#anyone who says they can make it up as they go or do it in any order has clearly never ruined a cake before

[cinnamqnx]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ permission ft, katsuki bakugo

summary: when his friends ask him to hang out while he’d rather be with you, katsuki always hits them with the same answer

a knock on bakugo’s door of his dorm room causes a groan to escape his lips, unwrapping his arms from you where you were both previously cuddled up while watching a movie on your laptop.

“who’s that?”, you ask, still laid up in his bed as you watch him get up while marching to his door with pure attitude.

“probably them damn extras again.”, he complains with a grumble, opening his door to find kaminari, kirishima and sero stood there with large smiles on their faces.

“what’s with your goofy faces? and why are you knocking on my door at 10pm?”, he questions, a scowl plastered on his face.

“we were wondering if you wanted to come play this new game with us?”, kirishima asks, holding up a video game you know your boyfriend has been watching to try out for a while now.

he leans against the doorframe, “well, i’m with my girlfriend right now.”

“yeah but you’ve wanted to play this for a while, right? i’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”, kaminari reasons, sero nodding along with him.

letting out the biggest sigh he could, bakugo replies, “yeah whatever, let me ask her.”, shutting his door halfway so the boys couldn’t see bakugo’s little act he was about to pull off.

“you can go if you want, i don’t mind.” you say softly, turning your head away from the movie you were just watching. you really didn’t mind if he wanted to hang out with his friends since he spent majority of his time with you anyway.

he frowns at your response, mouthing a ‘be quiet’ before opening the door once again after a minute or so, seeing their anticipated smiles.

“yeah she said no.”, bakugo shrugs through his lie nonchalantly, causing you to whip your head back around at him while furrowing your brows.

was this man trying to make his friends hate you?

“well, do you really need to be asking your girlfriend for permission, dude? seems kinda toxic..”, kaminari starts, scratching the back of his head with an awkward look on his face.

“are you questioning her?”, bakugo questions, his voice slightly raised as he holds his usual angry face when anyone mentions anything he doesn’t like about you.

he’s always been protective like that. although, you do wonder if that’s the reason why most of the boys seem a little too cautious around you and always refuse to train with you. bakugo always tells you not to worry about it.

“nah, course not, bro. we’ll play another time it’s fine.”, kirishima steps in, holding his hands up while giving a light hearted laugh, trying to cool bakugo’s behaviour.

“yeah, yeah, fine. whatever.”, bakugo rolls his eyes, shooing off his friends before turning back to you, the angered expression he once had completely wiped off.

his sight finally falls back onto you as he walks back over and getting comfortable in his bed again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest as he interlocks his legs with yours.

if anyone saw the position bakugo was in now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes. angry, aggressive bakugo laid up with a girl, holding onto her so gently as he kisses her forehead, watching some bullshit movie you know he has no interest in watching, and all for his sweet little girlfriend who everyone now seems to think holds him hostage so he can’t hang out with his boys.

and all because he simply just wants to spend all his time with his girlfriend.

“you’re such a lover boy.”, you smile at him, knowing how embarrassed he gets when you say things like this.

“shut up.”, he grumbles, partly hiding his face in the covers as he continues watching the movie with you, back where he wanted to be.

he knows you’re right. you have this man absolutely whipped for you and he couldn’t even care less about it.

© cinnamqnx | do not plagiarise or translate any of my work

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, controlling behavior, coercive control, infantilization, extreme patronization, gaslighting, manipulation, food pusher, forced eating 

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about overcaring boyfriend…

You know, he’s always asking if you’ve eaten today, if you’ve drunk enough water, if you’re wearing enough layers. Typical boyfriend stuff. Only it’s not. No, far from it.

Because he does so by telling you off. Pulling a sweater over your little party dress to conceal you. It’s cold outside, he’ll say, kissing your forehead with a smile—he wouldn’t want you getting the sniffles. And besides, you can undress for him when the two of you’re alone—there’s no need to do it in front of the world.

Scolding you for getting too drunk even when you’re just tipsy. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue at you, urging you to drink water as if it’s your first time touching alcohol. Staying sober himself so that he can take care of you—somebody’s going to have to drive you home at the end of the night, or who knows where you’ll end up! 

Telling you that you’re flirting too much, causing all the guys to stare at you even when you’ve only been talking to your girlfriends. Purposefully getting into a fight with you so that he can excuse you both, apologizing to everyone for what a difficult drunk you are—making you so embarrassed and ashamed you end up following him to the car with your tail tucked between your legs—also because he keeps your phone and purse on him, for safekeeping of course, so you don’t forget or lose them somehow.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble under your breath. 

He sighs, standing behind you, leaning his hands against the back of the chair you’re seated in. “You say that, but I can’t trust you, can I?”

His head drops to your shoulder, cheek to cheek, hugging you from behind while his arms slip down your chest, feeling your ribs with a curious and clinical touch.

“I know you’re body better than anyone and I can tell you’ve been skipping meals.”

You shake your head. “I haven’t.” It’s the truth—you really haven’t. It’s normal for bodies to change a little every now and again. But it’s not as if he’d ever accept that as an excuse.

“I don’t want to argue,” is all he says. “Now, be a good girl and eat your cake.”

If it were a piece of cake, you’d have gotten it well over with already. But the platter placed in front of you was enough to feed an entire dinner party. Pink and triple-stacked with mountains of decorative buttercream frosting—god only knows what else is inside.

“I’m not eating an entire cake.” That would be ridiculous. Anyone would agree. But not him. No, you know how serious he is.

“You wouldn’t have to if you just ate when I told you earlier.” 

He speaks softly, in a manner as if it isn’t even your fault to begin with but his own. He’s in charge, after all. All he’s accusing you of is being a handful.

“But here we are…”

He grabs the spoon he’d laid out—no, not a cake fork or a teaspoon, but a tablespoon—and proceeds to gather one big mouthful for you. 

“One drunken, starved girlfriend and one tired, concerned boyfriend.”

You shake your head and seal your lips as he brings the portion up to your mouth.

“If I eat all that, I’m gonna be sick. I just wanna go to bed–” you plead, but he cuts you off.

“It’d be better for you to get sick now instead of tomorrow.” His other hand takes your chin soft but strictly, holding you firmly in place. “Come on now, say ah.”

You’re crying by the end of it. Throat sore and belly overfull, feeling nauseous beyond belief.

“Last bite,” he says, and you no longer have the strength to refuse, even when you doubt there’s any room left to spare. You force it down, and he praises you for it with a kiss on your frosting-smeared cheek. “Good job.”

Between the cake, the alcohol, and his coddling, of course, you feel sick to your stomach.

“What a mess…” he drawls while he holds your hair back from the toilet bowl. 

You feel filthy, sitting on the bathroom tiles between his legs as he rubs your back and coos. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or who knows who’d bother taking care of you—honestly, you’re worse than a baby sometimes. Utterly hopeless.”

He kisses your exposed nape. You swear you feel him smile.

“I’m just kidding. I’ll always take care of you no matter what.”

You hurl again—nothing but pink cream and sprinkles coming out.

“Even if you had no legs and no arms. Even if you were blind and deaf and mute, I’d still be here.” You shudder while he vows. 

You know he means it, too. Suppose that’s a little romantic. It’s just you can’t shake the feeling that he’d prefer for you to be that way.

“You feeling any better?” he asks.

You nod your head.

“Good. Then let’s get you to bed.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Kirishima, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Mirio, young AFO ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[astrolook]

Moon in the houses

Moon in the 1st House: Emotions? Yeah, I’m wearing them like a neon sign.

Mood Swings? Who Needs a Weather App? – One minute, you're on cloud nine, ready to conquer the world, and everyone around you is like, "Wow, you're so inspiring!" . The next minute, you're in a full-on emotional hurricane, and people are like, “Uh, is everything okay?” Yep, they can literally see the storm clouds forming.

You’re basically an emotional X-ray for anyone who needs to know how you're feeling. Super helpful in knowing exactly where you stand.

You have the perfect built-in therapist, your mom, who never asks for a copay and always responds with “I love you, sweetie.”

Moon in 1st gives you a youthful young face. If a man, could be a mama boy. On the flip side, mommy could be overbearing.

When you're happy, you radiate positivity like the sun itself. You make everyone around you feel like they’ve just had a shot of espresso… without the jitters. But when you're in a mood, watch out. It’s like the ocean’s about to swallow up the entire coast. You can go from zero to “I’m emotionally drowning, help!” in 0.3 seconds.

Moon in the 2nd House: The Emotional Shopping Spree - You feel things, and you buy things. Repeat.

When you're feeling happy, it’s like “treat yo' self” day, and suddenly you’ve got 14 new pairs of socks that totally spoke to you in the store. Feeling stressed? Well, it's probably time for a little retail therapy... because nothing says “I’m handling my feelings” like buying a $50 scented candle you’ll never use.

Impulsive purchases. When your emotions take a dive, so does your bank account. "I'm sad, I need a new purse."

When someone asks how you're feeling, your response might just be, "Well, I bought a new jacket, so I’m feeling fabulous."

Your Emotions Are Always on Sale. You're like, “You know what would make me feel even better? A cute new scarf!” Because nothing says “I’m emotionally balanced” like a $15 markdown.

You love investing in things that make you feel good—whether it’s a cozy home, a nice meal, or that perfectly curated playlist you bought (yep, it’s a thing). Your finances are tied to your emotional health like a carefully organized spreadsheet.

Moon in the 3rd House: The Over thinker's Hotline - You think, you feel, you text… then you overthink it all.

Your emotions are running wild and they need to talk. A LOT. Like, you’ll have a deep emotional moment and then immediately text your bestie about it, but also text your mom for a second opinion, and then maybe send a message to a group chat for a third—just to make sure everyone’s on the same emotional page.

You’re the Emotional Wi-Fi of your social circles—always transmitting and receiving feelings, whether anyone asked or not.

You overanalyze everything. Sent a text at 11:30 PM? Now you’re wondering if that emoji you used in your response was “too much.” Did they think you were crying in that voice message, or just, like, “really emotionally engaged”? You end up spiral-commenting under your own messages. "Wait, I wasn’t mad, I swear!" Cue overthinking every single word.

You’re emotionally open, but also maybe one text away from sending an entire novel about your mood swings. If you have a Moon in Aquarius in 3rd house, you are very much into conspiracy theories.

The overthinking is so strong, even Siri gets nervous. “Did I say that correctly? Does it sound too emotional? Let me try that again, Siri, do you think they’ll understand?"

Moon in the 4th House: Home is Where the Feelings Are - Your emotions? Oh, they're all cozy in your emotional fortress… with snacks.

If you're ever feeling down, you know exactly where to retreat: the couch, surrounded by blankets, a mountain of snacks, and probably a weirdly specific playlist of “emotional” songs you know no one else understands.

Your vibe says, "Come on in, let me feed you, and here’s a blanket!" You’re basically the human version of a warm cup of tea.

On the flip side, you can get way too attached to your personal space. Don’t even think about messing with your “comfort zone,” because that zone is sacred. You might find yourself overly attached to places, people, and objects in your home that just... feel right.

If someone says something you don’t like, you might retreat into your home and pretend to reorganize your kitchen for the next four hours. Not because it’s necessary... but because it’s emotionally satisfying.

If there’s food involved and your loved ones nearby, you’re ready for some serious heart-to-hearts.

Moon in the 5th House: The Drama Queen of Feelings - Life’s a stage, and you're always in the mood for a performance.

Your feelings take center stage like you’re auditioning for a Broadway show every single day. You’re all about self-expression, fun, and creating joy—because, let’s face it, life’s too short to not have an emotional karaoke session on a Tuesday night.

Moon in 5th bestows with a girl child. Of course, we need to check whether it is associated with any other planets.

Professions like actor or any artistic professions fits you. You can turn any situation into a joyous celebration and make even the most mundane things feel like a special event.

The flip side? When you're down, it's like the curtains close on the show, and you’re the star in a drama you didn’t sign up for. You may exaggerate your emotions a little (okay, a lot)—an offhand comment from a friend turns into a full-blown emotional musical number. Cue the tears, dramatic exits, and possibly a solo performance on why no one understands your very deep feelings.

You’re basically the person who gets emotionally invested in every movie, reality show, and Instagram post you see and also celebrities.

Moon in the 6th House: The Emotional Overachiever - Feelings? I’ll just organize them into a to-do list.

With the Moon in the 6th House, you take your emotions very seriously—like, spreadsheet-level seriously. You're not just feeling your feelings, you're tracking them, analyzing them, and organizing them with the same precision of a perfectly color-coded calendar.

Your home? Probably a Zen-like temple of organization. You could be a productivity guru and an emotional support animal all rolled into one.

You’re probably the person who compulsively checks your horoscope, wellness app, and to-do list while also making sure you're drinking enough water—because, yes, your emotional health must be on track.

Service - oriented professions.

Probably keeps a journal. Your motto - "Productivity meets therapy!"

Moon in the 7th House: Emotional Rollercoaster + Relationship Drama

You Have a PhD in Relationships – You analyze, you nurture, you feel. Basically, you’re the emotional therapist of every relationship/partnership you’re in.

Emotional Dependency? Yup, It's Real – Your partner's mood? It's now your mood. If they’re happy, you're on cloud nine. If they're sad, well, buckle up, emotional crash ahead!

You Can’t Just "Date" Someone—You Feel Them – It's never just a date night. It's a journey. You’ll be emotionally invested before the appetizers even arrive.

If your partner says, “I’m fine,” but their voice cracks, you’re immediately putting on your emotional detective hat. Something’s definitely wrong.

Your partner's mood shifts and you’re already planning a 5-step plan to emotionally heal them. Just call you “Dr. Love.”

Moon in the 8th House: The Emotional Detective with a Dark Twist

If emotions were a rollercoaster, you’d be the one flipping the safety bar off and screaming, "Let’s go faster!"

Family gatherings? More like family mysteries. You can feel the unspoken tension, and you’re practically Sherlock Holmes, trying to figure out what’s being left out. Every holiday dinner has a side of “What aren’t they telling me?"

When you lose your virginity, you could even hide it from your family.

Being vulnerable with you is like peeling an onion—layer after emotional layer until someone’s crying. Sometimes you overshare, sometimes you say, “I’m fine,” but everyone knows you’re not. You can’t help it.

You can turn pain into growth like a magical wizard. Hurt feelings? Great, now you’re ready for transformation. You take all that emotional mess and somehow turn it into deep wisdom—or a really great, tear-filled diary entry. Either way, it’s epic.

Moon in the 9th House: The Emotional Philosopher on a Soul-Searching Road Trip

Your emotions don’t stay local. You feel them on an international level, like, “Why am I feeling so deep right now? Is this about my past life in a distant land or because I watched a documentary on the Amazon?” Your emotions are basically the United Nations of your soul.

Family & Friends Talks Are Like TED Talks – When you try to explain your feelings to family/friends, it’s less “Hey, I’m upset” and more “Here’s a 45-minute monologue on the meaning of life, and also I read a book on existentialism last week.”

One minute you’re high on life, quoting philosophy, and the next, you’re googling “Why does everything feel so overwhelming?” You’ll go from thinking you’re a wise sage to wanting to crawl into bed and watch Netflix documentaries. Your moods are basically a journey, so pack your bags.

You can't just feel something—you need to analyze, interpret, and probably give it a name. "I feel anxious. Is this anxiety or is it just me tapping into the collective consciousness of humanity?

You’re an Emotional Nomad – You can’t sit still. Emotionally, you need to keep moving, exploring, learning, and growing. "Home? Well, I feel emotionally connected to 17 different places.

Moon in the 10th House: The Emotional CEO of Life

Your emotions are always on display like you’re giving a TED Talk about your deepest feelings.

You don’t just work; your career is an emotional journey. “Am I feeling fulfilled at work? If not, should I change my entire career path? Do I need a promotion to feel better about myself?!” Your job? Basically your emotional therapist, but with more PowerPoint presentations.

Public approval is your emotional fuel, and you’re like, “Did I mention I’m emotionally attached to other’s opinion of me?”

Your mood? It directly impacts your work ethic. When you’re emotionally stable, you’re like, “Let’s take over the world.” But when you're upset? You’re still working, but you’re crying in the break room, making dramatic phone calls to your loved ones.

You’re emotionally invested in how the world sees you. You need to be the best at everything, but emotionally—"Did I look too emotional during my presentation? Was my inner turmoil apparent?" It’s a lot of pressure to keep it all together, but hey, it’s worth the “likes”.

Moon in the 11th House: The Emotional Social Butterfly Who Forgets Why They Came to the Party!

People love your warm, nurturing energy, and your squad is basically a second family. Just be careful—you might adopt every stray friend like a lost puppy. You could even get in trouble for helping your friend.

One day, you're the life of the party, the next, you’re ghosting everyone because feelings. People around you should have learned to just roll with it.

If you are feeling bad, you might turn to strangers online for some emotional support.

You’re energized by like-minded people and might thrive in large social circles, community work, or even fan clubs (yes, you might cry over your favorite celebrity’s life updates).

You might bend over backward to fit into a group, even if it means suppressing your own needs. That’s right—you RSVP to events you know you don’t want to go to, then regret it immediately.

Moon in the 12th House: The Emotional Mystic Who Feels Everything & Nothing at Once

congratulations—you’ve unlocked "Feelings: Hardcore Mode." Your emotions live in the deep, mysterious waters of the subconscious, making you an intuitive, dreamy, and sometimes tragically misunderstood soul. You might love solitude but also feel unbearably lonely, sense energies others miss, and randomly cry for no reason (or is there always a reason?).

Your intuition is next-level. You pick up on vibes, unspoken emotions, and even spiritual messages like a human radio antenna. Your relationship with your mother could feel distant, mysterious, or full of unspoken emotions. Either she was deeply spiritual and nurturing or emotionally unavailable and hard to read.

Unlike most, you actually enjoy being alone. Your inner world is rich, and isolation helps you recharge from the chaos of life.

Even in a crowded room, you might feel disconnected. You crave deep emotional bonds but struggle to express your own feelings.

Emotional stress can manifest physically—sleep issues, mysterious body aches, or just always feeling tired for no reason.

You might secretly love someone from afar rather than openly express your feelings. (Just confess already!). You crave deep, spiritual connections but may self-sabotage by isolating yourself. You love soulmate vibes, but fear vulnerability.

[summertimesadnessirl]

The next step in the comic is when this person intentionally picks a fight with you. No matter what you say. No matter how you say it. Even if you discussed this before. Even if you came up with like, an action plan. Even if you carefully selected someone who you thought you could trust. Someone who would never.

