving today, and Steve is taking advantage of that. Eddie won't ask too many questions, for once in his life. Because if he does, he's scared he'll have to help.

"Gonna dust the frames, maybe change things up," Steve says, clearing off the entire wall behind the couch.

Eddie just shrugs, and goes back to watching the Bumpus hounds wreak havoc on the turkey dinner.

And Steve turns back towards the wall, grinning to himself, as he carefully measures, then drills the new holes in the wall to anchor it. 

It's like a black ops mission. Steve crawls out of bed just after four a.m. and when he gets downstairs, Gareth, Jeff and Goodie are all standing around waiting. 

"Sorry. Overslept. I couldn't set an alarm," Steve whispers, and they just nod, looking tired. He appreciates them all getting up early on Christmas morning just to help pull this off. 

Steve stands on one of the dining room chairs, Jeff on another while the other two hold the bottom of the giant frame.

"This is a ridiculous way to spend money," Goodie grumbles.

"Says the man with so many basses that he needs storage units, plural," Gareth banters back.

"Those are for work," Goodie snaps, a little too loudly.

"Sshh!" Steve shushes.

And in an unprecedented move, they stop fussing and fighting. 

It's a Christmas miracle.

They get it hung, and the holes Steve drilled yesterday actually work perfectly. He was worried his measurements would be off, and then they'd be screwed. Eddie can sleep through anything, but maybe not power tools in the middle of the night.

"He's gonna shit," Jeff says, and Steve giggles. That about sums it up.

They scatter, back to their own homes, their own families, and Steve goes back to bed. 

With no kids, Eddie isn't exactly raring to hop out of bed first thing in the morning, even on Christmas. This will work in their advantage.

Steve stays still in bed, waiting until he hears the first signs of movement from downstairs. They're back. After having Christmas morning with their families, they've all returned to see Eddie's face when he notices this thing for the first time. 

Steve gets up, and heads down, and with help gets brunch started. They always do a full spread, the works, and today is no exception. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, ham steak, hash browns, and every burner and the oven are being fired up all at once.

The kids are all screaming at a dull roar, showing each other their new toys from Santa, and Harrington House feels like a home in a way it never did while Steve was growing up.

He loves it.

They finally hear Eddie moving around upstairs. He's loud, by nature, so there was no chance he was gonna sneak up on them.

Steve carefully wrapped the front of the painting after it was hung, anyway, so even if he did, they wouldn't miss his reaction. 

"He's coming," Gareth says, stating the obvious.

"He's gonna kill you," Goodie says to Steve, "and I'm gonna tell him Gareth helped."

Gareth makes a noise, and Jeff steps in to intervene. They can't have bloodshed before breakfast.

Then Eddie's coming, heavy feet bounding down the stairs, and they all freeze. Waiting for him to go through the living room.

"What the fuck is that?" Eddie hollers, "Steve?!"

Steve just smiles, and throws his tea towel over his shoulder. When he walks through the doorway, everybody following, Eddie is standing in front of the wrapped painting. 

"I don't know. Santa must have brought it," Steve lies, and Eddie turns to look at him.

"What'd you do?"

"Open it and find out," Steve says, and Eddie grabs a corner of the wrapping paper and tears. It doesn't come off in full, but it reveals a hint at what's to come.

"You did not," Eddie says, as he pulls more of the paper loose.

Steve did. He definitely did.

Eddie bends over at the waist and laughs, "I hate you. I hate it."

Then, he stands up, throwing his arms around Steve's neck, "I love it. I love you."

Steve laughs, that's about what he expected. And Eddie pulls away to study it again, as all their friends hoot and holler in the background, riling him up further as they all look at it. 

Eddie, painted in his onstage glory, young and wild, on black velvet.

Steve watches as Eddie reaches out to touch the canvas, "Black velvet. Like I'm Elvis."

Yep. That's exactly what Steve had in mind.

Eddie turns back to grin at Steve, "Has Wayne seen this yet?"

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: The "painting" image is from this statue of Eddie that's for sale. I thought I could make it look more like a painting than an actual picture from the show.

The title come from the song Black Velvet by Alannah Myles.

[starrihan]

Higher Than Heaven (Yeonjun Fic)

→ Pairing: Yeonjun x afab! Reader

→ Plot: a group project is the last thing you want for your midterm, but working with the student who smokes makes it 10x worse

→ Genre: smut, tiny tiny bit of angst, protection (yes!!), kissing, hickeys, piv sex, reader is judgmental + hates smoking, swearing (Imk if i missed any!!)

→ Warnings: smoking, mentions of food, joke about dead grandparents

→ Word Count: 7,746

→ Notes: hey guys! This is the first fic of my Sanctuary Series! For more information about the series I would recommend going to this post here!I just want to clarify that I do not share the same views as the reader does in this fic, it was purely for plot purposes! Hope you enjoy pt 1 of the series 😚

༄ ༄ ༄

You were always a goodie two-shoes. Perfect attendance, good grades, class president, the story writes itself. You grew up playing different instruments and were always enrolled in a sport or after-school club to keep yourself busy and your portfolio reflecting nothing less than perfection. So how did you go from valedictorian and class president of your high school to a college student who is on the verge or dropping out? 

The amount of work you’d allowed to accumulate over the past few weeks was enough to scare even the professors, making them question whether they actually assigned that much work. You could feel your grays coming in at the sight of all your work, exhaling as you decide to tackle the easy assignments first. 

It’s the middle of the day on a Thursday. You had a couple of assignments due tomorrow night that you absolutely could not afford to push off any longer. You had already asked for extensions on most of your assignments so far and you didn’t know how many more dead grandparents you could have before your professors questioned the validity of your failed punctuality when it came to turning in your assignments on time. You had class at 3 p.m, giving you a good two and half hours to get some work done. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You pack up your belongings as the clock strikes 2:30 p.m. You had gotten a couple of your easy assignments done, though it was very taxing to say the least. You make your way to your class, bundling up as the cold was brutal enough to warrant a cancelation, though, your university would never do that (speaking from experience because wdym its 2℉ out and i have to walk to class when theres black ice on the ground??).

You make it to your class about 15 minutes later, shivering from being cold yet sweating due to the many layers you had on. You take a seat next to your best friend, who had gotten there before you and saved your seat. 

“Can we go get food after class? I’ve had back to back classes and meetings all day and I’m starving.”

She drones on. You nod as you take out your laptop, waiting for the professor to start class. You’re prepared to mindlessly take notes for the next hour and half during lecture, but are pleasantly surprised when the professor doesn’t pull up the lecture slides. 

“Good afternoon class. I can all tell you guys are doing great so far.”

Her joke lands for some people, getting little chuckles and giggles from different corners of the lecture hall.

“Your midterms are a month away. I would normally give an exam for this class, but this year I have decided to switch it up. I have you all in pairs and you will be submitting a group assignment as your midterm. You will not be required to present but I will give you free reign on the design, layout and mode of presentation on the project meaning you can use any platform or software you would like to get the information across. I have sent you all emails with the name of the person you will be paired up with.”

You and friend look at each other and groan, knowing that the chance of you two being in a group is slim to none. Surely enough, you check your emails for your project partners.

“Who is Choi Yeonjun?” 

You ask, looking to your friend to see if she has any answers. She scans the room, presumably to see if he’s in class to point him out to you. 

“You see that kid in the middle row to the left? The one with the red hair? That’s him.

You look at the back of his head, sighing as you realize you don’t know this person and that this project is going to take a lot more time out of your busy schedule. 

“At least you’re not working with Choi Beomgyu. I heard he can be a handful.” 

Your friend rolls her eyes, burning holes in the back of the blonde boy's head, who happens to be sitting next to Yeonjun. You follow your eyes to see the boy, laughing at the irony of your partners sitting next to each other, just like their partners were. 

The rest of the class is drag, the growling of your stomach making it seem longer than it was as hunger consumes you. 

“Let’s go to the dining hall. I can’t afford to spend any more money on that overpriced cafe.”

Your friend says as you follow her out. It’s gotten pretty dark outside and there weren’t many students walking around in the cold. There were a couple of people here and there, probably walking back to their dorms after class. You two find yourself walking behind a person with their hood up, paying no mind to him until a cloud of smoke hits your face. Your audible groan at the smell of weed alerts his attention as he turns around and apologizes for smoking right in front of you. As he pulls his hood down, you recognize the tuft of bright red hair sitting on the top of his head. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you guys were behind me. I didn’t mean for the smoke to hit you.” 

‘Great,’ you thought. Not only did you have to work with a random stranger, but he also smokes publically on campus. You didn’t like smoking or people who smoked. You couldn’t understand why people do it or what joy butchering your throat and lungs could bring you. Your friend knew that about you and sensing your irritation, she speaks up for you, dismissing the incident on your behalf while you both walk ahead of him. 

As soon as you know that you’re far enough away from Yeonjun, you ask,

“Can we switch partners?”

Your friend snickers.

“If he smokes, I can almost assure you that his friend does too, so switching partners wouldn’t help.” 

You finally enter the dining hall, taking in the heated building before putting your stuff down in search of mediocre food. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You spend the next few days catching up on any missing work, putting the project aside since you still have a month left to do it. You decide to use Sunday as your rest day, drained from the assignments you were able to get done. You still had many assignments left to do, but you could only do so much work and you were already feeling burnt out. Doing more work wouldn’t be eventful in any way. 

You prepare for your day as normal, showering and throwing on a cute, weather appropriate, outfit as you make your way to the cafe on campus. You needed something better than the dining hall coffee for a change. You went there quite often, as you were high school friends with one of the baristas there. You smile as you spot him, walking up to the counter. 

“Taehyun! How’ve you been?”

The boy beams brightly at you, loving your cheerful spirit upon seeing him.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you for a couple days! I’m good, how are you? And, do you want your usual?”

“I know, I’ve been busy and broke. But I’m doing alright, just catching up on all of my assignments. And yes please.”

“Oh, that’s good at least! Also we have a new employee that I’m training so it might take a minute to get your order. Is that okay?”

“Yeah of course! Take your time. Thank you!” 

You say, paying the balance of your meal and waiting at the end of the counter to get your food. You see a tall boy with red hair come out from the kitchen. You scoff to yourself as you recognize Yeonjun. ‘Of course he works here,’ you think. It takes him a couple of minutes to make your drink, still new to all the syrups and flavors that are available. As he finishes he calls out your name. 

“Y/N!” 

You walk up to him, remaining polite as you thank him for your order.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry if it took a while, it’s only my third day here.” 

“It’s okay, thank you for the food!” 

He stares at you and you’re about to grab your stuff and walk out, but he stops you.

“Wait, Y/N? Are you taking history 2204? With Professor X?” 

“Yeah?”

You feign ignorance, pretending not to know who he is. 

“Ah, I see. I’m Yeonjun. I think we’re partners for this project. It was nice to meet you.” 

He says as he smiles. You felt a little guilty about your prejudiced dislike towards him. He seemed nice enough, so what if he smokes? And you couldn’t lie to yourself, finding his smile and crinkled eyes cute.

“Oh yeah! It’s nice to meet you too!” 

“Can I give you my number? So we can discuss what days work for us to meet up and work on the project?” 

You nod as you hand him your phone. You watch as he types away his number, smiling as he hands it back to you.

“Thank you, Yeonjun. I’ll text you my schedule and we can figure out what works then.” 

He wished you a good day and you smile, finding his manners charming. 

༄ ༄ ༄

A week had passed since you met Yeonjun at the cafe. You were officially back on track as you submitted the last of your missing assignments the night before, finally being able to focus your time and energy on this project. You had yet to message Yeonjun and you didn’t know why you were nervous to text him. You didn’t want to start off the messages awkwardly so you went with a simple yet forward message to start the conversation.

“Hey! This is Y/N from history class. You gave me your number last week at the cafe.”

You release the breath you were subconsciously holding, hitting ‘send’ and waiting for a response. You didn’t want it to seem like you were glued to your phone, waiting for him to message you back so you bide your time by doing other things around your space. Cleaning up your desk, putting away your clothes, etc. 

You hear your phone go off, waiting a couple minutes to check who the message is from. You groan when it’s just one of your friends asking if you wanted to hang out later. You replied ‘sure,’ and went back to doing anything you could occupy yourself. 

It had been a couple of hours since you messaged him and still no response. Now pissed that he hadn’t yet gotten back to you, you decided to get ready to go out with your friends. There was a party at a bar on campus and you allowed yourself to go out as a reward for completing all your assignments. Putting on some light makeup, you chose a rather revealing outfit despite the winter weather, assuming that it was probably going to be hot in the bar. 

You met your friends there and all started with some drinks. You were talking about your days, just checking up on them. You had all been so busy with midterms coming up that you barely had time to hang out. After having about two more drinks, your friends dragged you onto the floor, dancing to whatever music the band was playing. 

“Y/N!!” 

You hear your name being called and turned around to find the source of the noise. You spot Taehyun and instantly your mood brightens up. 

“Taehyun! I didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“I wasn’t planning on coming but my friend asked me to come with him. I think you’ve met him before, Yeonjun? He’s the one that made your order a week ago.” 

You grimace upon hearing his name. At first, you cut him some slack because he seemed nice enough. You felt guilty about judging him because he smoked. But after not messaging you all day and then hearing that he was at this party, you went back on your word, the idea of disliking him appealing to you again. 

“Oh yeah, I know him. I remember meeting him last week.” 

You say, emotionless. 

“I want you to meet him again. And my other friends too, they’re all cool so I think you’ll like them.” 

You trusted Taehyun so maybe you had to hold off on your hatred a little longer. Though you were good at using your words, your expression and body language always failed you, never being able to hide your negative emotions. 

