#I didn’t need to go to college for that at all

[simpjaes]

exhibition ― s. jy

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: cam boy jake. That’s it.Jake is your college roommate and he needs to buy a camera for his online classes. Curiosity gets the better of him, leading to a lot of extra money and, well, finding out that you’ve been a little too curious about what he's doing.  Or the one where your roommate flaunts his secret job at you, not thinking you’d go out and search for him. And definitely not thinking you’d be getting off to him either.

MDNI

WORDCOUNT― 4.9k

PAIRING― cam boy jake x afab reader

CONTENT―  college setting but it’s mosting within the apartment they share, cam boy jake, confused best friend reader, smut WARNINGS― none but brief mention of mommy kink in passing

NOTE―this isn't proof read ;o;

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Seven hundred.” 

“What?” “That’s how much I made last night,” Jake’s eyes shine brighter and brighter with each word, a crooked smile plastered across his face as he sleepily blinks. “I didn’t even have to do anything weird either.” 

You pause as you sip your morning coffee, wrapped up in a blanket and head pounding at the amount of stress and work you’ve had to get done while he was too busy playing with himself on camera for dozens of people. Or maybe hundreds. Thousands?

“What did you do then?” You raise a brow, not entirely checked in on his boasting this morning, though it is impressive.

Jake always shares how much he makes after each session. What started with fifteen dollars is now reaching seven hundred. Surely your best friend isn’t just jerking off, right?

“Well, it was a little weird, but not that bad.” He avoids the question with a vague answer, suddenly feeling his face heat up. “Just a little here and there, y’know?”

You narrow your eyes instantly. So he does do weird shit for money! You knew it! No way could someone make that much money in such a short span of time by regular jerking off. 

“Just a little what?” You stare him down, now placing your coffee on the table and leaning towards him. He knows better than anyone that you, of all people, can point out if he lies. Meaning, he has to be honest. 

And so, he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant about it. 

“Mommy.” He says it like he’s saying any other word, as if he’s uncaring, as if it was worth the money. “Just had to say it a few times and the money came pouring in.” 

Your eyes narrow at him even more.

“What else?” You question. “There’s no way they’d accept it unless you…”

He raises his brow at you now, tilting his head in cheeky curiosity. 

“Unless I cried? Edged? Let them torture me a little bit?” He smiles. “Yeah, I know.”

You’re a bit shocked, the images of what that must have looked like for his viewers forcing your curiosity to grow. His smug face looking back at you now serves as proof that he very well may be into that kind of thing. Almost like he’s sharing a kink with you, which…is not something the two of you do. 

Despite being roommates, and without any mention of how long you’ve been friends, sex has never been a topic until he started this whole camboy thing. 

You remain calm though. This is Jake you’re talking to. He’s the last person you want to see drooling and cumming all over himself. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re a liar. 

All day, all fucking day you’ve thought about it. It’s not that you’re into the kink, or even that you’re into Jake. You’re just…curious about how smug he is about it. And yeah, it’s probably just a huge confidence boost to have all sorts of people rubbing one out to you while paying your bills, but still. 

You’re only a liar because that so-called confidence makes him more open about it. More loud. More comfortable. More…horny? 

You can tell by now, weeks after he started. You could never hear a peep from his bedroom, not a single moan or sigh at first. Now though, he’s only gotten louder. You hear the moans, the dirty talk into his camera, the usernames, all of it.

“Thank you–mmf– cumslut2000.” 

God, you hate that you didn’t cringe hearing him say that. It was the moan mid-sentence maybe, or the sultry tone you’ve never heard from him until now. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together with an annoyed groan, practically leaping for your headphones shortly after because, absolutely the fuck not.

Not Jake. It’s too weird. 

And the days pass like that, casual with him as he discusses his pay where you no longer question because now you’d just think too hard about the details. The nights pass like that too, where he’s louder, louder, louder, until you can almost hear him through your muffled videos and playlists. 

Until you are forced to feel the arousal just like the rest of his viewers. You can’t escape the attraction despite wishing, hoping, fucking praying for your head to stop wanting to hear more. 

You know better than anyone though, hoping and praying does nothing for you and the only thing that will help this situation between your legs is seeing. Proving to yourself, so to say, that seeing Jake act like that will feel gross. It will turn you off. It will solidify that Jake is your best friend and your roommate, nothing more. 

It’s easy to find him too. All you had to do was abandon your headphones tonight, waiting for him to introduce himself via username to his stream. 

Doggystyle02.

That’s what he picked? He can’t be fucking serious. 

You’re excited as you google the username, enabling NSFW search and finding him within seconds. Excited to lose the interest that’s driving you up a fucking wall, that is. And before you click into his stream, you inspect.

Yeah, that’s definitely his abs oiled up in his profile picture. You choose to ignore his uh…thing under his sweats, heavy, leaving a little spot on the front of them. 

Oh, 23k followers? And he started two, maybe three months ago? People want Jake that badly? And you just…live here with him? You get to see him daily, and hear him playing all these kinky roles in real life? God, you just know if the viewers knew they’d be saying shit like “If i lived with you, I’d be on that cock every day.”  Blah, blah, blah. 

They don’t know Jake like you know him. He’s just a dude, not some sex god. 

Then…something in your gut stirs. It flips, it bubbles, your face warms up. The comments on his profile asking him all sorts of things, saying all sorts of things and he just…responds? Reciprocates? 

Cumslut2000 comments: god i want you to hold me down and make me take it

Doggystyle02: Don’t sweet talk me like that, you know how I get. 

Oh, does she now? How the fuck would she know anything about Jake. Your best friend. Your roommate. 

DPlover: can we plllleeease do another private show? 

Doggystyle02: book me for later, i’ll even give you a discount <3

Another private show?! A fucking discount?!  

Blushy: im too shy to talk when you’re online but i really, really want you.

Doggystyle02: you wanna talk in private? I’ll message you and bring you right out of that shell. let me take care of you baby

You’re speechless. During his private job, where he doesn’t share his name but he shows his fucking face, he publicly talks to people like this? He’s never so much as looked at you for too long after you’ve gotten out of the shower, yet he wants to take care of a fucking loser ass bitch who is too shy to talk to him? 

Sexually?! 

Safe to say, never in your life did you ever think you’d find yourself jealous of people who get Jake’s attention. To you, he’s always just been, well, Jake. The guy who ran up your apartment stairs on all fours the day you moved in, the boy who constantly did your homework for you in highschool because he knew you wouldn’t graduate with him if he didn’t, the absolute best friend who followed you to the same college, saved you from the dorms by becoming your roommate, and now…somehow, seems…more than just what he was before.

Surely you’re just horny though. Curious, in the mood, whatever. Anyone would be when there’s a porn set just a wall over, right?

You shake your thoughts, knowing you’ll just make yourself sick if you keep reading all of his little public comments and start wondering what he says in private to them. You scroll up instead, glancing at his abs again before your eyes land directly on what you were trying so hard to avoid. 

He’s kind of packing, you can’t lie. If he wasn’t Jake, you’d probably be ogling, rubbing out to him just like everyone else. Hah. You chuckle, shaking your head at your own stupidity, ready for these weird feelings to be eradicated the second you click into his stream. 

Except…jesus fucking christ.

The comments roll in faster than you can read. The money is pouring in, and he’s sitting there on camera with that same dopey grin he gives you every morning. There’s something else with his smile though, a little lip bite, some tongue darting action to wet his lips. Hair falling into his eyes…jesus. 

After a minute or two of staring at your best friend’s face, ignoring the movement of his shoulders attached to the hand that’s…doing something, a pop up covers his image entirely.

SIGN UP OR LOG IN TO CONTINUE WATCHING…

Never in your life have you signed up for something so fast, typing in a string of cute letters and numbers to differentiate yourself in the sea of horny viewers. And then his image is back, and your eyes trail straight down. 

Instantly you choke up, watching the way he uses his hands with that expression on his face. It really is just typical jerking off but…something about it. Something about the way he flicks his own nipples with a seething lip bite, bucking his hips up before shining his pouting eyes into the camera, as if wishing any or all viewers were there to do it for him. And god, the way he looks kind of wet? Like, oiled up or lotion, maybe lubed up, you don’t know. His hips slide that thing through his fist so easily, making squelching sounds all the while. 

That’s…that’s really him. And he’s not even ten feet from your bedroom door looking like this. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to get up and interrupt him.

What would you even do? What would you say? 

So, you just watch, completely forgetting that you were doing this to get rid of the curiosity, not feed into the sexuality of a man you’ve known for so long as nothing more than your closest friend. 

Over a thousand dollars made in just one stream by the time he logs off, and those moans echo in your brain. Hearing them so clearly through your headphones just…wow. And, well, you did your best. 

You swore you’d never get off to the image of Jake after all this curiosity started, it’s just, you can’t help it now. At least he wasn't on your screen, moaning and whimpering for all the faceless people watching. You waited. Your belly burned and your clit throbbed through all of it, and only when he made a mess of himself with that same fucking smile before logging off did you finally give yourself what you needed. 

You don’t know why you did that, and you don’t know why the muffled stream of his shower just down the hallways is what sticks in your head when you finally reach your own orgasm.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Over a thousand this time.” 

“Oh?” You awkwardly avoid his eye contact, stiffening your shoulders at the mere mention of his stream from last night. 

“Yeah, not sure why they gave me so much this time though…” He trails off briefly, inspecting your posture and sudden defensive stance. “I didn’t even do any of the kinks.”

Well…you know why he made that much. He wouldn’t even need to feed the fetish crowd to make a decent living off of this, not with a face like that, a cock like that. It’s only natural he starts making more and more with each lengthy stream.

“Yeah, that’s weird.” You answer shortly, rummaging through cabinets despite your lunch sitting on the table across from him. 

“Yeah…” He notes the shift, feeling tension in the air. “Are you okay?”

“What? Me?” You ground both feet on the floor now, abandoning the cabinet as you turn towards him and look to the floor. 

You can’t do it. You can’t look at him. 

“I’m perfectly fine, what gives you that idea?” 

You hear him stand from the table, taking his usual Jake-esque strides toward you. Then, he leans forward and tilts his head, chasing your eyes with his own and forcing you to look at him. 

“Well, you haven’t even looked at me all morning,” He smiles, tapping your chin. “Was I too loud or something? Did it make you feel awkward?”

Oh, an out! An excuse!

“No, no, I just –” 

Now, why the fuck did you say no? Why are you looking at him now, stopping mid-sentence entirely stunned because, yep, that’s him alright. You saw him cum. You watched him do it, you listened, and you fucking liked it.

And now you’re looking him in the face, and he’s giving you that same smile, and you’re…oh god.

“I–” 

He tilts his head again, blinking twice before narrowing his eyes. 

“Spit it out. What happened? Jay do something?” 

Your words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot, stomach doing flips…Your eyes glance down without intention, right to his groin and he sees it. He even pulls back a bit, looking surprised before softening his expression. 

“Don’t tell me you–” His voice is softer now too, but he calls out your name. “Why are you being so weird?”

You can tell he doesn’t want to make the assumption, and arguably, you’re bad at hiding things from him. 

“I kind of, like, accidentally saw your stream last night.” You say it so fast, avoiding eye contact again by embarrassingly staring right between his legs. “It feels weird now.”

He laughs. He fucking laughs, but it’s kind of like, a smug laugh? A chuckle? 

“Oh now it’s weird?” He rolls his eyes. “Relax, it’s not weird.” 

“It is though! You’re, well, you! I didn’t need to see that!” 

“Then why’d you watch?” He smirks, reaching a hand out to tilt your chin up at him again. And he’s done this many times in the past. Platonic, lovely little touches from someone who will protect and appreciate you. This though, this is…

“Go on. Tell me. Why is it weird now?” He encourages you to admit it. “Because you liked it?”

You remain silent, unwilling to answer. 

“I grossed you out?” 

“No!” An immediate disagreement there, one that only digs your hole deeper. “I just–didn’t expect that.”

“So you did watch it.” He leans back now, crossing his arms and staring you down. “Did you enjoy yourself?

What is he fucking asking right now? The worst part about this is if you don’t answer, it’s still a fucking answer. But you don’t want to like, lie, because already you couldn’t even make it through a fucking morning with him after seeing it. So, with the smallest voice you have, so small you hope he can’t hear it, you whisper. 

“Yes.”

And if you were to look him in the face right now, you’d have seen that smug look go to curiosity. You’d have seen the split second of his adoration for you merging with a new view, a new feeling, and possibly a new need.

“Wait, did you–?” He even feels a bit shy now, his ears practically on fire as he keeps his eye on you, and the way you curl in on yourself with the admittance. “Did you..touch yourself?”

A small nod, you squeeze your eyes shut. 

Then you hear him hold his breath, taking a step back from you. You’ve touched yourself to him, he can’t believe it. After all these years, never once looking at him like that…not even he looked at you like that but now?

He pictures it. The way you must’ve been in your room all alone, knowing what he’s doing, searching him up, then confirming it for yourself. You liked it. You liked what you saw and you got off to it. 

And now he can’t stop smiling. Proud, he feels proud. 

“Well, don’t feel weird.” He finally says, trying to ease your discomfort. “It’s just…a normal thing. I don’t think you’re weird.”

With that, the conversation dies, fades entirely into awkwardness as you both split off. 

You need space to think.

He needs space to think.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re doing it again, as if just this morning you didn’t have to bury yourself 6 feet under right in front of him. 

Neither of you spoke after that. Avoiding each other consistently throughout the day with knowing, growing, and exhausting tension. Yet still, he’s started his stream, and here you are, watching it with a dazed look. 

You don’t know how to feel or what to do. Your head doesn’t anyway, your body knows too well what it wants and needs, and you hate yourself for making it so awkward between the two of you. Why did you tell him? You wonder if he’d be uncomfortable knowing you’re watching again, this time knowing your hand will stray as you watch.

You wonder, and wonder, will he think you’re disrespecting your friendship by doing this not once, but twice? 

Then, you hear him. 

“Can we do some roleplay today?” He speaks out to the chat, cock pressing against his briefs, head tilted with his messy hair in the very computer chair you bought for him. 

Last time, he was sprawled out on his bed, and you wonder if he always starts his streams this way.

“I want you to imagine we live together, and you know I’m in my room fucking myself, begging, needy for anything, anyone to touch me.” He looks into the camera. “Let’s say you’d hear it too. I’m loud on purpose…”

“Tell me what you’d do to me.”

You stare forward blankly, frozen on the spot at his words, then your eyes flick to the chat. 

“You wouldn’t see the front door ever again.” 

“I’d be on you within seconds.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to turn your camera on, just come home and I'd be waiting.”

Oh. 

Jake hums at the responses, whispering them to himself. 

“Ah,” Jake reads a specific comment with a nod. “I’d be an idiot to not jump at the opportunity.”

And the rest of his words become muffled as your ears pop. Is he…talking about you right now? Was he expecting you to watch again? 

“If that ever happens to me, just know I’d be grateful for all of you. Running to help me feel good, you’re all so good to me.” He giggles now. Fucking giggles. “Alright, enough of that.” 

Jake stares into the camera again, and you can’t help it. It feels like he’s staring at you. Straight through your fucking soul at this point. 

“I have a lot of stress to relieve.” He ends on that note, skewing his pants down and making haste. 

He’s not slow or cute with it like he was before. He’s aggressive, almost frustrated. His eyebrows furrow, his lips become red from his biting and chewing, and you watch the money flood in.

The comments blurring past, words of, “Oh fuck,”  and “This is new.” before suddenly, you hear an irritated sigh. A string of curse words pour from his lips, his hand squeezing the base of his cock so tightly, and spurts of cum shooting up his chest, only to drip down slowly. 

“What a waste.” He comments shortly at himself, heaving in a breath before he breaks out into his usual smile. “Sorry to end on such a short note, just thought I’d let you guys join me for a quickie!” 

Then he’s gone, the stream lasting about ten minutes in total. 

And apparently so is your fucking sanity because why is it that now you find yourself getting out of your bed, feeling the wet between your legs drip, and you’re heading for your bedroom door just to get to him? 

Why is he standing right outside, as if he was already waiting for you to open it?

And it’s silent now as you stare at each other. Him, with his sweatpants skewed over his waist, cum still on his chest, breath still uneven. Then you, practically vibrating to get on him. 

“You’re looking at me like you want me to eat you out.” He says, already pushing you right back through your bedroom door, letting you flop back on your bed as he instantly pulls at your shorts. “Want me to kiss you first?”

You feel your head spin the second you flop back and feel your shorts being pulled off, and before you can even comprehend his question, he’s already kissing you. Hot, heated. He sounds just as frustrated as he did just minutes ago getting off by himself. You don’t even mind the cum on his chest, nor the way he spreads your legs with his knee to get more comfortable. 

It’s happening. This is what kissing Jake feels like. This is what everyone wants from him, but it’s you that’s getting it. Has he always been like this? Good at kissing? Firm with his movements? Confident as he kisses down, down, down, giving you what he thinks you want?

You do want it. Perhaps you were looking at him like you wanted him to eat you out, and now he’s doing it. Breathing shortly right against your clit without so much as savoring his view before diving in, tongue instantly licking from your hole straight to your clit and sucking.

He hums around the taste, both hands holding your inner thighs and keeping your legs open. And he just…keeps humming, licking and sucking you so good that you can’t help but cry out and tug at that fucked up mess of hair on his head. 

Jake likes that. He likes the way you hold your breath and the way your legs shake around his ears. He likes even more the way he knew you were watching him tonight, and that you looked like you were coming straight to his room to jump him. 

So strange how quickly things can change, so strange how good his best friend must have tasted all these years, and he had never once considered it. And now, he blinks up at you, seeing the way you close your eyes and breathe through it, like you’re calming yourself down, thinking both too much and not at all. 

Easily he runs his hands up and under your shirt, feeling the soft skin of your belly before gently running his palms over your perked nipples. He continues to stare up, watching you, tasting you, loving this a little more than he ever knew he would. 

He did want you, he does want you. His cock has been aching all day for you since the moment he found out you thought of him. Jake thinks you’d be tight, because lord knows you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute, and that quick jerk off session was absolutely for you. 

He wants to show off to you, wants you to see him more than anyone else can. Yet, it’s you he’s seeing more of right now and he doesn’t mind that so much. 

His eyes flick back down, allowing his fingertips to toy gently with your nipples as he skews his head, essentially making out with your pussy, slurping the slick you offer and not letting a single bit of it go to waste. Then, he dips in, pointing his tongue right against your pulsing hole and pressing in. 

There’s that tug of his hair again, your legs squeezing around him and your hips bucking up. 

Oh, you like that. 

So, he does it harder and with more focus. He squeezes his eyes shut and prepares to not breathe for a bit, licking as far into you as he can, his nose easily pressing your clit in such a beautiful way that all you can do now is moan.

Genuinely moan for him. His name in a little hiccup followed by a curse. 

Fuck, you’re so hot to him right now. Anyone would be fucking lucky to be in your bed at all, and finally it’s him. As if he’s been waiting for years despite never needing a turn previously. 

And this continues until he can’t breathe, his fingers growing more needy against your tits, his tongue reaching deeply before pulling out and allowing him to take a deep breath that is scented entirely in you. Then, he fucking nuzzles it.

You glance down with a heaved breath, legs shaking as you watch him do it. Eyes closed gently, rubbing his nose and lips against your clit in such a gentle, loving way that it has you melting instantly. 

“Jake–” You whisper in a breath, the first word you’ve said to him since you opened your bedroom door. 

All he does is shoot his gaze to you and continues his nuzzles, uncaring of whatever you need to say if it isn’t you asking him to fuck you right now. And arguable, you have nothing to say anyway. 

You just…needed to say his name. Needed to solidify that you just broke a boundary with him willingly, and he doesn’t care. You don’t care. 

You feel the thumping in your chest, your clit throbbing with each little rub he lends before you sit up slightly on your elbows, balancing yourself before reaching a hand down. 

He leans into your palm on his cheek, like a puppy wanting love. Then his hands leave your chest and find their way to your hips. His doe eyes instantly sharpen, and you’re instantly being pushed back down to your bed.

“Want me to be whatever you want? Let you do whatever you want to me?” He finally says, licking his lips as he makes his way up to hover over you, making sure to lift your shirt enough to expose both of your tits. “Just like I ask?” 

You find yourself nodding before taking it back, shaking your head. 

“I don’t want it to be like that–” You trail off, avoiding his intense gaze and suddenly feeling very vulnerable under him. “I just want you. The Jake I’ve always had.” 

Another shocked look reaches his expression. He’s a bit surprised, assuming that all of this was simply because you watched his stream and didn’t expect to be so turned on. He thought this would be a one and done thing. A “let’s forget this ever happened,” thing.

But you want him? Not the acting? Not the kinks, or the cocky grinning? You want the best friend in him, the part of him that was never sexual, never confident, never willing to approach women. 

He looks at you in question. 

“I don’t know how to be that right now.” He finally says, pressing his hips down and against you with a choked moan. “How can I be that when I want to fuck you so badly?”

You find yourself smiling, running your hands through his hair to get it out of his face before shrugging. 

“When have we ever known what we were doing?” You ask quietly, wincing slightly at how hard he’s gotten, knowing that you’re not having to see him through a screen now. 

That’s all he needed to hear before keeping eye contact and reaching down with one hand. You can’t bare to look down, knowing some sort of embarrassing sound will leave your throat. You decide to feel it instead. 

And goddamn, do you fucking feel it. 

He slides in easily, but the size of him stretches you far past anything you could have imagined. This is him, he’s this big. This is what Jake’s cock feels like and it has your chest caving in over it. 

All you can do is hug him, clinging to him through the stretch and hoping the way your cunt squeezes around him isn’t hurting him. 

“God, fuck.” He says in a quick whisper, arms shaking to hold himself up as you hug him. “You’re so tight, fuck.”

You smile against his messy chest at the compliment, basking in it really before allowing yourself to freely adjust. Your body clenches him tightly, and he remains still through it until he can’t anymore. 

He drops to the bed, flush against you without warning and the moans start pouring from his chest. He can’t stop even if he wanted to, can’t control his hips, his words, his thoughts.

He just lays here flush against you, letting his hips move freely and rapidly. In, out, in, out. So clumsy, so loud, and goddamn does it feel fucking amazing.

You moan alongside him, petting his hair with each thrust, feeling his cheek against your tits move with each drop of his jaw. Even when his moans are silent, you know he feels good and that makes you happy. 

None of those little bitches in his chat could get him like this, surely. He’s not acting right now. He’s Jake.

And that’s what makes it so good, you think. That’s why he has so much cum to put in you, apologizing through it all because the fear of this act comes with the orgasm. Apologizing for fucking you, for cumming in you, for getting off so quickly, promising you that he’ll make you cum too. 

It’s then that you realize, when he’s got his face back down between your legs, sucking his mess out of you…maybe you have feelings now.

And maybe that’s not such a bad thing either. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

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[vicsstufff]

NO ME SUELTES — p.bueckers x fem!reader

۶ৎ - summary: paige kinda loves early mornings, enjoying the day since the first hour, but, it all changes when she wakes up with you.

۶ৎ - wc: 476

۶ৎ - content/warnings: grumpy paige

authors note | BLURB! rauw alejandro supremacy, happy game day too!! i got my braces on 2 days ago and they hurt sooo bad 💔

the rain lullaby you back to sleep, not fully concentrating in where you are right now. it wasn’t necessary to close the curtains this time of year, when the clouds didn’t make any space for the sun to shine, you couldn’t recall when it was the last time that california was this cloudy, maybe because you weren’t in california.

familiar steps jogging slowly towards the bedroom door made your eyes fully open, you definitely weren’t in your college dorm back in california. you tried to take a deep breath before feeling a weight on your chest and stomach preventing you from doing so.

“girly, get up!” kk whispered urgently, shaking your hand that wasn’t tangled with the body on top of you. “what- what happened?” your voice came out husky and dry as you sighed pulling your hands lazily rubbing your eyes trying to shake away the sleep. “i’m starving… can we get chick-fll-a?” kk mouthed softly grabbing your hands separating them from your sleepy eyes. “what time is it?” you said softly, kk’s face becoming more clear as you finally open your eyelids, the body made its presence clear gripping your uconn sweater you are wearing. “okay-don’t ignore me! i have human needs.” kk protested, slamming loudly her arms against her sides and because of this action, a annoyed whimper came from paige who quickly turned back into her original position. “‘m going to leave that to you, but hurry up!” kk said making her way out the chilly room, closing the door behind her.

you groaned, noticing the hour, 9 am, last night wasn’t what you really expected for visiting connecticut for the first time. paige introducing you to her teammates, staying up late, filming tiktok’s and doing lives while you and paige wandered off to her room, getting nasty looks once you came back.

“p…” you uttered, reaching uncomfortably for your phone, paige had woken up by the sudden stretch you toke. “jesus, it’s so early.” she said low hiding her gloomy face in the side of your neck. “come on, kk is hungry.” you hinted. “bro, she is a grown ass woman. why does she need us?” she complained noisily. “i heard that p boogers!”

“y’all definitely don’t mind if i put on music, right?” kk questioned slamming clumsily the car door, making paige grimace. “yes—“ “no.” you quickly interrupted her. kk made her way to turn up the volume of the song making paige take her hand away from your thigh, a tradition that she had always loved. the car suddenly stopped, kk, who was caught in between the driver seat and the co-pilot seat, her body slammed into the back seats, her phone flying away from her hand and her neck twisted in a awkward way. “what the fuck, paige!” she screamed while paige smirked and concentrated on the road.

[heechwe]

not even sometimes | 𝐜𝐬

୨୧ pairing: choi san x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 5k ୨୧ genre: fluff, sprinkles of angst, smut ୨୧ tags: neighbor to lovers au, healthy communication for the win, switch!san, dirty talk, pet names, heavy petting, fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie ୨୧ synopsis: You've never been good at planning for the unexpected, much less a new neighbor. But the man in question may just love that about you, among other things you didn't see in yourself to begin with. ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is a remaster of an old fic I wrote years ago for a member of NCT, the original title being "Where We Begin." Seeing as I am not following that group anymore and I thought it'd be fun to polish up some old work, what the hell. Thank you to my betas for reading this one, @prkhaven @lovetaroandtaemin @tinycatharsis @jjunbug @innocygnet, I love you lots. Title inspiration from "Sometimes" by Ariana Grande!

Some people know the instant something begins, the start of something new brimming with possibilities palpable within the surrounding air. 

For you, it’s not that simple. 

