#I understand that she was lonely and wanted to lean on someone but she was right the first time

[only-one-brain-cell]

I just finished watching Little Women and I have many thoughts.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 1 

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.8k

Note : This is the first of 17 parts which I will post every two days. I love writing stories that have a ticking time bomb-like conflict. The title is inspired by a Kings of Leon song of the same title along with Find Me, and Reverend. This was based on a request, but I might have taken a lot of creative liberties in expanding it. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!

Series Masterlist

“Static on Her Brain”

Bucky had grown used to the sound of your laughter. It was bright, it made his heart do acrobatic flips. It was a reminder of everything he thought he'd lost touch with. 

Sometimes, it even cut through the icy walls he’d built around himself. He didn't feel like he deserved that kind of comfort, especially not from someone as stubbornly kind as you. But there you were, determined to breathe warmth back into his life, no matter how hard he tried to shut it out.

You kept trying, year after year. You weren't shy about it, nor did you hide your blatant crush on the former Winter Soldier— casual but respectful touches on his arm, bold compliments, always with that soft, teasing smile that lit up your face whenever you were near him.

But even as he kept you at an arm's length, Bucky had always watched over you. It was a subtle habit, one he barely allowed himself to notice. The moment you stepped into his periphery, he'd been quietly paying attention to you. 

Maybe it was the way your laugh carried sweetness through a room, or the way you always seemed to understand people as if they were easy read novels.

Though he'd never admit it, he'd found himself intrigued.

In the beginning, he told himself he was just being cautious— he was just keeping an eye on the new recruit.

But that was a lie.

He noticed you in ways he knew he shouldn’t. He picked up on the small things about you—the way you’d bite the inside of your cheek when deep in thought, the faint scent of your perfume, the different strategies you used when you tried so hard to pull him into conversations he said he didn’t want to have. 

He'd watch you in the training room, noticing the way your eyes would always find him. He’d catch those glances, and his heart would flutter at the shy but determined looks you’d throw his way.

He told himself that he didn’t deserve the things you were offering, that he didn’t need them. 

That he didn’t need you. 

But deep down, he wanted you. He’d wanted you from the start. And yet, he kept pushing you away, convinced it was better for both of you if he stayed in his lonely corner, watching from afar.

He kept his distance, pretending not to care. Pretending that your kindness didn’t chip away at his icy demeanour. Pretending he wasn’t moved every time you found some new way to show him he mattered. 

So he watched. He made sure you were safe during missions. He made sure you weren’t training too hard. He made sure there was always one of your favourite donuts left after a long day. He made sure to always buy your favourite tea to stock up the kitchen in the compound.

And you never noticed.

Three years ago.

"Barnes, you should join us for drinks," you said. You stood with your hands on your hips, leaning on the locker room door. You were a new recruit, and this was your welcome party. 

Everyone was invited, including him. Not that he wanted to be.

"No use hiding away when you’ve got a world to see,” you teased.

Bucky gave you a tight smile, just enough to be polite, and shake his head. "Not tonight."

It became a routine: you'd offer your kindness, your companionship, and he'd shut it down. 

Politely, at first, but eventually his defences had to become sharper, colder.

You didn’t stop, though. Every morning, there you were. Every mission briefing, every late-night sparring session, you found a way to check in on him. Always so effortlessly sweet, always making sure he wasn't alone.

It did not work. Of course not. He had convinced himself that he was beyond saving. 

A year ago.

"Why do you want me to join in on everything so bad?” He had whispered one day.

"Because you shouldn’t be alone, Bucky. I care about you,” you insisted, touching the back of his arm gently, “we all do.”

His heart ached hearing that— someone as sweet as you even thought about him.

He didn't deserve your care, not after everything he'd done, after the destruction he'd caused. And yet, there you were—a constant reminder of everything good he'd lost, everything he'd convinced himself he could never have.

He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t let you waste all that good on someone so irredeemable. Not on him.

So, he pushed harder. Harsher.

Monday.

You had sought him out with an offer for another friendly outing— a dinner offer at the new sushi restaurant down the street— when he finally snapped.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed. “I don’t want your company. I don’t need your pity. You think you’re being nice?”

You stared at him, eyes wide, lips parting as if you had been struck by lightning.

He had always been distant. But he had never been hurtful.

“I feel like I can't breathe around you.”

Bucky knew he’d gone too far the moment the words left his mouth.

The hurt in your eyes was instant. Your smile—the one that was always so readily offered—faltered before it disappeared entirely.

He wanted to take it back, but his fear, his pride stopped him from doing so. 

You just swallowed and nodded, convincing yourself that his words didn’t hurt as much as it had. With a quiet goodbye, you turned and walked away.

He didn’t mean to hurt you. 

He never did. But the closer you got to reaching him, the more terrified he was of what you could see in him. 

You’d always been so persistent, but tonight had been different. He finally shattered something that may never mend.

The regret ate away at his brain for hours.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, I’ll find you, and I’ll make it right. 

Tomorrow, he’d explain it all. He’d tell you about the fear that haunted him. He’d tell you how desperately he wanted you to be there, even though he’d spent years trying to push you away. Tomorrow, he’d make sure you knew that he cared— and had cared for so long, longer than he would ever care to admit. Tomorrow, he would admit that he’d been a fool to ever think you were better off without him.

Tuesday.

But tomorrow never came.

Bucky didn’t even realise you had a mission until Scott Lang mentioned it to him in passing over morning training.

It was unusual. Before a mission, you’d go around town, telling everyone you’d be gone. Even when you couldn’t reach him, during the days he would lock himself in apartment, you’d sent you a quick text message: 

I have recon tomorrow. Will be back in a few days. In case you notice no one’s bothering you anymore :)

But not this time. Not after what he said to you.

That afternoon, while Bucky was making dinner, he got a call from Sam. 

His body froze, his world shattered when Sam said that it was about you.

“We lost contact,” he said grimly.

Before Sam could finish, Bucky was already grabbing his gear to prepare for the rescue mission first thing tomorrow. There was a growing fear in his chest too overwhelming to ignore.

He couldn’t shake the image of your face after their last conversation—how you had looked at him, how hurt you’d been.

If something happened to you…

Wednesday morning.

The rescue mission was all chaos. Fire and rubble littered the landscape of what had once been a secure enemy base. Bucky moved through the debris like a man possessed, heart pounding in his chest with every second that passed without finding you.

Smoke burned his lungs with every breath as the acrid scent of scorched metal and chemicals filled the air. His pulse roared in his ears as he called your name again, his voice growing hoarse, his steps becoming frantic. The longer it took to find you, the more the knot in his chest tightened.

He called your name again, wailing like a lost ghoul wandering in the underworld.

Then, he saw it—a flash of your suit buried beneath concrete and metal, motionless.

His voice cracked as cried your name again, running towards the wreckage.

You had been squeezed in between the floor and half of the roof, a wedge of concrete was the only thing keeping you from being completely crushed. 

Tears pricked by the edges of his eyes. He mustered all his strength and managed to lift up the entire roof— a display of strength he had never been able to achieve before. 

His heart dropped when he saw your form beneath it all, your face pale, your breathing shallow—barely there at all.

"Stay with me," he muttered, lifting you carefully from the wreckage, cradling your body in his arms. He was shaking, studying your face for any signs of life he could find.

His fingers brushed across your cheeks, trembling. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the fear was too overwhelming. His voice was barely a whisper, “Please...”

Wednesday night.

The medics worked on you for hours, but you didn’t wake. Not after they stabilised your vitals, not after they brought you back to the compound.

Bucky sat by your bedside, his hand gripping yours so tightly his knuckles were white.

This was his fault. He knew that.

You had always been there for him, and when you needed him most, he had turned his back on you. He had broken you in a way he never thought possible.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered that night, voice breaking, his thumb brushing across the back of your cold hand. “You deserve so much better than this. I just... I just didn’t know how to handle it. I pushed you away because... because I was afraid. But I care about you. I care about you so much.”

His tears fell, landing softly on the blanket that covered you.

“I swear I’ll make it right. I’ll tell you everything I was scared to. Just please, wake up."

Thursday.

The next day was eerily similar, but this time, Bucky had a little more resolve. He leaned closer, his heart racing.

He still sat by your bedside, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. His hands, calloused from years of battle, trembled as they held yours, gripping tightly as if letting go would mean losing you. 

“I can’t help but think about how you light up every room you walk in. You always found a way to pull me out, even if I didn't show it.”

He couldn't stop the way his foot tapped against the floor, an anxious rhythm that accompanied the erratic beating of his heart. Every breath he took felt shallow, laboured, as if the room were closing in on him. His throat burned, but he refused to break, not yet. Not while you were still here, though silent and unreachable. 

He wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. “I miss you so much. I can’t do this without you.”

He let the silence wrap around him, hoping that somehow his words would reach you, wherever you were.

Friday.

When the medics told him there had been no change, Bucky’s fingers dug into the armrest of the chair. The leather creaked under his grip. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, but he couldn't loosen it. 

As the hours passed, he found himself reminiscing, a small smile breaking through the heaviness. “Do you remember the time we went on the Latveria mission together? I thought I was going to be a distraction. You laughed and said I could never be. You told me I was your favourite partner. I should’ve known then that I meant something to you.”

He stood abruptly, pacing the small room, each step heavier than the last. His breaths came quicker, each exhale shaking as he rubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing to keep the panic at bay. 

His voice cracked, regret bubbling just beneath the surface. “And I took you for granted.”

Saturday. 

As the days wore on, his exhaustion became impossible to ignore. His limbs felt heavy, weighed down by sleepless nights and wrecked by the storm raging inside him. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands threading through his hair, tugging slightly as if the pain might soothe him. “I talked to Sam today. He says they’re doing everything they can.

He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration and fear blending into one. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.”

His chest tightened, a dull ache echoing from his ribcage as he stared at your motionless form, willing you to stir, to give him a sign that this nightmare would end.

“I’m waiting for you to wake up and tell me I’m being an idiot, that I need to stop worrying. I need you to tell me everything is going to be okay. Please, just be okay.”

But there was only the sound of the machines.

Sunday morning.

Bucky found himself hunched over the side of your bed, his head resting against the cool metal of the railing. His body hurt from staying in the same position for so long, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t move, couldn’t pull himself away from you. His metal hand tightened around yours, the cold vibranium contrasting with the warmth of your skin, though that warmth was fading. A shudder passed through him, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered your name again, desperate. His grip loosened, trembling, as though he feared he might break you, and yet, he couldn’t let go.

When he finally whispered those words— "I love you" —it felt like a weight had been lifted and dropped all at once. 

His chest heaved with the force of it— the confession had cost him every ounce of strength he had left. His hand shook as he brushed a stray hair from your forehead, the contact both comforting and unbearable. His fingers lingered there, trembling slightly, as he traced the curve of your face, memorising every detail, every contour, as if were trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away. 

“Come back.”

Sunday night.

Bucky sat at your bedside as he always did, his fingers brushing across your hand, the silence in the room deafening. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the side of your bed, fighting the exhaustion pulling at him. 

That’s when he felt it.

A small, almost imperceptible twitch of your fingers.

His heart skipped, and he shot upright, searching your face, desperate for another sign of life.

He whispered your name, as if to coax you out of the depths you had drowned in.

Then your eyes fluttered open. Slowly, groggily, emerging from the deepest of slumbers. He sat there, frozen, his heart hammering in his chest from relief.

But when you blinked and your gaze settled on him, something was wrong.

Your expression wasn’t one of recognition. There was no relief, no joy—only confusion.

Your brows furrowed, and then, panic.

"Bucky?" you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse.

His heart soared at the sound of your voice, but before he could respond, you pulled your hand away from him.

"Bucky Barnes,” you repeated, the tremble in your voice unmistakable. "The Winter Soldier. You—you’re a hero."

His blood ran cold.

He said your name, his voice shaking, trying to understand.

But you weren’t listening. The look in your eyes wasn’t one of a friend who knew him, who had fought alongside him.

It was the look of someone staring at a stranger.

Bucky felt the room spin around him, his stomach dropping.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as your gaze darted around the white, sterile room in the medbay. "What... What happened to me?" you asked, your voice trembling, fear bleeding into your words.

But before he could answer, your eyes narrowed, and you whispered the last thing he ever wanted to hear. "Why are you here?" you asked.

His heart was hammering, pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. He searched your eyes for some sign, any flicker of recognition. But there was nothing. His grip loosened, a tremor running through him as he stammered, “You—you really don’t remember?”

You shook your head no.

“I’m your friend,” he said gently, hoping it would jog your memory.

You tilted your head, then chuckled in disbelief— a sweet sound that he had missed so dearly. “Why would a superhero be friends with a museum curator?”

You hadn’t worked in the museum for four years.

Four years. 

You didn’t remember the last four years of your life.

-to be continued… 

Taglist: @hzdhrtss @irisk12

[slytherinboysvip]

Imagine best friend Mattheo being absolutely obsessed with his innocent little Hufflepuff bsf but she just can’t tell. Everyone else knows, and it is quite obvious, but she just can’t think someone like him would want someone like her. But when she jokingly says she’s gonna get Cedric to take her virginity he decides it’s time he came clean.

Possibly with some soft smut if you are comfortable with it of course

bsf mattheo riddle x hufflepuff reader

hopefully this matches your request <3 i’ll most likely make a part 2 for this because.. you’ll see ;) 3.5k words

you lived a rather simple uncomplicated life, attending hogwarts as a hufflepuff with no interest in anyone’s drama. though you kept to yourself most times you tried to be nice to all your peers maintaining your classic hufflepuff demeanor, despite this there was one thing that was different about you.

you see, you didn’t see or understand why people don’t like other houses just because of “house rivalry” especially the students who weren’t even participating in any sports or point winning. and with this over your years though you had few friends you had one best friend who at first seemed rather impossible to be friends with.. mattheo riddle.

when you two met you were a fourth year and him a fifth, coincidentally you were going on to a few friends about your annoyance with people automatically assuming the worst of slytherin even though you yourself weren’t in their house or nearly like one. mattheo overheard this heated- adorable voice coming from behind him and he walked towards you carefully.

he sat down in front of you beside your friend as she gawked faces towards you at his presence. “you don’t think we’re too mean, huh?” he questioned small laugh leaving his lips. “i just think that some people are misunderstood and just because some wizards turned out bad doesn’t mean all of them in your house are” you looked at him answering his question with ease

he smirked in amusement and leaned a little closer to you “hm, hufflepuff eh? what year are you puff?” he sat back examining you and you didn’t fail to notice that nickname he slipped in “fourth year but i have an early birthday which is annoying because i could technically be out sooner” you sighed ignoring his staring.

“well, seeing as it’s ravenclaw against gryffindor do you wanna watch the quidditch game with me i know the best view” he stood up and held his hand out for you, you look towards your friends and they’re both nodding their heads for you to go so you did.

from that point on you and mattheo had been best friends, sadly he was in his seventh year and now you in your sixth nothing much had changed in your life. living vicariously through mattheo and his stories about slytherin parties and how you should go to one with him before it’s too late, he’d tell you about his sexual adventures and your jaw would drop everytime.

you yourself also confided in him though with much less interesting things, telling him how you feel unlikeable by guys sometimes because they never try to get or talk to you, or how you feel lonely because you’ve never had a a boyfriend before. hed always help soothe the thoughts away, telling you that it’s only your brain making those things up , “listen y/n, anyone who doesn’t love you is fucking insane��.

𓆙

talking to your friend zarah who’d been there since day one you always told her what you told matt, for the most part. “i just don’t get why nobody is interested in me zar, like am i genuinely that ugly” you plopped onto your bed sighing dramatically. “you’re not ugly and if you think no guys want you you’re blind i know one in particular that really, really wants you” she giggled.

you looked at her with a confused expression “i must be missing something because i have no idea who you’re talking about” you awaited her response and she just rolled her eyes and sighed “girl your practically boyfriend of a best friend you do everything with” she gave you a duh look and you just laughed. you genuinely couldn’t believe she’d even think he’d like you especially with all the girls he’d been with, “you’re hilarious, we both know he doesn’t want me he wants all the girls he tells me about” you started to compose yourself but zarah’s expression didn’t change.

“you literally must be blind y/n do you need glasses? or should i say puff? let’s talk about how that man hasn’t stopped calling you that pet name since you’ve met.. he’s in love” she rolled her eyes raising her hands in the air. “i still don’t think he wants me so there’s no convincing me” you shrugged her off and she groaned getting up and leaving your shared dorm.

𓆙

“puff you gotta come to this party, slytherin won agains gryffindor i just know this is gonna be the party you want to go to pleaseee” mattheo put his hands on your shoulders shaking you “fiinee” you attempted to answer between shakes before he let you go “if i would’ve known it was that easy i would’ve done that years ago” he rolled his eyes.

“anyways it’s tonight at like 8 so i’ll just get you from your dorm at like 7 do you think they’ll let me in? actually what’s the password?” he didn’t give you time to finish any of your sentences before you just gave him the password “butterscotch” you whispered, in response mattheo laughed “fucking butterscotch merlin that’s hilarious” you looked up at him and rolled your eyes walking away.

“i’ll see you at 7 puff” he yelled across the hall and you just gave a thumbs up and continued walking. you honestly were quite nervous seeing as you’ve never necessarily been to a party before, you’ve made small appearances at hufflepuff parties but you’ve heard they don’t even compare to slytherin.

making your way into your dorm you spot zarah and you pull her up from the common room couch “i finally said yes to a party need help now” you quickly mumbled and she quickened her pace “when does it start girl i need the info right this second come on you’re talking too long for me” she rushed and you blurted it all out “8pm he’s getting me at 7 he has the password he will be at the dorm” closing the door behind you two you both stopped to catch your breath

“sooo is it a dateee” she shimmied her arm on you winking “i already told you he doesn’t like me!!” you replied to her relentlessness. “ugh whatever we need to get you ready girl it’s already six” she pushed you onto your shared vanity chair and pulled out all of your makeup and a few things of hers, “creative control?” she asked smirking at you “mm fine but not too much” you agreed “we’ll see” she giggled.

after around 30 minutes she finished your makeup and she showed you the finished product, looking at yourself in the mirror you thought how you never would’ve put on red lipstick yet you feel really good in it. she gave you a small smokey eye and a small winged liner and you felt you looked more aggressive then you were, but you kinda loved it.

“it’s so much but so pretty” you admired yourself and the makeup she put on you slowly getting used to the feeling of fake eyelashes on your eyes. “i’m so glad you love it, but we need to find an outfit like three hours ago” she joked and rushed to your closets “i actually have the perfect dress in mind if you’re feeling the want to rep slytherin green” she raised her eyebrows up at you in a suggestive matter “sure why not” you shrugged

she handed you a velvet body con forest green dress that you were sure was going to be extremely short and you mean in every place. she held it up onto you “this will be perfect. get it on come on” she rushed you into the bathroom and you began putting it on “this is sooo tight” you called out as you struggled “oh i forgot it was a corset back wait i need to help you can i come in” she yelled through the door

“yeah come on i need this thing one me already” you struggled more as she walked in and immediately began to help you loosening the strings of the dress and pulling it down onto you “there we go now suck in like your life depends on it” she said half jokingly and began retightening the corset back. with every pull it felt like your chest was spilling out more and more and your ribs were shrinking “okay merlin that’s enough before i can’t breathe” you huffed and she stopped tying it off in a bow

“stop you look so hot y/n i bet matt will be drooling” she teased and you just rolled your eyes “what do we do with my hair” you looked at her with horror as you only had ten minutes before he should arrive. you quickly began curling your hair not really caring if it was messy just giving it some body and just as you were spraying perfume on there was a knock on your door.

zarah looked at you and whispered “answer it go go now” she pointed to the door like she was afraid to touch it herself and you walked over opening it to see mattheo in an all black button down with the top few buttons undone and black dress looking pants yet somehow he didn’t look overdressed. he didn’t say anything for a minute he was just staring at you looking up and down in awe “holy fuck y/n who did your makeup you look woah” he put his finger on your chin moving your head around examining your makeup

“zarah isn’t it pretty” you smiled and he removed his hand and replied “yeah you are, now let’s go” he grabbed your hand and you looked behind you waving bye to zarah “he’s so in love with you” she whispered before the door slammed closed.