“These are my friends, Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu and Kai.” 

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you guys, I’m Y/N!” 

“Ah yes, we’ve heard a lot about you. Taehyun told us how you guys were best friends in high school.” 

Soobin said, his tall frame and black hair are easy on the eyes. 

“Yeah, me and Terry go way back! It feels like we met just a year ago but it’s already been 7 years”

You say, laughing. Yeonjun chuckles at your comment, sipping at his beer. 

“It’s nice to formally meet you Y/N. And I like your outfit, it suits you.” 

You stare towards him is cold but your cheeks betray you, heating up at his compliment towards your outfit. 

“Thank you…” 

Your night goes on, hopping between your friend group and Taehyun and his friends. One by one, they all start to leave as you’re left with one of your friends, Taehyun and Yeonjun. You introduce them all to each other and stay at the party for a little longer before deciding to leave. 

“I think I’m going to head back, Y/N. I’m tired and I have classes back to back tomorrow,” 

Your friend says, gathering her things.

“Alright but you can’t walk back by yourself? It’s too dark and you know how dangerous it can be.” 

You look around, trying to find a solution so that your friend doesn’t go back by herself. 

“Taehyun! You live on this side of campus right? Can you walk back with her?”

Taehyun looks to your friend, who’s blushing a little as you try to help her out. 

“Yeah sure but, what about you? You live on the opposite side so what are you gonna do?” 

“I can walk her back. I live around there anyways. It would be no trouble, really.” 

Yeonjun says, smiling as his eyes disappear. You mentally curse yourself for being left with Yeonjun, even though there was nothing else you can do about it. You all nod and go your separate ways, Taehyun with your friend and you with Yeonjun. 

On your walk back to your dorm, Yeonjun fishes a lighter out of his pocket, using it to light the joint that was in his other hand. Taking a drag, you immediately smell the inebriating plant and walk faster. He can sense something off between the two of you, the tension weighing down the atmosphere. 

“Did I do something to upset you? It just… seems like you don’t like me or don’t want me around?” 

You stop in your tracks, having been walking in front of him this entire time and turn around to face him. You exhale loudly before starting:

“First of all, I was not in the best state when the professor announced we were working in random pairs for this project. Not really your fault but then I’m walking behind you as we leave class and you’re smoking! Let alone, the smoke blows into my face and I hate smoking, let alone people who smoke. Then I met you at the cafe and you seemed really nice so I gave you the benefit of the doubt and thought that maybe I judged you too quickly and then I felt guilty. But then this morning, I text you and you left me on delivered all day and then I find you here, at this party and now you’re walking me back to my dorm. So yeah, you can say I’m not really fond of you.” 

You huff, the feeling of letting all of that off your chest almost euphoric. He puts his hand with the joint down next to him, taking his phone and checking his messages, and found that you did in fact text him and he didn’t read it. 

“I’m sorry for not reading your message, I was busy all day and I’m not allowed to use my phone during work. And I do apologize for smoking in front of you, even though it blowing in your face isn’t my fault. But that’s it? I didn’t actually do anything to you, so what’s the judgment for? Why do you hate people who smoke?” 

You didn’t want to stand in the cold any longer, and you didn’t want to have this conversation either. Really, you were avoiding his gaze because you really did have no valid reason to hate him. He never actually did anything to you. But you couldn’t back down now, otherwise you’d be embarrassed. You just huff as you turn on your heel, walking in the direction of your door, the rest of the walk back remaining silent. 

He walks you up to your building. You feel your phone ding, grabbing it from your pocket to check the notification. 

“I sent you my schedule. Let’s get this project done as quickly as we can so we don’t have to see each other again.” 

You hang your head low, guilt hitting you like a truck at the sight of an upset and hurt Yeonjun waiting for you to walk in. Even though you told him that you didn’t like him straight to his face, he still had the courtesy of waiting for you to enter your building so he can say he waited until you were safe to leave. You look back at him one last time, feeling worse than before as you run in and take the stairs up to your room. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You stare at Yeonjun’s schedule that sits in your messages, debating on whether or not you should ask your professor if you could work alone. You’re seriously contemplating it but ultimately decide that you should at least fix whatever you started, as it would be unfair to Yeonjun to leave him to do the project alone, though after your encounter last night, you’re sure he would appreciate not being your partner anymore. 

“Hey. I’m free this weekend if you are to work on the project.”

His reply is almost immediate, like he had been waiting for you to text him back. 

“Yeah, I’m free this weekend as well. Time and place?”

“Would you be comfortable coming over to my dorm at like 12 o’clock tomorrow? I want to apologize for the things I said and the way I acted…”

You bite your lip as you send the message, waiting for the rejection message to pop up.

“Sounds cool. I’ll see you at 12 tmr.”

No rejection? You were utterly surprised at this chance of redemption though, a little taken aback at how nonchalant he sounded. You lived in a single dorm so cleaning up wasn't that bad. You made sure to have plenty of snacks and drinks stocked in your mini fridge and made a little cozy corner for him to work in, while you would sit at your desk. You even made sure to text Taehyun and to ask what Yeonjun’s favorite drink was so you could have it ready for him when he arrived. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You woke up early in the morning, getting ready for the day as you make your way to the cafe to pick up the drinks you had ordered for both yourself and Yeonjun. 

“Hey Taehyun! Do you have those drinks ready for me?”

“Hey! Yeah I do. I have your usual and an iced americano for Yeonjun!”

The boy says, big eyes gleaming as he hands you the drinks. 

“Thank you! I’ll see you later!”

You didn’t tell him about the events that transpired after the party, and from the looks of it Yeonjun hadn't told him anything either. You say your goodbyes and make your way to a little pop-up event on your campus. They were selling cookies and cupcakes to support their club, so you thought it would be a nice gesture to buy you and Yeonjun both a cookie and a cupcake each. 

Struggling to open your door with all the treats in your hands, you manage to get inside of your room and put all your stuff down. You check the time to see that it’s only 11:30 a.m, relieved to see that you still had some time to yourself. 

You hear a knock on your door a little bit later. You had sent Yeonjun the details of your dorm room before he got there but were still startled by the knock. You compose yourself, nervously opening the door to see a blank-faced Yeonjun staring back at you, this time wearing a loose sweater that hangs off his shoulder on one side, gray sweats and black, thick framed glasses. 

“Hey Yeonjun. Come in, I have some things prepared.” 

He nods as he walks in, slipping off his shoes at the little welcome mat you have placed in front of the door. The dorm itself is pretty small, enough for one person but it could still comfortably afford a guest. 

“First of all, I want to start with a verbal apology. I’m sorry for being prejudiced against you based on your smoking habits. And I’m sorry for lashing out on you last night when you asked a valid question. I know it wasn’t your fault that the smoke blew into my face and I guess I was just anxious about this project and texting you that I didn’t even stop to think and consider the fact that you could’ve been busy and didn’t have time to check your phone. Secondly, I asked Taehyun what your favorite drink at the cafe was so I got you an iced americano, and a cookie and cupcake from the fundraiser one of the clubs on campus is having.” 

You shyly hand over the cup with his drink and the snacks that were packed into a little plastic box. He takes the snacks out of your hand and for the first time all week, you relax your shoulders as Yeonjun smiles, accepting your apology and finding it cute in the process. 

“Thank you Y/N. I know you don’t know me and I don’t know what your deal with hating smoking is, but I accept and appreciate the apology nonetheless. Shall we get started?” 

You nod as you instruct him to put his stuff down in the little workspace you created for him, a small throw pillow and fox blanket resting on the inflatable chair you had blown up for him to make use of. He chuckles at the cute setup, settling his stuff down and getting comfy to start working.

༄ ༄ ༄

Throughout your working session, you had some conversation here and there when things got boring or you ran into a particularly difficult part of the project. A couple hours into working you both decide to tap out, noticing the time and finding that you had been working for 6 hours straight. 

“Oh my god, it’s been 6 hours!” 

You say, surprised that you were able to focus on the same assignment for so long though, to your credit, it felt like many different assignments bundled into one. 

“Damn, I didn’t even notice how late it was. That wasn’t so bad actually.” 

Yeonjun says, getting up to stretch his legs, americano and snack box empty as you both refused to leave the room to eat lunch. He picked up his trash, throwing it in the garbage before returning to his corner, looking at you before asking you a question you didn’t think he’d ask:

“Would you ever try it? Smoking I mean?

You stare at him blankly. Your immediate answer was no. Smoking is bad for you, it can cause illness or death. But when you opened your mouth to answer, you didn’t expect this to come out: 

“Maybe one day?” 

You’re speechless yourself at your answer. You were so adamant on hating smoking and never wanting to try it. What about Yeonjun asking you made you change your answer? Was it the way he so confidently stood up to you last night? Or the way he walked you to your dorm despite learning about your true feelings for him at the time? Or the way you wanted him to find you different from the character you first gave off, the one that judged him for smoking in the first place? As if he could see the inner struggle etched onto your face he remarks,

“I thought you hated smoking? What makes you want to try it?” 

Your face heats up at your own silence, but you respond anyway.

“I do hate it. And I actually don’t want to try it. I don't know why I said that. But why do you smoke in the first place?” 

You ask, trying to change the subject to be towards him. Catching onto your little trick, he humors you. 

“It’s a relaxing way to unwind after a stressful day. Sit back, throw on a movie and take a couple hits and you’re there. Relaxed as can be with no other care in the world. You should try it, maybe then you won’t be as tightly wound.” 

You scoff at his little jab at you towards the end of his explanation. You couldn’t lie, with the way he was explaining it to you, the idea of smoking did sound very enticing. But nonetheless, you were willing to stand your ground on this topic, after all, this whole situation you were in with Yeonjun stemmed from your hatred towards smoking and you weren’t going to back down now. 

“As if. And I am not tightly wound, thank you very much. Maybe you can’t tell because you’re brain fried from all the weed you smoke.” 

Thinking your remark has granted you victory in this argument, Yeonjun smirks, offering you a challenge. 

“Try it. Prove me wrong that you won’t feel relaxed. That it won’t make you feel like a weight has been temporarily lifted off of you.” 

He reached down into his bag, pulling out a metal box and setting it on your desk. Upon clicking it open, the smell of weed immediately wafts through the room, filling your nose and causing you to cough slightly. 

“Do you mind not opening that up in my room? We’re not supposed to smoke in the dorms anyways!” 

You said, grabbing air freshener to dilute the smell of the weed. 

“Relax, it's fine. Plus the hall directors on this floor all do it too, so they won’t care.” 

You scoff as he takes a seat, carefully grinding the bud so as not to get any on your desk. He then fiddles with the contraption used to pack the weed into the paper, sealing it off after having packed it fully. 

“I’ll demonstrate how to do it and then you take a hit, okay?” 

You gulp nervously, teetering between the idea of kicking him out or waiting to see how this all plays out. Were you really going to get high because a cute boy challenged you? You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts as you see him flick open the lighter, the smell of burning paper replacing the smell of weed in your nose. He lets it burn for a while, opening your window in the process. 

“When you take a hit, blow out of the window otherwise you’ll set off the fire alarm.” 

You mock a smile as he laughs, bringing the joint up to his lips as he takes a small inhale. You watch as the fibers of the paper burn, the weed contents turning gray. You analyze the way he takes the hit and hold it in his throat for a second before slowly blowing the cloud of smoke out of the window. 

“Your turn.” 

He passes you the joint, as your clammy hands impatiently reach for it. You look at him one more time nervously, bringing the joint up to your mouth and inhaling. You don’t know how fast you ripped it, throat burning and violently coughing as Yeonjun scrambles in your fridge to bring you a bottle of water. You chug the water to stop your coughs, handing the joint back to him as you catch your breath. 

“Nothing about that was relaxing in any way.” 

“That’s because you did it too fast. Look, watch me. You slowly inhale, don’t let the feeling of it in your throat bother you otherwise you’ll start to cough.” 

You hold a little grudge in your stare, cursing at the fact that you were so easily convinced to try the one thing you spited and how your resolve crumbles so easily before your very eyes. You watch him bring the joint up to his lips again, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before taking another hit. This time you watch how he holds it in his mouth, counting the seconds before he blows it out. 

“Think you got it this time?”

You take the joint from his hand, silently reassuring him that you’d be fine. You try again, this time slowly inhaling. Remember his words from just a few moments ago, you let the particles settle in your throat for a moment, slightly inhaling before releasing the breath, successfully blowing the smoke out of the window. You look up at Yeonjun with big eyes and a proud smile. 

“I still don’t feel relaxed.” 

“You will in about 3 more hits and 15 minutes.” 

You continue to pass the joint to each other, careful not to rip it too fast or inhale too much. You can feel your eyes start to get a little droopy, a constant smile appearing on your face as you feel your body loosen. You feel slower but not heavy as you turn to Yeonjun and start giggling. 

“I can tell that you’re starting to feel it now. Gonna tell me you don’t feel relaxed?” 

You nod, giggling at his smile. The longer you stare at him, the cuter you think he is. Even in your high state, you couldn’t blame the weed for the attraction you felt for the red-haired man. Maybe you were starting to form a little crush. You think about the sweater he’s wearing, how his neck and collarbone are so perfectly on display, longing to be nipped at. Or the way the glasses make him look more sophisticated and smart, you did like nerdy looking boys. And the way his thick lips wrapped around the joint, eyes following his every move as he takes another drag. You couldn’t help the way you were rubbing your thighs together, the idea of his lips on yours creating a need to form within you. He looks at you, dumbfounded as he himself is now high as well. 

“How are you feeling Y/N? Do you feel good? Do you feel relaxed?” 

This time, you could blame the weed for what you say next:

“I feel great. I would feel even better if you kissed me.”