It seems some things come and go in your life without warning or realization. You’ve fought enough for things to stay or leave for so many years that now it’s almost a godsend to lack that kind of perception. Whether it be for a new job opportunity, an unexpected act of kindness, or a person, it’s all the same. Beginnings can be as subtle as a wisp of wind through your window, or as abrasive as thunderclaps that rattle an entire room. Regardless, you’ve not caught on.

Lucky for you, Choi San isn’t subtle. With a body like his, how could he be?

The first time San greets you, he’s carrying an ottoman on his shoulder and a football in his hand. The early Saturday morning permeates through the hallway window, emphasizing his stark black hair and encroaching size, but he’s so beautifully smiling you felt nothing but warmth for the man in front of you. Across from your apartment sits his door halfway open, giving you ample opportunity to notice the manila moving boxes crowding the space of his new home.

The place had been empty for almost a month before San, the pain of Jeongin saying goodbye fresh every time you came home. The kid was a hilarious neighbor and a great friend, and while he didn’t leave your life, watching him go after three years left a noticeable pang of sadness. Having a new neighbor so soon felt foreign, unwelcome. But once San drops the ottoman carefully onto the small span of tile between your apartments and extends a hand, you know you can get used to the change if the new neighbor in question is this open, welcoming, and drop-dead gorgeous.

You give San your name with a smile, a soft yet large hand enveloping your smaller one. “You’ll love it here. I’ve been here for almost five years, never a problem.”

“That’s perfect. I’ve been couch-surfing for two months, so anything is better than my friends’ smelly socks and booty calls.”

You giggle, the sound reverberating off the highway walls. It almost makes you forget your choice of clothing, the realization suddenly hitting you.

You love your duck-patterned pajama bottoms and tattered college sweatshirt, but the clothing isn’t exactly the best outfit to meet new people in. Then again, nobody dresses up to run downstairs and get their weekly mail anyway, even if there’s a chance of running into someone as handsome as your new neighbor. “Sorry I’m not that presentable. I didn’t know you’d be coming today.”

“It’s no problem. I should’ve moved in yesterday, but I had an emergency. Well, if you could call a friend needing a three-page recipe an emergency.” San grins and shrugs, twirling the ball between his hands.

You giggle, pointing a finger towards the football. “So, you play sports and cook?”

“Not really, just a parting gift from my friend Woo for the recipe I owed him. I guess it’s also a housewarming gift‌, considering.”

You nod slowly and begin your trek down the hallway and to the mailroom, remembering your initial goal when you were leaving ten minutes ago. “Well, San, if you need help unpacking, just give me a knock!”

“I definitely will!” San waves goodbye and offers you the widest smile you’ve seen yet, saccharine in a way you didn’t realize you needed so early in the morning. He enters his new apartment without another turn of his head, while you wonder if this is the moment of realization the guy across the hall will be more than a stranger. Perhaps even a welcome addition to your life.

You open up your door a day later to find San with an inquisitive pout, replacing the mesmerizing smile he left you with. His hands respectively hold a large takeout bag and a tray of two drinks, and you guess what he’s after before he says the words. 

“Don’t tell me,” you say. “You need help unboxing.”

“Yes and no.”

“Oh?” You ask, partially shocked.

“So, I know you probably offered to help me unpack since I have the ‘new neighbor’ card. Which is great, since I actually do need help today. But, it would be rude to not offer food for your services, so it can be part moving part…treating a cute girl to lunch.” San tips the bag up with a grin, making you chuckle. “What do you say, neighbor?

As he waits for your answer, you discover Choi San is already too sweet to say no to. He asks so earnestly, and he’s feeding you, doing more than most of your exes ever did. The response easily slips off of your tongue. “That sounds great. Lemme just get my keys.” Following him into his apartment, you try to calm the staccato of your heart to a normal pace.

Your new neighbor truly has no shame as the two of you open all of his remaining boxes together, San confessing the origins of certain items you take out with a questioning, raised eyebrow. While he folds his clothes and sets them aside to move to his bedroom later, you tell him about your degree and how you can’t wait for the spring semester to end, your last step towards graduating in the summer.

You snap silly photos of him and take a few together to capture the moment; he ruffles your hair in a few and makes the resulting photos blurry, but you don’t mind. When you’re not unboxing and discussing your comprehensive histories, you eat pineapple fried rice and dumpling soup from the takeout containers and sip flat sodas you don’t bother replacing. The clear attachment you’ve already developed with San is worth drinking a watered-down soda.

“What do you do in your free time?” you ask before downing what’s left in your can.

“I work with my friends in a small studio downtown. It’s not much, but we love it and it helps pay for this.” He gestures to the apartment with dramatic grandeur, almost knocking over his drink. “That’s actually why I’ve been moving most of this by myself. Before you helped, I mean. There’s this production issue we glossed over, and my buddy Mingi wants it smoothed out before the song’s released.”

“Gotta love the  music life.” You sigh. “The arts are tough.”

“Yeah, I do love it. I don’t know where I’d be without it, to tell you the truth.” San chuckles, the sound rumbling in his throat.

You pat his shoulder with your hand. “I’m sure you’re doing great. You seem like a person who can find fun in anything. With your work, I know your friends need that.”

“Thanks,” he replies. San dips a hand through his hair, hoping to conceal his red face alongside his aggressively beating heart. “I bet you’re someone who keeps a lot of people calm and…I don’t know, grounded? You just give off this vibe like you know what you’re doing.”

You laugh again, pressing your empty soda can to your chest. “You’re probably the first person that’s ever thought about me that way.” Your friends and family often sing their praises for you, but what would get San’s compliment laughed out of any room is the fact he thinks you have a consciously prepared bone in your body.

You can barely give your best friends proper preparation for outfit choices, much less prepare for bigger life events. It’s what your exes have harped on for ages, your impulsiveness and second-nature to lead with your heart rather than your head, your ultimate downfall. How did anyone, especially yourself, expect you to go against habit and commit to anything? If there was an option to have someone spell it out for you, you would choose that in a heartbeat. To this day, sometimes it feels like you stumble around for answers, only doing things halfway and never with full intention.

You know these things about yourself like the back of your hand.. Yet, you can’t contain the flutter in your heart from San being so sure of you already. It may just be the takeout, the fullness of his stomach making his brain fuzzy, but you don’t care. You appreciate it regardless.

“That’s a good thing, though,” you mumble, his stare tickling the edges of your skin.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He winks at you, the gesture only solidifying every positive thought you have about him. He opens another box and removes the bubble wrap inside, and in that moment, you believe a piece of your heart silently belongs between the creases of his smile.

By the time you finish, the sun is setting, and you’re sitting next to San with your backs drooping against his couch. You rub your belly in slow, tiny circles, full from the food and copious amount of snacks you munched on while moving the smaller trinkets and furniture.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve known the pretzels and gummy worms would make you sick.” He pouts, staring down at your slumped body.

“No, it’s okay. Just another minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not in my hair. It’s too fantastic to be disturbed like that..” His confidence can be seen from space, you think as the corners of your lips rise. Without warning, San sets his head in your lap as his eyelashes flutter to a close. He’s burly at first glance, but you realize as he snuggles into your body how you fit together perfectly in this way. “I mean it. I’ve had a lot of fun today.”

Instinctively, you swipe one hand through his bangs, and he takes your fingers between his own. “We just met, but it’s like you make things slow down. I’m not running around the place like an idiot or saying the wrong things for the first time. Does that make sense?”

You close your eyes too, letting the words rumble around in your head. Responding to them with the peace within your smile and a squeeze of your hand, you know he’s smiling too without having to look down at him. “It does.”

In an array of textbooks, highlighters, and article clippings, San swipes through the words with a blue pen to mark important information for later. While it’s adorable watching him as he works, he has little to no foresight on the weekly topic in your Greek literature course.

Chan and Jisung, your study partners, left hours ago, but you stayed stuck with a pile of additional reading your professor dumped on you, including the play you still had to read. 

The night seemed to only be beginning for you, and you could only give your friends a sad smile as you walked them out of your apartment. With perfect timing, San popped his head out with a smirk, his concern giving way when he noticed the defeat in your posture.

“Can I help?” were the first words out of his mouth as you were on the verge of tears, your mountain of a neighbor suddenly becoming your shining light through the storm of academic writing and assignments.

He definitely isn’t helping in the way he imagined, but watching his eyebrows furrow in concentration and catching the delight on his face when he marks the “right” sentence makes the hours feel less tedious.

“I mean, why does Euripides have to be such a tragic writer? There’s nothing wrong with writing cheerful things now and then,” San says as he drops the pen onto the paper. Rolling closer to your spot on your bedroom floor, he pouts and puts his hands underneath his chin.

“Well, San, since he wrote tragic Greek plays, I think he was just creating what he knew. Like Sophocles, he just kept his daily life in mind when he was writing.” You smile to yourself, skimming the lines of the last act within your textbook.

“Excuse me, Smarty. I’ll just nap while you do your own notes, then.” He leans against your thigh, the back of his head mushed into the fabric of your shorts.

You scoff. “I just read the materials and introduction! You give me too much credit.”

One of his eyes pops open, followed by the crossing of his arms. “You still know things! Sometimes, you really don’t see that. And I’ve been your neighbor for what, a few weeks now? Give yourself more credit, angel.”

You refuse to acknowledge the pet name, knowing he’ll sense the change in your body if you do. Going for a lighthearted response, you stick your tongue out in his direction. “Trust me, you give enough credit to yourself for the both of us.”

San says your name and sits up, mirroring your crossed-legged position. “Maybe I do, but only because I know how it feels to not give yourself the self-assurance you deserve.”

You gape in mock surprise. “Choi San, not sure of himself? I never would have guessed.”

“Yes, I’m not flawless.” He laughs and knocks his fist softly into your shoulder. “When I was younger, sometimes people thought it was all an act, me being so ‘full’ of myself, all the time. In a way, it was just to pretend that there weren’t times when I didn’t feel confident in what I could do and if I could do it. It still happens, but not as much as before.”

“That’s hard to believe.” You drop your head, staring at your hands in your lap.

He taps his fingers under your chin. “It’s true. Some days, it can be so difficult to believe you’re capable. But you are, in so many ways. Anyone who loves you could see that tenfold. But in the end, the person who needs to see that first is you. Nobody else.”

You wipe away the tears that are  prepared to stream down your face, knowing it is ridiculous to cry at the comforting advice San offers. But he says all the right things every time you need them and every time you come across all the hidden fears and self-critiques you harbor.

“Are you crying,” he asks, lips curling into a frown. He presses a hand to your cheek, prepared to catch any tears before they fall, but you shake your head softly.

“I’m not sad, I promise. I just—I meant it. You give me more credit than I ever give myself, and I know it’s a bad habit, but it feels good having someone else notice…how hard it can be, even if I’m still trying.”

His thumb rubs back and forth across the apple of your cheek, sentiment and patience etched into expression. “Someone has to, don’t they?”

Staring into his eyes, you notice how much they shine, even in the dim lighting of your desk lamp. You chastise yourself for never noticing how brown and bright they were before. With a tiny vow, you promise to admire them for as long as you can, whether out loud or in silence. As long as San feels admired in the way he always should be.

The twinkle in his irises reflects in his close-lipped smile. You don’t stop to think as you lean in to kiss the sharp line of his cheek, knowing you need him as much as you need his words. He parts his mouth in shock, the hand on your cheek still. “Thank you, Sannie.”

When you rest your head on your pillow to sleep hours later, you still feel the shape of him on your lips and the fondness of his stare on your skin.

A knock on your door one Sunday afternoon reveals San with one of his hands cut up, a few scrapes visibly bleeding.

“Shit,” you curse, inspecting the cuts with your hands. He winces when you touch a deeper one, a hiss whistling through his teeth. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

“I dropped some glass cups. I didn’t know what happened to my broom, so I thought picking it up would be fine if I was careful,” he mumbles, obviously embarrassed about the mishap.

You press a hand to his shoulder as a signal for him to step inside your apartment. He does, observing the living room as you run to get supplies from your bathroom. The fuzzy, polka dot blanket draped across your even fuzzier, gray couch and the rerun of some 90s comedy makes him smile to himself. How can someone be so kind and cute? San thinks to himself.

You’ve both hung out many times since you helped him unpack, especially in your bedroom, but he’s never noticed the smaller things in your place. Seeing the ins and outs of your life in the decor, the few dishes in your sink, family photos by the door, and pens left on the counter, he doesn’t feel like he’s intruding. Rather, he’s noticing the pieces of you and storing them away to remember later. That’s how the ache inside his chest would describe it. For now, at least.

“I have band-aids, ointment, and gauze,” you note the supplies in your hand as you make it back to him. You’re no stranger to mishaps like accidental bruises and bumps, so coming as prepared as possible for this one facet of everyday life is doable, even for you. “Sit down, Sannie.”

When you guide both of you to the couch, you drape the blanket across his lap and pause the show on your television. You hold up the first-aid kit, grabbing his attention and smiling behind the box. “Ready to be patched up?”

“Readier than ready.”

The minutes pass quietly as San watches the rest of the episode, and you treat his smaller cuts with small circular band-aids. You wrap the deeper gashes up with pale gauze, rubbing some cream on the wounds to start the healing process. As you grab more of the ointment from the tin, you realize San being hurt in any capacity is painful, unbearable even, for you as well as him. While you have more than an inkling of what that means, you push it out of your mind to focus on your table-side healing.

When he’s patched up, you flick his wrist. “You’re good to go, sir.”

He grins in response. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. That’s what neighbors are for right?” The word feels too simple to describe San and what he means to you.

“Definitely,” he murmurs. Your faces rest less than a foot apart from each other, knees slightly touching. 

In any instance, you’d have backed away quickly and given your new friend and neighbor a proper send-off back to his apartment. However, he’s so warm, inviting, here. It has to be ridiculous to feel so safe in his presence this soon, but San is the least ridiculous person you know. 

He can be vain, more confident in himself than the average person is, and satisfied with his own absurdity. Maybe those things turn some people off, but they’re only a few things that you adore about him, the exterior pieces to a beautiful interior. And adore you do, maybe too much and too fast in the month that you’ve known him. But if someone calls you senseless for that, then senseless is what you are.

When you kiss his lips, pressing your mouth firmly to his, you feel senseless. All of your feelings rotate around him, none of your own to pull from as you want nothing but him to spread inside of you. You keen when he groans into your mouth, press deeper into him as his hands clench your waist, and mewl as he pushes his song into your mouth.

“Your hand,” you call out as he tries pushing his injured fingers down your pants.

“Fuck my hand,” San says with a gasp, tugging at the material until your shorts come off. “Well, I want you to fuck it anyway.”

You whimper at his salacious words, grinding your hips down into his lap and awaiting hand. He lets out his own sounds of pleasure at the wetness pooling in your underwear, and he slips the material to the side to truly have your skin against his, the callous on his fingertips rubbing against your clit beautifully.

With your mouth falling open from the cascading waves of pleasure that have barely started, you feel you could float away if it weren’t for San’s index and middle finger suddenly buried inside of you. He whispers dirty things into your ear, your face fighting a blush despite the position you’re both in. “You’re gorgeous, you know that? So perfect for me when you’re fucked out like this.”

He adds a third finger, completely lost in your expression as you ride his hand with abandon. You continue to rut your body into him, and all he can focus on is both your pleasure and the growing erection in his pants. His body pulses with need, but he knows it’s not about him right now.

It’s about you, and he wants you to recognize how much your pleasure matters to him.

“San, I’m gonna—” You press both palms to either side of his neck, moving faster to chase the high that’s within your reach. The taste of it almost hits the center of your tongue, and you want to feel it after all this time you’ve been waiting. For him, for the two of you, for something good.

“It’s okay, don’t fight it.” He kisses your cheek, looking up at you with only adoration and patience in his eyes. “Let go, beautiful. Come with my fingers inside of you.”

Your back arches and your chest presses into San’s biceps when you finally feel your release in its full glory. Your body leaks your essence down his hand and onto your remaining clothes. You would feel like a mess in any other circumstance, but right now, you don’t care.

All you want to do is make San feel as good as he’s made you feel.

You kiss him twice more before pulling him into your bedroom. You push him onto your bed and make quick work of removing his clothes, unzipping his jeans until both that article of clothing and his underwear come off.

The head of his dick is red and leaking with pre-cum, and you fight the urge to take him into your mouth completely and finish the encounter off that way. You want to make it worth both of your whiles.

You stroke his cock a handful of times to moisten the surface, and he ruts into your hand with broken groans. “Please don’t tease me,” San begs, reaching his hands out to hold you by the hips.

“I’m not, Sannie, I promise. Just want to get you nice and ready first.” You may not be confident in a lot of arenas of your life, but you know you’re good at this, and you’re going to make a show of it.

You sink down onto San’s cock easily. Despite the stretch of his wide girth filling every space of you, you take it all with a slack jaw and a deep moan emulating from your chest. It’s been a minute since you’ve had someone of his size inside of you, but you adjust with a few minutes of doing nothing but sitting on top of him.

“Are you gonna—” You cut San’s words short by slamming down on him particularly hard, going from doing nothing to giving him everything in a matter of seconds. You press your nails into his chest as you ride him, your pace fast and unrelenting. He looks up at you through his lashes with lust-blown irises. His hands on your hips threaten to bruise your skin, and in truth, you wouldn’t mind if they did. You want him to mark you up, pin you down, make him yours. You’ve never been more sure of anything before.

Without warning, San switches positions, one large hand pinning you down as the other wraps your legs tighter around his waist. “No more playing. Hold on tight, doll.”

He sets a pace much harsher than yours, practically leaving you completely before slamming completely inside with every thrust. It’s deep in every sense of the word, and you bite into your fist to hold back how loud you’re becoming. 

San takes that fist into his palm, splaying out your fingers to interlace with his. “Let me hear all of it. Don’t fight it, baby.” He takes one of your breasts into his mouth, lavishing your nipple in gentle nips and kitten licks.

You decide all of your resounding sounds matter little to you, your other neighbors and their peaceful Sunday be damned. If he wants you to be loud, you’ll be as loud as possible, especially when his hand finds your clit to rub in perfect little figure eights.

Your vocal chords are tattered and uneven by the time your second orgasm comes, your body slack and throat hoarse from the overload of pleasure. You squeeze him tighter despite your oversensitive nerves, ready for him to fall off the same precipice you lept past with no issue.

San buries his face into your neck as he comes, his breath and beautiful groans hitting your ear as his release fills you with warmth. He kisses one of your temples as he pulls out, letting small remnants of the mixture of your releases trickle out of you and onto your bed. It all carries the same weight of importance, anyway. All that matters to you is his warm arms lulling you into comfort you’ve been without for longer than you realized.

The afternoon sky bleeds into night, and you spend all those hours in San’s arms, saying nothing yet everything in that span of time. He only rubs your back and kisses your lips every so often, letting you slip in and out of sleep.

Once you’ve been awake for longer than ten minutes, San breaks the silence by saying, “So, I’m not the best cook, but you deserve some sort of meal after all of this.” He kisses your neck before focusing his gaze back on you. “And I may or may not be collecting my repayment after helping you with those articles right now so you say yes.” He grins again, charming and electrifying. “What do you say?”

“We just had sex and you think I’ll say no to that?” you ask with a giggle. 

“I’m just making sure!”

You’ve never been observant. Some cues go past your head entirely, and you know this. But San’s skin, so comfortably close to yours, sends the gentlest calm across yours like the familiar prickles of gooseflesh. You can see him and read his obvious intentions, and you know now you’re ready to welcome the start of something new with open arms. There’s no right or wrong to fear, no choice to be any less certain about. It’s easy to feel that way when sure of him when he looks at you the way he does? “I’d love to have a meal with you, San.”

Two months pass, and as San’s hand draws circles into the divot of your hip, you remember that tender stillness you felt after you first met, the first time you hung out together in what San called “your first not-first date” which you lovingly shoved him for, the first night you spent together, and all the dates that followed. Most important, that stillness never disappeared or faded into the background. Not since the first time you saw him, not when he told you it was more than fine to leave most of your stuff at his place (especially your polka dot blanket), and not when he told you he loved you hours ago.

“What are you thinking about?” San pulls you from your thoughts with his question, his whisper raspy. He kisses your bare shoulder, the soft press of his lips warming you to the bone.

“You.”

“Oh? Only good things I hope.” He smirks, trailing his kisses up to your neck. “Or bad, I prefer both.” You giggle at the few swipes of his tongue on the hollow of your throat, but you tug on the ends of his hair to pull his attention back to your face.

“The best things. How I still get excited every time I see you, and how easy it is to make you smile. How you make me feel as though I can do anything, because I have all the power in the world to do it.” You stroke the corners of his mouth, pulling them up and down to make him laugh. “How much I love you.”

In his laughter, he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. Peppering his face with kisses, the two of you fall deeper inside the sheets, the only space in the world meant for the two of you. The smell of his cologne lingers on his body, your favorite smell. You breathe it in as he says, “I love you too.” He says the words in between more sets of kisses stamped into your face and neck.

The sunlight peeks in through San’s curtains when you retreat from underneath the comforter, the signal of a new day. Another set of beginnings and discoveries to look for, new realizations to be had. Only, this day is different. You no longer fear as you once did. If either you or San aren’t looking close enough, the other person will be there to help put the pieces together. Other days, you know you’re strong enough now to figure it all out on your own, just like San is. The two of you can be as slow or fast-paced as you want to, impulses or plans be damned. If that’s what love is supposed to be, you never want it to pass you by again.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry@lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @pars-ley @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings

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𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄��� 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 11

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content (smut), uhh badly proofread Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: hii i know i know i promised this yesterday but i nearly had a panic attack so i couldn't, my bad. i'm good now! please enjoy this before paige's last game at XL :((

-

Before London

“So as everyone can see, here we have a list of statistics showing the viewership per video and definitely can see an increase from last year, content with Paige seems to do extremely well like we…”

Linda’s voice blends into the background sounds of cutlery and plates and chatter filling the dining hall. For some reason my boss thought an impromptu media team meeting was in order and showed up to College Park Center unannounced. She wanted to catch up on what sort of content attracted most viewership, and to evaluate what worked and what didn’t. I couldn’t have cared less - all I knew is I was doing a good job, fantastic even. I’m not sure why I had to sit through something I already knew just to have Linda reiterate it to me. It wasn’t like me to be resistant to a meeting, or to praise from my superior but I was far too distracted.

My eyes involuntarily keep travelling to the table on the far right where Paige was sitting with her teammates, voice echoing around the walls of the building. A sound I fear I might never get tired of. The blonde is leaning back on her chair, chugging water, biceps more prominent than usual after spending all morning in the weight room. I knew this because she had driven me to work, despite having time off saying she needed to lift. I knew it wasn’t in her schedule as I had, almost accidentally, memorised it. Still there she had been, outside my door with a hazelnut latte, always somehow the perfect temperature whenever she brought me my coffee order. I hated when it was too hot.

As if sensing me, her blue eyes shift from Arike to me, locking with my gaze. Immediately I blush, trying to hide the smirk growing onto my face. But I can’t, so I cover my mouth with my hand to hide it from the team, particularly Linda, Paige’s mouth twisting into a bright smile in response. Yet we don’t break eye contact, keeping our eyes on each other.

Linda had been surprisingly credulous to my claims of a migraine when I missed work just a couple days ago. Since the night the blonde turned my entire world on its head. I hadn’t been able to think of anything ever since except the weight of her lips on my skin, her eager touch and starved eyes. I had been craving her every second since we drove back to Dallas. I needed more. As much as it pained me to admit.

With a grin on her face, Paige grabs her phone and types for a while, my screen lighting up with a notification.

Paige

Did i say how beautiful you look today yet

I blush, tapping underneath the table.

You did. A few times in the car.

Matter of fact she had been repeating it between sentences, and almost crashed the car twice because of how badly she had been staring.

Gotta tell you again

Takin my breath away all the way from over there

Finest girl I swearrrrr

I can’t help but smile.

You look like you’re breathing fine 🙄

I lift my gaze, seeing the blonde rubbing her chest and looking at her phone with a smirk.

Trust me ma

What Linda doin here?

Some sort of unnecessary meeting, I’m not sure why.

What time you getting off work?

I have a couple things to do after this but if you’re done you can go home, I’ll take a cab.

Fuck no i’ll wait

I could do some stretchin

You should join me

I let out a silent chuckle, shaking my head to myself.

Paige!!

What??? Would be good for those tense muscles yk

Could think of sum other stuff to relax you too 😏😏

With a scoff I glance at the blonde who’s already looking with a playful, devilish grin. I look at her scoldingly, watching as she raises her brows and bites her lower lip to kill the smile before pointing at her phone, showing me she wants me to reply.

Why do I have an idea of what that might be?

Yeah? 

“So what do you think Izara?” Linda asks, snapping me back to reality.

“Uhh… Of?” I murmur, placing my phone screen down onto the table, thighs burning with the memory of how good the blonde had made me feel just a few days before.

“Do you think we can reach our goal followers-wise or are we being too ambitious?”

I quickly pull myself together, though I’ve barely heard a word. “Certainly if we keep pumping out content every day.” I don’t actually even know what goal we’re talking about.

However, my answer satisfies Linda, her mouth twisting into a smile. “Excellent!”

“Excuse me,” I hum, getting up from the table to grab an extra bottle of water. Paige, who has been watching, does the same, unable to not take advantage of the opportunity to talk to me.

I feel a gentle bump on my arm, eyes immediately snapping to the girl who’s looking smug as I eye the bottles.

“Hey pretty girl,” she whispers, placing a hand on my lower back. I quickly glance back at the media team to make sure no one was looking. To my relief they’re all too busy leaning in to stare at Trey who’s showcasing our latest content on his phone.

“Hey you,” I reply, my voice soft, quiet so no one can hear. Paige stands behind me, eyes skimming the different bottles of drinks as if mulling over her decision on what to get. But I know better. She’s stalling to stay talking to me. We had barely had any time to spend alone, my mind too busy wrapped up with work, Paige spending every waking moment on the court trying to get her shot back.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, reaching over for the bottle and holding it in my hand. Paige thinks for a second, grabbing a bottle of gatorade. All I can do is stare at her hands, mesmerised. Perfect hands that made me feel so incredible.

“Uhh nothing, why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Paige’s ears turn red, as she clears her throat, the idea immediately getting the younger girl flustered.

