#I remember texting you when I started watching the first episode

[jeo9n]

INSTAGRAM

you’ve been texting jungkook on instagram non stop ever since he opened his account as a joke. but what you didn’t expect was for him to actually text you back.

౨ৎ

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers, future smut

warnings: none

wordcount: 2k

you get woken up by your alarm at exactly 6am. like everyday, you open your eyes and the first thing you do is check your phone. catching up with everything that happened while you were asleep. texting your friends back that live in a different time zone than you.

you’re tired but you get out of bed anyway. you have to get ready for work. even if your body is screaming for you to stay in bed.

the first thing you do is make your bed so it prevents from laying back down. you already took a shower yesterday night, which you thank yourself as it saves you time this morning. so all you have to do is brush your teeth and wash your face.

when you’re done with that you make yourself a coffee and start to get dressed. you keep your outfit simple with some baggy jeans and a black long sleeve top because you’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. you always make sure to never leave the house without spraying perfume everywhere on your body. you forgot to but some on one day as you were running late, only noticing when you were already at work and someone might say it’s stupid but you didn’t feel good that day, you didn’t feel like yourself without your sweet perfume. you love to smell good, you love getting compliments on your scent, you love people smelling you before they even see you.

ever since that you never forgot to put perfume on again, but carrying around a travel size bottle of your favorite perfume in your bag just in case.

you pet your cats goodbye one last time before you leave your apartment. you hate leaving them home alone but thankfully they have each other so they are not really "alone" but it still hurts you.

you’re already on the way to the small coffee shop that you work at , as you remember you haven’t texted your boyfriend (jungkook) a good morning text yet. so you pull your phone at your pocket and text him right away. the chat is filled with hundreds of your messages texting him random stuff about how your day was and occasionally sending him some memes and reels you thought were funny.

y/n: good morning jungkoookkk!!

y/n: i’m on my way to work.

y/n: you’re probably asleep but have a good day.

you smile to yourself as you double text him. your not texting him in hopes to get a text back, cause that would be crazy. i mean, that guys is crazy famous of course he’s not going to text me back. you just think it’s funny, although sometimes you think it’s actually kinda weird and you should probably stop, but you never actually do.

as you open the door to your workplace you’re instantly greeted with the delicious smell of coffee, which reminds you, you still have your empty cup of coffee in your hands which you forgot to throw away. your coworker greets you good morning as she looks up from behind the counter.

"good morning. leslie." you greet back as you throw your coffee away. "ugh i really don’t feel like working today." you tell her, while taking of your jacket. she laughs and agrees with you.

"girl, i literally stayed up all night binge watching true crime documentaries." she tells me. "look at my eye bags! i can’t even cover them up with makeup." she says as she lifts up her hand to show me her dark eye bags. "but i guess it’s my own fault. i knew i should’ve turned the tv off after the first episode." she says in frustration and it makes me laugh. i can totally relate to her. you tell yourself one more episode and suddenly the sun comes up and you finished the whole show, wondering where the time went.

happened to me one too many times.

"yea…" you say, tying your apron at you back. "been there, done that." and she smiles softly in response. "should i make you a coffee? cause you really look like you need one." you tell her as you point to your eye bags, mocking her.

she laughs and kicks you jokingly "yes please! make it extra strong."

"will do." you say in a laugh, already on your way to the coffee machine. it’s definitely gonna be a long day for leslie today.

you put the coffee down carefully, not trying to spill the hot coffee all over the counter. "here you go, extra strong for you, your highness. " you bow to her jokingly while laughing like an idiot.

"you’re so stupid." she laughs with you, bringing the coffee up to her lips, trying to take a sip.

you worked a little longer today as usual since it was busy. but you don’t mind. working extra hours means extra money and you would never complain about that.

you take you shoes off and wash your hands as soon as you get home. after that you change into more comfy close just some sweatpants and hoodie and you already feel way better. you walk to your kitchen to feed your cats, who are acting like you leave them out to starve and never feed them. after your done with that you wash your hands again and make yourself something to eat since you only had breakfast today. you decide for pizza today as it doesn’t take long to be ready. you shove it into the oven and while you wait you brows through your phone. you lean against the counter and watch some tiktok’s to make to the time go by faster.

the pizza is done in under 20 times. thankfully. you cannot wait longer or else your stomach is gonna start eating itself. you sit down on your couch with your pizza on your lap. you try to take a bite but it’s still too hot so start browsing through netflix instead to find something to watch while your eating. when you find something your pizza has cooled down already so you start eating.

after your done, you get up and do the dishes right away so you don’t have to worry about it later. after that you decide to take a bath since you haven’t done that in a while and after that hectic day today you really need it.

the warm water hugs your body as you lay down in your bathtub. you feel your body start to relax enjoying the temperature of the water. your eyes are closed as you hear the notification sound from your phone, but you ignore it. you feel so comfortable right now you don’t want to move. so you stay put, enjoying this bath maybe a little too much.

after like twenty minutes you start to get bored and the water has gone cold, so you decide it’s time to get out. you quickly wash your body and get out. you do you skincare and brush your teeth while your body dries, after that you put some vanilla bodylotion on, quickly change into your pyjamas and head to bed, your cats joining you seconds after. one sleeps on top the pillow next to you while the one sleeps between your legs.

you go to grab your phone from your nightstand, checking it one last time before you go to sleep. your just scrolling trough your notifications not thinking anything by it. you stop at one particular notification and your hearts starts to beat faster. sitting straight in your bed, rubbing your eyes to make sure your seeing correctly. you cannot believe what you’re seeing.

jeon jungkook has fucking texted you back.

not only once. he double texted you back.

is this really happening right now?

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: woww! how long have you been texting me for ? there are like a thousand messages lol

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: i hope you had good day at work! i just woke up.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: i saw your message and there are so many. i felt bad so i texted back. looked like your were talking to yourself haha.

wait. i cannot believes this. am i dreaming?

your hands shake and you’re not sure what to text back. should i even text back? would he text back again?

i take a deep breath. my head is going crazy right now.

after you collected yourself , you text back.

y/n: lol this is awkward.

y/n: i wasn’t thinking you would actually text back.🫣

y/n: i hope my message weren’t bothering you or anything.

you struggle sending the message back cause your hands won’t stop shaking. but can you blame me? the love of my life just texting me back and my stupid ass ignored it because of that stupid bath i took.

i bite on my nails nervously, my heart is beating so fast it might jump out of my chest at any minute.

i wait for an answer back, which is stupid, i know.

just because he texted me back one time doesn’t mean he’s going to do it again.

you know he won’t. but still, you wait.

you wait for like an hour until you realize he’s actually not responding anymore so you decide to go sleep. or try to go to sleep i should say, since your mind won’t stop thinking about what had just happened.

after a while you eventually fall asleep after what felt like hours.

the next morning you get woken up again by your alarm. this time you grab your phone a little faster than usual. scrolling through your notifications with tired but curious eyes.

you eyes widen as you find his notification again.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: haha no, you don’t bother me. i read through your messages last night.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: you’re funny haha.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: judging by the time i usually get the first message from you, i should get a message soon right?

you read the last text and it says sent an hour ago.

okay wait. he texted again? and he thinks i’m funny?

im definitely dreaming because there is no way that this is fucking happening.

your thumbs moves fast as you reply to him.

y/n: no way!!!

y/n: am i dreaming?? please tell me im not

y/n: is this really jungkook?

y/n: no, it can’t be

y/n: is someone playing with me?

someone definitely must be playing with you. because what do you mean jeon jungkook texted me back not one, but twice?

you actually cannot believe it yourself. this is crazy.

you wait a little bit to see if he’ll respond again. but nothing comes so you start getting ready for work.

