#been watching x-men movies for the last couple of weeks

[jeonstellate]

kinda funny how jean had a fall out with charles (parent #1) so she went straight to erik (parent #2)

[cakelitter]

Snuggle Up

Leon x Puppy- Hybrid Fem! Reader

warnings: p in v, dirty talking, slight somnophilia, pussy slapping, slight degradation

summary:  Sighing, you stare at the ceiling, thinking of a possible solution to finally be able to rest. Well… there is one way to solve it.

Sleeping next to Leon.

Getting wrapped up in his muscly embrace and being surrounded with his scent will surely scare away all of the thunder. One problem however, you’re not welcomed in his bed anymore.

words: 2.7k

a/n: sleepy and irritated Leon is so ughhh. Hope you enjoy him as much as I do!!

Thunder rumbles, over and over again, making sure your eyes don’t get a moment of rest. It’s been storming the past few days, but today has to be the worst day yet. Gloomy skies making it hard to tell what time of the day it is.

And there you are, bundled up in bed at four am with your tail tucked in between your legs whenever lightning strikes.  What if the house gets struck? Then you’ll be homeless again, living on the streets and getting kicked by random drunk men on the road. God no, no, no, anything but that again.

You twist and turn in bed, but it all comes useless at easing your worries. You’ve tried everything, counting sheep, counting to a hundred, and placing the pillow over your head, trying to block the sound from your floppy ears.

Should’ve known the last one wouldn’t work, your hearing is good, amazing actually. You’re grateful for that, getting to eavesdrop on Leon’s phone calls when he’s inside the office that you’re not allowed in, or listening to the couple upstairs fight about chores for the third time this week.

However, in this current circumstance, you wish you could just rip them off and sleep in peace. You have the comfiest mattress, with the comfiest pillows, and a hoard of stuffed animals to keep all the scary monsters that will try to grab your legs at bay.

 Sighing, you stare at the ceiling, thinking of a possible solution to finally be able to rest. Well… there is one way to solve it.

Sleeping next to Leon.

Getting wrapped up in his muscly embrace and being surrounded with his scent will surely scare away all of the thunder. One problem however, you’re not welcomed in his bed anymore.

Apparently, you kick in your sleep, hoard the blanket, and drool a lot, and he’s not getting enough sleep because of that.

How rude.

You are doing him the courtesy of warming his bed and dog piling on him like you did as young pup with your litter mates to keep him warm, and he doesn’t even appreciate that.

And so, you have to sleep in your own bed now. Is he not scared for your safety? What if a murderer sneaked through your window and tried to hurt you? So what if you live seven stories high, it’s still not safe!

Clearly Leon doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and is not taking your safety seriously like an owner should.

Maybe you can just sneak into his bed without waking him up. Pinky promising that you will be on your best behavior. No kicking, no hoarding, no dog piling, and no drooling. Easy Peasy.

Grabbing your pillow, you head over to his room across the hall. Your hand reaches over to the door knob, and slowly twists it, making sure it doesn’t creek too loud.

The bathroom light seeps into the dark bedroom, illuminating the sight of Leon’s bare back to you. His hair is splayed out across the white pillow case as his chest rising and falling with mellow breaths.

Closing the door behind you, you make your way to his bed, placed against the wall in the corner of the room. Tiptoeing just like how you see in the colorful cartoons you watch. You spot an empty space on the bed, but you have to climb over Leon to get there.

He’s a light sleeper, not sure if he’s always been like this; however, life events definitely have a play in that. Luckily though, today he came back from work exhausted.

Promised you to watch a movie together, well you ended up watching the movie while he snored next to you. And as soon as it ended, he got up, placed a kiss on your forehead and dragged himself to bed. Maybe you were having extra trouble falling asleep because you didn’t get enough pets and love today.

You have needs, and they need to be met.

Never were the high maintenance type, used to be grateful whenever someone felt bad for your sorry ass and threw you a half-eaten chicken nugget. Staring at them and their food so intensely, praying that they drop dead so you could eat whatever’s left.

But things are different now, you sleep with a full stomach and a worry-free brain.

Placing one knee on the mattress, feeling it shift with your weight, you place your palm on the soft surface and begin to crawl over.

Is there a smarter way to be doing this? Absolutely.

But you like a little fun challenge.

As your torso is above Leon’s sleeping body, you feel him shift a bit, making you hold your breath and cross your fingers that he doesn’t think you’re an intruder. His instincts would activate so fast, you’d be slammed onto the wall on the other side of the room within a heartbeat.

Thankfully, he doesn’t wake up, and you successfully manage to make it onto the bed. Taking in a deep breath and smiling, proud of yourself, you place your head on your pillow and take one final look at your sleeping owner.

His brows are relaxed, the knots that are usually there disappearing. Shallow breaths are the only sound echoing through the silent room along with light snores here and there. He sleeps shirtless, always had. Although when he used to let you sleep with him, he’d put on a shirt because “it’s not appropriate” or whatever.

It’s honestly bullshit, because you sleep in nothing other than an oversized shirt and panties and he never asked you to change.

Either way, he’s now top naked in front of you, blessing you with tits and all.

Listen, you’re no male anatomy enthusiast or anything like that, but you’re a Leon enthusiast because he is your favorite person in the whole world. Hence, you will in fact admire the view whenever you have the chance.

One of his massive arms is placed beneath his head to provide support while the other is draped over the bed; close to you. Chiseled abs peeking above the duvet cover, and few pieces of hair covering his face.

You want to bite him, a sweet little love bite to show your appreciation. But you have a feeling that he wouldn’t be a huge fan of that. So, shaking that idea out of your head, you pull the covers over you and close your eyes.

Tense muscles begin to relax and breaths become slower. See, all is well, you’re comfortable, Leon is comfortable, everything is great.

That’s until thunder rumbles again, causing your eyes to snap back open.

This has to be sort of sick joke the universe is playing on you. Flicking your tail and hearing it thud against the mattress in irritation, you feel the ounce of sleep that you once had, slipping away from you.

Looking back over at Leon, you purse your lips. You didn’t want to cuddle up next to him, well you did but it’s a dangerous move. Whatever, desperate times call for desperate measures. And he chose to adopt you, so a pain in the ass or not he has to deal with you.

You scooch closer to him, grabbing his arm and lifting it up to make room for you to get closer. It’s heavy, why the fuck is it so heavy. You’re struggling over here.

God forbid you get put in a situation where you have to carry him to get medical attention or to a nearby clinic. Your body would immediately give up on you.

You’re not bred for this, not one of those hybrids that can save lives or sniff drugs. You’re meant to sit at home all day and complain like you’re the one paying the bills. Might’ve been off to a rocky start when you found yourself to be homeless, but you’re past that. You have a loving home, with a loving owner, and you’re spoiled rotten.

Managing to slip into the space between Leon’s arm and the mattress, you snuggle up against is chest; taking in the musky scent of his shower gel.

“What’re you doing.” His voice sounds so groggy, barely pronouncing his words right. You hear him gulp causing his prominent adams apple to bob. He’s not even asking you; just reminding you of a topic the two of you discussed countless of times.

“I can’t sleep, thunder’s too loud.”

“Yeah, well thunder doesn’t bite sweetheart. Back to bed.” He’s ordering you around without his eyes opening once. “Aren’t you scared for my safety?”

“Not really.”

Your brows furrow, as he sleepily opens his eyes and catches a glimpse of your irritated expression. A smile creeping up on his face. “I’m just messing with you baby, I do care. It’s just that one of us has work in the morning while the other takes seven naps a day.”

His eyes close again, you’re not entirely sure if he’s going to remember this conversation in the morning.

“I promise I’ll behave.”

“Sure you will sweetheart, sure you will.” His large arm wraps around you, as he places his head on top of yours.

You take that as him agreeing to let you stay, causing a mischievous smile to flash across your face. This went smoother than you expected.

His chest is flush against you, while it is nice, you can barely breathe. You turn around, your back now facing him, and close your eyes again.

One second passes, then two, then three, and you’re sleeping position is still not comfortable. Deciding to fix it, you squirm a bit, attempting to reach a position you feel comfortable in. But you just can’t seem to get it right, either squishing your arm too hard, or your face, or your back just fucking hurts.

“Stop squirming.” His voice sounds stern, as his grip on you tightens. You raise an eyebrow in confusion, you always had the habit of shuffling till you’re comfortable, why is it such a big deal- oh.

You can feel it, the feeling of the stiff outline of his cock against the side of your ass. Freezing in place, you feel lost on what to do now. Obvious answer would be to do as you’re told and pretend like this never happen the next morning.

Or…

You squirm a little more, making sure to rub up against your owner’s boner. Letting your primal instincts take over you and savoring the choked groans that leave his mouth, his grip tightening around you even further.

Is that supposed to be a way of telling you to stop or to continue? You continue to do the latter, focusing on the sounds and heavy breaths coming from Leon, and ignoring how uncomfortably wet you’ve become.

He feels so big against you, enough to rip you in half. You wonder how he’ll feel inside of you, how nice and full you’d be. Silencing the aching desire between your thighs, claiming you as his.

A large hand grabs your hips, squeezing your side so hard to almost wince. Your movements cease as you sense him lean in closer to your ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?” his breath is hot against your ear lobe; whispering through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t look like you’re behaving to me.”

All the bravery and confidence you had dissipates as he confronts you. “It felt good…”

Your voice is shaky, and barely audible. You feel trapped, unable to run and hide under the covers like you usually do. He has you here, taking accountability of your actions, no escape no way of fleeing.

“It did? Was it fun?” his tone reeks mockery, heat rushes up to your cheeks in embarrassment.

His hips thrust against you, coaxing a groan out of him. “Were you having fun toying with me? Sneaking into my bed and rubbing up against me like I wouldn’t notice?”

Shit, your panties are fucking soaked, you really shouldn’t be this turned on by this. “I’m sorry.”

A low chuckle escapes his mouth, like you just said a joke.

“No you’re fucking not.”

The mattress shifts beneath you as he gets up and yanks you flat on your back. Face now, inches away from you, fierce eyes piercing into yours. You can’t tell what’s running through his head, eyes dropping down to his jaw as it clenches then relaxes.

“I do mean it.” You don’t, no a single cell in you does. This is just a desperate attempt in trying to convince him. He won’t buy it though, no matter how bad you want him to; reading you like an open book since he day he took you in.

“You’re such a horrible liar.” His eyes squint as he shakes his head in disapproval. “You can’t be a horrible liar and a fucking brat sweetheart.”

“It’s about time that I teach you some manners, think I might’ve been too soft with you recently.” His eyes drop down to your panty clad cunt. Your shirt now bunched up at your hips, exposing the wet spot on your laced panties.

“Fuck, you really want me to fuck some manners into you huh.” Your breath hitches, mind going stupid at the way he’s talking to you. Fighting the urge to nod intensely in agreement.

His hand moves over to your cunt, cupping your mound and running his fingers up to your clit as it pulses with desire. “Such a dirty puppy I have. Here I was thinking your innocent while your cunt is soaking my fucking sheets.”

Grabbing your underwear, he pulls it up, exerting pressure onto your needy clit, causing you to moan and buck your hips. Reaching over, you grab his forearm that is supporting him above you, digging your nails into it, as your legs spread open even more for him.

“Want you inside of me, please.” He grunts at the sight of your spread legs, pussy fully on display for him. Gripping the gusset of your panties, he takes them off, tossing them into the abyss of the dark space. Hands reaching over to fiddle with the band of his sweatpants, pulling them down revealing his thick cock to you.

You don’t bark, but you would at this instant. Gawking at his length, and wondering how the head would feel against your spongy walls.

You feel the familiar sensation of his hand cupping your mound again, fingers dipping down to your leaky core, distributing the warm fluid back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

A stinging sensation makes you yelp as a hand spanks your pussy making your ears twitch at the pain. However, the unpleasant sensation is short lived, transitioning into pleasure. The line between the two fading away with every passing moment.

He chuckles once again, pleased with your reaction. “Take your punishment like a good girl baby.”

Your legs kick out as he spanks you two more times, leaving your cunt feeling hot; tears beading on your waterline. Moving up onto his knees, he grabs his dick, slapping it against your puffy clit before centering it between your folds. His eyes shoot back up into yours, as he teases your entrance.

Slowly, he thrusts into you, causing your mouth to open at the stretch, and it doesn’t take long before he bottoms out inside of you. Your hypothesis of feeling full is validated; you feel more than full, borderline too much. Causing you to squirm and claw at Leon’s chest.

Seconds later, he begins to move, backing up before thrusting back into your heat, each thrust becoming more powerful that the one before it. The two of you getting completely lost in the feeling of each other. “That’s it, take my cock baby. Fucking take it.”

The sounds coming from the apex of your thighs are nothing short than nasty. Rain falls in the background as your mind shuts off completely. Sweat beads at the top of your foreheads, Leon’s hips slamming into yours causing the bed beneath you to creek, creating a harmony along with your moans and whimpers.

The knot in your stomach eventually snaps, your body shudders as you squeeze down on Leon causing him to follow pursuit. The warm sensation of his cum feels oddly comforting as you get pulled back into reality.

“Told you that you drool a lot.” He chuckles, his thumb wiping off the saliva on the side of your mouth. Collapsing next to you, he pulls you into his arms as a sudden wave of sleepiness crashes over you. Eyelids feeling heavy, and mind feeling light; you finally begin to drift off into the sleep you craved for.

Perhaps, climbing into your owner’s bed was the right decision after all.

a/n: a little ooc i knowwww, but i had to write it.

divider by: @/plutism

[sohnric]

gold stars – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: friends (idiots) to lovers au. fluff. a sprinkle of hurt/comfort in some parts, a hint of college au!!

wc: 9.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mention of toxic family behaviors, a joke about a praise kink. eric is an embarrassing loserboy but i love him sm

listen to: risk by gracie abrams

where everything eric sohn does is search for your approval, and where you reward him with a gold star sticker for every act of kindness. will you ever see him as more than just a friend?

a/n: thank you best friend @csenke for beta reading as always (i miss you deeply btw</33). also thank you @from-izzy for brainstorming with me and listening to me while i gushed about this silly fic idea. thanks @strayed-quokka lennon for giving me eric's insta username idea i will keep using it from now on in all fics AHAHA TT

If Eric was asked to pinpoint the exact moment where he started to rely on your validation, he wouldn’t really be sure of his answer. The truth is, somewhere deep inside of his soul, he knows the yearning has been there ever since he can remember, but the instance that is rooted in his memory as the core one– the one that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like a teenager in love for the first time (which he wasn’t! Nor a teenager, not in love for the first time… right..?) – was one Thursday afternoon after he came home from taking his last exam of the semester to find a message from you waiting in his Instagram DMs. 

Breathlessly clicking at the notification (and now, this should’ve been a sign of his growing feelings for you), he is welcomed with the sight of you sharing a post with him. Wholesome, but still a little silly, a picture of a yellow star poorly drawn onto a white background waves at him, the words ‘congratulation the stress didnt abolsultly kill u’ written in the Comic Sans font on the inside, making him giggle. Despite the typos and the poor grammar, his heart squeezes on itself, shaking his head at your adorable antics as he shoots you a quick message as a thank you. You’ve been helping him with the studies for the last couple of weeks (if constantly yelling out “you will murder this exam, Sohn’ and laughing at his miserable face counts as support), so it’s even more heartwarming to see his friend still be so supportive of him even after the hell already ended.

@ damnsohn [5:11 PM]: thank u i will now need to receive gold stars for everything tho

And see, he wasn’t really thinking before sending that message. He just needed to convey his gratitude without sounding too overly eager– without sounding too infatuated with your sheer existence and the validation of his efforts. (Failed)

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually follow up on his request. 

To make things even better, you pulled through with physical reminders. The poorly drawn golden star landing into his Instagram DMs was just the start of the habit you fall into with Eric Sohn, the man whose love language is words of affirmation– without him even realizing it. And so, what started out as a wholesome, innocent joke, now turned into a recurring thing that is slowly, but surely making the boy go absolutely insane.

The first time he receives a physical golden star sticker is one day when he comes over to your place to watch a movie with you. You made a list full of iconic films you haven’t seen before– a list you get clowned for at first dates with any man that is pretentious enough to talk about his love for Quentin Tarantino (Eric told you to stop going on dates with the aesthetic, ‘indie’ looking men you find on Tinder) – and little by little, you try to get through it with the help of the rest of your friend group. Since everyone gets bored easily of mediocre films they’ve seen before, Eric is the one that spends the majority of movie nights with you– and that’s only because he’s the only one that doesn’t mind watching the Titanic for the fifth time already, if it means he can spend some time with you.

“You brought popcorn?” you gasp upon his arrival, gazing at the plastic bag in his hold, eyes big and full of stars– one would say you were looking at your first love. You weren’t– it was just a salty treat. Isn’t that every girl’s first love, though?

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Pre-popped?” 

“Pre-popped,” he agrees as he takes off his shoes behind the door, watching as you jump up and down in excitement, taking the big bag out of his hands.

“I like it pre-popped the best, oh my god,” you hum, hugging the huge bag like it’s a teddy bear, going as far as pushing your cheek against it, making your face turn into an adorable pout. “They are a little stale and softer and–”

“And the salt is really settled into it’, yeah, I know, Y/N,” he snickers, finishing the sentence he’s heard you say about a million times already– he starts to wonder if you have short-term memory loss and don’t remember telling him every time you walk by the cinema. (And that’s a lot of times, since Sunwoo’s dad owns the place. Sometimes, Sunwoo makes Eric be his own delivery man– he would deny on most occasions, but ever since he learned that bringing Sunwoo his lunch to work means he can take home a bag of cinema popcorn, the one that admittedly, always tastes the best, he doesn’t complain much– he can use the stale bag as a leverage to make you do about anything.)

“Oh man,” you sigh, “aren’t you a dream. I was going to wait for a more serious occasion, but wait, let me just–” you say, running quickly into your room. Eric doesn’t question your antics, figuring out that he will know the reason for your disappearance soon enough anyway, and allows himself into the living room. Two cans of coca cola and a chocolate bar are already waiting on the coffee table, alongside the TV remote, and while he passes the couch and opens one of your kitchen cabinets to fish for a bowl to put the popcorn in, he hears your socked feet rumble against the floor, announcing your arrival.

Once he takes the big bowl he’s sure he’s seen you puke in before after a wild night out and settles it onto the kitchen counter, the bag of popcorn comes back into his view as you lazily throw it into the white plastic, still closed and sealed, waiting to be opened. As his hands move and go to rip it open, meaning to pour the snack in so you two can share while you watch the next movie on your list– which, just for the record, Eric never asks the title of before, afraid it might make him less excited for the movie night– you put something onto the back of his hand, giggling.

Eric curiously stops his movements, gazing at his own skin. There, shiny and glittery, is a sticker attached to his limb– a yellow star sticker, to be exact, making him look at you with a dumbfounded look, eyebrows furrowed, but lips still sealed into a wide grin.

“That’s a gold star for remembering my favorite snack,” you point, flicking his forehead as a way of swatting him away from you so you can open the bag yourself, “and for bringing it.”

When Eric doesn’t give you any coherent reply– despite his brain operating on a thousand miles per hour, thoughts just swirling around and silencing any rational words– you only laugh at his face, your nose scrunching in that adorable way that makes him want to reach over and squish both of your cheeks in between his fingers, crying out. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so serious about this,” you sigh, snickering. Eric was going to bring up the fact that you were the one serious enough about the sentiment to buy a full roll of star stickers to give him on various occasions, some more serious than others, but he kept his silence in fear of getting this advantage taken away from him. He doesn’t think he’d survive it. “If you manage to not eat the entire bowl before the movie starts, I’ll give you another one. Come on,” you call for him, body already disappearing back into the living room.

Eric follows you like a lost puppy. If he had a tail, at this moment, he would’ve been waggling it. After he drops to the sofa, he notices the movie paused on the TV in front of him to be none other than Dirty dancing. With a sigh, he recognises that he’s seen it about five times already with his mother and sister, and so he spends the hour and a half gazing at the star on his hand instead.

The next few stars he receives are gifts of a similar manner. Half-serious, but still enough to make Eric’s heart leap in his chest at your recognition.

One day, he says a joke in the middle of the conversation that nobody really appreciates. And see, it’s not really unexpected– he was already aware that his friend group doesn’t appreciate good humor– but the dead silence he receives after the lame joke still makes him feel kind of awkward. That’s only until he is greeted with the sound of your muffled chuckle, though– which is of amusement at the situation, and not his joke, just for the record– and the sight of you ruffling around your pockets. You take a roll of stickers out of your jean jacket, and before he knows it, a star sticker is glued onto his phone case, right in the corner of his phone laying screen down on the table. 

“A gold star for trying,” you hum, making the rest of the group holler out a laugh at the casual bullying, “not as bad as last time, keep it up, buddy.”

Eric gets red in his cheeks. When he looks up from the dark wood of the dinner table, he is met with the sight of Sunwoo and Juyeon looking at him with shit-eating grins on his faces, wiggling their eyebrows at the very obvious reaction Eric has at the half-assed praise. The boy wonders if you’re the only one that hasn’t noticed yet, or if you just don’t really care about the effect you have on him. The star sticker stays glued to his phone case at all times, though, even when it’s worn-down and peeling off at the edges.

Another gold star is won from you one day when the semester starts again and you two meet up in the library, working on your respective essays. Each of you major in a different thing, so there is not much actual help shared other than underlying emotional support, and despite the coffee Eric brings you upon his arrival and the bag of chips resting on the table waiting for you to munch on them, which you refuse to touch before you finish a segment of your essay to ‘motivate yourself’, as you say, he can see you’re still a bit stressed out.

The suspicion is only proven to be true when he speaks up suddenly, lost in thought and a little overwhelmed himself. “How do you spell ‘accommodate’?” he asks, scratching the back of his head.

He now admits that it’s a stupid question to ask, but somehow, getting advice from you is much easier than looking it up himself, or simply writing the word down to let Google docs do the editing. The answer you give him is short, sharp, and the tone of your voice stings the boy the tiniest bit. “Are you 5 years old, or something?”

“I–”

“I’m in the middle of writing an important paragraph, Eric, just Google it–”

“Jeez, okay,” he hums, rolling his eyes at your snappy composure. When your eyes meet only two seconds after, you look a little guilty. You say nothing, though, only continuing to focus on your essay– and Eric does the same, for the most part. (While he also tries to take his mind off the fact that you might think he’s a little bit stupid. You are a STEM major, after all– he’s the one studying media.)