“Y-Yeah okay Iz,” she whispers, voice trembling a little. The effect I have on the girl makes me smile. It pleased me to know I had so much power over her. Little did she know she held just as much power over me, I was just much better at hiding it. However, my cheeks turn a hint of pink thinking about the possibilities of what might happen once we get a moment alone.

“Okay Paige,” I smile, eyes stuck on her flushed face. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

-

Waiting a couple hours had turned out to be much harder than I had planned, the thought of Paige’s hands on my body enough to have me growing wet in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer to feel the younger girl on me. Paige had felt the same, which had led us to our current predicament, my back pushed against the door of the storage room, the girl kissing my neck feverishly as my hands roam her body. The door handle digs into my lower back painfully but I barely notice.

“Paige,” I whimper, but she silences me with a heated kiss, tongue slipping past my lips into my mouth. My kisses are needy, desperate, a quiet moan spilling out when Paige’s hand kneads my ass, my short skirt hiking up as she does.

“You’re so sexy ma,” the blonde groans, lips glistening as she pulls back to look at me. “Killing me in a skirt like that.”

“Wore it for you,” I tease. Paige melts, moaning just from my words.

My arms wrap around her shoulders as I pull her back into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss by her hair. The blonde groans, lifting my skirt to squeeze the bare skin underneath, eyes opening to see the purple silk panties I was wearing. I hadn’t been prepared for the first time we slept together the way I liked to be, but after a meeting with my wax lady and a vigorous exfoliation routine last night I was prepared for her, my skin silky and smooth all for her from my head to my toes.

“Look at that,” she whispers, pulling back enough to admire the underwear sitting against my golden skin. “Goddamn.”

“Want you,” I hum, looking at her with round, pleading eyes. Paige takes a deep breath through her nose, groaning as she throws her head back. I know I’m driving her insane.

“We can’t,” she mumbles, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. I’m taken back, slightly embarrassed. I never thought she’d reject me.

“Why not?”

Paige notices the surprise in my face, her blue eyes widening. “No, I want to. So fucking bad, you got no idea baby,” she starts, looking me up and down.

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, getting annoyed which in turn makes my brows furrow.

“Iz I can’t just keep sleeping with you,” she sighs. “You’re more than that. You deserve more.”

I shake my head, pulling Paige back in by her sweaty T-shirt. She kisses me softly, nuzzling her nose into mine.

“I don’t care. I want you,” I repeat, the ache between my thighs nearly unbearable.

“I care,” the girl whispers, resting her forehead on mine. “Need to take you out on a date before we… y’know.”

I’m surprised, my eyes fluttering open.

“Need to do this right Izzie,” she hums, kissing the top of my head. “Need to take you out before I do all the things I’ve been dying to do to you.”

I nearly collapse at her words, grateful for the strength of her grip on my hips.

“Oh,” I say, feeling the blonde pull my skirt back down hesitantly.

“Please, lemme treat you right ma,” she pleads, kissing both my cheeks softly. “Lemme take you out. Been dying to, ever since I saw you. Please.”

-

Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection in the mirror once more. White shorts and a white oversized button up, both neatly pressed not a single wrinkle on them. I’ve really gotten tan here. I lean closer to add the signature diamond studs onto my ears, smoothing over the hair slicked back into a low bun. I check my nails one more time, making sure each one is short and filed up to my standards. No, not mine. Up to Izzie’s standards. I look good, I wanted everything to be perfect for her. For my gorgeous, perfect London girl.

I grab the huge bouquet of white lilies and head downstairs, toying with my silver chain as I knock on the door. I don’t remember the last time I had been nervous over a girl before Izzie. So much for my plans to stay celibate this season. Like clockwork, the door opens.

I feel breathless when I see her. She’s wearing a bronze coloured satin dress, the perfect contrast against her skin, with spaghetti straps and a slightly plunging neckline, her breasts on display just enough to make me wanna look for a little too long. The dress isn’t too tight, clinging to her curves in all the right places, the hem ending at her calves. Her skin glows from her arms decorated with gold bracelets, all the way down to her calves and feet, beautifully arched in matching sandals. Izzie looks stunning, glowing with the power of a hundred suns.

I let out a low whistle, unsure what to say. I feel flustered, nervous in front of her. It was as if I was seeing her for the first time all over again, two months ago in this same hallway. 

“Whoa,” is all I can say, my palms sweating already.

Izzie giggles and then she does something I’ll never get over. She simply tilts her head, sharp eyes sparkling at me, slender fingers reaching over and fixing the collar of my shirt. And my knees nearly buckle.

“We don’t need to go out,” I mutter, leaning down to kiss the girl. But she tuts softly, pulling back and placing two fingers on my chin to stop me sternly.

“Lipgloss,” she grins, pushing my face back by my jaw playfully. “And yes we do, took me three hours to get ready.”

I can see that, every strand of her black hair carefully set in uniform waves running down her back. All I can do is stare at her, mouth open.

“Paige?” Izzie giggles.

“What?” I ask, cheeks bright red.

“The flowers?”

I glance down at the bouquet in my hand, handing them to the girl. “Oh yeah, these are for you,” I laugh awkwardly, nearly unable to look the girl in the eye.

“I love lilies,” she gleams, inhaling their scent and humming contentedly.  

“I know, you told me,” I smile, stepping in as she turns her back on me to put the flowers in a vase. My eyes travel from her hair downwards to the curve of her ass just for a moment, fighting the urge to pull up the hem and dive between her legs. I quickly glance up, trying to keep myself in check. Date first. Be respectful.

“You remembered,” Izzie smiles to herself, setting the flowers onto her dining table. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

The girl turns to me, throwing her hands around my shoulders and kissing me lovingly. 

“What about your lipgloss?” I mumble against her lips, one hand on her lower back, the other on her neck pulling her in.

“I’ll reapply,” she sighs. I loved the way she was, meticulous and disciplined. But my God did I adore the way she had loosened up around me, the way she seemed to have a newfound ease about her. How she arrived to work yesterday wearing pants and flats, giggling with her co-workers lightheartedly, the pearls of her laughter echoing around every room she entered. 

“Shit,” I pull back from the kiss with a struggle. “I got us a car baby, we should go.”

Iz whines in a way that pulls at my heartstrings, her brows furrowing in desperation, tracing her fingers up and down my arms, squeezing my biceps that had grown exponentially during my time in the league.

“You look so gorgeous,” Izzie hums, smoothing over my collar one last time, leaning close and pressing a kiss onto my collarbone. My eyes flutter shut momentarily.

“C’mon,” I sigh. “If we don’t go now we ain’t ever gon leave.”

-

“Paige,” I gasp as she opens the car door for me and I realise where we are. 

“What? You like?” The blonde grins, offering her hand to help me out and watching my face for approval. I step onto the pavement, wrapping my arm around hers as we walk into the building, the doorman letting us in with a polite smile. We step into the gorgeous, high-end restaurant, Paige smoothly letting the hostess know that we had arrived. 

I had mentioned Monarch countless times in conversation, brought up how the customer from Dallas that left an irrevocable mark on me made me swear to dine there at least once in my life. It was on the pricier side, and I’d grown used to a certain lifestyle which my current pay couldn't maintain so I had been burning through my savings - it simply wasn’t in the budget. Except now, with this millionaire girl on my arm I suppose it did. Truthfully, I would’ve been happy with less. But I won’t lie that she really hit the nail on the head with this one. I mean she listened. Remembering my brother’s name, my favourite flower, now this? She really listened to me. I didn’t know it could be like this.

“Paige,” is all I can mutter out with a happy sigh, my mouth twisting to a smile. Paige tugs at her silver chain absentmindedly, her eyes flickering around the room before always landing back on me.

I slide myself into the booth, Paige following behind me, making me laugh.

“Paige, your plate is on that side,” I giggle, pointing to the set cutlery opposite of me. 

“I’ll ask em to move it over here,” she mumbles, her arm snaking around my waist and pulling me close so my side presses into hers, the pressure of her thigh on mine.

“Isn’t that gonna look a little silly?” I chuckle, watching as Paige reaches over the table and moves her entire table arrangement next to mine. I blush, looking around hoping no one noticed. This was a nice place. I could tell it wasn’t the blonde’s scene. Something about that made this even more endearing. It was all for me.

“Ion care if it does, it’s too far from you,” she whines, entangling her fingers with mine underneath the table. My eyes land on her blue ones, her face only a few inches from me. Paige licks her lips, her gaze flickering to my lips. I feel a familiar ache between my thighs return just from the sheer proximity of the blonde, and the smell of her cologne.

“Wanna kiss you so bad right now,” she whispers, both our breathing growing heavy. I nod, wanting the same. But we both knew it was better not to. After Luka was traded out of Dallas Paige was one of the biggest athletes in the entire city. A household name easily. We weren’t just sneaking around behind Linda’s back, we had to keep this on the low from the whole world. It’s not like we had to talk about it - we both knew it.

“Gotta wait,” I hum, jumping slightly as the waiter interrupts the moment, looking to take our orders. Paige, in her American manner, orders multiple side dishes and salads for us to share, the table filled with Wagyu Carpaccio and Octopus. But the real star of the night is the lamb, which the customer made me swear to get if I ever ended up at Monarch.

“Oh my Gosh,” I groan quietly, letting the meat melt into my mouth. I smooth the napkin on my lap, the luxurious linen smooth underneath my palm. Taking a sip of my Merlot, I notice Paige beside me, cutting the gorgeous lamb into multiple bite-size pieces before putting the knife down and beginning to eat with the fork. I watch, astonished, amused and embarrassed at the same time.

“You are so American,” I laugh, swallowing the wine and covering my mouth. The younger girl turns to me, confused.

“Whatchu mean?” She giggles but I eye her plate, rolling my eyes.

“Can you not eat with a fork and a knife at the same time?” I ask, raising my brows. Paige huffs, though the small curl a the corner of her mouth tells me she’s basking in my slightly condescending tone, the scolding lilt of my voice.

“Guess you’ll have to teach me your fancy English ways huh?”

“Oh my Gosh,” I sigh amused.

“The fork is in the wrong handddd,” she complains, continuing to eat, fork on the right hand. I make a mental note to teach her table manners before she meets my parents. Then, realising that she never would, decide to stay quiet. This is just a fling, a summer romance at most. A rebound - it’s what I tell myself to ease the slight panic in my chest when I thought more about what the end of the season would bring, me going back home to London, leaving my American girl here. My one summer in Dallas, cruel and much too short. Just a few months is all we’d ever get. Against my nature, I try not to worry about it, hoving the anxiety to some deep, dark corner of my mind, under all the other things I didn’t want to deal with.

The moment I notice my glass is empty, the blonde is already reaching for the jug of water and pouring me some. I watch closely, heart fluttering with affection.

-

Dinner is amazing, a dream come true. The food, of course, delicious. But even better is the satisfied smile on the dark haired girl’s face. The way her eyes gleamed every time she looked at me. The sound of her sweet laughter whenever I did anything she redeemed “American”. The slightly condescending manner with which she corrected my table manners, praising me every time I did something right. Every cell in me wanted to please her. Hear more of her “good job” and “that’s it”. Feel the hand on my shoulder squeezing, affirming her words. I was ecstatic, even more so knowing that this was just the first of many dates. That I would get to take Izara out for years to come, hear her praises forever if I played my cards right. And I desperately wanted this to be forever. I know I was going way too fast. But I couldn’t help my mind from picturing her in a white dress, playing with our children, waiting for me at home after practice.

“I’m so full,” Izzie sighs, leaning back against the booth and rubbing up and down my arm affectionately. “You did so good with this darling.”

I melt, my eyes nearly rolling back at her praise, never mind the pet name.

“Lemme order you some dessert,” I nearly whine, my plate finished much earlier than Izara’s.

The girl leans over and checks the dessert menu, quickly skimming it over and scrunching her face.

“You too full baby?”

“Could we just go out and get some ice cream from a stand?” The girl asks, her green eyes fluttering at me. How could I ever say no?

“You sure? They got some nice dessert here. Fancy,” I ask, flipping the menu over in my hand. I wanted the girl to have whatever she wanted. I wanted to give her the entire world.

Izzie nods, placing her hand on my thigh. “Don’t want fancy, just want some ice cream.” I’m surprised, thinking the fancier the better. Maybe I was wrong.

-

The Dallas night is still as hot as the day, but there’s a pleasant breeze in place of the scorching sun from earlier. Izara looks even more beautiful in the glow of the city lights and under the twinkling night sky. I can’t tear my eyes away, nearly running into a pole from staring at her so much.

“Could I taste yours?” Izzie asks, handing me her chocolate ice cream cone. Wordlessly, without hesitation, I give her my strawberry cone, honestly ready to turn around and order five more of them for her.

I watch closely as Izara’s tongue darts out to taste the ice cream, a jolt running down my spine to my core, with dirty thoughts flooding my mind.

“Mmh, this is delicious,” she murmurs.

“Take it,” I say without hesitation. Izzie hums, accepting my offer quickly. Almost as if she expected it. Something about it drove me wild.

We walk around the city, hand in hand, easily blending in with the crowd, not worrying about familiar faces, making sure that with every turn I was walking on the street side, keeping her safe. I felt proud walking side by side with Izara, knowing that people walking by knew she was all mine. That I got a girl like this, far from my league. I wanted everyone to know that she’s mine - having to keep this hidden would turn out to be much harder than I imagined. Still, the idea of this being our little secret felt exciting.

The breeze and the ice cream cause goosebumps to form all over Izzie’s arms, a slight chill running through her. I curse myself in my head for not bringing a sweater, making a mental note to never go anywhere without one for her from now on.

“You ever miss London?” I ask, pulling her closer by her waist out of the way of someone walking by.

“No,” she quickly replies, surprisingly bluntly. I’m taken aback.

“Not at all?”

Izzie shakes her head. “Too many bad things in London.”

I immediately understand what she means. Jasper. At least the desperate phone calls had seemed to stop.

“You really don’t miss anything?”

The dark haired girl thinks for a while. “Well, I miss the chocolate. Nothing here tastes like Cadbury.”

We walk around, eager to finish the chocolate ice cream Iz ordered, but I slow down, trying to match the pace with which she’s eating out of politeness. My blue eyes roam her face, trying to memorise each little detail. Her dark, perfectly arched brows, long lashes darkened with mascara, plump lips with only a hint of the lipstick from earlier, fading from eating the ice cream. Her dark curls stick to her neck, desperate to escape the carefully shaped waves, golden necklace dangling at her collarbone. I reach over, my cold fingers making the girl jump when they adjust the clasp, dragging against her skin from the base of her neck to the back.

We come to a stop, Izara’s green eyes lined with black glimmering, her face turning different colors as ads flash red, blue, green on a screen by the sidewalk. The words spill from between my lips faster than I can think, let alone stop myself.

“I really like you Iz,” I murmur, looking into the girl’s eyes. “I mean, I think I’m fallin’ for you.”

Her breath hitches, eyes softening only for a moment, and then widening. With surprise? With panic? I’m not sure. I wouldn’t blame her. It wasn’t something you said on a first date. I wanted to smack the back of my own head for that. I quickly look up, in a momentary prayer hoping God would let me rewind just 20 seconds. But no one answers my request.

“Shit, I’m sorry if it’s too much. You don’t gotta say anything okay?” I tell Izzie, avoiding her gaze.

“It’s okay love,” she smiles, thumb brushing against my skin comfortingly. However, I see a hint of hesitation on her face. “But Paige I thi-”

“Look, let’s just forget I said that aight?” I ask, my chest aching, begging to God I didn’t just ruin this before it could even start.

“Paige,” Iz sighs, trying to comfort me. But I could tell she felt uneasy about something. “I think we just gotta remember that we need to be really careful about this, yeah?”

I sigh nodding. She’s right. “Yeah.”

“I mean the stakes aren't the same for you and me. If we get caught,” she starts, letting out a heavy breath. “I’ll be back in London in no time. You however would be completely fine.”

I nod, wanting the girl to know I was really hearing her out. “Gon be really careful okay?”

“No slip ups.”

“No ma’am,” I answer reassuringly.

“And you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Not Arike, not Lou, no one. They can’t know.”

“I agree,” I tell the girl. “Look, I meant what I said. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be.”

The girl smiles, for a moment I think there’s a hint of sadness there, but it’s gone just as fast as it appeared. “Today’s been… amazing.”

I bite my lower lip, hand coming to her lower back just for a moment. There was nothing in this world that felt as good as hearing her praise. Maybe winning the national championship. Top two things I’ve ever experienced.

“Wanted it to be special for you, Iz,” I hum, blushing a little. Just as she’s about to answer, her phone rings.

“It’s Trey,” she murmurs. Of course it is. I can’t help but roll my eyes, watching as she raises the phone to her ear and answers. That’s how we walk back to the car, the girl next to me talking animatedly on the phone about whatever, my irritation growing with each moment. I knew they were friends. But everytime she giggled or laughed at whatever the man on the phone was saying, my jaw clenched and breathing grew heavier.

“Okay, Trey I really must go. I’ll see you in a couple days,” Izzie, who had been trying to politely end the call, says. I hear Trey’s defiant protests all the way from the driver’s seat, making me want to grab the girl’s phone and hang up for her.

Iz laughs politely at whatever he said. “Treeyy, I’ll talk to you about this at work okay? Alright, bye now.”

Finally, she hangs up.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it might be about work but he was just calling to explain about some sort of couch he was considering getting,” Iz chuckles, finally turning her gaze to me.I feel my annoyance settle down the moment her eyes land on me. Having her attention just had the effect of soothing me. Still, it bothered me that the girl was so oblivious to Trey’s obsession with her. I sigh, chewing on the inside of my cheek. 

“What?” Izzie asks, noticing my irritation as we sit in the parked car.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Izara rolls her eyes. “Don’t start with that again.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

I turn to her, raising my brows. “You prolly don’t see it but I do. He’s always calling or texting you, following you around or tryna touch you. All the time. He obsessed, trust.”

Izzie scoffs, turning to me. “I think you’re just reading into it too much.”

I shake my head. “He likes you.”

She looks like she's about to get defensive, but then her face softens. “Well, even if he does, I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my voice growing needy.

“No darling,” she hums quietly, reaching over and placing her dainty hand on mine. “I couldn’t care less about Trey.”

My heart flutters, the warmth in my chest spreading all over my body, chills forming underneath her touch. All the frustration and annoyance that had been growing are replaced with affection now that I feel reassured

“Yeah?” I ask carefully, nearly flinching at how whiny it comes out.

Izzie smiles, leaning over the center console and kissing my cheek. I catch a whiff of the pear and lavender notes of her perfume, my head spinning.

“Yeah.”

I lean over too, my lips finally crashing against hers, both hands holding her face gently like a baby bird, doing everything in my power not to disrupt her. Her lips taste like strawberries, and a hint of red wine from dinner. The wine had loosened Izzie up, her body turning into putty in the passenger seat just from one kiss. 

Her hands wrap around my neck, scratching at the back of my neck to pull me impossibly closer. I groan, arousal growing quickly between my thighs. A passing car honks, reminding me of our surroundings and the fact that the windows were not tinted. At the sudden realisation, I pull back abruptly, wiping my lips. 

Izzie looks breathless, cheeks flushed and lips parted and glossy. 

You wanna come to mine, ma?” I ask, or rather plead. The thought of getting to bring her home after had been the only force to give me the strength to keep my hands to myself all night.

“Yes,” she simply exhales. I feel a thrill, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to head towards our home, my hand never leaving her thigh, mind filled with the thoughts of lifting the skirt and diving into her.

-

My chest heaves as we climb the stairs, Izara’s heels tapping against the marble and echoing in the corridor. As I open the door, I let the dark-haired girl in, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

“Whoa,” she gasps. Stepping inside after her, I watch her face brighten as a trail of red rose petals on the floor leads all the way to the bedroom, just as I had set them before picking her up.

I step closer, pressing my front against her back, leaning down to kiss her neck as my hands find their position on her waist. I loved that even in heels she was a few inches shorter than me. Her body melts into me quickly, the curve of her ass pressing into my hips. The satin is smooth and cool under my fingertips, and her neck smells like her perfume and the fruity hair products she uses. Guava?

“You did this?” she asks, her voice gasping as my lips glide against her neck, feeling for her pulse under my kisses. 

Finally, I find the steady beating on the side of her long neck, my lips wrapping around it and sucking. Izzie exhales softly, her hands finding mine at her waist.

“Mhmm,” I hum, nuzzling my nose into her ear before kissing it feverishly. I needed her so desperately, like I had been travelling the desert for days and finally found an oasis filled with fresh water and sweet fruit and cool shade. I’m surprised I’m even able to stand upright.

“Oh so you knew I’d be coming over? That’s how you see me?” Her voice is stern, sending a jolt through my body. It makes me want to get on my knees and apologize, repent.

“N-No baby, I mean I was hopin’ but I didn’t assume. Iz, I swear I don-”

I’m joking, Paige,” she laughs, craning her neck to look into my face, an amused smile on her lips. My cheeks turn red as I laugh at myself.

I walk the girl forward, following the rose petals into the bedroom. They reach the bed, the white sheets decorated with the flower petals as well. Izara looks around, a smile on her face. I feel the ache between my thighs grow knowing I had made her happy.

Before I can say anything, she flips around to face me, kissing me heatedly. Her mouth is wide open against mine, tongue circling mine and fingers digging into my shoulders.

“Lemme light the candles,” I hiss, furrowing my brows and trying to pull away. But Izzie pulls me in by my collar, kissing me again.

“Fuck the candles,” she murmurs and, to my surprise, walks me backward into the bed.

I crash onto my back, Izzie pushing me down by my chest. “Let me dim the lights,” she says, but I grab her hand.

“Please don’t,” I whisper, my brows furrowing. “Wanna see you baby.”

She hesitates for a moment, but I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently. “Please.”

Izzie pulls her hand back, convinced by the simple gesture, and reaches behind her back to her zipper. She unzips the dress far too slow, driving me insane. I wanted her now. So I whine, furrowing my brows and squirming on the bed, but the girl only shakes her head, slipping one strap off her shoulder. I nearly pass out.

“Patience,” Iz tells me, her voice low and gravelly. I can’t look away, wetting my lips with my tongue as I watch the second strap fall from her shoulder, the dress finally hitting the floor.

“Oh shit,” I murmur to myself, my boxers growing wetter and wetter the moment I realise she wasn’t wearing a bra at all, her body only covered with black lace panties. My gaze is stuck on her chest though, her round breasts covered in goosebumps. Breathing heavy, I sit up, mouth watering to wrap my lips around her hard nipple, to knead the skin.

“Nuh uh,” Izzie snaps, pushing me back down onto my back. I feel a thrill, surprised to find how much this turned me on. I was so used to being the one in charge, I didn’t even know how insanely hot it would be for the dark haired girl to be giving me commands. Though, in hindsight, I probably should have known from the way my core throbbed everytime she demanded something from me.

“Iz,” I groan, watching as her nimble fingers begin to unbutton my shirt, painfully slowly. I feel like I might pass out.

“Remember what I said baby,” she hums, straddling my hips, thighs becoming even thicker on both sides of me as she sits down on them. Izzie leans down, lips hovering over my ear, hot breath tickling it. “Patience,” she whispers, and then ghosts my skin, leaving me writhing.

Finally she pulls my shirt open, revealing the white sports bra underneath. Her long nail drags from my neck downwards, to my chest, and finally to the muscles of my abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whine, watching the way her eyes darken as she gazes down at me. My hands come to her hips, easily reaching over to knead her ass. To my relief, she lets me, exhaling heavily and throwing her head back as I feel her skin. My hands feel up her sides, to her breast, kneading them in each hand and bucking my hips to look for any relief on my soaked core.

My chest heaves vigorously, right hand dragging downwards, down the skin of her stomach, fingertips dipping into the band. I needed to feel her. Now. I was dying, and I needed to make sure she didn’t feel like I did, desperate and throbbing.

“No,” Iz says, grabbing my wrist. I look at her pleadingly, eyes nearly welling up at the thought of how wet she might be.

“Please,” I whine. “Ride my fingers ma.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut at this, but sternly, she shakes her head. leaning down to kiss me. It’s sloppy, our tongues meeting in heated movements, spit covering both our mouths. The girl on top of me continues her open mouthed kisses, finding her way from my neck downwards. It’s then I realise what she’s about to do, the puddle between my legs growing unbearable.

I maneuver upward on the bed, too wet to notice the nervousness in the girl’s eyes when she starts kissing along the band of my shorts, hands coming to pull them down.

“Fuck ma,” I whimper, my entire body shaking with need. I had been dreaming of this moment, spent many hours lying in my bed with my hand between my legs imagining what her green, sharp, catlike eyes would look watching up at me.

She leaves me in my boxers, nails digging into my inner thighs as she spreads my legs apart.

“Please,” I murmur, eyes fluttering shut from how badly my cunt is soaking through the white boxers.

“What’s wrong my love?” Izzie asks, voice so sweet it’s bordering on condescending as she leans down between my legs, kissing my thighs, biting the skin. The wine had made her bolder, more liberated. It drove me insane.

“Need you baby,” I whine, bucking my hips. It’s no use, the dark haired girl’s hands holding my body still.

“What do you need from me darling?” She asks, fingertips playing with the band of my boxers in a way that made me want to flip her over and take her this very moment.

“Shit,” I hiss to myself, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Baby please. touch me. Gon’ die if you don’t.”

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

She’s pressing kisses on top of the soaked fabric of my boxers now, brushing lightly against my clit. I need more, so insanely bad. I feel like I might explode.

“Mhm,” I whimper, my voice shakier and needier than I liked - not that I cared much in this very moment.

“Tell me baby,” she smiles, looking up at my scrunched up face, slowly pulling down the last layer of fabric between her and where I needed her most.

“I-” I’m stuttering, overwhelmed, feeling like I might cum just purely from the sight. “Your mouth, mama, please.”

As I say the words, she pulls my boxers down, and begins to kiss around my wet cunt, everywhere but where I need her the most. Still, I’m moaning like crazy, knowing there must be a few concerned neighbours listening by now. I couldn’t care less.

Finally, the dark haired girl touches my clit, starting with small kitten licks. 

“That’s it, holy shit,” I gasp, hands coming down to her hair, trying to maintain the urge to yank it wherever I want her.

“Mhmm,” she moans against my core, lips wrapping around my clit and sucking gently. 

“Fuck, you’re so- holy shit,” I murmur, unable to think straight, legs already shaking, chest heaving uncontrollably. I can’t tear my eyes away from hers, as she looks up at me. my thighs on each side of her face.