If someone talks to you when you're overstimulated you should literally go ahead and start the fight yourself (I've never tried that but it's the one thing I haven't tried) because there is nothing you can do to stop the fight from happening. It is impossible. You got caught not being happy in public so now you probably lose this person as a friend or a useful ally or a significant other or a trusted person or whatever they are forever, and if you don't you are going to be at their mercy and owe them apology and deference for the rest of your relationship and they will never trust you and always pick fights with you and know that as soon as they goad you enough you will lose even if you're right so they can do anything they want and get away with it because you can't fucking control the volume of your voice. You're a loser. You're a baby. You're a monster. You're committing assault. You are not free. This is a cage. These are the bars of your cage. Anyone can lock you in it at any time for free. You begin to claw at your skin again, but it won't come off. It won't come off and you are too aware of it. People aren't watching. Thank God people aren't watching. If someone catches you clawing at your skin they will throw you in a cell for 72 hours. No one will actually do anything in the cell, but the government will take your tax refund for almost 6 years to pay for the cell and you will miss so much work you almost get evicted. Your boyfriend will yell at you a week after he cried and went down on you when you got out because you can't tell him how to fix your depression and the "emergency plan" you filled out with the doctor said "I have no idea just leave me alone in a corner someplace with my headphones." It's never about you. It's never about you. You aren't even allowed to die because your life is not your own. You can leave this boy but there will always be another boy. It could be a girl instead. They could be your "boss" or "friend" or "business partner." If they catch you unhappy in public they will also be a cage. Anyone can always turn into a cage. You wish you were actually in a cage most of the time, so you consider committing a crime. You think you could probably surprise your cell mate in prison with something weird enough that they would beat you to death or you would get solitary. That sounds easy. You only have to worry about one person and they also got thrown into a cage. They have a way you can lock them up, too. You don't care unless they can beat you to death. Pen stabbed into the brain. You can't hang yourself. You can't explain why you can't hang yourself. You are afraid death won't take if you hang yourself. You will wake up, somehow. You need it to be permanent. You need it to be over. Then you hear that in prison, they can force you to work in a call center.

They don't cover that part. That everyone wants you to be the biggest bitch in the world because then you don't get to be a person. They see that you are stressed out. They aren't fucking stupid. They want to make it worse because they want to hurt you. You learn that no one who says they are your friend will not sell you out. Will not gaslight you. Will not trick you or trap you or force you. Other people keep telling you to stop being avoidant and ask for help.

[eliasmelody]

Absolutely Shameless!

LADS react to reader who have no shame when talking.

WARNING: grammar & spelling

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🐇 XAVIER:

Xavier’s eyelids get heavier as you go on about the movie, the sound of your voice lulling him closer to sleep. You’re still going, detailing plot twists and characters’ arcs, but he’s barely keeping his eyes open now. His head tilts slightly, a small yawn escaping him.

You pause, suddenly realizing what just happened. A quiet chuckle escapes you as you glance at Xavier, who’s trying to shake off the sleepiness.

"Wanna lay on my lap, baby boy?" You raise an eyebrow as you look at him.

Xavier’s eyes flicker with surprise, but then his expression darkens, the moment shifting. "Do you say this to anyone?" He asks, his tone more guarded now.

You shrug nonchalantly. "Not really. You're lucky you're cute." You say casually, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world and boop his nose.

Xavier blinks a few times, genuinely taken aback by your casual comment. His cheeks redden slightly in response, and he averts his gaze for a moment before looking back at you, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

"Cute?" He repeats incredulously with a blush. He opens his mouth to retort, perhaps to argue about you calling him 'cute', but he seems strangely speechless. 

"Yeah, yeah, adorable. Now lay down.”

"You say something like that so casually…” He mutters a complaint, but there's no real bite to it as he lays down.

✦.────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────────── .✦

🦭 ZAYNE:

"Late for your checkup again, I see." Zayne said in his usual blunt manner, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork.

You just sit there, staring at him in silence. He shifts slightly, but you remain unmoved, your gaze steady. Neither of you speaks, the quiet stretching on. 

Finally, his voice cut through the quiet. "Hmm? What is it?"

"It looks heavy. Need me to hold it for you?" You said, your voice completely monotone, though your eyes hinted at something more.

Zayne raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. He was used to you making random comments, but even he found himself taken off guard by this one. “What...?”

You gesture toward his chest and say, "Your boobs look heavy. I can hold it for you.”

He had expected you to say something strange but that was definitely not it. Zayne's expression immediately turns flat, his eyebrows furrowing. He let out a sigh and flicked your forehead.

“Ah!” You yelp and clutch your head. “Hey.”

"You and your tactless comments..." Zayne mutters, more to himself.

He tries to keep his expression stoic, but the pink tint on his cheeks betrays him. It annoys him how you can get under his skin so easily.

“... So can I?--Whoa! Hey, I'm kidding. Put the tablet down!”

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🐠 RAFAYEL:

You lay there, bored, sprawled out on the couch, watching him intently as he focused on his art.

"You know what, Raf?" You said, setting your phone down.

With his eyes narrowed at you and his head raised to give you an arrogant look, Rafayel waited for you to continue. It was like he was about to give you a sassy reply.

"Sometimes I wish I was a guy." You said, gazing at him from upside down on the couch.

This was definitely not what he'd been expecting you to say. Not expecting at all.

Confused, he stared at you, unsure of how to respond. "Why the hell would you want that?”

"So I could make you pregnant." You said with a straight face, your voice calm and unshaken. He, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

Rafayel choked on his own spit and coughed hard for a few moments, trying to stay calm. His cheeks, already flushed, turned bright red.

"Y-you're crazy!" He protested, moving back on the chair a little bit. "Like I'd let you do that!”

"Why not?" You grin. "I'll be gentle.”

Rafayel blushed even more. He had no idea how to respond to you when you said things like that, but he refused to give in.

"H-how could you even think of that?" He said, trying to sound defiant, but his voice was shaky. 

"You just look breedable.”

"B-breedable?!" That definitely wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. 

He covered his face in embarrassment, trying to hide his obvious arousal and reaction to your words. 

"You humans are all perverts.” He muttered, even though his cheeks were betraying him, as his skin was turning even more pink.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.

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🐦‍⬛ SYLUS:

After casually stepping on one of the rooms to confirm they were really unconscious, he strides over to you, his gaze sharp and intense. He kneels down to your level, his presence imposing as he speaks.

"Hello, little kitten. Looks like you got yourself into some trouble.” He says in a low tone, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

You pout, crossing your arms as you stay seated on the ground, looking up at him. "I can handle that.”

The man chuckles before reaching out and ruffling your hair.

"Can you now? It seems like you were in quite the sticky situation a moment ago," He says with a smirk, "A pretty little thing like you could have gotten taken advantage of real easily.”

You roll your eyes, then raise both arms toward him. "Up." You command, your voice firm yet with a hint of impatience.

The man raises an eyebrow at your command, surprised by your boldness. He lets out a low chuckle before obliging, sweeping you off your feet in one swift motion, carrying you princess-style in his arms. "Happy now?”

You hum contentedly and wrap your arm around his shoulder, leaning in playfully. "Now, to your house. I’m crashing on your bed today.”

He rolls his eyes at your demand, but doesn't complain.

"Of course you do. I can tell that you're quite a spoiled little one." He says with a smirk, carrying you down the streets.

✦.────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────────── .✦

🍎 CALEB:

"Come on, pipsqueak. I’m not your personal chef." Caleb said, pretending to sound tired and annoyed, though his actions told a different story as he continued moving around the kitchen without missing a beat.

"What do you want for dinner then?” He reached to grab some ingredients, already having an idea in mind.

"You." You said nonchalantly.

Caleb rolled his eyes dramatically before responding. “Me.” He repeated, mimicking your casual tone. 

He was used to your nonchalance, had an uncanny ability to make even the strangest requests seem normal. He stirred the pan with a practiced ease.

You move over without a word, leaning in close to watch him cook. Your shoulder brushes lightly against his, and he can't help but notice the thinness of your shirt.

“Personal space, pipsqueak– wait, you don't wear a bra?” His heart leaped, but he quickly tried to remain nonchalant. 

"So?" You replied, your face remaining impassive.

He blinked, his fingers twitching as if to adjust your shirt, but he stopped himself.

“You just…” He tried to keep his voice steady. “Never mind.”

“Hungryyyy”

Caleb rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. Your carefree and straightforward attitude was one of the things he both loved and hated. “I'm on it. Jeez!”

✦.────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────────── .✦

[yokoluvv]

THINKING ABOUT...

the cute lil stalker who you met a few weeks ago, who seemed to take his part and leave after what happened last time, who you thought wouldn't be after your tail anymore.

you didn't think much of it, didn't really care, a one time thing. what you didn't expect was seeing him talking to your boss, with a uniform that was too much like yours. what a pesky bug.

it could be bearable, you thought; he was a feast for the eyes and didn't talk much, just doing his part of the work, occasionally slipping glances at you. over time he became a bit more... bolder, if you could call it that.

he started standing closer to you, sitting closer to you. wearing clothes that were not designed for the work enviroment, dropping an abnormal amount of pens; but you doubted your boss (or frankly anyone) minded it much. you didn't.

he was maddening, and he knew that, but if you cave in and gave him what he wanted, another confrontment, he would win. and you could work with a bit of challenge. so you ignored his thight tops, mini shorts that barely covered anything; ignored his bumpings and pretty big eyes.

and the pretty thing noticed that too. because how could he not when he got cornered everytime he went to the bathroom, when everybody except you were touching and groping him? he didn't want their filthy hands on him, they were ruining his outfits that he wore just for you. he was saving himself for you and these mindless idiots who only thought with their dicks thought he was for them to savour? it made his blood boil.

he went through hell to get this job and you weren't even looking at him! (hell being batting his lashes and standing a bit too close the the boss)

thus, he decided to take the matters into his own hands, because he had eyes and he could see the tent in your jeans. that he caused.

he waited and waited the whole day, asking others around to do his work for him because he's just so weak, and he could save his energy for you insted.

and it was the end of work. finally, you thought. if only your boss didn't make you work over time on a friday. and your very cute colleague too for some reason. this was the perfect oppurtunity for him, he waited the whole day for this! endured the others' touchings for you! surely you'd reward him?

you found it harder and harder to just get your work done and go home. your pants were too thight for comfort and he was sitting there like he didn't know the effect he had on you. and the one sided challenge you had going on was getting less and less appealing. you just wanted to fuck him stupid.

time didn't seem to pass at all whatsoever. and you got pent up real fast. the challenge? oh, who cares, you weren't thinking with your brain right now, anyway.

the next thing you know you have the pretty lil stalker straddling your lap, rubbing against you like a bitch in heat, mewling in your ear. your hands on his hips as he tries to get the most friction he can, finally you're going to reward him for his hard work. he fumbles with his shorts, trying to get them off while his other hand unbuckles your belt.

he's already so wet for you, you don't even need to do anything. and you don't. he can do the work for you, right? he slips on your cock with a high pitched whine, hair sticking to his forehead as he starts to move. up and down, bouncing like a bunny. his moans get cut off everytime he falls back on your dick.

his hands on your chest for support as he does his best to please you, instinctively clenching around you as he throws his head back, a groan leaving his parted lips. he lets out an embarrassingly loud whine when you pull at his hair, his eyes rolling back. praise him, please, tell him he's doing such a good job and watch him cum so fast.

he's so warm and so sweet and you can feel the tension building up in you, your hold on his hips thightening as you thrust into him. he pants and shivers, his legs trembling when he feels the warmth in him, that alone making him cum again.

let's say the next day your co-worker might have to clean up his chair.

guess who got so horny he had to write it<3 this sucks but I was real pent up. inspired by that one person who asked me to do this if I ever made a part two ty for the idea

update: I hope it's okay to tag you sjjdiskdk @waddaloser

[scoupsakakitty]

Could you do svt finding out reader has been skipping meals while they were away on tour? Like they come back from tour and notices how the s/o is looking?? Lmk if you’re uncomfortable with that

SVT reacting to s/o losing weight/skipping meals

tw: weight loss, skipping meals

S.Coups:

His heart drops the moment he sees you. You look smaller, weaker—your usual glow dimmed. He pulls you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your head. "Did you wait until I was gone to do this to yourself?" His voice is strained, a mix of frustration and worry. He pulls back to look into your eyes. "You think I wouldn’t notice? You’re already perfect. Stop trying to fit into something that will never love you back the way I do."

Jeonghan:

He eyes you up and down, his usual playful smirk nowhere to be seen. Instead, there’s a cold seriousness in his gaze. "Y/N, be honest with me." He crosses his arms. "Did you stop eating just so you could fit some beauty standard?" His voice is sharp, but his hands are gentle when he reaches for yours. "I know how bad this industry can get, but I won’t let you do this to yourself. Not while I’m here."

Joshua:

Joshua sighs, shaking his head as he cups your face. His thumbs brush against your cheekbones, now more defined than before. "This isn't healthy, Y/N." His voice is calm but filled with concern. "You don't have to do this to be beautiful. You already are. The people who make you feel like you aren't? They’re wrong." He pulls you into his arms. "Next time, talk to me, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

Jun:

Jun doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he sets down his bag and slowly approaches you, his gaze scanning over you carefully. "Did someone tell you to do this?" His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it. When you don’t answer, he exhales sharply. "I get it. I really do. But hurting yourself like this… it won’t make you happy." He squeezes your hand. "Please, Y/N. Let’s eat together, okay?"

Hoshi:

Hoshi pouts dramatically at first, pinching your cheek. "Where did all your energy go, huh? You look so tired…" But then, his expression shifts, eyes darkening with worry. "You were waiting for me to leave, weren’t you?" He sighs, shaking his head. "I know what it’s like to be told you have to lose weight to be accepted. But you’re not an idol, Y/N. You don’t have to go through this." He takes your hands in his. "Even if you were… I’d still tell you the same thing: you don’t have to change for anyone."

Wonwoo:

Wonwoo is quiet. Too quiet. He studies you carefully, his sharp gaze missing nothing. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but firm. "Y/N… why?" He exhales deeply, shaking his head. "I get it. I know why you’d feel this way. But I also know it won’t bring you the happiness you’re searching for." He pulls you into his embrace. "Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do this alone."

Woozi:

Woozi’s jaw clenches the moment he sees you. His hands curl into fists at his sides before he forces himself to relax. "You think I don’t know what it’s like?" His voice is bitter. "To be told you’re not enough unless you fit a mold that someone else decided for you?" He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. "I won’t let you go through this alone, Y/N. I know how hard it is to fight it, but you don’t have to fight alone."

DK:

DK’s smile falters the second he takes a good look at you. His usual warmth turns into concern. "Y/N… have you been eating properly?" He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. When you look away, he gently lifts your chin. "Please don’t do this to yourself. I love you just the way you are." His voice cracks slightly. "I don’t want to see you hurting yourself over something so meaningless."

Mingyu:

Mingyu’s excitement from coming home quickly fades when he sees you. His hands instinctively reach out, brushing against your arms. "You… lost weight." His tone is careful, but his eyes are full of worry. "Did you stop eating while I was gone?" When you don’t answer, he exhales sharply. "Y/N, I love you, but I won’t pretend this is okay. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Please don’t hurt yourself like this."

The8:

His expression is unreadable, but his voice is laced with quiet disappointment. "You’re trying to fit into their beauty standards, aren’t you?" He sighs, shaking his head. "I won’t tell you that it’s easy to ignore them. But I will tell you that it’s not worth it." He gently cups your face. "You’re more than just the way you look, Y/N. Please don’t forget that."

Seungkwan:

Seungkwan is visibly upset, his usual bright energy completely gone. "Did you really wait until I was gone to do this?" His voice is uncharacteristically quiet. He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "You think being skinnier will make you happier? That it’ll make you prettier?" He grips your hands. "You’re already the most beautiful person I know. Please don’t do this to yourself."

Vernon:

Vernon furrows his brows, staring at you for a long moment before finally speaking. "You think being thinner will make you fit in more?" He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it. I really do. But I also know that it’s not worth losing yourself over." He steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. "You’re enough, Y/N. You always have been."

Dino:

Dino immediately frowns when he sees you, his expression unreadable. "You didn’t have to do this." His voice is filled with frustration, but not at you—at the world that made you feel like you had to change. "I know how hard it is to ignore the pressure. But I wish you had talked to me before doing this to yourself." He squeezes your hand. "I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re already perfect to me."

[sweaterkittensahoy]

As a dog owner myself, this drives me fucking bonkers. Because, first and foremost, forcing retail workers or friends to put up with your dog when you have not previously agreed to do that is bullshit. It's rude. It's uncaring. And, especially in retail spaces, it makes shit harder for people with service dogs.

We recently went to a yarn store that had previously been welcoming to all dogs. We took Bean because we'd been able to before. There was a sign on the door saying "service animals only."

So, Sean and Bean went back to the car while I did my shopping.

Because we're not assholes, and our dog is not required to be the center of everyone's fucking universe.

I do NOT bring Bean to anyone's house without first gaining permission because that's fucking rude. No one's ever turned us down, but if they did, fine. It just puts a minor limit of how long we can stay since she'll need to be crated while we're out of the house, and we prefer she not be crated for more than about four hours if we can manage it (she has proven she can be crated up to eight hours if necessary, but we would rather not make her do that on the regular as it is not the regular routine).

She is a very dog-reactive dog. We keep this in mind in all places we bring her. She is less reactive if we pick her up, but if she starts barking before we can, we have to make her follow the rules of "You fucking know you're not supposed to be acting like this" before we can scoop her, and it's stressful to everyone. It's why she is NOT allowed in houses with other animals because she will bark at any other dogs and try to fight any other animal. So, we won't even ask if we can bring her if we know you have animals, and we will ask if you have animals and let you know she's an ass if we don't know.

I'm not writing this out as a "Haha I'm so much better at dog ownership than you idiots." I'm writing this out because I think Sean and I do a good job of wanting to be with our dog but also not being dicks to other people, and these are the ways we keep that balance. If you don't want my dog in your house, that's 100% fair. It's your house. She can hang out safe and warm in the crate while we enjoy your company.

If you come to my house, you know we have a dog, and if you don't want her to cuddle up on you, we will do our best to keep her from deciding you are something to sleep on. Yes, it's her house, and she's our pup, but you are also our guest, and it's our job to make sure you are comfortable. We're lucky she prefers to sleep with us when people are staying over, honestly. It takes a whole issue out of the equation.

Also, shout out to @infiniteeight8 who is great at refusing to let Bean do whatever she wants because then it lets us watch Bean go into 'cat mode' in order to get pets. Basically, Bean will do all her cute dog shit to try and get pets, and inf will go, "No. Not interested." and Sean and I will distract Bean away as well. But she will always try again, and Inf will refuse again and make it clear she's not into it, and finally Bean will just lay down next to her, and Inf will go, "Yes, this is good. Be a cat," and pet Bean, and then the rest of the time Inf is visiting, Bean will just go cat mode to get the attention she wants.

But the only reason it works is because Sean and I, as Bean's people, reinforce that Bean doesn't get to do whatever she wants just because it's her house. You are responsible for your dog, and part of that responsibility is not forcing your dog onto other people.

We gotta do something about the way dog owners behave. No other pet owner is just bringin the pet wherever the fuck they go all the time but for some reason with dog owners they think its fine if they bring their dog to the gym and taco bell and whatever. And you invite a dog owner to your house where youve got your own pets youve got your dog and your cats and whatever it is you have and this dog owner shows up at your door like "oh i brought my dog i hope thats okay hes so sweet youll love him" and it is always the most untrained poorly behaved agressive animal that has ever lived. And we all have to pretend like its acceptable behaviour well im sick of it

[crheativity]

SUMMARY: Something goes wrong, and you’re in tears. How do the Overblot boys help you?