After a while of typing away on your computer, though, you look at him with big eyes, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The subtle nerves and desperation in your face are enough to leave the man weak in his knees, and even though he’d like to reply to you in a similar manner to show you his disapproval with your previous tone, he can’t find it in himself to ever reject you as you mumble out a soft: “Switch?” having the man instantly nod, offering you his laptop.

This is standard practice for the two of you. While he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about in your essays– for all he knows, you could be pulling everything out of your ass– he enjoys reading the words you’ve written. You two often work on your essays together and switch from time to time to reread what the other one has so far– on a lookout for wrong word order, grammar, or anything sounding weird. It’s hard to rationally evaluate your work and find flaws in it after spending hours and hours on it, your brain desensitized to the content you’re writing. Having a helping pair of eyes is always for the better.

When the both of you are done and you switch the laptops back, there’s a gold sticker smiling back at him from the device settled right next to the Kirby sticker you’ve given him once after hearing him gushing about the game one night (Yes, he was tipsy and sentimental). He didn’t even notice you putting it on, and when he looks up at you with questioning eyes, you shrug at him, averting eye contact.

“A gold star for spelling ‘accommodate’ right,” you say, making the boy roll his eyes, snickering.

He doesn’t really question you further. Just the star sticker is enough for him now, if he’s being totally honest– even as unserious as they come. Had he pried more, though, maybe he’d find out that the gold star wasn’t just the prize for his spelling– but also for his patience and silent support he’s been sending you every single day. 

And so, the habit preserves itself at first in a joking, half-serious manner. A gold star sticker for him when he reminds you to water your plants (‘for having a good memory’). A gold sticker for him when he carries you home on his back after you get too drunk at the bar with your friends (‘for having strong muscles’). A star sticker for him when he picks you up after work and drives you home (‘for having a cool car’). Another one when he cooks you ramen when you’re sick and don’t have enough energy to make yourself something warm for dinner (‘for being a 5* Michelin cook’). For his birthday, alongside with other things, you give him a strip of the gold star stickers, 5 in a row all next to each other– ‘for bearing the old age well’. He’s not even that much older than you in the first place, but he takes the external validation and praise with open arms, not really dwelling deeper into the sentiment underlying your joking, unserious reasonings. 

He doesn’t really realize the stickers were a sign of gratitude for the fact that he listens to you and remembers what you have to say– not for having a good memory. They are for taking care of you on your lowest– not for having strong arms and a ‘fat ass’. They are a wordless thank you for his acts of service and protection of you, not for having a cool car and getting his driver’s license– although, the pride is the common undertone in some of the gold stars you give him. You give him gold stars on his birthday to tell him you’re proud of the man he’s growing into, not to make fun of him growing old. The boy is just too oblivious to realize it, it seems.

Some days are more difficult than others, though, and that’s when your star stickers gain more value and seriousness. 

The day after he has a family reunion with the distant relatives that always pry too much into his business– ‘Do you have a girlfriend yet?’, ‘What will you end up doing with that useless degree of yours?’, ‘Do you still share a flat with that friend of yours? What about getting your own place?’ – he is met with the sight of you waiting for him after class, on one of the bean bags outside of the lecture room. His department is a solid 20 minute walk away from yours, so the sight of you there surprises him, but the shock is only intensified when you call him over with a wave of your hand and present him with a pack of M&M’s with a gold star stuck to the packaging.

“What’s that for?” he says, but opens the candy nonetheless. After he takes a few into his mouth, he offers you some– to which you shake your head and shrug.

“For being the coolest one out of your family,” you say close to his ear, like it’s a secret, before you ruffle his hair and stand up from the bean bag, strutting towards the exit. “Come on, I have beer over at my place. You can come over and rant about them being stupid, if you want.”

Eric smiles at your sincerity. Trying hard to tame his hair back into place, he follows you with his backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, and even though he’d love to finish the candy you’ve given him, he forces himself to leave at least three pieces inside of the bag, saving it for later– just so he can keep holding on to the star-adorning wrapper for some more.

One day is particularly hard for the boy as he locks himself out of the apartment, having to wait for his roommate Jake to come back from his hometown the other day, leaving him no place to stay– before you invite him over and force him to sleep over on the couch. You can tell there is something more bugging him, though– and so you push the boy for answers.

“What’s up? Locking yourself out is not the end of the world, y’know,” you say, trying to lighten up the situation.

Eric looks at you with tired eyes, shrugging. Truth be told, his mood has been gradually falling over the last couple of days– this incident was just what really tipped him over the edge and nudged him closer to a nervous breakdown. He’s been overwhelmed with work (too many people having high expectations of him that he is scared he cannot meet), with school (too many assignments he is afraid he can’t manage to get done in time) and also with his family constantly being at his neck about everything he does and chooses for his future– only fueling the burning pit of anxiety and insecurity crawling outside of the big hole inside of his chest.

“It’s nothing,” still, he notes. “I’ve just been having a bit of a rough time, really, ‘s all.”

You answer him with a slight pout of your lips, a saddened expression taking over your face. There is sympathy oozing off your presence, and Eric can’t tell if he dislikes it, or yearns too much for your caring words and gentle encouragement. He can’t tell if it’s natural or pathetic, to want, to need your compliments and validation so much– or if he’s just fallen into a hole he can’t crawl back out of, too hungry after every bit of your attention. You’ve completely enchanted the boy, made his heart both soft and erratically running whenever you’re around, and the things he constantly does for you are not only because he wants you to tell him he’s doing well, but also because he wants you to think of him as someone that you can lean on. He wants you to think of him as someone good enough for you. 

Today, though, maybe he just needs a bit of validation. Maybe he just selfishly strives for your encouragement. It’s okay to just want to be loved on from time to time, no?

You coo, taking a seat next to him on the sofa you’ve spent countless movie nights on together, slotted side by side. Eric plays with his fingers in his lap, a heavy cloud hanging over his face. You know your friend isn’t really good at talking about his emotions– something akin to a mental block inside of him preventing him from ever fully opening up– but despite it all, it seems like he’s completely see-through in your eyes, handling you all the unspoken words on a silver platter. You know him too well.

“You’re doing well, Eric. Don’t let the doubts get into your head, yeah?” you hum, meeting eyes with the boy. 

“Am I, though?” 

The face you give him is stern, acting upset with him. “Of course you are! Stop saying that,” you shake your head at him, sighing when he doesn’t comply with your hard love. After a heartbeat of silence, you turn your head away from him and face the turned-off TV, instinctively wrapping your arm around the boy first, tucking him to your side, before you cradle his head and move it so it sits in the crook of your shoulder. 

Patting his hair, ruffling it and gently playing with the strands before you move to scratch on his scalp, the actions all unarm the poor boy. He almost feels like he could cry and fall apart right there in front of you, right there in your hold, but his pride is oftentimes bigger than his need to let it all out– so he just stares ahead of him, teething at his bottom lip in silence.

After a moment, you rustle around your pocket with your free hand, seemingly searching for something. Eric watches you with curious eyes, big eyes reminiscent of ponds of water waiting to overflow when you take out a strip of star stickers from the inside of your sweatpants, gently taking one of them and sticking the golden star onto the fabric of his pants, right on his knee, before patting it affectionately.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice a bit hoarse. He’s glad you don’t mention it.

“Just in general,” you shrug, hand coming back up to play with his hair, “a gold star because I’m proud of you.”

“There’s nothing to be proud of, though..?”

“Of course there is!” you argue, raising your voice at him. He doesn’t make much effort to show you that he agrees or understands your point, so you gently take his hand into yours and wave it around in mock-joy– although you’re kind of serious about the sentiment. “Proud of you, because you’re alive and surviving! Yay!”

Eric snorts. It’s not enough to cure his mood completely, but it warms his heart up enough to make him forget about his tears.

“Do you just carry these on you at all times?” he asks, pointing towards the sticker on his leg.

“You never know when you need them,” you innocently agree. After your continuous doting, the boy finds himself falling asleep on your shoulder. When he wakes up in the morning, there’s a blanket thrown over his body he didn’t see in the room before, and he feels a thousand times better.

So far, Eric’s never asked for the gold star stickers. They always come to him by your initiative– and although he has to admit that sometimes he does stuff for you and expects a reward for it (in the form of the sticker, of course) – he never once begged to receive one himself. Sometimes, you surprise him. Sometimes, it’s obvious there is one coming– like after he helps you send out your psychology survey to every single person he knows (and he knows a lot of them. He is a born extrovert, after all.). 

Much like the day of his football match. 

He’s not really the biggest fan of the sport– he much prefers baseball, but his university no longer has a baseball team and he needs to get additional credit somehow– but when you add up the fact that it makes him popular with the fact that he ends up spending time playing around the field with his friends and over the course of the season gets actually better at the sport the more he practices, it’s not as bad as he expected.

The last match of the season turned out well– with their team winning– and although Eric wasn’t the one in charge of the winning goal (damn Kim Sunwoo and Jake Sim for collectively beating him to the victory), he was still ecstatic about the whole thing. After celebrating with his teammates, dubbing them up and screaming in victory, his eyes scan the crowd to find the rest of his friend group that he knows is there, watching him and Sunwoo play. (In reality, he’s just looking for you– he won’t admit that out loud, though.)

Running up to you with sparkles in his eyes, he watches as you cheer on your other friend, Sunwoo, when he beats him to the bleachers. (Not cool of him, if you ask Eric. His crush is literally right there.)

The taller boy enthusiastically talks about the match– as if you, Jihoon, Ryujin and Jay haven’t been on the bleachers the whole time, watching– and after a while, Eric hears your enthusiastic praise aimed towards his best friend, making his blood turn green in envy.

“Yo, that goal was so good, though!” you gush, patting Sunwoo on the shoulder.

“I know, right? Jake passed the ball to me in the perfect time, that other guy couldn’t even register what was happening,” he boosts, grinning to himself.

All attention is drawn on Kim Sunwoo, and Eric doesn’t like it. Not when it’s your attention we’re talking about. He doesn’t care if the whole university drools over the handsome fire sign (as if he doesn’t have a girlfriend anyway– although Eric is still surprised by the fact, after the way he treated the part-timer at his father’s movie theater in the first few weeks of their acquaintance). Believe me, Eric is completely content standing in the shadow whenever someone gushes about Kim Sunwoo, the star player of the team– until you’re involved, of course.

So, he sulks. And it’s apparent– or at least he thinks so. It doesn’t seem to clock in with any of his friends, though, as they all walk away from the football field, aiming to celebrate together in the cheap restaurant downtown. Eric walks behind the group like a lost puppy, and it takes exactly 5 minutes and 35 seconds (not that he’s counting) for you to finally notice the absence of his lame jokes and loud comments to just about everything.

“What’s up?” you ask when you trail behind the group to join his side, laughing at the pout on his face. “You look like you just lost the match. Which you didn’t. Not sure if you caught that…” you joke, bumping your hips with him.

“Well, you seem to be acting like it,” he comments, his words leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Huh?” you ask, genuine confusion tinting your expression. “We’re literally going to celebrate, I don’t get what you– is this because you want that stupid star sticker?” you cut yourself off mid-sentence, the boy already too readable to you after so much time.

Eric gasps in shock. He’s not really sure what he wanted out of mentioning it so openly to you, but to be called out like this surely wasn’t on the list. He feels heat rising to his cheeks with lightning speed, his eyes averting your gaze in the instant. Maybe the voices inside of his head were right. Maybe he is embarrassing.

“Well,” he shrugs, only digging the hole under himself deeper, “did I not do well too?” he mutters under his breath, the humiliation fully settling into his bones after you laugh straight at his face.

“Wow…” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “If I knew I was fueling your praise kink this much with the stickers, I would’ve stopped a long time ago–”

“I don’t have a praise kink–” he screams, battling you as you suddenly scramble after him with the sticker on your finger, waiting to be plastered somewhere onto his figure. He’s sure the whole commotion heard his poor attempt at defending himself, but he’s not willing to back down without a fight– anything to prove that he doesn’t depend on the stickers as much as one would think. He doesn’t want the sticker anymore. He doesn’t need it.

As you fight him and womanhandle him on the street, though, hands all over him, trying to get close as he desperately tries to push you away and fight the allegations, he finds himself unarmed when you get in close proximity of his body, pushing him against the wall. He’s sure he has more muscle power than you do, but the mental power in him is lacking– he just can’t make himself push you away from him. Your face is close to his, your breathing tickling his nose. His heart is stammering hard against his chest, your hands still clutching his wrists against the wall, making him feel like a horny teenager. His breathing is heavy– he doesn’t think he’s done much physical labor, though?

Before he has a chance to collect himself and physically unglue his eyes off your lips– glossy and pink, inviting him in– you make the boy’s brain short circuit even further when you lean close to his ear, whispering so no one else can hear.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, by the way.”

You know just which buttons to push. Maybe you’re a bit sadistic– with how knowledgeable you are of his feelings, but of how much you’re enjoying him being completely oblivious to the fact that you’re aware. You have him at your mercy, all yours to keep, his heart all yours to play with and scan in the palm of your hands.

A star sticker is pressed into the skin below his ear, right at the pulse point. With that, you unstick yourself from the boy, running back to the rest of the group. It takes Eric a moment to collect himself enough to rejoin his friends– so much he has to run (which is good, in hindsight– at least he has something to blame for his breathlessness)– but after this, he swears he’s never asking for validation from you ever again.

It’s too dangerous.

Almost as dangerous as you trying to ride his skateboard for the first time, it seems. He’s met with the fact only two weeks after the football match. When you texted him and convinced him you’re going to be fine and that he should definitely bring the board with him when you hang out later in the day– ‘I’m not a five year old, I can handle it! I bet it’s going to be fun!’ – he didn’t really expect you to be this bad at it. You seemed a little too confident for him to believe otherwise, and, well, in Eric’s eyes, you are perfect at just about everything. 

This really shattered the image of you he had in his mind. Not in a bad way, no– the man has and always will worship the sheer ground you walk on– it’s just that more than admiration, the feeling flowing through his veins right now seems to be adoration. Eric always admired your every move, every single sentence that ever came out of your mouth. But now, he just can’t seem to contain himself as he watches you stumble over your own feet and try to balance yourself on the unmoving skateboard in the middle of the empty park, hands waving around your figure in a desperate need to not fall over and break your neck. (Which would never happen under Eric’s watch anyway. His reflexes are fast.)

“You look like a baby learning how to walk for the first time,” he gushes from the bench, your bags waiting at his feet. A wide grin is plastered onto his face as he watches you, his cheeks beginning to hurt from the constant stretch of the muscles.

“Very funny,” you sigh, stumbling over once again, making the board move with the kinetic motion of you stepping off of it, leaving Eric to stop it with his outstretched leg.

“You were so confident before,” he shakes his head, mocking you.

“Well, I tend to overestimate my abilities sometimes,” you shrug, a pout slowly appearing on your face as you move closer towards the male, obviously going to sit at the bench next to him. “It’s whatever, I don’t feel like skateboarding anymore–”

“You’re giving up already?” 

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he shakes his head, standing up and offering you his hand to take so he can bring you back up to your feet, “never back down, never what?”

“Eric, I’m not going to finish your TikTok references right now–”

“I said never back down never what?!” he hollers, forcefully tugging you to a standing position, the sigh escaping your lips only fueling him further with his ridiculous antics. “Never give up! That’s right, Y/N, very well. Now, let me help you, I promise it’s not as hard as it seems.”

“I mean, given the fact that even you can do it–”

Eric flashes you a stone cold look as a warning. He doesn’t really think the teasing is at place right now– you’re the one not capable of keeping balance on the skateboard. It’s not like you have any right to joke right now.

“Okay, I take it back.”

“Leave the jokes for when your legs don’t look like a freshy born horse’s with how much they’re shaking when you’re up on this thing, yeah?” he chuckles, hearing you snort out a laugh at the accuracy of his comment.

Eric should’ve known he was the one miscalculating his abilities to efficiently teach you how to skateboard before the act itself happened. He didn’t, though, and the thought only occurred to him the moment you started latching onto him like a koala to its favorite tree– all just so you could hold balance on the board beneath your feet.

Your legs are a little shaky– and so are Eric’s hands when they instinctively land on your waist as you latch onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. The boy is painfully aware of the layers of clothing preventing him from touching your bare skin, yet, his fingertips still tingle as they bear into your midriff, holding you steady and preventing you from falling.

“Now, this isn’t so hard,” you conclude, chuckling. Eric doesn’t find it in himself to look up at your face, knowing he’d go painfully red the second your eyes would meet. The close proximity of your body still makes him shy sometimes, despite the years of friendship you share, and so he keeps his gaze glued to the ground instead, clearing his throat before he speaks up again, trying to seem nonchalant and casual.

“I’ll move now, yeah?”

Without really waiting for your reply, his feet shift their position on the ground, dragging you across the road with him. Gentle steps at first, making sure you’re not too overwhelmed, then picking up speed so you move a little faster on the board. “Will you be okay if I let go?”

“I don’t know..? Hopefully…?” you say, voice wavering a little, nerves seeping through your tone.

“I’ll catch you if you fall, don’t worry,” he hums, feeling how you squeeze his shoulders for one last time before he lets go of your waist, watching the way you slide away on the skateboard. The pace isn’t too fast, yet, it’s still enough to make you grin widely at the boy, your body now used to the feeling, balance finally finding its way to you. 

“Do you want me to push you around for a bit?” he offers, relishing in the way you nod eagerly at him, the grin on your face making his heart squeeze on itself. If he could carve the muscle out of his chest and offer it to you, he would. In his eyes, you deserve everything in this world– how could he not just try and give it to you, little by little, all by himself?

Light steps nearing your figure, he gently pushes you in the back, watching as you slide farther and farther away from him. Every time he gently nudges you in the right direction, he earns himself a hearty giggle from you, the motion making you feel free and reckless– just like teenagers do when discovering the activity for the first time. “I was right! It’s fun!”

Eric can feel himself relishing in the moment fully. Your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he wishes he could engrave the sight of it into his memory forever. He knows that’s not possible, though, and so he pledges to try his hardest to make it appear on your face so much and so often that he has no chance to forget how it looks.

After you’re done and exhausted with the day, Eric makes it his quest to get you home safely before heading to his place. You complain about your feet hurting, and although the boy is doubtful of your whining, he still offers to drag you home as you stand on the skateboard, holding your hand the whole way. When he’s almost at your apartment complex, he feels the familiar star sticker glued to the back of his hand before you intertwine your fingers with his, running a thumb proudly over the gold plastic.

“A gold star for being a good teacher,” you note when your eyes meet, making the boy chuckle.

“Shouldn’t I be giving you one for being a good student? Is that not how things usually work?” 

“I give credit where credit is due,” you hum, nodding to yourself. “Besides, that’s not only for that. I just…” you trail off, as if too nervous to say the next words. “I just wanted to show gratitude to you, ‘cause I had a really good time today,” you say nonchalantly, still, shrugging. Eric feels his stomach churning. How can you be so casual with saying words that make his heart skip a beat?

“I should show my gratitude to you more often too, y’know.”

You shake your head at him, laughing like it’s funny. “Oh, Eric. You do it so often you don’t even realize it. You just have a different way of showing it than I do.”

Eric averts his gaze from you, chewing on his bottom lip in nervousness. He starts to wonder if he’s been too obvious with his feelings. Do you see him differently now?

The questions almost drown him out on the way towards your house. Somewhere along the way, he realizes the act of holding your hand feels natural to him now. Gazing at your interlocked fingers, he smiles to himself. He could get used to it– all of it.

He could get used to the people smiling at him and you on the street when they see you with fingers interlocked. He could get used to holding your hand every day, keeping you close. He could get used to your touches, hugs and skinship. He could get used to waking up to you in the same apartment as him, like that one time he locked himself out and you let him sleep over at your place. And to a certain extent, he already has gotten used to you– all of you. 

He’s used to texting you every day. He’s used to seeing you multiple times a week– because if he doesn’t, he misses you a little too much. He’s used to your movie nights and dancing with you in bars, shielding you from the looks of other greedy men wanting to get a piece of you. He’s used to the gold stickers you constantly provide him with as a gentle reminder of the unsaid feelings shared between the two of you. He’s used to your presence and your energy, he’s used to your teasing words and the memes you send in his Instagram DMs. If you were suddenly removed out of his life, he knows he’ll find it hard. It would feel like a piece of him was missing.

Some days, he tries to make himself believe that he’s content with what you two have right now. And he is, for the most part– but deep down, he knows he wants more. He always wanted something a bit more.

It shines through his actions on most days. It’s visible to everyone– the longing looks, the gentle touches. Jake once said Eric would jump out of a window if you asked him to, and after careful consideration, the boy had to shamefully agree with his roommate. Eric gets laughed at every time his cheeks blush when you give him too much special attention. He’s used to being called the ‘lover boy’ whenever you’re around. 

In front of you, he tries to hide his feelings as much as possible, though.

Sometimes, it slips out of him, though. In moments where the day slowly comes to its end and the atmosphere turns more tender. On days when the movie nights get moved to his apartment, because it’s closer to your university and you claim you’re too tired to walk all the way back to your place. Eric claims you’re just lazy, but the pout on your face tells him otherwise. 

On days when there is no one else in the apartment, just you two, and your conversation dies down. The boy is usually a chatterbox when it comes to watching movies with you– commenting on every single scene, making fun of the characters, teasingly spoiling bits and chunks of the plot for you– but it was a Friday night and you were snuggled up in your favorite hoodie, your bodies stuck tightly to each other on the sofa. There is a cloud of comfort, a huge curtain of intimacy falling over you two, and Eric is afraid that speaking up would ruin the sentiment. 

After a few minutes, he feels your head lay on his shoulder. The crown of your head is instantly more interesting than the movie playing on the TV, his eyes glossing over your relaxed expression. There is hair falling into your face and your eyelashes are kissing your cheekbones, your brain no longer focusing on the movie, but slowly dozing off instead. Eric mentally coos– it’s not often you fall asleep next to him, and so he somehow finds himself treasuring the moment. You look so peaceful, so beautiful– yet so unaware of it. His heart squeezes with tenderness, making sink a little into the sofa cushions so you’re more comfortable in using him as your head rest. He knows waking you up or moving you so you’re resting against the back of the sofa would be more convenient for your neck, but he selfishly relishes in the fact that you found comfort in the crook of his shoulder instead.

He can’t help but smile widely at your composure. You look small and vulnerable. You look like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Eric indulges in the fact that he’s not watched right now, letting himself fully enjoy and admire your sheer existence. 

He acts on impulse when his lips softly land onto your forehead. Not much thought goes into the sentiment– he just sheerly answered his heart’s calling. 

You look dreamy. You look lovely. He’s in love with you, he thinks.