“Taste so good,” she mumbles, a blush on her cheeks from the filthy words. Still, she keeps going, the vibrations of her moans bringing me closer and closer. Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to start spreading in my abdomen, making my pussy throb around nothing as her tongue flicks back and forth in my folds.

“Make me feel so good, fuck baby, look at you,” I praise, my voice high pitched and whiny. “Look so fuckin’ pretty between my le- aw shit.”

I feel it, already growing hotter and hotter, the fire inside me making my muscles tense.

“I- I’m so cl-” I whimper, yanking on the girl’s hair.

“Baby,” Iz moans, wrapping her lips around my clit while her tongue flicks against it, making it impossible to hold back.

“Keep doin’ that, don’t stop. Don’t st-” I cry out, legs trembling and muscles tensing as the girl between my legs keeps pushing me closer and closer. “Shit mama, I’m gon’ cum.”

With that, I tip over the edge, pleasure crashing through my body, writhing and moaning. The orgasm is just as intense as it was fast, making my grip tighten around Izzie’s hair as she keeps up with the movement of her tongue.

As I come back down, the dark haired girl climbs back up, kissing me with authority. I feel embarrassed, from how wet her face is, and most of all from how fast I came. Couldn’t have been more than two minutes. It was something about her that made me yield, completely submit to her, my body too weak to fight it.

“Well that was quick,” Izzie giggles as she pulls away from me. I roll my eyes, flipping the girl on her back.

“Just wanted it to be your turn fast ma,” I mumble, beginning to kiss her neck.

-

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, P- Paige, fuck,” I cry out, tears filling my eyes as Paige presses on my lower back, pinning my hips down against the mattress. Her fingers are buried deep inside me, slipping in and out of me with a rapid pace, making my pussy drip all over the sheets. It was overwhelming, the strength of her fingers something I had never experienced before - what didn’t help was the three times I had already cum after she finished.

“Just one more, I promise. Swear baby. Can feel how much you’re throbbing around my fingers,” Paige coos, pressing sloppy kisses onto my sweaty back before sitting back up and kneading on the skin of my ass to get deeper inside me. Something about her filthy words made me willing to keep going, my orgasm building quickly from how sensitive I had been left after the past couple hours.

“Baby,” I cry out, grabbing the sheets desperately, tears spilling down my cheeks into the cotton blanket underneath me, sticking to my skin. 

“So perfect,” the blonde groans, eyes watching closely the way my pussy molded around her fingers, stretched out just for her, gushing around the long digits slipping in and out.

“P- I’m gonna-” I gasp, back arching as the muscles inside me coil tighter and tighter.

“C’mon ma, lemme make you cum,” she moans, leaning back down and kissing my ear, her hot breath sending chills all over as her fingers keep pumping into me. “So fuckin’ gorgeous you know that?”

With a high pitched whine, the coil finally snaps, my core clenching around her fingers as she makes me cum for the fourth time that night. My entire body trembles, hands grabbing the sheets desperately. The blonde brings her free hand to mine, long digits entangling with mine comfortingly.

“That’s it, fuck, look at you,” Paige murmurs into my ear, talking me through it as the waves of pleasure wash over me. I feel sore, tired, but in that moment everything else is forgotten, except the ecstasy taking over my entire existence, and the blonde’s praise in my ear.

“You are so fucking sexy,” the blonde whispers into my ear, slipping her fingers out of me and wrapping a comforting arm around me. In a haze, I nustle myself into her side, still attempting to slow down my rapid breathing.

I chuckle, finally opening my eyes and flipping onto my back. I couldn’t believe how many times she had just gotten me off. Most of all I couldn’t believe I let her do that all to me with all the lights on, and enjoyed it too much to even care. 

We both lie in each other’s arms, completely naked. Paige’s blonde hair is falling out of her bun, sweat glistening against her bare arms, covered in veins from the strain. She’s breathing loudly through her nose, watching my face. Surely I looked horrendous, makeup all over my face, hair fully out of place, curls wild and unruly. But the younger girl’s blue eyes continue to stare, soft and adoring. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss onto my forehead, loaded with emotion - feelings I wasn’t ready to face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige whispers, nuzzling her nose into mine. My heart flutters almost painfully. At that moment I know - I’m in trouble. That leaving Dallas behind after the season is over won’t be as effortless as I had hoped. I decide to worry about that later, wrapping my leg around the blonde and pressing my naked body against hers.

“So are you,” I murmur, letting Paige cocoon me with her big arms.

"One more time ma, please?"

-

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[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Thank you for everything you do! This page is amazing! I’m looking for #Sterek where One of them is super smart and the other is the best athlete, they don’t run in the same clicks, but outside of school they are close! Anything like that? TYIA!!

I love this trope!

begin again by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 2,501 I Teen)

Ten years ago Derek turned down Stiles for prom.

Now it's high school reunion time.

seems to me it's chemistry by HalfFizzbin

(1/1 I 4,153 I Teen)

Awkward Nerd Derek has been crushing on Handsome Jock Stiles since forever—so getting paired with him on a Chemistry project is definitely the best/worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Hot Nerd Alert by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 4,537 I Not Rated)

Derek can't believe he's actually doing this: taking a selfie snap of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks to prove to Danny that one, yes, he really does exist, and two, he really is that hot and thus he is totally justified in being too scared to make a move.

Or you know, even talk to the guy outside of the class they share.

In his defense, this isn’t just any guy. This THE guy. Hot Nerd. The utterly adorable but still somehow insanely sexy freshman in his twentieth century American Lit class who he’s been lusting over since the first day of the semester. If there were ever a time for him to be that person who tries to be subtle while taking snaps of other people, this is it.

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

But Then What... by orphan_account

(3/3 I 24,343 I Explicit)

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

The Awkward Love Life Of A Sheltered College Werewolf by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle

(10/10 I 30,134 I Explicit)

Derek had been used to being home schooled. Being used to be surrounded by pack, and nothing but pack. When he decides he's going to attend college, like a normal person, his family has a fit. Derek goes anyway. It's scary and new and exciting. Then he meets Stiles. Then...Things get even more exciting.

A Cunning Plan by yodasyoyo

(17/17 I 32,737 I Teen)

Stiles has a plan to get Lydia Martin to notice him. Derek is not impressed.

If you asked me if I love him, I’d lie by dereksstilinski (greyslittlediaries)

(18/18 I 37,305 I Explicit)

Derek has already typed the entire report out and even got all of the stuff prepared for the poster that Stiles and him will have to present. Derek found that he actually didn’t mind doing all the work when it was Stiles he was doing it for, but he wasn’t going to let Stiles get away completely. He was going to get Stiles to come over and help with the poster, so help him god.

When the Universe Comes Knocking (It’s Polite to Open the Door) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) 

(6/6 I 135,402 I Mature)

It was like a door he’d nailed shut in his brain suddenly exploded open, all of his past confusion and anger and hurt and adoration flooding out at once. Stiles? Was it actually Stiles?!

Stiles, the guy he’d had a crush on for fucking years growing up. The guy who’d been an absolute dick to him their whole last year of high school.

The guy who’d told him he loved him in a dirty men’s bathroom on prom night while drunk and upset because he thought Kira was Derek’s girlfriend.

That Stiles? But it couldn’t be!

Burn with hellfire in the blue light of midnight by babisays

(20/20 I 203,189 I Teen)

Stiles met the Hale siblings when he was eleven years old. Now it has been six years since he lost his best friend Cora in the fire, and Derek and Laura left Beacon Hills.

Six years was a long time, so he didn't think he would ever see them again, but now he was wondering what the hell was Derek Hale doing back in Beacon Hills.

[oysternymph]

Jade x reader

‘Nature walk’

Notes: Yuu is gender neutral and as such they/them pronouns are used, not beta read, fluff, slightly ooc. Another older fic that I’m reposting here for my TWST x reader series, I hope all the Jade Leech fans enjoy and that I did this silly eel justice!

Wc: 1,747

Due to Yuu not officially being a student of Night Raven College, they weren’t in any clubs. At least on paper they weren’t. Yuu often switched between clubs every day, usually against their will. Somedays they’d be dragged along to help Vil with props at the film club, other times Idia would shyly approach them and explain he wanted to play a new game but they needed extra players, so they’d be in board game club that day. Thankfully they rarely had to go into any of the sports clubs, mostly due to them all using magic. But basketball club was different. Ace would usually invite them, and he’d also usually miss every single hoop he tried to make. Though Yuu always did their best to cheer their friend on.

Floyd and Jamil on the other hand were great at basketball, Jamil for his genuine skill, and Floyd due to his height, didn’t even have to jump to get the ball through the basket half of the time!

The two usually wouldn’t talk much to the magicless student, either being on their phone during breaks or talking with the rest of their team. But today was different. The moment Yuu sat down in the bleachers, Floyd waved and skipped over to them, a carefree but toothy grin on his face. He laid down on the bleachers looking up at the prefect with the same goofy expression.

“Hiya shrimpy. So…I got a really important favor to ask ya. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna pull out a contract so hear me out, okay?”

“Okay?”

“Hehehe…You don’t have a club. That’s really sad cause you can’t participate in any school events involving the clubs! Did you know my brother has a club?”

“Oh, he does? What club is he in?”

“Mmm Mountain Lovers club! Or is it Mountain Hikers? I don’t know, but he’s the only member in his club. It’s really sad. Since you don’t have anything keeping you in one club, you should join him tomorrow. It’d really mean a lot to him, shrimpy.”

Despite how innocent the request was, Yuu couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy about it. Both of the Leech twins, along with their best friend and dorm leader, were a shady bunch of people. Not to mention Yuu was still slightly salty at the trio for trying to steal their dorm.

“Maybe he likes being the only guy there? I mean even when I’ve seen Jade in a group he kinda just…stands there.”

“Mhm, that’s cause he only talks to people he thinks are interesting. Like you and Azul. If either of you bored us we’d leave you. But seriously, you should talk to him more. He really likes spending time with you.”

“Listen, Floyd. Did you and your brother get into a fight? Are you trying to mess with him by spending me to his club?”

“Huh? Why would you think that? Unlike my brother I have friends like crabby and sea snake and sea otter and goldfishy. But Jade…has me and Azul. That’s kinda it. I just think he needs more friends.”

Floyd sounded genuine, which contrasted drastically compared to his normal tone of voice, which ranged anywhere from mocking to bored. With a sigh, Yuu sat up, looking at the much taller eel.

“Okay. I’ll go to your brothers club tomorrow. But in exchange…get me more of that fancy tuna. Grim keeps asking for it but it costs so much. I can’t afford it.”

“Heh, okay. Baby seal will get some fancy tuna and Jade will have a new friend!”

Before Yuu could say anything else, the sophomore jumped up from his seat and got back onto the court, pulling Ace close and messing with his hair as the other struggled. Despite agreeing, Yuu couldn’t help but feel nervous. A sinking feeling settingly in their gut. Instead of staying longer to help the team clean up, Yuu left instead and made their way back to their dorm. After feeding Grim, the student passed out on the couch.

The next day went by painfully slow as if every second was another second before their doom. It would have been easy to try and escape back to their dorm, they could just say they had a lot of homework or that they were feeling sick. They could even blame the cafeteria food despite it being five-star meals in there every day. But any chance of escape was crushed as Yuu exited their last class only to see Jade standing outside the door, a large smile on his face as he spotted the human. He was also dressed…differently than usual. He wore an oversized track jacket along with track leggings and high end tennis shoes.

“Hello, prefect. I was informed that you are interested in the Mountain Lover’s Club. Oh my…those aren’t proper hiking shoes. Do you have any pairs of hikers boots or a good pair of tennis shoes?”

“Oh…Nope. I just have these, a pair of slides, and slippers. I guess this means-”

Before they could even finish their sentence, Jade took their hand and began dragging the student behind him.

“I feared this would be the case, so I put together a proper hiking outfit for you in our club room. You may get dressed then we can get going. I picked out a novice trail so you won’t strain yourself.”

“...How do you know your outfit and the shoes will fit me? What if they don’t?”

“Oh don’t worry. I simply asked Rook for your measurements. He knows the measurements of everyone on campus, I assumed you would be in that list and I was correct.”

Of course Rook helped him out…the student sighed before Jade brought them into a small classroom, leaving a moment later so they could get dressed.

To be fair, Jade and his twin had good taste in clothes and shoes. Making the outfit that was chosen for hiking actually rather nice. A few minutes later Yuu emerged with a similar outfit to Jade’s, though unlike the eel’s clothes, which were gray and purple, the shorter students outfit was gray and pink.

“Ah, I knew you’d look wonderful in that. And now we match, how delightful.”

“We do match…Wanna take a photo?”

Yuu instantly regretted their words as Jade stared down at them with a blank expression, only for an awkward smile to grow on his face a second later.

“I would really enjoy that…”

Jade said, his voice much quieter than it usually was. Yuu then took out their phone and opened the camera, holding it out to Jade so he could take the picture due to him being the tallest. And instead of simply taking it, Jade kneeled down to Yuu’s height and put a hand on their shoulder, giving a soft smile as the picture was taken.

“You’ll send it to me when we get back, right?”

“Of course. But…”

“…Is something the matter?”

…Jade looked kinda sweet when he didn’t show off his abnormally sharp teeth, though that statement didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

“Nothing, I just think we should take some more pictures together when we’re hiking.”

Seemingly satisfied with Yuu’s answer, Jade nodded as the two went on their way to the woods behind the school. Despite how sunny the day was, it was still cool enough for neither of them to get overheated as they finally made it to the school's campgrounds.

“Yuu, may we take another picture here?”

Jade chuckled softly as the shorter student replied by taking out their phone again, the two posing as another photo was taken.

“Now, since it’s your first time hiking we’re not going far. I mostly wanted to forage for mushrooms today anyways. I hope that’s alright.”

“It works for me. It’s actually kinda nice to be out here so…”

“Ah, did you expect it to be different? I only hike on days with good weather. The last thing you want to do is put your body at risk of hypothermia or hyperthermia!”

“Ah. No I meant…I guess I was a bit scared to come out here with you. Floyd was being really shady and I assumed he was trying to pull a prank on me.”

Yuu instantly regretted their words, Jade’s gentle smile fading, not into a look of anger or mischief, but rather one that seemed sad.

“I mean he said you had taken a liking to me and I just found it hard to believe, I apologize if I offended you.”

“…I’ve always had an interest in you. Though I believe he was trying to tease, not you but me.”

Not understanding his words, the sophomore simply tilted their head, as if asking for Jade to continue. The eel sighed for a moment before looking away from his peer, only then did he begin to speak.

“…I like you, Yuu. You are very interesting to me, and you impress me with everything you do. I understand you probably think this is some joke or something of that sort but I assure you it isn’t. I wanted you to spend more time with me so you could hopefully feel the same one day. Floyd said he’d find a way and…now here we are.”

“…You’re cute.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

Jade said as he turned around, staring down at the student with a shocked expression, which in turn caused Yuu to laugh softly.

“You’re cute…You could’ve just asked me yourself. I’ve never rejected anyone who wants to spend time with me. I wouldn’t have rejected you…I…I’m willing to try things out with you if you’re alright being quiet about it for a bit. Last thing I want to hear is Ace and Decue and Grim nagging me about who I’m dating-“

Jade suddenly kneeled down in front of the student, taking their hand and leaving a soft kiss on it, causing for Yuu to go speechless.

“Anything for you, ask and you shall receive.”

“…Heh. You really are cute.”

As Yuu left a quick kiss on top of Jade’s head, the eel giggled softly, standing up a moment later, still holding onto their hand.

“Now…Let’s go look for your mushrooms.”

“…Being with me means you’ll have to taste any new mushroom recipe I make. You can live with that, right?”

“As long as it’s edible I’ll eat it.”

Jade chuckled again as the two continued their walk, soft smiles on their faces as they began to search for mushrooms.

[luvvcho]

❅・WHISPER OF THE HEART

SYNOPSIS — The three times he tries to tell you, and the one time he actually does.

WC — (4k)

CONTENT: SFW, suggestiveness, angst , hurt/comfort, family issues/neglect, unrequited love (or so they think), alcohol/being drunk, self-worth issues/insecurity, mild jealousy, late-night drives & emotional talks, emotional repression, gojo deserves sleep but never gets it™, soft!gojo but he’s suffering in silence, gojo is really down bad.

a/n: highkey wrote this half asleep... but anyway i finished this faster than i thought! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist (just found out what this is lol) for this series :p m. list | <prev | next>

Somewhere near Tokyo, Japan 2009

Gojo lets the steering wheel glide through his fingers before tightening his grip on the expensive leather again. His palms are sweaty, his knuckles white, and the three hours of sleep he got the night before are finally catching up to him, creeping into the edges of his vision like static.

The plan for tonight had been simple: finish up paperwork at his father’s company, where he had been offered forced to start training straight out of high school. Then, he’d head home, maybe work out, maybe waste time bothering Suguru over the phone before eventually crashing. A mindless, predictable routine.

Instead, he finds himself almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god knows where.

His foot eases off the gas slightly as he glances around, taking in the unfamiliar roads lined with trees and dim streetlights, their glow barely enough to cut through the darkness. The city was nowhere in sight. There were no high-rises, no neon billboards, no distant hum of traffic. Just the low rumble of his own engine and the occasional flicker of headlights from a passing car.

He exhales sharply, rubbing at his tired eyes with one hand while keeping the other steady on the wheel.

What the hell was he even doing out here?

The truth settles in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to drive this far. He didn’t want to end up here at all. But somehow, without thinking, he had ended up exactly where he always does when everything feels too much— wherever you are. Gojo got the call just as he was wrapping up work. You were drunk. Alone. Over an hour away from the city at some stupid college party in an abandoned warehouse.

He was exhausted. Three hours of sleep deep into a week where everything felt like too much. His head hurt from staring at contracts and numbers he didn’t care about, and honestly, the only thing getting him through the evening had been the promise of leftover Chinese food waiting for him in his fridge.

But when you called, he came. Right?

Even if his body screamed at him to go home. Even if he knew he shouldn’t always make it this easy for you. Even if the rational part of his brain told him that one day, this whole thing, his stupid highschool crush that never seemed to go away, was going to wreck him.

Still, he grabbed his keys, got in his car, and drove.

And now, almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god-knows-where, he’s gripping the wheel with sweaty palms and trying not to let exhaustion drag him under.

He should be annoyed. Wants to be annoyed.

But all he can think about is you waiting, unsteady, needing him. And that, somehow, is enough to keep his foot pressed firm against the gas.

As he rounds the corner onto a dimly lit street, he hears it before he sees it. The deep bass of the music rattling the ground beneath his feet, the drunken laughter and shouts of students spilling out into the night.

His jaw tightens as he follows the noise, pulling up outside the warehouse. A mess of people lingers near the entrance, bodies swaying in a haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The place reeks of bad decisions and even worse company. And then he sees you.

You’re sitting on the curb, a little hunched over, your arms wrapped loosely around your knees. The party continues on behind you, people laughing, stumbling, yelling. But you’re separate from all of it.

For a second, relief washes over him. You’re safe. You’re not lost in that chaotic mess of bodies, not pressed against some guy who doesn’t know when to back off. You’re here. He exhales, tension leaving his shoulders. But then you look up.

Your tear-stained eyes meet his, mascara smudged at the corners, eyeliner streaking down your cheeks.

He steps out, shutting the door behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolls over with a smirk. “Hey, gorgeous.”

You blink sluggishly at him before a slow, sleepy smile spreads across your lips. “Hi…” you mumble, then suddenly, as if remembering something, you groan and cover your face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not gorgeous right now.”

Gojo huffs out a laugh, crouching in front of you. “Bit late for that.”

You peek through your fingers, pout deepening. “Y’always see me like this.”

“Like what?” He tilts his head, playing dumb.

“Pathetic.”

Before he can respond, you push yourself to your feet. Not steadily, not gracefully, but you manage. Sort of? You take one step forward, then another, before your balance wavers.

Gojo moves to catch you, but you beat him to it, stumbling straight into him, arms wrapping lazily around his middle.

He stiffens for half a second.

Because shit.

Your dress clings to you, thin and weightless, like it was made to drive him insane. Not because he’s just noticing, but because he’s spent the last four years trying not to. But now, with you pressed up against him, with your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, with the scent of whatever sweet perfume you’re wearing clouding his already exhausted brain.

God.

You sigh against his chest, voice muffled. “Can’t believe you actually came.”

Gojo blinks. Focuses. Ignores the way his hands instinctively settle at your waist. “Yeah, well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I am at your beck and call”

You lean back just enough to look up at him, blinking slowly like it takes effort.

“Alright, princess,” he says, “Think you can walk the rest of the way, or am I carrying you?”

You scoff, swaying slightly. “I can walk.”

“Right. Cuz that little show just now was real convincing.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then take one defiant step forward before immediately tripping over… nothing??

Gojo catches your wrist with ease, smirking.

And despite your protests, you let him guide you, his fingers firm and steady around yours. He opens the car door, steadying you as you lower yourself into the back seat. You move sluggishly, like even the smallest effort is too much, and he frowns as he reaches over to buckle you in. Your purse gets placed beside you before he shuts the door and circles around to his side, slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh.

The engine hums to life, but for a second, he doesn’t move.

His gaze lingers on you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lashes heavy, lips slightly parted, your breath fogging up the glass. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, something unspoken settling in his chest before he shakes it off and shifts the car into reverse, backing away from the warehouse.

You’ve never been like this before.

Sure, he’s seen you tipsy; laughing a little louder, cheeks pink with warmth, words spilling out without a filter. But this? This is different. This is the first time you’ve ever let yourself fall this far.

The GPS screen glows softly as he punches in your address, the familiar route flashing across the screen. – ETA: 1:03

He exhales, rolling his shoulders as he glances at you again.

“Don’t throw up in my car, please.”

You hum in response, eyes barely cracking open. “M’not gonna,” you mumble, but your voice wobbles, breaking slightly at the end.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Just… if you do feel sick, tell me, alright?”

You mumble something incoherent, and he decides to take it as a yes.

The road stretches out ahead of him, empty and quiet. He tightens his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes forward.

Because if he looks at you too long, if he lets himself really think about how easily you trust him, how you always call him when you need someone, he’s going to lose the battle he’s been fighting for years.

“So,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “We gonna talk about why you’ve been crying?”

You shift against the seat, barely opening your eyes. “Can’t,” you mumble. “Too embarrassing.”

Gojo snorts. “C’mon. I’ve known you since we were fourteen. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you do worse.”

You hum, considering it, as the car smoothly merges onto the highway. The dim lights shrink behind you, fading into the distance, leaving only the soft glow of passing streetlights and the rhythmic sound of tires against pavement.

For a while, you don’t say anything, and Gojo doesn’t push. He just lets the silence stretch, waiting.

“Remember that guy I told you about?”

He gulps. “The one in your language seminar?”

“Yeah.” He already doesn’t like where this is going.

You continue, voice softer now, like saying it out loud makes it more real. “He was there tonight. He invited me, actually.”

Gojo’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles paling.

“I thought maybe… I dunno.” Your voice is slightly more steady now. “I thought something was there between us.”

His jaw clenches. His grip on the wheel tightens. He doesn’t want to ask, but he does anyway. “And?”

Your breath hitches slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is quieter. “And I tried to kiss him.”

Gojo freezes, his gaze flickering back to you in the mirror.

His heart stalls for half a second before it kicks back in, pounding hard against his ribs. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

You keep going, oblivious to the way his grip on the steering wheel turns bone-white.

“But he pulled away,” you admit. “Said he doesn’t… doesn’t like kissing.” You scoff, shaking your head. “And I believed him. I told him it was fine, that we could still be friends.”

Gojo exhales slowly through his nose, forcing his expression to stay neutral. Fucking idiot, he thinks.

He should say something. He wants to say something. But you’re still talking.

“He said he’d be back. Told me to wait.” Your voice wavers, and he knows what’s coming before you even say it.

“He never came back,” you slur. “So I went looking for him.”

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s pressing the gas pedal until the speedometer ticks a little higher than it should. He forces himself to ease off, fingers aching from how tight he’s gripping the wheel.

“And?” he asks, voice low, strained.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Found him making out with some girl in the back.”

Silence.

Gojo breathes in slow, exhales through his nose. He should say something, anything. He should tell you that guy’s a fucking idiot, tell you that you deserve better, tell you that you should’ve never wasted your time on him.

Instead, what comes out is:

“What a dumbass.”

You hum in agreement, but it’s empty, hollow. “Guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

Gojo risks a glance in the rearview mirror. You’re staring out the window, fingers absently picking at the hem of your dress, your shoulders curled inward like you’re trying to disappear.

And fuck.

He hates this. Hates that he wasn’t there to stop it from happening, hates that he has to sit here and listen to you talk about someone else like this. Hates that you kissed him (or tried to). Hates that some guy got to have that moment, got to see the way you look just before a kiss, got to be the one you wanted tonight, even just for a second.

Most of all, he hates that you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

His throat tightens, his chest burning, aching, twisting in ways he doesn’t know how to fix.

He should’ve been the one. “Toru.”

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, sharp but fragile, like you’re barely holding yourself together.

His heart lurches at the sound. Because it’s you, because it’s the nickname only you call him.

But then you sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold window. “You’re a guy, right?”

Gojo snorts, the tension in his chest easing just enough for him to fall back into his usual teasing. “Last I checked.”

“Then tell me.” Your voice is quieter now, almost hesitant. You shift slightly, facing him from the back seat, eyes hazy but still searching. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Why has no one ever liked me?”

His throat goes dry.

“Not once,” you continue. “No guys in high school ever asked me out. The ones I liked never liked me back. And now this?” You gesture vaguely, frustration laced in your voice. “I just don’t get it. What is it about me that’s so… unloveable?”

Gojo’s entire body locks up.

Because.. are you serious?

You, who he has spent the last four years trying not to love too much, not to touch too long, not to stare at like you hung the damn moon— you actually think that?

His fingers tighten so hard around the wheel he thinks he might snap it in half.

“What kind of dumbass logic is that?” he mutters.

You frown, shoulders curling inward. “It’s not dumbass logic, Satoru, it’s just—”

“No,” he cuts you off, voice sharper than he intended. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to take a breath. “You don’t get to say that.”

Your lips press together, confused, vulnerable in a way that makes his chest ache.

Gojo doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to tell you the truth without telling you. So he exhales, trying to steady himself, trying to be careful with the words he chooses next.

“You ever think,” he starts, voice quieter now, steadier, gentler, “that maybe it’s not you that’s the problem?”