𓆙

once you got the the party you noticed there were already many slytherins already pregaming and mattheo brought you two to them, “let’s get some alcohol in you little puff” he winked and poured you a shot of who knows what, you smelled the foul drink and it made your nose burn “come on do ittt” he cheered on and you held your nose throwing the shot back gagging at the taste. “how do people enjoy that” you made a face at him “like this” he replied taking two shots himself, “now catch up” he winked pouring you yet another

“if i didn’t know any better id say you’re trying to get me drunk matt” you laughed and he looked at you amused “obviously that’s what im trying to do it’s a party” he put the shot glass to your lips and you parted them taking the burning substance down your throat, “eugh that didn’t get any better the second time” you shook your head in disgust. “hm, let me make you an actual drink” he grabbed a clear liquor and a red juice mixing them together adding more alcohol than your past two shots and handed it to you

“matt this smells foul” you looked up at him, “just try it trust me the slytherins have the masking drink down” he winked and you reluctantly took a sip, and to your surprise all you tasted was juice. after taking another few sips you quick began drinking it and mattheo pulled the cup from your lips “slow down there this shits dangerous you’ll get so drunk you won’t be able to walk straight” he chuckled. “it’s not my fault they made it taste like juice” you shrugged still sipping.

“hey mattheo have your little hufflepuff take some shots with us” enzo threw his arm around your shoulders and mattheo pushed them off almost immediately “no she doesn’t need any shots” he spoke “you didn’t even ask me” you protested, granted you didn’t necessarily want to take any shots you just didn’t like being talked for. “oo are you sure you’re not slytherin you got an attitude” enzo laughed handing you a shot and you looked at mattheo who rolled his eyes as you took the shot.

throwing the shot back the burning sensation took over your throat and you could feel it rushing down your throat. you coughed a bit and chugged your drink for comfort “puff you’re going to get shitfaced slow down” matt fully took your cup this time and you were already feeling it. giggling looking up at him “okay now who was going to tell me party’s are fun” you continued giggling.

the music started playing and the slytherin common room was now getting more and more packed. you saw fifth year students and up in here, even a few ravenclaw and hufflepuffs your recognized. to your surprise in the corner of the party you spotted cedric diggory talking to a group of girls holding a drink.

pansy noticed your head being stuck in a certain direction and followed your eyes “oh em gee, someone’s got their eyes on a certain hufflepuff” she winked shoving her shoulder at your “shhhhh he’s just nice to look at” you giggled at her and she giggled along “you two would be soo cute” she added dragging you back to the drinks

“let’s take some shots!” she exclaimed handing you two , you took them smiling and shot them back with her, a woo leaving her mouth. “here chaser, chaser!” she shouted handing you another drink this time what looked like a lot of the punch, downing it all she laughed “girl we’re gonna be gone”. looking around you were seeing doubles of everything but didn’t want the night to already end.

“so, are you a virgin?” pansy shouted over the music making your already alcohol flushed face even redder “pansy!! you can’t just ask that!!” you shouted back flustered at the intrusive question, “i’m only curious girl” she giggled and gave you begging eyes “come onnnn” she shook you till you gave in “fine yes i am but don’t tell anyone!” you replied back as lowly as you could over the music

“who would you lose it to?” she giggled “i lost mine to blaise hehe sshhhh” she winked, considering she just told you her secret you felt obligated and just looked around “i mean i guess cedric” you giggled as she pointed at him after your response. before she could say anything else you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and drag you off. trying to kick your way out was useless and they brought you to an empty dorm.

through all of this you couldn’t tell who it was kicking and screaming for them to let you go till you heard mattheos voice “puff calm down it’s just me” he sighed putting you down on what you now assumed was his bed “why did you bring me in here that was so scary” you huffed trying to gain your composure. “diggory?” he scoffed not answering your question.

you looked at him confused as to what he was on about “what do you mean? what about cedric” you cocked your head to the side in confusion “you lost your virginity to him??” he questioned stepping closer to you looking rather.. pissed. you just laughed in response “me? lose my virginity to cedric?.. you’re funny” yeah you fantasized about it but it certainly wouldn’t happen.

“what were you talking to pansy about then??” he looked at you unconvinced, “she asked if i lost it and i said no, but id let him take it.-“ you shrugged “besides you know i tell you everything matt i’ve never even had a boyfriend let alone a guy be interested in my virginity” you sighed laying back onto the bed now feeling upset.

you heard mattheo sigh and you picked your head up to look at him, his eyes stared back at you in silence before breaking it “believe me there’s a lot of guys who want to get in your pants” he rubbed his fists and you gave him a confused expression yet again “what are you on about matt?” you were getting sober just from all of this extra mystery.

he walked over to the bed sitting beside you, “listen when we met you were just.. blooming completely and i would be lying if i didn’t say i first went up to you because of your looks.. well overtime you know we became friends and i noticed other guys staring in ways they shouldn’t have been so i had to teach them a lesson.” he looked at you and yo didn’t know how to respond to something like that.

“what exactly are you saying matt?” you didnt understand what he was poking at, did matt mean to say he basically likes you? were you reading too much into this? “look y/n, no one else in this school fucking deserves you. hell i don’t deserve you but i know i can treat you how you need. don’t ask me what took so long to confess to you y/n, but do you feel even remotely the same?” he let it all out quick and fast, and your mouth dropped.

“you want.. me?” you looked at him in disbelief and he just smiled “that’s what that whole speech was about, yeah” he chuckled nervously awaiting your reply “why?” you sighed still slightly unconvinced “have you fucking seen yourself puff? you’re so undeniably gorgeous, i don’t know how i hold myself back from you everyday” he leaned in closer to you making this all seem more real. without thinking you allowed yourself to lean into him, faces and lips meeting for the most magical first kiss you could’ve ever imagined.

“you’re so fucking beautiful y/n” he grabbed your face pulling you closer to him till you straddled over his lap sitting down continuing the now makeout. “this is so much better than.. imagined” you huffed through the kisses. you could already feel mattheos member growing beneath you and you never thought you’d be the one experiencing this from your best friend.

you’d be lying if you didn’t admit to a fantasy or two about him in the past but this was already one thousand times better than ever imagined. mattheos lips kissed their way down your neck leaving small marks tiny moans leaving your mouth, “i need to hear more of that, y/n, let me eat you out.. please i need a taste” he continued his kisses along your neck bringing them back to your lips “i’ve never- mm yes” you replied as his fingers began making circles over your underwear.

“you sound so good fuck” he groaned pulling you off of him and getting off the bed, “you’re sure of this?” he questioned one last time and you just nodded impatiently awaiting his next move. next thing you knew he was yanking you to the edge of his bed and slowly removing your pants and underwear looking up at you from below. “holy fuck puff.. you’re fucking soaking” he breathed out over your pussy sending tingles down your spine.

without warning his mouth met your untouched area and you felt things never imaginable. his tongue made its way around your bulging clit, flicking it up and down and making his way to your entrance sucking and licking “you taste so good holy fuck” he huffed going right back in not even looking up at you, “can i put two fingers” he spoke from your pussy and you couldn’t even properly answer “mm y-yes” you replied between your moans.

you felt his slender fingers teasing your entrance and he slowly began inching one in and out teasingly, “mattheo-“ you huffed and he chuckled shoving both fingers in, loud moan escaping your mouth and this new feeling. he did a few different moments trying to figure out what makes you moan the most, soon his tongue was sucking expertly on your clit as his fingers twisters and curled inside of you.

“matt i want to.. try” you moaned at this pleasure wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you now. “mm but you’re not ready yet puff” he continued devouring your pussy simply divulging in it as if he’d never eaten anything before. his pace on everything quickened and you were already near your own orgasm, “if you don’t s-stop i’m gonna cum” you moaned loudly trying to control yourself.

“let go for me sweetheart” he sucked harder on your clit, the nickname and action forcing your orgasm to flood over you harder than you’ve ever been able to make yourself experience. your body was shaking and you couldn’t hold your reactions back, mattheo slowly licked your gushing area clean before standing up “mm now i think you’ll be ready soon” he smirked leaning down over you, grabbing your chin and giving you a kiss.

[act-nat-ural]

First Sight

@dira333: what if you're related or friends with the Miya twins and they accidentally or not set you up with someone on the msby roster? Meian is really cute if you know the manga, but there's also Sakusa, Hinata or Bokuto

word count: 1782

Osamu had already closed Miya Onigiri for the day, yet his two favorite moochers were still sitting at a booth consuming his food for free. He sighs, having already locked the doors, and put the chairs on top of the tables. He takes a seat next to Atsumu and joins your guys’ conversation. “I’m just sayin’,” Atsumu starts, “If yer so lonely, go out an’ meet someone. It's not that hard.”He finishes his sentence by taking a gigantic bite. He nods to himself like he made a great point, though you and Osamu are giving him side eyes. 

“And how would ya know that? Ya haven’t gone on a date in over three months.” You point out.

Osamu snorts and adds, “Last relationship I remember you cryin’ like a baby, saying’ that ya would never love again.” 

Atsumu scoffs and mumbles a “Shuddup!” while you let out a deep sigh and rest your head on the cool surface of the table. “It's not fair.” You whine. “I've got like, no love life. Why don’t ya set me up with yer hot friends?” 

They share a look for a minute, then at the same time say “No.” You scoff and slam a hand on the table. 

“Why the hell not!” 

Osamu raises his hands in defense while Atsumu enters ‘big brother mode’. “Yer our only sister, and I love ya too much to set ya up with the idiots I call friends. Yer too good for them!” You roll your eyes but he continues. “Omi probably has some secret girlfriend already, Shoyo only thinks about volleyball, and Koutaro’s.. Well, he's.. I dunno. But I don’t trust them with ya!”

You groan and give Osamu a pleading look. “Please?” He gives you a deadpan look.

“It's a hard no. I’d have to kill Rintaro if he even looked at ya wrong.” You groan and throw your hands in the air.

“Gimme a break! I’m a grown woman, I can handle myself.” They both burst into laughter, so you kick Atsumu under the table.

“Owch! Hey!” 

–

You were watching a movie at home by yourself when you heard your phone start to buzz. You glance away from the screen to see ‘Samu’ in bold letters pop up on your phone. You pause the move and check the text he sent you.

Samu: Hey. You still looking for a date?

Your eyes widen and you start to squeal. “Yes! ‘Samu for the win.” You start to celebrate prematurely when your phone buzzes again. 

Samu: I have an idea but Tsumu wouldn’t like it lolol

Your smile drops and you grab the phone to respond.

You: what does that even mean…

Samu: Sooo have you ever met his team before?

You: no, I’ve met Kiyoomi but only briefly. why?? who are you thinking of?? Omg 

Samu: that desperation is exactly what made me think of him LMAO

You gasp in offense and angrily respond, 

You: WTF DOES THAT MEAN 

Samu: anyway! 🙂 I was thinking of inviting some of the team to my place for dinner or something, you wanna come? you can’t tell Tsumu you’re coming though or he'd throw a fit or smth.

You chew on your lip in thought. On one hand, you really want to meet someone. On the other, if it ends up not working out, it could really make things awkward for your brother and his friends. You pause. He’ll be fine.

You: I'll be there :) love you!

Meanwhile, Osamu sighs and leans back against the headboard. “She better not say I never do anything for her. Hmph.”

Samu: love you too 🙄

–

Osamu was drying his hands when he heard the doorbell ring. “Comin’.” He opens the door and there stands Atsumu, Kiyoomi, Shoyo, and Kotaro. Atsmu gives a cheeky grin, holding up a case of beer.

“I come bearing gifts.” Koutaro blinks in confusion.

“But I bought it-”

“Shush.”

Osamu moves aside so they can all come in. “No one else comin’?” Kiyoomi shakes his head.

“Shugo was going to but he got caught up with something. The rest all had other arrangements.” Osamu nods in understanding. Shoyo immediately beelines for the kitchen.

“What smells so good? I’m starving!”

Kiyoomi furrows his brows stating, “You ate the whole way here.”

Just then, the doorbell rings again. This time there is no need to open the door, because you just so happen to have a key. “Hello!” You stroll in like you own the place. Osamu has to fight to hold his laugh in when he sees the look on Atsumu’s face. 

“I didn’t know what to bring so I just brought cookies. I think I burnt them though.” You mumble. Kiyoomi gives you a nod in acknowledgment as you set the platter of charred baked goods on the counter. “Soo… are ya gonna introduce me?”

“Samu. What is she doing here?” Atsumu chokes out. You scoff.

 “I’m literally standing right here.”

“What? I can’t invite our own sister to my apartment?” Osamu gives an innocent shrug. 

“This was supposed to be a guys night!” Atsumu complains childishly. 

Shoyo pipes in, “I don’t mind! The more people the better. Right, Bokuto? ….Bokuto?”

–

If you had asked Koutaro then, he would have sworn he had never seen a more beautiful girl. The moment you walked in the door it was like he lost all of the air in his chest. He almost texted Keiji to ask what a heart attack felt like. His heart thumped in his chest and he could feel his hands start to get sweaty. Pretty girl. I’m not good around pretty girls. 

He didn’t even realize that he was being spoken to until Shoyo poked his arm. “Huh? Wha? Oh- Yes. Stay. Please.” Everyone just kind of stares at him for a moment before moving on. He accidentally stares at you while you get introduced to Shoyo, yet you don’t notice till Atsumu tries introducing him. You give a shy smile and a wave, and that's all he needs to see to know that he's a goner. 

–

You had never taken a good look at Koutaro Bokuto before this, and boy do you wish you had. Everything about him had you feeling weak in the knees. He was very built, taking up a large portion of the sofa that he was sitting on. You had snuck a glance at his back while walking in and Jesus. That man was built like a Greek god. His golden eyes seemed to never leave your figure, and he kept giving you a dopey smile. You give a small smile back and wave, hoping you don’t make a fool of yourself. Later, you swore you saw Osamu give you a thumbs up, but he denies it.

Everyone else flocks to the kitchen to start getting something to eat, yet you and Koutaro stay behind. You hesitantly sit down beside him, a few feet away. You both give sheepish smiles directed at the other, not sure what to say. Just then, Osamu comes back. “Darn. We’re out of soy sauce. Koutaro, (Name), do ya guys mind going to the market and grabbing some?” He says, not very convincingly. 

Shoyo gives him a confused look and starts, “But there was some-” 

“Shush.”

Koutaro immediately shoots up from his seat. “Yeah, we can get it!” He gives you a beaming smile and you can’t help but return in. He lends you a hand up from the sofa, practically bouncing with excitement. “We’ll be back soon.” Osamu gives you a wink and pats your back. 

“Take your time.”

You and Koutaro are silent for a while as you walk to the nearest market. You notice that while his strides are larger than yours, he slows his pace to match yours. He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a glance around

“So, what do you do for fun?” He turns and asks suddenly. You hum in thought.

 “I guess I hang out with my brothers a lot. I watch movies alone sometimes. Work has kept me busy recently, so I haven’t been doing much recently.” He nods in understanding.

He clears his throat before inquiring, “You don’t watch movies with your boyfriend?” 

You smile and shake your head, laughing. “No, I don’t have one.” He stops walking and gawks at you.

 “Seriously?! You're single?!” You raise your eyebrows in surprise and nod slowly. 

“Yeah.. why? Is it that surprising?” He shakes his head yes enthusiastically. 

“I totally thought you’d be married or something, you're so pretty.”

You go quiet. “Really?”

“Yes! Really! Man, I thought I had like no shot.” He adds. You both freeze and look at each other wide eyed.

 “Huh?”

 “What?”

You sputter and point at him. “Ya just- ya said ya thought-” 

“I- well-!” You both stand on the sidewalk, fidgeting with your hands. He scratches his head and blushes. “Are you free tomorrow?” 

You had never said yes faster in your life.

– 

You two were dying of laughter, wiping your eyes from tears. “Man, I wish I had sisters.” You say. 

“Yeah, they're pretty cool.” He says matter of factly. You both had gotten sidetracked and never ended up going to the market. Currently, he and you were sitting on a pair of swings at a local park. Your phone buzzes softly and you apologize to him before checking it. 

Tsumu: where tf did you go 

You: don’t cockblock me <3

Tsumu: PARDON?

You click your phone to silent before turning back to Koutaro. “Now, where were we?”

–

It only took a few dates before he asked you to be his girlfriend. You agreed, of course. You would've said yes if he had asked the night you met, if you were honest. Atsumu begrudgingly gave Koutaro his blessing to propose a couple years into dating. Osamu was a bit offended that he didn't ask him, considering he was responsible for you two meeting.

Koutaro was terrible at keeping secrets, so he ended up proposing the second he got home after ring shopping. You felt a bit ambushed, having been washing dishes in unwashed pajamas, but it was still a definite yes.

Currently, Atsumu was walking up to the mic to give a speech during your wedding. You rest your head on Koutaro’s shoulder, and he intertwines your fingers. Atsumu pokes the microphone and the feedback screeches, bothering everyone.

“Ahem. Now, if anyone knows me, they know I love my sister. That, and I only want what's best for her. That having been said, I would like a ‘thank you’ for this marriage, considering it was my idea to get ya together.”

“Liar!”

note: i just realized i keep writing the twins shushing people lol. Bokuto is so fun to write for 😭 he’s so silly

[helioooss]

fade into you

synopsis: you meet hollywood star, jennie kim, on a sleepless night…the first of many…you both bring comfort to each other.

w/c: 8k+

warnings: slow fckn burn, it’s too long. y/n is lonely, jennie’s lonely…and you’re both just yearning for each other.

a/n: ive been working on this for ages and obviously got carried away with how long it is

Los Angeles is never quiet. At night, the city hums with a different kind of energy; neon lights, angry car horns and the low murmur of people who don’t want the day to end. From your apartment’s rooftop, the party below sounds like a distant wave, layers of brick and glass muffling all the noise.

You’re usually never present at these things, but tonight, your neighbour, Irene - a nepo baby producer, invited you to one of her parties after bumping into her earlier.

It’s funny, really. You live in the city of stars, but it never felt like your world — you don’t belong to a galaxy of velvet ropes, red carpets and flashing cameras. And so, you decided to step out of the room, immediately wandering to your spot.

Your fingers graze the edge of the cold metal railing as you take a deep breath, hoping the fresh air might clear the maze of thoughts running through your head. Insomnia has a way of weaving itself into your bones, and tonight is no exception. The weight of your sleepless nights presses on your eyelids, but you know sleep won’t come.

It never does when you need it.

Just as you fish a pack of cigarettes out of your pocket, beginning to settle into the quietness, the soft click of a door opening behind you startles you out of your zone.

Someone steps out onto the rooftop, their presence breaking the stillness. You don’t look right away, assuming it’s another party guest taking a break from the noise below. But then, you feel it; the odd sense of familiarity.

A voice follows, soft and hesitant. “Mind if I join you?”

You turn towards her, and there she stands in all her glory: Jennie Kim, Hollywood’s darling. Even with only the shadows of the moonlight illuminating the place, there’s no mistaking her - sleek black dress and all.