He lets himself settle deeper into the couch cushions. After no longer having to entertain you with his comments on the movie he’s seen 4 times already– The matrix– he finds himself bored enough of the familiar plot to doze off himself, forgetting about the promise he made to you to drive you home after the movie is over. 

He sleeps through your smile and the shake of your head, as well as you detaching your head off his shoulder, smiling at the unaware boy. Not yet asleep– just resting your eyes for a bit– you were a witness of the boy’s tender, loving ministrations. You disappear out of the apartment after the movie is over, crossing paths with Jake in the entrance hall giving you a quiet wave and a point towards his roommate sitting on the sofa, a gold star adorning the tip of his nose.

You just shrug before leaving. Jake just shakes his head at both of you, wondering when your time will finally come. Eric wakes up in the middle of the night to the TV off, asking himself if he should consider the sticker a silent invitation.

And after a while of careful consideration– laying awake and wondering of all the what-ifs, replaying every moment spent with you over and over in his mind, looking for the very obvious signs of reciprocation– he decides to just go for it. He decides to be the brave man he claims he is, and finally makes the first step.

Well, at least tries to. Because as it turns out, it’s much more difficult to invite someone out on a date if you’re already friends with them for a prolonged amount of time. Not only is it more nerve-wrecking, but also much more confusing to the other party– and after inviting you out to get boba in the new place downtown, he’s not so sure you are aware that you’re on a date with him. 

Not that Eric expected anything to change between the two of you instantly after going on a date– no, he’s completely fine with the dynamic you two have, and it’s one of the things he values the most about your friendship– he just thought the atmosphere would be… a little different.

Which is why he decides to start dropping not so subtle hints about his intentions. Brave, isn’t he?

First of all, he pays for your order. All after the 20 minutes you take standing outside of the boba store searching through the menu to find out what you’re going to get– and although Eric finds it endearing, he is also starting to get a little nervous.

“Didn’t know you were so indecisive,” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m not!” you grunt, shaking your head at your own antics. “I just don’t know what tastes good together. Should I just get one of the premade drinks on the menu? But I’m not really in the mood for any of these–”

“I’ll just get you a random one,” he sighs, “and you will have no other choice than to drink it.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then at least you have someone to blame,” he snickers, pushing the glass door open and entering the quiet boba store. He orders you a kiwi bubble tea with strawberry popping pearls– because he knows you enjoy how they come apart in your mouth– and after he comes outside with both of the drinks in either of his hands, he waves you off when you ask him how much yours was so you can pay him back.

“It’s on me,” he hums.

An over-exaggerated sigh escapes your mouth at that. “You’re paying? You never pay,” you exclaim and take the straw in between your lips, ready to taste the drink. You and Eric both know that what you said is a lie– he has no issue with paying for you, and he brings you random treats all the time– but for the sake of the next line, he decides to go along with it.

“Well, today is a different occasion, I guess,” he shrugs.

With that, you stop and stare at him with stars in your eyes, a teasing smile slowly overtaking your lips. You’re not stupid– you’re not oblivious the way he is– and so Eric thinks you finally got the hint. Or, at least he hopes so. “Is it?”

Suddenly too shy under your gaze, cheeks tinting light pink, the boy averts his gaze from you and walks down the street, expecting you to follow him. He might be brave enough to drop hints, but still not brave enough to admit to it explicitly.

Not when he drags you to the park and sits with you on the bench, people watching. Not when he casually drops his arm on the back of the bench behind you, gluing himself particularly close to your body. Not when he lets you try his drink, battling away the annoying voice inside of his head telling him that you just shared an indirect kiss. (‘Come on, Eric. You’re not a teenager anymore. Get it together.’)

He doesn’t admit to it in words, but he sure does in actions when he gives you his jacket when the evening gets chilly. He swears you look the most adorable in his red windbreaker, and in a moment of weakness, he puts his arm around your shoulders as you walk down the street, a selfish need of having you close to him winning above everything else.

“And what was so different about today, Eric?” you ask on the way to your apartment, gazing up at the beaming boy next to you. Are you teasing him again? Do you enjoy watching his misery?

Eric figures it’s for the best to tell you, though. He thinks it’s important to set the tone– because after today, it’s almost like nothing changed at all. The dynamic stays the same– and while he doesn’t think he hates it, he admits he’d just rather call you his.

So, despite the embarrassment, he chews on the bottom of his lip. You’re almost at your place already, and so he thinks it won’t hurt to talk about it now. If things go wrong, you can just go home and he can run to his apartment and violently cry into his pillow. 

“Well, I was thinking…” he starts, clearing his throat to buy himself some time and also trying to bite down the excessive nerves clawing at him from the inside, “I… you… I was hoping this wasn’t just like… a regular day out, you know…?”

Blinking at him a few times– because you must love to torture him, there is no other explanation– you shake you head at him. “No, Eric. I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Eric physically tears himself off you, your apartment complex now directly in front of him. Cracking his knuckles and taking a deep breath in to calm himself, he tries again. “I meant to… invite you out on a date today,” he proposes simply.

And in that moment, it’s like the whole world stops turning for a minute. Not only do you not give him any verbal answer, but your expression also stays the same as before– completely stoic and neutral, giving him no window into the way you feel about his suggestion. And you know what they say about Eric Sohn– he talks too much. Not only in situations where it’s inappropriate, but also in moments where he feels like there is nothing better to do than to fill the suffocating void that is the silence hanging over him– much like right now.

Eric rambles. “And- and I know I should’ve said that before making you go with me, but god, you don’t know how hard it is to make it clear to you that I’m trying to be more than friends with you without sounding absolutely fucking awkward!” he sighs, wetting his dry, chapped lips. 

“And I’m sorry if this changes your view of me, or something, but trust me, our friendship means to me so much more than just trying to make you date me, that was never my intention behind things, I do everything out of care for you, because you’re– you’re just everything to me–”

After the last line, he hears you chuckle. Your eyes finally meet, and he feels like he wants a car to run him over approximately 15 times to make sure all his bones are broken and his skull is smashed into pieces– he’s sure it would be more comfortable than the situation he put himself in right now.

“That was so cheesy,” you say, Eric’s stomach making a flip that might as well force acid up his throat. He won’t throw up, he won’t throw up, he won’t embarrass himself even more–

His hands shake. Suddenly, you take them into yours. 

He watches you carefully, ready to be let down. You step closer to him– surely, you’re going to give him a comforting hug as you tell him he read all the signs wrong and you don’t feel the same– before you lean into him, face inches away from his. Blinking, Eric suddenly registers your lips locking with his for a mere second, a soft, sweet caress of your mouth on his not giving him a chance to react– a chance to reciprocate– before you pull away, making him freeze.

“You always make things more complicated than they need to be,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Uh…” he lets out, like he lost all the words in his vocabulary. It’s the first time Eric Sohn has nothing to say– and it feels like a miracle. In reality, he’s taken aback and still processing.

The sight of him like this only makes you grin wider. It’s no question that you find him adorable like this, so bashful and surprised, cheeks turning red and lips slightly ajar, big eyes staring into yours. “Cat got your tongue?” you tease, letting go off his hands and placing your palms onto his cheeks instead, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. His brain might be blank right now, but his orbs still hold so many emotions– ones that make you soften and cave in on yourself, overflowing with tenderness. Hands automatically resting on your waist, Eric holds you close to his chest.

“Put your mouth to use in a different way, then,” you joke, watching the boy in front of you go into factory reset.

Lips crashing against yours, the boy kisses you like you’re his lifeline. Chasing after you, he puts all the words he’s said before and the ones he keeps hidden inside for now into the action, having you melt in his hold. He feels your breathing on his face, making him deeply aware of every detail, of every miniscule shift of your figure, every tiniest movement of your lips and the almost inaudible sound you let out when his teeth tug on your bottom lip as he pulls away for air, being a little overly-excited.

Foreheads resting together, the two of you in your own little bubble no one gets to peer into even on the busy street, Eric watches as you look down and take something out of your pocket– something he so deeply recognises, making his heart thump a thousand miles an hour, if it wasn’t already.

Another kiss is given to his lips– for good measure– before you press another one to the tip of his nose and one more peck into the middle of his forehead, making his legs feel like jelly. You follow your lips with the star sticker attached to your thumb, sticking it to your lover’s skin. 

“That’s a gold star for being adorable,” you say, making him roll his eyes. “And for the nice date.”

“Don’t I get one for being a good kisser too?” he pries, watching as you scoff at his prideful question.

“I don’t know, Sohn,” you shrug, “I’m not sure yet, but I could be convinced–”

He cuts you off by locking your lips again, ready to prove you of his abilities. With the gold sticker proudly glimmering on his forehead, he realizes that maybe you were right– and all along, it has always been this simple.

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 3)

A/N: Heeeeeeey...How y'all doing?....I know it's been a couple weeks when I said days but a part of this just did not want to be written! Also, this one is a bit of a beast, just over 5,200 words. This is the final part of this lil mini series, I hope y'all enjoy and the conclusion is satisfying for you guys.

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Mike gets a couple visits, Shay has some news and Armando makes a decision.

Warnings⚠️: Cussing, Mentions of bad parental relationships, uh.... I think that's it for this one.

Mike Lowrey was no stranger to being called into back rooms for an off the books meeting. What was unusual was the CBI agent waiting for him when last time he checked none of the cases he had been part of lately had anything to warrant federal attention. Well, besides the one with his son but he had been cleared almost a full year ago now and Julie had corroborated his story. Nah, this was something new.

“Officer Lowrey, I’m Agent Garrett with the California Bureau of Investigations. Please have a seat.” She was standing at her full height on the other side of the table while gesturing to one of two chairs in the room, the only one near him. He saw straight through her bullshit tactics to make him feel like she was in charge and had the upper hand.

“It’s Detective Lowrey and think I’ll stand. Now why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what the hell you want.” Her jaw tensed and he just barely managed to hold back a smirk. She wouldn’t get what she wanted by using the same perp tricks he had been using when she was still in diapers. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter.

Coming clean, she began, “I’ve been put in charge of running a task force out in LA, similar to your AMMO squad here. Our goal is to find and stop cartel drug from entering the country, maybe stop a few murders while we’re at it.”

So this was about Armando, just more recently than he thought. Damn son of his was definitely payback for the hell he raised when he was younger. If he was back on his shit, he might not be able to help him this time.

“Sounds like a good idea. I wish you luck,” he stated, feigning ignorance as to what this was really about.

“Your son Armando Aretas has many connections on the west coast that could be useful. Figured I could use him to knock down some of my open cases.”

She clearly had found out their connection, but he still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news lately, but my son isn’t here in Miami. He’s been on the run for the better part of a year. I don’t know where he is.”

“You’re his father.” Agent Garrett takes the chair on her side of the table. “If anybody could find him, it’d be you. You’d know where to look right?” The flattery, the subtle leading questions to confirm what she believed and the sitting gave her away.

She was desperate.

If he had to guess, those open case files were all big cases that had her boss breathing down her neck. She’d probably been given an ultimatum with her job on the line and now she was desperate to do anything that would get her back on top, including working with a wanted man.

Mike sat. “What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“What does Armando get in exchange for helping you?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Terms are you don’t go to prison for aiding and abetting a murderer and he doesn’t get a bullet in his head immediately. Don’t know if you know this but cops aren’t a big hit in prison and I’m betting that’s especially true for you.”

“Don’t fucking insult me, please. Aiding and abetting implies I know where he is and I’m actively helping him. I’ve already told you I don’t know where he is. But like you said I’m your best shot at finding him. I’m also your best chance at not getting your men killed and losing him again. I’m not doing this shit without some assurances on his end. So I’ll ask again. What does he get for helping you?”

She shook her head. “You know when I came up with this whole thing, I did my my research on you. Figured I should know who I was getting into bed with. Everything I read told me you were one hell of a cop, always got your guy and made Miami just that much safer. Are you, this great cop, really going to bat for a murderer like him?”

That was where her approach was faulty. She was trying to appeal to his cop side, but he was a father first. “No, I, a father, am protecting my son.”

“I can offer him protective custody, knock some time off his sentence depending on how fruitful his tips are.” She offered lightly.

Too lightly. This was her throwaway offer, the one she knew was shit but was hoping he’d take anyway. So he called her bluff.

“He won’t come in for that. He had that deal with me already. All the shit that went down last year? The bodies dropped had to be put on someone and he got ‘em since he was a convicted felon, one that was alive and a part of the mess. Not to mention he ran off and became a fugitive. He’s looking at almost double what his sentence was when I arrested him. You’ll have to do better.”

Agent Garrett seemed to be debating with herself. She let out a heavy breath,”I’ve been authorized to grant him a special deal.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that puts my ass on the line.”

Something about this whole interaction was bugging him. “Tell me something. Why are you willing to put your badge on the line for someone you clearly can’t stand?”

“I don’t trust Aretas. But this isn’t about me. Its about making my city safer. His intel could be the key to shutting down major operations. He has connections everywhere, and that’s what I care about. I’m not putting myself on the line for him, I’m doing it for my city.”

“You sure you’re not doing it for your bosses? They up yo ass about getting shit done?”

“I proposed using Aretas. They were against it. Said we were cleaning up just fine but I’m tired of cleaning up after the fact and only getting low level dealers. I want to cut this thing off at the head.”

“At the end of the day that’s my son. I need to know that somebody has his back. Why should I trust that that’s you?”

“Like I said this is my proposal. My bosses made it clear that if he fails I fail. He gives me the wrong intel, he leads us astray, he turns on us, I’m fired. I’m just as invested in his success because I have something to lose too.”

“What’s the offer?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Lowrey?” Shay swallowed down the feeling of nausea, hoping it was just the nerves making her feel this way.

“He’s not in at the moment, but I’m his wife Christine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shay hesitates. Could she do anything? Hell she wasn’t sure what this Mike Lowrey could do for her either. She flew all the way to Miami, and for what? Some detective Armando had left the name of in case she needed help? This was a bad idea. She knew he was a cop, and after looking him up a supposedly good one, but how could she trust him when he socialized with a murderer? Ignoring her own dalliances with the man, she could only think about the fact that Detective Mike Lowrey had sworn to arrest people like Armando, not be someone they trusted.

She felt overwhelmed for the millionth time in the past month and a half and was debating just leaving when Christine offered, “why don’t you come in? Mike should be home soon and you can wait inside for him instead of in the heat.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat, Christine's sweet voice coupled with the endearing British accent or the way her face screamed warmth, but she found herself saying, “yeah. Yeah okay.”

Christine opened the door wider for her to enter and Shay marveled at the inside of the house as much as she had the outside. This guy was definitely a dirty cop. There was no way he was able to afford this on a detective’s salary. What the hell was she getting herself into?

“Please have a seat,” she gestured towards the couch.  It looked like it was more for the aesthetic than actual use but she was pleasantly surprised to find it very comfortable. “Would you like something to drink? I have water and that disgusting stuff my husband calls sweet tea,” Christine joked.

“Water is fine,” she replied with a smile. Shay watched as Christine stepped past a wall into what she assumes was the kitchen. The creeping sensation of nausea hit her once more. Digging in her purse and finding a ginger chew, she didn’t see Christine come back in the room with a bottle of water. Almost instantaneously she felt relief, so maybe it was all psychosomatic. Just her nerves going haywire.

“How far along are you?” Shay startled at the question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“It’s okay. What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“I saw the chew and just assumed.” 

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Some assumption based off just a ginger chew. What if I just like them?”

“Honestly the chew was just the cherry on top for my assumption. You hold yourself the same way my sister held herself when she was pregnant for the first time. A bit unsure, scared definitely, but ready for war all the same.”

Well, damn. She didn’t know she gave off that much with just how she stood.

Ignoring how unexpectedly open she felt, she answered Christine’s question from before.“Thirteen weeks.” Suddenly Shay realized how this could look, a random pregnant woman showing up looking for her husband and not telling her what she wants, so she quickly explained. “It’s not your husband’s!”

Christine laughed brightly, “Oh darling the thought never crossed my mind. Mike may have once been that guy, but he’s not anymore. He’s a good man.” Shay kept her doubts to herself.

“Christine? Who’s car is that out front?” The man she assumed to be Mike Lowrey was juggling a duffle bag and struggling to get his keys out of the door, not once looking in their direction.

Smirking like it was a game, Christine replied, “It’s a rental.”

“Why do we need a rental?” He finally looked up, noticing Shay in the room. She could see his guard go right back up.

“Mike, this is Shay. She was hoping to speak with you,” his wife explained to him.

“Do I know you?” He was blunt but not unkind with his words, something she hoped would continue in their conversation.

“Mike!” Christine admonished before turning to Shay with, “Please, excuse Mike. He can bring his interrogation tactics into other parts of his life sometimes.”

“It’s okay. If a random woman showed up saying she needed to speak to me, I’d probably question it too.” She was hoping her understanding would get her some traction and not immediately thrown out when he found out why she was here.

Mike still held caution in his face. “So…?” He left the obvious question unspoken, wondering who she was and why she was here in his home.

Shay paused. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife in case she truly had no clue her husband was a dirty cop. She may have been desperate enough to find this guy,  but she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin this poor woman’s marriage.

Luckily Christine picked up on her reluctance to speak in front of an audience and excused herself. “I’m going to head upstairs for a moment, give you two some time to talk.”

While Shay relaxed, Mike tensed. Once Christine was gone, he questioned her. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I was told if I ever needed anything, I should find you.”

Mike carefully focused his attention on sitting his duffle near the armchair, going to take a seat himself. He might not be looking directly at her anymore, but she knew all of his attention was on her as he spoke. “Who the fuck told you that? Better yet, why my house? Why not meet me in the station?”

Ignoring the second question, she replied, “Armando Aretas.”

Mike’s head snapped back to her. She was almost concerned for his neck with how fast he moved.

Continuing at his silence she said, “I figured you wouldn’t want to discuss him at work.”

“What about him?”

“He was in LA a few months ago.”

He first whispered to himself, “Dumbass don’t listen.” Then he spoke louder, clearly to her this time, “What does this have to do with you and why you’re here?”

She wasn’t sure where to start. How does one tell a dirty cop working for one’s murderer baby daddy that you need him to tell said baby daddy you were pregnant? “We were…together. I’m pregnant now.” She hoped he would catch on without her spelling it out but he didn’t.

Instead, Mike blinked. “What?” A million unidentifiable emotions ran over his face before he carefully shut it down, facing her with no emotion at all now.

“I am with child, in the family way, carrying a bun in the oven, whatever you want to call it.” There was still no response from him so she continued her rant, “look I’m not asking for him to come back or pay for anything. I’m fully prepared to take care of this kid myself, but not even trying to tell him was weighing on my conscience. So I figured if I found you like he said, you could pass on the message for me. I just need to be able to know I did everything I could to let him know.”

She had prepared for a lot of responses to her plea. Anger on Armando’s behalf, a dismissal, hell even laughter at her audacity, but his next words were ones she somehow missed in her spiral. “I’m not in contact with him.”

Shay tried not to be hurt at his response, not for herself, but for her baby. Okay, well a little bit for herself. She was in love with the man-yes, still- and knowing he truly didn’t leave a way to contact him again crushed the little bit of hope his note had left behind. Why would he send her to Mike if it wasn’t a way to get in touch with him? “So why would he tell me to find you?”

A pause.

“Armando’s my son.”

The statement was so far from what she was expecting to hear that she paused. “Wait so you don’t…you don’t work for him? With him? Whatever.”

Mike laughed loudly, “nah, I don’t work in that world. I stand by the badge.”

“So how did he…?” She trailed off, confused.

“Look our situation is…complicated, but if he sent you in my direction I’m gonna help you in any way I can. I mean, I’d love to get to know you and be in my grandchild’s life if you’ll let me.” His words were reminiscent of the night she had asked Armando about his family. He too had called his relationship with his father complicated.

Despite the unknown of it all, his offer was partly the reason she had found Mike. A family for her child, something she never really had. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” It may not be exactly what she was looking for, but she would take what she could get. At least her baby would have some connection to their father’s side of the family. But she still had a question, one that had no answer now that her assumptions were corrected.

“So if you aren’t dirty, how do you afford living like this?”

Mike let out a laugh louder than the one from before. “I’m a trust fund kid. Never really had to work but all I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop.”

“Sounds like one hell of a trust fund,” she scoffed.

Turning serious he impressed, “One that continues to grow from a few investments made along the way. This kid will have that same freedom. They’ll be able to do whatever they want in life and never have to worry about money.”

That statement alone almost made her cry. She didn’t have much growing up, wondering if she and her mother would even be able to eat everyday. When she had found out she was pregnant, despite making more money than her mother did she found herself worrying her child would have those same experiences.

She may not have Armando, a partner she’d hoped to have, but he had made sure she had everything she needed.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Habitual but flexible.

That was Armando’s motto. Habitual in the precautions he took but flexible enough everywhere else to not create patterns. Patterns were how you got caught, and Armando refused to be put in another cage. He always double checked his locks when he left his place, checked his surroundings before leaving and arriving at his place so as not to run into his neighbors. The less people who could identify him the better.

Which is why seeing his door wide open as he turned onto his street was so unsettling.

Normally he would just leave town, dump this alias and start over with another elsewhere, but there were a few things he didn’t want to part with. Upon his first return to Mexico, he had managed to find his mother’s emergency stash and in it was a photo of the two of them before he was forced out of the prison when he turned six. Despite his conflicted feelings on his mother’s choices and the lies she told him, he still loved her and this was all he had left of her.

If she were around she’d chastise his sentimentality.

He also had a letter his father had written him when he left Miami that he kept because even with the complexity of their relationship, he still wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know him. He wished he could have done things differently. That letter may be his only chance to know his father, even a little bit.

The last thing was a photo of Shay. He had taken it one morning before he left on a polaroid camera she had lying around. The sun had been rising and he remembered wishing what they had could be real, that he could stay in bed and wake up with her instead of having to run out and lie all the time. It was the only thing he had left of the only relationship he’d ever have again.

So he weighed his options. Either he went in and fought whoever was there, grabbed his things and hopefully made it out in time to not get caught, or he left now and hoped whoever it was left without calling for backup so he could get his things before leaving town. He either risked his freedom or he risked losing the only items that reminded him of his humanity forever.

He pulled his gun and carefully made his way into the apartment he’d called home for a couple weeks.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

Armando relaxed, but kept his gun in his hand. “What are you doing here Detective?” His tone was snippy, as though his father speaking to him was a bother. He knew that wasn’t true, but it was like he couldn’t help the animosity that came out when he spoke to his father. No matter how much he’d love to try with the man, he’d just get so angry about it all that it came out confrontational.

“What? A man can’t see his son?” Mike didn’t rise to the obvious bait of his tone, instead trying to lighten the mood with a tease.