You laugh at your own comment, finding Yeonjun’s shocked expression priceless and thus further causing you to laugh. You allowed yourself to be bold, not knowing when again you’d have this opportunity. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Y/N. You’re high right now and so am I. Neither of our judgments can be trusted right now.” 

He tries to play the mature, responsible role. He was the one that got you high so he felt responsible for any and all actions made by you or towards you by himself. But the slight, ever-growing tent in his pants was giving him away, revealing that he was not as grounded in his resolve as he wanted to be.

“What? You don’t believe me? Should I prove it to you?”

You take his previous words of challenge and use it against him, playing him at his own game. You walk up to him slowly, eyes red and droopy as you stare into his. You place your hand on his chest, tippy toeing to try to reach up to his lips. 

“Help me out a little?” 

As if all rhyme and reason was thrown out the window, Yeonjun doesn’t hesitate to lean down, capturing your lips with his own. He throws one arm around your waist, the other carefully holding the joint so as not to get any ash over your floor. Your hands remain on his chest as your lips move slowly in sync, breaths heavy from the temporarily shortened capacity of your lungs. You still feel a burn every time you inhale, but it’s worth it for the way Yeonjun has you feeling right now; completely relaxed and carefree. 

He pulls away for a second, grabbing your hand with his free one and placing the joint in between your lips, guiding you to take a hit before he puts it in the metal box with his other weed essentials. His eyes watch you in awe as you close your eyes to take the hit. He pulls you onto his lap as he takes a seat on your desk chair and you happily follow, hands around the nape of his neck as you play with the hairs there. You take your time holding the smoke in and he kisses you again, running his hands along your sides, squeezing as you gasp, letting the smoke out from your mouth into his. He takes the opportunity to gently slip his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan at the contact, grinding down a bit into his thigh. Your mouth is dry, partly due to the cotton mouth you're experiencing, and partly due to the nerves that had worked their way into your body when you decided to be bold and admit to wanting to kiss him. 

He licks the inside of your mouth before pulling away a little to suck on your tongue, teeth grazing it as he pulls away to trails kisses down your jaw and neck. You’re panting out of breath at his actions, the wetness between your legs only growing as you feel his hard-on press against the side of your thigh. You giggle as he nips a particularly ticklish spot on your neck, the effects of the weed present and causing him to giggle as well. 

“Can I kiss your neck?” 

“Well when you ask so nicely…”

He laughs, pulling away from your neck and tilting his head to the side, granting you permission to mark him up. You lean down, lightly nipping at his milky skin, biting around the area of his collarbones and he rests his hands on your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thigh. Your little whimpers at the contact only turn him on more, hard cock throbbing against his sweats as you eye the clear outline of them. Pulling back to look at your little marks, you’re satisfied as you pull him into your lips once again, this time more hungry. His hands that were settled on your hips move to grab your ass, squeezing as he presses you down harder on his thigh. Your moans are drowned out by his lips as the makeout becomes heavier and messier, saliva escaping from the corner of your lips and dripping down your chin. He pulls away first, admiring your red and puffy lips with a dazed smile. He stands you up, grabbing the joint and taking a big hit, holding it as his hands sweetly caress your face and he gives you another kiss, letting the smoke cascade into your mouth as you try your best to inhale and not choke. He smirks watching the excess smoke slip between your mouths, putting down the remainder of the joint and feeling you up underneath your shirt. 

“No bra?”

“I was in here all day. There was no need for it.”

You respond simply, taking a step back to fully take your shirt off, giggling as you watch his eyes open dramatically at the sight of your bare tits, nipples hardened as a result of the cold air. He pushes you against your desk, leaning you back over it as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, not even bothering to get you both on the bed. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud. You moan at the contact, harshly gripping his hair as he grazed his teeth against them. He takes the chance to slide his hands down the waistband of your pants, settling just above your pussy. 

“Yeonjun…” 

Your whimpers turn him on further as he begins rubbing circles on your clit through your panties and you throw your head back at the sheer amount of pleasure you’re feeling at the moment. He switches his attention from one nipple to the other, trading his fingers up and down your slit, feeling the wetness collect on the fabric separating his fingers from your heat. You don’t realize your grip has gotten impossibly tighter, accidentally pushing his head further into your chest, not that he minded. 

“You’re rough, I like it.” 

He pulls his head away from your chest and you whine at the loss of contact, the warmth his hold brought you being replaced by the cooling of his saliva all over your boobs. He pulls you close enough to him to help you take off your pants and underwear, sitting you back down on your desk as he admires your glistening lips, sliding down both his sweats and his boxers. 

He goes over to his bag and pulls out a condom before rolling it on to his painfully hard erection. 

“You just carry condoms on you at all times?”

“It came in handy, didn’t it?” 

He smirks at your failed attempt at being snarky, grabbing your waist as he slides the head between your folds. Your arms rest on his shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as the other twiddles with the necklace he has on.  

“You tease too much…” 

Yeonjun guides you back and forth on his dick, relishing in the little yet satisfying pleasure he’s giving himself right now. One hand rests on your pelvis, thumb reaching down to circle your clit as you hiss, biting your lip to suppress the moan you desperately want to let out. 

“Please Yeonjun…” 

Your begging only made it harder for him to resist you, slowly bringing the head down to your sopping entrance, groaning as he pushes it past your walls.

“Fuck you’re so tight. Gotta stretch you out on my cock.”

You wince as he pushes himself in deeper, releasing a sigh of content as he fully sheathes himself inside you. He keeps his thumb on your clit, the speed of his actions constant. 

“Y-you can move now…” 

He moves slowly, still letting you adjust before moving at a more constant pace. You’re mindful of the moans pushing past your open lips, finding it hard to contain them as he sets a firm rhythm. You look down beside you and pick up what’s left of the joint. Yeonjun takes note of your actions, holding you steady with both of his hands as you grab the lighter to reignite the substance. You bring it to your lips once again, letting the effect of the weed wash over you, reveling in the heightened effect of the drug. 

You hold the joint up to Yeonjun’s mouth, smiling lazily as he takes a hit, his hips never stopping their relentless pounding into your pussy. He attaches his lips to your neck once again allowing the smoke to escape and you to stabilize yourself while his thumb goes back to circling your clit, this time much faster than before. He also speeds up thrusts, the volume of your moans increasing as his harsh thrusts knock the desk back into the wall over and over again. You’re afraid of the amount of noise you’re making, worried about whether or not your neighbors can hear the scandalous sounds coming from your room, but all worry flies out the window when Yeonjun leans you back, bringing your hips up to a whole new angle for him. 

“Yeonjun!!” 

You scream as his tip hits your spot so deliciously, legs wrapping around him, pulling him that much closer. He chuckles as your face scrunches up, indicative of your close release. He can’t help but to move faster, pistoning his hips at an incredible speed, one that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as a gush of liquid comes rushing out of you. 

“Yeah that’s it, squirt all over my cock for me. Let it all out…” 

You’re so high that you barely even register the fact that you just squirted all over him, creating a mess on your floor. Your feelings only seem to intensify as the overstimulation kicks in, sensitive walls clenching down on him as your second orgasm approaches you quickly, his fingers still working your clit. 

“I’m… I’m gonna cum again… Y-yeonjun please…” 

Your whines come out broken and sporadic, not sure how much more you can take. 

“Hold on for me a little longer baby, I’m almost there.” 

You nod as you pull his head back down to you, kissing him one last time as he nails his final thrust, hips stilling in you as he feels himself fill the condom. Your pants and sighs fill the now smokey room. 

“I didn’t know you could squirt like that baby girl. You’re so fucking hot”

He carefully pulls out of you, making sure not to let any cum seep out of the condom. You wince as he pulls out, legs feeling like jelly as you release him from your hold. After discarding the condom, he quickly reaches for the napkins you have sitting on top of the fridge, cleaning you up before kneeling on the cold floor to wipe up any remnants of your release. 

“You look good when you’re on your knees,”

You say playfully, biting your lip as you watch him clean your floor. 

“I was right.” 

Your head feels empty and you’re slightly tingly. The high you were having definitely intensified the feeling you were having during sex but it did nothing to help jog your memory. 

“What are you talking about” 

“Have you already forgotten”

You shrug as you jump off the desk, using his shoulder to help ground yourself as your legs recover from their jelly-like state and proceed to put your clothes back on. 

“I told you that smoking would help you feel more relaxed. I guess in your case it also helped you be more bold.” 

Your usual eye roll was replaced by a giggle. 

“Did I really say that? I guess I had no idea what I was talking about?” 

He laughs with you as he finishes cleaning the floor, pulling his pants back on before putting his weed materials away, shirtless. 

You keep staring at him, realizing that you were too high and too needy to notice his toned abs before. 

“I can send you a picture of them if you want? You don’t have to keep staring at me like that.” 

He pulls his sweater over his head to which you pout, upset that your view was now covered. 

“Relax, you’ll see them again the next time we do this.” 

“Next time?” 

You couldn’t say that you hated the feeling of being high, but maybe you weren’t in the right mind to be making decisions like that. 

“Yeah? Next time we work on the project we can get high and do this again. It was fun.” 

He puts his stuff away in his bag, leaving it on your inflatable chair. He wasn’t just gonna leave you after fucking you whilst you were still high. 

“We got a pretty good portion of the project done today. We don’t even have to meet up to finish out individual parts.” 

You say, reminding him about your 6 hour grind to finish as much of the project as you could. 

“What are you trying to say?” 

He says while fixing his glasses and hair in your mirror.

“I’m saying the next time we meet we don’t have to do work.”

He makes eye contact with you through the mirror, his smirk hard to hide at your insinuation.

“You dirty girl. So bold when you’re high, only want me over to have sex.” 

“Well… to have sex and get high! I do enjoy your presence but I’ve never felt so good before. That was like heaven.” 

Even though he didn’t know you that well, he could tell the effects of the weed were still strong on you, watching you yap away, knowing you probably won’t remember this conversation in the morning. He just laughs at your comment as you put your stuff away. 

You watch as he goes back to his seat, moving his bag back to the floor. You walk up to him, sitting down on his lap. You tangle your fingers in his hair, staring at his lips again, which are also swollen. His eyes follow your gaze and he throws his head back in laughter, scaring you a little as you flinch at unexpected sound. 

“You’re still horny?” 

“What makes you say that?”

You play dumb as if you weren’t just drooling over his lips. 

“But we just put our clothes back on!” 

He whines, fixing your position so that you’re properly straddling him. 

“Yeah but, you aren’t gonna reject me right? Not when I’m high and needy because of you?” 

You feign your best soft voice and puppy eyes, trying your best to hold back from laughing in his face at your own antics. Yeonjun takes your face in his hand, giving you a sweet smile.

“No of course not, that would make me a monster.”

He says, pulling you back in for another kiss as you settle in. Maybe smoking a little bit of weed wasn’t so bad after all. 

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: before the fall

authors note: this is part a requested/suggested short as well as something else. takes place between chapters six and seven of the story.

warnings: none

suggested listening: can't help falling in love by kina grannis (def recommend listening to this one towards the middle of this and onward)

words: 3.5k

**gif belongs to @romanreigns

There’s a lot of thought that goes into it. Too much. Textbook overthinking. But all so necessary. 

She’s never done it before. Always resulted to texting to communicate with him when he’s in there. His office. Door closed. The place he’s been for the past two hours.

But unlike previous times, he hasn’t acknowledged her text. A text she sent almost half an hour ago. Something that wouldn’t be a major issue but not for the fact her message is….time sensitive. 

Meaning, she’s on the 6th hour of the eight hour limit one has with tampons, and no other remaining ones in the box. It’s a stupid, silly thing she keeps mentally berating herself over. How she could forget to pick up another box at her last grocery store visit? But berating herself doesn’t do anything to help the problem. She needs to go out, needs to buy some more. 

However, without Roman responding to her text letting her know if she can leave out or not, it’s hard to do. 

Impossible, even.

Which is why she’s left with only one choice.

A deep breath, a quiet prayer, and a big risk.

Solana has only knocked, quietly, three times when his deep voice barks from the other side, “what!”

Eyes shut, she winces but manages to answer, “it’s—it’s me.”

A noticeable pause followed by a quieter, slightly calmer, “come in.”

Slight hesitation followed by acquiescence. Immediately, Solana readies her apologies for interrupting him, but is interrupted herself when her eyes land on him.

As expected, he’s sitting at his desk, laptop open in front of him, stacks of manilla folders and paperwork surrounding it and him. But, what’s unexpected are the black rimmed glasses that sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose as well as his hair, so black, silky and beautiful, free and hanging, not in the typical neat bun he sports majority of the time.

And Solana can’t bring it in her to look away, too stunned by the almost….normalcy of it all. In this moment, he looks nothing like the man whose name strikes fear among most. He just looks like….a man.

A beautiful man, but a man, nonetheless.

“Yes?”

His deep voice, still surprisingly calm, finally pulls her from her trance. Looking away, her body suddenly much warmer than she recalls, she answers, “I’m—I’m sorry to bother you. You just—you didn’t reply to my text—” Realizing how accusatory that could sound, she moves to damage control. “I just mean—”

“You text me?” A glance at Roman reveals furrowed brows. She watches him grab his phone, eyes surveying the lock screen that most likely holds her unread message. “Shit, I’m sorry. Been busy.”

His apology feels unnecessary and also takes her back. Why should he apologize to her? It doesn’t make any sense.

“Where the hell do you need to go this late at night?”

Despite the wording, the tone of his question is more curious than annoyed. It doesn’t stop her from nervously fiddling with the cotton of her sweatpants. 

“I—I need to go to the store.”