how am i going get through work today, when all i can think about is him. you think to yourself.

~~~~

i hope you enjoy this chapter because im definitely excited about this fanficton ahhh

[fireinmoonshot]

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquín notices everything – even when you get a small hair cut. Warnings: It's mentioned that reader has hair long enough to braid. Word Count: 838 A/N: Just another smaller drabble tonight – inspired by me getting my hair cut this week (and dyed, but I figured it was a little too specific to have the reader dye their hair blue like mine) 😅 This was so sweet to write though, so please enjoy 💗

Over the course of your relationship with Joaquin, you’ve heard many stories from your friends about how their boyfriends never notice when they get their hair done or get a hair cut. You, on the other hand, happen to be dating one of the most observant men on the planet. 

It’s no secret that Joaquin is easily distracted. If it were anyone else, Joaquin wouldn’t even blink twice. He remembers one time that he worked alongside someone for a whole month before noticing that they’d shaved their head. But with you it’s different. With you, he notices everything – even the smallest things.

Which is why, when you come home from the hair salon with a small trim, Joaquin notices. You hadn’t had time to tell him when you’d rushed out of the house earlier that day – you’d overslept and had been rushing to make it there on time. Joaquin had still been fast asleep and had woken up to a text from you saying you had an appointment and you’d be back a little later.

He’s sitting on the couch playing a video game when you walk in the front door. The second he hears your keys in the front door he presses pause and stands up so he can greet you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all day and he’s missed you. 

“Ah, mi corazón, you’re home,” he hums, walking over to pull you into a hug. He’s two steps away from you when he notices your hair. He reaches out, touching the ends of it. “You got your hair cut?”

You look at him, a little surprised. “I only got a trim, baby. How could you even tell?”

Joaquin shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know, I could just see that it was shorter.” He wraps his arms around you, then, pulling you into his chest in a hug like he’d planned on doing before he’d noticed your haircut. “I’m a very observant guy. It looks good.”

You smile into his chest. “That, you are, and thank you. Were you playing a game?” You could see the paused screen on the TV as you walked into the room. Joaquin is probably one of the only men alive who would willingly pause their video game to hug their partner to welcome them home after being apart for a couple of hours. You have never once had to beg Joaquin to turn off his games or pull him away from the screen to get him to do things around the house.

“I was, yeah,” Joaquin nods, pulling away from the hug. “You wanna come and watch me play for a bit? Or I can turn on a movie or the next episode of our show.” Joaquin is probably also one of the only boyfriends who never watches the show that you watch together when he’s alone. It’s your thing as a couple, even if he gets invested and gets annoyed that he has to wait for the next episode until you both have free time.

You wrap an arm around his waist. “Can we watch a movie?” 

Joaquin agrees, leading you over to the couch and sitting down beside you. You curl up against his side, draping an arm across his chest and resting your head on his shoulder as he turns off the game and opens up Netflix to find something to watch. With his free hand that isn’t holding the TV remote, he reaches up and starts to play with your hair. He twists some of it around his fingers, then just runs his fingers through it a few times. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little confused. Joaquin is not the type of person to keep his hands to himself, but he’s never been known to play with your hair before. Not in situations like this, anyway.

He glances over at you. “Your hair is at the perfect length now for me to play with it when we’re sitting like this,” he says simply. “Also, I was thinking – maybe I should learn to braid. I could help you do your hair sometimes when we go out, and if we have kids it means you won’t have to do their hair all the time and I can be the cool dad who braids his kids hair.”

You don’t think it’s actually possible for you to love Joaquin more than you already do. 

“You wanna learn how to braid?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs a shoulder – the one you’re not leaning on. “I’ve actually already been watching some Youtube videos on it but it’s hard to learn when I don’t have someone to practice on.”

You sit up, taking Joaquin off guard. He looks at you, a little concerned. “We’re gonna watch a movie another night, baby,” you decide, turning around so your back is to him. “Tonight, you’re gonna practice braiding hair.” 

Joaquin is suddenly excited. He sits up a little straighter, eyes wide. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” you chuckle. “Show me what you’ve been learning.”

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. episode 08: lost in the fire.

preview: " . . . Without a second glance, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot, his voice low and taunting. “I don’t feel guilt, doll.”

“I…” you cannot put into words how you feel, it feels as though you had swallowed your tongue and any smart retort you had prepared is thrown out of the window. Shuji notices the change in your expression, how you went from being incredibly affected by his words to nothing all of a sudden. There’s an emptiness behind your eyes as you nod at him. “You’re right.”

And then you were gone. ."

word count: 5,3k

content warning: nsfw warning! heavy smut, choking, biting, n!pple sucking, unprotected s/x, not enough foreplay, jealousy.

༉‧₊˚. note: happy new years :) starting 2025 with a new chapter! thank you to my amazing best friend @aurelianamu for being my beta reader and helping point out mistakes and things that needed serious editing! i am still on a hiatus, but enjoy reading. thank you!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

➜ MASTERLIST

Hanma openly admits his vocabulary isn’t exactly expansive, chalking it up to his teenage self choosing cigarettes over books, biker gangs over libraries and nasty fights over going to school. Only that he knows a couple of words, they’re still insufficient when he is facing this hurricane of emotions and fails to locate the heart of it. He can’t pull the plug on something that’s blurry, so he sits in his car and looks out of his window. The vehicle trembles in sync with the rhythm of his restless foot.

A tattooed hand goes up to his face, and he slides down his blouse cuff to stare at the watch adorning his wrist; 10:32PM. You had to be awake, right? 

One would question why he couldn’t simply send you a message, and the truth is far more complicated than that suggestion. He can’t message you when he was the one who told you he doesn’t fuck you on your period. You were offended by his tone more than what he was implying, and told him and he quotes ‘to go fuck himself and never come back again’. 

Now, this wasn’t the first time that the two of you had a petty argument, the earliest one Hanma can remember was of him saying he didn’t want to eat your homemade food because he thought soup was boring, and you had glared at him the whole night until he apologized with his head between your thighs. Or when you tried to insinuate that he was so much softer than you had thought, the night ended with tears streaming down your face as you gagged and choked on his cock. 

The two of you didn’t know what communication was, sex seemed to be the solution to everything. Well, except for this time.

You were understandably hormonal when you texted him, asking if he could drop by and hang out with you for a couple of hours at the beginning of November. And him being an asshole, he made some poor joke about how ‘he doesn’t fuck women on their periods because they’ll get attached’ and the rest is history.

Hanma doesn’t think he fucked up that badly, but that wouldn’t explain the fifth cigarette he throws out of his car window as he glares daggers at your balcony door. You can’t keep ignoring him forever, it’s been ten days. 

He mutters a sharp “fuck” under his breath as he swings the car door open, stepping out and locking it with a press of his key fob. His strides are long and confident as he reaches into the pocket of his suit pants for another cigarette. Shielding the flame with his hand, he lights it, the glow briefly illuminating his face before he tucks the cigarette between his index and middle finger. He ascends the stairs, smoke curling in his wake as he eyes the apartment doors one by one. Ironically, the one thing he had memorized beside the feeling of your hallway, was the smell of homemade food that emerged from beneath your doorway, a scent which was forever engraved at the forefront of his mind. 

A familiar wooden door greets Hanma as he steps into the dimly lit hallway, and he braces himself for how many times he is going to knock to get you to open the door for him. The memory of you whisper-yelling at him to just get in flashes before his eyes and an amused smirk finds its way up his lips, but it’s immediately wiped off when the door suddenly swings open. Surprised, he takes a step back with furrowed eyebrows, hand reaching towards his gun holster out of instinct. 

Then he hears it, the sound of high heels clicking against the tiles. 

You step out of your apartment with your back facing Hanma, allowing him to scan your outfit for a brief moment. It was cold outside, so you were wearing an oversized, fluffy and warm jacket on top of what he believes to be a short dress, and the black stockings you had chosen for the night bring more attention to your legs. To match the aesthetic of the outfit, you chose to wear your knee high, black leather high heeled boots, adding a couple centimeters to your height. And to finish off the look, you had styled your hair in a way that Hanma could only describe as intoxicating. The perfume you were wearing was dizzying, and it only worsens when you turn around and Hanma sees you with a full face of makeup. The right amount of glitter, the sharp eyeliner, the mascara giving your face that doe-eyed look and finally, that lip combo.

Where the hell were you headed to?

The good thing about working in corporate jobs was the amount of birthday celebrations to look out to. You had at least two birthdays each month, and November was no exception. But to ensure that not every winter birthday is celebrated inside the company, a co-worker took it upon themselves to invite everyone to a club, and who were you to turn down the offer? 

You hated being holed up in your apartment for too long, it made you feel claustrophobic and anxious, and you were getting sick of your balcony and the same boring view. The moment you step out, you get a whiff of cigarette smell and instantly, you realize who was behind you. Your movements are slow and careful as you lock your door, fix the scarf that’s wrapped around your neck to keep you warm then–you see him.

Hanma doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows twitch when you lock eyes with him, he can’t deny that the slight purse to your lips makes the coil in his stomach tighten, then your frown deepens. 

“Smoking’s not allowed in the hallway,” you point out towards the cigarette bud hanging between his fingers.

“Where are you going?” he completely dismisses your statement, eyes scanning your outfit from head to toe for what feels like the hundredth time. He knows exactly what hides beneath those layers of clothing, he’s touched and felt and groped it so many times already–then why does it bother him that you’re dressed so prettily for an occasion?

You’re already fed up with him, your high heels clicking against the tiles as you walk past him and Hanma almost groans when he gets a whiff of your perfume. Fuck, why did he have to be so stupid?

“Whatever, don’t stay here for too long or else they’ll kick you out.” You announce as you call for the elevator, pressing the button as you put your keys in your handbag. 

The tall man is quickly standing behind you. He knows why you’re ignoring him, but he doesn’t think it entirely justifies not answering him. “Did you not hear me?”

You scoff. “You’re saying that?” 

“It’s different, I’m asking where you’re going–”

“And now I’m asking you to mind your own business?” you hear a ding and step onto the elevator, Hanma right behind you. “I’m a grown ass woman.”

“Never seen your grown ass outside at night.” How blunt.

“Oh right, because in the last two months when you’ve known me and rarely ever visited may I add, you’ve never seen me go outside after 8PM?” 

You were bitter, that’s understandable, but that doesn’t explain completely avoiding his question, does it? He was only asking about your whereabouts so that he knows where to expect to see you! 

And perhaps even follow you there. 

Hanma bites his tongue at your words. He would never admit that you were right, or that he messed up by completely ignoring your phone calls and messages because you had told him that you were on your period. However, everyone makes mistakes and it’s what makes us human…

…or however that saying goes. 

The elevator starts to go down, his golden eyes alternate between scanning the number shown in bold colors indicating the floor number and the screen of your phone. You were sending a text in a group chat, he could see the name of it–something about your company, and next to it was the word ‘birthday party!’. He’s thankful that he’s being sneaky enough to be able to look at what you were typing, however that doesn’t last when you finally notice that he has grown a little too quiet. You hide your phone in your chest.

“Can you not?” you hiss, voice laced with venom as you shoot him a glare over your shoulder. 

“A colleague’s birthday?”

“What are you, twelve?” you furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him fully. Even with high heels, you don’t reach his full height and you hate it. You hate that you are looking up at him, at his handsome face which you didn’t see for a full week, and you absolutely despise the way he is staring at you.

His eyes were devouring you, forcing you to think of anything but how you’ve made them roll to the back of his head countless times. You refuse to stare at his bulging arms, or how his hair was slightly disheveled from running a hand through it. Was he frustrated by his own actions? You hope he was, you hope he fisted his cock pathetically to the thought of you, that his whines were so loud it echoes in his empty apartment. You pray that a mission interrupted his alone time, and he had to finish off some guy he didn’t like with painful blue balls.

And you fervently and desperately hope that he cannot read your true thoughts.

“Add sixteen years to that,” he replies while bringing the cigarette to his lips, taking a whiff from the stick. He pulls his hand away, smirking when he notices the slight shift in your expression and it worsens when he blows smoke on your face.

“Stop that! I don’t want to smell like cigarettes when I get in the car!”

“Oh?” he tilts his head to the side, golden eyes locked with yours as he searches for another clue. “So you need a car to get there?”

“I would be crazy if I walked outside dressed like this.” you ignore his intense stare, masking your nervousness with annoyance as you pull out your phone again. 

“Who’s driving you there?”

“None of your damn business.” 

“An uber.” The elevator finally dings and you hurriedly step out of the cubicle, trying to get away from him as far as possible. 

“Oh! We got ourselves a detective here!” you exclaim jokingly, the sound of high heels clicking against the tiles echoing in the empty hallway. “You should work for the FBI, has anyone ever told you that?”

Hanma ignores your comments, his strides long and purposeful as he walks right behind you. “You keep clutching your purse, it’s open so you can make sure that your credit card is there and your forgetful ass didn’t actually miss anything. You’ll stop getting anxious when you get into the car and pay the driver–”

“Stop that!” You finally turn around to stare at him, and the tall man has to stop himself from scooping you into his arms and fucking you against the nearest wall. You puff out your chest like a balloon ready to burst, a fragile show of dominance and anger, but you were clearly fed up and you couldn’t handle hearing his voice anymore.

“You think you can read me easily, you think using your little criminal tricks on me will get you off the hook, it doesn’t.” you get even closer to the man, a manicured finger poking at his chest with each syllable rolling off your tongue. “You think you’re the only one who can read me? Well, I’ll tell you what’s in front of me right now.”

Hanma remains unnervingly quiet, so you continue.

"I see a man who couldn’t keep his word if his life depended on it. Someone who drowns his guilt in cigarette smoke because facing it is too much to bear. A man so shaken by the idea of me living my life without catering to him that he’ll go as far as to ruin it for me, hoping to force a reaction out of me. Well, guess what? You won’t. So enjoy your misery and your frustration, because tonight? You won’t be getting anything from me"

The only sounds breaking the stillness of the moment were the occasional hum of passing cars outside the building, their distant echoes a sharp contrast to the suffocating quiet of the hallway. The air around you felt heavy as you struggled to catch your breath, your face was in flames. Your gaze flickered wildly over Shuji’s expression, desperate to find even the slightest crack, some hint that your words had gotten to him, that they had landed where they intended to. 

But all you were met with was silence, dragging on until a scoff cut through the air and you felt your chest tightening. 

Without a second glance, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot, his voice low and taunting. “I don’t feel guilt, doll.”

“I…” you cannot put into words how you feel, it feels as though you had swallowed your tongue and any smart retort you had prepared is thrown out of the window. Shuji notices the change in your expression, how you went from being incredibly affected by his words to nothing all of a sudden. There’s an emptiness behind your eyes as you nod at him. “You’re right.” 

And then you were gone. 

He doesn’t try to follow you, the sound of your high heels clicking against the concrete becomes a distant sound the farther you walk away and he stands near the entrance of the building with his hands buried in his pockets. 

It was time to work.

—

“Where were you? We were looking for you!”

“Sorry! My cat threw up on the carpet and I had to clean it real quick,” you say with a wave of hands, looking around the crowded area with bright eyes. “Seems like the birthday girl is having fun!” 

You see a flash of red hair on the dance floor, and chuckle when you notice the way she seemed to effortlessly become the center of attention. People were cheering her on, clapping and asking the DJ to change the song just to match her energy. Meanwhile, you decide to take off your coat and place it on the chair that a coworker had reserved for you. 

You weren’t the type to go clubbing, years of being constantly guarded by your brothers had left you tense and uneasy under the flashing lights, but you envied those who did it so effortlessly. They wouldn’t look as awkward as you do. 

That is until you feel a pair of eyes following your every move, and you are forced to look at them. 

It was a coworker, someone you had grown comfortable around because of his kind gestures. He would offer to help you carry papers around even if you were going to take the elevator, and when you ran out of water or your favorite drink in the fridge, he would be the first to request a restock for you. He was a gentleman, one that didn’t know how to hide his attraction towards you.

And you didn’t seem to mind it, a woman could appreciate being treated nicely once in a while.

“Not going to join them?” He gestures towards the rest of your colleagues who seemed to be enjoying their time on the dance floor. You chuckle as you shake your head, leaning back in your seat.

“Dancing is not my thing,”

The man, whose name is Tomoya, takes this as an open invitation to sit across from you. He puts his elbows on the table as he leans forward, clearly invested in the conversation.

“Why? It’s just moving your body to the beat.”

You press your lips as you hum, leaning towards the brown haired man as you respond.“Hmmm, I’m not sure if I like that.” 

“How about this, if I can change your mind, you–” he pauses as he points his finger at you, eyes glimmering with mischief. “--go on a date with me.”

You scoff, raising an eyebrow at him. “A date?”

“Yup.” 

How do you explain this to a man you hardly speak to at work? How do you tell him that your life is already entangled with someone else–someone too deeply involved in your world to simply cut loose? The idea of going on a date with Tomoya doesn’t seem so bad, but the thought of facing Hanma, of telling him about the possibility that you want to end whatever it is you have, makes you hold your head in your hands. 

“We’ll see.”

You’ll deal with it later.

The rhythm of the music reverberates through the air as you find yourself on the dance floor with your colleague, Tomoya, who seems to be enjoying himself far more than you. The bass is heavy, the lights flicker like a heartbeat, and for a moment, you can almost forget your reservations. His encouragement draws a timid smile from you, and despite your clumsy attempts to follow his lead, you eventually surrender to the music. The tension in your shoulders eases as your movements become less forced, and soon enough, you find yourself laughing and moving your body to the beat.

You walk through the crowd to greet the birthday girl, your grin bright and contagious as you ask if she’s having fun. Before long, Tomoya succeeds to reclaim your attention. His lips move, but it’s hard to hear anything with the loud music.

“What?” you call out, cupping your ear for emphasis.

With a smile, he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “I said, you look beautiful.”

Goosebumps rise on your skin at his words, and your face heats up. Your laughter quiets down as you shyly glance away, scanning the room for an escape from his intense gaze. That’s when you see him. A familiar figure near the bar freezes you in place. Your chest tightens, the world blurring as you focus on the tall man leaning casually against the counter.

“Are you okay?” Tomoya’s voice snaps you back, but your response is dismissive.

“Yeah, yeah,” you pat his shoulder with a forced smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Your steps quicken as you drag your feet through the crowd, each stride bringing more dread. Please don’t be him. Please. But as you approach him, there’s no denying it. That sharp grin, the cigarette dangling between his fingers–it’s him. Your hand finds his shoulder before you can stop yourself, and when he turns, you’re met with those golden eyes that seem to silently mock your surprise. 

“Well, what a coincidence, doll,” Hanma drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “Do you need something?”

“Excuse me,” you snap, your hand gripping his forearm as you pull him to his feet. “We need to talk.”

“Oh absolutely,” he smirks, letting you drag him past the sea of curious eyes. He seems far too entertained for your liking, his laughter barely contained as you shove open the door to the women’s bathroom.

The startled gasps and shrieks from the women inside only add to the dread you were feeling. You glance around apologetically, muttering a quick, “Sorry,” as they scurry out, a few of them shooting you knowing looks. 

“Relationship emergency?” one asks before disappearing out the door.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, locking the door behind you.

“Are you insane?” you whirl around, glaring at Hanma as he leans casually against the sinks, an infuriating smirk painted across his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Why? Did I ruin your little moment out there?” His tone is playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes your throat tighten and your mouth go dry. “Mad that I stopped you from almost fucking him?”

“Don’t you even start–”

“Or what?” His voice drops, low and dangerous, as he pushes off the sink and begins to close the distance between the two of you. The confidence in his stride makes your knees feel like jelly, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the way he towers over you so easily. “Tell me, doll, is this why you didn’t want to tell me where you were going tonight? Were you afraid I’d show up and fuck up your little date with that fucker?”

“Don’t call him that,” you retort, though your voice wavers under his suffocating stare.

His eyebrows raise, mock surprise etched across his face. “Oh? Defending him now, are we?”

“I’m not defending him!” you argue, though the crack in your voice betrays you. Shit, you were a nervous mess. “He didn’t do anything to deserve your anger.”

Hanma chuckles, low and menacing. “Anger? Oh, doll, I’m not angry. Not with him, anyway.” His steps falter when he’s inches away from you, his body caging you against the door. “Because we both know he doesn’t mean shit to you, right?”

Your silence speaks louder than words, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “It’d crush him, wouldn’t it? If he knew why you’re so hesitant to go on a date with him.”

“I never said–” Your breath catches as his hand cups your jaw, tilting your face upward. 

“So you do want to go on a date with him?” His golden eyes burn into yours, searching for something, though his grin never falters.

You gulp, your voice barely above a whisper. “...maybe.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, and you can’t stop the way your lips part instinctively. “You’re a liar,” he coos, his tone dripping with mock pity.

“Am not–”

A gasp is ripped from your body when you feel his knee push past your thigh, landing perfectly on your clothed cunt as he presses you further against the wall.

“Let’s try again,” he purrs, pressing his lips against your ear. “Do you want to go on a date with him?”

Your lips tremble as you throw your head back, and Shuji’s hand lands perfectly on your throat. He feels a piece of jewelry there, but he ignores it as he squeezes your neck gently, drawing a quiet moan out of you. 

“I…” you start, unable to keep your eyes open as you feel your body burn up. The effect he had on you, the way it felt effortless to make a mess of you felt unfair. You gulp as you try to morph the lust in your gaze into anger. “I do.”

A pair of lips crash against yours almost immediately, and Hanma quickly catches as your knees give out on you at the impact. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss this–his lips, how roughly he handled your body whilst making sure that nothing hurt you, because you craved it more than anything else. So you kiss him, fervently moving your lips against his as your hands claw at his shoulders and back. You felt like a flower starved of sunlight, withering in the absence of warmth and connection. 

Hanma couldn’t offer either, but his touch was enough to fill the void. 

He pats your butt and you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist before sitting you on the sink. The marble is cold, sending a sharp chill against your skin but it quickly fades away when Hanma’s lips travel down your neck, then your exposed chest where your perfume hits his nostrils the hardest. 

The tall man stands there, inhaling deeply as your scent washes over his senses, his eyes closing as he surrenders to its intoxicating pull. He notices the necklace, how it seems to be stuck to your skin even if it doesn’t match your attire and something coils in his stomach.

Without second thought, he sinks his teeth on the skin of your boob, a loud gasp ripping from your throat as your hand finds his hair.

“Not there–” You try to reason with him, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he sinks his teeth into a different spot, watching as you throw your head back, your back arching in response, a wave of pleasure taking over.

If he could, he would tear that piece of jewelry from your body.

“Shuji,” the sound of his name slipping from your lips is a melodic drawl, intoxicating him like no drug ever could. An animalistic growl rumbles from the back of his throat as he pulls down the top of your dress, revealing your boobs. The cold air makes goosebumps rise on your skin, and your nipples instantly harden under the attention given to them. 

He fervently licks and sucks on the buds, shoving his hands under your dress. You are lost in the pleasure, fingers digging in his scalp as he gently bites on your left nipple, his hand groping the other breast. 

Then you hear a tearing sound, followed by a sudden chill, making you shiver as the coldness creeps in.

“Oh my god!” you scream in horror, instinctively trying to close your legs as you eye the ripped stockings. “Those were expensive you fucking asshole!” 

“Fuck that,” your heart stills when you see him lean down, biting your inner thighs and salivating at the sight of your black thong. “I’ve got money.”

“Y-You’re not buying me a-anyth–ah!” you try to cover your mouth when you feel his head get shoved between your thighs, a wet tongue pressing against the fabric of your thong. And then, you hear a dark chuckle. 

“You smell so fucking good. Did all that fighting turn you on?” he pulls away, his fingers playing with the straps of your thong. “Or did you fuck around hoping that I’d fuck the attitude out of ya?”

Stubborn yet looking for a good fuck, you respond breathlessly.“No.”

“No?” he tilts his head, a mocking expression on his face as he purses his lips. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?”

He sees you look down at your own lap, and bursts out laughing as he finally removes the fabric off of your body. “Ah, you’re so fucking adorable,” he moves away from the sink and starts to unbuckle his belt. You sit up on the sink to admire him as he frees his hardened cock, stroking it a couple of times before standing between your thighs. He notices your starstruck gaze, and a low chuckle rumbles from the back of his throat, as if amused by the effect he has on you.

“Cockdrunk already?”

“Shut up.” You pull him in for a kiss, your hand traveling down to line up his tip with your entrance. He parts his lips, but then you feel him smile against your mouth. You open your eyes to meet his gaze. 

He watches with an amused grin as your jaw goes slack the moment he pushes himself inside, but it quickly fades away when the wetness of your pussy washes over his senses and he has to take a moment to ground himself. 

He can’t cum too quickly, that would be pathetic.

Hanma doesn’t take long before starting to fuck you, slow and calculated thrusts quickly turn into hurried and sloppy ones when your pussy clamps down on him with each kiss he presses to your pulse. He feels his self control slipping through the cracks of his mind, and when he finally looks at your face again, he is reminded of why the two of you were fucking in the women’s bathroom. 

With a clenched jaw and flared nostrils, his hand travels to the back of your head and he yanks it back. 

“Thought we had an agreement doll,” he hisses through gritted teeth, barely able to keep his eyes open as he grips your hair. “I thought you knew that you couldn’t pull shit like that with me. But I bet you like it, huh? You love testing my limits–ah fuck!” you clamp down on him again when he hits that one spot that makes your eyes roll, the added friction of his crotch against your clit sending shivers down your spine as you arch your back.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, the burning in your scalp mixing with pleasure. 

Hanma leans forward, pressing his lips against your cheek as he growls. “Answer me.” 

Tears well in your eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of him. He was everywhere–inside of you, touching you–and now it felt as though he was trying to invade your very thoughts. “Fuck, fuck Shuji please don’t stop, please–” 

He continues to fuck you at the same angle, licking his fingers to rub your clit in messy circles.“You like getting on my nerves, don’t ya? Makes it more fun for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Oh!” You gasp at the stimulation, eyes widening as you try to look down at where the two of you meet. “Oh, right there!”

“I asked you a fucking question.”He spits out venomously, his grip tightening around your head, forcing your forehead to press against his as he holds you in place.

“Yes!” You cry out, not caring about how fucked out you must look. “Yes, yes I do! I love it, oh my god please don’t stop fucking me, please–”

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought–come on baby girl, get filthy with me.” Hanma grins triumphantly, but the pleasure starts to wash over him. “Make a mess on me, pretty girl. Use my cock, you know how to do that.” 

He leans back, watching as you pathetically try to move your hips back and forth. After a few failed attempts, you break down in front of him.

“I c-can’t, I can’t!” You sob, your hips trembling and shaky. Hanma’s gaze locks onto yours, his dark eyes fixated on the tears streaming down your cheeks–the sight of you so fragile beneath him is enough to send him over the edge. “Please, please fuck me Shuji.”

“Fuck–” His hand wraps around your throat, fingers grazing your necklace as he captures it in the same motion, and then his hips find that same delicious pace. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing in the same dizzying motion that made you the loudest earlier, but instead he hears nothing.