You recognise her immediately, but you don’t react the way most people would. There’s no gasp of surprise, no wide-eyed admiration.

“Go ahead,” you motion towards the empty space beside you, putting the cigarettes back into your pocket. “All yours.”

Jennie looks momentarily taken aback by your nonchalance, but she moves closer, leaning against the railing a few feet away. For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s not awkward, just quiet.

It’s the kind of silence that you both seek.

“I didn’t expect anyone else to be up here,” she says after a while, her eyes scanning the city below.

“Neither did I,” you reply. You glance at her, studying the way her fingers fidget slightly with the hem of her jacket. For all the fame, all the attention she must be used to, Jennie seems surprisingly normal. “I’m usually up here alone.”

She’s still gazing out at the city when she speaks again. “I needed to get away for a bit. The noise gets too overwhelming.”

You hum, understanding what she means. “I know the feeling, everyone down there is just too caught up in their worlds. And it’s not mine, sadly.”

Jennie tilts her head slightly, as if your words resonate with her. The laughter below rings louder for a moment before it dies down again, leaving the two of you in a strange bubble of calm.

For a few more moments, neither of you speak a word - entangled in the comfortable silence that breaks with the occasional gust of wind and traffic.

“I’m Jennie, by the way,” she says out of a sudden, her voice a whisper; almost uncertain.

You smile at her. “I know.”

Jennie’s lips mirror yours, the first one you’ve seen since the party started. “Heard good things about me, I hope?”

This earns her a chuckle from you as you shake your head. “Hmm, I’ll keep that mystery to myself.”

There’s a flicker of amusement in her eyes at your response, studying you for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out why you’re not treating her the same way everyone else does - but she seems to appreciate it, because when she speaks again, her voice is lighter, less guarded.

“Do you live here?” she asks, brows furrowed and all, her curiosity breaking through her reserved demeanor. “I saw you at Irene’s party earlier.”

“Yeah, a few floors down,” you answer, glancing back at the building behind you. “Don’t know why Irene invited me and why I showed up, honestly, I knew it wasn’t going to be my crowd.”

“Of course Irene did,” she laughs. “I’m glad you came, though. Who else would be on this dodgy rooftop with me?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you grin, ignoring the latter comment. “I come up here when I need to clear my head, it’s a great spot.”

Jennie hums in agreement. “I don’t get to be alone much. There’s always someone around, always wanting something from me.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. Her world is one you’ve only ever seen from an outside perspective, but the way she says it, there’s a weariness in her voice that feels too familiar.

You’ve felt it too, for different reasons.

“I guess it’s hard to find quiet when you’re…well, you,” you say carefully, not wanting to pry too much. “You’re a star.”

Jennie lets out a quiet laugh, though there’s no real humour in it. “Yeah, it’s hard to find anything real sometimes.”

Her words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you see the person behind the fame.

Jennie Kim, the Hollywood star, is just Jennie right now, someone who’s tired, someone who’s trying to escape, just like you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That night is the first of many.

The rooftop becomes your shared sanctuary, a place where both of you can escape the noise of the world below. You don’t plan these encounters, they just happen.

Sometimes you come up, expecting to be alone, and find Jennie already there, sitting quietly on one of the lounge chairs. Other times, she arrives after you, silently joining you by the railing.

The conversations are never forced. They start slowly, like the flicker of a match that eventually catches fire. Jennie talks about her life, the constant pressure of living up to expectations, how exhausting it is to always be in the public eye.

You’re surprised by how candid she is, how she doesn’t shy away from talking about the things that bother her the most.

“I love acting,” she says one night, her voice raw in the darkness. “But sometimes I feel like I’m losing myself in it. Like I’m becoming this version of myself that’s not really me.”

You listen quietly, nodding as you try to understand what that must feel like. “I get it. I mean, I don’t know what it’s like to be famous, but I know what it’s like to feel disconnected from yourself.”

Jennie looks at you then, her coffee-coloured eyes searching yours. “Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough? Like no matter what you do, it’s never enough?”

The question catches you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer. “All the time. I’m a writer, and every day I feel like I’m failing at it. Like everything I write is just mediocre and no one wants to read it.”

She nods, her gaze softening. “I read it.”

Your heart nearly drops, blood rushing to your cheeks. “You do?”

“I adore your writing, and believe me, others do too.”

There’s comfort in her words, a weight that presses down on both of you as you sit there in the quiet of the night. You never expected to have this kind of connection with someone like Jennie Kim, but here you are, two people who feel lost in different ways.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A few days had passed since that unexpected rooftop meeting with Jennie, and you’ve been trying your best not to think about it too much - brushing it off as a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

You let out a sigh as you press open on the elevator, a coffee and a book on the other hand. You’re hoping to spend the rest of the afternoon catching up on work, but the doors reveal Irene in her designer boots and oversized sunglasses.

She flashes you a wide grin, her energy filling the small space instantly. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite writer. Went Houdini at my party again, did you?”

You chuckle, rubbing your nape. “Yeah, sorry about that. All the stars in the room hurt my eyes, you know?”

She waves her hand dismissively, her signature rings glittering. “No dramas, you didn’t miss much. Drunk producers trying to convince everyone they’re geniuses and some rookie actor crying in the corner because he didn’t get the role he wanted.”

You snort, taking a sip of your coffee. “Sounds like quite the event.”

“I know, just boring new Hollywood stuff,” she responds, leaning against the wall. “Jennie was there too, though, surprisingly.”

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the mention of her. “Jennie?”

The elevator doors open and closes again when none of you move, too indulged in the conversation now.

“Yeah, Jennie Kim. You know, international superstar, face of like a hundred different brands, has a smile that could end wars; that Jennie,” Irene teases, raising an eyebrow. “I heard you two met on the rooftop the other night.”

“Hmm, we did,” you reply slowly, not sure where Irene is going with this. “It was kind of by accident.”

“Uh-huh,” she’s smiling at you, like she knows something you don’t. “Funny thing about that, she was asking about you the next day.”

You have a surprised look written on your face. “She was?”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if this was the juiciest gossip she’d ever shared in her life. “You know, casual stuff. Like, ‘do you know Y/N well?’ and ‘what’s Y/N like?’ It was actually adorable.”

You stare at her, completely thrown off balance. “Why though?”

“I’m just saying, you must have made quite the impression. People don’t usually catch Jennie’s interest like that. It’s hard to break through the whole ‘world-famous celebrity’ thing she’s got going on, you feel?”

You let out a nervous chuckle, trying to downplay it as you ignore the flutter all over your chest. “I don’t know. We just talked for a bit, that’s all.”

Irene rolls her eyes in disbelief. “Oh sure, just a bit.”

Your face goes warm at the thought, and you quickly shake your head. “No, no. It’s not —“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” she interrupts, holding her hands up as if she’d heard the excuse a thousand times. “But come on, Y/N, Jennie doesn’t ask about people she’s not interested in.“

You groan at that, not sure how to respond.

Her grin softens into something more genuine as she presses the elevator open. “Listen, you don’t have to close yourself to every person who knocks at your door. This whole time I’ve been this building, I’ve been in elevator rides with girls who were bawling their eyes out and I just know they came from your apartment.”

“How would you even know that?” you ask, defensive tone in your voice.

“They wear the same sad look on their face.” The doors slide open, and she steps out, leaving you to process everything she had said. “Oh, and Y/N?” she calls out after you, sticking her fingers out just before the doors can close.

“Yeah?”

“Try not to overthink it,” she adds with a playful smirk. “Jennie is interested in you. The rooftop meetings might turn into something more elevated if you know what I mean.”

You whine at her joke, and she bursts out laughing, the sound echoing in the hallway as the elevator doors slide shut, leaving you wondering what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Jennie is different at night. Softer, more vulnerable than the poised and confident image you occasionally catch glimpses of on magazine covers or the news. Out here, with only the night sky and the cold breeze as witnesses, Jennie is just Jennie. And you, well, you aren’t a nameless, sleepless writer either.

You’re someone she seeks out, the only person she can talk to without having to put a mask on.

One night, you’re both sitting on the lounge chairs near the edge of the roof, the distant glow of the city illuminating the sky like a sea of fading stars.

The conversation has been low after not seeing each other for over a week, the both of you just drowning in your own thoughts. However, the only difference is that the silence between you is comfortable now; a result of the odd friendship you’d built over the weeks.

“Do you ever feel like you’re just…floating?” she finally breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turn your head slightly to face her, trying to understand what she means. Her skin is glowing under the moonlight, hair loose and tousled as it fell into gentle waves over her shoulder. “Floating?”

You think she’s beautiful.

“It’s like,” she pauses, searching for the right words. “Like you’re living, but not really living. Just…existing for the sake of it. Going through the same routine because that’s what’s expected of you.”

You don’t need to think long before answering. “Sometimes, I do. I think that’s what happens when you stop feeling connected to the things that you love.”

She shifts slightly in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “I used to love my job. Like I could become someone else and leave everything behind for a while. But now, now it feels like I’m just acting all the time. I barely know who I am.”

She’s opening up more tonight, more than she ever has. There’s something about the way she talks that makes you want to listen harder, to dig beneath the surface and understand what’s really troubling her.

“You feel like you’re stuck playing a role,” you suggest gently, watching her as she nods slowly.

“Exactly. Even when I’m not on set, I’m still Jennie Kim, the celebrity. Sometimes, I don’t want to be her. Sometimes, I just want to be…me. Whoever that is.”

You know what she means. In your own way, you’ve felt the same; lost in a sea of expectations, trying to live up to an image of yourself that you’re not even sure is real anymore.

“I think a lot of people feel that way,” you say gently. “Like they’re wearing a mask for the world, and it’s too hard to take it off.”

She lets out a quiet sigh, leaning her head back against the chair. “It gets exhausting, you know? Having to pretend all the time.“

There’s a tinge of sadness in her voice that makes your heart ache. You’ve always seen Jennie as the kind of person who has it all — fame, fortune, adoration from millions of people. But hearing her talk like this, you realise even those things can’t shield someone from the loneliness that comes with them.

“Why don’t you?”

She smiles, but it’s a tired smile. “I wish I could. Perhaps, one day.”

“Perhaps.”

The weight of her words settles over the two of you like a blanket, heavy and suffocating. You wish you could say something to make it better, but you know there’s no easy answer to what Jennie’s going through. She’s trapped in a world that demands everything from her, and there’s no simple way out.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say after a long silence, the words feeling inadequate.

She shakes her head, a soft smile on her face. “It’s not your fault.”

You sit together for a while longer, the night air cool against your skin. For the first time in a long while, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence with words.

Her presence is enough, and you hope, in some small way, that yours is enough for her too.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s a rare afternoon off for you, and you find yourself being dragged by Irene to a cozy outdoor café with Rosé, another pop star you had met through Irene sometime ago. The three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm over lunch, laughing and talking over plates of food that Irene ordered for the table, always with a flair of overconsumption.

“Okay, but seriously, who designed those shoes for that premiere?” Irene says, her voice full of exaggerated exasperation. She’s waving a fork in the air as she continues. “I mean, did they hate me? I almost broke an ankle just walking down the red carpet.”

Rosé chuckles, sipping her champagne, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re lucky it didn’t turn into a meme,” she teases.

Irene gasps, pressing a hand to her chest in horror. “I could not imagine becoming a meme.”

You laugh at her, shaking your head as you poke your salad. “Oh no, what would happen?”

Rosé smiles at you, leaning in slightly. “So, Y/N, how’s work been? Have you finished that chapter you were talking about last time?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. “Still working on it. Just haven’t been sleeping lately.”

Irene smirks. “Oh, I bet I know why.”

Already knowing what was coming, you raise an eyebrow. “Irene, don’t even —“

“Jennie Kim,” she announces, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And, might I add, she’s been asking about you again.”

Rosé’s eyes widens slightly, a curious smile playing on her lips as she glances between you and the producer. “Wait, Jennie? As in Jennie Jennie?”

You huff, sinking lower into your chair. “Yes, that Jennie. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

Rosé tilts her head, clearly intrigued. “What’s there to think about? Jennie doesn’t usually talk about people unless they’re special.”

You shoot a glare at Irene, who’s beaming like she’d just uncovered the juiciest gossip in town. “Yeah, thanks for that. Jennie and I are just friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Irene says, clearly enjoying herself as she spears a piece of steak with her fork. “Friends that like hang out almost every night.”

Rosé giggles, leaning in closer. “Okay, now I have to know. Spill the details. What’s going on with you and her?”

You heave out a sigh, knowing there is no way you are getting out of this. “We met on the rooftop a while back during one of Irene’s parties. Since then, we’ve just been meeting up there. Talking, you know…late night conversations when her and I can’t sleep.”

“And she’s been asking about you,” Irene adds with a pointed look. “A lot.”

“Irene!”

Rosé laughs, covering her mouth. “Honestly, I’ve noticed Jennie’s been in a better mood lately. Like, even during backstage events, she seems lighter. Happier. I wonder if that has anything to do with you.”

You’re taken aback by Rosé’s observation. Jennie did seem happier lately, more relaxed, even when the weight of fame pressed down on her. But you never considered that your late night talks might have had anything to do with it.

“I don’t know about that,” you say, feeling a bit flustered. “We’re just talking. That’s all.”

Irene and Rosé exchanged amused glances, clearly not buying your attempts at downplaying it.

“Whatever you say,” Irene responds, smirking. “But I think it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that Jennie likes you. And, if you ask me, you should stop overthinking and just go for it.”

Rosé nods in agreement, her smile warm and inviting. “She’s a good person, Y/N. If she’s happier because of you, that says something.”

“She’s not going to hurt you,” Irene interjects with a lighter tone. “Please don’t hurt her too - she’s a lonely soul, that one. You both are, so I’m glad you found each other.”

You shift in your seat, feeling the weight of their words. Part of you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you had a bigger impact on Jennie than you realised.

But another part of you is still scared of what could happen if you got too close, if you let yourself fall for her. After all, love hadn’t been kind to you; so you closed your door on it.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, giving them a small smile. You roll your eyes as Irene and Rosé clinked their glasses; perhaps they were right. Maybe it’s time to stop overthinking and start letting things happen.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The nights blur together in a series of quiet conversations and shared solitude. You find yourself growing more comfortable around Jennie, and she around you. The walls between you have come down, and though you don’t say it aloud, you’ve both come to rely on these nights together.

It’s strange. You’ve never had a friendship like this, one that exists solely in the darkness, in the quiet of the night, away from the prying eyes of the world. By day, you’re still the same sleepless writer, struggling to meet deadlines, battling the constant feeling that you’re not good enough. But at night, up here with her, you feel a little more at peace. Even if sleep still eludes you, there’s just something comforting about your moments together.

One particularly clear night, she asks a question that catches you off guard.

“Why do you stay up here so late? Don’t you ever sleep?”

You laugh. “I wish. I don’t really sleep much these days. I don’t wanna rely on my tablets so much.”

Jennie frowns, a shade of concern in her eyes. “Insomnia?”

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “It’s been getting worse lately. I’ll lie in bed for hours, but my mind just won’t shut off. It’s like there’s too much going on in my head, and no matter what I do, I can’t get it to quiet down.”

Jennie watches you for a moment, her expression gentler. “That sounds awful.”

“It is,” you say, your gaze drifting back to the skyline. “It’s been making everything harder. I can’t focus during the day, and my writing’s been…so terrible, honestly. I’m barely functional most mornings.”

The words spill out before you can stop them, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve said too much, but she doesn’t judge you.

She just listens.

“I wish I could help.”

“You already do,” you reply, surprised by your own honesty. “These nights…talking with you, it helps. I don’t feel so alone.”

Jennie grins, and for the first time, it feels genuine, unburdened by the weight she usually carries. “I’m glad.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Time passes and the nights stretch on, and something between you begins to shift as you look back on your conversation with Irene and Rosé.

It’s subtle at first; small moments, fleeting glances, a brush of your hands as you pass each other by the railing. You don’t talk about it, but it’s there, lingering in the air between you like a secret neither of you is quite ready to admit.

One night, you find yourself standing closer to Jennie than usual, your arms almost touching as you both lean on the railing, looking out at the city below. The moon is particularly bright tonight, casting a soft glow over the rooftop, and the stars seem to be watching you, waiting.

You hadn’t seen her in weeks, and she greets you with boxes of pizza and a bottle of wine in her hand, telling you how much she hates fashion week.

“Have you ever wondered…” her tone is careful, almost hesitant as she pauses. “Have you ever wondered if we were meant to meet? Like, maybe we were supposed to find each other up here.”

You glance at her to find her looking at the city in front of you, studying the way her features soften in the moonlight, her dark eyes reflecting the glow of the city. There’s something vulnerable about her in this moment, something that makes your heart ache in a way you’re not ready to face.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “But I’m glad we did.”

“I missed you,” she admits. “Did you miss me?”

“I did, it feels lonely without you here now.”

Her gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The noise of the city fades into the background, and all you can hear is the steady beat of your own heart. There’s something electric in the air, something that pulls you closer to her, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

Your lips meet hers in a soft, hesitant kiss, and for a brief moment, everything falls away. The doubts, the fears, the sleepless nights; it all fades, leaving only the warmth of Jennie’s touch and the gentle press of her lips against yours.

But then reality crashes back in, and you pull away, your heart racing. “I can’t,” you whisper, stepping back. “I’m sorry, Jennie. I just…I can’t.”

She looks at you, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. She nods slowly, her voice barely audible. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You want to say more, to explain why can’t let it happen, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you turn and leave the rooftop, the weight of what just happened pressing down on you like a heavy blanket.

After that night, everything changes.

Jennie stops coming to the rooftop, and though you try to tell yourself it’s for the best, a part of you misses her. You miss the quiet conversations, the way she made you feel understood in a way no one else ever has, but you know you can’t let yourself get attached.

You can’t risk hurting her, or yourself. The walls you built took years to stabilise, you can’t let someone else in again.

Days turn into weeks, and you start seeing Jennie everywhere, but only from a distance. You catch glimpses of her in magazine articles, on TV interviews, on red carpets. She’s back in the spotlight, drowning herself in her work, and you watch from the sidelines as she slips further and further away.

You tell yourself it’s better this way, but the truth is, it hurts. You’ve grown to care for Jennie in a way you didn’t expect, and now that she’s gone, the rooftop feels emptier than ever.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’re sitting at your desk one afternoon, trying to concentrate on writing but finding it nearly impossible. The words on the screen blur together as your mind drifts back to her — like it always seems to do lately. The nights without her have been long and restless, and no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, you can’t stop thinking about her.

And it certainly doesn’t help that you’ve been avoiding Irene and everyone that could possibly be in Jennie’s circle.

“Hey, are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” Lisa’s voice pulls you back to reality. You nod, turning towards her.

Lisa, your best friend and old roommate, has been talking for the past ten minutes about some new reality show she’s obsessed with. She’s sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, glancing back at your laptop. “Something about hot contestants and drama, right?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, eyes narrowing. “Sure, that’s exactly it.”

“What’s up with that look?”

“You’ve been so weird lately, zoning out and acting mysterious. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you say a little too quickly. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Work, deadlines, you know how it is.”

“Hmm,” Lisa hums, clearly not convinced. She stretches her arms and yawns before tossing her phone onto the couch and standing up. “Well, whatever it is, you need a break. You’ve been glued to that laptop for hours. I’m making coffee. Want some?”

You nod absentmindedly, barely listening as Lisa walks into the kitchen. You can hear your phone vibrating from your bedroom, but you don’t check it immediately. You assume it’s just another email from other editors or some work-related notification.