You blink at him through the mirror. “Then what is it?”

Gojo grips the wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

It’s not that no one likes you, he wants to say. You just keep liking the wrong guy.

But instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders like he can shake the weight off. Keeps his gaze fixed on the road. Forces a smirk.

“I dunno,” he lies, voice light, easy. “Maybe guys are just fucking stupid.”

You huff out a small laugh, but it’s tired, empty. “Guess so.”

And Gojo doesn’t say anything else. Because if he does, if he so much as breathes the wrong way, he’s afraid the words he’s been swallowing for four years might just slip out.

“It’s just…” You hesitate, fingers curling in your lap. “No, never mind.”

Gojo sighs, glancing at you through the mirror. “Nope. Not letting you do that. Tell me.”

You exhale, rolling your head against the window, staring out at the passing lights. “You wouldn’t get it,” you mumble. “You’ve had a girlfriend before. Everyone I know has been in a relationship at least once.”

He flinches at the reminder. The girl he dated in senior year (if you could even call it that). A little over a month, barely anything. He never liked her much, never felt the way he should have. Maybe because no matter how hard he tried, she wasn’t you.

“I just don’t know why I can’t get anyone to like me,” you admit, voice quieter now, like you’re talking more to yourself than to him. “Like, what am I doing wrong?”

Gojo exhales, staring at the road ahead. And before he can stop himself, before he can think better of it—

“You know I love you, right?”

Silence. Then, a small, sleepy smile tugs at your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmur. “You’re my best friend.”

He forces himself to chuckle, to keep his voice light. “Your bestest friend.”

You hum in agreement, stretching slightly before slumping deeper into the seat. A second passes, then another, and when Gojo glances at the mirror again, your eyes are drooping, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

He waits for you to say something else, but instead, you sigh, shifting until your head rests against the window.

“…What were we talking about again?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing important,” Gojo lets out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Go to sleep, princess, I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

You hum once more, barely conscious now, and within seconds, your breathing evens out.

It’s a little past one when Gojo pulls up in front of your apartment building. The streets are quiet now, the world settled into a lull, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

He shifts the car into park and exhales, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lips slightly parted, face relaxed in the soft glow of the streetlights. Peaceful. Innocent. Completely unaware of the way he’s been drowning in his own thoughts for the past hour.

Gojo drums his fingers against the steering wheel before turning in his seat, reaching back to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “We’re here.” 

You stir slightly but don’t wake.

He tries again, fingers brushing against your cheek this time. “C’mon, I know you’re tired, but I’m not carrying you all the way upstairs.”

You groan, turning away from him, burrowing deeper into the seat.

He huffs, shaking his head with a smirk before unbuckling your seatbelt for you. “Alright, princess, up you go.”

Reluctantly, you blink your eyes open, slow and sluggish. “Wha’ time is it?” you mumble.

“Too late for you to still be passed out in my car,” he teases. “Let’s go.”

You manage to get out, swaying slightly the moment your feet hit the pavement. Without thinking, Gojo’s hand finds the small of your back, steadying you before you can tip over completely.

“Yeah, no,” he mutters, tightening his grip. “You’re gonna break something if I let you go up alone.”

You don’t argue, just let him guide you into the building, down the quiet hallway to your apartment. When you finally reach your door, you fumble for your keys, missing the lock twice before Gojo sighs and takes them from your hand, slotting the key in effortlessly.

You step inside, blinking sleepily, and Gojo lingers at the threshold.

“You got it from here?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

You pause, looking over your shoulder at him. “Wait for me?”

His brows lift slightly. “You sure you don’t just want to pass out in your dress?”

You glare at him, well, as much as you can in your drunken haze, before kicking off your shoes and stumbling toward your closet. “Give me five minutes,” you mumble, already pulling out a set of pajamas.

Gojo sighs but steps inside, leaning against the wall just outside your bedroom door as you disappear inside. He hears the soft rustling of fabric, the muffled sounds of you grumbling under your breath, the faint thud of something hitting the floor.

A few minutes later, you shuffle back out, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, eyes barely open.

He pushes off the wall, stepping toward you. “Alright, come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to the edge of your mattress. You sit down, and before you can do much else, he’s tugging the blankets over you, tucking you in with practiced ease.

Just as he turns to leave, your fingers weakly grab at his sleeve.

“Toru,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

He stills, glancing down at you. “Yeah?”

You blink up at him, cheeks slightly flushed, though he can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or exhaustion. “Forgot to take my makeup off.”

Gojo exhales a small laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

He leaves for a moment, disappearing into your bathroom before returning with a makeup wipe. He kneels beside your bed, pulling you up slightly to sit, and tilts your chin with a gentle touch.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You obey without question, too tired to protest. His fingers brush against your cheek as he wipes away the remnants of mascara and foundation, careful, steady. He’s never done this before, but somehow, he knows exactly how to be gentle with you.

He watches as the tension in your face fades, as your breathing evens out under his touch. He lingers, just for a second longer than necessary, before finally tossing the wipe aside.

“There,” he mutters. “All clean.”

Your eyes flutter open slightly, a lazy, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Toru.”

He swallows, something warm and aching curling in his chest.

“…Yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “Anytime.”

He stands to leave, but your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Stay?” you ask softly. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Gojo exhales, rubbing a tired hand over his face. For a second, he hesitates, then, he drops onto the floor beside your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep.”

And for the first time all night, you listen to him.

The next morning, you wake up to a dull, throbbing headache and the faint taste of regret lingering on your tongue. The room is dim, soft morning light barely filtering through the curtains, and for a moment, everything feels disoriented. Until you shift slightly and feel the warmth of a blanket tucked snugly around you.

Blinking against the ache behind your eyes, you turn your head and freeze.

Gojo is asleep on the floor, his long limbs sprawled out awkwardly, his head resting at the foot of your bed. His white hair is tousled, one arm draped lazily over his face, and his breathing is slow, even, completely at peace.

Your heart clenches, but before you can process why, a particularly sharp pang of pain shoots through your skull, and you let out a quiet groan.

At the sound, Gojo stirs, blinking blearily up at you before stretching with a lazy yawn. “Morning, sunshine,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “How’s the hangover?”

“Terrible,” you croak, burying your face into your pillow. “Why are you on the floor?”

Gojo pushes himself up with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “Because someone wouldn’t let me leave,” he teases, ruffling his hair. “Which, by the way, you owe me for. My back is killing me.”

You groan again, rolling onto your side to look at him properly. “Ugh. Please tell me I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night.”

Gojo pauses for half a second.

He remembers it all. The way you clung to him outside the party, the way you called yourself unloveable, the way you looked up at him through tired, glossy eyes and told him you loved him— as a friend.

But you don’t remember.

And for the first time in his life, Gojo is glad you don’t.

“Nah,” he lies smoothly, standing up and stretching. “You were a total angel.”

You squint at him. “You’re lying.”

He grins. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You groan, flopping dramatically back onto your pillows. “You’re the worst.”

Gojo snorts. “And yet, I’m the one getting you water and headache meds.”

That catches your attention. You peek up at him, skeptical. “You’re actually taking care of me?”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “What, like I wouldn’t?”

You narrow your eyes. “I feel like this is a trap.”

He laughs, already making his way to the kitchen. “Shut up and let me be a good friend for once.”

A few minutes later, he returns with a glass of water and a couple of pills, setting them down on your nightstand. You mumble a half-hearted thanks before sitting up, wincing as you swallow them down.

Gojo watches, hands on his hips, then huffs dramatically. “Alright, move over.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

He gestures toward the bed. “Move. I spent the night on the floor like a peasant. I’m reclaiming my dignity.”

You laugh, groggy but amused, before shuffling over to make space. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m shoving you off.”

Gojo flops onto the mattress beside you with a relieved sigh, settling into your pillows like he belongs there. “Please, I am an excellent bedmate.”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest when he drapes an arm over his face, already half-asleep again.

And as your headache fades and sleep starts to pull you under again, you don’t think too much about how comfortable this feels.

But Gojo does. And he wonders how much longer he can pretend this is enough.

pls do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own :) if you have any issues with what i wrote or noticed any mistakes, let me know privately. thank you for reading <3

[jeongsoob]

not even sometimes ᯓ 𝚌𝚜

SFW version of my fic posted on @heechwe .ᐟ

୨୧ pairing: choi san x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 3.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, sprinkles of angst, suggestive (just in last scene) ୨୧ tags: neighbor to lovers au, healthy communication for the win ୨୧ synopsis: You've never been good at planning for the unexpected, much less a new neighbor. But the man in question may just love that about you, among other things you didn't see in yourself to begin with. ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is a remaster of an old fic I wrote years ago for a member of NCT, the original title being "Where We Begin." Seeing as I am not following that group anymore and I thought it'd be fun to polish up some old work, what the hell. Thank you to my betas for reading this one, @prkhaven @lovetaroandtaemin @tinycatharsis @jjunbug @innocygnet, I love you lots. Title inspiration from "Sometimes" by Ariana Grande!

Some people know the instant something begins, the start of something new brimming with possibilities palpable within the surrounding air. 

For you, it’s not that simple. 

It seems some things come and go in your life without warning or realization. You’ve fought enough for things to stay or leave for so many years that now it’s almost a godsend to lack that kind of perception. Whether it be for a new job opportunity, an unexpected act of kindness, or a person, it’s all the same. Beginnings can be as subtle as a wisp of wind through your window, or as abrasive as thunderclaps that rattle an entire room. Regardless, you’ve not caught on.

Lucky for you, Choi San isn’t subtle. With a body like his, how could he be?

The first time San greets you, he’s carrying an ottoman on his shoulder and a football in his hand. The early Saturday morning permeates through the hallway window, emphasizing his stark black hair and encroaching size, but he’s so beautifully smiling you felt nothing but warmth for the man in front of you. Across from your apartment sits his door halfway open, giving you ample opportunity to notice the manila moving boxes crowding the space of his new home.

The place had been empty for almost a month before San, the pain of Jeongin saying goodbye fresh every time you came home. The kid was a hilarious neighbor and a great friend, and while he didn’t leave your life, watching him go after three years left a noticeable pang of sadness. Having a new neighbor so soon felt foreign, unwelcome. But once San drops the ottoman carefully onto the small span of tile between your apartments and extends a hand, you know you can get used to the change if the new neighbor in question is this open, welcoming, and drop-dead gorgeous.

You give San your name with a smile, a soft yet large hand enveloping your smaller one. “You’ll love it here. I’ve been here for almost five years, never a problem.”

“That’s perfect. I’ve been couch-surfing for two months, so anything is better than my friends’ smelly socks and booty calls.”

You giggle, the sound reverberating off the highway walls. It almost makes you forget your choice of clothing, the realization suddenly hitting you.

You love your duck-patterned pajama bottoms and tattered college sweatshirt, but the clothing isn’t exactly the best outfit to meet new people in. Then again, nobody dresses up to run downstairs and get their weekly mail anyway, even if there’s a chance of running into someone as handsome as your new neighbor. “Sorry I’m not that presentable. I didn’t know you’d be coming today.”

“It’s no problem. I should’ve moved in yesterday, but I had an emergency. Well, if you could call a friend needing a three-page recipe an emergency.” San grins and shrugs, twirling the ball between his hands.

You giggle, pointing a finger towards the football. “So, you play sports and cook?”

“Not really, just a parting gift from my friend Woo for the recipe I owed him. I guess it’s also a housewarming gift‌, considering.”

You nod slowly and begin your trek down the hallway and to the mailroom, remembering your initial goal when you were leaving ten minutes ago. “Well, San, if you need help unpacking, just give me a knock!”

“I definitely will!” San waves goodbye and offers you the widest smile you’ve seen yet, saccharine in a way you didn’t realize you needed so early in the morning. He enters his new apartment without another turn of his head, while you wonder if this is the moment of realization the guy across the hall will be more than a stranger. Perhaps even a welcome addition to your life.

You open up your door a day later to find San with an inquisitive pout, replacing the mesmerizing smile he left you with. His hands respectively hold a large takeout bag and a tray of two drinks, and you guess what he’s after before he says the words. 

“Don’t tell me,” you say. “You need help unboxing.”

“Yes and no.”

“Oh?” You ask, partially shocked.

“So, I know you probably offered to help me unpack since I have the ‘new neighbor’ card. Which is great, since I actually do need help today. But, it would be rude to not offer food for your services, so it can be part moving part…treating a cute girl to lunch.” San tips the bag up with a grin, making you chuckle. “What do you say, neighbor?

As he waits for your answer, you discover Choi San is already too sweet to say no to. He asks so earnestly, and he’s feeding you, doing more than most of your exes ever did. The response easily slips off of your tongue. “That sounds great. Lemme just get my keys.” Following him into his apartment, you try to calm the staccato of your heart to a normal pace.

Your new neighbor truly has no shame as the two of you open all of his remaining boxes together, San confessing the origins of certain items you take out with a questioning, raised eyebrow. While he folds his clothes and sets them aside to move to his bedroom later, you tell him about your degree and how you can’t wait for the spring semester to end, your last step towards graduating in the summer.

You snap silly photos of him and take a few together to capture the moment; he ruffles your hair in a few and makes the resulting photos blurry, but you don’t mind. When you’re not unboxing and discussing your comprehensive histories, you eat pineapple fried rice and dumpling soup from the takeout containers and sip flat sodas you don’t bother replacing. The clear attachment you’ve already developed with San is worth drinking a watered-down soda.

“What do you do in your free time?” you ask before downing what’s left in your can.

“I work with my friends in a small studio downtown. It’s not much, but we love it and it helps pay for this.” He gestures to the apartment with dramatic grandeur, almost knocking over his drink. “That’s actually why I’ve been moving most of this by myself. Before you helped, I mean. There’s this production issue we glossed over, and my buddy Mingi wants it smoothed out before the song’s released.”

“Gotta love the  music life.” You sigh. “The arts are tough.”

“Yeah, I do love it. I don’t know where I’d be without it, to tell you the truth.” San chuckles, the sound rumbling in his throat.

You pat his shoulder with your hand. “I’m sure you’re doing great. You seem like a person who can find fun in anything. With your work, I know your friends need that.”

“Thanks,” he replies. San dips a hand through his hair, hoping to conceal his red face alongside his aggressively beating heart. “I bet you’re someone who keeps a lot of people calm and…I don’t know, grounded? You just give off this vibe like you know what you’re doing.”

You laugh again, pressing your empty soda can to your chest. “You’re probably the first person that’s ever thought about me that way.” Your friends and family often sing their praises for you, but what would get San’s compliment laughed out of any room is the fact he thinks you have a consciously prepared bone in your body.

You can barely give your best friends proper preparation for outfit choices, much less prepare for bigger life events. It’s what your exes have harped on for ages, your impulsiveness and second-nature to lead with your heart rather than your head, your ultimate downfall. How did anyone, especially yourself, expect you to go against habit and commit to anything? If there was an option to have someone spell it out for you, you would choose that in a heartbeat. To this day, sometimes it feels like you stumble around for answers, only doing things halfway and never with full intention.

You know these things about yourself like the back of your hand.. Yet, you can’t contain the flutter in your heart from San being so sure of you already. It may just be the takeout, the fullness of his stomach making his brain fuzzy, but you don’t care. You appreciate it regardless.

“That’s a good thing, though,” you mumble, his stare tickling the edges of your skin.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He winks at you, the gesture only solidifying every positive thought you have about him. He opens another box and removes the bubble wrap inside, and in that moment, you believe a piece of your heart silently belongs between the creases of his smile.

By the time you finish, the sun is setting, and you’re sitting next to San with your backs drooping against his couch. You rub your belly in slow, tiny circles, full from the food and copious amount of snacks you munched on while moving the smaller trinkets and furniture.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve known the pretzels and gummy worms would make you sick.” He pouts, staring down at your slumped body.

“No, it’s okay. Just another minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not in my hair. It’s too fantastic to be disturbed like that..” His confidence can be seen from space, you think as the corners of your lips rise. Without warning, San sets his head in your lap as his eyelashes flutter to a close. He’s burly at first glance, but you realize as he snuggles into your body how you fit together perfectly in this way. “I mean it. I’ve had a lot of fun today.”

Instinctively, you swipe one hand through his bangs, and he takes your fingers between his own. “We just met, but it’s like you make things slow down. I’m not running around the place like an idiot or saying the wrong things for the first time. Does that make sense?”

You close your eyes too, letting the words rumble around in your head. Responding to them with the peace within your smile and a squeeze of your hand, you know he’s smiling too without having to look down at him. “It does.”

In an array of textbooks, highlighters, and article clippings, San swipes through the words with a blue pen to mark important information for later. While it’s adorable watching him as he works, he has little to no foresight on the weekly topic in your Greek literature course.

Chan and Jisung, your study partners, left hours ago, but you stayed stuck with a pile of additional reading your professor dumped on you, including the play you still had to read. 

The night seemed to only be beginning for you, and you could only give your friends a sad smile as you walked them out of your apartment. With perfect timing, San popped his head out with a smirk, his concern giving way when he noticed the defeat in your posture.

“Can I help?” were the first words out of his mouth as you were on the verge of tears, your mountain of a neighbor suddenly becoming your shining light through the storm of academic writing and assignments.

He definitely isn’t helping in the way he imagined, but watching his eyebrows furrow in concentration and catching the delight on his face when he marks the “right” sentence makes the hours feel less tedious.

“I mean, why does Euripides have to be such a tragic writer? There’s nothing wrong with writing cheerful things now and then,” San says as he drops the pen onto the paper. Rolling closer to your spot on your bedroom floor, he pouts and puts his hands underneath his chin.

“Well, San, since he wrote tragic Greek plays, I think he was just creating what he knew. Like Sophocles, he just kept his daily life in mind when he was writing.” You smile to yourself, skimming the lines of the last act within your textbook.

“Excuse me, Smarty. I’ll just nap while you do your own notes, then.” He leans against your thigh, the back of his head mushed into the fabric of your shorts.

You scoff. “I just read the materials and introduction! You give me too much credit.”

One of his eyes pops open, followed by the crossing of his arms. “You still know things! Sometimes, you really don’t see that. And I’ve been your neighbor for what, a few weeks now? Give yourself more credit, angel.”

You refuse to acknowledge the pet name, knowing he’ll sense the change in your body if you do. Going for a lighthearted response, you stick your tongue out in his direction. “Trust me, you give enough credit to yourself for the both of us.”

San says your name and sits up, mirroring your crossed-legged position. “Maybe I do, but only because I know how it feels to not give yourself the self-assurance you deserve.”

You gape in mock surprise. “Choi San, not sure of himself? I never would have guessed.”

“Yes, I’m not flawless.” He laughs and knocks his fist softly into your shoulder. “When I was younger, sometimes people thought it was all an act, me being so ‘full’ of myself, all the time. In a way, it was just to pretend that there weren’t times when I didn’t feel confident in what I could do and if I could do it. It still happens, but not as much as before.”

“That’s hard to believe.” You drop your head, staring at your hands in your lap.

He taps his fingers under your chin. “It’s true. Some days, it can be so difficult to believe you’re capable. But you are, in so many ways. Anyone who loves you could see that tenfold. But in the end, the person who needs to see that first is you. Nobody else.”

You wipe away the tears that are  prepared to stream down your face, knowing it is ridiculous to cry at the comforting advice San offers. But he says all the right things every time you need them and every time you come across all the hidden fears and self-critiques you harbor.

“Are you crying,” he asks, lips curling into a frown. He presses a hand to your cheek, prepared to catch any tears before they fall, but you shake your head softly.

“I’m not sad, I promise. I just—I meant it. You give me more credit than I ever give myself, and I know it’s a bad habit, but it feels good having someone else notice…how hard it can be, even if I’m still trying.”

His thumb rubs back and forth across the apple of your cheek, sentiment and patience etched into expression. “Someone has to, don’t they?”

Staring into his eyes, you notice how much they shine, even in the dim lighting of your desk lamp. You chastise yourself for never noticing how brown and bright they were before. With a tiny vow, you promise to admire them for as long as you can, whether out loud or in silence. As long as San feels admired in the way he always should be.

The twinkle in his irises reflects in his close-lipped smile. You don’t stop to think as you lean in to kiss the sharp line of his cheek, knowing you need him as much as you need his words. He parts his mouth in shock, the hand on your cheek still. “Thank you, Sannie.”

When you rest your head on your pillow to sleep hours later, you still feel the shape of him on your lips and the fondness of his stare on your skin.

A knock on your door one Sunday afternoon reveals San with one of his hands cut up, a few scrapes visibly bleeding.

“Shit,” you curse, inspecting the cuts with your hands. He winces when you touch a deeper one, a hiss whistling through his teeth. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

“I dropped some glass cups. I didn’t know what happened to my broom, so I thought picking it up would be fine if I was careful,” he mumbles, obviously embarrassed about the mishap.

You press a hand to his shoulder as a signal for him to step inside your apartment. He does, observing the living room as you run to get supplies from your bathroom. The fuzzy, polka dot blanket draped across your even fuzzier, gray couch and the rerun of some 90s comedy makes him smile to himself. How can someone be so kind and cute? San thinks to himself.

You’ve both hung out many times since you helped him unpack, especially in your bedroom, but he’s never noticed the smaller things in your place. Seeing the ins and outs of your life in the decor, the few dishes in your sink, family photos by the door, and pens left on the counter, he doesn’t feel like he’s intruding. Rather, he’s noticing the pieces of you and storing them away to remember later. That’s how the ache inside his chest would describe it. For now, at least.

“I have band-aids, ointment, and gauze,” you note the supplies in your hand as you make it back to him. You’re no stranger to mishaps like accidental bruises and bumps, so coming as prepared as possible for this one facet of everyday life is doable, even for you. “Sit down, Sannie.”

When you guide both of you to the couch, you drape the blanket across his lap and pause the show on your television. You hold up the first-aid kit, grabbing his attention and smiling behind the box. “Ready to be patched up?”

“Readier than ready.”

The minutes pass quietly as San watches the rest of the episode, and you treat his smaller cuts with small circular band-aids. You wrap the deeper gashes up with pale gauze, rubbing some cream on the wounds to start the healing process. As you grab more of the ointment from the tin, you realize San being hurt in any capacity is painful, unbearable even, for you as well as him. While you have more than an inkling of what that means, you push it out of your mind to focus on your table-side healing.

When he’s patched up, you flick his wrist. “You’re good to go, sir.”

He grins in response. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. That’s what neighbors are for right?” The word feels too simple to describe San and what he means to you.

“Definitely,” he murmurs. Your faces rest less than a foot apart from each other, knees slightly touching. 

In any instance, you’d have backed away quickly and given your new friend and neighbor a proper send-off back to his apartment. However, he’s so warm, inviting, here. It has to be ridiculous to feel so safe in his presence this soon, but San is the least ridiculous person you know. 

He can be vain, more confident in himself than the average person is, and satisfied with his own absurdity. Maybe those things turn some people off, but they’re only a few things that you adore about him, the exterior pieces to a beautiful interior. And adore you do, maybe too much and too fast in the month that you’ve known him. But if someone calls you senseless for that, then senseless is what you are.

When you kiss his lips, pressing your mouth firmly to his, you feel senseless. All of your feelings rotate around him, none of your own to pull from as you want nothing but him to spread inside of you. His kindness, his patience, his love, you want it all. 

Once you separate, your heart and mind still punch-drunk on his lips, San breaks the silence by saying, “So, I’m not the best cook, but you deserve some sort of meal after all of this.” He kisses your cheek before focusing his gaze back on you. “And I may or may not be collecting my repayment after helping you with those articles right now so you say yes.” He grins again, charming and electrifying. “What do you say?”

“We just kissed and you think I’ll say no to that?” you ask with a giggle. 

“I’m just making sure!”

You’ve never been observant. Some cues go past your head entirely, and you know this. But San’s skin, so comfortably close to yours, sends the gentlest calm across yours like the familiar prickles of gooseflesh. You can see him and read his obvious intentions, and you know now you’re ready to welcome the start of something new with open arms. There’s no right or wrong to fear, no choice to be any less certain about. It’s easy to feel that way when sure of him when he looks at you the way he does? “I’d love to have a meal with you, San.”

Two months pass, and as San’s hand draws circles into the divot of your hip, you remember that tender stillness you felt after you first met, the first time you hung out together in what San called “your first not-first date” which you lovingly shoved him for, the first night you spent together, and all the dates that followed. Most important, that stillness never disappeared or faded into the background. Not since the first time you saw him, not when he told you it was more than fine to leave most of your stuff at his place (especially your polka dot blanket), and not when he told you he loved you hours ago.

“What are you thinking about?” San pulls you from your thoughts with his question, his whisper raspy. He kisses your bare shoulder, the soft press of his lips warming you to the bone.

“You.”

“Oh? Only good things I hope.” He smirks, trailing his kisses up to your neck. “Or bad, I prefer both.” You giggle at the few swipes of his tongue on the hollow of your throat, but you tug on the ends of his hair to pull his attention back to your face.

“The best things. How I still get excited every time I see you, and how easy it is to make you smile. How you make me feel as though I can do anything, because I have all the power in the world to do it.” You stroke the corners of his mouth, pulling them up and down to make him laugh. “How much I love you.”

In his laughter, he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. Peppering his face with kisses, the two of you fall deeper inside the sheets, the only space in the world meant for the two of you. The smell of his cologne lingers on his body, your favorite smell. You breathe it in as he says, “I love you too.” He says the words in between more sets of kisses stamped into your face and neck.

The sunlight peeks in through San’s curtains when you retreat from underneath the comforter, the signal of a new day. Another set of beginnings and discoveries to look for, new realizations to be had. Only, this day is different. You no longer fear as you once did. If either you or San aren’t looking close enough, the other person will be there to help put the pieces together. Other days, you know you’re strong enough now to figure it all out on your own, just like San is. The two of you can be as slow or fast-paced as you want to, impulses or plans be damned. If that’s what love is supposed to be, you never want it to pass you by again.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @pars-ley @addictedtohobi @wonkieriduel @innocygnet @filmnings

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊: @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @pirateeznet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙼𝚈 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙺𝚂 𝘰𝘳 𝙹𝙾𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝚈 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖩𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖮𝖮𝖡; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[solarismoons]

SPOILERS FOR S2 EP7 OF SCHOOL SPIRITS

Mr. Martin rowing away with Janet is so ominous…

His acting is SO great. His mannerisms and the way he speaks is so perfect. “We deserve this.”

“It makes me sad.. That we couldn’t have gone to any of these places together.” NO one can tell me Maddie doesn’t like Wally as much as he likes her. That girl is in love.