You suddenly fall quiet as your body arches away from him and Hanma watches in awe as your hand shakily grips his forearm. The bathroom is filled with wet sounds of skin to skin, and then he feels something wet on his pants and a loud gasp painfully rips from the back of your throat. 

“Oh shit!” His proud laughter dies down on his tongue as your pussy clenches on him, burying his face in your chest. He reaches his own orgasm after a couple of strokes, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own noises.

The two of you sit there in silence, with mostly you trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. You had never cum that hard before, not with a man at least, and your face burns with the realization that you squirted on him.

“Oh no, how am I going to clean that?” you don’t even notice that Shuji’s pants are soiled as well, his cock still nestled in your pussy.

“I don't pay cleaners so I can grab a mop myself.” 

“What?” you furrow your eyebrows as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Did I not tell ya?”

“Huh?”

 His voice dips lower as his grin stretches wider, “I own this club, doll.”

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[squinch-depraved]

based on a dream i had where ted finds footage of you and schlatt doin some stuff 😔

chuckle week is just a convenient excuse to be all together i'm sorry i write it so much :(

ted tossed his phone down onto his desk with a heavy sigh, finally giving in and sitting down to begin rifling through the hours of footage from chuckle week. something had come up and a last minute text from schlatt, of all people, saying he was going to have to be the one to edit it pulled him from his hazy afternoon of trying to sleep so that he didn't notice how empty his apartment was now that his best friends had left him there all alone. the quiet had seeped under his skin, which was so desperately missing your soft touch and schlatt's rougher one. he shook off the lingering unease and tried to immerse himself in reliving the memories of his great week as he slipped on his headphones and began editing.

hours crept by as he sat at the desk, leg tapping endlessly in an attempt to get some energy out of his system. he had just finished editing the first episode when he noticed it. everybody went to lunch after filming that one, he remembered because he went out with tucker and emma and was a bit sad the two of you didn't want to come with to the rainforest cafe. but here was footage with audio from that lunch break, about 2 hours captured from one camera and a mic left running. he skimmed through it, letting out a puff of air through his nostrils when he realized it was just a view of the empty booth everyone sits in for the podcast. about a third of the way through, though, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when schlatt and you stumble into view, tangled together in a mess of limbs holding limbs and warm kisses. schlatt slotted himself into the booth and coaxed you into his lap, immediately resuming the sloppy make out session. he groaned, gripping your hips tightly when you ground yourself down onto his clothed lap.

ted felt many things in those seconds where he discovered the footage. disbelief, at first, faded into feeling disrespected. after all, this podcast was his baby, and the two of you doing what you were about to do on that set while ignoring him for lunch pissed him off greatly. but anger faded to arousal the longer he watched you bite at schlatt's neck, and he smiled when the man swatted you away so he could touch you instead. ted sucked a breath in when he started rubbing circles into your crotch under your skirt. he started undoing his pants when you reared your head back and by the time your pornstar quality moan had echoed through the studio, he had eagerly spit into his hand and was stroking himself slowly. a deep groan tore itself from his lips as he began to buck his hips up into his fist, eyes trained on his monitor watching you kiss schlatt.

when he pulled away, he placed his hand on your cheek and stroked it softly. "we gotta hurry, doll, i don't know how long we have 'til someone gets back," he breathed, just loud enough for ted to hear. his friend's voice stole another moan from his lips as he continued to pump his cock. his eyes screwed shut for a moment, and he thought about the numerous filthy things he would do if you two were there with him before he snapped them back open to see schlatt sliding his thick shaft out of his sweatpants, precum leaking from the tip. you grinned and (not-so) gracefully slid yourself under the table to take him in your mouth, leaving only schlatt in view as erotic noises spilled from his lips. after a second, he focuses his dark, lust filled eyes on the camera and nods down at you, as if acknowledging that someone would be watching this.

a guttural grunt tore from ted's throat as he thrusted upwards recklessly, gripping his long, weeping cock like he had never needed something so bad in his entire life. he rolled his eyes upwards and lost himself for a bit again before focusing back in to find schlatt helping you back up and positioning you over his member before sliding his hands under your skirt and sliding your underwear to the side. you yelped as his thick fingers slid in you easily, and he pumped one, then two in and out for a bit, drawing melodic moans from you before he withdrew them and slipped them directly in his mouth. ted and you made a similar face- he wished he could taste you. he blinked again and you were getting impaled on schlatt's lap, nothing visible under the skirt except when one of you moved too vigorously and it flew up, exposing only flashes of where you interlocked.

ted whined, feeling himself getting close, and furrowed his brows together. he leaned back in his desk chair, almost panting, and continued to stare at you masterfully working your hips, grinding and bouncing so well both schlatt and him were lost in it. the man lucky enough to be feeling you smacked your ass, earning a sharp whimper. "c'mon, toots, getting close," he mumbled. "did so good suckin' me off, doesn't take much from this pretty pussy to do it for me." his hands disappeared under the skirt and ted could only imagine his fingers working deftly, tracing figure eights on your sensitive nub.

you began to ride him more frantically, whorish noises poured from your tongue and dared to expose the two of you to anyone who may have come near. you came first, arched your back in a way that left ted rapidly approaching his high. he bucked and rutted his hips into the air, desperate for any contact from the two people he needed most. a pathetic, gasping mess, he came all over his stomach, and watched through lidded eyes as schlatt finished in you and kissed you before sending you to go clean yourself up while he cleaned up the mess you two made. ordinarily he would never make you take care of yourself, but he didn't know how much time you had, so this was how it had to be. once you were presumably out of earshot, schlatt looked at the camera again and grinned.

"hope you enjoyed, ted," he said, adjusting his sweatpants and walking over to turn the camera off.

ted blinked hazily and couldn't help but smile.

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 2: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒔

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Other characters: bestfriend!Natasha romanoff, Wanda maximoff, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers.

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship.

Summary: Bucky offers you an outrageous deal—pretend to be his girlfriend to appease his grandfather and in exchange, he’ll make sure you never have to worry about money again. You refuse at first… until you remember your landlord raised your rent, your loans are still pending, and Bucky casually drops a six-figure contract in front of you. What could go wrong?

Word count: 2.7k+ ( longer than the last..ik🫣)

Warnings: there is a dialogue heavy part, desperate reader, CHAOS, Bucky is infuriatingly hot.

Series masterlist Episode 1

Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

Previously on Business Proposal..

"It’s fine with me. I'll talk with my secretary to arrange another date. I like you and would like to pursue this," he says, getting up with a smirk on his face. "Give my regards to your father." He turns away and walks out of the restaurant.

Left alone at the table, you exhale sharply, a mix of panic and exasperation washing over you. You quickly text Natasha, urging her to call immediately. "Call me, it's urgent," you type as you sit there, wondering exactly what you got yourself into.

___________________________________●

You get up, collecting your bag and rushing out of the restaurant, your mind reeling from whatever it was that happened in the last hour.

As you stand on the sidewalk waiting for your cab, your phone starts ringing—your favorite song, which you had as your ringtone. It was Natasha. You immediately pick it up, hearing her voice on the other side of the call.

"That was fast. Tell me you scared him off," she says lazily, probably lying on her couch watching some sitcom she always loves.

"I TRIED, but he liked me!" you whisper-yell into your phone as you get into your cab.

On the other line, Natasha is confused. "What do you mean he liked you? The whole 'mission' was to make him regret his existence for choosing to go on that date."

"He thinks I'm you, Nat! And when I went full unhinged—like full 'talking to my one-night-stand' kind—he just smirked and said 'you'll do,' and LEFT," you scream into your phone, making your cab driver glance at you through the mirror weirdly.

"Oh my god, you're kidding," she wheezes.

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?" you groan.

"But you do sound like you're spiraling, which is delicious, babe."

"You're paying for my therapy, my new job, and for starting over my life in a new country," you say, done with your life.

"I'm so sorry, I really am," she says when you groan.

"...but we can fix this. What else did he say?"

"He asked to arrange another date. You might be getting an email very soon about it," you inform her.

"Ok, I need you to go on that date. I know it's ridiculous, but reject him as brutally as possible. He's a rich CEO, for God's sake—he won't like you hurting his ego. He'll definitely let you go."

"But what about the fact that I have to face him every day of my life at work?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, clearly confused.

"He's the new CEO of my company," you mutter into the phone.

"What!?" she screams.

"Yeah, I know."

"It's ok, [name]. If you lose your job, you're always welcome to work with me on my fashion brand."

"Thanks for the offer, Nat. I'll see you tomorrow at our regular," you say, as the cab approaches your apartment.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there. Again, I'm sorry and thank you for doing all this for me," she says, her voice softening.

"There is no sorry and thank you in friendship," you chuckle tiredly as you get out of the cab, paying the driver.

"Don't say that; you know I hate that saying."

"Whatever," you laugh at her serious tone.

"Just know that I'm grateful for your friendship," she says, and you can sense her smiling from her voice.

"Good night, Nat. Love you," you say, smiling, genuinely grateful to have her in your life.

"Good night, babe, hope you survive tomorrow," she teases as you cut the call after saying goodbye again.

You plop into your bed, dreading the next day, wondering how you'd avoid him at the office, as it was going to be his first day as CEO. You thought of all the escape routes, all the worst-case scenarios, as you tried your hardest to fall asleep, your anxiety at its peak. You manage to score some sleep a few hours before you had to face—potentially—the end of your career at Barnes & Co.

You tread into work the next day looking like a mess as your nerves get the best of you. You greet your coworker, Wanda. Wanda was a sweet woman. You and she had joined the company around the same time and had become good companions. The redhead greets you back as you both walk over to your guys' desk.

"You know, the team is setting up a welcome surprise for the CEO. Wanna join?" she asks you.

As soon as you hear the words "CEO," the warning bells start ringing in your head. You start to think of a good excuse to avoid the event.

"Actually, I was feeling kind of down, so I'd rather stay at my desk," you say, looking down.

"Are you ok..." she perks up with concern.

"...you should've stayed at home." she worries, and it makes you feel guilty, seeing her worry over you when you're perfectly fine.

Well, not perfectly fine, because you spot him. Bucky. Your boss, Mr. Barnes.

And he's coming near your guys' office.

Immediately, you duck down, falling into a coughing fit as Wanda rubs your back, her worry increasing.

Bucky shakes the hands of his new colleagues with a polite and charming smile. Steve Rogers—his best friend, and now his secretary—shows him around the new surroundings of the office. They approach the product manager's office as he sees a woman, supposedly the product manager, widen her eyes at the sight of him and duck down... in a coughing fit? He just ignores that and walks past, heading to his new office.

The day goes by without any encounters with the boss, and you continue your work normally, until you have to go receive the product files from Steve, who just so conveniently has his office right in front of Bucky’s—whose office has the whole view of Steve's.

This cannot get any worse, as you speed-walk to Steve's desk and casually grab the files, using them to cover your face as you speed-walk back to your desk like you're competing in the Olympics.

This definitely doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky, as he narrows his eyes at his ill-natured employee. He calls Steve into his office to inquire about her.

"You need anything, Buck?" Steve asks.

"That lady who just came to your desk to take the files—who's that?"

"Oh, that's [name]. She's our product manager who deals with our electronics line."

"Why is she acting like that?"

"Idk, what's wrong? She's usually... normal."

"....Weird," Bucky says, raising his eyebrow, then he dismisses Steve.

Bucky starts noticing a pattern. Whenever he walks into a room you're in—like during lunch break—you leave. You barely show him your face, hiding behind your desk, behind files, running away from the elevator he's in to go down the stairs. But he manages to catch a glimpse, and that makes him even more suspicious.

You get home after a very exhausting day at the office—not because of the workload, but rather, because you were desperately trying to avoid Bucky Barnes. You get a text from Nat saying he has arranged a date, Friday evening, and you start preparing for that day. You agree to the second date purely out of fear that refusing would raise more suspicion.

The plan? Make him regret ever liking you.You arrive at another fancy restaurant, dressed up in your Natasha Romanoff disguise. At this point, you think, you should just be her. You enter the restaurant, going over your plan mentally—this time, you're not messing it up.

Step 1 of your master plan: Assert dominance

You walk out onto a rooftop restaurant which is suspiciously empty. You spot him sitting near a table, fancily set up, looking over the skyline of the city. He always seemed to be decked out in the most elegant suits, and it always made you feel something. If it weren't for this situation you were in, you would genuinely enjoy having a date with him. But the universe always likes to torment you, so you head up to him.

Bucky stands as you approach, smirking, "I was starting to think you wouldn't show."

You shrug, faking a bored expression, "Yeah, well, I had nothing better to do."

He chuckles, "You could've just said no."

You sigh dramatically, flopping onto the chair. "Could I? Because you look like the type who doesn't take rejection well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you seem... fragile." You smile innocently.

"And what makes you think that, doll?" Your heart skips a beat at the name, but you continue your act.

"Your whole vibe just screams sensitive. And I don't do that. It's like you get all broody and serious when people don't laugh at your jokes."

"I don't make jokes," he deadpans.

"That's even sadder."

Step 2: The too-high-maintenance approach

You sigh again, moving on, picking up the menu. "Just a warning, I'm excruciatingly high maintenance."

"Noted," he says, returning that stupid smirk.

"Like if you're even a minute late at texting me back, I'll block you."

Chuckling, he says, "Punctuality is important."

"I expect expensive gifts weekly—diamonds, designer bags. I don't do thoughtful," you tut.

Raising an eyebrow, he asks, "You like Chanel or Dior?"

Internally, you just feel like flipping over the table because, WHY IS HE NOT RUNNING YET!

Step 3: Or your pathetic attempt at making this man break—destroy his ego

You smile sweetly, leaning forward, "Okay, fine, I'll just be honest."

"Please do."

"You're just... not my type."

"Oh?" Amused, Bucky looks at you.

"Yeah. I usually go for guys who are, you know…" you gesture vaguely. "Hotter," you state casually.

Then it's just silence. Dead silence.

Why is he not saying anything? you question in your head.

Then, he blinks slowly, "Hotter?"

Nodding, you continue, "Yeah. No offense, obviously. You’re, like... cute. In a 'mall cop chic' kinda way."

Bucky tilts his head, processing that absolute violation of his entire existence.

You continue, satisfied this is working, "Also, no offense, but you’re kinda... short."

"I am not short," he grumbles, definitely offended.

"It’s okay. Not everyone can be over six feet. It’s cute," you say, nodding as you empathize.

"I am over six feet."

"Mm. Barely."

"I’m 6’2," he mutters.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling."

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lean back, proud of yourself, waiting for the moment when Bucky snaps and storms out.

"You done?" he questions now, looking at you with amusement.

"Wait, you're not mad?" you blink.

"Oh, sweetheart, this was adorable." He grins—like, actually grins.

You stare, mortified. What in the world is wrong with this man?

"You really thought this would work on me?"

"I insulted everything about you!"

"Yeah, but I can take a hit," he shrugs casually.

"I questioned your height."

"Which was incorrect, by the way."

"I said you dress like a mall cop," you say, desperation now evident in your voice.

"Well, that was just mean," he huffs.

"Oh my god! You liked that, didn’t you?" you say, face-palming.

"I love a challenge," he says smugly.

"This man is actually insane," you whisper, horrified.

You give up the whole charade; this man was not going to leave you alone. Guess you had to start writing that resignation letter as soon as you got home, 'cause you were not going to have a job the next day.

"Fine! You win! You know why? BECAUSE I’M NOT NATASHA."

"Oh?" he says, tilting his head, amused.

Who says "oh" just after their date revealed they are not who they are supposed to be?

"Yeah. I’m not Natasha. I took her place because she begged me to."

Bucky leans back, now donning a full-on smirk. "Ah. That makes sense."

"...you're not surprised?" you stare at him.

"Not really. You were acting way too weird at work."

That's it—the ground should just swallow you up. Not even changing your identity was gonna work now.

"You knew?" you ask, looking down at your lap, scared of looking up.

"I didn't exactly know, but I had my suspicions," he says, watching you shrink into yourself.

"Why did you show up then?" you question.

"What can I say? You’re fun." You're rendered speechless, not knowing what to do.

"Well, it's getting late. Don't want to turn up late to work tomorrow now, do you, Ms. Romanoff? Sorry, Ms. [name]," he says, getting up and buttoning his suit as he throws another look at you and leaves.

As soon as he leaves, you slump over the table, face in your hands.

"I just insulted my billionaire boss to his face," you whisper to yourself.

"Rough night," the waiter who came to clean up the table asks.

"You have no idea." A muffled groan is heard. You barely make it home before the panic sets in. You go through all five stages of grief as you think over what will happen to your life.

The morning after, you sulk into work like a criminal who just escaped jail, dodging eye contact, hugging the walls, and nearly knocking over the printer just to avoid the executive floor.

"Why are you walking like that?" Sam, one of your coworkers, approaches you suspiciously.

"Like you committed a crime and are not trying to be seen."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You spend almost three hours away from your floor doing other chores until you end up in the break room, drinking some coffee to ease your headache, as you hear the voice you've been trying to avoid.

“You know, for someone trying to avoid me, you’re doing a terrible job,” he says from behind you, making you choke on your coffee.

"Good morning to you too," he says while casually crossing his arms.

"Good morning, sir," you force a polite smile.

"We're back to 'sir' now," he mocks.

You panic. "It felt appropriate."

"Last night you called me a chic mall cop." He leans slightly.

"Did I?" you question him, sweating.

"Mhm," he grins.

He leans back, his hands going into his pocket.

"I need you in my office at five. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." You look down at your fidgeting hands as he looks over you once more, then leaves.

You're sitting in front of your boss in his office and you don't like it one bit. You know you're getting screwed over no matter what. There is absolute silence as you wait for him to speak, which is just another level of torture. He slides over a paper, nodding at you to take a look at it. In bold letters, it's written:

NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT

You skim over the content once, then twice, not believing what's written there. You look up at him, shock evident on your face. He just looks at you with that damned smirk.

"What is this?" you ask.

"That's an NDA."

“Oh, wow, thanks! I couldn’t tell from the giant letters!” you say sarcastically.

He chuckles, leaning forward, "I'm not faking being your girlfriend, and what do you mean by emotional compensation?"

"It's for all my precious time that you wasted."

"And what do I get out of this?" you ask—the important question, obviously.

"Turn the page."

You turn over the page to see more text, but what catches your eye in the benefits section is the obvious six figures for being his fake girlfriend for six months. You choke on air.

"This says six figures," you look up at him.

"Sharp eyes."

"For a fricking fake relationship!" you gasp.

"It's mutually beneficial," he states calmly.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask again.

He sighs, rubbing his temples. "My grandfather won't shut up about wanting me to settle down, and I have no time for that commitment. You need your money, as the salary is not enough to pay off your loans. And I need a girlfriend to convince my grandfather to leave me alone. It's a win-win."

“So you’re telling me… that if I sign this… I legally can’t tell anyone that I’m fake dating you?”

"Correct," he says, looking over his computer.

"Not even Natasha?" you panic.

"Not even Natasha," he repeats.

"Not even my own mother?!"

"Unless you want her sued for breach of contract," he casually says, flipping through emails.

"This is insane!"

He smirks, "You'd be surprised how often I hear that."

You stare at him, fully aware you're about to sign away your entire life. And yet—your landlord just raised the rent, your boss (who's sitting in front of you) is on the verge of layoffs, and your bank account is actively crying.

You had no choice.

With utter resignation, you grab the pen, sign the contract, and glare at him.

“If I go to jail for this, I’m haunting you.”

Bucky smirks, completely unbothered. "Oh, sweetheart, this is just the beginning."

__________________________________________

A/n: Thank you all so much for reading ❤️. I'll mostly update every week but from next week I'll be busy at college, dw I'll try hard to release new chapters.

Taglist: @baw1066, @scott-loki-barnes, @calwitch

You can also : ☆[Follow the tag ⁺‧˚ ⋆Business Proposal⋆ ˚‧⁺ for updates]☆

[skyguytoast]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN X COSPLAYER!READER - PART TW0

SYNOPSIS: After much hesitation, you finally gather the courage to send Hayden a message. What starts as a simple conversation soon blossoms into something deeper…

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNINGS: none, just fluffy

A/N: Hello sweeties, thank you to everyone who commented and motivated me to try to find any space in my chaotic routine to write... it's short, but I hope you like it🥰 As always, comments, likes and reblogs mean everything to me and motivate me to keep improving! 💖Kisses and good reading! Dividers by @cafekitsune

You stared at the autographed photo for what felt like an eternity, your fingers tracing over the inked letters as if they would somehow make this moment more real. It felt impossible—like a daydream you’d wake up from at any second. Hayden Christensen, your childhood crush, the man who had unknowingly altered your brain chemistry the first time you watched Revenge of the Sith, had not only noticed you but had given you his number.

You still remembered that afternoon vividl y: stumbling into the living room to find your dad watching Star Wars, only to be utterly captivated by him—by the way Anakin Skywalker sat up after that nightmare, shirtless, his golden curls damp with sweat, his tanned skin glowing under the dim light. That was the moment something in your heart shifted, a quiet but unmistakable pull toward him that never quite went away. Over the years, that initial admiration had grown into something deeper—a love for the saga, the characters, the world that felt like home.

It took you nearly two days to save Hayden’s number, hovering over the contact screen like it was a detonator. Another two passed before you finally mustered the courage to type out a simple, Hi.

The second you pressed send, you let out a strangled noise and tossed your phone onto the couch like it had personally wronged you. A wave of nerves crashed over you—what if he had only given you his number out of politeness? What if he regretted it? Were you being too forward by actually messaging him? Your thoughts spiraled, wrapping around you like a thick fog of self-doubt.

You scrambled for a distraction, settling on your ultimate comfort episode of The Clone Wars—the one where Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Count Dooku are captured by Hondo and have to work together to escape. It was ridiculous and lighthearted, exactly what you needed to keep yourself from obsessing over that one tiny text message.

And then, your phone buzzed.

You practically launched yourself across the couch, grabbing it with shaky hands, your heart hammering in your chest. The notification from him made your breath hitch, and you hesitated for a second before swiping the screen open.

"You took long enough, I thought I scared you or something."

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He wasn’t just being polite—he had been waiting. The idea that Hayden Christensen, the Hayden Christensen, had been wondering if you’d text him back, sent a warmth blooming in your chest. The simple, teasing words held a quiet kind of vulnerability, a hesitant curiosity that mirrored your own.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a dream after all.

**

The conversations that followed were effortless, light and easy, as if you had known each other far longer than just a few weeks. You talked about Star Wars—your love for the saga woven into every word, recounting how it had been a guiding light through the darker moments of your life. Sometimes, you playfully diagnosed the characters, slipping references to your college work into casual discussions.

Hayden was fascinated—genuinely engaged—especially when you brought up the idea of Anakin having BPD. He asked thoughtful questions, encouraging you to explain your perspective. You eagerly backed up your argument with excerpts from the novels, pivotal scenes from the films, and moments from The Clone Wars, illustrating Anakin’s struggles in a way that made him pause in appreciation. It was a surreal feeling, discussing the psychology of a character with the very man who brought him to life.

At one point, you mentioned using Kurt from Numb, at the Edge of the End in a paper about PTSD, and Hayden’s response was immediate—his quiet pride evident in the way he marveled at your insight. The idea that his portrayal of such a complex character had resonated deeply enough to be studied made him almost bashful.

Of course, you couldn’t resist slipping in Virgin Territory just to mess with him. He groaned, laughing, before admitting, "When you’re young, things seem different. It was a fun script, okay?" His amused exasperation only fueled your teasing, and the playful back-and-forth left your cheeks aching from smiling so much.

But it wasn’t just movies and college that filled your conversations. You talked about everything—mundane life moments, grocery lists, books you were reading, and even wine recommendations. Hayden had an uncanny ability to suggest the perfect bottle for whatever you were cooking, guiding you to pick out a wine that would perfectly complement your carbonara, for example.

Even though you were separated by thousands of miles, there were these small, stolen moments that felt intimate. One night, he walked you through making pizza from scratch, his voice warm and patient as he explained each step. You followed along, flour dusting your kitchen counter, laughing as your dough looked far less appetizing than his on your phone screen.

“It’s about practice,” he reassured you, his voice holding that familiar, easy charm. “By the time I see you in person, you’ll be a pro.”

The way he said it—when I see you—made something flutter in your chest.

It was easy with him. As if some invisible thread had drawn you together, weaving its way through the distance, pulling you closer with each conversation.

Finally, the wait was over.

Hayden was in your city for the May 4th event, and for days leading up to it, you had been orbiting this moment—anticipation thrumming beneath your skin. The long hours spent talking had only deepened the bond between you, stretching across late nights where he stayed on the phone even after you had drifted to sleep. More than once, you woke up to find a screenshot he had taken of your face, soft with slumber, your features relaxed in the dim glow of your bedroom.

"Too cute to delete," he had teased when you protested, the warmth in his voice making you roll your eyes even as your heart melted.

Now, seated by the window of a small, secluded café—one carefully chosen to keep prying eyes away—you could feel the weight of each second pressing down on you. The golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the glass, casting warm patterns against your skin, but despite the cozy ambiance, anxiety curled in your stomach. The ticking of the clock seemed agonizingly slow, stretching minutes into what felt like hours.

You had just begun absently drumming your fingers against the wooden table, lost in thought, when a gentle hand landed on your shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding, and when you turned, confusion melted into relief at the sight of him—Hayden, standing before you with that familiar, boyish smile.

"You took long enough," you quipped, the words carrying a quiet thrill as they echoed his very first message to you.

His grin widened, his hand lingering where it rested. "Is it weird if I ask for a hug, or does watching you snore on video calls mean we've already crossed that line?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wink accompanying his words.

"Hey! I don’t snore," you protested with a laugh, shaking your head as you rose to your feet. But before you could say anything more, he opened his arms.

And just like that, you stepped into them.

Hayden pulled you in without hesitation, his embrace firm, warm—safe. He smelled faintly of cedar and something crisp, like fresh air after the rain, and as his arms wrapped around you, a quiet sigh escaped your lips. Your body fit against his as if this moment had been written long before either of you had even realized it.

He held you like he meant it, like the weeks of late-night talks and quiet confessions had woven something unbreakable between you. His palm smoothed gently up and down your back, slow and deliberate, as if grounding himself in the reality of having you there, solid and real in his arms.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed this—not just the meeting, not just the touch, but the quiet understanding that passed between you, unspoken yet deeply felt. His hands skimmed gently up and down your back, steady and unrushed, as if memorizing the shape of you, as if savoring the moment in a way that made it feel infinite.

"It doesn’t feel real," you whispered, pressing your cheek against the curve of his shoulder.

Hayden hummed softly, his breath a warm ghost against your temple. "Then let’s stay here a little longer… just to be sure."

And neither of you moved, caught in the golden stillness of a moment that felt like it had been waiting for you both all along.

TAG LIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Interloper [Part 1]

Beetlejuice x Reader

Summary: Strange, supernatural occurrences have been happening around the Reader’s new home. Little does she know, a certain dead guy has taken a liking to her.

a/n: I love Beetlejuice sm. Can’t wait to get to the smutty details on this one

-> Part 1.5 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 //