WARNINGS: Tried to keep things vague but sorry if it’s a lil too specific sometimes. Reader is Prefect. Written under a romantic presumption but could possibly be read platonic. The Hell Word pops up in Leona’s and Idia’s. Book 3, Book 4 and Book 6 spoilers in Leona’s, Jamil’s and Idia’s respectively. I wrote all of these late at night also, so fair warning

NOTES: sorry it’s been a while, life go brr. This is heavily self indulgent, and sorry if it’s OOC. Might do the others (First, Second & Third years) if enough people want it. 

Also, if you like this, please feel free to check out my Valentine’s Day Event!

He hesitates for a moment, hands hovering beside you as he thinks carefully about what to say. As he speaks, his voice begins to shake. 

“Thank you for trusting me of all people with your feelings and circumstances. I… I am so, so sorry, Prefect. I’m-- I wish I was good at this - there are no rules for comforting someone you care about - but I’ll do my best. I— I can’t imagine what it’s like, going through what you’re going through. What you’re about to be going through. But— of course, all of Heartslabyul and I are at your disposal. Anything, anything at all that would bring you a moment’s comfort or peace, please come to us. I— all of us care about you deeply. Please tell us what to do to assist.”

If you want it (and are willing to excuse a slightly flustered Riddle), he’ll give you a tight hug, trying to convey how much he cares about you. He hates that he struggles to talk about things like this. For you, he’ll do anything. Anything to bring your rosy smile back. And if anyone dares oppose him? Heads will roll. 

He’s been strangely quiet during your explanation, venting, tears - all of it. He waits until you’re finished - and then a moment longer, to consider his words. He reaches up to dry your tears. With his spare hand, he takes yours and pulls you a little closer, speaking in a low, gentle voice. 

“Oi, Herbivore, c’mere. It’ll be alright, you hear? You’re strong, shameless and crafty. Hell, you give that Octotwerp a run for his money. If you gotta fight tooth and claw to get through this, then I’ll fight with you, okay? Just— no more waterworks for now. Yeah, it sucks. But you’ve cried about things, so now you should have the strength to get up and stick through them. If that’s all you can manage, I’ll get Ruggie to take care of the rest. Just don’t push yourself right now, ‘kay? Good, now rest. You’ll need it after a sob-fest like that.“

He pulls you into a surprisingly gentle hug, rubbing circles on your arms. After a while, he’ll ask if you want to nap with him. Once you fall asleep, he’s calling Ruggie and making plans. No way in hell are you dealing with more than you have to. He’ll fight for you himself if he has to. 

Hearing the pain, the anguish and the tears in your voice, he has to fight back tears himself. He hesitantly reaches out for you. Pausing for a moment, he begins to speak, voice filled with emotion. 

“This is— I’m very, very sorry, Prefect. You do not deserve to go through this— any of this. Should you request anything at all, the Mostro Lounge will provide, free of charge, of course. If there is anything we— I— can do to ease your burdens, please do not hesitate to ask. The world can sometimes be a deeply flawed, unfair place. I wish that I had the power to better shield you from this side. I’m truly, very sorry, Prefect. Please know that I— we care about you. This world is a far better place for your presence in it. Please, let us return the favour for you.”

He (with permission) gently pulls you into a hug, holding you as though you were glass. He was going to find who- or whatever caused you to hurt like this and make their pitiful existence miserable. Those poor, unfortunate souls. 

As you confide in him, Jamil seems to turn strangely quieter than usual. His solution oriented mind begins to whir, thinking about what he can do to help, the logistics of it, etc. Your sniffling snaps him back into reality. Putting solutions aside for now, he reaches for your hands and squeezes them gently, offering you a small, sad smile.

“Hey, everything will work out. It sucks right now, obviously, but in a while, it’ll all be okay. That’s just the way life goes, for some reason. World shattering events can happen, but time marches on anyway. It’ll always drag you with it, too. What I mean is that because you’ll be okay eventually, it can help you be okay now. I guess. And we at Scarabia are always here for you, okay? Kalim’s… Kalim, and I’m always here for you if you need to vent or complain or if you need help. I’m never too busy if it’s you, alright? Just don’t bottle it up… that works out well.”

He smiles a little ruefully at that last comment, then takes off his hoodie and drapes it over you. He tells you to keep it - that way he’s always there with you if you need it. He squeezes your hands and rests his forehead against yours, comfortingly. Jamil wasn’t used to being quite so… hopeful. But you had helped him become better, and he wanted to return the favour.

Vil may be a good actor, but his thoughts were shockingly readable as you vented to him. He seemed to react correctly in all the right places, asking questions but never pressing for answers. When you finish, he gently reaches out and starts stroking your hair. He pulls you a little closer for comfort. He pauses for a moment, then begins to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Prefect. You do not deserve this - any of this. Pomefiore’s students and I are always here for you, no matter the need. Anything you need, it would be our honour and privilege to provide. In times such as these, I find taking care of oneself is extremely important. Not to the extent of perfectionism necessarily, but enough to bring you joy. So please, if it’s not too much trouble, please find one indulgent thing each day. Not something so unhealthy it’d ruin you, but something gentle and sweet. Like a bubble bath, or watching that movie you’ve mentioned wanting to see. It’s important to keep yourself as happy as you can, when life is attempting to do the opposite. And if you can’t think of anything, then please, come to me. Let me take care of you.”

He then, with permission, sweeps you into the biggest, comfiest, warmest hug you’ve ever experienced (Ghibli-style), and stays that way until you move. He wants to do so much more for you. He knows where you’re at, and, being the kind of person you are, he trusts you’ll know what’s best for yourself. He only hopes you let him take care of you, too.

Bro was low key in panic mode. What the hell is he supposed to say/do??? He really, really can’t afford to screw this up. He’s pretty sure he’d get a -1000 debuff to his Charisma stats if he doesn’t say the right thing. Usually, he wouldn’t particularly care if it was just some NPC he had to comfort - but this is the protagonist we’re talking about! And Ortho’s not here, just his luck! He sighs and his mind races back through every Otome/VN game he’s played and every shoujo romcom to figure out what in Twisted Wonderland he’s supposed to say.

“Uhh, that’s not very… plus ultra? Shoot, I mean-... That sounds really tough. I’m sorry, Prefect… Stuff like that is rough… I’m, uh, not the best person to go to for advice. Not particularly known for my ability to… handle stuff. mentally. But uh, I’m always here for a distraction if you need. That’s what I typically do. Distract until you don’t feel anymore haha… but uh, that’s probably not a good thing. Still, though. I’m always happy to play games or watch anime with you.. Or something. Those are my favourite things, not necessarily yours. We don’t have to. It’s honestly enough just to hang out with you… ugh, that was cringe, wasn’t it?”

Once you assure him that it was very much not cringe, he sighs in relief and gives you a small, soft smile - not an expression you’ve seen often on him. He reaches over and pulls out two controllers, throwing one to you. He boots up a game, commenting how he’s not gonna go easy on you just because you’re sad. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You cautiously ignore the thunderstorm brewing outside as you vent to Malleus about your problems. You carefully construct your words and phrases, to protect Sage Island from month-long hurricanes. After you finish, Malleus asks if you are comfortable with physical affection. With consent, he pulls you into a hug. 

“Apologies, Child of Man, I am not familiar with methods of comfort. I will do my best - I only ask for your leniency if I say something wrong, and for you to understand that all I say is with the best intentions. I want you to know that I care about you. I believe it is important for those going through difficult periods of time to know where they have true friends. No matter what, Child of Man, I wish to be counted among those. If I am, and with your permission, I will enact all I can to assist you through and out of these situations. I only ask your patience. I promise, I will do whatever you require during this time. Only speak my name, and I will be there.”

Malleus continues to hold you gently, unsure about what to do or say from here, other than gently repeating he’s here for you. He stays there with you until you are ready to move on, then takes you for a walk around campus. And this time, he’ll only go on two tangents about gargoyles you pass.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[munsonsmixtapes]

Breathe Your Air

Eddie Munson x Gareth Emerson x fem!reader

What's supposed to be a smoke session with Gareth quickly turns into something very different and dirty with him and his best friend, Eddie

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) masturbation, drug use

special thanks to @the-witty-pen-name who I couldn't have done this without!

The garage closes as Jeff and Grant leave in Jeff’s car, leaving Gareth and Eddie alone. You’re supposed to show up any minute to smoke with Gareth and he’s scrambling, trying to make the place look clean while Eddie sips on one of his dad’s beers.

He doesn’t even know why Gareth is going to such lengths to impress you. You’re just a girl and he doesn’t care how hot his friend says you are, he’ll be the judge of that. Maybe he’s just reluctant because all of the pretty girls think he’s a freak so he’s just trying to protect himself. But if you’re hanging out with Gareth then you must be cool. 

He follows Gareth into the house, grabbing a bag of chips from the kitchen on the way to the living room where he makes himself comfortable while Gareth is hurrying to straighten up the place. 

Eddie collapses onto the couch as Gareth pulls down the screen over the garage door before heading over to set up the movie as there’s a knock at the door. 

Gareth is quick to pull Eddie up from the couch, trying to get him to leave, but Eddie hurries to stand behind Gareth as he opens the door and stops in his tracks when his eyes lock on you. Gareth didn’t tell him that you were so fucking hot. He swears he’s never seen anyone prettier and he’s trying to see what he can do to stay even though he'll definitely be third wheeling your date. 

“Hi,” you beam as you enter the house before closing the door behind you and it's only then that Eddie notices that you’re carrying a plate wrapped in plastic wrap. “Sorry I’m late but I brought cookies,” you hold up the plate with a smile and Eddie thinks you’re adorable.

You pull Gareth into a hug and he can’t stop thinking about how good you smell, something sweet but woodsy and he wants to bathe in it. You’re squeezing him tightly and he can’t believe that you’re actually hugging him. No other woman ever hugs him except his mother. 

“Oh,” Gareth lets out a laugh. “It’s no problem.” You could be as late as you wanted and Gareth wouldn’t bat an eye. He’s honestly surprised that you’re even there. You’re one of the most popular girls in Hawkins so he’s still wondering why you’d want to spend a Saturday night with him of all people. 

“And you must be Eddie,” you smile again, taking in metalhead that’s taken a step back to give you and Gareth some space. “It’s so nice to meet you.” You pull him in for a hug as well and now he understands why you’re so popular. You’re nothing but a sweetheart and he’s decided that he wants to stay in your arms forever with your chin resting on his shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze as if the two of you have hugged many times before.

But here you are in your pretty dress looking like something that’s just walked out of his dreams, being so sweet with your cookies, greeting him and Eddie like you’re all old friends. You’re actually the one who suggested this get together and Gareth still doesn’t know why. He just got talking to you at the record store where you work and didn’t think you actually meant it until you gave him your phone number before he left. 

And now you’re here, in his house and he’s just waiting for Eddie to leave so the two of you can smoke up. But Eddie’s still standing in front of the couch, so close to drooling that it’s embarrassing. You’re taking in the living room so Gareth takes the opportunity to turn to Eddie to tell him to get lost because he’s tired of him ruining the mood. 

“Why are you still here?” He ask in a whisper as you’re looking at the books on his mom’s bookshelf. 

“C’mon, man, you can’t kick me out now. She hugged me.” He’s saying it like it’s supposed to mean something, but it does mean something to Eddie. Girls hug him sometimes, but never like that, never like he’s meant something to them. 

“She was just trying to be nice. Besides, don’t you have that thing you need to pick up for Wayne?” Eddie does need to do that, but no way is passing up the opportunity to smoke with you. 

“I can get on my way home. There’s no way I’m missing this.” He doesn’t actually think anything’s going to happen but he just wants to spend some time with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

“You’re just going to be a third wheel.” Eddie knows that’s true and supposes that he really does have a lot of things he should probably be doing than this. 

“Alright, I’m going,” Eddie grumbles as he turns towards the door. He’s about to open it, but you stop him, resting your hand on his shoulder and he turns to see the most pathetic look on your face. 

“You’re leaving?” You ask, looking really disappointed, even going as far as putting on a pout. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Gotta get back to my uncle.” 

“You can’t stay for a little longer?” You’re stepping closer to him, reaching up and messing with his hair. He doesn’t usually let people touch it, but you’re the exception, especially when you’re looking at him with those eyes like you want to swallow him whole. 

“Well, maybe just a few minutes,” he shrugs as he closes the door, pulling you over to the couch. “Gareth, you’ve got the stuff, right?” He asks as you make yourselves comfortable and Gareth is sure that this is going to be the worst high of his life. 

He can’t fucking believe that Eddie ruining what’s supposed to be the best night of his life. He thought that maybe he actually get a chance to kiss you like he’s been wanting to for months, and maybe a little more. But now he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance. 

Once he comes back with the joint and his lighter, he sees that you’ve distanced yourself from Eddie, plenty of space between your bodies for Gareth to sit, but he decides to sit on the other side of you. 

“Ladies first,” he says as he hands the joint to you and you put it between your lips, turning towards him and he lights it up for you, watching you intently as you breathe in the smoke before turning to Eddie, motioning for him to move closer. 

He opens his mouth and you blow the smoke into it as Gareth watches, wondering why he feels so turned on by watching his crush and best friend shotgun. There’s something so hot, so sexual about it and it’s making his pants feel tight. 

Once you pull away, Eddie looks dizzy and you smile, turning to Gareth who’s holding his hands over his crotch and if you notice, you don’t say anything. You just motion for him to lean in. 

“Want some?” You ask and he nods furiously. 

“Please,” he demands but it comes out so pathetic like a whimper. 

“Alright, come here, pretty boy,” you grab hold of his chin and your hand feels so hot on his skin, almost like fire. He opens his mouth and as soon as you press your lips to his, he’s sure that he’s died and gone to heaven. He already feels high but he’s pretty sure that’s just you and your effect on him.

He inhales and you pull away far too soon, moving back to Eddie to give him some more smoke and he doesn’t something he probably shouldn’t. After he inhales, he grabs hold of your face, slotting his lips between yours. You’re shocked at first, but you respond pretty quickly, kissing him back as you try your best to hold the joint away from him so as to not catch him on fire. 

Gareth doesn’t even care that he’s not being kissed because for some reason, just watching is doing it for him. He’s leaning over, trying to see exactly what’s happening between the two of you and seeing your hands slide into Eddie’s hair is making him hard beyond belief. 

Your tongue is sliding into Eddie's mouth and as Eddie lets out a moan, Gareth lets out a whimper at the noise, but neither of you seem to be paying him any attention. He’s scooting closer to get a better look and swears watching the two of you make out is making him feel like he’s never felt before. 

Eddie is sure that this is the best make out session he’s ever had-not that he’s had much to compare it to-it just seems like you really know what you’re doing. And when your fingers wound into his hair, fuck, he just needs more of you. 

Eddie’s hand touches Gareth’s thigh as you pull away and Gareth’s brain short circuits, feeling the bi panic set it as you lean back against the couch, putting the joint between Eddie’s lips. He takes a drag and motions for Gareth to lean forward. Their lips touch as Eddie pushes the smoke into Gareth’s mouth and both of them are unsure why they like it so much. 

It’s so foreign but it feels so right, both of them staying like that until Gareth inhales the smoke. And once they’re done, you decide that Eddie’s friend needs to have a little fun too. You push him back against the couch then straddle his waist, tilting his head back as your lips find his. 

“Your turn, pretty boy.” 

“O-okay,” he stutters and you think it’s adorable that you make him so nervous. “Already hard for me, hm?” 

He’s not sure what he’s doing like Eddie was, but he’s trying, following along as his hands rest gently on your waist. He has only kissed one other person, a boy in seventh grade during spin the bottle. This, though, this is a real kiss, filled with so much passion and now he understands why Eddie was unable to stop. You lips are just so soft and he’s addicted to the feeling of your weight on top of him. 

You’re grinding on him now and he’s having a hard time now coming right then and there. You’re making a mess of him and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now. He lets his hands experimentally slide up your dress, resting on your thighs as you kiss your way down his neck. 

Eddie doesn’t know why, but he suddenly feels the urge to mimic you so he gets closer, taking another drag of the joint and blowing it out before bringing his mouth to the other side of Gareth’s neck, giving it a hard suck that causes Gareth’s breath to hitch. This is officially the best night of Gareth’s life and he’s not sure that anything is ever going to top it. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, his head spinning because of the attention he’s getting and when you get off of him, he lets out a whine but he’s instantly shushed when you bring your lips back to his neck, sucking on it like your life depends on it as Eddie palms his crotch through his jeans. 

“Do you want me to take care of you?” You ask, bringing your lips right by his ear and he feels his brain short circuit as it processes your question. 

“Please,” he whines and full on moans as you bite down on his earlobe. 

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, sitting back on your knees, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“No,” he shakes his head and just as he’s thinking that nothing is actually going to happen, Eddie pulls a condom from his pocket and holds it out as he gives Gareth’s neck a hard bite before pulling away.  

As you get undressed, Eddie takes the chance and places his lips on Gareth’s. He’s always wondering what they’ve felt like and now he finally has an excuse to see. Gareth is quick to respond, kissing Eddie back hungrily, the whole thing being mostly tongue as theirs tangle, fingers tugging on hair, hands sliding up shirts. 

Everything pauses when both of them pull away to see that you’re now just in your bra and panties, looking at you with open mouths and wide eyes as they’ve never seen a half naked woman in person before-well Gareth hasn’t-both of them almost drooling at the sight of you. 

You can see that Eddie is hard now too, but you feel like Gareth needs it more, groaning because of how desperate he is. And Eddie seems to be okay with that as you unbutton Gareth’s pants and pull them down and as you’re pulling down his underwear, his eyes widen as you spread his legs then get down on the floor in between them, patting the spot next to you and Eddie’s quick to join you. 

He takes another drag of the joint before putting it between your lips, letting you finish it off. Once it’s done, you put it out on the coffee table behind you before spitting into your hand, Gareth’s rock hard cock in it and giving it a few slow pumps to start him off then they get progressively quicker and Gareth is losing his shit, grabbing onto the couch cushion underneath him as if his life depends on it. 

Once you feel like he’s ready, you wrap your hand around the base and bring the tip into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it, teasing the slit. Eddie is watching over your shoulder, wishing he could take your place, but he’s perfectly content watching. He could get off just from this and he’s not sure what that says about him, not that he cares. 

“Oh my god,” Gareth whines. He’s never experienced anything like this, but now he’s starting to get the hype of all of it, why the men around him are obsessed with being sucked off. 

You pull away all too soon and can hear him whine as he no longer feels your lips wrapped around him. You turn to Eddie and gesture at Gareth’s cock, wanting to let him in on the action. 

“Is that okay?” Eddie looks up at his best friend and Gareth nods enthusiastically. He really doesn’t care who’s sucking him off as long he gets the relief he needs. And besides, they’ve already kissed so what’s a blowjob? 

You move out of the way, wiping the spit from your mouth as Eddie takes your spot. He’s only sucked one other cock before so he at least kind of knows what he’s doing. 