I genuinely didn’t expect everyone to be right about Yuri and Charley! They recreated that pottery making scene!! I did not expect them to get freaky, but i’m NOT complaining.

IM GONNA SCREAM. The way Wally hooked his finger in her bra strap??? My heart is actually beating so fast..I know i’ve said this before, but the tongue is INSANE.

I love how the ghosts are having sex with each other while the living kids are literally crashing out.

I really wish we saw Quinn going into her scar for the first time… I really wonder what it would’ve looked like.

IM ACTUALLY CRYING. I did NOT expect to see Milo’s bare ass today, but DAMN… My jaw dropped to the FLOOR.

“It’s kind of hard not to think about everything that’s waiting for me here.” Ugh, don’t make me cry today PLEASE.

I’m a little surprised there was no talk of Maddie begin a virgin, since that seemed fairly important to her in the first season. I’m not complaining at all though, because WOW..

“Oh, god! I’m gonna need to guys to peel yourselves off each other and come down to the library stat.” The way Maddie nor Wally didn’t even TRY to cover up is killing me. They genuinely don’t GAF.

They were planning on torturing the other ghosts?? This just keeps getting worse and worse the more we learn.

“I’m glad it was you, too.” Please don’t make me like these two together…

‘Notice of suspension’??? God, i feel so awful for Simon. I never even thought of how this affected him. He’s missed so many classes countless times.. What about his future? He flunked that one college admission interview, too. If anything bad happens to Simon, i’m throwing a tantrum.

Oh my god… Poor Rhonda. I love her so much. Knowing she was alone with Janet and Mr. Martin for so long is just so horrifying.

I didn’t expect Dawn to be so involved! I love how she’s really not stupid or airheaded. She’s just a little eccentric. I’m so glad we got another scene with her.

This show is honestly a horror movie at this point… ‘Mr. Anderson’ being soaking wet, covered in mud with his head gushing blood walking around with a fireplace poker is terrifying. My heart is beating so fast.

Mr. Martins manipulating Janet is infuriating. I don’t even have the words to express how much I hate him.

Poor Quinn! I feel so bad. “I died knowing that everyone was mad at me.” My baby 😞💔💔.

“You can’t just leave me now.” STOP. I love them so much it hurts so bad.

I really didn’t expect Simon and Maddie to argue but it was bound to happen.

“Is this because of Wally?” I called it. I fucking called it. I KNEW this was going to come up. Kristian’s acting always gets me. I love Simon so much.

Patrick Gilmores acting is amazing. He somehow even sounds like Mr. Martin and it’s terrifying. Also, he’s lowkey hot and i’m not sorry for saying that.

Mr. Martin forcing Janet into the hellscape made me sick to my stomach.

This fandom is so smart it blows my mind. Everyone said Mr. South must know more about the scars than we had thought. I kind of thought he was just being melodramatic, but the more we saw the scars I changed my mind.

Everyone was right about the scar being Mr. Martin’s. This makes a whole lot more sense. The woman could’ve been his finance, considering the fact that we haven’t seen her before.

This episode was genuinely insane. I still haven’t even fully processed anything.

[harrywavycurly]

There’s No Rush: Pinky

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, mentions of drinking, mentions of anxiety and reader is very shy.

A/N: I made the decision to make this into an AU of sorts, where Niall is still an artist he just isn’t super famous and Harry works in the music industry but as a songwriter. I hope y’all enjoy this series it’s going to be fun!🎶

Tag List: @isinpfortvdmen @cumuluscranium @justagirlthatlovedtoread @secretisme4 @sweetmoonlove0214 @jerseygirlinca @christianaevans @purplekimijks @thislilmindofmine @jane-blogs04 @latedirectionerera

Summary: You run into Harry while preparing to give a speech at your bestfriend’s wedding and he introduces you to his Irish friend Niall🎶💕

As you scan the reception space you begin to regret agreeing to being in the bridal party. The amount of people sat at the long tables being washed in a warm light coming from the thousands of tiny fairy lights wrapped around the tree branches above is enough to have you breaking into a light sweat at the idea of having to give a speech in front of them. But of course you’ll still do it, Ginger being one of your oldest and dearest friends you’ll do just about anything for her but that doesn’t mean you won’t freak out about it first.

That’s how you end up at the bar mindlessly stirring your drink as you mentally go over the speech you’re due to give as soon as Ginger and Allen take their seats at the small table in the front. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath before you open them and raise your glass up so you can take a sip of your drink through the straw. Suddenly a loud laugh filters its way to your ears making you become aware that while you were consumed with trying to calm down your nerves two men have made their way to the bar. You watch as one of them with short curly brown hair, who you swear seems extremely familiar downs what looks to be a shot of some sort of clear liquor while the one with short brown hair laughs at his friend’s reaction to finishing the shot.

“I don’t know how you convince me to do things like that.” The man with curly hair says revealing his British accent that makes your shoulders drop in relief as you recognize who the voice belongs to, Harry Styles. He’s been a close friend of Ginger’s since she met him in a music theory class back in college, but you didn’t meet him until a few months later and since then he’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has become a very good friend of yours as well. It comes as no surprise that the first time you see him tonight is at the bar, he’s always been quite the party animal.

“Oh right like you needed a whole lot of convincing. Yer arse is the one who dragged me to the-”

“Is that Pinky I spy over there?” You’re too lost in the deep Irish accent coming from the short haired man that you don’t even notice that Harry has taken a step towards you with a playful smirk on his face while the man he’s with steps up to the bar and orders a drink.

“Fuck off Harry you know she hates that nickname.” Allen’s stern voice knocks you out of your trance, bringing you back to reality as you look at Harry who offers you a dimpled grin. You feel a hand on top of your shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze, you know Allen has always seen you as a little sister so he doesn’t hesitate to try to put an end to things he knows make you upset, such as the nickname Harry has been calling you since you met him nearly six years ago at a college party Ginger dragged you to.

“Oh come on we all know she doesn’t mind it.” Allen sends Harry a glare from his spot behind you. “Besides I personally adore how pink your cheeks are all the time.” Harry explains as he takes two small steps so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view of his Irish friend, you feel your face get hot as Harry shoots you a wink. “Come on Pinky get in here.” His voice is soft and sweet as he opens his arms up for a hug and against your better judgment you put your drink down and allow him to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you into a tight embrace.

“It’s nice to see you Harry.” Your voice gets lost in the fabric of his dress shirt as he begins to gently rock you back and forth while his hands rub up and down your back. You wonder for a moment if he can tell your nerves are through the roof and that’s why he’s doing these little things to calm you down or if he’s just a bit more handsy and clingy due to the shot he just took. But either way you find yourself melting into his embrace, something that always tends to happen with him as if he just knows exactly what to do to get you to relax.

“How’ve you been love?” He asks as he pulls away just enough so he can get a good look at your face making you instantly look down at the cross pendant that hits him right in the middle of his chest, not fully ready to look him in the eyes just yet.

“Uhm I’ve been go-good. Yeah I’ve been-been good.” You stumble through your answer making Harry nod while a small chuckle makes it way through him.

“What’s going on? What’s got you all wound up?” His voice is hushed so only you can hear him as his hands run up and down your arms. You let out a sigh as you slowly lift your head so you can look him in his emerald colored eyes making a smile stretch across his face once your eyes find his.

“Sorry I’m just a little nervous about my-my speech.”

“Oh that reminds me-” You turn to look at Allen over your shoulder as Harry drops his hands from your arms but doesn’t move from his place in front of you. “Ginger said you’re due up there in like ten minutes.” You know he can see the panic take over your face little by little as the words leave his mouth. “Don’t stress it okay? You’ll do great.” Is all he has time to offer you in terms of reassurance before he turns and grabs his drink from the bartender and heads towards his table.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.” Harry mumbles and before you can reply you’re suddenly being pulled into his side by the arm he somehow managed to drape over your shoulder without you even noticing. “Don’t worry about your speech Pinky you’re gonna smash it and besides half these people are drunk anyway so they won’t even-”

“Jesus H is this s’posed to be a pep talk?” You feel Harry’s arm drop down to around your middle as he turns the two of you towards the man with the Irish accent.

“No it’s better than a pep talk. It’s the truth.” Harry says with a playful wink sent your way when he glances down at you before looking back over to his friend. “Oh where are my manners? Pinky this is Niall Horan. Niall this is Pinky she’s the one who I told you used to crack into the campus records and change my D’s into B’s.”

“That’s-that’s not true I ne-never did that.” You shake your head and fumble with your words as Niall looks from Harry down to you with a warm smile that you would return if you could manage to look at him but instead you just decide to look down at his shoes as your whole face feels like it’s on fire as soon as you feel his eyes on you.

“She’s just being modest.” Harry gives your side a soft pinch, something he knows will get a little giggle out of you. “She’s a wiz on the computer that’s why she works in a dark little corner office for some cyber security company and gets paid to try to hack into things to find holes in their security systems.” You want to crawl into a hole as Harry tries to make your job sound way cooler than it is when in reality you’re just an accomplished computer nerd who gets to spend her days in peaceful solitude while typing away at the keyboard and staring at her monitors.

“Really? That’s so cool.” Niall’s voice doesn’t hold an ounce of sarcasm instead it’s full of awe as if he’s actually really impressed by your job, and you’d be able to really tell how impressed he is if only you’d dare to look up at his face but you’re not ready yet.

“Oh thanks but it’s actually not that cool.” You say in one long breath as you begin to mess with the ring on your index finger, trying your hardest not to let your awkwardness ruin the mood. Moments like this make you wish you were more outgoing and not so anxious and shy when it comes to meeting new people, but you can’t help it sometimes especially when your mind is elsewhere instead of trying to focus on forming complete sentences in front of an Irish dude named Niall Horan.

“Looks like you’re being summoned.” Niall’s words have you finally looking up from his feet and that’s when you get a real glimpse of his face. You feel your mouth go dry when you notice just how handsome he is and his eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so blue before.

“Pinky? You still in there or did you leave us?” You blink a few times as Harry waves his ring clad hand in front of your face.

“What? Sorry did-did you say something?” You stutter as Niall tries to hide the smile that wants to take over his face at the fact he caught you staring at him by bringing his drink up to his lips to take a sip. Harry laughs and shakes his head as he turns you around so he can lead you towards the front of the tables where you’re meant to stand to give your speech.

“Take a few deep breaths okay? I really meant it when I said you’ll be fine. This room is full of people who either don’t know you that well so they won’t really be listening or people who absolutely love you so you’re gonna kill it.” His hand is on your lower back as he maneuvers you around people that are heading off to their assigned seats at one of the many tables.

“Thanks Harry.” You whisper as the two of you finally make it to the little set up for the entertainment that’s set to go on after the speeches and toasts. It’s nothing more than a wooden stool and a microphone with two guitar stands and a piano all being lit up by warm fairy lights that are wrapped around some fake trees that blend in with the rest of the decor of the reception.

“I’ll be right over there.” He points towards the bar making you nod as you swallow down the nerves that are beginning to creep back up. “So if you feel like you’re about to panic just look at me okay? It’s the oldest trick in the book. Just pick something to stare at in the back of the room and you’ll be fine.” He grabs your hands as you stand next to the microphone, making sure he has your full attention as he bends his knees a bit so he’s eye level with you. “Deep breath Pinky come on.” You follow his instructions and take in a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose making him smile as he gives your hands a nice squeeze.

“I think-think I’m good now.” You say with a smile making Harry grin as he stands up and lets go of your hands. “Just please don’t tell me if it sucks.” Harry laughs as he leans over and places a quick kiss to your cheek before he turns to head towards the bar.

“So you and uh Pinky seem close?” Niall doesn’t want to come across as suspicious but he can’t help it with the way he saw Harry treat you, he knows his friend is a very touchy feely person but he hasn’t ever known him to act like that with people he isn’t at least sort of interested in.

“I’ve known her for years.” Harry answers with a shrug all while never taking his eyes off the stage area as he leans back against the bar, Niall copies his movements after placing his half empty glass down on the bar top. “I don’t see her as often as I used to when we were in college because she doesn’t really get out much.” He adds as he runs a hand through his hair while Niall turns his focus towards the stage just in time to see you mess with the microphone stand trying to adjust its height.

“She seems-”

“Shy? Anxious? Awkwardly adorable?”

“Honestly? All three.” That answer makes Harry look over at Niall who is staring at you with a soft expression on his face making a smile tug at the corner of Harry’s mouth because he can tell Niall is at the very least intrigued by you.

“She doesn’t like large crowds or meeting new people. That’s especially tricky for her. When I met her at a party back in college it was because I accidentally bumped into her and when I went to apologize I swear her whole body turned pink she was so embarrassed as if it was her fault I ran into her.” Harry laughs at the memory of meeting you back in his wild party days when he had long hair and walked around with an attitude that made it seem like he didn’t have a care in the world, you’d argue that the only thing that’s changed about him is his hair is shorter now.

“And you managed to get her to want to be friends with you?” Niall questions with a quirked brow as he turns his attention away from you and over to Harry who shoots him a glare.

“I didn’t really give her a choice. She made me nervous to leave her alone after that because she just didn’t seem comfortable and I was worried someone would be an asshole about it so yeah I just forced my friendship on her and eventually she gave in.” It all starts to click in Niall’s mind as Harry divulges more details about his friendship with you. You’re someone he feels protective of and that seems to be a common thing among your friends, they all want to make sure you feel comfortable and safe.

“Uhm hello how is everyone?” Niall and Harry both turn their attention towards the stage as your voice hits their ears, amplified by the microphone you have a death grip on. “Incase you don’t know me I’m the maid of honor.” Niall smiles as you introduce yourself and he finally gets to hear what your actual name is.

Harry watches you like a proud older brother as you start in on your speech, his eyes are glued to you as he watches you look around the tables at all the people sitting and staring at you. Only when he sees your cheeks get flushed does he being to slightly panic that you’re about to have a moment where your nerves get the best of you making you stutter and stumble over your words. But to his surprise you seem to have taken his advice, he watches as your eyes shift over towards the back where he’s stood leaning against the bar but it’s not his eyes you’re staring into it’s the sapphire blue ones that belong to his friend that’s standing right next to him.

Everything happens in what feels like a blur and suddenly people are clapping and the best man is walking up towards you so he can begin his speech. Offering you a warm smile and a quick hug before he takes the microphone from you, whispering his praises for the kind words you spoke about Ginger and the happy couple in your ear making you blush. You give a few small waves to your friends and blow a kiss to Ginger and Allen as you pass them on your way to the bar so you can get something to wash your nerves down with.

“That was a lovely speech Pinky you did so good.” Harry’s voice is full of pride as he approaches you with open arms right before you reach the bar. “I’m so proud of you.” You smile as your arms wrap around his middle while his go around your shoulders pulling you into a warm hug.

“It didn’t suck?” You ask quietly making Harry laugh as he gives you a squeeze.

“It was perfect.” He answers as you pull away and look up at him. He leans down so his lips are close to your ear. “Niall was quite impressed as well. Couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole time.” He whispers making your heart feel as if it could burst out of the chest with how fast it’s beating.

“Oh uh really? I didn’t-didn’t notice.” Harry just laughs as your face gets warm and you stumble a bit trying to get your words out in a rush.

“Is that so?” You know he’s teasing you as the two of you pull away but Harry keeps a hand on your arm. “You didn’t notice he was staring at you while you were also staring right at him?” You feel your eyes go a bit wide at Harry’s question, you didn’t even realize you had been staring at Niall until a little towards the end of your speech when you looked away from him and towards Ginger and Allen. “Don’t worry I’m not jealous or anything.” He jokes as he gives your arm a squeeze before leaning in and placing another kiss to your cheek.

“Keep a seat open for me okay? I don’t want to be stuck at the losers table.” You roll your eyes as he drops his hand from your arm and steps around you towards the stage area where the best man is still giving his speech.

“My table is for the bridal party Harry you can’t sit with me.”

“I know the bride and I know how to party so that sounds like the exact table I should be at.” You laugh and shake your head at his response, not bothering to argue with him because you know he will just work his charm on an unsuspecting bridesmaid and end up sitting at the table anyway. With a final wink and grin sent your direction Harry is off leaving you able to finish the short walk to the bar so you can order a drink.

“Sparkling water with lots of lemon please.” The bartender just smiles and nods before working on your very uncomplicated drink order.

“Aren’t you missin somethin with that order?” Niall feels a twinge of guilt hit him when he sees you jump at the sound of his voice. “Sorry didn’t meant t’scare you.” He quickly apologizes as he takes a small step towards you just as you get your drink handed to you.

“Oh you-uhm uh did-didn’t scare me.” You want to curl up in a ball at how dumb you sound trying to get an extremely simple sentence out but you just blame it on the post speech jitters and try to move on. “And uhm I don’t really drink but I like-like the bubbles and it looks like a cocktail so no one notices.” Niall nods along as you explain your drink choice to him, feeling a small bubble of pride grow in his chest at the fact you’re sharing a personal little fact with him.

“That’s brilliant.” He can’t help but smile as he leans his hip against the bar so he is now fully facing you, he doesn’t mind that you haven’t looked at him yet he knows you’re shy and honestly he is enjoying the freedom of being able to look at you without the worry of being caught. “Your speech was great.” He catches the way your cheeks get red and a smile takes over your face as his words hit your ears.

“Thank you Niall.” The way your voice sounds when it says his name makes Niall wants to hear you say it over and over again because it makes his heart flutter a bit in his chest. “So are you uh here with Harry?” You finally find the courage to turn your head to look at him, or at least down at his hand that is wrapped around a glass of brown liquid with two ice cubes that he has resting on the bar.

“M’actually the entertainment for tonight’s festivities Harry got me the gig so he’s gonna be my guitarist for a few songs he helped me write.” Niall takes a moment to let his eyes roam over your figure as you continue to just look at his hand that is now gripping the glass with a little more force than he was a moment ago.

“Oh I uhm didn’t know Harry played guitar.” Your words snap Niall out of his only slightly inappropriate thoughts as his eyes find yours. If he didn’t have such good control of himself he would’ve been startled by you suddenly deciding to look him in the eyes but instead he just stares right back at you, matching your intensity.

“Ah well then yer in for a treat tonight. He’s actually pretty decent at it.”

“And you-uhm you-”

“Sing? Yeah I sing and play the piano as well as the guitar.” He finishes your question for you making you give him a soft smile as a silent thank you because it lets you know he can tell you’re a little flustered but he isn’t making a big thing out of it like some people tend to do.

“I’ve always wanted to learn the piano.” You tell him as you look away, needing a moment to regather your thoughts and get your heartbeat under control.

“I could teach you.” Niall tosses the offer out there in hopes it’ll give him an excuse to get your number but when you look like a dear that’s been caught in a set of headlights he regrets how casual he made it sound because surely you’re probably assuming that’s a line he uses all the time but it’s not. Niall honestly hates teaching people how to play instruments especially since the last person he taught how to play something was Harry when he begged him to teach him the guitar, but for you he’d make an exception because he just wants to spend more time with you.

“I uh don’t-”

“We have a situation.” You feel a hand on your shoulder taking your attention away from Niall and over towards Heather, a bridesmaid and Allen’s younger sister.

“Oh okay what’s wrong?” You try not to panic while a few dozen scenarios begin to play out in your mind of what the situation could be as you turn so your back is facing the bar.

“Harry is trying to add a seat-”

“I’ll get him.” Niall’s voice makes both you and Heather turn to look at him, he downs the rest of his drink setting the empty glass on the bar before he heads off towards the curly haired man causing havoc at the bridal party table.

“Who is that?”

“Niall Horan.”

“He’s cute.”

“Oh I uh yeah if you’re in-into that kinda look.”

“And Irish.”

“Is he? I didn’t-uhm didn’t notice.”

“Right.” She drags out the word while giving you a knowing look as your eyes land on Niall as he grabs Harry by the shoulders and begins leading him off towards the stage set up.

“Harry you’re gonna get us kicked out of your own friend’s wedding for Christ sake get it together.” Niall whispers harshly in Harry’s ear as his grip on his shoulders tightens.

“Oh relax I was just checking if any of the bridesmaids needed anything.” Harry says with a laugh like him trying to squeeze himself in at the table wasn’t that big of a deal, he shrugs himself loose of Niall’s grip and sends him a playful smirk. “Besides you’re the one who would get us kicked out with how much of a poor mess you’re making Pinky over there.” Niall stops in his tracks the moment Harry mentions you, not following Harry up onto the stage.

“What do you mean? I’ve been nothin but polite to her.” Harry grabs his guitar that’s set up on stage and turns to face Niall who looks like he’s about to have a mini panic attack making Harry laugh.

“She hasn’t been this much of a blushing and fumbling mess since-well since I met her.”

“I think it’s cute the uh way she blushes all the time and messes up her words a bit.”

“Yeah well the way you’ve got her acting like a shy little schoolgirl surely won’t go unnoticed by Allen and Ginger.” Harry explains as he begins to mess with his guitar making sure it’s good to go for the first two songs Niall has set for the evening. “Those two are like her personal security but don’t worry Ginger is a sweetheart but Allen he-he can be a real wanker when he wants to be.” Niall runs a hand through his hair as he steps up onto the stage and grabs his own guitar.

“So if I win over the bride you think I could maybe get her number? Or you think she’d freak out if I asked her for it? M’not trying to push her over the edge or anything.” Niall looks at Harry as he adjusts the strap of his guitar he has over his shoulder. Harry takes a moment to think before he gives Niall a grin and reaches for his phone in the front pocket of his slacks.

“Oh what the hell you’re a nice guy.” Niall rolls his eyes at Harry’s statement as he watches him tap the screen a few times until he finds your contact information. “I’ll give you her number.” With that Harry shares your contact information with Niall who stands there with wide eyes, shocked that Harry just tossed all caution to the wind and sent him your information without even checking with you first.

“But if you hurt her I will kill you with my bare hands.” It’s the casual way Harry threatens Niall that has him believing he really would make good on it, the way the smile leaves his face as he looks Niall dead in the eyes making Niall just swallow hard and nod his head in understanding. With that the smile returns to Harry’s face and he slips his phone back into his pocket before going back to adjusting his guitar strap.

As Niall stands on the stage and gets himself ready to start his set he feels as if someone is looking at him. So when he looks up from the guitar in his hands he quickly realizes who it was as his eyes scan the tables that are situated next to the small dance floor in front of the stage. He watches your face turn a deep shade of pink as you look down at your lap, the bridesmaid sitting next to you giggles as she leans in and whispers something in your ear making you place your hands over your face in embarrassment. He smiles to himself as he looks down at the instrument in his hands, he knows he just met you and that you don’t know each other at all but the idea of you letting him learn more about you has a sense of excitement bubbling up inside of Niall. He just hopes you don’t mind how he ended up with your number but that’s something he is willing to risk because you’re not someone he can see himself forgetting about anytime soon.

[flowery-mess]

nowhere to go

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / physical violence / punching / knife threat / blood, bruises and other injuries / harassment / I think that's it, let me know if there's anything else

Words: 3,1k

Author's note: grab your tissues everyone. So far the hardest one I wrote for frat Noah❤️‍🩹

frat boy Noah masterlist

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“Thanks for coming man, next time we should start earlier.” Matt said to Noah as he watched him put his shoes and jacket on.

“Yeah, I hate doing projects at the last minute.” him and Matt had a project for a finance class together, they wanted to work on it on the weekend, but Matt’s plans had changed and he needed to finish it on Friday night before he left to see his parents.

“Sorry again man, will never happen again.” Matt apologized one more time, him and Noah did their weird handshake and then Noah left.

It was Friday night, but most of the students were back home at their parents, so there was no party that night.

Noah crossed the main area of the college campus to finally get in his car, do some grocery shopping and go home. He was more than ready to eat some frozen pizza, take a shower and then go to bed.

Due to the spring break the parking lot was weirdly empty, aside from Noah’s black car there were just a few more. He didn’t pay any attention to those other cars, didn’t feel like he needed to.

When his body slid behind the steering wheel, he let out a deep groan. His back hurt from sitting on Matt’s bed the whole day and his brain was tired from all the thinking he had to do to finish the project. He let his head rest for a while, closing his eyes, but he knew if he let himself doze off he’s going to wake in the morning and that was painful to imagine.

He started the engine and made his way to the closest grocery store that wasn’t closed yet. The streets were mostly empty, probably due to the area usually being full of students. It was 10PM already, so he had to drive a bit far for his liking.

His radio was on, but he didn’t really pay any attention to the songs, he was focused on the road.

He checked his rear mirror before he changed lines and noticed only one red car behind him. His attention was back on the road, cursing himself for not using GPS, because he didn’t recognise this part of town.

He turned left, then right and was expecting the shop to already be in sight, but he could swear he got lost and was again on the same main street, changing lines again. Before he did he checked his rear mirror again, noticing the same red car still behind him. He didn’t think much of it, maybe they got lost too.

Taking a few more turns he finally saw the lights “open 24/7”, only one traffic light between him and his target. When he stopped and the red light he looked back in the mirror, nothing else to look at with the empty streets. He noticed two men sitting in the red car, talking and waiting for the light to turn green just like him. When it did, Noah started driving again, not looking back in the mirror or at the red car anymore.

He took the closest parking spot to the shop, took his wallet and left the car. The street was silent, you could only hear cars from a far.

There were two homeless men in front of the shop who didn’t waste any time asking Noah for money. He gave them some change he had in his back pockets and thought of buying them some beer for a minute.

“Hello sir.” the older cashier welcomed Noah with a smile on her face, he did the same and grabbed a cart to start his short shopping list.

Frozen pizza, eggs, bread and milk. Things for dinner and breakfast before he can go to his regular shop to do bigger weekly shopping.

The nice lady packed him the small purchase in a bag, making small talk while doing so. She looked like the type of a woman who lives alone and has a part time job to socialize and talk with people. Noah didn't mind, because he knew how spending time alone can be, so he nodded along and occasionally gave her some answer.

He wished her a safe shift and made his way back to his car. When he reached for his keys he noticed two people next to his black Range Rover. He stopped walking and scanned the parking lot. He noticed the red car still there, but left empty with no passengers.

He really wanted to go home, so he decided to just go and not think twice about it.

“Hey, can I help you?” he asked the two men he saw in his mirror earlier at the red light.

One of them had a cigarette in his hand, the smell hit Noah’s nose immediately. The other one looked at Noah and his face turned into a satisfied smirk.