Armando simply raised an eyebrow at the deflection. “Not when that man is a decorated detective and his son is a fugitive,” he coldly stated. He needed to know what Mike wanted so he could get on with his life. Who knows how many eyes are on the man, he was risking Armando’s freedom, not that he seemed to care. Irritated at the lack of concern for him, he accused, “you risked the badge once just to let me go, you won’t risk it again, not even for me. It means too much to you.” I don’t mean enough to you went unsaid but not unheard.

“Armando I’d risk everything for you.” The fight left Mike, and he sighed, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my son and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but that shit means something to me. Our relationship means something to me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my father so I told myself I wouldn’t have kids cause I didn’t want to repeat the cycle. But then I found out about you. And despite the fact that circumstances made it so it isn’t easy, I still don’t want the cycle to be repeated. I love you man. I’ll do whatever you need me to, to prove that to you. Including walking away if you say no to my proposal.”

There it was. The real reason he was here now, he needed something like always. Armando put his gun away in exasperation. He was so tired of just being used that he couldn’t help but get a jab in. “Whatever man. This don’t mean shit to you. It’s all transactional for you, I’m good enough to help you get what you want and that’s why you come around. So what is it this time?”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” What the hell else was he supposed to think?

“If you did, you would have come to see me in prison without needing my help on a case.” He argued before quietly following up with, “I would have been enough of a reason to visit.” He hated when this stupid hurt boy routine flared up. He looked weak, like una puta.

Mike stood and stepped close to Armando. Refusing to back down, Armando met his stare head on, ignoring the way his throat was getting tight and tears were pooling in his eyes. “Armando I never needed you on those cases. I knew that if I could get intel from you and put you down on paper, it would help you out. I was trying to help.” He blinked and a single tear made its way down his face. It was too much now and he had to look away.

Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing, “I love you. Nothing is more real than that. If I had known you would take my help as me using you, I never would’ve asked for your help.”

Facing his father once more, Armando spoke lowly, “Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado?” He didn’t explain what he meant, knowing his father understood what he was asking.

“Nada me hubiera importado más.” Mike asserted.

He nodded, finally having an answer to the question that had been burning inside him. He focused on the reason Mike was in front of him, not the emotions his answer stirred in him. “What’s the proposal?” He asked much more calmly this time around.

“LAPD is starting up a team like AMMO. They were hoping to recruit you to be a part of it, use your knowledge to help stop cartel drugs from entering the states.”

“And go back in a cage? No I’m good.” He shook his head, a clear no coming from him.

“You wouldn’t be arrested again, you’d be put up in an apartment. Free to walk the city after an initial probationary period of just work and home. After that, there would be twenty-four hour surveillance, random drug tests and check-ins. Eventually you would become a private citizen.”

It sounded like a trap. “If I don’t give them what they want I get arrested right?”

“Yeah, but I have all the faith you’ll be great at it. Plus I made sure it was as ironclad for you as possible.”

“Why would I agree to this? Sounds like a lot could go wrong and land me back in prison. If that happens I’m never getting out again.”

“You aren’t the killer your mother made you into. You only did any of it because she fueled you with rage and ideas of revenge before she pointed you at a target. If you were really a killer, you would’ve killed me anyway. You live by a code, and only do what’s necessary. No more, no less.”

Sometimes when he was feeling really low he’d think about what his life would have been like if he’d had a normal life. Would he have chosen violence anyway? He’d like to think he’d hav e chosen to protect. Maybe be a firefighter or an EMT cause he was still an adrenaline junkie, but maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. If his father was saying the same thing he thought, then maybe he could believe it to be true. Before he could think on it, his father spoke once more, shifting his whole world.

“Besides, Shay’s pregnant. We not giving another generation of Lowrey these bullshit daddy issues.”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Six Months Later

“Marcus we ain’t got time for that shit.”

“I just asked the man a question!”

“No, you used the question as a cover to try and buy some damn skittles.”

“Oh so now you the skittle police? I thought we worked narcotics?”

“Yo ass ain’t supposed to have that shit and you know it. Don’t try to make it out like I’m the one that’s going overboard.”

“Aye Mike what would they call the skittle department? The rainbow division? Don’t worry everybody! Mike Lowry is working the rainbow!”

“That’s homophobic.”

“It’s the slogan! What else would it be called Mike?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Man fuck you-“

“Your presence really wasn’t needed-“

“I’m just trying to be a good friend-“

“This is a moment for my family-“

“And now I’m not family to you?!”

“You called my family fucked up remember?”

“Yo son was tryna kill us and his mama was gonna let us burn in a fire!”

“Are you pendejos done?”

“Mike! That mean assholes right?”

“Yeah he just called us assholes. But Imma let it slide cause he got to be high on that new father shit to call me an asshole.”

“Nah I just think he don’t respect you. That’s what you get for not raising him. My boys would never.”

“Marcus!”

Shay knew this could devolve again if she didn’t get their attention. “Guys! Do you want to meet her?”

The men focused their attention on the baby Shay was holding against her chest. Marcus visibly melted at the sight, Mike simply softening his shoulders with a small smile. 

Armando joined Shay, leaning on the bed using a finger to trace down their daughter’s arm. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on his daughter. “This is Amada Rose Lowrey.”

“Lowrey?”Mike coughed.

Armando shrugged. “I wasn’t actually an Aretas, I was supposed to be a Lowrey. Figured she and I could claim our real family name.”

Mike nodded. “That’s cool man. Real cool,” he choked out.

“Awe Mike,” Marcus cried.

“Mm-mm Marcus. Stop it right now.”

“But Mike he’s taking your last name!”

Ignoring his bumbling partner, Mike walks over to Shay, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you doing Mama?”

“Extremely sore, but happy.”

“Well you did good, she’s beautiful.”

“You wanna hold her?”

Knowing his father’s aversion to holding babies, he goads hims, “Yeah Papa, wanna hold her?”

Surprising them all, he said, “You know what? I will.”

Shay handed her daughter over to Mike, making sure he supported her head correctly.

Armando joined Shay on the bed and wrapped her in his arms now that she wasn’t holding the baby. He simply watched his father holding and whispering to his baby girl with fond eyes, knowing his daughter would know nothing but love and presence from the man. They would have a real relationship right from the start. He and Mike themselves had been working on things, talking through the lies and anger and getting to a better place.

“How’s work? They give you any time off?” Marcus asked him.

In the end there hadn’t been a choice. He was going to be present in his child’s life, no matter what and sneaking into LA would just get riskier every time he did it. If he didn’t get caught just trying to get to his family, he would’ve gotten caught because if how much he would’ve been there to see them. And he’d be damned if he was raising his child from behind bars so he took Agent Garrett up on her offer.

He turned to face his uncle, replying, “Good, we wrapped a case a day before Shay went into labor. I’ll have about a couple weeks at home with the girls before I’m expected back.” 

It had somewhat surprised him how seriously Marcus had taken to being his uncle. The man was supportive of his new role with the LAPD and called almost as often as his father did, checking in and making sure he was being safe. Seeing him at the hospital now wasn’t a shock at all.

“I’m just glad they gave him any time at all,” Shay interrupted. As his employment with the LAPD wasn’t under normal circumstances, he wasn’t sure if they’d grant him time at home with his girls. Agent Garrett had stuck her neck out for him once again and gotten him twelve days exactly.

Armando leaned down and kissed her, forever grateful for the woman who stood by his side despite his past. She had lost a couple friends when they found out who he was, the ones that stayed had definitely judged her and never truly came around to him as a person. She never wavered though, taking it all with grace and holding his hand as they planed for their future. He couldn’t wait to ask her to marry him.

Amada let out a cry, disrupting his internal debate on the pros and cons of asking her right that moment. He knew it probably meant she was hungry again, so he shifted his hold on Shay so she could get the b baby again and feed her.

“I think that’s a cry for mommy,” Mike chimed as he passed the baby back.

“Yeah Mike you ain’t got the right equipment,” Marcus tossed out.

Mike turned to Marcus incredulously. “Now why would you say some dumb shit like that?”

“You don’t!”

Armando turned his attention from the bickering men, whispering to his little family, “Here they go.”

Honestly, though? He wouldn’t trade his family for nothing.

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog/like! What did we think? I have a few other ideas in mind for Armando but I'm not sure how they'll play out, so I'm CAUTIOUSLY open to prompt from you guys for drabbles. Please keep in mind that I can't do smut.😅

Translations:

Una Puta - A bitch

Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado? - If you had known, would you have cared?

Nada me hubiera importado más. -Nothing would have mattered to me more.

Pendejos - Assholes

Taglist:

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[multiharlot]

on my knees // matt murdock x age gap!reader

summary: matt keeps his promise to wait, beg, and crawl in order to fix your marriage.

inspired by the wall by yana but particularly the singular lyric "but you love me, so you crawl"

warnings: the rumors are correct folks, al's bringing back men who yearn

masterlist || series masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

moving back in felt strange for you. everything felt different, and you weren't sure they'd ever feel like they did before, but you were willing to let it all go. you were willing to forgive him and to rebuild. or at the very least, you were willing to try.

and so was matt.

you'd only been moved back in for a couple weeks, but every single one of those days matt was catering to your every want or need. he was seated for every conversation. his ears and his mind always wide open to receive anything you had to say. whatever it was, he did it.

you still kept yourself at a slight distance from him. there was part of yourself that wanted to throw all of it out the window and just push everything that happened out of your mind, but the biggest part of you couldn't bring yourself to forgive him yet. you'd put all of your trust in him and he'd broken every bit of it that you had.

you were sat in your office at work, sighing as you looked over the brain scans on your computer. you'd been trying to do your work but all you could think of was your relationship. you groaned before stepping out of your desk and deciding to take a walk around the hospital.

you'd accepted this job not too long before matt has left for los angeles. you were working in the hospital in the rehabilitation program for people with traumatic brain injuries, except right now it felt more like trying to fix your relationship was the job and work became your escape. you hated feeling this way.

"hey, what're you still doing here?"

your head pops up to see one of the nurses leaning her head into your office.

"oh...just going over some scans." you smiled, clearing your throat and nodding your head towards your computer.

"you work too hard" she smiles, shaking her head before walking off.

you just sigh before deciding to pack up your things and make your way home.

when you entered the door, you were welcomed by an empty apartment. assuming he was either out patrolling or with foggy and karen. after a nice relaxing shower, you were sat on the couch. your hair was still slightly wet and you were watching a movie, a cup of tea in your hands when you heard the front door open and matt kicking his shoes off.

"hi honey" you hummed out, the pet name rolling off of your tongue automatically, and so smoothly.

matt could've sworn that his heart stopped right then and there. you hadn't called him anything other than 'matt' or 'matthew' since everything had happened.

"hi" he breathed out, a smile on his face as he walked into the living room, placing his things down beside the end of the couch onto the floor.

"everything okay?" you asked, looking at your sober and exhausted looking husband.

"everything's perfect" he smiled as he slid onto the couch next to you.

"perfect huh?" you chuckled.

"guess what i got you?"

you furrowed your eyebrows as you started at him. he reached over the edge of the couch, pulling a small grocery bag up, a loud and, albeit, overly dramatic gasp left your mouth as you saw the name on the bag. it was from your favorite indian restaurant from your hometown. which happened to be quite a ways away from hells kitchen. you'd cried to him about all the things you were craving and couldn't get last night, and had matthew had the opportunity, he would've left right then and there to get it for you.

"is this where you were!?" you giggled loudly, quickly grabbing the cheese naan that was wrapped in foil from him.

"it is. and i have more" he smiled, grabbing two more bags, each of them filled with every craving you mentioned last night.

"matthew" you croaked out, tears starting to fill your eyes.

"i thought that we could have uh...girl dinner? is that what you called it?" he chuckled, sliding onto the floor to sit leveled with the coffee table before pulling out the contents of each bag.

you stared at all of the things matthew was placing on the table. matthew had been trying his best to get you whatever you craved and doing whatever it is that you needed or wanted from him. you sniffled and quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks, and he turned around, a slight frown on his face.

"hey, what's wrong?" he said softly, turning his body so he was knelt in front of you.

"i...thank you" you cried, shaking your head as you let out a slight laugh.

"i can't believe i'm crying" you chuckled at yourself.

"it's okay. i just wanted to get you everything you wanted. it's not a big deal" he quickly reassured, a gentle smile on his face as he placed his hands on your thighs, moving his thumbs to softly rub the tops of your thighs.

you were sure that had you not been pregnant, you wouldn't be this emotional. but there you were, sobbing on the couch.

"you didn't have to do all this." you sobbed, and matthew just gave you a tight smile, nodding his head.

"yes i did" he said curtly.

you hiccuped as you shook your head

"you don't have to cater to me just because we're going through a rough patch."

matt chuckles, shaking his head at you.

"i'm not catering to you because we're going through a rough patch. i'm catering to you because you're my pregnant wife and i love you." he sighed

you stared down at him, another hiccup coming through as you grossly wiped your snot on your sleeve.

"i don't want to earn your forgiveness and your trust back because i...buy you the food you want to eat or i buy you little gifts. i don't want to buy anything from you, sweetheart. i want you to give me your forgiveness and give me your trust because i earned it." he said, his voice barely above a whisper, staring up at you from his knees in front of you.

"matt..." you breathed out, extending your hand and placing it on his cheek.

he let out a breath of relief, closing his eyes and leaning his head against your hand, trying to soak in anything you were willing to give.

"whatever it takes baby. i got us here, and i'm gonna get us out of it." he said, his voice cracking slightly towards the end of his sentence.

you weren't sure what to say, so all you did was nod your head before sliding down onto the floor next to matt.

"did you get the tiramisu?"

"of course i did, what do i look like, an amateur?"

you giggled as you began to dig into the food on the coffee table in front of you and pressing play on the adam sandler movie you were watching.

however, the movie went unwatched that night as you and matt laughed in front of the table. both of you stuffing your faces with the most random foods laid out in front of you.

and just for the night, both of you didn't think about anything other than being there in that moment with each other.

*************

taglist: @luvr-bunnyy @glowstick-lesbian @anothersworld @Mrbillymontgomery @inas-thing @fuck-goes-on @eddiemvnsonss @nia_um @multibishh @takeyour-pants-off @afootnoteinyourhappiness @slut4murdock @multibishh @alexxavicry @drunkangels @desert-fern @caseket @dvredevil-s-initivls @thychuvaluswife @scoliobean @babyblue0t7 @lewd-alien @yourbane

[natalie668]

Lost Girl

Lost boys fanfic, will be multi-chapter fic.

Lost boys (Michael as well) x reader.

Watching them through your dream had you worried, most people have 1 or 2 soulmates. You believed 3 is the max amount recorded, yet here you are dreaming of 5 men, well if you can call guys in their 20's men.

Sitting up in bed, you peered over at your phone. It hadn't long stopped beeping its annoying tune, it's 7am and you had to hurry up and get ready for work. Rubbing your eyes you swing your legs over the side of the bed, you peer down at the 5 names written on your arm; Michael, David, Marko, Paul & Dwayne. Supposedly the order of names in when you will meet each of them.

You have yet to meet a single one of your soulmates, but you guessed that having only just had your birthday 2 weeks prior it wouldn't really give you much time to have met them anyway.

Walking out of your quaint little bedroom, you make your way over to the bathroom, stripping off you begin turning the knob on the shower toas hot as it can go, (which really is pitiful) the landlord still hasn't been and fixed it even though you had alerted him to the fact its been playing up since you had moved in when you'd turned 20. You guess you can't rush these things.

After you've gotten yourself ready, you set off to work, you've been working as a receptionist in a Library since you had turned 18. You had been to college and finished between the time of finishing high school and turning 21.

As you make your way through the busy town, you can't help but sigh seeing the various couples holding hands making their own ways to work. Every day you see it, heck you even see it with working in the library. You can't help but just wish that one day you'd meet your own soulmates.

The work day went quickly, answering phones, scanning books through which people came and dropped off, passing books onto those who placed them on the correct shelves.

There was a thunder storm wracking through the sky as you made your way home, you were not going to spend a fortune getting a taxi and get stuck in traffic just to go 7 streets over. just as your were rushing past a tree when an almighty bright light shot straight in front of you hitting the tree a massive crack was the last thing you heard and an almighty pain and didn't see again.

~*~*~*~*~

The first thing you heard was screams, and the second thing you noticed was the fact you were lying on a beach, you could feel the grains of sand underneath your fingers, peering down at yourself you were wearing the same clothes you had gone to work in, yet you were nowhere near home, the nearest beach was 200 miles away and you don't think you would have not noticed going in a car to get there. So where the hell were you.

Standing up brushing the sand off my clothes, I looked towards where I could make out some steps, I set off to see where the hell I had turned up.

As soon as I got to the steps I could see rides, people dressed like they were from the 80s and a lot of people running around. I stumbled forward heading towards a shop which I could see had a newspaper stand out front like I'd seen in American movies. I peer in and spot the year 1987, I stared in shock, I looked to the top corner, it said 'Santa Carla' I felt like I was going to throw up, I could feel myself getting light headed. I stumbled over to a bench and placed my head in my hands.

I had somehow ended up in America in the late 80s, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?

I peered around trying not to throw up, my brain was going a million miles a minute, how the hell had I gone back in time. The last thing I remembered was walking home in the thunder storm and seeing a bright light and then nothing.

I panic, feeling my chest, my arms trying to find burn marks, nothing appeared to be on me, 'I must have died' I couldn't help thinking. 'How else would I have ended up going back in time, to freaking America'. A sob escaped my lips, I couldn't believe this was really happening, I pinched myself sharply on the arm to double check I wasn't dreaming.

I stand up from the bench when I finally feel like my heart isn't going to beat out of my chest, I slowly walk down what appears to be some sort of boardwalk, I get towards the end and lean against some metal bars which over looked the sea. Wiping the tears from my face I start to worry about where I am going to sleep tonight, how I'm going to live.

A sharp pain slices through my arm, I look down at my arm, the name 'Michael' is practically glowing red'. Turning around I spot another person grabbing their arm in pain, his eyes meet my own, his head turns to look me in the eyes as he steps towards me, "Hi, I'm Michael," he says as he takes a tentative step towards me. You can tell he's nervous, hell; I'm nervous. I've just gone back in time, and now I'm meeting on of my soulmates?!

"Uhm, nice to meet you, I'm Y/N" I say stumbling over my words, I look him up and down, he's pretty; wild dark hair, dark eyes. He's beautiful. I can't help but feel plain while stood next to him.

He steps towards me, his hand caresses my arm, in the spot where my soulmate mark is, he looks towards my arm and spots the names written on there. A frown marred his features, he slowly takes in the names; his frown turns into a scowl. It makes his face seem to take a different look, his eyes seeming to yellow out of nowhere, which surely must be the light?

His fingers grasp my wrist bringing it closer to his face, he looks up at me, "I think you should come with me, y/n." he says as he looks around at his surroundings like he's expecting someone to jump out at any moment.

Chapter 2

[muzzledjaw]

I have a lot of headcanons I've posted to @coffee4harper Discord server in the past couple hours and I was holdnto post them here so :]

💥TORCHWOOD💥

**Ianto James Bond Headcanons**

- Ianto has *atleast* five copies of his favourite James bond movies.

- Lisa started the "Jones. Ianto, Jones." Joke.

- After the events of the season 1 finale, ianto had been referred to as 007 multiple times.

- After Ianto's death, Jack went to every opening night showing of a James bond film, then went to Ianto's grave to tell him about it.

- Ianto use to have a framed picture of every James bond actor in his childhood room.

//

**Torchwood Social Medias**

During slow days at work, the team goes on:

*Owen* - Reddit. He absolutely loves Reddit and frequents many subreddits

*Tosh* - YouTube. She probably watches in depth YouTube tutorials on both things she's interested in so she can learn, and things she already knows to silently judge

*Ianto* - Tumblr. He's not very active, but he does some scrolling during slow days in the tourist office.

*Gwen* - Instagram. She comments on every one of Rhys' posts and watches instagram reels.

*Jack* - do you really think this man knows how to use social media? Owen probably made him download snapchat and got him hooked on the fitters like every grandparent

Owen's reddit account was also linked to his torchwood email

//

The team once came into the hub really late to find Jack sleeping on the couch under the "TORCHWOOD" sign hugging ten's hand jar

//

One of the last things the face of bo sees is a suited figure crouching down infront of him and just holding him. He can't remember the figure's face, or who it is, but the face of bo feels safe to die, knowing he's in this unknown figure's arms

//

Jack reaches out to ianto's sister after the days of miracle day and offers finance support to her until the day she dies, saying ianto would've wanted his family to be safe. This continues for generations, until eventually the children are stopped being told of their late relative Ianto and the odd man who gives them so much money in his name

//

Owen fucking loves Melanie Martinez - specifically Cry Baby

//

Sometime in season 2, Jack once again started feeling guilty about suddenly leaving Torchwood for the Doctor for like a year, so he surprised Ianto with a spontaneous road trip. They drove across Wales for a week and it was one of the last peaceful moments the two ever had

//

**Post Death**

Owen's spirit haunted Dash-Con

After the events of House If The Dead, Ianto's spirit ended up at Canary Warf. Tourists and people who work in the area often talk about the suited Welshman who sits at the fountain all day, everyday, waiting for a woman to arrive

Tosh's spirit, somehow, ended up in Glasgow. She haunts Torchwood 2 and helps old Archie with tech. Archie doesn't realise she's a spirit. He's just happy to have company and someone to help him with all the email stuff

//

Mitski became popular and Jack locked himself in his office for a week straight and sobbed to her songs, thinking about ianto and all he lost in the past few years. He made sure to keep her music safe until his face of bo era. He never played miski for the guests of his events. She was just for him and his cat maid

//

The doctor's hand was destroyed in the torchwood bomb, and after learning about it, Jack just sobbed. He's lost tosh, Owen, and ianto. And now, he can't even keep track of the doctor. He's lost in his eternal life with nothing. This later leads to his decision to leave earth

//

Jack absolutely loved the x-men comics when they were first released, and when X-Men First Class was released he'd watch it on repeat imagining him and his team in place of the characters. The roles would shift around sometimes, but Jack always sees himself as Charles Xavier

//

Jack had a fling with Wilfred Owen during WW1. He keeps original copies of the man's work close to him. After Ianto's death, he donated what he could scavenge of the papers to the London Archives, not wanting anymore reminders of the men he loved that died too young

//

After CoE, and realising she never actually knew Ianto, Gwen sat Jack down with a cup of tea and asked him to tell her everything he could about the real Ianto before his funeral. Jack just.. sighed.. and said to gwen, "he was many things" and never explained further

//

Before the coffin was closed, Jack started a stopwatch and placed it in Ianto's hand. Like the ring that John threw in with Jack when he was forced to bury Jack alive, the stopwatch was a tracker with a special battery to allow it to run for centuries. When he felt lonely, Jack would check on the tracker, just to know that ianto was still there and the stopwatch was still ticking away, timing their time apart. He was not ready for the day he checked on the tracker and the screen was blank

//

(Based off that one scene in greys anatomy) after the service, Jack and gwen found a quiet spot to sit, and Jack just burst into laughter. And because Jack was laughing, Gwen was laughing. And they laughed together until it morphed into a comfortable silence between them as they held eachother

//

Ianto was buried with a sobriety coin in his pocket. Only Jack knows about this.