You’re quick to hold his hair back for him as he grabs hold of Gareth and takes him into his mouth as if he’s done this exact thing a million times. He’s mimicking what he just saw you do and you look up to see Gareth grabbing onto the couch cushion again, his eyes shutting tight as Eddie starts to suck, taking more of him little by little, his tongue teasing the slit as he does so. 

You tie off Eddie’s hair with the hair tie on your wrist then move to sit on the couch next to Gareth, feeling like he needs some support. 

“That’s it, baby. Look at you, doing so well,” you encourage him, running your hand through his hair gently. His head is leaning against the back of the couch as he lets out a loud moan in response to Eddie’s work. As if you weren’t wet already, hearing the noise makes you even more so and you reach into your underwear to take care of yourself, your fingers moving rapidly  as you’re still trying your best to encourage Gareth. 

“Holy shit,” he moans again and god, what you’d do to hear him moan your name. 

Eddie’s got all of Gareth in his mouth, his nose pushed into his bush as he’s fully deepthroating it. He’s gagging, but he’s still going, desperately trying to get Gareth and just by the way he’s behaving, you can tell he’s close. But you’re the one who comes first, moaning Gareth’s name so loud that Gareth’s eyes widen as he turns to you. 

Eddie’s still working, his eyes shifting to you and he’s rock hard now as he sees your hand in your panties. Gareth comes not long after you do, screaming loudly as his knuckles are a bright white as he’s holding onto the cushion. 

Eddie’s quick to swallow before pulling Gareth’s cock out of his mouth with a loud pop, watching him with a smug smirk on his face as he sits there, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead. 

You push Gareth’s hair back as you pull your hand from your panties, dangling your slick soaked fingers over his mouth. A small amount drops onto his lips and he makes eye contact as he licks his lips slowly in a seductive manner before taking your hand and putting your fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking on them until they’re clean. 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” You whisper and he wants to, god does he want to, but he’s scared. He’s never actually done it before and he’s afraid that he’s going to do it wrong. But you look so hot and hearing you climax really makes him want to be the reason for you doing so.

“Please,” he whines and your face lights up. Eddie helps Gareth remove his pants from his ankles and you push him so his back is flat against the couch. You remove your panties and let them fall to the floor before lying on top of him, Eddie moving to be right beside the couch so he can watch the whole thing. 

Gareth thinks you’re going to get to it, but to his surprise, you lean down and press your lips to his, this kiss soft and sweet unlike your other ones. It’s slow and you take your time just getting to know his lips thinking to yourself that you could kiss him all night and never get bored. 

“This-this is my first time,” he tells you. “So don’t be surprised if I’m not good.”

“Shit.” You pull away quickly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth again. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No,” he shakes his head as he grabs hold of your hands. “I want to, Please fuck me.” He doesn’t care how pathetic he sounds. He just needs this so bad and he wants you and only you to be his first. 

“If you’re sure. But we can always stop if you’re uncomfortable.” 

“Okay,” he nods. 

“Eddie?” You ask, turning to the metalhead. 

“Hm?” He replies, and for a second, he’s convinced that you’re going to ask him to leave the room. 

“Can I have the condom?” You ask and he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember where he set it. He sees it peeking out from under Gareth’s leg and reaches for it before handing it to you. Once you have it in your hands, you grab hold of his chin and pucker your lips as you lean towards him. 

“Thank you, baby,” you say as you give him a quick peck and for some reason, that’s what makes him blush, not all of the stuff he’s done with his best friend tonight. That was nothing, apparently. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies, now smiling like an idiot as he watches you put the condom onto Gareth. You finally top him and the feeling is so foreign, unlike anything he’s experienced, but it already feels so good. 

You start out slowly, trying to get him used to the feeling as your hands rest on his shoulders and he’s already moaning even though you’ve barely done anything. He has no idea what he’s doing but he knows that he’ll be talked through it. You know it’s his first time so you’re not expecting him to know everything.

Eddie unzips his pants and whips his cock out, spitting into his hand and grabbing hold of his cock, just waiting until it gets hot and heavy so he can get himself off. He goes for it when he watches you help Gareth take off your bra, your hard nipples driving the man crazy. 

You’re picking up your pace and so does Eddie so he can match you, so many noises filling the room between the three of you. 

“Buck your hips,” he tells Gareth who turns to him in confusion. You grab hold of his hips and pull them towards yours to show him what you mean. Once he gets it, he does exactly what you did, causing his cock to go deeper inside. 

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie moans as his hand is pumping even harder. This is better than any porn he’s ever seen and maybe it’s weird that he’s so turned on but neither you nor Gareth seem to care so neither does he. 

Gareth keeps doing what you showed him and other than his nervousness, you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he was a virgin. You think it’s cute that he’s awkward about it. It’s refreshing because too many men are so confident when they’re doing the wrong thing. 

“That’s it,” you encourage. “Just like that. You’re such a good boy.” Gareth is sure that he’s going to come just by hearing that.

“Harder,” Eddie demands and you both do as he asks, taking it to the next level and Eddie’s even more hard as he watches your tits bounce up and down because of how hard and fast you’re moving. Fuck, maybe he’s going to be the one to come first. 

And when he turns to Gareth, seeing how heavily he’s breathing, the sweat dripping down his body, it’s definitely doing something for him and he doesn’t know how the two of them can continue being friends like nothing happened, but that’s a bridge he can cross later. Right now, Gareth is the hottest man he’s ever seen and he’s totally okay with that. 

Gareth’s back arches as another scream falls from his lips, this time, your name slipping out and you’re nothing but flattered, knowing that that is going to be replaying in your head on repeat, what you think of when you have no one around you to get you off. 

“That’s it,” Eddie says. “You’re both doing so good. Just like that.” 

“More,” Gareth slurs and you can’t help but laugh. You’re not even sure that he has any more to give.

“I think we’re done.”

“Done?” He slurs, as if he doesn’t believe you, but you’re already getting off of him and reaching for your dress and slipping it on. 

“We can do this another time, I promise,” you lean down and press a kiss to his lips before handing him his underwear and jeans. Again? As in he can fuck you again and Eddie can watch? God, Eddie really hopes he can watch. 

“Okay,” he smiles and gets his bottom half dressed as you reach for your bra before heading towards the door, the boys following closely behind like lost puppies. 

“Oh, you forgot this,” Gareth holds up your panties and you take them from him before slipping them into his back pocket before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. 

“Keep them,” you wink then turn and give Eddie a kiss as well.  “Don’t worry,” you tell him as you pull away. “You’ll get your turn next time and it’ll be so rough that you can’t walk.” For once, he’s rendered speechless and you just giggle and turn on your heel with your bra and heels in hand, completely oblivious that you’ve turned their world completely upside down.

[pscottm]

Well Operation Save America came, they saw, they harassed, and they annoyed; but they did not close the clinic. The clinic stayed open, no patients were turned away, and the doors never closed. We remain victorious. And that victory is a good thing – but, make no mistake, even though OSA has gone home; our work is not done.

If we were to leave this park and discover that clinic violence had become a thing of the past, never to plague us again, that would be a very good thing, indeed; but, still, our work would not be done.

If we were to find that, while we were here, Congress had acted to insure that abortion would always be legal, that would be a very good thing; but our work would not be done.

If we were suddenly to find a host of trained providers, insuring access in every city, town, village, and military base throughout the world, that would be a very good thing; but our work would not be done.

When every woman has everything she needs to make an informed, thoughtful choice, and to act upon it, we will be very close; but, still, our work will not be done.

As long as women, acting as responsible moral agents, taking responsibility for their own lives and for those who depend on them, have to contend with guilt and shame, have judgment and contempt heaped upon them, rather than the support and respect they deserve, our work is not done.

How will we know when our work is done? I suspect we’ll know it when we see it. But let me give you some sure indicators that it isn’t done yet:

- When doctors and pharmacists try to opt out of providing medical care, claiming it’s an act of conscience, our work is not done.

Let me say a bit more about that, because the religious community has long been an advocate of taking principled stands of conscience – even when such stands require civil disobedience. We’ve supported conscientious objectors, the Underground Railroad, freedom riders, sanctuary seekers, and anti-apartheid protestors. We support people who put their freedom and safety at risk for principles they believe in.

But let’s be clear, there’s a world of difference between those who engage in such civil disobedience, and pay the price, and doctors and pharmacists who insist that the rest of the world reorder itself to protect their consciences – that others pay the price for their principles.

This isn’t particularly complicated. If your conscience forbids you to carry arms, don’t join the military or become a police officer. If you have qualms about animal experimentation, think hard before choosing to go into medical research. And, if you’re not prepared to provide the full range of reproductive health care (or prescriptions) to any woman who needs it then don’t go into obstetrics and gynecology, or internal or emergency medicine, or pharmacology. Choose another field! We’ll respect your consciences when you begin to take responsibility for them.

- Here’s another sign. Did you notice the arguments that were being shouted at us in front of the clinic? They’ve been trying for years, and seem to be pushing especially hard now, to position themselves as feminists – supporters of women. You heard them – yelling that they understand that it’s all men’s fault. That men must do better at supporting women and children so that women, presumably, won’t feel the need to abort. They yelled that they understood that the women going into the clinic had been hurt by men and were reacting to that pain and betrayal. They pledged to help men be more responsible so that women wouldn’t want abortions.

Let me tell you something. Any argument that puts men alone at the center – for good or for bad -- any discussion of women’s reproductive health that ends up being all about men, is not feminism. Nor, for that matter, is it Christian, or reflective of any God I recognize. And as long as anyone can even imagine such an argument, our work is not done.

- And while we’re at it, as long as a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States can argue, as Justice Kennedy recently did, that women are not capable of making our own informed moral decisions, that we need men to help us so that we won’t make mistakes that we later regret; as long as a Supreme Court Justice can deny the moral agency of women simply because we are women – and can do it without being laughed off the public stage forever – our work is not done. What has happened to us that he could even think he could get away with publishing such an opinion? Our work most certainly is not done.

- Finally, the last sign I want to identify relates to my fellow clergy. Too often even those who support us can be heard talking about abortion as a tragedy. Let’s be very clear about this.

When a woman finds herself pregnant due to violence and chooses an abortion, it is the violence that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman finds that the fetus she is carrying has anomalies incompatible with life, that it will not live and that she requires an abortion – often a late-term abortion – to protect her life, her health, or her fertility, it is the shattering of her hopes and dreams for that pregnancy that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman wants a child but can’t afford one because she hasn’t the education necessary for a sustainable job, or access to health care, or day care, or adequate food, it is the abysmal priorities of our nation, the lack of social supports, the absence of justice that are the tragedies; the abortion is a blessing.

And when a woman becomes pregnant within a loving, supportive, respectful relationship; has every option open to her; decides she does not wish to bear a child; and has access to a safe, affordable abortion – there is not a tragedy in sight -- only blessing. The ability to enjoy God’s good gift of sexuality without compromising one’s education, life’s work, or ability to put to use God’s gifts and call is simply blessing.

These are the two things I want you, please, to remember – abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Let me hear you say it: abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done.

I want to thank all of you who protect this blessing – who do this work every day: the health care providers, doctors, nurses, technicians, receptionists, who put your lives on the line to care for others (you are heroes -- in my eyes, you are saints); the escorts and the activists; the lobbyists and the clinic defenders; all of you. You’re engaged in holy work.

Thank you for allowing me to join you in that work for a few days here in Alabama. God bless you all.

Abortion isn’t the lesser of two evils–it is a just and good thing. So says Reverend Katherine Ragsdale:

Let’s be very clear about this: when a woman finds herself pregnant due to violence and chooses an abortion, it is the violence that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman finds that the fetus she is carrying has anomalies incompatible with life, that it will not live and that she requires an abortion — often a late-term abortion — to protect her life, her health, or her fertility, it is the shattering of her hopes and dreams for that pregnancy that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman wants a child but can’t afford one because she hasn’t the education necessary for a sustainable job, or access to health care, or day care, or adequate food, it is the abysmal priorities of our nation, the lack of social supports, the absence of justice that are the tragedies; the abortion is a blessing.

And when a woman becomes pregnant within a loving, supportive, respectful relationship; has every option open to her; decides she does not wish to bear a child; and has access to a safe, affordable abortion — there is not a tragedy in sight — only blessing. The ability to enjoy God’s good gift of sexuality without compromising one’s education, life’s work, or ability to put to use God’s gifts and call is simply blessing.

These are the two things I want you, please, to remember — abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Let me hear you say it: abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done.

What really impresses me about Ragsdale is this bit:

The idea that abortion kills a child, she contends, reflects parental hopes and dreams for the child-to-be, not the reality of what the zygote or fetus actually is. (It is, in her words, “proleptic,” a theological term for anticipated realities that come to be treated as extant in the here and now.)

When pro-choice forces signal their partial acceptance of the abortion-as-child-murder idea, says Ragsdale — which they do when they speak of the “tragedy” of abortion — they may be motivated by political concerns, or by a desire to be respectful and conciliatory. But in the process, they’re ceding precious intellectual ground to abortion opponents, and backing themselves into a tactical corner: how, after all, can you effectively defend something for which you’re simultaneously apologizing?

What’s more, they’re also increasing the likelihood that women who do choose to have abortions will spend their lives tormented by needless guilt. “I suppose it’s possible for an intelligent, faithful person to still believe that there’s no moral difference between a zygote and a baby,” Ragsdale allows. “But there’s no reason for most of us to believe that. And I don’t.”

…”If you want a baby,” says Ragsdale, “and you’ve decorated the nursery, and bought the toys, and named the baby — and then they discover the baby’s organs are growing outside the body, and not only will the baby not survive, but the woman will be torn up trying to deliver it — there’s a tragedy. But the tragedy isn’t the abortion — the tragedy is that you needed one.

I know this won’t convince the hardcore anti-abortionists, but it refreshing to see someone refusing to cede the moral high ground.

[writingsbytee]

THE HOTLINE

SEX OPERATOR TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

*Remember, you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors, please don’t interact!* THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

SUMMARY: Set in the early 2000s. Taking your best friend’s tipsy advice, you decide to call a sex hotline for help with dirty talk and your overall insecurities surrounding sex. When you call your local sex hotline, you get more than what you bargained for when Terry pics up the other line. 

PAIRING: Terry Richmond x Blaire (reader)

WARNINGS: 18+; explicit dirty talk, mutual masturbation

AUTHOR’S NOTE: My brain is being CONSUMED by Aaron right now, so enjoy this piece that's been sitting in my drafts for months because I was too scared to finish it!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

TAGLIST

@blackgurlnhermoods @theereina @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @keehendrixx @keyaho @megamindsecretlair @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrishh @pinkkycherrish @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @urfavblackbimbo @kianaleani @shallipii @pocketsizedpanther @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @nayaesworld @earthchica @simplyzeeka @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @playgurlxoxo @yassbishimvintage @dbaileyblog @jimmybutlrr @versaceslutz @ruewritesoccasionally @kaylalb @rose-bliss

Divider: @anitalenia

“I’m sorry Blaire, I just don’t think we’re sexually compatible,”Devin, your now ex, says. Popping the top off a bottle of Don Julio, you start to make yourself a drink. 

“Okay, you can see yourself out” you say, not even bothering to look at him.

“So that’s it? We’re just done?!” Devin shouts.

“Well according to all the bitches you’ve been talking to, this is long overdue. So Devin, like I said, please get the fuck out of my house,” I look up at him, flashing a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Good luck finding a man who’ll fuck a frigid bitch like you,” Devin snarled, grabbing his coat. 

You rolled your eyes and scoff, trying to act like his words don’t phase you. The rapid beat of your heart says otherwise. “Just get the fuck out,” you say, now bored with this interaction. Devin huffs more insults at you as he grabs the rest of his shit, leaving for good. When you hear the click of my front door, you lock it, grab your drink and settle into the sofa, cutting on the TV. 

You’re on your third drink and feeling a little tipsy, when your home phone rings from it place on the coffee table. A small smile graces your face when I see your best friend Nina’s name on the caller ID. 

Blaire: “Hello?”

Nina: “So, how’d it go?”

Blaire: sighs “We never even made it that far. He broke up with me.”

Nina: “He’s a fucking asshole! All because you and sex don’t have a good relationship?”

Blaire: “Apparently, we weren’t sexually compatible. I mean, he never made me feel comfortable. Never tried to get me in the mood, I’m not just a ‘get up and go’ kind of girl. I need romance, sexual tension, and desire. Devin never tried to help me overcome my insecurities around sex, as long as he got off it was fine.”

Nina: “I’m so sorry boo, you deserve so much better than that!”

Blaire: *voice breaking* “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I don’t want to be like this forever, broken”

Nina: “You are not broken. You just haven’t found anyone who you’ve felt vulnerable enough with to let that side of you come out. Wait, have you tried calling a sex hotline?”

You nearly spit out your drink.

Blaire: “You’re kidding right? No I haven’t tried one, I wouldn’t even know what to say”

Nina: “That’s the thing they’ll do all the prompting for you. It’s helped me just overcome the underlying embarrassment that I’ve had with dirty talk. You should definitely give it a go Blaire. What do you have to lose?”

You contemplated the idea, it never occurred to you to try a sex hotline for your chronic bedroom shyness. What the hell, it couldn’t hurt and, if it turns out to be a complete failure you won’t call ever again. 

Blaire: “Okay, give me the number.”

It’s 11:30 and you’re settled in bed in an oversized tee and fuzzy socks. Twisting up your light pink hair into a claw clip, you flop onto your stomach, turning on the TV. Your  twinkling lights reflect off your tumbler, bathing your room in an ethereal glow. The crumbled piece of paper sits on your nightstand, taunting you. Worrying your lip between your  teeth, you try to weigh the pros and cons. 

“Fuck it,” you mumble, reaching for your phone and the number. With shaky fingers you dial the number, your heart rate skyrocketing when you hear the tell tale dial tone. 

“Thanks for calling ‘the hotline’, how can we help you come today?”, a sultry woman’s voice answers the phone.

“I- I don’t really know what I need,” you say, a slight tremble in your voice.

“Well that’s okay sweetie, what do you want to get accomplished tonight?” the mysterious woman asks. 

“I just want to feel more comfortable talking dirty, and taking initiatives when being intimate. I’m tired of feeling sub-par when it comes to sex. I want to be desired like every other woman” you  said, twirling the phone cord around your finger. 

“Okay, I think I have someone for you. Are you interested in men or women?” She asks.

“Men please,” you say, timidly.

“Perfect! Terry’s going to knock the shyness right out of you. Hold a minute while I connect you. Just remember sweetie, relax and have fun.” With that, she disconnects our call and I hear the beeps of her transferring me. 

There’s a pause on the other end before you hear a throat clear, “Hello?”, a voice that sounds like melted velvet bleeds its way through your phone speakers almost causing you to drop it.

“H- Hi”, you say, the nerves clear as day in your voice. 

“Hey now, don’t be nervous, we're friends, aren’t we baby?”immediately your pussy quivers at the tone of his voice.Who knew a man could sound so sexy? Just the sound of his voice alone was enough to melt the panties of every woman in a five mile radius.

“Sorry, I’ve just never done anything like this before”you said, nervously.