Roman looks at her, brow raised, repeating. “You need to go to the store?” He glances at his computer screen. “Solana, it’s almost midnight. What the hell do you need from the store that can’t wait unt—” He stops, clearly noticing how her eyes shut, her face turned up in pain as she moves her hand over her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she waits for the sharp pain to, somewhat, subside, before answering. “I just—I don’t feel good.”

His eyes narrow, studying her. “Then you shouldn’t be going out.”

It’s a logical response that doesn’t necessarily apply to this situation. 

Solana does her best to hide the pain and discomfort she’s in, subtly rubbing her stomach. “I—I have to—”

“Do you want me to call the doctor?” His question causes her eyes to widen. She shakes her head, ready to protest when he continues, “you’re obviously sick, so—”

“No, I’m—it’s not…it’s not like that.”

Wrong answer. 

She watches his face shift into something of a scowl, his irritation undeniable as he demands. “Solana, would you just tell me what the hell is wrong with y—”

“I got my period.”

Oh.

Solana immediately regrets it the moment it's thrown out there. She slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes widened in horror. 

Shit.

“I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean—”

Roman clears his throat, also clearly caught off guard by her answer, even if an answer was what he was wanting. “So you need stuff for….that.”

Her cheeks must be a reddish, ruddy mess. “Y–yes.” Desperate and eager to be past this conversation, she bargains, “I won’t be lon—”

“No.”

Silence.

Speaking continues to be a battle that Solana is, so far, not losing but not excelling at either. “I’m—sorry?”

Roman shakes his head, leaning back in the chair. “It’s too late for you to be out the house.”

She doesn’t necessarily disagree, but given the situation, she doesn’t see how she has much of a choice. “I—I’ll have security with m—”

“I’ll go.” 

More silence.

“You?” It’s a whisper, her voice weighed down with shock and some shade of embarrassment. “No, no, you—you can’t—you’re working.”

“I’m always working,” is his easy counter. Standing up, Solana watches him roll his shoulders. “Better me than you. You don’t feel good.” 

And she doesn’t feel any better knowing that she’s most definitely bothering him. “It’s fi—”

“Solana.” Something tells her this is a good point to stop protesting—and pushing—him. “I said I’ll go.” 

His voice reeks of finality, and the fear of upsetting him is enough to silence her. “O–okay.”

He nods, walking over and tasking her. “Just text me what you need.”

Solana also nods, nervously pushing back some of her hair. She’s an embarrassed, flushed mess, offering, “umm, I can send pictures of…of the…the product, if that…if that’s easier.”

He shakes his head, objecting, almost politely. “I don’t need all that.” And now she feels both an inconvenience and a nuisance for unintentionally insinuating he’s incapable of picking up a single item from the store. “Just text it. That’ll be enough.”

—-------

Turns out texting was not, in fact, enough.

It’s not very often, far and few in between, but something that can happen. Is happening as Roman stands in the feminine products aisle confused as all the outdoors. He does his best to match the words from Solana’s text to the words on the boxes, but the shit all looks the fucking same.

“Why is everything fucking pink?” He asks no one but himself, growing more and more annoyed by every second that passes.

For a brief moment, he’s annoyed with Solana. Annoyed that she even has him out there. But, that irritation is shoved away when he remembers the look of pain on her face, the discomfort she was poorly trying to hide. It would be wrong to send her out when she obviously isn’t feeling well.

Not to mention, like he said, a safety thing. With them still being essentially newlyweds, that target on her head is nice and fresh. He won’t take any chances.

Which is why he’s standing in the fucking drugstore at midnight looking like a dumbass. 

Feeling it, too.

Roman’s just about to go against his better judgment and call Solana when irritating humming hits his ears. Looking to his right, he sees a sales associate, a female sales associate approaching him. 

A tiny little redhead, smaller than even Solana, wearing an undeniably flirty smile. Any other time, he’d tell her to fuck off. But, this is one of those rare occasions where Roman is out of his league and could benefit from assistance.

She’s close enough to fall in the hearing distance range, green eyes scanning him up and down. “Can I help you with—”

“I need this,” he cuts her off. Roman shows her his phone that has the texts from Solana pulled up. The texts that must be girl speak or something, because Annie takes his phone and nods to herself with an immediate sense of knowing. “Do ya’ll have it or not?”

Her eyes flicker up, a surprisingly friendly and annoyingly cheerful, “yup” leaving her mouth as she hands him back his phone.

Roman watches in silence as she grabs two boxes off the shelf, boxes he never even fucking looked at, and walks toward him. “Is it her first night?”

Again, a strange experience that he doesn’t know how to handle. “I—I guess. I don’t fucking know. She just needs shit.”

The girl, who Roman realizes can’t be over 21 seems undeterred by his harshness and even his refusal to acknowledge to obvious flirty eyes she was trying to send his way. Good. Let her focus on her fucking job.

“I was just gonna ask if she has a heating pad. They help a ton with cramps—”

“She has those,” he cuts in. Finally. Something he knows. "Cramps."

She nods, asking, “so does she have one already?”

And there goes the fucking knowledge. “I don’t know. I’ll just buy one.” Because even if she has one, it’s probably not new, therefore it might not be as effective. So, it only makes sense he replaces it. and since she's already here, clearly able to offer the assistance he won't outwardly admit he needs, Roman decides to take full advantage of it. “You’re a woman.” Green eyes gives him a strange look before he asks, almost awkwardly. “What—what else does she need?”

—--------

Solana expected Roman to come back with a single box of tampons. 

What she receives, however, is more than just a box of tampons.

That’s included, yes. Included amongst three bags of various items ranging from tampons, pads, chocolates, over the counter pain pills, bubble bath, bath bombs, a heating pad, and more. 

Her jaw is dropped the entire time she’s going through the bags he’s laid out on the kitchen counter for her. 

“This…..” She’s truly at a loss for words. “Roman, this is—”

He shrugs, explaining, “I told the woman there to tell me what you might need.” Solana glances at all the items. Need is certainly a subjective word. Clearly.

“Thank you, but—” She shakes her head. “You didn’t—you didn’t have to spend so much money—I can pay you back.”

“Solana.” His deep voice cuts her off and demands her attention. “I’ve tipped more than what I spent on this. It’s fine. I don’t need your money.”

She nods, still quiet. It’s understandable. Roman Reigns seems like a man who doesn’t need much of anything from anybody, to be honest.

Still, she's not used to people doing things for her.

Especially men.

Roman studies her, asking almost skeptically, “so, are you good now?”

It takes a moment for her to answer. It takes her a second, because she’s overwhelmed. Countless times she’s been in pain before, struggled with horrific cramps and heavy bleeding, and not once did her dad or brother ask about how she was feeling. Did they even care.

They just wanted their dinner fixed.

And now, here’s her husband. Roman Reigns, of all people, leaving out late at night to pick up essentials for her. Beyond that, because the majority of the items he didn’t even need to get.

He didn't need to do it. Any of it, but he did, and she’s immensely grateful. 

Overwhelmed, slightly, too.

“Solana?” 

Breaking from her thoughts, and her emotions, she manages to answer. “Y–yes.” She clears her throat, holding and hugging the box of tampons to her chest. “Th—thank you, Roman.”

There’s something in his eyes as he looks at her. Something she doesn’t recognize but something that makes her feel something just as foreign and uncomfortable. 

Safe.

“You’re welcome, Solana.”

—---------

At nearly 3 o’clock in the morning, Roman expected to leave his office to silence and darkness. And both of those are partially true. There is some element of silence and darkness, but it’s not holistic. It’s not holistic, because Roman walks into the living room to find his wife still awake, sitting on the sofa, watching TV, her puppy sleeping peacefully on the floor next to her. 

That part isn’t surprising. 

All that damn dog does is sleep, eat, and piss/shit.

What a fucking life. 

Solana is smiling, an almost unfamiliar sight, at whatever is on the television when she notices him and sits up. Roman is unsure why he feels some sort of way watching her smile disappear. 

“I’m sorry, is the TV too loud?”

He shakes his head, disliking seeing and hearing the fear in her voice and on her face. “No.” Roman asks the real, relevant question. “Why are you still up?”

He starts to ask if she's still not feeling well, but then he sees the flash in her eyes, the sadness, and something deeper, something he knows all too well, he knows exactly why she's up.

“Couldn’t sleep,” is the quiet answer she settles on. One he’ll accept.

And suddenly, he feels slightly bad. Bad for making her revisit whatever it was that kept her up.

Clearing his throat, he gestures to the TV. “What are you watching?”

He’s pleased to see her smile return. Just a bit. But still, it’s there. “Pretty Little Liars.” His nonverbal response must give away his obliviousness. “You—you’ve never heard of it?”

Unintentionally, he gives her a look that screams, ‘does it look like i’ve heard of it?” and he feels bad all over again, especially seeing how she looks embarrassed almost. 

“What’s it about?” He asks, taking a spot on the opposite side of the same sofa where she sits, mindful of the distance between them, wanting to keep it at a respectful length. For her sake. He’s also relieved to see the embarrassment waning away.

“It’s….it’s kind of hard to explain, but….” Solana sits up, playing with her fingers, trying her best to explain an incredibly complex show. And she does the best she can, gesturing to TV at certain points, somehow pressing play for Roman to see for himself. From there, it ends up being less her explaining and more him watching. With her.

And it’s a newfound experience, sitting with him watching a show she’s certain he wouldn’t dare entertain in any other scenario. But, he is. With her. Without any protest.

It’s definitely strange but also….nice.

“So wait.” Her smile is already forming. He’s, understandably, had questions throughout, questions she’s enjoyed answering. It’ll probably be the first and last time someone is explaining something to Roman Reigns, because she has no doubt he’s used to it being the other way around. “I thought he was her teacher?”

Solana chuckles, answering. “He is.”

“He is?" Roman looks between her and the TV. “So they was both messing with the teacher?” His eyes are widened slightly, clearly taken back by this information. “And he knew one of them was underage?”

Solana nods, biting on her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

He scoffs, his next question more than valid. “Where the hell are the parents on this damn show?”

Solana giggles. Roman being unintentionally funny is an experience she could certainly get used to. “They don’t really find out about everything and start to get involved until later seasons.”

Roman's focus is on her, watching her adjust the blanket covering her body that slightly spills over into his lap. “How many seasons was it?”

She has to think for a second. “Seven, I believe.”

“Seven?” Solana laughs again. Roman’s surprise and borderline horror at just a tip of the iceberg of information is hilarious. “You watched seven seasons of this just to find out who B was?”

“A,” she corrects, hand over her mouth to cover her smile.

“Close enough,” he dismisses. Shaking his head, Roman seems to watch as she uses the remote to navigate to something else as they've reached the end of the episode. “You feeling better?”

His question takes her off guard and reignites that strange warm feeling from earlier. “Y–yes.” A rushed, quiet, “thank you” follows as she shifts on the sofa and finds herself asking, “have—have you ever seen Crazy Rich Asians?”

He gives her a look that’s equally puzzled as it is quietly amused. “Crazy Rich Asians?”

The way he almost punctuates each word makes her laugh quietly. “I know….I know the title is kind of off-putting, but it’s—it’s one of my favorite movies.” And where this comes from, she hasn’t the slightest clue because it makes no sense from any angle, but she’s asking him nonetheless. “Do—do you want to watch it with me?”

Solana immediately regrets it the moment it leaves her mouth for a lot of reasons. The main one being he’s already sat here and watched almost 45 minutes of a show he clearly has no interest in. Not to mention that it’s the middle of the night, and he has to be exhausted. 

The man has early mornings and late nights almost every day. She truly doesn’t know just when he sleeps.

And her asking him to stay up with her to watch a damn rom-com is just—

“Sure.”

Solana is certain she’s staring, certain she looks just as caught off guard as she feels. “Wh–what?” She sits up a little, noticing that Dulce continues to sleep away peacefully. Despite minimal anxiety, her smile is small, revealing Solana's inherent satisfaction at his answer. “R–really?”

And if Roman is at all annoyed or feeling upset at being asked to stay up later than he already is, he does a damn good job at hiding it. His big shoulders lift for a shrug. “I’m not really tired anyway.”

A part of her wonders if he’s just saying that to save face. The other part of her feels a sense of excitement, regardless.

“Okay….”

Solana doesn’t waste any time in starting said movie, and as much as she enjoys the film, it’s a bit more difficult than she anticipated to focus on the TV with the man sitting so close besides her. And not even for the reasons of attraction, maybe to some extent, sure, but she’s more engaged and almost moved by the small smiles, quiet chuckles, and even light laughter at certain scenes.

She studies him, unable to look away. Not wanting to. Because this man, almost relaxed, is such a stark contrast from who she’s used to.

Who the world is used to. 

He just seems so at ease, and selfishly, she soaks and absorbs it all in. Appreciates it. Wants it to last for as long as it can. 

Especially because it’s certainly an anomaly. Come morning, even after the conclusion of the movie, the same, stoic, unreadable Roman Reigns will return.

Because at the core, that is who he is. 

It’s truly only when one of Solana’s favorite cinematic moments occurs that she’s fully invested in the movie her husband has been more invested in than she has. 

“I love this part,” she sighs in awe. Roman turns to see his wife is now sitting up on the sofa, head tilted slightly, eyes glued to the TV.

He doesn’t allow himself to think about how much closer she suddenly is to him in this new position. 

He instead also follows her line of vision, watching as the wedding scene finally arrives, the tone almost completely shifting as music plays.

Wise men say

Only fools, only fools rush in

Oh, but I, but I, I can't help falling in love with you

Roman recognizes the song as an old Elvis tune, covered by the singer in the movie whose soft voice, soothing almost, reminds him of the woman next to him. The woman whose side profile is suddenly something he can’t seem to turn or look away from. A sight that’s significantly more exquisite than he realized. Solana has always been beautiful to him, objectively and subjectively. 