“Actually yes. You’re Noah right?” the man made a step towards Noah who started feeling uneasy in their company. How the fuck did he knew his name?

“Who are you?” Noah tried to stay calm, maybe it was a misunderstanding.

“Your daddy says you owe us some money.” and then it hit him. I’ll tell them to go after you. His father’s words replayed in his head and he didn’t know what to do.

“He’s not my father, whatever he told you is a lie. I don’t know what he did or why he owes the money, fuck I don’t even know how much money it is! He’s a stranger to me.”

“That’s not what he told us. He owes us money and he told us you’ll pay. We don’t care about your sad story, we want the money and we don’t care how we’ll get it.”

“How much?”

“800 dollars.” Fuck, Noah thought. He expected more, but it was still a lot of money.

“Yeah I don’t have that, so go ask him again.” Noah thought he made it clear, but before he could unlock his car and leave, fist landed on his face. His bag of groceries fell on the ground and his hand immediately went to touch his nose. He tasted blood in his mouth.

“Listen you son of a bitch, you either give us some money or it will not end well for you.” the man pushed him on the side of his own car and his disgusting hands made it around Noah’s throat. He didn’t choke him, but added a fair amount of pressure to make breathing harder for Noah.

“I don’t have the money.” Noah whispered as loud as he could. Another punch followed, this time to his abdomen. Two against one, that couldn’t end well for him. One of them continued holding Noah by his neck while the other was ready to land another fist.

“He said you’ll pay.” of course he said that, father of the year.

Before Noah could argue with him, he felt those hands move from his neck to his shoulders, pulling him down and then knee of the stranger in his face. He gasped for air and saw blood dripping on the concrete under him. He was fucked. Who’s going to help him? That sweet lady from the shop or those two homeless guys? Sure not.

He stood back up, ready to face another hit to wherever they felt good next. He didn’t fight back, that was pointless.

Another punch, this time next to his eye, slitting his eyebrow. He hissed in pain, not sure he could take any more before colapsing on the ground under his feet.

Blood started dripping down his face, blurring his vision in his left eye. He was tired. Tired from all this beating, tired from his father’s actions.

“Do you need more or will you give us the money?” that man yelled in Noah’s face.

He understood him in a way. That man helped his father out in some way, either with drugs, alcohol or actual money and just wanted it back. The thing is, people like his father will never give the money back and that’s something people like those two strangers should know.

Noah’s mind was thinking of how he could escape this situation, but before he could think of something, he heard the sound of opening a pocket knife. The other man put the knife to Noah’s jaw and started running the blade across his cheek.

“I’ll give you everything I have on me, okay?” Noah blurted out in a rush, scared of where this would go if he let them continue.

“Now that’s something I like to hear.” the stranger said happily.

Noah took out his wallet and took out all of his cash and handed it to them. He didn’t know how much it was, but prayed to God that it was enough for him to get rid of them.

“That’s only 200 dollars.” they told him after they counted the money.

“I don’t have any more.”

He saw them look at each other, like they were silently communicating with their minds.

“Listen, we know how stuff like this works and we also know your dad is a piece of shit. We’ll take this and take care of the rest in our way. With your father, not you. But tell your old man this is his warning and he better have the money next time we see him, or he can say his goodbye to you.” Noah didn’t know how to answer that so he just kept staring at them, waiting for their next move.

When they scanned his body, obviously satisfied with the damage they'd done, they turned around, got in their car and left the parking lot.

Noah couldn’t move, he was leaning against his car and trying to stabilize his breathing.

“Are you alright?” he heard another voice and when he turned his head he saw one of the homeless men standing close to his car. He didn’t have the energy to answer, he just opened his car, started the engine and took off.

He didn’t drive in the direction of his apartment, he went back to the campus. His drive was messy and he was glad there were no other cars, because he was sure his driving would’ve caused an accident.

He sat in the parking lot for a good hour, thinking of what to do. His head was hurting and the blood finally stopped running down his face a few minutes ago. It was tears running down his cheeks now, mixing with the dried blood he could taste in his mouth.

He gave up punching the steering wheel or tugging at his hair, the physical pain couldn’t stop the hurt he felt in his heart.

Instead the car was filled with sobs and cries from a boy who just wanted peace in his life. He was better off alone, he just wanted his devil of a father out of his life.

His body worked on autopilot when he got out of his car and started walking in the direction of your dorm. He was glad no one could see him, beaten up with blood all over him. He couldn’t look in the mirror so he took the stairs instead of an elevator.

When he reached your floor he saw the big old clock on the wall and saw it was just a bit after midnight. You’re probably asleep, he should go home, he thought. He actually ran down the stairs just to turn around on the ground floor and run up again. He couldn’t be alone.

—

“Yes mom, I’ll come visit you next month, I’m just busy with school work so I wanted to stay here.” you were on the phone with your mom who just finished her glass of wine and decided it was “I miss my daughter hours.” and called you. You were two hours ahead of her, so it wasn’t unusual for her to call you this late.

“I just saw Jake come home today and felt sad that you decided to stay.” Jake was your neighbour who grew up across the road.

“I know mom, but I’ll come soon. Okay?” you didn’t hear her answer, because there was a loud knock on your door. You checked the time on your phone and furrowed your brows, who could be knocking at your door at midnight. “Wait mom.” you told her and walked to open your door.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight when you opened your door. There was Noah, covered in blood with red eyes, looking like he would collapse every second.

“I have to go mom, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.” you hung up on her before she could say bye, but you didn’t care.

“Noah what the fuck?” you continued to stare at him, not sure what to do. “What the hell happened?” you whispered.

“I, I-” he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, his words got lost between his sobs and quick breathing.

“Come inside.” you pulled him in by his hand and he immediately went to wrap his arms around you, and you let him.

You continued standing there with crying Noah in your arms. You gave him all the time he needed to calm down. When you felt his breath slow down a little, you pulled away from him to look at the mess his face was.

“Oh God Noah, who did this to you?” looking at him was painful. When he didn’t answer you led him in your bathroom and sat him on the closed toilet.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay? You don’t have to say anything until you want to, yeah?” you cupped his face in your hands to make sure he heard you. He gave you only a small nod.

You took a small towel and dipped it into warm water, then took Noah’s face in one of your hands and held the towel in the other one. You slowly and gently wiped all the dried blood from his face. Then you sprayed the disinfection on white cotton pads and said “This is gonna sting.” As you dabbed the pad over the cuts on Noah’s eyebrow and then around his bloody nose, you couldn’t miss the tears forming in his eyes again, then slowly cascading down his cheeks. You tried to wipe them all with your fingers, but there were too many of them.

You put a small butterfly plaster on his eyebrow, but that was all you could do. The rest of his face started to bruise and swell already, you noted to get him something frozen later when you’re done.

“All done.” you grabbed his chin and made him look up at you and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” you asked, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Instead of answering you, Noah took off his t-shirt and you saw a red bruise on his abdomen. You had to calm yourself down so you wouldn’t swear again.

There wasn’t much you could do with that one, so you at least sprayed some disinfection on it.

“Do you want to take a shower?” you then asked Noah who still hasn’t said a word. He was communicating only in nods, but you didn’t mind.

“Here’s a towel, you can leave your clothes here, I’ll wash it for you. Call me if you need anything else, I’ll wait in my room.” you wanted to give him space and privacy, but when you turned to walk out of the small bathroom of yours, he reached for your hand and stopped you.

“Stay.” he finally spoke, it was more of a question, a plea.

You got in the shower with him, taking care of him again. You used your shampoo on his bruised body, being careful with your touch to not hurt him any more. You wanted to wash all of his pain away, if only it was possible.

You let him hug you again, only to hear his silent cries again. You had to hold your own tears at this point. Who did this to him?

After the shower you sat Noah in your bed and gave him a pack of frozen peas to stop the swelling of his pretty face.

You sat next to him, not sure what to do now. “Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked him.

There was a silence before he took a breath and started talking.

“He actually sent someone to beat me up and get money from me.” he muttered under his breath, “Who does that to their own kid?” his breath got caught in his throat, before he let out another sob. You immediately knew what he was talking about. His father was always full of promises he never managed to keep, so after that accident you both didn’t take his words seriously. What a mistake.

You laid both of you down on your bed, not big enough for both of you, but you managed. You held him and gave him time to process what he wanted to tell you.

“They followed me from here after I left Matt’s place, then they waited for me in front of a fucking grocery store. He owes them 800 dollars and sent them to get it from me. They beat me up and then pulled out a knife, so I gave them all the cash I had with me.” at the mention of the knife you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying what was on your mind. You were thankful he got to you in one piece.

“They told me he’s a piece of shit and that beating me up was a warning for him. Only if they knew he doesn’t give a fuck about what they did to me. They said they’ll finish it with him, so I hope I’ll never see their fucking faces again.”

“That’s not okay Noah, they can’t do that.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” he sat up to look at you, despair in his eyes. “What do you want me to do? Call the cops? Call him?”

“I don’t know.” you admitted. You wanted to get him out of this situation, but didn’t have a clue on how to do it.

He laid back down and continued talking after a while. “I’m gonna change my number. I was thinking about moving too. He knows where I live, I’ll never get rid of him.”

“Yeah, we can think of something tomorrow.” those weren’t bad ideas, it could help to cut his father off completely. “I’m glad you came here, hate the idea of you being alone in this state.” you admitted and planted few more kisses to his forehead and in his hair.

He laid in your arms, occasionally letting out a hiss when your fingers slid too close to his bruised face.

You felt his body grow heavier and heavier with sleep taking over him. His cries finally calmed down and his breathing became even.

“Thank you.” he whispered in the crook of your neck.

“You don’t have to thank me.” you whispered back. You thought of all the nights when he held you, because you needed it.

You held him until he fell asleep, preparing yourself for round 2 in the morning when the pain of his injuries will become worse.

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This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

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[enhanextdoor]

𓂃۶ৎ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐓 ━━━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍.

西村 力 (n.rk). ─────⠀ㅤ 3,002 (in total) ―୨୧⋆ ˚ 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𓈒 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. ⠀

부인 성명 (disclaimer) : read at your own risk. there is going to be fluff and angst themes. NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @choisanswife. @leehsngs. @myjjongie

moving away from home was one of the hardest things for you to do. it was what you had known your entire life, but college was an exciting new time. you thought it would be a fresh start, you would be able to make new friends and not be held back by some of the rumors and different issues that living in a small town held. you wanted to experience the world and maybe you were a little naive, but you thought the world would be good for you. welcome weekend was what really fucked you over. everyone was asked to go around and share a fact about themselves on the auditorium stage and as you were walking up your shirt caught on the stairway and ripped. you were so embarrassed you cried, people recorded and this quickly spread around campus. you were labeled the “cry baby” of campus. so much for getting a fresh start right? nope! 

it had been three weeks since the semester started and honestly you tried to avoid the stares and laughs, you figured that the other students would eventually move on from your little mishap but in the age of smartphones no way. you even became a bit of a campus meme, the worst group of them all had to be the dance team. the first person to post the video to social media? none other than jake. he didn’t think it would get as big as it did and well it even got him a little more credibility on campus. you just wanted to keep your head down and the library was one of the best places to do that, you had been practically living in your dorm and in the library. you were enjoying the silence. enter nishimura riki, the it-boy of the freshman clas, he casually made his way over to you and pulled a book from the shelf next to where you were standing. 

he was the newest member of the dance crew and all everyone had been talking about. ‘jungwon made such a good choice as captain letting him on the team.’ ‘we are so qualifying this year’ ‘he’s just so dreamy’ those are just some of the things you’ve heard. your gaze shifted to him only for a second before you grabbed the book you needed and started to head back towards the table you had claimed. “y/n.. that’s your name right?” ni-ki spoke up. you stopped to look at him and arched an eyebrow slightly, nodding your head. “yeah, that would be me.” you prepared yourself to get the cry baby comment or some kind of joke, but he walked over and examined your book. “oh this is actually the one i need too. think we could sit together and look it over?” he set the book in his hand on empty carts at the side of the column.

you were a bit shocked that he would be wanting to do an optional reading for class, the professor made sure to emphasize that this reading wasn’t required but could help students get a better grasp on the concepts. “sure?” you sounded a little hesitant because you were. maybe ni-ki wasn’t a bad guy and truthfully needed the book for class just like you. the pair of you walked over to the table and you opened it up to the page that you needed. “you need this for intro to society too right?” you questioned to see if he was taking the same basic sociology class you were. “yup and look at that you’ve got the page right and everything.” he flashed a smile. 

the pair of you read the book only speaking to indicate when it was okay to turn the page. it was nice, having an interaction with someone that wasn’t just trying to make fun of you. after two hours of powering through the book you both reached the end and you closed the book. “well that was nice.” he stated as he leaned back in his chair a little. “yeah, it was nice.” you admitted before tapping your fingers on the table a little bit of anxiety building in your stomach. “you know you are pretty cool y/n. we should go out sometime.” 

his words sent a little bit of panic through you mainly because you knew that talking with him could impact his social status on campus or bring on more taunting. then you were fighting with the implication, is he asking you in a friendly way or in a date kind of way? you sat there for a second. “did i break you y/n? shit that was so not what i was trying to do.” he was sat forward now examining your face. “no, no, i heard you and am not broken.” you replied and glanced back to him. “just don’t think it would be a good idea for us to go out.” you stood up to go return the book from where you found it. he stood and followed you right over to the shelf. “oh come on y/n, afraid that people will tease me too? i really don’t care about any of that. you are cool and we shared a book doesn’t that mean anything to you?” he was talking in a bit more of a teasing tone at the end. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully because that was cheesy. “okay then we can go out.” you shouldn’t cave so easily but honestly you are just a girl. “great it’s a date then.” he winked.

you two had exchanged numbers before you left the library and set a plan of when you were going out. everything about this made you nervous but excited. was this really happening? the coolest guy in the freshman class wanted to take you out on a date? it seemed too good to be true. you spent hours getting ready for this date and the pair of you went out. the date was a simple move theater then dinner date. you two had a great time, the conversation at dinner flowed so naturally. he had you laughing, you made him laugh in return. it was nice being out with someone that didn’t just see you as a joke. he walked you back to your dorm and before he left you two kissed. you felt the butterflies in your stomach and the whole nine yards. 

two months passed and several more dates occurred within those months. you never saw this coming, but there you were on the quad with ni-ki laid out under you and your head rested on his stomach as you laid down as well reading your book. the two of you were all the campus could talk about. “we are throwing this party tonight to celebrate winning our latest comp.” he said which pulled you from your book, “oh yeah? well i would love to come with you if that is what you are asking.” you looked up to him with a warm smile. a smile that ni-ki had grown so accustomed to. he had fallen for you and if only you knew everything he knew that you probably wouldn’t feel the same anymore. he sat up which had you sitting up as well and he admired you with a smile of his own, “you make me so happy y/n. you know that right?” you weren’t sure where this was coming from but you leaned in to give his lips a little peck. “yeah, yeah nishimura. i have a class to get to.” you stood and then leaned down to give him another peck on the lips. “see you later?” you asked but didn’t wait for an answer before walking backwards to start heading away from you. “yeah.” he waved you off and went back to laying down to look at the sky. 

he wasn’t sure how he was going to tell you the truth, all of this started with a bet. he was hanging out with all the guys and jake showed everyone the video. they all laughed about it, ni-ki included. “you want to prove yourself to be one of us?” jay said while leaning his arms on his knees and the rest of the guys started to pick up what was about to go down. “get cry baby to go out with you.” he continued and everyone else was laughing. “oh my god that would be so funny actually. you should so do it.” sunghoon chimed in. ni-ki wanting to be accepted by these older much cooler guys agreed. “i could totally get her to go out with me, easy. i’ll do you one better i’ll get her to actually fall in love with me too.” god how he regretted that day now, he felt like he was walking on eggshells. it was only a matter of time before someone slipped and told you and he didn’t want to lose you. while he was trying to get you to fall in love with him he did something that would ruin everything, he fell for you. 

later that night after all your classes and getting ready for what felt like forever you headed to the frat where the party was being hosted. you went inside and started looking around for ni-ki but instead found jay and jake by the drinks table. jake was a little loaded and that made him a little louder than normal. “Y/N! YOU’RE HERE!” he was basically shouting and leaning on jay for the support. “hey jake.. you doing okay there buddy?” you gave a pointed look and jay made a little face while shaking his head to indicate that this boy was long gone. you had gotten to know the rest of the guys and much to their surprise they liked you. the guilt of the bet weighed on all of them too, but they tried to ignore the elephant in the room. heeseung came walking over to see the drunk jake and jay supporting him. “need some help with that one?” he pointed to jake literally just hanging off jay. “you know it we should get him some water.” jay replied and you spoke up. “let me go get him some. you two just make sure he stays upright.” 

you pushed through to the kitchen and came back with bottled water. they had gotten jake seated on a couch. “oh have you guys seen ni-ki?” you questioned. they all shook their heads and jake decided to speak up. “naurr but i am so glad you two are dating. i mean to think this all started because jay thought you were some looooser and bet ni-ki that he couldn’t get you to date him. oh! and im sorry for posting that video of you.” he was pouting and batting his eyes. “don’t hate me.” jay and heeseung’s faces both looked so shocked and heeseung literally put his hand over jake’s mouth. your mouth fell open a little as you tried to process everything that was just said. ‘some loser’ ‘a bet’ those words burned and you felt like your heart was shattering right there. “i should go.” you forced a little smile and handed the water over to jay, backing away from them. “y/n wait..” jay spoke up but you had already turned and started to rush towards the exit. 

you thought that things were different with ni-ki, that he was one of the only people that actually gave you a chance. he made you feel safe and loved, he was someone you could just talk to for hours. was all of this just some silly little game to him? was your heart just something he could toy with? as you were walking out of the party, ni-ki was on his way in. his eyes caught a glimpse of you and he went to take your hand, “y/n where are you going?” you stayed right there your back to him, hand in his and using every ounce of strength you had to keep your tears in. “was it worth it?” your voice sounded so broken and he was confused until his phone buzzed, he glazed over the text from heeseung explaining what just happened. he shoved his phone right back into his pocket and he moved to stand in front of you, his hand still holding yours.  “y/n, baby, i can explain.” 

him moving to be in front of you wasn’t helping because now glancing up at him the tears just started to cascade down your cheeks. “explain? explain what? that you made a bet that you could date me? guess what riki, you fucking did that didn’t you? i bet you are so proud of yourself. god just leave me alone. i never want to see you again.” you shoved his hand away from yours and walked off leaving behind the boy you fell in love with and any shred of hope that people were still good. 

it had been three days since the party and your phone had been blowing up with messages from all of the guys. ni-ki had messaged the first day just a few times asking if the two of you could talk, but when you ignored him for the fifth time he got the hint. he was a mess too and you knew it only because the rest of the guys were messaging you over and over saying that this was their fault not ni-ki’s. that wasn’t helping any considering he could have said no. you had skipped your classes the last two days which is not like you in the slightest, but professors had to understand you just had your heart ripped out so that’s basically a medical emergency right? maybe this would have been easier if you had made some actual friends on campus, but the friends you made were the boys and obviously didn’t trust any of them right now either. 

you did the one thing you could think to do, packed up a bag and took the first flight home. you needed to get away from campus and have a slight reset. home was going to give that to you, there was no ni-ki there, none of the guys to come knock on your door, just you and your family. after the third day home you were starting to feel a little better. the feelings of betrayal were still very much there and you played a card game and when you won your instinct was to text ni-ki to let him know, but you couldn’t exactly do that. a big part of you missed what you had with him. you just had to remind yourself that it was probably all just fake. 

there was a knock on the door and your mom went to get it, you were on the couch reading to get caught up on some of your classwork. “y/n, honey it’s for you.” your mom called out which confused you because you weren’t expecting anyone. you got up and made your way over to the door pausing when you saw none other than ni-ki standing there. your mom had walked away when you made it to the door and you stared at him, “what are you doing here? how did you even find my house?” you questioned in a hushed tone. “well i remember you talking about it when we went on our first date. you said that you lived in the old house with the handprints in the sidewalk and named the street so.. i just walked down the street until i found the handprints.” you stepped outside and closed the door behind yourself, crossing your arms over your stomach. he remembered that? most people wouldn’t care to remember a detail like that. you needed to push that delusion from your head, he doesn’t care. or does he?

“i tried to give you your space, i really did and honestly sunoo told me flying here was a terrible idea, but it’s been almost a week and i am losing my mind y/n. none of it was fake.. nothing i said or did with you was fake. i know it started with not the best intentions and honestly i should have told you the minute i fell for you, but i didn’t want to lose you because i’m an idiot that took a bet.” he was rambling just a little and you were focused on the fact that he said he fell for you and it was real. everything he said and did with you was real. “you mean it?” you spoke finally which cut him off from going to say something else. “of course i mean it. i am so in love with you y/n that i literally hopped on a flight to go to some town i’ve never been to to walk up and down a street in hopes of finding the girl of my dreams.” 

you were hesitating on forgiving him because you weren’t completely sure if he was telling the truth, but your heart was screaming to forgive him because to be honest you are in love with him too. every little moment you two shared, every kiss, all the late night talks, the times you shared books, it was all just so comforting. “if you ever break my heart again nishimura riki i swear i won’t let you back in.” you moved in a little and he did as well. “i swear on everything in this world i won’t break your heart again.” the two of you shared a soft and sweet kiss on the door step. his hands on your waist, yours finding the comfortable spot around his shoulders. when your lips parted he smiled at you and you felt that happiness creeping back in. “so uh.. when am i going to meet my future in-laws?” he smirked as you gave him a teasing glace. 

a/n: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed this fic. i would love if you commented thought/opinions, liked, or reblogged!

c. enhanextdoor ; do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Seven: Under Pressure

The next morning, [Reader] woke up to the quiet hum of the city outside her window.

She blinked blearily at the empty space beside her, only to realize—Caleb was gone.

Her fingers brushed against the sheets, still warm from where he had slept. Then it clicked.

He must have left early for his first flight of the day.

With a soft sigh, she rolled out of bed and got ready for work.

As soon as she stepped into the ground control tower, a flurry of voices and rapid commands filled the space.

The storm had already begun rolling in, and the radio buzzed with transmission after transmission of rerouted flights struggling to land.

She was just settling into her station when an emergency call came in.

"Mayday, this is Flight 308. We have a passenger suffering from a heart attack. Requesting immediate priority landing clearance."*

Her stomach dropped at the voice on the other end.

Caleb.

"Flight 308, this is ATC," she responded quickly, her training kicking in. "Due to severe weather conditions, several runways are currently unavailable. We are assessing the safest landing option for you now."*

"Understood. Passenger is unresponsive—medical assistance needed ASAP."*

She clenched her jaw, eyes flicking over the control screens.

Almost all the active runways were occupied. Some flights were already circling, waiting for clearance. If they didn’t act fast—

"Tara," she called, turning to her colleague. "I need you to contact emergency services and have an ambulance waiting at Gate 12. Make sure the paramedics are ready to go the second that plane touches down."*

"On it," Tara nodded, already dialing the number.

[Reader] took a steadying breath before switching back to the transmission.

"Flight 308, diverting you to Runway C for immediate landing. Adjust your heading to 270 degrees and begin descent now. Tower will guide you in."*

"Copy that. Beginning descent."*

Her grip on the console tightened as she monitored the approach, her entire focus locked on ensuring Caleb and his passengers made it down safely.

Seconds stretched into eternity before—

"Flight 308, touchdown confirmed. Welcome to Linkon International."*

A collective breath of relief filled the control room.

She watched as the plane taxied toward the gate, where paramedics were already waiting.

"Nice work," Tara murmured beside her. "That was fast thinking."*

But [Reader] barely heard her, only feeling the tension ease slightly from her shoulders. Caleb had landed safely. That was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, at the Gate

Caleb sat in the cockpit, exhaling deeply.

"That was some quick landing," his co-pilot praised. "Not easy in this weather."*

"Wasn’t just me," Caleb replied, unbuckling his seatbelt. "The ground crew handled it well."*

As they finished their post-flight procedures, Liana approached, a smile curving her lips.

"You handled that so well, Caleb," she said smoothly. "You’ve always been good under pressure."*

The other crew members glanced between them, sensing familiarity in Liana’s tone.

"Wait, you two know each other?" one of them asked.

Liana tilted her head. "Of course. We were friends back in college."*

A murmur of intrigue passed through the crew.

But before the gossip could spread, Caleb shut it down immediately.

"We were batchmates. That’s all," he said firmly. "Nothing more."*

Liana’s smile stiffened for a split second before she laughed lightly. "Right. Just batchmates."*

But the curiosity in the air lingered.

Later, during break

[Reader] was just about to grab a coffee when her phone buzzed.

Liana Reyes: Meet me outside the terminal. We need to talk.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

She already knew this wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation.

Still, she sighed and headed to the meeting spot.

Liana was already there, arms crossed.

"You should break up with Caleb," Liana said the moment [Reader] arrived.

[Reader] raised a brow. "That’s bold of you."*

"I’m serious."* Liana stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You think you belong in his world? With his kind of family?"

[Reader] stiffened.

Liana smirked. "You don’t want people knowing who you really are, do you? The daughter of a mistress?"

Her stomach churned, but she kept her face unreadable.

"And what if Caleb finds out?" Liana continued, voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Do you really think he’ll look at you the same way?"

"I don’t know," a voice suddenly cut in. "Why don’t you ask me yourself?"

Both women turned—

And there stood Caleb.

His gaze was sharp, unwavering.

Liana’s confidence wavered for the first time. "Caleb—"

"You really think I didn’t already know?" he interrupted, crossing his arms. "That’s what you wanted to hold over her?"

Liana opened her mouth, but Caleb took a step closer, voice low.

"Listen to me, Liana," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I was never interested in you. Not in college. Not now. Not ever."*

Liana flinched slightly, her lips pressing together.

[Reader] watched in stunned silence.

Caleb’s gaze flicked to her, softer now. "You ready to go?"

She blinked before nodding. "Yeah."*

Without another word, Caleb took her hand, leading her away—leaving Liana standing there, her plan completely shattered.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos

[themareverine]

Hi!! For your valentines day event I was hoping to get a drabble with Charlie Kenton or Leopold! You pick! I'm leaving this totally up to you and PG-13 is okay, I'm 23 and use she/her pronouns o7

tysm!!