“Well, let’s start slow. I’m Terry, and you are?” Terry asked.

“I’m Blaire. It’s nice to meet you Terry” you say shyly. You hear a raspy chuckle on the other end of the line before Terry says, “Pretty name, and I know the face matches.” Terry stopped tossing the stress ball between his fingers. Something in her voice caused him to lean forward, wanting to hear more, know more about the stranger with the voice like silk.

“What brings you to my little corner of the world, beautiful?”Terry asks, a curious frown on his face. This didn’t sound like one of the usual women he’d talk to. She sounded softer, sweeter, like she had no business calling a sex hotline.  Normally, he’s not supposed to ask for names. Keeping the anonymity was a  part of the thrill for most people, but he also wanted to know your name for his own personal stalker-ish reasons. 

You groan, an embarrassed laugh leaving your lips, “My boyfriend broke up with me today because we aren’t ‘sexually compatible’”

Terry feels his frown deepen in sympathy, “I’m sorry to hear that love. Break-ups are never easy, and let’s face it if you guys aren't ‘sexually compatible’, he probably couldn’t make you come anyway.”

A satisfied smirk makes its way onto Terry’s face when he hears your laugh on the other end of the phone.  

“C’mon sweetheart, tell me I’m wrong,” Terry coaxed, wanting to hear more of your voice. A dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you flip over.

“You’re right. He never made me feel anything south of the equator, which is probably why the sex was horrible. Like not even a twinge,” you finished with a giggle, the liquor getting to you. 

“Well I hope I’m more successful,” Terry says, his voice dropping an octave. You’d only been on the phone with him for a few minutes, but his voice was already working its magic on you. The flush of heat, leading to the gentle flip of your belly. A welcome feeling that you thought might never return. 

“You’re already doing more than he ever did,” you mumble, getting up. 

“Oh am I?” Terry asked, the smirk on his face beginning to darken. He was going to have fun with you.

The silence on your end of the phone was beginning to stretch. Your mind begins to wander, wondering if you made the right decision.

“I’m sorry! This is my first time doing something like this and I don’t know how I should act.”

“Just be yourself baby. I’ll take the lead if that’s okay with you?” Terry asks. He can already feel his balls tightening. Her voice, her innocence, it was beginning to affect him.

“I’d like that, thank you, Terry” you say, settling deep into the comfort of your bed. Your plush pillows surround you while your silk sheets rub against your freshly shaved body. 

“What are you doing now?” Terry asked. Another giggle left your lips as you replied, “Laying in bed watching jeopardy, and talking to you of course.”

“I see we have something in common, I’m a Jeopardy fan myself. Now, tell me beautiful, what are you wearing?” Terry asks, his voice dropping an octave. You feel yourself dampen between your legs at the question. 

“Just an oversized t-shirt and fuzzy socks,” you say your voice taking on a breathy tone.

“I want you to do something for me,” Terry asks. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

“That depends, what do you need me to do Terry?” you ask, a smirk slowly spreading across your face. 

“You’ll let me know if anything I say makes you uncomfortable, yeah?” Terry asks. 

A small hum leaves your lips, your horniness hits you all at once. Blanketing your brain in a haze, “Yes, Terry. I can do that,” your voice already taking on a breathy tone. A low groan leaves Terry’s lips on the other side of the phone. He flexes his hand, itching to wrap it around your throat. 

“Good, I want you to relax for me baby, can you do that?” Terry said, palming his hardening dick.

“Can you help me relax Terry? I’m sound wound up,”you say, not knowing where this burst of confidence came from. It must be the liquor, you thought. 

“Easy love, just breathe for me yeah? Do you want me there with you? So I can rub you down, feel your muscles relax and loosen under my touch. Imagine us lying together, skin pressed close, hearts beating in tandem. I can make you feel so good baby.”Terry coaxed, his own breathing slowing to match yours. His words painted a comforting picture in your mind. You could feel your nipples beginning to harden under the thin sleep shirt. 

Your breathing picked up, his words, his voice igniting something in you that you thought had long been extinguished. Desire. Your body started to warm as horniness hazed your vision. 

“Mm, I wish I could see your face, Terry. I would love to see who’s behind the voice that has my panties so wet,”you purred. Terry’s eyes widened on his side. Your increasing confidence was turning him on, making him hot under the collar. 

“Damn, baby I wish I could see you too. I’m loving this confidence, now tell me sweetheart are you relaxed?” Terry asks. He raises up from his lounge chair in his studio, yanking down his sweats, boxers, and grabbing his baby-oil. 

“What can I say? You bring it out of me. I’d be more relaxed if you were here with me, but this will have to do for now,” you tease. 

“ I love how you’re opening up for me baby.”Terry said. His balls aching with a need to release. You were doing a number on him and you didn’t even know it. Sure he got off with a client every one in a while, but there was something about you that drew him in. Making him want to know more about you, and not just sexually. 

“Are you wet right now pretty girl?” Terry asks, his hand coming up slowly to stroke his dick.

“If I wasn’t I am now,” you say with a slight giggle.

‘That’s my girl,” Terry chuckles. “Put two fingers in your mouth and swirl them around. Let me hear it,” 

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, “You want to hear it, Terry?” Terry groans at the way your name leaves his lips. “Yes baygirl, I want to hear every noise you make. I want to know what I do to you, how I make you feel. Every moan you release is all mine, so you better make sure I fucking hear it.”

A whimper leaves your lips at the dominant tone that Terry’s switched to. As if on autopilot, you bring your hand up to your lips and slide two fingers in. The slick wet noises of your fingers being wet by your tongue travel from your ears to Terry’s. A small moan releases from you at the pure nastiness of it all. Your drool practically leaking down to your wrist. 

“Listen to you, moaning already. You haven’t even touched that pussy for me yet. Blaire, is she wet for me?” Terry groans. His dick bobbed with attention, begging him to wrap his fist around it and tug. 

“I’m so fucking wet, Terry. My thighs are sticking together, when can I touch myself baby? I need to touch myself,” you moaned around your fingers. 

“Soon baby, take that shirt off for me, I need you naked for what I have planned,” Terry rips his own shirt off. His chocolate nipples tighten as they meet the cool air. 

“Rub your nipples for me Blaire. Tease them, tug at them, coat them in your drool until they look like shiny hershey kisses” Terry’s voice had taken on a hard edge, he was getting close and he barely touched himself. As he heard the sweet mewls you released he knew he needed you, and not just for phone sex. 

“You’re doing things to me baby. I usually don’t get like this but I need this, I need you. Can I have you Blaire? Will you be mine?” Terry sounded like a desperate man, begging for pussy but he didn’t care.

“Yess baby I’m yours, I’m yours!,” a high pitched moan leaves your lips as you tweak your right nipple a little too hard. The pain sent a jolt of pleasure right down to your clit. You couldn’t believe yourself, you were opening like a flower to a man you’d never met. 

“Your fingers are now mine baby girl, visualize me tracing my hands along your inner thighs, tracing patterns. Grabbing onto your luscious thigh kneading and tugging, slowly making my way upward, but not close enough to where you want me.”Terry voice lowers, the huskiness of it sounds like a growl. 

“Can I touch myself please Terry? I’m so wet” your moans spurring him on. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised baby. You’ve been wet since you heard my voice haven’t you?” Terry purred, his voice a seductive rumble. “Take a minute and focus on how wet you are. Feel it pooling between your legs, dripping down your ass, and wetting up your sheets. Feel how your body responds just at the thought of me, of what I plan to do to you when I finally get you alone.” Terry’s breath hitched as he listened to your needy whines and whimpers. 

“You want to touch yourself, don’t you baby?” Terry asks. Your reply is almost instant, “Yes please Terry! Can I?”

“Go ahead baby, give yourself some relief. But just know it won’t compare to how my fingers will feel, my lips, and my dick in that wet ass pussy,” his voice thick with need. “Make sure I hear everything, every moan, every gasp, the slick sound of your fingers as they play with my pussy.”

Your fingers glide down your body to come in contact with your wet pussy. A mess of whimpers and moans can be heard through the phone. “Tell me what you want to do to me Terry, are you  going to make me feel good?” you ask, a panting mess.

“I’m going to make you feel better than good baby. Fuck, my dick is rock hard for you Blaire,”Terry moaned, you could hear the slick sounds through the phone as he stroked himself. “I can’t wait to sink this dick deep inside of you, to feel that tight pussy wrap my dick in a warm, wet hug.” Terry’s hand moved faster, pumping his shaft with an increasing urgency as he continued to describe his fantasies out loud. 

His voice dropping to a husky purr, his voice dripping with raw, unbridled lust. “Oh baby, I can’t wait to have you spread open so I can claim you as mine. Eat that sweet pussy until you’re crying, begging me to stop,” his free hand cupping his heavy balls as he stroked his aching dick. 

You’re a moaning mess on the phone. Practically hypnotized by Terry’s words, “I need you, Terry!’ the needy whine left your lips without a second thought. When you dialed your local sex hotline you never thought the man on the other line would excite you, let alone hurl you toward one of the best orgasms you’ve had in months. 

“Fuck baby, you have no idea how much I need you. How bad I want to feel that pussy come for me,” he rasped, his breathing ragged. 

“Tell me how bad you need me baby,” You moan, your fingers form a mind of their own as they find their way inside your warm cunt. Breathless pants and whimpers bleed through the phone spurring on Terry’s need to get you as close as he is. 

“I’d drag you onto the nearest flat surface and fuck you however you want me to. Do you like it rough? I’ll give it to you rough. What about loving and soft, because I can do that too, baby. Your pleasure is my only concern..fuck. I’m hard as fuck for you baby,” he palmed his aching dick harder, the friction sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. 

Your fingers found your g-spot during Terry’s rant, eliciting high pitched squeals from you. “Terry, you have no idea how bad I wish you could be here with me. Nobody’s ever made me feel..unh. Feel like this before”

Terry’s chest heaved with a shuddering sigh at your confession. His heart ached at the longing in your voice, he had to meet you. “Babygirl, I’ve never felt like this before either. I want to meet you baby, can I do that? Can I meet my pretty girl?” This call reduces you both to babbling messes, too consumed in each other to pay attention to the outside world. “If I could only be there in person, baby, feeling your soft lips against mine, tasting how sweet you are,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive head of his dick. 

“I’d fuck you right here on this call, if technology allowed. I’d push into that tight pussy so deep, so hard, that you’d for- forget your own name,” Terry’s voice dropped to a sensual purr, his imagination running wild at the thought of finally getting you alone.

“Come to me, Terry! Fuck! I need you here, I want you baby please! Can’t you hear how wet I am for you? How bad I want you, don’t leave me hanging, please,” more needy cries leave your lips and meet Terry’s ears. He was going to lose his mind if he didn’t have you. 

Terry’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to your sultry whispers, his mind reeling with the intensity of his arousal. “Blaire, baby, you’re killing me with these sexy ass words of yours. I can almost feel your breath on my ear, begging me to take you harder, deeper,” he groaned, hips rocking instinctively as he continued to stroke his engorged member. 

With a deep breath, Terry opened his mouth to say something that would absolutely get him fired, “Give me your address sweet girl, and I’ll be there. I’ll fuck you all night, every way you want me to, don’t you want me there with you baby. I’ll take care of you, I’ll hold you, please you in ways you’ve never felt. Just a few numbers and a street name and I’ll be there.” The horny declaration leaves his heaving chest, but Terry doesn’t regret anything. He just hopes you’ll say yes and give him that address. 

You contemplate the idea. Should you really give your address to a phone sex operator, no matter how sexy the voice. Your buzz had mostly worn off, in its place a crippling horniness. Terry made you feel things you thought were once dead inside you, how could you deny yourself the opportunity that is this man. Being a single black female in a semi-big city, you weren’t an idiot. You had protective measures in place. So with a sigh and a shy giggle to read off your address to Terry. 

“Can you do something for me Blaire?” Terry asks, yanking his sweats up over his aching dick. It’s taking everything in him to stop, but he has to get to you. He has to meet the vixen that's taken hold of him almost instantly. 

“Anything,”you say, so delirious right on the edge of cumming.

“Don’t come until I can get my hands on you,” Terry hangs up the phone, promptly ending your session. Your chest heaving in frustration and desire at Terry’s command, you had something for his ass when he got there.

OH MY GOD!! OBVIOUSLY THERE’S A PART 2 COMING!! 

I could never leave y’all hanging like that, but be warned it might be a while. Getting back into the groove of things and starting a second job has taken up a lot of my time. I’m finding my footing though so more consistent work will be coming. As always I always accept criticism, but please be gentle, I’m a tad but sensitive about my writing. Send me asks and requests, I love reading what you guys come up with! I love y’all to the moon and back thank you so much for consuming my work. 

Until Next Time

Tee <3

[mmmairon]

Delete later. Just need to get some stuff off my chest

[madebycloud]

No Erase

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: on valentine's day, and you've finally worked up the courage to write a letter to your crush confessing your feelings. unfortunately, your friend accidentally gives the letter to the one person you can't stand. warnings/themes: fluff, one sided enemies, valentines, kissing cam, angry confessions, fast burn ig, high school, mordern au words: 10.9k

You look at the letter in your desk, which you spent at least six hours working on to make sure it's perfect. Not just to make sure the words you're choosing are perfect, though—you want to make sure your handwriting is perfect enough that it doesn't look sloppy.

You grab the letter and read it over one last time… lovey-dovey bullshit, sappy stuff, romantic nonsense, etc.

You cringe at the last words, “Meet me at the bleachers... recess.”

It's so cliché, so stereotypical, and maybe you've had a couple too many cheesy romance movies in the past month. You've probably read a dozen fanfics that start like this.

If it were done by anyone other than yourself, you'd think it was absolutely dumb and corny as hell.

You know you could just message them through snapchat or on insta, or facebook, even just confessing through their email is a good idea… but, no, you just can't do that.

What if you say the wrong thing? what if you just happen to say something extremely cringy in your message? what if they screenshot it and put it on their story for everyone to see? what if they reply with “who is this...?” what if they start ignoring you?

Plus, you love your phone too damn much, and you know you're gonna end up throwing the damn thing because of the absolute panic you're gonna feel when your finger hits that send button.

You probably should have just sent a carrier pigeon or something… at least they could eat that.

Oh wait.

You forgot one thing.

You look around your room, trying to figure out what you left out. Your penmanship is on point, the words are as romantic as they could be, and the grammar is perfect... but what's missing?

The perfume.

The bottle of perfume is on your dresser, hiding behind the jewelry case. You spray it liberally, making sure the paper absorbs the smell of it, before finally folding it up neatly and placing it in the envelope. You seal the envelope with a kiss to the paper and hope it's the ‘special touch’ that it needs.

The smell is nice, just enough to have the paper absorbing it nicely, but not enough to be overwhelming (even if you love the perfume to death). You also want your recipient to be able to read the letter without cringing.

Okay, now it's really done. It's romantic, it smells good, and it's as perfect as you can get it.

Tomorrow's the day, and you finally feel confident. You have everything ready to go, you just have to figure out how to get your friend to deliver it to your crush's locker.

As you get ready for bed, the only thing you can't stop thinking about is how tomorrow will go.

Will they love the letter? will they finally realize the feelings you have for them and confess their own feelings? who knows?

—

“Come on,” you whine, begging Ekko for the fifth time. “Just do me this favor, please?”

Ekko just scoffs and gestures to the table. “I already told you, I have all of these-” he motions to the dozens of letters in front of him, “-that i'm supposed to deliver for girls that are crushing on Caitlyn.” He sighs. “I can't add any more to my to do list.”

“Please?” you beg, waving the envelope at him. “It's really important.”

Ekko groans and slumps forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Why can't you just deliver it yourself?”

“It's kinda.. embarrassing… for me to deliver it myself…” You fidget awkwardly.

“Ugh.” Ekko groans again but gives in. “Fine,” he relents, sitting up straight and grabbing the letter from you.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ekko waves his hand dismissively. He stands up and stretches out, letting out a deep sigh as he does. “Just remind me what locker number it is?” he asks, shoving the letters into his bag.

“Locker number is 13 C,” you reply, watching as Ekko slings his bag over his shoulder and starts walking out of the cafeteria. “It's pretty much right next to Caitlyn's, so you won't be missing it.”

“Got it,” he says, turning around and flashing a grin at you. “See ya later.” He gives you a salute before he disappears. 

Finally.

After months of keeping your feelings quiet, your secret would be revealed. You just have to hope that it doesn't blow up in your face.

—

Ekko walks down the hallway, scanning through the numbers above the lockers until he finds the one he's looking for.

Caitlyn's locker.

He scans the area for any sign of Caitlyn, and luckily for him, the coast is clear.

He pulls out the envelopes from his bag, each one slightly crinkled from being stuffed in there. He counts up the total- ten, no, twelve... wait. Fifteen? that's more than he thought, he could have sworn there were less. He dumps all the letters on top of the locker hole.

He looks down at the remaining letter in his hand. Right, that one isn't for her. He sighs and places the letter next to her locker, just like he was told to do.

He gives the locker one last look but doesn't give it a second thought and starts walking away, whistling as he goes.

But... what Ekko didn't know is that instead of placing it into the locker next to it, he accidentally dumped it into 11C, aka, Vi's locker.

—

You wait at the entrance of your school, impatiently bouncing on your feet. Valentine's day is tomorrow, and you can't wait for your crush to read the letter you poured your heart into.

Then, you spot Ekko, and you're quick to greet him. “Hey!” You throw an arm around his shoulders. “So, did you put it in?”

He nods, gesturing to the school doors. “Yeah, I did.”

You sigh, relieved that the letter is in your crush's locker and will likely be seen by them soon. “Thanks.” You give him a squeeze on the shoulder before letting go of him. “I seriously owe you one for this.”

Ekko just brushes you off. “It's nothing.” He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets as you start walking into the courtyard. “Just doing my good deed of the day.”

“Mhm, hopefully tomorrow goes as planned,” you say, “I just hope they like it…”

—

Tomorrow finally comes, and it's the day you've been patiently waiting for. Valentine's day.

You're in your first class, waiting for your teacher to come in. You're distracted, your mind racing with thoughts about what your crush thinks of the letter.

Then, someone suddenly sits next to you, and you turn to look at-

“What the hell?” you blurt out, looking at Vi as she makes herself comfortable in the chair.

Vi smirks. “Hey,” she greets.

That smirk alone pisses you off.

You still haven't gotten over the fact that because of her, your grades had taken a nosedive. The two of you had been paired together in science class, and she'd somehow managed to blow up the experiment, all because she wasn't paying attention.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you snap, glaring at her.

She simply glances at you, then back at the desk she's sitting on. “What do you think? I'm sitting.”

The audacity? 

“I know that, but why are you sitting next to me?”

“Come on, don't act like you don't know.” She throws in a wink, and your disgust quickly multiplies.

“Excuse me?” you sputter, completely caught off guard by her sudden flirtatious behavior.

“You really gonna act like you don't know?"

“No?”

She scoffs and leans towards you, smirk on her lips. “I mean,” she adds, eyeing you up and down, “I thought you'd be... happy... to see me.”

You're stunned, confused, and quite frankly, grossed out. “Happy to—WHY ON EARTH would I be happy to see you?” you spit out.