But in this space, where she’s doing nothing more than existing, he finds that beauty immensely captivating, alluring, hypnotizing almost. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be, would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you

Solana has seen this movie at least a dozen times. This scene in particular even more than that, and each time never fails to bring unshed tears to her eyes. The layout of the wedding, the bewitching voice of the singer, the love practically felt between Rachel and Nick, it’s all been so overwhelming in the best way.

But, there’s something different about this viewing. Something that feels a lot more personal than she’s ever experienced. 

A lot more real. 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things, you know, are meant to be

Emotion betrays her, Solana unable to keep her comment to herself. She shares, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s so beautiful….”

Roman continues to focus on her, on this woman who both confuses and intrigues him in ways he can’t understand. A woman whose kindness so starkly contrasts all of the dark edges that make him who he is. And he too is captivated. 

Just not by the scene.

His eyes never leave her, his focus never so keenly devoted to a sole person than in this very moment. 

“O oe….”

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can"t help falling in love with you

—----------

Translations:

"O oe...." = "You are...."

[armpirate]

RED || Jungkook | Ch. 1

MASTERLIST Previous ||  Next

Pairings: Demon!Jungkook x fem!reader  

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, fantasy, past life

Warnings: Explicit language, mention of death and suicide, demonology, violence, rough sex

Summary: Y/n thought her life couldn't get worse after losing her parents in a tragic accident. Years after, she's aware of everyone moving forward, while she's in the same place, isolated and alone. She struggles to find meaning in a world that seems indifferent to her grief. Desperate for comfort, to feel the deep connection she had been missing, she starts the manifestation, expecting an inoffensive entity to walk with her that rough path. What she doesn't know is that she awoke the mysterious entity tied to an old necklace around her neck.

Jungkook, a mysterious and seductive figure, appears in her life, offering the company she craves. But as his presence grows stronger, so does the unsettling sense that there's more to him -and the necklace- than meets the eye, unfolding all the reasons that took him to that place.

Now, as the past bleeds into the present, Y/n must fight with her growing feelings for the demon who seems familiar yet dangerous. Jungkook is determined to reclaim his power, but in doing so, he may doom Y/n once again. Bound by fate, the two are locked in a dangerous mix of love, redemption, and the looming threat of destruction. 

Will they break the curse that has haunted them both, or will history repeat itself with devastating consequences?

Chapter duration: 11 minutes

When she first came across a video about manifestation through subliminal audios, she was skeptical. More like skeptical, she quite laughed at the idea of people actually believing someone could get something out of that. It was similar to making a wish to a shooting star, with the only difference being that watching those videos made her feel like an idiot.

At first, those videos showed up as advertisements of other videos claiming to know how to attract positive energies, or how you could get whatever you wanted with manifestations. Slowly, they evolved into more specific videos on how the Law of Attraction worked and thousands of videos with that same theme. She wasn't a believer, she certainly didn't think a video on social media could help her overcome her struggles, yet she still believed in those small signs. As if the universe was trying to communicate with her somehow. She still chose to go on with life, hopeful she was just getting crazier.

But after she found herself alone at home, bored on a Saturday night after coming back from work, while her only friends were hanging out with their own friends, suddenly those videos didn't sound as stupid and pathetic as she thought.

She went from one video to the other, too bored to continue, but too intrigued in finding out whether they worked or not to give up. One of her hands sneaked under the blanket, finding a warm place when she pressed her thighs around it, so she could escape the cold in her apartment.

Suddenly, while moving from one video to the other, those videos started turning into "magical entities", things that weren't abstract. Those apparently powerful entities were tangible, with personalities and thoughts, with amazing abilities. And, most importantly, that would wish only good things for those who manifested them.

At first, she ignored it. She didn't have the energy to think of herself playing the Bloody Mary game at such a big age, but then she thought of how she had nothing else to lose. She was already bored. If it didn't work out, she'd have found entertainment for the night. If it did work out, life would probably start looking at her differently.

She had nothing to lose, at that point. The only results would be either non-existent or positive.

With a sigh, she moved in her bed, dragging her body to the middle, legs crossed and hands still holding her phone, earphones on and eyes focused on the screen. Nervously, she played with the necklace around her neck, looking for some reassurance there, before she started speaking.

Her eyes closed, one hand holding her phone, the other hand still playing nervously with the pendant of her necklace.

—By the thread of time, I call to you —she repeated softly, barely audible in a whisper. Her tone was shy, as if someone was hearing her despite living alone—. In silence, I call. In darkness, I find you —one of her eyes opened, trying to check whether something was changing in her surroundings—. From the shadows of what was, come forth into the light of now? Bound by love, freed by pain. Answer me —another sigh, another movement of her head showing off her disappointment—. If someone is there, come to me, please, fill this void.

When saying those last words, her voice cracked, and her eyes watered at the possibility of calling out for her parents. She went quickly from trying to call out that entity to demand her parents to be there with her, right when she needed them.

She dropped her phone, holding onto the necklace that one belonged to her mother, while looking around in the darkness.

—I'll do whatever it takes —her voice was shaky while pronouncing those words—, I don't care about the price, I don't care about the consequences. Please, I need you.

For a brief moment during that chant, she felt something in the air changing. Like the temperature dropping or the hint of an indecipherable whisper falling on her ear... yet she realized it was all coming from her own desperation and not reality.

There was no movement in her apartment, no hints that whatever she did worked. Her tongue moved through her lips, stopping at the corner with an annoyed expression, dropping her head to the front while her hands fell over her lap.

It was the dumbest and most pathetic thing she had ever done in her twenty four years alive. And which made it worse was how hopeful she felt on it working out.

The reverse of her hand moved with anger over her cheekbones, wiping out the tears that kept rolling down. Minutes later, she looked like she hadn't been crying, she looked like she hadn't been hoping for a miracle, plugging her phone and turning the lamp off, so she could lie on the bed on her back again, wrapped on the thick blankets.

Her fingers fidgeted on her belly under the covers, eyes stuck on the ceiling above her, while she kept thinking she didn't do things right. She felt uneasy, unable to get some peaceful sleep before she insisted again.

—Psst —she called out—. Don't take too long to give signs. If you're there, show up with the same desperation I called on you.

She tried, even if it was something that gave her no results.

Y/n found herself standing in the middle of an empty street, her heart pounding in her chest. The world around her seemed old -ancient, even-, but not the European type of old. The characteristics of that street had Asian features, pretty remarkable.

The street was eerily quiet, deserted, and bathed in a redish fog that clung to everything. The uneven stone path beneath her feet was cold, and the sound of her own footsteps echoed unnaturally, amplifying the growing tension inside her. She felt the weight of something unseen pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

The wind was still, and yet there was a gnawing feeling that something was watching her, just out of sight. Each shadow seemed to stretch and bend as if alive, threatening to swallow her whole. Every step she took forward only heightened her anxiety, the oppressive silence ringing in her ears.

The cold air had her hugging herself almost instantly, making her even more confused at the fact that she was still wearing the tank top and shorts she used as her pajamas.

Suddenly, something came at her like a wave, making it difficult to breathe, going from holding her own arms to grabbing her throat as if that gesture would make the air come through more easily.

Her breath came shallow, and in a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating emptiness of the street, she darted into one of the old wooden houses nearby. The door creaked as it swung shut behind her, enclosing her in complete darkness. Inside, it was still, but different -no longer the silent, oppressive void outside. Inside, there was a strange, almost magnetic pull that tugged her forward, guiding her down a dimly lit corridor.

The door clicking behind her echoed the room, making her aware of how big the place was despite not being able to see anything at all. Scared of the dark, she tried to open the door again, but it kept resisting her strength.

As if that action was the only thing she needed to get it all started, some claps stole her attention, freezing her move. With every lamp that was being lit in the corridor, a new clap made all the hairs in her body raise, getting pointier with each loud sound.

It kept getting narrower the further it was from her, and the weak light coming from the curved lamps barely gave her any chance to see properly. Her mind kept telling her to try to open the main door and escape, but her body didn't respond to her own begs. Her feet started moving, slowly but steadily towards the new door away from her, as if there was something else controlling her moves better than she did.

Her steps felt heavy, almost as if her body was being dragged by an external force to the dark red door at the end of the corridor. It was hypnotic, attracting, almost like seeing a distant star in a black sky.

The light grew stronger as she moved, illuminating a single room. Just like the street, with dark tones of red that ended up being pleasing to her sight.

She stepped inside, her heart hammering louder now, the air thick with something she couldn't name. As soon as she crossed the door, the lights went off again. Her eyes were squinted as she tried to see something through the darkness when she found herself trapped again in a different space. But, that time, she didn't attempt to get out, she didn't turn, not a single hair in her body moved. There was a growing sensation that there was something inside she wanted to find.

A sonorous breeze collided with her ears and her body instantly reacted to the sensation. Her skin was burning, her core throbbed with eagerness. There was an urging suffocating need that started to build up and that she couldn't make disappear when pressing her thighs together -it only grew bigger with every slight rub.

Somewhere among the silence, she heard a male chuckle, deep and dark, but so attracting that it almost caused her to moan out loud. Her brain overthought when that laugh got in her system, and her stomach felt funny instantly.

The room lit up, but not completely. For minutes, there was a flicker of light coming and going in different corners of the room, quickly moving in front of her. With every new move, she discovered a new detail of the room that was hidden to her with that darkness, finally allowing her to see what was being kept from her eyesight.

A few centimeters ahead of her, there was a black leather headboard that shined under the light, completely disappearing as the focus kept moving. It lowered down, allowing her to see the burgundy sheets falling over the edge of the bed, heading to its corner and moving back to the center, where she was able to see a pair of athletic thighs, covered with some black slacks, manspreading with a hand falling lazily in the center. She tried to pay attention to the tattoos on the reverse and his fingers, but the light moved before she was able to. It w bent back to the opposite side of the headboard, moving to the right steadily. His eyes were black and fierce, as if he knew he'd be able to do whatever he wanted to her. There wasn't a glimpse of good intentions on the looks he was giving her.

The way he already had his eyes on her, and how he even moved them lower over her body, made Y/n aware that, unlike her, he was indeed able to see her across the darkness. Y/n thought she'd be able to reach the climax merely with the way he was looking at her.

To him, she was his prey, cornered and trapped, and he was the beast ready to jump at her.

The corners of his doe eyes wrinkled for a second, as if he finally thought what he was going to do to her.

Y/n's pulse quickened as she stood frozen, unsure if she should move toward him or run. Each flicker of light illuminated just enough to make her breath catch in her throat, but not enough to see him fully. His figure seemed almost unreal, like a phantom on the edge of her consciousness, tethered to the shadows. Then, just as suddenly as the dream had begun, the light vanished, plunging her back into darkness. The only light in the room disappeared, leaving her lost, momentarily blind.

She was hopeful the light would shine again and would fall on him, that was why her eyes didn't move a centimeter from where she last saw his eyes. But when the light came back, starting to move over the spot where he was sitting, there was no one else anymore. The sheets looked messy, and they had the subtle shape of his lower body, confirming her he was indeed there in front of her and it wasn't made up.

It felt disappointing for her. Because it was all getting started, and the moment she was calming herself down to speak, encouraging herself to make a sound, he vanished without saying a word.

Her body squirmed involuntarily when a warm touch over the side of her tank top, feeling a palm almost cover her ribs.

His breathing was calm, slow, relaxing and warm when falling in her ear, feeling like an enchant that took over her body easily. Her neck fell to the side, and her eyes closed, handing him all the power he wanted to have over her.

—Were you looking for me? —never a voice had sounded so sensual and melodic, yet so deep and masculine at the same time.

The way his warm breathing coated her right ear, while his voice hypnotized her out of her control made her nipples harden under the thin white fabric.

She hadn't seen his face completely, she didn't know his intentions, and she for sure was in a dangerous place, but she was ready to do whatever he asked her to.

His hand expanded to her belly, with his pinky finger ghosting over the elastic of her shorts. He still didn't stop, but his touch was gentle on her, venturing himself lower while giving her time to mentalize what was going to happen, caressing her body as if he had touched it many times before. His finger played with the edge of her shorts, digging lower and directly moving through her underwear. He didn't ask for permission, he didn't need to. It was as if her consent had been agreed beforehand, long before she showed up there, lost in danger.

Her lip was trapped under her teeth when his mouth moved over her sensitive skin, looking for that same reaction he got from her.

—Then you already found me.

His body pressed against her back, while his hand dud lower, digging his fingers to reach her clit.

—Who are you?

But he didn't answer, he twirled his digits around her bundle of nerves, leaving her with a loud gasp escaping her mouth, and that transferred to reality.

She woke up instantly, in the middle of a heavy breath that forced her to sit on the bed. Her heart was pounding against her chest, aiming to break her rib cage while her whole body was craving a touch that wasn't even real, a touch in her dream so vivid that she was sure she'd feel for days.

Y/n looked around in her studio, confused at being there for a few seconds, trying to understand that everything that happened was just a dream. Despite being home, she still had the feeling of being somewhere else just seconds ago. As if she had been able to teleport without knowing it.

That dream felt way too vivid and real to only be part of her imagination.