~~~

First it was some handprints on the mirror in your bathroom. Not really something out of ordinary. Choosing not to think much of it and going on with things. You had more important things to worry about than questioning who had put their grimy hands on your mirror.

But when things started going missing around the house, you grew concerned. Noting how one of your favorite pairs of panties had disappeared from the drawer. Catching the lingering smell of your expensive perfume and how the bottle somehow was disappearing at a rapid pace. Yet there was no sign of forced entry anywhere.

“It’s just kinda weirding me out,” you scanned around your bedroom as you were on the phone with your mom.

“Maybe it’s just one of your friends playing a prank on you,” she attempting to soothe you from the other end of the line.

“I don’t think any of my friends who think something like this is funny,” you sighed sitting down on your bed. Lying back and covering your face with your arms. Frustrated by the strange and unusual things happening around your home.

“Well it is a possibility,” she snipped at you.

“Or this place is haunted and the ghost wants me out,” you snickered.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been watching too much TV,” you could hear her eye roll through the phone.

And maybe you had. You did love that show with that ghost-hunter who would discuss ghosts in homes of families. True crime being another favorite of yours. And you did live alone so it was easy for things to get to your head. Still too afraid to go into the upstairs of your new place. But you could not deny that you believed in the paranormal. There was no doubt in your mind.

“Just try and relax, honey,” your mom said as you ended the phone call. Throwing your legs over the bed when you noticed a flyer flipped over on the floor. Curiosity taking over as you picked it up. The picture of a man with long scraggly hair in a robe on a heart-shaped bed plastered on the front. Hearts and depictions of Cupid accenting the text.

“Bio exorcist?… Looking for a— love connection???” You were completely confused. Noticing how it urged you to call, but there was no phone number written on it. Just an oddly spelled name.

“Betelgeuse…?”

There was a breeze blown through your room. Shocking your senses and causing you to rush up off your bed. Noticing how your bedroom window had blown open. Forcing it closed against the strangely strong wind. Remembering how it had not been windy all day.

Hands planting firmly on your hips as you turned around and scanned your entire room. “What the fuck is going on!” You proclaimed frustrated by everything happening around you. Deciding to go watch some TV in the living room in an attempt to cool down. Clicking on the newest episode of your favorite show.

“Today I want to talk to you about unwanted guests in your home,” the woman on the screen stared heavily into the camera. You laughed.

“Sometimes, ghosts and ghouls will take a liking to the living. And when that happens, they will often try and reach out to you. Wanting to become a welcome guest in your home. Normally, they’re satisfied when they catch your attention with some simpler tactics. Leaving footprints or handprints on your things—“ You sat up suddenly more interested in what she had to say. “Maybe rearranging your stuff or taking something they noticed you use often. But when that does not work, they will begin taking more direct measures. Leaving stuff from their world for you. Causing strange small surges of weather or sounds. Depending on the level of dead you’re dealing with, they may even start speaking to you.”

You furrowed your brows. Everything she had said completely applied to you. Almost as if it was written for you. You quickly clicked the TV off, sitting forward with your hands against your legs. Your mother’s words rang in your mind. You’ve been watching too much TV. This was supposed to calm you down but it sent your mind into a spiral.

Storming off to your room and locking the door behind you. Breathing heavily as you leaned against the back. Hand gripping your chest as your breath heaved. Closing your eyes and cupping your mouth. Sliding down into the floor.

The paper flew across the floor. Sliding directly beside you. Eyes locked on the old flyer. Feeling like there was another pair of eyes in the room with you. “I don’t understand what you want from me,” you sighed leaning your head against the door.

“I just wanna get to know you, babes,” a voice sounded like it was right against your ear. Scratchy and rough. You whipped your head around seeing if somehow, there was someone beside you. There was no one. A chuckle filled your room. You looked around, not seeing a remnant of a person.

“Did you break in?” Your voice cracked as you scanned for something to defend yourself with.

“Nah. I’ve been here longer than you have, sweetheart,” that same voice came from under your bed now. Crawling over and looking under it. There was nothing. That same chuckle from before. “Nice try looking, but you aren’t gonna find me,” he laughed at you. You stood up. Hands running down your face, falling forward onto your bed. Sighing loudly as you stared at yourself in the mirror across from your bed. Loosing all caring you had for the situation at hand.

“Seems like I’m losing ya here,” that voice grumbled above you, “And as much as I do love the view, I need a little more than that.”

The mirror began to fog up. You pushed yourself up getting closer to the glass. A finger began writing something on the mirror.

“Betelgeuse…” you read out loud as the words continued to appear.

“Betelgeuse… Betelgeuse.”

“OH-HO-HO! Now that’s what I’m talking about!” The mirror began cracking, a bright green light shining through. Shielding your face as the glass hit the floor and your entire room illuminated with the green flash. Opening your eyes again to see a man in a striped black and white suit standing in front of you. Skin pale, greenish-blonde hair falling down to his shoulders, teeth discolored. Your jaw hung open in shock.

“Oh my God,” you got out.

“I knew you’d come around, doll! Been waiting for you to say that sweet, sweet name of mine!”

~

[END//PART 1]

// Thank you so much for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed the start, I can’t wait to keep writing for this! If you are interested in being tagged let me know. //

[venus-haze]

God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Your decision to dress up as a slutty nun for Halloween has unexpected consequences when you make the acquaintance of an equally attractive and disturbed priest. (AO3 link)

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Not entirely spoiler-free, but if you’ve watched up to episode 6, you should be good! Also I couldn't find what the parish name was, so I made one up. The gif doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, I just like it🤭 Please look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this fic.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Non-con involving degradation, rough oral sex (m. receiving); ambiguous ending.

You knew early on in the night you had made a mistake in costume choice. The vinyl skirt started pinching your waist after less than an hour of wearing it, the nipple pasties were slowly peeling off despite your best effort, and the platform heels weren’t forgiving after several shots of tequila. The vinyl habit stayed in place with the bobby pins you used, but after a while, it felt like it was cooking your head.

Your friends found your plight funnier as the night went on, cracking jokes about how it was God punishing you for wearing the costume in the first place. Lisa had little trouble with her Tinkerbell costume, a green mini-dress and sparkly heels she pulled from her closet and a cheap set of fairy wings from the same Spirit Halloween you got your costume from. Julie’s Bridgerton-inspired costume seemed a bit out of place compared to you and Lisa, but she got a lot of compliments on the details.

For the limited the fun your little desert town had to offer, something was definitely missing from the night out.

“Why did Merritt say she couldn’t make it, again?” Lisa asked, the three of you walking down the street to the next bar you’d inevitably terrorize. All the usual haunts, where the bartenders knew your order and half the patrons were people you’d gone to high school with and definitely didn’t want to see again.

You shrugged. “I texted her earlier, and she said she couldn’t make it, something came up.”

“It sucks she doesn’t hang out anymore,” Julie said. “Did we do something?”

“I mean, her dad’s in a coma, and her mom’s working all the time with those gross murders going on,” Lisa said. “She’s probably the only one keeping things together at home.”

The three of you had known Merritt for years, your friend group becoming tight-knit as time went on. Getting carted to and from soccer games turned into sleepovers and late nights getting fast food. You got to know the Tryons pretty well over the years. Her dad was nice enough, and you always found her mom funny, if not a bit overprotective, but Lois always remembered your birthday.

“I’m gonna stop by sometime this week. It’s been way too long since any of us have seen her,” you resolved.

Lisa and Julie agreed, though you weren’t sure Merritt would appreciate all of you showing up unannounced at her house. You figured you’d be better off going yourself and seeing what the deal was with Merritt.

Stumbling over your platforms, you struggled to keep up with Lisa and Julie until you tripped and nearly wiped out on the sidewalk. You caught yourself on a nearby telephone pole, the lights from the nearby buildings blurring the more you tried to focus.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna find a convenience store and then get an Uber home.”

“We can go with you,” Julie said.

You shook your head. “Don’t end your night early because of me.”

“Alright, text us when you get home.”

When the world finally appeared upright again, you looked at the nearby street sign, recognizing where you were, at least. Not far to the nearest shop that you were certain would be open late. You checked your phone for the time and felt especially lame. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a sigh, you turned down the street, opening your messages to your most recent text to Merritt. Your FaceTime request went unanswered, so you opted for an audio message instead.

“Hey Mer, it’s me. We missed you tonight!” You paused awkwardly, wishing you could actually talk to her. “Look, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow night, something out in the desert. It’s not too late to get a costume. We could go to the Spirit Halloween in the old Bed, Bath and Beyond—“ A catcall interrupted your rambling. “Look, just call me or something, at least let me know you’re alright? Bye, babe.”

The fluorescent lights in the store were almost headache-inducing, but you powered through for a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar that you hoped would mitigate the hangover you’d inevitably have in the morning. 

Gatorade in hand, you felt almost dizzy staring at the array of protein bars in front of you, wondering how there could even be so many and if they were really any different. A man walked down the aisle, standing a few feet away from you, though you didn’t pay him much mind until you grabbed a protein bar and noticed he was dressed as a priest.

“Hey, nice costume,” you told him.

“Oh, this isn’t a costume.”

You laughed. “Right.” Your inhibitions lowered, you gave him a once over, your gaze lingering on his handsome face, his muscular arms. “You know it’s a shame we didn’t run into each other earlier tonight, we probably could’ve won a couples contest or something.”

He smiled, though something flickered in his brown eyes that made your guts churn. Except, it likely wasn’t him, as you shoved what you were holding onto the shelf next to you and rushed out of the store.

You wretched, the contents of your stomach emptied onto the blacktop. Tears burned your eyes, your throat scratchy and raw by the time you were done. You felt a hand on your upper back, could barely hear the sound of a man asking if you were okay over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.

Glancing up, you were mortified to see the priest looking at you with concern, though disgust was nowhere in his expression.

He handed you the Gatorade you’d been holding in the store, apparently going ahead and buying it for you. Taking a swig, you swished some around in your mouth before spitting it on the ground. He gave you a handful of crumpled napkins as well, and you tried maintaining what was left of your dignity while getting yourself together in front of him.

You managed a mousy thanks, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you plan on driving home,” he said.

You shook your head. “I came out here with my friends."

"And they just left you like this? Alone?"

"I told them I'd get an Uber.”

“They'll charge you double tonight," he said. "I can drive you.”

Accepting a ride home from a stranger certainly wasn’t the smartest choice to make, but he actually seemed to give a shit about your well-being. You agreed, if not for the fact that you were curious about him, and the horny part of your brain hadn't shut up since you saw him.

He kept his hand on your back as he walked you over to his car. Almost felt like his fingers were twitching against your skin. 

Getting into his car, you noticed the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, a saint card clipped to his visor. 

“Oh my god, are you actually a priest?” you asked from the passenger seat as he turned the car on.

“I told you it wasn’t a costume.”

“Shit.”

“Father Charlie Mayhew, from Our Lady of Sorrows, if you don’t believe me.” He smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your address?”

After giving him your address along with your name, realizing you hadn’t told him yet, you rolled the window down about halfway, finding the fragrant odor of incense and cologne a bit overwhelming for your queasy stomach. The cool night air gave you instant relief, and you laid back on the headrest, keeping your eyes closed for a few minutes. 

Father Charlie filled the quiet with a true crime podcast. Not a particularly odd choice, except that he was a priest, but Catholicism always lent itself to morbidity—his was more modern, you supposed.

“Have you heard about those murders around town?” you asked over the sound of a young woman giving the background of a triple homicide.

“Yes, our parish’s publication has been reporting on it,” he said. “I'm the editor, but one of our nuns is working closely with the lead detective on the case.”

You opened your eyes to look at him in disbelief. “Lois is working with a nun?”

“You know detective Tryon?”

“She’s my best friend’s mom,” you said. “I went to her house all the time growing up.”

“You must know her pretty well, then.”

“Yeah, Lois is one hell of a detective,” you said. “Still, I can’t imagine…whoever’s behind it must be depraved. What he’s doing—it’s not even human, it’s animal.”

“He?”

“I don’t think anyone but a man could be capable of that kind of barbarism, Father.”

“You might be right about that,” he said solemnly.

You drank more Gatorade, hoping to settle your stomach and ease your discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken. But you were the one who brought up the murders in the first place. All had some kind of religious connotation. No wonder the Catholic paper was eating that shit up. 

Catholicism was always predisposed to an especially grotesque morbidity. Open wounds considered blessings. Bones of the holy displayed with reverence. Even bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Christ himself. Whoever was behind the recent murders was either observant or well-read.

Father Charlie pulled up to your building about ten minutes later, and you internally sighed in relief when he turned the podcast off. You couldn’t wait to get out of the damn costume and into bed.

“Thanks, Father Charlie,” you said. “I owe you one.”

“Actually, mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked.

You shook your head. “‘Course not. Come on up.”

Acutely aware of the costume you were wearing again, it was far too tempting not to show off on the way up to your apartment, swinging your hips a bit more than was warranted, knowing he was right behind you, the tight skirt giving him a full view of your ass. You privately bemoaned the fact that he was actually a priest. What a fucking waste. A guy who looked like him had no business giving himself to Jesus and denying the rest of the world the pleasure.

You took a selfie by your front door, a tired smile and a thumbs up that you sent to Julie and Lisa.

“Just letting my friends know I got home safe,” you explained, noticing Father Charlie staring at you.

You could barely hide your self-satisfied smile when you unlocked the front door. “The bathroom’s through the kitchen, first door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, the first thing you did was take your heels off. Your feet were still sore, with a mean blister that made you walk funny when you brought the heels over to your shoe rack. You could hear the toilet flush and the water from the sink run in the bathroom. Chewing on your lip, you were almost tempted to ask Father Charlie if he wanted to stick around. If you could just brush your teeth and reapply some makeup real quick, you'd be good as new.

You never got a chance to.

“So, why this costume?” he asked, startling you.

You gasped, turning around to see him leaning against the door frame. “Oh, um—I thought it was funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Well, nuns aren’t supposed to have sex, and this costume is—”

“Pornographic," he said. "I mean, it’s something you get fucked in.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, shocked at his bluntness.

“Chastity. The sacred vow to God that all women of the cloth take, and you—” he scoffed to himself, stepping into your bedroom so he was only a few feet away from you, “you mock it.”

You knew you should’ve picked the sexy nurse costume instead. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“You will be. Get on your knees.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Don’t be crude. This is about repentance.”

The searing venom in his voice made your muscles contort to his will, and you found yourself on your knees. You should have been fighting back, screaming for him to get out, but in your heart you knew it was useless. Back in the convenience store, you noticed his fit physique, and you could hardly count on your neighbors to give a shit if you were in any kind of trouble.

"Do you even know how to make a sign of the cross?" he asked mockingly.

You shakily did so, bringing your left hand to your forehead, then your chest, then to each shoulder. He scoffed, apparently you messed something up, but he didn't elaborate, instead ordering you to repeat after him. The prayer came jumbled from your mouth, 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault' over and over until his voice was ringing in your ears like a broken church bell.

The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes focused on his face, even when you heard the sound of his zipper and clothes shifting. But you couldn't help it, not when he was pumping his cock right in front of your face. Your repetition dipped with a slight whimper when you glanced at the size of him, foolishly hoping it was just proximity making his length appear so intimidating and angry, as if it wanted to hurt you just like he did.

“Simply praying won’t do someone like you any good," he said abruptly. "You need another form of penance, something more tangible."

Shoving his cock in your open mouth, you choked at the intrusion, attempted to shift backward and finally make a run for it, but he caught you by the habit you so stupidly kept in place with bobby pins and hit the back of your throat.

"Why don't you give me ten Hail Marys?" he mocked, his looming silhouette appearing outright demonic through your tear-filled gaze.

You didn't know the damn prayer. Couldn't even try to fake it when all you could manage was muffled pleas for him to slow down, go easy on you, have mercy. Your jaw ached, throat burned at the force he used to make you take as much of his cock as you possibly could.

He didn't show any signs of fatigue, save for the beads of sweat that rolled from his face and onto your own. He grinned at that, at you, the position you were in. The church was full of sickos, and he was certainly no exception.

Making one feeble attempt to fight back, your teeth grazed his cock, and just as you tried to work up the courage to bite down, he jerked his hips, cursing under his breath.

"Take it," his voice a low growl as he came in your mouth, ignoring your choking, spit and snot and cum leaking down your face and onto your vinyl costume and exposed breasts, "take your penance, slut."

Father Charlie hardly gave you a chance to catch your breath when he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth. You practically collapsed on your bedroom floor, each gasp of air painful against the back of your abused throat. Grabbing you by the habit again, he hauled you over to your bed, bending you over the edge of it.

He shoved his fingers between your legs and scoffed at the wetness that coated your thighs, your thong doing little to contain your subconscious reaction to the way he treated you. "Oh, that's just shameful," he drawled. "You're not repentant at all, are you? Leading a man of the cloth astray, causing me to sin…why else would you have put this costume on tonight?"

Straddling you from behind like a dog, his body was heavy on yours. With one hand squeezing your neck, the other pressed something against your throat. You reached for whatever he was holding, freezing in panic when you realized it was the hair scissors you kept in your bathroom. He must have swiped it while he was in there. They weren't even that sharp, but the extra effort he'd have to put in to mortally injure you with them would mean it would be all the more painful for you.

“Depraved, animal, barbaric,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you think of me?”

You whimpered, feeling his cruel laughter rumble in his chest against your back. “No—no, you can’t be—”

“I was going to do something about that costume anyway, but having that mutual friend in common,” he mused, “I just can’t pass up the opportunity to leave Detective Tryon a personal message. Call it divine will.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You can tell God yourself how sorry you are,” he whispered.

“No—Father, please don’t—”

[baisemains]

Elements of Desire

Chapter 3: Dinner for Four

single mom!sevika x fem!reader

word count: 7.5k

contains: alcohol mention, weed mention, slight language, the slightest suggestive themes, really just fluff!

description: an unexpected invitation leads to an eye opening night.

ao3 link | spotify playlist

previous | next // sevika masterlist

Over the next few days, you and Sevika start emailing back and forth about the competition, eventually graduating to text when she finds the slip of paper you left your number on. 