Instead, you scroll through your half-finished article, sighing at the lack of progress.

“Hey, do you mind if I grab your phone charger?” Lisa asks from the kitchen.

“Yeah, go ahead. It’s on the table by my bed,” you reply, not thinking twice.

She disappears into your room, and you return to your article. For a few blissful minutes, you actually manage to focus, typing out a few coherent sentences before her voice suddenly cuts through the silence.

“Oh my GOD.”

You flinch, nearly knocking over your water bottle in the process. Her voice has jumped several octaves, and it’s followed by a burst of nervous laughter. “What?!” you yell out, spinning around in your chair.

She comes charging back into the living room, your phone in her hand, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Uh, excuse me. Who’s texting you? Because I just saw a whole bunch of messages from someone named Jennie—” she holds up your phone “With a VERY familiar profile picture.”

You freeze, realizing immediately what your best friend has stumbled upon.

“Lisa —“

“Oh no, no, no,” she interjects, waving your phone around like it’s court case evidence. “Do not even try to tell me that Jennie is just some random friend. I recognise that face anywhere! Jennie Kim is messaging you?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Lisa, please, calm down. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think? I’m sorry to invade your privacy but you invaded mine for four years,” her eyes are practically bulging out of her head now, and she’s shrieking. She opens the messages, scrolling through them with increasing disbelief. “She’s asking how you are. She’s sending cute little ‘I miss you’ texts. I miss you? This is Jennie Kim! And you’re not responding?!”

You can’t help but chuckle at Lisa’s reaction, but your stomach twists with anxiety. “It’s complicated.”

“This is a Hollywood star sending you heart emojis, there’s nothing complicated about this except the fact that you haven’t told me!”

Before you can respond, the Thai woman glances at your phone again, her eyes widening as she scrolls even further. “Oh, hold up. Is this —” her hand flies to her mouth dramatically. “Is this a picture of you and Jennie?“

You visibly cringe. That was a picture Jennie had taken during one of your rooftop nights. It wasn’t anything too intimate, just the two of you sitting side by side, the city lights spread out behind you. Jennie had sent it to you as a reminder of the night, and at the time, it felt special, something just for you both to remember.

“How are you so calm right now? Do you realize what this means? You’ve been hanging out with Jennie Kim, and you never told me?” Lisa’s voice rises again as she shakes her head in disbelief.

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Look, it’s not exactly something I could just bring up over dinner, okay? ‘Hey, by the way, I’ve been spending nights on the rooftop with one of the most famous celebrities in the world. How’s your day?’”

She stares at you for a moment, her mouth still open, before she bursts out laughing. “Honestly, yeah, that would have been exactly the way to bring it up!”

You can’t help but laugh with her, though the tension in your chest doesn’t completely disappear. She flops onto the couch, still holding your phone, her eyes wide with amazement as she stares at the messages again.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says slowly. “You and Jennie Kim, Hollywood superstar, what? Friends? Dating? In some weird rooftop-based relationship that I clearly need all the details about?”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. “I don’t know. We spent nights talking, and yeah, we got close. But then things got complicated, and I -“ you stop yourself, the memories of pulling away from Jennie still fresh in your mind. “I don’t know what we are. I think I fumbled her.”

Lisa purses her lips, clearly sensing the conflict in your voice. “So, let me get this straight. She’s sending you these sweet, thoughtful texts, you two have clearly shared something important, and your reaction is to not respond?”

You wince. “It’s not that simple.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s complicated,” you repeat, your voice quieting.

She sits up, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine, fine. I get it. It’s complicated. But,” she leans in, her voice turning more serious, “do you care about her?”

You hesitate, the answer lodged somewhere deep inside you, tangled up with fear and uncertainty. “Yeah,” you finally say. “I really do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Lisa says, her tone both exasperated and gentle. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. If you care about her, let her know.“

You sit in silence for a moment, processing her words because she’s somehow right.

Jennie has been reaching out to you, and you’ve been too scared to respond. Too scared of getting hurt, of what it might mean if you let yourself care this much.

Lisa, seeing the wheels turning in your head, grins and tosses your phone back to you. “I’m just saying, if you don’t respond to those messages, I will. And trust me, you don’t want me getting involved.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Yeah, no, I definitely don’t.”

“Okay, now, coffee and reply to her,” she demands as she heads back to the kitchen, you look down at your phone. Jennie’s messages are still there, waiting for a reply.

You open the chat, your fingers hovering over the screen, but you decide against it and put your phone back into your pocket.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Months have passed since you’d last seen Jennie on the rooftop. The silence between you is like a dull ache, made worse by the guilt you’ve been carrying for leaving her hanging without explanation. Even though she had reached out, sending you texts in the weeks following that night, you never replied.

And now, she stopped messaging altogether.

At first, you convinced yourself it was for the best. You told yourself that someone like Jennie didn’t need the confusion and the mess that came with you. She was too bright, too big for your small world.

It was better this way, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself, until you saw the photos.

One night, you’re scrolling through social media, trying to keep your mind occupied. That’s when you saw it: Jennie with Kai. Hands intertwined, walking together like the perfect Hollywood couple.

The caption under the photo read: Hollywood’s newest power couple: Jennie Kim and Kai spotted together again.

Your heart sinks as you stare at the image. There is something about seeing her with someone else, someone who fit into her world so seamlessly, that makes your breath catch in your throat. The rational part of you knew this was inevitable. You’d pushed her away, and she moved on. She has every right to.

That doesn’t stop it from hurting.

For the next few days, you read more headlines about Jennie and Kai. Every time you opened your phone, there was a new photo, a new article speculating about their relationship. The more you saw, the more the hurt settled deep into your chest. You couldn’t bear it anymore.

So, you made a decision.

When the ache became too much, you, went straight to Jennie’s contact, and deleted it. Then you went further: blocking her number, unfollowing her on every social media platform and erasing every trace of her from your life.

It feels like the only way to move on.

Days pass, and even though Jennie’s name no longer appears in your phone, the ghost of her lingers. You throw yourself into work everyday, trying to bury the feelings under deadlines and distractions. Lisa, who had been pestering you about texting Jennie back, eventually gave up, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation when you refused to talk about it anymore.

“You’re going to regret this,” Lisa warns before leaving your apartment one night, shaking her head. “You can’t just block someone out of your life like that.”

But you did. And now you’re left with the quiet, empty space that Jennie used to fill.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s not until a few days later, when Irene and Rosé show up unannounced at your apartment, that you realise things are far from over.

You’re typing away at your desk, again trying (and failing) to focus on the article you should have finished five hours ago, when there’s a loud knock at your door. Before you can even get up to answer, the door swings open, and in walks Irene and Rosé, looking far too determined and scary for your liking.

“Uh, hey?” you greet awkwardly, completely thrown off by their sudden arrival. “Is there a reason you two are barging into my apartment?”

Irene doesn’t waste any time. She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe, giving you a knowing look. “We need to talk.”

Rosé steps forward, her expression much softer but equally serious. “Yeah, we’ve been worried about you.”

You frown. “Worried about me? I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Irene is sarcastic, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing great, which is why you’ve completely ghosted Jennie and blocked her on everything.”

Your stomach drops, but you try to play it off. “How do you even -“

“We’re her friends, Y/N,” Rosé cuts you off gently, sitting down on the edge of your couch. “We know. And we’ve noticed that she hasn’t been the same since -“

“Since you decided to disappear on her,” Irene finishes bluntly, cutting straight to the point. “I mean, come on. Jennie literally never shuts up about you. She hasn’t been herself, even with Kai in the picture.”

At the mention of Kai, you feel your chest tighten, the hurt bubbling back up. “I saw the photos. Jennie and Kai…they look happy. I figured she moved on. It’s for the best.”

Irene heaves out a dramatic groan, throwing her head back. “Oh my God, Y/N, that’s exactly what’s wrong. She’s not happy with Kai. It’s all for PR. She’s been miserable ever since you stopped talking to her.”

You blink, stunned by her words. “What?”

Rosé sighs this time, her eyes full of sympathy. “She’s been going through the motions, but it’s obvious she’s hurting. We can see it, even if no one else can. Jennie’s been quieter, more closed off. And trust me, it’s not because of Kai.”

“She’s still hung up on you,” Irene adds, her tone softening just a little. “She might be out there with Kai for appearances, but she’s not happy, Y/N, she seems worst than before.”

You feel the weight of their words press down on you. You didn’t think about how much your silence had hurt Jennie. You’d convinced yourself that stepping back was the right thing to do, that she was better off without you in her life.

“I just,” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I thought she’d moved on. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“Well, congrats, you’re officially not in the way,” Irene laughs dryly. “And now she’s miserable, and you’re miserable. Great job, everyone!”

Rosé shoots her a look before turning back to you. “Y/N, you need to talk to her. She’s not okay, and I don’t think you are either.”

Looking down at your hands, your mind starts racing. You had blocked Jennie, thinking it was the only way to protect yourself and her from more hurt. But now, being cornered by Irene and Rosé, you figure that all you had done was push her away without giving either of you a chance to figure out what this really was.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper, the guilt settling deep in your chest.

Irene sighs deeply, sitting down beside Rosé on the couch. “Look, you don’t need some grand speech. Just be honest. Talk to her.”

Rosé nods in agreement. “Yeah. She misses you, Y/N. And I think you miss her too.”

You feel a lump form in your throat as their words start to sink in. They’re right - you do miss Jennie. More than you have been willing to admit. Taking a deep breath, you nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll talk to her.”

“Good luck, Y/N. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The rooftop has always been your sanctuary, the one place where you can feel the world slowing down, but ever since you distanced yourself from Jennie, you couldn’t bring yourself to come back.

Tonight, something is different. There is an undeniable pull guiding you back to the place that had once brought you peace. After Irene and Rosé cornered you in your apartment, you’d been thinking about Jennie more than ever. Maybe, after all this time, it was finally time to confront your feelings and reach out to her.

As you step out onto the rooftop, the familiar chill of the night air brushes against your skin. You let out a deep breath, expecting to find the space empty like it had been for the last few weeks. But instead, you’re frozen in your tracks.

Jennie is already there.

Sitting on one of the lounge chairs, staring out at the city lights, her silhouette framed by the silver glow of the moon. For a moment, you stand there, unsure if you should stay or leave, but then Jennie turns, her eyes locking onto yours.

There is a flicker of emotions on her face; hurt, confusion and maybe even relief.

“You’re here,” she begins softly, her voice carrying through the quiet night.

You swallow hard, taking a hesitant step forward. “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

She stands up slowly, her eyes never leaving yours. There is a heaviness in her expression, one you recognise all too well. “Why did you block me?” she asks, her voice strained with emotion. “Why are you pushing me out of your life, Y/N?”

The words hit you harder than you expect. You’d prepared yourself for this moment, but now that it’s here, she’s here, the guilt weighs on your chest like stones.

You take another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Jennie —”

“I thought we had something,” she stops you, her voice rising ever so slightly. “I thought we shared the same feelings. But then you just…disappeared. Did I make you feel sick?”

You can hear the hurt in her voice, and it cuts through you like a knife. You look down, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jennie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just, I didn’t know what to do.”

She shakes her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You could have talked to me. You could have told me what you were feeling instead of just shutting me out.”

There’s a long silence as you stand there, feeling the weight of everything you had kept bottled up inside for so long. You know you owe her an explanation; an honest one this time.

“I thought you were better off without me,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you with Kai, and he fits into your world. He’s everything you need. He understands the pressure you’re under, and he can handle it. I don’t belong in your world, Jennie.”

She blinks, clearly taken aback. “Kai? Y/N, Kai was just…he was never anything serious. He doesn’t make me feel the way you do. It was my job.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the pain of the past few weeks bubbling up inside you. “But he fits. He’s a part of that life, your life. I don’t. I don’t know how to navigate your world. I’m scared of falling for you because I’ve been hurt before. Really badly. And I don’t think I can handle it if I get hurt again.”

Her expression softens, the hurt in her eyes replaced by something else, something warmer.

She took a step closer, her voice gentle but firm. “You think you’re not good enough for me? Y/N, you’re the only person I’ve ever felt like I could be myself around. The only person who makes me feel like I don’t have to be Jennie Kim. With you, I can just be Jennie.”

The vulnerability in her voice, the raw emotion, it’s all there laid out in front of you.

“I pushed you away because I didn’t feel like I deserved you,” you confess, your voice trembling. “After my last relationship, I’ve had this constant anxiety. My insomnia, everything, it’s all because I’ve been scared to let anyone in. I didn’t want to fall in love again, not after the heartbreak I went through. And with you…it feels so much bigger, so much scarier.”

She steps even closer, her eyes searching yours. “I understand,” she whispers. “I’ve been scared too. But I’m not scared of you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stops at her confession. The world around you falls away as her words hangs in the air, weightless but powerful. “You’re in love with me?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving yours. “Yes. I’m in love with you, and I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but you shut me out. I genuinely believe that I was made for you, Y/N.”

The tears you’ve been holding back finally break free, and before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pulling Jennie into a tight embrace. She wraps her arms around you, holding you just as tightly, and in that moment, all the fear and anxiety you’ve been carrying melt away.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble into her shoulder, your voice cracking with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll look after you.”

Her words soothe the ache that has been sitting in your heart for so long; creating a home for itself. You lean in, pressing your forehead against hers, wrapped in each other’s arms.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you feel a sense of peace. The weight you have been carrying on your shoulders begins to lift, and you know, finally, that it’s okay to let yourself fall.

“I love you too,” your voice is shaky but certain. “I’m in love with you, Jennie.”

She smiles through her tears, her eyes bright with joy. She cups your face in her hands and leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

When you pull away, she rests her head against your chest, her arms still wrapped around you. The night air is cool, but the warmth of her body against yours is keeping you grounded.

“I’m here,” she says once more, her voice barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

[luveline]

hiyaa girlyy!! so i have a fic request and it's totally fine if you don't want to write / don't feel comfortable reading or doing it: and also, i'm not sure if someone thought of this yet, but how about spencer just being friends with a stripper. like their are murders ongoing abt strippers and spencer sees reader at one of the crime scènes and everybody's shocked since their sooo sweet and comfortable together? (and bonus point if she wears his jacket or something since it's cold)

thank you for your request! if you have more requests for this pairing please send them my way!

"I tried to call you!" 

Hotch looks up from his phone at the shout. He'd been texting Jessica one handed in an attempt to tell her and Jack that he won't be home tonight, and he isn't usually easily startled, but he isn't expecting you to talk to him. Or call him. 

He blinks back his fatigue —you're obviously not talking to him. You're almost nondescript in your hoodie, but Hotch isn't confident you're wearing any pants, or underwear. It was a rush job to bring everyone out from the club, and you and the rest of the dancers stand on the sidewalk in various states of undress. 

"Can we get some jackets, please?" Hotch asks, turning back to the beat cops standing by. "Thermal blankets? Anything?" 

When he turns back, Spencer's not where he was. Hotch casts his gaze back to you near the club doors, your hair messed up from the scuffle but your face intricate and untouched, just as pretty as the rest of your fellow dancers, and doubly so as you throw your arms around Spencer Reid's tall shoulders. 

"I'm so glad you're okay," Spencer says, squeezing you hard, your heels lifting off of the rain-sullied sidewalk. "I told you to stay home!" 

"I can't stay home, Spencer. How would I make money?" 

"I'll pay for the hours you miss, I told you that, too." 

"Baby, you couldn't afford it," you tease lightly, setting back down. Your hand immediately rises to Spencer's cheek, your painted nails scratching delicately at his skin. "I've missed you. Where have you been?" 

"California, then Albuquerque." 

"Killing bad guys?" 

Hotch doesn't consider Spencer a lonely guy, and he doesn't think he'd ever be collected enough to enter a strip club, and yet. There he is, hugging and checking over a stripper with as much care and tenderness as he'd show any member of the team. And judging by your smile, you're enamoured with him. Whether romantically or otherwise is anyone's guess. 

Morgan's, apparently. "Sorry, I'm sorry, does Reid have a girlfriend? Like, a…?" 

"You can say stripper," Emily says, though she's similarly nonplussed. "I mean, there's no way. Right?" 

"They're just friends," JJ says. 

The team turns to her in betrayal. Clearly, JJ knew about this and said nothing, and Hotch has things to do but this is so thoroughly bizarre that he gives himself five minutes of curiosity; he lets the others berate her for answers. 

"Come on, JJ! When did this happen? How did this happen?" Emily asks, her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper. 

In the background, Spencer peels out of his jacket that barely fits around your shoulders. You wear it anyhow, wrapping your arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dr. Reid." 

"I really wish you'd stay home when I tell you too." He rubs your arm amicably. 

"Her old boss was a typical heavy-handed sleaze," JJ explains, voice soft with sympathy. "Spence said he used to see her at the grocery store with bruises. She stayed with him for a few days and found a new club… He said she can smile through anything, even a broken wrist." 

Hotch understands. This part of Virginia pretends to be better than it is, and while you seem happy enough now in your profession, he knows it can't be easy. Spencer did for you what he would've done for anyone. You've clearly seen the good in him, treating him with a real and easy affection, adoring through shivers as you look up at him and ask, "Are you eating enough? You look tired." 

"I'm exhausted worrying about you. You're exhausting. Like, where are the sweatpants I got you? You'll get hypothermia." 

"I was trying not to get murdered. You're lucky I grabbed the hoodie." You turn to the team, as though you've known they were watching the entire time. "You wanna introduce me to your friends?" you ask. Hotch detects a hint of insecurity under all your bubbly sweetness. 

Spencer laughs loudly, ushering you forward with a hand on your shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time." 

"Don't embarrass me in front of the special agents!" you whisper. 

"I'm a special agent." 

"No, you're a doctor. He's a special agent." Your gaze narrows in on Hotch. "Hi, you're the boss, huh?" You eye his naked marriage finger briefly, and he knows you're kidding, but he still has to fight to stay expressionless as you continue, "How come handsome guys like you don't ever wanna see me dance?" 

Hotch puts out his hand. "Aaron Hotchner. It's nice to meet you." 

You shake his hand, though you stay as close to Spencer as you can manage without stepping on his shoes. "Right. Too respectful. It's really nice to meet you too, Agent Hotchner. Can you catch the bad guy soon? I'll end up on Spencer's cough again if I don't make rent." 

Morgan opens his mouth and Hotch promptly shuts him down with a raised hand. "We will. You have my word." 

[md-intermission-archive]

"Murder Drones: Intermission": A Story of Understanding

Uzi Doorman: Understanding Loneliness

I feel like during the development of this episode, Uzi was the hardest character for me to wrap my head around. To my understanding, she’s feisty, angsty, and plays up this persona of being apathetic. A sort of lone wolf thing.

She’s snappy towards her classmates who ostracize her, snappy towards adults in her life, and overall gives a middle finger to anyone who isn’t on Team Uzi. It’s a very “me vs. the world” type of thing. That, to me, just felt like the callous shell of someone who’s painfully fragile and has been hurt so often.

I will admit, I may be projecting slightly, but I honestly read her as like… a neurodivergent kid who didn’t know how to navigate social circles, so she just became incredibly bitter. Her father didn’t help her situation at all because he also treated her like a freak, literally calling her a disappointment in his business ads. Then on top of all that she had no mother figure to look up to. All of this accumulates into a habit of isolation. “No one will love me, so fuck it. I’m on my own”. She acts like she’s fine on her own, when in reality she’s so starved for genuine connection. With that in mind, in Intermission I wanted to peel back those layers a little bit. I wanted to explore self-isolation and that hunger for love. 