[rekino2114]

Type of dates the p:e.g. girls like

A/n:here is the eden's garden fluff post hope you enjoy and that it's not too late to at least ease a bit of the trauma

Eva tsunaka

She likes board games date

She has a lot of tabletop games that she likes to play with you, and so she just invites you to her dorm, and you two do a board game night

She prepares snacks and everything so you can go on for a long while, and she's actually amazing at explaining the rules

Sometimes you also invite some other of your classmates to play together (mostly Damon because no one else wants to hang out with him)

Her favorite game is monopoly cause she knows all the strategies and doesn't mind how long it gets (it's more time she gets to spend with you) and her least favorite is uno simply because it brings out her more competitive and angry side like it does in everyone

"W-wait no that's illegal! You can't put a plus 2 on a plus 4....I'm gonna look it up!"

Cassidy amber

This one's pretty obvious but video games date

She has basically almost every video game in existence so of course she would share them with her lovers

This girl has a terrible sleeping schedule, so sometimes she'll just call you in the middle of the night cause she has this new really cool game she wants you to try

She likes playing co-op games most of the time because when she plays games against you, she absolutely destroys you. She lets you win sometimes because she loves you, though

Sometimes you also play together on stream and Cassidy's chat loves you

"Come on, babe, don't be upset that you lost. I'm the ultimate pro gamer after all, it was pretty obvious I would have won. Wanna do another round? I promise I'll go easy on you this time"

Eloise taulner

After watching her train, you two go take a walk in a park

The whole ambiance is really relaxing, and that's what Eloise likes the most in dates, especially after a hard day of fencing

You two sit at a bench, and sometimes she talks about what's on her mind, and other times, she just silently lays her head on your shoulder and relaxes

She likes to pet the animals she sees there

You often pick flowers for her along the way so that at the end you can give them to her, she always blushes but her heart just melts at how cute the gesture is

"O-oh are those......for me? T-thanks they look really pretty.......I love you.....t-them I-i meant I love them!"

Wenona

Shopping dates all the way

It's more like she buys anything you even look at while you just wander around the store

She already is basically your sugar mommy, and in her words, spending her money on you is the best thing she could use it for

Even with how much she reassures you that it's fine you still feel kinda guilty about using her money sometimes so you buy stuff for her too, which she appreciates

If anyone has anything to say about that or is just rude to you in general her attitude and a few comments about being able to buy the entire shop quickly shuts them up

"What's that y/n? Do you want that? Oh no don't worry, that's just pocket change to me"

Grace madison

She can't be bothered to plan a date so you often just follow her around for what she does for fun, which is mostly playing golf and working out

Working out with grace is kinda awkward cause she won't pay attention to you at all while exercising, and any conversation you try to strike up with her is mostly ignored

She does appreciate it when you help her though, like bringing her a water bottle or a towel later. If she's in a good mood she might even kiss you and then immensely go back to her aggressive self

She'll yell at you a lot if she catches you, staring a bit too much at her while she works out.....But she's not stopping you don't tell anyone that, but she actually kinda likes when you watch her. It's nice to know you think she's attractive

Which is the reason why she occasionally sends you gym pics when you don't come with her. If you dare mention it to her, she'll just call you a dumbass while blushing

"Oi, what are you looking at? Tch damn soybean, just go and get me my water or something instead of ogling me, idiot"

Diana venicia

Diana is down for basically any date you want to go together, she just really loves being with you no matter what you're doing

But if you ask her to pick a date, she usually resorts to very simple and cozy home dates

You stay and cuddle on the couch while watching some movie that fits the season. she usually likes corny romance movies cause she actually believes in true love, she has you after all

When the movie ends you talk about whatever you want, mostly about classes or your classmates or how much you love each other. Diana could rant for hours about how amazing you are

If you're OK with that she'd love to do your make-up, or just do her own make-up while you watch, she asks you what kinds look good on her (you think she looks beautiful with anything)

"So baby, what do you think of this? It's a new color I didn't try before. Awww, thanks so much. You look even better than me, hehe I love you so much"

Ingrid grimwall

Like Diana Ingrid doesn't really mind what dates you go on, she just likes being with you

She'd probably be into more thrilling dates like going to amusement parks or walks in the woods

If you're scared to go on the roller coaster she'll hold you the whole way through and that makes everything better

Even if it's not really a date she also likes to bring you to watch her work, especially if she's crafting something for you, she wants you to see how it's made with all her love

"So how do ya like it sugar? Is it good? I tried my best I really hope you like it, if ya want I can make another one for me so we can match"

[1caru]

My time has come >:)

Disclaimer: I'm gonna ramble about Twilight Princess Link, but we aren't gonna touch the manga because the manga is wrong about him and I am right :)

Every detail of Link's story and character in this game is tied so deeply to the concept of twilight, of limbo, of the space between places and times and the powers that rule the land and it drives me utterly insane with how good it is. Even at the very beginning of the game, before Midna and the twilight and the adventure, Link exists in this middle space. His house stands alone in the path between his village of Ordon and the kingdom of Hyrule, perhaps a symbol of his possible role as village guard. He has a close bond to Ordon, of course. The villagers all love and respect him; Rusl, Uli, and Colin in particular seem to act as Link's adoptive family. They've likely cared for him since he was quite young, judging by the drawing they keep pinned to the wall of their house.

Now, for the longest time, I assumed that Colin drew this picture, since the taller kid here has the same bowlcut he does. However, if you look closely, that kid has another detail that Colin doesn't. In fact, there is only one person in Ordon who has this detail.

That taller kid has Link's pointed ears.

(Fun fact, this also means that Link canonically had a bowlcut as a kid, so all that art you may have seen of baby Ordon Link is wrong XD)

Anyway, I don't know about you, but a single Hylian boy living in a treehouse in a village of non-Hylians in the southern woods of Hyrule sounds awfully familiar, doesn't it? This is a surprise tool that will hurt us later :)

Link himself doesn't seem to be bothered by the differences between him and the other Ordonians. In fact, some official sources tell us that he is next in line for the position of mayor once Bo retires. He clearly feels right at home here, content to spend his days working alongside the adults and playing with the kids. He, of course, does not quite fit into either of these age groups. Always in the middle. Never quite belonging. But still, Ordon is home.

Ordon is home, at least, until the twilight strikes. In one afternoon, Link has his family stolen from him by King Bulblin, he is taken captive by shadow beasts, he is forcibly and painfully transformed into a wolf, and Midna recruits him to help her take on Zant. And then, when he finally manages to return to Ordon, still trapped in his wolf form, Midna tells him to find a sword and shield for her. Your only option for accomplishing this is to steal from your family.

So Link sneaks into Ordon under the cover of night. Every villager he comes across, every friend and mentor, either runs from him or attacks him. His adoptive father, Rusl, doesn't see Link in the light of the torch he wields. He only sees a wolf. He only sees a monster.

(Ready for another fun fact? There are unused animations in the game for Rusl falling down after being attacked. At some point in development, Nintendo wanted you to leap at Rusl and steal the Ordon sword directly off of him instead of sneaking into his house to get it. In the final game, you can later find Rusl lying injured on the couch in his living room with his wife Uli caring for him. She says he was attacked by "monsters". Imagine seeing that and knowing exactly who did that to him.)

Later, when you return to Ordon in human form in order to get the iron boots from the mayor, you have the option to also tell the villagers that you have found their kids safe and sound in Kakariko Village. They are overjoyed at the news, and thank you profusely for telling them and for working to protect said kids. For a moment, it's as if things have gone back to how they used to be. Everyone looks at you with happiness and love, not fear and hatred. Then, you speak to Uli. Like the others, she thanks you for giving her the news about the kids. But, when you turn to leave, as you reach for the doorknob, she says one last thing.

You never get to tell her the truth. Perhaps Link can't bring himself to do so.

From this point on, a wedge has been driven between Link and Ordon. You don't notice it very often. Link still fights primarily to save the kidnapped Ordonian children. He is still shown to enjoy spending time with everyone in the village. He is devastated to learn of Ilia's amnesia, and he works hard to restore her memories. At the same time, however, he is on a journey with Midna. A journey full of both wonders and dangers that the Ordonians could not understand. He grows closer to Midna and decides to fight for her kingdom as well as Hyrule and Ordon. Perhaps the history of the Twili and their banishment from Hyrule resonates with him now. Outcasts, just like him.

He also meets the Hero's Shade, Ganondorf, the Light Spirits, and Zelda. Each of these characters represents Hyrule and the destiny that Link was literally born for. But the Hero's Shade and Ganondorf are from a time long passed, an old conflict that far predates Link. Even the Light Spirits and Zelda, while they belong to the same time period that Link does, are still linked to the past (heh) either by lifespan or bloodline. Link is left disconnected from even his own destiny.

At the end of the game, after he has saved not just the Ordonian kids but also all of Hyrule and the Twilight Realm, where do we find Link? Where does he end up? We don't know. He does return to Ordon for a little while along with the kids, but then he dons his hero's clothes again and leaves without telling anyone (except possibly Ilia). We don't know where he is headed. The last we ever see of Link is him riding off into Faron Woods.

Every time I see this, I think about the beginning of Majora's Mask. Is this Link also off to search for a way to reunite with his lost companion? Will he end up meeting a terrible fate just like his ancestor, or will he end up finding happiness instead? We never find out, but I love that after everything Link has gone through, after he fails to find true belonging in Ordon, Hyrule, or the Twilight Realm, after finding no home in either the past or the present, his choice is to pursue the future. I like to think he finally found a home somewhere.

Okay Link fans I need help. I have my Link/Zelda game that I’m specifically fixated on (that being Wind/Wind Waker), but I want to be able to write/understand other Links with the same amount of care that I give to him.

So if anyone who sees this post has a Link who is their favorite little guy (you’ve played his game(s) multiple times, you’ve made a bunch of headcanons about him, you think about him all the time, etc etc), I want to hear your perspective on that Link. I wanna know what you think his general personality is. I wanna know what you think he was like pre-journey(s). I wanna know how you think his journey(s) affected his development. I wanna know how you think the themes of his game(s) intertwine with his character. I wanna know how you view his significant relationships. And I wanna know anything else about him that you would like to share. Any information/ideas are appreciated, just absolutely go off ^_^

[achilles-rage]

leaning in for a kiss but pulling away last second from the psychical intimacy list with also 3)friends with benefits from the smut prompt list with buck

yay i love this!! (also so sorry this is ass. i wrote the entire thing, and then tumblr mobile went down and i lost it all, so i had to rewrite it from memory)

also please keep sending these, they're fun!!

"leaning in for a kiss but pulling away last second" from this post, and "friends with benefits" from this post

MDNI- 18+ only!

you know you shouldn't be here. you know that this can only end horribly. buck is one of your best friends, and you can't imagine how awkward it would be if things went wrong, but you still find yourself here, on buck's doorstep, close to midnight.

your situation had started a couple months ago when you both came home drunk from the bar. one thing had led to another and you were sprawled out on his bed, both of you completely naked as he thrusted into you slowly, yet deeply.

you had both woken up the next morning slightly embarrassed, vowing it would never happen again, but somehow, when either one of you were lonely, you always end up in this same situation.

tonight is no different. you came to his house after an exceptionally bad date, hoping that buck could take your mind off of things.

he pulls you into his apartment quickly, and after telling him every painful detail of your date, your lips find his, and pretty soon, you're straddling his lap on the couch.

your kisses are hungry, yet lazy, and your hips set the pace as a slow grind against his lap as you claw at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours. he parts from your lips just long enough for you to take his shirt off of him, his hands not leaving your hips as they help you move against his hard cock beneath his jeans.

when you finally sink onto him, feeling the burning stretch of him filling you up so perfectly, you grip his shoulders hard. you catch yourself thinking about having him like this all the time. having him as yours completely, not just as a fuck buddy.

it’s not just that he’s good at what he does, either, although he definitely is, he also makes you feel so loved, so seen. 

“god, you’re gorgeous,” he always tells you while his hands roam your body, “always so good for me.” and your heart always soars.

you’re always so overwhelmed with his attention, and he has such a special way of making you feel adored. if it wasn’t with his words, it would be with his touch; groping and squeezing at every part of exposed skin while his eyes follow the path of his hands, drinking in your soft belly, and your chest, and your thick thighs. you can see the way he looks at you, but you can also feel the way he treasures having you like this. all his for the night.

he helps you roll your hips against his, eyes trained on the way your face contorts in pleasure and the way his cock disappears past your glistening folds. and, when you both finally cum, he buries his face into your chest, using one arm wrapped around your soft middle to keep you pressed firmly against him while the other hand focuses on your clit, fingers circling the sensitive bud and ensuring that you get every last bit of pleasure that he can give you.

he always kisses you after too, and then cleans you up, but tonight, you can’t bring yourself to kiss him back. the entire night you’ve been thinking about how much you want him as more than just this, and you feel embarrassed that you’ve fallen for the man that you have a friends with benefits situation going on with.

you can’t let him kiss you. it’s always gentle, and you’re afraid that if he kisses you one more time, your heart will break completely. as if his kisses are more intimate than having him inside of you.

he brings his lips towards yours, pulling you into him with one hand on the side of your neck, and at the last second, you drop your head and lean back slightly. 

he notices immediately, and pulls back, brows furrowing in confusion when he sees your sad eyes.

“hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? look at me.” he says softly, bringing a finger up to the underside of your chin and forcing your face back up.

“i can’t do this anymore.” you whisper. you look up into his eyes, and you can feel your heart breaking more. he’s everything you could’ve asked for, and he’s nothing more than a friend.

“why not? did i do something wrong?” he asks nervously, feeling all the air being knocked out of him as your words settle in. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and he silently prays that he hasn’t done something to fuck everything up.