[winterwandersland]

This is another idea that I've been working with. It's been in my documents for like two months now. This is also unedited, but I do want to make it another story. If I do choose to extend it to a full story, I will revise this chapter. Just trying to see how much traction it may get for rn.

Simon Riley x Black!Fem!Reader Call of Duty x The Walking Dead x The Last of Us? Word Count: 2k cw: shooting, blood, being handcuffed It just started out as a pandemic, but then the virus began to mutate. The dead was now living, well, sort of. Sane human beings craved food, but those things...they craved people and any living creature they could get their hands on. You found a farm during your travels to safety and have kept shelter there ever since. One day while hunting for food, you come across a group of men that you are sure were going to kill you, but as you continue to be in their presence, you aren't so sure. Will they take you with them and protect you like they do in the movies you used to watch as a child or will they put you through a hell worse than the world you now lived in?

It was the dead of summer, meaning that the walkers were more sparse, some of them moving in herds across the land. You had been alone for many months now, unable to contact any friends and family. Quite frankly, you hoped they were dead. Then, they wouldn’t have to face the ugliness of the world.

It was hard to find clean sources of water, many of the water sources being tainted with walker blood and guts. The CDC had suspected a virus in the water tanks, advising everyone to ensure their water was being filtered properly. A small town had had a few suspicious deaths, no one knowing what caused it. A few deaths turned to hundreds and hundreds turned to thousands. Only a couple of states had declared martial law before the rest of the country followed suit. Within a few weeks, the country was at war, along with other nations. The only content was the news broadcasting of the dead coming back to life. At first, you scoffed, but that was until you witnessed it yourself.

You almost died when you were up against your first walker, but the few self-defense classes you took in your teenage years had paid off. Now, it had been months and nearing winter, and over half of the world population was undead—dead, but alive enough to still have basic needs like hunger. Two months had passed since you had seen another live human being.

The end of the world had brought about a side of you that you didn’t know existed. A will to live that you thought you had lost a long time ago. Actions you would have considered disgusting and vile now became part of your survival’s guide. Thanks to the books you found in the untouched library, you could stack up on some hunting manuals and more books to keep you entertained. You dreaded the coming of winter, but you did everything you could to stock up on food and supplies, staying at a farmhouse further in the country. To your surprise, no one had come that far and from the amount of walkers, anyone who did seemed to not have made it too far.

Animals were almost extinct. Everyday, it seemed harder to find food to eat. The farm had been beneficial for growing crops and having clean water. You dreaded the day walkers came across it and it was you against them, but you tried not to think about it too much.

To venture south was a suicide mission by yourself. As much as you wanted to check if your family was alive, you knew it was better to keep the idea of them alive than to have the knowledge that they were dead. Outside, the farmland was almost pure woods plagued with the undead. Occasionally, you’d scour them to see if any source of food was left. There wasn’t. Birds hardly flew past the window anymore and you were never fast enough to catch them, your hunting skills not being up to par with flying prey.

It had been a few weeks since you’d checked the woods for food, so you figured you’d give it a go given the herd of walkers seemed to be migrating. You crept around the trees, watching every step to make sure you didn’t do so much as step on a twig. The crunching of the leaves was loud enough. Learning to use a gun would have drawn the walkers to you, so you spent your months mastering the art of the blade. You weren’t an expert quite yet, but you were much better than you were a few months ago.

You hid behind a tree and used a tree spile to collect water rather than carrying the weight of a bottle with you on your runs. Your body stayed steady, using minimal movement to angle your head below the spout as you drank the water.

Leaves shuffled behind you, startling you enough to quickly collect your spile and bring out the military grade knife you found at the tactical store not too far from your old neighborhood. You had emptied it out as much as you could before it was overrun by walkers and other survivors. Knowing the evils of mankind from apocalypse movies, you made sure they didn’t see you leave, and if they did, they couldn’t catch you once you entered your vehicle.

You caught a flash of movement and tracked it as best as you could without being noticed. Staying quiet and keeping low, you tread softly towards the movement to identify what or who it was. A squirrel. Before it could move anymore, you threw your knife at it, striking it in the head. It had been almost a week since you had eaten. Your stomach felt like it was eating away at itself.

A squirrel was a delicacy nowadays. Any meat was. You dug in, cutting just past the skin layer to peel it back, revealing the flesh hidden beneath it. Cutting past the ribs was the easiest part and once it was done, you practically ate at the squirrel like it was meat on bone. The smells no longer bothered you and the blood on your face was an afterthought. You’ll clean up once you get back to the farm.

“I see another one!” a deep, accented voice yelled. You turned your head to try to identify the direction of the voice, but your ears rang from the bullet that grazed past your head. “Fuck!” you shouted loud enough for only you to hear. You stayed low, dropping the squirrel and running deeper into the woods.

  A few more shots fired in your direction, one grazing your non-dominant arm. You ran as fast as you could away from your home. One man turned to two and two turned to three, and three turned to four as you heard more running towards you. Another shot fired and you fell to the ground, clutching the side of your head. Your hand filled with blood as you applied pressure to the wound, but your vision became blurry as you pulled yourself to the nearest tree. The voices came closer, and you drew your knife, again, but your body became too weak for you to hold it up. Everything moved slower than your eyes moved.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you heard a deep, very British, accent say before your vision was no longer light and only darkness.

***

“She’s still alive,” one man said as he placed two fingers on your neck to feel for your heartbeat. You opened your eyes to see four men surrounding you and immediately tried to launch yourself at the one with the mohawk, but your wrist was viciously pulled back by the handcuffs that kept one of your wrists attached to a familiar pipe.

“Calm down. We aren’t gonna hurt you,” the man with a boonie-style hat said. You scanned the men who you knew could pin you down at any moment. One had on a skull mask, ahead of season for the fall time, and the upcoming Halloween holiday, the only holiday you once enjoyed celebrating. He lurked over everyone else. He was the biggest of them, followed by the man with the beard and hat. The other two weren’t much smaller, but their difference was noticeable.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You tried to release your hand from the pipe, but it only drew more blood and made your hand ache even more. Your screams echoed as you used all of your force to try and pry yourself out of the handcuffs. Your feet were planted on the wall, trying your hardest to release yourself.

“That won’t do you any good,” the mohawk man said. “Fuck you!” You continued to try and rip your hand out of the cuffs, but the more you did, the more blood that trickled down your arm and into the crease of your elbow.

The large man with the mask knelt down beside you and his fingers pressed into the sides of your face as he grabbed it. Your lip quivered and a tear dragged down your face as he roughly turned your head to face him. To avoid his piercing stare, you closed your eyes, more tears streaming down your face.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled out a cloth that clearly had not been cleaned in a while. You could feel the pressure of the cloth on your face, wiping away at the blood that you forgot stained your face. His hand was warm, the first physical contact you had in nearly a year. While he was rough when wiping your cheeks, his touch became more gentle once he moved towards your lips. His touch became light and slow, the most gentle he had been.

He momentarily let go of your face to dump some water from his canister onto the cloth. You opened your eyes for a split second and closed them again once his hand was back on your face. He was rougher now, applying more pressure to cure your stained lips. You didn’t say anything and allowed him to clean your face to satisfy whatever sick and twisted needs he had. His grip on your face loosened and he used his thumb to gently wipe at the salty water drops that made their way down your face and into the palm of his hand. “Shh, we aren’t gonna hurt you.”

The other three had left you and the man alone to ransack the kitchen, leaving you more scared than you were before. You turned your face away from him, shaking even more than when the men first arrived. The adrenaline kept you from feeling the pain of the flesh wounds along your arm and head. “This is my house. You can’t have it.”

“So you do speak.” You tried to kick him, but he grabbed your foot, throwing it back at you. “This really your house?” You nodded your head, keeping eye contact with the brute man. “We’re not here for it. Just food. You can keep your house. Let me clean your wounds.” He reached for your arm, but you pulled away, not being able to go far because you were still cuffed.

“What’s your name?” You stayed silent, only keeping eye contact with the man, hoping he would go away. Only a small huff of breath left your lungs while you still caught your breath from struggling with the cuffs and pipe. “Don’t speak then. I don’t care. Give me your arm.” He tried to grab at you again, but you pulled back, making him more upset. “Let me help you and then we will leave.”

“You shot me…twice.”

“Did you see the way you were eating that squirrel? We thought you were one of the dead.”

“I ran away.”

“Some of them aren’t that bright. Thought you were one of them.”

The other three men came back into the room, halting you and the skull man’s conversation. “There’s no food.”

“Yea. It’s her house,” the man with the mask said.

“If we had known that, we wouldn’t have come here. She speak, yet?”

The masked man looked at your pleading eyes and returned his gaze back to the team. “No.”

“A shame,” the man with the funny hair said. “Sorry for shootin’ ya. You eat like one of the dead. When was the last time you had a meal?” You continued to just stare at the man, your silence answering his question. “That long, huh?

You tried not to look any of the men in the eye and only turned your body towards the man with the mask. “Why didn’t you clean her wounds?”

“She wouldn’t let me.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[obexes]

CATALYSIS

R.C x READER • R.G x Reader

A/N- This was 100% self indulgent, Most of this isn't Canon, and in this "AU" Roman Godfrey is Rafe Cameron's younger cousin. Anyway If you read this I hope you like it, any feed back is appreciated! Also this is gonna be a 5 part series!

Warnings - Swearing, Underage Drinking, Sexual Themes

Summary- When Roman refuses to acknowledge readers blooming feelings for him & the moments they shared, his cousin Rafe is there to remind her that she deserves better.

Word Count- 5.5k

You're chilling on your couch, trying desperately to ignore your phone buzzing and focus on the movie you're watching. Granted it's a friday night and around 7 pm, so you couldn't really blame your cousin Kie for blowing up your phone. Giving in, you pluck it off of the coffee table.

Kiara: bitch, kelce is throwing a party

Kiara: me & nicky are coming to get you

Kiara: 15 min ;) get ur ass up!

You'd already ignored her previous texts asking what you were up to, choosing to sulk in the solitude of your family's villa. Your parents had taken another trip to Mexico and had taken your 10 and 6 year old siblings, leaving you and your brother Dominique (or Nicky, as you all affectionately called him) under the care of a couple of your fathers security guards and your housekeeper, Giselle.

Nicky and Kie had been trying to get you to a party since summer started a few weeks ago. Normally you'd tag along but ever since Kie and Sarah stopped being friends a couple months before summer started, it kind of ruined the dynamic of a once close and spirited group of friends.

You blow a breath of air out through your nose, throw the light blanket off of your lap and make your way into the hallway. Giselle smiles at you as you pass the kitchen and you smile back with a small wave. Upstairs in your room, you pause to give yourself a twice over in your vanity's mirror. You were blessed in that you got your moms naturally curly hair and your dads bright eyes and smooth tanned skin. Deciding that makeup was not a necessity at the moment, you open up your closet doors and step inside.

Being a kook came with its perks, you had to admit your closet was to die for and was one of the only reasons you truly enjoyed your parents' lifestyles. You sift and end up deciding on a white skims bodysuit, and dark jean shorts. You change as quickly as you can and grab a pair of white boots to slip on.

No sooner than you've slipped on the last shoe, do you hear the obnoxious custom horn of your brother's Chevy. You practically sprint back to your vanity and grab your purse, carelessly throwing a lip gloss, your phone and other random shit inside before running down the stairs.

"Bye Giselle, I'll be home later!", and with that you're on your way out of the door, selectively ignoring her calls for you to not be home too late. On the porch, one of your fathers men greets you from where he stands guard. They try to be subtle but your parents are a bit ostentatious about their business in Mexico. All of the security and the watchful eyes makes it difficult to be a normal teenager sometimes.

Your brother and Kie are parked in the centre of the long circular driveway, and you hop in. "Hey guys.”, throwing your bag down next to you and buckling your seatbelt.

"Y/N! Hey!" Kie beams at you, "I feel like it's been forever since you've gone out with us.”

Nicky scoffs and puts the car in drive, peeling out of the driveway. "That's because it has been since you and Sarah got into your stupid fight. We haven't been to a party together since summer started.”

You laugh along quietly, agreeing that the fight currently going on between the two girls is pretty stupid. It's always been your family, with the extension of Kiara, and the Camerons, with the extension of Sarah's cousin, Roman. Rafe and Nicky were both 17, while you, Kie, Sarah, and Roman were all either 16 or going to be this year. Your families vacationed together for years, every holiday is celebrated in one of your families expensive backyards, Ward and your father even conduct business together. So it's safe to say, nobody expected Kie and Sarah's little fight to go on this long.

"Shut up. Don't even get me started. Sarah is a fucking bitch." Kiara huffs and puts her feet up on the dash, while pulling a bottle of Titos from under her seat, "Kook party, take a shot Y/N."

Taking the bottle from her extended hand you gulp a good amount before sputtering a little and handing it back.”Fuckin vodka,” You choke out in between small coughs.

You would never admit it but you were a little nervous about going to Kelce's house after skipping out on parties for so long and it wasn't because of Kie and Sarahs drama. You were avoiding a certain kook prince, but you were nervous about him catching on, and admittedly you missed him, so when Kie invited you you thought fuck it. What's the worst that could happen?

You guys sang along to Rihanna and talked shit about some of your classmates on the 10 or so minute drive. Pulling onto the designated street, there were cars everywhere and music could be heard playing loudly from Kelce's backyard. Kie looks at you and Nicky out of the corner of her eye, "I may or may not have invited the pogues..."

"Kie!" you both yell at the same time. Nicky huffs in his seat as he pulls into an open spot by the treeline, "Nothing could go wrong at all, great idea." he says sarcastically.

"What? They're my friends, I thought it could be fun."

You and your older brother were friendly with Kie’s friends, but you knew that JJ had a penchant for fighting. And with Rafe and his friends being the way that they are, it doesn't always go well when they party together.

"Fuck it, we're already here. Can we just have fun? Please." The last thing you want is more drama, your first night back out. She smiles at you and you guys hop out and make your way onto the lawn. You link your arm with Kiaras and walk into the crowded party with Nicky trailing behind you. Kie drags you towards the kitchen as you pass classmates, tourons, and pogues. Nobody cares about all the classist shit when they're drunk apparently. It was always fucking stupid to you, anyways.

When the two of you make it to the large kitchen, you find Rafe, Topper, Kelce, Roman, Barry and his brother Peter. as well as a multitude of cocaine, girls, and random kids playing bartender to their friends.

You watch as Rafe gives one of the girls you recognize as a soon-to-be junior a bump and you watch as his eyes scan the growing presence in the room, noticing you. "Ayo! Y/N, Kie! Whaddup?"

Kie simply gives him a sarcastic smile and walks over to one of the kids in her volunteer group, who's currently making some legitimate looking drinks. You raise an eyebrow making a mental note to ask him to make you one. "Hey guys, what's up?". You warily eye the drugs carelessly spread out on the counter as you approach the guys. Roman looks up from his phone and catches your eye, you give a shy smile as he rushes you.

"Where the fuck have you been, Y/N/N? You abandoned me." He clutches his chest playfully before lifting you to sit on the counter and smirking down at you. You and Roman have always had a great relationship, albeit a bit closer than most normal friends, but he's someone you would consider a best friend. As of a few weeks ago he was your first kiss, although he was unaware of that detail, after a very emotional night of talking shit about your parents while drinking their wine on their yacht. When Rafe and Nicky nearly caught you both making out, Roman acted like nothing happened. So you did too.

"I've been around, Godfrey."

He smiles and pecks your forehead before turning around to go get you a drink. "Well," He drags out the word, "we have some catching up to do, kid."

Kelce gives you a fist bump on the way out of the kitchen and Topper just gives you a head nod. "Where's Nicky?"

You look towards the doorway you entered from and shrug, "He was right behind us, he probably met a girl or something." Topper hums in response.

Barry whistles, “That's what I need to be doin, really.” Peter nods along. “Whatchu doin’ later, Y/N/N?”

You start to laugh just as Rafe loudly and distastefully snorts a line and groans. You wrinkle your nose as he tips his head back, relishing in his high. "Jesus Christ, Rafe”.

"You want some, Pretty Girl?"

You’re staring at him like he grew another head when Roman places a red solo cup in your hand. Kie, with her own drink in hand hops up on the counter next to you, "If you ever give my cousin that shit, i'll fucking hurt you."

"Y/N's a good girl, she wouldn't do that. Wouldn't wanna disappoint daddy dearest." Topper teases and Rafe barks out a laugh. There's a familiar pang in your chest at the mention of your father and you roll your eyes. This doesn't go unnoticed by Roman. "Leave her alone, man.” then his hands are on your knees, "Wanna go kick ass in some pong?". He looks at you and you nod, downing the drink you'd been sipping slowly, " I'm down, but first let's do some shots."

Two and a half hours later, with three successful games of beer pong under your belt and feeling quite significantly drunk, you make your way back inside to pee. Navigating your way through the crowded house and up the stairs you enter the bathroom and lock the door.

While you pee, you drunkenly think about how crazy it is that everyone was getting along tonight. Seeing Rafe and JJ on the same pong team threw you for a fucking loop, even if they were both extremely wasted. You also kind of wish you had a blunt or something.

After you wash your hands, check yourself out in the mirror and fluff your hair a bit, you stumble towards the door and into the hallway. None other than Roman is standing at the door to your left making out with a pretty blonde, fumbling with the doorknob of the door he has her pressed against. Furrowing your eyebrows and quickly making your way past them, you try to ignore the hurt bubbling in your chest. "I think that one's locked, genius." You say of Kelce's grandmother's room, that he usually always locks when there's guests over. You don't bother looking back at them.

Deciding you need fresh air, you find yourself out on the front porch which is a lot less packed than the backyard. You sit on the steps and watch a group of freshman boys prepare to light a huge firework on the lawn. The warm summer breeze felt nice, despite how dark it had gotten. You pull your phone out of your bag and look at the time. 11:37 PM. You look up when you hear a sizzling type of noise to see the firework, sitting up and it's been lit. The boys are backing up and smacking each other on the arms as they hype themselves up for the explosion. It makes you smile but at the last second it tips over and your smile drops. The firework shoots and explodes directly at Rafe Camerons truck, shattering the front passenger window and from what you can see the side mirror all over the seat and the ground.

They're fucked, and its time to go. There's no way you're dealing with Rafe potentially blaming you for not watching his car. You stand up and grimace as they start freaking out, and people are already making their way outside to see what happened. You walk back up the steps and call your brother from the porch to let him know you're ready to go but there's no answer. You're about to call him again when someone taps your shoulder.

"Hey Y/N.." You whip around and see Sarah standing in the doorway with a bottle of tequila. She holds it up so you put your phone away and grab it.

"Hey, Sar. Having fun?" You take a couple huge gulps and regret it almost instantly, when it burns the ever loving fuck out of your throat.

"It'd be more fun if everyone wasn't pissed at me." She smiles sadly. She knows she messed up by not inviting Kie to her birthday party. "I know I’m kind of a mess lately."

You both laugh. "Well for what it's worth, I'm not mad at you. I do think you and Kiara should talk though."

"That'd be easier to do if she didn't glare at me everytime we make eye contact but I deserve it, so I'm gonna try anyway. I really miss you guys." She says the last part so quietly while averting her gaze to the floor. You can't help pulling her into a soft hug. “I miss you too, Sar. Kie’s stubborn ass probably does too.”

You recap the bottle and hand it to her, trying to empathise. Kiara was your family, and you guys were close, but you all grew up together and you were close with Sarah too. It was such a stupid fight but the underlying issue was serious to both of them. You give her a small smile.

"So are you leaving soon or something?"

"That was the plan but Dominique did not answer his phone and I don't feel like looking for him."

She nods her head and behind her you see Roman walking down the stairs without his blonde friend, and you drunkenly attempt to duck out of sight of the doorway. You don't feel like seeing him again right now. This little crush you'd been secretly harbouring was not something the group needed, on top of the drama with the girls right now. "Well, if you wanna take my car, you can. I'm probably gonna have to force Rafe to take me home." Sarah continues, oblivious to your train of thought.

Roman appears behind her, having seen you try to hide behind the wall to the side of Sarah. "Y/N cant drive, she doesn't have a licence. And shes fucked up. I'll take her."

You internally cringe at your transparency, "It's fine, really Rome. I can go find Nicky or Kie or someone, seriously." Your words are slightly slurred and you can see that fact register in his eyes.

"Nope," He pops his P and puts an arm around your shoulder to guide you towards the steps. “C'mon, kid."

"Bye guys, Roman be careful!" Sarah calls before dipping back inside, you look back at her helplessly. Fuck. Of course this would happen. Roman's hand grazes your elbow as he guides you down the steps But stops in his tracks when he notices the group gathered around Rafe's truck.

"Hold on love, sit down here." You let him help you sit and stare up at the sky. Roman pulls out his phone and calls Rafe while he berates the group of boys. When Rafe barrels outside with bloodlust very apparent in his energy, you're reminded of just why you didn't want to be here when he saw his truck.

He's screaming at the poor kids and threatening to beat two of the taller kids' asses, by the time Roman comes back for you. He walks with you down the driveway to his black SUV and opens the door for you. Once you take a seat he's manoeuvring the seatbelt over you and clicking it in. "I'm not that drunk Rome, I can buckle myself in." But you let him.

He walks around the car and hops in, pushing the start engine button. "My uncles gonna be so fucking mad." He chuckles.

"It was an accident, I saw it tilt over. I wonder where they even found a firework that big?" you mumble, watching Rafe run his hands over his reddened face in frustration through the window as Roman pulls out of the driveway.

"Idiots."

You push the bluetooth button on his stereo system and connect your phone, looking for something to fill the silence. You settle on Weightless by Chiiild and roll your window down, enjoying the breeze and singing along.

Nights like this you come home with a heavy heart for me

Nights like this an endless kiss is all you really need

Roman glances at you quickly and he sighs almost indecipherably. "Y/N, what's up?"