Some people clocked this I think: the way Uzi’s attitude is toned down in Intermission. I didn’t want to play up her angsty teen act as much (and I capped her at one “bite me”) because then I’d risk falling into the trap of making her into a caricature of herself. The way I framed her in my head is “if she wants connection, then she’d be happier around people who she sees as her friends. If she’s also fragile though, she’ll make an immediate 180 at the slightest hint of meanspiritedness”. This was the guideline I gave myself when it came to bouncing her off of V and N. N melts her icy demeanor. He’s very gentle and encouraging with her. One example being how N kneeled down to her eye level when speaking to her when she was putting up her walls again. As someone who’s constantly ostracized, she needs a gentle touch in order to relax.

I made sure to keep that in mind, that while she was being treated gently, she should show more signs of happiness. Comfort. Part of that comfort is also reflected in being mischievous/playful. As for the 180 she makes if shown any sort of cruelty, that’s reflected in acts of self-isolation. 

This is something I’ve observed from myself and people in my life. If someone is already deathly afraid of rejection, they won’t reach out for help and their immediate instinct will be to isolate. In the beginning of the EP when Uzi’s having her Solver flare up her immediate thought is “I’m going to put up a firewall (repress) and just not even mention this to anybody”. Then when N offers to help, she still shows signs of being uncomfortable because she’s not used to it. It isn’t until V’s comment calling her a lost cause irks her that she decides “screw it let’s give it a shot”. She hates being underestimated, so this reaction made sense to me. Meanwhile the climax of the episode is where I wanted the most overt display of her fears to be presented.

As I said earlier, Uzi’s sensitive to rejection. She attacked the only people in her life who care about her, and the worst part was it wasn’t even her fault. Uzi is a person who really wants a sense of control over her life for the sake of security, so that loss of control and the idea of “oh my god they hate me now” was the final straw for her. So, she isolated. She ran off (or in this case, flew off), she barricaded herself, and she cried.

During the scene when Uzi's found, I had a bit of an issue figuring out where to go from there with her. I had two options: I could once again lean into her badass persona and have her fight back, or I could have her fold. I decided the latter. To her, she just lost the only people who cared about her, she's a monster to worker drone society, her father doesn't care about her.

What's the point. She's doomed to be alone.

If V didn't have her revelation, Uzi would've let herself die. While I understand that's an upsetting choice to make in the narrative, given Uzi's circumstances it felt like the appropriate reaction. Which is why the events following were so important.

While Uzi's at her lowest point she's shown pinch of kindness.

While it’s true V’s initial intention was to off Uzi, her showing compassion and sympathy was what helped calm Uzi down. Rather than making her put up walls like V usually does, V was able to break through them a tad. That interaction, N pouncing at her with a hug, and the final scene was meant to cement in Uzi’s head that she finally wasn’t alone (even if V still struggled to not be prickly with her). The three are still incredibly messy, but there’s that sense of trust that Uzi now has people in her life that actually care about her despite her messiness. The mischievous attitude even comes out when she says, “you found a nanospark of warmth in your heart to care about me”. She now feels more comfortable with V to an extent, and she finally has a support system.

I think…the reason why I love Uzi so much is that she’s sadly reflects the experience of what it's like not being able to fit into society's mold of acceptable. Even if she might not be neurodivergent, the bullying and isolation she experiences is very familiar. I wanted to do her justice as much as I could with that all in mind and with the resources I had. I wanted to give her one happy ending to a day when every other feels like utter hell.

The angsty teen may be badass, but her heart is still fragile.

[luversgirl]

TO BE SO LONELY, part two

summary: after the pouges forget her special day, y/n meets someone the pouges aren’t too pleased with. (heres part one if you haven’t read it yet)

notes: here is the long awaited pt two, im sorry this took to long. i’m in the middle of finals and im trying to get back into writing (p.s theirs another important note after the fic)

warnings: language?

after the big fight at the chateau rafe drove them to the beach, more specifically the one they first interacted at.

y/n quickly slipped off the helmet and walked towards the water without a word said.

as she got closer and closer she placed the helmet and shopping bag down and continued walking.

“y/n!” rafe yelled trying to catch up.

“y/n!” he yelled again a bit more sternly making her stop in her tracks.

he quickly caught up seeing as he was walking very fast to keep up with her “please talk to me” he softly spoke as he stopped in front of her.

“there’s nothing for me to say” she spoke back clearly lying as many tears rolled down her face.

“you’re allowed to be upset y/n” rafe says placing his hands on her face, wiping her tears away.

“how come everyone forgets me” y/n’s voice cracks as she speaks.

after y/n broke down at the beach rafe thought it would be best for her to stay at the cameron household for the night.

waking up to the sun peaking through out the expensive silky curtains the rougtledge girl rubbed her eyes.

her eyebrows furrowed at the unfamiliar smell of the sheets she was laying on, turning her body around she saw a sleeping rafe.

she sat up, carefully doing her best to to wake rafe and succeeding.

y/n’s eyes gazed around the room that was clearly rafes. it pleasantly surprised her how organized his room was, the way all his expensive colognes were organized, no laundry on the floor and the pictures of his family and him displayed along the walls.

“good morning” y/n turned to rafe who was now rubbing his eyes as she was minutes before.

“good morning” she smiled as he pulled her closer kissing the top on her head.

“how you feeling baby” rafe asks.

“better now thanks to you” y/n grins looking up at him “what time is it?”

rafe grabs his phone from the nightstand by his side “its 12” he says.

“i have a shift at 1” y/n sighs leaning against rafe.

“can you cancel it?” rafe trys to reason.

y/n chuckles “thats not exactly how a job works, wheres my phone?” she asks.

“under your pillow” y/n reaches for it, hopingit doesn’t explode with messages when it powers on “i also put it on silent so we could sleep through the night” rafe chuckles.

“thank you” y/n smile up at him before checking “jesus christ” she quickly says as she was right about the phone blowing up and

scrolls through all the missed notifications.

“you okay?” rafe asks observing her face.

closing her eyes, y/n takes a deep breath then setting her phone down onto the bed and started to get out of the plush cameron bed.

“woah, woah, woah, where you going sweet thing?” rafe quickly followed now standing in front of her with his hands on each side of her face caressing her soft cheekbones with his thumbs.

“rafe” y/n smiles and tilts her head up looking at the tall boy.

“you know, not all of us can be kooks” sending him a sad smile.

shortly after rafes constant attempts to get y/n not to go to work he accepted his loss in the battle and dropped her off.

she was 2 hours into her shift and nothing had gone wrong yet, but of course she knew something was bound to happen seeing as her brother and his friends new where she worked so it was all just a matter of time.

as soon as her break hits she’s pushing the back door of the the store open for some fresh air only to be met with the pouges.

“what do you guys want” y/n spoke sitting on her usual break bench and gave into her fate.

“i don’t understand why’d you do this to us” john b speaks up first.

y/n eyebrows furrow “i didn’t ‘do’ anything to do” she emphasizes the ‘do’ “not everything is about you bee” using her brother nickname only reserved for her.

“i never said tha-“ john b interjects.

“but thats what you meant, you know i’m actually happy?” y/n humourless laughs then begins to raises her voice “i don’t remember the last time i’ve even been this happy and the second you find out its not in a way you ‘approve’ of you want to try and take it from me”

“we-“ jj tries to interject something else but y/n doesn’t even give him the chance as she grows angrier every time they say something.

“you know he hasn’t bothered you guys in months but you’re all too self absorbed in your fucking shit to even see that and where the fuck was all this when john started dating sarah” y/n’s voice quivers but also grows louder as she stands up “huh?”

“i always supported you and sarah” y/n addresses the young couple making eye contact with the cameron who continued to remain silent “nice to know kindness is a one way street with you guys”

“y/n we never meant to try take away your happiness” kie spits out as y/n starts towards the door.

she turns around to face the pouges “then what were you trying to do?” they all look down at the ground or just stay silent.

“that’s what i thought”

important note!: hi! recently i reached 2k followers (what the actual fuck) so i’ve decided to come up with a little celebration. this celebration would guys yall the option to send in a prompt, blurb, rec list request and stuff like that for any of the characters i would list (like obx for example) would that interest you guys or am i dululu as fuck? lmk through a simple anon or commenting, thanks! ♡

taglist: @faeaura @prettyboystarkey @euthoricspidey @pankowfruitsnacks @rafecameronswhore @yunho-leeknow @outeredits-jess @totallynotkaibiased @jjmaybankslittleslut

[swappermanent]

Laying the Foundation

Owning a general contracting firm isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it does have its perks. And by perks, I mostly mean the eye candy. Whether it’s a sweaty crew under the summer sun or a client’s husband who catches my attention during a site visit, there’s enough visual appeal to keep my day interesting.

I’m glad I can admit that now. For the first 40-something years of my life, I refused to acknowledge the part of me that liked men. It wasn’t just denial—it was an ironclad, church-fed certainty that I was the straightest man alive. I had the life to prove it too: a wife, two great kids, and a job that kept me too busy to dwell on feelings I wasn’t ready to confront.

But five years ago, I couldn’t lie anymore—at least not to myself or my wife. The realization hit me like a freight train one afternoon as I was scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and it scared the hell out of me. I’ll spare you the gory details of how I came out to her; it was messy, emotional, and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But if you knew her, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear how kind she was about it.

We got divorced. Not because she hated me—far from it—but because she deserved better. Someone who could love her fully, the way she’d loved me. She was understanding, even supportive, but understandably, she wanted a fresh start. She moved a few states away, which meant our boys, Elias and Remy, followed. They were in college by then, so it wasn’t like they needed me every day, but still—it stung not to see them as often.

Now, I only saw them on the breaks they got from school. Holidays, mostly. Elias was 22 and just starting to figure out his life, and Remy, at 19, was busy living his best college experience. They were good kids, and they didn’t resent me for coming out. At least, I didn’t think they did. But I could tell there were things they didn’t say, questions they didn’t ask. I tried not to push.

In the years since my divorce, I hadn’t exactly been a Casanova. You’d think that, as a newly single gay man, I’d dive headfirst into the wild world of dating apps and endless hookups. But it hadn’t played out that way. I didn’t know where to start, honestly. Bars felt too young for me, apps were overwhelming, and after decades of repressing this part of myself, I felt like I didn’t even know the rules.

And so, I stayed busy. Running my business. Keeping in touch with the boys. Pretending I wasn’t lonely. Pretending I wasn’t deeply, madly crushing on Tomas.

Tomas was one of my best guys—a foreman who had worked for me for almost six years. Early thirties, 6’1”, with the kind of lean, sculpted build that made work boots and a tool belt look like runway fashion. Tomas had short-cropped black hair, caramel skin that seemed to glow in the sun, and a confident swagger that made my heart skip a beat every time he walked past me.

He was also, without a doubt, the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. I wasn’t sure if it was his deep, musical laugh, the way his smile seemed to light up an entire room, or the sharp intelligence he brought to every project. Whatever it was, I was hooked. Hooked in a way that made my chest ache and my thoughts stray where they shouldn’t.

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. I was his boss, for starters. And besides, for all I knew, he was straight and happily taken. But every time I saw him in the field, bending over to check a level or cracking a joke with the guys, I couldn’t help but fantasize. About what it would be like to pull him close, to feel his strength, to hear him say my name in a way that wasn’t professional.

I tried to keep my distance. Tried to focus on the work, on the business, on anything but the growing knot of desire that had taken up permanent residence in my chest. But Tomas was always there. Always just a few feet away, making me laugh, making me blush, making me feel things I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

I didn’t know what to do about it. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was anything to do about it. But one thing was for sure: I couldn’t take my mind off him.

---

The worst part about my unrequited crush on Tomas was the fact that I knew he was gay. I hadn’t guessed or pieced it together from subtle clues—no, I knew. I’d stumbled across his Grindr profile late one night while I was lying in bed, half-torturing myself by scrolling through profiles I had no intention of messaging.

Seeing his photo there had been like a punch to the gut. He looked incredible, of course—shirtless, smoldering, his chest lightly dusted with hair. I had stared at the profile for longer than I should have, memorizing the details: 33 years old, "masc4masc," and then the words that dashed any wild hopes I might have been clinging to: Please no guys over 30.

I closed the app immediately, my face burning with embarrassment even though no one else was there to see it. For days afterward, I kept replaying those words in my head. No guys over 30. Meanwhile, I was 50. Twenty years his senior, his boss, and, apparently, the exact opposite of what he was looking for.

After that, I resigned myself to suffering in silence. I’d accepted that my feelings for Tomas weren’t going anywhere and that I’d just have to live with it. It wasn’t like I could quit my job or fire him—he was too damn good at what he did, and I needed him on my team. So I kept my head down and my feelings buried, figuring that was the best I could do.

That is, until Miguel came along.

Miguel was the newest addition to the team, just 21 years old and fresh out of trade school. He was the youngest guy I’d ever hired, but he came with glowing recommendations, and within a week of working with him, it was clear they hadn’t been exaggerated. Miguel was a dynamo—hardworking, quick to learn, and always eager to take on more responsibility. He had an upbeat attitude that set him apart from the rest of the crew, and he never let the tougher, more grizzled guys intimidate him.

But while Miguel’s work ethic was impeccable, his looks were something else entirely. The kid was gorgeous. A fuckboy face if I’d ever seen one, with sharp cheekbones, thick lashes, a sexy dusting of a beard, and a jawline that could cut glass. His hair was a messy mop of jet-black curls, and his dark brown eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that could make you question all your good decisions.

Even at his young age, Miguel had this natural charisma that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He wasn’t trying to be sexy—he just was. Whether it was the way he laughed or the easy confidence in his stride, you could tell he had everyone swooning at his feet. And that included Tomas.

I wasn’t blind. I saw the way Tomas’s eyes lingered on Miguel during lunch breaks or how he found excuses to talk to him on the job. At first, I thought it might just be professional—Tomas mentoring the new guy, making sure he felt welcome. But it didn’t take long to realize there was more to it than that. Tomas was interested in Miguel. You could see it in the way he stood just a little too close or laughed a little too hard at Miguel’s jokes.

The funny thing was, Miguel didn’t seem to notice his effect on everyone else. Despite his looks and charm, he had this air of innocence about him, like he didn’t quite realize the power he had. He worked hard, showed up early, and went home late, never sticking around for beers or banter with the guys. It was almost like he didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face.

Watching the dynamic between Tomas and Miguel unfold was like a slow kind of torture. On the one hand, I wanted Tomas to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. On the other hand, the idea of him falling for someone so much younger, so effortlessly magnetic, made my stomach churn with jealousy. Not toward Miguel, exactly—he hadn’t done anything wrong—but at the reminder of what I couldn’t have.

---

A few months into Miguel working with us, I reached my breaking point. Watching Tomas flirt with him day after day, while Miguel remained blissfully unaware, was driving me insane. Tomas’s lingering glances, the playful shoulder taps, the overly friendly banter—it was everything I’d fantasized about, happening right in front of me, but directed at someone else. Someone younger. Someone who didn’t even notice.

Damn it. Why couldn’t that be me?

I had to do something. Anything. The jealousy was eating me alive, and the hopelessness of my situation was unbearable. So, in a moment of desperation, I decided to use something unconventional. Something I’d never planned to use at all.

A few years ago, I’d taken a trip to South America—a solo getaway to clear my head after the divorce. While exploring a small town nestled in the Andes, I’d stumbled upon an old shop filled with trinkets, charms, and artifacts that seemed plucked from legend. One item caught my eye: a smooth, jet-black stone about the size of a silver dollar, etched with intricate carvings that seemed to shift when you looked at them too long. The shopkeeper had insisted it was a swapping stone, a relic capable of exchanging bodies between two willing participants.

At the time, I’d bought it as a novelty. A conversation piece. But now, staring at it on my nightstand, an idea took root in my mind—an idea so reckless and audacious that I couldn’t believe I was considering it.

The next morning, I pulled Miguel aside during a coffee break. He looked surprised but didn’t question it, following me into my office.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, plopping down into the chair opposite me with his usual relaxed energy.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Miguel, I’ve been watching you these past few months, and I’ve got to say—you’ve been doing a hell of a job. The crew loves you, and you’ve been busting your ass out there.”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Thanks, but I’m just doing my part.”

I nodded, then leaned forward, clasping my hands on the desk. “Look, I know how hard this kind of work is. It’s physically demanding, and you’ve been carrying a lot of weight for someone so young. So I wanted to offer you something.”

His eyebrows raised. “Offer me what?”

I pulled the stone out of my desk drawer and set it between us. “A swap.”

Miguel tilted his head, his confusion evident. “A swap?”

“Yes. A swap. With me.” I gestured toward the stone. “This… is a bit of a long story, but let’s just say it’s not an ordinary rock. It has the power to let us trade places—temporarily, of course. I’d take your body, and you’d take mine.”

Miguel stared at me, silent for a long moment, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Boss, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious.” I pushed the stone closer to him. “Think about it. You’re out there every day breaking your back, while I’m in here taking calls and pushing paperwork. If we swap, you’d get to enjoy the perks of being the boss—shorter hours, no manual labor. You could take my car, my house, my money. Do whatever you want for a while.”

His ears perked up at that. “Whatever I want?”

I chuckled. “Whatever you want. Look, I may be in my fifties, but I’m still in good shape, and I’ve got the resources to make it worth your while. You could have some fun. Live it up.”

Miguel leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Okay, but what’s in it for you? Why would you want to swap with me?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with something that didn’t make me sound like a crazy old man. “Honestly? I’ve been in this business a long time, and I want to understand it better. Really get a feel for what it’s like to be on the ground again.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“And…” I added, with a sheepish grin, “maybe I want to relive my youth a bit. See what it’s like to be in my twenties again. Humor an old man, will you?”

That got him. He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Man, you’re something else.”

“So, what do you say?” I asked, my heart pounding.

Miguel studied the stone, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. Then he looked back at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you’re serious, boss, then yeah. Why not? Let’s do it.”

Little did he know, my motivations had nothing to do with reliving my youth or gaining a new perspective. My eyes were set firmly on Tomas,

We both stood in my office, the stone resting between us on the desk. Miguel seemed skeptical but game, his trademark grin lighting up his face. I couldn’t help but marvel at his confidence—effortless, natural, the kind that came with being young and having the world at your feet.

“So, what’s the magic phrase, boss?” he asked, clearly humoring me.

“It’s in Spanish,” I said, picking up the stone and holding it out to him. “I did get it in Chile, after all. We both have to hold it and say, ‘Quiero cambiar.’ It means, ‘I want to swap.’ Simple enough, right?”

Miguel gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement, then shrugged. “Alright, boss. Let’s see this thing work.”

He wrapped his calloused hand around one side of the stone, and I gripped the other. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if this was really the right thing to do. But then I glanced at him, at the youthful energy in his face and the opportunity shimmering in his eyes, and I knew there was no turning back.

We spoke the words together: “Quiero cambiar.”

The moment the last syllable left my lips, I felt it. A strange warmth radiated from the stone, seeping into my palm and spreading up my arm like a current. My back arched involuntarily, and a sensation like liquid sunlight flooded my chest, pulling me out of myself. It wasn’t painful, but it was overwhelming—intense, euphoric, like every nerve in my body was alight.

Across from me, Miguel was going through the same thing. His head tilted back, his body trembling as the same warm glow overtook him. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, guttural moan. We both stumbled a step back, clutching at the air, though there wasn’t anything visible leaving our bodies—just the overwhelming sense of movement.

And then it stopped. Like flipping a switch, the warmth vanished, leaving me standing there, panting, in Miguel’s body.