That lasts for less than a day when one night, Sevika asks if you can call her because “she likes to talk on the phone like a normal person.”

You chuckle a bit at her age showing but you agree and a couple of minutes later, your phone starts vibrating.

Picking up the call, you hear a gentle hey. 

You immediately notice how much her voice changes over the phone, the rasp from the few times you've talked to her in person replaced by a much softer, lower tone.

She must be tired.

Sevika continues your earlier conversation about the science fair, and it makes you smile to hear just how invested she is in Powder succeeding.

A lot of parents you deal with couldn’t care less about their child's education and you’re glad that isn’t the case here. 

You speak cordially with each other, covering lots of possible topics that Powder could work on and the girl in question occasionally chimes in with her ideas, Sevika having put her phone on speaker as she cooks dinner. 

Eventually, she tells you it’s time for them to eat but she’ll call you back when they’re done, and you agree before hanging up and heading to the kitchen to have your own dinner. 

You’re heating up your leftovers in the microwave when you hear your roommate walk in and you turn around to greet her. 

She’s on her phone as she passes you, only raising her free hand in a quick greeting before she plops down on the couch, still texting.  

The microwave finally beeps so you grab your food and sit down next to her, grabbing the TV remote and putting on the reality show you watch together. 

You’re almost done with your meal and the episode when your phone starts to buzz on the coffee table in front of you. 

Leaning forward and seeing Sevika’s name, you look at your roommate apologetically. 

“I have to take this, it’s about the science fair.”

“Ooh, hot mom’s calling?”

Your friend laughs and you give her a playful elbow to the side before answering. 

“Stop, we have a lot of work to do before the first deadline.”

She smirks, not even looking at you as she changes the channel. 

“If you say so.”

You put the phone to your ear and get up to put your plate in the dishwasher, greeting Sevika as your roommate yells after you.

“Don’t take too long, we still have another episode and the reunion!”

Yelling back over your shoulder as you cover your phone with your hand, “I won’t!”

Putting your phone back to your ear, you can hear Sevika chuckling and the sound alone has you fighting back a smile. 

“Sorry about that, we’re a couple episodes behind on our show.”

You hear the gentle clinking of ice in a glass and a small gulp as you wait for Sevika’s reply. 

“We can finish this another time if you’re busy, I don’t wanna interrupt.”

Walking into your room and sitting on your bed, you start to shake your head before you remember she can’t see you and verbalize your answer. 

“No no, it’s fine, those housewives can wait.”

This time, you hear an inhale and subsequent exhale and wonder what it is she’s smoking. 

A cigarette? A cigar? A joint?

“Housewives, huh? Didn’t take you for a reality TV junkie.”

You slide a hand over your forehead, unsure of how to take Sevika’s tone. 

“Yeah…sometimes it’s nice to watch other people’s problems for once, you know? Just check out of my brain for a little.”

She hums in response. 

“I can understand that. I like to read biographies for the same reason. Makes me realize I’m not the only person in the world going through something.”

This is really the first time Sevika’s volunteered information about herself and your ears perk up instantly. 

“Oh really? What are you reading right now?”

Sevika realizes you’re not on the original topic of why she called but it’s getting late and it’s been a long week so her defenses aren’t as high as they usually are. 

Deciding that she feels comfortable telling you, she takes another sip of her drink and answers your question. 

“It’s about a man who applied to this big law firm over 20 times and was never accepted, but he met his wife when he came into their office and she was a secretary there. She ended up passing from cancer 10 or so years ago and her dying wish was for him to write the book he always talked about, so he did. But the entire thing is really just a love letter to her and how much he misses her.”

You don’t even realize how intently you’re listening to her talk until she’s done. 

“Wow, that’s…so sad.”

Sevika takes another drag and exhales deeply before answering. 

“In a way. But he talks about how lucky he feels to have had her in his life for so long and how he’d rather spend every day grieving her than live a life never having met her.”

You’re unsure how to respond to such a heavy statement, registering her almost longing tone.

Sevika continues when you don’t immediately say anything, not letting herself think about the fact that she’s rambling to her daughter’s teacher who she barely knows. 

She tells you more anecdotes from the book, about the man and his wife, and you listen to every word. 

So focused on the story and reminiscing, she doesn’t catch herself until she’s finished and you finally speak. 

“That sounds beautiful.”

Your response jolts her back to reality and she awkwardly clears her throat. 

“Sorry, that was a lot.”

“No, oh my gosh, it sounds like a really good book. I might have to check it out sometime.”

That gets a genuine smile from Sevika and she replies before she can think about it. 

“You can borrow my copy if you want, I’m almost done with it.”

Realizing what she said, she squeezes her eyes shut and leans back in her chair, hoping she didn’t sound eager. 

Or “thirsty”, as Vi and Powder would say. 

Little does she know, you’re on the other end of the line grinning like a fool, trying to keep it out of your voice. 

“That sounds great. I look forward to it.”

Choosing to ignore the fact that she basically explained the entire book, a small smile adorns Sevika’s face and she lets out a small sigh of relief. 

“I can send it with Powder on Monday if that works for you.”

Smile dropping slightly, you don’t know why you thought she’d hand deliver it when her daughter is literally in your class but you try not to let the disappointment seep into your reply. 

“Yeah! Monday, that works.”

Sevika is about to reply when you hear a door slide open and Powder’s voice in the background. 

“Are you coming in soon? You said we could watch a movie when you were off the phone and Isha’s starting to fall asleep.”

Sevika’s eyes widen, surprised at the amount of time that’s gone by since the beginning of the call and she looks at the clock on her phone. 

It’s been over an hour?

Her head drops, partly in embarrassment at being caught by her daughter and partly because she’s sad her conversation with you has come to an end. 

Huffing slightly, she rubs her face with her free hand and nods at Powder. 

“Alright, let me finish up here and I’ll be in in a couple minutes, baby.”

She turns her attention back to you, her normal stoic tone returning, and your heart skips against your chest without your permission, upset that it’s time for your goodbyes. 

“I uh…I gotta go. The girls are waiting on me for movie night.”

You have a sudden urge to try and keep her on the line but you quickly squash it. 

Knowing it’s ridiculous to think that just because Sevika is having a nice conversation with you, she’d want to stay on the phone over spending time with her daughters. 

You take a breath and give her a smile, even though she can’t see you. 

“Yeah, of course. Say hi to them for me.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You hang up the phone, leaning back against your pillows as you bring your hands up to your face and groan. 

That conversation did not help your situation. 

After you hang up, Sevika runs a hand through her hair, annoyed at herself for not even considering the amount of time that had passed while talking with you. 

Getting up and walking into the living room, she sees Powder sitting upside down on the couch and Isha in her usual spot, curled up on a pillow with the TV waiting to be played.

“Sorry, girls, I lost track of time.”

Sevika sits down on the couch, hitting play on the movie as Powder sits up and glances over at her. 

“Who were you talking to?”

Sevika looks over at her daughter and answers her honestly, never one to lie to her girls.

“Your chemistry teacher, we were going over some stuff for your project.”

Okay, maybe a half lie. 

Powder nods, accepting that response easily and turning to watch the movie. 

Sevika tries to pay attention but she keeps getting distracted by the memory of your voice through the phone, wondering if you always sounded so soft or if she was the exception to that.

That weekend passes quickly, neither of you reaching out as you were both extremely busy with your lives and Monday morning rolls around sooner than you expected. 

You’re at your desk, getting ready for the day when you hear footsteps walking in. 

Not bothering to look up, you greet your early bird like you do every class. 

“Good morning Ekko.”

“Um, it’s Powder actually.”

You pause your typing and turn your head to look at her, not anticipating her to be the first one to arrive. 

“Hey Powder, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

She smiles softly at you and reaches into her bag, looking for something. 

“My mom wanted me to give you this?”

Pulling out the biography you were talking about a few days before, she hands it to you and you have to stop yourself from smiling. 

She remembered. 

“Oh yeah, she mentioned this was a good read and offered to let me borrow her copy. Thanks.”

You take the book and look back at your student, a hint of a smirk on your lips. 

“I heard she’s quite the bookworm.”

Powder laughs at your comment and nods her head, her hair bouncing adorably.

“Yeah, she has a library in her room. Just shelves and shelves of books.”

You tilt your head in thought, picturing Sevika surrounded by books everywhere. 

It’s not an unwelcome visual. 

Powder continues standing in front of your desk, telling you more random tidbits about her family; how they have movie nights every Friday, that she has an older sister in college, how Sevika loves to cook and the girls try to help but she always shoos them out of the kitchen. 

You soak it all up, pleasantly surprised that Powder feels comfortable telling you so much information.

She’s just getting to the topic of their favorite snacks when Ekko enters the room, interrupting Powder’s rant, and he says a quick hello before sitting down at his seat. 

You smile at him and wave as you turn back to Powder, who suddenly remembers where she is and stutters out a quick “I better get to my seat.”

Letting out a small laugh, you watch her walk over to her station and sit down next to Ekko. 

They’re not trying to tear each other’s heads off like they used to, but they’ve settled into this awkward agreement where they don’t speak unless it’s necessary. 

You’d be worried if they didn’t get their work done, but this silent partnership is working in their favor so you leave it alone for the moment.

The next few weeks are a blur, finals are approaching and so is the first submission deadline for the science fair. 

You and Sevika are back to communicating often, she lets Powder stay after school most days to work on her project, always picking her up with a homemade meal or dessert for you to take home. 

The first time she does it, you almost drop the Tupperware container, frozen at the realization that she cooked with you in mind. 

After she sees the grateful look on your face, and how you text her your thanks that night, she makes it a point to have something for you after every session. 

Another Friday rolls around and during class, you text Sevika and ask if it’s okay for Powder to take home her science project so she can work on it over break. 

“If you can’t, no worries, I can move some stuff around and take it home with me.”

She responds a few minutes later with a voice note – she says they’re faster than texting – and the message makes you swoon. 

“No she can bring it here, I have a couple projects in the garage but I’ll make room.”

Between what she says and the metallic noises in the background, the image of Sevika in her element springs into your mind. 

The way she would look bent over the hood of a car, her oil covered muscles flexing as she tightens a screw, her hand wiping sweat from her brow—

You jump back in your chair, phone still in hand and a couple students in your front row look at you in confusion. 

Giving them a tight smile, you quickly send her an “Ok” to Sevika and put your phone in your desk drawer.

Sevika quirks an eyebrow at your unusually blunt message, normally you reply with an exclamation point or an emoji or something. 

Once she gets off work, she heads home and sets up the garage for Powder’s project, moving her own stuff and setting up a mini workstation in a corner with a tarp down. 

The garage definitely looks like it belongs to a mechanic, she’ll say that. 

Getting a message from you that Powder’s project was ready to be picked up, she hops in her truck and heads over to the school, parking in the back by your classroom.

Sevika calls you when she arrives, and you quickly answer to let her know you’re on your way to open the back door for her. 

Hearing a creak, she looks over and sees your smiling face, a similar one blooming on hers. 

“Hey.”

You wave her inside as you respond gently. 

“Hi.”

The two of you stand in front of each other for a couple seconds before Sevika coughs into her fist, breaking the trance that you were both in. 

“Lead the way, miss.”

Sevika holds the door open and gestures for you to walk in first, and you have to look down to hide your giggle from her. 

You notice how she always calls you that when you’re on school grounds, but you definitely don’t mind it, even finding it sweet. 

Walking into your classroom, you go over to Powder and help her grab the boxes that her project was divided into. 

You’re headed for the biggest ones when Sevika rests a hand on the small of your back and walks past you. 

“Let me grab those.”

All you can do is watch as Sevika grabs the heaviest two, throwing one on top of her shoulder and settling the other against her hip. 

She turns around to face you and Powder as she nods her head towards the door. 

“Gonna toss these in the truck, be right back.”

“Not toss! Gently place.”

Powder makes sure to clarify, and Sevika laughs as she kisses the top of her head on her way out. 

“My bad, gently place.”

You wistfully watch Sevika leave the room, seeing her easily lift those boxes and then be so gentle with her daughter in the span of 30 seconds makes you feel things you didn’t know were possible.

Shaking yourself from your daze, you grab one of the smaller boxes and Powder grabs the last as the two of you head out to the back door into the parking lot. 

You see Sevika walking towards you two when she looks up and stops in her tracks. 

“What are you guys doing? I said I could grab the last boxes.”

An answer slips out before you can think about it.

“We didn’t want you making two trips.”

Sevika’s mouth opens to reply when you gesture at your classroom with a nod. 

“It’s not that far, plus we’re just strong like that.”

You instantly regret your choice of words as she quickly looks you up and down with an assessing eye. 

“I guess you are.” 

A shiver threatens to run up your spine but you’re somehow able to contain yourself. Mostly. 

Thankfully Sevika doesn’t acknowledge your reaction as she reaches out to place her hand on Powder’s shoulder. 

“Look how strong my baby is.”

Powder rolls her eyes in embarrassment and shrugs her off. 

“Mommm!”

Sevika throws her hands up in surrender and laughs, very well aware of her teenager’s antics. 

“All right, I get it. You’re too cool for me now.”

She walks over to her truck and opens the back door, grabbing the box from Powder and sliding it in before turning to you.

You lift the box towards Sevika at the same time she reaches for it, and her hands basically engulf yours as she takes it from you. 

The feel of your hands together renders you speechless, your breath feeling a little short in your chest. 

You think you see a hitch in her face as well but before you can look any longer, she’s already facing the truck, her broad back blocking your view. 

Snapping yourself out of it, you watch her carefully load the last box in, moving it around until she’s satisfied that it’s as safe as possible.

The door is shut with finality, Sevika facing you again as she shoves her gloved hands in her pockets. 

Her trusty leather jacket covering her, the slight fall breeze blowing her short hair out of her face, it’s all too much and you have to look away before you start staring. 

She breaks the silence before you can say your goodbyes. 

“I didn’t bring you anything today, my apologies.”

You face her again to respond, but she narrows her eyes to let you know she’s not done and you close your mouth immediately. 

“But as a thank you for helping Powder these past few weeks, we’d love to invite you over for dinner tonight. My cooking tastes much better fresh, I promise.”

That’s not at all what you expected her to say, and Sevika takes your delayed response as rejection. 

“Only if you’re free of course, it’s short notice and a Friday night, so you probably have plans—“

“I’d love to!”

Interjecting before she can take back her invitation, you smile at her, and then Powder, who’s absolutely beaming at you.

Sevika’s relief is immediate and she clears her throat, doing everything in her power not to look too eager. 

“Great! We should be done in a little over an hour, I can send you the address and you can come over when you’re ready. Does that work for you?”

You nod your head gently, just enough time to go home and spruce up.

“That’s perfect. I’m gonna head back inside and grab my stuff and I’ll see you in a bit!”

Sevika gives you a small smile, and you could’ve sworn the look lingered slightly before she got in her truck and left, Powder waving from the window. 

Taking a deep breath and letting it out as you walked back to your classroom, a sudden anxiety ran through you. 

You were having dinner with Sevika. 

And her daughters. 

At her house. 

It was both exciting and terrifying. 

It was the first time you would see the inside of her home, which is such an intimate thing, inviting someone into your personal space.

Catching yourself starting to freak out, you take a deep breath to calm down, not wanting to get too ahead of yourself. 

You gather your things as quickly as you can and head home, silently hoping no one is there so you don’t have to explain where you’re going.

When you arrive, you’re met with an eerily silent house and you breathe out a sigh of relief. 

Kicking off your shoes, you bee-line for your room, checking yourself out in the full length mirror and deciding if you should change or not. 

You decide against it, you don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard but you do grab a thicker jacket, thinking of the chill coming later.

Your phone buzzes and you see the text preview from Sevika with an address listed. 

Suddenly, you remember something that makes you pause on your way out of your room. 

What the hell do I bring……

You start pacing back and forth, trying to think of something that says you’re grateful for the invitation but not overstepping your bounds.

Flowers? A bottle of wine? Some kind of dessert? 

Remembering a comment Powder made a couple of weeks ago, you quickly reapply your favorite body spray before grabbing your keys and setting off to the store.

After grabbing what you need, you arrive at Sevika’s house and give yourself one last look in your rearview mirror, checking for any imperfections. 

You realize how ridiculous you’re being and try to snap yourself out of it. 

“Relax. This isn’t a date, it’s a friendly dinner with your student’s family, nothing else. Just be calm.”

Shaking your head, you grab your items from the passenger seat and get out of the car, wrapping your coat a little tighter around yourself as you walk up the driveway. 

Your hand is just about to press the doorbell when the door swings open and a waving Isha reveals herself. 

Smiling at her, you ask her where Sevika is, and she points inside. 

Before you can say anything else, a voice rings out, and a figure emerges from around the corner right after. 

“Isha, I told you about— Oh.”

Sevika enters your line of sight as she approaches the front door and you have to stifle a giggle. 

She’s wearing a black apron that says “Kiss The Cook” in bold white letters with a red lipstick mark replacing the dot over the I, over a plain white tee that’s surprisingly spotless. 

As you take in the rest of her look, you see something you don’t remember noticing before. 

Her left arm is completely made of metal. A prosthetic. 

Realizing you’ve never seen her without a long sleeve or jacket and gloves, it clicks and you feel your mouth open slightly before shutting it, deciding that it’s none of your business.

Your gaze roams back up to her face, seeing her smile decorated with that adorable gap as she motions you inside. 

“Please, come in, it’s freezing out there.”

You cross the threshold, taking off your shoes, and Sevika reaches behind you to close the door and lock it. 

“Glad you could make it, I was starting to worry.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, I had to stop on my way to grab these.”

You grab the items from under your arm and raise them for her to see. 

A bag of cherry sours and a bottle of whiskey. 

Laughing out loud, Sevika covers her mouth in recognition.  

She mentioned that those were the girls’ favorite candy but were hard to find and somehow you managed. 

“Where did you find those? I looked everywhere!”

Smiling back at her, you let her in on your secret location. 

“There’s this corner store by my place, it’s run by an older man and his daughter and they have a bunch of super hard to find candy, even ones that have been discontinued.”

Isha reminds you of her presence as she squeals next to you and looks up at Sevika with puppy eyes. 

Sevika laughs at her youngest’s antics and glances back at you. 

“What do you say, Isha?”

The little girl quickly signs thank you and you giggle, the look on her face completely worth it as you hand her the bag and she runs into the kitchen.  

“None ‘til after dinner, I’m serious!”

Sevika yells after her, turning back to you as you lift the bottle in her direction. 

“A little birdie told me this was your poison.”

Her eyes flicker up to yours, a glint of something you can’t quite place in them. 

She looks back down at the bottle as she takes it in both of her hands, her mouth slightly open. 

“Oh wow, thank you, you didn’t have to bring me anything…”

“Of course I did, I know better than to show up at someone’s house empty handed. Especially after all the food you’ve brought me, are you kidding? I’d never forgive myself.”

Sevika chuckles at that, looking down at your coat and gesturing towards it. 

“Let me take that from you, it’s a lot warmer in here than it is out there.”

You start to slip it off yourself when you feel a warm hand reach under your collar and pull it off the rest of the way, hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. 

Looking up at Sevika, she gives you a small smile and nods her head towards the kitchen. 

“Come on, dinner’s just about ready.”

You follow her inside and the wonderful aroma you smelled earlier gets stronger, your eyes closing on instinct. 

“It’s my mom’s recipe, hope you like Indian food.”

Opening your eyes, you smile at her, nodding your head. 

“Sounds amazing.”

Sevika stands at the stove, serving the food into bowls as she yells over her shoulder for the girls to sit down, nodding at you too. 

“Take a seat, I’ll bring the food right over.”

As you move towards the table, you hear a “Hi, teach!” and suddenly Powder is hugging your side. 

“Hi Powder.”