— Renaissance

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader

tags: fluff, some backstory added in for context, reader is an ex-girlfriend of Stuart's, Kate x Stuart mentions, definitely some blue balling of a kiss.

a/n: this definitely got away from me, honey! I haven't ever played with Leopold, and it was so much fun! This was quite the challenge. I've kinda been in a writing funk the last few days, so I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this, but, please enjoy it anyway, if you can!

☆ ── 💌FROM MARE WITH LOVE

They don’t lie about the city that never sleeps. 

It doesn’t, not truly. Sunlight may exit left and give way to starlight, but the city’s blood never stops pumping in its concrete veins. Forever time starved and anorexic in the thrumming life of a big city, there’s never enough of the twenty-four seven left.

The clock always spins out of control, there’s always a redline, nothing is ever on time but somehow, also, never truly late. 

Anonymous faces are millions among millions, rubbing elbows and fighting to look away all while never really accomplishing the task – one is truly nameless in a neverending current, without really even having to be anyone at all. 

New York is a Goliath that breathes unlike any other giant of its kind, and she didn’t really realize how right Hollywood got it until her sneakers had scuffed Jamaica Station’s dirty pavement three weeks ago, feet throbbing as her calf muscles all but lacerated from bone.

Still, the chill of spring cutting through her clothes kissed her in the early mornings, watching the fingers of skyscrapers reaching from the earth into flat, gray sky.

It had taken an hour tracking her luggage, fighting the hive of bodies at JFK on a Friday – that crushing feeling of being packed into open air like a sardine had her head spinning, buildings and street signs blurring together like watercolors. 

Veins of taxi-yellow had conquered her dreams the first night she’d dreamed, curled under comfortable blankets in her college best friend’s apartment — she’d lost a cab to a local, who’d all but shoved her off the curb with nothing so much as a by-your-leave. 

Cabs mocked her, public transportation chuckled and would shake its head, if possible, at the naive little lamb behind her eyes, taking in the wilds of the urban jungle all too much of the first time. 

Her first day alone in the city, Stuart had warned her not to venture far from the apartment without escort – his vacation from his mad scientist work didn’t start until the weekend. “We’ll go out and you can get your first taste of the city, just you wait — but stay here. Bart needs the company anyway,” he’d offered nothing else, naturally. Stuart never had felt a need to share important details. 

Simply just thrust the half-abandoned coffee in his Back to the Future mug into her hand as she took up the doorway to his room, speaking around the pencil between his teeth as he wrangled into a jacket.  

And Bart was quiet enough, sure. She liked dogs — her parents had four of them at the farm, coupled with the flocks of geese and chicken, horses and the odd smattering of dairy cows laying around the lazy sunlight of spring. 

They’d all but donned black in grief when she announced she would be taking time in New York to see Stuart, the man she was supposed to be married to, if heaven allowed. 

Overwhelmed at the prospect of their progeny returning to the only man who had ever bothered to date her romantically, they’d deflated as soon as the evidence became irreconcilable — Stuart’s girlfriend, Kate, would be only a phone call away if she needed anything. 

Her mother had gasped so audibly it could be heard from the team currently bunking at the International Space Station. 

But where Bart was good company she could handle, Stuart’s unexplained roommate — Leo, no, Leopold right? –  was not.

Very much unexplained, actually, his presence in her ex’s apartment.

Stranger things certainly happened within the lines of New York City, she knew. And Stuart hadn’t felt it necessary to share this information with her the first night in.

What a guy. 

She’d almost felt her heart eviscerating into atoms when she’d padded out of Stuart’s room in socks, a too-big Batman T-shirt and sleeping shorts — thank God she's opened to sleep clothed. Looking like hell warmed over and in desperate need of caffeine, to boot.

Stuart didn’t possess a mirror in his room, and a passing glance by the TV offered somewhat of a reflection that confirmed she’d slept like the dead. Hair similar to something from the 80s, wilding in every direction – hadn’t even bothered.

Why would she? This was Stuart’s apartment, he confirmed he lived alone. Or, well — had. Past tense. 

Last night’s booze from Stuart’s tragic supply of in-apartment food still lingered in the back of her mouth, threatened to make a reappearance when Leopold had just  stood up from the couch in the living space, stretching long arms over his head in a catlike, very-much-there stretch. 

Stars aligned and her anatomy reborn in places you don’t confess, in the blink of an eye. As he’d come about sharply on his foot, wide eyed and milk white with surprise, as if she were the unexpected intrusion into Stuart’s little apartment. 

Three weeks ago she’d thrown War and Peace at the Duke of Albany’s head, all but threatening decapitation. An offense that, in Leopold’s time, surely, would have her head rolling. 

She believed him, of course. Why would he lie about time travel? Why would Stuart have scientific evidence and K-Mart photographs, all for lies? Stuart didn’t even like K-Mart.

He could barely carry on a conversation with the same barista he’d been getting coffee from for three years. 

It wasn't unthinkable, time travel. God himself had parted seas, held the sun in place for Joshua. Time travel was not beyond the realm of the Almighty, reasons aside.

How and why didn’t really matter, not in the blip of a grand scheme of a person’s life — Leopold had stumbled into the modern age for a reason, bless him. For what, who was to know? 

Divisions of her were grateful, three weeks into the arrangement, to not be the only one in the city not from here. To have company that understood the shock and awe of new wonders, of a city with it’s own voice.

Leopold was as naive and innocent to this world as she was to New York, a combination she found riveting and more thrilling than she’d admit in therapy. A renaissance man in an era that had forgotten renaissance. 

What a trip. “Lost in your thoughts again, hm?” 

Jarred by the light brush of Leopold’s hand against the back of her own as they cut through the bodies clogging  the afternoon sidewalk, she tucks a little closer to his side. Rests a stabilizing hand on his arm, trying not to knock into those waiting at the crosswalk. 

Often during these last three weeks, she got so lost thinking not only about Leopold’s situation, but him — how he takes up more space than God, but not in an aggressive way. A smile as bright and lovely as any Monet, that races the sun.

How his otherworldly charm cracks like a whip when he wants it to but isn’t cutting or belittling to those without — and the way he moves. Regal and alive in a way that’s as raw and natural as the world beneath her feet. 

He’s more alive than any man she’d ever known, so otherworldly. 

Reading a thousand fantasy manuscripts in her nine-to-five had ruined her for most men in the world, the idea so far away in between pages font choice. Nobody of Leopold’s caliber existed outside of fiction, she’d stake her life on it. The upper echelon was an understatement—people just didn’t dare dream about men like him.

A prince charming on a white horse— minus the horse and the Cinderella-esque backdrop. 

“Yeah, just a little,” her spine straightens a little more as his hand comes to linger at the low of her back, a sort of medieval courtesy that’s only ever written about. It sparks low embers in the fire of her gut as they cross the street with the others, she nods towards the subway stairs cutting down into the earth,  “Sorry, just—thinking. We’re going this way, I think,” puffing out a breath, “if my sense of direction is right.”  

He hums quietly, taking to her left to allow her access to the stair’s rail, “You possess more of a head for direction than any other woman I’ve had the pleasure to know,” he chuckles, his elbow extending politely, the nod of his chin gesturing for her to loop her arm through his.

“I trust you implicitly in this, my dear.” 

My dear.

Her heart kicks like a mule against her ribs.

“Such blind faith you have, Leo,” her nose scrunches, and she dips her gaze to her feet lest he notice the pop of color on her cheeks, “Could be leading us to Timbuktu for all you know—I’ve never been to New York. You probably know this city better than me, my lord.” 

His chest rumbles with a low, pleasant chuckle that’s almost growling.

“A venture to Timbuktu does not sound so unpleasant, such company considered."

His smile is genuine, nearly flawless—wrinkles around his eyes deepen with the effort as he leans in to whisper in her ear, “And—do be careful about such flattery, my lady. I’m prone to blushing under the attentions of the fairer sex.”  

Heat pouncing into the pit of her stomach, she swallows the gaps that threaten to knock her back teeth.

For all of a few seconds she expects to be speechless, but his endlessly charming wink produced a wry little smile of her own. 

“Is that right?” Elbowing him gently in the ribs, she giggles, “You don’t strike me as the type to blush, Leo,” brushing a curl behind her ear, “especially not with the ladies—not with all that suave charm. I still can’t believe you’re not married in your world,”

It's a topic she’d been hesitant to address, but he’d assured her he didn’t mind discussion the affairs of marriage over the course of their quick and blossoming companionship.

“But I understand. To give your heart away is a divine act. To love, well — that’s selfless. And hard.” 

He nods, once. Firmly. Too firmly for a man of his stature.

“Indeed. If I recall my uncle’s frustrations properly, ‘tis one of my many fiercely tiresome flaws, I’m afraid,” the venom behind his words is contained, but on a blade’s edge. Wlilling to fly at any moment.

The muscle in his jaw ticks with effort, “And to love is to be selfless, certainly, though in some cases it demands more of us than we think we can bear.” 

Weighty shadows behind his eyes shoves her into silent corners. 

Her arm slides through his proffered one like it’s the easiest thing in the world, more at home at his side than she’s ever felt. Leopold leads her down the stairs graciously, hand over hers on his arm in a sort of protection she’d only ever seen depicted in period films.

The landing comes up quickly, and he guides her a little closer to his side in the crowd, until her hip brushes his. And how the fibers of her jacket kiss the little pull of Stuart’s leather jacket draped across his frame may as well topple mountains in her soul.

The maw of the subway track looms beyond them, dark and ominous, more dungeon-esque than she’d ever imagined.

People pile in. Open air shrinks around them rapidly, forcing her to a snug against Leopold’s side that, by all counts, is far too intimate for her conservative liking.

He doesn’t seem to mind, however, too busy watching people and eyeballing for the train. She can feel the thrum of his heart from here, the bite of aftershave he’d borrowed from Stuart so alive on his skin it may as well reach out to smack her. 

His hand firms over hers still looped through his arm, the rumble of an engine in the darkness signaling the arrival of their train.

“Extraordinary,” he shakes his head, marveled as the subway comes up quickly in a burst of light and steel. It pulls to a sharp stop as the doors pop open with a static hiss, and Leopold is frozen in an airy, almost fond, wonder. 

“Whoever would have thought, beneath this very city. Boggling, simply wondrous.”  

Taking her arm, he tugs her forward into the car not at all unlike an eager child. A sweeping gaze down the length of the car and Leopold decides they will stand, reaching above his head for the standing bar.

His chest opens to a broad that empties her mouth of any and all moisture as she collects her breathing, straightens the line of her long jacket. 

She situates her purse when Leopold’s arm gently slips around her shoulders, drawing her into his chest beneath his arm. His smile down at her is soft, a tender gaze considering the features of her face as she shyly peers up at him through her lashes.

Here against his ribs, she can feel the throb of his heart, how his lungs fill with breath and empty steadily, like the rising of the sun. 

And he’s so beautiful, so everything she’d only ever wrote about in diaries and film and poetry she’d never showed the world. 

His warmth intoxicates her blood, she’s keening beneath his quiet shadow — she can’t breathe properly when his gaze drops from her eyes to her mouth.

It’s that Hollywood moment everyone talks about, but few ever experience, and her skin explodes with chill when he manages to pull in a sharp little inhale that straightens his spine, squares back his shoulders. 

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, her toes curl within her sneakers — it’s almost surely that moment. Her brain laps with the thought of kissing him, wondering how he’d taste; experiencing for the first time how a kiss could shatter the very glass ceiling of the known universe. 

At one point in her life, she’d never imagined kissing anyone but Stuart—the man her parents loved like a son. How long ago that felt, almost as if it were another lifetime, on another planet. 

She can’t fathom how, in any time, he’d be the right man when the right man stands right in front of her. 

His arm around her shoulders shifts to gently skip his thumb along her arm, tenderly. “Do you know you are beautiful thing?”

A small smile forms around the words when her eyes snap up, breathlessly, and Leopold drops his hand from the standing bar above them to tip her chin up with tender fingers, “I have seen many women in my time, but few so fiercely beautiful,” his eyes hold hers, and she can’t help but notice he swallows a little breath.

“Stuart is a foolish man, letting you slip away if he truly once possessed you as his own. Unimaginable.” 

Tears well behind her lashes, his warmth pounding at walls around her heart. The way he looks at her, his eyes soft and so deeply honest, rattles her places she can’t quite identify. It’s like ripping open heavy curtains to a darkened room deprived of sunlight, flinching at pervasive light. Hurts, but in a good way—like removing a thorn. 

And there are thorns to remove, many of them — Stuart had contributed little to what the world has done. 

Looking away, she goes to step out from beneath his arm. Leopold retaliates, pressing her closer, his arm firm along her shoulders. Unyielding, like a sentinel pillar.

Wanting to rest a hand on his chest, she pulls it away as if he is a furnace — the heavy throb of his heart beneath her hand is all too hot, all too intimate, to fathom. 

His brow lifts, curiously, “It would please me if you’d allow me to kiss you,” with all seriousness he graces her with title, breath shallow and even.

He edges her a little closer, and almost mindlessly, she lifts on her toes to meet his angle.

“I’ve wanted to do so since the first moment I heard you say my name.” His lower lip rolls in, tempted, “Say my name. Speak it, and I’ll be yours.” 

It escapes her, suddenly, how many times she’s said his name in the last three weeks — but it doesn’t matter. Now it takes on an entirely new meaning, a weight that threatens to change the small universe between them.

Only able to be reborn beneath his gaze, she feels her chest swelling with warm pride—with a riotous joy that rattles her all the way down. 

Never had she imagined hearing such words, such love. In seconds, she’s Aphrodite, lost to the ages in the weight of his gaze, adrift in his words. Who even spoke like that, anymore? Nobody, she knows — nobody here, nobody like you. It only could be the words of a man out of time, a man in renaissance.  

Weighing the weight of his name on her tongue, she swallows how wrong the short of Leo feels, now.

He can never be Leo again — Leo was a man shacking up with her ex boyfriend in New York City, starry eyed and funny in his innocence. A friend, someone she could enjoy talking to. 

He no longer existed. Leopold took his place, burying any boyish fantasy between them.

He was a man, standing like the sun, extending to her a sort of thing only ever envisioned. Where Leo was a boyish wonder, Leopold was a man of purpose, driven. Powerful. Man enough to bend the very boughs of time and space. 

Her lips form around the syllables and consonants of his name. And it tastes so good, a sweet thing that she’ll dine on with every breath God decides to lend.

How many times does she say his name to make him hers? A hundred? A thousand?

Uncountable lifetimes of him would never be enough. 

So she says it again, again, again and again. 

“Leopold.” 

@sidkneeeee

@thevoicefromanotherworld

@misscrissfemmefatale

@eternallyfrustratedwriter

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@laaadygisbooornex3

@itsafullmoon

@kmc1989

@steviebbboi

@matronmothercrone

[putalabelonit]

Fics Based on a Tag:

Athlete!Sterek

••••••

"Down by Contact", "Hail Mary", "Blood Sport", & "Black Monday" (E) 🏈 by standinginanicedress | 619,755 | “You’re eighteen now, Mr. Hale. You’ve got scholarships to think about – you want all that taken away because you can’t stop punching a childhood rival?” Derek goes quiet and says not a word, nothing. Barely reacts. Just silence and a frown. Stiles knows for a solid fact that if Derek Hale gets into Beacon it will be on nothing more than a football scholarship – because Stiles also knows for a solid fact that Derek would never be able to make the grades to get into that school for academics. It would be a full ride, because as much as Stiles hates Derek even he has to admit the kid is good at playing ball, or at least, that’s what everyone says. It’s not like Stiles is lining up to go to those games.

"the distance between us" (E) 🏒 by elisela | 74,276 | Derek hadn’t dated much in college—he hasn’t dated much at all since either if he’s being truthful, and nothing that could even resemble a relationship. A few dates during the off-season, a hook-up occasionally if he needed it, but Derek’s always been fairly content to be single. Until he got to know Stiles.

"Versus" (E) ⚽ by secondstar | 94,521 | At age nineteen, Stiles Stilinski was the next big thing, according to The Guardian. It was surreal, not being able to turn on Sky Sports without hearing his name mentioned along with the names of players he grew up idolizing. Stiles couldn’t believe that this was his life.

"Sox and Bombers" 🔒 (E) ⚾ by Nanoochka | 17,450 | They didn’t normally discuss their games in deference to the sanctity of their respective teams and the ancient Yankees/Red Sox rivalry, but Derek had to admit it was nice to combine shoptalk and pillow talk with someone who understood. Still, Stiles was the enemy, even if Derek did spend an awful lot of time consorting with him. If by consorting you meant fucking him into the mattress.

"ahead in the count" (E) ⚾ by elisela | 50,705 | Stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY Mets when he meets and falls in love with Derek. Derek doesn’t know.

"take a step before running" 🔒 (E) 🏒 by magneticwave | 7,314 | Stiles wants to win for America, okay? He wants to bone that constipated expression off of Derek Hale’s face on a bed strewn with American flags while Bruce Springsteen plays in the background and a bald eagle watches through the window with a single tear rolling down its cheek.

••••••

There are actually fewer than I'd thought. Let me know if you know any others I should add.

[rafesapple]

something stupid

art donaldson x 365 party girl reader

warnings

smoking,cursing,c0ke mention,light smut(reader getting off), bitchy reader?

You’d met art originally after winning the junior when you were eighteen(going onto nineteen that same year) though only briefly. By that time Tashi and him were already engaged, in their early twenties. You were young, getting ready to go into college..of course, you thought he was a bit attractive but he was too old for you and engaged. September 12, 2010 During the afterparty for your win, you smile while taking a picture with your trophy for the press, and you notice art and Tashi together. You were surprised they stayed, well..thinking he had to practice or they had to prepare for their wedding or something.

You come over to greet them, after all, Tashi was a promising young player..before her accident. Art was a well-known player now and won his junior open around this age. Of course, you wanted… communication..with them. “hi…Art donaldson..and Tashi Duncan correct?” you asked coming closer to them. They both replied at the same time with a yes, then Tashi spoke up first after “Congratulations on your win for the junior open.” you smiled “Oh thank you, um congratulations on your engagement?” you laughed nervously, they both laughed for a moment then he spoke up “so you know of us well I take?” “well you won so many tournaments..and Tashi by your side..but also back then amazing on her own.” He looked at you while tilting his head “So you must do your research for tennis?” you laugh “Well yes. I like to know of others' strategies..also if I’m playing against someone I watch theirs also.” Your coach calls you before you can speak to them “Oh I should..” they both tell you, you should go and that was the last time you’d talk to them, rarely ever see them in person.

You lay in the hotel bedroom late at night(thankfully your parents had a separate room) you log onto your computer going onto the web browser. You bite your lip, deciding to search for his name. It wasn’t..wrong was it? He was attractive… you go through a couple of his plays quietly watching. You were getting wet. Your fingers end up in your lace panties gently running over your clit as you watch him play, you’d slow down every time it went to his opponent and sped up once he came on screen. You’d whine and moan quietly as you’d get that fuzzy feeling every few moments. After he’d won they’d set up an interview “f-fuck!” you’d whine out going faster as he spoke, your breaths became heavier and it was so wet now, your finger even slipping every few moments.

2019

Before you walk into a sports store you take a quick moment to smoke, then stepping on it after throwing it on the ground. You stepped in needing a new racket, you’d been using the same one for the past year and needed a new one for the season. As you shove the cigarette pack in your back pocket you walk over to the aisle filled with tennis rackets. After a moment you look over seeing a young girl looking up at the rackets, she looked familiar but whatever… “you into tennis?” you asked her raspily, you were still a little tired

“yea! my dad plays!” “Mmm so you wanna play..?” she nodded her head, you had a slight soft spot for kids. You look around for a guardian or parent before she asks if you played “Yeah…I don’t care for it much but I’m still playing..” “Oh.. my dad won a bunchh of tournaments!” you hum trying to think of someone who her dad could’ve been, and there you see him.

Art Donaldson, the one you’d been a little obsessed with almost 10 years ago. “Lily- you can’t run off like that.” he spoke gently to her, grabbing her hand “Yeah but I wanted the racket now!” she argued back, and he looked back up at you, he likely wouldn’t recognize you, your body and face matured. Probably wouldn’t help with the eye bags underneath your eyes “Oh uh sorry, I hope she didn’t bother you too much.” you clear your throat “It’s fine..she was just telling me about you.” “oh-was she?” An awkward silence falls, “you uh- look familiar.” you scoffed out a laugh “You sure do..art Donaldson, correct?” He lets go of Lily’s hand letting her look back at the tennis rackets, though you speak up before he can “I won the female 2011 junior open..you might not remember.”

“oh..oh! Yes…I remember vaguely..” he smiled so prettily like he wasn’t going through a fucking divorce. “How is Tashi?” you asked while looking at the tennis rackets “Oh..we’re not going to be together soon..” he spoke quietly “Oh,” you spoke dryly, you felt a bit bad but why should you care? You grab the racket you’d already picked out beforehand “i’ll see you around.” You felt a little bad being a bit..mean but you had things to get done..meaning practice then go drink likely.

a week later You’d been warming up after you’d stepped onto the court, being a bit lazily with it for this tournament. It wasn’t like this was a well known player whatever… you look up in the seeing fucking art Donaldson. What.the.hell. You were playing this tournament mainly for the money, after this you started seriously stretching and warming up. The announcer calls out for you to serve.

For the first time in a while, you played..seriously. It was only because Art Donaldson was watching. That’s why..whatever…You hold the medal up as they take the picture, then going off to pack your bags up. You jump hearing his voice behind you. “Jesus fucking chr…art.” you spoke turning around to see him “You did good out there.” he congratulated you “Oh um..thanks.” you spoke choked up

“Can I ask why your here..?” he paused for a moment “I wanted..well to see you play.” “why.” you speak blatantly while staring at him with dead eyes.“I’m bored.” he mutters for only you to hear. “I mean… I just think you're a good player.. 'm..obviously retired so..” Art felt like his teenage self again, just like with Tashi…what? He thought to himself. You cleared your throat speaking up again “So has Lily started playing?” you asked “Yeah.. I’ve been teaching her..but I don’t wanna do it for long if I have to..not all the time at least.” he spoke looking over your shoulder.

After a few more weeks, you swore that man came for every game, unfortunately after this game, you’d lost you of course went to go..well. You sit outside the locker room pulling out the baggie about to sniff on it, but you scream hearing Art call your name “shit.. I didn’t mean to scare y..” he spoke softly then seeing the baggie “fucking christ art! you scared me!” “Oh. Oh..” he realized but then he just continued,like he didn’t see it.

“Do you wanna uh..get dinner..together,” he asked while messing with his fingernails. you put the baggie in your purse “What..?” you choke out, thank god you weren’t high. “do you want to get dinner with me.” “oh..uh..you paying?” he laughed “Yeah. yeah I’ll pay.” he smiled while staring at you for a moment. “I’ll go change right quick,” you speak dryly once more. “alright.” Art hated feeling like this, that hormonal teenager who jerked off with Patrick or got so hard when he saw Tashi. He waited so nervously picking at his nails and skin, a bad habit.

After about an hour you sit in a fast food restaurant eating a burger and fries with slightly damp hair “What?” you ask as Art stares at you sipping on his drink “Are you embarrassed that you're what like..thirty something eating at a fast food restaurant with a twenty eight year old?” “Your twenty eight?” he asked “I'm twenty seven turning twenty eight soon,so practically twenty eight.” “so.. twenty seven?” he teased “Shut up! Go get me a refill,” you spoke handing him your empty plastic cup. As he comes back he hands you the cup back, seeing the tattoo on your wrist “You have a tattoo?” he asks continuing to eat “Oh.yeah… I have a couple..” he nods “Did it hurt?” you swallow your food clearing your throat “not really, it was one of my first ones.” then you continue sipping on your drink, you watch him take his phone out, holding it out with a blank contact on the screen. “what?” you asked while staring and sipping “can I have your number.” he’d asked while looking at your wrist to avoid eye contact.

You grab it typing your contact in and name in. You go to his camera taking a picture, and then setting it as the contact photo. He stared once more in a daze while you did this. “-did you hear me? Here.” you spoke while getting up and snapping him out of it. “oh uh-than-“ you cut him off grabbing your purse “Later.” you said as you walked off Thankfully your lift got here as you stepped out of the restaurant, you got in messing with your nails at first. You look down at your phone, you just gave him your phone number and you already wanted his text. Never mind that you should focus on something else “I wanna go clubbing..” you mutter to yourself.

The next weekend you had gotten off, deciding to go clubbing with a couple of friends..though they had all either left or went off with some dude or girl. You sit at the bus stop drunk while you smoke a cigarette. “oh.” you realized buses don’t run this late, you didn’t wanna call a lift, and you hated getting into a stranger's car late..you don’t know who to call. You lay your head on the bus wall but your body falls onto the bench. You pull out your phone lazily, you don’t even focus on the contact.

Art’s voice comes through groggily “Hello?” he groaned out before recognizing your name and clearing his throat. You whine loudly “Come pick me up..” you rasped out still not recognizing his voice “I..is everything alright?” he’d asked while spoke a bit worried as you heard him shuffling out of bed. “oh..it’s art..” you spoke holding your head as you sat up “art-! come pick me up..” you whined out drunkly. After 20 minutes you're laying back on the bench once more as Art pulls to the side of the road. “hey..” he rushed over watching you start to fall over, he holds you in his arms “shit..why’d you get so drunk..” he murmured to himself as he pushed your hair out your face. “take me home..” you whined in his ear…Art got..just a bit hard, he just wanted to put it in your sopping wet, tight cun-

“art!!” “alright…I’m getting you home..” he muttered trying to pick you up, though you started to gag he quickly led you away, letting you throw up. After you finished he settled you into the passenger seat then got into the driver's side. He looked at you for a moment making sure you were okay..though you’d taken his water bottle and started drinking it. He wondered why the hell you got yourself so drunk.

Fuck. He didn’t know where you lived…

“Art..art! Art..” you repeat over and over, he looks over at you you grab his thigh tightly while looking at him drunkenly. He muttered a “fuck.” while keeping eye contact with you “We..should get you home..can you give me your-“ he quiets down watching how close you get to him, leaning in to kiss him.

He turns to face the front of the car clearing his throat, he removed your hand “Let’s..um get you home.” he rejected you. he took away the moment. He..he embarrassed you. You furrow your eyebrows, looking out the other window, holding back your tears. Stupid bastard, you thought while holding it in. As he drives into your neighborhood, he pulls on the side of the road in front of your house “Hey..get some re-“ You cut off Art, slamming his car door roughly as you walk up to the front door. He licks his lips while holding his jaw as he watches you slam your front door. He fucked up.