She huffs and slumps back into the chair. “Oh wow, thanks for the warm welcome.”

“Well, what did you expect? You haven't exactly been... pleasant to be around.”

She narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to reply but stops short as the teacher enters the classroom.

She finally shuts up, and you're left wondering what just happened. Why in the world is someone who is a pain in your butt cheeks suddenly flirting with you? is there something wrong with her? or has she lost her damn mind?

—

It's recess, and you're sitting on the bleachers, waiting for your crush to show up.

Your palms are sweating, you're starting to worry that your armpits are going to start smelling, you're probably going to end up throwing up on someone's shoes.

The letter was probably too much. The words were too romantic. The whole cliché “meet me at the bleachers” thing was just cringe. Who wrote that? oh right... you did.

But even if the outcome isn't what you hope for, at least you've got a good story to tell later or maybe a good reason to drown yourself in ice cream and cheesy rom-com movies.

You look around the bleachers once, twice, three times. You try to avoid glancing at your phone, but the urge to check the time only grows stronger.

It doesn't help that a couple of assholes are sitting a few feet away from you, loudly laughing at some video playing on one of their phones.

Recess is almost over, and your crush is still not here. Where the hell are they?

Maybe they could possibly be in the bathroom, having a nervous breakdown like you were? or maybe they're just taking their sweet time, making sure they're looking perfect?

Or maybe they're not coming at all.

And then you hear footsteps coming your way,

THIS IS IT.

Is your hair okay? yes. Are your teeth brushed? yes, dumbass.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms, trying to calm your racing heart. You turn around, ready to see the face of an angel, the face of a goddamn god-

But instead you see the face of someone you'd rather shove into a brick wall.

Vi.

Why the hell is she... smiling at you?

“Damn, you look good from this angle.” 

WHAT?

Why is this goddamn lesbian here with that stupid smile on her face?

“Why are you here?”

“Isn't it obvious? I'm here to see you.” She pulls out an oddly familiar envelope from her pocket and holds it in her hand, and you realize why it's so familiar.

Wait...  that's your letter!

The one you wrote to your crush. The one that's meant to be in their locker, not in her damn hands.

How the hell did it end up with her?

She looks at the envelope, studying the handwriting on it, and then her eyes lock with yours again. “This is yours, right?”

Your hand quickly snatches the envelope from her hand. “How the fuck did you get that?”

Vi quickly snatches the envelope away, holding it out of your reach. “Whoa, woah, wait-”

“Give me that!” You lunge for the envelope, but she sidesteps you.

Vi laughs, holding the envelope away from you. “Isn't this for me?” She opens the envelope and throws it aside, then pulls out the letter and starts reading it aloud. “Dear... what the hell, how do you... whatever. Dear blah, blah, blah, happy valentine's da-”

“-SHUT UP!” You try to snatch the letter again.

“Hey, I'm not done reading it yet! This is my valentine's gift, after all.”

“That letter is meant for someone else!”

“Really? Then why did I find it in my locker?”

“Wait, what? You found it in—you're joking, right?”

She shakes her head, waving the letter in front of you. “Nope, I'm not joking.”

“How did you-”

“Someone put it in my locker.”

“That's impossible! I would never—I mean to you? there's no way that was meant for you.”

Vi squints at the words in the letter, then looks up at you again. “But this is definitely written in your handwriting, right?”

How did it end up in her locker? and how the hell does she even know what your handwriting looks like?

Your eyes dart from the letter in her hands to her face. Yes, it's definitely your handwriting. Yes, it's definitely the same stupid letter you wrote because you're a hopeless romantic.

“Maybe,” you grumble.

“Maybe? so it is yours?”

You avoid her gaze, avoiding her smug look.

She starts reading over the letter again, reading it aloud. “Meet me at the bleachers, how goddamn cliché-”

“STOP READING IT!”

“Damn, I didn't think you could be this corny.”

“Shut up, just-” You try to snatch the letter out of her hand once again, but she pulls her arm away.

“You wrote this much for someone?”

“Why do you care so damn much, anyway? You didn't get a valentine gift or something?” and now you're just being bitchy as well.

“What are you, ten?” she retorts.

“And what are you, an idiot?”

“I'm not an idiot, unlike you.”

“Oh, wow, are we back in sixth grade now?”

She looks down at the letter. “I'm not the one who wrote a heartfelt letter for someone who probably doesn't even like you.”

“And how the hell would you know?”

“Have you even talked to them before?” She lifts her head, her smirk coming back when you didn't answer. “Since whoever the hell you have a crush on doesn't like you-”

“They could still-”

“See, everyone has a valentine. Well, almost everyone, which means your crush probably got one too.”

“Yeah, 'cause you got that letter they were supposed to receive.”

“Maybe I was meant to have it then.”

“You're seriously that sure that the universe wants you to have this?”

“Maybe it's a sign.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Are you just dumb on purpose?”

She grins. “I'm not doing it on purpose, and maybe it's a sign that I should be your valentine, that the universe is trying to tell you something.”

You roll your eyes. “Wow, so confident. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're actually serious.”

“And what if I am serious?” You look at her blankly as she shrugs. She actually thinks she's funny. “I mean, you don't have a valentine, which does kind of suck, and I don't have one, which is by choice, by the way, so I think the universe is clearly telling us something.”

What the actual hell is wrong with her today? she didn't get enough sleep or something, and now she's acting like... like this? this is weird.

She's being weird. 

“What, is the universe now trying to set us up? really? we're gonna get a movie based off this?”

“Hey, no one said this was a movie, maybe it's just a cute little high school romance,” she argues back. “Plus, you put a lot of work into this letter, and I'd hate for it to go to waste.”

“I'm not in the mood to start a cute little high school romance with you, okay?”

She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Look,” she says, holding up a hand to stop you from replying, “it's valentine's day, right? and we both don't have anyone, so it's just... for today, we can, you know... see what happens, and if it doesn't work out, then we can just leave it alone and go back the way we were.”

You blink slowly. “That sounds worse than your whole ‘the universe wants us together’ bullshit.”

“Wow, don't act like the idea of it is so awful. I mean, I'm not that bad, right?”

You're going to disagree with that with every single cell in your body, but you decide not to, instead, you just remain silent.

Vi seems to take your silence as agreement because she gives you this insufferable smirk like she just won something.

She continues. “It makes sense if you think about it. We're both single, you're already in a lovesick mood because of this,” she gestures at the letter, “so if we do, you know... we can get it out of your system, and you won't have to spend the rest of the school year pining over some person who is probably ignoring you anyway.”

Why is she making some sense? no, why is she sounding like... a good option all of a sudden?

“It's just for today,” she reminds you again. “We'll just see where it goes. Who knows, you might actually have some fun with me.”

This feels like you're cheating on your crush for even entertaining this stupid plan. 

“You're basically saying that we're going to spend one day together and then you'll ditch me?” you retort.

“No, that's not what I'm saying,” she corrects you. “I'm saying we're gonna spend one day together, and if it doesn't work out, then we go our separate ways. It's just one day, it can't hurt. It won't be such a big deal.”

“I'm not going to be your one day entertainment.”

“Who said you'd be my entertainment?” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at you. “You and I both know you have no other options. What're you gonna do instead, go home and cry over this person who doesn't even know you exist, or just spend the day wallowing in self pity while the rest of the school is celebrating love and stuff with their actual valentines?”

You wince at her harsh words because...  she's got a point.

You don't have anyone to spend this day with, and the person you'd want to spend it with will probably spend it with someone else... so yeah, you have no plans, and yeah, you're probably going to just go home and wallow in self pity, wishing that today was over already.

What would happen, actually? if you go along with her stupid plan. You could finally have an escape from pining over your stupid crush who probably doesn't even notice you.

“Fine.” You snatch the letter back from her.

“Wait, what? really?” She's actually surprised. No wonder, she's the one who came up with this stupid plan in the first place.

“I am,” you say, “you don't want me to?”

She huffs out a laugh. “No, no, of course not. I just… didn't expect you to actually agree.”

“And why is that?”

“I don't know, I figured you'd still have a little bit of decency left in you.”

What a backhanded compliment. “I have plenty of decency left in me, it's you who I'd question, and besides... it's just for today.” You fold the letter and shove it into your pocket.

Vi hums, not taking that offense to your comment. “Just today,” she repeats. “Then tomorrow, boom, everything goes back to normal.”

You nod. “Back to normal.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Whoa woah woah. Calm down. “Ew, what?”

“I didn't say I will kiss you,” she points out, “I said I could.”

You could say something mean to her words, you could try to change the subject or you could just walk away and forget this conversation ever happened.

But what you actually say is, “What's stopping you then?”

You hate how that sounds so casual. It wasn't meant to come out like that. What the hell?

You're not entirely sure, but something is definitely encouraging you to keep this going. Is it because you find everything she does annoying or that you've been pent-up over your stupid crush lately and you need to get it out of your system?

Vi raises an eyebrow at your words. “You want me to kiss you?” The words drip out of her mouth, like honey on a spoon.

“No,” you reply on instinct, because of course not.

But you can't stop the way your eyes flicker down to look at her lips. You look back at her face, and you know damn well she saw you look down at her lips, but she doesn't say anything about it.

“So now that it's official... you're my valentine, and today, we're going to have the shittiest, most awesome date-” she coughs, “-i mean hangout, that you'll ever have.”

“I doubt it.”

“Hey,” she says, “don't underestimate me, okay? I know how to have a good time,” and then she, god help you, she winks at you.

She looks like she's about to say something more, but she stops when the bell rings.

“Meet me at the parking lot after class?” she asks.

You find yourself nodding. “Yeah, sure.” You look at the field for a second and then look back, just so you can catch her reaction—and it's not at all what you were expecting. She's...  blushing?

It's subtle, more subtle than you'd think, but her cheeks are definitely red, and when she realizes you notice her, she looks away.

She looks embarrassed.

She's embarrassed?

“Anyway, see you there... valentine.” She doesn't look at you. “Try not to miss me too much.”

What? miss her? She sounds like she's trying to joke about it, but something about the way she says it sounds sincere? What the fuck?

She starts to walk away. You're pretty sure you see another smile on her face, and if you didn't like her so much, you'd probably like how she looks when she does.

But you remind yourself, this is Vi.

The same Vi you've known for years, the same Vi who made your grades worse because of a stupid experiment, the same Vi who you'd probably love to throw out the nearest window if you could, and the same Vi you can't stand.

You force yourself to turn away, and you start to walk back to the school building. You try to push the image of her stupid blushing face and her stupid pretty smile out of your brain because you are not... going to make the mistake of being attracted to her.

—

Time passes by more slowly than a snail.

What's the saying...? ‘A watched pot never boils?’ You're pretty sure you could watch paint dry, and it would move at a faster pace.

Why is time passing so slowly today?

You're not sure if it's because you have this... ‘hangout’ to expect at the end of the day or if it's because you keep getting distracted by the thoughts of what is going to happen later.

What you do know is that you end up spacing out way too much more than a person should.

Thankfully, you don't have any homework, but your notes for the day are just absolutely horrible, a mindless mess of scribbles and pointless words. You're definitely going to regret this later.

The last bell mercifully rings just as you're in the middle of doodling a small sketch of Vi's face in the corner of your notes.

You quickly shut your notebook and stuffed everything into your bag.

You need to find your goddamn common sense first, but it seems to have left the room before you could.

The hallway is a goddamn mess.

Kids are running everywhere in the halls, screaming loud as hell, some girl is trying to stuff her locker to the point where it's going to explode, and some kid has got a goddamn boombox and is blasting music from it. There's the hallway drama that everyone loves listening to even though they should be minding their own business.

Seriously, it feels like you're in the middle of a goddamn jungle with the amount of people screaming.

Walking to the parking lot takes longer than it usually would. When you get there, you see a familiar head of pink hair leaning against a red motor, scrolling through something on her phone.

She hasn't noticed you yet, and you find yourself unable to move your feet for a second.

She's just leaning back against the motorcycle, lazily swiping through something on her phone. She's even biting her lower lip slightly, and for some reason, you really don't know why that's such a good look on her.

Okay, what?

You need to stop letting your brain run away with these thoughts.

You are not going to act like a middle school idiot who just got caught looking at her crush or something. You're an intelligent, mature human being. You're definitely not some dumb kid with an embarrassing crush either. Definitely not.

The sunlight makes her glow, and when she looks up from her phone, you feel you're hit with a wave of goddamn sun poisoning because the sunlight hitting her eyes makes them shine.

She looks over and sees you, shoving her phone into her pocket. She gestures you over with a slight jerk of her head.

You force your feet to start cooperating and get your ass over there.

“Glad you came.” 

What kind of response would even be the right one for that? “Me too” would sound too enthusiastic. “Yep” sounds so disinterested, like you'd rather be anywhere else than here, when that might be partially true, but you're not trying to sound like a dick. “Same here” sounds like such a sarcastic tone, and “Of course I'm here, you're the one who forced me into this” would sound too rude.

Instead, you just say nothing, which she notices, of course.

“What, no smart shits today?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you mutter as you turn your attention to the red motor behind her. You notice the scuffed up leather seat and the worn tires.

You then glance around the parking lot, wondering how many times you've seen this before. The motorcyclist who's always late to class, the seniors who smoke too much and are always ditching school, the students with cars who love to show off the brand new car their parents gave them, and the popular girls gossiping about some poor girl who can't afford nice clothes.

The sound of a motorcycle engine starting snaps you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Vi getting onto the motorcycle

She pats the back seat behind her. “You getting on or what?”

“...is it like fast?”

“Is it like fast?"” she mimics in a childish tone before rolling her eyes. “Yeah, it's fast. Get on it and find out.”

“I just asked a question, no need to be a dick.”

“Are you always this bitchy?” she asks, then throws you a helmet. “Put this on.”

You catch the helmet, and you put it on. “Only around you.” You approach the motor and try not to comment on the poor condition and instead climb on behind her.

You have no idea what to do with your legs, so for a few seconds, you just awkwardly sit behind her, trying to position yourself like riding a horse.

“Are you gonna hold on?” Vi calls out.

“Hold on to what?”

“Me, dumbass. Grab my waist.”

“Hell no.”

“It's for your own safety.”

“I'm fine,” you shift around, trying to find a comfortable position.

Vi seems to start losing her patience with you. “If you want to fall off the bike mid ride and splatter onto someone's yard like a squashed bug, be my guest.”

That gets you to hold onto her waist out of pure spite.

“Just don't squeeze my abs too tight. I still need air.”

You scoff. “Who the hell is so narcissistic that they think something as simple as that would affect me?”

She huffs, amused by your snark, and puts on her own helmet. “It's not narcissism. It's just a joke,” she retorts. 

You scoff again, but your hand tightens around her waist reflexively.

She chuckles. “Knew you couldn't resist.”

You pinch her waist. “Just shut up and drive.”

She snorts. “Touchy, aren't we?”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply sarcastically, pinching her waist again.

“Hey!” she exclaims, then sighs. “Okay, fine. I'll stop, just stop it.”

She starts the motor, and the hum of the engine vibrates throughout your body. It's louder being sat on top of the thing compared to how it sounds when you're on the ground. You feel this rumble throughout your chest, and you really want to comment on the poor thing making that much noise.

“Just hold on tight.”

—

“FUCK YEAH! WOOO!” you shout, punching the air with your fist and standing up. It's hockey, but who cares? you're not a fan, not in the slightest, but you're still screaming and cheering, all in a bid to support the team.

Vi is right beside you, shouting as well, while she eats a hot dog and washes it down with soda. “I thought you hated hockey!” she shouts over the crowd's cheers.

You shrug, but it's impossible to respond. You can't hear each other over the sound of the audience's cheers.

A few of the people sitting in the same section as you give you some weird looks, like you suddenly went insane. Well, can you really blame them? it probably looks like you have the sudden urge to yell random things for no reason.

Vi is the only one who doesn't look at you like you're some lunatic, her gaze is focused on the game, all while cheering, and occasionally making comments about the players.

It's different compared to watching it on TV. You're actually there, in person, surrounded by people who share your excitement and are as loud as you or louder.

You're also next to the most annoying person ever, but you don't want to dwell on that.

You drop down, back into your seat, and lean back, stretching your legs out. Your thighs and legs are starting to feel like jelly from all that screaming and standing. “Damn,” you tell her, shaking your legs. “I think I just strained a muscle or something.”

Vi laughs and sits down on her seat. “You know, I've been around here for years now. I probably know some people here.” She glances around the crowd of people, scanning them like she's trying to find someone in particular.

“Oh yeah? who's that in the third row then?”

She follows the direction of your finger and immediately points at a random person. “That's Fred! I once went to elementary with him.”

You have no idea if she's making that up or not. “And what about the guy next to him with the big hat?”

Vi squints at the section you pointed at. “That's George.” She then points at a girl with a black jacket. “That's Sneha,” she pauses, her eyes catching someone in the distance, “and oh-” her hand abruptly changes direction, pointing forward, “-that's Jenny,” she says, waving her hand. “Yo, Jen!”

The old lady turns around and nods her greeting. “Hi sweetheart, how's it going?”

“Doing good, gramps. Just watching the game with this one.” She nudges at you.

The old lady turns to look at you, her face taking the form of a smile. “Ah, a girlfriend, I see.”

Girlfriend? What's she talking about? “Um, no. Just a friend.”

Vi's eyebrows rise as her whole mouth goes ajar. “Friend?” she repeats, “We're friends now?”

“Only for today. Don't get used to the idea.”

The old lady hums. “Is that so? well, enjoy the game, children.”

“Yeah, yeah, we will,” Vi responds to the old lady, and once the lady turns back to watch the game, she leans in close, bumping her shoulder into yours. “That's Jen. She's basically the team's grandma,” Vi explains. “She's been here for years, goes to almost every game.”

You watch the lady continue to watch the game. “So she's like a regular here.”

“Yeah, sometimes she talks about how things were better in ‘her day.’”

“You two seem close though,” you point out.

“She's old and friendly,” she says, scratching her cheek. “Plus, old ladies are always fond of me. I helped her one time with her groceries after one game, and now she thinks I'm a sweetheart.” Vi shrugs, taking another bite of her hotdog. “She's also a nice lady. Always has candy and stuff to give out to everyone.”

“Candy, huh?”

“Yep,” she swallows and smacks her lips to get any food out from her mouth. “She always has peppermint discs, peppermint sticks, and chocolate sticks in her bag.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Why does she have candy anyway?”

Vi takes another bite. “Just something she likes to give out,” she says, between chews, then points at the old lady's lap. “That blue thing she's knitting is actually a hat. She likes to give that out too.”

“Really?”

Vi shrugs again, eating yet another mouthful of her food, still somehow managing to speak at the same time. “Yeah, and don't be fooled by the knitting and the candy. She could beat you in a game of arm wrestling. She's still really buff.”

You nod silently, impressed with this old lady.

When Vi swallows the last bit of her hotdog, she pulls out her phone and points it at you. “I'm gonna take a picture of you... and put it on Tinder.” The second the camera's click sounds off, it takes everything in you to not grab her phone and throw it across the goddamn stadium.