You smile at the girl and squeeze her back as she lets you go and takes her seat at the table, Isha appearing and following right after. 

You look at the two empty seats left and take the one that doesn’t face the kitchen, assuming that spot is Sevika’s. 

Glancing around the room, you take it in for the first time. 

It’s not huge, but it’s cozy. Pictures of their family adorn the walls here and there, you see Isha and Powder and another girl you don’t recognize, their various milestones growing up, and they look happy in every single one. 

Looking next to the pictures, you notice a few medals and trophies, some with Powder’s name on it, those are science related, and there’s a few sports ones in there with another name.

Violet.

Sevika comes over soon after and sets bowls in front of everyone, sitting down in her spot, smiling at you. 

“Alright guys, let me know how it tastes, I haven’t made this in a while.”

The girls immediately start eating, giving their comments and compliments about the food. 

Grabbing your spoon, you dig in too and the second the flavors hit your tongue, you hum in pleasure. 

“Sevika, this is delicious!”

She has the audacity to look bashful, lowering her eyes for a second before raising them to meet yours as a gentle smile graces her face. 

“You like it?”

“I love it, you were right about your cooking tasting better fresh.”

She laughs, and Powder starts telling you all about how her classes went that week. 

Eventually, Isha joins the conversation and starts telling you about her best friend at school and you smile, laughing at her stories.

You don’t see Sevika’s eye on you as you talk enthusiastically with her daughters, but you feel her gaze the entire time. 

Chiming in occasionally, she mostly just watches how easy the conversation flows, like you’ve known them for ages, and she starts to feel a warmth spread through her chest.

Once you’re all done eating, Powder starts clearing the table and you walk over to the sink with her and start pulling up your sleeves. 

Whispering to her so a certain someone can’t hear you, you ask her a question. 

“Where do you guys keep your dish soap?”

Before Powder can answer, a voice rings out behind you and the two of you spin around like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. 

“What are you guys– Are you doing the dishes?”

Sevika looks at you in shock and starts walking over, shooing Powder out of the kitchen and eventually standing in front of you, arms crossed. 

“Guests don’t do chores in my house.”

You look at her with a sheepish smile, nodding your head as you rub your neck. 

“Right, I just thought I’d try and help out, you cooked and the girls are handling the table so I felt like I should do something…”

Sevika cracks a smile and lets out a short laugh. 

“Don’t worry about it, that’s what the dishwasher is for.”

From the living room, you hear shocked gasps. 

“I thought you said it didn’t work! That we could only use it as a drying rack!”

Powder looks confused, and Isha is right next to her with a shocked expression. 

“I don’t let you girls use it because the first time Vi tried, she added too much soap and flooded the kitchen. Plus, too much technology makes you lazy, a little elbow grease goes a long way.”

Chuckling, she turns back to the sink and loads the dishes into the dishwasher. 

The girls groan and go back to quietly complaining to each other while you face Sevika and glance up at the clock on her kitchen wall. 

“So…I should probably head out soon, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome. Dinner was wonderful though, thank you so much for inviting me.”

Sevika pauses as she closes the dishwasher and stands back up, leaning against the edge of the counter. 

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you could make it.”

She glances out into the living room, seeing that the girls are distracted with finding a movie to watch. 

Turning back to you, she chews on her lower lip, knowing that she’d rather you not leave, but isn’t going to ask you to stay. 

“The girls really enjoyed themselves, I haven’t seen them talk that much to someone who wasn’t family…maybe ever, actually.”

Not holding back the grin adorning your face, you nod and glance over at them. 

“It’s easy to get along with them, they’re amazing kids.”

You look back at Sevika, locking eyes with her and letting yourself get lost in them. 

“You’re doing a great job.”

Sevika’s heart skips a beat and she gives you a soft smile. 

“Thanks, I….yeah, I hope I am.”

The fact that you said that to her, something she’s insecure about, the thought of her failing at being a parent always floating in the back of her mind, means a lot. 

She’s snapped out of her thoughts when you begin pushing yourself off the counter, signaling that it really is time to go. 

A tiny frown appears on her face, but she tries to cover it as she moves to walk you to the door.

When you reach the doorway, Sevika passes you your coat as she yells over her shoulder. 

“Come say bye, girls!”

Powder immediately jumps up from her place in the living room and runs over, sliding the rest of the way in her socks when she reaches you. 

“Wait, you’re leaving already?”

Isha walks over with a curious look on her face, eyes bouncing between you and Sevika. 

They finally land on you and she signs, you’re not going to stay for movie night?

Your heart squeezes at the fact that she wants to include you in their family tradition, and you glance up at Sevika, mouth slightly open. 

“Um, I’m—“

Powder cuts you off before you can get anything else out.

“Please stay, we were gonna watch that movie you told me about in class yesterday!”

Sevika’s lips are pursed together, trying to hold back a smile as she looks at her girls. 

“Hey, if she needs to leave, don’t try to guilt her into staying, come on.”

Eyes bouncing between the three of them, you let out a small smile. 

“I don’t mind staying, if it’s okay with you, Sevika.”

She lets out the grin she was holding back and nods her head gently, silently thanking her daughters. 

“That’s fine with me.”

The girls cheer and Isha grabs your hand, leading you into the living room, to the couch and sitting next to you. 

Powder grabs their snacks, including the cherry sours you brought, and puts them in a bowl on the coffee table, taking a seat on the floor in front of the couch. 

You hear some shuffling in the kitchen and look over to see Sevika tidying up before walking over and sitting down on the other side of Isha. 

Realizing the little girl is the only barrier between you two, you clear your throat and shift in your seat, suddenly nervous.

Sevika’s eyes are immediately drawn to you, catching the movement and she realizes you’re trying to keep your distance. 

Her attention is quickly stolen though as Powder turns on the movie and Isha makes herself comfortable, crossing her legs and leaning into you. 

The opening credits start playing and Sevika relaxes in her spot, trying to keep her focus on the screen. It’s hard to though, knowing you’re this close.

Eventually, she feels the need to move and leans back into the couch as her right arm stretches along the top of it, flexing her fingers when they lightly bump into something. 

You snap your gaze in the direction of whatever just touched your head, seeing an embarrassed Sevika looking at you. 

She mouths a sorry and you giggle, responding with an it’s okay and turn your head back towards the TV, covering your mouth to hide your smile.

Sevika is relieved when you’re quick to reassure her, she was worried that you wouldn’t take the contact as the innocent mistake that it was. 

Hearing you giggle makes her heart flutter and it helps in calming her down, a smile appearing on her face. 

You end up making it through the rest of the movie without incident and it’s almost midnight when Sevika turns to the girls, ending credits rolling on the screen.  

“Okay guys, it’s time to head to bed.”

Groaning, Powder sits up and looks at her mom with puppy dog eyes. 

“Aww, but we wanted to watch another movie…”

Isha yawns and rubs her eyes, only proving her mom’s point.

Sevika tilts her head at her daughter, quirking an eyebrow. 

“That was the deal babe, we have plans tomorrow, remember?”

“Fiiiiine.”

Powder throws herself back onto the ground for dramatic effect, making her mom laugh. 

“You’ll live, come on.”

Sitting up again, Powder goes over and gives you a quick hug. 

“Good night, teach.”

Then she plods over to her sister and pats her leg. 

“C’mon Ish, you too.”

Isha stands up and signs goodnight to you, giving you a big hug that warms your heart. 

Sevika rubs her back and motions to their rooms with her head, telling them to go on. 

“I’ll be there in a bit to tuck you guys in.”

The girls round the corner and disappear down the hallway, leaving you to turn back to Sevika, leaning your head on your propped up fist. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight before you. 

Sevika’s head is tilted back against the wall, eyes closed and hands rubbing her face, eventually interlocking and settling on top of her head.

Short hair framing her chiseled features, a soft expression replacing her usual stoic one. 

Your eyes wander to the white tee stretching over her broad shoulders, her bicep lightly flexing.

Lowering your gaze, you see that her shirt has slightly ridden up and a hint of her lower stomach has exposed itself to you.

Doing a double take, you notice a trail of hair from her belly button that disappears into her waistband. 

You quickly look back up to her face, afraid you’ve been caught. 

Thankfully, Sevika is blissfully unaware, her eyes still shut as she mentally prepares herself to get the girls settled for bed. 

You let out an internal sigh of relief and start thinking about how tonight went, how easy it felt talking to the girls and laughing with them.

Sevika opens her eyes once again and drops her hands into her lap, turning to find you already looking at her. 

She suddenly feels self conscious, thinking that you’ve been studying her without her noticing, and her body stiffens. 

Were you looking at her arm? Did it freak you out? She should’ve casually mentioned it before, or put a jacket on when she came to the door—

She clears her throat and looks down at her sleeve, picking at the cuff of her shirt. 

Realizing that she’s uncomfortable, you let her know what you were thinking to ease her mind. 

“Tonight was really fun, I’m glad I stayed. I haven’t had a night like that in a while.”

Relaxing a bit, Sevika meets your eyes again.

“I’m happy to hear that, I’m sure the girls are too. They really like having you around.”

Looking at her sitting there, you’re once again struck by how beautiful she is, but also by how vulnerable she seems right now.  A complete switch from the tough front she normally puts up. 

She shifts to face you, bending one leg onto the couch as she lays her hands in her lap. 

Your knees are now a hair away from touching, and you can feel the tension in the air. 

Gazing into each other’s eyes for a couple more seconds, you open your mouth to say something when a buzzing in your pocket announces itself. 

The bubble you two were in now broken, you mumble out an apology as you fish your phone out and see a text from your roommate. 

Are you coming home tonight so I can put the top lock on?

Sighing, you shoot her a quick reply letting her know you’re on your way and look back up at Sevika, her gaze flicking from your phone to your face.

“Time to go?”

You nod and send a sad smile her way, standing up from the couch and stretching, having been sitting for a couple of hours straight. 

Sevika stands up as well and follows you to the front door, watching as you grab your coat and move to put it on. 

Suddenly, you feel her standing behind you, moving into your space to help slide it the rest of the way. 

Her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, the contact making your breath hitch for a second as her warmth seeps through the fabric.

Clearing her throat, she takes a step back and puts her hands in her back pockets.

“Let me know when you get home.”

Looking up at her, you see a faint hint of worry in her eyes. 

You smile warmly at that, knowing it’s the mom in her but also at how cute her expression is. 

“I will.”

Sevika lets out a breath that she was unconsciously holding, a small smile appearing on her face as she opens the door for you.

“Drive safe.” 

“Will do.”

You take a step over the threshold and pause, unsure if you should hug her or just leave. 

She seems to sense your hesitation and closes the distance between you, pulling you into a brief but firm hug. 

Her scent envelopes you, bringing an inexplicable sense of comfort, and you start to lean into her before she gently pulls away.

She pats your arm before shoving her hands back in her pockets and clearing her throat. 

“Night.”

You want to laugh at her sudden awkwardness but walk out instead, looking over your shoulder and lightly waving as she watches you the entire way to your car. 

Not until you finish warming it up and drive off a couple minutes later does she finally close the door.

Slumping against it, Sevika takes a deep breath, groaning as she realizes how she reacted to the hug. 

Shaking her head, she moves away from the door and walks towards the girls’ rooms, wanting to tuck them in so she can head to bed.

She knocks on Isha’s door and steps in, seeing her curled up on her side, already asleep. 

Kissing her forehead, she closes the door to her room and walks into Powder’s, who’s on her phone watching a video. 

“Time for bed.”

Powder looks up at her and nods, locking her phone and putting it on her nightstand. 

“We should have her over again, that was fun.”

Sevika laughs softly and sits down on the edge of the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles in Powder’s comforter. 

“Ok, kid.”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, she switches off the bedside lamp and walks to the door, grabbing the handle. 

“Night, babe.”

“Night, mom.”

Sevika closes the door gently and heads to her room, yawning on the way. 

Pieces of the evening flash through her mind as she goes through her nightly routine and she catches herself, suddenly getting worried. 

What am I doing? It was just a friendly dinner.

Shaking her head, she tries to clear her thoughts of you as she climbs into bed, hoping she has a dreamless sleep. 

When you arrive home, you make sure to fully lock the door as you kick off your shoes, the exhaustion finally creeping in. 

You whip out your phone to let Sevika know you made it safely and she hearts the message immediately, causing you to smile.

Hearing noise coming from the living room, you walk in and see your roommates all there watching TV. 

“There you are! We didn’t think you were gonna be out this late.”

You wave at them and walk over to the couch, plopping onto it as they look you up and down. 

“Had a good night?”

Giggling, you nod and lean back into the couch, debating on how much to tell them. 

“I had fun, yeah.”

One of your roommates raises an eyebrow at you, poking your leg. 

“We need a little more than that. Spill, were you on a date or something?”

You smile at their prying and let out a short laugh. 

“No, no, it was just a dinner thing.”

They share a look at your denial, not buying it. 

“Mhm, sure it was. Just a dinner thing that lasted for…” one of them looks at the clock, “how many hours?”

You roll your eyes at her and poke her shoulder. 

“It’s really not a big deal, we just watched a movie and hung out. The kids wanted me to stay longer.”

The room suddenly turns silent and you realize what you’ve said when everyone turns to look at you. 

“What do you mean, ‘kids’? Where were you?”

Not able to lie your way out of this, you decide to just tell them where you were but omit any other details, knowing they’ll blow it out of proportion. 

“Sevika’s…”

The second her name leaves your mouth, your roommates start squealing and cheering. 

“Hello?! How the hell did that happen?!”

You try to hide your smile at their reactions, feeling heat creep up your neck. 

“It wasn’t like that, she invited me over for dinner as a thank you for helping Powder with her project, and then her girls wanted me to stay for their movie night, so I did. No biggie.”

“What do you mean ‘no biggie’, you had a whole domestic ass night with them!”

At her words, you suddenly freeze, realizing that’s exactly what happened. 

You spent the entire night practically as a member of Sevika’s family.

Seeing your reaction, your roommates try to diffuse the situation as gently as possible. 

“I mean, um, it wasn’t really that domestic, like you said, it was just dinner and a movie, super casual.”

You nod your head, barely listening to what they’re saying, suddenly deciding that you need to be alone. 

“Yeah…I’m gonna head to bed, I’m pretty tired from the day, see you guys tomorrow.”

As you get up from the couch, your roommates all quietly tell you good night, and you vaguely hear a light slap and an ow behind you. 

Reaching your room, you close the door and stand there, thinking about your roommate’s words. 

Did Sevika also think about tonight that way?

Sighing, you change into your pajamas and brush your teeth, ready for this day to be over. 

You drag yourself into bed and climb under your covers, hoping sleep will overtake you as soon as possible, but one thought bounces around your head unrelentingly. 

You have a crush.

[moriitis]

What would it be like dating Toby Rogers?

Slightly NSFW? TWs; gore, blood, manic episodes, kidnapping. Just little HCs.

Pretty much the biggest goofball there is but he can be really annoying, anything to get you pissed, doesn't really understand the concept of overstepping a joke or taking things too far. I feel like warnings kinda go over Toby's head, so if you told him to stop, he would continuously do it because the first time it made you laugh so naturally every time he did it, you'd laugh, right? He'd do things like jabbing you in the sides when he walks past, jamming his fingers up your butt to piss you off (smacking your ass when you bend over), chasing you up the stairs, he'd mock you when you whined and do that thing to mimic your facial expressions in an irritating way but also in a way to make you laugh.

Loves driving you around, especially late at night. More prone to opening up about his feelings when driving because then his attention is diverted to the road and he's forced to avoid your gaze. You'll always know he needs to vent when he asks if you wanna go ride around, listen to music or something, he'd mention it with his hands in his pocket, pretty embarrassed to ask. Also just likes to ride around and find somewhere remote to park so he can fuck you in the backseat of his car.

Probably the worst person ever to try to call or text. He'll never answer so good luck really trying to get a hold of him.

He's a romantic and he's pretty corny. On the rare occasion he does decide to text you, it'll be a song that reminded him of you. Although don't be surprised if he literally hands you a tape with burned music on it. Wild flowers that he decided to pick because the colour of the petal reminded him of your eyes? Coming home late at night with your favourite snacks. He's a good boy and despite the occasional memory loss, he remembers these things about you, he also keeps reminders on a little piece of paper tucked away in his wallet.

He's a physical person but really only in private. Cuddling on the couch? For sure! Want to share a kiss in public? Probably not. It's nothing toward you, he just feels weird expressing bouts of love in public with people watching. Was it the lack of love in his childhood? Probably.

Will roll your cigarettes/blunts for you. He's a natural.

Very competitive gamer, try playing some Mario Kart against him and this guy is quivering at the thought of beating you. You got him with a blue shell once at the finish line, thus taking his first place last minute and he had to step outside to have a cigarette because the loss hit him that hard.

Despite his lack of physical affection in public, he is possessive. Hates the idea of other people looking at you and gets very jealous. Also will stand incredibly close to you, close enough you could feel his breath against the back of your neck. He'll scowl around too and make sure to put himself between you and another guy.

Speaks German when he's angry, like when he rages at Mario Kart (he HATES Yoshi primarily) you'll hear him talking smack to the TV in German.

Also speaks German to you when you're beneath him, muttering small praises in his mother tongue as he pants and groans softly against the skin of your neck. Sometimes he'll mix, start speaking English but end the sentence in German.

His driving is reckless but he'd never put you in any danger, not after what happened with Lyra.

He hates being around you when he has a manic episode, his voice cracking as he yells at you to stand back, that he's dangerous, that he could hurt you, kill you. With each step you take toward him, he takes one back, violently shaking his head. His tics and twitches are worse as he runs his hands through his hair, they bawl, tugging at his locks as if he was daring to rip them out but the pain is non existent to him. He'd storm out, distancing himself from you. It could take weeks, the longest it took was a month before he came back, scruffy, tired, longing.

Talks about how he wants to travel, to go somewhere with you, that he'll kidnap you and take you away forever and that you'll only be his and his alone.

Does get a little thrill of scaring you. Making it look like your home alone but as you walk past the bathroom door, he'll jump out, one hand over your mouth, the other wrapping around your waist as he picks you up helplessly and drags you back. You'll kick and scream until his raspy laughter breaks out behind you. He did it a couple times until you had a panic attack once and he never did it again.

Likes to remind you to take your medication, dude specifically has a calendar to keep track of times and dates, when you should take this and that. Especially birth control.

Will touch your thigh as you sit in the car together sometimes his fingers pushing up further in a little attempt to get lucky, a smug smirk on his face.

Compliments in German too, of course.

Will suddenly hit the breaks in the car to send you flying and then lecture you to always wear a seatbelt. Always wear your seatbelts when sat in car with him.

sorry these suck lololol, idk might seem off character for toby but it's just how i see it play out. i'll make another post for just general HCs for Toby bc i have so many. anywayyy taking requests to shoot if you have any ideas :)

[its-a-me-mango]

THANK YOU ALL FOR AN AMAZING YEAR! HERE'S TO MANY MORE!

Alllright, final thing to close off today, and what better than with a great big THANK YOU to everyone for sticking with me for a whole year! Regardless of if you’ve been around since I first joined or if you only just followed me today, thank you so much for your support of me and my work. Knowing there are so many fantastic and wonderful individuals who all enjoy what I make is just indescribable, I get to wake up and enjoy creating things I love for the series I love so dearly all while so many amazing people enjoy what I make too. I really can’t put into words how thankful I am for everyone who follows me but genuinely from the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you all for an amazing year and here’s hoping for many more to come!