The first thing I noticed was how much lighter I felt. My limbs moved easily, like I could leap ten feet in the air if I tried. My skin was smooth, my shoulders lean but sturdy. I raised a hand to my cheek, running my fingers along the softer, smoother surface, and then down to my abs—firm and defined, cobblestones under my touch. It was like my body had been built in a dream.

Miguel, now in my body, flexed one of my arms experimentally. “Damn, boss,” he said with a laugh, staring at my bicep, which was massive and veined from years of heavy lifting. “I don’t know if my body’s really any better than yours.”

He turned to the small mirror on the wall, lifting my shirt and giving my old body’s abs a quick once-over. “You’ve been holding out on me, man! If I looked like this at 50, I’d be showing it off all the time.”

I let out a nervous laugh, still getting used to the sound of Miguel’s voice coming out of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” I said, my fingers grazing over my new, perfectly sculpted abs. “This feels like a serious upgrade.”

Miguel smirked, striking a mock pose and letting out a low whistle. “You’re not wrong. Your body’s hot as hell now. Don’t break too many hearts, alright?”

I grinned, I had quite the opposite in mind.

[idkyetxoxo]

Harwin Strong - In the Name of Love

Summary - Married to Laenor Velaryon, she finds herself in a union far from ordinary. As Laenor's vulnerability meets the lure of a forbidden attraction, she must decide between loyalty, desire, and the dangerous pursuit of a love that breaks all boundaries.

Pairing - Harwin Strong x Baratheon reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!)

Word count - 2571

Masterlist for Harwin • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"We can keep trying," he insisted, his voice trembling with a desperate kind of hope. 

I shook my head slowly, reaching out to wipe away the lone tear that traced a path down his cheek. His vulnerability in that moment was like a knife to my heart.

"I hate that the gods have made me this way," he murmured, his voice thick with frustration and sorrow. He leaned into my embrace, and I instinctively began to rub his back in slow, soothing circles, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin.

"I do not," I whispered, my words barely audible, as I cupped his face gently in my hands. His eyes, filled with a mix of shame and longing, met mine.

"You do not deserve this," he said, his voice cracking as he continued. "You deserve someone who can give you the love you so selflessly offer. Someone whole. Someone... different from me."

"Laenor, my love, it is okay," I said softly, though my heart was shattering under the weight of his words. 

I could feel it breaking apart like brittle glass, each piece falling away. But I kept my voice steady, trying to convey a comfort I wasn't sure I believed in.

Laenor Velaryon and I were bound together not by choice or fate, but by the careful calculations of our parents. His mother, Princess Rhaenys, with her Baratheon blood, saw the value in uniting our houses. 

A Baratheon and a Velaryon, the match seemed ideal on the surface, a union of strength, power, and legacy. But beneath the veneer of perfection lay a truth that only we knew.

My husband preferred the company of men, a truth he had confessed to me in a moment of honesty before our union had been sealed. And yet, even knowing this, I had felt powerless to stop the arrangement. 

I chose to accept it, understanding that perhaps he would be one of the few men to treat me with kindness, despite everything. And he did. In his own way, he did.

But now, as I held him in my arms, his heart laid bare before me, I realized the cruelty of our situation. We were both caught in a web of expectations and obligations, yearning for something we could not have, and bound by something neither of us had chosen.

"Love does not always come in the shape we expect," I whispered, stroking his cheek. "But that does not mean it is any less real."

He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into my touch. In that moment, I held him not as a wife clinging to a fractured marriage, but as a companion who understood the burden of living a life that was never truly ours to decide.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

"It does not feel right," I murmured, bringing the teacup to my lips, its warmth seeping into my hands as I took a tentative sip, the hot liquid burning a path down my throat, mirroring the unease burning within me.

Across from me, Rhaenyra sat with a thoughtful expression, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"Laenor has granted you permission to do so, and it is out of love," she argued gently, her tone both insistent and coaxing. I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on my chest.

"He knows it is unfair," she continued, her gaze steady on mine. "But he wants this for you. He wants you to feel pleasure, to have that connection we all crave. It's a kindness, in his own way," she finished, her voice softening.

It was true, no one could deny the whispers that trailed behind me wherever I went, like shadows clinging to my heels. The talk of my union with Laenor had spread, the most pressing concern being the glaring absence of an heir. 

An heir that everyone knew was not just expected, but necessary, as if my womb were a vault holding the key to the future.

Laenor, ever thoughtful in his own way, had urged me even before our wedding to consider taking a lover, fully aware of the complexities that entangled our marriage. 

He had spoken of it with an almost painful tenderness, acknowledging that he could not give me what I might need. And until now, I had dismissed the idea, reluctant to consider it. But here I was, sitting with Rhaenyra, the thought taking root.

To reach out for another's touch... would it be freedom or betrayal.

"Who would I even choose?" I asked, setting my teacup down with a soft clink. 

Rhaenyra's face lit up at my words, a slow smile curving her lips as she realized I was finally contemplating this possibility.

"It would have to be discreet," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "Someone I can trust, someone who understands the need for secrecy... but also someone I would want to be with." 

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me.

"Ser Harwin," Rhaenyra declared as if it were the most obvious choice in the world. My eyes snapped open, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering through me.

"He is sworn to you, he also has Baratheon-like features. No one would question the legitimacy of any child born from such a union," she explained, her voice brimming with confidence. "And it is no secret that he is quite taken with you."

I bit my lip, turning her words over in my mind. She made it sound so simple, yet I knew there were layers upon layers of complexity to such a choice. 

"But what if he does not want to?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. The thought of such rejection, of laying my intentions bare only to have them cast aside, was daunting.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, a playful exasperation colouring her features. 

"Oh, just ask him and see what happens," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Men are not nearly as complicated as they pretend to be. Show him a hint of what you want, and he'll fall over himself trying to please you."

I nodded slowly, picking up my teacup again, the porcelain warm against my palms. As she continued talking, offering tips on how to approach the matter, on what to say and what not to, my thoughts drifted. 

Could this truly be a solution? 

Could I truly allow myself to want something more than what I had settled for? 

The questions buzzed around my mind like restless bees, but I knew one thing, change was inevitable. And perhaps, it was time to embrace it.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

My palms were damp with nerves as I walked briskly through the dimly lit corridors, the doors to my chambers looming closer with every step. Ser Harwin followed a few paces behind, his footfalls steady and familiar, as was his usual practice. 

Yet today, his presence seemed to weigh on me more than ever.

"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. 

I jumped, startled, and turned to see he had closed the distance between us. His face was etched with concern. I nodded quickly, unable to summon a coherent response, and turned back to my chambers, pushing the door open with a shaky hand.

Inside, I could still feel his presence just beyond the threshold, his silhouette visible through the narrow gap in the door as he stood guard. I began to pace, my mind racing with half-formed sentences and discarded ideas on how to approach the subject. 

Everything seemed tangled, every possibility too bold or too foolish.

"Ser Harwin," I finally called out, exasperated with my own spiralling thoughts. The door creaked open a crack, his eyes peering in with caution.

"Could you please come inside?" I asked, my voice softer now, tinged with an urgency I couldn't hide. He hesitated only a moment before stepping in, closing the door quietly behind him.

I fidgeted with the ring on my finger, a wedding gift from Laenor. It was a beautiful silver band adorned with two gems, one blue and one yellow, each representing our houses. The colours caught the light as I twisted it back and forth, a small distraction from the pounding of my heart. 

One of the gems had a hairline crack, something I hadn't noticed before. My thumb traced over it, feeling the imperfection, a small flaw that seemed to mirror the fissures in our marriage—fractures that had begun long before this moment.

Harwin's eyes flicked to my hands, noticing the nervous motion.

"How can I be of assistance?" he asked, his voice calm but curious. His gaze was steady, but I could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as they darted between my face and my restless hands.

"I wanted to ask you something..." I started, but the words caught in my throat. 

I could feel my composure slipping away under his steady watch, my hands moving from my stomach to my forehead as if I could somehow press the words out of my mind.

"Shall I call for a maester?" he asked, his concern deepening. I shook my head quickly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

"No, no, it's not that," I stammered. There was a long pause, the silence between us thickening like fog. I could feel the weight of my own hesitation bearing down on me, pushing the words out before I could stop them. "Do you think I am... pretty?"

The question hung in the air like a held breath. For a moment, he simply stared at me, his eyes widening in surprise. I watched his face, searching for any sign of discomfort or amusement, but all I found was stunned silence.

"I..." he began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the right words. His eyes softened as he looked at me, truly looked at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "My lady, you are more than pretty. You are... radiant." 

His words were careful, almost hesitant as if he feared saying too much.

My breath caught in my throat at the sincerity in his voice. I hadn't expected such an answer, and I found myself momentarily disarmed. 

"I mean," I continued, feeling the need to fill the silence that followed, "if you were... if you were given the choice... would you want to be with someone like me?"

His brows furrowed slightly, not in confusion, but in contemplation. 

"I would consider it an honour," he said quietly, his voice deep and unwavering. "But I would also consider what such a decision would mean—for you, for your reputation, for everything you hold dear."

I nodded, his response more thoughtful and kind than I had anticipated. 

"I don't want to cause trouble," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I want something... something more than this arrangement I find myself in."

The words were like a confession, spilling from a place deep within me that had long been shrouded in silence and doubt.

He took a step closer, his presence steadying me in a way I hadn't expected. 

"If it is more that you want," he said softly, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine, "then you should not settle for anything less."

His words settled over me like a blanket of reassurance, stoking a fire that had been smouldering inside me for too long. 

"Good," I murmured, my voice trembling with a mix of nerves and desire. And before I could second-guess myself, I surged forward, capturing his lips with mine in a kiss that was both frantic and desperate, a release of everything I had been holding back.

Harwin responded almost instantly, his lips moving against mine with a hunger that matched my own. His hands slid up to cradle my face, his touch firm yet tender, as if I were something both precious and fragile. 

I could feel his breath hitch as our mouths moved together, the heat between us building like a storm. 

My fingers fumbled at his armour, my need to feel him—every inch of him—driving me to pull away the layers of clothing that separated us. His hands were quick to follow, helping me shed my garments until we were both bare, exposed before one another.

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes searching mine for any hesitation. His breath was hot against my skin, sending a thrill through me.

I could only nod, the words tangled in my throat, my body pulsing with a need that I could no longer ignore. "I want this," I whispered, my voice raw with longing. "I need this."

With that, we moved toward the bed, our limbs entwined, and I fell back against the sheets, pulling him down with me. The anticipation coursed through my veins like liquid fire. His body was solid and warm above me, his weight a comforting pressure as he settled between my legs.

He wasted no time, his lips finding mine again as he positioned himself at my entrance. And then, in one smooth motion, he entered me. A gasp escaped my lips at the newness of the sensation—a stretch, a fullness that was foreign and overwhelming. 

He began to move inside me, slow at first, allowing me to adjust and then gradually building in pace. As he did, a wave of pleasure unlike anything I had ever known surged through me, and I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Seven hells," I moaned, my mouth finding the curve of his shoulder, my teeth sinking into his skin as I tried to muffle my cries. 

The rhythm of his thrusts quickened, and I could feel the tension coiling tighter within me, each stroke bringing me closer to a precipice I hadn't known existed.

"Gods, you feel perfect," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and ragged as he drove into me with a renewed intensity. 

His voice, thick with desire, sent shivers racing across my skin, adding fuel to the fire already burning inside me.

I could feel myself unravelling beneath him, my body responding to his with a fervour I had never experienced before. It was almost too much—this overwhelming pleasure, so sharp and deep it nearly brought tears to my eyes. 

I had never felt so alive, so utterly consumed.

"I'm close," he panted, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. I nodded frantically, my own voice reduced to breathy moans and gasps, unable to form coherent words.

"Let me feel you," I managed to whisper, my voice thick with need. 

It was all the encouragement he needed. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, and I felt his release—a warmth spreading within, mingling with my own pleasure as I shuddered beneath him.

He collapsed beside me, his chest heaving with exertion, his body slick with sweat. I turned to look at him, our eyes meeting in the dim light, a sense of satisfaction and peace settling over me like a soft, warm blanket. 

For the first time in a long time, I felt truly seen, truly desired, truly alive.

As we lay there, breathless and spent, I knew that something had shifted between us. The world outside these walls might remain unchanged, with its expectations and whispers, but here, in this moment, I had found a connection that went beyond duty or obligation. 

It was raw, unguarded, and real. And for now, that was enough.

A/n - This genuinely consumed me I wasn't even halfway done and realised I had like over 3k words so I had to reel it back but omg I love it!!

[kysuguru]

dear mother — stsg x fem!reader

synopsis : you’ve finally enrolled into jujutsu tech, sad thing is, you’re totally clueless.

includes / cw : emotionally abusive mother

all mine masterlist

a /n : ch1 of my “all mine” series!!!

"i'm ogawa [name]. i'm from sendai japan. please take care of me."

you bow politely. smiling at the tiny class of three as you rise, posture nervous and stiff.

"if i knew there was someone new i would've thrown a welcome party!" a white haired boy who's eyes are protected by circular black glasses exclaims excitedly, a smile big on his lips. you admit you're a bit intimidated. the idea of a party for you seems a bit over the top, though.

a boy on his left scoffs almost affectionately, the soft look he sends to his counterpart familiar to you. you always looked at the street cats like that, your mother as well (you try not to think about it). he has a bang over his left eye, you wonder if someone has ever tried to tuck it behind his ear.

"there's no need for a party. my arrival can't be that exciting," you chuckle shyly.

they all analyze you. so you settle with looking at your shuffling shoes.

"she speaks so formally." the gojo boy leans over with a hand cupped around his mouth as he whispers to his best friend, causing you to look up. it's a bit silly that he's acting as if he's whispering a secret even though everyone can hear him.

his friend eyes you apologetically.

there's another girl, the only one who seems actually interested as she stares you down. you flinch as you catch her gaze. her hair is short, in a brown bob that frames her face perfectly. her bangs are tucked behind her ear and there's a mole you catch on her face that convinces you she's model worthy.

other than your mother you've never thought a woman was so pretty.

"so new girl, what's your cursed technique."

new girl.. but i swore i said my name. did i not?

ignoring the white haired boy's lack of manners was easy, since you weren't all that aware he was being rude.

"i actually... don't know."

all three students chorused at the same time.

"hah?"

scouted? me? when you heard such a thing, you were confused and honestly, really surprised. you weren't talented by any means. outside of studying you didn't have much going on. not only that, but your mother kept you in the house a lot. so to hear of someone from jujutsu tech finding you worthy enough to attend had you blinking, astonished.

you were aware of what jujutsu was, cursed techniques and all of that jazz, but your knowledge was still limited beyond that. your mom was adamant on you not attending for reasons she refused to tell. obviously you didn't push. you never liked seeing her with a temper.

the man who recommended you was named yaga masamichi. he'd taken note of the significant amount of cursed energy you possessed when passing by you on your way to school. your family weren't jujutsu sorcerers from what you were aware of — you honestly weren't even sure that there were jujutsu sorcerers or people like you until now. but you'd never put it past your mom to hide something like that from you.

she always kept jujutsu related talk under wraps, only giving you little information to quell your curiosity.

you didn't even know what your cursed technique was. or if you even had one. even though you tried to understand why she does what she does, it still felt very lonely — seeing such heinous creatures and having to pretend they didn't exist for your own safety.

if it weren't for the fact that you instinctively learned to control your cursed energy output, you could've been in serious danger.

and although it was painful to go through such things alone — not being able to confide in a single person — you understood why your mother did it. all she wanted to do was keep you safe.

and even if you followed all of her rules of no jujutsu to a T, you couldn't help the sensation of excitement and relief knowing that there were so many other people out there just like you. a school of them, even.

you wanted badly to be upset with your mother, the fact that she knew about all of this and kept it from you. but even the thought of being angry at her when all she wanted was to protect you had you pushing down those foolish feelings.

other than secretive, your mother was also very stubborn. a trait that you always admired until this very moment.

she argued that you didn't belong into a school that was practically a death trap for young teens. always listening to your mother like an obedient puppy, you looked down at the floor, preparing for the inevitable rejection, expression sad as you shuffled your shoes alongside your mothers that were planted firm on the ground — you resisted the urge to distance yourself from her.

your eyes drifted to the shoes that were yaga's hoping no one would question your silence (they never did).

your mother wasn't a bad person. never that. but sometimes you couldn't help but get upset at the decisions she made in your stead. you wouldn't say that she didn't consider you, but sometimes it kinda felt that way.

"i get where you're coming from. jujutsu tech is a dangerous place and i hate to bring such young talented kids into such risks. but you have to understand your daughters side," he gestured towards you, your mothers eyes dropping to your head that perked up before they glared back at yaga.

"how do you think she feels knowing she has the opportunity to branch out and gain knowledge about these abilities. do you think she wants to stay ignorant because you do?"

your ears rang as the last sentence was spoken.

"do you think she wants to stay ignorant because you do?"

it resonated with you in a way you couldn't comprehend. all you could do was clutch your chest as a foreign feeling of relief left your choked up throat in a bated breath. the exhale feeling as if you were being freed from something. being seen.

"[name], my sweet darling baby," she caressed the top of your head. it was instinct to lean into her touch, even though at the moment you couldn't sort out how you felt towards her.

she's protecting you. the words whisper in your ear, like a disease that is incurable, like a predator that sinks its fangs and refuses to let go.

"mommy wants you to stay home with her. please consider it. it's so dangerous out there, and i really don't want you to get hurt," she cooed. it made you feel sick and you hated not knowing why. even though her words were meant to console you, they only made you want to run.

your eyes were glued to the dirty mat that you and your mother refused to clean, maybe because it was the most familiar thing in this constant changing house. there were five pairs of shoes, you, yaga, and mother and two unworn pairs off to the side, both meant for other occasions, better ones. ones that don't include the ringing of your ears and the well of your tears as they collect on your lashes. maybe it's an occasion where you're at a nice dinner with your mom, a rare treat whenever she deemed herself in the mood.

the bigger pair of shoes shifted. yaga.

"miss ogawa. i don't mean to overstep, but have you considered you're babying your 15 year old child? maybe you need to consider that she can make her own-"

"don't you dare tell me how to parent my own damn child." her voice is dripping with venom, the venom that seeps through you and whispers in your ear.

i just want to protect you.

your mothers anger was never a calm one, it was loud and furious, voice bouncing off the walls as she tried restraining herself from getting violent. so hearing her talk to the man in such a familiar tone had you quivering in her hold.

your mother, never under the assumption that she could ever be the reason you were upset, deduced that your shivers were caused by yaga.

so she glares, long and hard, and her lips move to form the words you were dreading, "my daughter is not attending your shit school. get out of my house.”

...

other than the sound of life beyond the door, there only laid cold, anxious silence.

you were afraid to look up, your mother's shirt being your only anchor. but from the resigned sigh that left yaga's lips, you were well aware of the expression he was making — one of anger, and disappointment. realizing that seeking you out was a waste of his time.

or so you assumed.

for he could only look at you in pity, acknowledging how painful a relationship like this must be for you, and in longing, hoping foolishly that he could lend a helping hand.

a rough calloused hand entered your vision, a piece of ripped paper in the grip of his fingers.

yaga gestured it towards you patiently, a look of sorrow marring his usually calm expression. "if there's a change, please call this number."

your mom ripped it from his grasp right before you could touch it. she crumpled it in her hand. "there won't be a change. now get the fuck out of my house."

you could only stare in horror at your mothers fist that held the only thing that could possibly change the trajectory of your life. even as yaga bowed and turned around, even as the door slammed shut behind him. even as mother soothed you with quiet coos meant for a baby, even as she turned towards the kitchen to start on dinner, even as she sat you down and commented on your silence. even as she watched you absentmindedly pick on your food, even as she started to become agitated at your lack of response, and even as she treaded up the stairs to her bedroom. your eyes stayed glued to that one hand.

you blinked, eyes dry and mouth parched as you suddenly remembered that you weren't at the front door anymore while your mother cradled you in her arms.

your eyes drift to the front door, and you approach it slowly. you don't know why you stand there or why your hand touched the door knob.

maybe it's because you're hopeful that the man is behind this door. waiting patiently for you to open it, prepared with the words of acceptance. maybe something amongst it that helps you figure out what the hell to do.