You hum and look over at him, admiring the wispy strands of hair that fall over his forehead slightly and the perpetual pout on his face. "Nothing, I'm fine. Kinda want a slushie."

He fights his smile as he peeks at you again, "We can get you one but that's not what I'm talking about. You've been like... sad or something lately. Kinda distant."

That's what happens when you like someone who will never like you back, you think to yourself as you avert your gaze to your hands. The agitation you felt seeing him with someone else is slowly creeping back up on you. Usually it was fleeting, you knew that Roman would mess with girls at parties but it never went beyond the night. You found a strange comfort in the fact that he’d been and probably would be one of your closest friends forever. You’d never lose him that way.

You wrack your brain for something to say, "It's just... my parents being gone again, sucks. I'm not sad. I'm just here." Is what you settle on. It's not a total lie.

A frown forms between his eyebrows and he takes his right hand off the wheel to place it on your knee, catching you off guard. You can tell he doesn't completely believe you but his touch erupts a swarm of butterflies in your belly and you draw your knees closer together instinctually. He slows the car to a near stop and pulls into a gas station that's thankfully, still open.

Parking right at the front of the building, he takes his seat belt off and turns his head to look at you. "You know you can tell me anything right?" He gives your knee a small squeeze.

"I know Rome. Doesn't mean I will though." You smirk at him a little and without thinking you reach up and push his hair back so it's off of his forehead. He catches your wrist gently before you can retreat your hand and brings it up to his mouth where he presses a kiss to your palm.

"You comin?" He asks, you pout and shake your head. "What flavour do you want, mm?"

"Green apple, please."

He gives you a little mock salute and gets out of the car, heading inside.

In the quiet of the car you get a little lost in thought. How are you supposed to keep up this little unspoken secret with Roman, when he knows you so well? He knows you too well to believe your bullshit when you claim you're fine. And lately that's been a lot. When you guys kissed, you assumed it was fueled by teenage hormones, too much to drink, and overall poor decision making. But now it seems more like he just felt bad for you while, for you, it was a genuine first experience. It's not everyday you admit that your picture perfect life isn't so picture perfect.

You'd been home alone, yet again, sitting on one of the small couches on your fathers yacht when he showed up, pissed at his mom. You two ended up criss-cross applesauce across from each other, passing a bottle of wine back and forth, just absolutely bitching about your parents. He told you how his mom was a psychotic alcoholic, obsessed with having control (which you sort of already knew) and you'd told him how your parents were hardly ever home lately, leaving you and Nicky to your own devices. You missed your parents constantly and you felt abandoned. It hurt, and he understood you.

Tears were pooling in your eyes by the time you finished venting when Roman gently cupped your face in his hand. "Hey, don't cry, Y/N. They may not be here right now but I am, I'll always be here. I promise you. Okay?" He stroked your cheek with his thumb as you stared back into his hazy green eyes, your breath catching in your throat. Roman was always sweet to you, but never in such an intimate way. You glanced down at his lips, which he noticed. He never planned on kissing you, yet he couldn't help himself as he leaned in and delicately pressed his lips to yours, testing the waters. The kiss left you breathless and when you pulled apart he pressed his forehead against yours. "Was that... okay?"

You nodded wordlessly, a little bit in shock. Part of you was screaming that you were crossing a line, and part of you was mesmerised by the feeling of someone else's lips on yours for the first time. Roman sighed in relief and kissed you again, harder this time, more fervent. He unknowingly taught you how to make out. You'd tried something with your tongue and he'd made a noise in the back of his throat that was so enthralling you'd do anything to hear it again. Too, soon you heard the telltale engine of Rafe's truck and you broke apart, albeit awkwardly. He never brought it up, so you never brought it up.

The sound of the car door opening interrupts your thoughts, you didn't even see Roman exit the store, too lost in thought. He holds out a cup full of frozen green ice and you take it with a smile. "For the princess."

"Thanks Ro."

He sets a bag of swishers on the floor by your feet as you remove the lid on your drink and use the bottom of your straw to scoop the slushie up and into your mouth. He puts the car in reverse and backs up.

Continuing the short drive to your house, you sing along to whatever song shuffle picked.

When he pulls into your yard and shuts off the car, he turns to you. "Hey, is it cool if I stay over? My moms being a bitch right now."

"You know you can, I don't know why you're asking." You speak through a mouth full of slush while simultaneously unbuckling your seat belt. He mutters something about manners and snatches the bag off of the floor.

You walk up to the porch and Alex, another one of your dads goons, gives you a look as he unlocks the door for you. "What?" You ask when you get to the last step.

"Nothing..." He avoids looking directly at you or Roman. "... just feel like your dad wouldn't appreciate me letting a boy in this late."

"Well good thing hes never fucking here, huh?" you huff as you brush past him to go inside. Roman follows you silently. You turn the entryway light on, just as Alex shuts the door behind you and Roman. "Who the fuck does that guy think he is?"

You glance at Roman as you head to the kitchen, "He's such a dick rider, but he won't actually say anything to my dad."

"But he's just, like security right? Why does he care."

You shrug as you approach the kitchen doorway. Just then the bedroom door next to you opens, and Giselle peeks her head out, eyes wide and red. "Y/N!" and then she sees Roman behind you and squeals. "Roman!! How was the party you guys?"

Roman shoots her a dazzling smile and goes to hug her. "Hey Giz." She slaps his arm. "Stop calling me that, you jerk. Its disgusting."

"The party was fine." you scrunch your nose a bit, "Giselle are you high, right now?"

Romans head whips up, "Holy shit. You look blasted!" He laughs. She has a bashful look on her face as she backs up into her bedroom. "Shut up, both of you. Bring me some water please, thanks." She shuts the door before either of you can say anything. You both giggle at her behaviour and stumble into the kitchen where Roman puts the rest of your slushee in the refrigerator. You get three glasses out of the cupboard and fill them with water from the fridge, Roman delivers Giselle her glass before coming to stand across from you against the counter. He downs his glass in one go and watches you sip yours.

"That's so hot, you really take your time with it, huh?" He teases.

You laugh quietly against your glass. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Only if you let me pick. I'm not watching Clueless again." He deadpans. "Fine."

He gives you a smug look and you take his glass and place them both in the sink. He grabs you by the hip in one hand and a tupperware full of cookies that Giselle must have made in the other and pushes you towards the stairs.

When you get to your room you immediately go for an oversized shirt and sleep shorts. "Do you want me to get you some of Nicky's shorts?" He knows you hate outside clothes on your bed.

"Nah, s'cool." He pulls his shirt over head and winks at you, sending a flush of heat up your neck to your cheeks. You've seen him shirtless countless times, but only recently have you begun wondering what his abs would feel like against your skin. His hands go for his belt and you turn towards your ensuite bathroom muttering about how extra he is. After you change, you brush your teeth and wash your face, thinking about what you and Roman could do tomorrow.

When you open the door, you smell two things - weed and sugar cookies. Roman is standing in just his boxers, in front of your television looking for a film to watch, eating a cookie with a blunt tucked behind his ear. You can't help the small laugh that escapes you, your heart swells at the sight of the boy you adore.

He turns when he hears you. "I rolled a blunt, and we're watching Barbarian." He says, finishing his cookie.

You smooth down your hair and sit on your bed. "This is why you're my favourite. Wanna open the door?" Gesturing towards the balcony doors. He does so and lights the tip of the blunt using the flame of a candle that's sitting by the window. He places an ashtray on the bedside table and sits next to you on the bed so you're shoulder to shoulder. You play the movie and take the blunt when he offers it.

You pass it back and forth and when you refuse it after your third hit, he puts it out and wraps his arms around you leaning back so you're both laying propped up against all of your pillows.

"So what the fuck, shes just gonna sleep in the house with this creepy ass dude?"

"I would too, he's hot."

"Seriously?"

You tilt your head slightly, "Wait, no, you guys could actually be twins." You look between the character on screen and Roman. "That's so weird! He's like an older version of you."

He raises an eyebrow with a shit eating grin. "So youre saying I'm hot?"

"This is why I don't compliment you anymore."

The movie slowly got eerier until it was straight up terrifying. You hid your face in Romans chest, multiple times, and at some point began drifting off into a dreamless sleep. Roman glances at you as your breathing evens out, smiling to himself at the sight of you falling asleep against him. He turned your tv off and buried his face in your hair, sighing contentedly as he got comfortable and allowed himself to sleep. Feeling safe.

You went to sleep peacefully, comfortably but your morning has been anything but.

Your parents got home a day earlier than expected, arriving at about 7 am. Your mom decided to come wake you, as they stopped and brought breakfast, but she was not expecting to find you tangled up in bed with your basically naked best friend. She proceeded to freak out, waking up Giselle and Nicky in the process.

There's so many reasons why this is a nightmare. For starters, your father has barred you from boys. He would prevent you from dating forever if he could. He's very adamant about his only daughter remaining virtuous and focusing on getting into Columbia rather than boys. And to make matters worse he actually likes Roman. Not to mention your mom has been friends with Romans mom since their sorority days, and lastly your parents didn't know that you smoke weed...until today.

That brings you to the family room where you've been arguing with your mom for 30 minutes, while your dad sits in an armchair subtly giving Roman dirty looks and occasionally pinching the bridge of his nose. And Roman, well, Roman is sitting on the couch with a hand in his hair staring dejectedly at the ground, genuinely upset that he was the cause of your family drama today.

“Mom! I said It wasn't like that. Roman drove me home. We were watching a movie and fell asleep.”

“Y/N, this isn't just about the fact that I found Roman in there. This is about rules being broken and secrets being kept!” Your mother bites back.

Your dad stands up from his chair and crosses his arms, "And since when the fuck do either of you smoke weed? And in the house, Y/N, you smoked it in your room." He runs a hand over his face, " I don't understand why you would do this."

“That was actually me. I- uh. I mean it was mine.” Your parents gape at Roman.

“Roman, I think it's best if you head home, your mother will be expecting you.” Your dad states, wanting to get you alone so he can pry you for information without making the situation more uncomfortable. You sit down at the couch and bury your head in your hands, mortified. “I'll talk to you about this another time.”

Roman stands quickly and goes to give you a hug but the look on your dads face has him stuttering instead, “I'm so sorry, about all of this and especially the weed, but shes telling the truth.” He looks at you and back to your parents, “Um - I'm gonna go now.”

“Bye Rome.” You whisper, he gives you one last sheepish look before he's out of the door. “Y/N, I'm so disappointed.” Your dad starts. The words make something inside you ache. "I’m only gonna ask you this once, are you fooling around with Roman?”

“No! Dad, oh my god.” You shout and stop to take a deep breath. “He's my best friend, he sees me as like a sister or like Sarah, dad, you know that.” He lets out a heavy sigh. He knows what your friendship with every boy in your circle is like. Hes made it abundantly clear that you're off limits.

Your mother shakes her head at you and you roll your eyes at her. She sometimes overreacts when you get in trouble, being the only girl, she holds you to a higher standard than your brothers. “You're grounded. For a month.” Your mouth drops open but when your dad tilts his head, you know, he'll be talking to her about inflicting such a harsh punishment later.

“Dad! What the hell! Are you going to say anything?”

“Listen, I believe you about Roman, but honey,” he tsks, “There's rules. You were smoking weed in your room and you had a boy sleeping in your bed when we got home.”

“Yeah well, It's not like you're ever here anymore to enforce those rules.” Your dads face softens. “Y/N-” You stand up abruptly.

“I'm going to my room, I accept my punishment.” you say as you beeline out of the room. They let you go, thankfully.

As you pass the kitchen you see Giselle, Nicky, and your younger siblings, Henley and Patton, all eating breakfast silently, having heard the argument. Everyone but Nicky casts you a glance as you walk past. Great, you think, he's probably pissed at me too. You run up the stairs and shut your door a little harder than necessary.

It's around dinner time when you look up from your toes, that you're currently painting baby pink. Your phone is buzzing on your bed and you reach up, hand fumbling around until you feel it.

Romeo: what's the damage?

You immediately text him back, glad he's not upset with you.

Y/N/N: Im grounded for a month, you?

Romeo: A month???

Fuck, thats brutal. Im sorry.

She called me an idiot among other things, nothing serious

Y/N/N: I'm sorry too, that was so stupid

You see him start to type, and then stop. After two minutes of watching the screen you groan and throw your phone onto a pile of clothes across the room. As you are about to finish painting your toes, there's a gentle knock on your bedroom door and it cracks open before you can respond.

Your mom pokes her head inside,”Honey, can I come in.”

You shrug in response, picking your nail polish back up. She comes inside and shuts the door. Sitting across from you on your plush pink rug. “Listen, the way that I handled the situation earlier... I'm sorry. I could have handled it better.” You peek up at her, letting her know you're listening but still upset. “I think it's just scary - for me and your dad. To see our little girl growing up. Being a parent is hard, baby, and we have four of you... but I might have overreacted a bit. I'm sorry that we haven't been around very much. There's been bad business going on in Mexico. But that's for us to worry about, we absolutely will try to be home more. I promise.”

You give her a small smile, “Okay mom.”

She smiles brightly back at you, ”We’re okay?”With arms out silently asking for a hug. You embrace her and she squeezes you tightly. “Oh, and you aren’t grounded -”.

You squeal, rocking you both back and forth.

“- But I swear to baby Jesus, child, If I ever find a boy or weed in here again, I'm locking you in the cellar.”

“Deal.”

She kisses you atop your head and stands up to go,” Dinners gonna be ready in 15.” “Kay,” You're already up, going for your phone.

Y/N/N: Im ungrounded

Roman responds right away this time

Romeo: Can you come to Tanneyhill with Nicky?

After eating dinner and a lot of convincing, you and Nicky pull up to Tanneyhill with a bottle of Crown, he swiped from the cellar. It turns out he wasn't actually mad at all. He told you that he knew Roman didn't see you like that and that our parents were mistaken. Verbatim. Which, honestly kind of stung but you'd take that over him being pissed. Roman was one of his best friends too, after all.

When you guys get to the backyard, everyones in the hot tub. Only Topper, Roman, Rafe, Sarah, and a couple of other girls from school are here. Topper and Rafe are clearly tipsy already, as they're belting the lyrics to some party song that's playing over the big speakers. Roman whispers something in Mia Brown's ear and you can't help the fleeting jealousy that washes over you as she bats her eyes at him and laughs.

“Y/N/N! Come get in.” Sarah whoops when she sees you. He looks over at you with a smile as you and Nicky approach.

“Hey guys.” you say as you set your bag down on a lounge chair and go to take your shorts off.

“Brought the good shit,” Your brother passes the bottle to Rafe who has his arm outstretched. “Thats what the fuck I'm talkin about, bro.”.

After you undress, Rafe offers you his hand to help you step inside the hot tub, your brother following. One girl, whose name you don't remember, gives you a once over from your place between Nicky and Rafe. “So Y/N,” she starts, and you nod, ”We’re talking about midsummers. It's the best time to pop out with your boo before school starts. Who’s your date?”

At that everyone looks at you. Nicky laughs, ”She isn't gonna have a date, are you kidding? My dad would lose his fucking mind.”

“Shut up, I can do whatever I want.”

He scoffs, “No, you can't.”

The girl just smirks and moves so she's sitting next to your brother instead of Topper.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, Nicky. At least I’m not a suck up.”

Rafe chuckles and holds his hand out for a high five, to which you smile and oblige. He taps your chin “Open up.”

You allow him to pour not one, but two shots into your mouth.

A couple hours later and everyone is pretty fucked up. One of the girls went inside with Nicky an hour ago, Toppers passed out on a lounge chair while Roman, Mia, And Sarah, switched to the pool for a night swim. That leaves you and Rafe in the hot tub alone.

You glance over at the pool just as Roman plants a messy, drunken kiss on Mias lips. They start making out and you and Sarah let out identical groans, although yours is nearly silent. Rafe glances at you and follows your eyes to see what you're looking at and when he does, he smirks to himself.

Sarah pulls herself out of the pool. “Get a freaking room.”

Roman pulls away from the petite brunette in front of him. “That's a great idea. Mia, my room?”

Your heart rate picks up and you look away from the pair. You knew Roman messed around with girls, but you didn't expect him to ever be so casual about it around you, given the kiss you two shared. You think about this morning, how your parents embarrassed you to the point that he would probably never look at you in the way that you did him. As the trio head inside, you start to stand, wanting to lock yourself in a guest room and mope yourself to sleep.

“Hey, don't leave.” Rafe whines across from you. “I don't wanna stay out here alone, and it's only like 9. Want a shot?”

You absolutely want a shot. “Fuck, please.” You sit back down and watch as he leans his torso over the edge of the hot tub and swipes a bottle of vodka off of the bar top.

Turning back around he beckons you with a finger. “Come here, beautiful.”

It didn't surprise you to hear him call you this. Rafe has always been blatant like that. Not just with you, he has pet names on a constant loop, probably because he can never remember the names of the girls he messes with.

What shocks the shit out of you is when you’re directly in front of him waiting for him to pour a shot in your mouth but he sets the bottle down, grabs your thighs and pulls you onto his lap so you're straddling him in the warm water. You gasp, feeling him hard, against you.

You pull away slightly. “Rafe, what the fuck?”

He picks the bottle back up keeping you close to him with an arm around your back, hand resting between your shoulder blades. “Y/N/N, it's fine. Just gonna give you a shot, yeah?” He looks at you expectantly and in your stupor you just open your mouth. After one shot, he holds it back up so he can give you another. Grimacing at the taste you wipe your mouth while he takes two shots of his own.

Setting it back down out of the way, he rests his hand on your thigh, gripping it. “You look really fucking sexy right now, Y/N/N.” He admires your body on top of his with his piercing blue eyes and wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

You get this warm feeling in your belly, and then it spreads. No one had ever said that to your face before. “Yeah?” You giggle a bit when your words are slightly slurred. ”You always do too, Rafe.”

He raises his eyebrows,” Yeah? I didn't know you thought that”.

“I would've never told you unless it was under these exact circumstances, so...”

He mulls that over. “That's fair enough.” And then, “I heard you fucked Roman.”

You look at him incredulously and push yourself back, off of his lap completely, “What?”

He puts his hands up, “My bad, I was just gonna ask If it bothered you that hes fucking Mia right now, the same day.” Your jaw drops and you scoff as you feel your eyes start to fill up with hot tears.

“Youre so fucking rude. No, I didnt fuck him and no I dont care.” The thought of people gossiping about what happened, on the same day it happened, sends fear through your gut.

“Then why are you crying?” He points out as a single tear falls, your heart betraying your desire to keep your feelings at bay.

“Fuck you, Rafe.” You start to get out of the hot tub but this time he stands up and snatches you up, depositing you back on his lap. “Stop, I didn't say it to be mean, okay?” You push at him but you're nearly full on crying at this point and very tipsy. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I just meant that my cousin, is a fucking Idiot.”

You give up on getting out of his lap, sniffling and running a hand through your curls.

“It's not his fault, Rafe. Nothing even happened, my parents are just insane.” You meet his calm gaze with your tearful one. He brings one hand from around you to wipe under your eyes.

“That's not what I'm talking about, Y/N.” His hand finds your waist again and he leans back slightly to look at you, “I think he's an idiot for not seeing how special you are.”

“W- what?” You wrinkle your nose. You never thought you’d hear Rafe say something so... sweet to you.

“Roman told me what happened on your dads boat.”

Your heart jumps into your throat. “He did?” You whisper. Rafe nods slowly, studying you.

“What did he say?”

“Honestly, a bunch of bullshit. Y’know, he was just rambling about it ruining the group and shit. I honestly expected you two to get together, anyway. But like I said he’s an idiot. Doesnt know a good thing when he sees it. You deserve better.”

You examine Rafes face to see if this is just a mean joke, but you only find a genuine expression. Something more, in his eyes that you can't decipher. You sigh, deciding to just accept what he said. Roman clearly didn't care or didnt remember the kiss and wasn't going to acknowledge it anytime soon. So neither will you. Roman was inside probably fucking someone else, So maybe you will too.

You hesitantly drape your arms around his shoulders, “Show me better.” You whisper.

Rafes eyes widened slightly, as if he didn't expect you to agree with him, let alone say that. “I- Y/N, how? What do you want?”

You testingly grind yourself against him, rolling your hips down. And when you do it again, he moans at the feeling of you pressed against him. “Shit, baby.” Your mouth opens in a silent gasp as he returns one hand to the centre of your back to keep you close and uses the hand on your hip to move you against him again, harder. You don't even have time to process the fact that you’re basically dry humping your childhood friend in his hot tub before Rafe begins pushing you back and forth over his dick faster, both of you letting out the filthiest moans as he watches your face.

“Look at me baby.”

You look down at him, trying to control the feeling building up in your lower belly and he places a hand in your hair, pulling you to connect his mouth with yours. There are no similarities between the way he and Roman kiss. While Roman kissed you sweetly, and let you take it slow, Rafe dominated the kiss. It was all tongue and lip bites, while you mewled against him from the pressure of his clothed erection against your clit. This was by far the hottest thing you'd ever done with any boy.

He suddenly lets go of your hair, breaking away from the messy kiss. He glances down at the space between you and suddenly his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit and you’re crying out his name.

“Rafe! Fu- oh shit.” At this point you're digging your nails into his shoulder and rocking your hips against him, like a bitch in heat while he watches you in awe.

“Yeah, baby girl, you like that?” He sucks a hickey onto your neck and peppers it with soft kisses as he draws you closer to your release with his fingers and his mouth.

“Yes, please don't stop. Feels so good.” You can feel yourself hitting a pinnacle and you let out a strangled sound, and your stomach clenches as you try to contain your orgasm.

“Let go, give me all that stress, Y/N. Cum for me.”

His lust laden voice sends you over the edge and you drop your forehead onto his and let your eyes flutter shut as you cum in your bikini on top of Rafe, with raw moans spilling past your lips. He still rubs your clit and you feel your pussy fluttering around nothing while you come down from the most intense 15 seconds of your life.

When you open your eyes Rafes is already looking at you, lightly stroking your back. The eye contact makes you both grin and he breaks the quiet moment. “Was that.. your first time doing that?” You shake your head no, still trying to catch your breath. “Dont lie to me, Y/N.”

Smiling, you sit back a bit, “So what if it was? I told you I can do whatever I want.”

Rafe smirks at you. “Yes you can, princess.”, He stands up with you abruptly and carries you out of the water, towards the back door to the house while you laugh. “You're sleeping in my room with me tonight, gorgeous girl.”