Now, I do have a few special dedications to a few certain individuals, if I didn’t get the chance to include you PLEASE don’t think that I don’t value you in any way! There were so many cool and talented people that I wanted to thank but I simply didn’t have time to do so! You are all so important to me and it does kill me a little that I can’t thank everyone, but I am just one guy at the end of the day so again please don’t take it personally, I am still so thankful for everyone and I want you to know this. <3

ANYWAY LONG ASS BLOCK OF TEXT UNDER THE READ MORE

So, in no order in particular

@lizaluvsthis @shygirl4991 @b-r-i-n-g-x - I’m putting you all together as one because I always see you guys working as a group so it feels wrong to split you guys up lol. You were all some of the first people I ever saw in the SMG4 fandom and your contributions inspired me so much to make my own stuff too! Everything you guys make always has so much heart and soul put into it, Brewing Romance, Split into 3’s, Gay Ogres, they’re all some of the first projects I remember seeing and for that I wanna thank you guys for motivating me to make and create my own things within this fandom! Even if you guys aren’t as active now or have moved on from those projects, I still hold them dear to me so keep making and creating because you guys are all so amazing at it! <3

@mothsbakery - Moth my beloved friend, I don’t know where to start, when I first got into SMG4, I was so worried about sharing it with my friends because I was worried it would somehow get turned against me in some way (blame that damn trauma lol), so having you take a passing interest in it was such a major relief to me. I’m so glad I’ve been able to sit down with you and watch the few episodes that we have because they’ve been so much fun! I’m so glad that we’re friends even after all these years. I know I’m not always the best at keeping in touch but I do genuinely appreciate your friendship and all that we’ve done together. Please keep making and creating and enjoying what you love, seeing you come to my DM’s with your newest musical piece is always such a joy to listen to and it’s been so wonderful to watch you improve over the years! Keep being amazing Moth, I’ll chat to you soon I promise! <3

@strange0-0storm - STOOOORM!!! (POINTING AT YOU POINTING AT YOU) FREAK!!!!/J I’m kidding lol, Storm I am so glad I’ve gotten the chance to talk with you, even if it's brief, you are so fun to talk to that I can’t wait to get the chance to chat with you again about OC’s or just anything really! Your work is always so yummy, whether it's SMG4, Gravity Falls, Popee The Performer, and more, your art is always just so full of character and it just makes me wanna keep doing what I’m doing and it helps me not worry about branching out at some point to something else. No matter what I will always come back to your work because it's so amazing and it’s even better knowing it’s made but such an equally amazing person, stay awesome Storm! (also RhythmDoctor 4 life they should kiss and make out more JHBBSGHBSGH) <3

@bluesbox - Blue! Dude you are so freaking cool I cannot put it into words, not only is your work fantastic and such a joy to interact with, but you’re also so dedicated to characters lore and interactions that I can’t help but wanna be just like that! I’ll never forget when you first dropped the TSB lore presentation that shit was SO WILD, knowing there's someone who's so invested in other peoples OC’s (including my own!) to such an extent is honestly so amazing, and it really pushes me to invest more time into my own work! Knowing there’s someone out there who genuinely takes so much interest in it is so uplifting, so thank you for always wanting to know more about what I make as well as everyone else, we need more amazing people like you Blue, keep being you! (also PS, the way you give Mango glasses is probably my favourite thing someone has given him, it makes me so happy to see every time, don’t tell anyone shhhhh) <3

@libbytwq - LIBBY, LIBBY OMG I don’t think I’ve ever met another SMG4 fan who just gets the same sense of humor as me so well, I love being terminally on Tumblr and having someone else who is also terminally on Tumblr, it’s so refreshing lmao! Lore not only are you an amazing person to talk to, you are also so insanely talented to match, all of your work has so much charm and passion put into it that I can just sense it with every piece, I always want to know more with your characters like I NEED the full SMGL:E lore or else I will explode and die, that’s how good you are at getting people invested in your work! You’re so great at creating interesting and engaging characters/stories that it motivates me so much with my own work. You have so much love for what you do it’s so wonderful to see, please keep creating forever and always because your work is such an absolute joy to see. I love getting the chance to chat with you so much and I can’t wait to chat with you again, thank you for being such an amazing friend Libby! <3

@hamlos - Hamlos, your work is truly incredible. I really can’t express it enough, it’s so dynamic and flexible in such a beautiful way, everything you make is just so amazing and that's just talking about your art itself, the characters you have are so interesting I always want to know more about them, especially Cardiac I seriously love him so much and having him paired with Mango is so wonderful, they really go together so well! I’ve never had anyone go so crazy (positive) over my characters before and It’s so amazing to see, every time you come to me with your amazing work it’s always such a nice thing to see! I know I am not always the best at responding but I do always see and read everything you send me and it always leaves me with a big smile on my face. Even if you’re not super into SMG4 right now, thank you for all that you’ve done and all that you’ve made for me, HeartBeet will always have a special place in my heart and I hope it does for you too, they are gay after all lol. <3

@neo91502 @hexsie @aquaproductions - Grouping you all together even though you all couldn’t be more unique and individual, every single one of you is so special and amazing to talk to, I legit get so excited any time one of you joins a VC with me because all of you are so fun to hang out with for so many reasons! Neo omg you are honestly such a nice person to chat to and be around, you’re always so fun to hang out with and you’ve convinced me to sit down one day and listen to Epic the Musical because every time you go crazy over the word Epic, I can’t help but find it so cute lol. Nova your obsession with Hex3 is so sweet and I’m genuinely glad you’re having so much fun with it, seeing you go on rambling about your OC’s will always be such a joy to see and you know what yes one day I will draw Hex3 just for you, gimme a second though (dies first /j). And Aqua, I had no idea how much of a sweetheart you were to talk to, you are honestly so cool and I’m so glad to have you in my DM’s sending me amazing fanart that you know I’ll like, thank you so much for being so awesome and I’m giving you platonic smooches right back at ya so watch out!!! All of you are again so amazing and I can’t wait to keep chatting with all of you! <3

MY BELOVED WHO SHAN’T BE NAMED BUT I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS!!! - Hai babe, listen, I can’t believe the whole time you’ve been dating me I’ve been an SMG4 fan, that must be so embarrassing to you lol /j but thank you so much forever and always for sticking with me. You are truly the light of my life, I treasure every moment we spend together and I am waiting for the future to come so that I can spend it with you forever and always. Thank you for not only indulging in my interests with me, but for enjoying me for who I am, everytime you call me cute for getting giddy over SMG4 it honestly makes my heart flutter and it reminds me of why I love you so much, I wouldn’t be who I am without you and I hope you can say the same thing for me. I cannot wait to get the chance to see you again in person, I need to kiss you sloppy style soooooo bad it's making me bark and growl grrr grrr bARK BARK BARK anyway I love you so much and I always will. (I will forever kiss you for getting me Smug I can’t believe you got him, he’s like a fucked up and evil son to me) <3

@ominus-potato @theartistisme43 @coralalala64 - Grouping you all together even though I have different things to say about all of you, but regardless, all of you are such amazingly talented people that I’d love to get to chat with you all properly one day, even if I’ve talked with you guys a bit it’s not enough! I’d love to get to know you guys better at some point lol. Ominus your work is just so good I can’t help but feel happy anytime I see it. I promise one day we will meet at a convention, I’m so mad I missed you once I won’t let it happen again! Cantro, your work is incredible!!! Every time I see it I’m so amazed with what you’ve made that it just gets me excited to see what else you can create, I am manifesting with all my strength that if you do ever decide to apply as a SMG4 machinima artist, that you get it because god damn you deserve it! And Coral, THE CREATURE CREATOR!!! I love your lil creatures so much, and OMG you have to teach me how to do such amazing pencil work, your work always inspires me so much and I’m so glad I’ve gotten the chance to chat with you a lil, your gif collection is truly frightening but in the best way possible. Again all of you are so amazing so please keep doing what you’re best at! <3

@tiredsmashbros - Tomm, Mr Tiredsmashbros, holy shit where do I even start with you. First of all, I would probably not be thanking half the people in this piece if not for you, I know how scary setting up a server was for you but I will forever be so thankful that you did. Finally getting the chance to chat with not only you, but so many amazing people in the SMG4 fandom has been an absolute joy and I am forever thankful for you for creating such an open and accepting space, you and Radiant are seriously so awesome for all the work you’ve put into that place. It’s from your server that i’ve learnt how wonderful and generous you are as a person, I really cannot think of anyone kinder than you Tomm, the way you always have an essay planned for every piece of fanart you get, from just your overall positive attitude, I am so glad I’ve finally gotten the chance to meet you after just being a fan of your work for so long. Your work has been such an inspiration to me and you’ve always been someone I wanted to chat with and the fact that I am now is!!! Crazy!!! I can’t believe you were scared of me at one point lol. Anyway thank you Tomm for being such a fantastic friend overall, I need to know TSB’s lore right now, can you whisper it to me I promise I’ll keep it a secret, regardless stay awesome dude, you deserve nothing but joy and happiness forever and always. Qwah Tuh (also Burgerfruit beloved, they should get weirder /j) <3

@doodledev1l - Doodle!!!!! Okay I know this sounds weird but genuinely finding another British SMG4 fan has been so refreshing, not only that but you’re super fun to talk to and be around so it’s even better! Getting the chance to hang out and chat with you is always so fun, I love getting to hear what you’re working on for uni and I always hope that it goes well for you, I know how stressful it can be lol. Regardless, I know you’ll do amazing because I’ve seen how dedicated and talented you are when it comes to your work, again I hope the rest of uni goes well for you because you deserve it, we gotta end your bad luck streak somehow lol. Thank you for being such an amazing person to chat and hang out with, keep up the amazing work dude, I’ll get you a tescos meal deal one day I promise. <3

PHEW, THAT’S EVERYONE, again thank you all so much for sticking by my side for a year! Doesn’t matter what time you showed up, I will always be thankful to know all of you, keep being awesome I love you all. I die now

Mango <3

[siilent-wanderer]

Scripted, But Not Really

Pairing: actress!le sserafim x actress!reader

le sserafim as classic k-drama tropes

masterlist | aespa version | ive version

Chaewon

Fighting for Your Love

in the drama, your character is dating Chaewon’s

but her strict, prestigious family disapproves

really, just a lot of tears, arguments, and heartbreak

the tension is THICK thick and the emotions carry over off-camera

after a heavy scene, you notice Chaewon sitting alone, deep in thought

"Hey. That was just acting, right?

“Yeah. Acting. Felt a bit real, but yknow"

you take her hand, squeezing it reassuringly

for the first time, she opens up about something personal

“I’d still fight for you,” she says suddenly. “If it were real. I wouldn’t let them decide.”

when the crew watched the playback of your filmed scene, you were worried it might be too much for Chaewon

she doesn’t say anything, just quietly takes your hand and holds it in her lap for the rest of the break

a behind-the-scenes clip catches you two on the couch post-rehearsal

Chaewon’s head is resting on your shoulder, your pinkies linked

you’re murmuring something that makes her smile without opening her eyes

the caption when the clip goes viral: “Was this... scripted too?”

Sakura

Time Travel Romance

your drama is about reincarnated lovers

you meet across different timelines, fall in love, forget, and remember all over again

each version of Sakura’s character is a little different, but the one thing that doesn’t change is how she always falls for you

off-camera, your chemistry is still undeniable

like soulmates

“Do you think time travel’s real?” you ask once during a break

Sakura blinks

complete silence bec what would an INTP even say

“…I think time is softer than we think. Maybe it doesn’t move in a straight line, just in loops and echoes.”

“Whatever that means, unnie. I'll just take it as a yes.”

Kkura smiles, the gears turning in her head

she's about to say something uncharacteristically cheesy

“It sounds like I’d go back for you, if I could”

Yunjin

Enemies to Lovers

in the drama, you and Yunjin are constantly at each other’s throats

but fans eat it up, convinced there’s unresolved tension

the director actually takes advantage of this

so one day, the script calls for a shove-turned-accidental-kiss moment

you’re both confident pros… until the actual moment

the first time, you bump foreheads and Yunjin nearly falls over

“So violent,” she teases, laughing. “Trying to break my nose before I kiss you?”

the next take goes smoother. maybe a little too smooth

the kiss actually happens, but she doesn't pull back right away

her hand even brushes your jaw

later that night, you get a message from her:

“so… want to rehearse again? for accuracy??”

“Or just say you wanted to kiss me again.”

"busted"

Kazuha

Fake Dating to Real Feelings

in your drama, you’re co-stars caught up in a fake dating PR stunt

but on and offscreen, you’re always holding hands, feeding each other, walking each other to trailers

the thing is… Zuha starts doing it even when no cameras are around

“You’re forgetting we’re not filming right now,” you joke once when she feeds you from her lunchbox

"Am I?"

one night, a staff member catches you two in the hallway — Zuha leaning in to tuck your hair behind your ear

you don’t even notice the camera filming both of you

the clip airs during one of your guestings and the host teases her

“It was method acting,” Zuha deadpans then glances at you with a mischievous smile. “Very immersive.”

when the final episode airs, and your characters confess for real, Zuha texts you

“ready to stop pretending? :)”

"I thought we stopped weeks ago"

Eunchae

Taking Care of Her Fever

there’s a sweet scene in the drama where your character nurses Eunchae’s after she collapses from overworking

cooling her forehead, feeding her soup, whispering comforts, yknow the regular sweet stuff

BUT a few days later, Eunchae actually comes down with a fever

you find out when the director texts your manager that filming would be delayed for 2 days

you immediately rush to her dorm with meds, warm soup, and a hoodie

“Deja vu,” she murmurs weakly, snuggling into your hoodie

“At least now I don’t have to act,” you say, pulling a chair next to her bed

she clings to your pinky like in the scene, half-asleep but smiling

“Promise you’ll stay until I fall asleep?”

“Always.”

when she wakes up later, you’re still there, head resting by her side

she shares a photo on weverse with the caption "y/n unnie came by to take care of me~ are you jealous?"

[harrywavycurly]

Would lonely Harry ever want to help with wedding dress shopping? Would we want to ask him for opinions?

Hiii babes!! So I think you’d want to ask for his opinions, but you’d also want to make him wait until the wedding day to see you in your dress. Now Harry would totally love to help with finding your dress, but he wouldn’t ask to go shopping with you I feel like that would be something you’d have to do. But I’ll give you a little tiny something that shows how I think it would go after you find your dress! 💖

-find all things for the Lonely series here✨

A/N: You let Harry in on some wedding info while the two of you enjoy an evening at home, enjoy this short and sweet moment between you and Harry✨

“S’that supposed to be edible?” Harry asks with a raised brow as he gently tucks the fluffy throw blanket under your legs that are resting on his lap while you get comfortable leaning against the armrest of the couch in the living room. “He can’t give them that.” You can’t help but giggle at how concerned he sounds as his eyes stay glued to the television that is currently playing an episode of the Great British Bake Off while his hands start to mindlessly rub at your ankles.

“I don’t think he’s done yet.” You state in an attempt to try to help Harry relax as you watch the little wrinkle form between his brows as his focus on the show only intensifies all while he still just keeps rubbing mindlessly at your ankles and blanket covered feet as they lay in his lap.

“Baby he’s putting it on a serving-oh god I can’t.” You bite your bottom lip to hold back a laugh as you watch him close his eyes and shake his head as he looks down at his lap. “I can’t watch this.” He opens his eyes and turns to look at you with an almost pained expression on his face. “It’s actually making me upset.” You turn your attention to the television while Harry just keeps his focus on you, he can’t help but feel the corners of his mouth pull upwards as he lets his eyes roam over your profile.

This is the first time all week the two of you have gotten to just enjoy a night in and when you brought up having a cuddle on the couch after dinner he couldn’t say no. Not only because he just has trouble saying no to you but because he can’t remember the last time the two of you just sat on the couch and watched a show or a movie so he couldn’t pass up the opportunity and now he can’t help but think this is a little glimpse into what married life will be like for the two of you. You with your feet in his lap all relaxed while he gets too worked up over whatever it is the two of you are watching, tonight it being a set of amateur bakers serving underbaked pies that have really just set him off, just enjoying each other’s company.

“He’s put it back in the oven.” You reassure him as you look back at him just to catch him staring at you with a silly smile on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask with a raised brow as you wiggle your toes at him making him realize he had momentarily stopped rubbing your feet.

“I just love you.” He answers casually as his hands go back to rubbing your feet, you roll your eyes but Harry catches the smile that takes over your face.

“You’re such a sap.” You tease as Harry turns his attention back to the television now that you’ve told him the man has in fact put the pie back in the oven. “But I love you too.” You add making Harry just smile as he gives your ankle a little squeeze. You look at the coffee table and see your phone light up and when you reach over to grab it you see it’s a text from Niall and his question makes your mood shift, feeling excited and sort of nervous as you place your phone back down on the table.

“How did he manage to still underbake it when he added an extra twenty minutes? I’m thinking his oven is just off at this point because how does-” Harry stops his rambling when he turns to look at you. You have your hands in your lap and your twirling your engagement ring around on your finger and rubbing your lips together while your eyes are looking down at your hands but Harry can tell you’re not really looking at anything and you’re more so just starting off into space more than likely lost inside that head of yours.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is soft as he gently runs his hands up your legs till they land on your knees so he can give them a little squeeze. You blink a few times and Harry just smiles when you finally meet his eyes with yours. “You okay?” You nod and he gives you a look that lets you know he’s not fully buying it making you let out a small sigh.

“I found my dress.” Harry feels an odd mixture of emotions overtake him as your words hit him from across the couch. Firstly he feels his heartbeat quicken at the thought of you finding the dress you’re going to marry him in but secondly he feels a twinge of something else, jealousy maybe? Begin to brew in the pit of his stomach because he didn’t get to be with you when you picked it out.

“Want to know the weird thing about finding it?” He just nods as he tries to get a hold of his emotions while you swallow back the lump that’s forming in your throat as the memory of the events that happened earlier today play through your head. “I instantly wanted to call you to see what you thought because I mean when’s the last time I bought any type of dress for an event without you there or on FaceTime? But when I went to grab my phone Niall took it-”

“That wonky kneed fuckin’ twa-”

“I’m glad he stopped me.” You interrupt his insult of your bestfriend as you lean over and place a hand over Harry’s that is still resting on your knee, he lets out a small huff as he looks at you with a much softer expression than a few moments ago. “Because as much as I love your opinion on what I wear and what looks good. I really want this to be a surprise and I really want to see your face in person the first time you see me in it.” Harry can’t argue with your reasonings for not calling him, he knows most couples don’t go wedding dress shopping together and while you two also aren’t like most couples he agrees that seeing you in your dress for the first time shouldn’t be over a phone screen, it should be in person on the day the two of you officially become husband and wife.

“You really found it then?” He asks with a warm smile as he notices your eyes go glassy, you just nod and try to return his smile as he moves a little closer to you. Before you know what’s happening Harry is pulling you to sit on his lap, having inched closer and closer to you without you noticing. One arm going around your shoulder pulling you into his chest while the other drapes across the tops of your thighs as they lay over his letting your legs rest on couch. “I can’t wait to see it on you love.” He whispers in your ear as he places a kiss to the side of your head.

“I feel really pretty in it.” You mumble as you sniffle and try to wipe away the few tears that managed to spill over and slide down your cheeks. Harry knows these tears aren’t a major cause for concern and that they are probably left over from the eventful afternoon you had, finding your wedding dress is a huge deal and he’s watched enough “say yes to the dress” with you to know it can be quite emotional.

“That’s because you are really pretty baby it has nothing to do with the dress.” He explains without missing a beat making your cheeks get warm at his compliment, Harry never has been one to shy away from telling you how beautiful you are and it always makes you blush.

“It was like I was an actual bride.” Harry just looks down at you as you mess with your engagement ring and let out a little laugh before you look up at him with a smile. “Like we can really get married now because I finally found my dress and it’s such-I don’t know how to describe it but it felt so weird but good? I just knew it was the one the moment I put it on.” He wishes he could’ve been there for the moment you had your first experience feeling like a real bride, he knows that planning the wedding hasn’t exactly been everything the two of you thought it would be and while you know you’re his fiancé and will in fact be marrying him in a few months you haven’t quite felt like an actual bride, until this afternoon.