"a school of them." you whispered, the only thing capable of leaving your dry mouth.

there was a school of them. proof that you really weren't alone in this cursed world. how could you possibly go back to the difficult life of acting as if everything was normal when it wasn't? blue auras were around everybody, and the grotesque creatures festered from the negative feelings surrounding those people. and there were those out there who knew how to get rid of those things for the sake of others.

knowing all of this, you couldn't stand by and not lend a hand, not learn to control the one thing that's burdened you your entire life. but..

you looked up the stairs, seeing just the top of your mothers door.

what would she do? she needed you. you both took care of each other, you couldn't leave her behind.

but you needed this. you wanted to figure all of this out. control theses abilities and hopefully get to know people who were just like you. and... you could always come back.

yeah.

who said you had to stay? you would go, go to jujutsu high, reach your goals, and return to your mother.

because even though you may make friends with those of similar backgrounds to you, your mother was a constant in your life, never changing. you couldn't abandon her. you wouldn't.

so with this new resolve in your heart, you snuck up to her room. she kept her door creaked for unknown reasons, maybe to keep an eye on you, but you ignored that and thanked its convenience for this very moment.

she was asleep. snoring.

you treaded carefully over to the bed, eyes focused on the bags growing under her lashes. the sight made your lips twitch into a small frown. you delicately tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. listening to her steady breathing as she dreamt the night away.

"wait for me, mother.”

you turned away and grabbed the piece of paper off of her nightstand, leaving the room with a sense of urgency.

you dialed yaga's number after locking your bedroom door, pacing around in circles as the phone rung. the ringing resonated in your ears like a ticking clock. you didn't really have time. if he wouldn't answer now you'd never get your chance.

your mom was an early bird and you could already feel yourself getting drowsy.

"i mean. who even calls this late. he might be asleep..." you whisper defeatedly and pull the phone away from your ear to hang up, but it lights up with his icon and you jump in excitement.

"miss. ogawa?"

"masamichi-san. it's [name]."

Dear mother,

I've departed, something I'm sure you noticed. As much as I wanted to obey you, I couldn't just abandon the opportunity that could help change my life for the better. I know you were trying to protect me, and I know that it's dangerous. But I can't live knowing that my life could be different. I can't just sit by and watch this spark of light dim, let my world go dark again. I'm not like you, mother. I will not stay ignorant. Wait for me, please.

I lov-

a loud shrewd rip echoes through the quiet house. your mother's eyes are dull, face empty as she starts furiously ripping the paper to shreds.

she suddenly screams out in anger, tears of frustration bubbling and blurring her vision. she grips her hair in agony as she starts chanting curses.

"dammit dammit, dammit!! i told her it was dangerous. i told her. damn her!! good for nothing daughter... not listening to a fucking word i say!!"

your mom stomps angrily out of her room, not caring for the small pieces of paper she tramples over.

"I love you,"

"mother."

[ghsttk]

private lessons.

Scenario: Where your biology teacher, Johnny Depp, helps you to improve your bad grades.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding (maybe), slight mention of age gap, creampie, cheating (Johnny is married)

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: I know this is quite cliche, but I love this kind of prompt so.. fuck it, the profile is mine, I post whatever I want KKMKLKK. English is not my first language, reader is not a minor.

“Come on, it is not that hard, try again.” Mr Depp insisted, his hand on your left shoulder. You had lost count of how many times he asked you to try again. You were in the empty classroom with him, your stern biology teacher. He asked you to wait until after class since your grades were quite low in his subject. Johnny took off his glasses and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You felt helpless because you did not understand the open book right in front of you. He was trying to teach you a few subjects that might be present on entrance exams, the first and actual one was the Reproductive System.

“Mr Depp, I can’t” You sighed, giving up for the third time. “Yes, you can. Reread it.” He insisted once more, pointing at the sentence in the old book. He exhaled tiredly, his grip on your shoulder tightening briefly before releasing it. “Let's have a small break, hm?” He patted your back and crossed his arms, looking away. The golden glint on his finger caught your attention, Mr Depp never mentioned a wife before — but he wasn't the type to even mention his personal life during classes. Though the thought of him marrying someone else made you somehow jealous.

He noticed your curious stare on his ring, rolling his eyes at the mere reminder of his unbearable wife. Johnny walked to his desk, sat down, and placed his glasses on the desk. His hands dragged down his face, exhausted. “What are you looking at?” He grumbled, being the usual stern type he was. You just watched him. “I didn't know that you're married.” You said softly, afraid of raising your tone with him. He huffed and played with the ring, twisting and sliding it on his finger, a mannerism he got as soon as he married. “It's not something I'm proud of” He muttered, as if the words slipped freely from his lips. You tilted your head, confused. “What do you mean?” 

Why is Johnny unproud of his marriage? It’s a big accomplishment in life. And since Johnny never spoke about his love life in classes, unlike other teachers, he was satisfied with it… wasn’t he?

“My wife,” He exhaled heavily. “She has been rather distant. I suspect she has found someone else.” He rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on. It was clear that his relationship with his wife had taken a toll on him, mentally and physically. Your lips frowned sympathetically, noticing how tired your teacher was. “I’m sorry you must deal with that, Mr Depp…” You leaned forward on your seat, watching him. Seeing your usually stoic teacher this exhausted made you feel something, like a feminine impulse to comfort him.

“Don’t be, I shouldn’t be talking about this with a student. Are you done with your break?” He looked up at you. You stood up hesitantly, your eyes locked on his. “You must feel so.. lonely, without your wife's companion..” You said, hands unquiet. Johnny's eyebrows twitched, reluctant, but he nodded. “I-... Yes, I suppose it feels.” His eyes stayed on yours, like a hunter watching his prey. With slow steps, you stood next to him. Johnny was still sitting on his chair. Your eyes traveled his face, mapping every contour and detail, admiring. His serious gaze was rather exciting, it made you feel obligated to please him.

“You must be missing a feminine touch, right?” You whispered like your subconscious was talking for you. Johnny's expression remained stern, as if internally questioning his morals until a smirk appeared. “Oh, I am, ain't I?” He looked up and down at you, he knew what you were trying to do and he was slowly giving in. You tentatively placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning closer. “Trying to get a more hands-on lesson, puppy?” He asked in a low voice, teasing you with a wider smirk. His tone made you shiver, you were completely under his spell. Johnny's hands slowly moved to your waist, his thumbs caressing your sides.

“Puppy?” You asked. “Yes, you're my puppy.” He pulled you up and placed you on the edge of his desk. “You want a lesson, huh? Let's see if you get it this time.” He attacked your lips, swallowing your gasps. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging his long strands. His tongue possessed your mouth, claiming every inch of it. You slid your tongue against his tentatively, earning a stroke on your thighs from him.

You felt his fingers ghostly brushing towards the center, feeling the damp heat on the thin fabric of your panties. “Let's start with the female genitalia” He broke the kiss, looking down to your lap. Johnny's fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, gently pulling it down your ankles. He licked his fingertips before sliding a finger up your slit, feeling your wetness. He bit his lower lip, nodding in approval. Once he coated his fingers in your arousal, he brought them to his lips, tasting you. Johnny hummed, sucking his fingers. His cock throbbed in its confines.

A pop echoed through the empty classroom as he removed his fingers from his mouth, he dipped them between your legs and started to list. “Here are the labia majora” His fingers stroked your bigger pussy lips and you shivered in anticipation. “Here the inner ones” His thumb brushed against your sticky slit. He slides his thumb between your labia minora, dragging it up towards your clit. “Your urethra is located around here and…” Johnny trailed off as his fingertip reached your small bundle of nerves. “-And this little thing is your clitoris.” He rubbed tight circles against it, pressing his thumb to stimulate you.

“Oh, look how it swells…” He whispered praisingly, biting a smirk. “You like it, don’t you, little one?” He taunted, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “Stimulating this cute little thing will make you aroused, and shortly soon become wet.” He kissed your neck twice, his lips lingering on your skin. His fingertips traveled down your pussy.

“And here, my pet. Here is the main attraction.” He teasingly stroked the entrance of your vagina, pretending to slide in but never doing it. You whined, eyes pleading to him to have mercy and just give in. “Shh… Once wet enough, it becomes easier to penetrate the vagina.” He slid two fingers inside, slightly curling them to caress your insides. Johnny started pumping his fingers in and out steadily, his satisfied grin widening as he noted your body responses. 

“Did you get it?” He whispered and kissed your temple. You moaned so softly, his fingers felt good, a lot better than your own. He buried his fingers deeper and tried again, stroking your inner walls mercilessly. “Did you get it, pup?” He teased and you nodded, another moan escaping your lips.

He removed his fingers, briefly sucking them again before unbuckling his belt. “Now, let's move to the male genitalia.” He unzips his tailored pants. “And then I’ll explain more of the whole process.” He winked, letting his pants fall. Your eyes were fixed on his hands as he pulled his boxers down just enough to free himself, his thick, veiny manhood standing hard and proud. You were really going to have sex with your teacher, a man almost twice your age.

Johnny wrapped his hand around the base of his length and started to point out. He cupped his balls with his other hand, careful yet with a certain custom. “These are the testicles, they are responsible for making sperm and are also producing testosterone” His hands moved up. “This is the shaft, as you can see.. and here, on the top, the glans” His thumb brushed the head of his cock. Your eyes watched every movement, horny and somewhat eager. Your hand reached to touch him, his amused smirk told you that you were allowed to. He released a shaky gasp as you touched his sensitive tip, already dripping precum.

“Feel it, puppy, look how excited I am for you” He whispered. Johnny brushes his thumb over his tip, collecting his precum before shoving it in your mouth, his other fingers cupping your chin. “Taste it, yeah..” He breathed, his other hand guiding his member towards your entrance. With gentle pushes, and the help of your drooling pussy, he easily slid in. Johnny groaned, your tightness enveloping his cock like a velvet glove. “Shit, that's it.” He cursed under his breath, pushing it all inside. “Now, I will fuck this pretty pussy and then fill your little womb with my semen, put a baby in you.” He warned with a malicious grin “And you will love every second of it.” Johnny started slow but it didn't take long for him to slam his hips against yours, not caring about the unholy skin slapping sound echoing through the room. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the need to hold yourself onto something before your body gave into the pleasant sensation of his cock stroking your insides.

You tried to keep your eyes open, but everything felt so good. Johnny chuckled between grunts, seeing you struggling. “You're doing great, you're such a quick learner, pup” He praised, leaning to kiss you. He swallowed your moans and whimpers, hitting the head of his cock each time deeper inside of you. Johnny reached your chest with one of his hands, hastily ripping the buttons of your shirt open, freeing at least one breast. “Those are important as well, they'll produce milk to feed your baby, once you get pregnant.” He squeezed your nipple tightly, making you whine in pleasure.

You wrapped your wobbly legs around his waist, keeping him there — as if he ever wanted to leave. One of his hands sneaked between your legs, teasing your clit. “When you feel it, don't hold it, hear me?” He ordered. “I want you to be a good girl and fall apart on my cock.” Johnny quickened his pace, his free hand gripping your thigh so tight that might leave a mark later. And you felt it coming, the unmistakable feeling already pooling in your belly. Johnny whispered a few more encouraging phrases in your ear, a stark contrast between his gentle words and his rough thrusts, leading you to the fall. You melted in his arms, drenching his length. He followed you, almost instantly, flooding your insides, painting them white.

Johnny slowed his movements, looking into your eyes. “You did so well, puppy” He kissed your forehead. You looked back at him, panting. “I think I'll get at least B on your test, sir” You chuckled breathlessly. “Oh, you'll certainly do well, sweetheart. Get that B and I will give you my D as a reward” He winked, kissing you one last time.

Suddenly, a loud alarm interrupted your moment. Actually, interrupted everything, since you woke up in the classroom with everyone gathering their things to leave. You had slept during Mr Depp’s class. When standing up, your eyes locked with Johnny's. He let out an amused chuckle and shook his head.

"You'll need private lessons, pup.”

a/n: I apologize if something is written wrong, I did not proofread this and I unfortunately don't have biology classes anymore lol.

taglist: @drugs-and-daddyissues @iwnterlude

-- If you want to be tagged, just dm me!

[serejae]

SO STUPID IN LOVE | M.JH

a lonely jaehyun meets you, ask you to marry him because hes just so stupid (in love)

-

“im gonna smack that pout off your face” sungho scoffed as jaehyun slumped against the sticky diner booth. “are you seriously bullying a sad man?” he replied

“no im bullying a loser, its been a year. you really need to get over her, she dumped you and wasnt good for you. i just dont get why youre so stuck on her”

jaehyun huffed again and rested his head in his hands “she was just different, i imagined my life with her…i was ready to marry her sungho, i dont know what i did”

his friend leaned back in his seat taking in the sight and sighed “lets find you someone, youre never gonna find someone if you keep moping around like this”

“but who-“

“are you guys ready to order?”

the two men looked up at you and jaehyuns mouth opened a bit before he closed it and sat up fixing his posture, sungho looked over at jaehyun and raised his eyebrow before ordering leaving jaehyun to order next

“i…uhm, can i get more time?”

you smiled and nodded before walking away to get their waters

“would you call me crazy if i asked them to marry me?” he whispered leaning close to sungho

sungho spitted out his drink all over jaehyuns face making him shriek

“dude what the fuck” jaehyun screamed while standing up

the diner went silent making him look around

“sorry…”

you ran over to the table and saw the water all over the table as well as a wet jaehyun

“oh my gosh are you both okay? do you need anything?” you said looking around clearly panicked

“marry me, will you marry me?” jaehyun asked while staring at you making the diner gasp

“excuse me?” you tilted your head slightly smiling at the situation, a man covered in water was asking you to marry him

“i know its random but do you have a partner?” he asked grinning at you

you shook your head no before looking down at your watch

“i get off now…if you wanna get married”

jaehyuns smile grew bigger as he took your hand and walked out the diner with you as sungho yelled for jaehyun as he expected him to pay the bill

you both walked as you talked about your hopes and dreams, and as you spoke jaehyun turned to look at you as you continued to walk. dont get him wrong, he was listening, just very slowly. your words seem to come out slower, something about you made his heart rate slow down yet quicken. without a thought he reached to hold your hand, he still looked at you

you looked down at his hand with furrowed brows making jaehyun let go in fear you were uncomfortable

“no, no!” you laughed understanding why he let go

“your hands are just pretty sweaty”

he looked at his hands and saw how sweaty they were, he chuckled softly with a hint of blush on his face from embarrassment

“can i ask you something though?” you said quietly in the empty city, jaehyun thought this was so romantic, just you two in a beautiful city

“yes” he started

“yes, i want to kiss you” he smiled at you

“oh. i was just asking where are we…?”

jaehyun shook his head quickly bringing himself back onto earth. he looked around and saw the unfamiliar sight. you two have been walking for so long unbothered by your surroundings that you now dont know where or what your surrounded by

realizing how much he fucked up he groaned and let out quick apologies as he pulls out his phone to try and find a solution. hes met with your laughter that makes him turn to you

“we can just use google maps and walk, you can drop me off at my house”

he nodded immediately still feeling guilty

noticing his expression, you held his still sweaty hand and smiled at him. “i had a great day today with you. it was unexpected but i really enjoyed talking and getting to know you” he blushed again as his smile grew bigger. “you mean it?” you nodded as he let out a little giggle

-

you both continued to walk to your house but slowly

drip

drip

drip

shit it was raining.

like instinct, jaehyun took off the jacket he had as he put it over you two holding it with one hand, and not letting your hand go in the other. you both ran back to your place with a collection of laughter and banter

so when it ended and you both got to your door, jaehyun stared at you and you stared at him not wanting the night to end

you opened your mouth to speak but he opened his at the same time. you both closed your mouths to let the other speak but were not in a awkward situation

“i really wanna see you again”

“i really want to kiss you”

he immediately covered his mouth as his sentence was not as romantic as yours, but you were quicker. you moved his hand and held his face before leaning in to kiss him

and as quick as he covered his mouth, he kissed you back as he held your hand

maybe he wasn’t the only one stupid in love

“do you still wanna get married?”

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 11

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, body shaming, typos

Words: 2879

The One I Want Masterlist

“So, you are the new roomie,” Brit says, crossing her arms under her breasts, pushing them up much higher than what is naturally achievable. The door closes behind her. “The new pussy. The new set of tits.”

Her heels click across the tiled floor as she makes her way over to the sink, pulls out a tube of lipstick from the bag hanging off her shoulder, and uncaps it. The stick runs smoothly over her bottom lip, renewing the vibrancy of the red shade. 

“I could see it the other night,” she continues as she caps the tube. Her eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Fucker was looking at you like you were some angel that fell out of the goddamn sky—until it changed into the kicked-puppy look because of whatever you said to him. And yet, despite your nasty words, I’m the one who got the furious look to go with a bullshit lecture about ‘backing off’,” she scoffs. “I’ve heard it before, but this time I figured it probably had something to do with the chubby girl he sent away.”

It’s been months since you’ve heard that word, and you feel the dig, but it doesn't make it as deep into your gut as you expected. It's more like a shallow divot in the ground. It causes a stumble and a fleeting moment of panic, but that panic morphs into relief when you realize it didn’t shove you down onto your knees. You’re able to pull yourself back together, upright and undamaged, and carry on with your next step as if it never happened.

The blonde looks you up and down in the silence that follows her words. Oddly, her eyes do not flit in sharp movements that would suggest an unwillingness to linger on something unpleasant. Instead, she’s almost as slow and thoughtful as Jake when his eyes drag along your curves with enough appreciation they could substitute for his fingers. But it’s no shock that Brit’s lengthy concentration on the wider parts of your body is not from appreciation. Her stare contains questions, the most likely of them picking at why Jake would want someone like you when he once had her. And without an accompanying snarl across her lips or pinch in her brow, she seems more like a curious child wanting to understand a concept she’s never before been witness to. 

But then she finds her smirk.

“You’re not his type.” Her tongue running over one side of her top row of teeth makes a squelching sound that you pray you’ll never hear twice. 

“What do you want?” you ask, “Just for Jake to want you again?” 

Her head jerks back an inch and the curve of her jaw shifts with her grinding teeth. You weren’t aware you had the power to catch someone like her off-guard, but it takes some time before her tense features melt into a smile. 

“I knew he would tell you all about me,” she sighs. “I don’t even have to formally introduce myself because he’s so damn considerate.” Tilting her head, her smile widens, but her eyes are missing all light and the longer you stare the more you expect fangs to form and nails to elongate in preparation for ripping you to pieces. “I only want to do you a favor. Don’t you like favors?”

You swallow. “I don’t need a favor.”

“What kind of weirdo doesn’t appreciate a favor?” Her face scrunches and her head shakes in mock disbelief as she tosses the lipstick back into her purse. “Fine, we’ll call it something else: a warning for the sake of your own self-care.” She crosses her arms again and moves back to lean against the sink; the exact spot where you sat as Jake touched and kissed and held you. You wonder if she’d allow any part of her to make contact with that spot if she knew its very recent history. 