She continues taking pictures, each time saying something different, like, “Look at this one,” or “This one's really good.” She holds up the phone, showing you a picture that's... actually not half bad.  But you know giving her that reaction would just fuel her to do more, so instead, you scoff.

You turn your attention back to the stadium, trying to ignore whatever she's doing beside you. You look around. There are a surprising amount of men, guys, dudes, bros, etc. It's like they outnumber the women.

“There's a lot of dudes in here,” you comment. “Is it a testosterone fest over here, or what?”

Vi looks around as well. “Yep.”

“Do you think any of these guys like girls who love sports?”

Vi snorts. “Nah,” she replies, shoving her phone back into her pocket. “They're more interested in a girl who looks good in a jersey and knows how to bring them a cold beer.”

“So… basically they're only interested if we look cute and we don't open our mouths?”

“Pretty much.”

You groan. “I hate guys like that.”

“Hey, some guys aren't that bad,” she remarks.

“Yeah, and they're the ones in relationships.”

She thinks about it for a moment. “You know… I'm surprised you're not in a relationship.”

You give her a weird look. “Why?”

“Well, you're... y'know… cute.”

Is that a compliment or a fact? you are cute, you're aware of that, but still, it's weird how she said it and... did it look like there was a hint of something else in her tone of voice when she said that?

You force a smile, trying to brush it off. “Thanks.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, a silence you really want to fill with literally anything else than this weird awkwardness.

Just when the awkward silence couldn't possibly get more awkward, a sudden cheer from the crowd interrupts your thoughts. They're all looking up at something on top of the stadium. You furrow your brows before looking up, trying to see what it is they're looking at.

Your eyes land on the huge TV that's attached to the ceiling, and you see the words ‘KISSING CAM’ flashing in bright letters. The camera pans through the crowd, searching for a couple, and it lands on a couple who's sitting not too far from you.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” You look over at Vi and see her cupping her hands over her mouth. She's standing up and shouting at the couple to kiss.

You watch as the girl looks up and sees the camera pointed towards her and her boyfriend. She whispers something to him, and it doesn't take a genius to know what she just said. The guy grins and leans in, giving his girlfriend a sloppy, wet kiss.

The crowd goes crazy, cheering and whistling. The couple pulls away from each other, both of them smiling.

You look at Vi again, who's still standing up. She seems to be enjoying this a lot more than you are, and you can see hearts in her eyes.

Once it seems like the camera has recorded enough footage, it moves to the next couple.

It goes to a couple sitting not too far away from you. The guy looks uncomfortable, but his girlfriend is completely eager to show some public affection. She grabs his chin and kisses him, but it’s only a quick, chaste kiss.

Vi yells out, “Come on, put some effort into it!” and then she sits down, leaning back in the chair.

The camera pans through the crowd again, skipping over several couples until finally landing on a group of guys. They look like they're having the time of their life, yelling at the camera and making rude gestures.

“Ah, boys…” an older man next to you sighs.

The camera captures the guys for a while, they're all laughing and having a good time.

The camera moves away from the group of guys and lands on Vi and a girl sitting right next to her. 

Vi immediately makes some hand gestures, shaking her head and probably saying no. “We're not-” but before she can finish, the camera moves away from them, unsatisfied with this answer, and lands on the other girl sitting next to Vi.

You.

Fuck.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” you hear someone, it sounds like the same person who cheered on the other couples.

You look over at Vi, who's watching you with this stupid smile on her face. You glare at her, she's clearly enjoying this way too much.

You lean over to her, through clenched teeth, you hiss, “This isn't funny.”

She shrugs, still smiling. “I think it is.”

“Well, I don't.” 

“It's only a kiss.”

“It’s still embarrassing.”

“Oh come on, it's Valentine's Day!” she replies. “What? are you worried that you'll suck at kissing or something?”

“Excuse me? I am an excellent kisser.”

“Oh yeah?” She quirks an eyebrow. “Then why are you so worried about this? it won't be some gross open mouth kiss, it'll be just a little peck.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Because I don't want to be seen kissing in public, in front of hundreds of people,” you say, lowering your voice, “And I definitely do not want to kiss you.”

“Come on, you don't have to sound so disgusted by the idea of kissing me.”

“Because I am,” you say simply. “I don't want to kiss you anymore than you'd want to kiss me.”

“I never said I didn't want to kiss you.”

That statement takes you by surprise, you had just assumed that she would be grossed out by the thought of kissing you.

The chants start to get louder as more and more people join in. “KISS! KISS! KISS!”

You hear the same guy from before. “Kiss! c'mon! it's just a quick kiss, do it.”

You hear another girl from behind you. “Oh, come on! one little kiss! what's the big deal?”

It's no big deal. 

But at the same time, you're starting to panic. You don't even know how to act right now, are you supposed to play along with this? are you supposed to ignore it? what the hell is happening?!

Your brain is starting to mush into mush because why are so many people chanting? why are they making such a big deal out of this? it's just a kiss, right? right… so why are you so nervous?

You turn your head to see Vi looking at you, her eyes staring into your soul.

“A kiss on the cheek will do,” she says aloud.

You're going to die.

Your heart is going to explode right here, in the middle of the stadium, and then your guts are going to spill out right in front of everybody.

Maybe it's best just to get this over with?

All you have to do is... just a kiss on the cheek. That's it.

You just have to get it over with before this turns into something bigger.

You're not really gonna enjoy this, you'd just get the feeling like you should have brushed your teeth harder in the morning.

Vi's not even attractive in the way that you would want to kiss her cheek, her skin probably sucks from waking up in the mornings, there's no way she remembers to wash her hair at least three times a week. What about her breath? There is no way that she actually brushes her teeth every day. Her breath probably tastes like stale cheetos and mountain dew. There is no way you're gonna get a single bit of pleasure from kissing her cheek.

But you do it anyway.

You press a kiss on her cheek, and it's... warm, and they burn under your lips. The smell of her body spray isn't overwhelming. It's subtle and pleasant. Her hair isn't as greasy as you imagined, and it feels kinda nice when your fingers brush against the side of her face. Her breath doesn't even smell like mountain dew and cheetos, it's actually minty and fresh, like she just ate a pack of gum.

You pull your face away before you let your brain get to you, but you just keep looking at her face because there is this huge grin plastered on her face that makes your heart beat faster. Her cheeks look red, and the tips of her ears are even red too.

The crowd goes nuts. You can barely hear the music or the announcers over the chanting. The kiss had lasted all but a few seconds, but the feeling on your lips linger.

You're both looking at each other like you've just seen each other for the very first time.

She's actually gorgeous.

How is it possible that you only now realized how beautiful she looks?

You look away, but even in your peripheral vision, you can see her looking at you. There's still a stupid grin on her face, and she looks happy.

She's actually happy that you kissed her on the cheek.

—

You and Vi are sitting in the parking lot after the game ends. Vi had bought some $5 pizza, but since the place is packed, you're now sitting in the parking lot with Vi's motorcycle parked behind you.

“I'm gonna be honest,” Vi starts, her face twisted up as she chews on a slice of pizza. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

You hum, nodding along.

Vi takes another bite, a big one, and chews on it, her cheeks stuffed. She swallows and sighs contently. “Man, I should have bought two boxes,” she grumbles, looking down at the one last slice left in the box. Then, she looks up, straight at you, and grins. “You want the last slice?” she offers, holding up the box with the slice still left in it.

You shake your head, and she looks at you with skepticism. “Are you sure you don't want it?”

“I had three slices already, I'm fine.”

Vi looks at the slice of pizza that's still in the box, then at you. She looks like she's considering something, then shrugs and pops the slice into her mouth. “Suit yourself,” she says, the words garbled since her mouth is still full of food.

Something about this moment feels... comfortable. Strangely comfortable.

It's weird. You don't understand why you don't feel threatened or uncomfortable or annoyed or any of those things, even though she's sitting right next to you.

But, oddly enough, you feel safe.

Or maybe that's just because you can't think of anything to say.

Or maybe it's because the silence isn't awkward.

Or maybe it's because you're distracted by the way she seems to enjoy her food.

Because... it's so... weirdly satisfying, watching her chew her food, watching her swallow, watching her use the back of her hand to wipe off the sauce on her chin.

You have no idea why you're paying attention to those little details.

But... you are.

You're not sure when you started paying attention to those.

You're not sure why you feel so comfortable around her right now.

You're not sure of a lot of things, actually.

You're not sure how to feel at the moment, or when your dislike of her had dwindled down to... whatever the hell this is, to whatever this weird, unfamiliar feeling in your chest is.

You're not sure why the corners of your lips keep trying to twitch upwards every time she makes some stupid face.

You're not sure why you're fine sitting in the freezing cold of the parking lot. Not even on the motorcycle, but on the cold ass ground, just sitting behind the motor, back leaned against it.

You're just fine sitting here, and you're just fine knowing that after this, you'll have to go back home and deal with a bunch of bullshit again.

You don't get it.

What changed?

She used to get on your nerves, and you used to get on hers.

She's still the same, isn't she?

And you're still the same.

Everything, suddenly, feels... different.

The air feels different, the atmosphere feels different, the whole world feels different.

The only thing that hasn't changed is her.

Well, no, that’s a lie.

She has changed.

She feels different.

She's not the same girl you can't stand.

And you're not the same girl she can't stand.

Everything is just different.

Maybe the two of you had changed.

But you're not sure how.

You're not even sure when you started noticing it.

But those little details about her, those little behaviors and quirks and habits that you used to find irritating and annoying… they're not bothering you anymore.

She's still a pain in the ass, but she's... well, a tolerable one.

For now.

You don't understand.

Or, rather, you won't allow yourself, at least not yet.

Because you're not sure how to process everything.

And, honestly, you're afraid to even try.

You look at her, still eating on the slice of pizza, and there's a small smear of sauce on the corner of her mouth. “You've got something on your face.”

She tilts her head. “I do? Where?”

Your eyes slowly move down, from her eyes to her nose, and then... her lips. Then, you notice something... freckles. She has freckles. little ones, spread across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and they're… really cute, really, really-

What in ever loving hell are you thinking?

“Hello? you alive over there?”

You snap out of it. You're not about to let her see you be weak just because she happens to have a pretty face. “You had something right… here,” before she can respond, you raise your hand, reaching for her cheek. You wipe the sauce off the corner of her mouth with your thumb. Your thumb accidentally brushes against her lower lip, and something in your chest twitches. 

Vi freezes, her eyes widening as you touch her lips.

Everything feels... slower.

You can hear the sound of her breathing as she exhales, how it hitches when you brush your thumb along her lower lip.

You don't know how, or when, but you find yourself leaning closer to her, your hand still cupped on her cheek.

Her gaze flicks to your lips, her own parting slightly.

...

Holy shit.

You snatch your hand away, realizing what you just did.

Damn it, what the fuck?

You quickly stand up, trying to regain your composure. “I-” Your voice comes out as a croak. You clear your throat, trying to sound normal. “I should... get home. I think it's getting late.”

Vi is still sitting on the ground, and then she shakes her head, as if waking herself up. “...right. Yeah, it is getting late.” She slowly stands up.

“I... umm…” you start awkwardly. “I should-”

“I'll... drive you home,” she interrupts whatever you were about to say. 

Your head snaps up, surprised by the offer. “What? You don't have to-”

“I want to.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, so you shut your mouth. You don't want to prolong this weird, confusing moment anyway.

—

Vi's motorcycle comes to a stop in front of your house. The engine making that clunky, sputtering sound before it finally dies.

“We're here,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence that has been between the two of you since you got on the motorcycle.

You manage to finally slide off the motorcycle, but unfortunately, you're still attached to the helmet. You attempt to unbuckle the chin strap, but the damn thing seems to be glued to your head.

“Ugh, this piece of crap,” you mutter, struggling with it.

“Here, let me-” she cuts in, reaching for the straps.

“No, I got it,” you insist.

“I know you can, but let me.” 

You glare at her, feeling stubborn, but it's not like you're getting anywhere. “Fine.” You let your hands fall to your sides as she reaches for the straps.

She unbuckles it with ease, finally freeing your head from its confines.

You take the helmet off and give it to her, trying to not make eye contact. “Thanks.”

There's a moment of what could be an awkward silence before you both speak at the same time.

“So-”

“I-”

You cough awkwardly. “Go ahead.”

“No, you can speak first-”

“No, no, I insist. Go ahead-”

“I'm fine-”

“Stop being stubborn-”

“Says you-”

“Yeah, I am stubborn-"

“Shut up-”

“Make me-”

What did she say? Was that... an invitation?

“Are you challenging me-”

She snorts. “Pfft, no, that-”

“Then why would you say something like that?”

“I don't know, thought it'd be funny.”

“It wasn't.”

“It was a little funny.”

“No, it wasn't,” you scoff. “Whatever. You were saying?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, shifting on the motorcycle. “I just wanted to say…” Her gaze shifts from you to the side, then back to you. “I just wanted to... say that I had... fun today. Yeah…” She shrugs. “What about you? what were you sayin'?”

Huh. “I guess it wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

“Wow,” she says, deadpan. “So glad you're not completely miserable being around me.”

“Don't get your hopes up too high, it's just for today, remember?” you remind her.

“Yeah, I remember, I'm not an idiot.”

“Could have fooled me,” you retort, and a smirk makes its way to your face.

“Watch it,” she warns, the corners of her mouth curving upwards. “I'm only tolerating you today.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you quip back.

The two of you share a look and then start laughing. You're glad she's starting to loosen up a little.

“Alright alright, truce?” She holds out her fist.

You roll your eyes but bump your fist with hers anyway. “Truce.” 

There's another silence, but it doesn't feel... awkward like the last ones.

Then, she speaks up, “Well... I guess I should go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “I guess you should.”

“See you at school, then?”

“Unfortunately,” you grumble. You take a step back, getting ready to turn around and head to the front door.

“Hey,” she suddenly says.

You glance back at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Can I…” she starts, then hesitates, “...can I ask you something?”

You shrug. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Just... promise me you won't be mad,” she hedges, not quite looking at you directly.

“I'm not promising anything-”

“Just... humor me.”

“Fine. I promise I won't get mad.”

She takes a deep breath. “Do... do you… do you actually hate me?” You're silent for a moment, trying to find the words, but she starts backpedaling. “Ugh, never mind, I shouldn't have asked, forget it, it doesn't matter-”

“No, no-" you interject, “I don't- I don't hate you.”

“You don't?”

“No... I don't hate you.”

“You sure?” she presses, leaning forward on the motorcycle, resting her arms on the handlebars. “Then why are you always so pissy whenever you're around me?”

“I dont-” you start, then stop. “I'm not-” you start again and stop again. “Remember that time in science lab?”

“When we lit the bunsen burner, the table caught on fire, we got three detentions, and everyone thought we were going to be expelled?” she recalls.

“Yes… that time.”

“Seriously? that was months ago.”

“I never said I was the most forgiving person.”

“It was a mistake,” she points out. “I didn't mean to do it, I was just being stupid.”

“It was still your fault. You didn't look at the instructions.”

“I was distracted,” she counters.

“By what, your big brain? cause you definitely weren't paying attention to the experiment instructions.”

She looks away, shifting uncomfortably on her motorcycle. “Actually, I was distracted by something…” her eyes return to yours, “-someone.”

“You're making it sound like it was a person you were crushing on or something.”

She falls silent, looking away again.

Wait.

Hold on.

What?

“Wait—wait a minute,” you demand, walking closer to her.

“What?”

“You were being distracted because you were crushing on someone during the science lab? That was the reason that whole thing happened? You couldn't keep yourself from being distracted because you were crushing on someone?”

“That's not fair to say,” she protests.

“Not fair to say?” you repeat, scoffing. “I literally got three detentions because you were more interested in staring at someone-”

“Fine! Whatever. Maybe I was distracted, maybe I wasn't paying attention-” she admits defensively “-maybe I was looking at-” she cuts herself off again. “Whatever, I'm going home.” She starts her motorcycle, not glancing at you.

“Hey-” you reach out, grabbing her arm. “Wait.”

“What do you want?”

“What was that person's name?”

“What does it matter?”

“Cause, I have a hunch.”

“Care to share this hunch with me?”

“Uh, Caitlyn Kiramman…?”

She snaps her head to you, eyes tracing up and down. “Are you actually this clueless?” she sneers, then drives away, leaving you alone on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” you shout. “Seriously, what is your problem?” you call out after her. “We were having a decent conversation, why did you-”

Suddenly, she stops, braking abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk with a quick skid. Before you can say, or think, she has her motorcycle facing you once again. She swings her leg over and hops off, walking up to you with a determined look.

“You want to know my problem?” she asks, coming closer. “I'll tell you my problem.” She grabs your shoulders, forcing you to step back. “My problem is that it's been years. Years, and you still have no idea, do you? you're still just as clueless as always.”

“What are you-” you stumble, struggling to keep your footing. Her hands are tight around your shoulders, holding you in place.

“You keep saying I'm the one who causes trouble, I'm the one who always makes your life harder-” she continues. “But you-”

You manage to find your footing and look at her face.

“-don't seem to get that you're just as guilty of making my life miserable.”

“Vi-” you start, but she doesn't let you finish.

“Every time you smile at me, every time you look at me, every time you talk to me.” She shakes you. “Every time you do something stupid, which is all the goddamn time,” she spits. “You don't seem to get that it drives me insane.” She huffs, letting go of you. “I've been right in front of you this whole damn time, and you just didn't even-”

“Didn't what?”

“You had no idea, did you? You don't understand why I’m so damn irritable whenever I'm with you, you don't get why I'm always trying to pick fights, why I can't just be civil, why I can't just be normal around you… you just think I'm a jerk!”

“Well, maybe you are. You did just grab me like a fucking maniac.”

“Oh, shut up,” Vi snaps. “Just shut up for a second.”

You shut up.

She takes a deep breath. “You think I enjoy this?” she asks, and the question sounds genuine enough that you regret the ‘maybe you are’ comment.

She scoffs. “I don't. I wish more than anything that I could just be calm and civil and… and nice around you. But instead, I'm always getting into your face, I'm always picking at you, I'm always trying to piss you off, because it's the only goddamn way I can get your attention.”

“Any time I try to be normal around you,” she continues, “I get... I get ignored. You act like I'm not even there. But the second I get in your face, the second I do something stupid or obnoxious-” she gestures at herself, “-suddenly, you're right there. You're looking right at me, you're talking to me, for once, you're actually paying attention to me-”

“Why do you even care about my attention?!” You don't mean for it to come out as angry as it does, but the pure confusion you feel causes you to raise your voice.

Vi looks away, a frown twisting her lips, before she snaps her gaze back to you. She sounds oddly embarrassed when she speaks. “Maybe because I'm completely, miserably, head over heels in love with you, okay?!”

Wait... what the actual fuck?

Vi looks away, the words leaving her in a rush. “I'm in love with you,” she repeats, quieter and slower. “There's no maybe about it. I've literally been in love with you since middle school.”

“So, instead... instead of just telling me,” you start, “you... you decided to be a jerk to me for the past six years?!”