“no. you did everything right. so right that you’ve ruined every man for me. and all i can ever think about is you.” you explain defeatedly, finally feeling a tear roll down your cheek as you laugh pathetically at your situation.

you’re not sure if you’re crying from sadness, or embarrassment, but either way, you know that you can’t let another tear fall. you don’t want things to get any worse than they already are.

without another word, buck pulls your lips to his, kissing you passionately. he tries to convey all his feelings into this kiss, trying to tell you that there’s no reason to cry, that he wants you too. you feel dizzy as you kiss him back, melting into the kiss and feeling unable to think about what this kiss means. all you can think about is his skin against yours. his cock still buried inside of you. his hands moving up and down the bare skin of your sides.

“i love you.” he whispers when he pulls away, bringing your foreheads together as his thumb moves in comforting strokes along your cheek.

“you- you do?” you ask, unable to speak louder than a whisper. you feel like what you heard couldn’t have been what he just said. surely you misheard him, and if you speak any louder, you’re sure your voice will crack, which will cause more tears to fall.

“i’ve always loved you.” he clarifies, pulling your forehead away from his and looking deeply into your eyes as he holds your face in his hands.

you let out a shaky breath, searching his eyes for any hint of deception. but you find none. his eyes are full of love, and you can see the hint of fear as well, as if he’s afraid that you don’t feel the same, despite all that you’ve said.

“i love you, too.” you whisper, sniffling softly as a grin erupts on your face. he grins as well, and then his lips are on yours again, claiming you as his own. 

“god, i love you so much.” he murmurs against your lips, hands moving in a desperate attempt to pull you impossibly closer. you’re finally his. all his.

[charleslelurk]

carlando fic recs?

*cracks knuckles* Good thing I keep a spreadsheet of all the fics I read

through the sleepless nights by nahco3

“Don’t go,” Lando says, too fast, and then scrubs his hands over his face. Carlos sighs. He looks tired. “You don’t make things easy,” Carlos says, and then kisses the top of Lando’s head. Lando wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist, burying his face in his chest, in his bright warm smell.

from here to kingdom come by anonymous

Lando marries the crown prince of Britain four months and four days after his nineteenth birthday. He meets the head of his security detail, Carlos Sainz Jr., the next afternoon. Or, a royalty AU where Lando is basically Princess Diana and Carlos is his bodyguard.

Unconstrained by kolyarostov (@landinrris)

From what Lando can see through the half-open door, there’s a guy sitting at a large table looking down at his keyboard. All Lando can plainly see is a head of dark hair, his nose, and a large bottom lip. Lando thinks he’s seen the guy around even if he doesn’t know his name. He’s beyond intimidating in a way too-attractive people often are, but Lando’s desperate. The guy’s head shoots up, eyes wide in surprise, when Lando knocks on the open door. He’s probably in the middle of office hours and not expecting anyone to need him. His gaze is as piercing as Lando remembers from the previous few times. “Can I help you?” the guy asks, probably realizing Lando’s not one of his students. And while Lando’s seen him, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard him speak. The sound of his voice is a deep timbre that curls around the English words. Lando wonders what this guy teaches and if he would be allowed to audit the class just to get more of it. Or: Lando and Carlos are in a Ph.D. program navigating both graduate school challenges as well as an ill-advised friends-with-benefits situation that has no chance of going wrong.

and all of my wildest dreams by choripain

“What time did you go to sleep last night, cabrón?” The 7AM light hitting Carlos made his Disney Prince dark hair look like a halo, his features softer in the morning. He was frowning a little bit, but in a way that made him look worried instead of angry. “Uhhhhhhhh…” “Landooooooo…” OR: the one where Lando is slowly girlrotting away and Carlos just wants to help.

re-education by pipitass

Did you forget what you are here for? He remembers. Remembers why, remembers the colors tied across his face and the fact that he has one-hundred and twenty-six ghosts watching, not just the one of the man he thought he knew. “Open your mouth, Lando,” he says, and his voice sounds just like at dinner. Just take it. You’ll be fine. So he does. OR: Lando joins a frat. It all spirals from there.

ALSO just anything by @phebess but especially: Superache, Michaelangelo's Smile (wip), and Still Into You

And any and all of pitmewithyourbeststop's one shots if you're looking for amazing smut

[queerofthedagger]

empty spaces

[Arafinweans | Part 2/7 | T+ | 300w | ao3]

The House of Arafinwë before, during, and after its Exile. A history told in an assortment of loosely connected drabbles. Written for @arafinwean-week Day 2: Finrod | Darkening and Flight of the Noldor | oaths, loyalty, and sacrifice

Part 1

The Ice leaves little room for regret. Leaves little room for anything but sheer force of will, steel bent to an impossible task. One step in front of the other, face numb to the wind, to the whispers, the doubt dogging their steps.

Little room, but not none. The expression on his father’s face, the plea, the resignation.

Finrod watches Fingon with Fingolfin and refuses to let the bitterness linger on his tongue.

He loves his father, he does; he merely hopes that one day—after Ice and hunger and Mandos’ words echoing across empty plains—he may understand him, too.

---

Bëor is like light in all the dark places. Is laughter and fresh air, a face and a mind and loyalty not entangled at all within the past trailing in Finrod’s wake.

He is all that is good about this Middle-earth. Its open plains, its star-struck nights, the wild, breathing, beating pulse of it—discovery, newness, breathing.

Until he does not. Until he looks at Finrod with something almost akin to pity, old and wearied with age. Smiles as if to say, See? Still always something new for you to learn, Nóm, and then draws breath no more.

---

Once, Minas Tirith had been the first place Finrod built on these heaving shores.

Now, Tol-in-Gaurhoth is a dark and rank place. Finrod knows that he will die here and almost finds it fitting.

Almost; there is still so much to learn, to dig his hands into. There is still so much to fight for.

Still so much to regret.

When Sauron’s wolves come, it is, once more, no hard choice.

Finrod knows that he will die here. It is the knowledge of his father, waiting, that makes it easier to take the inevitable steps down the road back home.

[goldsbitch]

Twelve grapes

chapter 1 -he'll be passionate...

Max is stuck at an uneventful party, a spell so bad only Charles can break it. Rage meets awkward.

words: 3k warning: alcohol mentioned, other than that nothing

Max shifts in his chair for what feels like the fiftieth time. He wishes he could be anywhere else in the world than this random apartment in Monaco, stuck in pointless conversations with useless people.

He has no idea who decided this evening’s gathering was a good idea. A comical event "F2 and F3 drivers dinner" - cheap copy of the thing F1 does. Surely they'd invited more people who were actual F1 drivers, like himself, but nobody else showed up. Max vows not to make this mistake ever again.

His mom wants him to make some friends at the paddock ("You never know when you're gonna need a friendly face"), his father would probably be the happiest if he managed to blow up the whole room ("You can't trust anyone, Max. Crush them before they crush you"). It was only recently that his mom started to have inputs into how he approached the world of racing. Confusing times. But Max knows his father is right. He isn't here to make friends.

He doesn't speak much, but he also does not listen to the conversation other are involved in.

Topics involved so far: models of Monte Carlo every team they are "talking to and it's looking promising" the latest trick their trainer taught them rent and real state prices going up (most of these people are teenagers struggling with budgets for their racing, so this was a particularly baffling topic for Max to wrap his head around)

They are all stupid. Little boys who care too much for the glam, and not enough for the work. Two of them already earned a middle finger from Max when they asked him to recommend them to F1 teams. Pathetic. He gets involved in slightly more interesting debate about the set up of F2 engines for the next seasons. Ideas to be pitched for approval. But his inputs are washed over, because one quickly gets used to having thirty engineers around all the time and where the limits of the lesser championships lie.

He knows well enough he is an anomaly. However condescending it might have sounded, nobody in that room put as much into racing as he had. It feels like visiting a kindergarten as a proud fourth grader.

The mood shifts immediately as the one and only, Charles Leclerc, waltzes in. Forever smiling, albeit a bit shyly at first. Max watches him, as he goes and makes rounds. Greats everyone, hands out smiles, like it isn't an absolute dread to spend time in the presence of these people. Max figures Charles doesn't know that he already knows. He wasn't expecting him to show up at all, when he didn't see him in the room already upon his own arrival. God boy Charles, always first everywhere, ever so polite. Where he finds the energy to do, Max will never understand. Max is at least clear about who he is. You'll get the same person on and off track. The polar opposite of whatever game the Monegasque is playing. Menace on track, annoyingly sweet in real life.

Charles is soon to be announced as an F1 driver. Christian Horner makes sure to have all the intel. One of the advice Max actually took to heart from him. Max is sure nobody in this room has any idea. Perhaps not even Charles's best friends. He feels a weird sense of pride, knowing something other people don't. Normally, he'd just pass Charles by and try to ignore him, perhaps more than he would with other people. Out of all those drivers, he was the one that Max somewhat feared. Little too fast, bit reckless and not afraid to send it in. They'd already had their fair share of battles and now he would join on the grid once again. Max had a hard time figuring out how he felt about that. This night, he felt a desperate need to let Charles know that he knows. But, he's never going to be the one approaching Charles. Even if that means not talking to him at all. Max is a proud young man. Leclerc is too, but in a different way.

"Well, look who we have here, the young talent himself," Charles greets Max with slightly sour and sarcastic undertone. Max takes it as a compliment, happy to be speared of the fake pleasantries.

He nods back at him. "Charles." Max doesn't know what else to say. The boy should be glad he used his first name anyway. Soon, they'll be rivals again. The idea of beating him on track again is thrilling.

To his surprise, Charles sits down on the empty chair next to him. "I see you got a haircut," he proclaims casually and observes Max's head a little too much to his liking. He can't help himself but run his fingers on the short pointy hairs on the side of his head. Charles chuckles and somehow manages to sip on a drink in the most condescending way known to man. "It looks ugly. I'll give you my mother's number, she'll take you in with a discount."

Max couldn't give two shits about what Leclerc thinks. He might as well call him a frog, he'll still be a better racer. And that's the only thing that matters. He spends a little too long on crafting a response.

"I imagine you'll need one soon, something more aerodynamic," he blurbs out just before Leclerc's smug breaks his face. Max is proud he did not stutter. Baby steps.

He must have understood what he's hinting at, so clumsily, but chooses not to play along. "I don't need it, I look fabulous, as always," he says and dramatically runs fingers through his hair.

"If you say so. Can't wait until we test it out on a track," Max replies and sips his beer, so that he has something to do with his hands.

Both of them know, that there will be no real fight next year. Charles will be in Sauber, or as it's often referred to - shitbox. Max is in one of the top teams. Charles stays silent for few moments, perhaps taking it in.

"Nobody knows yet. How do you know?" he asks finally, breaking his façade. Not really ready to reveal his sources, he panics and winks at the brown haired man. He follows this up by a loud gulp and a wish for this interaction to be over as soon as possible. His goal is achieved and anything beyond this point is a risky situation.

With all the audacity of the world, Charles pauses for a mere second and then laughs. "Okay, okay. I understand. You'd have to kill me if you tell me."

"Something like that," Max responds and remembers back those days when he thought that the F1 paddock was a serious place and not a literal sieve, where nothing could stay a secret for a long time. For some reason, he enjoys the fact he knows more than Leclerc. For now at least.

"I've just come back from the first photoshoot with Sauber," Charles whispers and out of nowhere whips out his phone, leans in and starts showing Max some pictures on his phone. Baffled Max does not know what do with Leclerc going so deep into his personal space. His first reaction is to pull away and shove his back.

"Mate, I don't care about your photos," he says a little too loudly and defensively. Few people glance at them, but this incident is not as attention-grabbing as one would expect. Charles, retreats and does his best to hide hints of embarrassment.

Max would never admit that it makes him feel bad. Never. "I am more interested in your test times." This time he is the one to lean in closer. Only so that others don't hear him, of course.

Charles's confidence bounces back, him seemingly recovering to his usual cocky level pretty quickly. Max remembers how great it felt when he first got his seat in F1. To be honest, he finds it surprising Charles isn't dancing on the table.

"You know I would never tell you that," he replies and only now is Max noticing that Charles is dressed in the ugly colors of his new team. He almost asks him if that is on purpose.

"Shame. Racing is the main thing. Nothing else is important to me," he hints back at the photos. Charles shoots back without missing a beat.

"Interesting. I always dreamed of being a model and I decided to go the most unconventional and impractical way," he snaps sarcastically. He stays still for a moment and then breaks into a smile. "See you on track, Verstappen," he says quietly, pats him on his shoulder, gets up and walks away to continue his rounds around the room.

Max sits and wonders why this was the most vexing interaction he had this whole evening.

It's like Leclerc has some sort of light following him everywhere he goes. Max can't help, but be hyperaware of where he is, almost all the time. He soon gets real tired of just sitting around, looking unapproachable, and decides to change his strategy for the evening. And he tries. He really does. It's looking better, he is tuning into his more chatty and fun part of personality.

That is until one of the useless F2 rookies decides to "accidentally" spill a drink on him. Quickly back where he started, annoyed Max is drying his t-shirt, dark colored stain unwilling to go away. He does not know when it happens, but suddenly, Charles is next to him once again.

"You’ve really warmed up to this party, haven’t you?" he observes Max, who is frantically trying to dry his t-shirt. It's not like he cares about clothes. He just wants to go home. The decision to finish this drink, end the conversation and finally get away is made fast.

"I'm not here to make friends, Charles," he says, shooting arrows at the guy from Sweden, who ruined his t-shirt, and has moved on on nagging someone else, finally.

Charles positively laughs. "Oh, good thing. You're terrible at it."

Should Max punch him? Is that an appropriate response? Out of nowhere, Charles, reaches for Max's hand and stops his frantic movements.

"Screw this, some people are gonna go and play darts," he hints over to the other side of the room. "Come join. You good at it?"

It comes as a natural reflex to say it. "Better than you."

Charles puts his hand on Max's bicep, making him tense up a bit. "Glad to hear that, come on then," he says as he starts dragging him away.