[theycalledmebaby]

LOVERS AND FRIENDS

| steve harrington x fem!reader | 18+

-END OF THE ROAD

summary: flashback to the first time Steve Harrington made you cry.

warnings: angst.no smut. typical middle school bullying? mention of shitty dads. not edited.

series masterlist | series mixtape(coming soon)

October 2002

7th grade, end of the school day. Boys II Men’s “End of the Road” plays on the radio, sending chills down your spine. You’re trying to keep your composure as your mom asks how your day was, battling back tears. It’s a cruel twist of fate that this song is playing right now. Not only is it the end of your friendship with Steve, but this was one of the few songs you both agreed on.

Growing up, your tastes in music diverged—you leaned toward hip-hop and R&B, thanks to your younger parents, while Steve Harrington was all about pop. Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, Britney Spears, Celine Dion—those were his favorites. Despite your differing tastes, you both shared a love for movies and cheesy drama TV series. Except during his weird Titanic phase when he made you watch it every weekend, or the fact he hated horror movies, which drove you crazy since you loved them.

Steve’s parents were strict about the media he consumed, while your mom, being younger and more lenient, wasn’t as restrictive. This meant Steve was always reporting back about your music choices or horror flicks, especially when Eddie Munson was around.

You met Eddie when you were eight—he was your mom's best friend’s kid, and since your mom often babysat Steve, the three of you were inseparable. Steve and Eddie got along well, but Steve’s jealousy over your friendship with Eddie often led to him tattling on your movie nights.

Yes, Steve Harrington, once a nerdy, goody-two-shoes tattletale, evolved into the King Steve everyone adored. But Steves's sensitive side, the one where he'd cry during The Lion King and learn Grease dance moves with you, was never truly hidden. He’d hold your hand during thunderstorms, kiss your scraped knees, and walk you to class every day, always reassuring you when you cried.

Steve was your first in many ways—the first best friend, the first boy to kiss you, but also the first to make you cry and break your heart.

The first time Steve broke your heart was when he started dating Nancy Wheeler in the second semester of sophomore year. That’s another story. But the first time he made you cry was in 7th grade when he called you ugly in front of all the 7th and 8th graders, including your crush, Tommy Hagan. Steve humiliated you on purpose.

Since last summer, after you told him Billy Hargrove asked you to be his girlfriend, Steve’s been a dick. You’re not sure why—he didn’t seem to dislike Billy back then, though he does now, thanks to their fight.

When Billy broke up with you, the first week of 6th grade, he did it in front of everyone at early morning break. He almost made you cry. And Steve sucker punched him. It was the first fistfight Steve had ever been in. Billy gave him a black eye. They both got lunch detention for a week and Steve wouldn't talk to you for a couple of weeks after that but said it was just because he was grounded.

 Since then he’s become a complete asshole to you, and you get it. He’s becoming more popular, you two have different interests, and that's okay. Friends grow apart, but you never expect this from him. For his words to hurt so bad. To embarrass you like that in front of everyone. Just like Billy did. Just like Eddie did that day in the park.

Fuck boys. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You hear your mom saying something to you, but you're too focused on the lyrics. 

Although we’ve come to the end of the road, still I can’t go. Why does this stupid song have to be playing right now? You think to yourself as the tears stream down your face now. You couldn’t believe him.

You two had gotten into an argument in your last period and Steve commented that you are probably just obsessed with him and jealous. You blew up on him and said some pretty mean things and so does Steve. 

“oh get over yourself Steve Harrington, like I would ever want to be with someone as lame as you. Why don’t you go fix your stupid hair”

 “Yeah well, no one would ever wanna be with you, 'cause you’re crazy and.. and ..and ugly!  Everyone knows Billy Hargrove only went out with you 'cause he felt sorry for you!” No one wants to be around you! Thats why your  step dad never sticks around and...and why your real dad didn't stick around!

You didn’t respond. The tears in your eyes were evident, and the classroom fell silent as the teacher walked in. Thankfully the bell rang, and you grabbed your backpack, and left without a word when Heather and Robin called after you. It was all a blur.

Steve cried himself to sleep that night. You were once his best friend, and he had promised your mom he’d always take care of you. How could he say such things? He had always thought you were perfect—the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. The comment about your dads made him sick. He was ashamed and scared to apologize sooner, worried about how you’d react and fearing he’d get in trouble with your parents, who you hadn’t told, but he didn't know that.

You eventually forgave him, but things were never the same. You’d say hi in the hallways or chat online, but the closeness was gone.

That was the first time Steve Harrington made you cry. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the last.

[fairsexynasty]

ˏ🔪ˋ°•*⁀➷･ IF YOU REWRITE YOUR LIFE, MAY I STILL PLAY A PART?

.｡🗡️*⋆⍋*🃏*｡ ethan landry x chad meeks-martin x fem!reader

summary: your living situation had already been a mess. but with how charming your roommates were, it soon intertwined with your love life.

warnings: hurt + comfort, (un)requited love, love confessions, angst, hints to attachment anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of smut (ethan getting dicked down :o), guilt, domesticity, chef!ethan, non gf! au

a/n: heavily inspired by we’re in love by boygenius, that song requires tissues bro. this will be a series :3

you had to have been the worst best friend in the world. there was no logical explanation for the way you’d been feeling besides that. it’s not that you did anything wrong—at least, tangibly. your perspective just happened to shift, as it does with age, but you never expected it’d fuck your life up at 19.

college is a terrible place, swarming with hookup culture. and in nyc, it’s twenty times worse. you liked to think you were one of the only sane ones left, as in, being someone who wished oh-so-desperately to be swept off her feet by true romance. it only took one look around blackmore to see you most likely were not going to experience that from anyone.

but a girl can dream. and dreamt you did.

your living situation was a total fuckup. gigantic fuckup. monstrous fuckup. instead of making a home with girls who would help you create serotonin with every interaction, you were somehow rooming with two, sweetly dumb men.

ethan and chad share their differences, that’s for sure. chad’s cleanliness has been overrun by ethan’s haphazard living, and a handful of spats occur.

“ethan, for the last time, dude. clean up your shit! i don’t even know how your pants ended up in the kitchen.”

“chill out, chad, they’re just pants.”

“yeah, but they’re pants this week, and then it’ll be a condom the next.”

ethan scoffed. “says you. may i remind you, your name is chad.”

you’d always have to mediate between the two, giving them a smack on both their heads so they could feel the pain of the headache they gave you.

ethan’s things being in the kitchen somehow make sense. he’s in there whenever he has free time, cooking whatever try hard recipes he finds on his tiktok feed. they always turn out delicious, but ethan is an extremely controlling chef.

“what are you doing, chad?”

“what does it look like i’m doing? i’m eating a fry.”

“don’t touch the frites for the steak. out. of. my. kitchen.”

“may i remind you that y/n and i live here too?”

“yeah, but she isn’t eating the frites before the steak is ready. i haven’t even made the hollandaise yet.”

but even with their differences, they have many similarities. and those similarities were what had you feeling horrible in the first place.

chad and ethan might just have been the most charming men you’d ever encountered. it was strange to live with a girl in such close proximity, because living with a sister and parents was so different. but they never once made you feel like they didn’t want you there.

for the most part, what was theirs was yours. they never asked for the vice versa because they knew you’d kill them if they ever used your skincare or hair care in the bathroom.

that includes personal space, for some reason.

most nights you three got to spend time together, whether that was going out or staying in. everyone knew you had grown to be inseparable, including all the girls. mindy and anika never failed to call you names and titles.

“oh, look, it’s boygenius.”

every night typically looked like the three of you on the couch, a giant mclovin blanket covering you. you were typically in the middle, with both boys as close as humanly possible to you, as you watched whatever movie was picked out of your roulette list.

when it was a sad movie, like eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, ethan would be silently crying, head leaning on your shoulder for comfort. chad would be watching with wide, watery eyes, singular tears dropping every couple of seconds. his head would eventually perch upon your other shoulder.

with a comedy movie, like your favorite, superbad, typically you were sprawled out across ethan and chad, head resting on the arm of the couch, legs across their own.

and with a romance or drama movie, a train of bodies occurred. chad would be at the arm of the couch, with you resting in his lap, with ethan resting in yours. your hands would find themselves busy in ethan’s curls as you watched the movie, with chad’s chin resting on top of your head.

one time, you fell asleep after the movie in that exact position, and tara swung by to drop off some books. when she entered the apartment (of course she had a key, she was a ‘core four’ member,) she was met with the sight of you three. perfect photoshoot, in her mind.

the touchiness didn’t stop there. when walking outside, your arms were often linked together, or one of the boys would be holding your stuff while the other had an arm around your shoulders.

when you went to parties, they danced with you when you felt like it, and sat down with you when you felt like going on some kind of drunken tangent. and the behavior from them was eye-catching to everybody who saw you three together.

after a humanities class, a random girl walked up to you. the conversation was short and sweet, but left you stunned and questioning every part of your existence.

“hey, y/n. i just wanted to tell you that you and your boyfriends are literally goals. i can just feel the love radiating from all of you.”

love? there was no way chad AND ethan were in love with you. they probably would have beaten each other up by now if they were both into you. but, the random girl did say she thought you were all dating. and suddenly you found yourself watching the boys like a creep.

you kept a note in your phone of every single behavior that pointed to either two things: they were in love with you, and they were in love with each other. by the end of the week, you had amassed at least twenty different entries a day.

for evidence pointing towards their shared loved for you, you found that they’d start staring at you when you weren’t looking. their eyes often had a gleam you’d catch in the corner of your eye, and occasionally a failure of a repressed smile.

when you said goodnight, you’d feel their eyes on you until you closed the door to your room, and they never went to bed until at least an hour after you did, just to make sure you were safe asleep.

ethan would blush whenever you established physical affection with him or accepted his own, and chad would give you the biggest grins whenever you deglammed for the evening (and even when you were dolled up, that damn smile never left his face around you)

now, for the evidence pointing towards them being in love with each other? your theories were solidified one thursday night you had gotten back from the store. as soon as you had opened the door, the sluttiest whimper you’d ever heard, came from chad’s room. and you knew for a fact, chad was not the type to sound so desperate.

with one moan of a, “oh, fuck!” you knew ethan was getting dicked down by chad, and promptly left the apartment, deciding you forgot some milk. you probably sat in the trader joe’s parking garage for a good half an hour, attempting to process what you had almost walked in on.

it was reality. you all liked one another. it seemed too good to be true, though. how could two perfect guys like them, magnetize to you? with all your self consciousness, you shot them a text you were coming back home, and prepared yourself for confrontation.

when you got home, they immediately rushed outside to help you with the groceries. you didn’t make a comment on ethan’s flushed face and the trail of hickeys under his collar— which was the collar of chad’s shirt.

you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest, neck, and skull at the same time. when everything was put away, chad gave you a kiss on the head and thanked you for going to the store.

“i need to talk to you two about something,” you blurted out, eyes fixated on the receipt that laid on the counter. “i think you might want to sit.” ethan and chad had brief looks of fear on their faces, but acquiesced to your request. you slowly trailed after them.

“is everything okay, sweets?” chad asked you after settling onto the couch next to ethan. “is there something wrong?”

you let out a shaky breath as your hand tugged at the sleeves of your shirt. “i don’t know. that’s what i want to know. you see, uh…” you trailed off. it was a struggle to find the right words. ethan patted his hand on the couch in between him and chad, and you sauntered over to them. when you sat down, you played with your hands, completely nerved. the boys took your hands in their own, trying to calm you. you took a breath.

“listen, i love you guys a lot. i really do, and everyone knows that. i mean, i’ve been so happy ever since you came into my life. i just, i really am. but, i think i’ve been having some realizations lately, and i think i’m one of the last people to see this has been happening, but, i know everyone thinks that we’re dating.” okay, that’s not what you really meant to say, but you pussied out at the last moment.

“oh, wow.” ethan said, with a small smile. you saw chad let out the smallest sigh of relief. “does it bother you?”

“yeah, um, no,-“

“wait, yeah as in it bothers you, or no it doesn’t bother you?” chad asked.

“nonono, i mean i’m not done with what i want to say, sorry,” you rushed out.

“don’t apologize,” chad smiled and rubbed your back. “take your time,” he encouraged.

you nodded slowly, and took another breath. “because of everyone thinking this, it made me start wondering if they were… onto something? so, i did a lot of thinking, and, at least on my part, i love you both a lot more than you might think i do. i’m, in love.”

both boys were silent for a moment. you felt your stomach churn, and your hands started to get clammy. as your anxiety crept up, so did the pace of your breathing, and within the silence, tears found their way to your face. had you fucked this up?

however, unbeknownst to you, ethan and chad both looked at each other, a silent nod of understanding, but then they immediately realized you were crying.

“shit, nonono, sweets, don’t cry, it’s okay! it’s okay, y/n!” chad wiped away your tears as ethan hugged you from behind.

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, “i’m so sorry.”

ethan spoke gently into your ear, “y/n, there’s no reason to be sorry, it’s okay! we’re in love with you too! you didn’t do anything wrong!”

you stopped crying as chad held your face in his hands, a look of pure love across his face. “really?” you hiccuped. “you feel the same?” they both nodded in sync.

“yes, y/n.” chad agreed. “we’re in love.”

[spreadyovrwings]

We’ve Got Time

Pairing: Benji Dunn x IMF Agent!(F)Reader

Warnings: smut! basically pwp. possible very light dom/sub undertones because i want to top techie types and it always comes through in my writing no matter how i try??

A/N: this has been up on my AO3 for ages but i saw the new movie last night and all the way through i was just thinking about… basically this…so i thought i’d post it here too

//

Frenetic hands found your waist, then your hips as you practically fell into Benji’s lap. He let out a little ‘oof’ as you leaned into him, his eyes wide and shining in the low light.

“What? Now?”

“Now.”

You kissed him, hard. His grip on your waist tightened, and with a flash of self-satisfied amusement, you knew it was more out of surprise than any surge of lust. Benji was fun to fluster.

There wasn’t much room in the back of the surveillance van you were both stuffed into, not with all the equipment Benji insisted he needed taking up most of the space.

Crammed between two machines with unnecessarily complex names, your team’s resident techie was seated in an uncomfortable chair that had been starting to make his back ache, though that was the last thing on Benji’s mind now that your tongue was in his mouth.

Assertive fingers tugging at the hair at the base of his skull brought him back down to earth for just long enough to ask,

“Really?”

It came out a lot squeakier than he intended.

You nodded, already leaning back down to kiss him.

“Yes!”

Your lips hadn’t finished forming the word as they found his again. Benji’s fingers curled into your hips as your tongue flicked against his.

He wasn’t wearing any aftershave or any cologne. It was something rare amongst the men that surrounded you. Debonair and full of themselves, they swaggered about in tight white shirts and sharp smiles.

Benji smelled of soap and deodorant, of the tea he was always downing. His body was so warm through his garish shirt, not exactly befitting of an undercover mission but very cute all the same. His soft belly pressed against yours as you leaned into him. He was just so attractive, so familiar and safe.

The thought made you clutch him just that little bit tighter, giving your hips a firm roll against his. You wanted him to squeeze you again, to feel you and want you as desperately as you wanted him.

It did the trick. You felt just as much as you heard Benji moan, the vibrations rolling up from his chest, to his throat, before ending up in your own mouth. It made you smile. It was always good to know you had him right in the palm of your hand.

Finally, Benji broke away from you, noisily, messily, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide.

“But Ethan is-”

“Busy,” you said. “We’ve got time.”

You ducked your head and kissed him again, lifting his head with your fingers flat under his chin. Benji’s fingertips sank into your hips as he moaned again, firm and safe, just like him. Handsome, sweet, dependable Benji.

You always knew he’d be a good kisser. There was just something in that smile, in the way he spoke to you, always so cheeky. Whenever you caught his gaze, there was a twinkle in his eye. Something at the corner of his mouth enticed you.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that you finally surrendered.

As Benji’s role in the group grew, he’d started joining you and the others on missions. At first, it was just the odd job but now he was right in the line of fire. It made you more nervous than you cared to admit some days.

A billionaire’s mansion had required black tie and Benji looked good. Very good. You had watched him smooth down the front of his tuxedo in the mirror, your mouth watering as he turned left and right to make sure he looked the part.

Despite the pre-mission anticipation rushing through your blood, you couldn’t help pausing to admire how the cut of the jacket emphasised his small waist and broad shoulders. He looked taller than usual, confident and comfortable in his skin, and when he caught you looking, he bruised you with a wink and that devastating cheeky smile.

How could you resist adjusting his bow tie for him, standing so close that you could see your desire mirrored back to you in the reflection of his dark-framed glasses? How could anyone force themselves to focus on the mission at hand rather than watch Benji move around the room all night looking like that? Who could blame you for cornering him as soon as the operation was finally wrapped up?

The moment you knew you were alone, you had wrapped your fingers around his silk lapels and kissed him for the first time. You pulled him in close, your nose crammed against his cheek at an awkward angle. He was just as delicious as you knew he would be.

Benji had made a noise in his throat, his body tensing up. You’d surprised him. It almost made you step back but then he groaned against your mouth, his lips parting to kiss you deeper.

It quelled any sense of anxiety about this being the wrong choice. You and Benji were friends, you might have ruined everything in a single action. But he had pawed at your back, pulling you closer against his chest, and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel so wanted.

Benji had nipped at your bottom lip just to make you gasp, to tease you, and it was so him, you almost laughed. He was smiling too, but it vanished as soon as you backed him up against the wall and moaned his own name against his lips.

From then on, there were more little meetings in hallways, more secret glances across conference tables, and when you finally got a glimpse of normality inbetween missions, you’d found his little apartment to be a very nice home-from-home.

That first night in his bed, Benji had gripped you tight, as if to ground himself in the moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real, that this was really happening to him.

He gripped you just as tightly now. You wondered if he still had a hard time believing that you desired him, needed him - maybe even loved him - as much as you did.

Frantically, you both scrabbled at the buttons of his shirt, with you starting at the top and him at the bottom, until you met in the middle.

Before you could pull open his shirt, Benji’s hands covered yours, keeping them pressed against his clothed chest for one last moment. His thumbs swept across your wrists.

“Darlin’, we-”

“Have time. But not a lot. Please, Benji, just want you inside me.”

You watched his eyes darken. His hands tightened over yours, then you were jostled around in his lap as he shifted. He was embarrassed and, as you could feel, just as turned on as you were.

Finally, he sighed.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell. You’ll be the death of me.”

You shared a smile, a brief moment of peace and clarity wherein all you did was look at each other. Then he released your hands.

With a wicked grin, you tore open his shirt and pressed your palms against his chest. With Benji’s heart thudding under your hands, you kissed him again, rolling your tongue over his, hoping he would start to relax.

The soft rumble and intermittent beeps of the computers that surrounded you melted away to nothing as Benji’s mouth moved against yours. He began to tug at your hips, circling them against the growing bulge in his trousers, making you both gasp.

Beneath everything, the desire, the desperation, the fear of getting caught, you felt a bubble of happiness rising up inside you. It was so good to be near him again, to taste his clever mouth and feel his body meld with yours.

When you rocked in just the right way, you felt Benji gasp against your mouth, sharp and soft. He moaned your name, his eyes squeezing shut as he begged you to do that again, and the look on his face when you did only worsened the throbbing between your legs.

“Missed you,” Benji moaned, tracing your bottom lip with his own.

“Missed you too. Missed this.”

He slipped his hands under the back of your shirt, tracing his fingertips down the length of your spine. It made you shiver in his arms.

“We really have to stop doing this,” Benji blinked, quickly adding, “At work, I mean. We could go on a real date. I could take you out f’dinner. Maybe the cinema. We could even go dancin’, I’ll bring out me best moves.”

He raised his arms and showed you.

You couldn’t help laughing as he bobbed about beneath you. Your silly boy.

“I’d love that.”

You kissed him again, slow and deliberate, as his hand slipped down the front of your unzipped jeans. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as his fingertips edged close but not close enough to where you needed him.

“When we get home-” You gasped when he finally circled your clit, deliberate and precise. “You can wine and dine me as much as you like.”

“Will you wear that dress again? The blue one from the op the other night?”

You raised yourself in his lap, giving him more room to slip his hand down the front of your jeans.

“I thought I saw you looking. Oh…”

There was no teasing, there wasn’t time. Benji breathlessly asked if he could keep going against your lips, then pressed into you as soon as you moaned ‘yes’.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you, darlin’.”

He pulled his fingers back for just a second to swipe his tongue over them, moaning at the taste of you, before he slipped his index inside you again, then his middle.

“You’re so beautiful. So, so perfect.”

You realised you could hear how wet you were as he began to pump his fingers, even through all your clothing. If it was anyone else, you knew you would’ve recoiled with embarrassment, but you’d always felt so comfortable with Benji, and the dark glaze in his eyes let you know he was more than pleased with the sound.

“You were the most beautiful woman in the room that night. In any room. Every room. You’re so beautiful.”

You gasped and bucked your hips as he crooked his fingers inside you, his hand angled awkwardly so that he could still rub your clit gently with his thumb.

“So are you,” You had just enough wherewithal to lean forward and kiss his forehead. “You’re beautiful, Ben.”

“You’re mad,” He tilted his head back, asking for another kiss. “Completely daft.”

“Completely yours.”

You had to slip one of your hands back up to his shoulder to keep yourself steady, your thighs already feeling too weak to hold you up as warmth started to spread throughout your body.

“God, you’re so- Sweetheart, you’re so perfect. You always feel so…”

Benji trailed off, distracted by the way you squeezed his fingers. He tilted his head back even further, all but begging you to kiss him now, and when you finally acquiesced, he let out a soft whine that made you flutter in several places.

“Ben…”

“I’ve got you, love. That’s it, darlin’. C’mon.”

Already, you could feel yourself getting close. Benji’s clever fingers worked you so well and so attentively, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were tipping over the edge. But you didn’t want to finish like this. After all, you did say you wanted him inside you.

With a groan, you tapped his wrist, telling Benji to stop so you could get your jeans all the way down. Your hands flew to his fly, his desperate little moans and pants making you frantic, it was hard to focus on his damn zip.

“God, you’re so-” You huffed, shaking your head. “You’re so good, Benj. So good for me, I can barely think. Love when you’re all noisy for me.”

You were so focused on getting his trousers down, you missed how he turned bright pink.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He kept muttering those words, or something close to them, under his breath as he helped you get comfy. “You’ll be the death of me. You’ve no idea how much I- You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

Benji’s eyes never left yours as you sank down onto him. You moaned together, almost in relief. It was getting harder and harder to be apart.

With Benji pressing hot, wet kisses down your neck, you could hardly concentrate to wriggle your hips until he was completely inside you.

There was no time to lose. Desperate and half-mad from the pleasure that was and was to come, you started to rock your hips, bouncing on him at such a pace that Benji almost bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re-”

He cut himself off with a loud moan certainly not befitting of a surveillance van.