“Jake Seresin gets bored,” she says with the prideful tone of someone much too pleased to force their knowledge upon others, whether that knowledge be accurate or not. “I don’t know where he found you or what sob story you gave that tapped into his caretaker complex, but it doesn’t make a difference in the long run. You’re not there because you have value to him, you’re there because you’re easy. You are a warm pussy and an open mouth and a pair of tits, and that’s it,” she spits. “Don’t start thinking that you're special or that you give him something no one else can. He’s tasted better things than you and thrown them away, so believe me when I say that you’re wasting your time by latching on to him. The way he looks at you, it's not real. What you are is shiny and new, but shiny and new doesn’t last forever, and after enough time, he’ll–”

“I'm not that new,” you interrupt.

A flash shoots across her irises—there and then gone. For someone else, it could have passed unnoticed, but you recognize the things you have felt before; the verbal shutdown that stops someone in their tracks by ripping the words from their throat and rendering them meaningless. Being on the opposite end of it turns your stomach, but for your defense and the defense of the man you care for, you won't hide the truth to spare her.

Brit scoffs. “You’ve lived there, what, a few weeks?”

“Months.”

Her brow knits and eyes narrow, and she’s guaranteed to form wrinkles you’re sure she’d rather prevent. 

“Good,” she says, but it’s not quite as dominant as before. “Then you don’t have much time before he shows you the man he really is. It starts off all sweet, he’s kind and considerate of your feelings, but the minute you want more he’ll dump you on your ass.”

“He isn't–”

“It will happen,” she snaps, taking a few more steps closer until she’s just shy of in your face. “And if you have an ounce of intelligence, you’ll leave him.”

With how hard she’s trying, there’s an instinctual part of you that fights to feel sympathy. And in a way, you do. What she’s sharing is not unlike your own experiences. You’ve been with men. You know the ones who aim to hurt and revel in their success. You know the ones who don’t think twice about their actions and hurt without looking back. But you also know Jake is neither of those men.

You let a handful of beats pass, hoping to find in her glare one dominating emotion to guide you. But they are too interwoven. She is fueled by the familiar self-sustaining brew of anger and pain, and you wonder if she can feel anything else anymore–if she is capable of relaxing or evenly breathing. You wonder if she ever sleeps. 

“You know, running from something and chasing after something are a lot alike,” you begin, testing the strength of your voice in the slim space between you. “You practically kill yourself trying to reach a place where you’re content and have what you want, but you never get there. And it's exhausting,” you admit. “I know how exhausting it is.”

“Do you have a point?”

Your stare doesn't falter under the intensity of hers. “Aren’t you tired?”

She flinches, and as her eyes flick back and forth between yours you wait for some form of retaliation, but it doesn't come. 

Your safety is solidified by the call of your name as the door swings open. Millie’s head pops into the room and when she recognizes who has you nearly pressed up against the wall, her body follows. Her arms cross and her brows dip and for the first time you witness a death glare you didn’t know that that woman—that tiny woman, Rooster’s girl, your friend—was capable of. The glare pries into the blonde. 

“You alright, hon?” she asks, but it’s not a question looking for a response as much as it is a warning to Brit that if anyone in this room is going to be ‘alright,’ she’s last on the list. 

Impressively, that’s all it takes before you’re watching Brit retreat from the bathroom. 

When the door closes, Millie rushes over to take your hand, falling into the motherly mode that, considering her age, continues to throw you for a loop. 

“What the hell was that?” she demands. “What’d she say to you?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. Glad that she’s now by your side, your lips quirk.

“It didn’t look like nothin’.”

“Nothing that matters.” Her fingers give your hand a light squeeze as she scans your face, searching for a chink in your expression that might indicate a lie. “Millie, I swear.”

Seemingly satisfied, she nods and turns for the door, pulling you along behind her. “We have to tell Jake she was botherin’ you.”

Suddenly, your heels dig into the floor. “No, we don't.”

Millie twists back around and blinks as if she misheard you. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

You’re not. Jake doesn’t need that. Dragging unnecessary problems into his life is the last thing you want to do to him. And unnecessary is exactly what this is. You can take care of yourself, but you’re not sure your abilities will matter if Jake knows what happened in this bathroom. After everything he’s been through and lost, learning that Brit went around him to get to you will be seen as nothing less than a threat in his eyes, as it would be seen in yours were the situation reversed. 

That’s what happens when you chip away at each other’s walls. Because both of you have begun exposing your hearts and your worries and your fears while your hands are intertwined, the area to protect has expanded in a way it wouldn’t have had you taken this journey on your own. Now it’s harder. There’s more open space, less solid defenses, and your eyes have to monitor distances farther than they can reach. It's impossible to always be successful in protecting two people at once, so now, to protect Jake, you have to take the blow. And in this case, that is what is necessary. 

“It’s his birthday,” you stress. “He's happy. Just let it be.”

“But he's going to see her out there anyway.” Millie waves in Jake’s general direction as if the dramatic flail of her short arm might assist in making her point.

“I doubt it. She probably left.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

Because Brit didn't come here for Jake. Not tonight. But you can’t immediately piece together the right way to say I don’t think it, I know it without inviting more questions from the fiery redhead with a fierce protective nature. So you ignore it. “Everything's going to be fine,” you say. “I promise.”

—

“Don’t you think it’s a little too out in the open there?” you ask from the couch as Jake centers the snow globe on the mantle above the television. 

“No,” he says without a glance back at you.

“It’ll catch the sunlight and blind you while you're watching a movie.”

His finger nudges the globe a millimeter to the left. “I’ll watch movies at night.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, it throws off the decor of the room.”

He steps back to get a look at the globe's placement before going in to erase the millimeter he had just moved it. “How?”

“I don’t know,” you huff. “There’s no other snow in here.”

When he finally turns to you, his brow is arched and his lips are upturned enough to carve dimples into his cheeks. “There’s no other snow in here,” he repeats. “Do I need to go buy some of that fake stuff? Sprinkle it around the room maybe?”

“You’re not funny,” you grumble as he walks toward you, stopping just a few inches away. He leans down and his hands reach out to cup your cheeks.

“It’s staying,” he says with a peck to your lips. Then he releases you and falls onto the cushions beside you. 

His head rests on the back of the couch, tilted to the side so he can easier watch you, which is exactly what he does. He watches. His soft gaze stays on your face until enough time has passed that you can’t help but chuckle. 

“What?” comes through your light laugh.

“Come here.”

“What for? Your birthday is over.”

Heading lifting, his jaw drops. “By an hour and a half.” 

When your lips pull to the side and brows raise as if to say ‘Not my problem’, Jake sits up and scoots toward the edge of the cushion. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Getting ready to get on my knees and beg, what does it look like?”

You quickly throw out your hand and press it against the center of his chest to stop him. Though he’s undoubtedly much stronger than you, he falls back onto the couch with the slightest push. As you sit up and stretch a leg over his hips to settle down on his thighs, you sigh through your nose with a smile, and say, “Isn’t that a little dramatic?”

Firm hands grip the dips of your waist. “From my perspective, no.”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you let your body lean into him until your breasts are flush to his chest and your lips are inches apart. “Happy Birthday,” you whisper before your mouth meets his in a kiss. 

It’s soft and slow, and his tongue greets yours with such sweetness as it explores you. He tastes you as if it's the first time after months apart and he doesn’t want to neglect a single bit of you—a drastic shift from earlier when every move he made was filled with urgency, but being in your own home grants you that luxury. There’s no need for hurried movements with no one to bother you. So he doesn’t rush a single thing. Not his kisses. Not his touch. 

Those fingers roam expertly about your body, expressing how much he wants you without demanding you offer him permission to do as he pleases. His fingers that slide up your inner thigh, but not too high, and brush around your breasts, but not too close, silently swear that you are the one in control. His touch serves as a promise of what he can give you, but only if you decide you want it. 

And it’s not that you don’t want it, him, you do, but you would prefer to feel a stronger sense of confidence that if you take each other, you won’t lose something of yourself in the process as you have in the past. If you take that step, you need to be sure you’ll still be the person you’ve become since you met him, the person he knows you to be. Right now, you can’t guarantee that. So you let his fingers do their roaming, burning tingles through the fabric of your dress, and you let your hands do the same, traveling over wide shoulders and thick neck and into soft hair, but you don’t suggest more. And to your relief, he doesn’t push for more, despite it being his birthday. 

Jake releases a moan so low and gravelly and deep that you feel it from your chest to your belly. He moans and groans and when you bite his lip, he lightly whimpers, and you like it too much that you can pull the same sounds from him that he can from you. But that little song you're making him sing is interrupted by a sharp ding. 

Jake’s lips detach from yours and his head whips in the direction of the intrusive sound. “Shit,” he says. “Sorry, let me turn it off.” His arm extends toward the noise, making his whole body lean sideways, and you take the opportunity to lick a small stripe along his neck. “Fuck, beautiful.” He groans another lovely groan as he secures the phone in his hand and straightens his posture. 

You hear the click that opens the phone, the light from the screen creating a bright spot in the corner of your closed eyelids, but it takes you a while to notice that, though Jake’s other arm is still wrapped around you, his hand has stopped its caressing. His breathing has slowed to a more regulated pattern. He’s too quiet for too long, and you never heard him set the phone back down on the side table. 

Then he says, “Why didn’t you tell me about Brit?”

You freeze, all of you from your head to your toes to your heart and the blood rushing through your veins. Pulling your head back from his neck, you find his eyes still glued to his phone. “W-What?”

Jake flips the device so you have a full view of the screen and the block of text in the bottom left corner. 

Rooster: Hey man, Millie said Brit went after your girl tonight. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I know you’d tell me if it was Millie, so just making sure she’s ok.

You reread the words, hoping they might change with another pass over, but no luck. “Um…”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

[letorip]

how about some Cairo Sweet hcs? :)

cairo sweet headcanons

this was definitely interesting to think about, should i ever do another cairo sweet story or even a one shot. there's always i heard your name, but it was fun to think about it in other ways

you and cairo have gone to school together for years, but things suddenly change when you have a massive glow up and “get hot” over a single summer. whereas previously she teased you and made fun of you for your somewhat lacking intellect, she finds herself struggling to hold basic eye contact with you, and staring when you’re distracted

you’re no longer someone she would call a loser, because she can’t. you’re still not the brightest, but you make up for it in sheer charm and how damn good you look.

she decides she needs you right there and then, and that she’ll be the one to claim you for herself and steal you right out from underneath other admirers’ noses

cairo hates sports, but goes to all of your practices and games and watches from the bleachers. she’ll take a book with her or make winnie go too, so that it’s less obvious, but she’ll be watching you at all times from the corner of her eye

you covered in sweat, the muscles tensing in your body as you play, the way your hair moves with the wind as you run. each time she watches you at practice, she finds herself vexed with a burning desire that wasn’t there before. it’s a bit embarrassing when you notice her and send a friendly wave, and she’ll try to appear as if she didn’t notice. Or when she’s feeling somewhat brave, she’ll wave right back but try to appear as nonchalant as possible

for what it’s worth, you’re incredibly unaware of your surroundings. you’re still struggling to understand the newfound attention you’re receiving, and someone flirting with you is the literal last thing you’d assume out of a conversation. so cairo has to put up with girls laughing too hard at your jokes or touching you a bit too much, but the entire time she does so with gritted teeth

she snaps one day after she overhears a girl’s plan to ask you to prom, and she corners you down a hallway after school, grabs you by the front of your shirt, drags you into a deserted bathroom and shoves you up against the wall with a messy mashing of her face on yours

it’s impassioned like cairo, and once it’s over and you’re staring at her with your eyes the size of saucers, she pushes herself off of you, wipes her mouth, and asks you to be officially hers

it’s no longer even just physical attraction. she finds herself smiling at the stupid jokes you make and pulling you in to kiss her just because she wants to feel you there

with her parents gone and yours being less than awesome, you practically move in with her, at lovell hill. you spend most of your nights there and you almost always sleep in the same bed

cairo is a hot or cold person to be with. sometimes she’s all over you— she wants at least one point of contact with you at any time and she looks so in love. but then there are times where she wants to be away from everyone else. it’s not anything you did, she just craves to be alone sometimes, especially when she’s writing

you humour her by going off to read or watch something downstairs, or even cooking, when you feel like it. then, when she’s done and she craves you again, she’ll wander on in, lean on the doorway in a way she knows will catch your eye, and “distract you” from what you’re doing

shes definitely little spoon. she likes to be held sometimes, in a way she’s a bit embarrassed by. When simply being alone turns into her being lonely, it’s nice for her to wake up in her giant, empty mansion with someone who actually cares. even though you sleep through it, sometimes she’ll turn around in your grasp and just watch you sleep

she’s the kind of person who will bury her real emotions when she’s upset. cairo has a sort of showmanship about her, and she likes to hide the cuts that actually bleed underneath a mask of aloofness and quiet reservation. you never really force it out of her. you let her come to you, when she’s upset

it’s never really acknowledged at all, that she lets a certain guard down, around you. it’s just honestly a given, and cairo loves finding a safe space in you, even if she resented it at first for being so unusual

you’re such a dork and an airhead that sometimes it pulls her out of serious mode

like, you’ll unironically ask her how to spell ‘banana’ for the shopping list, and she’ll just freeze in her kitchen for a moment and stare, as she realises that someone as clever as her is truly and deeply in love with an idiot who at this point may be a trophy spouse

she’s a bit upset about continuing your relationship after graduation and having to do long distance, but swears to you that no one at yale would be able to pull her away

you hang out with her at the library, even though she’s the one actually reading and studying, and you’re playing around on your phone or drawing or something. you two have mastered doing different things with each other in the same room, and it brings a comfort to you both to know that the other is close by, especially when cairo is in her clingier moods

you guys are all over each other though. once you’re together, winnie refuses to third wheel on any of your hangouts, because to be brutally honest, cairo does by and large use them as foreplay for what she’ll do later

when you guys do fuck, it’s super passionate and a bit loud, but cairo has a big ass house and no super close neighbours, so who gives a shit anyways. she’s definitely the type to mark you up all over, as she likes staking her claim and making everyone else see that she’s the one with the key to your collar.

shes definitely fiercely loyal, in a way she probably wouldn’t admit to. you’re one of the only ones to see behind her walls and to know about her parents and she nasty shit she doesn’t want to show. you know about it and you love her for it anyways, and though she would probably give a speech about how she’s “unknowable” and “above childish romance plot lines” you’d roll your eyes and shut her up with a kiss and a smile

and she’d be smiling too

writing this on my phone incredibly early in the morning and without much spellcheck, so let me know if it’s awful and i’m rambling in a half awake daze. anyhoo, thank you to the anon who requested!

[totaly-obsessed]

Unexpected Meetings

Alessia Russo x reader fic

-> The reader forgets Alessia's team bonding and bursts into the room, her teammates don't know about the reader

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Alessia had been at the Arsenal Women’s Football Club for about three weeks now. She was settling in nicely. The girls were welcoming and happy to have her, most of them already familiar with each other in one way or the other.

Every Friday there was a team bonding session, those were quite helpful for the new girls to get to know the team and form friendships. The blonde had offered a movie night at her place for this week's ‘Team Date’ as she liked to call them.

None of the girls had been around to her place after the move. It was her family and Ella who helped her move. Oh – and you of course! Being the striker’s girlfriend of just shy of two years you were living with her. So, it was not only the blonde's move, but yours as well, being offered a position as a teacher at one of London’s many schools. It could not have been more perfect.

You knew that the girls were going to be at your apartment, you really did. A co-worker of yours, a quick new friend offering you a place to stay for the night. But somehow, you forgot.

The girls were arriving at your apartment, one after the other, getting comfortable on the large couch Alessia had insisted on buying as you moved in. The floor in front of the TV had been covered with a mattress as well as a mountain of blankets and pillows.

“Less this place is incredible. Just look at your kitchen, man!” Beth was in awe of the apartment. To be fair you had put a lot into making it as comfortable and homey as possible for the both of you.

“Yeah w- I am really happy with it.” With a deep blush, she was hoping, that no one noticed the deep blush on her face. And no one did – except the ever so attentive Leah Williamson.

“It is quite big though Less. Don’t you get lonely?” The Italian sputtered out some weird response about getting a dog to fill the void.

“Where is your bathroom then Russo?” Katie had been suspecting nothing to this point, but it was in the bathroom, where she noticed it. Two toothbrushes, towel sets, and bathrobes. Upon further inspection, she noticed the many shoes in the cabinet, many of them with heels and a lot smaller than the sneakers that undoubtedly belonged to her teammate.

The brunette saw Alessia’s gaze, wary of her wandering around her apartment. Then her eyes fell to Leah who had a subtle smirk on her face. “Oy, Viccy! Change with me, would ya?”

And just like that McCabe had gotten what she wanted, leaning close to Leah. “When do ya reckon she’ll tell us?”

The blonde shrugged. Carefully she pushed aside the fringe that had fallen into her eyes, once again. “We’ll see.”

Meanwhile: You have had a shit night. The school was holding a teacher conference until late in the evening wanting to discuss changes in the school. You had not even been there for longer than three weeks and you were already starting fights with misogynistic, homophobic, old, white men.

With all of that still fresh on your mind, you could not wait to tell Lessi everything. The footballer understood that you did not need or want solutions, you needed someone to be angry with you and still hold you when you cried.

And she could do that incredibly well.

In a hurry you threw the apartment door open, it was freezing outside and you could not wait to fall into bed with your girlfriend. How you did not notice the massive number of shoes in your hallway, you still do not understand to this day.

It was quiet, aside from a movie blaring from the TV. Alessia liked her movies and shows, always having something on in the background. “Less! You won’t believe what happened, baby!”

Hastily you threw your coat onto the bench, stumbling over one of your own shoes. The woman in question shot up in her position on the couch, as did every other woman in the room, looking at her with wide eyes, but keeping quiet.

“That old twat Mister Grimm, or whatever-“ you were out of breath stumbling over your words, still loaded with anger, “said, that it is ‘okay for boys to slack off but girls need to work even harder’.”

An angry huff could be heard from the hallway, where you were fighting with your scarf, not finding the way out of it. “And he wants the girls' grading to be harsher, because ‘boys need more concentration to pay attention than the girls’”, while Alessia couldn’t see you yet, she could imagine the air quotes you were inevitably doing – her teammates were quite amused by your annoyance, but interested nonetheless.

“What does that even mean? How can someone be so-“ By that point you had wandered into the living room, at least twenty women were looking at you.

Fuck.

You had forgotten Alessia’s team night. “

Less I am so sorry.” The blonde however wasn’t even mad (or surprised).

“It’s fine baby, I wanted to introduce you to them anyways – just made it easier.” She stood up, hugging you close to her. “C’mon Russo! Don’t be shy, give ya missus a kiss!” It was Katie who found her words first, wanting to embarrass the Italian.

But Alessia was not as bashful as expected, and instead pulled you into a bruising, passionate kiss – her teammates cheering in the background, hollering at the two of you. After pulling away, because you were still out of breath due to your ranting, she mumbled a quick “I missed ya, amore.”

Now it started to sink in, the reality of standing in front of the entirety of the Arsenal girls, who didn’t even know you existed up until now. Alessia however was beaming next to you, swaying your joined hands between you. “Guys, this is my girlfriend. Baby, these are my teammates.” 

“Hi. Nice to meet you guys.”

It was silent for a second, but it was Caitlyn who started the conversation – “So what did that Mister Grimm say?”

Just hours later Alessia could not help but smile – you were cuddled on top of her, in a deep conversation with Lotte, next to her, about some book both of you had read.

This day could not have been better if she tried. She was home.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

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alessiarusso99: Team-Bonding Movie Night style!