Max decides not to waste energy on protesting. One game and then he's gone.

Two other people are already waiting, with spare darts in their hands.

"Oh good, you found an interesting opponent," comes from one of them. Max knows him, Ralph from somewhere, with some surname and most importantly, driver in F2. The second guy, he does not know, nor does he care about getting to know him. He hears the name and immediately forgets it. He tries to avoid staring at Charles, who is working the room again, having the two guys glued at him from the moment they'd showed up. He throws around light-hearted jokes and angelic smiles. While Max is standing next to him, big stain on his chest and gripping a bottle of beer so tightly his fingers are almost numb.

"Are we here to play or is this a chat room?" he blurts out, mainly just to join the conversation really. He is unable to find any other way how apart from snarky comments.

Max watches Charles pick up a dart, his movements annoyingly casual, like this is just another photo op.

"You sure you’ve done this before?" Max mutters, arms crossed.

Charles grins. "I’m a natural at everything." He lines up the shot, pausing dramatically. "Want to make it interesting?"

Max narrows his eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"Loser buys drinks at the next Monaco party."

"Boring," he reacts with obvious disappointment.

"Fine, what about this. The ultimate loser has to compliment the winner, here, in front of everyone. How about that?" suggests Ralph and something about the way how he pronounced the word champion makes Max twitch. It just sounds wrong.

"Fine," says Charles before anyone has time to object and throws his first dart, only just missing the bullseye. He smirks. "Not bad for a warm-up."

Max steps up, his expression unreadable. His throw hits closer to the center, and he allows himself a small, smug smile.

"Beginner’s luck," Charles says, reaching for another dart, almost forgetting there are other people involved in their game.

As the game progresses, it becomes painfully obvious that Ralph missed his calling and should have competed in darts professionally, instead of racing. And that the other guy is about as bad as one can get in darts. Max only feels challenged by Charles, in fact, he does not care how the other two do. Him and Charles are only few point from each other, every turn the other one leading.

It is frustrating to end up third, but it stings to end up behind Charles. The angelic man does not seem bothered by losing as he grins at Max when the last round is finished. They ignore the scene happening next to them, Ralph teasing the other guy and gathering a crowd to hear his compliment.

"You know, in a few years, maybe months, I’ll be your biggest problem on the grid," Max hears Charles whisper, still riding the high of beating him.

Bickering with Charles comes naturally to the Dutch driver. "Maybe once you get to drive a car that actually has all eight gears."

"Once I do, that's when you'll really need to start trying." Max knows he is right and it makes his throat tight.

Charles seems to be genuinely interest in the scene happening in front of them and Max misses the joke everyone suddenly laughs to.

"So tell me, if you had to compliment me, what would you say?" he hears Charles once again.

Max glares at him with thinly veiled ridicule before rolling his eyes.

Charles is relentless. "Come on, you'll tell me mine and I'll tell you yours..."

It is an intriguing thought, to know what this pseudo-French model-driver thinks of him. It's not like this wasn't the main thing occupying Max's brain the whole game - what in hell would he say to Charles anyway? How he admires his dedication? How nonchalantly he seems to deal with anything thrown at him? The kindness that fuels him? In the end, when he saw himself almost losing the game, he decided against anything that might embarrass himself. Playing it safe.

"You have a nice face," he blunts out, using his tone to make it sound as casual as possible. It still makes his stomach turn. He avoids looking at Charles, in order to keep his composure.

Charles chuckles, once again. "Ah, come on. That's boring. True! But boring," he shakes his head, further giving away his disapproval.

Max sighs. There is never a calm moment with this man. "Fine, what about you? What's your genius compliment?"

The man standing next to him, close enough so that nobody else hears them, stares into the crowd of people. After few moments of scanning them, he finally speaks.

"One thing that I can't shake...I think people don't give you enough credit. Everyone talks about your talent, how your dad pushed you to the limit, but I’ve seen how hard you work—like, really work. Most of us, we dream about F1, but you… you live it. You're hard on yourself, but in a weird productive way. It’s impressive. And lonely I imagine."

His words ring in Max's ears, like a song that is too loud. The fact Charles casually throws his dad into the conversation, as if that wasn't a total dealbreaker for him. The fact he dares to brush on the one feeling Max has had push down for months now.

"Soon you won't have to imagine," he says through gritted teeth, because he does not know how to deal with a compliment that actually reaches something within him.

There is a silence for a moment, Max looking for anything to fill it with, anything that would wash away the reminder of the ever-present loneliness he feels everyday. But, for second time today, Charles beats him.

"I'm nervous, Max. Excited, of course. But what, if I fuck it up, that's it. Years of work, not only mine, down the drain. I'm just...I don't know, have you ever felt like that?"

Max, already on edge, does not understand why is Charles filling him up with information he might use against him. Is he completely stupid? They are rivals. And they are going to be for a long time, Max is sure of that, more than anything. Unlike the soon-to-be-rookie driver in front of him, Max calculates his response. No matter how true and relatable he finds everything that Charles is saying. Of course he knows what that feels like. He does not have it in his heart to reveal that this fear does not go away with time. There are two things he decides to tell him. Giving out as much sincere advice as his brain allows him.

"Firstly. Don't ever tell any other driver, especially your teammate that. They will, and trust me, use it against you. Clear on that?" he scolds him like a school boy, but tries to keep it kind. Not like when his father was giving out advice. Charles seems to understand, biting his cheek nervously.

"Are you going to do that?" he asks without blinking.

Max does not have to think twice. Almost finds it insulting that Charles would suggest that. "No. I can beat you on track, I don't need politics."

This answer seems to satisfy Charles. "Deal," he says, implying he is not going to lower to that himself when he has the chance one day. Max finds it hilarious that he would immediately think of that. But also a bit calming. If there is one thing he hates about F1, it's the gray morality behind closed doors.

He continues, before it gets awkward. "Secondly. No, I don't think that. I am good, really good. Doubting myself will not lead to winning."

If there ever was a time Max has told a big, fat lie, it was this one. There are days where he walks around the factory, thinking they'd hired him by accident. Moments, when he fucks up so bad, he actually fears Helmut Marko's disappointed sighs. But he has to defend from Charles, who seems to somehow see through him more than other people. There is a glint in Charles's eyes, a strange spark max does not how to decipher.

"Got it" Charles finished their debate, his unreadable expression staying on. Right after he speaks, some random guy decides to interrupt their conversation. Max takes this as an opportunity to finally call it a day. He leaves with a stained shirt and a cloudy mind.

chapter 2 incoming

[prissyhs]

Never Meet Your Heroes • Chris Sturniolo

I’d never meant for it to happen. I just wanted him to notice me. Once. The fame and attention was only meant to be a temporary bonus. If any.

The goal was simple. Post a TikTok everyday until Chris Sturniolo commented. The first time I’d done it was literally a joke. It was me doing some stupid dance to Freak Hoe by Speaker Knockerz. The point of my plan was to do a song that Chris liked or had mentioned liking before, for every video. The caption read “Posting a TikTok everyday until my celebrity crush comments.” People were supposed to guess until he actually commented.

But that’s not exactly what happened. I kind of, for the lack of better words, went viral. People really enjoyed the concept of using different songs as hints and not to brag but, people really liked me. I was getting comments from so many different celebrities, which was also bringing more people to my page because they thought it was hilarious when I had to reject yet another celebrity because it was never him. It got to a point where I genuinely believed he was actively ignoring me. I had gained 8 million TikTok followers, surpassing him! It was comical at this point that he hadn’t commented. I was running out of songs and patience.

I was getting brand deals, invites to LA, and so much more. For a girl from a no-named town in the middle of nowhere; it was like a dream.

I couldn’t enjoy it though. For one, Chris still hadn’t commented. Second, what happens when he does? Does my five minutes of fame end? I go back to being nobody again. That was a sinking feeling I wouldn’t let into my mind. I refused to think about the what ifs? Or the future, at all for that matter.

The comment sections of my videos were just embarrassing at this point. Every single person had guessed it and I …couldn’t tell them yet. But everyone knew.

I had a secret weapon though. Something that was definitely going to work. I had saved Lil Skies for last. I hadn’t used a single one of his songs because I was afraid it’d be too obvious. Plus, to be honest, I didn’t really know any of his songs. The only one I knew was RAGE! and that was only because of Chris.

I wanted this one to be good too. Like, creative and having lots of camera angles. So, I recruited my little sister for the camerawork. She was surprisingly good at filming. I put on one of my best outfits that accentuated my body in a pleasing way. Because let’s face it; that’s what most of my audience is looking at. I also do my hair and makeup. I can’t even deny it; I looked really fucking good.

After it was all said and done, I watched the video over and over. I wanted to be sure because if it was true and he hadn’t seen me yet, this could be his first impression of me. I highly doubt he hasn’t though. I just don’t understand why he’s holding out on me.

I took a deep breath and posted the video. Captioning it, ‘This is getting ridiculous now. If he doesn’t comment on this one, I give up.” Within seconds, thousands of likes and comments came in. I read them as fast as I could.

NOOOO PLS CHRIS COMMENT

WTF CHRIS

it’s so obviously chris it’s like crazy atp

You’re soooooo hot my God

#needthat

Raw. Next question

The comments from random men truly and utterly disgusted me. When girls commented, it never bothered me. I loved it and it made me feel confident but the men’s comments just made me feel…dirty. I scrunched my face up and decided that was enough comments for tonight. I click my phone off and call my dog to come lay down with me. I went to sleep that night thinking of an imaginary world where Chris and I met and fell in love. Pathetic but it helped me fall asleep.

The next morning I woke up to my roommate, Piper, busting through my door. Scaring me and my dog. I jumped up as she started yelling.

“Y/N! Wake the fuck up right now! You finally did it!” She basically screamed as she clutched her phone in her hand.

“What?!” I scream back, still breathing heavy from her abrupt wake up call.

“He commented! Chris commented! Go look!” She jumped up and down in place and I felt dizzy with how fast I whipped around to grab my phone on the nightstand.

I unlocked it and wiped my eyes as they were still blurry from sleeping. I clicked on TikTok and felt my skin buzzing and heart racing as it loaded. After what felt like hours, my own profile popped up and I clicked on my most recent video. It felt like time slowed down as I clicked the comments. There it was. The most liked comment. Christopher Sturniolo.

I was waiting on you to use Skies

“What the fuck?” I spoke my thoughts out loud. I don’t really know what I expected him to say but that wasn’t it. I mean, I felt cheated. I’d spend the last month humiliating myself for the world to see to get his attention only to find out it was because of my song choices? Infuriating, to say the least.

“Everyone is saying he followed you though..” Piper tries to soften the blow since she can clearly see I’m not happy.

And I know that isn’t fair. I had my hopes entirely too high and I should be grateful he even commented. But damn, man. His response fucking sucked. So much so that I felt the need to tell him. Which I guess I could do now that he follows me back.

“Good, because I need to say something..” My fingers worked quickly as I slid onto his profile, clicking the little message button. I immediately clicked the message box to start typing away until I seen it.

He had already messaged me.

Hey I’m flattered by your posts and really enjoyed this entire experience.

Now that I got that out of the way, are you trying to link or what? 😁

Once again, I felt disappointed. I know I was being delusional about what he might want with me but it definitely didn’t sound like friendship or love. It sounded like he probably just wanted to fuck. Which deeply upset me. Enraged me, actually. So, I respond quickly.

really? that’s it?

I clicked my phone off and laid back in the bed, laying my arm over my face. I groan in frustration. He’s only a man. Why did I expect better?

“Are you okay?” Piper asked and came to sit next to me on the bed at the same time a buzz came from my phone. I sat up immediately and was shocked to seen he’d already replied.

What were you expecting? A proposal? 😭

“Oh my God, he’s an asshole!” I show Piper the message and she covers her mouth quickly to stifle her laugh. I glare at her.

“I’m sorry! His response was just kind of funny..” She said and I rolled my eyes before responding.

wow

you’re kind of a dick. ngl

His response was immediate, making it clear that he was staying on the messages.

Bro you don’t even know me

And there it was. The truth hurt worse than anything. He was one hundred percent right but it didn’t make his lack of appreciation any less shitty. He’s gained a lot of attention from my videos as well.

you’re so right. and now i don’t even want to.

Oh noooo ☠️☠️

“I hate him..” I say out loud as I try to think of something to say back, “I don’t know what to say to him, Piper.”

“Be the bigger person, Y/N..” She tells me and it was really hard but eventually I decided she was right and that was the better option.

chris, i was a really big fan of you and your brothers. but especially you. i thought you’d be different and maybe that was my mistake. i waited over a month for your reply and it sucked. then i open my messages to your other lame ass reply. i hope you understand i meant well with my posts and wanted to make you laugh maybe or compliment you. sorry if i was annoying.

“I’m sorry, babe. They say don’t meet your heroes..” Piper tells me and I scoff.

“No kidding..” I laugh.

My phone buzzed again.

You’re right, I was being a dick. I’m sorry.

I didn’t know what to say tbh

I felt so much pressure to say something cool when I finally replied that I fumbled completely and looked dumb asf

Would you be willing to fly out to meet me and my brothers as an apology?? That was my plan anyways

—————-

AN: Plssss be gentle this is my first post ever…I’m nervous asffff LMAO

What do you guys think??

Lowk Chris is an ASS in this but it’s how I pictured it. Should I make a pt. 2 or literally never write again hahahahaha

I have a lot of plans for this if you guys wanted me to continue

[old-thymey-magpie]

Having to take a selfie with Mike Wazowski in Dreamlight Valley and just looking at this quest objective like

[soulless-bex]

percy motherfucking jackson: ah yes, annabeth’s emotional support tree