He felt so good, you could hardly think. All you could do was grip his shoulder tight, your other hand braced over his pounding heart, and hope Benji knew how much you adored him.

“Fuuuck.”

He let out another long, gorgeous, open-mouthed moan, cursing under his breath as he gripped you tight.

Benji helped you move on him as he snapped his hips up to meet yours, his fingertips sinking into your thighs, your ass, anywhere he could reach.

A sharp buzz made you both groan, though without any glimpse of pleasure.

“Ignore it,” Benji said.

Ducking your head to kiss him again, you flung out your hand and patted along the desk until you set it on your walkie. You indicated for Benji to be quiet before you grinned and pressed the button on the side.

“Ethan?”

Static buzzed, then,

“Hey. Just checking in.”

Thinking was near impossible with Benji mouthing at your neck, let alone speaking. His teeth grazed your skin, followed by his tongue. It would be hard to explain away the marks but you’d both have fun trying.

As good as it felt, it seemed he’d forgotten who was in charge here. You wrapped your fingers around his throat, pinning Benji to his chair and away from you. You watched something shift behind his eyes, something that pleased you immensely.

“All good here,” You winked down at Benji, who sighed and rolled his eyes. “You?”

“All good. Benji okay?”

“How should I know?” You squeezed the sides of Benji’s neck and watched his mouth fall open. “He’s in the van. I’m… Not.”

“Okay. I’ll check in again in twenty.”

You didn’t bother responding. You just chucked the walkie over your shoulder and slammed your lips against Benji’s, rejoicing when it made him whimper your name.

You picked up the pace again, your brow creased in concentration. Benji fit you so perfectly, knew just where to touch, where to grab and where to kiss. It was like he was made for you, and you for him.

Soon enough, your movements grew sloppy and desperate as you both drew closer, groaning into each other’s mouth as you chased your highs.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth hanging open in pure pleasure as you felt that familiar tension in your abdomen, like a rubber band about to snap.

“Ben, I- Fuck…”

“I know, darlin’, I know,” Benji swore under his breath, his brow beginning to glisten. “Me too, me too. Fuck, I’m not gonna last. C’mon, gorgeous, wanna make you feel so good. Please, darlin’. Christ, you look so beautiful like this, I can barely think.”

Despite the intense pleasure, you couldn’t help smiling. He was just so sweet. Then with one more well-angled thrust, Benji hit that perfect spot inside you. You gripped him tighter.

“Ben- I’m gonna-”

You choked on the word as you felt yourself tighten around him.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. That’s it, honey, that’s it. Ah, Christ, that’s it. That’s-”

With a sharp gasp, you felt warmth bloom inside you and you tensed, moaning wordlessly as Benji followed close behind.

You collapsed against each other, panting, sweaty and tired. Smiling.

As you waited for the stars in your vision to clear, you wrapped your arms around Benji’s back and held him close. You didn’t want this moment to end. You had minutes left, possibly seconds, but you’d be damned if you wasted any of them.

“We’re so good at that,” Benji pushed your hair back so that he could press messy, loving kisses to your forehead, your temple, both your cheeks. “You’re amazing. God, you’re brilliant.”

You let your body sink into his, laughing softly. You would never get used to the way he gabbled after sex, how excited and ecstatic he sounded as he drowned you in praise and kisses.

Looking up at him with your head resting on his shoulder, you had never felt so held or so safe in all your life.

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Hm?”

“Dinner and a movie,” You raised your head and brushed the tip of your nose against his. “And if you’re good, maybe some dancing.”

Benji grinned.

“I’ll bring the moves, you bring the wine.”

“Maybe the moves can stay at home.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, they cannot and will not be caged.”

“You’re such an-”

From where you’d chucked it to the floor, your radio buzzed again. Ethan’s voice crackled through the speaker. He was in trouble.

You sighed and kissed Benji one last time.

“Time’s up, Four Eyes.”

Benji just laughed, kissed you and helped you up.

“Go on. Go be a hero.”

“Stay safe. I love you.”

“I-”

Benji started to reply but you were already gone. That was the first time you’d said that.

“I love you too,” he realised.

He stared at the door, then, beaming, he got to work.

//

Master List

[midnightstay-blog]

Forever without you

Angst 🌖| Space travel Au 🌕 | Female reader 🩵 | Fluff🌙 | Scenario✨

Tw: Implied death

An: I saw one of those TikToks where people ask couples scenario questions. One of them was if you and your partner were in space with a group of people and your pod malfunctioned and woke you up earlier than planned would you let them (your partner)sleep or would you wake them up? This is inspired by that and that one movie (it has Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Pratt in it). Disclaimer I’ve never seen that movie but I know their pods break while they are on their space journey. I wanted to write something semi-sad for a change of pace. I might turn this into a full fic later but I don’t know yet. Anyways, happy reading.

Genre: Seungcheol x female reader

Theme: Right person not enough time / Lost Love / established relationship

Summary: you and seungcheol are selected to be one of the many couples who get to go to a new planet to start over. However, the trip doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Word count: 1730

“I’m sorry but we don’t seem to have that name on file,” one of the workers tells you as they scroll through the list of names on their tablet.

“that’s impossible the email that I got specifically said to come here and ask for his file by name,” you say sadness and a bit of anger laced in your tone.

Feeling frustrated you let out a deep sigh before checking your phone. You noticed the date March 14th two years to the date since that day, the day your world changed forever. You fiddle with the ring on your left hand. Originally, he had given it to you as an anniversary present. It served as his promise to you.

“Wait here it is Mr. Choi, right? “She asked as she double-checked her screen.

Nodding you confirm and shortly after two men come out of the back with a large box full of his things. You had thanked them before signing for the box and taking it with you back to your apartment. A short cab ride later and you had arrived at the high-rise that you’ve called home since that day. It was supposed to be your new home with Cheol. after all, he had designed it along with the pods that brought you to this place. Stepping into the unit you are greeted by your cat as you remove your shoes and place the box on the table next to you. 

After getting settled you place the box on your work desk before switching on the lights and having a seat in front of it. For a while you just stare at the box until a brief, but small meow escapes your cat pulling you back to reality. “I know... I know but it’s been so long and I- I’m not sure if I’m ready.” You tell the furry animal. Soon she begins to paw at the wires under your desk before you take her and move her to her tower in the other room. Placing her on the tower you return back to your office before taking a deep breath and reaching into the box. Your heart begins to race as your hands find an envelope post marked to you. You run your fingers over the writing, His writing before setting it down and continuing.

The next item is an old picture of the two of you. It was of your first official date. You smile as you recall the memory. The two of you had met at a friend’s engagement party and had been inseparable ever since. When Coups had asked you on a date it had been about two weeks after that party, there was a carnival in town, and he couldn’t wait to take you. In fact, you made it a group trip with him and his friends. You guys ended up staying the whole weekend.  It was a little unconventional for a first real date, but you grew to cherish the time. Looking at the picture one last time you set it on your desk before reaching back in the box. This time you had come across a few of his hoodies and a few discs. You place the hoodies folded on the other chair next to you before grabbing the discs and setting them on your desk. It had been a long time since you were able to watch anything in disc form. Most forms of media had been preloaded onto a projector so now all you had to do was pick up your remote and press play. After looking at the discs you decide to start with the letter. Opening it you begin to read its contents. :  Love, if you’re reading this then that means that something went wrong concerning the pods and I’m not with you right now. Though I can’t be with you physically I want you to know that I’ll always be in your heart and that you’ll always have mine. I’m assuming you got the discs. There should be about 12 or so total depending on what time the malfunction happened that’s if it happened. Everything that you need is on them. Make sure you watch them in order it’s important. I know we had a lot planned together but I want you to know that you will get through this and that I will always be rooting for you. If you need anything the guys are always there so don’t be afraid to reach out to them. Also, don’t be afraid to start over I know it’s gonna be hard at first, but I believe in you. Yours always, Cheol.

Once you finish the letter you wipe your tears and pick up the first of many discs. However, before you can watch it you have to look for your old DVD player. Getting up you make your way into the hallway closet near your living room before digging through a few boxes. Eventually, you locate the DVD player and begin to make your way back to your office. However, before you do you take the chance to change into one of Cheol’s hoodies from the box and a pair of pajama pants before you eventually make your way to your office.  Setting the DVD player on the desk you plug it in before you turn off the lights and place the first disc next to it before turning it on. It takes a while to boot up before the familiar logo starts to dance across the screen. Placing the disc in the machine you wait for it to load and soon Coup’s face pops up on the screen. For a moment you contemplate turning it off not sure if you’re ready. Taking a deep breath, you press play, and the video begins. He’s sitting at his desk drawing up what looks like blueprints for something. Soon one of the boys calls his name pulling him from his work. Looking up he offers a small smile to the camera. “Why are you filming me I thought you were supposed to be documenting the project.” He questions amusement in his tone. “Well since you’re the lead engineer on the project and you’re currently working on what will become our beds for the next couple of lightyears. I figured they’d want to see the before stages too.” Vernon chimes.  

 “Plus, what if she sees this? “He inquires.

“If all goes well, she shouldn’t have to see it.” Coups says reminding his friend.  There is a brief moment of silence before another person pipes up.

“Oh, please by time this comes out I wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you were probably be married with kids.” Mingyu half jokes. 

“we’ve only been on one date dude.” Coups reveals.

“Yeah, but we’ve all seen the way you two stare at each other. It’s as if one of you is gonna float away or something.”  Vernon teases as the two share a laugh. Cheol’s face begins to burn red from the teasing of the younger men. You smile to yourself seeing them all together again as the video continues. When you to met originally it was a Boo’s engagement party though Vernon had been the one to introduce you to Cheol.

Eventually, you two had started dating shortly after that and a few years later his project at work had been approved for launch. Initially, he was so excited about it but as time went on, he began to have a few worries but he tried not to let them show. Also as time went on you two grew closer and closer and eventually you were one of two couples to be chosen to go to this new planet. He explained it as his bosses wanting him to help out with some of the living arrangements and though you were skeptical about it at first eventually you came around. If only you knew then what you know now.  Hours passed as you watched all the other videos. In some, he talks about your time together and how nervous he was when you met his parents. In another about the time you were house-sitting for him and Kuma got out. He laughs at the memory now.

Soon, you make it to the last one. At this point, you get up to check on the time and it is well past midnight into the early morning of the next day.  As you return to your desk you press play for the finale time that night. This time coups is sitting at the front of the ship staring at the stars. For a while he just sits there in silence occasionally glancing between the sky and the camera.  His hair is longer almost past his shoulders but not quite. Turning towards the camera he takes a deep breath before he begins.

“This will be my last vlog.” He states letting the words hang in the air.

“I tried to fix the pod but without the right components it’s basically useless.”  He states while rubbing his face out of frustration.

“I know at some point you’ll see this, and I want you to know that I’ll always love you.” He exclaims looking directly into the camera.

In that moment you take in a breath wiping the stray tear that began to fall from your eye with his sleeve. He continues saying his goodbyes to all of his friends and family members leaving instructions for how you are to be taken care of etc. Eventually, you watch as he walks over to the suites and begins to put one on. Making his way to the airlock he gives the camera one last smile before the screen goes black.  Once the video ends you sit there soaking in his final words for what feels like forever. Eventually, you manage to pull yourself from your desk and try to get some form of sleep. However, just as you are about to place the discs back into the box your computer dings from the corner of your desk catching your attention. Walking over to it you click on the notification revealing an email. Shocked by its contents you back away from your desk in disbelief before you drop your computer and sit on the floor staring at it. The email reads: Don’t give up on me yet. -Coups

Request are open

[delyth88]

Random late night thoughts on falling into a fandom.

I'm not really the sort of person who gets excited about a lot of different shows and characters. I mean I enjoy them, but I don't fall in love with them often. I joined Tumblr in 2017 because I saw Thor Ragnarok and then caught up on the MCU and fell in love with Loki. And that's been pretty much it till now.

I'm as old as Tom Hiddleston, so when I was a fan of the Lord of the Rings there wasn't a fandom culture like this online, and Tumblr wasn't around till 2006 even if I had known about it. So without the ability to interact with other people about the movies I loved, they eventually receded in my consciousness.

With Loki and the MCU I found other people who loved him as much as I did and wanted to talk about it! And I discovered fan fiction. So much awesomeness! And there were a lot of excellent stories that really got inside his head and fleshed out the movies and the issues he was dealing with. It meant that I remained fascinated for years. I still am.

I also discovered Tom Hiddleston was a charming and decent man and cared about this character I'd come to love and was actually interested in talking about him - so naturally I devoured all the interviews I could find. I’m not generally one for following actors – it’s a bit of a gamble as to whether they’ll be a jerk or not, so I’m pretty cautious.

Over that time I've watch most of the blogs I know move on to other things, and new people discover how awesome Loki is. But I've never found another character that's captured my imagination quite like Loki. And I've kinda wondered what the magic combination was.

Now I think I've figured out a couple of things in the last few weeks.

I started a rewatch of the X-Men movies, and as it turned out about half of them were not a rewatch but watching them for the first time. (I'm still mildly angry at myself for missing them when they came out - it would have been fun to be in the fandom at that time.) I watched them most evenings I had free and sometimes parts of a movie over multiple nights.  And I think this is one of the things that hooks me into a universe and really makes me care for the characters. 

It was a similar thing for me with the MCU.  There was a lot of canon material already out there by the time I came to it, which meant I was able to immerse myself in the world over several months, and with everything relating to everything else it really helped create that feeling of a real world where these people really exist and the stakes and their relationships with each other are real. It also meant that I got to see Loki grow and change over several movies and several year (sadly not always for the better imo), but again I think this helped with the illusion of real people.

And I think inadvertently I’ve done the same thing with X-Men. I came into it with familiarity from the cartoon as a kid and the original movies, so I was already disposed to like them.  I very much enjoyed the Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart era, but I still didn’t fall down the rabbit hole until part way through Days of Future Past.  I hadn’t seen First Class before, and that was a very pleasant surprise.  I had no expectations and they were far enough removed in age from the previous films that I didn’t find myself comparing them too much. First Class had so much heart! Lots of heart-warming moments getting to know the characters, and some that pulled at the heartstrings too.  I saw that in one sitting.  If I’d watched that over multiple, I may have been hooked earlier. 

I found myself initially enjoying the whole world and how all the characters fit together after First Class.  I was also a little surprised and unsure about this portrayal of Charles Xavier.  He’s always been a favourite character from the Patrick Stewart era, but just in a “I slightly prefer you over the others” kinda way. I suppose that did lead me to pay particular attention to the younger version of Charles. But this new version had an unexpected charm. Now usually I run a mile from characters that are cocky and too self-assured, which objectively Charles is here, but for some reason everything else about him and the film led me to liking his attitude and his heart.

By partway through Days of Future Past, which I watched over multiple evenings, I was actively looking forward to getting home at the end of the day to see more of this character.  And for a brief few days while I finished off the movies I think my hind brain was treating this like looking forward to seeing a real person. Which I found kinda fascinating, and since it doesn’t happen often I paid a bit more attention to this process.

The final nail in the coffin for me was Charles’ aching “You abandoned me!” on the plane. At this point I was 100% rooting for this character and following the next two movies from his point of view.  I was really impressed with how consistent his character seemed to be throughout the first three films of that timeline. After following Loki for so many years I know what inconsistent character personalities can do. :/ It should go without saying therefore that Dark Phoenix didn’t really do it for me.

So I think my recipe for falling in love with characters boils down to three things:

Have a decent amount of material to watch, and watch it in quick succession.

Have a character with strong bonds to others and who has scenes where they’re emotionally vulnerable. Obviously it helps if they’re a good actor.

Have consistent character writing, and believable, compelling, motivations.

And bonus point 4: Have a community to talk about them with.

Oddly, I’d put off watching the X-Men films as late as I could, because I felt I didn’t really have as much headspace and time to give them as I thought they deserved. And I’d half thought I might fall for Magneto, given Loki was my favourite character. They have a lot of similarities – both have had to endure terrible pain and loneliness in their lives, and have been the outcast for one reason or another. They’re both characters whose allegiance changes. The sympathetic villain with a persuasive motivation. They’re both powerful manipulators of the world around them, and of course there’s a very broad similarity in looks (i.e. tall white guy with dark hair).

But no. It was the shorter, less conventionally attractive character, who was the steadfastly ‘good’ one of the pair that stole my heart. The one that could have been really quite boring in contract to Erik.  But I think it was how in so many scenes I feel like I could just see this man’s heart laid bare.  He really tried, and kept trying, to help his friends, and believed in them and the rest of mankind. You could just see the light within him. I initially viewed them as a pair similar to Thor and Loki, but I’ve never found Thor such an engaging character even though he has a similar function and some similar traits.

My brain has decided this is now my blorbo and has dedicated a larger than reasonable section of my mental CPU to him for the meantime. It’s almost like a real crush on a real person. Which is such a strange thing, when you think about it.  Or it just shows there’s a threshold where your brain goes, okay we have enough data points now, we can start caring for these people. It reminds me why I felt like I did for the weeks after Infinity War.  As far as my brain is concerned this is someone I genuinely care about.

It makes me a little sad for people I know who don’t care for stories in this way - books, movies, or television. It’s a joyful, if sometimes inconveniently scheduled, thing to fall in love with people in the tales we tell each other.

[this-was-a-terrible-idea]

Tag game!

tagged by @bi-bats thank u bestie ily

Last song: Vienna by Billy Joel. whenever i'm stressing about life i know my man billy's got me 😚✌️

Currently watching: cries. i don't really Watch Things. i think i watched like 15 minutes of the first episode of X-Men '97 a couple weeks ago, does that count??

Last movie I watched: Deadpool and Wolverine! it was fun :)

Sweet/spicy/savory: spicy food! love me some spice. i'm currently drinking hot cocoa that i heavily cayenne peppered :)

Relationship status: currently crushing on the mind of Dr. Emily Wilson, classicist and first woman translator of The Iliad and The Odyssey from their original Ancient Greek. I am reading her translation of The Iliad right now and the way she talks about her work and the care and thought she put into it in the 80+ pages of introductory information before the actual epic itself has me swooning

Current obsession: Seanan McGuire's Wayward Children series. I have been *flying* through these books! another thank you to misha for the rec, haha. also Fields of Mistria <3

Last thing I Googled: "1892 bronze venus de milo" bc theres one at an antique store near me that i keep thinking about but shes $450 and that's A Lot so i was looking to see if there were comparable but lower prices that i could haggle for

tagging with no pressure: @ladytauria, @must-be-mythtaken, @n1ightw1ng

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

The Everyman Problem

So, I've had a kernel of a Bionicle post rattling around in my for a couple weeks that I haven't quite been able to articulate, but I think I might have the angle to explain it now.

I'm an "old Bionicle fan": by which I mean, I'm old enough to have got into Bionicle in the "Mata Nui" era (2001-2003). A glance at the notes on my big [unfinished, looking abandoned] alt-canon fanfic shows that I'm old enough to have disliked the change of the Toa from Mata to Nuva... in 2002.

So, which that as background, remember that I'm old enough to remember a time when it wasn't known at all that Matoran, Toa, and Turaga were all the same "species."

Thinking back on it, I don't think I initially "noticed" the revelation that no only were the Turaga were former Toa, but the Toa (Metru) were Matoran before that--Takanuva too, but he was something of a special case. In 2004, I was really just absorbing that Vakama, Onewa, etc. were former Toa--that "Toa" might mean something other than "single demi-urgic hero of each element." I got there eventually, as far as acceptance goes, but it part of my age-related fade out of the Bionicle fandom.

2006, on the other hand, emphasized the other part that I'd ignored more during the LoMN/WoS era: that Toa came from Matoran. I still don't love this, but until last night I couldn't really lay a finger on how to express why.

I thought it might just be my habitual stick-in-the-muditude: you changed Jaller from Captain of the Guard! You changed Matoro from Nuju's stoic interpreter to a worry-ridden saviour.

I also thought it might just be the genre shift: it's all fantasy, of course, but it's a different thing from the island mythology-vibe of Mata Nui to the Lost City of Atlantis vibe of Metru Nui (and then the vibes beyond). I like the Toa more as unique elemental avatars than evolved Matoran, but that's not really it either.

Last night, though, I watched later era Marvel movie--it doesn't matter which one, because they all have this problem--and as the credits were rolling, I realised that the reason I don't really like the MCU is much the same as this "problem" I had with Bionicle: if just about anyone can be a superhero, you lose the "ordinary" members of the story.

Putting it another way, I realised I prefer "chosen one" stories to "X-men" stories. This is probably the Tolkien fan to some extent: you can have a world full of magic and heroes and super-powers, but if it also has "ordinary" folk, their specific importance in the story is that they ARE ordinary: Gandalf and Aragorn are heroes and amazing, yes, but Frodo never "levels up"--he is a greater person at the end of the story than the beginning, but it is the growth of an ordinary person.

Because superheroes are so common in the MCU (or DCU, etc), it's hard to have ordinary people be front and center--and harder still for them to stay ordinary people. And something like that is my problem with where Bionicle went that I don't think ever fully resolved for me: part of the wonder of Mata Nui, the whole storytelling point of MNOG is that the Matoran contribute to the victory too: they have no mask powers, no elemental powers, but they are there to help the heroes and do their part and its essential.

This already starts changing with MoL, it changes more with LoMN, and by the time we get to the Voya Nui arc, we've gone "Full MCU": everyone in the story can be a Toa.

I think, if the Inika had been "four or five" new characters and only one "already-known" Matoran, I'd have been much happier. But when you take the most prominent Matoran from every tribe and make them all Toa... who's left? The headcanons that the Chronicler's company become Toa too both satisfy and don't work for me for this reason. They satisfy me if they leave the Inika as Matoran, because I think that was a better way to go; they annoy me if they're BOTH Toa now, because that exacerbates what I think is the "problem" here.

It's not really a problem, objectively, but it is my subjective sticking point. And it's the reason that even though I might keep most of this lore, despite the grumbling, I'm willing to jettison completely and utterly the idea that "only some Matoran are destined to become Toa." Destiny is always a hard thing to make work in the story, but the Doylist result is that Matoran now come in two categories: Special Protagonist and Ordinary: and the Ordinary is now completely swept off the stage and I really don't want that: I want the story to include a real focus on some powerless, ordinary individuals.

So I'd rather it be that ANYONE can turn into a Toa: they don't, maybe, because the circumstances lead there, but every Matoran has that potential. Because if anyone COULD be a hero, then at least when they do become a hero, it's more ordinary.

But I'd still rather that none of them could--but I'm not sure that is a concept you could return to without retconning Gen-1 so far that you end up with Gen-2. And I don't think I want THAT either.