“I was twelve!” Now her attention is fully on you as she gestures at herself. “I was a dumb kid, I didn't know what to do, but I was desperate for you to notice me. Every time I tried being nice, I got ignored, so... I guess I decided that if you weren't going to notice me in a good way, then I was just gonna piss you off and make you notice me in a bad way.”

“And then, I just kept doing it,” she continues, “because then, you would notice me, and you'd talk to me, and at least you weren't ignoring me. It became a habit. It was the same damn cycle every day. So, you know, I'm sorry if I don't suddenly know how to behave like a normal goddamn human being around you.”

She looks at you defiantly, she's expecting a fight, an argument, and the last thing she expects is for you to... laugh

You laugh. You don't laugh because you think it's funny, you laugh because you're so unbelievably shocked and overwhelmed that the only thing you can do is laugh. You try to cover it up, you try to muffle your laugh by bringing your hand to your mouth, but it's too late, you've already laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” she asks. “I'm being serious, okay? this isn't a joke, it's not some sort of prank. I am dead serious—I just confessed to you, and you start laughing? Jesus, you're actually heartless, you-”

You manage to get your laughter under control, your body still shaking with a few silent chuckles, but you manage to speak in between your breaths. “You have the worst-” and another chuckle, “-worst timing, I swear to god.”

“Oh I'm so sorry that my confession didn't please all of your fucking needs,” Vi says sarcastically, “but I've spent god knows how long in love with you, and I just had to take my shot. And what are you doing? You're laughing at me. Because your pride can't stand-”

“Would you shut up for like two seconds?!” you snap, cutting off her rant in an instant. “I'm not laughing because you confessed to me, okay?!”

“Then why are you laughing, huh? why is this so funny to you? because I don't find it very funny-”

“Because-” you sigh, and you're actually surprised by how... nervous you suddenly feel. “I never expected this, okay? I never expected you to actually... feel that type of way about me, and to top that, you're confessing to me in the stupidest way possible.”

“I didn't plan on confessing to you at all!” she protests. “It just... kind of happened. Plus, you've never been too keen on me.”

“I-” you begin because 'not keen on you' feels like an understatement. You've never liked her, or rather you've never let yourself even consider her as an option because your heart was set on one person only. “I just need some time to... process this.”

Vi scoffs, her face looking annoyed again. “You need time to process this? what's there to process? I just told you how I feel about you.”

“Yeah, well, I need to process that! Because you just dumped a lot of information on me, and right now I'm-” You pause, trying to pick just the right word. “...overwhelmed, okay?”

Vi's features soften, not quite fully, but just enough to show a little bit of sympathy. “Overwhelmed,” she repeats.

“Yeah…” you reply, “I mean... you just confessed to me, and I... I've never-” you gulp. “-I've never really thought of you... that way.”

“Never thought of me, or never let yourself think of me?”

Okay, woah, that's... a very accurate question.

She's right, and it's scary that she just pointed that out.

Maybe in the back of your head, you've wondered things, you've had thoughts, but it was all so brief, you've always been quick to brush them away. It never even crossed your mind that maybe you had been missing out on something.

You're not sure how to reply, and it gives Vi a chance to continue talking.

“You never let yourself think of me like that, huh?” she continues, “That's pretty sad, because I've literally been in love with you for the past six years.”

“Don't guilt trip me,” you snap. “It's not like I asked you to fall in love with me, is it?”

“I'm not guilt tripping you. I'm just trying to get you to understand how I feel. I'm just trying to make you see that I...care about you, okay? I'm not trying to—ugh!” She groans, rubbing a hand over her face. “I'm screwing this up, I'm screwing everything up, because apparently I suck at confessing and you… you mess with my head.”

“I mess with your head?” you repeat. “You're the one who's messing with my head! You're the one who's messing with my emotions, you—you just turned my entire life upside down, and you expect me to respond to it perfectly?!”

“Not perfectly!” she retorts. “You're seriously not getting it, are you? All I want is for you to-”

“What do you want then? you want me to say that I feel the same way about you? that I've secretly been in love with you for years and never said anything?”

“No, that's not what I— that's not what I want you to say at all!” She runs her fingers through her hair and pushes it out of her face because the haircut she has gets everywhere. “All I want you to say is that you'll even consider me as an option! I just want you to give me a chance. Is that so much for me to ask for?”

You groan to yourself. “Look, if you like me that much, then maybe you should at least make an effort… and then maybe... I'll give you a chance!” With that, you walk towards the front door.

Vi doesn't respond, not immediately, she just stands there watching you leave, a stunned look on her face. But she manages to shake herself out of that stupor in time to follow you.

“Are you serious...?"

“You want me? You gotta work for it,” you respond without slowing your footsteps.

“Woah woah woah, what? work for it?” she sputters, trying to keep up with you. “What more do you want from me?”

“I want-” You stop in front of the door, suddenly turning around to her. “-I want you to prove how serious you are. Just confessing to me isn't going to change everything, and if you're being serious,” you jab a finger to her chest, “then prove it.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to prove myself, huh? Please, tell me, because I'm really at a loss here.”

“I don't know, figure it out.” You shrug. “You claim to be in love with me, right? and if that really were the case, then you have six whole years worth of feelings inside that-” you point at her “-that heart of yours, and you better damn use it.”

“Fine,” she says, and her tone is determined. “You want me to prove it? I'll prove it. I'll prove it so much, you're going to be drowning in how much I prove it. I'm going to do everything just to win your heart. Just watch.”

That sounds cheesy, but... you'd be lying if you said you weren't intrigued. You scoff, turning around and opening the door, but not before saying, “We'll see about that.”

—

Vi stares at the closed door, her thoughts completely occupied with your words.

Prove it.

She shakes her head, a grin on her face as she walks back to her motor.

You and her have had a rocky past, but she's determined to wipe the slate clean.

Vi swings her leg over her motor. She grips the handles tightly and starts the ignition.

She's going to start from the ground zero with you.

And by god, she will prove herself.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Old man Logan with reader who is lonely, has no friends but is still a ray of sunshine with him, always trying to impress him and give him pretty gifts and getting all dolled up for him. She is sad inside though, apart from being his boyfriend, he is her only friend

My Ray Of Sunshine (Why Are You So Sad?)

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I hope this is okay! Started angsty, but I wanted it to be happy for both reader and Logan in the end. Loneliness is an awful feeling (smth I'm all too familiar with) If anyone ever needs to talk, my inbox is always open!! I had a little trouble figuring out where to go with this, so I hope this satisfies you!

Plot: You and Logan have been dating for some time, but you still feel the intense loneliness that wraps it's arms around you, him being the only one in your life - and you feel like he's not honest with you.

Warnings: Angsty, slight depression, mention of loneliness, happy endings

Word Count: 2021

"Hi Lo," You cooed as you answered the phone, a smile stretching across your face.

"Hey sunshine," You heard his gruff voice on the other line, giving your heart a flutter. You always loved the sound of his voice, no matter how gruff and cranky he could sound - he never takes it out on you though.

"You still coming over tonight?" You ask as you walk across the room, your fingers tapping along the small box that sat on your desk. A present you decided to get Logan, a nice little silver watch he can wear. There was a moment of silence, "Lo?"

A small sigh,

"Sorry. I can't. I have to work."

Your face fell, but you took a deep breath. "Oh, that's alright!" You say, putting on your best happy-go-lucky voice. You didn't want him to feel bad, just by the tone of his voice you could tell he was having a bad day. "We'll plan for another night baby. You get a request?"

"Yeah, Bachelors party." He says. "Big payout."

"Oooh....Nice paycheck then huh? You can make it up to me later by taking me out somewhere nice then." You tease. You couldn't see the fond smile on his face, but you could picture it.

"Yeah. We'll plan on it. Promise." He says. You chewed on your lip, as you felt that swell of emptiness build up inside you.

Another night alone.

"Sunshine?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your thoughts. "Sorry, sorry-" You laughed. "Zoned out again. What?"

"I gotta go, got a job. I'll call you later, or in the morning. That alright?"

"Yes, of course." You smiled. "Be safe, okay tough guy?"

You heard a warm chuckle, which made you relax. "Yeah, I will. See you doll."

You heard the phone beep and sighed. Alright.

You and Logan had been dating for a little bit. Meeting in a small little diner that you waitress at. It started as harmless flirting, but then you both managed to find yourself able to talk to each other so easily. Logan listened to you, seemed so openly accepting of you. How could you not be drawn to him?

You thought yourself a little ridiculous for gaining a crush on an older man like Logan, but then his weathered charm got to you - and you just couldn't help it. You'd slip him extra treats on the down-low, not charging him for them. An extra cup of coffee, a slice of apple pie, once you even managed to slip him a stack of pancakes. He'd smile at you and your antics as you slide the plate across the counter and give him a wink- his smile being something tired yet warm that made your knees weak and butterflies shoot through you.

You put more effort into your appearance, especially when you knew he was going to be there. Dolling yourself up - not your usual thing to do but when you got a man like Logan coming around...Well, it's hard not to want to look pretty for him.

It was you that finally convinced him to go on a date with you, and you surprised him by taking him to a gorgeous museum the next city over. You had wondered initially if he scoff at that- him being the gruff and older man he is, but he seemed to really enjoy it. He listened to you ramble on and on about Vincent Van Gogh, one of your favorite painters as you listed everything you knew about him, explaining the misconceptions about him as a painter and a person.

You took the charge of the relationship that formed between you. You planned dates, which seemed to make Logan happy- your infectious happiness- not rubbing off on him but more giving him some much needed relief in what you must believe is a very stressful life for him. He deemed you his sunshine, a pet-name you wore with pride.

You believe it's stressful- or rather assume. He never really told you about his personal life. You know he was a limo driver, you know he lived on the outskirts of town - you never been where he lived. He mentioned something about taking care of his father. He's shared a few stories- always seemingly missing information in them like he was purposely leaving out parts of them.

It made it worse by the fact that he really is the only person in your life right now. You adored Logan and did everything you could to make him happy because he was the only one to give your love to. You spend the time you can together, when he visits your work, or when he comes and stays with you for the night. He's busy though, so he's not really there as often as you wish he was.

Actually, you probably love him. You haven't told him that though. You always feel though that he's hiding something from you. It's disheartening really, he'll listen to you, he's heard your secrets but you never hear his. He refuses to bring you to his place, making some excuse that yours was nicer and maybe it was but you didn't care about that. It created a space between you, something you're not sure if Logan recognizes himself.

You moved to change out of the pretty yellow dress you had on to see Logan, wiping your makeup off and pulling your hair into a messy bun as you prepared to spiral into a night of anxiety, depression, and wine.

You settled on your couch, flipping the tv on, surfing through channel after channel. The night got darker and you got more and more tired. The shadows of your living room, seemingly your only company for tonight, closing in on you as the tv flickered over your curled up form.

Your eyelids grew heavy, as your felt the sinking feeling of your heart, reminding you that you were by yourself again. Inevitably wondering when will Logan leave?

Heavy knocks on your door startled you, as you sat up on the couch and confusion stretched across your face. Worry settled in you, as you had to wonder what shifty characters were knocking on your door at night?

You stood up and crossed the apartment, peeking through the peephole of your door, you're shocked to find Logan standing there. You gasped, stepping back to unlock your door and open it.

"Logan?"

"Hi sunshine." He greeted you, and smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his smile lines became more prominent. He held a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand.

"What are you...What are you doing here?"

"I missed ya." He says gently, a lingering gruff in his voice. "Can I come in?"

You bit your lip, and nodded. Still, your lingering feelings stuck in the back of your head. Stepping back, you forced a smile up at him as he stepped inside, holding the bouquet up.

"I figured you'd like them because...You know. That painter who- Are you okay?" He stopped, squinting at you, as he watched your eyes met with the bouquet, and tears filled your eyes. "Hey, hey sunshine, what's wrong?" He asks softly, bringing his hand up to your chin, tipping it upwards to look up at him. You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Sorry-" You say pulling away from him, wiping your eyes. "I'm just happy to see you..." You lied through your teeth. His eyes, he looked tired.

"Don't know about that sweetheart..." He mutters, examining your expression. "What is it? The flowers? You hate em?"

"No." You let out a small laugh, crossing your arms. He turned to shut the door behind him, locking it before setting the flowers on a nearby table, his hands coming to rest on your arms.

"Well?" He looks down at you, his face serious, but his eyes held concern. "You don't need to pretend with me darling."

You were caught off guard by him, showing up suddenly when you felt your worst. Your instinct screamed at you to push him away, to pretend that it was all okay. You didn't want to bring him down. Your anxiety peeked at the idea that he may be disappointed by this version of yourself, that he would see the lonely person you are, and leave because he wouldn't want to deal with you.

But they way he looked at you, you couldn't help it as the dam broke, and he pulled you tight to his chest, holding you as you cried.

"I'm sorry doll. I didn't mean to hurt you by canceling." He says softly, his hand petting your hair gently.

"No..No, it's not you." You sniffled, stepping away for a moment. "I...I just feel so alone sometimes. I like you a lot Lo, I love us spending time together but when you're not around I'm just by myself and it...It's just terrible."

Logan brows creased, as he brought a hand to cup your cheek. "I didn't know." He says gently. You let out a shaky sigh and looked back up at him.

"You're the only person in my life." You continue. "I don't feel like I don't completely know you though. Not like how you know me. I feel like you're keeping things from me or that you're...Only sticking around temporarily."

"That's not true." He says quickly, and firmly. "I care about you sunshine." His thumb wiped away a tear. "A lot. More than I have a right too. You're....Everything sweetheart. I count myself a damn lucky guy that I met you, that you let me be apart of your life. "

You swallowed and nodded, looking away as you let out a small sigh. You both stood there in silence.

"I..." He started. "I don't know how to stop you from feeling alone but...I get it. You're right. I haven't told you the whole truth."

He grabbed your hand, leading you over to the couch, as you both sat down.

"You ready for this?" He asks.

~~~~~~~~

You stood outside the hot desert sun, as you look around the barren horizon. Logan let out a small cough, as he puffed on the cigar that he was smoking.

"It's quiet." You say.

"Yeah." He nods, his eyes trailing over you as he tried to read your body language.

After an intense conversation last night, you both passed out on your couch. When you woke up in the morning, Logan had you get dressed, and brought you to his...well, where he lives. Can't really call it a home.

That was you.

He felt terrible when you admitted to him everything you struggled with. He adored the way you always seemed to be optimistic, the way you got yourself all dolled up for him, the way you tried to spoil him and every way possible. That's not why he liked you though. He liked your character, he liked the person you are. Not just for what you do for him. You were a fresh breath of air for him. His sunshine.

He wished you see yourself the way he does. You're always encouraging him, to look at himself and see himself as a good man. He didn't know how long he got but he'll spend every second with you to prove you are the most wonderful and loveable person.

You looked at him and smiled. The sunlight gleamed off his new watch that you gifted him. He finished the cigar, flicking it to the ground and stomping it out with the heel of his shoe, before putting an arm around your shoulders.

"You ready to meet the old man?"

"Uh Lo, you're right here." You tease, wrapping your arm around his waist. He chuckled warmly.

"Real cute." He mutters shaking his head, as he led you to the decrepit water tower. He went to the door, and slid it open, a harsh grunt escaping him as it rolled open, he stood to the side and waited as you walked in.

Inside you saw two men. One, sitting in a chair reading a comic book, looking up at you. He had white skin, and yellow eyes. That one must be Caliban.

"Hello dear-" The other man greets. An older gentleman, lying in a bed with a warm smile. You smiled back as he reached his hand out to you, and walked over and took it. "I've heard so much about you from Logan. It's nice to finally meet you. Tell me...Which of Van Goghs paintings is your favorite?"

[reiyaus]

fem reader intended | part two of this

fratboy! gojo who meets up with you after getting your contact info the other night, laptop prepared to explain the important of card trading.

fratboy! gojo who, for once, finds it fun to converse with someone other than his small circle of friends. he can't deny the fact he finds you cute when you get confused- not like he'll tell anyone. (more under cut!)

fratboy! gojo whose friends are starting to notice that he isn't partying as much as he did before, but instead, actually attending his classes. to say that they were surprised is an understatement.

fratboy! gojo who walks with you during breaks only to hear you talk, whether it be about pokémon or whatever. with you, he can escape the frat-party life and settle down into a mellow, drunk-free personality. sure he can do that with his friends, but it comes naturally when with you.

fratboy! gojo who sets up chill hangouts when he realizes you aren't as interested in loud environments as him. from walks in the parks, a 1-hour pottery session, or cafe hopping around town- you find yourself enjoying every second of it.

fratboy! gojo who introduces you to his friends, embarrassed when they mention how he'd turn off dnd just to check if you replied. you laugh, comparing him to a clingy dog (which he is) and he feels himself dying even more.

fratboy! gojo who decides that he wants to properly confess his feelings for you during the night of valentines. take you out like normal and bring out the gift he prepared in his trunk. simple, right?

fratboy! gojo who couldn't stop cheesing anytime you looked away, yet acting flustered whenever you noticed. in his mind, he was the greatest at hiding his emotions- but you knew right away that something was up. considering how he asked to match with you, on valentines day.

fratboy! gojo who brings you to a secluded part of the beach where you could see the stars clearly, and has to calm himself down before making a fool out of himself (like he hasn't already).

fratboy! gojo who starts off by bringing up the first day you met, chuckling at how he found quietude in the midst of a party.

fratboy! gojo who takes your hands in his so gently, smiling at how well yours molded together. with one hand holding yours, he reaches into the back of his car and brings out the small basket he made.

fratboy! gojo who filled the basket up with your favorite snacks, a box of high-quality trading cards, a bracelet, and most importantly, a multipage, hand-crafted letter. stuck onto the back, was a candid polaroid he took of you the first time you hung out. aka, the day he realized he loved you.

fratboy! gojo who stumbles across his words, unable to properly convey the script he had in mind. his worry took over him when you didn't respond to anything he said.

fratboy! gojo who pauses after hearing your laugh, and looks up to see the same eyes he fell in love with staring right at him with such adoration. you're smiling. and soon, he finds himself smiling even harder.

fratboy! gojo who has to stop himself from cheering when you formally accept his confession. going as far as to exit out the car to give you the warmest embrace. melting in your arms, he finally has all the reason to kiss you on the cheek.

boyfriend! gojo who slowly retires from the party-life (and possibly playboy), and while still remaining in his frat- he'd very much rather spend his nights with you in his arms.

restful and content, satoru couldn't have asked for a better way to meet you.

a/n: for that one person who wanted it to be platonic... im sorry [sweat]... NEXT TIME! i really want to write "intimacy with platonic!gojo" or any other jjk character. also ignore how i portrayed gojo as a playboy (kind of) in the first part, i lowk forgot abt that when writing pt 2

taglist (only tagged those that asked) @ourfinalisation @cheriiepies @megumisthirdog @leabyjulia @blessingdancing @seternic @gojoscumslut @backinmyphase @cutieminaaa @wandabillywrites @shycreatorreview @bypanana @ilovemyhusbandnanami @l1v1ngzomb1e @raendarkfaerie @hellogojofan @exclusiverinaa @just-lilita @satorushousewife @jaeminaur @mjsjshhd @kaybug88 @minascasket @sapphireillusions @ravenbc @psoycy @juicus