“Did everyone cry?” You give him a playful look as his hand rubs soothing circles on the tops of your thighs. “What? I just need to know how badly you made everyone cry when they saw you in it so I can try to prepare myself for when I get to see you in it that’s all.” Harry knows he will be a watery eyed mess the moment he sees you making your way towards him on the actual day and honestly while the dress he’s sure will add to his emotions because he has no doubt you will look stunning, he knows most of his tears will be due to the fact his bestfriend in the whole world who he just so happens to be madly in love with is really about to become his wife.

“Niall was a mess.” You answer and Harry rolls his eyes because of course Niall was a mess he didn’t expect anything less from him, but you ignore it as you try to remember everyone’s reactions to seeing you in the dress. “Oh Emily almost cried but Paige full on squealed when she saw me and Gem cried-”

“Gemma cried? As in Gemma Styles? My sister cried? She-she never cries.” You just shrug and Harry lets out a sigh and leans his head to rest on the back of the couch and looks up at the ceiling. “I am so fucked.” You laugh and place a hand on his chest giving it a nice little pat.

“Yeah you’re not gonna last long at all.”

[lixie-phoria]

ੈ✩‧ ➛ han jisung thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : han x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : none ; word count : 0.8k words

summary : han jisung couldn't be more subtle as he pined after you. ranging from eagerly buying your merchandise to watching your favorite shows just so he has more reasons to talk to you. it would've been adorable if it hadn't been going on for so long.

chan's ver. | hyunjin's ver. | jeongin's version | felix's ver. | lee know's ver. | changbin's ver.

if there was one thing han jisung would never judge overly zealous kpop stans for, was their passion. Never for the way they would viciously defend their bias or spend an unnecessary amount of money when trading photocards. He would never question their excitement. He couldn't. Not when he was on the same boat as them.

You were a rookie idol, so new to the world of kpop, so full of life and love for what you did, never letting the fame get to your head. Nobody could blame han for falling for you, really. The poor boy was so in love it was comical. He thought he was subtle with the way he was always steaming your music and buying your merch. He thought nobody would notice the secret fan account he ran for you on Twitter and Instagram. Han jisung thought he was a mastermind for the way he "skilfully" kept his crush a secret. But the boy could fool absolutely nobody, not his members nor yours. yes things were hard because of JYPs dating ban for rookie idols but did that stop him from being delusional? absolutely not.

the members caught him multiple times giggling to your instagram posts or marveling at your vocals during a performance. it was like watching a teenage boy fall in love for the first time, complete with the dreamy sighs and feet kicking.

when changbin caught jisung eagerly watching a show in their dorm early one morning, he wasn't that surprised. but when he found out it was a romance show? that raised a few questions because nearly everyone knew han was more of a horror lover. that was until the older man found out the shows name. of course han jisung was watching the show you had recently revealed in an interview you were obsessed with. the excited grin on his face and slight furrow between his brows as he concentrated on the plot would've been adorable if changbin hadn't been so exasperated. This was the seventh k-drama jisung was watching for you. just so he could find more reasons to talk to you, as if he didn't spend nearly half his time texting you either ways.

"Enjoying the story, han?"

of course han hadn't noticed changbin walk into his room. not when he was dutifully remembering every moment playing on the screen so he could talk to you about it later.

"yeah it's a nice show."

"i bet the person who recommended it is real nice too, huh?"

"hyung!"

changbin wished he could take a picture of the blush spreading across jisung's face and down his neck and send it to you with a message in big bold letters reading THIS MAN IS IN LOVE WITH YOU PLEASE ACKOWLEDGE HIM!!! but jisung would go wild so he chose the safer option of leaning again the younger boy's door frame, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.

"do you like this show better than the one you finished watching last week, which was also recommended by y/n?"

"i am not watching these shows just because y/n likes them."

"oh ok, so you're not going to text them about this episode the instant you're done watching it?"

"nope."

"good! so you don't mind if i text them about it instead? because i just finished the show last night."

it was a lie, obviously, but han was immediately scrambling up from his position on the bed, trying to convince changbin against it while trying not to blow his cover.

"just tell them you like them, jisung, y/n's not gonna avoid you for it."

"chan hyung just finished teasing me about this too, please don't start again."

changbin wished he could record han whining his denials too, because he couldn't believe how whipped someone could be.

that was until jisung's phone vibrated with a notification, and his disbelief only grew as he watched his member's eyes light up. jisung kept only your notifications on, so it was obvious who had texted him. all thoughts of changbin were forgotten as jisung eagerly read whatever you had sent, typing back his response immediately, earning a snort from changbin. jisung was known among their friend group for being a ghoster, but of course he was texting you back immediately. changbin knew he wasn't going to get any more responses when han didn't even look up from the screen.

"you better confess soon or im going to text them from your phone one day."

"you wouldn't dare!"

"i most certainly would."

changbin cackled as he left the younger boy shouting indignantly from his room. he knew the seven of them would breathe a sigh of relief only when han finally came clear to you about his feelings. until then, all they could hope for was the boy mustering the courage required to do so quick.

©lixie-phoria, 2023

tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak22 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)

[djarinova]

[09:30 pm] — levi ackerman x reader

— requested by the amazing @cheriecoke for my birthday event (status: open). i hope you enjoy ml!! thank you for participating <3

content - gn reader, reader has a ginger cat called tangerine, early relationship nerves, levi calls reader beautiful, text conversations lead to slight embarrassment (but it ends up being fine) - wc; 771

Your phone buzzes, the wooden coffee table it rests on amplifies the sound and it’s loud enough to stir you from your half-asleep state on the sofa. The credits of the tv show you were watching play in the background and you make a mental note that you’ll have to skip back and rewatch the last 10 minutes of the episode next time you watch. The grogginess from your almost-nap lifts slowly as you bend towards the phone, a little bit of hope flickers in your chest.

Could it be…?

Oh.

No. It couldn't.

It’s just your bedtime reminder, telling you to get ready for bed soon since you're working early tomorrow. You groan and throw your phone not-so-lightly down on the pillow next to you. He said he would text you when he got back, and you know the drive always takes a little longer on a Saturday evening, and it's not like you were planning to stay up waiting for him and it's not like it’s even that late yet but–

You miss him.

You feel your cheeks warm and you bury your face in your hands—embarrassed as if someone is going to see you become a blushing mess from just thinking about how much you like this guy.

Zap zap–

You gasp and slap your hand down on your thigh, a weird buzzing feeling tickling your leg. You're met with a hard surface when you investigate and you grimace slightly when you realise it was your phone you’d just not-so-gently attacked.

You feel your hands get a little clammy, certain that this time when you open your phone you will be met with an actual notification and the contact photo that you had shyly asked for on your second date.

Levi A. : I’ve just gotten home. Thank you for the tour of your place, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer but I hope work isn't too bad tomorrow

Levi A. : 🙂

Levi A. : It was really nice to see you.

Your heart jumps, heat rises along your neck and up towards the tips of your ears.

Me : It was really nice to see you too :) you’re welcome over anytime, I think Tangerine misses you already…

Your soppy ginger cat hops up onto the sofa as if on cue. You ruffle his head lightly and watch as he curls up on the maroon, heart shaped pillow you’d bought for him almost… What? Three years ago now?

Levi A. : I didn't expect you to answer so quickly. Didn't you say you need 8 hours of sleep when you start work anytime around 5am?

Levi A. : If I recall correctly you also said that if you were to get any less than 8 hours you’d be almost unable to function and you’d become the grumpiest version of yourself…

You roll your eyes, how is he using your own words against you? And how did he even remember that you'd said that… it was just an offhand comment about your dislike of early morning shifts… The thought of him remembering such a silly, minute detail has your blush worsening, if that was even possible.

Me : Ha Ha Ha

Me : But don’t worry, handsome, I am about to get up from the sofa and head to bed, I promise :)

Me : I’ll talk to you tomorrow?

You press send without thinking and immediately your eyes widen. The first time you call him anything other than his name and the best you could come up with was handsome? You didn't even mean too…

Oh, god, this is going to become one of those moments that you think about as you lie in bed at night unable to sleep, isn't it?

You dump your phone on your bed and begin your—thankfully, rather thorough—bedtime routine. The distraction is most welcome and almost 20 minutes pass before you're back in your bedroom, teeth clean, face moisturised and glass of water acquired. Your initial embarrassment has somewhat subsided but as soon as you see your phone lying there face up your heart begins to race.

You have 2 new messages.

Levi A. : Okay, I’m glad. I hope you sleep well

Levi A. : Goodnight, beautiful 🙂

A screeching noise erupts from within your chest and you actually find yourself kicking your feet in the air with how excited you are. Maybe some people would say it’s silly to be so excited about something as simple as a pet name—but some people would be wrong.

You think briefly about what it would sound like if he was to call you that in person. The thought makes you smile, widely.

Me : Goodnight :)

[pankowcrumbs]

Together X Will Poulter (Requested)

MasterList

Will Poulter Masterlist

It had rained the day we got married.

Not the kind of dreary, grey drizzle that ruins hair and clings to silk, but the sort of cinematic rain that you’d see in a slow-motion montage sunshine breaking through clouds, droplets catching on eyelashes, the smell of earth and roses in the air. The universe, as it turns out, has a wicked sense of poetic timing.

We got married in the Lake District. Small ceremony, close friends and family, nothing too over-the-top. Just… us. Which, after ten years of red carpets, photoshoots, and press junkets, was exactly what we both needed. No flashing bulbs. No stylists lurking in the corner. Just Will, me, and a vow whispered against the steady rhythm of rain on the windows.

And now, six months later, here we were again lugging suitcases through Heathrow at 6 a.m., eyes bleary, arms full, laughing at something neither of us would remember later.

“I’m gonna miss you like mad,” Will murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as we paused at my gate.

I offered a sleepy smile. “It’s just two weeks. You’ve had press tours longer than that.”

He frowned, always dramatic when we were parting even if it was temporary. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

I kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to like it. Just promise you’ll eat something other than toast and coffee while I’m gone.”

He grinned. “No promises.”

It wasn’t glamorous, this life not the way people thought it was. The real stuff, the love, the effort, the everyday commitment that happened off camera. In the way he’d stay up until 3 a.m. just to FaceTime me from a hotel in Atlanta. In the way I’d sit through twenty different takes on a self-tape with him, even if I could recite his lines better than he could. In the way we learned to wait for each other, even when our lives were moving at a hundred miles an hour in opposite directions.

I watched him walk away once I passed through security his lanky frame swaying slightly lighter now with the weight of my carry-on that I’d made him hold until the very last second gone. My heart tugged a little, the way it always did.

Distance was part of the deal. But so was trust. And we had buckets of that.

I was sat in a trailer in Dublin, filming an indie project that made me cry when I first read the script. It was the kind of role I’d always wanted raw, flawed, fearless. It drained me, lit me up, and terrified me all at once. And Will? He was my biggest cheerleader.

He sent a voice note every morning, without fail. Sometimes it was just a sleepy “good morning, love,” and sometimes it was a ten-minute ramble about a new coffee shop he’d found or a weird dream he’d had about being chased by a giant sandwich.

But the one I got on my final shoot day made my breath hitch.

“I’m proud of you. I know you’re scared sometimes, and that you carry more than you let on. But I see you. I see how hard you work. And I hope you know, no matter what happens, you’ve already won. You’re everything.”

I blinked back tears and texted him a shaky photo of me holding the script with mascara running down my cheeks. “You’re going to ruin my last scene, you idiot.”

“You’re gonna smash it, superstar.”

Later that summer, it was my turn to sit in the audience.

Will had landed a lead in a dark, gritty crime series his first real foray into something more dramatic after years of comedy and Marvel fanfare. I watched from the wings of the BAFTA screening room as his episode aired, the tension in the room palpable. He was breathtaking. Subtle, tortured, magnetic.

When the credits rolled and the applause started, I was already halfway to my feet.

He looked for me instantly, scanning the crowd until our eyes met. And the smallest smile broke across his face private, quiet, just for me.

At the afterparty, someone asked him what inspired his performance. He didn’t say much he never bragged. But he slid his hand into mine and said softly, “Y/n keeps me grounded.”

There were harder days, too.

Like the time I didn’t get a part I’d pinned all my hopes on. A career-defining role. I’d made it to the final two, only to be told I “didn’t quite have the look they wanted.”

I cried on the bathroom floor that night, still in my audition clothes, makeup streaked and blouse creased.

Will sat beside me in silence at first. He always knew when I needed space. Then, eventually, he handed me a glass of wine and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“You’re not defined by the parts you lose,” he said quietly. “They missed out. They don’t even know how badly.”

I turned into his chest and sobbed like a child. “I wanted it so badly.”

“I know, love,” he murmured. “And one day, they’ll all be chasing you.”

`

We bought a house outside London not long after. Not huge. Not flashy. But it had a garden and a library nook and a kitchen where we could cook badly and dance even worse. It was ours.

In between jobs, we’d spend lazy mornings in bed reading scripts out loud. I’d make up ridiculous accents. He’d forget lines on purpose so I’d have to ad-lib and play along.

We’d write little ideas on scraps of paper and stuff them in a shoebox labelled “someday.” Films we wanted to make. Characters we wanted to become. Lines we wanted to say to each other onscreen one day.

“I want us to work together again,” Will said one night as we watched the rain roll down the windows, heads leaning together on the sofa.

“We will,” I said. “When the timing’s right.”

“I want to play opposite you as someone who gets to kiss you in the end,” he murmured.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw. “You already do.”

Award season came around again the following year.

This time, it was Will’s nomination.

He looked unfairly good in his tux nervous and giddy, squeezing my hand in the car as if he was sixteen again.

I watched him all night. Watched how people greeted him. Watched how his humility shone brighter than any spotlight. He never stopped looking for me in a crowd. Never stopped making me feel like I was the only one in the room.

When they called his name as the winner, he froze.

I laughed, nudged him. “Go! That’s you!”

He stumbled onstage with wide eyes and a stunned smile. His speech was short, heartfelt, stammered and real.

And when he thanked me, his voice cracked.

“To my wife… who’s been my anchor, my mirror, my muse. I wouldn’t be standing here without you. You’re the best scene partner I’ve ever had, on and off camera.”

I cried into my champagne flute.

That night, we snuck away from the afterparty early. Back to the hotel room. Will kicked off his shoes, threw his bow tie on the armchair and sank into the bed with a groan.

“You looked like James Bond out there,” I teased.

He laughed, pulling me down beside him. “And you looked like every reason I’ve ever believed in love.”

I cupped his face. “You deserve all of this, Will. Every second of it.”

He kissed me like a promise.

There were no scripts in our hands that night. No cameras. No lines.

Just the quiet certainty that whatever came next whatever roles, whatever rejections, whatever red carpets we’d be there.

Clapping from the wings.

Waiting at arrivals.

Learning lines in bed, one eye on each other and the other on the dream we’d built together.

We weren’t just actors. We were a team.

And every day, in a hundred tiny ways, we were still choosing each other.

Over and over again.

We got the offer on a Tuesday.

I’d just come home from a late table read, hair twisted into a bun that looked more like a bird's nest than anything remotely intentional, mascara half-worn and jumper stolen from Will’s side of the wardrobe. I remember flopping onto the sofa, kicking off my boots, and hearing him call from the kitchen, “How do you feel about falling in love with me… again?”

I blinked at him, confused. “I do that every day, babe. Bit greedy, asking for more.”

He walked over, script in hand, and dropped it onto my lap. A new indie romance, small budget, great director, achingly intimate. The kind of story you felt more than watched. And there, printed clearly on the casting page:

Lead roles: Jamie and Eliza. Attached: Will Poulter. Offer out to: Y/n L/n.

My heart thudded. “You’re joking.”

“I swear on your secret chocolate stash I only found out this morning.”

“You found my stash?!”

“That’s not the point,” he laughed. “The point is… they want us.”

We said yes.

Of course we did.

Rehearsals started 3 months later, and it was… surreal, walking into a room where people handed us coffee and called us “the leads.” We’d always joked about it late-night fantasies, sketching ideas on napkins, “what if” stories told between mouthfuls of takeaway.

But this? This was real. Lights, marks, call sheets. A full crew watching us fall in love all over again. Only this time, with a script.

It was delicate, the story. Jamie and Eliza were friends who’d grown up together, fallen out, and found their way back to each other. There were no dramatic twists or explosive moments just stolen glances, quiet kitchen scenes, and dialogue so intimate it felt like secrets whispered under the covers.

One afternoon during rehearsals, we were blocking a scene on the couch Eliza curled up with a cup of tea, Jamie trying to apologise for something he hadn’t yet found the words for.

Will looked at me differently in that moment. Not as my husband, but as Jamie. Hesitant, nervous, full of longing. I almost forgot to speak my line.

“Still with us, Y/n?” the director asked gently.

I blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Got a bit caught up.”

Will smirked. “Told you I was convincing.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Poulter.”

The kiss scenes were… interesting.

We weren’t strangers, of course, but kissing for the camera had a weird sort of choreography to it. You had to find the right angle, hit the light just so, avoid squishing your faces together too awkwardly.

And yet, somehow, it still felt like ours.

The first time we filmed one, the set fell completely silent. It wasn’t steamy or over-the-top just gentle, slow, full of history.

When the director called cut, there was a beat of silence before someone whispered, “Blimey, that felt real.”

Will turned to me, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Was it real for you?”

I rolled my eyes, smirking. “Bit better than our first kiss at that dodgy pub in Shoreditch.”

“I knew you were going to bring that up!”

We dissolved into laughter, completely wrecking the take.

Some scenes hit harder than I expected.

There was one in particular Jamie and Eliza, sat on the floor at 3 a.m., tired and raw, admitting how scared they were of losing each other.

We filmed it after a long day, the crew reduced to whispers, the set dressed like a real home: worn cushions, flickering candles, a record player spinning something soft and crackly.

I looked at Will, and for a moment, I wasn’t Eliza. I was just… me. And I saw it mirrored in his eyes too.

“I don’t know who I am without you,” I whispered, repeating the line as written.

He swallowed hard, voice low. “You don’t ever have to find out.”

Even after the director called cut, we stayed sitting there for a bit holding hands in silence.

Outside of set, not much changed between us.

He still made me tea that tasted faintly of dish soap. I still stole his hoodies and hogged the duvet. We still argued over what takeaway to get on Sundays.

But something about working together made everything sharper. Like we were rediscovering corners of each other we hadn’t touched in years.

He’d lean in close between takes, forehead against mine, whisper, “You’re so bloody good at this.”

Or I’d watch from behind the monitor as he ran a monologue with trembling hands, and my heart would ache with how proud I was of him.

There was something beautiful about knowing someone that deeply and then watching them transform right in front of you.

The final scene of the film was just us. No extras, no sound beyond the wind and the hum of the countryside.

Jamie and Eliza, standing in the field where they’d first kissed as teenagers.

It was twilight. Golden hour. Perfect lighting.

I was meant to say something. A line about fate, or home, or whatever metaphor the script had crafted.

But instead, I just looked at Will.

And he looked back at me like he already knew.

The cameras rolled.

We stepped toward each other.

And in the quiet, unscripted beat between dialogue, he whispered not as Jamie, but as himself

“This feels like us.”

I didn’t answer. Just kissed him like it was the first time and the last all at once.

The director let the shot run for a full thirty seconds longer than planned. When he finally called “cut,” no one moved.

Then the crew burst into applause.

We wrapped a week later. And I cried in the trailer like an idiot.

Will found me with tissues tucked into my sleeves, blinking back tears and pretending I wasn’t sniffling like a child.

He pulled me into a hug, kissed the top of my head.

“We’ll do it again,” he promised. “Different script. Different story. Same us.”

“You really think we’ll get another one?”

He smiled. “You forget you’re brilliant. I’d cast you in everything.”

“Even as Batman?”

“Especially as Batman.”

The film premiered six months later.

We walked the red carpet hand in hand, still the same people who shared toothbrushes and argued over dishwasher stacking but also something more.

People asked us about our “chemistry,” and we smiled politely, gave the same rehearsed answers.

But when the lights went down in the cinema and the first scene played, Will reached over and laced our fingers together.

And I thought not for the first time that the best kind of love stories are the ones you don’t need to perform.